#not the content of them but the way they try to get across information
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KNUCKLE VELVET, TORN ON MY TEETH
â VI!ONE SHOT â
pairing. pitfighter!vi x bartender!reader
warnings. eighteen+, nsfw content: arcane season two spoilers, soft angst, smut, bartender!reader, crashout!vi mends her cold heart, inexperienced!vi, switch!reader + vi, fem coded reader, coded alcohol addiction, slight spit kink, strap use.
KNUCKLE VELVET TORN ON MY TEETH, there's something charming about the pitfighter who doesn't stop drinking until she reaches the bottom of the barrel and the bartender who keeps walking her home.
wc. 7k+
rayray yaps. popping my vi!oneshot cherry, hehe, and i'm happy to do so. the vi brainrot has been real as fuck lately. i fear it's not going away anytime soon. but i wanted to give a special shoutout to @hypnagogics for proofreading this fic, means sm to me ily + my sweet bubba, @absfawn for the title name, i could kiss you until my lips fall off. the best people ever, i love them so much. okay, now i have yapped enough! happy reading, hope you enjoy.
Trapped in the abyss, just when everything had been taken from her life seems to sacrifice another offering on a silver platter. Something else that she thought could be hers, but wasnât. In the end, all of it was the same. Life is the same. She takes three steps forward, circumstances out of her control take her apart like enforcers imposing their will on Zaun, and sheâs forced to move five steps back. Itâs all she feels, powerless.Â
Wanting nothing more than to drown her sorrows, forget all that she's lost. For everything thatâs been taken, Vi feels an overpowering loss, threatening to take over everything sheâs trying to build. But Vi thinks of none of it now, she canât afford to think of one more thing. So, she doesnât. All of her mind forgets. She forces herself to.Â
Zaun, Piltover, Jinx, Vander, Silco, and Cait.Â
She drowns in blood, sweat, and liquor for nights to come. She forgets everything and you are just the cherry top on this one shitty sundae. Anytime sheâs here, Vi manages to get herself into a fight. Each time. Every time she tries to apologize or hold an ounce of guilt in her eyes, you see right through her crystal blues. From the very first night, you called her bullshit. Even if Vi didnât give in, it was hard to hide her small smirk.Â
She lets herself think itâs because youâre a bartender. You practically get paid to read people, listen to them vent about shit you probably donât give two shits about and break up the fights that erupt every thirty minutes. Overinflated egos and drunken assholes werenât a great mix. The jury was still out if you though Vi was one. She could have both, she didnât really talk much. Vi fought, drank until she couldnât see straight, and you helped her up to her small apartment right across the street and up the steps into her said apartment.Â
No matter how hard she tries, it always ends the same. Vi looking like an imbecile and you, the pretty bartender who shuts down every advance she throws your way. Vi wonders who had a stronger shell, what youâre hiding in order to protect yourself.Â
Maybe she is just an asshole.Â
âYou donât have to walk me up here. I-I can make it just fine on my own.âÂ
As soon as your fingertips let go of her fragile frame, Viâs inebriated body collapses on the concrete steps, grabbing onto the metal framing as if her life depends on it.Â
âReally? Now you wanna prove a point?âÂ
âFor your information, Iâm always in it to prove a point.âÂ
Even if your words are harsh, with a soft smile and a hand open, Vi takes it as you let her lean on your weight as you assist her up the steps. Thereâs little shame to be had once the two of you make it in. It isnât like the first time and when she noticed the scrunch of your nose in taking the smell, tequila and grease. Vi thought it was cute but she halts any further thought.Â
Quickly, Vi disposed of her leather jacket and pants sheâs left in boxers and the wrap protecting her chest. The part of her life that seems to be kept together. She doesnât really mind it though, you. Seeing her like this. Even more so, she enjoys it. Youâre always so dismissive at the bar, hardly holding eye contact, turning down any flirting she hurls your way. Just like the vomit Vi had nearly thrown up on your shoes but made a quick diversion for the bush to the right of her instead.Â
This is truly the only time she knows you want her. Not so subtly, your eyes trace her like each pinpoint of your gaze is painting her on a clean canvas, one Vi wonders if sheâll like or not. When sheâs been around you, sheâs been wondering about a lot of things â thoughts she quite literally canât afford.Â
Itâs her, nothing ever ends well when her feelings can get crushed on the other side.Â
Everything she touches burns to ash before she can even hold it for a moment, a second of symphony retaliates with years of misery. How could you be any different? She wishes you would burn her underneath your gaze, put her out of the misery she feels growing every day, but you donât. Youâre always pulling her out of trouble when you truly donât have to. Itâs not your job to take care of her or hell, even look after her.Â
But you do and she canât seem to figure out why.Â
âWhy are you doing this?âÂ
âJust shut the fuck up and let me help you. Not everyone has a motive. Some people just like to help when someone is so clearly struggling.âÂ
âIâm notââÂ
You give her a glare that seems to shut her up. You draw a bath for her. Itâs easy to find her towels in the only cabinet. Itâs an acute studio apartment. More so of a small room with a stove stop, minimal counter space, and one bathroom enough to bathe and brush her teeth in. There isnât much left of it but itâs hers. Grabbing the first aid kit, you kneel between her legs, the mattress sits on the floor, her legs spread and stretching out in front of you.Â
âLet me help you. Alright?â Vi grumbles, a incoherent complaint, but she lets you tend to her wounds.Â
Itâs mainly just cleaning off her dry blood as she still complains in the process, but thereâs a few cuts on her face and her cheeks are already beginning to bruise. Itâs not a secret, she bruises like a peach but she always makes sure her opponent is leaving a lot more with just a few cuts and a bruise the size of a plum.Â
Itâs then, when youâre concentrating on the cuts on her face, the busted lip sheâs sporting; she looks at you. Maybe itâs the first time she has, but without even realizing it, she gets lost. Not in the way Vi doesnât know who she is, that sheâs completely lost on, but Vi sees you.Â
Bright-eyed, optimistic, helpful, kind â all attributes she couldnât claim but wears like a badge of honor. As if helping others instills you with a sense of purpose, something thatâs always been a lost cause to her. Fight until the next fight, and the next, and the next. Thatâs what sheâs done, she's always been a fighter. Sheâs fallen back on it when needed. Itâs clear to her. Like a vision she could see, crystal clear through some stupid ball, itâs always been about survival.Â
But how much longer does she want to fight and how much more does she have in her?Â
âThanks.â Vi speaks softly.Â
Not knowing where to place her palms, she settles for her thigh. Silent as she watches, nearly analyzing every moment, every glance, every little thing youâre doing. Itâs sobering to say the least. You donât need to be delicate but you are. Itâs more kindness than she deserves, nearly leaving a bitter taste on her tongue but when you offer a small smile and a soft whisper, youâre welcome.Â
Itâs the sweetest thing Vi has ever seen.Â
Thereâs something different in the way you look at her. The soft omission exposes how sweet on Vi you may be. Definitely more than youâd let on, which was wellâŠnone. Up until tonight, she thought you hated her. With each word uttered in your direction, Vi assumed youâd rather swallow bile than stomach her slurred, flirty speech.Â
âWhy do you want to help? Itâs not like Iâve exactly beenââÂ
âKind?âÂ
âYeah, something like that.âÂ
This time Vi lets the smile reach her eyes and your smile gets even sweeter. She can practically feel the sweetness rotting her teeth as she speaks. Itâs the first time she feels something new, something as bright as the light radiating through your eyes.Â
âYou just seem different. Even if you do try to hide it.âÂ
With a flush of crimson coating the apple of her cheeks, sheâs never been quite as exposed as this. The next few weeks are spent with less drinking, but Vi frequents the bar just as much as she did before. She orders a few pints just to talk to you. Sheâs learning more about you, slowly but surely, youâre opening up more. Divulging information you wouldnât have before, trust is earned. Itâs something you told her the first night you met and to this day, Vi still remembers it.Â
Regardless of how drunk sheâd been when you said it.Â
Itâs a typical night. Vi flirted with you but you arenât being dismissive tonight but youâre careful enough to not let her know exactly how you feel. Everything you say is guarded enough you keep her on her toes, for a moment she thinks she might have to become a ballerina. Itâs a slow night, Wednesday. Go figure Vi thinks. There was a woman whoâd also been flirting with you all night. Vi thought she was beautiful, sweet, funnyâŠcertainly was making you laugh all night.Â
Part of Vi wanted to feel jealous but it feels too good hearing you laugh, she says nothing. Maybe you just donât like women. Vi was known for reading into things too much, thinking everyone thought with their heart first just like she did, and assuming every hot and attractive woman was into other women â just like she is.Â
But the brunette left before closing, leaving Vi and a few other regulars paying their tab as they stumbled home with a belly full of liquor of their choosing.Â
âAlright Vi, donât you have somewhere to be? Maybe getting some sleep for the night?âÂ
âI donât sleep much, itâs better if I donât.âÂ
âKeeps the nightmares away.âÂ
All Vi does is nod.Â
âStory of the century.â You take Viâs empty pint before washing it dispersing in the sink before cleaning up the remainder of the bar top. âEveryoneâs got one around here and the new one is usually even more depressing than the last.âÂ
âWhat about yours?âÂ
âIf you wanna hear that, Iâll have to be the one doing the drinking.â You smile but itâs the first one Vi recognizes as insincere.Â
âYeah, seems to be the stone cold requirement for a heart to heart.âÂ
Viâs silent as you vent to her about the customer who refused to pay up tonight until you threatened to kick his ass and that wasn't enough, you threatened Letty on him. Vi found herself only slightly entranced as you spoke with such color, your animated voice doing impressions of the stubborn patreon, moving your hands as you speak, eyebrows furrowed as you finished the story.Â
Youâre done cleaning and are ready to close by the time you finish, locking the door as Vi stuffs her hands in her pockets, âCan I ask you something?âÂ
You cling to your bag like a lifeline. Vi notices how tight your grip is on the strap, almost as if youâre afraid. Of what? She has a craving to find out. âWhyâd you turn her away? She seemed plenty interested. Not your type?âÂ
You take a step forward, just as close as the last time you were in her apartment, tending to wounds she wouldnât have really cared about but still she let you clean them.Â
You didnât have to know that. Not yet, anyway.Â
âNo, not really. I like my women a little rough around the edges, stumbling out of bars so wasted they canât even walk home by themselves.â You smirk, grabbing the lapel of her leather jacket as you tug her closer to you. âOr is that what you want me to say?âÂ
âIs it true?âÂ
You both know the hope in her eyes is dangerous.Â
Hope.Â
A foreign concept in Zaun. If you get too close to the flame, youâll get burned, dusting into ash as if you never existed. Itâs what shimmer did to people, wipe them off the map until they reformed into a shell of what they used to be. You didnât just get out of a place like this, not without some help. Vi could barely even help herself.Â
The both of you know itâs a bad idea. A terrible, god awful idea, but you still move in closer to her. Vi notices and she wipes the smirk off her face, your warm hands finding purchase on her exposed hips, drawing soft circles on her hip bones. She likes it, even when her heart feels torn from being blown to bits by a certain blue-eyed beauty.Â
Vi likes you.Â
âYour skin is softer than I thought it would be, smooth like pure silk. Not that Iâve ever touched it before but Iâve got to believe it would feel a lot like this.âÂ
Vi feels a tingle up her spin, your touch is overwhelming, more than she bargained for really. A stumbling, messy kiss is all she really expected if anything. Not this. Clearly, you knew what to do. Leaving Vi a little clueless in that department, sheâs knocked off her feet once again but this time in a way she wants to be. But actually bringing something this special to anything more than a few flirty quips? It never seems to be her strong suit.Â
So, she puts her best foot forward. Her big stupid mouth, one she can never quite fully silence. âI can guarantee my lips feel a lot softer.âÂ
âViââ You speak her name like a warning, an unspoken law youâre breaking by entertaining your feelings and the bubbling sentiments you hold for her close to your heart. You know better than to keep it so close, but the halo in her eyes blinds you to reason and you let it.Â
âItâs Violet but you can call me whatever you want, sweets.âÂ
You chuckle at the pet name.Â
âJust one night. Thatâs it. Just to get it out of our system.âÂ
âOne night, sweets. Itâs all I need.âÂ
âÂ
Itâs how you ended up here, the third night in a row since the first, trapped under the web of Vi and her eager mouth. Slender, perfectly sculpted fingers feel like a hex to your cunt, every moment causing you to fall further into her spell. To say she has a certain talent would be considered an understatement. Itâs clear Viâs enjoying herself, fuck, damn near suffocates herself in your weeping cunt. Last night wasnât nearly enough, she needs to have you, again. Not that you were complaining.Â
As much as you hate to admit it, there has been no one as generous as her. As good as her, as sweet, as kind, and she did whatever the hell you asked for. Nothing has beaten the first night, her thumping clit nudging against your as she hiked one of your legs over her toned shoulders.Â
Itâs not a secret how built she is, far from it, but itâs another thing entirely to watch her flexed bicep ripple with every grind of her hips. Each movement seems to be calculated with precision, focused on doing more than just making herself feel good. With pure determination, glazed over crystal blue eyes, and a pouty scarred lip, she makes sure youâre enjoying this as much as her. With each moan you let slip, her confidence only grows until sheâs commanded full control over you. She takes what she wants from you and in return youâre seeing stars behind your eyes, constellations created in the shape of her name as you come.Â
âThatâs it pretty girl, just for me, yeah?â Vi talks you through as she works you through your orgasm with her strong hips, not stopping even after youâve cum. She wants more and Vi pulls three more orgasms out of you before sheâs done for the night. You expected her to be good. There was no shocker there but you didnât expect her to be so sweet afterwards. Vi is a drunk, an addict, whether she wants to accept it or not. You could be just another object sheâs addicted to. Somehow, you convince yourself itâs just a one time thing. It doesnât mean anything, it wonât.Â
Truthfully it feels much more than just a one night stand, more than an itch being scratched â the blossoming ache in your soul feels tethered to your heart every time Vi makes you feel an ounce of love â even when she tries to hide it behind a wall. Whether youâre aware, the wall canât seem to stop crumbling. Brick by brick, itâs coming undone just as you have. Weak-willed and with purpose, you fall into her.Â
There isnât an inch of your body Vi didnât kiss. Her lips tattooing every inch of your skin with marked affection, almost as if sheâs mending your skin with the burn of her lips. When she claims your soft lips, haunting you with the salvation of perfection as her velvet tongue invades your mouth, the taste of you melting from her tongue to yours. The silent declaration you didnât ask for but craved, the carnal moan leaving her mouth as she chuckles when your hips pathetically grind into hers.Â
Vi enjoys your company, that much is clear, but this time you bring her to your place. Itâs more or less the same. Both of you coming down from the highest of highs, you feel sticky, dirty, and damn right heavenly. Vi disappears into your bathroom, grabbing a wash rag before dampening the material underneath a warm faucet. Carefully, she kneels by your hips, legs twitching softly as her skilled fingers find your slit before Viâs sucking the digit in your mouth.Â
âI just wanted one last taste before I clean you up.âÂ
As she has before, Vi makes good on her promise and cleans you up. She enjoys when the pad of her thumb grazes against your clit, terribly overstimulated, your stomach twitches. All Vi can do is chuckle.Â
âIâm just a littleââÂ
âSensitive?â Vi smirks as you hide your face in the palm of her hands, the pad of her thumb gently caressing your skin. Â
Itâs the lightest sheâs felt in weeks. Almost as if sheâs floating on a cloud, she wants to stay up there in the cloudiest of nines. Just you and her and an aging mattress as she offers you everything she can give. Albeit, it isnât much but sheâll still freely give.Â
Like a dog with a bone, Vi corners you on the third night when itâs just you and her in the bar. Closing time has long since arrived and vanished into the crisp air of the night but Vi has you bent over the bar, desperation clawing at the weathered countertop of the bar as Viâs fingers fucks your pretty little hole while her tongue laps at the slick thatâs dripping out of you. Your pretty little skirt pushed up, your panties pushed to the side as she laps and sucks at your juices. She can feel you dripping onto her chin and it only makes her that much more eager to swallow every bit you have to offer.Â
âWe shouldnât be doing thisââ Fuck. Vi starts doing tricks with her tongue, sliding in another finger, pushing against the soft spot buried deep as she toys with you in the way knows best. âWe, um, Vi we said just one night.âÂ
âShut the fuck up and take it like a good girl. Or did you forget?â Vi moans into your cunt, the vibrations causing your thighs to shake under her mouth. âItâs not like you were complaining last night.âÂ
Vi silences you as her pace picks up, her fingers fucking you at such a pretty pace, feeling the build grow in the pit of your stomach edging to come to a full bloom.Â
All of you begging for it to be released. Vi uses her free hand to slap your ass, sending you moaning and lurching forward. You push yourself back grinding against her tongue, before she removes her divine mouth as she kisses up your spine, her fingers stuffed inside you not faltering for a moment.Â
Vi continues to kiss up your spine until she reaches the nape of your neck, her breath kissing your skin, your body shivers into her touch. Full lips ghost over your ear before whispering quietly, âAre you sure you want me to stop? I will if you want me to. I just thought you might wanna, you know, take my cock tonight. Give it a good ride.âÂ
The moan you let out would put Aphroditeâs to shame, needy and choked sobs escape you as her fingers thrust inside you faster than they have before.Â
âOh? Do you like the sound of that, babygirl? Want to show me how good you can be for me?â Vi doubled down on her efforts, enjoying how much you arched into her body, your hips pushing back as you grind into quick fingers. Sheâs fucking you better than wellâŠanyone.Â
âVi, please.â Your voice catches in your throat, hoarse and full of need. An insatiable craving; one you fear only she can provide. A few mindless days and careless flirting to land in her sheets, her in yours, the details didnât truly matter. A vampire out for blood, almost more venomous than precious canines breaking the skin, you yearned to suck on every last drop. But she didnât seem to be in a mind frame to relinquish control.Â
âPlease what? Iâm not sure if I understand you.âÂ
All of it, so tantalizing, so fucking infuriating. Three fingers inside you, effectively making you silent, shutting you up as she brings you closer to the edge. Thatâs the thing, truthfully, Vi has you right where she wants. Only a few thrusts away until you come undone around her. The black haired succubus increases the pace, thumb playing with your clit, her calloused fingers increasing your high as she applies more pressure on the thousands of nerve endings on your precious pearl.Â
âShit. Youâre gonna pay for this.âÂ
âWhat? For making you come? I hardly constitute that as a crime.âÂ
Your hands reach for the counter top, youâre not sure what exactly you want, but Vi makes you come for the first time that night. Itâs a game, the push and pull. Dangerous. Intoxicating. Some disposition falling far from your fingertips, a game to her and a downward hill spiral for you. Addiction festering next to an open wound and the only antidote can be found on her tongue. Tasting the devilâs mouth is one thing but swallowing the sensation of the woman youâre beginning to love is something else entirely.Â
Vi, despite her best efforts not to, makes you fall over the edge. Itâs more than her eager tongue and expectant mouth slurping at the vindication of your taste. The craving builds like an exposed vein. Her confidence irrevocably soars like a raven through the midnight sky. Even if Vi acts like sheâs done this before, you could pull the curiosity intertwined with naivety a mile away. Violet has never done this before, not with a woman at least, youâre sure of it. Sheâs a fast learner and such a great accomplishment should replenish such a reward.Â
With the energy you have left, you push your skirt down first, as Vi puts your underwear back in place. She doesnât stop touching you. She canât. There isnât much she feels she has control over, this arrangement being one of them. Sheâs good at this and Vi enjoys it. Every other part of her life, failure surrounds her, her ability not to please anyone in her life.Â
In a constant loop, she finds herself caught in the crossfire. Tugged between sister and lover, family and righteousness. Her enemy becomes her lover and lover becomes enemy â all of it poisons her blood and cures her core â and all of it makes her hear a voice she doesnât recognize but itâs just as true as the four walls surrounding her.Â
Oil and water.Â
Collecting like scars on her porcelain skin, Vi feels herself sink like an obliterating star. Thereâs a wonder settled in her chest, it feels heavy and weak, two incapable fists unable to surround her heart with anything but loss, betrayal even. She canât punch her way out of this one.
All of it wakes a fire in her chest, a dagger being punctured in her heart by the one Vi thought she could trust the most. She doesnât want to admit it so she doesnât.Â
But this? It feels easy.Â
She needs easy, light, even good. Maybe she doesnât deserve it.Â
Vi definitely doesnât, the sentence flows like a never-ending stream of waterfall continuously drowning her. The blood on her hands stains her perception of all things pure, she wonders how she even sees you at all. How you see her more vividly than anyone, possibly even Cait. Thereâs no judgment, no snarky remark of where she comes from. Even if she thought there had once been love, Vi questions it now.Â
When you come, it feels like a breath of fresh air, a golden wave washing over her sinful hands. Each stroke of gold, your grit and blind hopefulness soaks Viâs entity. This is what she wants. Thereâs nothing more than this, someone she could love, who loves her. Itâs uncomplicated but the feeling flees as you come to it. Vi canât help but feel regretful as you cover your ass, itâs such a pretty sight. She canât stop that sheâs greedy, youâve fed her for the first time in her life and now Vi feels full but sheâs only human.Â
A sinner always craves more.Â
She lets her touch linger on the gold between your thighs, pushing the white substance back into you before Vi lets you feel how wet you are, the dripping slick feels uncomfortable caged into cotton underwear and she wants you to feel it. The breath Vi hears are still heavy, impossibly heavy, and thereâs pride in hearing you center yourself, back pressed against her chest as Vi keeps you in place.Â
The pleasure within your body begins to slither away as you come back into the angel you are and not the sexual deviant bent over the woman who never pulls her punches.Â
âFelt good, yeah?â Vi says. Her angelic, sweeter than the cotton candy stick in your teeth, voice penetrates through. You like it too much. It shouldnât make you feel as good as it does. Desperately, you want to keep this casual but youâre even losing your footing.Â
You pride yourself on the lack of attachment; you donât need it. Never really had. But then with her it seems to change even faster than the seasons, your wall breaks somehow in between from spring to summer. With intent, you move around, her bright eyes have darken a bit but the fading light looks brighter than youâve ever seen it.Â
Fuck, Vi is making this difficult.Â
âYou could say that.â You speak softly, a tremble in your voice occurs but Vi says nothing but she does smirk. âCan I ask you something?âÂ
You turn around and suddenly Vi is staring at your exposed cleavage, the one you use to draw in patreons and to fill your pockets with as many tips as one can muster. Vi had been one, a faithful one trying to drink her away to the bottom of every bottle until she found something else for her. Something that didnât leave a burn in her throat.Â
âWhat is it?âÂ
âWas it your first time? The first night?âÂ
Sheepishly, Vi blushes. For a second, she contemplates lying but youâd see right through it. Right through her. It would only take one look in her blues and you would know.Â
âThat obvious?â Vi struggles with her words next but she manages to murmur a lame excuse. âStillwater didnât leave much time for this.âÂ
âAnd after?â You tease but the sincerity in your eyes soothes her.Â
âThere could have been but there wasnât. Some things just donât fit.â Oil and water is what she wants to say but she bites her tongue.Â
âYou should have told me. I wouldnât have been so, I donât know, selfish?âÂ
âThereâs nothing selfish about it. I wanted to make you feel good. Did you enjoy yourself?â This time she makes your skin feel hot. Fuck.Â
âYeah, I did enjoy myself,â you pressed against her as your arms loop around Viâs necks to bring her closer âbut I think itâs officially my turn to offer my services. Donât you think so?âÂ
Itâs how Vi ends up here, in your place, in your bed â soaked.Â
If there was one thing you knew, it was how to please someone. You managed to pull whimpers out of her she didnât even know existed. The desperate plea coming from her shivering body as she spilled in your mouth the first time sent a shiver down her spine, the band in her stomach snapping as you sloppily spit on her cunt, constant circles of pressure on her clit seeing nothing but your eyes look up at her.Â
Not letting a single drop go to waste, you fucked Vi through it, swallowing her completely. Vi shed the wrap covering her chest next. Her body bruised from the pit fights but you couldnât think of anyone more beautiful than her. You paid attention to her collarbones, neck, and her tits. Sucking on her nipples as Vi tries to come down from the high you placed her on, she doesnât think she ever will.Â
She tries not to think that she wanted these things with Caitlyn. Cait. Cupcake.Â
Vi only allows herself to think of her when sheâs dreaming, visions of what that could have been, what she used to be. All of it so trivial, so senseless when she thinks of you. How you make her feel is different and she tries not to think of what it all means.Â
One night.Â
Then two.Â
Now three.Â
In another life, maybe she was stronger, and didn't need to be wanted. Hell, even needed. She could wait for someone who she thought loves her but the other part of her doesnât want to think, she wants to feel. Vi likes feeling the softness of your skin, the light in your laughter, the swell of your exposed chest, the way your greedy eyes take in her abs, your soft lips kissing every part of her skin. The smooth, the scarred, the unworthy â you take it all in such stride.Â
âDo you want to stop? I think I lost you for a second.â You inquire to the pretty girl beneath you, her hands find your waist, creating makeshift circles on your hip bones.Â
âNo, thatâs the last thing I want.â Vi brings you to her lips, capturing your bottom lip, tongue invading your mouth. She tastes herself as your tongue melts with hers and the rest of her worries melt away. Itâs just you and her. âI want to keep going.âÂ
âThen tell me what you want, baby. Iâll do whatever you want. Itâs yours if you want it.âÂ
Itâs spoken as a reminder. All of this is her decision. Vi decides when she wants this, how she wants it, and youâre letting her take all of it in the way she needs. Vi tried not to think the first couple times, she never wanted her first time to be a big deal. Maybe with Caitlyn it could have been, but then she changed.Â
Vi thought maybe she could too. So, she did.Â
âCan youââ Vi stutters. Yet again her attention gets pulled to your tits, the softness of your stomach, she canât stop looking at you. As if sheâs trying to remember everything about you. Sheâs committed to it. Vi wants to remember the soft curves of your hips, the way you moan when she comes on your tongue.Â
The sight of you looking down at her makes she lose every rational thought, she wants to commit to memory forever. It wonât be something she easily forgets.Â
âGotta speak up, babygirl. Especially if you want me to keep my attention focused on this pretty cunt of yours.âÂ
You sit between her legs, tilting your head, you look at her glistening pussy, the way it shines with her cum and your sloppy spit. It would look even more exquisite with a little more. Taking a beat as you take your time, you gather enough in your mouth before spitting slowly, Vi whimpering as your spit makes contact with her lower pair of lips. She couldnât stop it, it slips and youâre grinning, hips desperately bucking to feel more of it.Â
âF-Fuck, need your cock. Please? I need it more than anything.â Vi confesses. Thereâs no need for dignity, especially if she keeps it and you wonât give her what sheâs itching for.Â
âYeah? Are you sure about it? Donât want you backing out just in case you canât be a good girl and take it.âÂ
She can take it but she canât take the countless teasing, trapped underneath the images drowning in her mind. This is what she wants, someone to dissolve into her, make her forget everything that has happened, just a pretty girl with some pretty tits who knows how to fuck. Right? Thatâs all this is. Itâs all it can be tonight. Her lip is busted from the fight tonight, knuckles bloodied and bruised, but you donât seem to mind all that much. Itâs all the same to you. Vi is all the same, thatâs been clear from the start.Â
Then, she decides to let her mind get shut off, let herself fall into you. You did know how to take care of her and tonight she would let you.Â
âLet me know if itâs too much, okay?âÂ
âI promise.âÂ
Once the harness is on, you wedge yourself in between her thighs, tattooed and toned, brave and brawny but she transforms into someone else entirely once youâre sinking inside her warm walls. You think about what it would feel like to feel her. Is she clenching around your cock? Would you feel the throbbing heartbreak of her clit? What you can hear is the whimper, uncontrollable and breathtaking, you slip further into her as you make home in her beautiful cunt.Â
Sheâs made it yours to take. Youâd do anything and everything for her, the thought alone scares so you do what you do best, you grind your hips slowly. Not wanting to overwhelm her too quickly, itâs the first time sheâs taking penetration and you want it to be good for her.Â
âYouâre so perfect. Doing so good for me, taking my cock like a fucking champ.â You whisper out, taking too much enjoyment in her getting lost in your soft thrusts. Viâs chest starts to heave as her hips roll into yours. Vi never even imagined wanting this, or that she could really have it with someone else. Itâs not like sheâs experienced, she has nothing to compare it to, but it feels incredibly intimate.Â
She likes how youâre being with her. Soft, gentle, delicate. Vi thought sheâd never want to feel that way, but maybe itâs just under the right circumstance in the right light.Â
âShit, shit, shitâ Vi chants as your hand grabs the headboard, giving her one particular powerful thrust. Perky tits spring to life, jolting against the sudden movement, her moan so fucking load, as you continue your movements. This time not as hard, but you pick up your pace, wanting to see if she would have any arguments against it but Vi doesnât. Profanities and whimpers leave her mouth as you split her on your cock. Face half-smashed into the pillow, trying to muffle her moans and you offer this one mercy.Â
Sheâs still shy.Â
Now is a good time as any to fuck it out of her.Â
âDo you want more Vi? Want me to goâŠfaster?â Placing a hand on her abdomen, the abs defined and clenching as you halt your thrust for a moment. âDo you wanna feel me in your stomach, baby?âÂ
âCan you even do that? Iâm not so sure youâre even capable. Looks like the rookie knows more moves than the veteran.â Vi bites back. But it doesnât last for long. Vi thinks she must have said the wrong thing, pushed you too far, you slipped off her but only to move her body to the edge of the bed, placing her on all fours right in front of a very convenient mirror.Â
âFine. Thought Iâd be sweet but that isnât what you really want. If you want to get treated like a whore, Iâll fuck you like one.â You take a beat to appreciate her wonderfully sculpted back, the artwork is truly exquisite. It feels so much like her but the foolish girl is smirking at you through the mirror.Â
You know youâve been caught ogling at her body, checking out every inch of her exposed body, you slap her ass in retaliation but she just grinds her ass back onto you.Â
âIâm waiting.â Teasingly, Vi arches her spine more. âWhereâs the whore fucking youâre muling about?âÂ
In one move, youâre inside her, fucking her beautiful face into the mattress. Never in her life has she felt so full, so good, so sweet. You grab her by the meat of her hips, bringing you back on her repeatedly. Vi wonders what she would give to have this, have you, and the thought scares her just as badly. She instead focused on you.Â
Tits bouncing as you thrust into her at a punishing pace. Divinely and so perfectly you, making her see stars, she feels trapped. Not in a punishing way, but in a way that has her never wanting to leave the entrapments of your coaxing cock. At this moment, this is where sheâs meant to be, just a toy for you to use.Â
But itâs more than what meets the eye. If Vi was just a toy, youâd be done after the first night. Tonight, you werenât using her for your own pleasure. You seemed perfectly content to give. The shine in her eyes gave you something only she could, edging you even further, a constant wave hitting Vi like a tidal wave making home on the shore.Â
âGod, youâre just too perfect. Fuck, just like that, take whatâs yours.â Bouncing back on the strap, the words fall from her lips before she canât stop them. Overflowing like a water fountain, itâs before she really even realizes what sheâs saying, it just feels right.Â
âMommy, please.âÂ
Vi has had those words on the tip of her tongue but not that youâre fucking her into a different dimension, she lets the aching plea slip from sinful lips. Itâs only once but itâs enough to set you off. You pull Vi up, her gorgeous back pressed against your chest, sitting on your thighs as you fuck up into her. Brutally, she takes everything you have to give.Â
Sweat glistening across her body, accentuating her chest as she tries to compose herself but you donât give her the option. No. It would be too easy, wouldnât it?
âI want you to watch, Violet. Watch yourself when you cum, be a good girl and show me how pretty you look, hm? Wouldnât wanna disappoint, Mommy, now would you?âÂ
Vi sucks on your middle digit, tongues swirling as she feels the tight band in her stomach, threatening to snap. Sheâs close. When the sensationally soft pad of your thumb applies pressure on her clit, Viâs done for.Â
âShit, oh my fucking god, baby baby babbyyyyy.â Incoherent murmurs and moans come in abundance as Vi bounces herself your cock, falling right apart as you toy with her clit, fucking her through the impending high. Your other arm tweaks around and up, fingers squeezing her tits, over stimulating her as she slumps against you.Â
Itâs the easiest task ever done. Submit to you, your skilled fingers, the power of your sinfully sensational thrusts, she comes all over you. The powerful demeanor weakens before your very eyes. When you gently move her back on the bed, slipping out of her, Viâs eyes begin to water from the loss.Â
The first time getting strapped down is always a lot to handle, youâd still taken it easier on her, too afraid you would push her too far but by the blissed out eyes, sheâd enjoyed herself. She had enjoyed herself and you couldnât really ask for much more.Â
When the both of you are cleaned up, Vi cuddles into your frame and you let her. Even if your first instinct is to push her away, saying something you know thatâll hurt her, none of it finds any merit on your tongue. For the first time, you find it difficult to turn away a pretty girl, her lips kissing your collarbones, up your neck until she finds home on your own lips, sloppily invading your mouth with your tongue.Â
Hitting you where it hurts, she moans your name in her mouth, unable to contain the neediness she feels around you. Itâs worse than Cait. This is pure addiction entangled with something carnal. Vi knows if she doesnât get to fuck you again, you fucking her cunt again, she might as well give up on life now.Â
âI could go again.âÂ
You chuckle. Of course she could.Â
âDonât know rookie, that might be all you can handle for the night.âÂ
Itâs a challenge and you know sheâll bite the bait.Â
With ease she gets on top of you, and just as if sheâs done it a hundred times, Vi sinks on your cock, âI think I can handle another ride, donât you?âÂ
#m'actually kinda proud of this one#i hope y'all like it :')#lmk what you think <3#vi#vi arcane#arcane league of legends#league of legends#vi smut#vi x reader#vi x you#vi arcane x reader#wlw post#wlw fanfiction#lesbian#violet arcane x reader#vi x fem reader#arcane x you#violet arcane
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des4ntis campaign poster?????????
#9#cyrsed art#collaged in csp with a pic of some piece of human garbage i saw and a bunch of images i've generated using craiyon#remember the end of hellraiser 1?#no... i shan't say it#anyway i sort of adore the design philosophy of those horrible unhinged graphics conspiracy theorists like making#not the content of them but the way they try to get across information#and the intensity of the imagery lol#i wonder if anyone out there has like#written about the sort of art/imagery that conspiracy communities produce bc
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â· First Time?
Synopsis . When you get paired with the campus asshole, Sukuna, for a project, the last thing you expect to learn about him is that heâs a damn virgin. Nor did you expect to be the one to change that. / Pairing . virgin!Sukuna x fem!reader / Content . afab!reader, oral sex (m!receiving), premature ejac, non-curse college au, dirty talk, pet names, degrading, porn w plot, teasing, taunting, filth, etc. / wc . 6k
A/N: ty to the nonnie on my main who asked if Iâd ever write virgin!jjk men :3 [MDNI]
Who wouldâve thought?
Of all people, Sukuna, a virgin? It just didnât make sense.
He was this stand-offish asshole who most people respected out of pure fear. He didnât exactly do parties and yet you could always find him at one. Heâd always have some chick on his arm or even in his lap so, in what world would anyone with a brain assume heâs actually never been inside a woman before?
And to make his lack of game all the more unbelievable, heâs even rumored to have a big dickâ itâs like some overly well-known campus fact about the guy.
So, again, what reason would anyone have to think the guy was a virgin?
Certainly not you, of course. And you donât expect to be the only person to find out such information either.
The way you find out is probably even more bizarre than the fact itself. You and him had little to no reason to ever interact with each other. You werenât some shy nerd who holed herself up in her room all day or anything but you werenât much of the party type other.
You were stuck somewhere in the middle of all that, vicariously living through some of your friends who had better things going for them.
As such, there was no real reason for you and Sukuna to cross paths. He never even had a reason to acknowledge your existence until the two of you are paired up together for a project in the one class you happen to take together.
ââ
The background noise is the chatter of your fellow classmates and their own project partners, you find your partner grumbling out a low, âWhat?â In response to your last statement, having hardly heard a thing you said.
âI said,â You huff, sitting beside the man in question as today marks week two of you being paired up with him for this semesterâs project, âWe should be meeting up outside of class too. We could get his knocked out in like a day if you just-â
âOh that,â Sukuna cuts off casually. Seated all slouched back in his seat, his legs sprawled out in that signature manspread of hisâ he rolls his eyes at your little reminder, âYou said somethinâ about that last week.â
You speak through slightly gritted teeth, fighting the headache heâs about to give you from this conversation alone, âAll the more reason for you to take it into consideration. The faster we get this done, the less we have to deal with each other.â
As you say that, you glance at him only to find his eyes directly on yours already. Heâs got such lazy posture, his head tilted slightly whilst he gazes at you so intently, and his big muscular arms folded across his chest. Even wearing a black hoodie and gray sweats, he still looks as attractive as everâ mean low-lidded crimson eyes locked on yours, tattooed face so beautifully defined, and rosy lips pulled into such an uninterested little frown.
Up until your words hit his ears properly, âThe less we have to deal with each other, huh?â Sukuna repeats, narrowing his eyes even further at you, âYou barely even know me ând yet you want nothing to do with me already.â
âI know enough about you, Sukuna,â You say with a sigh, âAnd you hardly contribute to this project as is. Which only proves that everything they say about you is probably true.â
He arches a brow, his interest piquing, âAnd what exactly do people say about me?â
You let off a light scoff, âDonât act like you donât know.â
âBut I donât know,â Sukuna tells you honestly, maroon eyes boring into yours.
You stare for a moment as you try to decipher whether or not heâs being honest right now. How does he not know what people say about him? Everyone talks about his brooding personality very openly.
âThey say youâre an ass,â You eventually say to the man.
To which his lips twitch into a slight smirk, âAnd you believe that?â
âSeeing as Iâve asked you to, at the very least, type your name on this document and you havenât even done that yet,â You scoff, âYes.â
The two of you mildly glare at one another for a moment before Sukuna leans up in his seat. Breaking eye contact for just a moment to look at his laptop, he swiftly moves to open up that shared document of yours and types his name out with a heavy sigh.
After which, heâs slouching back again and looking at you, âDonât believe everything people tell you, woman.â
You roll your eyes at him, âWhat? Are you not fond of rumors? That still doesnât negate the fact that youâre an assho-â
âWhen do you want to meet up?â Sukuna grumbles out almost reluctantly, watching the way you pause and swallow thickly as he catches you off-guard.
Heâs almost even intrigued by how quickly you bounce back, despite being caught by surprise, âFriday. Are you free?â
âUnfortunately,â He grumps.
You give him a little shrug, âGood. Iâll see you then.â
And that was it. That was how each and every interaction with you and Sukuna went. Bickering back and forth about him not doing shit to help you with something thatâll affect your grade majorly, criticizing you about being too focused and needing to relax every now and then, and even calling you a stuck-up little brat one timeâ it was safe to say, you and Sukuna didnât get along too well.
Not that you minded anyway. He wasnât your first partner to care little about their grade so, you knew how to deal with these kinds of people by now. Typically, you indulge yourself in their craving to ârelaxâ just once and then they promise to start helping. Youâve gone down that path before and itâs worked for you then so you assume things will go the same way with Sukuna.
Plus, you guess you can give him a slight pass for his asshole attitude, at least he has a pretty face to look at. Dark ink always decorating his awfully smooth skin, deep dark yet beautiful ruby-shaded eyes boring into whatever it is his focus on, and broad shoulders looming over your smaller figure every time he stands in front of youâ you can't help but feel both attracted and intimidated by the man.
ââ
Which is exactly why when you open your apartment door for the scheduled meetup that Friday to crane your head up at him, youâre swallowing thickly to settle your nerves. Youâve never been alone with the man so of course youâre a bit nervous.
Especially with the way he gazes down at you like thatâs exactly where you belong: beneath him. His eyes are filled to the brim with intensity and yet heâs only just set them on you. Wearing a noticeable black compression shirt and those signature gray sweets of his, he almost appears as though heâd just come from the gym.
And just as you take in his appearance, he very openly takes in yoursâ his eyes raking over your body and taking in every single inch of you. After all, just as it was your first time alone with him, it was his first time seeing you dress so comfortably. He doesnât even try to hide the way he stares at your tits peeking out from the rather thin spaghetti-strap top you were wearing, his eyes soon trailing down slowly to those tauntingly short shorts you had on.
âSo,â Sukuna swipes his tongue over his lips and cocks his head to the side, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes yet to lift from your legs, âAre you gonna stare at me all day or are you gonna let me in?â
You blink out of whatever little daze you were in, having found yourself gazing at his chest far longer than you meant to. It was right in front of your face after all, how could you look anywhere else? And his shirt was so damn tight, the fabric hugging his well-toned body perfectly, so much so that you swore you could make out piercings on his-
Sukuna leans forward suddenly, his face nearing yours to gain your full attention, âIf you keep staring at me like that, Iâm gonna assume you invited me over for something else-â
âSorry,â You chirp out as you clear your throat and awkwardly step back a bit to let him in, âYou can come in.â
Nodding, Sukuna slips by you and you shut your apartment door behind him. Then, youâre quick to lead him over to your living room where youâd previously been working on your project.
The two of you are hasty to take a seat on your couch, both of you only a few inches apart from one another whilst you lean toward your coffee table and log into your already open laptop. Sukunaâs eyes are all over you as always, studying your side profile, your intent focus on the screen in front of you, and even the way you-
âDid you even bring anything?â You suddenly ask before you glance at the man.
Sukuna quickly meets your gaze, ripping his eyes off of wherever theyâd been previously, âWas I supposed to?â
âSukuna,â You sigh out, âPlease tell me youâre joking right now.â
He swallows at the mere sound of his name rolling off your tongue in that scolding tone of yoursâ heâs heard such a tone from you time and time again and yet, for whatever reason, it never seems to annoy him.Â
âIâm not.â He says plainly.
âHow are we supposed to work on this if you-,â You cut yourself off and decide not to even attempt arguing with him. Arguing wonât change the fact that he showed up with nothing. âJust uhm,â You glance elsewhere for a second before an idea comes to mind and you place your laptop down and stand up, âStay here.â
Sukuna doesnât say anything. He merely watches as you huff and walk off, swiftly exiting the living room and disappearing down a nearby hall. He swears he finds himself looking at you a bit more than intended. Especially as you walked off, his eyes dropping to your ass and those damn shorts of yours.
Even when youâre out of his sight, he still finds himself staring in the direction of which you went, almost unable to look away for whatever strange reason.
That lasts for a few minutes until he snaps out of it and leans back against the couch, tossing his head back and letting out a long sigh. You soon return to find him with an arm stretched along the back of the couch, his legs spread as usual, and his eyes up on the ceiling.
He doesnât even notice youâve returned until he feels something placed in his lap. Looking down, Sukuna finds your laptop kindly set on top of him. To which his brows furrowed in confusion and he looked at you to see you sitting on the floor in between the couch and the coffee table with a paper and pencil in front of you.
âWhatâs this?â Sukuna scoffs.
You donât even spare him a glance as you begin writing something down, âHow weâll get things done.â He opens his mouth to say something but then youâre looking back at him with a glare, âI already organized the parts of this project that you have to do so, since itâs on my computer, you can work on that and Iâll work with what I remember.â
You wholeheartedly expected him to find something about this to disagree with you on but, to your surprise, he simply nods and redirects his focus to your laptop immediately.
And then, the two of you work exactly like that for the remainder of that little study session.
ââ
Sukunaâs not terrible to work with when itâs just you and him. If anything, heâs rather cooperative and a lot smarter than he leads on.Â
Which is why a solid two hours of productivity flies by surprisingly smoothly with him. If you asked him a question, he answered. Told him to do something, heâd say something snarky, and then do whatever it is youâve instructed anyway.
It all went so perfectly up until he let out a really heavy sigh, âAlright, Iâve had enough for this.â Sukuna says casually.
Heâs been repeating a similar phrase every thirty minutes or so but he usually gets right back to work after getting ignored by you. This time though, you get the feeling heâs serious when he pushes your laptop off of his lap and places it forward on the coffee table.
Itâs then that you frown, âOh câmon, we were getting so much done,â You comment as you glance back to him.
He shrugs, âI canât keep looking at that damn screen, itâs giving me a headache.â
âOf course it is,â You utter sarcastically, rolling your eyes whilst you place your pencil down and throw your arms up to stretch, âFine then, we can take a break.â
Sukunaâs brows lift in surprise. He didnât expect you to listen to him, âGood.â He hums, âI was getting bored as well.â
You scoff, âWere you?â
âYeah, can we do something else?â He asks.
Turning around, you rotate the way youâre sitting so that youâre facing him and your back is resting against your coffee table. âLike what?â You muse, meeting his low-lidded gaze.
âTalk,â Sukuna says.
Thatâs it? He wanted a break to talk to you? Your eyes are narrowing at him before you even realize, âTalk?â You repeat with a scoff, âSeriously?â
He nods, âMhm.â
âWhat do you wanna talk about, Sukuna?â As you ask him that, you watch the way his eyes casually slide down to your lips.
Does he mean to be this indiscreet with his looks? Or is he eyeing you down like that on purpose?
The man shrugs, âAnything outside of fuckinâ school.â
You laugh at that, âOkay, I can work with that.â
He tilts his head at you and licks his lips, âYeah?â Something about your little laugh threw him off.Â
âMhm,â You hum as you look down at your hand, fiddling with your nails a bit, âThe rumors⊠are they true?â
Thrown off yet again, Sukunaâs brows pinch together. âRumors?â He echoes in a genuinely confused tone, âWhat rumors, woman?â
The sound of your scoff makes him stiffen in his seat. Almost in an instant, the atmosphere had changed suddenly. âCâmon, donât play dumb,â You tease, lifting your gaze to him again, âThe rumors about you.â
He gives you a perplexed look and itâs almost as though you could see the gears in his head turning. âIf you know something, say it.â He demands.
You sigh, âSukuna, do you seriously hear nothing people say about you?â
Sukuna shrugs, âI donât care enough to remember. So what is it? What rumor?â
Youâre just curious. You swear thatâs all it was. And, naturally, since he seemed to have warmed up to youâ of course you wanted to know if that rumor about his dick was true. Youâre both adults and itâs just a silly question. Plus, with the way heâs been looking at you all afternoon, youâre sure he wonât mind answering you with a simple yes or no.
Glancing to the side, your shoulders lift a bit, âItâs uh, rather intimate.â You hush out.
Sukuna narrows his eyes at you, âIntimate?? An intimate rumor about me?â
His emphasis on himself makes your eyes flick back over to him. âYeah, are you sure you donât know what they say about you??â You ask again.
âPositive. Now speak, what is it they say?â Sukuna huffs impatiently, even more curious about this little rumor after the mention of it being intimate. After all, heâs never-
âPeople say you have a big dick,â You utter way too casually.
So nonchalantly that it makes him choke, a choke you donât mess with the way he clears his throat and sits up a little. âWhat?â He rasps out.
You bat those stupidly false innocent eyes at him, âI didnât stutter,â Your tone dips into something different and he catches every bit of it, âPeople say you have a big dick, is it true?â
Sukuna clears his throat and for the first time, he glances away from you. Then, he opens and closes his mouth, contemplating his next words carefully before they soon fall from his lips, âYou wanna find out?â
His offer spurs a shift in your seat from you as you scoot closer to him ever so slightly, âYou wanna show me?â You ask boldly, your tone direct, and not even a flicker of hesitation present.
âDo I want to-,â Sukuna pauses, his eyes scanning the entirety of your seated frame as you inch closer to him, âWhat?â He huffs, swallowing thickly.
You move to stand on your knees and lean forward to the couch, soon propping your chin up on your palm as you look at him, âShow me,â You chuckle, âI asked if you wanted to show me, Sukuna.â
He blinks, âShow you my cock?â
You shrug, âYeah.â
The air is so thick right now, Sukunaâs not sure how exactly he can play this off without making a fool of himself. He gulps yet again, only to watch as your eyes start to drop down along his body.
âStop,â He rushes out, âKeep your eyes up here. On mine,â He commands in a low tone, earning your gaze once more.
And then itâs quiet for a moment. Heâs staring at you and youâre obediently keeping your eyes up on his. Sukuna hates it but he doesnât know what to say or do from here. The last thing he wanted was for you to find out his little secret.Â
Itâs like he was waiting for a fucking pin to drop, something to break the silence. Yet, his mind was going blank and words were failing him at the moment. Heâs flirted with women before, plenty of times actually, effortlessly evenâ but for whatever reason, as you sit there with those stupidly pretty eyes staring at him, his mind simply flakes on him.
Heâs like that for a minute longer until you move. So subtly too, sliding a hand to his thigh, leaning forward slightly, batting your lashes at him, âSukuna?â You whisper.
His hips are rolling upward slightly at the sound of his name alone. âW-What?â He stammers, mentally cursing himself a thousand times over.
âIf you donât wanna show me you can jusâ say no,â You hum, smiling a bit, âYâknow that, right?â
He scoffs, âOf course I know that, woman.â
âIf you know that thenâŠâ Your fingers lightly squeeze his thigh and you tilt your head, âAre you gonna tell me or show me whether or not those rumors are true?â
Something simply clicks inside Sukunaâs head. Rose-tinted lips cracking into a smirk, the man spreads his legs further and slouches back into the couch, âFind out for yourself since youâre so curious.â
Your eyes go wide, âWhat?â
Sukuna scoffs lightly, moving one of his arms from the back of the couch and placing his hand over his crotch. Of course, your gaze sinks down to his veiny hand, watching as he palms a stupidly large bulge in his sweats.
Your breath hitches a bit, âI-I-â
You donât even get the chance to get it out before heâs cutting you off, âCâmere,â Sukuna hums in that low voice of his.
âWhat?â You whisper.
You and him make eye contact again and he nods his chin toward the space in between his legs. Nothing can really explain why you follow his gesture and quickly find yourself sitting in between his legs, taking a deep breath as you settle your hands on his thighs.
Sliding your touch up and up and up until your fingers graze his hand. The same hand that was resting on top of that aching bulge of his.
Sukuna slowly lifts his hand up and away, relaxing his arm on the back of the couch again as he stares down at you. Cocking his head to the side, âWell? Feel it.â He huffs.
You donât even hesitate. Trailing your fingers upward carefully until you feel the outline of his cock beneath your fingertips, gulping as you drag your hand up to cup his length in your hand firmly, and smirking at the way his cock twitches furiously beneath your small touch.
Sukunaâs mouth falls open for a second but youâre too engrossed in feeling him to notice. He lets out a shuddered breath as he watches the way you grope his steadily growing erection. His head even tosses back and his fingers dig into the couch for a moment.
âIt is big,â You whisper to yourself, your words only making him twitch more within your hand.
âFuck,â Sukuna grits out lowly, hips unconsciously lifting to press himself further against you.
His curse earns your attention. You quickly glance up to him and see the way heâs got his head tossed back, Adam's apple bobbing with every heavy gulp he takes, and his chest rising and falling rather quickly.
You lift your hand carefully and decide to test something out. Slowly, you lean forward and just barely press your lips against his clothed cock.
Sukunaâs whole body reacts. He gasps louder than he means to and heâs weaving his fingers through your hair faster than he realizes, palming your scalp as he quickly looks down at you. âT-The fuck are you doing? Huh?â He huffs while gripping onto your hair.
You lift your head a bit but he keeps you in place, despite his question to you. âI justâŠâ Youâre not exactly sure you can explain yourself.
And by this point, Sukuna doesnât think he cares enough to hear an excuse from you, ââŠYou what? You wanna see it?â
All you can do is give him a little nod before he moves his free hand to the drawstring of his sweatpants. Then you're quick to help him tug them down until his boxers are revealed to youâ a noticeable dampness in the fabric right where his leaking tip is. Was that because of you?
Before you can dawn on your own questions, Sukunaâs moving to tug his cock out. And fuck is he even bigger revealed before your eyes. With an upward curve, such an angry flushed tip, precum dripping from the slit of his fat cockhead, veins decorating his shaft and-
Shit, you were drooling. Howâd you get like this again?? Ah, who cares?
âSukuna,â You breathe out, ripping your eyes away from his cock just to look up at him.
He was almost panting, dark maroon eyes pouring down into yours, face flushed with different shades of red and pink, his lips parted softlyâ hell, he looked like he was in heat or something.
Gulping before he answers you, Sukuna clears his throat and his voice is already husky, âWhat?â
You shift against the floor, your hands relaxing against his large thighs, âCan I-â
âYeah,â He cuts off. Lord knows if you got that question out he was going to lose his damn mind.
You raise a brow and lean forward, keeping your eyes on his while your lips near his tip, âYeah?â
The last thing you get from him is a nod before youâre parting your lips. And from that moment forward, it all goes downhill. Everything from the way youâre sitting in between his legs to that initial connection of your plush lips against his drooling cock had Sukunaâs mind spinning.
Heâs never been sucked off before. Hell, the farthest heâs gone as far as sexual activities are concerned is a little bit of dry humping. But this? Oh hell, this was his first time and he had zero idea how he was going to keep that information away from you.
Especially when he feels your tongue slip from between your lips and swirl around the head of his cock, kittenly lapping up that slim layer of precum sitting so prettily on his tip.Â
âOh f-fuuck,â Sukuna groans huskily, the hand on your head gripping tighter.
You pull away from him slightly just to take in his expression and the way he tosses his head back. It was almost cute to you. The last thing you expected was for him to be so damn sensitive, you hardly did anything.
His sensitivity only worsens as you finally start wrapping your lips around his cock, feeling him throb when you sink your mouth down on him. Sukunaâs jaw goes slack and his brows twist up. He tries his best to hold it in but he canât help but moan at the way you leisurely suck on half of his lengthy cock.
Your saliva wets up the rest of his shaft and you make up for what your mouth hasnât reached yet with your hand, stroking him lightly whilst you take the rest of his girth in and out of your mouth. Rolling your tongue around him, pulling off just to messily spit and kiss on his blushing tip, and slobbering all over himâ Sukuna almost fucking kicked something with how good your mouth felt around him.
Heâs used his hand and other shit before but holy fuck, nothing, and he means nothing compares to that damn mouth of yours. The way you look with his cock stuffed right in between those lips heâs been staring at for God knows how longâ your lips all slick with spit, eyes rolling back the deeper you take him, and tongue sticking out every time you pull your mouth off of him.
You soon slip your mouth off of him and start jerking him off, focusing your tongue on his tip and slithering the wet muscle in between the slit of his cock, lathering your tongue up with his glistening precum.Â
The sound of Sukuna groaning makes you look up at him, finding his eyes on yours again. Heâs panting, trying his best to look like this wasnât phasing him but failing in every way with how flushed his face was.Â
Your tongue sticks out and your hand continues to slide up and down his cock as you tap his tip on your tongue, making his brows twist up.Â
He bites back a throaty sound, âHah⊠damn brat,â Sukuna huffs out as if to⊠degrade you?Â
You almost find it cute how clearly inexperienced he is, spitting a fat wad of spit onto his pretty wet tip and then smiling at him, âSukuna,â You coo, your hand gripping his shaft tighter, âIs this your first time?â
He instantly looks off to the side, the veins in his neck and along his jawline tensing as he grits his teeth. Since he decides to ignore your little question, you take it a step further and slide your hand down his cock, gripping his thick base firmly before taking him into your heavenly warm mouth again.
His expression breaks completely, âOh shit,â Sukuna moans, his hips bucking up into your mouth as you slide him deeper into your mouth than you did before.
Then his hand is pushing your head down further on instinct and heâs subtly rutting his hips up. You lift your head up despite his constant pushing, soon causing your head to bob up and down whilst you suck him off skillfully.
âJusâ like that,â Sukuna suddenly groans and you moan around his cock in reaction. To which he keeps giving your mouth mindless little thrusts, âDonât s-, agh, stop.â
Sucking him deeper and deeper before you move your hand completely, you suck in a deep breath of air through your nose, open up the very back of your throat, and sink all the way down, your lips meeting his pelvis as your eyes roll to the back of your head.
Sukuna kicks something. Probably your coffee table with the way one of his legs extends out so suddenly, a choked-out groan ripped from his throat as your little move was all it took for him to cum. And itâs so much too, hot thick ropes of cum spurting down your throat, his hand holding onto your head for dear life whilst a moan of your name rolls off his tongue.
Youâre still sucking too, pulling up only to swallow what heâs gifted you and then stick your tongue out. Laying it flat against his tip, you leisurely lick at him as if to beg for more and now the manâs pushing your head away for the first time.
When you lift your eyes up to him again, you notice heâs got his tattooed arm over his mouth and his lashes are batting softly at you. For such a big man, he was so ridiculously cute right now. Panting, sweating, cursing under his breath as if you couldnât hear him.
âYeah,â Sukuna utters suddenly, clearing his throat, âThat was⊠my first⊠time. I uh-â
âDo you want more?â Is the last thing you asked him before you were sitting back on your heels and he was stumbling to his feet.
You had to guide him through it of course but, Sukuna doesnât hesitate to stuff your face full of his cock again. You take him so kindly too, obediently sitting there with your hands gripping his thighs for support with every careful thrust of his hips.
He was trying to be gentle with you at first. Partially because he didnât know what the hell he was doing, and also because he just loved the initial entry into your mouth. Over and over, Sukuna slid his dick in and out of your mouth like he was possessed, addicted to the feeling of you greedily sucking on him.
He was still sensitive from his first orgasm but his cock had yet to go downâ twitching inside that sloppy mouth of yours, aching against your tongue, and dripping into the depths of your throat. Sukuna wasnât much of a talker but he damn sure let out a plethora of grunts and groans.
They were so husk too, coming from deep within his chest, some getting caught in his throat when he felt your tongue flick against a specific vein on the underside of his cock. His fat tip knocked into the back of your throat with a single heavy thrust before his hands were latching onto the sides of your head.
Again, heâs not much of a talker but, something seems to come over him all at once because soon heâs got his gaze locked down on the messy sight of you and heâs huffing out words before he realizes. âEyes up here, câmon, hah⊠look at me,â Sukuna grunts.
Your eyes are completely glossed over as they flutter up to him. A moan vibrates against his skin as you make such intimate eye contact with the man, feeling his hips pick up.
Sukuna nods, âGood girl,â He praises in a low purr, and fuck does that do wonders for you because your legs are squeezing together more than they were before and youâre whining against him. âFuck, yâlike that?â He huffs, earning a sloppy lilâ nod from you.
He then feels you hum, âM-Mhm.â And heâs got chills slipping up his spine in pleasure.
Cracking a lazy, lopsided, and almost fucked-out little smirk, Sukuna scoffs, âYeah? Fuck, behind all those g-glares ând-, agh, scolding me⊠this is all you wanted, hm? A throat full of cock?â
His words had you whining again, fluttering your lashes at him as your fingertips dug into his thighs a little. Sukuna eases his hips back slowly, tipping his head to the side as he gently caresses the side of your face with his thumb.
âMessy girl,â He hums deeply, biting his lower lip at the way youâre just drooling for more and more as he pulls himself out of your mouth completely. âJusâ look at this face,â Sukuna chuckles, âYâlook like a slut cryinâ like thatâ itâs cute.â
Blinking, you hadnât even realized you had a tear or two sliding down your face. Your mouth remains open for a second before he moves to rub his tip against your plump lips, smearing your spit and his cum all over the damn place with a little grin on his face.
ââKunaâŠâ You whisper, earning a quirk of his brow, âI canât believe youâre a virg-â
âDonât finish that sentence,â He grunts, moving a thumb to your chin to widen how open your mouth is for him, âJusâ⊠keep sittinâ there lookinâ pretty fâme,â Sukuna says.
You roll your eyes at him and all he can do is smile, pushing his hips forward again and easing his cock in between your lips. He slides in slowly until you can feel him pressing right against the back of your throat. To which he keeps himself there for a second, testing that gag reflex of yours and watching your eyes water.
Moving his hand back to the top of your head, he buries his fingers in your hair, âSo fuckinâ sexy like this,â Sukuna compliments, feeling you moan in response, âMâgonna cum again, stay j-just like that,â He breathes out heavily, his eyes rolling to the back of his skull before heâs throwing his head back.
And as if to coax his orgasm out, you carefully move a hand to cup his balls, sucking on his cock as best as you can and earning an accidental sound from his throat. The second your palm is felt against him, the moment he feels your tongue slicking against him, Sukuna whines.
Then his thighs are tensing and heâs groaning loudly as if to cover up the sound that just left his lips, filling your throat with his seed and then tugging your mouth off of him with a quick pull of your head. Youâre quick to swallow for yet a second time, letting out a needed cough after the fact while he stumbles back just a bit, his calves hitting the couch.
âVixen,â Sukuna growls.
You clear your throat and send a smile his way, âNot my fault you cum easy.â
Sukunaâs slow to sit back down on the couch to catch his breath, âTell anyone about this ând Iâll-â
âOh,â You suddenly purr, cutting him off as you lift yourself up from the ground. He watches with slightly widened eyes as you move to straddle him, âDonât tell me you thought we were done?â
Heâs at a loss for words all over again, his confidence suddenly getting caught in his throat and flying out the window. Your hands slip to his broad shoulders and you lean forward a little.
Sukunaâs hands shakily find their way to your waist as he stares up at you, âYou want more?â
You smirk, tilting your head at the dumbfounded male, âDonât you?â You ask in a sultry little whisper, making his sensitive cock twitch once more. âAt the very leastâŠâ Your lips slowly near his and heâs losing his breath, âTaste yourself, Sukuna.â
And then your lips are on his and heâs taking your tongue into his mouth. His grip on your waist tightens before he pulls you flush against him, feeling your crotch press right against his cock thatâs steadily twitching back to life.
The two of you share a heated and messy kiss, your hips carefully swaying against him to encourage his returning arousal. You canât really use curiosity as an excuse anymore, can you?
Well, you can. And you do with the way your hands slide down to his chest, your fingers slipping over his nipples to find exactly what youâd been curious about. You flick your fingers over his piercing there and Sukuna lets out a low hiss, prying his lips from yours and sending you a glare.
Not only did that little move of yours make his cock spring up completely but, you also notice the frown on his face.
Smiling at him, âSukunaâŠâ
âDonât.â He huffs.
âYou have nipple piercings?â You end up asking anyway in a happy little tone.
He grits his teeth slightly, ââŠObviously.â
Chuckling, you press a soft peck against his lips and whisper, âCan I see them?â
âNo.â He replies.
Part two.
#sukuna#sukuna smut#smut#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna#jjk ryomen#jujutsu kaisen ryomen#jjk smut#anime smut#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#sukuna ryoumen x reader#sukuna ryoumen smut#sukuna ryoumen x you#jjk#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk x reader smut#jjk x y/n#jjk x you smut#ryoumen sukuna#jjksmut#jujutsu kaisen smut
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Jealousy, Jealousy with Sylus
Plot: Reader becomes jealous of Sylus and MC's closeness, distancing herself and seeking comfort in another LI. Sylus notices her growing distance and takes action. Based on this request. Pairing: Sylus x Non MC reader Content Warning: Insecurities, injuries, mention of blood, jealousy, angst, hurt/comfort Note: Reader is not the MC of the game. I think I got quite carried away writing this because I am a sucker for angst.
The faint hum of the air condition echoed through the Onychinus base, its opulent, luxurious atmosphere doing little to distract from the knot twisting in your stomach. You stood across from Luke and Kieran, their crow masks tilted slightly as if to gauge your reaction.
"Boss isn't here today," Luke said casually, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Heâs in Linkon, Boss manâs got other things to handle."
Kieran, his mask tilted slightly to the side, gave a confused grunt. "But I thought he was meeting with her...?"
Luke raised a brow, correcting him. "No, no, he was meeting with Miss Hunter."
Miss Hunter.
The words hit you like a sledgehammer, even though they shouldnât have. You were a hunter too, an informant who had been feeding Sylus critical intel on the associationâs movements for two years now. But she was different. Special.
Captain Jennaâs star pupil, with her rare Anhaunsen-class Resonance Evol, was someone Sylus had spent weeks trying to connect with, both literally and emotionally. You werenât blind to the necessity of it; resonating with her was crucial for his goals, ones he hadnât entirely shared with you but that you trusted him to pursue.
Trusted him. Loved him.
You forced a tight smile. "Thanks for the update. I'll let you two get back to it."
Luke and Kieran exchanged a glance, but you were already walking away, the echo of your boots swallowed by the hum of the base.
The ride back to Linkon was supposed to clear your mind. It didnât.
The cool wind whipped against your face, but all it did was sting the tears pooling in your eyes. The road stretched endlessly ahead, yet the pressure in your chest only grew. Sylus hadnât seen you in two months. Two months of unanswered calls and messages reduced to half-hearted responses when they came at all.
You understood why he was focused on her. She was crucial to his plans. She was everything you werenât: poised, pretty, powerful, and, most importantly, someone he needed.
But understanding didnât make it hurt any less.
The world blurred around you as your thoughts spiraled. You had always known your place in Sylusâ life. You were the informant, the quiet insider who helped him stay two steps ahead of the hunters. Somewhere along the way, though, you had fallen for him. For the man who wasnât as cold and calculated as others believed. It had been two long years since you started working with Sylus. Two years filled with secrecy, lies, and hidden truths. But over those years, you'd found yourself tangled in emotions for him that you couldnât shake. Sylus, with his cold authority, his dangerous smile, his complex nature⊠He was all you could think about. He wasnât as dismissive as people thought. He had a way of looking at you when no one was watchingâa fleeting softness that you cherished, even if you couldnât be certain if it was real.
And now, it felt like you were losing him.
Your bike screeched to a halt near Meowâs CafĂ©. You hadnât planned to stop, but the sight of the familiar storefront tugged at you. Perhaps a coffee and a moment to breathe would help.
The glass windows glinted under the midday sun, and your breath hitched as you looked inside.
Sylus was there. With her.
They sat at a small table, a deck of Kitty cards spread between them. He was leaning back, his smirk in full display as she laughed at something he said. It was the kind of laugh that reached her eyes, the kind of moment you had only ever dreamed of sharing with him.
You froze, your hands tightening on your helmet.
For a fleeting second, you wanted to march inside and demand answers. To ask him why he had time to play cards but couldnât return your calls. To tell him how his absence had hollowed you out.
But you didnât.
He looks so happy... you thought bitterly, swallowing the lump in your throat.
The truth gnawed at you. Every interaction, every ignored message, every unread notification on your phoneâit was because of her. Because Sylus had more important things to do. She was the one who mattered now. She was the one who he had to resonate with, had to bond with, had to make fall for him.
And you? You were just a pawn, a toolâforgotten. And there you were. Alone. Watching through a window, the warmth of the cafe contrasting the cold, empty feeling in your stomach. He hadnât even bothered to let you know he was back. He was with her. You couldnât bear to watch any longer, but you couldnât look away either. It felt like the world was spinning faster than you could catch up, and you were left stranded, dizzy, and abandoned.
Instead, you turned away, your chest tight and vision blurred. The world felt suffocating, the weight of your unspoken feelings dragging you down as you climbed back onto your bike.
It was for the best, right?
You couldnât keep doing this. You couldnât keep waiting for him, couldnât keep fooling yourself that there was something real between you two. He was busy. He had her. And you.. well, you didnât even know why you bothered anymore.
The ride back to your apartment was a blur of taillights and muffled engine noise. The cityâs glow that usually brought you some sense of comfort felt glaring and alien tonight. By the time you made it inside, the suffocating silence of your small space was overwhelming.
For someone who prided herself on being strong and independent, you barely made it to your couch before the sobs overtook you. Hot, angry tears streamed down your face as you clutched a pillow to your chest, trying in vain to keep your cries muffled. It felt as though something within you had been ripped apart, leaving an aching, hollow void that throbbed with every thought of him.
You replayed the image of him at the café in your mind, over and over, as if some part of you wanted to punish yourself further. His smirk. Her laughter. The ease of their interaction. It contrasted so sharply with the heaviness that now weighed on your heart.
Every chime of your phone made you flinch, hope briefly sparking to life, only to be cruelly snuffed out when the screen lit up with messages from othersâwork updates, pointless notifications, or friends checking in. Nothing from him. Of course, there wouldnât be.
You wiped at your face, your chest tightening as you scrolled through the last few conversations youâd had with Sylus. They were short, clipped responses. A "thanks" here, an "Iâm busy" there. Youâd convinced yourself for weeks that he wasnât brushing you off, that his focus was just elsewhere. But deep down, you knew. Youâd always known.
You werenât as important to him as he was to you.
That realization settled over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating and final. And yet, you tried to convince yourself it was okay. He doesnât owe me anything, you told yourself, though the thought only twisted the knife deeper. Heâs free to choose who he spends his time with.
But it didnât stop the tears.
The days that followed were a haze of exhaustion and numbness. You threw yourself into your work, spending long hours tracking and confronting wanderers. The physical exhaustion helped, even if just a little. At least when you were in the middle of a fight, the pain in your chest was drowned out by the adrenaline coursing through your veins.
Still, the nights were the worst. Alone in your apartment, the quiet crept in like a suffocating fog. You tried to distract yourselfâreading, cleaning, even organizing old mission reports. Anything to keep your mind from drifting back to him. But it was impossible.
Each time you saw his name in your contacts, you hesitated. Your thumb hovered over the call button more times than you cared to admit, but the fear of hearing his indifferent voice stopped you every time. What would you even say? That you missed him? That you wanted to see him? That youâd fallen for him, even though you knew it would never be mutual?
No. You couldnât do that to yourself.
You worked harder, pushed yourself further. Every wanderer you fought became a stand-in for your frustrations, your insecurities. You told yourself that if you could just stay busy enough, the ache would go away. But no matter how many missions you completed or how many late nights you spent staring at your phone, the weight in your chest never fully lifted.
By the end of the week, you were exhaustedâphysically and emotionally. But you were surviving. Barely. The bell above the door jingled softly as you pushed into the chocolatierâs shop, the rich scent of cocoa and vanilla wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The day had been gruelingâhours of chasing leads, a narrow escape from a particularly aggressive wanderer, and not a single bite of food since morning. Your stomach growled in protest, a sharp reminder that youâd been running on fumes for too long.
Rows of meticulously crafted chocolates gleamed beneath the glass counter, their perfect swirls and shimmering finishes almost too beautiful to eat. Almost. You leaned forward slightly, scanning the display, your reflection ghosting over the pristine surface.
Dark chocolate truffles. Raspberry ganache. Caramel hazelnut clusters. The options were overwhelming, and your indecision felt heavier than it shouldâve. Your chest still ached from the lingering emotions youâd been suppressing all week. The quiet joy of the shop felt alien, like stepping into a world you no longer belonged to.
Just pick something and go, you thought, your fingers tightening on the strap of your bag. But the choices seemed endless, each one whispering promises of sweetness you werenât sure you deserved.
"If youâre struggling," a soft, measured voice spoke behind you, "the pistachio crĂšme chocolate is an excellent choice."
Startled, you turned, your gaze falling on a man standing a few steps away. Tall and lean, he exuded an understated confidence that was both intimidating and captivating. Dark hair fell in against his forehead, and sharp hazel-green eyes, softened by gold flecks peered at you from behind thin-framed glasses. His white doctorâs coat was open, revealing a simple black shirt beneath, and he held a small paper bag in one hand.
You blinked, caught off guard by both his suggestion and his presence. "Oh, uh⊠thank you," you stammered, trying not to sound as flustered as you felt. "Iâll⊠Iâll try that."
The shopkeeper nodded and carefully packed your selection as you stole another glance at the stranger. There was an air of calm authority about him, a quiet assurance that made you feel oddly exposed, like he could see straight through you.
He waited patiently as the shopkeeper handed you your bag, but just as you were about to leave, his voice cut through the quiet againâthis time, more direct. "Chocolates shouldnât be your first meal of the day."
The statement was delivered without malice, his tone stoic and matter-of-fact, yet it hit like a stone to the chest. Your lips parted in shock, the question forming before you could stop it: How does he know? But before you could say anything, he was already moving toward the door. The bells jingled softly as it closed behind him, leaving you standing frozen in place. The strangerâs words lingered, intertwining with the rest of your messy emotions. Your fingers clenched the small bag of chocolates as you tried to process the brief encounter.
A soft gleam on the floor caught your attention, breaking your spiraling thoughts. A wallet, its sleek leather worn but well-kept, lay just inches from where the man had stood. You knelt and picked it up, your heart thudding as you opened it to check for identification.
The name embossed on his hospital ID was like a jolt: Dr. Zayne. Your eyes widened. Doctor Zayne? The name was familiarâa renowned surgeon whose skills and precision were legendary, often described as a miracle worker. Youâd imagined someone older, more weathered, not⊠this.
For a moment, you stared at the ID, piecing together the puzzle of the composed, enigmatic man who had called you out so effortlessly. You tried the number listed on a card tucked into his wallet, but it rang unanswered, the sterile monotone only adding to your frustration.
"Of course, he wouldnât answer," you muttered under your breath, chewing your lip as you debated your next move. The idea of keeping his wallet overnight felt wrong, and leaving it here in the shop seemed equally careless.
That left one option.
The hospital loomed ahead as you approached, its towering structure illuminated against the evening sky. Anxiety gnawed at your insides, twisting with every step you took through the sterile white halls. You werenât sure why you felt so on edgeâmaybe it was the overwhelming sense of inadequacy that had been haunting you lately, or maybe it was the lingering impression of Zayneâs knowing gaze.
At the reception desk, you hesitated, gripping the wallet tightly as you cleared your throat. "Hi, um, Iâm here to return something for Dr. Zayne. He⊠accidentally dropped this."
The receptionist barely looked up, taking the wallet with a polite but indifferent smile. "Dr. Zayne isnât in right now. Iâll make sure he gets this when heâs back."
"Oh," You nodded, murmuring a quick thanks before retreating back toward the exit. You thought nothing of this interaction as you left. You did what you thought was right and left the hospital back towards your apartment.
The days blurred together in a haze of work and routine. You buried yourself in assignments from the Hunterâs Association, throwing yourself into dangerous missions with a single-minded intensity. Anything to keep your mind occupied.
Sylus messaged you once during that time, his tone professional as he asked for updates regarding a lead he was tracking. Youâd responded quickly, sticking strictly to business. No pleasantries, no banterâjust the information he needed. He didnât press, didnât call you out for your uncharacteristic coldness. Maybe he didnât notice. Or maybe he did and chose not to say anything.
That night, you jogged through the dimly lit streets, your breath fogging in the cool air as you tried to exorcise the restless energy gnawing at you. The rhythmic slap of your sneakers against the pavement was grounding, steady. Jogging had always been your go-to, a way to clear your head and silence the endless stream of "what-ifs" and "if-onlys" that plagued your mind.
You shook your head, annoyed at yourself. There was no point in dwelling. Sylus wasnât the kind of person to give you what you wanted, and even if he did, could you trust it? Could you trust him?
But no amount of movement could completely shake Sylus from your thoughts.
His voice, his presenceâit clung to you, even now.
Why didnât he ask how Iâve been? Why didnât I?
The sound of skidding tires yanked you out of your spiraling thoughts.
âLook out!â
Before you could process the warning, a cyclist veered wildly toward you, their momentum too strong to stop. There wasnât even time to brace yourself. The impact hit like a freight train, and suddenly, you were on the ground, tangled with the bike and its rider. Pain blossomed sharp and hot in your knees as the asphalt scraped them raw.
For a moment, you just lay there, stunned. The world tilted unsteadily, the city lights smearing together like a watercolor painting.
âHey, you okay?â The cyclistâs voice snapped you back. They were scrambling off you, helmet slightly askew but otherwise unscathed. You shook your head to clear it, wincing as you sat up. You pushed yourself up, shaking the dizziness from your head, and checked on the cyclist who had crashed into you. They were already scrambling to their feet, looking slightly dazed but otherwise unharmed, their helmet and guards having done their job.
âIâm fine,â you managed, even as your knees throbbed in protest. âAre you?â
âYeah, thanks to the gear,â they said, pulling off their helmet to inspect a small crack along its surface. âGuess it did its job.â
Relief washed over you. âGood. Let me justââ
âWait.â A different voice cut in, firm but calm. You stood there, still trying to regain your bearings when a figure appeared beside you, moving with a grace that immediately caught your attention. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw who it was. Dr. Zayne. The same man who had crossed your path in the chocolatier's shop just days ago. His sharp eyes locked onto yours, and for a split second, everything else seemed to vanish. His expression shifted from mild surprise to something more concerned as he took in your state.
Without saying a word, he immediately began assessing you, his gaze narrowing at the blood now staining your knees. You winced, feeling the sting of the cuts that had begun to bloom with a fiery intensity, but you were determined not to show it. You were used to painâused to the sharp discomfort that came with being a hunter. You didnât need help. You could handle this on your own. Youâd always been able to.
But Dr. Zayne wasnât having any of it.
His voice, low and steady, broke through the haze of your thoughts. "Youâre bleeding. Those need first aid," he said firmly, his frown deepening as he glanced at your scraped knees. "Sit. Wait here. Iâll be back in a minute."
You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him you were fine, but the words caught in your throat. He wasnât asking. His tone, though gentle, was authoritativeâdemanding in its own quiet way. There was something about the way he carried himself, that calm, unflinching presence, that made it impossible to argue.
"Iâm fine, I am a hunter." you managed to say, your voice rougher than you intended. "I can handle it at home. Really." You tried to force a reassuring smile
âIs this a hunter thing?â he interrupted, one brow arching skeptically. âAre all of you this stubborn about basic care, or is it just you?â
The words should have been biting, but his tone was almost... patient. Like he was accustomed to dealing with difficult people.
You flushed, suddenly hyper-aware of the sting in your knees and the heat of his gaze. âIâm not being stubborn,â you muttered. âI just donât want to bother anyone over something so small.â
âSmall injuries have a way of turning into bigger problems,â he said, folding his arms. âAnd Iâm not bothered. As a doctor, Iâm asking you to wait here. Iâll be back in a minute.â
Without waiting for your protest, he turned and strode off, leaving you no room to argue.
You sat stiffly on the bench, gripping the edge as the minutes dragged on. The ache in your knees was nothing compared to the gnawing discomfort blooming in your chest. Anxiety clawed at you, whispering insidious doubts.
Heâs wasting his time on you.He probably thinks youâre pathetic and weak.Why couldnât you have just gotten up and left?
Your fingers curled into fists, the tension radiating through your body.
The sound of footsteps interrupted your spiraling thoughts, and Dr. Zayne was back, carrying a small first aid kit. He knelt in front of you without a word, his hands steady as he cleaned the cuts on your knees. The gentle pressure of his fingers as he worked felt almost surreal. His silence wasnât uncomfortableâit was just⊠calm. You found yourself drawn to it, to the quiet that seemed to settle around him.
"Youâre lucky," he said, glancing up at you as he bandaged your knees. "That couldâve been a lot worse."
You nodded, the words caught in your throat. There were so many things you wanted to say, things you wanted to ask him, but you didnât know where to start. So you remained silent, watching as he finished his work, his hands moving with the practiced precision of someone who had seen too many injuries to count.
When he was done, he straightened up and met your gaze. "You should be more careful," he said softly, his voice a little lighter than before, though there was still a note of concern underlying his words. "Next time, donât run so late at night. You never know what could happen."
You forced a tight smile, the words feeling like they were coming from someone else. "Iâll keep that in mind," you said, your voice quieter now.
Dr. Zayne took a step back after finishing the bandages, his sharp gaze softening ever so slightly as he packed the first aid kit. You glanced at him, your mouth opening to thank him, but before you could get the words out, he said, almost in unison, âThank you.â
Both of you froze, the simultaneous expressions of gratitude hanging awkwardly in the air. A surprised laugh slipped out of you, breaking the tension.
âYou first,â he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. âI was just going to say thank you for⊠you know, helping with this.â You gestured vaguely toward your knees, the bandages clinging to your skin. âYou didnât have to.â
The moment stretched between you, awkward yet somehow comforting. Zayne gave a small, almost amused smile at the simultaneous gratitude, but his gaze softened when it landed on you, his concern still present.
"Thank you for returning my wallet," he said, his tone steady but with a hint of appreciation.
His words caught you off guard. âOh, right! That. It wasnât a big deal, really.â You fidgeted with the hem of your sleeve, avoiding his gaze. âI found it at the chocolatier shop. I figured it was better to bring it to the hospital than leave it lying around.â
He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. âI appreciate it. Not many people would go out of their way like that.â
You tried not to let his kindness throw you off, but it wasnât easy. There was something about Zayne that made you feel... small in a way you didnât like to feel. He was kind, yes, but that kindness made you wonder if you were deserving of it. Why should you be the one he cared about?
But before you could dwell on that any further, his voice cut through your swirling thoughts.
"Have you eaten today?" His tone was light, but there was an edge of sincerity beneath it, one that made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with hunger. It reminded you of that conversation in the shop, of how he had so effortlessly read through your tiredness.
The sheepish look that crossed your face mustâve been obvious, because Zayne sighed, the sound so deep that it almost felt like a reprimand. He pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture that was both familiar and surprisingly endearing.
âYouâve got to take care of yourself,â he said, his voice almost too gentle for the weight of his words. âItâs not healthy to go without food, especially if youâre going to keep running around like you hunters do.â
You opened your mouth to protest, to tell him it wasnât a big deal, but Zayne didnât give you the chance.
"Thereâs a diner close by. Itâs the least I can do to thank you for returning my wallet."
You shook your head instinctively, trying to backpedal. "Itâs really not necessary," you said, but Zayne wasnât having any of it. His eyes were firm, and there was an undeniable warmth behind them that almost made you feel guilty for refusing.
"Yes, it is," he replied, his tone steady but with a hint of finality. "Now, come on.â
You hesitated for a moment, the unease building in your chest like a brick wall, but the thought of Zayneâs calm, commanding presence made it impossible to say no. So, with a quiet sigh, you relented.
"Iâll pay," you muttered as he led the way, the words almost reflexive. You always felt like you had to pay your wayâlike it was your responsibility to do so, especially with someone who had helped you, even in the smallest of ways. You were used to standing on your own two feet.
Zayne only gave you a side glance, his lips quirking up in the barest of smiles. "No, you wonât. Itâs my thank you, remember?"
The diner wasnât far from where you had been, a cozy, low-lit place with a soft hum of quiet conversations and the clink of silverware against plates. The familiar scent of warm foodâsteak, mashed potatoes, and the unmistakable aroma of fresh breadâimmediately filled the air as you stepped inside. You followed Zayne to a small booth in the back, the vinyl seats creaking under your weight as you slid in.
You wanted to say somethingâthank you, maybeâbut the words felt stuck, trapped somewhere in the pit of your stomach, along with everything else that had been piling up for weeks. Zayne didnât seem to notice, his focus already turning to the menu as he gestured for you to pick something.
You wanted to ask him more, to understand him in the same way you understood the empty streets you ran through, but you couldnât shake the feeling that youâd just end up looking foolish. So, instead, you stared at the menu in front of you, unable to focus on the choices, as your mind churned with questions that had no answers.
Zayne ordered for both of you, his voice low as he made his choices, and when he looked at you, you caught a flicker of somethingâperhaps curiosity, or was it concern? It was hard to tell.
"You should eat more regularly," he said again, as though the words were a reminder he had to repeat for his own peace of mind. You nodded, letting the silence fill the space between you for a moment.
The food arrived, warm and satisfying, and you took a bite, surprised at how hungry you were despite the earlier denials. Zayne watched you for a moment, his gaze softening as you ate, but you couldnât bring yourself to meet it. His concern, his careâit felt too much. You werenât used to people worrying about you.
But as the meal went on, you found yourself starting to relax, the initial tension loosening from your shoulders. Zayne was easy to talk to, his calm, steady presence settling you in a way you hadnât expected. By the end of the meal, you felt... lighter.
"Call me Zayne," he said when the check came, his voice quiet but sincere.
You blinked, a little caught off guard by the request. "Zayne?" you echoed, testing the name on your tongue.
"Yes," he replied with a small, patient smile. "Itâs easier than 'Dr. Zayne,' donât you think?"
You blinked, taken aback. âAre you sure? I mean, youâve earned the titleââ
âAnd Iâll still have it in the hospital,â he interrupted, amusement flickering in his eyes. âBut here, itâs just Zayne.â
You nodded slowly, testing the name in your mind. It felt strange, almost too personal. But there was something grounding about it, too.
By the time dessert arrived, the knot of anxiety in your chest had loosened considerably. The warmth of the diner, the steady cadence of his voice, and the shared laughter over a poorly made joke had a way of pulling you out of your own head. For the first time in what felt like weeks, you werenât obsessing over your failures or doubts.
As you finished your meal, Zayne pulled out his phone and slid it across the table. âHere,â he said simply. âAdd your number. In case you ever need anything.â
You hesitated, the gesture feeling far more intimate than it probably was. But his expression was patient, expectant, and you found yourself entering your contact information before you could overthink it. When you handed the phone back, his lips twitched into a faint smile.
âThanks again for returning my wallet,â he said, his tone lighter now. âAnd for the company.â
You felt your cheeks flush, but this time, it wasnât entirely unpleasant. âItâs not a problem,â you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips.
As you stepped out of the diner and into the cool night air, a strange sense of calm settled over you. Zayne walked you to the corner where your paths would diverge, his presence steady and reassuring.
âTake care of yourself,â he said, his voice softer now, almost intimate.
âYou too,â you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.
The dinerâs warmth lingered even as you stepped into the cool night air. For the first time in what felt like weeks, your chest didnât feel as tight, the oppressive weight that had been bearing down on you now lifting slightly. You still felt the ache of Sylusâ absenceâa hollow, gnawing sensation that seemed to creep in whenever you let your guard down, but it wasnât as suffocating as it had been. Instead, a new sensation fluttered in its place, tentative and fragile: excitement. It was strange to feel this way, to look forward to the possibility of a friendship formed under such unlikely circumstances. Zayneâs calm demeanor, his steady presence, had surprised you.
As you walked, the sound of fluttering wings caught your attention. Instinctively, your heart skipped, your mind jumping to Mephisto. You tilted your head to the dark sky, half-expecting to see the telltale silhouette of his familiar. But it was just a cluster of pigeons, their wings catching the faint glow of the streetlights as they soared away.
Right. Of course. It was unlikely that Sylus was watching you tonight.
You exhaled, a breath you hadnât realized you were holding, and forced your thoughts away from him. Zayne had offered you a rare moment of normalcy, and you werenât about to let your memories of Sylus overshadow that.
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The following weeks were a blur of activity, and before long, you found yourself stationed at an outpost on the outskirts of Linkon. A metaflux surge had disrupted the area, and the temporary makeshift hospital was bustling with injured workers, hunters, and even a few civilians caught in the chaos. The air was thick with tension, the metallic tang of metaflux faint but persistent, a reminder of the unseen dangers that lurked just beyond the safety of the encampment.
Zayne was assigned as the doctor for the outpost, and you often found yourself crossing paths with him. At first, your interactions were briefâa nod here, a shared glance thereâbut over time, you began to talk. It started with simple pleasantries, discussions about the metaflux readings or the influx of patients, but it wasnât long before the conversations deepened.
You learned that Zayne had a dry sense of humor, his sharp wit often catching you off guard. Heâd tease you about your stubbornness, and youâd retort with a quip about his overly serious nature. Despite his professionalism, there was a warmth to him, a quiet compassion that made him easy to trust. And though youâd never admit it, you found yourself looking forward to those moments of shared laughter, those fleeting glimpses of something lighter amidst the chaos.
But even as your friendship with Zayne grew, Sylus lingered at the edges of your thoughts, a shadow you couldnât quite shake. The conversations you had with him were sparse and strictly work-relatedâupdates from the Association, bits of intel you passed along to him. It felt transactional, a far cry from the intimacy you once shared. Yet, every time his name appeared on your screen, your heart still raced, betraying the fragile boundaries youâd tried to set.
One evening, a message from Sylus broke the monotony of your routine.
âCome over tomorrow night, Darling. I have an exquisite wine Iâd like you to tryâprocured it during a recent deal.â
The invitation was simple, almost casual. For a moment, you imagined itâthe rich scent of wine filling the air, his sharp yet alluring gaze fixed on you as he poured you a glass. But reality quickly crept in, dragging you back to the present. You couldnât go. You couldnât risk it. Not when your heart was still so fragile, still aching in ways you didnât want to admit.
You stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as your mind raced. The truth was, you wanted to see him. But you knew better. You had to keep your distanceâfor your own sake, if nothing else.
âIâm tired..'
You typed, the words feeling hollow as they formed.
'Busy day tomorrow. Maybe another time.â
You hesitated before hitting send, the weight of the message pressing down on you. When his reply came, it was as simple as his invitation.
âOkay.â
The finality of it hit you like a brick, and for a moment, you felt like your breath had been stolen away. He didnât push. He didnât argue. That empty âokayâ hung in the air, leaving you with the quiet realization that, once again, you had lost yourself in the haze of someone elseâs world.
You tried not to read too much into it, but you couldnât shake the feeling that he had already moved on. That he didnât care enough to fight for your attention. Instead, it felt like you were just a passing thought, like an aftertaste that wasnât worth savoring.
Miss Hunter. The words echoed in your mind. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears to stay behind your eyelids, but they pressed hard, a sting that never seemed to fully fade. You rubbed your forehead, trying to push away the thoughts. But even as you did, you couldnât escape the suffocating feeling in your chestâthe one that always came when you were reminded of how little you meant to him. You felt foolish, but you couldnât help it. It was like you were always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to come back, to pull you back into his orbit with that practiced charm, that voice that made you feel wanted, if only for a little while.
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The dinner with Zayne had been a welcome reprieve. It had been two weeks since you last saw him, the demands of work pulling both of you in different directions. But tonight, seated across from him in a small, cozy bistro, you found solace in the familiar rhythm of your conversations. The mellow lights softened the sharp angles of his face as he recounted a mishap earlier in the week involving a particularly irritable patient.
His dry humor, paired with the subtle lift of his brow, drew a laugh from youâa genuine, light sound that felt foreign after the weight of recent days. For a while, the world outside blurred away. You werenât Miss Hunter; you werenât anything other than a person sharing a meal with a friend.
As the meal wound down, Zayne looked at you over the rim of his glass, his expression calm. âYouâre doing better than when we first met.â he remarked softly.
You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. âAm I?â
He nodded. His calm demeanor always had a way of grounding you, and tonight was no exception.
The meal wrapped up with the two of you trading small updates and light banter. You paid for your half of the meal, Zayne insisting it wasnât necessary, but youâd insisted back. There was a sense of normalcy here, something you werenât willing to let go of easily. When you parted ways outside the diner, the night air was cool and quiet. Zayneâs warm farewell echoed softly in your ears as you waved goodbye and headed back toward your apartment.
As you walked, you felt lighter somehow. The stress of the past few weeks hadnât vanished, but Zayneâs steady presence had reminded you of something importantâmoments of peace still existed, even in the chaos.
The faint scent of lavender greeted you as you unlocked your apartment door, a hint of the candle youâd left burning earlier. The lights were off, and the air felt too stillâunnaturally so. Your heart skipped, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. A lump formed in your throat, panic curling its fingers around your chest.
You flicked the light switch, and the sudden brightness flooded the room, revealing the figure sitting on your couch. Sylus.
You froze. Your body stiffened, caught between fight or flight.
Your yelp of surprise filled the space, your pulse racing as you clutched the doorframe for support. âWhatâSylus? What are you doing here?â
He was sitting on your couch, one arm draped casually along the backrest, his other hand resting on his knee. The dim light of the room softened the sharp edges of his face, but his expression was anything but gentle. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, tracked your every movement as if he were dissecting you with just a glance.
âHowâwhat are you doing here?â you stammered, your voice shaky as your pulse raced.
Sylus didnât respond right away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, his gaze dragging over you slowly, deliberately. His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken, and it made your skin prickle.
âDarling,â he finally murmured, his voice low and smooth, laced with something you couldnât quite name. âYou look⊠exhausted.â
You blinked, still standing frozen by the door. His tone was soft, almost tender, but it was the way his jaw tightened, the way his fingers tapped against his knee, that betrayed his underlying tension.
âY-yeah,â you stammered, your voice wavering as you took a cautious step forward. âItâs been a long day. What are you doing here?â
Sylus leaned back, the leather of the couch creaking faintly under his weight. âA long day,â he echoed, his lips curving into a faint smile that didnât reach his eyes. âYet you had time for dinner.â
âIâŠâ you faltered, scrambling for a response. âIt was justâŠâ
âJust dinner,â he interrupted smoothly, his tone unreadable. âWith⊠someone else.â
The air felt thick, charged with a tension that made your skin prickle. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words stuck in your throat. His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression still calm but his body language telling a different story. The way his fingers drummed against his knee, the slight clench of his jaw, the flicker of something dark in his gaze.
Your heart pounded, your thoughts racing. Why was he here? What did he want? And why did his presenceâhis very existence in your spaceâmake your chest ache in that familiar, suffocating way?
âI didnât thinkâŠâ You stopped yourself, your voice trembling. âYou didnât say youâd be coming by. You canât justââ
âCanât just what?â he asked, his voice dangerously soft as he rose from the couch, his movements fluid and deliberate. âShow up to see whatâs wrong?â
Your breath hitched as he closed the distance between you, his height and presence suddenly overwhelming. âNothingâs wrongâŠâyou managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.
âIs that so?â he murmured, tilting his head slightly, his eyes boring into yours. âBecause from where Iâm standing, it seems like youâve been avoiding me, Darling.â
The accusation hung in the air, sharp and unyielding.
âIâve been busyâŠâ you said weakly, your voice lacking conviction.
âBusy,â he repeated, his gaze flicking over you again, this time with something close to disdain. âToo busy for me, but not too busy for⊠him.â
Your hands fidgeted at your sides, your breath coming in shallow bursts. You wanted to move, to put distance between you, but your legs felt rooted to the spot. âI didnât think dinner with a friend would..â
âFriend?â he interrupted, the single word slicing through your sentence. His lips curved into something that might have been a smile, but it didnât reach his eyes.
Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs, the anxiety swirling in your chest mixing with something elseâsomething raw and painful that you didnât want to name. The memories of your last exchange with Sylus came flooding backâthe curt messages, the unspoken finality of his âokay.â You had tried to convince yourself that it didnât matter, that you didnât need his validation. But standing here now, under the weight of his gaze, you felt every crack in the fragile walls you had built to keep him out.
âI donât understand what you want from me,â you said finally, the words trembling as they left your lips.
His eyes softened slightly, but the tension in his posture didnât ease. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, something important, but the moment passed as quickly as it came. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture so gentle it felt almost foreign.
âDonât make me feel like Iâm a stranger to you.â he said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability that made your chest ache.
Donât make me feel like Iâm a stranger to you. The words echoed in your mind, repeating, twisting, until all you could hear was the raw edge of betrayal laced in his tone.
You let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and bitter, a little too loud in the quiet of your apartment. Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you felt the space around you grow smaller. You couldnât breatheâcouldnât think. All you could feel was the heat of anger building inside of you, raw and unrefined.
âThatâs rich,â you scoffed, finally managing to find your voice. âThatâs really rich, coming from you of all people.â
Sylus blinked, a subtle flash of surprise crossing his face, but it quickly masked over. His lips tightened, his brow furrowed ever so slightly, but it wasnât enough. You had to push, you couldnât hold back now. The words were tumbling out before you could even stop them. Your breath hitched, a strangled sob lodged somewhere in the back of your throat, but you refused to let it spill. You wouldnât let him see you breakânot like this, not in front of him. You knew the truth. He knew the truth. It hurt, yes, but you werenât the one to blame.
âYou've been treating me like a stranger for months,â you continued, your voice trembling with anger you hadn't fully realized was there. âBarely responding to my messages, not answering my calls, and when I do see you, itâs like you canât be bothered. You donât even see me.â You felt the weight of every unreturned message, every unanswered call, every promise left in limbo. âIâve had to hear from Luke and Kieran that youâre in Linkon. But you couldnât even make time to see me.â
You felt the ache deep in your chest, that familiar, suffocating knot forming. He didnât deserve your pain. Not anymore. You wouldnât let him have that. Not this time.
You took a shaky breath, suddenly feeling raw, exposed. âYou donât have to feel obligated to check on me, Sylus,â you said, your words clipped and cutting through the thick silence between you. âYou donât have to feel pity for me. I know where I stand. I know my place in your life.â
His expression, that unreadable mask, cracked for the briefest of moments. His lips parted, his gaze flicking to your face, then back down to the floor. His jaw clenched. But his eyes⊠They werenât the same as theyâd been earlier. The hardness was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous, something even more intimate. The storm was gathering, but it wasnât just in the airâno, it was inside him too.
âYou know where you stand?â His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it, a slight tightness you hadnât noticed before. He took a step forward, his body closing the space between you, like a wave of raw energy crashing toward you. His proximity only made your pulse race faster, but you couldnât back down. Not now.
âIâm just an informant, right?â you bit out, every word feeling like it sliced through the night air, cutting through the tension like a blade. âYou donât have to pretend you care, Sylus. So donât stand there with that look on your face like Iâm some important thing you need to check on.â
The air between you grew heavy, thick with unsaid words and stifled tension. Every inch of your body was telling you to get away, to shut down, to stop this before it tore you apart. But your feet felt heavy, stuck in place. Sylusâs presence was like gravity, pulling you toward him.
"You think that's all you are?" he murmured, his voice dangerously low, like the calm before the thunder. The way he said it made your heart stutter in your chest. It was both a question and an accusation or a challenge.
But there was something else in his voice. Something you couldnât quite place. His eyes were intense, too intense, and they searched yours like he was looking for the answer. The truth.
âI didnât want to hurt you,â he continued, his words clipped, as though they were difficult for him to say. âBut I couldnât....couldnât make sense of it. Of you.â
It was the first time that he seemed genuinely vulnerable, and it left you breathless and confused. You had always wondered if there was more beneath his cold exterior. You had always told yourself that he cared. But you had never dared to confront him.
His hand was close enough now to reach out, his fingers barely brushing the edge of your wrist. The air between you was still thick with everything unsaid, everything unhealed. And yet, despite the words that had been thrown between you, there was something undeniably magnetic in the tension. The ache in your chest, the rawness, the feelings of betrayalâthey didnât wash away just because you said them out loud.
God, you hated him for this.
But part of you yearned for him. That part that still felt tethered to him, despite the distance.
Sylusâs fingers hovered over your wrist, his touch like fire against your skin. For a moment, the storm between you calmed, leaving only the faintest echo of it behind. The weight of his gaze, the force of his presenceâit seemed to drown out the rest of the world.
He said nothing for a moment, his lips parting as though he wanted to speak but couldnât find the words. His eyes darkened further, not with anger now, but with something you couldnât quite define.
You took a breath, your body suddenly feeling too small beneath his gaze. The storm was still inside. You had to move away. Your heart pounded as if it were trying to escape your chest, desperate to flee from whatever was stirring inside you. You couldn'tâno, you wouldnâtâlet yourself get caught up in whatever this feeling was. You were not some fool, ready to throw everything away for the temporary pull of his presence. You knew better than that. You had to.
Every instinct screamed at you to retreat, to put some distance between you and the mess of emotions bubbling under your skin. His sharp gaze was enough to make your knees tremble, and it took everything in you not to look back, not to let him see the quiet devastation that flickered inside you.
âYou need to leave⊠Sylus.â You whispered. You staggered back a few steps, your breathing shallow, desperate. Your feet felt like lead, yet you forced yourself to walk away. You turned your back to him, willing your legs to move, hoping to escape before you got sucked into whatever dark vortex of feelings he was drawing you into.
He didnât move. Instead, you heard the familiar click of his boots against the floor as he took a single, deliberate step forward. âWhy?â His voice, low and curious, sent a shiver down your spine. It was almost too intimate, as if he were searching for a piece of you, trying to understand what you couldnât explain.
You didnât want to look at him. Didnât want to see the quiet confusion on his faceâthe faint flicker of disappointment that stung like salt in an open wound. You couldnât let him see your weakness, couldnât let him know how badly it hurt to be around him, how badly it hurt not to be around him.
âIs it so you can run back to your precious âfriendâ?â The words dripped with something unspoken, something that made your stomach twist.
You couldnât look at him. You couldnât. Not when his voiceâthat voice, the one that threaded through the air like silkâwas digging into your mind like this. The word echoed in your ears, almost mocking you, and you felt something fragile snap inside you. The weight of the years youâd spent keeping distance, of guarding your heart against him, against whatever he made you feel, started to unravel. But you couldnât let it.
You took another step away from him. One more step, you told yourself. Just one more. You didnât need this.
Dark tendrils wrapped around you as you move, pulling you back. He was using his evol to pull you back. You didnât need him pulling you in again. But then it came. That touch. He pulled you to him, forceful yet intimate, and your breath caught in your throat. You were too close. Too close to the edge of losing yourself, of falling into his presence.
His hands...no, his fingersâsnaked around your waist before you even knew what was happening. You gasped, body going stiff in surprise, but his grip tightened, pulling you back into him. You tried to keep moving, tried to pull away, but it was useless. His hold was ironclad, his presence consuming. His grip tightened slightly, but there was an almost comforting pressure there, a subtle reminder that despite the dispute between you, there was something undeniable between the two of you.
âWhy are you running?â His voice was a whisper against your ear, the words smooth like silk, but there was something jagged beneath themâsomething urgent, raw.
You struggled to hold yourself together, but the more you fought it, the more it pulledâthis unbearable need to lean into him, to give in to the chaos that his proximity stirred in you. You knew you shouldnât, but everything in you wanted to. You felt the ache of wanting something you couldn't have, the sting of the distance you had put between you and the thing that was somehow both poison and relief.
His hands tightened slightly, his thumb brushing over your ribs in a movement that sent a jolt through your entire system. The words you wanted to say, the reasons you needed to get away from him, all felt so small and pointless now. How could you possibly explain this? This tension, this pull? How could you say that being near him felt like the most excruciating thing in the world, but also the only thing that made you feel alive?
âYouâre not just an informant to me,â he breathed, his words slipping under your skin, curling into the tight spaces of your chest. âI didnât realize I was hurting you this much. That youâd want to distance yourself from me...â His tone softened at the end, but it only made everything worse. The tenderness in his voiceâhis tendernessâwas like a dagger in your side, making the blood in your veins freeze. You wanted to say something, anything, but all you could hear was the deafening rush of your own heartbeat. You tried to stay composed, but the words were caught in your throat, and your body was still pressed so tightly against his, your breath shallow, your pulse thudding painfully against your ribs.
Why was this so hard? Why couldnât you just say itâsay that you couldnât let him get close again? That you couldnât survive another wound, another aching, empty feeling in your chest because of him? But the way his hands tightened, the warmth of his body against yours, made everything you were feeling a little too real.
You could feel his heartbeat against your back, the rhythm in sync with your own, and the pull of him was growing stronger. You could feel your anxiety bubbling up, the gnawing fear at the pit of your stomach. Was this just him toying with you? Was he trying to pull you into his world of darkness and manipulation? Or did he really care?
Your head was spinning. The emotions warred within youâanger, confusion, guilt, and something else. Something that made your heart race faster and your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.
âLet me go,â you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm that raged around you.
But you didnât pull away. You didnât push him off.
Sylus' grip on you tightened, his arm like a steel band around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His chest rises and falls against your back as his breath brushes against your ear, warm and heavy. Itâs as if heâs afraid, like if he lets go for even a second, heâll lose you forever. You can feel the tension radiating from him, but also something softer, something desperate.
âNo, Darling,â he murmurs, his voice low and thick with emotion, his tone possessive, as though the very idea of you slipping away shatters him. âYouâre not going anywhere and neither am I.â
"Youâre going to stay," He pulls you even closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks again, quieter this time, but laced with something raw and vulnerable. "...and youâre going to listen to me. I wonât let you walk away from this."
You can hear the flicker of something beneath his wordsâregret. And then, his lips ghost over the sensitive skin of your neck, lingering just a little longer than necessary. He slowly spins you around, to face him. His voice softens, almost apologetic. âI know I was a dick. I know I didnât respond to you, and Iâm sorry for that. I didnât know how to handle it⊠handle us. It confused me, and instead of facing it, I pushed you away.â His breath catches slightly, and you feel his chest tighten against your back.
His hand moves to cup your cheek, tilting your face slightly toward him, his thumb brushing over your skin as though itâs a promise, an apology. The weight of his gaze is intense, but thereâs also something tender there, something that wants to pull you back in, closer. âI know youâre still hurting, darling. I see it. And I... Iâll spend a lifetime making up for it, because thatâs what I want. A lifetime. With you. Not as some informant or some... thing, but as my beloved. You. By my side. Always.â
He pauses, letting his words hang in the air between you. His voice drops, the quiet sorrow of his confession sending a twinge of guilt through you. "I donât have the right to ask this of you, I know," Sylus continues, his voice thick with emotion. "But seeing you push me away⊠Itâs harder than I ever thought it would be. Harder than I want to admit." He presses his forehead lightly against your temple, his breath shaky. "Iâve never needed someone the way I need you, and I didnât know how to tell you that. But I do. I need you."
You can feel him tense slightly, the shift in his demeanor telling you that his thoughts have turned darker. His voice lowers, the jealousy evident in the way he speaks, though itâs wrapped in a softness that almost makes it harder to bear.
"And Dr. Zayne... I canât stand the thought of him being so close to you," Sylus adds, his voice low and thick with a possessiveness that unsettles you in its intensity. "It kills me, you know? Watching him with you, hearing you laugh like that with him, as if I donât even exist." His arm tightens again, almost painfully, as if he needs to remind you, remind both of you, where you truly belong. "I know I have no claim on you... but... I can't help but feel like thereâs a part of you that wants him in a way that... I can't compete with." His voice hardens, jealousy dripping from every word. "It eats at me, knowing he has a part of you that Iâm fighting for."
"Sylus..." Your voice cracked slightly as you repeated his name, your breath hitching, caught in the tension between you. His name felt heavy on your tongue, like it was both a question and an answer. You had never said it so quietly, so vulnerably. The memories of earlier came rushing backâhim with her, that delicate smile he gave her, the way she leaned into him just a little too comfortably. It had burned in your chest, the jealousy creeping in with a venomous ache.
The words tumbled out before you could stop them, too fast to gather, too painful to hide. "I felt the same... when I saw you with her," you confessed, swallowing thickly. "I felt so... so useless, Sylus. When I saw you with her, it felt like... like she was everything you needed. Better than me. And that... it broke me, Sylus. I felt like I wasnât enough, like I wasnât... worth it.â
The words stung, bitter and unrelenting, but the weight of them was finally lifted as you let them spill out. You felt exposed, naked in your insecurity, but somehow, it was all you could do to stand there and wait for him to respond. You could feel the weight of it, of how small youâd felt in that moment, how unworthy you had become in your own eyes. The self-doubt gnawed at your insides, each thought of her with him twisting like a knife in your gut.
Sylusâs expression softened, his features melting into a tender sadness, as though he were seeing you for the first time, truly seeing you. His hand reached out slowly, almost hesitantly, as if afraid to shatter the fragile space between you. His touch was a gentle comfort, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his voice a low whisper, "Darling, you're none of that... none of it, I swear."
You shook your head, feeling the tears threatening, but you couldnât let them fall, not yet. His words were kind, but the ache in your chest was still there, an unhealed wound.
He continued, his voice steady but thick with something deeper. "I didnât know you felt that way... about her, in the same way I feel about Zayne." His gaze met yours, and for the first time tonight, it wasnât uncertain. It was so gentle, so soft, tender. "But you need to know, you're it for me, DarlingâŠ" he murmured, his fingers curling around yours, grounding you in the quiet storm of your emotions. "Yes, I want help from her, but..." He paused, as if weighing his words carefully, "...I need you more." His words were a balm to the wounds that had festered within you, but the tenderness in his eyes was what finally reached you. His hand slid down to your shoulder, his thumb grazing the skin there. His warmth surrounded you, and you let yourself sink into the comfort of his words. The jealousy, the insecurity that had burned so fiercely in you when you saw him with her, melted in the face of the tenderness he was offering now.
You swallowed, trying to steady yourself as your heart raced, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming. âZayne⊠Zayneâs just a friend,â you said, your voice fragile but firm, âsomeone who helped me... helped me see past the stuff in my head. After everything, I just... needed someone to remind me that Iâm not broken.â
Sylus's eyes softened even more, the depth of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. He nodded slowly, his expression filled with understanding. The tension between you didnât disappear entirely, but it was now laced with something more tender. More real.
âYouâre not broken, Darling.â he repeated, and there was a quiet strength in his voice, something that made you believe him more than you ever had before. âYouâre everything Iâve ever needed... and more.â
"I... Iâm sorry," you whispered, a lump in your throat as you looked up at him. "I never wanted to make you feel like I didnât care. I just... I was afraid youâd choose her over me."
Sylusâs fingers brushed against the nape of your neck, pulling you closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours. "You never have to apologize for that, Darling." he murmured, his voice warm, his breath mingling with yours. âIt was my fault and I accept that.â
The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of your breathing, as Sylus stood before you, his face drawn with intensity. The flickering light from the lamp cast soft shadows across his features, but his gaze... his gaze was sharp, focused entirely on you.
"I love you, Darling" he said, his words lingering in the air as though they were the first time he had allowed himself to say them out loud. "Iâm in love with you," he confessed, his voice steady despite the raw emotion that tinged it. "Iâve been in love with you for a while now, and Iâve tried to deny it. Tried to hide it from you and myself, but I canât anymore. I wonât. I love you, and I need you to know that."
The breath you hadnât realized you were holding caught in your throat. Everything in you froze, then splintered. The confession, so pure, so vulnerable, hit you with a force you hadnât been prepared for. You stood there, unable to move, a mix of surprise and relief flooding your chest.
He loves you. Sylus. The one you had longed for, yearned, and hoped for in silence. Your heart stuttered in your chest, the world around you growing impossibly still.
"IâŠ" you whispered, voice trembling, and you had to stop, had to steady yourself before the words could spill from your lips. "Iâve love you too," you said, your voice barely more than a breath, but it carried all the weight of everything you had kept inside. "Iâve loved you, and I never told you because I was afraid. Afraid that I was asking too much. Afraid of the rejection. Afraid that I wasnât enough."
Sylusâs expression softened, his lips curling into a frown as he stepped forward, closing the space between you. His hands reached for you, but not in the way you had feared or expected. They were gentle, his touch a plea for understanding. "Oh, darling," he whispered, shaking his head slowly. "Iâm so sorry. Iâm sorry you ever felt like you needed to hide it from me."
He reached up, brushing his thumb along your cheek, and you flinched slightly, your emotions suddenly overwhelming you, raw and untamed. "Weâre both idiots," he continued, his voice almost tender with the weight of the admission. "Weâve been skirting around each other, afraid of saying the one thing we both needed to say."
Your laugh came out soft, almost fragile, the tension in your chest breaking for the first time since Sylus had walked into your home. It was a quiet sound, but it was the first time youâd laughed all night, the first time youâd allowed yourself to feel something other than fear or uncertainty in the past few weeks with him involved. But that laugh didnât last long. As soon as it came, the tears followed, the ones you had been holding back for so long, finally slipping free. The dam you had built up crumbled, and before you could stop them, hot tears streamed down your face. before you could even reach up to brush them away, his hand was there, steady and warm against your cheek.
"Donât," you whispered, your voice thick with the ache you could no longer hide. "Please, donât look at me like this. Iâmâ"
"Stop," Sylus interrupted softly, his hand holding yours gently, his gaze unwavering. "Donât hide from me. I want to see all of you⊠everything youâve been hiding. I know you think I donât see it, but I do." His eyes locked onto yours with such intensity that you couldnât look away. "I see it when you think Iâm not watching. I see the way you pull back, the way you hide the parts of you that you think I canât handle. But I am looking. Iâve always been looking. And I donât want you to hide anymore. Not from me. And Iâm here and I want all of you."
His words were a medicine to the parts of you that had been bruised, the parts that had feared being exposed, vulnerable. But in his eyes, there was only love. No judgment. No pity. Just... love. And it was enough. It was more than enough.
The tears that had slipped down your face slowed, but they didnât stop. You didnât try to wipe them away this time, allowing yourself to be seen for the first time in ages. The sobs that followed were soft but trembled with relief, with something finally breaking open inside of you.
Sylusâs arms were around you in an instant, pulling you close, holding you in the kind of embrace that made you feel as though you could finally breathe, as though the weight of everything you had been carrying could finally be set down.
"Iâm sorry," you whispered, almost broken. "Iâve been so scared, Sylus. Scared of this, of being cast away... of losing you."
"Youâll never lose me, Darling." he murmured, his voice firm and unwavering as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
You tilted your head back slightly, your face still damp with the remnants of the tears that had fallen, and through your wet lashes, you searched his face. Sylus held you close, his arms wrapped around you in a way that made you feel safe, even as the doubts lingered in your heart. You wanted to believe him, but the fear, the uncertainty, was still there, buried deep beneath the surface.
He must have seen it in your eyes, the way you still hesitated, the uncertainty you couldn't quite shake. Sylus made a half-frustrated sound in the back of his throat, his hands tightening around you for a split second, before they slid up to cradle your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek again, a tender, pleading touch, before he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a sudden, urgent kiss.
The kiss was unlike any other. It wasnât slow, it wasnât soft. It was intense, filled with desperation, as though he needed you to understand just how deeply he felt for you, just how much you meant to him. His hands cupped your face, holding you as if you were the only thing that mattered in that moment, as if the world had stopped turning just for you. His lips pressed against yours with a kind of fire, but it wasnât angry, no. It was passionate, desperate in its own way, like he wanted you to feel how important you were to him, how much you had been wanted, loved.
Your hands trembled as they reached up, gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, wanting to bridge the distance between you, as though the kiss itself could erase every lingering doubt in your heart. Your breath hitched when you felt his pulse quicken under your touch, his heartbeat matching the frantic pace of your own. Each breath you took seemed to echo in the stillness of the room, mingling with the heat of his kiss, our lips moving together with a quiet urgency, the world beyond the two of you fading into a distant blur. You felt everythingâevery brush of his fingers, every subtle shift of his body against yours, the way his chest rose and fell beneath your palms, how his breath felt against your lips as if he couldnât get close enough to you.
Your chests rose and fell together, the world spinning around you. You could feel the heat of him, the urgency that still lingered in his touch, the way he kept you close, almost as if he were afraid to let go.
Breathing became an afterthought, both of you gasping for air when the kiss broke, but neither of you pulled far enough away to lose the connection. Sylusâs forehead rested against yours, his breath hot against your lips as he whispered, voice still heavy with emotion. âEvery day, from henceforth, I will work to make sure you never feel the need to doubt yourself. Not in my life. Not with me." His words, slow and deliberate, sank deep into your heart like a promise he would keep.
The intensity of the moment hung between you both, the room still, save for the soft sound of your breathing as you both slowly came back to reality. But in his eyes, you saw nothing but certaintyâcertainty that you were enough. That you always had been.
His hand found yours again, fingers weaving with yours, and he gave it a gentle squeeze, as if the simple touch was a quiet reassurance.
"You are everything to me," he murmured, his voice steady now, grounding you as much as his embrace. "And Iâll make sure you never forget that.â
Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, absorbing his words, his warmth, his certainty. In his arms, you could feel the truth of his promise, somewhere deep inside, the doubts began to fade.
For the first time in a long time, you believed him. And when he kissed you again, this time softer, it was like the beginning of something new.
AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!
#love and deepspace#sylus love and deepspace#lnds sylus#love and deepspace sylus#sylus#lads#lads zayne#lads sylus#lnds zayne#zayne love and deepspace#rafayel love and deepspace#l&ds zayne#sylus x reader#zayne x reader#xavier x reader#rafayel x reader#lads drabble#l&ds sylus#l&ds#zayne#oneshotswithlina#sylus oneshot#sylus fanfic#sylus angst#sylus qin#lnds qin che#lads qin che#qin che#love and deepspace oneshot#love and deepspace fanfic
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On The Subject Of Bots: A Former Bot Farm Operator Speaks On The Process (Also spread this video all over this website. I mean it. Spread it. For a whole set of reasons-one of them being antiblackness)
ID [ Close up of a woman in a car wearing a green shirt. She has a dark brown ponytail. She says: 'I'm a a former tech employee that created and sustained a bot farm between 2015 and 2018 in California USA.
Wanna give you guys some information because American bot farm operators are pretty rare. Most bot farms operate oversea. I don't know if there's anyone like me in the US that can tell you this stuff is what I'm saying.
I'm typically way secretive about this but it's gotten so bad I need to talk about it
So what is a bot farm ? Something that an individual or a company purchases. You get a set amount of bots that look like normal people, go out, and spread your message. And here's the work that goes ino that:
I as a operator have to create each individual fake person. I have to create a bio. I have to create a username, a real name, then I have to generate content that has to be supportive of the message the client is paying for.
Positive opinion of the company or the individual. If anyone has ever tried to create content (you know that) that takes time and also that takes ideas; it's not easy.
Finally you need to program these bots based on activity. Bots respond to what you do.
You think that you going around and liking things is invisible. It's not. You're leaving a footprint across the app. That footprint is tracked by people like me. So based on what other people like or comment on, I program my bot to go and search for those people, find them, and then interact with them with my content that supports the message that I created.
This programming also includes research to find the people that are the most susceptible to believing the message that you're selling, and targeting those people. This is just a scratch on the surface of what it takes to program one of these. And people are buying hundreds of them.
Now here's the interesting part. The software to run all these bots is not free. And the time that it takes to create all the things that I just told you about also not free. All of this stuff costs money.
And it represents money when you see it. If you're seeing non stop videos posted with a certain agenda, someone's paying for that. So when you see a dump/ a ton of media that's telling you all the same message, do not say wow what a thing happening right now.
Please instead say wow who's trying to buy my opinion on this topic ?
End of the video ] End of ID
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diphenhydramine | s.r.
in which reader has a hard time getting to sleep at night, leading to Spencer's step by step instruction of which hormones help you fall asleep
margotober masterlist
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: unprotected p in v sex, fingering, spencer infodumps while fingering you, restlessness, ambien, sex as a sleep aid, effective but not recommended, physiology, female masturbation, insecurity, reader doesn't pee after sex which you really should do, no clean up, but fanfiction isn't real. softdom!spencer. not thoroughly proofread. word count: 1.99k a/n: i thought i had this scheduled so imagine my surprise when i went to check tumblr and it wasn't posted. ANYWAYS. this one goes out to all the girlies with chronic sleep issues (me) and the person who requested this. don't like, don't read.
Your pillow was warm. Surely that was what was hindering your ability to sleep. Lifting your head, you flip your pillow over, resting your head on the cool side and turning to your other side.
Facing Spencer, you pull your arm out from under the covers, wondering if you should only change one variable at a time to see what actually helps you get to sleep. Huffing, you shut your eyes again, the usually muted traffic outside of your apartment seeming extraneously loud for this time of night.
You couldnât put a name to it, but there was something keeping you up at night. Youâd always had sleep issues, but your restlessness from the last several weeks was unprecedented.
âAngel,â your boyfriend says from next to you, reaching his hand out and placing it on your waist, trying to drag you across the sheets and into his arms.
Willingly, you move to his side of the bed, leaving space between the two of you to keep your body coolâmaybe you were just too warm to sleep. âDid I wake you?â You ask, peering up at him through your eyelashes. He looks so ethereal in the diffused moonlight that seeps in through the closed curtains, the cool light falling over the harsh edges of his face.
He hums in response, opening his eyes and casually slipping a hand under your sleep shirt, resting his palm on your bare waist, âNo,â he murmurs, even though you know heâs lying through his teeth. âWhatâs wrong?â
âCanât sleep,â you tell him miserably, sticking out your lower lip even though he likely canât see your faceâhis eyes would need to adjust to the darkness.
He shifts under the covers, gently skimming the pad of his thumb over your ribcage, âHave you tried Ambien?â
Your primary care physician prescribed sleeping pills for you, but you didnât have any interest in taking them. âSo I can end up at the Lincoln Memorial with my underwear on my head? No, thanks.â
âI would be very impressed if you managed to sleepwalk all the way to the National Mall,â he muttered, his voice clearing as he became more alert.
You sigh in exhaustion, âIâm multifaceted.â
Spencer kisses your forehead, âGo to sleep, multifaceted.â
âI canât,â you complain, watching him through your eyelashes, âIâm open to suggestions.â
Your boyfriend groans at your impertinence, âYou could try taking the pills that your doctor prescribed to you.â
Rolling your eyes in the dark, you tuck some stray hairs behind your ear, âNope. Any other ideas in that big brain of yours?â
âHas anyone ever told you that you get kind of snippy when you get tired?â Spencer asks rhetorically.
Frowning in defeat, you consider going out to the living room to watch something on the TV. At least that way you would be able to let Spencer get some sleep. âAre you telling me that thereâs nothing youâve read recently that has any kind of information on remedies for restlessness?â
Next to you, Spencer stiffens, and you wonder if heâs cold. You turned on the ceiling fan in an attempt to cool down, âThere are always new articles on sleep remedies, but none youâd be interested in.â
Your eyes flicker to the alarm clock on his bedside table, just past three in the morning, âIâm open to anything.â
âOrgasms produce some of the same hormones that are conducive to falling asleep,â he whispers, his ministrations on your waist coming to a halt.
Sighing, you flop onto your back, âI already tried that.â
Heâs silent for a moment, âWere you touching yourself while I was in bed next to you?â There was a new lilt in his voice, some sort of shift as the type of frustration he was feeling changed.
Considering your options, you cross your arms in front of your stomach, staring up at the spinning blades of the ceiling fan, âYeah, but I didnâtâ I couldnâtââ
âYou couldnât make yourself come?â He finishes for you, the words that you couldnât get out slipping easily past his lips.
It shouldnât embarrass you, but you find your face warming under the cover of night anyways. âNo,â your answer comes out as barely more than an exhale, âI couldnât quite get there.â
With his hand now resting on your abdomen, your attention laser focusing on the way his pinky finger skimmed the elastic band of your panties, âDo you want me to try?â
Honestly, it wouldnât be much of an attempt, like every other aspect of his life, pleasing you is something Spencer excels at. âI want you to go to sleep. Iâm sorry for waking you,â you decline his offer.
He doesnât move his hand, âAre you sure? Iâm offering, if youâre accepting.â
âI-â you falter, âI guess it doesnât hurt to try, but only if you want to.â You were perfectly fine with going to the couch and wasting the night away in front of the TV screen. Youâve clocked a lot of time with the early morning newscast recently.
Spencer twists his wrist in response, looking at you in the cool light of the room, âIâm always interested in pleasing you.â He speaks to you quietly, retaining the reverent tones of the morning while slipping his hand deeper into your underwear. His index finger slipping easily through your folds, âOh, you got close,â he whispers.
Thereâs no resistance as his finger breaches your entrance, already deeper than your fingers had gotten. Your mouth falls open, a small, choked gasp escaping your throat as your hand instinctively grabs at Spencerâs wrist, âYeah.â
His motions are slow and precise, making sure you can feel every slight movement as he withdraws his finger before sliding it back into your pussy. Adding a second finger before his other hand pulls down at your underwear, haphazardly leaving them around your thighs before finding a rhythm. The peace of the night pauses only for the crude sounds from you, muffled by the blanket strewn over your bodies.
Gently, Spencer presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, maintaining the thrusts of his hand as he slowly encircles the sensitive nub, âSpence.â Your voice is a breathy laugh in recognition of just how quickly he can get you there.
There was something about having someone else touch you. When you do it yourself, you can hold yourself back or overthink it, but with Spencerâs hands on youâor in you, ratherâthere was nothing to hold back. âSex can help you sleep for the simple reason that itâs physical activity, but itâs when you cum that your body releases hormones that can actually help you sleep,â his ministrations donât suffer as a result of his physiology lesson. If anything, it all becomes more intense.
A sharp, high-pitched noise comes out of your mouth, the all too familiar knot in your lower belly coiling. And coiling. And coiling. âSo, you canââ your voice cuts out as you gasp, âYou can literally fuck me to sleep?â
Spencer hums a confirmation, âSex reduces cortisol levels, and your bodyâs going to release oxytocin and prolactin,â he assures you, âand those will induce pleasant and relaxing feelings. All of which means I get to fuck you to sleep tonight.â
ââm close,â you breathe, closing your eyes as the pressure in your core nears unbearable levels. âOh, Spence,â you say, your grip tightening on his wrist as his hands donât let up on you.
His unoccupied hand reaches up to your face, gently sweeping hair off of your forehead in a way that makes you dizzy, his head falling to your shoulder before he kisses the worn fabric of your t-shirt, âYou can cum, baby. Itâs okay.â
He doesnât want you to hold it in, so you donât. Your head tips back into the pillows as the coil in your belly snaps, going off like a slingshotâsharp and quick.
Spencerâs fingers keep working you through your orgasm, slowing at the same pace that your orgasm does, the sheets sticking to your back as you slowly unarch, coming back to the surface as the pleasure of your orgasm drifts away almost as quickly as it came.
Every part of your body trembles as you fall away from your high, hooded eyelids staring over at your boyfriend as you catch your breath. Timidly, you reach down and push your underwear down your legs, kicking them off into the abyss of sheets to be discovered at a later date as you turn on your side.
âYouâre so pretty,â he whispers, shifting under the covers as he pulls his cock out of his boxer briefs.
You hum, scooting yourself closer to him on the mattress, heat emanating from his body in a way that you now find welcoming, âYou canât even see me.â
Grabbing your thigh, Spencer slings your leg over his waist, opening your body to him, âNot right now,â he admits, âBut I know you. I know the way you look right now, while Iâm slipping myself into you.â His voice is low, but your attentions are focused on the feeling of his tip at your pussy, slowly pushing into you. He lets your body adjust, this isnât an angle he usually takes you at, but you can feel every single ridge as he moves.
âI know the glossy look your eyes have right now,â he mutters, pushing your lower back closer to him, leaving his cock impossibly deep in you. âA combination of the orgasm that you just had and the sensations youâre feeling right now.â
You shudder at his words, tentatively rolling your hips against him, silently signaling to him that youâre ready for him to move. A soft cry escapes your lips as he withdraws his hips, pushing himself back into you while your cunt throbs around his length, âSpence.â
He grunts in response, finding a steady, gentle rhythm as your mind goes blank. You find yourself searching for that high again, âYou feel so good, angel. So, so good.â His voice is low as he pulls your body closer to him still, âFuck.â
âSpence,â your voice cracks at stimulation, overwhelming you as he breathes into the crook of your neck. You dig your nails into his back, trying to keep yourself from screaming as his hand slips between your conjoined bodies, swiping softly at your clit.
Spencer keeps moving, fucking into you as his movements grow messier and messier with each passing thrust. âYouâre so pretty,â he repeats, seeing your features in the soft moonlight as your mouth gapes and your second orgasm quickly approaches.
Whimpering, you bite down on your lower lip, your leg thatâs slung over him shaking uncontrollably as you chase your orgasm, âOh my god,â you gasp helplessly.
âSo good for me. Let it go, Iâm close too,â he says, continuing his motions even as your pussy clenches around his length, the waves of your orgasm pulsating around him, sending him hurtling toward his own.
Stars dance in front of your eyes, and you let them fall shut. His movements come to a stop and you loose a sigh of relief at the realization that youâre exhausted. âDonât go,â you mumble.
Spencer presses a soft kiss to your lips, holding you close to him with one arm while readjusting his underwear with the other. âI wonât,â he whispers, âYou need to call your doctor about wanting new sleeping pills.â
You grunt in response, too close to sleep to form a coherent response.
âIâm not opposed to a more natural remedy, but Iâm not always around at night, and I need to know youâre sleeping at night,â he tells you, his voice growing softer as sleep threatens to take him.
Humming, you nuzzle closer to him, letting your body melt into the mattress as you finally fall asleep. Staying cold was no longer a concern, staying close to Spencer was.
#criminal minds#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#criminal minds smut#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#dr spencer reid#spencer reid oneshot#kinktober#spencer reid imagine#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds oneshot#written by margot#mdni#margot after hours#margotober#softdom!spencer#diphenhydramine
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guitar lessons
ellie williams x f!reader
ellieâyour guitar instructorâshows you how to play guitar, and you show her your own personal talents in the practice room
tw: not proofread, SMUT, modern!au, guitar instructor!Ellie, top!reader, bottom!ellie, fingering (e!receiving), oral (e!receiving), loser!Ellie, sort of exhibition? (Sex in a practice room), hand over Ellieâs mouth to quiet her, overstim
wc â 1.1k __ I wrote this to give more content to bottom!Ellie, I personally believe thereâs WAY too little
Youâve been attending her lessons for some time now. You had scanned the QR code offered to you and put your information in. About a week later you got an email back and here you are nowâa month and half in. The institute was about a fifteen minutes drive, the building being one smooshed between other smaller companies.
First applying for these lessons, you had no expectationsâbut each time youâve opened that front door you have to shake off your nerves. The first time you came through this door and saw her, your instructor, you had to do a double take. She looked about your age, hair short and hanging around her shoulders. Her guitar was set beside her, one you recognize from a popular and reputable brand. She was on her phone, looking up at you when you signaled your arrival by opening the door. She shook your hand, introducing herself before taking the both of you back to the practice room in the back.
You barely knew chords then, only knowing the basic G and C major. Sheâs taught you a lot, and now youâve begun to play a few songs, understand a few more chords, and you can even pluck a few songs. Sure youâve learned a bit, but at the same time there were lessons where you didnât pay any attention. It was the ones when sheâd lean close, her fingers covering yoursâshowing you how to press tighter onto the guitar so it doesnât buzz. She always had to show you a few times because the first time you never âgot it.â
Now you grab the guitar from your car, moving into the building with the same old deep breath, preparing for whateverâs to be shown. She was in the back practice room, eyes raising to yours as you open the door.
âHey,â she leans to set her phone down on the ground, âyou practice at all this week?â
âUh,â you laugh, sitting across from her.
âShit yeah of course, you didnât.â
You bring your guitar out of its case, setting it your lap, âIâve had a lot going on, I promise I will this next week.â
She sets her pick in between her lips, humming and reaching behind her for her own guitar. As she pulls it out again, you watch each movementâeyes locked on her lips.
âI donât believe you, but anyways.â
The lesson kicks off. She tries to pick off where you two left off, but it proves difficult with no practice. It started out with re-going over the song before she tried working on the parts you were messing up on.Sheâs showing a newer chord, one that has your own fingers struggling to graspâslipping between the bars. She had moved her guitar beside her yet again, her eyes watching you try and get this and fail miserably each time.
âHowâre you getting it?â
She rolls her eyes, âskill.â
With a huff she leans in again, closing the distance between you two. Her callused fingers brushing yours and pressing them, moving them whereâs needed. Your pupils pretty much dilate, breathing turning sharp. Sheâs so close, you can count each freckle on her face and describe her eye color exactly.
âDid you grasp any of what I just said?â
Her voiceâs so low, raspyâit drives you up the wall. Holy fuck you wanted to push her against the wall. Her voice, fingers, lips, eyes, body. Maybe you were too overly obvious about your attraction to her physically because she reacts. Her eyes widen just subtly, body stilling at the look coming upon your face. She looks a little taken aback, but she doesnât move away.
You slide your fingers on top of hers, âcan I kiss you?â
As she comes to nod, youâre sliding your guitar off your lap and pulling her in. A hand on her jaw, angling her to start the kiss off deep. You reconnect your lips again, not caring to try and really breathe because all you want to do is breathe her in. Youâre desperate.
The angle is awkward, reachingâso you ease it on the both of you. She ends up pushed against the wall just as youâve imagined so many times. Her hands grappling to hold onto the sponge-like walls, gasping between each kiss. Each sound escaping her drives your mind into a lust-hazed frame of mind.
âIs this okay,â you huff, âwill you tell me if I go too far?â
âYes.â
You pull at her sweats, kissing along her jaw as you drag them down and off somewhere. Right after youâre hiking her leg up, drawing it to rest on your hip to spread her further. Her eyes open to find yours and her focus is gone, sheâs already under the effect of your touch. She shivers as you draw your hand down, breathing heavily when you reach her cunt.
âYouâre intoxicatingâshit.â
With a tug you pull her underwear to the side, rubbing before thrusting a finger in. She moans, head hitting the wall behind herâeyes still looking at you. Thereâs barely anytime set between when you first insert your first between moving to three. You have her moaning to a concerning volume. With your free hand you cover your mouth, feeling her hot breaths against it.
âShh, canât have others knowing.â
Sheâs whining behind your hand, hips jerking when you hit a spot that throws her over the edge. Everything is exactly how youâve been imagining, quick flashes of how youâve wanted to take her whenever she got close to you. She shakes when she reaches her high, covering your fingers.
âIâm sorry,â you apologize, unsympathetically. She looks confused until she sees you lower yourself to your knees and kiss her inner thigh. She singsongs when you kiss her overstimulated clit. Your name falls from her lips as you do so, almost a hiss before she covers her own mouth to try and keep quiet. Just beside you are piano sounds and singing, most likely a kid learning his scales and warming up for his vocal lesson. Here you have Ellie in another kind of vocal lesson, voice coming out pitchy and whiny.
âIâm going toâagain.â
You hum against her, grinning at her tone and licking her completely to see the reaction she has. Each thing she does really is intoxicating, it fills your own mind with nonsenseânothing but her. Her tattooâd arm is gripping you, the other set upon her face. Her eyes are shut, squinted and trying to calm herself. The second after she comes again, youâre licking her cleanâsavoring each moment.
âYouâre nasty,â she huffs.
You stand, meeting her in a passionate kiss, âmaybe, but you enjoyed it.â
âMaybe.â
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sorry if you've already answered this 700 times, in which case totally feel free to ignore. but how do you lengthen your attention span? is it as simple as watching/reading progressively longer things?
First of, I am by no means an expert, but I'm happy to help as much as I can! There are a lot of great articles, books, and podcasts on the topic if you want any further info.
The most important thing to realize is why are attention spans are getting worse:
Information overload and distractions make it difficult to focus. (Ex. social media and text notification going off while you are doing other tasks)
Intentional multitasking gets your brain used to doing more than one thing at once so it becomes very difficult to make it do only one thing (Ex. having the tv on in the background while doing other tasks)
Consuming a lot of media focused on having minimal downtime and immediate gratification decreases our patience and ability to do slower tasks (Ex. watching a lot of action packed movies and short TikToks)
Getting constant small hits of dopamine from social media decreases our ability to do tasks that don't give us dopamine hits (Ex. getting likes from a post or messages from friends)
The solutions to most of these come down to two things: (1) Do only one thing at a time (2) Limit distractions from that task (3) Reduce immediate gratification
So some example of ways to do that would be:
Read a book without your phone being on hand to distract you.
Watch TV without multitasking.
Reduce time on social media, especially social media focused on short videos.
Spend a day or part of a day without technology.
Spend time with friends without looking at your phone.
Watch slow-form content like unedited lecture or panel videos where people are just speaking at their normal pace without cutting pauses.
Listen to music albums all the way through instead of shuffling and skipping.
Eat meals without multitasking (ie mindful eating)
Make yourself a cup of tea and sit on a park bench or by the window and watch some birds.
People-watch at the coffee shop.
Write long emails or letters to friends and family instead of short texts.
Call and have a conversation with a loved one without multitasking.
Meditate.
Take a walk and enjoy nature.
Don't scroll through your phone while waiting in a line.
Read long posts when you come across them on your dashboard.
Have an ebook on your phone to read whenever you would normally scroll through social media.
Don't go on your phone/online for a certain amount of time before bed.
If you are having trouble doing these things, try to do one tasks but increase the stimuli of that task. For example, read a book while listening to the audiobook at the same time. Or listen to music while watching a lyric video. These are great baby steps!
Another great baby step is (like you said in your question) doing things for progressively longer amounts of time! Set a timer for a certain number of minutes and then read without distraction for that amount of time. That way it won't feel like it is never ending and you can track your progress.
Obviously not all of these will be for everyone and some of these are too hard for people with ADHD or serious attention issues, but they are a good place to start!
I hope that helps đ
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calculated risk (but boy am i bad at math) (sylus x mc) (nsfw)
wc: 4.3k rating: E warnings: NSFW content, dirty talk, blowjobs, skull fucking, orgasm denial, slight spanking (ass and pussy) brief: you lose a bet to sylus and you have to do whatever he wants for 24 hours // part 2 here
It starts, as most things do with Sylus, an incredibly poor decision on your part.Â
It canât be helpedâwhen Sylus smirks at you, one eyebrow raised as he gives you a challenging look, you know itâs only going to end in either one of both ways. You taking him up on the bet, or the both of you in a training room with you trying your damned best to figure out how many bones of his you can break.
This time, he hadnât even disclosed what the prize would be. âPatience, dollface,â he murmured when you told him to lay the terms out upfront. âIsnât it fun when you donât know everything?â
âAnd I suppose itâs fun for you to keep me in the dark?â Control freak, you thought to yourself, but the bet was simple and there was no way you would lose.Â
Sylus had shrugged, spreading his hands in a helpless pretense.Â
It didnât matter. You were confident. You were going to win.
==
âI gotta go with A,â Luke says slowly, smacking his lips as he speaks. âI like the spices. No clue whatâs in it thoughâpepper, and er, Iâm going to go with cinnamon? Or something similar?â
You could strangle him. Who the fuck puts cinnamon in tomato and eggs? You didnât even see Sylus go near that section of the spice cabinet.Â
âDo you even know what cinnamon tastes like?â You canât help but ask.Â
Luke licks his lips again. âYeah, I ate a whole spoonful of cinnamon once because Kieran dared me to, and I was out of it for days. Boss got really mad, haha, remember that?â
Sylus sighs, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. âHe choked,â he says unhelpfully when you look to him for more information.Â
âHe exhaled cinnamon for what felt like hours after that,â Kieran notes from the side. âI wanted to get a scan of his lungs to see how tainted from cinnamon they were, but Boss grounded us.â
âAnyways, it may not be cinnamon, but itâs definitely a c-something,â Luke declares confidently. âI like it. A is the winner for me.â
âCilantro,â Kieran tells him. You canât read his expression through the fox mask, but you like to think heâs rolling his eyes. Thereâs exasperation in his voice that reeks of an older brother forced to reckon with the stupidity of a younger sibling, an unstoppable force crashing headfirst into an immovable object.Â
Luke snaps his fingers, leaning forward to spoon another mouth of scrambled egg into his mouth. âItâs good. Who made this one?â
âI have to vote first,â Kieran reminds him. âBut Iâll go with A too. Itâs saltier. I prefer things with a stronger taste.â
âHm.â Sylus turns to look at you, cocking his head. âIt appears we have a unanimous decision. Our fear of needing a tie-breaker game didnât even materialise.â
You stay silent. Your arms are folded across your chest, and you get the errant thought of whether you could stamp on his shoe hard enough to break his big toe. Probably not, but giving up without even trying is a defeatist attitude.Â
âWoah,â Luke says, looking furiously between the both of you. âBoss made this?â
Kieran suddenly goes very silent. He brings a fist up to his mouth and starts coughing lightly, but he also resembles a cat attempting to cough up a hairball.
âI did,â Sylus replies, looking quite pleased. âSurprised?â
âEr,â Luke says simply. âEr, congrats. Kieran, do you know how to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre?â
Kieran coughs again. âIâll do it on you if you do it on me first.â
âDeal.â Luke hurries to stand, his chair screeching against the floorboards from the strength of his push. âCan we excuse ourselves? Our role here is done, right?â
Sylus jerks his head at the exit, and the both of them scramble to the door. As they leave, you think you can hear Luke mutter something that sounds like âI didnât know I would like soapy eggs, but thereâs a first for everything, right?â
Kieran shoves him in the shoulder in response as they both leave. And Kieran goes to great pains to ensure the door is closed, firmly, behind him.Â
âLet me try that,â you demand, reaching for Lukeâs chopsticks left on the edge of the plate.Â
A strand of twisting red energy wraps around your wrist, yanking it to a stop.
âThere are clean chopsticks,â Sylus chides. From across the kitchen, a covered bowl and a pair of chopsticks are brought over by tendrils of red and black energy.Â
He leans back, hips pressed against the counter as he collects the bowl and chopsticks. The lid lifts of its own accord and floats over to rest on the nearby countertop.Â
Sylus picks up a piece of egg and holds it out to you.
â⊠You made a separate serving for me?âÂ
âI had my suspicions. If I won, you would have demanded a taste test to ensure I didnât rig the competition.â Sylus tilts his head, as if daring you to disagree. âWas I right?â
Instead of answering, you lean forward to take the piece of egg into your mouth. Your lips close around the end of the chopsticks, and you stay like that for a moment, looking up at Sylus from under your eyelashes.Â
Sylusâ gaze deepens.Â
You pull off, leaving the chopsticks wet with your saliva as you chew on the food in your mouth. Itâs good. Pretty good. Salty, but in a good way. It would go excellently with a fresh bowl of rice.
Youâre actually kind of irritated. Why is Sylus good at making scrambled eggs and tomato? Did he pencil that into his busy scheduleâillicit trading activities at 10 am, cooking lessons at 12 pm, a shoot out in a back alleyway at 3 pm, and prowling the streets of the N109 Zone from 11 pm to 4 am like some kind of avenger?
âItâs not bad,â you admit mulishly. âBut itâs not better than my cooking. Iâd say itâs at the same level.â
âCrowd opinion begs to differ. Thereâs no shame in losing to someone better, sweetie.â
Oh, youâve just about had it with him. But a bet is a bet, and Sylus won without any obvious cheats. Luke enjoying the soapy taste of cilantro is something you could never have predicted; if Sylus used this fact to his advantage, you canât even hold a grudge against him. You would have done the same.
âGive me that,â you say, holding a hand out for the bowl and chopsticks. âSo, whatâs the prize?â
Sylus doesnât hand you the bowl immediately. He puts the chopsticks into his mouth, licking them clean before dipping them into the bowl again and picking out another piece of egg. He holds it out.
You lean forward, of course, lips parted as you expect him to feed it to you.
Instead, he turns the chopsticks around and places the egg into his mouth. He hums as he chews on it, nodding like heâs pleased at the taste.Â
You snap your jaw shut. You give him a dirty look, pressing forward to brace your palms against the countertop, on either side of his hips. Like this, heâs trapped.Â
Your chest is pressed up against him. Your hips align with his. You go on the balls of your feet, forcing him to lift the bowl and chopsticks higher so he doesnât hit you in the face.
âYou think youâre so funny,â you grumble, staring him down. âBet, reward, now. Tell me what it is so I can be mentally prepared.â
Sylus doesnât respond at first. He glances down at you, amusement written all over his face, and lets go of the bowl. Strands of energy catch it, bringing it to rest on the counter behind him. The chopsticks are brought along as well, leaving him empty handed.
âYouâre standing in a dangerous position.â He puts the knuckle of his index finger under your chin to tilt your head up. âIf you offer yourself up like this, Iâll take advantage.â
He tilts his hips forward, rolling intently against your abdomen. The prominent bulge presses into your lower stomach, right above where your womb is, and you flush scarlet.
You move to pull back, but Sylus moves one hand lightning fast, reaching behind to cup the curve of your ass and pressing you even tighter against the hard line of his arousal through his slacks.
He even squeezes, eyebrows rising in a challenging fashion as he waits to see how youâll respond.Â
You know he just wants to get a rise out of you. Unfortunately, itâs working. Your insides clench uncontrollably, wanting to cling tightly to something.Â
Somehow, Sylus always succeeds at making you feel empty.
âAs if you donât take advantage on the daily.â You shift your stance until your thighs are spread around Sylusâs leg. He watches you adjust yourself, that mildly interested look affixed on his face as you straddle his thigh.Â
Once youâre satisfied, you roll your hips forward, grinding down on the thick thigh to put pressure against your core. Itâs a syrupy heat, starting from your tailbone and crawling up your spine. You press further into Sylusâs growing hardness, and he lets out a pleasant hum, tilting his head back to soak in the weight against his cock.
His fingers tighten against your ass. His grip is heavy, holding you tightly enough that you wonder if theyâll leave bruises against your skin. Five pretty bruises, black and blue on your ass.Â
âHarder,â he coaxes hoarsely. âYou can do better than that. What are they teaching Hunters these days?â
Your thighs squeeze threateningly around him. But that puts pressure on your clit, making pleasure surge deliciously inside you and you do it againâSylus seems to catch on and he pulls you along the length of his thigh with the hand on your ass.
âDefinitely not how to ride the unspoken ruler of the N109 Zone,â you shoot back breathlessly.
He lets out a startled laugh. âYou flatter me, sweetie.â
âStop evading the question,â you remind him, even as you steadily roll your hips against his thigh. Slow, regular grinds as you rub your cunt against his pants. You wonder if your pussy is wet enough to leak through your panties. You wonder if your panties are drenched, sticking to your thighs. You wonder if youâre making his pants damp, and whether he can feel it leaking through to his skin.
Judging from the way he suddenly grips your ass with more force at a particularly smooth slide, you think he might.Â
âRemind me, what question were we speaking of?â
âBet. Reward.â You slide one hand across his abdomen, stopping right over his belt buckle. The nail of your index finger catches against the metalâthis isnât the first time youâve wished you had some kind of Evol that involved the manipulation of metal. âWant me to go on my knees?â
The pad of his thumb smooths over your lower lip.Â
âShould I put this cute mouth to good use? I think I should,â Sylus murmurs, eyes half-lidded as he looks down at you. âBut letâs talk about the bet first. The reward is simple.â
His other hand skates lightly along your outer thigh. Light as a feather, his fingers skimming along your skin so gently that it makes you itch. You almost want him to press hard, the same way heâs gripping your ass, instead of this light, itchy sensation spreading across your body.Â
His fingers creep up, running under the hem of your dress. They trace the edge of your panties, nails scratching faintly against the cotton.Â
âI get to do whatever I want with you for the next twenty-four hours,â he says, voice curling with satisfaction. His eyes are creased slightly, the smile sinking through his gaze. As if to drive his point home, he pointedly looks you up and down, dragging his gaze over every inch of your body.Â
Heâs lucky. If you were still clear-headed, you would have scoffed and told him to change the bet. Sylus might have convinced you after a while, but it would have taken time. At least half an hour of convincing, you reckon, with lips on your neck and fingers down your panties to get you worked up enough to say yes to a bet as insane as that.
Twenty-four hours? To do whatever he wants?Â
Now, with your drenched pussy and your throbbing clit, both just begging for attention from himâthis plan sounds pretty good. With the way his fingers playfully run across your panties, the tip of his thumb glancing off your swollen clit then darting away, as if it was an accident, as if he didnât intend to do that, when you both know damn well heâs very acquainted with your clitâ
âGo on,â you gasp, chasing after his sly fingers. Pressure, you need more pressure. If he squeezes your clit between his fingers, even through the wet cotton of your panties, it might be enough. âWhat do you want me to do?â
âChoices, choices. That mouth looks hungry for something, doesnât it?â He presses his thumb into your clit harshly, making your body jerk at the sudden burst of electricity that surges through you. Sylus rubs it languidly, watching you shiver on his thigh, then he draws that hand away and brings it to his face.Â
You watch, pupils dilated and mouth open as he lifts his thumb to his nose and inhales deeply. His eyes flutter shut, lips parting as he rubs the pad of his thumb on his tongue. Behind you, his other hand flexes, tightening his hold on your ass.Â
âMm,â he hums, slowly opening his eyes to look at you. âDelicious as always, sweetie. Youâve completely wet your panties.â
âSylus,â you whine, pulling insistently at his belt. âTell me what you want, or Iâll just do whatever I want to do.â
âHow naughty. Thinking of breaking the rules of the bet this early?â His hand leaves your ass and you almost move to slide off, but thereâs a sudden sharp sound and a stinging painâyour cheeks turn red at how that spank made your insides tighten up. âOn your knees, dollface. Show me what that talented mouth of yours can do.âÂ
You go, the tips of your ears blushing when you see the blatant wet spot on his slacks your greedy pussy left on him.
==
Sylus uses your mouth like a fleshlight. All you have to do is sit there and look pretty, mouth open and wet, teeth hidden behind your lips as he holds your head in place and fucks into your mouth. Saliva pools in your mouth, your tongue numb from how loose youâre trying to keep your muscles. You just need to be there, fingers locked around Sylusâ ankles, knees spread on the ground and your arousal dripping on the floorboardsâ
âGood girl,â Sylus croons, head tilting back to expose the long line of his neck as his hips snap forward. âSo fucking obedient for me, arenât you? Tongue out, sweetie, let my cock slide right inâmmhmm, thatâs right, you know what I like, donât you?â
His fingers are tangled in your hair. Thereâs no gentleness in the way he holds you thereâhis grip on your hair is tight, your strands circling his fingers at least twice. Heâd stroked your hair right at the beginning, when you were sliding to your knees and dragging the zipper of his pants down with your teeth. Then heâd wound your hair around four of his fingers once, twice, twisting his wrist, pulling sharply so youâd feel the strain at your scalp as you licked up the length of his cock.Â
Heâd told you to clean it up, so you did. You flattened your tongue along the thick line of his cock and you dragged it up, eyelashes fluttering as you traced the fat protruding vein under the head of his cock. You got his cock nice and slick, shiny from spit and precum.Â
And now heâs fucking into your mouth, salty precum dripping down your throat as your cunt clenches around nothing. He grunts, a low punched-out sound that makes your clit throb. Youâre the reason he looks so disheveled, sleeves rolled up messily to his elbows, slacks pulled open just enough for you to slip his cock out and suck on itâ
The worst thing about Sylus, you think in a haze, the heavy weight of a fat cock in your mouth so all-encompassing that you donât have many brain cells left for clear thought, is that he loves to talk. He canât keep his fucking mouth shut, especially during sex.Â
âLook at you,â he pants, voice gravelly from arousal. His thrusts are becoming more haphazard, losing the regularity from seconds ago. Thereâs a familiar stutter and his cock pulses on your tongue, the fat head going so far down your throat you almost seize up, but you hold it back. You can take it. You want to take it. âDo you want it in your throat or on your face?â
You make a noise, the sound muffled from Sylusâ cock. He laughs, a breathless sound, and the ache in your scalp intensifies. Oh, heâs close.Â
âYouâll have to speak up, dollface.â
The whine that leaves your lips is louder this time, your fingers tightening around Sylusâ ankles. If your nails dig into the skin, leaving trails of scratch marks, all it does is make Sylus groan, hips jerking as he slams into your throat.Â
âHm, I canât hear you,â he notes, eyes glinting as he looks down at you. âBut it doesnât matter, does it? You have to take whatever I give you, sweetie. Open that throat up for me, nice and prettyângh, fuckââ
You bare your teeth just enough to scrape the underside of Sylusâ cock. Heâs not afraid to mix his pain with his pleasure, and the sting of teeth biting at his sensitive length while he fucks into your face is something heâs told you is addictive. You know he likes it. You know it makes him tremble, and you see it in his crimson eye when he hunches over, abdomen tightening as his cock twitches.Â
âClose,â he growls through gritted teeth. âSuck on it, sweetie. You have to work for the reward you want. I donâtâhaaah, fuck, I donât give handouts.â
You obey, eyes closing instinctively as you suck on his cock. His cock is leaking badly, precum sliding down your throat. You swear you can feel the head of his cock all the way down, right to the base of your throat, right at your clavicle. It truly feels like heâs hitting it that deep, bruising the insides of your mouth and throat until you wonât be able to eat right or breathe right for days.Â
You swallow desperately, throat working furiously around the head of his cock, that tight wet heat that drives him crazy, and he bites out a curse as his hips jerk forward, cock throbbing as come spills into your mouth.Â
He doesnât let up. He keeps fucking into your mouth, hips pumping as he slides his cock back and forth on your tongue. You suck at his cock, swallowing mouthful and mouthful of come down your throat. Your entire world narrows to a pinpoint, to the grounding weight of his pulsing cock on your tongue, the ache in your mouth, the sting of your scalpâthere might be tears in your eyes, or sweat from overexertion, but your vision is blurry when you look up and watch Sylus watch you.Â
Sylus watches you with hooded eyes, mouth open as he pants for air. His lips curve up when he sees you open your eyes, looking down at you with a pleased expression while he rides out the aftershocks in your wet mouth.Â
âHow obedient,â he says, breathing heavily as he lets one hand go and moves to stroke the side of your mouth with his thumb. He cups your jaw, wiping away a trail of spit from your lips, then reaches down to follow the outline of his cock in your throat. âSwallow.â
You swallow, and his eyes darken as your throat bobs around his cock. He must be able to feel it on both endsâhis cock, trapped in that endless wet heat; his fingers, feeling the movement of your muscles under your skin, feeling his heartbeat in his cock through your throat.Â
He continues fucking your mouth until the spurts of come finally taper off. Even then, he seems content to let his cock stay in your mouth, rubbing along the textured roof of your mouth and against the scrape of your teeth.Â
Eventually, he pulls back. Sylusâ cock leaves your lips, inch by inch, until his back is against the counter again and only the tip of his cock is left in your mouth.
You canât help it. Now that thereâs more space, you move your tongue instinctively, curving it along the over-sensitive head of his cock and licking into the slit.Â
Your eyes are trained carefully on Sylusâ face as you do this. He shudders, lips spreading in a smile even as his grip tightens in your hair.Â
He gives you this look, half-lidded eyes and a lazy, satisfied smile as you mouth at his cock.Â
âGood girl,â he says hoarsely, pulling your hair until your mouth slides off his cock. It bobs in front of you, still half-hard, and you risk your luck with lapping at the fat cockhead.Â
Sylus stops you by yanking your head back even further. He pulls up, forcing you to your feet, then he unwinds his fingers and smooths your hair down.Â
You pant lightly, trying to get your breathing under control. Your mouth feels like one big bruise, and you clear your throat before even attempting to speak. Your voice is going to sound completely fucked, you know, and some part of you revels in it. That youâll walk around sounding like someone just brutalised your throat, because someone did.Â
Sylus doesnât do anything. He just stands there, the long line of his body stretching out before you as he drops one hand to cup your waist. You eye him, then eye the slowly growing stiffness of his cockâwhen you look back up, he has that familiar, smug challenging look on his face, like he wants to see what youâll do next.Â
Oh, you know what you want. You take his free hand and bring it under the rucked up hem of your dress. Your panties are sticky with arousal, and youâre certain you leaked enough fluid for his cock to slide in without any stretching, but you like fingers in your cunt. You like Sylusâ fingers in your cunt, specifically.Â
Thick and callused fingers, broad enough that two of them feel like four of yours. You like the way they can hunt down that sensitive spot inside you with deadly precision, and you like the way he taps insistently at it like heâs pulling a trigger on a target. You like it when he crooks his fingers inside you and finger you stupid while his thumb flicks insistently at your clit.Â
You even pull your drenched panties to the side so Sylus can slip his fingers in. Youâre being so accommodating, so sweet and nice and obedient, all hopped up on endorphins from having a cock in your mouth and watching Sylus comeâ
He runs his index and middle finger through the seam of your pussy, gathering up your sticky wetness. He reaches up to pinch your clit, finding it with shocking accuracy even though his hand is hidden beneath your skirt, and you let out a surprised moan, your knees shaking from the pleasure that bursts inside you. You are going over the edge the moment he sinks those clever fingers inside you, you just know it.
But he draws his hand away. Youâre so shocked that you let him do it, let him pull his hand away and bring it to his face again, almost an exact copy of what happened earlier. You watch, pussy clenching around nothing as he presses those two fingers together and pulls them apart, letting thin silvery strands of your arousal stretch in between the fingertips.Â
Sylus rubs them together again, then puts those fingers in his mouth. He looks at you, holding your gaze as he sucks on them, throat visibly moving as he swallows.Â
âSweet,â he notes, nodding in approval. âA sample before the main course.â
You stare blankly at him. Your clit is throbbing, desperate for attention. âSylus,â you demand, reaching for his hand again. âI wantââ
âI know what you want.â His hand cups your exposed pussy. His palm is hot, heat radiating off his skin as he rubs slowly along your slick cunt. âBut for the next twenty-four hours, youâre at my mercy.â
He slaps your pussy, so suddenly that it makes you yelp, both hands reaching out to grip his bicep in a bid to stabilise yourself. It stings, so pleasantly that it makes your clit tingleâyou want more of it, more of everything and anything, as long as he makes you come. Youâre so close itâs not even funny. One more slap could push you over the edge, as long as he does it hard enough and right across your twitching, swollen clitâ
âGo take a shower,â Sylus suggests, eyes dark as he stares you down. âIâll find you when I want to, dollface.â
âYouâ!âÂ
His smirk just makes the heat in your gut flare up. You want nothing more than to push him on his back and straddle that face, wipe that smile off with your cunt and force him to eat you out until youâre shaking from overstimulation and crying over his tongue.Â
But a bet is a bet. And you respect the sanctity of a reward, even if it frustrates you to no end.Â
âYou are infuriating,â you hiss, and stalk off to find a change of clothes.
==
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CARVE ME UP AND EAT ME
there was almost no information on the mysterious cult nestled into the mountainside near your hometown, with even less knowledge about its leader. curiosity sets you on your path to investigate, but something else manages to keep you.
pairing: vampire!suguru geto x f!reader
themes/content: dark content (dubcon). smut. cult leader suguru, blood drinking/feeding, like mind control-ish? idk i was making up vampire rules here, pet names (little lamb), oral (reader receiving), p in v (missionary). 18+, MDNI (wk: 7.6k)
a/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!!! thanks for getting freaky with me this month, it's been such a blast and i love you all!!!! hope you get to dress up and have lots of yummy candy tonight :) mwah!!!!!
quintober masterlist | main masterlist
People rarely came back from the mountains.
When they did, they wereâŠdifferent. Months, even years having passed from their disappearance, and suddenly returning with no memory of it. As though their time away suddenly ceased to exist. They couldnât recall what they had done, who they were with, anything that could help the townspeople pin down the mysterious group making their home in the depths of the woods.
Any efforts to catch the so-called cult were obviously futile - the town lost enough soldiers that the leaders decided it was pointless to send anymore sacrifices.
So, there was a sort of peace. Well, less peace, and more a silent war, a battle of contempt, one that left everyone on edge. Whenever someone went missing, the entire village stood on edge, waiting but never searching.
But you were trained well, oh so well.
âNever go out at night.â âNever stray from us.â âNever get lost.â
âNever go into the mountains.â
They praised you for your obedience, feeding it to you from dirtied palms, making you kneel before them to drink from it. It felt good to be good.
Obedience is strength.
Their orders pulled at the strings of your muscles, dictating your actions, your movements, your very thoughts. They pulled and pulled and pulled until you were stretched taut, desperately tightening you into a form they deemed desirable.
It was only a matter of time before the strings snapped.
The fight was blurry now, nothing more than screams and tears and broken expectations so sharp you worried you may cut yourself. Your feet hit the ground outside your parentsâ home faster than you could breathe in the burning air, cold in your lungs.
You had always obeyed.
So now, perhaps you could enact your final act of disobedience. The one thing that had been taught to you so deeply until it buried itself under your skin.
The path up the mountain wasnât nearly as dangerous as others made it seem. Truthfully, it was shockingly well-maintained, the occasional branch snapping under your feet but no other obstacles.
What could even be so bad about this place, anyways?
The people who returned were never injured, always fed and clean and cared for. They always came back in a fresh set of robes draped over their skin, no signs of markings or damage painted across their bodies.
The options weighed heavy on your tongue. Either youâd reach the cultâs temple, or youâd die trying.
Either way, youâd be acting on your own. Youâd be independent, free. With an exhale, you blew the remaining obedience into dust, joining the stars sparkling overhead.
The moon seemed pleased with your choice, at least, guiding your path clearly through the woods. Whenever the ground below your feet disappeared, you knew you had misstepped, returning easily to the worn-in gravel placed along the way. Eventually, the trees became sparse, no longer guarding you from whatever lays ahead.
It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust before focusing on the building before you, a gentle glow illuminating the temple through its exterior screens. It was certainly different than you imagined, expecting high stone barriers walling off a great fortress, leaving you to wonder: could masses of soldiers truly not pierce the paper screens protecting this deadly palace?
Yet, you couldnât help but feel welcomed; it was unimposing, the warm lights flickering inside a definite sign of life. How many people call this their home? How many people serve here?
The wooden steps leading to the entrance creak slightly below your weight, palm hesitantly resting on the sliding door. Doubt flashes across your mind, the pull of your family threatening to tug you back home - should you turn around, forget this silly stunt and return to the life you had known?
Before you can move, the screen slides open in your grasp.
âDo come in,â a soft voice calls from inside as light floods your vision.
Your weight makes you stumble forward as your feet move on their own, carrying you into the room. Itâs nice inside, the smell of sage lingering in the air as you make your way to the center. Before you is a man, his green and gold robes hanging loosely from his shoulders, the bare skin covered only by inky locks cascading down his back. His position looks almost leisurely as he kneels, his eyes scanning your figure.
âSit.â
And you do - your knees buckle as you lower yourself to the ground.
A devilish grin spreads across his lips as he follows your motions. For a moment, his gaze locks on yours, deep purple eyes staring back.
âQuite an obedient little thing, arenât you?â he purrs.
Air rushes into your lungs through a gasp, but you canât stop the muscles in your neck from nodding.
What the fuck is happening? Why canât you control your body?
As fear begins to course through your nerves, the stranger in front of you lets out a breathy giggle. âGood, thatâs very good,â he muses.
When he rises to stand, your heart drops as you realize just how deeply you may have fucked up. Heâs tall, easily towering over you. The bottom of his robes graze the floor as he circles you quietly - no, silently.
The sound of his humming vibrates in the air - you want to look at him, monitor him for any malicious intent, but you canât bring yourself to turn your head.
When heâs completed his course around you, he returns to his seat on the floor. Perching himself on the balls of his feet, he leans forward. Cold fingers wrap around your face, pushing your cheeks together as he easily maneuvers you in his grasp. His eyes burn your skin as you realize:
Heâs inspecting you.
With a pleased huff he releases your head, settling back across from you. That same smirk rests across his lips as he speaks. âTell me, why did you come here, little lamb?â
The sound of your voice hits the air before you realize itâs yours. âI ran away.â
âOh?â With a tilt of his head, his eyes crease. âWell then, I suppose youâve found your new home. Welcome.â
Silently, he rises once more. This time, he extends a pale hand out to you. âI can show you to your room, if youâd like.â
At his words, the tendons within your body relax, more at ease. Finally under your own control, you raise a hesitant arm. Is this what you want?
Your palm rests lightly upon his.
He smiles.
âGood choice,â he whispers as you rise to your feet.
The templeâs grounds are beautiful, even in the dark. Flickering candlelight lines the stone paths as you walk through tended gardens, over wooden bridges and small streams. He guides you to a house near the back, tucked safely into the mountainside.
The paper slide shudders as it opens, revealing the outline of a bed covered in crisp white sheets.
âYou can sleep here tonight. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to call for me,â he informs you, each syllable floating through the night air.
With one swift motion he turns, returning down the path you came from.
âWait!â you call - as the command settles, you sheepishly cross your hands. Dark hair falls over his shoulder as he turns to face you. âHowâŠhow will I find you?â
His eyes close as he laughs. âOh, donât worry. Iâll find you.â And with that, he disappears into the darkness.
â
The sun rises hesitantly here. It peeks its head through the translucent screens, barely illuminating your room enough to rouse you. When you finally wake, your thoughts swirl in confusion for a moment - where are you? what happened? - before you remember the previous night, the path beneath the watchful moon, the man who led you here.
Despite the unfamiliar environment, the warnings carved into your skin about the dangers of this place, you canât bring yourself to feel afraid - after all, if he wanted to hurt you, he surely would have by now, right?
Thereâs an ache in your muscles as you stretch your arms overhead, bare feet resting upon the wooden floor, cool from the morning air. Idle hands begin searching the room as you open the hand-carved drawers, the scent of pine still lingering on them.
In the first, you find fresh sets of sheets. Below that, cleanly folded towels.
Moving to the next chest, your eyes widen as you scan its contents. Inside lie beautiful silks in every shade - your palms run over blues that mirror the sea, pinks the color of sunrise, greens brought from the forest floor. Each one feels more extravagant than the last, and as your awe clears, you suddenly feel ashamed to be holding them. They slip through your fingers as you shy away in embarrassment, your dirtied skin unworthy of touching them. They arenât yours, after all - youâre nothing more than a guest here.
Turning to the closet nearby, you swing open the heavy doors, only to be met with even more luxury, this time robes hanging in neat rows.
You shouldnât take them, but then again, the man did say anything you needed was yoursâŠand you could use a new set of clothes after your travels last nightâŠ
Hesitantly, you pull one of the kimonos from the rack - in your hands, it catches the morning sun, small threads of gold reflecting across the room interwoven with the purple cloth. Sliding into it, you canât help but notice the way it fits you perfectly, the length extending to just above your ankles, the sleeves resting gently along your wrists.
It feels foreign on your skin, surely you look like a fool, nothing more than a child trying on their parentâs work clothes. Glancing around the room, you search for a mirror to confirm your suspicions, but none seem to catch your eye. Oh well, you sigh, youâll just have to face everyone looking like a stranger.
Stepping outside, a cool breeze brushes past your cheeks, your arms wrapping the robes tighter around your body as you fight off a shiver. It must be colder at this altitude, no longer afforded the protection of the very mountain you now reside on.
Small pebbles crunch beneath your feet as you make your way along the temple grounds. You try to retrace the path you took from the main house last night, but it quickly proves useless, your memory already foggy. Maybe it just looks different during the day?
Nevertheless, you donât mind being lost here - the area is truly beautiful. Flowers fill the green spaces, ones youâd never seen before, shades of purple and red dotting the meadows. In the distance, tall trees poke against the horizon, leaves dancing in the wind.
As you wander, you pass identical buildings to the one you stayed in last night. Had you walked past all of these on your way there? Surely you would have remembered them, right?
This time, of course, the lights inside are off. Thereâs no use for them under the sun thatâs now settling into the sky above. There are fewer clouds up here, you realize, perhaps another effect of the altitude.
By the time you find your way back to your new home (only able to identify it by the screen door left ajar), darkness has begun growing along the grounds, insects chirping their nighttime songs from nearby trees.
Sliding your shoes off, the smell of something tantalizing hits your senses.
You hadnât even realized how hungry you were until youâre suddenly faced with the most delicious looking meal sitting upon the table. Steam rises from the bowl of salty broth, and for a moment you overlook the fact that someone must have been here to deliver it as you hurriedly shuffle to sit down, scooping noodles into your mouth with the chopsticks resting nearby. Finally, the ache in your stomach eases as you slurp the remaining liquid, allowing it to practically dribble down your chin.
A long shadow is suddenly cast along your room from behind you.
âIâm glad to see youâre enjoying dinner.â
Your spine shoots straight up as you turn, wiping your face with the back of a suddenly clammy palm.
âY-yes,â you stutter, attempting to hide the utter lack of manners in how you had ravenously consumed the meal.
The man from last night stands in your doorway, leaning against the frame as he crosses his arms. That same smirk spreads across his features.
âThank you!â you suddenly blurt, aware of your impoliteness. âIt wasâŠvery good. Thank you.â
Another light chuckle dances across the air. âPlease, no need for formalities. Iâm simply glad you are enjoying the food. Itâs been quite some time since Iâve had to make something for someone other than myself.â
Questions lie along the tip of your tongue, but before they can escape, he turns with a wave. âWell, I suppose Iâll see you tomorrow, then.â
âWait!â You internally curse yourself again for the interruption, but one question in particular was burning its way through your throat. âI realized I never learned your nameâŠâ
âOh,â he smiles through thin lips. âMy name is Suguru, but most call me Master Geto. You can choose whatever name you like.â
Warmth floods your face at the title, and further at his informality. âO-okay.â
With another small flick of his wrist, he continues the path away from your room. âAnyways, goodnight,â he calls into the darkness ahead.
âGoodnight, Master Geto,â you murmur to yourself.
â
Your second day is all too similar.
You wake.
You dress.
You wander.
You eat.
This time, Master Geto does not stop by your room at all. Youâre beginning to wonder what he does all day - hell, youâre beginning to wonder what anyone here does all day, not having seen a single other person.
All that free time leaves you to fester on your thoughts.
When you were a child, you heard the rumors of this place. At first, it was a sort of commune, a community where disillusioned and lost souls could go to find purpose. But when they stopped coming back, the stories twisted into more sinister adaptations. It was a religious group, who worshiped their leader as a false god. Then, it was a sex cult, who offered their bodies to him as a form of salvation. After that, it was a political power who strove to overtake all of society and enact his rules as law.
Time after time, story after story, it was always him at the forefront: some mysterious man who cornered and compelled his followers to obey.
And yet, you find yourself doubting it. How could he lead if he was never present? More than that, who could he lead if there were no loyal servants here to be led?
It didnât add up.
The townsfolk were known for fear mongering - perhaps it was nothing more than a way to avoid losing any more citizens, to prevent them, too, from joining the strange man in the mountains.
But then again, you canât quite shake the power you felt radiating from him when you were in that room, the way he so easily manipulated your body (and your thoughts) with nothing more than his words.
The thoughts string together in your mind as you pace the temple grounds during your walks, the only routine grounding you to the passage of time.
Today the sun struggles to shine through the clouds, a general greyness cast upon everything. Itâs been almost two weeks, and youâve barely seen him at all. Occasionally heâll stop by your room, but only hover in the doorway, never entering. His voice always seems so calm when he speaks to you, offering simple observations about your meals, as though he was slowly investigating your preferences (not that he needed to - you were grateful simply to be fed - but he persisted nonetheless).
Tonight, you return to find the entrance to your room closed, the candlelight from inside casting a welcoming glow. As you slide the shoji open, a familiar scent fills the space. Your mouth waters as your feet carry you forward on instinct.
With the first bite from the bowl, you nearly moan in pleasure at the taste.
âIs it good?â
This time, you donât jump at his silent approach. Glancing over your shoulder, you smile through a full mouth. âItâs incredible.â
âGood,â he laughs softly, âIâm glad. I was worried it wouldnât be as good as you remembered.â
âMaster Geto,â you swallow, âthis is delicious.â Through another bite, your voice lowers, âItâs just like the oyakodon my parents used to make.â
âI know.â
The statement catches you momentarily off-guard, questions catching in your throat making you nearly choke.
He senses the change immediately as your shoulders close off, confusion building behind your eyes. âI apologize if I overstepped,â he begins, uncrossing his arms and allowing them to hang loosely by his sides in the slightly oversized robes, âI remembered that dish being popular in town, so I thought it might bring some comfort.â
âOh,â you hum, tentatively chewing another bite. Itâs a reasonable explanation, you suppose, even if it leaves more uncertainty swirling in your lungs.
After a moment of silence, his presence in your doorway begins to feelâŠawkward.
Normally by this point heâd have left with a wave, fading into the darkness outside. But not tonight. Tonight, he stays, swaying slightly within the entrance.
As your gaze covers him, the traditional robes remind you - perhaps you were being even more rude than you expected. You still knew very little about him, but maybe he abided by more traditional laws, one that forbade a man from entering a womanâs sleeping quarters without her permission.
(You always thought those rules were a bit silly, but now was not the time for debate - now was the time to learn more about the man lingering outside.)
âWould you like to come in?â You place the question into the air as you swallow the final piece of your dinner.
His grin threatens to tear across his cheeks as he nods politely. âOf course.â
As he approaches the table inside, his presence suddenly feels overwhelming. Even though heâs not physically much larger than you, something about him suffocates the space, his soul spreading out until thereâs no room left. Itâs stifling.
But when he sits across from you, it gets sucked back into himself. You can breathe again.
âHow is the temple?â he asks easily.
âItâs beautiful,â you muse, âbutâŠwhere is everyone?â
âEveryone?â He cocks his head to the side. âOh! You mean the others. They arenât particularly active during the day - you know how hot it gets here.â
In an instant, it feels right - the memories of the brisk mornings become hazy in your mind, replaced with the sun beaming overhead. Maybe you even returned to your room with sweat glistening along your skin after a particularly long walk.
Suguru notices the way your vision clouds over as the experiences rewrite themselves. If you were more present, perhaps youâd be able to decode the emotion flashing across his face as his nose scrunches and eyebrows furrow.
He stands suddenly, pulling you from your internal trance.
âWell, I suppose I should be going now,â he hums, gliding seamlessly to the doorway once again. âGoodnight.â
Before you can breathe a question, heâs gone, the rattling screen door the only proof of his existence.
â
You think youâre going insane here.
When you fled, you wanted to find something exciting, a new experience, an act of defiance. You wanted something to fill the emptiness in your soul and make you into something else, someone stronger, someone braver, someone more than the obedient little girl you left behind.
But now, with every repeated step through the temple grounds, you feel yourself collapsing inwards. The support beams inside you arenât strong enough, cracking under the weight of loneliness.
Why wasnât anyone here?
Why wasnât anyone helping you?
Even Master Getoâs presence became desired, in spite of the slight unease that brewed within your stomach when he was around. It was like an addiction, as though he knew just how to feed you enough of him to keep you coming back, to keep you starving.
Ironic, isnât it? That here, in a place with all your needs met, with delicious meals and extravagant clothes and plush beds, you find yourself destitute. Hunger pangs shoot up your chest as you eat alone, the robes begin stifling each breath, too hot even as the days grow colder. Every night you become increasingly acquainted with the wooden beams drawn above your bed.
Youâre empty.
On your thirty-first night, after hours laying alone in the dark, you wonder if perhaps the moon would have any advice for you. Sheâs always watched over you, maybe she could guide you.
Outside, the gravel shifts beneath your feet. The candles are lit once again, lining the paths throughout the grounds. Youâve never seen anyone light them, and yet every night, their flames continue to burn (not that you need them, of course - youâve grown accustomed to this place, steps tracing it like palm lines).
So you trust your legs when they carry you forward. Until youâre once again at the entrance of the main temple, the same warmth flickering from inside.
The door slides open easily, the hesitation that used to live in your muscles now replaced with tired indignation. You no longer have to wait for Master Getoâs command to enter (even though you want it, you want it so badly, to be told what to do and where to go and how to act and what to think until youâre nothing but his little puppet because then at least you could be something).
A part of you expected him to be in his chambers given the late hour. But a more possessive part hopes heâd be here, waiting for you.
Your lungs breathe a sigh of relief as you feel his gaze. He smiles as you stand in the doorway.
âWhatâs my little lamb doing up so late?â he coos, beckoning you inside.
Rubbing your eyes, you take your seat on the floor next to him. âCouldnât sleep.â
Itâs been some time since youâve been here, you realize - perhaps since the first night you arrived - but it feels comfortable, the scent of smoke lingering in the air. And Master Geto is here, too - that surely helps.
âI see. Tell me, would you like me to make you some tea?â
Your head nods on its own, perhaps an effect of your recent insomnia.
Silently, he rises, moving easily through the room to collect his arsenal. Armed with a maroon teapot and a single cup, he returns to where you rest in the center of the room. Dark liquid pours into the mug before he places it in front of you.
The first sip burns your tongue slightly, but you avoid wincing - you wouldnât want to seem ungrateful. You wouldnât want to push him away.
Deep eyes watch your every move, drinking you in. That quiet discomfort is back, but you shove it down with a forceful swallow. After all, if you seem distrustful, it may make him unhappy, or worse, leave you. After so long without him, youâre content to sit under his blanket of silence.
âHow are you enjoying your time here?â
Your throat catches for a moment. Should you tell him itâs killing you, eating you alive and breaking you down? Should you tell him how much youâve missed him? No - surely heâd think you strange, you barely know each other despite the time youâve spent here.
âItâs beenâŠcomfortable.â
He tilts his head through a thoughtful hum. He allows the quiet to choke you for a moment before he continues. âAnd yet, youâre here at this hour. Tell me, why?â
Your lips are moving on your own, fighting against your better interest. âIâve missed you, Master Geto.â
âOh?â He seems pleased with your response, letting out that tantalizing little chuckle. âWhat is it about me youâve missed?â
This time, youâre able to stifle your voice before it betrays you. Through another sip, you let the words simmer on your tongue before he speaks again-
âTell me.â
âI missed being told what to do,â you blurt, nearly spilling the tea that had been resting behind your lips.
Thin lips tug into a smirk as he eyes you, and you canât help but feel youâve answered correctly, even if it was against your will.
That fear bubbles inside your chest once again, but this time itâs tainted with something else, something hot. Something you would be tempted to call desire.
Adjusting his weight, muscled legs sprawl before him. âCome here, little lamb,â he purrs.
So easily he pulls your strings. In an instant youâre crawling towards him, until youâve settled upon his lap, head resting on his shoulder. Perhaps a month ago you would have been scared at how easily he maneuvers you to his will, but after countless days left with only your own thoughts to drive you, itâs a welcome reprieve. A body is a heavy thing to carry alone; thereâs no harm in letting someone else borrow it for a moment.
Slender fingers card through your hair, melting you beneath his touch. Until all thatâs left is a fluid form in the outline of your flesh; it makes it all the more easy to shape that way.
âYou must be tired, poor thing,â Suguru hums into the crown of your head.
âMmm,â you hum in response, eyelids fluttering closed.
âGo on then, sleep.â
And your vision melts into his darkness.
â
When you wake, everything feels stiff. The room, your body, the blankets cocooned around you. Stale air sits in your lungs as you rise from the bed.
It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, landing on wood floors and drawn shades. Everything is covered in a fine layer of dust except you, the only living thing here.
Nothing moves except for your breathing, no sounds besides the mattress creaking as you stand. Your thighs are tense, aching with each step forward. At least your robe is comfortable, even if itâs not the one you remember falling asleep in.
That memory itself feels fuzzy - how long had you been here?
But the slippers on your feet are warm, and you donât feel that gnawing ache inside your stomach anymore. Maybe it doesnât really matter.
Sliding the bedroom door open, you wander into the hallway. At the end, flickering candlelight casts a glow across the familiar carpet, the same as in the main building. Oranges and greens blur in your vision as you make your way to it, and your heart picks up its pace as you walk, drawing you in.
It lurches when you see him.
Master Geto.
âYouâre finally awake, my little lamb.â His voice is smooth like silk, softer than the sheets that had cradled you as you slept. âCome in.â
The room is beautiful, dark reds and browns lining every surface, especially the bed he lays upon. The material is cool on your skin, flushed from sleep.
âYou slept for quite a while,â he hums, beginning to slowly run his fingers over your hair. âDo you feel better?â
âYes, thank you.â
âWhy thank me?â
âI thinkâŠI think it was because of you.â The sentence trails up at the end, leaving it a question. One he does not decide to answer.
âWould you like some tea?â
âYes, please. Thank you, Master Geto.â
His lips spread into a smile as he rises, silently moving to the teapot resting in the corner. With his back momentarily to you, itâs easier to remember all the questions you ought to ask - how long was I asleep for? where is everyone? why am I here?
But theyâre too overwhelming, too big. You arenât sure heâd answer them, anyways - you arenât sure youâd want an answer. Itâs easier to not ask.
âIâm not sure I should stay here anymore.â
His shoulders stiffen, just enough that the tea nearly spills over the edge of the cup. He sets it down on the table beside you.
âAnd why is that?â
âI justâŠâ you trail off, holding the mug in your hands. Itâs warm, making your palms itch. âIâm not sure thereâs anything for me to do here.â
âYou keep me company. Is that not enough?â
âIt is, but I justâŠI guess I donât feel like Iâm doing a good job.â Itâs easier to speak when you only have to face the steaming liquid held in your lap. âI feel lost without you. I donât know what to do with my time. I mostly just wander around and hope I see you, or hope you give me something to do. I like that, but Iâm not even doing anything. Youâre never around during the day anyways, so then I end up festering with my thoughts and just feel worse. Iâm losing my mind here.â
A slender finger traces up your neck, tilting your chin so youâre forced to look at him. His eyes hold a dark ice behind them, the kind that would slice open ships and kill sailors in the middle of the night, the kind the sea only makes when itâs craving blood.
âYou have a purpose here, little lamb, you just canât see it.â
You canât hold his gaze, so you allow it to fall to the pink and red of his lips. âThen tell me what it is! I want to do something, please Master Geto.â Nails leave crescent-shaped marks in your skin as you grip the teacup.
âI canât tell you, not yet.â
âEither tell me, or Iâm leaving.â
You arenât sure where the words came from, but they shock you as they land. Perhaps some deep part of your soul, some part the moon uncovered on your walk to the temple, growing brighter under her protection.
Fire, then ice flares behind him. He forces his shoulders back, cooling his tone. âWhy donât you drink some tea and calm down a bit, then we can talk about this?â
âI donât want your tea! I want to know whatâs going on!â
âI said, drink.â
The muscles in your arms tighten to bring the cup to your mouth. Liquid is forced past your lips through a choke. It burns your throat.
Once itâs empty, you drop it, the mug clanging against the floor. Tears prick the corners of your eyes in pain, and Master Geto seems tense. Lowering himself to the ground, he gingerly picks up the cup, allowing his palm to graze yours as he rises. Silently, he glides to the corner of the room where steam rises from the still-full teapot.
With everything in you, you force your mouth to move. âHow do you do that?â Your voice is hoarse.
âDo what?â
âThat,â you stumble, trying to explain. âMake meâŠdo things.â
Six seconds pass before he answers.
âDo you know what obedience means?â
You nod.
âTell me, what does it mean to you?â
âIt means to do as another person says, always.â
Glancing at you from over his shoulder, his eyes crinkle at the corners. âExactly.â He pours more liquid into your cup, a silent apology in his own misshapen way. âSome must be trained into obedience through leashes and chains, but others are born for it, their souls a softer shape, one thatâs easier to mold.â
The mug is warm in your hands as your fingers wrap around the ceramic, accepting it from his grasp.
âSomeone like you, for example, was made to obey. You feel it, donât you? That emptiness when you arenât being commanded?â
As you nod, something inside you aches, a hole where your autonomy should be. And here is Master Geto, so kindly offering to fill it.
âThat makes it all the more effortless to follow someone, you see. I can sense it, the way your body practically begs me to control it.â He explains it easily with a wave of his hand, as though a few sentences could make you understand.
And yet, you do. It feels right to be led by him, molded by him, controlled by him. Itâs the comfort youâve felt, the warmth that clouds your thoughts whenever youâre near him.
âIs thatâŠis that what Iâm doing here?â A large hand reaches over to rub slow circles into your back through the robe - his robe, you now realize. âIâm here to follow orders and do whatever you say?â
âNo, no, not at all.â A sound close to a laugh brushes through his throat at the thought. âYouâre here for something else.â
You finish the second cup of tea - itâs easier to drink now that your throat has already been burned. âPlease, tell me why. I promise not to leave, please, Master Geto.â
Dark eyes fall to the empty cup in your hands, then back to you. So powerless in his grasp, the smell of him lingering on your clothes, on your skin, on your breath. An impossible scent to lose, even if you were to run.
âDo you know what a vampire is?â
Confusion swirls in your mind at the question. âYes? Iâve heard of them, of course. Creatures who live forever and drink blood to survive, right?â
âExactly,â he smiles, voice smooth like the silk wrapping around your body. âThere are other components too, of course. Other powers. The commands, for example. And youâve heard of those coming back from my temple, yes? How they return with no recollection of their time here?â
âYes.â
âThey were ones who ran - who I allowed to run, of course. They didnât please me, or they were too weak to keep my company. But as you can imagine, I couldnât allow them to tell others of what they had seen here, regardless of how stupid some of them may have been. So, they may survive, but the memories must go. And thatâs just a fraction of what Iâm capable of.â His words rise and fall in pitch, the most visible sign of excitement youâve ever seen in him, before it flattens again. âMany think vampires are dangerous, but they arenât, not if theyâre able to control themselves. Itâs a matter of obedience, you see.â
âObedience,â you whisper into the empty space.
âIf one can stay in control of their desires, itâs barely any different than how a human lives.â
Your hands fiddle with the hem of the robe, teeth chewing on your lip. âWhy are you telling me this, Master Geto?â
The finger on your chin trails up until his hand rests upon your cheek. When your eyes finally meet his, he smiles, a gesture you donât return. Your heart beats loud, pulling you into him.
âYou know why.â
And you feel it, in the depths of your stomach. The true weight of his horror, his power, settles like obsidian in your chest. A cough stifles from your mouth from the coal-black dust inside you.
His thumb runs over your lips, pressing down on the plump flesh. You should run, you should scream and beg for help and go back to your parents and pretend this never happened. You arenât safe here, you shouldnât stay a moment longer.
All your body can do is quicken your pulse, thrumming up your neck.
Your lips part. His thumb slides past them.
When he smiles, he seems pleased, and you feel warm like the tea spreading through your muscles with each breath. Flickering candlelight casts a shadow across his eyes, and they seem to glow with hunger.
âAre you scared?â
His skin tastes sweet as it settles on your tongue. You slowly shake your head, humming a soft, âNo.â
A twitch of a smirk plays across his lips. He didnât even have to compel you. They spread wider, allowing sharp, whitened fangs to poke through. Your eyes widen and pupils dilate as they dig into his lower lip, red blooming beneath the skin.
âYou should be.â Heâs leaning forward, until heâs so close you block the light from cascading across his face. In the shadows of your body, he looks monstrous, all flashes of black and white. âAnd yet, you stay. Tell me, why? What could you possibly hope to achieve?â
Air rushes through your lungs, and the words tumble out in a single breath. âI want to obey you, Master Geto.â
Tilting his head to the side, dark bangs obscure his eyes.
âAh, I understand now. You really were made for this, werenât you?â
Sliding his thumb from your mouth, he closes the distance between you. A long finger tilts your chin upwards, locking your gaze on him.
âYou want to be good for me, donât you?â
You nod. You canât help it - you want to do anything he tells you; you will do anything he tells you.
âGood.â Pink lips brush against yours. His breath is cool as he whispers, âThen lay down.â
The sheets are chilled against your burning skin as your back rests upon them. Itâs easier, now, the way youâve accepted your muscles enacting his will. It feels right to let him pull your strings, letting him shape you into whatever pose he sees fit.
He doesnât even need to command you to open your legs, large palms spreading your knees apart easily, allowing them to fall with the weight of his gravity. Your clothes are gone in an instant, laid bare before him, returned to your natural form before the god that granted it. Itâs only natural.
Hot breath hits your core, cold eyes resting on your face. His thumb trails a path along your skin until it lands upon your clit, each slow circle another rotation around his orbit.
Itâs almost too much, your body writhing under his touch, desperation making your hips rut uselessly into him. But heâs justâŠwatching you.
âP-please,â you canât help but whine, trying to grind into him for any additional ounce of friction. Master Geto simply continues his agonizingly slow pace.
Your gaze meets his for a moment, fire crackling beneath it as his lips tug into a sinister grin, a predator about to consume its prey.
Eat me, your body begs, Iâm yours.
Oh, he knows.
His palm opens, sliding two fingers easily into your cunt. Just as he curls upwards, sharp teeth move from poking through his lip into the soft flesh of your inner thighs. For the violence crackling beneath his skin, heâs surprisingly gentle as his canines sink into you.
Because he doesnât want it to hurt.
Not yet.
The prickling pain tingles your senses as he pulls your first orgasm from you, a faint moan humming in your throat.
When he rises from between your legs, red dribbles from his lips. He crackles with pride, completely unabashed; if anything, heâs proud.
Warmth blankets your body as he crawls on top of you, a wolf stalking a lamb. And you canât bring yourself to run.
Muscled shoulders bare themselves under the flickering lights as he slowly sheds his robes, pale and morphing, too blurry to focus on. If you were more naive, youâd be tempted to call him an angel.
âYou taste so sweet,â he purrs, his face now mere centimeters from yours.
When he kisses you, a mix of metal and cum tangles on your tongues, intoxicatingly you. Every ounce of his weight rests against you until you canât pull in a breath anymore, your ribs unable to expand below him.
But like always, he grants you mercy.
He pulls back, just enough to let air rush in through your parted lips. Your skin burns where he places a gentle peck to the corner of your mouth.
Because now, you want it to hurt.
And oh, he knows.
That devilish smile curls upon his lips, no longer hiding the fangs behind it. Every beat of your heart makes you dizzy, your vision pulsing with each reverberating thrum. You wonder if he can feel it in your chest.
(He can.)
(He wants to claw it from your body and eat it.)
The remnants of blood lingering on his teeth are wiped away as his tongue swipes over them, an innocent white left in its wake. How perfect a sinnerâs body can be.
Heâs shifting his weight above you, but you barely notice, too enamored by him, too lost in his eyes, in his depravity. The moment your eyes flutter shut to protect your soul, heâs reaching out to you.
âLook at me, little lamb.â
And then, your gaze is locked on him.
And then, his cock is pressing into you.
Lips part, fire shoots up your spine, a cry dies in your throat. Itâs burning and tearing and itâs death and everything is too hot and youâre staring into those eyes with flames behind them and you think youâd let him kill you if he asked.
Not that he needs to ask, of course.
Your back arches off the bed as your eyes nearly roll back into your head but they canât - because itâs not what Master Geto commanded. Because you always do as he says.
Because you always obey.
Instead, tears prick at the corners and your entire body trembles and heâs staring down at you with pity.
âThere, shh, thatâs my girl,â he coos. He wipes away a tear with his thumb but he doesnât stop, not until his pelvis is flush with yours and all you can feel is him inside you.
Ragged breaths rack your core, your walls clenching around him from his size alone.
âYouâre being so obedient, so good,â he whispers into the shell of your ear. And the sun bursts through your chest.
A slack-jawed smile spreads across your features at his praise, cheeks warm and full of pride. Youâve done everything you were made for - youâve made Master Geto happy. Youâve been good.
When he drags his hips from you, his tip catching and pulling and gouging any remaining shred of disloyalty from your consciousness, you know youâre his: your mind, your soul, your body. All his, in any way he wants it.
When he thrusts back into you, the emptiness inside you is filled with him.
Him.
Him. Him. Him. Him.
Master Geto.
All you have ever needed.
All you will ever need.
Master Geto.
Warmth blossoms in your chest as he fucks you into the silk sheets. You are his. You were always made to be his. Thereâs no pain in it, no uncertainty. Itâs as things were always meant to be.
But thereâs still something missing, something lingering in the droplet of red beading at the corner of his lips.
Eat me, your body pleads, Iâm yours.
âMaster Geto,â you whimper, âIâŠI wantâŠâ
As he gazes down at you, thereâs a reverence behind it - not to you, no, but to your servitude.
âYes, my little lamb,â he breathes through the sound of skin against skin. âTell me what you want.â
âBite me, Master Geto,â you cry, âplease.â
And you feel him laugh, his breath hot against the skin of your neck. âWell, how could I deny my most devoted?â
First, itâs the searing pain of his fangs sinking into your skin. An instant later, itâs the burning pleasure of it.
A moan bubbles from your throat, allowing your head to fall back into his waiting palm, cradling you above the respite of feathered pillows. Because for now, he will hold you; you should be held by him.
Suguru is greedy as he drinks.
Grunts and groans echo from his chest, his body never stilling as he plunges in and out of you in pace with his tongue lapping at your pierced flesh. Just as his teeth pull away he strikes them into you again, and again, and again. Puncture wounds grow across your skin, blooming hues of maroon beneath them, stars decorating the sky, each one a burning supernova moments away from exploding.
They mark you for what you are: his.
âYou taste,â he pants, âfucking devine.â
Nails claw at his back, your head lolled back into the sheets, limp beneath him. Of course, youâd move if he told you to - youâd die if he told you to.
Each racing heartbeat makes your vision pulse, head swimming as he drinks from you. Your body melts inside him, warm in his stomach.
The friction of his hips between your legs only grows, until itâs burning like the teeth in your neck. Red flames prick your skin, Suguruâs tongue chasing each one to put it out.
His grunts grow animalistic, a beast pulling muscles and tendons until itâs out of breath. Shoulders tense beneath your palms, and your stomach begins to tighten.
âMaster Geto, I-â
âI know,â he growls into your neck. Arms tighten around your body, until they cage in your ribs, until you canât breathe anything but him. âCum for me, little lamb.â
Warmth floods your senses, numb save for his cock twitching. He bites down harder as his claim shoots into you, thick and hot.
For a moment, you wonder if he tore flesh from bone. When he removes his head from your collarbone, blood dripping down his chin in thick rivulets, it seems all the more possible.
Licking his lips, he groans at the sanguine flavor pouring down his throat, sweet like honey. When he kisses you, his tongue presses against yours until it lingers in the back of your mouth. Sweet like him.
Low eyes meet yours, a thumb stroking your cheek.
âStay here, with me.â
And maybe, you will.
Itâs easier like this, to be his.
Itâs easier to obey.
#q writes#oneshot#suguru geto#geto suguru#suguru geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#suguru x reader#geto x reader#jjk#jjk fanfiction#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk smut#jjk geto#geto smut#quintober2024#cw dubcon#cw blood
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OFFICER âž» dean winchester
content / dean winchester x female!oc, heavy smut, 18+, mdni, oral (male receiving), face riding, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, slight breeding, explicit language, 3.5k words
summary / you have been dealing with a series of bizarre murders, stuck as the killer stays unknown to you. When suddenly two FBI Agents enter the New Orleans Police Department where you are leading the case. Dean is very much intrigued by you, due to you being both sharp and attractive. You, however, quickly discover that the brothers aren't who they claim to be. Instead of reporting them, you decide to confront Dean in your own way..
Dean Winchester adjusted his FBI Badge, his lips curling into a smirk as he and Sam walked into the building of the New Orleans Police Department. They were here to solve a twisted caseâa series of weird ritualistic murders rumored to be tied to a witch. And Dean knew exactly who they needed to talk to.
"Officer Y/N Carter," he said under his breath, glancing at his brother. "She's the lead on this case. And from what I've heard, she knows what sheâs doing."
Sam raised an eyebrow, catching the glint in Dean's eye. "You mean you've heard she's hot."
Dean grinned. "Can't a guy appreciate a woman's professional skills?"
Sam rolled his eyes but didn't press further as they approached the front desk. A young officer glanced up at them, clearly caught off guard by the two suited men.
"Agents...?" she asked, her gaze flicking to their badges.
"Sir Abney," Dean said smoothly, flashing his most charming smile. "And this is Agent Moore. We're with the FBI, here to see Officer Carter about an ongoing investigation."
The officer nodded and picked up the phone. Within moments, you stepped into the room, and Dean had to suppress a whistle. You were stunningâtall, with sharp blue eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. Your dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and you moved with the kind of confidence that Dean couldn't help but admire..
He didn't try to hide his smug smile. Typical. You had dealt with enough of these guys to know the look-half admiration, half underestimation.
"Agents," you greeted them, voice cool and professional. "I hear you're looking into the same case I am."
"That's right," He said, offering his hand. "Agent Abney. This is my partner, Agent Moore."
You shook his hand, grip firm, and Dean couldn't help but notice the slight twitch at the corner of your mouth, as if you were suppressing a smile. "Officer Y/N Carter. I've been working on this case for weeks. It's been... unusual, to say the least."
"That's why we're here," Sam chimed in, his tone more serious. "We've been tracking similar incidents across the state. We think your case might be connected."
You nodded, your expression thoughtful as you led them to your desk. "Let's compare notes, then."
As the three of you discussed the details of the case, Dean found himself increasingly drawn to you. You were smart, no doubt about that, and you didn't shy away from speaking your mind. But there was something else, tooâa spark between you and Dean that you couldn't ignore. You caught his eyes on you several times during your conversation, and each time, you looked back at him with a mixture of curiosity and longing. He had that charm that could probably get him out of most situations, but you weren't so easy.
After the three of you had gone through all the information, you leaned back in your chair, studying them with sharp eyes. "Well, it looks like we're dealing with the same thingâa unknown woman with a serious grudge and a knack for creative murder."
"Seems that way," Dean agreed, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "You've been a big help, Officer Carter. I gotta say, it's not every day we come across someone as competent as you in law enforcement."
You raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on your lips. "Is that your way of complimenting me, Agent Abney?"
Dean grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Just stating the facts, ma'am."
You chuckled softly, but there was an edge of suspicion in your eyes that Dean didn't miss. "Well, I'm happy to help. But don't think I'm not keeping an eye on you two. I've been doing this job long enough to know when something's off."
"Nothing to worry about, Officer," Dean said smoothly. "We're just here to catch this killer."
"Uh-huh," you said, not entirely convinced. But before either of them could say more, your phone buzzed on the desk.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," you said, picking it up and turning slightly away from them. The brothers took the opportunity to exchange a glanceâSam's annoyed and Dean's smug.
"I think we're done here," you said, getting up. "I'll reach out if I find anything else. And you twoâkeep me updated."
"Will do," Sam said, and Dean gave you a nod before they headed out of the station.
As they left, Dean couldn't shake the feeling that you were more than just a by-the-books cop. And judging by the look you had given him, you weren't quite done with them, either. Something told you that these two had a lot more going on than they said.
Back at your desk, you watched the two 'FBI agents' walk out, your mind already working on unraveling the mystery that was surrounding them. There was something about Dean that didn't add upâbesides the fact that he was ridiculously charming. When you'd shaken his hand, there had been a spark, a feeling that you couldn't quite put your finger on. And then there was that nameâAbney. You were almost certain you had heard it before, but not in any official capacity.
As soon as they were out of sight, you turned to your computer, pulling up the database. You typed in 'Abney' and 'Moore,' then hit enter. A few seconds later, the screen flashed with the resultsânothing. No agents by those names in the FBI database. But then, almost as quickly, a few more results popped upâarticles, reports, sightingsâall linked to two brothers who had a reputation for impersonating law enforcement.
Winchester. Dean and Sam Winchester.
A slow smile spread across your face. Well, well, well. You had them now. But instead of going straight to your superiors, you decided to play this one a little differently. If Dean wanted to flirt, you'd flirt backâbut your way.
You quickly reached down into your pocket, pulling out the sleek little paper card that Agent Abney, better known as Dean Winchester, had given you earlier, then picked up your phone. It was time to see just how far Dean was willing to go.
Later that evening, Dean's phone buzzed as he and Sam were going over their next move. He picked it up, frowning when he saw the message. It was from an unknown number, but the address and the time were clear.
"Meet me at this address after dark. We need to talk. â Y/N."
Sam glanced over. "Something up?"
Dean grinned. "Looks like Officer Carter wants a little one-on-one time."
Sam's expression turned wary. "Dean, we should be focusing on the witch, not..."
"Not what? Pursuing all possible leads?" Dean interrupted with a smirk. "Relax, Sammy. I'll handle this."
Sam sighed but didn't argue. "Just be careful."
Dean winked. "Aren't I always?"
Your apartment was on the edge of the city, in a quiet, upscale neighborhood. Dean arrived right on time, his nerves buzzing with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. As he walked up to the door, he wondered what exactly you wanted to talk aboutâbut something told him it wasn't just about the case.
He knocked, and after a few seconds, the door swung open. You stood there, dressed casually in jeans and a fitted black shirt, your hair loose around your shoulders. The look you gave him was one of both suspicion and something elseâsomething that made Dean's heart beat a little faster and that kept you from not calling him out just yet.
"Officer Carter," he said with a grin, leaning against the doorframe. "What can I do for you?"
You raised an eyebrow, stepping aside to let him in. "You can start by dropping the act, 'Agent Abney.'"
Dean's grin faltered slightly as he stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. "I'm not sure what you mean."
You crossed your arms, your expression unimpressed. "I mean, I did a little digging after you left. Turns out, you're not FBI. In fact, you're not even a cop."
Dean's stomach dropped. He was usually better at covering his tracks, but you had seen right through him. "Look, I can explainâ"
You held up a hand, cutting him off. "I'm sure you can. But I'm not interested in your excuses. What I'm interested in is why you're really here."
Dean's mind raced, searching for a way to calm the situation. But before he could come up with anything, you stepped closer, eyes locked on his. "And what I'm really interested in, Dean Winchester, is what you're willing to do to keep this little secret between us."
The way you said his name sent a shiver down his spine. There was no anger in your voice, no threatâjust a challenge to see if he would accept. And Dean never could resist a challenge.
"What do you have in mind?" he asked, his voice low as he stepped closer, closing the distance between you two.
Your smile was slow, sultry, as you looked up at him. "I think you know, Dean. After all, you've been flirting with me since you walked into that station. So why don't we see if you can back it up?"
Dean's breath hitched. He wasn't often caught off guard, but you definitely had the talent. You were sharp, confident, and undeniably sexy. And the offer you were making? Well, it was one he couldn't refuse.
He reached out, his hand sliding to the small of your back as he pulled you closer, his touch sending electric shocks to your skin. "You sure about this?"
You didn't pull away. Instead, you tilted your head slightly, lips curling into a sly smile as your hands rested on his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. "I'm sure, Dean. But this isn't just about keeping your little secretâthis is about you proving that all that talk isn't just for show."
You could feel his pulse quickening, your words sparking a fire in him that he hadn't felt in a long time.
There was something about youâsomething in the way you looked at him, the way you challenged him, that made him want to prove himself.
"Trust me, sweetheart," Dean murmured, his voice husky as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I never make promises I can't keep."
A shiver ran down your spine, your breath catching in your throat as his words washed over you. You hadn't expected to be so affected by himâhadn't expected the way his touch would make your knees go weak.
But you weren't about to let him know just how much power he had over you, not yet.
This was still a game, and you weren't going to lose.
"Then show me," you whispered back as you leaned into him, lips brushing against the stubble on his jaw. "Show me what you've got, Winchester."
And Dean didn't need any more convincing.
In one swift motion, he closed the remaining distance between you two, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both fierce and possessive.
You responded immediately, hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as you pulled him closer, matching his intensity with your own.
The kiss deepened, becoming a battle for dominance as your tongues clashed and your breaths mingled. Dean's hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every line, while your nails dug into his shoulders, daring him to take it further.
He backed you up against the wall, the hard surface pressing against your back as his lips trailed down your neck.
Your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as you give yourself to the pleasure. It was intoxicating, the way he made you feel, the way he took control.
But you weren't about to let him have it all his way.
With a sudden burst of strength, you pushed him back, flipping your positions so that he was the one against the wall. He looked momentarily surprised, but then his lips curled into a wicked grin, his eyes darkening with desire.
"Feisty," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "I like that."
"Good," you shot back, voice breathless but steady as you trailed your hands down his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath. "Because I'm not done with you yet."
You kissed him again, hard and demanding, pouring everything you had into it. Dean responded equally, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer, pressing your bodies together. The world outside melted away, leaving only the two of you.
You both stumbled towards the couch, lips never parting, your hands never stopping their exploration. Dean's shirt was the first to go, quickly followed by yours, leaving you both bare to the waist, skin burning with each touch.
You pushed him down onto the couch, straddling his lap as you looked down at him, eyes blazing with lust. "You're not getting off easy, Dean. If I'm keeping your secret, I want something in return."
Dean's hands gripped your thighs, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a hunger that matched your own. "Whatever you want, sweetheart. Just say the word."
You leaned down, lips brushing against his as you whispered, "I want all of you, Dean. I want you to make me forget everything except this moment."
And with that, any ounce of restraint you two had left crumbled. Dean's hands moved to unfasten your jeans, his fingers working with practiced ease as he stripped away the barriers between you. Your hands were just as eager, tugging at his belt, then his pants, until you were both bare and aching for each other.
Your eyes admired the men underneath you, his muscular chest heavily raising up and down as he observed you. You were quick to press a few kisses to his stomach before shifting your naked body down so that your lips were on the same level as his hard length.
Desire was burning in your eyes as you peeked up at Dean who was already tensing up, knowing what was bound to happen.
Without another second passing your plump lips wrapped around his tip, cheeks hallowing as you began sucking, earning a deep growl from him.
Slurping sounds began to fill the four walls of your living room as you took him down your throat, the noises that left Dean's lips satisfying you.
"What a cockslut you are," Dean grunted. His dirty words making your core tingle, pressing your thighs together as you started to suck him off at your own pace now, getting a slight taste of his precum in the process.
As he started to buckle his hips up just second later and shove his cock further down your throat you knew that he wasn't going to last any longer.
Dean reached down to take your hair in his grip, tugging on it as he fastened his movements. You were drooling and spitting already when Dean finally released himself into your mouth, feeling the warmth of his cum on your tongue.
You teasingly licked the corner of your lips clean as you stared up at him, and you could tell by the smug look on his face that he wasn't done yet.
Dean harshly pulled your fragile body up to him, his calloused hands pulling at your hips, shifting your frame towards his face with ease. He needed to devour you, and he needed you now.
"Can't wait to taste you, sweetheart." He muttered from inbetween your thighs, his warm breath falling against you.
The softness of your skin on top of him, his rough hands gripping tightly on your hips and rubbing your ass cheeks created a familiar sensation you were aching for all day. Every touch of him felt like being electrocuted.
Moans began to escape your lips as he guided you to move against him, your core rutting into his face, tongue now lapping at your entrance as his nose brushed against your sensitive nub.
Dean definitely took his time with you, devouring your wetness in smooth motions, his warm tongue licking through you, again and again.
You felt the knot in your lower belly growing as Dean moved up to suck at your clit, while two of his fingers prodded at your entrance before slipping in with ease. You felt so full with his fingers inside you. You arched your back at the intense pleasure Dean was giving you, your sweet whimpers filling the room.
Dean immediately knew that you were on the verge of releasing, until it happened right in front of his eyes. Your legs trembled, hands gripping onto strands of his hair, while his rough grip on your hips forced you to still move against him while you rode out your high.
He let his tongue slip through your folds one last time before pulling back, his lips covered by your wetness, making them glisten in the dimly lit room.
"You're addicting." Dean growled, his green eyes staring up at you while you were still catching your breath.
It was just when you were about to move off of him that Dean grabbed your weak-kneed body and threw it back down, back pressed against the soft fabric of the couch. He was still aching for more.
He crawled over you, grabbing your hips and rubbing his tip between your folds before pushing all of him inside, earning something between a gasp and a moan that sounded too good in his ears falling from your lips.
"You are taking me so fucking good," Dean began praising and kissing you, his breathy voice making you clench around his cock.
His hips met yours with every thrust as he found the perfect pace to fuck you right through it. The friction between you electric.
You felt his hands grabbing your breasts as they bounced with each thrust, playing gently with your nipples, adding extra pleasure to your body. It was raw, it was intense, and exactly what you both had wanted.
"Yeah, just like that..." Dean muttered in between his own moans, his fingers finding their way to your clit, moving them in circles, and forcing another orgasms out of you.
As your walls clenched around him you could tell by the way his movements got sloppier that he wasn't too far from releasing himself again. You pulled him down, lips hungrily devouring eachother as you moaned into his mouth, "you fill me up so well."
Dean pounded into you a few more times before he spilled inside you, little droplets of sweat had built up on his forehead as you brushed his hair back with your hands, his hips still moving painfully slow, some of his seeds spilling out of you.
He then collapsed right next to you, his body tightly pressed against yours while your heart was still racing from the intensity of what you two had just shared. Dean's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he pressed a kiss to your cheek, his own breath coming in ragged gasps.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke, content to just hold each other, to let the silence stretch between you two.
Finally, you pulled back slightly, looking at him with a satisfied smile. "Well, Dean, I think you've more than earned your secret."
Dean chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver through you. "Glad to hear it. But something tells me this isn't the last time you're gonna hold something over me."
You grinned, leaning in to brush your lips against his. "Maybe not. But you know what? I'm okay with that."
Dean's smile softened as he looked at you, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face.
"You're something else, Y/N Carter."
"So are you, Dean Winchester," you whispered back, "So are you."
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#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester#supernatural#spnfandom#oneshot#writers on tumblr#smut#dean winchester smut#supernatural fanfiction#dean x reader
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Stoic whumpee things I want to do more of:
Content: mention of rape, torture, noncon touch
Eye contact with whumper just following them across the room
Whumper going to touch them and they just lean out of the way as far as they can
Whumper touches them anyway. "Ew." Whumpee growls.
A solid sense of boundaries that slowly wears away, until finally, they just close their eyes, waiting for it to be over
Or, glaring at the wall when whumper touches them
Not having the same "scream" response to pain. Instead maybe they have something more animalistic, like whines or broken moans, or even gagging sounds
Bonus--whumper makes fun of them for this, cause they were hoping for some better screams out of them
A lack of fear turning very quickly into depression. (whumpee accepts their situation? They're going to quickly see how hopeless it is, too.)
Calm bargaining. "I'll kiss your feet." "No." "...I'll suck your dick." "Haha, nice try." *Exasperated sigh* "really? You said I was really good."
Never giving the information they're being tortured for, but compromising literally anything else because they are desperate, they're just also stubborn as hell
Whumper getting curious because of their silence and trying to get them to talk about themselves or their feelings. Locking them in a room and saying they won't leave until they talk.
"we'll play a game. You tell me one thing about yourself, and I'll give you one pretzel for each thing." *Starving whumpee rubs their face and sighs* "Fine. ...My middle name starts with N."
Discordant reactions--Whumpee just miserably laughing at how crazy evil whumper is. Breaking by going defiant. or by just being annoying (picking at whumper's sleeve, singing etc)
Maybe they just feel more depressed than anxious/desperate. Whumper trying to draw out their other feelings gets a chuckle. "That's very nice. I don't care."
Stoic works really well with certain traits--honest, loyal, morose, uncertain, thoughtful, autistic
#whump writing#whumpblr#whump#whump ideas#whump prompt#whump scenario#stoic whumpee#autistic whumpee#whump community#whump tropes
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Okay bear with me folks, I have some ~thoughts~ about the Vanessa/Wade relationship (or frankly lack thereof) in Deadpool & Wolverine. I should start by saying that I am analyzing this with the (likely erroneous) assumption that everything on screen is 100% intentional and mindfully written to deepen the characters and inform their arcs. For the record, I don't necessarily believe that's true - there is certainly room for mistakes, lazy writing, confusing plot elements, or in this case, sidelining a potentially strong and important character for nebulous reasons (I'm guessing scheduling conflicts + run time concerns + actor's strike complications but idk for sure). (Also thanks to @gossippool and @kendyroy for encouraging me to post my thoughts instead of just rambling in the tags in the first place, y'all are the realest)
Long rambly post below the cut fyi
Now, granted, it has been a while since I watched the original Deadpool so I am not as well-versed in their early relationship as I am in the handful of scenes Morena Baccarin has in dp3, but I do think it is pretty canon that Wade generally struggles to express his deeper worries and feelings (without filtering it heavily through crude humor, sex, and pop culture references of course), especially after the events of dp1 and the physical and mental damage he sustains, and Vanessa is frankly no exception despite how much he cares for her. The entire first movie hinges on the fact that he doesn't really believe she could love him in his post-Francis mangled state, which is pretty contrived imo given that the film has established already how bonded they are, and she doesn't strike me as being written to be so shallow as to reject him based on a physical deformity. I mean iirc she wanted to stick around through chemo despite him being literally riddled with inoperable cancer, so she clearly is in it for the long haul (at least in dp1), messiness and all.
Now, in dp2, obviously she is shot and killed early in the film, and Wade spends much of the rest of the film wallowing in his very profound grief, trauma, and guilt over losing her due directly to his violent lifestyle. He goes to prison, he basically gives up on life and seems very resigned to dying once he has the power suppressant collar on, even excited to do so so he can be reunited with her. She is mostly sidelined as a Fuzzy Dead Wife trope basically, but the important thing here is that he spends weeks if not months in the throes of despair over losing the love of his life just as they were trying to start a family, and trying to reach across the boundaries of death to be with her.
Now, my first couple times watching dp3 I was frustrated by the trite narrative presented in the interview scene towards the beginning - specifically Wade's whole "my girl is getting tired of my shtick and I need to show her I matter". It felt contrived and disingenuous, and I just brushed it off as iffy writing, a means to an end, but the more I reflect upon it the more I think it is based in an emotional reality that is just handled with a very light touch by the film in favor of fanservice and Poolverine content (NOT that I'm complaining in the slightest - I think this movie is a masterpiece in many ways, albeit a flawed one but that's beside the point here), which for the record I am not against because I think it lends it an air of realism. This is Wade's story after all, Vanessa is a part of it but it is ultimately about him and his journey.
Basically, I think the combination of what happened to him in dp1 (the brain damage, the trauma, the awareness of the fourth wall, etc) followed by the events of dp2 (Vanessa's death, his grief and the associated guilt and trauma of being the direct cause of her death) led to an unbridgeable emotional gap between the two of them that ultimately leads to their breakup.
It's important to note that I don't think Vanessa has any recollection of her own death, given that Wade goes back and saves her before she can take the bullet, and so of course she can never fully fathom what Wade went through grieving her and their life together and their potential family, for however long he spent between her death and bringing her back with Cable's device. She can try (and she clearly does in the one scene I'll talk about next) but I fear she accepts, maybe even in that scene, that she can never succeed. He is beyond her reach by this point, and vice versa, his experiences having fundamentally changed him.
The one scene we really see from their relationship between dp2 and dp3 is the one where Cassandra mind-gropes Wade in the Void and we see Vanessa struggling to reach Wade across this aforementioned gap - she wants him to open up, she wants him to share what he's going through, she wants him to be the person she initially fell in love with (not even selfishly - to her nothing has changed really, because to her no time has passed). But not only does he not understand what she's really asking for but he responds in such a way that makes me think he has unprocessed issues that are only tangentially related to what she's saying - ie the stuff about mattering, about asking her if she even wants to be with him, etc. And he's not the Wade Wilson she met back in dp1 anymore. He watched her die and grieved her and brought her back, believing it would make everything go back to normal and they could resume their life together as if nothing had changed, but he has been fundamentally changed in a way that she can't grasp, even if he WAS good at externally processing his trauma openly without the artifice of wry jokes. She didn't "come back wrong" - instead, she came back exactly the same as before, but HE'S different now. Not wrong, per se. But changed.
It's an interesting scene because it's obviously a memory, and a crucial one at that, but you can see how Wade is misunderstanding what she's saying, viewing it through the prism of his own lack of self-worth and his own hopelessness - he takes away that she thinks he doesn't matter (even though like he says she didn't actually say that, but I don't think Cassandra invented that wholecloth - I think she pulled it out of his psyche because that's what he believes deep down, hence why his fixation on mattering even though she never said those words exactly), he takes away that she doesn't want to be with him, that she thinks he's nothing. Which would be frustrating as an audience member to witness as a pretty simple misunderstanding which could potentially be solved with one conversation, but it feels believable to me that these two people who have shared a great love would be fundamentally separated by unimaginable, cosmic trauma, and the on conversation they would need to have to rectify the misunderstanding is one that is impossible for Wade to verbalize and equally impossible for Vanessa to conceive of. It was one thing when they had shared trauma like violence and SA in dp1, but what Wade has gone through in dp1 and dp2, humor aside, is unfathomably traumatic, brain-breakingly so even, and that's not even factoring in the possible mental illnesses he now struggles with (I've seen folks suggest schizophrenia, DID, depression, etc. but I won't get into armchair diagnosing a fictional character here - suffice it to say he is canonically unwell as a result of what has happened to him, and yes it manifests as quirky fourth wall breaks and cheeky one-liners, but within the universe of the movies he is undeniably profoundly mentally ill, and that includes this humorous alter ego he created to cope with his trauma).
I think off-screen Vanessa probably really tried to reach him, maybe for years (the six year gap implies to me that they didn't break up immediately, that they tried for a while to stay together), trying to get her Wade back, but that Wade is gone. He struggled to express that to her until eventually he started to feel rejected because he couldn't express his trauma or how much he has changed, because even he can't fully conceive of the gulf that has formed between them. The truth is, he WANTS to be that Wade again, for her and for himself, but that Wade died when she died. Or maybe he had already started dying when Francis got a hold of him in dp1.
Anyway, all this is to say, I think Morena Baccarin WAS criminally underutilized in dp2 and dp3, but I think there is a strong argument to be made for the believability of their breakup regardless. I think even relationships built on enormous love can crumble due to trauma, and what Wade suffers over these movies is mind-bogglingly enormous trauma. It's especially heartbreaking that he blames himself for their relationship ending, talks like she just got tired of him, thought he didn't matter, whatever. But it is a credit to him that he never seems to feel anger towards her about it. He doesn't seem to feel entitled to her, though he longs for her and what they had and what she represented (hope, love, a future, a family), but ultimately she becomes more of a symbol of what he lost when he gained his powers, because let's be super fr right now - even if they had succeeded in having a baby, not only would they have lived in fear of her or the kid getting killed, but ultimately Wade would likely outlive both of them even if they managed to die natural deaths. The moment he gained his powers he was already destined to lose her, which is heartbreaking because she was the only reason he opted for the treatment in the first place - so he could stay with her.
I think a big part of Deadpool & Wolverine is watching Wade continue to process his own motivations (vis-a-vis Vanessa but also his other friends) and how he does eventually let go of the idea of "mattering" in favor of just saving the people he cares about (*cough* and being saved right back *cough* by Wolvie, as the final line and shot implies). And in the process he finds someone new who cares about him, who thinks he matters, who tries to sacrifice himself for him and his friends after mere days of knowing him, who comes home with him at the end of the story, who breaks his own centuries-old patterns, who has also experienced unimaginable grief and trauma, who has struggled with wanting to die and being unable to, who not only matches his crazy but matches his FREAK and also not only won't die on him but CAN'T die on him - and more importantly cannot be randomly killed by a stray bullet.
Idk if any of this makes much sense but I do think if you read between the lines and consider the potency of trauma and grief, guilt and emotional damage at play here, Vanessa and Wade's off-screen breakup is actually pretty realistic, and really heart-breaking to boot.
You can tell she still cares about him in so many ways - she shows up for his birthday party, she shows up to his welcome home party at the end, she finds excuses for physical contact multiple times, her eyes get soft when she looks at him, but there is a distance there that Morena Baccarin does an incredible job of portraying. She cares about him deeply, she has mourned the loss of their potential life together, she has let him go and accepted that the Wade she fell in love with is gone, but she wants him in her life even though she's moving on because she realizes he's gone somewhere she can't follow (literally and figuratively). And she wants him to be happy which is why I fully believe she would immediately clock the Poolverine of it all and not-so-subtly encourage them to make it official.
Anyway. Poolverine forever. Nothing against Vanessa at all - I think she delivers a nuanced and beautiful performance, I think their relationship is sweet and heart-wrenching in large part due to her acting chops, especially given how little she is given to work with - but I think their relationship was sadly doomed from almost the very start, because Wade becomes this traumatized superhuman and Vanessa would always be at risk in his orbit, but also would always on the outside of his multiverse superhero experiences. I think it's weirdly beautiful, even if I am filling in a lot of gaps and giving the writers maybe undue credit.
Anyway... thoughts? Please DM me or write in the tags, I am feral about this movie and just want to talk about it with anyone haha. If you have further insight into these characters too I'd love to hear it - I am by no means an expert in these movies or characters!
#wade wilson#deadpool & wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#poolverine#deadclaws#wolverine#deadpool#deadpool 3#deadpool x wolverine#vanessa x wade#rambly meta thoughts#anyway thanks for reading if you made it through#I def didnt edit this much just sorta wrote it out#I have more to say but it will have to wait I think#deadpool meta#vanessa meta
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Bird On A Wire
Characters/Pairings: Mafia!Bucky x Millennial Female!Reader x Mafia!Steve Word Count: 4.3k Summary: Caught by two dangerous men, you see the skies ahead for you as their little bird. Sequel to Little Lark.
Content/Warnings: dub-con, explicit smut, cockwarming, oral (male receiving), PIV sex, anal fingering (female receiving), use of pet name (little lark), dacryphilia, so much praise kink
Author Notes: Week eight of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer - using the COCKWARMING and dialogue prompts (dialogue prompt bold/italicized) - and filling my May box for Build-a-Bucky Bingo with PRAISE KINK.
â Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
The next morning, you were on a flight to New York City. Private jet. In the clothes youâd worn yesterday, but theyâd been laundered overnight. Youâd slept naked in the bed of Barnes and Rogers - with what little sleep they allowed you to have.
Youâd been allowed a few hours of sleep just before dawn and given a modicum of reprieve as the men woke for the day, ordered room service, and got to business. When your laundered clothes had been delivered, theyâd plucked you out of bed, and told you to dress and be ready to leave within a few minutes.
You sat stiffly in the plush leather seat. As the jet soared over the clouds, you stared out the window, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The events of the past 24 hours felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn't wake up from. Your body ached, a constant reminder of the previous night's activities. The sapphire pendant hung heavy around your neck, its weight a physical manifestation of your new reality.
Bucky and Steve sat across from you. You tried not to look at them, but your eyes kept darting over, drawn by some magnetic pull you couldn't explain.
Steve was typing away on a laptop while Bucky leafed through some papers, both of them seemingly unconcerned with your presence. You tried to steady your breathing, to appear calm, but your mind raced with questions and fears about what awaited you in New York.
You couldn't help but marvel at how normal they seemed in the light of day, dressed in crisp suits, sipping coffee. If you didn't know better, you'd think they were just successful businessmen.
"We'll be landing in about an hour," Steve informed you, breaking into your thoughts. "Once we're home, we'll get you settled in."
Home. The word felt foreign. You wondered what kind of life awaited you in New York.
"I⊠I don't have any of my things," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
Bucky looked up from his papers, a smirk playing on his lips. "Don't worry, little lark. We'll take care of everything you need."
Steve nodded in agreement. "You'll want for nothing. Clothes, toiletries, anything you require - it's all been arranged." His eyes roamed over you appreciatively. "We take care of what's ours."
You shivered at his words, unsure if it was from fear or something else entirely. The way they looked at you made you feel both terrified and oddly⊠desired.
But the implication was clear: they had planned this, had known exactly how things would unfold. You swallowed hard, trying to process the level of control they already had over your life.
You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "And my family? You said... you said you knew about them."
"Safe and sound," Bucky assured you, his tone oddly gentle. "We've already arranged for their debts to be cleared and their protection to be... ongoing."
Steve's eyes narrowed slightly. "As far as they know, you've accepted a lucrative job offer in New York. Theyâll believe youâre busy, and you will be.â
"What exactly am I supposed to do?" you asked, voicing another of the many questions swirling in your mind. "You said you don't need an assistant..."
Steve closed his laptop and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "Your job, sweetheart, is to keep us happy.â
âIn every way,â Bucky added.
You felt your face flush at their words, memories of the previous night flashing through your mind. You looked down at your hands, fidgeting in your lap.
"What does that mean exactly?"
Steve reached across and took your hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. "It means you'll be by our side, day and night. At home, at social events, in business meetings. You'll learn to anticipate our needs, to be whatever we require in the moment."
Bucky's eyes glinted as he added, "And in private, you'll pleasure us. Satisfy our every desire."
Your breath caught in your throat. The reality of your situation was sinking in deeper with each passing moment.
"But I'm not... I don't have experience with..." you trailed off, embarrassed.
Steve's eyes darkened, a predatory glint appearing. "Oh, you can. And you will."
Bucky set aside his papers and leaned forward, mirroring Steve's posture. "We're not unreasonable men, little lark. Please us, and you'll find life can be very... pleasurable."
The implication in his tone made you shiver. You remembered all too well the sensations they had drawn from your body the night before, against your will and better judgment.
"But disappoint us," Steve continued, his voice low and dangerous, "and there will be consequences.â
You felt every muscle in your body tense.
Steveâs phone buzzed, and he stood abruptly, dropping your hand and walking away to take the call.
âWeâll start with something simple.â Bucky reached for your other hand and guided you to your feet. The jet's cabin suddenly felt smaller, more intimate. You could smell his cologne - a heady mix of sandalwood and something distinctly masculine.
"Let's see how well you can follow instructions," Bucky murmured, his voice low and husky. His steel-blue eyes locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. "Take off your panties."
Your breath caught in your throat, heart pounding. You glanced nervously at Steve, still on his phone call at the other end of the cabin.
"Eyes on me, little lark," Bucky commanded softly, drawing your attention back. "Steve's busy. This is between you and me right now."
With trembling hands, you reached under your skirt. You hesitated for a moment before slowly sliding your panties down your legs, stepping out of them. Bucky's gaze never wavered, patient but unyielding. Bucky held out his hand and you placed the delicate fabric in his palm. He brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply before pocketing them with a smirk.
"Good girl," he praised. "Now, unzip my pants and take my cock out."
Your eyes widened, darting nervously to Steve again. He was still engrossed in his call, pacing at the far end of the cabin.
âLark,â Bucky growled, and your eyes darted back to him, the warning clear. âI said eyes on me,â he reminded, bringing his hand to your cheek, and tracing along the edge of your jaw. You knew the tender gesture was a signal that he could grip your jaw and force you to do what he wanted.
You knelt before him, and with shaking hands, you reached for his belt buckle. The leather was soft and supple under your fingers as you worked it open. Bucky's breath hitched slightly as your knuckles brushed against his abdomen. You fumbled with the button of his trousers before managing to undo it, then slowly lowered the zipper.
Bucky's eyes never left your face, watching your every reaction. You could feel the heat radiating from Bucky's body, smell his intoxicating scent.
Your fingers trembled as you reached into Bucky's pants, feeling the heat of his skin. You carefully extracted his cock, already half-hard and impressive in size. The weight of it in your hand made your breath catch. You stroked him tentatively, marveling at the contrast of soft skin over rigid flesh.
Bucky's breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire. "That's it, little lark. Nice and slow," he murmured, voice husky.
You continued your ministrations, feeling him grow fully erect under your touch. Your cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. The cabin suddenly felt too warm, too small. Everything the night before had been the two of them working you while you took what they gave. It was different now with you being the one taking action.
"Enough," Bucky growled softly after a few moments. He grasped your wrist, stilling your movements. "Up in my lap."
Heart pounding, you obeyed as he tugged you up and guided you to straddle his waist. You tentatively braced your hands on his shoulders. He pushed your skirt up and out of the way, before guiding you onto his cock. âYouâll warm my cock the rest of the flight, maybe thisâll help you relax.â
Your trembled and gasped as he pulled your hips down. He found little resistance, as your traitorous body was already growing slick for him, but your cunt was sore from taking their enormous cocks the night before. Quiet tears slipped down your face, but you bit your lip, not wanting to make him unhappy.
He brushed one of your tears away with his thumb and smiled at you, half tender, half patronizing.
Your breath caught as you felt Bucky's cock stretching you, filling you completely. He held you still once you were fully seated, hand gripping your hip firmly.
"There's my good girl," he murmured, brushing his lips against your ear. Then he gently coaxed your head onto his shoulder. "Now, stay nice and still. Don't move unless I tell you to."
You nodded, trying to steady your breathing. The position was intimate, almost unbearably so. You could feel every twitch of Bucky's cock inside you, every slight shift of his body. Your thighs trembled with the effort of staying still.
Steve's voice drifted over from the other end of the cabin as he continued his phone call. The normalcy of his tone, discussing what sounded like business matters, was a stark contrast to your current situation. You felt exposed, vulnerable, even though you were still fully clothed. Your face burned with shame and arousal. You couldn't believe you were doing this, sitting in Bucky's lap with his cock inside you while Steve was just feet away.
When you heard Steveâs footsteps approaching a few minutes later, you tensed.
"Good girl," he praised, one hand moving to stroke your back soothingly. "You're doing so well."
âIsnât she?â Bucky cooed.
And your body betrayed you again, clenching around Bucky's length over their praise.
Bucky chuckled darkly.
âShe like that, Buck?â
"Mmm,â he hummed. âOur little lark is a slut for praise.â
Steve chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "Is that so?" Steve crouched down beside Buckyâs seat. His hand came to rest on your thigh, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. "Look at me, sweetheart."
Hesitantly, you lifted your head from Bucky's shoulder and met Steve's intense gaze. His blue eyes were dark with desire, a small smirk playing on his lips.
"Such a good girl," Steve murmured, his hand sliding higher up your thigh. "Taking Bucky's cock so well. I bet you're dripping wet, aren't you?"
You whimpered softly, unable to form words. Steve's fingers ghosted over your clit, making you jerk slightly in Bucky's lap. Bucky's grip on your hip tightened in warning.
"Answer him," Buckyâs town was low but sharp.
You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, I'm wet."
Steve's smirk widened. "Of course you are. Your body knows what it needs, even if your mind hasn't caught up yet." His fingers continued their teasing exploration, circling your clit with feather-light touches. "You're going to learn to crave this, sweetheart. To need us."
A soft moan escaped your lips before you could stop it. Your hips twitched involuntarily, seeking more friction. Bucky's grip tightened further, holding you still.
"Ah ah," he chided softly. "I said don't move unless I tell you to."
"S-sorry," you gasped, trying to regain control of your body.
Steve chuckled, his fingers never ceasing their torturous ministrations, tracing where you were stretched around Bucky's cock. The dual sensation of being filled by Bucky and teased by Steve was overwhelming. Your hips twitched involuntarily, seeking more friction.
Bucky gave a warning slap to your ass, and you hissed from the sting.
You froze, trying desperately to stay still despite the sensations overwhelming you. Tears pricked at your eyes from the effort and the conflicting emotions swirling within you.
"Shh, it's okay," Steve soothed, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. "We know it's hard for you. You're doing so well."
His praise sent another surge of arousal through you, making you clench around Bucky's cock. Bucky groaned softly, his fingers digging into your hips.
"Such a responsive little thing," he murmured, nuzzling against your neck. "We're going to have so much fun with you."
Steve's fingers continued their teasing, circling your clit with maddeningly light touches. Your thighs trembled with the effort of staying still, your breath coming in short gasps.
Steve's eyes glinted with amusement. "I think our girl needs a lesson in true self-control, Buck. What do you say?"
Bucky nodded, a wicked smile spreading across his face. "Couldn't agree more."
Your heart raced as you looked between them, uncertain of what they had in mind. Steve stood, towering over you, and began unbuckling his belt. The sound of leather sliding through fabric loops made you shiver.
"Open your mouth, little lark," Steve commanded, his voice low and husky.
You hesitated, glancing at Bucky, who gave you an encouraging nod. Slowly, you parted your lips, your breath coming in short, shallow pants.
Steve guided his cock to your mouth, rubbing the tip against your lips. "You're going to take me in your mouth while staying perfectly still on Bucky's cock.â
You trembled as Steve's thick length slid past your lips. The taste of him, musky and slightly salty, filled your senses. You struggled to relax your jaw, to accommodate his impressive size, fighting against how it ached from taking them both in your mouth in turns last night, too.
"That's it, sweetheart," Steve murmured, one hand tangling in your hair. "Nice and slow. Use your tongue."
You did as instructed, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock as he pushed deeper into your mouth. All the while, you fought to keep your hips still, Bucky's cock a constant, throbbing presence inside you.
Bucky's hands roamed your body, teasing and caressing, kneading the fleshy parts of you everywhere, as ravenous for your hips as your stomach, your chest, your ass, your thighs . He cupped your breasts through your blouse, thumbs brushing over your nipples. The dual sensations - Steve in your mouth, Bucky inside you and touching you - were overwhelming.
"Look at her, Buck," Steve's voice was thick with desire as he slowly thrust into your mouth. "Look at how well she's taking us both. Such a good little cockwarmer."
You whimpered around Steve's length, the praise sending another surge of arousal through you. Your body trembled with the effort of staying still, every muscle taut as you fought against the urge to move.
Bucky's hands continued their exploration, one sliding beneath your blouse to palm your breast directly. His thumb brushed over your nipple, making you gasp around Steve's cock.
"That's it," Steve encouraged, his grip in your hair tightening slightly. "Just relax and let us use you. This is what you're made for."
Tears pricked at your eyes, a mix of shame and arousal overwhelming you. You felt split open, exposed, caught between these two powerful men who seemed determined to consume and control you.
The plane suddenly hit a patch of turbulence, jostling everyone. You gasped and instinctively clenched around Bucky, causing him to groan. Steve's cock slipped from your mouth as you struggled to maintain your balance.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" you began, panic rising in your chest.
"Shh, it's alright," Steve soothed, his hand gentle at the back of your neck. "That wasn't your fault."
Bucky's hands steadied you on his lap. "Deep breaths, little lark. You're doing so well."
Their unexpected gentleness made your eyes sting with unshed tears. You took a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself.
"Now, where were we?" Steve mused, guiding his cock back to your lips. "Open up, sweetheart."
You parted your lips obediently and Steve pushed in again, but even deeper into your mouth, the head of his cock nudging the back of your throat. Your jaw ached, stretched wide around his girth. Bucky's hands continued to roam your body, teasing and tormenting, while his cock remained buried inside you. The dual sensations were overwhelming, pleasure and discomfort blurring together.
"Such a good girl," Steve murmured, his voice husky with desire. "Taking us both so well." You whimpered around his length, tears streaming down your cheeks. âGorgeous,â he added, letting his other hand play through your tear tracks.
The praise sent another surge of arousal through you, your body betraying you once again as you clenched around Bucky's cock. Bucky chuckled darkly, his lips brushing against your ear. "I can feel how wet you are, little lark. Your body knows what it needs, even if youâre reluctant to accept your new life. But youâre dripping for us, desperate.â
You felt your face burn with shame at Bucky's words, knowing they were true. Despite your fear and uncertainty, your body was responding eagerly to their touch, craving more. Steve continued to thrust slowly into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each movement. You struggled to breathe through your nose, tears streaming down your face.
"Look at me," Steve commanded softly. You raised your eyes to meet his intense gaze. "That's it. I want to see those pretty eyes while I fuck your mouth."
A muffled whimper escaped you, the dual sensations of Steve's cock in your mouth and Bucky's inside you becoming consuming every fiber of your being, every ounce of your existence.
Steve's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more insistent. You struggled to keep up, your jaw aching as you tried to accommodate his impressive girth. His blue eyes, dark with desire, never left yours as he fucked your mouth with increasing fervor.
"That's it, little lark," he groaned, his voice low and gravelly. "Take it all."
You could feel him swelling, growing impossibly harder on your tongue. The taste of him intensified - salty, musky, undeniably male. Your senses were overwhelmed, filled with nothing but Steve and Bucky.
Steve's breathing grew ragged, his thrusts more erratic. "I'm close," he warned, his grip tightening in your hair. "You're going to swallow every drop, understand?"
You whimpered around his cock, tears streaming down your face.
Bucky's hands continued their torturous exploration of your body, one hand kneading your breast while the other slipped between your legs. His fingers found your clit, circling it with maddening lightness. You moaned around Steve's cock, your hips twitching involuntarily.
"Ah ah," Bucky chided, stilling his movements. You mewled in protest of losing his ministrations to your throbbing clit, but in the next instant, Steveâs hips jerked forward, and he groaned, burying his cock deep in your throat as he began to climax. The first pulse of his release hit the back of your throat, hot and thick. You struggled not to gag, tears streaming down your face as you fought to swallow around his length.
"That's it," Steve growled, his voice strained. "Take it all."
Wave after wave of his seed flooded your mouth, coating your tongue with its salty-sweet flavor. You swallowed frantically, trying to keep up with the copious amount. Some escaped the corners of your lips, trickling down your chin.
Steve's hand tightened at the nape of your neck, holding you in place as he continued to empty himself into your mouth. The taste, the scent, the feeling of being so thoroughly used - it all overwhelmed your senses.
As Steve's release finally subsided, he slowly withdrew from your mouth, a string of saliva and cum connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. You gasped for air, your jaw aching and your throat raw. Steve's thumb brushed over your swollen lips, smearing the mixture of his seed and your saliva.
"Such a good girl," he murmured, his voice low and satisfied. "You took it all so well."
Bucky's fingers resumed their torture of your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You trembled in his lap, fighting against the urge to move, to seek more friction.
"I think our little lark deserves a reward, don't you, Steve?" Bucky's voice was husky in your ear.
Steve nodded, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "I couldn't agree more."
Before you could process what was happening, Bucky's hands gripped your hips, and he fucked up into you, violently, but you welcomed it with a debauched moan, clutching tightly to his shoulders as he drove into your aching, needy cunt.
Bucky's pace was relentless, his cock driving into you with bruising force. Your head fell back, a strangled cry escaping your lips as pleasure coursed through your body. The change from stillness to frenzied movement was jarring, overwhelming your senses.
Each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Your head fell back, mouth open in a groan of ecstasy as he hit that perfect spot deep inside you. The cabin filled with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin and your breathless moans.
"That's it, little lark," Bucky growled, his fingers digging into your hips. "Sing for us. Let us hear your pretty sounds."
Steve's hand came to rest on your throat, not squeezing, just a gentle pressure. A reminder of his presence, of his control. "You're ours now," he murmured, his voice low and intense. "Every sound, every reaction - it all belongs to us."
You whimpered, caught between shame and arousal. Your body responded eagerly to their touches, to their words, even as your mind reeled with the implications of your new reality.
"Look at you," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Taking Bucky's cock so well. You were made for this, weren't you?"
You couldn't form words, could only whimper and nod as Bucky continued his merciless assault on your senses. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.
"Tell us," Bucky demanded, his grip on your hips tightening. "Tell us how much you love it."
"I-I love it!â you cried.
Without warning, Steve plunged a finger into your ass, and the shock and overwhelming sensation sent you careening into a blinding orgasm. The clenching and convulsion of your cunt made Bucky jerk and then drill into you even faster, spilling his release in height of your climax.
You didnât realize you were sobbing until Steve began soothing your back, petting up and down, cooing more soft praises as you struggled to stay coherent.
As the waves of your orgasm subsided, you collapsed against Bucky's chest, trembling and gasping for air. Your mind was a haze of pleasure and confusion, your body wrung out and oversensitive. Bucky's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he softened inside you.
"Such a good girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You did so well."
Steve's hand continued its soothing motion along your back. "Beautiful," he added, his voice low and appreciative.
You felt tears pricking at your eyes again, overwhelmed by the intensity of what had just happened and the conflicting emotions swirling within you. Shame, arousal, fear, and a strange sense of... belonging? It was all too much.
"Shh, it's alright," Steve soothed, sensing your distress. "Let it out.â
After a few more minutes, once your breathing had finally returned to normal, you pushed back from Buckyâs chest, and made to move off his lap.
He tsked at you and frowned.
"Not yet, little lark," Bucky murmured, keeping you firmly seated on his lap. "I want you to feel me inside you a bit longer. Let it sink in who you belong to now."
You shivered at his words, acutely aware of his softening cock still nestled within you, still so big inside you. Your body felt boneless, wrung out from the intensity of your orgasm, and the sticky mix of your combined spend was weeping slightly around his cock, and you could feel it.
Steve's hand came to rest on the back of your neck, a gentle but possessive touch. "We're going to take such good care of you," he reminded, his voice low and soothing. "You'll want for nothing."
You nodded weakly, unable to form words. Your mind was still reeling, trying to process everything that had happened. You felt fresh tears welling up, overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation and your own conflicted emotions. Part of you wanted to fight, to rebel against this new reality they were forcing upon you. But another part - a part that grew stronger with each passing moment - craved their touch, their approval.
"Look at me," Steve commanded softly, finally taking the seat again next to Bucky.
Hesitantly, you raised your eyes to meet his intense gaze. His blue eyes were dark with desire, but there was also a hint of something else - possessiveness, perhaps even tenderness.
"You're ours now," he said, his voice low and firm. "Everything about you belongs to us - your body, your pleasure, your pain. We'll push you to your limits and beyond, but we'll also take care of you in ways you've never imagined."
You shivered at his words, feeling a mix of fear and anticipation. Bucky's hands stroked soothingly along your sides, a stark contrast to the bruising grip he'd had on your hips moments ago.
"We know this is a lot to take in," Bucky murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "You'll learn to love it. To crave it."
As if to emphasize his point, he shifted slightly, and a soft moan left your lips.
Steve leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek. "Remember, little lark. Pleasure or pain - the choice is yours."
A shiver ran down your spine at his words. Bucky drew a finger over your sapphire pendant, and Steve kissed you, licking into your mouth to taste his tang on your tongue. He didnât relent until you were gasping for air. Then Bucky kissed your cheek, and Steve pushed your head gently down onto Buckyâs shoulder once more.
And the two resumed their business and idle chatter, while you floated away, exhausted, and your body gave way to peace while you could claim it.
â Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
NEXT PART: Bird Home in the Darkness
Read more stories from the Deliciously Debauched Labor Day Weekend!
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#bucky barnes smut#steve rogers smut#bucky barnes#steve rogers#bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers#steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes#female reader#millennial reader#curvy reader#aspen wrote something#babb2023#hotbuckysummer2024#little lark verse#mafia au#tw: dubcon#tw: dub con#deliciously debauched labor day weekend
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pairing:Â ceo!wanda maximoff x fem!reader
summary:Â wanda exploits your weakness for her, and fucks you in her office
content warnings: smut obvi, possessiveness, fingering, thigh grinding, a little bit of choking, slight exhibitionism
word count:Â 3.3k+
masterlist
Fingers Are My Weakness
âI miss you, come to my office.â
You smile at your phone, sitting back in your seat as you come up with a response. You quickly turn the brightness down on your screen, fingers typing quickly as you bite your lip slightly.Â
âHey, are you ready to go over some of the procedures?â The voice is slightly grating on your ears, and you quickly delete your response as you lock your screen. Looking up, you see the woman whoâs been showing you around all day looking at you with an expectant look on her face.Â
Shit, what was her name?Â
âOh! UhâŠâ You check the time on your phone, noting that the workday had ended for almost everyone else. âRight now? I thought that procedures could wait until tomorrow?â
A condescending smile appears on her face, and you blink in surprise when she starts speaking. âYeah, right now. Itâs typical for newbies to stay late their first few days, just to get you up to speed. Thatâs ok with you right?â
Your phone dings, the womanâs eyes snap to it. Your fingers tighten around your phone, almost protectively. You huff slightly in annoyance, noticing the way the womanâs eyes linger on your legs, right where your skirt ends mid thigh.Â
âFine, just let me respond to this.â
Looking down, your heart jolts at the message youâd just received. Itâs a single word, and sends shivers of nervousness down your spine.Â
âNow.â
Wanda Maximoff was not a woman you wanted to displease. Ever. You'd been on the receiving end of her ire more times than you could count, and although it was always enjoyable, the thought of punishment for disobeying a direct order sent your heart racing.Â
The woman - Hailey, you remembered now - moved towards you, her heels clacking on the floor as she pulled a chair next to your desk. You had your phone angled away from her, fingers flying across the keyboard as you tried your best to minimize the punishment you'd surely receive for disobeying.Â
âIâm sorry, I canât right now. Hailey is going over procedures with me. Iâll make it up to you later, I promise.â
You flip your phone over again, sure that your face is heating up. Your fingers tremble in your lap as you lace them together tightly. Fortunately, Hailey is too focused on not-so-subtly peeking down the front of your low cut shirt to notice your flustered state. You clear your throat, annoyance building as you raise your eyebrows at her.Â
Coughing slightly, Hailey pulls out a packet of information and places it in front of you. You flip through the first few pages, groaning internally at the sheer amount of information crammed onto each section. Haileyâs speaking again, her voice high and scratchy. It is nothing like the voice you actually want to hear.Â
Just as that thought crosses your mind, your phone dings again, but you force yourself to ignore it. Avoiding eye contact with Hailey, you force yourself to flip to the second page as she drones on. You can practically feel the boredom take over you, your eyes drooping as you relax into your seat.Â
Sneaking a glance at your phone, you see that Wanda has sent another message. Suddenly awake, you open your texts and read, your eyes wide.Â
âI thought you wanted to be a good girl?â
Your eyes flick over to Hailey, noticing that sheâs now fixating on her laptop, seemingly searching for a specific page in a pdf. You hide your phone between the pages of your packet, typing with one hand while the other nonchalantly rests on the paper.Â
âI am a good girl, just busy rn. Iâll see you later.â
Locking your phone, you try to focus. Haileyâs voice is making your ears bleed, and you constantly find your thoughts wandering to a certain person. More specifically, your girlfriend, who just so happened to be the boss of the current company you worked at.Â
A loud noise startled you out of your thoughts, the images of long hair and green eyes fading as you turned to look at Hailey. She snapped her fingers again, right under your nose as your eyes went slightly crossed in an effort to track her movements.Â
âListen, newbie,â She started, her eyes glancing down at your chest. âJust because youâre a personality hire doesnât mean that you get to slack off, alright?âÂ
You felt anger rise, your thoughts churning as you glared at her with thinly veiled disgust. Youâd actually worked very hard for this job, submitting an application and going through the same interview process as everyone else. Your girlfriend hadnât actually known that you applied until your resume made its way to her desk along with the other final candidates for the position.Â
Sheâd fucked you in many different positions that night, her praises never ending as you came over and over again. Youâd begged her to be fair in the selection process, not wanting to only be hired because she ordered it. Wanda had agreed, saying that sheâd refrain from the hiring process altogether for your special case.Â
Breathing deeply, trying to calm yourself, you were about to respond to Hailey when your phone buzzed again.Â
âOkay, who the fuck is texting you so much.â Hands reach for your phone, but you quickly pull it away. Thereâs an unimpressed look on Haileyâs face, her palm out as she expectantly glances at your phone.Â
You sigh, unlocking your phone to see that Wanda has sent an image along with a message. No way in hell were you letting Hailey see the potential contents of that message.Â
âItâs actually our boss.â Your tone is short, your words clipped as you raise a single eyebrow. You pride yourself on mastering your girlfriendâs infamous âIâm pissedâ face as Hailey takes in your expression and pales at your words.Â
âWaitâŠâ Hailey fumbled her words, trying to remedy the situation. âYou have Wanda Maximoffâs phone number?â
You smirk, mindful of how long it's taken you to respond. Any second, Wanda would probably come storming down the hall, wondering what on earth was more important than her. âI do, and I should probably respond soon, donât you think?â
Hailey waves her hands in a flustered âgo aheadâ gesture as she ducks her head. You give her one last glance, before angling your phone away and opening the message.Â
First you see the photo, an image of Wandaâs fingers splayed out on her desk, contrasting beautifully against the dark wood, her veiny hands catching your attention. You feel yourself flush, nervous butterflies erupting as you glaze at the long fingers and delicate gold rings adorning them. Then, your eyes flit down to the attached message,Â
âMommyâs fingers miss your pussy, darling. Donât be a brat.â
You suck in a deep breath, your heart thudding as Hailey looks over at you, craning her neck to try and see your phone. Shooting her a glare, you jolt when another text pings through.
âIf you want to be a good girl, then you can come to my office and suck my fingers. Is she more important than I am?â
You feel lightheaded, and any thoughts of going over procedure with the nosy brunette next to you vanish. You mutter some excuse about how Wanda needed you in her office, and to not wait up for you. Hailey says something, but you wave her off, already packing your bag and walking towards the large doors that lead into Wandaâs office.Â
Cursing your girlfriend out in your head, you canât help the way your thoughts keep returning to that picture of her fingers. You should have known sheâd use that against you, and you regretted ever sending her that drunk text. The one where you confessed your obsession with her hands, calling them âperfect to suck onâ and telling her you âwished she would wrap them around your throat like a necklaceâ.
Pushing open the heavy door, you make your way inside the dimly lit office. For some odd reason, Wanda didnât like to use the overhead light, claiming it wasnât good for her eyes or complexion. You personally didnât care, as you thought your girlfriend looked good in any lighting. The room smells like vanilla, and the air around you tightens when you finally catch a glimpse of your girlfriend.Â
The look on Wandaâs face can only be described as stony. You can tell that sheâs upset, only seconds away from unleashing her frustrations upon you, and you waste no time. Setting your bag down near the door and closing it, you quickly walk towards your girlfriend as she slowly moves her chair away from her desk, gesturing for you to sit in her lap.Â
You start speaking, your words rapid as you attempt an explanation. âIâm sorry Wanda, I couldnât get away any sooner. HaileyâŠâ You see a flash of anger in those cold green eyes, and resolve to never mention the girlâs name again. âUm, she was really insistent on going over procedures, andâŠâ
The rambling explanation youâre fumbling through is interrupted by Wanda, her voice holding a dark edge to it as she asks you, âWhat did you just call me?â
âIâm sorry, mommy.âÂ
A satisfied look makes its way onto your girlfriendâs face, and you sit on her lap hesitantly. In this position, your face is just inches away from hers, and you canât help the way your eyes flit down to her lips.Â
âTell me, baby,â Wanda begins, a dangerous look in her eyes as she slowly rolls her chair back towards her desk, trapping you between her and the dark wood. âDoes she want whatâs mine?â
You bite your lip, knowing that your answer could potentially get Hailey fired. Then, you remember how rude she was and the way her eyes wandered where they shouldnât have, and the words came rushing out.Â
âI mean, yeah. She kept looking down my shirt, and I kept having to tug my skirt down cause her eyes were constantly on my thighs.â The words are quiet, and you watch Wanda carefully for a reaction. Her eyes glint coldly, one of her hands wrapping around your throat as the other digs into your waist.Â
âDid she touch you?âÂ
You canât help the whimper that escapes you, her sharp words sending a flash of heat through your body. Your clit throbs, and you rush to respond. âNo mommy, only youâre allowed to touch me.â
Wanda hums, a small smile appearing on those beautiful lips for a moment. âGood girl.â
âShe, um.â You hesitate, Wandaâs hand squeezing your throat tightly at your continued silence. âShe also called me a personality hire.â
Green eyes darken, and you know that Hailey will not show up to work the next morning. Or ever again. You try to calm your girlfriend, your hands coming up to cup her cheeks as she looks over your shoulder towards her door, her eyes blazing as different images of Haileyâs wandering eyes worm their way into her possessive brain.Â
A whimper sounds out, ringing around the otherwise quiet room as the pressure against your neck becomes too much to handle. Wanda relaxes her grip, pulling her hand away as she leans in. Her lips attach themselves to your throat, her teeth sharp as she sucks dark bruises into your sensitive skin.Â
Your moans flow freely, your hands sliding into Wandaâs hair and massaging her scalp as she marks you. When you attempt to roll your hips, needing some friction against your aching core, you find that your waist is thoroughly pinned between Wandaâs body and the desk.Â
Long fingers find your lips, and you close your eyes as you wrap your lips around the very thing that youâd been fantasizing about. She presses the digits against your tongue, sliding them in and out of your mouth as you gag slightly, your tongue swirling around them.Â
âAre you needy, baby?â Wanda asks after a few minutes, her voice raspy as she finally pulls back from your neck. She can sense your hips attempting to move, and raises an eyebrow at you as you fight to speak around her fingers. After a few moments, she smirks at your pleading look and pulls her fingers out, wiping them on the front of your shirt.Â
âYes, mommy.â Youâre breathless, your muscles straining as you fight to keep still against her.Â
Wanda smiles wider, rolling back her chair as she nods at you. âGo ahead, sweetheart. Get yourself off on mommyâs thigh.â
You hesitate, wondering if this was a trick. The hand at your waist pushes, and at the feeling of your soaked pussy sliding against her leg, you start moving. Your breaths are shaky, your hands trembling in her hair as you move your hips quickly.Â
It doesnât take long until youâre a moaning mess, your forehead resting on her shoulder as you grind your core against her thigh. You can barely think straight, all your thoughts locked on your impending orgasm as you mindlessly move your hips faster. You feel Wandaâs hand tangle with your hair, and she wrenches your head back.Â
Green eyes watch your lips part, a strangled gasp leaving you at the abrupt action. Your hips are still moving, your hands limp around her shoulders as you chase your high. Wanda smiles at the sight of your glossy eyes, soft moans falling from your lips as your wetness spreads on the silky fabric of her pants.Â
âHaving fun darling?â Wandaâs voice is teasing and you whine. Her tone hardens, her hand squeezing painfully in your hair as she reminds you, âRemember to ask permission to come.â
You know it's a trap, you couldnât say why, but you knew she wouldnât give in that easily. Not after youâd ignored her for so long, your attention not solely focused on her. She hated it when someone else caught your attention, and you loved her possessive nature, no matter how much the punishments hurt.
âI want⊠please, mommy.â You canât even get out a full sentence, your words broken up by breathy moans. It makes Wanda throb, and she forces your jaw up from where your head had been drooping, wanting those glossy eyes focused on her.
âTouch me,â You begged, your thumb rubbing circles against the back of her neck. âPlease touch me mommy, I canât come without your help.â
This time, it's Wanda who lets out a moan. The sound is low, resonating in her chest as she brings a hand to your pussy. At the first touch of your glistening folds, sheâs hooked. She never has been able to resist you, not when you're dripping around her fingers and staring at her with adorably blown pupils.Â
âDonât worry, darling.â Wanda murmurs, letting your head fall against her forehead as she enters you with two fingers, burying them knuckle deep as you whine. âMommyâs brainless little slut can come however much she wants.â
The words shoot straight to your core, and you know your orgasm is mere seconds away. You frantically press your lips to Wandaâs, sucking and biting as she slips her tongue inside your mouth, deepening the kiss. You attempt to convey your desperation to her, and you think she understands when she nudges your clit with her thumb.Â
A few more purposeful touches, and youâre falling apart in her lap. Wanda breaks the kiss, your lips unresponsive as you gasp against her cheek. You shudder, your walls clamping down around her fingers as she continues to thrust into you at a brutal pace. Her fingers curl, and you sense a second orgasm approach while youâre still trembling from the aftershocks of the first one.Â
âWait, mommy. Itâs too much, please.â Youâre whimpers go unheard, Wandaâs fingers still fucking you deeply as her lips return to your neck. You feel her teeth scrape your collarbone, and another orgasm rips through you when she bites down.Â
Your body aches, the sensations overwhelming you in seconds. Youâre highly aware of Wandaâs teeth sinking into your collarbone, her lips sucking harshly as you writhe against her. You can feel your juices leaking around her fingers, the once pleasurable heat in your core now agonizingly painful as she slows her thrusts.Â
âMommyâŠâ Your voice is just above a whisper, your breaths shaky as you try and form more words.Â
Wanda slips her fingers from you, bringing them up to your parted lips and forcing them into the wet heat of your mouth. She strokes your hair with her other hand, bringing you down as she murmurs, âI know baby, Mommyâs got you.â
Sucking softly, you smile around her fingers dazedly, your eyes slightly unfocused as they bore into Wandaâs. She smiles back, pressing her lips to your forehead, and leaving soft kisses over your damp cheeks as you giggle.Â
âGood girl, Iâm so proud of you sweetheart. Since you were so good for me, would you like to feel mommyâs strap when we get home?â You nod quickly, your mouth still occupied with her fingers, sucking off your arousal as she watches with darkened eyes.Â
Wanda opens her mouth to continue, when a sharp knock on her door stops her. Youâre much too hazy to care, all your attention focused solely on your girlfriend. She pulls her fingers from you, kissing you quickly before calling out for the person to enter.Â
You jolt, remembering the compromising position youâre in, but strong hands hold your hips still as a warning look appears in Wandaâs eyes. You stare back with wide eyes, and Wanda swivels her chair until she can see the very same employee youâd been complaining about walk in.Â
Hailey looks up from the papers in her hand, her eyes widening comically at the sight in front of her. Wanda watches her eyes take in the dark hickeys covering your neck and collarbone, your smudged lipstick and messy hair, before she stammers slightly as she attempts to speak.Â
Nothing comes out, her words a strained sort of whimper as her eyes bounce back and forth between Wandaâs satisfied and smug expression, and your submissive, relaxed pose. You look down, an embarrassed flush creeping up the back of your neck as Wandaâs hand rubs soothing circles against your thigh.Â
âIâve heard some interesting things about you.â Wanda says, her words drawn out as she regards the shocked employee standing in her doorway. Haileyâs eyes widen even more than they already are, and she opens and closes her mouth as she tries to find an explanation.Â
Wanda tilts her head, and the color drains from Haileyâs face. You shiver, having been on the receiving end of that look before, and you canât help but pity the poor girl trembling in your girlfriend's doorway.Â
âI hope youâve learned a valuable lesson today,â Wanda begins, her voice low as she grabs your jaw, tilting your head up so Hailey can see the full extent of your hickeys. âThat you shouldnât lust over something that isnât yours.â
Hailey nods her head so quickly that it looks seconds away from falling off. Wanda waves her hand impatiently, a silent order for the girl to get out of her office. She takes a final look at you as she turns to leave, her eyes apologetic and wide as she grips the papers tightly in her fist, the edges wrinkling under her fingers.Â
âBy the way,â Wanda begins, stopping Hailey in her tracks. âYouâre fired.â
You barely hear the door close, your eyes wide as you turn towards your girlfriend. You canât help the small smile that appears on your face, your pussy clenching around nothing at the power sheâd just shown.Â
Itâs almost as if Wanda has a sixth sense for you, her senses attuned to your body as if you shared a soul. She drops her eyes to your thighs, smirking as you gently grind down against the dark fabric of her pant leg. A single finger places itself under your chin, and you let your head raise as her green eyes bore into your own.
âDonât worry, baby. Iâll give you plenty of orgasms once we get home.â
You canât fucking wait.
Part Two: The Ultimate Weakness
#wanda maximoff#wanda fanfic#mommy wanda#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda x reader#dom!wanda#marvel#mcu#ceo!wanda#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda marvel#wanda mcu#wanda maximoff au#wanda x you#wanda x y/n
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All of the Books Beside Your Bed âż Spencer Reid
⥠SUMMARY: Spencer canât help but save the day after your weekend plans are ruined
⥠WARNINGS: gross disgusting fluff, mention of a book that talks about nazi propaganda but itâs the same book that was mentioned in the show, a steamy kiss, reader really goes through it mentally in the beginning
đ€Ł.đ„§.đĄŒ.â.đ€Ł.đ„§.đĄŒ.â.đ€Ł.đ„§.đĄŒ.â.đ€Ł.đ„§.đĄŒ.â
Everyone could tell you were in a bit of a sour mood. Working with profilers upwards of 9 hours a day (and that was an easy day), made it hard for subtleties to go unnoticed.
The team caught on to the lack of jokes passed around the bullpen, the way you huffed when you sat down after getting each cup of coffee, and they definitely noticed the scowl that had been etched across your face all day.
âWhatâs got sunshine all cranky today?â Derek asked, posing the question to Penelope and JJ in the break room. âWeâre not sure, sheâs been awfully quiet today,â JJ informs, looking long-fully at your desk, where you angrily shaking your keyboard, tired of the delay when you were typing.
All three of them watch as Spencer slides his chair around, âHey, hey, hey,â he calls, moving to grab your arm. âItâs not working!â You huff, moving back so Spencer can work his magic. Derek, Penelope, and JJ canât hear the rest, but they see you relax as Spencer shows you how much better your keyboard is working.
The three disperse, settling back in to finish the paperwork assigned for the day. If all goes well, theyâll get their weekend off. So, everyone was locked in.
Everyone except you. And, oddly enough, Spencer.
The rest of the team had noticed the surface level differences, but Spencer saw you on a different level. He noticed that you started picking at your fingers after you went outside to eat lunch. He noticed when you turned down the brightness of your desktop computer. He noticed the lack of your usual, rotating choice of a novel resting on your desk.
Spencer wasnât saying he was a better profiler than the rest of the team; he just tended to notice the little things. Especially about you. You were one of his friends, after all.
You werenât sure why your day was crawling by. You were aware of why you were in such a poor mood, but the only thing that could make it better would be to get off of work and head home. It was silly to be so angry over something so trivial, but you really did plan your weekend around going to the library tomorrow morning.
Your weekend plans surrounded the book you were going to spend hours selecting. Going to the library was something you looked forward to every week, and you knew Hotch has plans with Beth this weekend, so chances were there would be no case and you could truly enjoy your time. You wanted to make a nice dinner for yourself tonight, curl up and watch a movie, and then head to bed.
Tomorrow, you were looking forward to getting up and doing your makeup, browsing around the library until your heart was content, grab lunch with Penelope, and then going home to read in the bathtub. You couldnât have been more excited.
But your plans were quickly ruined. The library you frequented had sent an email to all its patrons, informing them they the library would be closed until further notice, due to a water pipe that was underground breaking. It had completely ruined your mood for the whole day. And it was continually getting worse with each little inconvenience. You left your notebook at home, when you passed Morgan a file you had given yourself a paper cut, your lunch was soggy, and now your computer was acting up. There was no winning for you today.
âThank you,â you tried your best to be kind to Spencer, he always tried to help you. âJust try not to smash the keys again,â he teased as he slid his chair back to his desk. âI make no promises.â You mumbled.
Spencer spent a good majority of the day trying to figure out the best way to ask why you were in such a bad mood without making it any worse. He continued to notice how your mood steadily declined, even as the people in the bullpen started to head home. âIs something wrong?â He settled on, after you threw your head back in agitation. You couldnât help the way tears started to form in your eyes, all the emotions from the awful day spilling over, as you laid your head down on the desk.
No matter how much Emily loved you, she took this as a sign to head home, leaving just you and Spencer. As the glass door to the BAU closed, Spencer made his way to your desk, crouching right down. He rested his arm close to you, wondering if he should rub circles on your back like JJ does for him when heâs upset.
âHey,â he cooed in that soft voice he only used with people who were vulnerable, âwhatâs going on?â Being entirely overwhelmed with everything that had happened today, and being engulfed by Spencerâs being had your mind going fuzzy, not allowing you to properly articulate the struggles youâd been facing. âThe whole thing just crashed,â you mumbled your most recent misfortune into your arm, doing your best to hold back sobs that were threatening to come through.
âHave you reopened it?â Spencer questioned, springing into action to come up with a solution. You shook your head as more tears fell. âCan I sit there?â He asked, needing your limp body out of his way so he could help you. You nodded again, trying your best to wipe your eyes before lifting yourself up and moving to lean against your desk. âAre you crying?â Spencer couldnât help himself from asking, very ungracefully.
You simply nodded, turning your head away. Spencerâs cheeks turned red, realizing how inconsiderate he sounded despite just wanting to help make things better for you. He turned his attention back to your computer, easily recovering the file youâd been working on. âThere you go. You mightâve lost some work, but it recovered to six minutes ago. I can help you catch up, if you want.â He offers, wanting to recover from his uncouth comment earlier.
You sniffled, âI think I just want to go home.â Spencer nodded, moving out of your chair to allow you to pack your things. âHold on,â he mumbles to himself, moving back into your desk space. He saved your file, opened your email, and sent it to himself. âWhat are you doing?â You questioned, rubbing your eyes. âI can finish it for you tonight. We worked on the geographical profile together, so I got it.â Spencer smiled, albeit awkwardly. âThank you, Spence.â You said with a breath of relief. âItâs no problem at all. I can tell youâve had a hard day, I just want to make it easier for you.â
Spencerâs simple heartfelt concern for you sent your waterworks over the edge. You couldnât help yourself as the tears fell, staining your tired cheeks with dark streams of mascara. You couldnât imagine how goofy you looked, but every emotion was hitting you all at once. You didnât know how to control it. It was all just too much.
Spencer cooed your name, not hesitating to put a gentle hand over your crossed arms. âDo you want to talk about it?â His voice was unusually soft, trying his best to create a safe space for you.
You nodded your head, wanting to share but struggling to express all of your hardships. It was as if your throat was closing in on itself, making it hard to breathe and impossible to talk. Spencer could see this written across your face, hesitating for one second before pulling you into his chest. âShh,â he comforted as one hand ran up and down your back and the other held you close, âitâs okay.â
You werenât sure how long you two stood like that. Spencer continued to whisper sweet affirmations to you, really just wanting you to feel better. His concern for germs and the stains that could appear on his lilac button up shirt were far away, not circling his mind. All he could focus on was getting you to calm down. He waited patiently for your sobs to slow down and your shoulders to relax.
You pulled away from him, wiping your eyes, âIâm sorry,â you apologized. For everything. For how silly you looked, for crying, for the dark spot on his shirt, everything.
âNo need.â He dismissed your attempt, âdo you want to talk about it now?â You once again nodded, leaning back against your desk. You were more relaxed now that you had let out your feelings. Still, you felt somehow even sillier as your biggest problem escaped your lips, âI really just wanted to go the library tomorrow.â
Spencerâs face scrunched up, expecting a much more catastrophic reason behind your emotional outburst. You saw the confusion written across his face and went into a deeper explanation. âI had my whole weekend planned out, and the highlight of it was going to the library tomorrow morning. I got an email that said itâs closed indefinitely because of a plumbing issue. And then all the computer issues and my lunch was ruined and itâs just been all around a shitty day. And I canât even go home and relax like I wanted to because the fucking library is closed.â
Spencer nodded at your angry rambling, happy you were past the crying part of your frustration. He was a bit shocked at your foul language, knowing it wasnât a common thing for you. His brain moved on quickly, recognizing he had a solution to your problem. âWhy donât you come to my house?â
It was your turn to scrunch your face up in confusion, not understanding what he was proposing. This instantly launched Spencer into an awkward recovery rambling, âI mean, I have a lot of books. Not as much as the public library, as the average library has over 100,000 books, most of which are general fiction, although some would argue that young adult fiction is more common,â he took a breath and attempted to move on from his side track, âI have a fraction of that, but more than the average person. I bet you could find something to read from my collection.â He concluded.
Your entire mood changed as he finished his proposition. It was amazing that he could come up with such a practical solution to such a ridiculous problem, and it was even more amazing how quickly he did. Spencer was welcoming you into his home, allowing you to borrow a book, which you knew were precious to him. He was being so caring, so kind.
âSpencer,â you said, with the amount of awe and adoration you were feeling dripping through, âthat is so nice.â
Your sweet tone as you said his name had Spencerâs knees feeling weak. The way you said his name sounded so sweet, like you dripping ooey gooey honey from your mouth.
His cheeks turned red, âitâs nothing. I just donât want to see you crying again.â You nodded, making a mental note to do your best not to cry in the bullpen anymore. âAre you sure itâs okay?â Spencer immediately nodded, âof course it is. Iâll send you my address.â The smile that adorned your face contrasted sharply with the tears stains on your cheek, but he was so happy to see it.
âThank you so much,â you said one last time, before packing up your bag to head home.
You tried to pretend that you didnât set your alarm a little bit early so youâd have more than enough to get ready. You justified it by telling yourself that this was your day, you just wanted to feel as good as possible. Sure, going to Spencerâs house had absolutely nothing to do with it.
You couldnât wipe the smile off of your face as you climbed into the car, turning on your favorite song and started making your way to the local cafe you and Emily frequented. You knew Spencer liked his drinks sweet, so you did your best to pick out something heâd like, and then hopped back in your car and continued your drive to his home.
It didnât take long to get there, thankfully. You didnât want to hand him a cold coffee.
âHello,â he greeted after you shyly knocked on his door. He was dressed in a FBI branded hoodie and a pair of jeans. You guessed he was only dressed because of your presence, judging by how lackluster his outfit was compared to the button ups, ties, and cardigans he wore to work.
âI donât think I can say thank you enough, so I bought a coffee to show my appreciation.â Your smile grew tenfold when his eyes lit up at the small cup in your hand. âI told you, itâs no problem. But, thank you for the coffee.â He nodded as he took it from you and opened the door wider, allowing you to step into his apartment.
You werenât sure what you were expecting it too look like, but it wouldnât have mattered anyway, because the real thing was much more grand than anything your imagination couldâve conjured up. Green walls with dark wood molding, a beautifully worn leather couch, bookcases full of books and DVDs of his favorite tv shows. It was so incredibly Spencer, and easily the coziest place youâve ever stepped foot in. Not even the cluttered stacks of books that adorned parts of the floor and coffee table could take away from the beauty that is Spencer Reidâs apartment.
âWow, Spence,â you sighed in awe, glancing around the space, âyour home is beautiful.â Spencer blushed, ushering you to step farther in. âIâm sorry to be a pain, but could you take your shoes off? I donât want to track the outside in.â You understood what he meant and nodded, knowing it would save him a lot of mysophobia-induced worry.
âDo you want a tour?â Spencer inquired, setting his cup down on the coffee table. You excitedly nodded, wanting nothing more than to explore his space. He moved towards the left-most bookshelf in his living room, âThis is all non-fiction, organized with my very own Dewey decimal system,â he gloated. It was easily to tell that Spencer was proud of his book collection, rightfully so. âThe rest of them,â he gestured to two more shelves on the left side of his RCA brand television, âare fiction. Theyâre organized by author, so you should feel right at home when youâre browsing.â
You nodded excitedly. You couldnât wait to sort through his mountains of novels.
âThis TV is probably older than you,â he quickly breezed over it, âand this is the start of my disc collection. Itâs just my favorites right now, Doctor Who, a few soap operas and a couple French films.â You nodded along as he made his list. âThis is where my records go, and the occasional CD. I prefer physical media, as opposed to streaming.â That factoid made sense for Spencer.
âThereâs a chess table over there, my couch, and the kitchen. My room and the bathroom are down the hall.â Your eyes scanned the room one last time, completely and utterly impressed. âI love it, Spencer. I can only imagine how good it feels to come home to this.â Spencerâs cheeks turned red, not used to being showered in compliments like this.
âUm,â he took a second to collect himself, âIâve read all of the ones on the shelves, so if you need summaries or reviews Iâll be here. This stack,â he points to the one next to the couch, âare my newest ones, but you are more than welcome to any of them. And this one,â he points to the one next to the chess table, âare ones I am planning to donate, so you are welcome to keep them if youâd like.â
You nodded at his words again, practically ripping at the seams with excitement. Your cheeks were starting to hurt from how long youâd been smiling.
âIâll leave you to it,â Spencer remarked, reaching for his coffee cup. He wanted to make sure he was honoring your previous weekend plans, allowing you to browse his home library to your heartâs content. He wouldnât go far, just to the kitchen, so you could have your space.
Before you could stop yourself you were calling out a hurried, âwait!â You stopped, almost if youâd shocked yourself with your remark. You couldnât help yourself. You felt like you wanted him, no, needed him around. As if the beauty and the warmth and the coziness of his home would dampen by his departure. You stuttered a bit, trying to justify your interruption. âDo you have any recommendations?â was the best you could come up with.
As if he didnât notice how much higher your voice had gotten, Spencerâs back straightened up and his eyes widen with joy. âI do!â He cheered, heading over to his shelves of fiction books. âThis is The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury,â he didnât even have to look before pulling it down, âitâs a number of stories tied together with a narrative about a man whose tattoos tell stories.â Spencer moved to the coffee table, setting it down right in the middle.
âThis one,â he moves back to the shelf, âis called Mother Night. Itâs about the conflicted emotions of a Nazi propagandist who doesnât believe in the propaganda.â Spencer places this book right on top of the previous one.
He does this a few more times, until you have your own stack of books heâd picked out for you. You couldnât help but notice how your pile fit like a missing puzzle piece in his world of books.
âAnd this one,â Spencer starts for the fifth or sixth time, but takes a second to glance at you. He realizes quickly that youâre no longer paying attention to the summaries heâs providing. Instead, your attention is turned to the pile of books heâd been creating. For the third time since you arrived, his face is read with embarrassment. Heâd been rambling. For far too long. âIâm sorry,â he sighs, moving to return the books to the shelves, âyou wanted to browse. I just love books, and I wanted to make sure you found something you like! I didnât mean to start rambling.â
Youâre easily broken out of your trance, quickly pulled away from your imaginations of your own novels mixed in with his on these shelves. âNo!â You said, stepping closer to him, âI loved your recommendations, Spencer!â You reassured him, reaching for his arm.
âItâs okay, I promise. I like listening to you talk.â You successfully rendered him speechless, creating a momentary lag in brain. You were so close to him, complimenting his rambles and being interested in his opinions. His breath caught in his throat as he noticed the sparkles in your eyes.
âI donât mean to come on too strong or anything, but if you want to, Iâd really like to kiss you right now,â Spencer whispered into the delicate space between you. You simply nodded, too enamored with the moment to say anything. His right hand came to rest gently against your cheek as he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. His touch was feather-light and his lips tasted like sugar, definitely from the coffee youâd given him.
The kiss was a few seconds long, filled with nothing but sickly sweet puppy love.
âThank you,â he whispered again. You couldnât help the chuckle that escaped your lips, âanytime, Spence.â He let out a light laugh as well.
He couldnât help himself from pulling you back into him, taking up on your âanytimeâ offer. This kiss was filled with sweetness, just as last one was. His hands moved to waist, making sure you were flush against him.
You reciprocated, just wanting to be close to him. Your hands moved upwards, entangling themselves into his hair, as you swiped your tongue along his bottom lip. You smiled against his lips, breaking the ever-growing tension in the room.
When you two pulled away, you found yourself marveling at Spencer. He just looked so pretty, with his now tussled hair and slightly swollen lips. You wished you could commit this sight to memory, just as he was doing to you. While he never had to try, Spencerâs gaze lingered on you for just a second longer, making sure his eidetic memory was doing its job, before he spoke.
âI know you had plans for your weekend, but Iâd love to take you on a date, if youâd like.â Spencer stumbled through his proposal, trying to find the words. âI donât know, I went through a lot of trouble to get to this point.â You joked, sending both of you into a fit a laughter. âCâmon,â you stepped away from him as you moved closed to the door, âletâs go grab lunch.â
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