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nereidprinc3ss · 7 months ago

Note

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied.

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details.

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name.

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror.

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause.

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it.

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort.

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is.

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably.

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing.

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—”

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face.

Oh. He was fucking with you.

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer.

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you.

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies.

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly.

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic.

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you.

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room.

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder.

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back.

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately.

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin.

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are.

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer.

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach.

Something resembling jealousy.

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid.

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you.

You swallow and try to act like yourself.

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see.

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in.

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively.

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place.

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable.

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. ��I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job.

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it.

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown.

She makes a good point.

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail.

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut.

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer.

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl.

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen.

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny.

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic

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darkbluekies · 3 months ago

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In the dungeon

yandere!king oc x fem!reader

Summary: after disrespecting him, you've found yourself in his dungeon. Edmund comes to visit you because he has heard that you haven't eaten in three days

Warnings: self starvation, punishment, toxic relationship,

Word count: 1.1k

He doesn't like it, but what choice does he have? If people found out that he doesn't punish his own wife, what would they think of him? That he's not a well respected leader because he can't even punish his own wife? No, he can't have that. He has to do it. But by doing it, he also feels pain, so it's a punishment for both of you. That's how he explained it.

You had disrespected him, belittled him and his masculinity. And now you're here. Easier said than done. Saying the words to him was easier than doing the time for them.

Your head hangs low as footsteps echo down the spiral stone stairs. You don't look up to see who it is, don't care who it is. Another guard to switch swift.

“Oh, my love …”

You look up. Edmund is standing on the other side of the metallic bars, wearing his clean, colorful clothes made out of the finest satin. He places a plate with a silver cloche on the bench beside him. You pull yourself up from the floor slowly, back sore from resting against the stone wall for eternity and stomach empty. Edmund's ice blue eyes follow your every step. It's not often that they contain any type of emotion, but seeing you like this brings out a deep worry that seems to make his eyes glow.

You drag yourself over to the door, which is nothing more than metallic bars. You hold onto one of the cold metal rods. Edmund places his hand over yours.

“The guards have told me that you haven't eaten in three days”, he says softly, as if you could break if he raised his voice even a decibel louder. “You can't do that, Y/N. You can't worry me like this.”

As if he would have eaten that stale bread and drink that moldy water, you think.

“Can I come up now?” you whisper. “I want to get out of here”, you cry weakly. “Edmund, please …”

Edmund shakes his head carefully.

“No, not yet”, he answers with a heavy sigh. “It's going to be okay, darling”, he reassures you softly, kissing the hand he's holding. “Soon, you'll be back with me, okay? Believe me, I want nothing more than to let you back upstairs and have you in my arms, but they would think I was incompetent in my role.”

He wipes one of your tears apologetically.

“Do you care more about your power than you do me?” you whisper.

He looks taken aback, unable to know what to answer.

“Don't be like that”, he says. “You know I love you more than anything else.”

But not enough, apparently, you think and sniffle.

He looks behind you, around the cell.

“I brought some food from the kitchen”, he says. “I want to see you eat it before I leave.”

He gestures for the guard to unlock the door as he bends down to pick up the plate. You back away from the door, finding your safe spot on the floor by the opposite wall. Edmund walks over, checking the floor before hesitantly sitting down.

“Do you have to sit on the dirty floor?” he mumbles dislikingly.

“I like it”, you reply.

“Alright, alright.”

Despite grimacing and dusting of his satin clothes, he makes himself comfortable on the hard, dirty floor and opens the cloche. The smell of boiled potatoes and marinated meat meets your nose, and the sight is even more exquisite. He takes out a silver fork from his pocket, stabs one of the potatoes and holds it to your lips. You open your mouth, letting him feed you. It tastes better than you remember it to. It has only been a week since you got locked down in the dungeon, but without anything to do, without necessities and comfort, the hours creep by. For all you could care, a month could have gone by. The only form of company you've had have been the rats crawling around on the floor, just big enough to squeeze through the metal bars. They bite.

“Tasty?” Edmund asks.

You nod. Anything that the kitchen prepares is delicious — or at least a thousand times better than the rock hard bread and dusty water.

“Good”, the young king says, pleased, feeding you another fork full of meat. “It makes me feel better to see you eat.”

Eating the food he has brought for you reminds you of how badly you want to vet out of here … and how much your comfort relies on Edmund.

Edmund wipes away a sauce smudge on the corner of your lips and sticks it between his lips to lick it off. You doubt he would do that to anyone else. Ever. He has certain liberties with you which he has with no one else. He can hug you, touch you, smile at you, joke with you. You give him life in a way no one can.

“You should see how restless my hours without you are”, he sighs and rolls his eyes. “I'm a walking bomb without you. I almost feel bad for my secretary.”

“Then let me back up …”, you whisper, a last attempt to try to plead with him. “Please.”

“I can't. Not yet. I've already given you special treatment and advantages no one else has gotten. If I let you back upstairs before an appropriate time my authority will be questioned.”

“I'm sorry, Edmund.”

Your voice is barely audible. His hand stops dead in its track on its way to your mouth. A drop of sauce falls down on the floor. You can see that it hit him right in his heart, shattering it.

“Oh, I know”, he reassures you and feeds you the piece of meat. “I know, darling. I believe you.”

You chew slowly, swallow slowly. The food seems to get stuck in your throat.

“Good girl”, Edmund praises. “You can hold out a little while longer, can't you? Just a few more days?”

You nod in defeat. What other choice do you have now that your pleading didn't work?

Edmund stands up. You follow him panicked, quickly reaching out and grabbing his hand.

“No!” you shriek. “Dont leave me. I don't want to be alone!”

“It's getting late”, Edmund answers. “I thought that I would let you get some rest.”

“No … not alone … please. Please stay. Just a little while longer.”

He thinks for a second. “Okay.”

You breathe out in relief. He sits down with his back against the wall, letting you fall asleep against him, wrapped in his warm, strong arms. Leaving him alone with his thoughts — his conflicting, torturing thoughts.

When you wake up the following morning by the sun shining through the little window pane you're alone, lying on the floor, covered by a colorful cape made out of the finest satin.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere fics #yandere king #yandere x female reader #female reader #yandere oneshot #yandere royal

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hyper-fixates · 4 months ago

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and what if i said logan could get off from biting and marking you up ☹️ then what ☹️

just a silly little one-shot. this can be read for any logan/era :)

tags: afab!reader (no pronouns/gendered language), biting/marking, clothed male/naked reader, explicit language, sloppy kisses!!! scent kink, dry humping, groping/touching (let me know if anything was missed!).

Logan loves to smother you.

His earnestness and desire to swallow you whole doesn’t get more apparent besides when he’s on top of you, grinding against your bare cunt despite his cock straining against his jeans. And he’ll leave it that way, at least for tonight.

He sucks harmless kisses against your neck and jaw as if your skin will disappear any second, afraid to lose the sex-filled scent that’s keeping him glued on top you. You squirm relentlessly from the sensitivity and intensity of it all, but it just makes him more determined to overwhelm you and feel how much wetter you’re getting against him.

He licks over the taught tendons in your neck before biting an angry mark into the supple skin adjacent, making you claw harder at his shoulders (the grey wife-pleaser already making it easy).

Each lick, kiss, and mark earns you a swift thrust against your exposed pussy, the rough denim brushing against your sore clit that’s already been teased and tortured by his experienced fingers. You weren’t the first and you won’t be the last.

His scruff pricks the sensitive skin over your neck and shoulders as he ventures along your body eagerly, hands kneading your hips in sharp, desperate squeezes to anchor himself and rut his cock harder over you.

He’ll offer the deepest kisses to your lips when he hears you getting louder, timing his thrusts to rock against you when he reclaims your lips each time, making sure your pleading sounds are silenced.

The soft scrape of teeth against your bottom lip has your pussy clenching around nothing as he tugs just far enough away to open your mouth and seamlessly slip his tongue down over yours, locking your lips back together in a kiss that makes you both dizzy. A soft groan catches in his throat.

He moves back down your jaw, nuzzling the curve while placing wet kisses over your pulse, enjoying how fast it’s gotten from a couple bites and slick kisses.

“I could get off just by doing this,” he sighs, slotting your lips together again in a messy, tongue-filled kiss. “You smell and taste too fucking good to stop,” he whispers against your lips. “Every fucking time.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you reason, sliding your hands up into his hair. The perfect cat-like points breaking apart as you gently pull at the roots.

He drops his head back to your shoulder, consumed by bliss, sinking his teeth into the skin right between your neck and collarbone. A tremor works its way through you as you feel a new wave of heat roll through your cunt while he sucks deeper and deeper at the spot with a groan.

“God, Logan, please don’t break the skin,” you pant as your thighs clench around his hips, pulling him closer. “It will take at least two weeks to heal.”

You feel him chuckle against you before he pulls off with a lewd sound, panting just as heavy as you. Your neck, shoulders, and chest are raw with hickeys and teeth marks; the skin tender to the touch and red-hot when he finally pulls away for more than a few seconds.

“I remember it being ten days,” he smirks, offering a final gentle kiss to your puffy lips, accepting the white flag you’re waving.

You’ve been marked. Claimed.

You give your eyes a roll. “Satisfied?” you hold back a smile.

He pushes his hips up into yours again, cock still very much hard and now newly soaked through his jeans from your arousal. “Oh, I think you know the answer to that one, sweetheart,” he says with a small, breathy laugh.

A hand releases it’s death-grip on your right thigh, trailing up your chest to lock itself tight under your jaw, holding you there for him as he consumes you with rough kisses that have your core aching. All tongue and teeth and he just keeps you there. All for him to devour.

Maybe this is the one part of himself that he’ll never be able to domesticate.

#i’m going insane #is it obvious that i watched DOFP yesterday #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #xmen x reader #xmen imagines #wolverine imagines #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #xmen smut

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kisskuni · 5 months ago

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pet names

↳ pet names that the demon brothers like to call you by. [all brothers x gn!reader]

tags: just fluff! + pet names lol. ‘doll’ is used once, i wouldn’t consider it feminine but take it as you will. otherwise gn :)

notes: first fic on this blog heheh. reblogs are super appreciated, please and thank you <3

lucifer ━━━

a gloved hand runs through black hair, the eldest brother glaring at the paperwork covering his desk. you wonder for a brief moment if he thinks the look he’s giving it will force it away.

“stressed?” you ask him, a teasing tone to your voice.

he hums in discontent. “something like that.”

you straighten from your spot leaned against the door frame and walk over to him. your hands come up to his shoulders and rub at the muscles there, hoping to bring him some sore of relief.

“need any help?” you ask.

“i’m alright, darling, but thank you.” though still clearly stressed, he offers you a small smile.

mammon ━━━

“you will not believe what i just got!”

mammon walks into your room previously unannounced, dorky smile painting his face. he holds up two slips of paper, waving them in front of your face. it takes you a moment to read the writing.

“ooh, are those tickets? for that movie i wanted to see?”

he beams at your excitement. “i’m the best.”

“yeah, you are,” you smile and reach for the tickets in his hands. “thank you so much.”

“anything for you, doll.”

leviathan ━━━

“hey, can you—“ levi speaks to you, but frowns at his game. “no, i can’t heal you. there are two other characters who can.”

you watch him curiously, watch as he rolls his eyes at the person he’s playing with. “what’s up?”

he takes one side of his headset off. “i’m sorry. can you grab me my water? it’s on my nightstand.”

“oh, sure.” you reach over from where you’re tucked comfortably into his bedsheets and grab the water bottle on his nightstand. “here.”

he turns around him his chair to grab the water bottle you toss at him. he catches it easily and smiles at you. “thank you, honey.”

satan ━━━

“are you comfy?”

you sit upright with a small yelp. you look around, gathering your thoughts back. what was supposed to be a quick lie-down on the couch in satan’s room turned into a nap, apparently.

“i- uhm. yeah.” you answer quickly. one hand comes up to rub the sleep from your eyes.

“you can rest if you’re tired, my love. i have some reading i wanted to catch up on anyway.” satan says, moving to sit beside you.

you take a deep breath and ponder the offer for a moment. instead of responding, you simply lay back down and use his lap as a pillow. he’ll get the idea eventually.

asmodeus ━━━

the squeal asmo let out was beyond exstatic. he clasped his hands together, smiling ear to ear.

“ah, i’m so excited.” he said, running off to some corner of his room.

“is it really that exciting?”

asmo frowns at you rather dramatically. he feigns a look of offense and continues to his closet, you following a few steps behind.

“oh, i love how this would look on you, cutie.”

you smile fondly at the nickname and continue to watch as he picks out various clothes for you to try on.

beelzebub ━━━

“y’know… doesn’t matter how strong i am, you’re a demon and i really don’t think i’m capable of spotting you at the gym.” you say.

you know he likes to work out, but him lifting weights worried you sometimes.

“it’s alright. i promise i’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

you glare at him. you know he will be, but a little voice in the back of your head won’t let you stop worrying about him. you suppose its a good thing.

belphegor ━━━

“good morning,” you tease, nodding toward the alarm clock that read 4:38 PM. “nice of you to rise so early.”

he grumbles at you, wiping sleep from his eye. he takes one of the pillows he’s been snuggled up with and tosses it at you, playful smile making its way onto his face.

you bat the pillow away, smiling back at him.

“you are so mean.” you claim, though still smiling.

“mhm. whatever you say, lovely.”

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aakeysmash · 22 days ago

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sukuna lets yuuji wear his jersey

a/n: this drabble contains angst that i didn’t want to spoil in the title (i’m so bad with titles y’all PLS bare with me okay)

college!sukuna masterlist

You know how football players usually give their jerseys to their girlfriends? College!Sukuna gives his to his little brother Yuuji.

You’re not big on sports, but Sukuna asked you to watch Yuuji a couple of times because he had “practice at the ass crack of dawn”. Seeing how ripped he is (you may or may not have walked in on him shaving his beard one time while he only had a towel wrapped around his waist) you already thought he did some kind of sport, but you never cared enough to ask him about it. It’s not until 6 months into your forced proximity that you come to know he’s actually really popular on campus.

It happens randomly. You just finished playing monopoly with Yuuji and you’re listening to your sweet little companion tell you he wants to help you cook this evening. You’re discussing what meal to cook when Sukuna comes home, late, as he did every day this week. He throws his gym bag near the living room door, gets his shoes off and grunts as a form of acknowledgment.

“You know, dogs usually bark more than you to say hi. Imagine being worse than an animal,” you say, not even looking at him, picking up the little plastic houses distributed on your table.

“Imagine never shutting the fuck up,” he answers, ruffling his still wet hair from a shower he must have taken not too long ago, not sparing you a glance either. You scowl, watching the water droplets fall on the freshly cleaned (by you) floor. Well, you have to admit he does look hot in his black hoodie. Black compliments his face tattoos really well, you think.

“Bro! Language!” His mini counterpart exclaims from in front of you, putting his hands on his hips, frowning. He looks like an old lady. A really cute and young old lady.

“Yeah, Sukuna, language,” you snort, flipping Sukuna off behind your back when Yuuji isn’t watching. The tattoed man, still standing by the door, narrows his eyes at you when you turn your back on him. Yuuji goes into his room to put the game away and leaves you two alone.

“You’re lucky I need the fucking money to live here or I would’ve fed your body to the really nice dogs who say hi by now,” your roommate says lowly, coming behind you and pushing you out of the way to lay on the couch. He pushes you harder than usual, so you stumble and bump your thigh on the table, muttering ouch and pouting. You’re pretty sure he didn’t control his strength like he usually does in your playful banters. You sit down to rub your sore spot, waiting for Yuuji to come back and start cooking with you, while he just puts his hood on his head and closes his eyes.

“Is this how you treat a lady?” You mumble, at which he scoffs, not even bothering to answer. As a natural conversation starter, you try to think of something to say. You think he looks like he could use a conversation, anyway. He’s been more distant this last week, but he always had his emo moments, so you didn’t think too much about it. Today his mood is darker than usual though, and for some reason, after six months of living together, that doesn’t sit well with you.

"How was tod-"

"Fine," He interrupts you. You're stunned by his roughness.

“Listen, tomorrow I was thinking of going-“

“Can you shut the fuck up?" He curtly barks, one of his eyebrows ticking.

You frown. "Hey, I was just-"

"I’m not joking. Shut up. Stop talking for one fucking day. God, you’re so fucking annoying,” he grits out, scrunching his eyes even more. At this, you close your mouth fast. Well, maybe he didn’t look like he wanted to have a conversation, at the end of the day.

After his outburst, the silence inside the living room is deafening.

You don’t want it to, but the tone he uses stings, even if you try not to let it get under your skin. You thought you two had become close enough to joke around this way, but you apparently guessed wrong. You just wanted to help, and he just shut you completely out. You just wanted to be a good… friend? Are you even friends?

Yuuji gets back and you stand up from the floor, going toward the kitchen. You wince when you put your weight on your leg.

You inhale deeply, reigning yourself in. “What do you think about… quesadillas?” You ask the little one calmly, and you see him beam.

“Yes, please! I want to learn how to make them good like you-“

“Kid, there’s a game tomorrow. Wanna come?” Sukuna interrupts you two. He’s still sitting on the couch with his eyes closed, but now he has his arms crossed too.

“Hell yeah!” Yuuji answers, jumping with his little fist in the air. Sukuna hums.

“Gotta tell coach. You still have the jersey from last time, yeah?” He asks, getting up from the couch and rolling his left shoulder. When it pops, he grimaces in pain a little.

“Of course I do,” the kid proudly says, looking up at his big brother with stars in his eyes. Standing next to each other they look like the ghost of the past and the ghost of the future from A Christmas Carol. Yuuji is dressed in bright yellow while if Sukuna had any more black on him he’d be a shadow. A chill runs up your spine. Spooky.

“Good,” Sukuna rasps out, solemnly getting the palm of his hand on his little brother’s head.

You start preparing the ingredients for dinner. “Are you eating with-“

“I’m going to sleep,” he interrupts you once again. He still hasn’t looked you in the eyes since he entered the apartment. You turn away, not wanting Yuuji to feel the shift in your mood by looking at your face.

“Goodnight, bro,” Yuuji says cheerfully. Your other roommate rushes inside his room, locking it from inside, and you and Yuuji are left standing in front of the stove in silence.

“Oh. Well,” you start talking again awkwardly, a fake chuckle coming through. “I guess that means he’s not eating with us,” you tell Yuuji, getting back to preparing the ingredients for your dinner, now for two.

“It’s a big game, you know,” Yuuji whisper shouts from next to you, overstuffing his quesadilla. “I already knew about it, but it feels nice when he asks me to go,” the kid continues, a small smile ever present on his lips. Your gaze softens.

“What sport and position are we talking about?” You ask him, handing him a piece of cheese to chew on while you finish preparing everything.

“He’s a quaftef bafck. He’f capftainf too,” Yuuji answers between bites. So he’s a football player. His strength makes sense now.

“You seem really proud of him, Yuuji,” you tell him sweetly, adoring the way he’s trying to get his point across by waving his hands in the air a lot.

He gulps down the cheese. “Yeah, big bro always lets me wear his jersey. He told me that if someone annoying has to be wearing it, then he might as well give it to me,” he smiles, big, while you inwardly cringe. Couldn’t be Sukuna if he didn’t say something that felt more like an insult than a compliment.

“Why is it an important game?” You ask, preparing one more quesadilla.

“Because he just became captain! It’s his first game as a captain!” The kid tells you, jumping a little on his chair and watching you, excited. Oh, is that why he looked like a bird just shat on him the whole week?

“Well, then you have to be his top supporter, don’t you think?”

The next morning, you wake up early to go grocery shopping. You wanted to ask Sukuna to come with you yesterday, but after the way he probably didn’t even notice he treated you, you really don’t feel like it. You get out of your bedroom door and are met with the sight of Yuuji already wearing his brother’s way too big jersey. You snap a pic when he’s still turned around. He looks so cute.

You go toward him, who is conveniently also toward the apartment exit. He hears your footsteps and looks at you expectantly.

“Can you help me tie the scarf?” He asks you, said scarf still in his hands. It's full of little drawings of tigers, which he told you are the mascots of the football team.

“Of course Yuuji. You look so good today, I bet your brother is really happy, mh?” You smile, getting at his eye level and wrapping the piece of cloth around his neck.

“I think he’s almost ready too!” He says, raising his eyebrows. Then, he assumes a confused expression. “Wait, aren’t you coming? I thought we were going together.”

You hesitate.

“I have to go grocery shopping today,” you answer, averting your gaze.

“Can’t it wait? It’s a really big game,” Yuuji pouts.

You hesitate again.

“I don’t think your brother wants me there, Yuuyuu,” you softly smile, trying to be nonchalant, finally securing the scarf and standing back up. You try not to look into the little boy’s eyes, because you’re sure you aren’t that good at masking your feelings.

“But he was-“

“Brat, are you ready?” Comes Sukuna’s voice from down the hall. You push Yuuji toward the approaching footsteps, mouthing Go! He’s talking to you! The child looks back at you like he wants to tell you something, but you ignore it. You hastily open the door to get out, managing to catch Sukuna’s gaze only a spare second before closing it behind your back. You stiffen. Then, you walk away.

Inside the apartment, Sukuna puts on a confused expression, matching his sibling’s one.

“Where did she go? Nevermind. We’re late, Yuuji. Run, or I’ll leave you here,” he hurries out, grabbing his house keys, hands sweating and feet carrying him to the stadium, while Yuuji tries to follow him.

When the Itadori brothers come back home, Yuuji screaming and Sukuna grinning like a madman for his team’s victory, you’re not there.

“Awh, I wanted to let her know you won,” says Yuuji pouting. In your place, there’s a sticky note on the fridge, which looks like it’s been there since this morning. In the haste of leaving, they both didn't notice it.

Go Tigers!!! P.S. for Sukuna: I left some quesadillas in the fridge. Good luck, captain.

Yuuji claps his hands, saying you must have made more yesterday after dinner when he was asleep, happy to be eating something good two days in a row. Meanwhile, Sukuna can’t take his eyes off the little piece of paper.

“Yo, do you know where she went to this morning?” He asks Yuuji, who is getting out a plate to microwave the food.

“She said she went grocery shopping. She said you didn’t want her at the game,” his little brother responds, lightly and not worried at all, like this is a reoccurring conversation.

“What?” Scoffs Sukuna, baffled, whipping his head toward his brother’s. When did he ever say something like that?

“Well, she said she thought you didn’t want her there,” specifies Yuuji, shrugging, getting two forks and two knives to put on the kitchen table. “I tried telling her you bought her a ticket too! But I don’t know, she seemed…” he stops, thinking about the correct words to say, now looking directly at his big brother’s eyes. “She seemed sad,” he finishes, muttering.

Right then, a tube of cream for bruises put near the coffee machine catches Sukuna’s eyes. He grits his teeth. He thinks back to yesterday, and to the way you rushed out this morning. To the way you obviously tried to ignore him when you locked his gaze. To the way your ticket never left his pocket, because he never properly asked you to come.

Suddenly, the words on the sticky note burn on his skin like a fresh tattoo.

Shit.

#college au #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna oneshot #sukuna jjk #sukuna crack #jjk x y/n #jjk fics #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna angst

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slater-baby · 2 months ago

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Brute Force

Perverted Simon Riley x f!Reader

!!!NON CON, EXHIBITIONISM, DEGRADATION!!!

Simon Riley is a brute without even the barest understanding of social norms. In the beginning, people just assumed that he was quiet.

"He just likes to keep to himself," they'd say, wincing when his thundering boots stormed down the hall.

"He's just...different."

"A little traditional, maybe? I mean...nothing to worry about, darling..."

After watching him rip through men with his bare hands, bathing in sweat, dirt, and blood, it quickly became apparent that he was…rougher than the other men.

He was bigger and meatier—had more testosterone, too. God, it practically radiated off of him in waves. When Price had recruited you—the first woman on the squad—you could only shrink in on yourself around him.

He stood over you like a beast, smelling of musk, man, and absolute ruin, barrel chest heaving with every breath.

At team outings, he’d glare at you over pints of lager, scarred mouth curled into a scowl.

If you were in his way, he’d wrench his burly hands around your waist and pick you up, never failing to cop a shameless feel of your ass in the process.

If you did something out of line, he’d catch you by the jaw and put you in your place with little more than a rough call of “woman.”

He was a savage by all means. But something inside of you—suppressed and ancient—just knew he’d be able to fuck you like no one else.

God help you when he sniffs out your taboo infatuation with him.

Romance? Taking it slow? He’s never heard of that.

Simon’s form of courting (if it could even be called that) was pure brute force.

One day he passes you in the hallway. His brows quirk when he spots you walking by, eyes staring at your tits (like they always are, the fucking pervert.) Without saying a word, he grabs you by the arm, yanking you into him.

You gasp when you feel a meaty finger hook onto the hem of your shirt, and he tugs down your collar, shamelessly looking straight down the front of your shirt in the middle of the goddamn hallway.

"What color bra you wearin', love?" he grunts, scowling at the lacy, pink edges of your bra.

"You--you can't tell?" you balk, speechless.

"Nah, love," he scoffs, voice so dark he almost sounded angry, "I can. Just wanted to hear you fuckin' say it."

The words are punctuated with a sharp slap to your ass, before he shoves you away from him and continues on his way, readjusting his pants as he goes.

Unblinking, you can't deny the way your pussy throbs when you watch him go.

It only gets more and more brazen the longer you entertain him.

Like when you're in the break room, trying to reach a glass on the top shelf by standing on your tip toes...

Suddenly, a gruff noise comes from behind you, and something thick and hard is pushed up against your ass.

"Next time," he growls, giving your neck a harsh bite through the mask, "Get one o' the lads to do it for you. Or else I'll have to bend you right over this fuckin' counter. N' I promise you won't like me too well then, love."

Another slap to your ass.

You rub over the sore spot with your palm when he stalks off. He did it so often now you were beginning to bruise there.

One night, when you're sitting on a stool at the bar, sipping a cocktail...

All of a sudden, a pinch in your backside makes you jolt in your chair. You whip around, drink spilling onto the front of your blouse.

There, you find Ghost standing, deadpan, while his index finger hooks underneath the band of the thong you're wearing. It must have been peeking out above your pants. An embarrassing accident.

But now...Fuck, he's pulling on it, yanking it higher up on your waist just so that he can watch the way it indents the fat of your asscheek.

"Fuckin' whore," he spits, nearly giving you a wedgie, "If you didn't want me to touch you like this, y'shoulda fuckin' covered up."

He leans in then, tucking the full breadth of his callous hand beneath the thong and into your pants. You keel over the bar top, gasping for breath and utterly speechless.

"But," he chuckles, "You'd miss me, wouldn't you?"

"N-no," you try uselessly to protest.

"Hm. Doubt it," he snaps the band against your waist, pushing you back into your chair, "Chin up, love. Even if you don't miss me, I know your pussy would."

You hate him. Him and that stupid, sexy mask. Him and his horrible, ugly, awful, amazing hands. He knows it, too.

Don't get him wrong, he much prefers to sit back and relax while you give him a show. But, just this once, he'll throw you a bone.

Starving lil' bitch, he imagines. Needs her cunt filled but just can't fuckin' ask for it.

One night, after one too many meetings, you walk back to the barracks in a slump. It's well after curfew. Everyone's already asleep.

And that is precisely why a noise in the common room grabs your attention. You quirk a brow. The door is cracked and, hesitantly, you nudge it open.

Instantly, you freeze, unable to contain the gasp you release.

Simon only chuckles at your reaction, low voice trailing into another grunt when he gives his cock another stroke.

Shameless. He's absolutely fucking shameless.

Because there he sits, fly gaping where he spreads his thighs over the communal couch, fucking his fist hard enough for drops of pre-cum to fleck over the leather underneath him.

He splays his arm over the back cushion, tilting his hips up to give his leaking prick another aching tug. God, the slick sound of it is deafening--much too loud for public, where anyone could have walked in and seen him.

Yet, there he sits, reaching underneath his mask to gather more saliva on his fingertips. It drips over his shaft when he curls them around his dick, balls tightening just at the sight of your face.

His shirt is sweat soaked, stuck to his meaty chest like cling wrap, and the thing only tightens around his muscles when he begins to speak..

"Well," he calls out, "You gonna give us a ride then, love? Or are you gonna run back to Price and report me?"

You swallow, lashes fluttering while some horrible, heated feeling gathers in the pit of your stomach.

Your jaw snaps shut.

Your heart races.

His eyes bore holes into your face the longer you deliberate...

They only become even more mocking when you throw your purse to the ground and shuck your blazer off.

When you rush over, hurriedly kicking off your shoes, Simon doesn't even stop. Hell, the only time he takes a hand off of his cock is to grab your hip and yank you into his lap, all but bullying his cock into your pussy the second you’re even remotely lined up.

"Good fuckin' girl," he groans loudly, shoving two fingers into your mouth to muffle the yelp you make, "Now..."

He licks up the side of your neck, pinning you against his burly body.

"Shut up and take my fuckin' cock."

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solxamber · 2 months ago

Note

Hi!! I would like to request somn! (Twst)

I've been thinking, since early in the story the ramshackle dorm is rundown and old and basically abandoned

so what if MC/Yuu tried to sleep on their bed but ofc since its old it just breaks and hurts their back

so may i request to see if Ruggie, Azul and Idia (separated) would let MC/Yuu sleep with them on their bed? (romantic btw)

(or they can let them sleep on the FLOOR-)

Sharing a bed with Ruggie, Azul, Idia

I wanted to make them sleep on the floor just for giggles but I love the single bed trope too much to let it go. thanks for the request <3

You’d think after everything that had happened to you—being thrown into some magic-filled hellscape, dealing with literal monsters and chaotic students—that the universe would cut you a little slack. But no, apparently, even when you’re just trying to go to bed, Ramshackle Dorm has other plans.

You had just flopped onto your ancient, creaky bed, exhausted from a day of not dying, when—CRACK.

The bedframe split right down the middle, sending you crashing to the floor with the most undignified yelp you’d ever made. You lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how the universe hated you this much.

“Well. That’s just great,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing your sore back. You tried to push the mattress back into place, but it was hopeless. The bed was dead. There was no fixing it tonight.

Which left you with only one option: find someone to share a bed with.

Ruggie Bucchi

You trudged to Ruggie’s dorm room, knocking on the door with the energy of someone who had been emotionally crushed along with their bed. The door creaked open to reveal Ruggie’s grinning face.

“Eh? What’re you doin’ here at this hour, huh?”

“My bed broke,” you deadpanned. “I need somewhere to crash.”

Ruggie blinked, then snorted. “The ghost bed finally gave up, huh? Figures.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t deny he had a point. “Can I sleep here or not?”

Ruggie grinned wider, obviously enjoying your misery. “Yeah, sure, come on in. But don’t expect me to give up the whole bed. I ain’t got much space.”

“Fine,” you sighed, “I’ll take a corner. Just… let me sleep.”

You climbed into his surprisingly cozy bed, and he made a big show of sprawling out, starfish-style, as if trying to take up every inch of space. “Comfy, huh?”

“Very,” you muttered sarcastically, but as you shifted to find a spot, you felt the warmth of his body near yours.

Somehow, as you drifted off to sleep, you both ended up gravitating closer, until you woke up in the middle of the night, realizing your head was resting on his chest.

Your eyes flew open, and you froze, realizing that you were completely snuggled up against him. And worse? He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his arm was draped around you, holding you close.

You blinked, heart racing. This was... actually kind of nice?

Ruggie stirred, blinking down at you with a sleepy grin. “Well, well. Cuddle monster, are ya?”

You wanted to die of embarrassment. “I didn’t—You—The bed—”

He just laughed softly. “Relax. Not so bad, huh?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “I guess not.”

“See? I’m always right.” He grinned, then gave you a gentle squeeze. “Now, go back to sleep, or I’m charging you rent for hoggin’ my warmth.”

Azul Ashengrotto

“Azul, I need to sleep in your room,” you announced the second he opened the door to Octavinelle.

Azul blinked, adjusting his glasses. “Excuse me?”

“My bed broke,” you said with all the exhaustion of a person who had given up on life. “And I need a place to sleep.”

Azul stared at you, clearly processing. “And… you’ve come to me? Of all people?”

You sighed, too tired for this. “Floyd’s a maniac, Jade will probably cook something weird at 2 a.m., so yes. I came to you.”

Azul pushed up his glasses, clearly flustered but trying to act composed. “Very well. But I must inform you that my quarters don’t have a spare bed. You will have to share mine.”

You blinked. “Fine. I’m too tired to care.”

Azul looked mildly scandalized, but he stepped aside, letting you in. His room was surprisingly neat, but there was only one bed—one very large, comfortable-looking bed. Without another word, you climbed in.

Azul hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing the pros and cons of sharing a bed with you, but eventually he slid in beside you, keeping a respectable distance.

At least, that was the plan.

You both woke up in the morning tangled in the sheets, Azul’s arm slung over your waist, your head resting on his shoulder.

Azul’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, very slowly, he looked down at you, eyes wide with confusion and panic. “I—this wasn’t—”

You blinked up at him, realizing just how close you were. “Uh… morning?”

Azul turned an alarming shade of red but didn’t move. In fact, his arm tightened just slightly. “This is… highly unprofessional,” he muttered, though he made no effort to pull away.

You snorted. “Yeah, sure. But it’s not so bad.”

Azul blinked at you, his panic melting into a soft, almost shy smile. “No… I suppose not.”

Idia Shroud

When you knocked on the door to Ignihyde, you half expected Idia to ignore you. But to your surprise, the door cracked open, revealing his glowing yellow eyes.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, eyes darting around nervously.

“My bed broke,” you said bluntly. “I need a place to crash.”

Idia blinked. “Uh… okay? But I don’t have a guest bed.”

You sighed. “That’s fine. I’ll take the floor.”

Idia looked even more nervous, scratching the back of his head. “Uh, well… it’s just me in here, so I guess you can… share mine?”

You stared at him for a moment, realizing what he was offering. “Sure. Why not.”

Idia nearly short-circuited at your casual response, but he let you in anyway, leading you to his surprisingly large bed. You both climbed in, and Idia immediately plastered himself to the very edge, leaving a wide gap between you.

“Y-you can have more space,” he mumbled, staring intently at the ceiling.

“Thanks,” you said, too tired to worry about the awkwardness. But as you both drifted off, the cold air of the room seemed to pull you closer, until, somewhere in the night, you ended up pressed against Idia’s side.

When you woke up, your head was resting on his chest, his arm slung loosely around you.

Idia’s hair flickered wildly when he realized where he was, his entire face turning bright red. “Wha—how—uh—what are you doing?!”

You groggily blinked up at him. “Sleeping?”

“I—I didn’t mean to—this wasn’t—” Idia was flustered beyond belief, but he made no move to untangle himself from you.

You smirked. “You’re warm. This isn’t so bad, you know.”

Idia blinked at you, his panic fading just a little. “R-really?”

You nodded, settling back against him. “Yeah. Kinda nice, actually.”

Idia’s hair flared bright pink for a moment, but then he relaxed, his arm resting a little more confidently around you. “O-okay. Just… don’t tell anyone.”

You grinned. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia #idia shroud #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul #azul ashengrotto #ruggie x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie #ruggie bucchi

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thatweirdaustralian · 1 year ago

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The people trying to pay with USD are always so confused and angry when I say no? Like “oh it’s legal money I don’t understand why you’re being difficult why can’t you just take my money” BECAUSE YOUR MONEY DOESNT MEAN SHIT TO ME WHY SHOULD I GIVE A GOD DAMN HOOT ABOUT IT YOU LITERALLY CAME ON A PLANE TO GET HERE THIS DIDNT ACCIDENTALLY HAPPEN TO YOU YOU DONT GO FOR A SHORT WALK AND MAGICALLY END UP IN AUSTRALIA WITHOUT REALLY WET SOCKS TAKE THE OPPORTUNITY AT THE AIRPORT TO CHANGE YOUR STUPID MONEY

Can you use U.S. Dollars to pay?

#apparently this is a sore spot for me #but it happens too damn often

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ellecdc · 3 months ago

Text

A Man With a Plan.8

prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU

CW: Remus losing his ever loving mind, temporary(?) truce w/ Slytherins, truth is revealed, Peter is very nervous when the discussion turns to plotting murder [3.2k words]

✧A/N - please read ✧ this fic is still and will remain on hiatus until it's completion. I will not respond to asks about when the next update will be (feel free to gush and discuss, just please don't ask for updates). this fic, for whatever reason, is a sore spot for me & if I didn't have people who loved it so much, I'd have trashed it by now, so please take this into consideration. secondly, the taglist is closed and I will no longer be tagging anyone on future updates - kudos to all of the creators who take the time to offer tag lists because it is not easy and I will never be doing it for another fic again lol

Remus had been trying (and failing) to pay attention to the lesson, but apparently watching the odd bird fly past the window was far more entertaining than listening to Professor Binns’ sluggish lesson about the Goblin rebellions.

Yesterday’s conversation with you was still replaying at the forefront of his mind; most of Remus’ thoughts were already about you, mind you, but this had become an incessant point of worry for him. He found that he was particularly bothered by how bothered you appeared to be.

Remus was the first to admit his friends weren’t always the…easiest to be around. They were loud, abrasive, brash, somewhat aggressive, and always up to something.

He should have been more patient with you and your friends; as much as Moony called you his; you were your own first.

You always had to come first.

Moony huffed in response to that but seemed to relent when Remus insisted the utmost importance was your happiness and safety.

Even the werewolf couldn’t argue with that.

He could tell you were still bothered today; he could feel it, in the rise of your heart rate intermittently throughout the morning, or the white hot heat that would settle in his (your) chest before evening out just as quickly. He had learned by now that you were quite attuned with your own feelings, and seemed to control them very well. Remus found himself quite jealous of that trait. It was clear how deeply you were attuned to emotions, both yours and others, and the way that tended to influence your behaviours.

You seemed to be content right now, and Remus found himself wondering where on the castle grounds you might be right now.

Gods, he was such a freak.

Want. Mine? Where mine?

He fought the urge to groan at Moony as he returned his gaze to the front of the class.

It appeared that Remus wasn't the only one with a lack of interest in Binns’ wearisome lesson as most of his classmates were beyond even pretending to pay attention; a few even drooling on their textbooks and letting out the odd snore.

It didn’t appear to bother Binns much who continued drilling on about the role goblin metal played in the rebellions.

Remus wondered if the professor had ever put himself to sleep during one of his lectures. He let out a small snort at that.

Before he could be concerned about whether anyone heard him or not, Remus felt an abrupt tension wash through him. No, not him. You.

You were beyond tense, a tight kind of worry worming its way through your core.

Not good. Not good. Not good.

Though Remus didn’t find himself in a position to argue with Moony, he didn’t find the commentary particularly helpful. But for the first time since the soulbond came into effect, Moony quieted completely - almost as if he was allowing Remus to fully lock in on you.

Shock - horror? You’d been startled… a painful surprise. Why couldn’t Remus think of the bloody word for the way you were feeling?

It quickly moved to heartbreak; it was as if Remus could feel himself sinking to the ground along with your heart.

Where the hell were you right now?

The heavy, sinking pain settled in Remus’ stomach whilst the sounds of Professor Binns and the surrounding student’s snores fell away into a quiet hum; Remus simply ceased to exist in the physical world as his consciousness went looking for you.

Disappointment and guilt is what you seemed to settle on; a decisive determination forming in your mind.

Then your heart spiked.

Worry?

Pain?

Panic???

Remus had little time to acknowledge his realisation before an ice cold terror overtook you.

He could feel the violent rattle of your heart in your chest as your lungs started to burn; it was as if he could hear you screaming.

And Moony went feral.

NOW. NOW. NOWNOWNOWNOWNOWNOWNOW NOW.

Remus hardly even realised that he had shot up until the chair fell to the ground with a loud thunk, likely startling the many napping students out of their slumber but he found that he just didn’t care about the disturbance he made as he took off in a full sprint out of the History classroom.

He took the stairs two at a time in what felt like an arbitrary direction; he couldn’t tell you even if he tried where his feet were taking him, all his mind was concerned with was getting to you.

Remus had no idea where you were, but he'd find you.

If he didn’t know something was terribly wrong before, he certainly knew it now when your panic turned into a frantic desperation; cold, so cold was the terror that seeped down into your very soul. He was certain your magic was calling out to him, even as your core began to weaken.

I’m coming, dove. I’m coming. Remus chanted as Moony howled in agreement.

Remus’ own lungs burned nearly as badly as his legs did but he didn’t slow down, even when he shoved past a group of first years as he tore through the courtyard. He’d be sorry later; right now he had somewhere to get to, someone to get to.

Remus was just beginning to regret not taking up James’ offers to go for runs with him in the mornings when he felt a sharp relieved feeling - it was not relief, but a relieved moment - before shock and horror took over.

Your heart rate was a riot and you were distressed but Remus was sure he could feel you breathing and it was enough, it had to be enough until he got to you.

He had to get to you.

“Remus!” James shouted in a manner that told Remus it hadn’t been the first time he did so.

Remus simply turned to look at him over his shoulder without slowing down.

“Mate! What the hell?!”

“Something is wrong.” Remus shouted.

“Yeah, you’ve bloody lost the plot it seems - I’d say that’s very wrong!” James replied breathlessly.

Remus was going to tell him to sod off when relief came in the sight of you, though the relief was tentative when he noticed you soaking and hunched in on yourself in the sand.

“Y/N!” He shouted then; you didn’t react, which only resulted in him panicking more.

“Y/N!” He shouted again as he made it to you; sinking to his knees in the wet sand as his chest burned. “Dovey, hey. Hey, look at me. Are you okay? Baby please, look at me.”

He finally brought a hand to your chin and tilted your head up to him; your skin was horridly cold and eyes were wild as your own chest heaved like you, too, had just run all this way.

“What happened, dove? Are- are you okay? What happened?” He was practically begging at this point but he couldn’t bring himself to care, even as James made his way over to stand behind you.

“What’s going on?” James asked quietly; Remus could only shake his head at him.

“You’re soaked. Did you fall in?” He tried asking you; you simply looked towards the water in response.

James quickly shed his jumper and handed it to Remus who wrapped it around you before he shed his own cardigan to wrap that around you as well.

“Please baby, talk to me?” Remus begged. Your lip trembled and you pointed your gaze to your lap.

He felt completely helpless; he had this deep desire - no, need - to help you, to protect you. He wanted to know what happened so he could fix this; he wanted to fix this.

But this wasn’t about what Remus wanted, it was about what you needed… what you deserved.

“Prongs?” Remus said quietly as he simply settled into the wet sand beside you, pulling you into his lap and cocooning you with his body to provide you with some of his warmth. “Can you go get Junior? Please?”

James quickly looked between the two of you before nodding and running back towards the castle.

·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·。·

Remus had been unable to encourage any more from you than a few shuddering breaths and a squeeze of your hand that he was holding hostage in his.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to let you go again.

Unfortunately, this appeared to be one more of his many plans destined for failure.

“Treasure!?” Barty called as he and James ran over. “Hey! Tres, you okay?” He breathed as he knelt in front of you and Remus, much like Remus had when he found you mere moments ago.

“Talk to me.” Barty whispered as he pushed your damp hair away from your face.

You let out a short breath that had you deflating significantly, as if you’d been sitting with every string in your body pulled taut until Barty had shown up.

It hurt, for a moment, knowing you weren’t Remus’ person - or rather, that he wasn’t yours - but he bit back the emotion flooding in his mouth because it still wasn’t about what Remus wanted, it was about what you needed.

And right now, you needed Barty.

Your chin dimpled as your bottom lip began to wobble and Remus watched as your eyes filled with tears.

“What happened?” Barty begged through a whisper, and that seemed to be the last of your resolve.

Remus was forced to relinquish his hold on you as you dissolved into tears and fell bodily into Barty’s embrace; he seemed to be expecting it though and caught you readily in a way Remus wondered if he’d ever be capable of.

Unable to explain your hurt to Barty, you simply sobbed and clung to him as he looked at Remus in horrified bemusement.

Remus could only shrug his shoulders and shake his head remorsefully.

“Okay, you’re alright Treasure. We’ll figure this out, yeah? We’ve always figured it out; you and me, okay?”

Remus immediately felt like he was encroaching on something entirely too private and stood; bitterness, grief, and worry twisting up an emotional cocktail that he knew would taste horrid on the way down.

“Lupin.” Barty called out, forcing Remus to pause as he made his way towards James. “Thank you, for fetching me.”

Remus simply nodded before turning back for the castle.

“I’ll-” Barty called again before pausing, waiting for Remus to turn around once more. “I’ll let you know how we make out.”

Remus nodded and let out a breath. “Thank you.”

The two boys shared a knowing look before Remus turned, joining James as they headed back towards the castle - no doubt facing a detention or two for causing a scene and abandoning class - in silence.

Remus learnt little else about what happened at the lake until dinner when Regulus approached them with the small amount of information Barty had managed to get from you.

“She said she fell in?” James asked quizzically then.

Regulus tilted his head side to side in a so-so. “It was less that she said it and more that she agreed with Barty that that’s what happened. Why?”

James shook his head as if jostling around the thoughts in his brain would make it make more sense. “She’s been going to that dock for months to feed the mermaids, I-”

“She wasn’t feeding them.” Remus interjected quickly. “She was bringing them gifts.”

Remus looked up from his novel to see his friends and Regulus staring at him incredulously.

“Right…” James continued after a beat. “So, she’s been going to that dock for months to bring gifts to the mermaids, and she’s never once had an issue. Why now?”

Regulus heaved a sigh as he shrugged his shoulders defeatedly. “We’ve not been able to get much more out of her; she just keeps saying she needs to ‘fix things’.”

“What things?” James asked then, causing the younger Black brother to sneer at him.

“I just said we haven’t been able to get more out of her, Potter. Merlin; tu t’entoures d’idiots, frère.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sirius moaned in exasperation. “Thank you, Reg.”

“Thank you.” Remus seconded, earning him a nod of understanding from the younger Black.

Remus returned to his novel, though he found himself unable to make sense of any of the words. James was right; something just didn’t make sense.

Just yesterday you had laughed at Remus for his concern for you on the dock

… Remus quickly stood and gently helped you stand and pulled you closer to the middle of the dock, away from the edge you’d been inhabiting.

You giggled at him; the first real spontaneous emotion he thinks he had ever heard from you, and it caused Remus’ heart rate to speed up double time.

“You needn’t worry, Remus.” You expressed solemnly. “I’m very careful.” …

And James seemed to know that to be true as well.

What weren’t you telling them? And what did you need to fix?

It wasn’t until later that evening that Remus came to realise what it was that you weren’t telling them.

“Remus! Is she okay!?” He heard Amelia call breathlessly as she approached him in the library.

Remus was momentarily confused; he hadn’t spoken to Amelia in what felt like weeks, and he couldn’t imagine who she was possibly referring to.

“Pardon?” He asked dumbly.

“Y/N.” Amelia answered quickly; a deep divot present between her brows. “I just heard what happened; I swear I had no idea what they were doing, Rem. I would have never allowed it!”

Remus quickly slammed his History tome closed and stood over her menacingly.

“Allowed what?” He sneered at her. “Who are ‘they’ and what exactly did ‘they’ do to her?”

Amelia seemed to baulk at the sudden severity of Remus, but she soldiered on. “I.. it was Silas, Shirley, and Coraline. They- I guess they figured, well-”

“Spit it out, Amelia.” Remus hissed at her.

“They think they were like, defending me, or something… by picking on her. I guess they tried to tell her to back off from you, and Silas said he shoved her in the Lake.”

Bad. Bad, bad, bad. Kill.

And while Remus knew, generally speaking, that he couldn’t kill a bunch of Hufflepuffs, he didn’t exactly disagree with the enraged and murderous Wolf howling inside of him.

“Is she okay?” Amelia asked again, quieter this time.

Remus felt bad when he noticed her cowering slightly beneath him; he felt bad about all of it.

Leading her on, playing with her feelings when he knew she liked him as more than a friend, and for ever getting you tangled up in this mess of his.

He planned to never let it happen again.

“I’m not sure, Amelia.” He admitted then, realising somewhat belatedly that he had been simply waiting on you to come to him instead of actively working to help you fix this. “But she will be; I’ll make sure of it.”

Amelia offered him a sad smile at that. “Okay…thank you, Remus.”

“I’m sorry, Amelia.” He blurted then, watching as her sad smile turned soft.

“Thank you, Remus. Tell Y/N I’m sorry, too, okay?”

And Remus watched Amelia walk away as he formulated a plan.

James was easy to find, seeing as he was currently hanging on to every word coming out of Lily Evan’s mouth as she practised her presentation for the upcoming Herbology assignment.

“Hey, Rem.” Lily greeted with a smile as she shuffled through her cue cards, causing James to turn comically in his place on the couch where he’d been sitting with his elbows on his knees and his chin on fists.

“‘Lo Moons!”

“Prongs, I’m sorry, but are you terribly busy right now?” Remus immediately felt bad for asking when James grimaced and turned to look at Lily. “It’s Y/N.” He clarified.

James immediately turned back towards him. “Is she okay?”

Remus shrugged his shoulders. “But I know what happened.”

James’ face turned solemn as he turned to give Lily an apologetic smile.

She quickly smiled tenderly at him and waved him off. “Go, Potter. Make sure she’s okay for me, yeah?”

James beamed at her before jumping up and planting a smacking kiss on the red-head’s cheek. “You were doing brilliantly, Lils! I’ll help you practise more later!”

“That seemed cosy.” Remus murmured as they stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind them.

“It certainly felt cosy.” James agreed readily.

With the map that James had on his person, finding Sirius was an easy feat - what was not an easy feat was opening the broom closet door to find him and a Ravenclaw in various states of undress with their tongues down each other’s throats.

“Sorry, sweets.” Sirius winked at the other student as he pulled up his fly. “Duty calls.”

They found Pete in Chess Club and pulled him away from the game he was currently “winning, you absolute sods!” by the collar of his uniform shirt.

And with the full moon a little bit more than 24 hours away, even Moony couldn’t deny the advantage they’d have with a little more help…

“It says he’s in the library.” Peter explained as he trailed behind the group with the map.

“Where’s my- where’s Y/N?” Remus quickly corrected himself.

Peter hummed as he searched the map whilst Sirius and James shared a knowing look behind Remus’ back. “Says she’s in Ravenclaw.”

Good, that was good.

You were fine. Safe.

And Remus knew that just had to be true, because Barty wouldn’t have agreed to leave your side otherwise.

Back where Remus had begun this search, they did indeed find Barty hunched over a large looking tome at a table as Regulus, Dorcas, and Evan conversed quietly beside him.

“Unless you’re here to learn the art of the Mermish language, bugger off.” Barty muttered without raising his head as Evan and Dorcas eyed the Marauders warily.

“Relax, Meadows.” Sirius taunted. “We’re not here to prank you lot.”

“Forgive me if I don’t particularly believe you.” She muttered in response, narrowing her eyes at the boy.

“To what do we owe this displeasure?” Evan drawled as he twirled his want in his hand.

“Play nice, Rosier.” Regulus muttered; obviously not particularly grateful for the Gryffindors’ company but clearly understanding there was a reason for it.

“What, did you just say you were learning Mermish?” James asked Barty then; never one to manage to stay on task.

Barty did look up at that only to look at James in bemusement. “Yes?”

“Why?” James continued, causing Barty to scoff.

“To thank them for saving Treasure, obviously. Do keep up, Potter.”

A disbelieving breath escaped Remus’ lips as he scrutinised your oldest friend. “That’s…actually really nice of you, Junior.” He admitted quietly, causing Barty’s bemused gaze to flit to him.

“Well yeah…I’m a real sweetie pie.” Barty muttered as if that had been really quite obvious and didn’t know why they were all talking about it, suddenly.

“Listen, I found out what happened to Y/N.” Remus announced then; every Slytherin quickly standing at attention for Remus to explain.

“They shoved her in?” Regulus confirmed slowly, earning him a nod in agreement from Remus.

“Well boys,” Barty started as he stood with a flourish, pausing at Dorcas’ pointed ‘ahem’ to amend “and Meadows, fuck’s sake”, “looks like we’ve got some Hufflepuff’s to kill!” He cheered gleefully, moving towards the library doors as if expecting everyone to follow him.

“We’re…we’re not going to actually kill them, right guys?” Peter asked nervously as the Slytherin’s rose from their respective seats, and the Gryffindor’s trailed after them.

“Right!?”

Tag list [NOW CLOSED] part 1:

@hanniejji , @y0urm0m12 , @c0nsc10usworld , @aphrcdites , @starsval , @anuncalledbridge , @klazina-couch-potato , @cancelledkaley , @ttulipwritezz , @boo8008 , @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo , @frostooo , @myriadmoons , @aremuslupinsimp , @simars3 , @stargurl99 , @dreamingofts18 , @agent-tempest , @xxrougefangxx , @serenadingtigers , @adhxmoony , @hufflepufffangirlqueen , @thebiggestnaturaldisaster , @urmomw4ntsme , @b4tm4nn , @jamieolivia27 , @stqrgirlies-blog , @loving-and-dreaming , @cultish-corner , @all-in-the-fandoms , @sadslasher13 , @enamoredwithbella

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vilapollo-arts · 2 months ago

Text

hunger and yearning

pairing: Sylus x gn!reader

tags: nsfw, mdni, riding, doggy style, size difference, possessive Sylus, degradation, praise kink, mentions of breeding, creampie

note: not beta read. i just wanna spread the horniness

Sleeping while wrapped in silk sheets in a hotel luxury bedroom is a much deserved break after months of chasing after Wanderers. It’s been a while since you completed a whole eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. The curtains are still drawn, basking the room in shadows. Your morning is almost perfect, if it weren’t for the empty space beside you.

You crack one eye open to confirm that Sylus wasn’t there. You frown as the gray-haired man is nowhere to be seen. You grab your phone from your bedside table and open up your messages.

“Where are you?” you ask him.

He’s not replying. You sigh and slide off of the bed. You head into the kitchen. There’s already food on the counter. There’s a batch of pancakes with bananas and blueberries and a note beside it. You pick up the note to read it. Apparently, Sylus headed out to the gym to get some morning workout and he’ll be back after an hour. You look at the pancake and smile. He definitely cooked these all by himself.

You take a seat on the counter and grab a fork and a bottle of syrup. You open your phone and play a video as you eat your breakfast. You finish eating your breakfast and head to the living room. You take a seat on the fluffy couch and turn on the television to continue watching what you were watching on your phone.

Suddenly, you hear the lock to the hotel door signal that it’s being unlocked. Sylus enters the room, drenched in sweat. He spots you on the couch and immediately comes over to you.

“Good morning, sweetie,” he greets, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

“Good morning,” you mumble back. You cup his cheek and look up at him. “I missed you. You weren’t beside me when I woke up.”

He chuckles. “I’m sorry, sweetie. You were asleep so I decided to get some exercise done before we head out. Don’t worry. You’ll have me for the rest of the day. I just have to take a shower first.” He pokes your nose and tries to pull away, but you won’t let him.

He tilts his head at you. You look back up at him and shift your shoulders. The loose pajamas you’re wearing slips off your shoulder. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him and a smirk immediately forms on his lips. You use this opportunity to slowly get up and guide him to sit on the couch. He obliges, maintaining his piercing gaze on yours. His large warm hands cup your hips as you plant both of your knees on either side of his thighs.

“Someone’s a little impatient today,” he teases as one of his hands travels down in between your legs. A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest as he feels your excitement coat his fingers.

You stifle a moan, but your trembling legs give away how deprived you are of his touch. “It’s been a month,” you grumble. “And then I wake up without you on top of me. Tell me, who wouldn’t be impatient, huh?”

Sylus’ smirk grows wider as he watches your fingers fiddle with his sweatpants. “Poor little kitten,” he groans as your soft fingers wrap around his cock. “Well, I’m here now. Go on. Use me for your own pleasure.”

He’s already hard and dripping with precum. You press the head of his cock to your already twitching hole. He pushed your hips down, but not too forcefully. He still lets you sink down on this cock at your own pace, considering how he sees your jaw drop and your eyebrows scrunch up in pain.

“Are you alright, my love?” he whispers, leaning forward to start licking one of your nipples. His tongue swirls around the nub before lightly biting down.

“Mm-hmm!” you whine, throwing your head back. It hurts. You have forgotten how huge he was after a month of not being able to be this close to him. However, that spike of pain that shot throughout your body doesn’t stop you from taking him in. You know that you’ll feel sore after this but what matters right now is to have him inside of you.

You recover yourself and wrap your arms around his neck. You bury your head in his hair, taking in his scent. He smells so good. His body is still warm from his morning workout. You cling to him as you feel the entire length of his cock stretching you out.

“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re so tight, sweetheart.” He looks up at you. With the way his eyes are glazed over, you know that he’s trying his best not to start slamming his cock into you. “I can feel how your walls are holding onto my cock so tightly. Did you miss me that much, huh?”

You simply answer with a nod as you lift your hips up and slowly bounce on his lap. Your jaw laxes, letting small whimpers fill up the empty hotel room. As much as you want to go fast, every time you sink down on his cock, it feels like his tip is pressing against your stomach.

“That’s my good little slut,” he praises, keeping his eyes planted on your pained expression. “Come on, sweetie. Show me how much you missed me.” He runs his rough fingers down your thighs before suddenly slapping your skin. “And I’ll reward you with the proper fucking that you deserve.”

“Yes, baby,” you gasp as you start increasing your pace. You bury your face on the crook of his neck. Each inhale you take is accompanied with his musky scent. That paired with his low moans is driving your mind crazy. The thought of doing the same to him with your hole and moans urges you to keep going faster even though you feel yourself running out of breath.

His palm slaps your bouncing ass several times while your hole continues to devour his cock. The pain from earlier is now replaced with an immense pleasure that you craved for weeks. Even the stinging of your skin that he’s abusing with his hand is being translated into pleasure. Your brain is already muffled and the only thing you can focus on is his cock splitting you in half.

You don’t even register Sylus placing his arms beneath your legs. “Hang on tight, kitten. I’m bringing you to the bedroom,” he says. You do as he says before he stands up with his cock still shoved inside of you. Each step he takes towards the bedroom makes your whole body twitch.

You only realize the two of you are in the bedroom when you feel his cock slip out of you as he places you down on the silky sheets. You whine in protest, now feeling empty. “Sylus,” you plead. “Put it back inside. I want you. Please, please, please….”

He lets out a low chuckle as he crawls on top of you. “So impatient,” he teases, his cock in his hand. He slaps his shaft against your hole. “Are you sure you want me to make a mess of you, sweetheart? You think you’ll be able to keep up, hm?”

You pull your knees up to your shoulders, showing your wet and twitching hole. “I’m all yours, so please just fuck me,” you cry, looking up at him and sticking your tongue out.

He grinds his teeth together at the sight of you. “Fuck, you’re such a good little fucktoy,” he growls before shoving his entire length into you. Before you can even scream, he leans down to devour your lips and your tongue.

He wastes no time slamming his hips against yours. His pace leaves you breathless but wanting for more. You don’t even care when you feel his hand wrap around your neck and start to squeeze. With his mouth against yours and his hands squeezing your neck, your eyes start to roll at the back of your head, already feeling woozy and numb. All you can feel is his cock driving his cock into your needy hole.

“You look so pretty like this, sweetie,” he groans. “You don’t know how much I craved to see you fucking break on my cock. Every night, I came to the thought of your hole wrapped around my cock. I thought about fucking my come into you and breeding you. Maybe if I plant my seed deep inside you, you’ll have no reason to be away from me. Every night, I get to fuck you and fucking breed this greedy little hole of yours over and over.” He laughs as you let out a weak whine. “Oh, you’d like that, don’t you? You like having all my cum inside you, my dirty little slut?” He loosens his grip on your neck. “Answer me, darling,” he demands.

“Yes….yes! Please cum inside me!” you exclaim. “I want it deep inside me. Please I need your cum to fill me up!”

“That’s my good little kitten.”

He pulls out of you and throws your entire body around like you weigh nothing at all before pushing his cock back into you. He grabs your hips, his fingernails digging into your skin. Your screams start to fill up the room as he mercilessly pounds into you. A string of curses escapes lips, feeling your hole tighten up even more.

“Wai-wait! I’m gonna cum!” you cry out. “I’m gonna cum!!”

“That’s right. Cum for me, but I will not be slowing down for you. I want to feel your slutty hole squeeze my cock. I told you I’m not gonna hold back,” he whispers in your ear. “And I intend to keep. My. Promise.” He emphasized the last three words with a deep thrust. On the last thrust, your whole body seizes up.

As promised, he keeps on slamming into you. You haven’t even finished your first orgasm yet but it’s already followed by another one. Your hands try to hold onto something, anything.

Sylus groans in pain above you as your nails drag across his flexed arm. His eyes are in a daze as he watches your eyes roll to the back of your head and your saliva drips out of your mouth. You looked so beautiful underneath him, under his mercy. Even if he did want to stop to let you catch your breath, the feeling of your walls squeezing him is preventing him from doing so. Your warmth is such an aphrodisiac to him.

“You’re so pretty, darling,” he pants. “Such a good little kitten for me.”

You whine in response. You want him to stop. Your whole body is currently oversensitive. You feel like you’re gonna pass out anytime soon.

“I know, sweetie,” Sylus cooes. “I know. I’m almost there.. Just hold on until I can come inside you, okay? Don’t you want my cum pumping you full, hm?”

Your whole body shudders in excitement at the thought of him filling you up. With your brain turned into mush, all you can do is babble incoherent words.

Sylus understands though and presses his entire weight on top of you while continuing to fuck your brains out. You remain incoherent as he takes your hand and intertwines your fingers together. “Fuck, baby. You’re so tight. You belong to me and only me, you get that?” he grunts. “Nobody gets to have this body of yours but me.”

“Yes, yes, yes…yes!” you gasp. “I’m yours. I belong to you. Please treat me as your cumdump. I want to have all your cum inside me…oh god…please, please, please!”

“Fuck, I’m coming,” Sylus says. His hand slips around your neck once again and he squeezes as he increases his pace. You can hear his heavy breaths and moans against your ear. His sweat is dripping down your skin, surrounding you with his strong smell. You can feel his heavy balls slapping against you every time he slams himself into you.

Before you know it, you’re reaching your third orgasm. Sylus curses under his breath and buries his cock deep into you, filling up your stomach with his warm and thick cum. He doesn’t let go of your neck, loving the feeling of how tight you are the more he restricts your airflow. Only when he feels your body go slightly limp that he lets go of you. He lifts himself up and spreads your thighs before he slowly pulls out of you.

He groans as he watches his thick load escape your twitching entrance. He scoops it with the head of his cock and shoves it back inside. He does this repeatedly. Pulling out his cock completely before pushing all of the oozing cum back inside your hungry hole.

He then gently flips your entire body. He cups your face and presses a gentle kiss which you weakly reciprocate. “You think you can still walk for our lunch reservation, sweetie?” he asks, a smile on his face.

You chuckle and wrap your legs around his waist. “You should ask if I still want to go,” you reply. “I think I might want another round of you for lunch instead.”

Your partner laughs. “Anything you want, darling. You know I’ll always give you what you want,” he whispers before pulling you in for another tender kiss.

#digital illustration #digital art #love and deepspace x mc #sylus x reader #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #my art #lads smut #lads sylus #love and deep space

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 10 months ago

Text

Mine

Luke Castellan x Reader

Requested by: @officiallenalove like imagine the reader is like a daughter of Poseidon and we know he’s not around most of the time and she meets Luke and they like fall in love but she’s never known what healthy love looks like so it’s low key angsty but happy at the same time yk?

Summary: "You are the best thing that's ever been mine"

Warning: crappy parents, angst, self doubt

Word Count: 2k

Masterlist

A/N Sorry this took so long I had a hard time choosing which lyrics/moments I wanted to write

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

Godly parents were always deadbeats. It was just a fact of half-blood life. But after spending years thinking I had no father, I was thrilled to have been claimed by Poseidon. It was naïve of me to think that just because he claimed me he’d be a good father just because I knew of his existence. I spent night after night praying to him, looking for some sense of guidance from him but never receiving anything. Eventually I learned not to bother with him or anyone else.

My mom had let me down enough times that I knew it wasn’t just gods that let you down. When she finally told me about my father she told me I’d be moving to a strange place. Not for my safety but because she didn’t want to take care of the daughter of the god that broke her heart. She complained endlessly on the drive over that my father never even bothered to offer her immortality, rather last she heard of him he was falling in love with another woman on Long Island.

She was dead to me after she dumped me at camp with hardly a goodbye. And then my father was dead to me when I begged for his help but received nothing.

I was a flight risk, with a fear of fallin' / Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts

Most of the other campers felt the same about their godly parents but it seemed like the only one who really understood was Luke.

“I mean, it’s like we’re nothing to them,” Luke ranted to me. We rant to each other a lot. “We’re just byproducts of their mistakes.”

“Gods, I hate men,” I groaned, lying back in the grass of the green. “Are all fathers this shitty?” I asked, looking up at Luke. I squinted into the sun as I peered at him accusingly. He moved his hand to block the sun from my eyes.

“I wouldn’t know from personal experience but I wouldn’t be this shitty,” he smiled cheekily down at me. He moved to lay back too, resting on his elbow. “I’d never abandon you.”

I could feel my chest tighten and I hoped it wasn’t apparent on my face. I just laughed, gently pushing his chest in a playful manner, hoping I was sparing him any embarrassment by making him think I thought he was joking. “You wish. You’d probably leave once the first diaper change comes.” I couldn’t even begin to consider loving him—or anyone—enough to feel abandoned by him. Thanks to my parents I felt more than enough abandonment.

He gave me a forced laugh as I sat up. “Yeah probably. I’d just be the fun dad.”

Do you remember, we were sittin' there by the water? / You put your arm around me for the first time

Later that day I found myself sitting on the beach of the Long Island Sound. The ocean was always sort of a sore spot for me because it was just a reminder of my father but it still felt calming. Like I belonged despite my father’s indifference.

As I stared out into the sound, zoning out, I let my mind wander to the conversation I had with Luke. That wasn’t the first time he had tried to hint at his feelings and he was a great guy but I couldn’t trust him. I didn’t have faith that he—or anyone for that matter—wouldn’t just let me down. How could I trust I wouldn’t let him down.

I was interrupted from my thoughts by the man himself. “Hey, can we talk?” he asked, coming to stand next to me. I just wordlessly gestured for him to sit next to me. He complied, taking a few breaths before looking at me. “I’m just gonna come right out and day it: I like you,” he rushed. “You don’t have to like me back or anything but I need to know that you know.”

I stared at him, my mouth agape. I hadn’t expected his boldness. “Um…” I had to take a second to structure my thoughts. “Luke, you’re a great guy. Any girl would be lucky to have you but you don’t want me.”

“Actually, I do I just said it,” he chuckled, trying to release some tension.

I laughed with him. “No, I mean I don’t think I can give you what you want. I’m not the best with feelings and I’m not entirely convinced that you, and everyone else in my life, won’t just leave me when it’s convenient.”

“Hey,” Luke chided gently, throwing an arm over my shoulder to bring me closer, “I meant what I said I'm not gonna abandon you. And if you’re scared, that’s fine, we can take this slow. If you really just don’t want a relationship that’s fine. I’ll still be by your side no matter what.”

Tears pricked my eyes at how thoughtful and caring he was being. Fortunately he couldn’t see them because my head was resting on his shoulder. “Okay,” I agreed, “I want to try taking things slow with you.” His grip on me tightened as he held me a little closer, like he was so excited you just have to squeeze something.

Braced myself for the goodbye / 'Cause that's all I've ever known

Things were great for a few months. Every time I began to doubt our relationship, Luke was there to help me. Giving me constant assurances and telling me how much he loved me. So much so that I started to feel like a burden to him. Like I was just a task he had to get through every week.

“Hey,” Luke announced his presence as he entered my cabin, “I haven’t seen you all day, what’s up?” he asked, looking around the cabin.

“J-just a second!” I called from a storage closet. I quickly wiped my tears and steeled myself, willing myself to look normal. Realizing he’d be wondering why I was in the closet, I grabbed a random blanket from one of the shelves. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the closet with a smile. “Hey.”

His face immediately dropped. “What’s wrong?”

Curse my puffy eyes. “Nothing,” I answered. He approached me but I just slid past him, dropping the blanket onto my bunk. “Why?”

“Your eyes are all red. What’s wrong?” he asked again. Once again trying to touch me but I just backed away.

“Must be dust or something in the closet,” I tried to dismiss.

His face hardened. “C’mon, Y/N I know something’s wrong. I don’t want you to hide things from me. I want to take care of you.”

At his words the dam broke and all the thoughts and feelings I had been dealing with bubbled over. “I don't want you to have to take care of me!” A look of hurt appeared on his face and my heart ached for him. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, I do. I just don’t think it’s fair to you to have to comfort me whenever anything little happens. It’s pathetic,” I spat at myself.

“Hey, no, you’re not pathetic,” Luke assured me.

“You’re not listening to me,” I insisted. “How can you possibly want to be with me when I do nothing but drain you?” I stared at him, waiting for him to realize that I was a leech and leave for his own sake. But instead, he just looked endeared.

“Y/N, you are the best thing that’s ever been mine. I don’t want you to ever think that you’re a burden to me. I love you and I love that I'm the one who brings you comfort. So please, just let me love you.”

My resolve broke and I went to him, letting Luke pull me into his chest. “What did I do to deserve you?” I cried into the warmth of his chest.

“I ask myself the same,” he returned, pressing a kiss to my head.

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