#what’s going on? why are there so many holes in his memories..

[scoliosisgoblin]

Which version of Rick is your fav?

it's so hard for me to choose tbh. HOWEVER, I'd say Evil Rick

then I'd say it's C-137 and Memory Rick

I love how pathetic™ Evil Rick really is tbh. love that he's being controlled by his Morty. can you guess who my favorite Morty is?

[errruvande]

WHAT WE DO IN THE TOILET

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Fem!Reader

Summery: what if you stumbled upon your fucking ex boyfriend in a squid game toilet?

Triggers: SMUT, oral (both receiving), fingering, a bit of a dirty talk

A/N: first squid game smut, second smut fic in almost 10 years from me 🫡 English is not my native, so please, bear with it if you find a mistake, cause I'd die from embarrassment

A/N #2: dialogue formatted like this said by Thanos in English

Word count: 4k

Once you gave yourself a word that you will never meet him again in your life. You'd been trying to support him through his, not to say the list, pretty feeble rapping career, keeping him hyped up when his new tracks didn't hit the numbers he hoped for yet again. It was before he started investing his money into the crypt. You were the first one to say that this cryptocurrency shit was definitely a scum, but Su-Bong couldn't care less to listen, he had too much fun getting the first money back, doubled in number.

"This is all scum, Su!.." you once rattled at him, seeing Su-Bong changing yet another thousands of won to that crypto shit.

"We're gonna be fucking rich can't you see, señorita???" He grabbed the multicolored cash in his hands, throwing the money up in the air like a confetti. "I'm gonna win this life, baby!"

You only rolled your eyes at him, grabbing one 5000 won bill and making your way out of the room. "I'll look at your dumb ass when you invest all of your stupid money in this and they'll fuck you up, señor."

Now, you wandered how low did he fall to appear in this fucking shit hole. How many layers of buttom did his smoked, stoned ass broke to land on that pile of cow shit. How much debts did he have now? Definitely more than you, but how much more? Though after hearing some players' debts, you thought of your own to be a mild inconvenience.

You saw his head popping out from the crowd, the tallest guy in the group, as he always has been, with his head glowing purple in the dull green room. Thanos. You only prayed for him to not notice you, cause above all else, you would not stress his pathetically comical attempts into being not only a rapper, that you've already learned to stomach, but a comedian.

You were led out of the room, up and up and up by the pink strais that looked as if it have been snatched straight out of the psych test picture. Once you were high enough, you were instructed to go though the huge, massive doors leading to the open playground.

You saw him clinging to the pretty girl immediately after all of the players entered the playground, it didn't really sting, but it tugged on something buried deep down beneath the layers of indifference you've grown throughout the last year and the half.

"Hey, señorita."

You turned your head instinctively on the word. It was your word. You didn't know why, but when Su-Bong called that random girl señorita, you felt that string snapping inside you, that definitely did sting. It stinged even more, when you saw Su-Bong getting all turned on when the girl sent him off, rolling her eyes in a sheer annoyance.

Fuck him. Fuck him. FUCK HIM

You shouldn't have felt anything. Not for him, not after all of this hardships of getting him off of your mind after you two broke up.

Somehow, the thoughts of your past relationships overstaffed your head, you were running and ceasing on autopilot while you brain suffered the memories of you and Su-Bong having the time of your lives.

You didn't register how you crossed the finish line, slithering further away from the doll through the panicking players right until you felt two big heavy palm on your shoulders. The heaviness that was too familiar, and the fingers that clawed your bones with such familiarity you haven't felt for far too long.

"Babe!" The loud shriek Su-Bong forced to come out sent shivers down your body. When you looked up at him, his face was gleaming as he was laughing and studying you head to toes. "My fucking Nebula baby is here, like damn bro we're gonna be unstoppable!"

"Don't fucking call me that..." You shook his hands off you, turning on the tips of your boots, trying to get closer to the pink soldiers standing next to the doors.

"Babe, don't you want to ask me how I've been?" Purplehead grabbed you by the wrist, motioning you to swirl back to face him once more. He bent untill he somewhat leveled to your height, his face perfectly positioned in front of yours, eyes on the same level. You hated to admit that he still was as handsome as you remembered, face so fuckable the only look at it made your stomach swirling.

"What point in asking if you're here?" You tried to maintain the annoyance, but felt your voice cracking just fairly a bit, which was enough to catch a sardonic smile on Su-Bong's face, right before the words settled in his head and his face tensed with thinking.

The metal dome covered the sunlight and the pink soldiers opened the doors, making all of the remaining players to walk back to the main room, dumbfounded. Some rat looking guy snatched Thanos from your side and walked him to their beds once you entered the room. Thank you, you thought, sighting out in relief.

From your bed you saw Su-Bong and this guy from across the room. The rat guy pointed in your direction vaguely, and Su-Bong almost punched him, you could read his expression saying "shut the fuck up, man". You spent a few more minutes staring mindlessly into Thanos' direction, not exactly registering what was going on in the room, but at once you thought that the effect of the pill he swallowed during the game wore off, the comic bravado wanished from Su-Bong's face as he stared equally mindlessly into the emptiness in front of him.

After the voting you all had a little meal prepared, it felt all too close to your heart with the school like lunch, as if they tried to put you all at ease. You saw Su-Bong starting a fight with that damn Coin man, the one you knew from Su-Bong's crypto problems, but it didn't take much time before the player 001 beat the shit out of him for interrupting the meal time.

You didn't quite recognize your own feelings seeing Su-Bong lying on the floor half dead as the man was having him in a chokehold, Thanos whimpering and squirming under him. You felt the corners of your mouth lifting in some manic rushing tide, but when the man finally stood up and you saw Su-Bong's face, corrupted with both fear and anger you suddenly felt pity for him. How miserable of you.

The night crippled in, but the slumber decided not to show you any signs of life. To be fair, you could find at least twenty more people who couldn't sleep that night, and well, you had more questions for those who could.

You jumped down from your bed and slowly walked towards the bathroom. It was when you have done all of your things and was splashing your face with the spring cold water you heard some muted grumbling over the wall.

"Fuck man, c'mon!"

You creeped out of the female toilet room, tiptoing to the male one, hearing the grumbles more clearly, as well as the slapping sounds. You opened the door only for a few inches, when you saw Thanos standing in front of the mirror with his pants lowered to his knees, trying to jerk off.

"Stupid fucking shit, just fucking work!" His low voice was on the verge of growling, he never looked as pathetic and lost as now, standing half naked, trying to bone his dick up. Having sex, or at the very least jerking off, was his second to favorite activity to relieve the stress. The first one was getting high as fuck.

"Stressful day, huh?" He jerked his head into your direction seeing you leaning on the doorframe, smile completely roasting him.

He gulped, looking at you, detecting your gaze that was focused on his slumber dick in his hand.

"My señorita, do you want to help?" The desperation and anger in his voice washed away as soon as he saw your mocking face. He he let go of his dick and took a step forward to you, shaking his legs in the air to free them from the pants. "You always knew how to get it going, my fucking love."

He wrapped his fingers around your wrists, tugging you closer untill your body was pressed fully to his, then he unclasped his palm and put one of his hands on the crook of your back, lowering it untill he was able to grab your ass cheek and squeeze it.

"Why should I?" You didn't move away, nor did you shake his hand off your ass, but you also moved your face to the side when he tried to kiss you. "There's a nice, pretty guy in that room, I'd rather fuck him."

You knew that stupid cunt had a rejection kink. The seconds you said those words you felt his dick starting hardening, pressing against your inner thigh.

Su-Bong chuckled lowly, his voice vibrating through your skin as his lips were in mere inches from your ear. "Cause you still fucking love me." He squeezed your ass harder, pressing you flat into his groin. "You know none of these suckers can outdone me in fucking, right? I'm a fucking hump legend."

Too miserably for you, he fucking was. You never met someone who fucked your better than Thanos did, especially when he was under the influence of his stupid pills. You hated it, the pills, but loved the ferocity with which he thrusted into you or eated you out untill he could feel your soul on his tounge when he was on the pills.

"C'mon, my señorita, I want you so bad, just suck my fucking dick, please."

You didn't even know why, but you gave in. Maybe because you didn't know if any of you would live to see another day, or cause you knew he had his pill again and the mere thought of what he could do to you made you shiver. Or maybe because his dick was already hard enough it could leave a bruise on your thigh if you had kept staying still like this for another minute.

You slithered your hand down between your bodies, finding his dick pressed to your leg, and carefully wrapped your fingers around it. Making just a few tugs, your ear felt arousingly hot from Su-Bong's slow breathing. When he got too comfortable with you jerking him off, you relocated your hand further down his shaft, barely touching his balls, as you lifted up on your tiptoes, brushing his ear with your lips.

"If I hear you calling other bitches señoritas, I'm gonna kill you myself." You heard him mewl pathetically into your shoulder as you squeezed your fingers around his balls, practically digging into them with your nails till Thanos hissed and digged his fingers into your ass cheek in return, surely leaving some nicely framed bruises on your skin.

"You gave this name to me," you pulled your hand with his balls in it to the side slightly, stretching the tender skin almost painfuy, winning the muffled whimper from Su-Bong, as he sucked hectically on your neck. "it's fucking mine to bear."

"Done, baby, you won't hear it." He wheezed into your shoulder bucking up his dick against your thigh. You laughed, the sound was barely a whisper tickling Su-Bong's ear, but boy did it make him shiver, biting the skin on your shoulder?

"Atta boy." You bit his earlobe and let go off his balls, hearing him growling into you as his balls got back to their rightful place.

Finally for him, your tore your body off his, feeling the stinging warmth where his fingers were nailed into your ass even after you tore his hand off it, and kneeled down, finding the eye contact with Thanos before even getting close to his dick. His eyes were reminding you of boba balls, just a huge black circles amidst the white eyeballs, he was so high on his pills it drew you crazy and made you feel wet between your legs.

"Make me cum, my señorita." Once you sat down on your knees, Thanos placed his hand on your head, sliding it down to your cheek and finally your chin, leaving the trail of goosebumps on your skin as he went.

You touched his dick with your finger, pressing it up to his belly and got closer to the shaft. Su-Bong saw your tounge swirling inside your mouth, and when you stuck it out completely soaked in saliva, he squeezed your chin with his fingers, tugging your face closer untill he felt the watery tip of your tongue touching the base of his dick and shivered, snickering lowly.

You pressed your tongue flat to his very base starting to slide your way up to the very tip of it, slowly and tormenting, hearing Thanos grunting though his teeth, his hand moving back to your nape, controlling your every move.

You were sliding up and down, rolling to the tip of your tongue and touching Thanos's dick just so lightly it sent waves of shivers down his body, and then rolling it back flat, polishing his shaft with your tongue.

"I missed that so much." Through the muffled whimpering Su-Bong almost moaned, tugging on your nape to make you lick him higher. "No one's sucking the way you do, babe, my fucking slut queen."

You couldn't still the smile forcing on your face. That one thing keeping the bond between you two - you both were each other's best fuckers. And that was such a huge problem. That wasn't something that's easy to get off your mind. Every man you had after Su-Bong was intrusively compared to him while being in you, and let's be honest, none of them had the high ground. Every time you were fucking someone, at some point your head started getting clouded. Su-Bong would have already made me cum twice.

And without wandering, you knew this sucker had the same problem having every single girl compared to you.

"You'll make me cum yes?" Thanos placed his free hand on your finger that was pressing his dick to his stomach and pulled it off, making his dick fall, bouncing up and down right next to your lips. "I'll pay you back, you won't be disappointed."

You knew you wouldn't. You were sitting on your knees, thighs squeezed together in an attempt to stop your lube running down as you looked up at Su-Bong, his wide stoned pupils studying every inch of your body, lips framed in a manic smile and purple hair catching the light of the lightbulbs sent another wave of swirling down your stomach. The things he would do to you...

You wrapped your palm around his shaft, directioning the tip of his dick into your mouth and started circling it with the tip of your tongue, barely touching it. You made a few circles clockwise, a few counterclockwise, you licked it up and down and left and right, hearing Thanos' breath became loose and rapid. While you were circling his head slowly, your hands were working up and down his shaft.

"I've dreamt about thi- fuck-..." He muttered, his hand jerked automatically, sticking you on his dick deeper. Thanos didn't give you the time to adjust, starting shoving his dick down your mouth, deep into the warm tender mouth of yours, feeling your tongue sliding flat on his shaft until he felt the tip of his dick pressing into the back of your throat, you gagging, spasming over his shaft, only making Thanos moan gutturally, watching your head bob a little with a rythm he controlled. "My fucking sweet paradise. Fu-uuck!"

You felt his precum sliding down your throat, almost tickling making your insides jolt, as you started loosing your breath. The bolt of panic shattered though your chest as you started gagging without any air in your lungs, but, at this point, your desire to finish Thanos dry made you collect yourself. You started breathing though your nose, letting him guide your head in a timing that was perfect for him. You would make him cum and he would eat you out afterwards.

You felt his finish was close enough, so you grabbed his balls again, squeezing them gently, tickling and caressing them with your fingers, feeling them hardening under your touch and his dick trembling in your mouth as Thanos let the guttural moan into the air, his dick spurting semen into your mouth, nearly choking you.

"My señorita." He took his dick out of your mouth, tilting your chin up to look up at him, wiping with his finger the mix of his own cum and your drool that was soaking through the corners of your lips. "That was so fucking hot"

The way you swallowed Thanos' seed maintaining the eye contact visibly brought shivers on him, it awakened something animalistic in him as he pulled you up by the chin untill you stood up firmly and kissed you, ravaging your mouth completely. His tongue wasn't waiting for invitation, he slide it between your lips and you opened your mouth instinctively, feeling how his tongue slid deeper into your mouth over your own. At this point, you could only whimper into his mouth, thighs pressed to each other in order to find at least a bit of satisfaction.

"Fuck!"

Your kiss was interrupted by the two voices down the hall, two male voices that were creeping closer to the toilet.

"Fuck babe!" Thanos rattled, grabbing you by your pants and tugging into the closest stall, closing the doors behind you shut. The adrenaline got into him, his pupils, thought you thought it's impossible, got even bigger, as he untied the laces on your pants and tugged I'd down, along with the panties. He bent just a bit, to be able to press his lips to the side of your face and whisper gravely, "you thought it's gonna stop me?" His hand slid down your body, forcing you to open your legs. "Fuck no."

And you felt two of his digits sliding into you roughly. He didn't give you a chance to gather your scattered thoughts together, or adjust to his fingers, when he curled them, one at a time, shoving then up your cunt.

Thanos growled softly into your ear, you didn't even grasp what was the reason of your airy moan - his fingers or his voice, vibrating though your skin, but with two people outside your stall you did your best to still your vocals, only letting the little weep escape your lips and then shutting them together in panic.

"Good fuck, good day, huh?" His voice sent goosebumps running down all over your body, making you squeeze your thighs around his hand, your hips volunteerly moving down on his fingers.

"Okay, children's games, done" Thanos said, suddenly making your cunt uncomfortably empty, greening down on you, his body, towering high over yours squeezed the little whimper out of you which you bit down, almost bloodying your lip. "Want it?" He snickered jittery before bringing his soaked fingers to your lips, sliding them lightly on your bottom. You lips fell open as on a command, but as soon as you craned your neck forward to embrace his digits with the warm hug of your lips, Thanos yanked his hand back, his fingers in his mouth now and sucked them viciously, testing you before sliding down to his knees.

For a second, you forgot about all the people in the toilet and slammed the wall of the stall with your flat palm, trying to redirect your frustration and agony out of your mouth to your hand, while Thanos was sliding his hands up your inner thighs, spreading them without any effort. He pressed his face to your pubic area and breathed you in vigorously before sighing out.

The proximity of his face to your cunt sent a tugging pulsation through your body, making you squirm on your toes, hips bucking up. You want to face fuck him untill his mad soaked in your cum, just as in old good times.

In a second, you put your free hand on his head, fingers threading through his purple hair. You tugged on his nape, angling his head up untill his chin was on your puffed, soaking wet folds, and you moaned though the bitten down lips.

"That's so fucking beautiful." He said as he lowered his head, sliding down your folds with his chin and slurped you for the all the miserable desires you had. He eated you vigorously, the sound of him sucking your lube messy, letting his drool drip down your thighs mixed with your wetness turned you dazzlingly dizzy. Thanos was rubbing his tongue flat up and down your clit, pulling it in and out of your tight hole, your walls clenching hectically desiring something more. Something bigger that just a tongue. It wrecked your insides. It warmed up your cunt and made you even wetter, and you tugged on Thanos' hair to tear him off you just to see how wet his face was, covered in your slime.

"Fuck..." Was the only thing you could moaned out, looking at his absolutely deranged smile and his tounge framing his glossy lips. Thanos' eyes were nothing but pupils, two black buttomless holes staring back at you with manic desire, the previously dried blood on his cheek got soggy again and was smeared all over his jaw. Damn, that stupid señorita girl from before died in from of him and now you fucked your man with her blood on his face and for fuck's sake that almost turned your insides upside down.

Thanos wrapped his palms around your wrist and freed his hair from your grasp, pressing your hands to the wall on the both sides of you. "Let me finish my meal, babe."

He fell back into your cunt, licking you dry and biting you clit just enough for it to teeter on a slightly painful side, making you wriggle, your ass catching on a wooden wall of the stall.

"Su-.." You caught your breath as a heat wave slammed down at your nether regions, curling your toes and fingers as Thanos kept slurping the juices your body rewarded him with for his work. "-Bong..." His name finally left your lips as you collapsed on his face, your feet too weak to hold your body up.

You barely registered how he snickered, one sound on his lips - lust. He pressed his lips back to your folds and slurped all of your cum at once, his tongue circling around your cunt gathering the juice.

"My señorita..." Thanos put his hands under your quivering thighs as his head appeared in front of yours. He kissed you roughly, letting you taste yourself from his tongue, salty and sweet. "I told you I'll pay you back."

He sat you down on a toilet, opening the door slightly enough to check if anyone was still there. No one.

"We live another day, babe, and I shove it up your cunt." Thanos looked at you, cupping his dick in his hand and smiling like a demented junkie he was. "Let's go, you first."

You tugged on your panties and pants, action was rather challenging with your whole body still trembling from your climax, and popped your head out of the stall. The path was clear. Walking out of the stall you threw the pants Su-Bong left laying on the floor under the sinks to him and was about to left the room, when he wrapped his hand around your waist, slamming your body into his. "Please, babe, don't die, cause I'll need it again." Su-Bong murmured into your ear before leaving a wet kiss on your neck.

You trotted back to your bed, people were still mostly sleeping. Barely making your way up, climbing the ladder to your bed, you sat, knees pressed to your chest, and watched Thanos walking jauntily across the dormitory. His fucking cheeky ass would absolutely run his mouth to his new friend when he wakes up, no chances Thanos would keep his tongue behind his teeth about having the blowjob of his life.

You clenched your jaw on the thought of it, but, ugh. That would be a problem for the future you. Now, you had to fall asleep with the warm pleasure between your thighs, praying for Su-Bong's name not to slip out of your lips in a dream.

Tags: @verdantsecretgardens @wintaemoonjen

[reignpage]

The Other Woman

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

The doctors and psychologists said it’d be great for your husband’s well-being to be with friends and family. And for the most part, that’s proven true. 

Insisting on welcoming Satoru back properly, his students organised a party and invited anyone who had a remote connection with their teacher. Even Nanami had taken time off from work to be here and had given a polite pat on his shoulder and a genuine greeting. 

That brought a huge smile to the white-haired man who pounced on the poor guy without remorse, giggling about how he knew he ‘always liked him really’. It felt great to watch him be surrounded by and showered with so much love and support, the kind he deserves; you could tell it was bringing life back to him. After all, it must have been painful for him to have been cooped up in the house trying to reconcile his new reality with the one he remembers. 

You keep reminding yourself of that. 

Satoru needs this. 

He needs normalcy. The normal he remembers, the normal he went to sleep thinking about and not the one he had suddenly woken up to, years passing him by. 

Everyone knows this. He knows this. Just as you do. 

So why is every person in the party sneaking you pitying and concerned glances?

Sure, no one could possibly think this is easy for you, to be the stranger that Satoru still gets surprised to see in the morning. The one he hesitates to say goodnight to, unsure of the boundaries, the etiquette, the right thing to do. He sometimes forgets to text you if he’s going out, shocked and annoyed, you’re sure, to see the many missed calls and messages from you. And you know he studies the picture frames all over your house like a textbook that would give him all the answer he needs.

All he gets, you’re willing to bet, is the realisation that you’re both the tether he needs to keep grounded, that guides him through the sea of memories he cannot touch, and the leash that binds him to a role he doesn’t remember signing up for. 

Are they looking at you with worry because of the inevitable toll this sudden shift has taken on your mental health or because your husband is talking to his ex-girlfriend the way he used to talk to you?

It can’t be the latter, right?

Because there’s nothing to be worried about. 

Satoru is simply catching up, trying to stitch up the crater-sized hole in his memory with a familiar face. There’s no reason for your hand to shake as you sip your drink or for your eyes to keep darting back over to them, sat alone at a table like they’re the only people in here. 

He’s laughing, throwing his head back and making that obnoxious cackle you love to hear. Loved. Because this one isn’t for you. It’s for her. The woman he shouldn’t be near, the woman he shouldn’t even think about, shouldn’t let touch his arm. 

You’re the wife. 

You’ve got the ring to prove it. 

He’s wearing it. Just not on the hand attached to the arm strung over the back of her chair like he’s protecting her from the rest of the world. Hell, maybe he is. Maybe his infinity is on and covering her. But you don’t have it in you to throw something at them to find out. Either result would be just as humiliating as the other. 

There’s nothing to be done. 

You can’t interrupt. 

Because Satoru needs to know what he said goodbye to all those years ago to know what he says ‘hey, pretty lady’ and ‘good morning, gorgeous’ to now. Or used to say. Now, you’re lucky if he even looks at you without shuffling his feet. 

Eventually, the night draws to its natural end. 

People bid their farewells twice, once to him and her, and then to you. Each time breaks your heart even more until you feel it crumble inside, little shards falling to pieces he won’t pick up. She stands before you, a small, shy smile, like she knows what she’s done. And says it’s ‘lovely to meet you’, and of course you can’t say it back. 

Not when you had been introduced by your name, ‘my beautiful wife’ going nowhere near the tip of his tongue as if those words had never been uttered by your husband. And not when she had been introduced in a hastily withdrawn, stuttered freudian slip of hell. 

“This is my girlfr— Sorry, I mean, my friend. From high school. Yeah, high school.”

Satoru blushes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he waves goodbye to her. And you can tell he finds the act lacklustre, an uninspired, unnatural way to say goodbye to the woman you woke up to and slept beside. 

“Did you have a good time?”

He nods, a soft smile playing on his lip as he casts his gaze across the room, sweeping by the empty hall like he can still see every single person that came. “It was nice to see everyone and catch up.”

You’re thankful he doesn’t ask if you enjoyed the evening because you can’t lie to him but you also can’t tell the truth, can’t burden him anymore with the reminder that he doesn’t fill the shoes of your husband, that he continues to stumble with every step, dragging you down with him. 

So, instead, you fill the silence with a question that is so harmless, so normal it slips out before you can even think to anticipate the devastating crack that goes through your very soul. 

“Ready to go home?”

Satoru nods.

But he’s looking at a seat in the back. 

A seat that’s probably still warm. A seat you could never fill because you aren’t the woman he thought, hoped, he would marry. 

You’re just the woman he did. 

[unintentionalseductress]

A Tight Spot

Warnings: MDNI, pegging, piv sex, voyeurism, slightly subby Sylus A/n: I know in my rules I said I don't write butt stuff, but (no pun intended) I'm coming around to the idea of prostate massage for men.

Sylus was not in the habit of hiding things from you. However, he had his own secrets, things that he felt made him vulnerable, or he wasn’t sure you’d understand.

One of those things was his ultimate, private kink; pegging. He’d tried it once by himself after reading about prostate massage but the unbelievable pleasure it had brought him blew his mind. The intensity, the absolute delight of getting an orgasm from a prostate massage had opened up new realms for him. Of course, Sylus was kinky and he loved having sex with you, but this particular bit of information embarrassed him, and he’d never dared bring it up for fear that you might judge him. 

Which is why he only indulges in this pleasure when he is alone. The mansion was empty, having sent all his henchmen home for the day, and you were heading back to Linkon City. Sylus lays on his bed, naked, remembering the way your body felt against his, the flushed heat and soft sway of your tits as you rode him, the sound of your sweet moans in his ear. His back still carried the lines scratched by your nails as you’d held onto him in the throes of ecstasy. He missed having you in his bed. Sylus firmly grips his cock, pumping his hard flesh, gritting his teeth, little growls leaving his throat as he pleasured himself.

He imagines you kneeling in between his legs, your face looking so innocent before you opened that wicked mouth and slurped him in, your tongue dipping right into his slit, making him pathetically dribble copious amounts of precum that you licked off with enthusiasm. The memory of your small hand as you squeezed his base, followed by the wet noises of his skin being suctioned by your lips was enough to almost drive him to the edge.

Sylus stops, panting, his eyes wild, blood rushing through his veins as he tries to regain control of his breathing. He knew what would take this fantasy from amazing to out-of-this-world. His tip was weeping, and he thumbs at the milky beads forming on the tip before going on all fours. His hand creeps behind his balls and he knuckles down on his perineum, feeling the faint vestiges of pressure on the little gland hidden away under his skin. He lets out a moan, flexing his buttocks, clenching and unclenching his asshole.  He feels his body starting to tingle with need, the kind that builds up when you’ve been teasing yourself for too long. 

He reaches into his nightstand, digging through the various toys that had been used over this weekend, and finds a slim, black, silicone dildo, the one he’d personally tested amongst many for his backdoor pleasure. A similar one but in red rested in the drawer as well; he was careful to never mix these two up. The red one was yours, and he’d never risk your health by selfishly using the dildo meant for your pussy for himself. He trickles a generous amount of lube on his dildo, before sticking the suction cup base to his headboard and gently backing onto it. He breathes in and out slowly, allowing the muscles to relax, then teases his tight, puckered hole with the tip, groaning as it passes through his tight ring of muscles, filling him up so deliciously. 

Sylus wonders if this is how your pussy feels during penetrative sex and the thought has him clenching, drawing the soft silicone deeper inside of him. He hopes it felt as good for you as this was for him. His cock stands proudly erect, the sensitive head brushing against the sheets as he continues backing onto the toy until he feels it press against a sensitive patch of elastic muscle and he lets out a pathetic moan. His hips arch, angling the tip of the toy until he’s able to glide comfortably, feeling the slick dildo massaging his inner walls, stimulating him beyond belief. 

His eyes close as he sets up his rhythm, each exquisite push against his prostate bringing pops of color behind his closed lids. Sweat slickens his skin as he builds up the pleasurable tension, grounding his hands and knees into the soft mattress to keep up his speed and arousal. Taking a deep breath, he pushes back further and feels like his eyes might roll into the back of his head as the toy bottoms out inside his hole, sitting right against the pulsing gland that threatened to shoot his load out. It never failed to amaze him how quickly his orgasm could form with this particular act, and the tantalizing dance of keeping himself on the edge was an intoxicating rush.

A low, gravelly, purr leaves his throat as he thrusts shallowly, letting himself be massaged so intimately at that sweet spot that he’d been oblivious to for so many years. He wondered how long he’d last this time; he had a reasonable period to himself now that no one was home, and he intended to tease himself into a mess, just to test how much his willpower could be stretched.

 He rides the dildo slowly, his hips rolling smoothly, feeling his back muscles coordinate and his ass grip the dildo in sweet ecstasy. As Sylus’s pace picks up, lewd squelching noises fill the room as he gives in to his urges. He can feel the tension building in his balls, in his belly, his hard abs quivering as the heat starts to gather in his gut. Sweat forms on his forehead, his cock twitching as he humps leaking precum all over the sheets. He can see the stains and bites his lip, feeling the way the sensation grows and ripples through him.

The next second is a blur of motion. As he’s in the blissful throes of his own passion, he hears his bedroom door opening and his name being called. His eyes fly open and he splutters in shock as you enter, losing his rhythm and almost slamming the dildo in haste. Your eyes widen in shock at the sight before you. Your big, intimidating, boyfriend, bared on all fours, with a dildo in his ass was not something you were expecting to see. Sylus scrambles off the toy, his breathing heavy and unsteady, his face burning red as he tries to cover himself.

He’d never been caught in such a compromising situation, the feeling of being vulnerable alien to him, feeling shame burn through him. He can’t bring himself to look you in the eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. “What-what are you doing here?” He manages to ask after a long moment of silence. 

You don’t move from your position near the door and Sylus keeps his eyes downcast. After a gap, you start to speak. “Luke and Kieran almost got me to the border but there was a really bad sandstorm. It could have taken hours for it to die down. So they brought me back here.”

“Luke and Kieran?” Sylus’s head whips up in alarm, ruby eyes widening in panic and you quickly approach him on the bed.

“They dropped me off here and went back to their place. It’s ok. It’s just me.”

Relief floods his features only to be immediately drowned by embarrassment and he averts his gaze. You see the tension in his shoulders and how fidgety and nervous he is, making you feel strange. This wasn’t your boyfriend, the confident and ruthless leader of the N109 zone that you had gotten to know. Unsure how to proceed, you gently cup his cheek. His glances briefly at you and you realize he’s waiting for you to pass judgment. Your heart squeezes to see him like this.

“Sylus. Do you mind telling me what you were doing?” Your voice is soft and you kneel on the bed so that you can thread your fingers through his hair. Your touch soothes his racing heart but he’s still anxious. His voice is low as he starts to admit his actions.

“I like being pegged.” His voice sounds ashamed. 

“Isn’t that a kink?” You haven’t moved, staying close to his quivering body. 

“It’s not one that I think most men would admit to having.” You gnaw at your lip, trying to remember something, anything, that would ease his tension. 

“But…isn’t pegging the only way to stimulate the prostate? That’s a thing right? Prostate massage?” You slowly draw him closer to you so that you can rest your head on his shoulder. Your hands dip down from his hair to stroke his back and you feel him shiver.

“Yeah. It is.”

“And…it feels good right?” You probe further, trying to get him to talk. 

Sylus takes a deep breath before answering. “Yeah. It does.”

“Well, if it’s not hurting anyone and you like it, why are you so scared right now?” Sylus feels some of the discomfort in his chest release as your words wash over him. After a beat, you ask him a question.

“Why haven’t you shared this with me?” There’s no blame in your voice, just a general curiosity.

Sylus swallows, then rests his cheek on top of your hair, drawing comfort from you. “I don’t know. It’s not a norm. It’s frowned upon. Joked about. I just didn’t know how you’d react to it.”

You huff then grasp his chin and make him look at you. “Sylus, do you know how ironic it is that you made me share all the kinks that I’ve fantasized about and you’ve done them all only to hide this from me?” 

“So you-you don’t find this weird?”

“I think it’s hot when you’re being pleasured. Isn’t that that a good enough answer?” 

Sylus processes what’s been said to him and you take advantage of his distraction to push him down on the mattress, his large frame falling on it with a thump before you lay down next to him. You reassuringly cuddle his body, pressing into him and nuzzling his neck. 

“You looked like you were on the edge of a pretty good orgasm there. Before I came in that is.” 

Sylus clears his throat, traces of a blush lingering on his cheeks and ears. “Yeah, I was.” You trace your fingers down his chest.

“Would you be comfortable to do that again? With me in the room?” You ask the question carefully trying not to crowd him. Sylus finally looks at you in the face. His expression still looked guarded with a tinge of disbelief.

“You-you want to watch me?” Even as he says the words, he feels a surge of arousal. It was touching, almost intimate that you wanted to be a part of this. 

You bite your lip. “You looked really sexy there for a minute. All hot and moaning. I liked it.”

Sylus huffs, trying to regain his composure but your reaction to the whole situation was calming him down. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Your hands busy themselves on his thighs, squeezing and hard sinew, and you see his eyes softening as he realizes he can trust you with this. It pulls at you and you raise your head to kiss him, enjoying their warmth. 

His hands are working deftly to pull off your clothes, his cock hardening again at the prospect of what was to come. You, watching him, pleasuring himself, and it turned you on. There was no mistaking that little lip nibble you had done. The knowledge that he could share this vulnerability was filling him with a different kind of pleasure. 

Once he’s freed you from your clothes, he palms your breasts, groaning as your hands find his cock, pumping him enticingly. After his interrupted orgasm, the whole organ pulses, heat and sexual need filling him. He doesn’t hold back with his bites, leaving bruises on your soft skin as he touches you fervently.

Soft sighs leave your lips as you play with his cock, and you’re eager to see his demonstration on the dildo, needed to hear him make those noises of ecstasy again. “What do you need me to do?” You ask, still pumping his hard flesh. 

Sylus’s eyes are half closed, clearly enjoying your ministrations. He hesitates but asks, “Do you mind squeezing my cheeks?”

Understanding, your hands sensually leave his cock and instead, start to massage the soft rounded flesh of his rear, and he hums at your touch. You feel the muscles contracting and relaxing under your fingers and Sylus was syncing his breaths to the action. He glances over at his headboard, and you can see the dildo is still there, held in place by the broad suction cup base.

“Needs more lube,” he observes, and you squeeze his ass once more before reaching over to grab the bottle from the nightstand and hand it to him. You take note of how much he applies to the toy for future use and he begins to back himself up against it. He looks at you again, unsure. 

“What is it?” You lean up to cup his face, peppering kisses all over it. 

“I’ve…always fantasized about…someone holding me open as I…get penetrated.” He admits shyly and you feel flattered that he had opened up and asked. You move towards his legs and with care, part his cheeks, seeing his opening fluttering, similar to how your pussy would when it needed to be filled.

You watch in fascination as Sylus continues to back onto the dildo and your heart leaps as he makes contact, and watch, wide-eyed, as it starts to disappear into his hole. There’s a rush of arousal, at how hot the sight was, but you remain quiet, the room filling with Sylus’s contained moans as he pushes himself onto the toy.

“Oh Sylus…the view is so sexy.” You encourage him as he pauses in his penetration, panting. 

“Yeah?” He looks at you over his shoulder, and you nod. Your hands slowly release his cheeks which jiggle slightly as they fall back into place. Then he starts to move.

The noises that leave him drive you wild. You’ve heard him while having good sex but nothing compared to this; the way his hips started to buck in abandon, the husky, desperate way he moans as he fucks himself. Not wanting to miss a second, you quickly scramble back to his face, his expression sending a spear of pure lust straight into your core.

His ruby eyes are wide with delight, mouth hanging open in an O as he rides to climax. His gaze fixates on you and you see the flush that stains his skin and know he’s just as turned on by you, by the fact that you’re watching him so admiringly. You squeeze your breasts, teasing your nipples as you try to stimulate yourself with him, rubbing your clit in time to his thrusts, watching the way his weeping cock drags along the sheets with each thrust.

It wasn’t enough and driven by primal instinct, you quickly slide under his muscled body, surprising him. He pauses in his motions. “Kitten?” he breathes questioningly, gazing at you beneath him. 

“Sylus, I can’t. I need to experience you like this.” He lets out a guttural moan as you spread your legs and begin to guide his neglected cock into your hot wetness, the dual sensation too much for him to handle. His hole clenches, feeling the dildo snugly against his prostate while his cock was being nestled into your pussy. He lets out a deep, sultry whine.

“Fuck, sweetie. You’re going to kill me.” You stroke every inch of his body you can reach and Sylus begins to build up his rhythm, going as slowly as possible to stave off his orgasm but he feels like he’s a lost cause. 

Your pussy grips his cock, spasming with each thrust. Every time he moved forward, he’s gliding through your eager cunt, and every time he moves back, the dildo massages his aching prostate and he feels like a loser, knowing he won’t last too long this way.

You see the struggle in his eyes and talk him through it. “It’s ok Sy. You’ve held on for so long. It’s ok to cum. You don’t have to prove anything to me. Let yourself cum.” you murmur reassuringly to him and he lets out a keening groan, his hips going into overdrive as he pushes himself over the edge.

His vision blurs at the edges as an intense orgasm grips him, his hands gripping the sheets as he tries not to collapse on you. His body shakes, creamy jets of cum filling your pussy as his hole spasms rhythmically, prolonging his state of euphoria as he empties himself into you. 

Sylus carefully crawls off the dildo, then lays over you. Sweat covers each inch of his body as you lovingly stroke his hair. 

“I don’t know why you’d hide something so hot from me.”

“What’s a relationship without a little mystery?”

“Well mystery solved. Next time, we should use a vibrating dildo.”

Your eyes flicker with mischief and Sylus chuckles at your enthusiasm. 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[mydadleft471]

A Trip Down Memory Lane

Summary: Messmer decides to surprise you in more ways than one.

Spoilers for both Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. No warnings tho, just me loving my fiery redhead.

MESSMER LOVERS COME EAT!

I finally got the courage to upload the fic I was working on! Everyone was so nice (and starving for Messmer content) so I folded lmao. Please enjoy and understand that I have never written anything like this, especially with ye olde English. It's a pain.

“I have something I wish to show thee.” Messmer’s low voice cut through the silence reverberating in his chamber.

“What is it?” You look up from patching a hole in one of his cloaks.

“I cannot say. It is a surprise.” His eye twinkled with something akin to mischief. You put down your needle and gently fold his cloak, putting it on your chair to finish later.

“A surprise for me? Are you feeling alright, My Lord?” You smile at him from where he towers above you. 

“Shush. Wilt thou follow?” 

“Always,” you say.

He leads you down countless flights of stairs and through the castle’s corridors. Down a hallway, you follow him as he steps into a lift that takes you to a part of the castle that is unfamiliar to you. You assumed you had explored everything by now, but it seems you were wrong. Messmer had given you permission to freely roam the castle, and you had spent a lot of time exploring the various rooms. You had gotten lost many times within the many twisting and confusing hallways, but the castle staff always led you back to your quarters. 

The path from the lift leads out to a part of the castle almost entirely flooded. This seems like a place that hasn’t been occupied in many years. Some of the buildings you can see appear to be collapsing and debris litters the area. The water churns uneasily below you, as if something lurks in the depths. Taking a few steps away from the ledge, you stare out into the water that swallows surrounding buildings.

“What is it?” Messmer asks. He senses your trepidation in going any further, though you don’t think you have much to worry about with a powerful demigod at your side. Still, this place sets your nerves alight and has you on high alert.

“I’ve never seen this place before. Where are we?”

He speaks as if it’s common knowledge. “The Church District.”

“What happened here?”

He takes a second before he responds in a flat tone. “It does not matter.” Noticing your face falling slightly, he gives you a small smile. “Thy surprise is near. Come.”

You continue to follow him, your footfalls mere echoes of his much heavier ones. You wonder where he is taking you, and why he decided to surprise you. Though you have gotten much closer to him throughout your time in the Realm of Shadow, you can’t wrap your head around the fact that he wants to show you something himself. So many unanswered questions, though Messmer brings about many of those. Still, you cannot complain about how well he treats you now after you’ve earned some of his trust. You are safe within his walls, and you are welcome.

Though you wish he’d let you into his heart and mind more often, you take what you can get.

Finally, he stops in a room with a large, and complete, statue of Queen Marika. Many throughout the Realm of Shadow have been beheaded, sending icy chills through you when you first arrived, but this one is intact. The only signs of damage have been from the apparent age of the statue.

“Dost thou trust me?”

His question catches you off guard. Looking up at him, he looks vulnerable and almost uncomfortable. 

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t have followed if I didn’t.” You smile at him to ease his tension.

He relaxes slightly. “Of course. I will ask thee to trust me again.”

You shoot him a puzzled look. How could you trust him any more than you already have?

“Close thine eyes. I shall lead thee, hand in hand.”

The prospect of him holding your hand makes heat rush to your cheeks, but you comply. Closing your eyes, you hold out your hands, and a few seconds later, he grabs them in his much larger ones. He holds them delicately, as if you might break if he dares to squeeze your hands. His skin is surprisingly smooth and warm. 

“I will ensure thou dost not fall and injure thyself..” 

“I’d appreciate that.”

He chuckles at your comment, a sound so rare and pleasant you want to hear it again and again. He begins walking, gently guiding you down a hill and you soon feel sunlight on your skin. The air feels lighter and there is a pleasant smell of lavender and fresh grass in the air. You wonder where you could possibly be. You haven’t seen much greenery in the Realm of Shadow.

After a few minutes he stops and lets go of your hands. You instantly miss his warmth, but you soon feel the heat of him behind you. You keep your eyes closed out of obedience and trust; you know he would not harm you.

His hands gently find your waist and he moves you a few steps to the left. Satisfied, he lowers a hand over your eyes to ensure you will not open them prematurely.

“This place is sacred. Inviting thee here was not a spontaneous act.” His voice is a mere whisper in your ear. You can’t tell whether to be scared or excited for what he will soon allow you to see.

He moves his hand away from your eyes, but they remain closed. You will not sully his trust. 

You can hear the smile in his voice. He’s pleased by your obedience. 

“Open thine eyes.”

You do, and you are immediately greeted with a grassy field speckled with vibrant flowers. You’ve never seen so many in one place. You think it would take all day to identify them. Trickles of gold sit suspended in the air like shattered stained glass and the sunlight kisses your skin sweetly. Not far up a hill is a small village made up of a few wooden houses. They look old and mostly abandoned. You take in the beauty before you. Not even Leyendell was this spectacular.

“Thou’rt pleased, I take it?” His voice wavers slightly with uncertainty.

“This is a most wonderful surprise, My Lord. Thank you for bringing me here.” You look up at Messmer, whose golden eye seems to shine brighter in the sanctity of this place.

“Forget formalities here.” He sits down in the soft grass and you are soon to join him. He looks relaxed, even happy, here.

“May I ask where we are now?” You idly skim your fingertips over the silky petals of the flowers swaying in the breeze around your skirt.

“Mother’s home. Her village before she became a God.” 

Your mouth hangs open in shock. It takes you a few moments to gather yourself enough to speak. “Queen Marika lived here?”

“Yes,” he answers. “Long ago.”

You wonder if Marika wanted Messmer to guard her old home, or if he does it out of love for her. You’ve seen the state of other Shamans within his infirmary, his medics working day and night to try and reverse the torture they’d went through. You knew Marika was a Shaman herself, but you’d never realized this place was originally her home. Your heart hurts for the God-Queen. Behind all her power was a girl who wanted her people safe.

You sigh, and Messmer shoots you a curious look. “This is the first time I’ve seen Marika as a person. Knowing she lived here, knowing she suffered… I understand now.”

Messmer reaches up and takes his helmet off, gently placing it to his side. “Mother desired revenge for her peoples’ suffering, and I became her instrument to do so here, in the Land of Shadow.”

“Did you want this?” 

He closes his eye. “Mother has endured what a thousand people could not. I will ensure she receives her long-awaited deliverance.” He dodged the question. He does not want this, but he desires to avenge Marika.

“I know you won’t answer me truthfully, and we don’t have to talk about this anymore. But know this: you are not ‘The Impaler’ to me.”

“Thank you.” His response is so quiet you almost can’t hear it, despite being right next to him.

As promised, you change the subject. “Have you brought others here?”

He looks away and you can see a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

“I have not. The first to lay eyes on this place is thee.” He admits.

“Why?”

“I-“ he begins. “Surely thou must know thy importance to me, yes?” 

The realization hits you. 

This is his way of saying he loves you.

You scoot closer to him and lay your head against his arm. You feel him tense, then slowly begin to relax. One of his snakes gently perches itself on your shoulder. You smile.

“You can touch me, you know.” You reassure him. “You won’t break me.”

Silence hangs in the breeze as you wait for him to respond.

“Dost thou understand my reason for bringing thee here?”

You nod against him. “I think so.”

He moves away from you, earning himself a confused look, then he slowly grabs your hands and pulls you closer until you are comfortably sitting between his legs. You look up at him and see that his face is almost as red as his hair. He is adorable when he blushes.

You could get used to this.

“You will forgive me if I am too presumptuous. I am… not accustomed to touch, yet I want thee closer.” His soft, silky voice makes your heart melt.

“I want you closer too. It’s okay.” You cup his face with both hands, and though it’s a simple gesture, he relaxes into your touch almost immediately. His eye closes and you try to memorize the look of peace etched on his face.

“With thee, I am content.” He whispers to you.

“Then I’ll see to it that we’re never separated.” 

His eye flutters open and he hazily looks down at your lips. His hand engulfs your cheek and you feel the warmth radiating from his palm.

So many have met their demise from the man sitting in front of you now, content and complacent, and that thought sends shivers down your spine.

“No man nor God could tear thee away from me. That is a promise.” 

He leans forward and kisses you. His lips are soft and he pulls you closer to him and his hands are splayed possessively over your face and back. You don’t want to pull away, and you get the feeling he doesn’t want to either.

You are his as he is yours.

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | crazy 4 u

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨

summary: valentine's day special! joel has historically made sure that valentine's day is special for his pretty little wife, but this year he's gone above and beyond. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, pre-established relationship/dynamic, sub/dom relationship, soft dom! joel, free use kink, orgasm denial if you squint hard, unprotected piv, rough sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), nipple play, choking/breath play, pet names for reader, praise kink, romantic as fuck husband joel this chapter, some domestic fluff, alcohol consumption, maybe maybe maybe there is a breeding kink moment, reader has hair that can be pulled a/n: they're so in love it makes me SICK!!! thank you so much for reading and loving this couple along with me, and happy galentine's and valentine's day my loves! 💋💗💌

reminder i have no taglist anymore, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!

You quietly squeal to yourself as you start to tear open the newly delivered package on your way back inside from the mailbox. You look down at the assortment of pale pastel candies, all strung up on thin strands, waiting to be devoured. Your own curiosity and lack of self control nearly has you reaching in the box to break one off for yourself, but you hold back, reminding yourself just who you bought this for and why. 

Valentine’s Day is in two days, but you’d wanted to get a jump, giving Joel a more playful vibe today considering you know he’ll have gotten you something sexy and downright depraved to wear on the actual holiday. Your skin tingles at the thought, recalling all of the things he’d had you wear in the past. Your most memorable being crotchless panties under a skin tight dress at dinner one Valentine’s Day, so he could finger fuck you under the table at one of Austin’s finest restaurants. Keeping your face straight during that had been painstaking, but you’d loved every minute of the debauched public display. When you’d asked Joel why he hadn’t just had you go sans underwear that night, he’d smiled devilishly. ‘Adds to the forbidden factor, don’t y’think?,’ Joel had replied, ‘So premeditated I had to get my baby somethin’ to weep onto while I knew I’d be shoving my fingers so deep in her pretty pussy.’ Those naughty words from Joel still send a shudder up your spine to this day as they ring in your mind. He hadn’t even waited until you two were home that evening to use that same hole in the panties to fuck you dizzy, until you’d screamed in the back seat of his car for him. Even then, he hadn’t relented until you came too many times to even remember the count now, leaving his seats a soaking mess.

You sigh, bringing yourself back to the present, brushing the memories away for now to get yourself ready to make some new ones with your husband. Once you’ve changed, you take a quick moment to admire the scant pieces of lingerie, almost laughing at the absurdity, but wondering how in all these years you’d never thought to buy candy underwear for Joel to devour off of you. You preen yourself for a few more quick moments before heading downstairs, wanting to set yourself up to act casual for Joel when he arrives home. Sometimes you do this on purpose, knowing he gets off on interrupting what you’re doing just so he can take you, fuck you however he pleases. And even when you really are in the middle of something, you get off on it too - being of service to your husband, helping him feel good while knowing you’ll be well taken care of, too.

On the dot at 5:00, you hear Joel’s car pulling up and smile smugly to yourself, continuing to wipe the counters down. A prompt pop of your hips to push your ass out follows when you hear the front door open and close.

“Doll? Where are ya?” Joel calls out, voice slightly muffled as he bends down to put his shoes away.

“In here!” you call out, voice high and sugary sweet, imitating the lingerie plastered to your body right now.

“How’s my pr-” Joel starts, freezing the moment he enters the kitchen. He takes in the sight - you slightly bent over, only a tiny string between your bare ass cheeks, pink high heels, and straps of candy running over your shoulders and across your back. You whip your head over your shoulder, rotating your body just enough to give Joel a peek at the lines of candy also covering your tits. He laughs, head thrown back in playful amusement before stepping towards you, predatory and slow, his laugh fading into a contemplative smirk.

“What do we got here?” Joel says quietly, hands immediately pressed tightly to your hips, his body pushing you forward into the counter. You whimper when the edge of the counter starts to dig into your stomach, Joel’s massive form locking you into your spot. “A little snack f’me to enjoy after workin’ so hard all day?” Joel can barely contain himself, blood running hot as he contemplates how grateful he feels right now. 

“Mmhmm…” you whine out, already feeling any semblance of tension leaving your body at Joel’s gentle but calloused touch, this feeling of home. You giggle when Joel leans down to where the straps come around over your shoulders and takes a bite out of the candies, a little groan leaving him as his lips also catch on your skin, mixing the taste of you with the sweetness of the candy.

“Delicious, baby,” he hums in your ear, then goes on to kiss your earlobe. You melt, head falling back slightly with a docile smile plastered on your lips. “How’d a man get so lucky?” He takes another bite, kissing along your shoulder as he does so.

“Thought we’d get a jump on Valentine’s Day, darling,” you coo back, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

Joel freezes, his eyes going wide and body rigid. “Fu-” he murmurs to himself, lips still practically attached to your shoulder. 

“What?”

He tears himself off of you with the most disgruntled groan you may have heard from him yet. “Baby, we gotta get movin’. You… fuckin’ little candy underwear, god damn it…” he starts muttering, grabbing you tightly and spinning you around. He grasps your hand in his and starts leading you upstairs. “You gotta change, honey, we’re…” he trails off, looking guilty and a bit flustered.

“Joel, what the hell is going on?” you ask, stopping and pulling back on his hand.

Joel sighs, calming himself for a moment before finally meeting your eyeline again. His gaze softens and he smiles. “Had a whole thing planned, darlin’. A surprise. C’mon and see for yourself.”

You trail after him, suddenly feeling ridiculous in your candy underwear given the change in mood. He takes you into the bedroom, opening his closet and yanking out your suitcase. Your brows furrow as you watch him pull it to the center of the bedroom, then going back for another suitcase of his own. Your mouth drops open slightly before curling into a smile, realizing that Joel had planned a trip for the two of you. He’d mentioned to keep your schedule free around Valentine’s Day, but you’d figured it was just typical plans - dinner, a picnic, or a fancy hotel room, nothing this big.

“Joel… baby…” you breathe out, clutching a hand to your chest. You feel suddenly filled with warmth, like sunshine has started filling you from the belly outwards, making your entire being feel light and tingly. Effervescence. That’s what being with Joel is like.

He gives you a lopsided smile. “We’re leavin’ tonight. Planned it all, flight is at eight so we can wake up there ‘n get a jump on everythin’. An’ then you had to wear that,” he huffs, gesturing to your entire body with a wild movement of his hand. “An’ scramble my brain right up.” His eyes linger along your entire midsection, sincerely considering throwing these plans away just to sate his hard cock, but he shakes his head and looks you in the eyes again.

“A jump on…. what’s everything?” you ask, placing an impatient hand on your hip.

Joel reaches into the built-in shelves in his closet, pulling out a soft, cashmere lounge set and walking it over to you. “Jus’ get dressed an’ I’ll explain as we go. God damn it, this was s’posed to be so much more romantic.” He sighs, a hand repeatedly running through his hair during your entire conversation, looking flustered.

“Aw, honey, it is, promise,” you assure him with a kind laugh, starting to peel off the candy underwear, bringing it over to your dresser to deposit it for another time. 

“Mm-mm,” Joel chants with a smirk, squatting down to unzip your suitcase and holding out his palm to you. “Those are comin’ with us.”

You’re over 31,000 feet in the air now, the sky dark outside the plane windows as you peer out. Joel had planned an entire long weekend to head to Aspen, where he’d booked you both skiing lessons and a cozy, romantic room at a lodge there. Your heart swelled as he explained it all on the ride to the airport, remembering how it was on your bucket list to learn to ski, but being from Texas there hadn’t been too many chances to learn locally.

You stretch your legs out, admiring the leg room in the first class tickets Joel had gotten you two, bringing the complimentary glass of champagne to your lips.

“Baby, this is too much,” you say with a slight frown, despite feeling overjoyed at everything about your current situation.

“Never. I’ve been plannin’ and savin’ for this for a while. Wanted to surprise you big time,” Joel says with a toothy, proud grin.

“Well, you did. Makes my candy underwear feel kind of… well, wimpy in comparison.”

Joel’s pointer finger flies to your lips, pressing down before your glass can reach your mouth again. “Not a chance, little doll. That’s all I need from you - skimpy little outfit to keep your husband happy.”

Your lips curl into a sly smirk and you part your lips, nipping the end of Joel’s fingers. He shoots a brow up, challenging you, but you back down. You and Joel don’t always have the most public decency, but you decide it’s not worth getting kicked off the plane just for an orgasm you could wait a few more hours for. You nearly roll your eyes at the thought though, your cunt aching from the unresolved moment you two had shared in the kitchen earlier. You can tell by his wide pupils and rosy cheeks that Joel must be feeling a lot of the same way and having the same conflictions.

“If we wait a few hours… it’ll be even better…” you lean over and whisper to him, voice betraying you as it escapes in a breathy, sultry tone.

“Plane never stopped us before…” Joel says, brows raised again. 

You tut, but then smile at the memory of your one sexual adventure on a plane with Joel, when you two were on your way to your honeymoon. A discreet handjob and fingering in first class under blankets hadn’t been the most romantic start to your married life together, but it suited the both of you. “Aaand…” you trail off, placing your palm on his chest. “We almost got caught like five times, big guy. Promised ourselves we wouldn’t do that again.” 

Joel grumbles quickly, and you know he understands, but you feel an anxious twinge in your stomach, like you’re breaking the rules. Your face falls a little and you turn towards him, more serious this time. “I know we have… an arrangement, and you know I love our arrangement.” Joel gets what he wants, whenever he wants - the words agreed upon by the both of you within your marriage, and you were all for it. “But just this time I think we shouldn’t break the law for it.” You raise your brows, stomach turning again as you wait for his reaction - Joel is always understanding and patient with you but as usual, you find yourself desperate to please him.

Joel bites the inside of his cheek, then he leans over to plant a peck on your cheek while he reaches down to squeeze your hand in reassurance. “No, baby, you’re right. Probably should be an exception ‘bout planes in there, huh?” He tilts his head playfully and you feel your tension dissipate immediately. “Always the rational one, ain’t you, honey.”

“Barely,” you tease, chuckling in relief. “I just don’t want to ruin the trip before it’s even started. Let’s just watch a movie or something?”

Several hours of keeping yourselves occupied and dozing off had you finally arriving in Aspen, where Joel gently nudged you awake as the plane landed. You rubbed your bleary eyes and made your way through the plane and airport half-awake, just letting Joel guide you with one of your hands gently grasping at his sleeve the entire time. You two get outside the airport with your suitcases, now bundled up in an adorable puffer jacket Joel had packed for you, along with a new pair of fuzzy earmuffs. You were starting to have a sneaking suspicion that there was a lot of new clothing in your suitcase.

Standing next to an impeccably shiny black car is a well dressed driver holding a tiny sign that makes you do a double take. 

Mr. & Mrs. Joel Miller.

You tug on Joel’s sleeve with eager excitement as he starts towards the man and your mouth hangs open. 

“Joel, you did not hire a fancy driver,” you scoff quietly in disbelief. Joel stops in his tracks, screeching the two of you to a halt before turning to face you. 

“If you’re already questioning me at the airplane seats ‘n the driver, it’s gonna be a long few days, honey,” he says sweetly, his voice crackling and gruff with tiredness from the long day. Your open mouth turns to a smile while you tut and shake your head. 

“You’re too much, Joel Miller…” you muse, following him to the car. The driver, Randy, takes your bags and stuffs them in the car, offering you an open car door to climb inside. Your stomach flips with butterflies, not having realized just how romantic of a weekend Joel had planned for you. You fight off a quick mist of tears as it pops up, trying not to get emotional at just how overwhelmingly thoughtful your husband could be sometimes. 

When Joel sits next to you, you clasp onto his hand tightly, giving him a watery smile that he returns with a sympathetic one of his own, reading that you’re feeling overwhelmed. Sure, since Joel had become more and more successful in his business you’d been treated beyond your wildest dreams, but sometimes it all hit you hard in one big moment like right now, filling you with gut clenching gratitude for your life. Life with Joel oftentimes feels like a dream, something you’ve stumbled into somehow that you aren’t sure you deserve. Joel would never let those thoughts slide, always reminding you how lucky he feels to have met you in that bar, that fate intervened so spectacularly in his life.

You lean your head on his shoulder for the duration of the ride to your accommodation, feeling sick with nostalgia and gratitude as you get lost in your thoughts. When the lodge comes into view, you pick your head up, mind suddenly empty as your jaw drops while you take it in.

It’s dark out, the sky black against the warm, glowing lights peeking through window panes throughout the lodge. A mountainous backdrop is still visible despite the dark night, and you can’t help but ogle at everything, imagining how stunning it will look in the daylight. The lodge is huge, ornate despite the fact that it’s meant to look simplistic and cozy with its wood siding. Joel marvels quickly at the construction out of habit, being in the business he’s in gives him a certain preclusion to commenting his two cents on every place you stay. You’re stunned silent as the back door is opened by Randy and you step out underneath a large overhang, greeted by yet another person who offers to take your bags. It’s all fuzzy, your brain tired and overwhelmed by what you’re taking in right now, the fact that just hours ago you’d been at home, content to just stay in with your husband tonight. You blink back to reality, about to speak when Joel gets to it first. 

“Please. Thank you kindly,” Joel drawls, quickly slipping them a bill from his wallet and then turning back to you, offering you his arm. You take it, practically ready to squeal loudly with excitement as you two enter the building. You admire the expansive lobby while Joel steps away to check in - high ceilings and wood beams, roaring fireplaces surrounded by cozy seating and tall, full but neatly arranged bookshelves. A winter dream if there ever was one. 

You’re gazing around,  tired, slow blinking eyes, too lost in it all to notice Joel come up next to you, his hand finding the small of your back. He leans close, lips and rough beard brushing your ear with a soft kiss.

“Room’s ready,” he practically growls, and your gut clenches at his tone, your thighs pressing together. Suddenly, your body feels alight, nerves buzzing and goosebumps peppering your flesh. Sleep is a far away notion now, recalling the way you’d begun this evening, only to have it go unfinished for the both of you. You smile, soft and docile like your husband likes, your voice a dulcet song so close to his ears.

“Lead the way.”

Your ass stings red hot from another harsh slap laid against it. Joel’s hungry mouth devouring you, your hat and coat discarded on the floor right next to the door to your room. Hair tangled from the way Joel is hanging on to it for dear life as he pounds into you. Your only view is the cream colored walls, your face pressed up against the cool, smooth surface as Joel’s body pins you there. The door had no sooner shut than Joel had thrown you here, as much clothing ripped off as he could stand before his cock was inside of you. You’d cried out, whimpered at the sudden heavenly intrusion despite your pussy needing a moment to adjust. Joel had pushed through it, anyways, delivering the first spank of the night on your ass, pants and underwear hastily pulled down, halfway down your legs - enough room for Joel to slip his cock in was good enough for now, he’d thought hastily. The pain had melded into pleasure, your cunt squeezing his cock and starting to weep, easing Joel’s firm thrusts into you.

“F-fuck…” you whine against the wall, lips hanging open as his cock hits deep, your g-spot crying out already from all the stimulation he’s giving it. He’s not going easy on you, and you’d already known he wouldn’t the second he got you alone. All those hours, the silent teasing going on in both of your heads as you’d waited for this moment.

“Takin’ my cock like such a good girl… my obedient little wife,” Joel grunts out next to your ear, his teeth scraping your earlobes, sliding to your pulse point. You shudder, your hips spasming down onto him as pleasure starts to rock your body. You’re close… so fucking close to that perfect paradise only Joel knows how to get you to. “I’d’ve fucked you right in that lobby, right in that car or that god damned plane. Want everyone to see what I do to my pretty wife, what I’ve got right here… fuckin’ mess only for me,” Joel murmurs, rambling on as he grunts over and over, giving you everything he’s got. His hands tilt your hips, holding tightly while he anchors you there. And he’s right, you are a mess. Dripping slick, coating your thighs, disheveled hair and makeup now from the pleasured tears rolling down your cheeks, wet, squelching sounds filling the hotel room that you haven’t even had a chance to see yet as your face is turned towards the corner near the doorway. It must be a sight, indeed.

“Y-yeah? Wanna s-show me off…?” you breathe out, voice trembling as much as your body is starting to. Your knees are jelly, shaking and barely able to hold you up when Joel delves deep, hitting that spongy part inside of you again, making your eyes roll back. Of course he does, you know he does - nothing brings Joel more joy than letting the world know exactly what he has.

“Fuckin’ know I do… all lookin’ at this tight little cunt takin’ my fat cock, my pretty pussy, all mine.” Joel’s body presses closer, and you’re trapped even more, the both of you damp with sweat and almost incoherent as you near your highs.

“B-baby… I’m -” you whine out, “Please…”

Joel has waited as long as he could, knowing what you need. He’d wanted you desperate for it, so close, your climax just within reach, before he took you over the edge. His hand on your hip curves forward, finding your clit, and you moan loudly at the contact on the sensitive nerves. Your body moves of its own accord, bouncing back into his thrusts wildly, barely noticing that Joel’s other hand has left your hip until it connects with your neck, hand wrapping around your throat. You gasp, the noise cut off into a small choke while Joel’s hand tightens and you croak out a moan.

“Oh my g-god… please…” you whimper again in a strained voice, hoping, no, begging for permission from him. He plays with you a little longer, feeling his cock harden beyond what he’d think possible, aching even inside of you for more, as he toys with you, making you wait. His hand squeezes your neck once more, a little harder, keeping the pressure on. You’re feral, your body screaming at you but you concentrate, holding back, your mind doing gymnastics to try to deny what your body wants so badly.

“Come.” Joel speaks the one word with finality, and you let go, your body shaking violently. His hand releases and you breathe in a full, round breath as you come, your pussy creaming so hard on his cock that you start to feel dizzy from it all. 

“God damn, good girl… comin’ so pretty right now,” he whispers to your ear, the noise tickling your mind in the best way. Joel holds you up as you moan and whimper, his name falling off your lips in the way it always does in moments like these - worshiping him. You flutter and squeeze his cock like heaven incarnate, and Joel finds he can’t hold himself back any longer, spilling into you on the tail end of your own climax with a loud grunt, pretty praises for you off his lips.

You both collapse against the wall, Joel leaning against you, and you both catch your breath, the need gone for the moment after hours of waiting. You sigh, smiling in satisfaction when Joel pulls off of you, gathering you quickly into his arms, kissing you all over your head. 

“That’s better, ain’t it?” he says teasingly, and you chuckle, nodding in his grasp. You both readjust yourselves, Joel helping you situate the clothing he’d haphazardly pulled aside in his frenzy earlier.

“Much,” you say with another sigh, leaning into him. “What time is our lesson tomorrow?”

“Not ‘till noon. Had a feeling we’d be… up late,” Joel replies wryly, and you laugh again.

“Such a planner,” you poke at him, raising your brows before tilting your head to kiss his cheek. You slip out of his hold and start to meander further into the room, jaw dropping for what feels like the hundredth time tonight while you take in the vaulted ceilings with those same warm wooden beams and white painted walls, a stone fireplace roaring in the center of the room across from the massive bed, adorned with rose petals. More roses sit atop the small breakfast table in a vase near the windows, and when you venture over there, the view you’re taking in is beyond stunning - the mountains in full view, moonlight shining over the entirety of the landscape and your eyes start to tear up. Champagne in an ice bucket, boxes of chocolate, fresh fruit, the entire works are all laid out - such a lavish, gorgeous display for the traditional romantic in you. You turn around finally, meeting Joel’s gaze, where he stands, a smitten look on his face as he watches you take it all in.

“Joel… What can I even say?” you gasp out, throwing your hands up before letting them hang back at your sides, defeated in the best way. “Thank you…” you say meekly, turning to peer out the window once more before walking towards him, throwing your arms around his neck.

“Thanked me plenty back there. An’ every day when you just be my good little wife, that’s thanks enough, doll,” Joel replies soothingly, stroking the back of your head. You lean your head against his chest, content to just listen to his heart beat for a few seconds, take in the memories of this moment. You lean back, tilting your head to give him a warm, grateful smile.

“Take me to bed?”

The next morning is far from the slow, romantic morning Joel had desired for you, realizing the both of you had forgotten to set any alarms and slept in well past 10:00 after your late night. It was barely giving the two of you time to get ready - a rushed shower and breakfast before hurrying to your skiing lesson. He’d dreamed about this hotel that he’d booked for months, the thought of waking you up with his mouth pressed deep into your cunt on that California King as he’d planned would have to be a distant fantasy as you two got on with your day. 

Joel couldn’t help but stare at you the entire lesson, the way your face is lit up with pure joy in your ski gear as you fumbled to get the hang of things along with him. He’d gotten you ski pants, a jacket, gloves, and goggles - all the works that he knew was ridiculous for your first time on the mountain for that price tag. But he also knew you’d look just like this - adorable in your matching winter set, colorful goggles perched on top of your beanie and perfect lips curled into a never ending grin - and it made it all worth it. 

Joel finds his own smile recounting the day as he keeps a steady hand on your back, the open back, low cut slinky dress he’d packed for you to wear to dinner tonight leaving plenty of skin for his hands to roam over as you two walk back to your room, full and contented. A candlelit dinner in the lodge’s shockingly expensive restaurant and a few drinks had you both feeling good as new again after your long day of skiing and mostly falling. 

You two had laughed for hours as you’d fallen on your asses more times than anyone could count. Once you got the hang of it enough to get on the smaller slopes, you’d been unable to stop giggling the entire time, you and Joel catching up at the bottom just to ride the lift up again and again. You two flirted shamelessly the entire day like two teenagers, your heart swelling with so much love for your husband like it was your first date all over again. It was nice to have this uninterrupted time to just talk, get each other caught up on the other’s recent thoughts, feelings, and days that got lost amid the hustle of daily life. 

Joel’s lips connect with the back of your neck as soon as the door to your room at the lodge is shut. “Like t’see those candy underwear again,” he mumbles to your skin, and you giggle a little too loudly, stumbling forward a bit.

Your brows wiggle as you try to crane your neck to look back at him. “That so, Mr. Miller?”

“Christ, y’only call me that when you’ve been drinkin’,” Joel teases, snaking his arms around to your front, holding you against him, the bulge in his dress pants becoming more obvious by the second as it hardens, pressing into you. “Can’t decide if it’s cute or jus’ makes me feel old.”

“No I don’t, Mr. Miller. And it is cute,” you demand, trying to hide the tiniest bit of a slur in your voice. Joel wasn’t wrong, you had been known to use that particular nickname for him after a few drinks, but you tended to be a bit of a bratty, indignant drunk. 

“Thas right, ‘cause everythin’ you do is cute, m’little wife.” Joel says with a smile in his voice. His lips connect with your neck once again, trailing a few kisses down your spine. “An’ sexy…” he adds in a lower tone, one hand sliding to your hip, then your ass, squeezing hard before giving it a playful smack.

“Keep talkin’ if you want those candy panties to see the light of day again,” you reply, leaning back into him, your weight immediately welcomed by his warm, solid body. 

“Oh, sweet girl, always gettin’ so bold with that wine, aren’t ya?” Joel’s hold tightens, one hand splayed across your torso and the other gripping your ass hard enough to bruise. “You forgotten who’s in charge here? Hm, baby?”

“A-actually, it was champagne…” you strain out, starting to pant as Joel’s hold goes even tighter, his domination quickly getting your thighs sticky, and you lament the fact you don’t have any underwear on right now. All at Joel’s request, of course, that you forgo any underwear at dinner tonight. You just whimper out a quiet moan, knowing you’ve gotten Joel riled up enough to keep going on his own volition.

“Think I don’t call the shots suddenly, huh? My sweet, sweet wife, we both know,” he pauses, mouth moving right next to your ear. A small nibble, his breath warm and tickling you in the best way right on sensitive skin sends a shudder through you. “That if I say put those fuckin’ candy panties on right this god damn minute, you’re gonna do it, yeah?”

Joel’s teeth suddenly sink into your neck a little, a tiny bite followed by a suck, and you nod desperately, silently cursing yourself for giving in so quickly, not giving yourself a little more time to play with him, let that tiny bratty part of you out of her cage for one of her rare appearances.

“Ain’t that right?” Joel repeats, giving your hair a little tug.

“Y-yes, Joel, yes baby…” you breathe out, and he releases your hair, his hold loosening on your body before he gives a loving pat to your ass. 

“Good girl,” he coos, satisfied, sending another wave of heat to the apex of your thighs to hear his praise. A tiny moan slips out at the two words, still so effective after all these years. Joel chuckles, a tiny little huff off his lips as he spins you to face him. His hand cups your pussy through your dress, pushing the silky material between your legs before he tuts.

“Soakin’ yourself jus’ from gettin’ called a good girl…” he murmurs, lips getting dangerously close to yours. “Good. Girl.” he says with a smirk against your lips before kissing you. It’s long and deep, reminding you that behind the play and facade is an infinite amount of care for you - his wife, his forever.

He tears himself away, leaning his forehead against yours. “Now, go on and change f’me.” 

You nod against him, then step back when he releases you from his hold. Breathless, on shaky legs, you rummage through your suitcase to pull out the candy set, smiling when you hold up the pastel treats, strung up on what might be the world’s flimsiest string. One minute in Joel’s rough, domineering hands and these would be toast, you think, almost laughing to yourself. 

You see Joel go towards the fireplace, sinking himself down in one of the plush chairs there and crossing his ankle over his knee, settling back as he unbuttons the top few buttons of his crisp white dress shirt, watching you expectantly. You scurry off under his hot gaze, using the bathroom to change out of his eyesight before reemerging in his requested lingerie. You fight a giggle, wine still coursing through you while being reminded of the pure ridiculousness of this little stunt of yours. 

Joel eats with his eyes first and foremost, sweeping them up your body as he finishes getting comfortable, unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves. You stand in front of him, thankful for the warmth of the fireplace right next to the two of you in your skimpy ensemble, and take him in right back. Broad, muscled, just starting to show his age with more grays every time you blink, and you love it. Love every inch of Joel. 

“On the ground,” Joel says coolly, and you smirk, trying to hide it into a submissive, coy smile. Your knees go first, the plush rug under them a welcome relief, pure fluffy luxury in a weekend full of it. You start to lay prone, chest heaving with anticipation, mind spinning and reeling, wondering what torturous loving Joel has in store, how much he’ll milk it all out just for your tiny bit of bratiness earlier.

“Jus’ like that, thas’ right.” He leans forward and smiles, a little devilish and boyish in one, and you think you fall in love again as you watch him moving, looming over you now. He quickly palms the outside of his slacks, just the quickest relief before sliding his hand away, starting to circle you. 

“Where to start…” Joel trills, and your body heats up even more while his eyes dig into you. When he’s standing at your feet, he starts to come down, leaning his entire body over you. “Can you be a good little doll and lay still while I have my treat?”

Breathless, you nod. Your eyes roll back a little when you blink hard, trying to catch your breath. Joel’s lifted brow and stare prompt you without him even having to say it - use your words, darlin’.

“Yes,” you say more confidently, and Joel smiles sweetly down at you. 

“Good.”

He starts slow, lips moving languidly across your belly, up to where the candy rests on your tits, lapping at the sweetness there for a few licks. 

“Mmm…” Joel mumbles. He’s back on you the next second, sucking the candies right on top of your nipples. The friction of the hard candies combined with the tiny licks of his tongue coming through to the hardened buds has your back arching, hips searching for him. You squirm, panting now when he bites through the candy, grazing your nipple with his teeth. Joel’s hands come down, ever so gently guiding your hips back down to the plush rug underneath you. 

“What’d I say about bein’ still?” Joel teases, holding you there now before going back to bite again, crunching the candies before using his sugary tongue to tease your nipple with a few flicks as it pokes through the hole he’s just made. You start to moan, already a lost cause for your husband, the thought of trying to keep your body still already torturous. 

“I c-can’t help it… I’m sorry, sir,” you pant out when your hips lift again, his mouth working harder and harder on your nipples. He grunts disapprovingly and continues on until both of your nipples are free, surrounded by the rest of the candy bra. Joel seems like a man possessed, lost in it all while he devours the candies, sucking and licking each new patch of skin, a sticky, sweet mess all over your skin. 

You’re aching, body tense and in hot, hot need of him now as he teases you over and over. Your thighs clamp tight, trying to avoid bucking them up into where his hard, clothed cock hovers teasingly right above you. His hand grips tightly to your hip, the string of candy taut between his fingers. He’s eaten enough of the bra that it’s starting to droop, fall off of you completely, and Joel tears it aside, scattering the rest of the candies along the floor with a tinkling sound that pulls you out of the moment for a beat as you turn your head to watch the treats roll away.

“Good girl, bein’ so good f’me… such a sweet little thing…” Joel says, lifting his head off of your chest, giving you ferocious, unhinged eyes and candy tinted lips, puffy and overused.

“J-joel… please…” you whine out, the way he’s looking at you pulsing right to your already soaking cunt. His hand slips underneath the panties while he keeps his eyes on yours, watching them roll back completely as he fingers your clit. Your hips buck, finally, unable to stop it and you feel your lip quiver as a shaky moan releases from them. Joel leans forward, his lips finding yours and kissing you zealously, a glace mix of him and the sweets has your head spinning as you lap the taste off of his lips and tongue eagerly.

“So sweet…” you mumble into his mouth, going back for more and more, until you’re feeling just as sticky and sweaty as he is, the slow burn starting to gnaw at you, your core dripping while Joel rubs the softest circles over your bundle of nerves.

“You’re perfect, y’know,” Joel breathes out, lifting his lips off of yours just the tiniest bit. “My perfect girl…” You moan when his finger suddenly sinks inside of you, too caught up in the moment to even notice when he’d delicately slipped it from your clit to your clenching hole. You suck him in greedily, desperate for anything he’ll give you and whimper.

Joel contorts himself, sliding down your body, keeping his finger moving at a languid, steady pace as his mouth now meets the candy panties, nibbling along the top of it. You’re losing control, unable to take the teasing anymore, the slowness of everything, your rough and ready husband nowhere to be found right now. 

Your moans become breathier, urgent and panting out of you more quickly than you can handle, your mind going a little fuzzy and light as the feeling of Joel completely takes over you.

“There we go… jus’ float on away baby, let me take you there…” Joel coos from your hip where his lips graze against your skin as another few pieces of candy come off. You give him an affirmative noise, barely registered even by your own mind as your eyes slip closed, your body warm and tingling, so desperately close to the edge. Joel’s finger hooks upwards inside of you and you gasp loudly, your body wracked with spasms as you start to come onto his thick finger. Joel lets you freely writhe and shake now, not bothering to have you lay still while he fucks his finger against your g-spot relentlessly while you ride out the waves of pleasure. You’re whimpering, a complete mess, chest, face, cunt, all feeling sticky and completely used by the man you love.

Your head lolls along the rug a bit before you blindly reach your hand for Joel, grasping his shoulder with your eyes still lazing shut. “F-fuck me, please… please,” you whimper, lightly clawing at his dress shirt.

You hear one more crunch of the candies before Joel’s fingers hook on the sides of the delicate string and pull your panties off. You can feel him, his presence hovering above you as he sits back on his knees and you hear him unbuckling his belt, imagining in your mind the sight of his hard cock coming free, readying itself at your entrance. You can barely think about opening your leaden eyes right now, still on the heels of your climax as your chest heaves up and down. You can feel the warmth radiating off of Joel as he climbs on top of you, hands gripping your calves to lift your legs up enough for him to fit snugly between them.

You grit your teeth a little, grunting out a gratified moan when you feel Joel start to push himself in, your cunt fluttering as it accepts as much of him as he’ll give. You’re greedy tonight, you can feel it, just needing everything Joel can give you, how far away from reality he could take you tonight.

He pumps in and out, almost uncharacteristic in his tentativeness, more of his thick length going in each time, and you finally peek your eyes open slowly, hands reaching to his shoulders and pushing underneath the collar of his dress shirt, finding his warm skin. He’s moving slower than he normally would, and you find his face looking down at you with adoration, just content to watch your face twitch and contort with each unhurried drag of his cock along your silky walls.

“Lookin’ like an angel,” Joel comments, seeing your face sheening and glowing from your climax, hair splayed around your head like a halo - pure angelic beauty, a work of art that Joel could never tire of gazing upon. You smile softly, one of your hands stroking his cheek lovingly, soft moans streaming out of you while he keeps up the same pace.

“Baby…” you moan, “I s-said to fuck me, please…”

“I am, little doll…” Joel teases back with a slow push of his dick into you, and you shake your head.

“You know what I meeeeaan,” you whine desperately, fingers itching to reach down and grasp his hips, pull him into you harder. Joel’s hips twitch a little faster, starting to roll into you with more force and you sigh, head thrown back a bit more.

“What, like this?”

Uh-huh. You start to go a little breathless, legs wrapping around Joel’s waist, securing your calves tightly against him.

“You want me to use you up again, hm? That it? My poor baby, she jus’ wants this tight little hole to be so fucked out she can’t walk, doesn’t she?” Joel says, patronizingly sweet with the drawl of each word.

You nod desperately. “Please, sir, t-that’s…” you stop to moan loudly when he bucks into you harder and harder. “That’s all I want…” you finally choke out, Joel’s cock hitting you so deep you nearly feel your breath stolen right from your lungs.

“What my pretty wife wants, she gets,” Joel practically sings to you, bringing his lips down to yours for a kiss, letting his mouth sloppily work its way to your neck, starting to bite and suck while he crashes into you harder with each thrust. You can only make tiny noises, clutching him as your hands snake around his neck, holding him close to you. Joel grunts loudly between sloppy licks and sucks on your throat, his hips moving more clumsily as your walls squeeze him to the point he’s not sure how much longer he can hold back.

“God damn it baby, this little pussy wants me in there so bad, she’s so greedy,” Joel punches out right next to your ear. You shudder, hips spasming and only tightening you around him further. Joel groans loudly.

“Please…” is all you can whisper, out of breath as he hits deep inside of you with each new movement. 

“Fuck, c-can’t… need to fill you up, darlin’, need you fuckin’ full of me…”

“Pleaaaase…” More urgently this time, lips dry from the way you’re sucking in oxygen in quick gasps, starting to feel your orgasm clawing at your belly, tingly and hot.

“Fuckin’ full of me… gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. Give you my f-fuckin’ baby right now… m-make you swell up,” Joel pants, his face buried in your shoulder, biting down. You gasp, completely lost to the moment, fingers digging into his skin as you pull him in tighter, legs and feet crushed against his back. There are no two bodies here, only togetherness and sweat and breath - two people so lost in the moment and pure pleasure that they’re outside of themselves, becoming one frenzied movement to climb higher and higher to that sweet peak of relief.

“F-fuck… yes, yes, baby, yes…” you moan out. “Fill me up… d-do it…” you whine. With a stunted grunt Joel’s hips stutter forward, burying himself deep. The power, the emotion of it all as he starts to paint your walls tips you over the edge, fluttering tightly around him as you milk every bit of his seed into you, spasming and moaning as you reach another high.

“Oh my god…” you breathe out as you come hard, Joel’s ragged breath right in your ear softly moaning for you. The both of you fully collapse, Joel rolling to the side, clutching an arm around your chest. The crackling sound of the fireplace start to come back into your consciousness, the stillness and warmth of the room hitting you all over again while you lay back, feeling the stickiness of the two of you steadily leaking out of you. You’re speechless now, barely able to catch your breath, let alone process what Joel had hummed into your ear in the heat of the moment.

A baby. Did he really want that with you? 

You two hadn’t discussed having children very often just yet, wanting to wait and enjoy being married, being just you two for a few years. But you felt your heart flutter a little, the thought of a little life inside of you, yours and Joel’s, a beautiful loved baby that you’d grow and nurture together. You can scarcely breathe at the thought, the love your heart swells with for this faraway notion, this unconceived child, already imprinting themselves onto your heart.

“Joel…” you murmur. His head turns towards you, and you watch light flickering around him from the shadows the fire is casting along his golden skin.

“I-” Joel stutters, seeing the look in your eyes. For once, he’s not sure he can quite read it. He knows he said something so much more tangible this time, beyond all the dirty talk the both of you love to get lost in. It was too much, surely, he’d scared you with it. “I’m sorry, honey, that was… jus’ caught in the moment, maybe…”

Your face falls a little, eyes dropping to peer past him with a sad look. “Were you?” you ask timidly, hands coming together on your belly and wringing nervously.

Joel’s eyes bore into yours, soft now, none of that feral fire that was there only minutes ago. He shakes his head slowly.

“N-no, no I wasn’t, doll,” he replies quietly. Your lips twitch a little, a small smile that you’re not able to hold back now.

“I, uh, I wasn’t either,” you tell him, and Joel’s eyes flash, lighting up a bit.

He turns completely on his side, and you do too, facing each other and scooting even closer. Joel drapes a hand over you, starting to rub lazy patterns onto your back. “So should we… uh, talk about this, then?” he asks, giving you a half, lopsided smile.

You give him a nod and a toothy grin, resting your forehead against his. “Get me those chocolates on the table over there and then we’re in business.” Joel moves without hesitation, winking at you as he pulls himself off the floor.

“Anythin’ f’you, darlin’."

You have no idea what hour it is, how long you’ve even been asleep when you feel Joel’s warm body pressing into yours, his chest now up against your back. The room is still nearly pitch black, making you take a moment to recall exactly where you are. You sigh, smiling softly at the memory of your trip thus far and you see a tiny sliver of light coming in around the blackout curtains in the room, clearly doing their job well by keeping you two asleep for god knows how long.

“Baby…” Joel whispers in your ear. You roll over slightly, your ass now rubbing into his crotch. Your eyes flutter slightly when you feel his cock, already half hard for you. Your insatiable husband, fucking you within an inch of your life for two nights in a row, and still coming back for more - a rare man of his age so voraciously consuming you over and over, never seeming to be satisfied.

“Hmm?” you murmur in reply. Joel wraps an arm across you, snuggling you closer, all warm heat against his broad, naked chest.

“Mornin’...” he mumbles back, lips pressed to your neck. “Sweet girl.”

“Morning, handsome,” you say, reaching an arm behind you to cup Joel’s cheek, running your fingers through his beard. He hums in pleasure, dipping his lips down to kiss your neck again. You shudder, digging yourself deeper under the plush comforter as you feel goosebumps covering your entire body. Joel’s hands start to roam, sliding over the skimpy, half see through pink slip you’d discovered in your suitcase last night.

Joel is suddenly shifting in the bed, and you feel the sheets rustling next to you before he’s bumping your legs as he climbs over them, settling himself underneath the comforter right in between your thighs. His touch just grazes over your plush thighs, soft and gentle, how Joel tends to be first thing in the mornings before he descends into the rough, possessive man that you’re more used to.

“So soft, little doll…” Joel murmurs from between your legs, his breath hot on your inner thighs while he leans down to kiss the outside of your panties. You just mumble incoherent noises of affirmation, still half asleep. Joel makes quick work of your panties, a pair to match the slip, of course, and pulls them down your legs, discarding them in the mess of sheets.

Your hips buck, a louder moan escaping you when his mouth finds your warm center, already wet and wanting for him.

“She’s ready f’me, ain’t she… waitin’ on her mornin’ wakeup,” Joel teases before running his tongue up your slit another time, flicking it on your clit a few times. A gentle suck there has your whining ramping up, hips begging him for more more more already. You’re barely even lucid yet and Joel is on the precipice of pulling yet another earth shattering orgasm out of you.

“J-jesus… please…” you beg, already feeling the familiar warmth pooling tighter in your core, your knees wobbling as they curl up, giving you some leverage to lazily push your hips against Joel’s tongue as it moves along your pussy.

“C’mon baby, fall apart f’me, s’okay it’s so fast…” Joel pulls back to murmur to you, kissing along your inner thighs as he speaks.

Your hand snakes below the sheets, burying your fingers into his lush, gorgeous curls, letting them massage his scalp as he dives back into your cunt, licking in just the right way he knows makes you go crazy with need, that makes you come within minutes, sometimes even much less.

You moan loudly, hips spasming as your climax surprises you suddenly, the waves of pleasure hitting you while Joel lets you ride it out onto his face. Your eyes roll back and you whimper quietly as you come down, flopping onto the bed with a content little sigh, body going limp. Joel kisses his way up your stomach, chest, and finally your lips, where you taste that primal honey of yourself on his lips. You quickly fall back into a dozing, lazy state before Joel wakes you again with his lips on your neck.

“Gonna order us room service,” he whispers near your ear, and you nod, finally opening your eyes to see your husband’s rugged, handsome face hovering above yours. Sharp smirk, stress lines, wild bedhead and all - he’s perfect, and you can’t help but smile sleepily in return. 

“There she is,” he teases, giving your forehead a smooch. “One mention of breakfast and she’s all bright eyed ‘n bushy tailed, huh?” You stick your tongue out teasingly, waggling your head at him.

“How about we eat, then we can go explore the town, do a little shoppin’ f’you, see the sights ‘n all that, hm?” Joel asks, and you nod tiredly but excitedly. 

“Mmm, sounds good,” you agree, blinking slowly as you try to wake up, finally coming to enough to recall the conversation the two of you had last night. The dreams you’d shared, hopes you had for having a child, all the ways your lives would change but also stay quite the same. The way your love would stay the same, deepen even, with seeing the other become a parent. Weighing it all carefully but with hopeful hushed voices, wondering if this was the right time for that next step for the two of you. When you’d both tearfully agreed that you’d start really trying in a few months after some more planning and thought, your heart soared higher than the clouds, than anywhere you could even conceive in your mind, chest tight with anticipation for all of it.

This morning that same feeling persists as you look upon Joel - so steady, so assured - everything you’ve ever dreamed of right here in this one man.

“How about we get some practice in while we wait for the food…” you suggest with your raspy, sleep laden voice, raising your brows at him as you feel his cock brush against you again, clearly hard and wanting.

“Baby makin’ practice?” Joel teases, scooping you up into his arms and peppering kisses all along the side of your face. “That kinda practice, hm? Not just an excuse to get me naked again?”

You laugh, turning your head to kiss him back, relishing in the familiar plumpness of his lips, the taste of your husband, all of it like a map you’ve traced your fingers over hundreds of times now, knowing every route, twist, and turn, filled with such a deep appreciation for the landscape laid out in front of you. You smile again as you two look at each other, feeling your cheeks starting to hurt from the way you’ve been grinning practically non-stop for the last two days because of your gruff but secretly so soft husband. Your hand moves upwards to cup his cheek, sincerity written all over you.

 “Happy Valentine’s Day, Joel.”

Joel smiles back, the same unspoken thoughts and deeply rooted loving care for you penned all over his features, entrenched in every weathered line, nook, and cranny of him. 

“Happy Valentine’s, little doll.”

dividers by the amazing @/saradika-graphics <3

[water-to-drink]

If Only I Can Turn Back Time

(Pairing): Zhongli x gn!reader x Childe (separate)

(Synopsis): After taking the life of his lover thousands of years ago, Zhongli finds your current incarnation with another lover

(Tags/Warnings): Angst no comfort, blood, pet names (sunshine, darling, & babe), non consensual touching, not beta read (wrote this instead of sleeping), might feel rushed, (if I missed something lmk)

(Word Count): 1.1k

(A/n): It’s sad bitch hours folks

𓂃 𓈒𓏸𑁍𓂃 𓈒𓏸𑁍𓂃 𓈒𓏸𑁍𓂃 𓈒𓏸𑁍𓂃 𓈒𓏸𑁍𓂃 𓈒𓏸𑁍𓂃 𓈒𓏸𑁍

“Morax…? Why?” You gurgled due to your blood coming up to your mouth due to the gaping hole in your stomach

“I’m sorry it had to come to this, but I told you I would do anything for my people.” The god you used to call your lover replied coldly

You grit your teeth to say something to the stone god, but you decide against it instead opting to let tears run down your face as your vision gradually fades

The mystery of what you were originally planning on being your last words still plagues Morax to this day, in his new life stepping down from his role as archon and living the rest of his days as the mortal known as Zhongli. Were your final words going to declarations of love or hatred? He wouldn’t blame you if it was the latter, he would hate himself too

For years he tried to justify it by telling himself that it was the best for his people, but after the years of self reflection he realized it was only to protect himself. Truly thinking that if you died by his hands then it would save him from the heart break Osial’s betrayal caused him

Letting his paranoia get the best of him after Osial’s betrayal and Guizhong’s death he killed the last pillar holding up his life

“Hey! Are you listening?” The familiar voice of a ginger haired man brought Zhongli out of his bout of self-loathing

“Oh, I’m sorry. Please continue.”

“As I was saying my amazing wonderful beautiful fiancé is coming to Liyue!” Childe smiled and continued. “Their boat is arriving today and I’m so excited, I wish to have them in my arms and listen to talk!”

Zhongli sipped his tea as the young man continued to gust about you and how much he misses you. Reuniting with your lover is beautiful thing, he remembers the times where you would run into his loving embrace. Spinning you in his arms, hearing your melodic laughter, seeing your precious smiling face, feeling the softness of your lips. Sweet memories that will always be close to his heart

“Ah! Their boat is arriving now!” Childe looked at his watch and quickly ran down to the harbor, leaving his tea on the table. From his seat he spotted the distinctive mop of ginger running to the docks as a boat arrives to port

Though he is not a nosey person, Zhongli couldn’t help himself to hone his hearing onto Childe. Who is this person that captured the bloodthirsty man’s heart and made him giddy like a schoolboy? His curiosity was peaked

“Sunshine!”

“Gingersnap!” A familiar voice rings throughout the dragon’s ears

Hesitantly turning his head he sees a sight that he thought he would never see again. There you are, walking and talking like how you used to before the war. Even the smile he vividly remembers is still the same, only that it’s made for someone else

The Harbinger you’re currently hugging

Still in a state of shock Zhongli didn’t register that you and Childe were making your way up the stairs, until the both of you were right in front of him

“As I told you before, this is my fiancé (Y/N).” Childe introduced

Your name was different but still beautifully matched you, a name he wouldn’t dare shorten it to a nickname. A name that every syllable should be worthship whenever it rolls off his tongue

“Zhongli, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Pleased to meet you, Tartaglia has told me a lot about you.”

As the days progressed he got to learn more about this current incarnation of you, there were many things that remained the same yet, some things different. Learning about your new likes felt like he was falling in love with you all over again

“You know Zhongli, it feels like I known you for a long time.” You mention offhandedly

Oh how much he wants to hold your hand and tell you it’s because the two of you were lovers in the past. To beg for forgiveness for what he did to you and promise that he would devote his entire existence to protecting you

Despite priding himself on his patience Zhongli feels it wearing thin with each pasting second. There’s a constant conflict going on inside of him, one side wanting to leave you alone and let you enjoy your new life and the other side wanting you to remember the time where the two of you were lovers. It feels like a kettle that’s about to explode

“Goodbye, Zhongli.” You said, heartbreakingly similar to the way you said your last goodbye to him

Against his better judgement he reaches towards you and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace

“H-hey! Let go of me!” You said as you struggled against his grip

“Please. Please, remember.” He uncharacteristically pleaded as he began to use some Adeptal magic on you to share some of memories with you

Memories of your first time meeting, your conversations that would last til the sun sets, him confessing his feelings to you, your first time being intimate with each other. Every memory that he has involving you being shared, from the first moment to the last

Slowly you stopped struggling against him and he releases you from his grip. You pushed him away and turned to face him, your eyes had a glint of recollection yet confliction to them signaling that your old memories are flooding back into your mind

“Morax…”

“Darling.” Zhongli whispers as he opens his arms and slowly approaches you

Extending your arm out you stop the former archon from coming closer

He wanted to asked what was wrong but the look of betrayal on your face, the same expression you wore the day he used his spear to strike you down, told him everything that he needed to know

You don’t love him like you did before

Rapid footsteps alerted the two of you to the upcoming presence of another. A mop of orange hair pops up before the harbinger makes his way up the stairs and kisses you on the cheek

“Hey babe, is something the matter?” Childe asked, sensing the tension between the two of you

“Oh I was just saying goodbye to Mr. Zhongli.” You stated with a smile to your lover

Heartbroken he watched as the two of you walked down the stairs, your words getting out of ear shot

You turned to glance at your former lover one last time before returning your attention to the young man

[mayon3sa]

🗯️700 Days of you

SYNOPSIS: Part 2 for the infamous Bakugou texts

DISCLAIMER: Guys English isn't really my first language, though i understand it well i had my friend read over and give me feedback on what i should've changed and added I'm sorry if this is a let down but i tried really hard, i hope you guys enjoy any feedback is greatly appreciated, also I'm so sorry it took almost a week i kept scraping so many ideas sorry , ending was kinda rushed as well sorryyyy :((( <3

You've known Bakugou Katsuki for roughly 700 days, which is since you were 14. It's not like you knew him well, you just always saw him around your middle school, neighborhood, and at your parents' jobs. The first time you caught a glimpse of Bakugo was on the first day of middle school, the same year you would be leaving for high school. There wasn't anything special about that day, but what made you cherish that day was that he looked back at you as well.

The very first time you got to catch a glimpse of who Bakugou was as a person was through a school project. There aren't enough words in any dictionary to express your gratitude towards Aizawa for pairing you guys together. That day, you managed to get his number and meet up with him at a cafe. Looking back at that memory, you start to cry, not from sadness but embarrassment.

"Hey Bakugou, over here, I got some food for us," were the first words you had spoken to him directly. It seemed foolish to think about his response; would it be "Thank you so much, I love you, let's get married"? Not really. Maybe you had started reading too many romance mangas with Sero. "I don’t like anything that’s not spicy," he said bluntly, getting straight to the point. You would be lying if you said you weren't feeling as if he would explode any second.

"Oh, well, I can always ask for something else."

"There’s no need for that, let's just get started with the project."

"Oh, right. So, I was thinking..." As the afternoon soon turned into nighttime, you both had a pretty decent outline. Bakugou wasn’t bad, at least you didn’t think so. He was the type of person to get straight to the point of whatever he needed to communicate. Although he had trouble wrapping his head around the idea of teamwork, he was still there with you, giving you his views on your research and fixing the paper you had made.

When the night approached, you had both parted ways. That day, you could proudly say that Bakugou wasn’t as entitled as everyone made him out to be; he was smart. It came as a shock to you - getting used to his yelling was hard, but seeing him care for a school project and be somewhat smarter than you was even more surprising.

The second time you caught a glimpse of Bakugou was when you were at work. Not that you wished to be a stalker, but that's what it seemed like at the moment. As he walked through the door, both of you were stunned to see each other. Although you wished you could crawl into a hole and die in that moment, you still had to stay professional.

"Hello, welcome to Mitsumu’s Fashion headquarters. What can I help you with today?" This was the most embarrassing moment in your life. He just stood there staring at you before he spoke up, "Yeah, I’m just gonna go to my mom’s office. She told me to stop by to help her with a photoshoot." "Oh yeah. I’m supposed to be there. We can start the shoot in a few minutes. Just waiting for the next receptionist to clock in."

20 minutes went by, along with 20 minutes of your anxiety catching up to you, fearing what was to come. The shoot went by pretty smoothly in your opinion. Well, at least Bakugou posing in different outfits went well. The only thing that went south was when the other crew members whispered about you. It was as if you weren’t there.

‘She’s such a screw-up, why can’t they just fire her already i’m getting kind of annoyed having her around’ was a sentence that caught you in a trance, amongst the ‘ugh not her’ and the ‘she’s so weird’ hearing that sentence was enough to make you stop dead in your tracks. 

Words hurt. They seemed to cut deeper with every passing day at work. But then you realized that perhaps not all words hurt equally. It was Bakugou who made you believe in that last sentence.

“You two over there near the lights, you’re not discreet at hiding your gossip, instead of focusing on a teenager at your grown age you should maybe focus on doing your job, see that light over there go fix it. It’s your job. She’s doing hers quite fine, Such shame the person you seem to talk about put you both in shame”

He looked at you, and you looked at him. In that moment you knew that deep down the angry Katsuki Bakugou everyone was so afraid of was a mask to hide how he felt. You realized at that moment that Bakugou wasn’t a bad person at all, he just had issues, just like everyone else, And part of you understood that it was okay that he did that. Because by the end of that day, you could say, Katsuki Bakugou was a kind person.

In your eyes, Katuski was the kindest person you could think of if you get to know him that is, and although kind isn’t a word people use when describing him, It was what you thought of him, and you certainly loved viewing him as such.

Katsuki Bakugou, who stayed sleepless nights with you in a cafe reading romance novels and hearing you rant about your favorite character

Katsuki Bakugou, who always glanced at you when sparring because you would cough more normally than what your drawbacks usually are

Katsuki Bakugou, who when you have no money pays for your food and orders more to disguise it as an eating competition saying he would win and ends up giving you his food because he claimed he didn’t like it, even though it’s his favorite

Katsuki Bakugou, Who hated physical touch but would let you cling to him whenever you got excited, scared, or sometimes needed a shoulder to cry on

Katsuki Bakugou, Who isn’t good at comforting people but tries to show support in different ways and when he’s cornered for being soft will always reply with ‘I’m just telling the truth’

That was the Bakugou you knew, or at least you thought you did. But you couldn’t recognize who stood in front of you.

Bakugo Katsuki, who now stood in front of you saying words you wish you could cancel out “We were never friends, I only let you stick around out of pity”. Maybe this was the kind of person you tried seeing in someone. But not everything goes how we want it to go, do we? In the end, it was you seeking comfort in someone else when they probably didn’t want you around.

Maybe 700 days of thinking you knew Bakugou were probably reduced to 1, the one being today. You had concluded the person you once thought was kind was just a character you decided to make in your head.

“What’s up with you, you looked like you got run over” How you wish you could smack your best friend right now, “Shindo you think you’re so funny, could you at least pretend to care, you assface” Yo Shindo, the only person you could say has seen through you, not just physically but emotionally as well.

Shindo just never seemed to leave you alone, having met you at recess one random day in kindergarten. He had spotted you and just followed you around wherever you went. You hit him multiple times with rocks hoping he would leave you alone “You can’t keep hitting me with rocks that’s mean, and I’m older than you” were the first words he had told you.

“I don’t care if you’re older just leave me alone” “No” “ Why not” “Because” “Because?” “Just Because” From that day on Yo Shindo followed you everywhere and you listened to whatever he had to say. At this moment, you wish you had thrown a tree trunk at him when you were younger.

“Get up let’s go get ice cream, you’re even making ME depressed, I don’t know what happened at UA, you don’t have to talk about it just come with me to get ice cream”

“How did you get in my house in the first place”

“I broke in”

“You’re lying, no you didn’t Yo”

“I’m kidding your mom let me in”

Hanging out with Shindo was always a way to decompress however you felt in situations. Being separated from Shindo at the start of High School was always hard to get used to. Not having him come visit you during lunch always felt so strange to you, half of your life seeing him come to your door with two bento boxes just disappear into thin air, leaving you lonely almost every day.

“Shindo is there any way I could transfer to Shiketsu” 

“Not that I know of, why?”

“At school, there was this guy I started getting close with, I liked him a lot. Maybe as friends, as more, I can't tell my feelings apart but I know one thing. We started getting closer and getting to know each other, I thought he was a great guy, he would do things that just made me feel loved, not necessarily romantically loved but I felt seen with him”

“It was that comfortable feeling I get when I'm with you. If that makes sense, I thought he felt the same way since he also opened up to me. He texted me yesterday saying he didn’t want to be friends with me anymore, I thought it was a joke Shindo, i even went to the company to look for answers, I found him in the middle of a shoot and I was hoping he would tell me  it was a joke but in the end, he told me‘ We were never friends, I only let you stick around out of pity’.” That sentence alone was enough to let Shindo know how you were feeling and as if on instinct he was quick to hold you against his chest as you explained how you felt

“It’s stupid to think he would feel something about me, I feel stupid Shindo I loved him a lot. Whenever I was with him I felt seen, those moments with him made me feel that someone other than you loved me, I feel so stupid, I’m so stupid to think that the boy I fell in love with never existed, it was all just what I wanted to believe Shindo”

“He never cared for me”

It had been weeks since you told Shindo about what happened. Things weren't going great, but they had taken a turn for the better. After school, Shindo would pick you up and bring snacks. Sometimes, he would take you to the library after school.

Your occasional hangouts became more frequent, and Shindo started dropping you off at school in the mornings in addition to picking you up. You began to notice a positive change in yourself, and you were proud to say that you were feeling a lot better. You weren't the only one who noticed this shift; your classmates noticed it too.

"Y/N, you seem happier, especially since that guy started dropping you off and picking you up. Are you guys dating?" Mina was quick to ask you as you showed up to class one day.

"You mean Shindo? Oh, we’re just childhood friends. He started helping me train and with my school work," you replied.

"You guys are always together. It’s almost impossible to hang out without you having plans with him," Midoriya added.

"Sorry, guys. We’ve just been catching up," you tried to clear up any rumors that might have caused any miscommunication.

Everyone had their eyes on you, watching as you spoke so highly about your 'best friend'. Especially Katsuki; he watched as you smiled, recalling all of your memories with him.

It left a sour taste in his mouth watching as you talked highly about someone else. He was never one to express his emotions well, but with you, it felt easy to try and express how he felt. He knew from the moment he stayed up with you in a library reading ‘A Silent Voice’ that he was developing feelings for you.

He was never one to indulge in emotions, but having those deep talks with you every night made him feel dumb for trying to deny his feelings.

He never confronted his emotions straight away, no matter how much Katsuki tried to adjust; he just couldn’t accept the fact that he was growing in love with you. 'Falling in love' seemed like a terrible way to describe their way of loving someone else. But again, who is he to construe about love?

Not that he purposely wished for it to be that way. Katsuki wanted nothing more than to have done things differently back then.

As time passed, he couldn't get the image of you crying out of his mind. It pained him to see you that way. It wasn't just because he liked you, but also because he knew he was the cause of your sadness. The guilt consumed him, and the thought of you moving on only added to his pain. He couldn't help but feel like a fool for what he had done to you.

Katsuki was familiar with you. He knew about your favorite romance manga, your parents' connection to his, your love for fashion, your passion for romantic comedies, your favorite subject, and your usual order at the café where you both spent countless nights. He knew you well.

Katsuki knew all your fears - spiders, carnivals, clowns, open spaces, failure, and his mom when she yelled at your co-workers. He noticed all your symptoms and sometimes felt like both of your hearts were connected. He felt crazy saying it out loud, but those moments when you both trained together, you suddenly felt everything he could think of - dizziness, nausea, chest pain, shaking, and trembling. One thing that always stuck with him was whenever you felt anxious, you would bite your fingernails. Once, he took your hands and tried to stop you from doing that, and he noticed how quickly your heartbeat calmed down and started matching his instead.

"If anyone asked him why he was so in tune with knowing you on a general level, he would say out of courtesy. But if he was asked on a deeper level, he would say his heart was calm whenever you were with him, and he yearned for that feeling and you."

He always heard from his mom that love is the most powerful thing someone can experience, in friendships, relationships, or just emotional connections with someone. He believed the majority of what his mom claimed with thoughts of his own. Love is strong, but is it strong enough to make a person?

Certainly not he thought to himself as he watched you and Shindo laugh and push each other at the carnival.

He was tired of pretending he didn’t love you, but he was also tired of not knowing how to talk to you after developing feelings for you. He messed things up, and he knows it. 

It hurts to be something he so desperately wish he wasn’t, a uncommunicative person, but it hurts more than anything being nothing without you

You were gone, no one knew where you had gone they just knew you weren’t at your dorm

The only things left behind were boxes of letters and a blanket he had got you when you were sick. Everyone was distressed, teachers all around the dorms most reassuring students others talking with Nezu on finding out where you were

And all katsuki could do was hope he wouldn’t rip the letter you had wrote to him through his tears and frustration from how tight he held the letter to his heart, hoping some way you could feel how his heart was beating and in hopes of you coming back

Katsuki

Tho the smartest yet dumbest person i know,

If you’re reading this it probably means i left, well kidnapped in other terms, i’ve known for a while i would be taken, i had a gut feeling about this a long time ago so just in case i die, or don’t make it back alive i wanted to write something for you.

There’s so many things i wish i would’ve told you before i left, but sometimes not everything goes the way we wish for them to go, I Know you Bakugou, you’re probably mad i left, or you’re probably pretending to not care, maybe even wondering where i am, if you still care that is, you’ve always been the type of person to think about things too often.

That’s not the real reason i’m writing this letter for you, there’s so much i want to say but i’m afraid there won’t be enough time to do so, so i’ll say it in this letter

Katsuki Bakugou, I am in love with you, i have been from the 700 days of knowing you, but words aren’t  enough to describe how i feel, i left a box under your bed, every reason why i fell in love with you is written in all of them. If i do end up being alive i want to say it to your face

But if i am dead, i want you to know you’re the first person i’ve ever truly loved in this life and hopefully i can love you the same way in my next one

And with that i ask one last thing from you, you’re a person who hates changes but please, if anything does end up going wrong i want you to pursue your dreams for bring number one, i’ll always be cheering you on

So for now this is my last goodbye Katsuki, Thank you for making me feel so at home, i still

think about what happened between us everyday but i hope the best for you in life, even if i’m not there

I love you, thank you for being my friend

Y/N

You were such a dumbass. How could he not love you, when you constantly ran through his mind, he tried to keep his emotions in touch but just as he opened the box you left him he was met with notes and items that reminded him of you. What hurt him even more was reading through all the notes you had wrote for him

One particular note had shifted his emotions complete

‘Hey katsuki, remember that time i kept freaking out over my school grades and you comforted me saying it would all be okay? I still think about that moment and how you held me close to your chest and we layed in bed, in that moment when i looked up at you i saw the reflection of my LED lights in your face and all i could think about was you, i wanted to kiss at that moment from how pretty your eyes looked’

In that moment Bakugo Katsuki knew that what he felt for you wasn’t some simple puppy crush, he craved you he knew that whatever he tried convincing himself wasn’t true at the moment

Not when he was clutching your hairpins and notes close to his chest wishing the burning sensation in his heart would stop

Weeks had gone by, You had been found by the pro heroes and all he could think about was how he wishes he was the one saving you instead. But atlas he was glad you were safe

When he had gotten word you were found but your condition was critical he wanted nothing more than to just run out of the dorms and find you, but he knew he would’ve been stopped by the teacher. So he waited, he visited the hospital you were staying at everyday, constantly asking when they would be taking visitors 

Everyday he was met with the same answer ‘no’ ‘not yet we’ll let you know when she’s ready’. It was killing him not knowing whether he would get the chance to clear up his mistakes and confess to you.

But all of those thoughts suddenly vanished as he waited for the nurses to let him in

You had no memory whatsoever on when you had been rescued, according to the nurses you had woken up 6 days after being rescued by the heroes, and according to one of the nurses there was a boy who constantly kept looking for you, surely it was Shindo, the nurses had said they would bring him to your room

Shock wasn’t enough to describe how you were feeling at the moment, Staring at the guy you least expected in front of you was surely not on your bucket list at all, you were going to speak first until he beat you to it

“I have a lot to say to you so just listen to what i have to say first”

“Back then, i didn’t really know how to deal with the sudden shift in my heart, watching you smile and do things we would normally do, felt so different one random day, I don’t know when it started but watching the way your eyes would shine made my heart tighten, i knew that whatever was happening to my emotions wouldn’t go well on my part”

“So i distanced myself, i never meant any of the words i said at all, i was a asshole for saying that to you, i’m not expecting forgiveness straight away, but watching you get so close to someone else made me feel uneasy, not in a possessive way, but in a way that makes me remember everything you were doing with him you had done all of that with me”

“And when i realized my feelings and had everything sorted out, i was waiting to confront you but i waited too long and you had been kidnapped, When i read your letter i knew that if i were to get you back i would tell you as soon as i could, i didn’t wanna risk you leaving without hearing what i have to say”

“I’m in love with you, I grew in love with you and your stupid smile, your stupid rants, I love you like i’ve never loved anyone before. You’re the only person that has made me smile and I yearn for that feeling and I crave you most importantly. Before i met you i didn’t understand the true meaning of what love is but being with you made me realize it’s okay to not have everything figured out and just enjoy the present” he had finished off

“You’re an asshole”

“I know that”

“You made me cry”

“I know that”

“But at the end of the day it’s you i would rather spend all the time with arguing and clearing every mistake with katsuki, I love you and i hope we can both learn more about each other”

Though he didn’t kiss you in that moment he did pull you in a hug that warms your heart. Every day you’re thankful you got to know Katsuki 700 days of knowing him made your heart warm at the thought of getting to say you had feelings for Katsuki. Things would certainly be tough from that moment on but if it was with Katsuki it was definitely worth it in your eyes.

A/N: That letter part was heavily ib the galaxy is endless on ao3 ugh i love it sm

Taglist @makaylaislovely @emmab3mma @probablylia0 @socialkid @captainshindo @yourfriendlyweeaboo @st4rf0rlife @juliii @b2mmyy @sangwooswife @sunnydaychai @peyingbills @lemon-lav @tsumuus @itzjustj-1000 @whosmarjj @lovra974 @yourmajestyqueena @scarasw1f3 @tranquilcosmos @antriimx @siraxealot

[animasola86]

😈 FORK-TONGUED LOVER

m!demon x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 7.1k

Your boyfriend is a demon, and while you're not quite sure how that came to be, you are all in now - as he is all into you, literally, using his demonic powers to stretch your body to its limits until he can poke at your soul, eager to devour it (and you) whole.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Manipulation! Somnophilia! Oral/vaginal/anal sex. Cockwarming! Deepthroating! Deep penetration! Overstimulation! Ceiling sex? (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: The prompt was "demons, manipulation, anal play", and of course I couldn't leave it at that. By the way, this demon doesn't have a name, so you can imagine any character here if you want, in their monster AU of course!

Your boyfriend is a demon. What kind of demon you have no idea, he never told you, and it also kind of doesn't matter. He looks very normal (very hot in your eyes, with that beautiful jawline and those broad shoulders and his muscular but also lean body, so strong and tall, with bulging veins snaking under his tight skin, up and down his arms and legs and over his toned abdomen... uh, where were you going with this? Ah, right, he looks normal...), he also acts pretty normal, like a human would. He's kind and caring to you, but also doesn't shy away from taking your hand and leading you through a crowd, taking control. He makes you feel safe and seen and slightly spoiled.

The first time you realized he might be a little different, was another one of those instances when he took control. In the bedroom. It wasn't even really your first time with him, but that night will always stick in your memory, because it was the first of many amazing love-making sessions that left you so fucked-out you barely remembered your own name. The thing that makes him special is that he can manipulate his body, namely his cock.

When he's balls deep in your fluttering cunt, he can make it bigger, give it ridges and nubs, form it in a way that fills you out completely, that always stimulates all those special spots, leaving you absolutely senseless (in the overstimulated way) and more than satisfied. Best sex you've ever had (at least before you met him because he kept surprising you with new features to his cock every time he penetrated you anew).

He also coerced you to try anal, and even though you weren't one hundred percent convinced about it, he made sure you were ready. You see, his tongue is another great feature about him. When he talked or ate or laughed or even kissed, it was a normal tongue, but when he wanted to use it against you, it became a forked one, long and girthy, a muscle capable of many things, especially diving deep into your yearning holes.

Nobody has ever eaten you out so thoroughly, so deeply before, it's a glorious experience that made you use the Lord's name in vain one too many times (and each time he'd punish you for it, the little hell child that he is, making sure you'd scream his name instead while he bullied your most sensitive areas, relishing in the way your pussy clamped down on his tongue when he spanked your soft ass). Maybe that was why he liked to lick and probe you from behind, seeing your reddened cheeks did something to him.

You were a little apprehensive at first, having him so close to areas nobody's breached before (and that you thought were a little unflattering, to say the least), but he reassured you that he loves every single inch of you and is willing to show you just how much. And then his tongue pressed into your ass, and you forgot to breathe as shame flooded your senses, only to then be replaced by something you can only call madness. Because it drove you mad, in the best way, how he plunged between your tight muscles, how his strong hands held you open for him, how his grunts and groans vibrated through you.

Next thing you knew, he had slipped his cock into your prepared depths, and you'd thought it would hurt with how big he normally was (or could make himself even bigger), but instead of you molding to him, he had molded to what available space you were giving him. And it was a strange sensation. He was filling you out, still stretching your hole and the muscles beyond, but this time he'd made himself longer, thinner, and it kept going, invading your insides like a snake looking for a way out.

You felt your belly bulging, and the first time you saw him rearranging your guts (in the most literal way possible), you were very concerned, your hands swatting at the moving thing beneath your skin, but he only held you tighter, pressed you to his chest, and snapped his hips against your rear, distracting you with hard thrusts that felt so good you forgot about whatever happened inside your body. He was all that mattered, he and his beautiful demonic penis.

And you grew to like anal sex just as much because he really (actually) knew your body inside and out, always making sure you'll get the best experience by allowing him to merge his body with yours. You were thrown from one orgasm to the next, and most of the time the night ended with you passing out from overstimulation (but always with a smile on your face). And sometimes, the night didn't end at all as he kept going even when you were asleep.

He didn't sleep, didn't need to apparently, so he just lay with you in bed and watched you. Sometimes he would read or scroll on his phone, or he'd meditate to the sounds of your soft breaths (and snores). But eventually he'd grow bored, and he'd use you and whatever hole he was keen on invading that night. That man (demon) had stamina, it was insane. That was one of the reasons why you allowed him to do to you whatever he wanted while you were trying to catch some Z's.

The first time you woke up to him tongue deep in your wet cunt had been a little strange, but not completely unpleasant. He'd even asked you if it was okay (after telling you he had to taste you, you looked too delicious, he couldn't stop himself), and you agreed. How could you not. And so he continued to use your sleeping form for his pleasure (and yours, it definitely made for some fabulous(ly) wet dreams).

And you'd think you'd be utterly sore afterwards, but he somehow made sure your muscles were soft and relaxed, no matter how often they'd clench around his appendages. His massages were incredible, be it with his big hands and long fingers, or with his tongue, he just knew how to get rid of those knots (and bruises, though if those were visible to the public eye, he'd usually leave them, making sure everyone knew what you were up to and who you belonged to).

You were his, and you loved it, but at the same time, he was yours too, and whatever you wanted to do, he'd do it with you. He even came to one of those pottery courses you'd wanted to try out or watched that lame romance movie with you. And he never complained, because he knew, once you were back at your shared apartment, you would repay the favor (even though it never felt like that) by giving him something back.

And this is how you ended up on the couch, him lounging with his arm draped over the backrest (while the other hand rubbed over your bare rear), you curled up beside him, small fingers massaging his balls while you tried to fit his cock into your mouth. Sometimes he wanted to challenge you and kept it the way it was, long and girthy, and you'd end up choking with only half of him able to fit while his tip poked at the back of your throat, but most of the time he was more accommodating and made himself a little easier to handle.

He liked your feverish attempts to try to deepthroat him (even though you were never able to hold him for long before retching something awful) as much as your happy little mewls when you managed to fit all of his magically reduced length into your mouth, bulging your cheeks, while your nose nestled in his pubic hair. Tonight, you and him were watching a movie, some mindless action fling he was really into while you'd rather gag on his cock. Though you quickly relaxed on his lap and decided to just cockwarm him while enjoying his warmth and the probing of his fingers.

He always had to touch you, even in public, and it didn't stop at the innocent hand holding you were so fond of. He'd slip his long fingers under your skirt and rub and poke at your drenched underwear, and the moment nobody was looking, he'd dip them into your ready heat, most of the time resulting in you dragging him to a nearby restroom to thoroughly continue this endeavor, but sometimes he'd fingerfuck you right there, either sitting in a booth in your favorite diner or while standing in line for something (and somehow nobody ever noticed your red face or strained noises or the way his hand disappeared under your clothes, no matter how close you were to other people).

He was a master at manipulation, not just his body to fit your needs or to coax you into things you'd never tried before, everything around him seemed to bend to his will – if he wanted to. People moving out of the way when he'd walk with you through crowded streets, waitresses forgetting to charge you for your food, waving you off with a dumb little smile and unseeing eyes (one time you went back there alone and tried to give them the money he cheated out of them, but they couldn't even remember you), and other instances where he played with his surroundings just for the fun of it.

You didn't know how old he was (he looked somewhere between his mid-twenties and mid-thirties, probably depending on what you were in the mood for), and you didn't know much about demons (and somehow you never questioned his existence in the first place), but you would assume he's been around for a while, because it was so easy for him to puppeteer the humans and manipulate the world around him.

Most of the time you didn't mind, he wasn't cruel or condescending, didn't play pranks on people (at least not unjustified), but he'd make people trip when they've done something mean to others, he'd sometimes even help those in need, but those instances were rare and only if he was in a really good mood. He was a demon after all, not an angel.

And he was your demon, devoted to your well-being like no other boyfriend had been before. Not that you had a lot of experience, but you knew this was different, special, and it wasn't just the sex. The whole package. He was perfect, and if he'd ask you to come to hell with him, you wouldn't even hesitate. As long as he stayed with you, always connected, by holding hands or by being buried to the hilt in your cunt or by invading your body in a way nothing else has done before.

How did you meet? You're not too sure, actually, he may have wormed his way into your life on his terms, but you're not mad. You've never felt this loved and appreciated, this happy and satisfied. He may be a puppet master, moving you in ways you may not have initially wanted at first, but as much as he pushes you out of your comfort zone, he stretches it, makes it bigger, includes himself in it (on both a metaphysical as well as a literally physical way). He is a part of you, made a home in your body and in your soul, you became one, and it's everything you ever dreamed of (even though you could never imagine it).

Back on the couch, you're still suckling on his cock, lazily palming his throbbing balls, eyes closed and relaxing, while the TV spews loud action noises through the living room. His fingers are buried in your clenching ass, just resting there, occasionally pumping into your tense muscles a little, reminding you that he's still there. You give him a deep suck in response, and he lets out a content growl.

As you look up from under your lashes, you notice that his eyes are completely black, not just the iris, the entire eye. It's a clear sign for you that he's on the brink of losing his patience, his restraint, the need to ravish you pulsing through him. You shift a little and change position, so you can bob your head. Slowly you start moving, your lips straining around his girth, and as you do, you feel his cock growing.

He's made it smaller to accommodate your mouth, but now he's back to his normal size, maybe even bigger, certainly longer, as you struggle to get all of him somehow stimulated. Your hands are both around his shaft, pushing his tight skin over his hardened core as you suckle hard on his tip, flicking your tongue around and against his slit, tasting those precious pearls of precum, and you try to push him deeper, but as soon as he nudges against the back of your throat, your body convulses and spit fills your mouth.

You lean back with a deep gasp, and it's then that his hands find your head. One hand curls around your neck, the touch is warm, almost scorching, but it relaxes your tight muscles, and his other hand slips into your hair until he grips it in his fist, and when you lean back down to try to deepthroat him again, he pushes your head down, and before you know it you feel your neck bulging against his hand. Panic crashes through you, but he holds you there, soothes your throat from the outside while simultaneously pressing you down with his inhuman strength.

Your lungs are burning, your eyes rolling back, but you don't fight it, you let him do whatever feels right to him, because you trust him not to hurt you. It does hurt though when he starts bucking his hips up and slides his cock deeper into your throat, the fit barely possible you think through all the cotton in your head. He doesn't care, holding you as he fucks your face with quickening thrusts. Wet gurgling sounds echo in your ringing ears, and you have no idea why you haven't fainted yet.

There's a steady warmth rushing through your body as he keeps pumping his definitely elongated cock down your throat, filling you up in ways that don't feel natural. He groans quietly as he holds your head, using you for the hole that you are for him in that moment, and all you can do is take it, endure. You feel frozen in time, barely able to struggle even though the need to breathe becomes bigger and bigger. Luckily you don't gag anymore, how could you in your bound position.

Tears fall from your lashes, your jaw is slack, and a steady stream of drool drips past your swollen lips. And he keeps assaulting your throat, your neck never not bulging with how his cock moves up and down, finding space where there shouldn't be any. You're drowsy, lightheaded, drifting towards unconsciousness, but he never lets you fall over. Instead he doubles his efforts, his hips slamming against your face, his hands tight around your neck and in your hair.

And then, with a low growl that sounds as otherworldly as his cock feels in your throat, he stills deep inside you, your nose buried in his pubic hair, twitching balls pressed to your lips, and you can feel how his cum pulses through his shaft before it spews into your throat, spurt after spurt, sliding down into your stomach without restraint, warm and filling, oh so filling. The wish to taste him comes over you, and he seems to read your mind and slowly pulls back, lifting your head, his hand on your jaw now as he massages it gently.

Your eyes flutter open, and you have them fixed on the long appendage slipping out of your mouth, widening with every emerging inch. It keeps going and going, and when his cockhead finally pops out from between your lips, it still shoots thick ropes of cum onto your face and chin. The first thing you do as your airways are finally freed again is not to take rapid gulps of air, but stare at how his cock morphs back into its original form, still long but not as long, and a bit girthier, the mushroom tip red and glistening, more globs of his spend gathering in his slit.

The sight is mesmerizing, and before you know it, your lips strain around him and lick up those shiny pearls, his taste flooding your mouth, soothing the slight ache you feel as you swallow every single drop. He's eased his grip on your hair and is now caressing you gently as you clean him up, sucking the last remnants of spend out of him as if you've never tasted anything better (spoiler alert: you haven't). Once you're done, you collapse on his lower stomach, breathing deeply, your body coming to terms with the strenuous experience.

Your hands close around his softening dick, and you cuddle it to your warm cheek, giving it a gentle kiss. A low rumble goes through him as he chuckles at that. He keeps stroking your hair, his other hand moving back along your spine to rub between your ass cheeks. You sigh contently when two of his fingers press against your sphincter and inside you, the pressure a welcome change to having your throat filled like this. Closing your eyes, you let him finger you as you snuggle against his groin, small fingers tracing along the veins on his shaft.

He lets you relax a little more, but when you're close to drifting off to sleep, he suddenly pulls his fingers out of you and grabs your waist, and before you know it, you're lying on your back, legs spread wide as he settles between them. His eyes are still all black, and you shiver at the sight. There's always hunger in the way he looks at you, be it now or when you share an innocent moment on your commute to work, he can never hide the fact that he wants to eat you up.

And how he eats you up. Holding your hooded gaze, he leans in and plants soft kisses on your fluttering belly before he moves lower, licking his tongue down your mound, until he leans back and lets you watch how the normal pink muscle turns a deeper red, gets longer and thicker and then forks at the end of it. You've been rightfully scared the first time you've seen that, but as soon as he dipped that strange thing between your folds, you didn't care about its shape any longer.

And you don't care now, except for how it makes you feel. He laps along your seam, slowly parting your folds with a deliberate press of his forked tongue, before he closes his lips around your swollen clit, sucking hard with his tongue nudging at your entrance. The way he moves his mouth fascinates you, he seems to be at all the right places all at once, and all you can do is lean back into the soft couch cushions and let him have at it.

While you mewl and moan as he dips deeper, pressing the eager muscle between your tense ones, he lets out low grunts and groans that vibrate through you, further pushing you towards the edge. Your body is buzzing, and you reach out your hands to slip your fingers into his hair, grabbing a few fistfuls as you buck your hips against his face.

Under your palms, you can feel the little bumps on his head where you know he hides his horns. You've only seen them a couple of times, large and curved and pointy, and after your initial shock, you'd tried to use them as handle bars once – which he quickly prevented, telling you they were too sensitive to be grabbed like that (you were disappointed at first but then realized he was afraid of the strength you sometimes developed during your coupling, and you couldn't blame him, you did break a headboard with your tight grip before, though that wasn't entirely your fault with how brutally he'd hammered into you at that time). You still rub the heels of your hands against the little protrusions. He hums into you at the sensation.

His tongue is buried deep inside you, rubbing at your gummy walls, poking at those special spots, teasing all the way to your cervix (you're sure he's even poked into your womb at some point, but details are all hazy when you're writhing in nothing but bliss at the feeling). You are floating, back arched, hips stuttering, mouth wide open as you moan out his name over and over again. He keeps tonguing your clenching cunt while also teasing your clit, and you know he could do better, but he likes to edge you, keep you in that state where you're too far gone to protest but still nowhere near the realm where you'll forget your own name.

As he huffs and puffs against your sex, eating you up like a man starved, his big hands slip up your body to then close around your breasts. Gentle gropes turn into bruising grips until your hard nipples poke into his palms, and every little touch nudges you a little bit higher. You're wailing now, so sensitive, so needy, and it's that point where he slips his forked tongue out of your core and really sucks on your clit, that long muscle circling your swollen nub and pulling on it, coaxing more breathless cries out of your throat.

Your hands fall from his hair, clawing at the couch instead as you arch and buck against him, your body starting to twitch uncontrollably, and then, finally, with a hard suck to that sensitive bundle of nerves and a tight pinch to your nipples, he throws you over the edge. You come with a wailing scream, body spasming, thighs trembling, toes curling, all air sucked into your burning lungs as the lights explode all around you. He keeps licking at your throbbing clit, hands rubbing over your quivering breasts, his own grunts sending additional shock waves through your core.

He lets you down easy, lapping at the wetness seeping out of your clenching cunt, before he presses a lingering kiss to your inner thigh. Then he leans back on his haunches, watching you, his eyes seemingly even darker, as if feeding off your juices has made him even hungrier, even hornier, and by the look of his cock, he is indeed very aroused. It's bobbing against his lower stomach, standing proud and tall, thick veins bulging under the tight skin.

The sight pulls you from the aftermath of your orgasm, and you sit up slowly, hands reaching out, but he grabs your wrists in his large hand and pushes you back down, hovering over you as he stares down. You struggle in his hold, whimpering quietly, needily gyrating your hips beneath him as you feel his heavy erection on your stomach, so large and warm and already twitching. The only thought in your cloudy head is: I need him inside of me, and you know he wants this too, but he finds equal fun in playing around with you first.

So you wait, more or less patiently, as he watches you silently, his large black eyes boring into your soul, a little smirk playing around his lips. You lick your own, knowing the sight will drive him mad. And indeed it does, when he finally moves, smashing his mouth to yours for a searing kiss that quickly makes your head spin. He licks at the seam of your lips, and you part them, inviting his tongue in, and as it slips into your mouth, you feel it changing, getting longer and bigger, the two thinner ends teasing at the back of your throat.

You let out muffled moans as you try to meet his tongue with your own, and he sucks on it eagerly while still exploring every inch of your mouth. You taste yourself on him, and it only makes you salivate more as you think about where this tongue has been before. It's a messy kiss, hungry and passionate. You struggle beneath him, but his grip on your wrists is unrelenting, his weight on you grounding you, but the feel of his hard cock pressing into your soft belly turns your need into an urge.

His free hand is on your chin, lifting it up while his lips are still suctioned to yours, his tongue probing deeper, and when you feel the telltale sensation of having to gag, he pushes into your throat. Your vision blurs, lungs burn, body convulsing against him, but he keeps going, ignores the spit gathering in your mouth, just drives his tongue deeper down your throat, the muscle not as hard and girthy as his cock, but it's still an invasion you weren't ready for.

He starts moving it back and forth, and the pressure and friction feels like too much. You can't breathe, all you can do is gurgle helplessly. As your eyelids flutter and you look at him (without really seeing him with how badly the black spots dance before your eyes), he presses his lips firmer against yours as if to soothe you, while his tongue slides up and down your esophagus. You feel his hand closing around your neck, applying gentle pressure, the warm sensation making it all a little easier.

But just when you lean into the experience of having your throat tongue-fucked, he pulls back again, his tongue retreating and changing back into a normal size, before he peppers you with soft kisses as you slowly regain control over your breathing. His hum is low against your cheek, and despite the saliva dripping past your swollen lips, you find yourself smiling at him. He kisses your drool away, following the trail down your chin and to your neck, where you feel him nibbling on your fluttering pulse.

He's not a biter, luckily, even though his canines are a little pointier than normal human teeth. Yet he only uses them to tease you, and that he does as he scrapes them along your throat, his warm breaths coaxing a thick layer of goosebumps onto your exposed skin. When he starts working a hickey into your neck, he moves his arms around you and slowly lifts you up. Your freed hands are tingling, but you quickly place them to the nape of his neck to hold yourself up.

Pressing you to his chest, he pulls you into a standing position, before he tilts his body back, and you feel how your feet leave the soft carpet beneath you. Immediately your heart starts racing, and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist, tightening your grip on his neck. He's done this a few times before, always surprising you, but you've thought he would stop doing it after you told him you didn't like it too much. You open your mouth to protest, staring at him, but he only grins, holding you against him as a sudden jerk goes through his body.

And then you find yourself pressed to the ceiling, desperately clinging to him as you squeeze your eyes shut. Without even seeing how far away the ground is, you can feel the vertigo crashing through your stomach. You have a horrible fear of heights, and he knows it, and yet he pushes you out of your comfort zone yet again. A little wail escapes you as he slowly pries your arms away from his neck. His hands move along them gently, spreading them, until he pins you to the ceiling by your wrists in an almost T-pose. You don't even know how he's able to reach his arms so far (he is also levitating, but that doesn't strike you as weird anymore).

If you'd be upside down, you'd be lying on your back with your arms spread and your legs wrapped around his waist, with him hovering over you, holding your wrists tightly. But you're not lying, you're pressed to the ceiling by a strange force emanating from your boyfriend, who basically hangs off you like the demon that he is. Despite the horroresque idea of him crawling along the walls and ceiling like a man-sized bug, you are too aroused right now to think about it.

He leans down (no, up) to plant soft kisses along your jaw, and you start grinding your hips into him, trying to forget the horrible sensation of hanging upside down (you're not upside down, per se, but with your hair falling over your face it sure feels like it). A sudden squeak escapes you when he lets go of your wrists, and you fear the worst, awaiting the inevitable fall, but you remain glued to the ceiling, even without him holding you up. Whatever force he is using, it's strong, and despite staring down now with your eyes wide open, you feel a little more relaxed, trusting him not to hurt you.

His hands move along your body before he carefully pries your legs off his waist, keeping them spread wide (and they'd follow gravity down if it weren't for the force holding them up) as he maneuvers his bobbing cock towards your ready sex. His black eyes are on you as he rolls his hips, his hands finding your face to keep your hair out of it, and you feel his tip pressing against your entrance before you let him in surprisingly easily, the stretch still coaxing a soft moan out of your throat. He keeps nudging his pelvis into you, slowly sinking deeper until he bottoms out completely.

He's not manipulated his cock this time, it's his normal length and girth, shaft smooth except for the bulging veins rubbing against your walls, and you don't complain, he's still way bigger than any man you had before him (not that you had many, but it's enough to make the comparison). Focusing on how he fills you out, you close your eyes and try to ignore your strange position on the ceiling. You feel him leaning in, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth, distracting you as best he can as gravity makes your head spin until you don't know what's up and what's down anymore.

You focus on him, on his gentle caresses, the way he moves his hips back and forth in a slow and steady rhythm, getting you adjusted to his size, but when you feel something curling around your ankle, your eyes fly open. He gives you an innocent smirk, but you already know what's going to happen. Behind him, his tail rises up, a long black appendage that ends in a little upside down heart-shaped tip. With his hands holding your face and his knees pressed to either side of your torso as he pumps his pelvis into you, the tail seems to have a mind of its own (well, it's his mind, but it feels like a third party with how unpredictable it moves).

It slithers up your leg, sending additional shivers down your spine. You're already on the brink with how his cock pushes in and out of your eagerly clenching cunt, mewling and moaning with every thrust, but when you feel that sneaky appendage poking at your sphincter, you almost choke on your own spit. He slows his pumping then, watching you closely, and you wish you could hold onto him, touch him, ground yourself against him, but you're still forced into that spread-eagle position on the ceiling, held by this unseen force, unable to connect – or even protest when his tail suddenly parts your tight muscles and slips into your ass.

All you can do is cry out, eyelids fluttering as he invades yet another part of your body. The heart-shaped tip wriggles its way deeper, carving its way into your tense depths, before it settles inside you while he resumes the constant pounding of his hips. Your head is spinning, not just from your high position and the vertigo assaulting your senses, but from how he plays you with his body parts. Cock sliding in and out, back and forth, rubbing along all the right spots, filling you out perfectly. Tail poking deep, undulating into you while also holding you in place, impaled like a dummy on a ventriloquist's hand.

It's as if you're dreaming, floating (quite literally) at the edge of sanity and pleasure, pushed and pulled without being able to do anything against it. And you love it. Before you met him, you were always anxious, overthinking everything, worrying your little head off. But then he introduced you to this realm of bliss, the head-empty-feeling that made everything so much easier. All you can think about now is him and how he uses you, how he drives his cock and tail into you without mercy, chasing his own orgasm as well as forcing you to feel these incredible sensations that fill your head with cotton.

There's this warmth building up inside you, the telltale sign of your impending orgasm, and you whine and wail under his motions, desperate to be led towards the edge and pushed over, desperate to fly. He watches you as you start to lose it, and his hands move to your waist, fingers digging into your skin, a bruising but comforting grip, and suddenly you're being pulled away from the ceiling, the hard surface you were pushed against is gone, and you are flying, held in the air, impaled by his tail, with his cock still pistoning in and out of you fast and hard, your whole body moving, arms and legs hanging limply, swinging with every deep thrust.

The vertigo grows into that whirlwind of sensations, and you may or may not be turned around, angled this way and that, you couldn't tell, your eyes are closed, and all you can do is feel. Like floating, like burning up from inside, like being filled and stretched. The noises of skin slapping against skin and those traitorously wet squelching sounds dim around you as the air gets heavier. You can barely breathe, your heart is that low thudding noise in the back of your head, your body shivering, lips twitching, and then you come, hard, with a disembodied scream that fills the room and sets the cotton in your head on fire.

He holds you as you spasm, those waves of pleasure burning through your nerves, and you barely register how he pounds into you faster, how his tail slips deeper, pushing against your limits, how he growls into the black void you find yourself in. Then his arms are around you, pressing you to his warm chest, and he gives you that final thrust, burying himself as deep as he can go, as his cock twitches and throbs, and with another low growl that sends goosebumps over your sweat-slick skin, he shoots his load into your convulsing depths, filling you out in a way that shouldn't be possible.

It's so warm, burning you up from the inside, spreading through your body, lulling your overstimulated senses. You're a puppet in his arms, still impaled by his tail as he slowly moves you down – until your curling toes brush against the carpet again. Gently he settles you on the couch, but your head is still spinning, and it's only when he lies down heavily on top of you, pushing you deeper into the cushions, that you regain control over your limbs. Inhaling sharply, your eyes flutter open, and you meet his warm gaze, his eyes no longer black, and his smile is soft – wildly contradicting the way his tail is still moving inside your ass.

But you don't mind. Your shaking hands move up his sides before you hold onto his broad shoulders, feeling his warm skin. Your touch is clammy while he didn't seem to have shed a single bead of sweat despite the airborne acrobatics. An amused little giggle escapes you, and he watches you curiously before he leans his head onto the cushion beside yours, his lips brushing against your cheek. You turn towards him, smiling softly. He leans in and presses his mouth to yours, his tongue persistently pushing between your lips, slowly easing back into needing to touch you and fill you at all times.

As if his tail in your ass and his cock in your overflowing cunt wouldn't be enough.

It's one of the perks of having a demon as your boyfriend. You're never alone (never empty), he's always there for you, even when you have to suffer through those long hours of redundant labor. He'll make sure you can feel him inside you no matter what, even if he's miles away, waiting for you. Be it through those touches you can feel but not see, those phantom caresses he's able to give you, or by stuffing you full of his cum before you have to leave for work, the constant drip into your underwear a gentle reminder of what awaits you once you get home.

You've never been as sex-obsessed as you are now, he certainly opened a few gates you are unable to pass through again or even attempt to close. You're past that. Why would you want to stop those desires either? They are a part of you the same way he is a part of you and you are a part of him. He never officially bargained for your soul, and he didn't have to, you gave it up willingly, to be with him, forever.

Squished into the couch under his weight, you keep kissing him hungrily, slowly fighting your way out of the bliss-induced haze he put you in. He's still on top of you, heavy inside you, his seed slowly dripping from your clenching cunt. There's a strange pressure when his tail forces its way out of your ass, and you know it's slowly retreating back into his body, as he returns to his more or less human form. He always turns back after successfully satisfying his and your needs, almost as if making you believe he never changed in the first place, and him showing you his true self was only a figment of your orgasm-riddled imagination.

But you know better, and it may have scared you at first, but now you can't get enough of all those extra features. You know for sure you could never have sex with another human again, it wouldn't be the same, because only he can meet all your special needs, fill you out perfectly, whatever orifice he desires most in that moment. Just the thought of his magically elongated cock pressing deep into your throat makes you shiver, and the idea of the same cock filling every possible inch of your cunt and further, stimulating every sensitive spot with its enhancements, makes you gasp against his lips.

He is all you can think about. You may be moved by invisible strings, guided into things you never knew you needed, but you don't complain. You want them, and you want him. And you'd die if he ever decided to dislodge his claws from you, if he ever let you go.

Feeling a sudden sadness gripping your insides, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him harder. He strokes your cheek and leans back, his eyes scanning your flushed face. A single tear rolls out of the corner of your eye, and he traces its movement before he leans down and licks it up gently. A shudder and a sob crash through you, your fingers digging into his hair, holding onto him tightly, desperately. His lips move along your jaw until he presses a soft kiss to your earlobe.

His voice is a low hum in your head as he whispers: “No need to be sad, pumpkin. You are mine, and you always will be. There's no escaping me. We are bound by body, soul and... blood...”

A stifled moan escapes you as you turn your head to the side and offer your neck to him. He's never bitten you before, but you know, deep down, like a long forgotten instinct, like a thought he planted into your brain, that it will be the last ritual to properly chain you to him – and him to you. And you want it.

His teeth sink into your soft skin, a sudden cold creeping through your veins, your body twitching slightly beneath him. And as he laps up the blood spilling from your neck, he holds you tightly, his hips rocking gently into yours, reigniting the fire burning within you as you feel his cock expanding inside you, filling you out, further pushing your limits. You can only issue weakened gasps, your mind slipping, a soft smile playing around your swollen lips.

He seals your wound with a gentle kiss, inhaling deeply as he nuzzles your neck, your pulse fluttering against him, and then he starts moving his hips, slow and steady thrusts that bounce you on the couch. Your eyes are hooded, but you can barely see him above you. All you can make out is a black shadow, filling your vision, as he grows on top (and inside) of you, the tail is back to tease your twitching limbs, his horns slip from his skull, brushing against your fingers fisting his hair, his whole body seems to vibrate as he assumes his true demonic form that he's never fully shown you.

And even now you can't appreciate it with how he hammers his cock into you, holds you in his embrace. Your mind is spinning, filled and yet empty, while his low growls mix with your little mewls. He is all around you, inside and out, devouring you whole. And you're here for it. All of it. He could drag you into the lowest circle of hell and you'd just cling to him, unwilling to let go, his to carry around, his to play with. His little puppet, the small human he chose to be his mate.

The soft swish of his wings barely registers as he lifts you into the air again, fucking your body and soul with reckless abandon, taking you to heights (and depths) you've never seen before, stretching you and your comfort zone further and further, invading spaces he shouldn't be able to penetrate. But you are his, every inch of you, every nook and cranny is there for him to fill.

And while he does just that with persistent thrusts of his large cock, you feel your heart swelling as well, beating hard in your heaving chest, beating only for him. Your boyfriend is a demon, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[wondeurwall]

AUTHOR'S NOTE. based on the poll: nsfw that won by a landslide, as expected AKSNDJSKb!!! i'll post the sfw soon. i'm currently sitting on 9k with this fic & i don't think i'm close to being done yet omg 😵‍💫 not sure how many more previews i'll post of it – i'll play by ear. or, if it's something y'all still would like, then i'll be more than happy to do it, but i think they'll be much shorter going forward!! 💕💕

AND good luck to anyone pulling for zayne's banner & for anyone trying the new oracle of stars event... i want to try pulling for rafayel's, at the very least, since they all look related to the myths 😭 for the lore, I'LL BE BROKE!!!

TAGS/WARNINGS: 🔞 mdni, fem!reader, porn with plot because i said so, cunnilingus

He drops to his knees, keeps his arms slung over your legs, trapping you at the edge of the bed. His face is in front of your pussy, the heat of his breath makes you quiver.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl,” he says.

And, you do exactly that. Rafayel’s gaze has the full moon in there, the light unblinking and brilliant, like a parallel of the sun during the day. It dares you to flinch the longer you look. But, you keep staring, find that it doesn’t hurt and, instead, the light feels familiar. 

You hear the waves, tides along the shore and grains of sand being pulled into the water. It happens briefly. Holding your breath, the salt of the sea comes to you like it does in your dreams, a little more vivid each time you fall asleep. 

The same images of him fill your vision. Why?

You release the breath, then blink, feeling the heaviness in your chest and the lump in your throat again. It’s a back-and-forth reel of him and Rafayel, different realities converging to a single point in time – and, your lips are trembling. With the heat of Rafayel’s body seeping into you and the recollection of the sea, the moment tastes and sounds like a memory.

No. It’s more than that. 

You look at Rafayel, and everything feels less like a dream and more like a memory.

You’re about to call his name, but it’s quickly ripped out of your lips in an airy moan. The flat of his tongue glides up your slit once. Then, he’s doing it again, dipping the tip into your hole and curling between your folds as he moves up to gather your cum. Taking as much as he can, he swallows the taste of you, eyes fluttering closed as he savors it. 

It’s the way he does that – makes you believe this isn’t the first time, like he isn’t a stranger to this side of you. So, you’re drifting back into your head (only barely now, because the pleasure is intense, hot and needy) and it’s as if pieces of a puzzle come together in the span of a millisecond and you’re lucid enough to arrive to what seems like an impossible reason: it’s not the first. 

You can’t shake off this feeling. 

Your pupils dilate, oxygen completely dried from your lungs when you see the pleasure on his face. To you, Rafayel is reliving something he’s missed. Something that’s been denied from him for so, so long and he’s finally grasped onto it, and he looks like he’s found the secret to walking on air. 

The ache in your chest is overwhelmed by the ache in your pussy. You whine, the glow in his eyes too dizzying. It does nothing more than guide you closer to hysteria. Your hips jerk forward, begging.  

Blood rushes through his cock, straining beneath his pants as a deep rumble comes from within his chest. He’s diving back into your cunt for more before you can catch your breath. 

You lie there, unable to close your legs. His arms keep them bent and tucked securely between his biceps and forearms, the strength of him nothing you can even attempt to win against. It comes to you as no surprise – he’s not human after all. Your mouth parts, a light sheen of saliva over your lips. Shallow, quick breaths keep you grounded as you watch through glassy eyes how Rafayel devours your pussy like a starved man. 

He pulls back slightly, staring – he hones in on your little bud. You hold your breath when he presses a kiss to your clit, slow and gentle, before he traps it between his lips and sucks, humming as he does.

“Raf – Rafayel,” you gasp, the vibrations coupled with his sucking makes your thighs vibrate, has you seeing tiny white stars. He sucks your clit harder, and your voice gets caught at the edge of your throat. 

There’s a pause before you’re moaning like a broken record.

You force your hands to mask your face, rallying enough strength to quiet down because you’re falling, losing yourself so fast, and you have no idea how to wrap your head around the pleasure that’s already building back up.

There’s a disapproving click from the man between your legs.

“Stop,” he says, voice deepening to a near growl. It surprises you – this tone, along with that look in his eyes, half-lidded, clouded with desire, like a predator ready to pounce at its prey – and you feel a greater level of ecstasy being injected into you and it knocks against the sensitive, heavy knot in your stomach.

His demand is never quite like this. It feels… good. 

Rafayel loosens the hold on one of your legs to snatch your hands away from your face, “I need to hear you, baby, or I’ll stop.”

Breath bated, you can’t help but stare at him, utterly dazed by the moonlight that hangs over his head just like it does in his eyes. 

Lovestruck. Only a second passes before you realize how far you’ve fallen, how desperate you are to see more of this version because there’s no use in denying that you’re among the reasons – if not the reason – he’ll take charge. It’s a stark contrast to the light-hearted and comical side he usually shows. There’s a certain attractiveness to it, the willingness inside of him to take care of you with this authority. 

He asks, “Won’t you be a good girl and listen to me?”

God, you’re so wet right now.

You forget how to breathe, feeling like you’ve evolved in a bottomless nothing. His grip on your hands is firm, yet not so much that it shackles you. He’s still gentle. Nodding your head is all you can manage. He finds it cute. Rafayel brushes his mouth over your palm and around your hand to the first knuckle. He smiles. 

And, you melt. Of course, you do. Craving to be good for him, to be the good girl like he says you can be – that you are – you clutch onto the bed sheets instead, let your mouth babble this time.

When he’s sure you won’t do it again, he goes back to your clit, giving the attention it deserves as he keeps his eyes on you. He plants a kiss to your throbbing bud again. And again. And then again. It gets stickier there, messy with your cum and arousal and his saliva; stretchy, gooey strings that reconnect his lips to your pussy.

© 2024 wondeurwall ☆ all rights reserved. please don't repost as your own, modify or translate on here or on other platforms. reblogs & likes are appreciated! ♡

[rockwgooglyeyes]

In and of itself, Nowhere is the prophecy that Ivan has written for himself, one of self destruction. Fitting for one of the most tragic characters in this show, the one whose love was requited but who never let it be anything due to his own stubbornness and blindness. Not only that but the way that he thinks of himself, as a monster who only serves to hurt those who he loves, is something that proves not to be true, necessarily, but it proves to be true through Ivan's twisted worldview as he hurt Sua by making fun of her sacrifice and he hurt Till by kissing him at the worst possible time. This song, Ivan's first solo since Black Sorrow, echoes that in being another self-fulfilling prophecy of Ivan's, another lie that he told himself so many times that he made it come true.

The repetition of musical elements such as the lifting scale of chimes, the swing of the instrumentals, the snare and percussion being pretty much the same every time only adding to the sensation of mounting foreboding up and up, a rising action that continues to rise but never truly reaches a climax, no culmination, no conclusion until death. My friend Zen (@verdantlights) called it eerie, and I agree. The way that the song all comes together, it feels like a tragedy unfolding in front of you, over and over, one that you know will happen and yet you can do nothing to prevent. It's almost like the "tainted history" that Ivan talks of, the repetition of events again and again over time, the way that history seems to be cyclical and we, as humans, never seem to truly learn.

In certain ways, the song is about the way that the perceived reality of the world and the world's actual reality are very, very different things. Considering the line about "a stiff dream dyed in rose-colored hues" that slowly changed to a dream dyed purple, to a dream dyed black, it is the way that when we are children we are able to hope for a better future than the one we think will actually come and how as we age, we are traumatized by the world to the point where we can no longer hope for anything better. Becoming someone who dismisses hope because you've tried hoping before and you only ended up with a kick in the gut and a punch in the face, well, that's a trauma response. We are all slowly traumatized over time into believing that the world can't get better, our rose-colored dreams becoming purple until they finally fade to black, blotted out by the corruption of memory, those times when we dared to dream and we were shot down from out of the sky, our wax wings not even given the chance to melt. We are beaten down by life, over and over again, until we are simply forced to go through the routine that society demands of us and say that we are content (wake up, wake up to the usual routine & wake up, wake up to this beautiful life, is it for real?).

The worst part is that Ivan knows better (a dustlike existence can't open its eyes to look. I close my eyes). The whole reason why Ivan admires Till so much in the first place is his willingness to fight, his hope for a future without slavery for humans, his unadulterated and true love. Ivan knows what hope feels like and he knows that he just can muster it anymore, too exhausted to be anything other than apathetic (the wounds that kept reopening just became numb), but he can still love Till's vivacity and drive for change. Ivan views himself as something dirty, something broken that only serves to break others. He thinks that he's a monster who can only do the people he loves harm, and to a degree, that's true, his belief a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Ultimately though, Ivan is an immensely unreliable narrator, someone so biased against himself and towards literally anyone else but someone who is so stubborn that he is unwilling to believe anyone else's opinions on him because they have never met his "true self" only the mask that he wears that he ends up digging a deeper and deeper hole. He thinks of his story as one that's already written, the repetition of the line "this always happens to me" echoing that, especially with the way that eventually that song ends with it repeated again, "yeah, it's always like that, this always happens to me." Ivan isn't trying to fight it because his dream has long since been stained black, despite the fact that he knows that he could break out of this cycle of despair. He knows this prophecy that he is submitting to is one that he wrote himself and yet, where he stands right now? He has no will to change it.

note: My friend Ish (@chevalperd) screenshotted @/ivantill7089 (on twitter)'s english translation of this song for me, which is what I am referencing for the lyrics! I love you Ish thank you again so much :3

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a twist, reader doesn't know the bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, mentions of death, hospitals, poor writing, possible ooc,

Pt 2: Same day different mess

🔹🔹🔹

This isn't right, you're not right, you squeeze the mirror in your palms with shaking hands as you study yourself, you feel like you're staring at the face of an uncanny version of you, like someone who drew you from memory rather than your actual face. The basics are right, your eye shape, nose, curve of your jaw, but The details are all messed up. The scar curling down your temple is gone, the mark of too many split lips is gone, the mark on the side of your nose from too many surgeries gone, holes where piercings sat are different, too many grabbable ones decorate your face, the only thing that looks the exact same is the color of your eyes, this isn't your face.

And the body isn't any better, too thin, brittle feeling, where are your muscles? Your battle scars? The widows tattoo you wore proudly? This feels like something out of a dream where nothing's quite right and you can't escape some invisible monster, you're the invisible monster. This body isn't yours. You're not you.

You allow yourself one single moment to panic, the mask slips and you drop the mirror and shakily grab the hospital bed’s sides, your limbs trembling slightly at the effort it takes to pull yourself to sit up, the heart monitor beeps wildly beside you.

🔹🔹🔹

Amnesia—they're calling it post-traumatic amnesia. Apparently, you suffered an attack and they put you in a medical coma for an extended period. The mask is back on as you endure the doctors' examinations, the desire to ask about Natalia and Barton nearly Burns, lingering on the back of your tongue. Instead, you let them examine you and ask their endless questions, trying to gauge the extent of your memory loss. A nurse preps a dose of thiamine on the other side of the room while the doctor tests your motor skills. It annoys you that they won't give you straight answers when you do question them.

Your questions about the avengers were met with confusion, denying they even know what you're talking about, annoying. Whatever this is frustrates you. They started to baby talk you again so you eventually dropped the topic, rolling your eyes as they immediately wrote notes.

You don't do well with a lack of information and the thought of something being kept from you prickles your skin and drives you up the wall, still you put on a calm and dazed demeanor as you're poked and prodded and questioned like a toddler learning their alphabet, biting your tongue on your questions until one of them, an aging man tells you your husband has been informed you're awake, you pause and stare at them, was this a joke? another brainwash situation? We're you married off by hydra without your knowing? You shove the thoughts down and ask who your husband is, Once again they just look at you sadly.

“…Wayne? I'm a (lastname)” on a mission you wouldn't compromise yourself, but you need to know what the hell's going on. Maybe you were checked in under a false name? Given a false backstory? Why would Barton or Nat do that when you have on call doctors at the different bases? You don't remember a Wayne in any of your research, never an agreed upon alias.

Eventually one nurse hesitantly tells you his name, pulls her phone out and taps on it for a moment and then shows you a picture, you don't know the man she shows you, you study him for a moment, taking in the stupid smile and too open body language, the suit is tailored and that's clearly expensive shoes and a ring so probably has a bit of money, you assume he's some kind of public person if she could just Google him, that doesn't bode well in your mind. You can't see yourself ever getting attached to someone that plasters themselves all over the public eye to be studied and scrutinized, that doesn't mix well with a spy and assassin. What happened to you after the fall? What happened on that mission?

🔹🔹🔹

The doctor is still talking, you realize. you'd zoned out slightly after he started explaining how post traumatic amnesia works and what you could expect, in your defense you already know everything he's saying so…. Your thoughts drift off again. No one's talked about the dusting, did the team get all the stones? Did they do anything with said stones? It's a little strange to think you'd offered your life up for a rock. Oh right, the doctor. He's trying to get your attention, his eyes peering down at you in concern.

“Wayne? Hello?….Charlotte please note brain fog on their chart.”

He grumbles quietly to the nurse beside him, the white lights of the hospital reflecting off his bald head, the nurse nods and quickly does as told.

"I... apologize... I hadn't meant to be rude, I just can't..." you mumble, feigning meekness as you drop your eyes, tightening your lips to appear embarrassed. Being weak, shaky, and lacking muscles and coordination is bad enough, so you cling to your other defense—subtle manipulation.

“Oh, no, no, no! This is quite normal miss! You've been in a medical coma for over a month now it's natural your body and brain are trying to catch up, so to speak. You've nothing to worry about mx Wayne.” The assurances come too quickly, almost suspiciously so.

The name "Wayne" nearly makes your eye twitch as thoughts of your supposed "husband" surface again. You wonder if they'd know if your "husband" was a plant, or if they're all in on it. The thought makes your fingers twitch with the desire to defend yourself, but you keep your expression carefully blank and vulnerable. These people clearly expect you to be someone else entirely, and for now, playing along might be your best chance at gathering intel.

“Oh…I suppose that's a comfort, will my…husband, be informed on my treatment plans?”

The doctor nods, a hint of relief crossing his features at your apparent acceptance of the situation.

"Yes, of course. Mr. Wayne has been quite involved in your care. He'll be briefed on everything."

You notice how the doctor's posture relaxes slightly, clearly pleased with your questions. He'd worried your amnesia symptoms would lead to an outburst, you've been rather back and forth after all.

You nod your head like you're accepting the answer, your mind spinning with the thought that some mystery man was involved with your comatose care. You have no idea who “Wayne” is or what he does, your work spying on the elite has left a bad taste in your mouth so you have low expectations and your guard up.

🔹🔹🔹

He stares over the ledge cautiously, watching the group loitering down below inconspicuously, they think they're subtle as they eye up anyone walking by. Three of them and they're clearly new at this, nervous jitters and everything, he wonders if they'd even act tonight if a police car rolled by.

“Nightwing.” his ear piece crackles to life, he taps the com twice to signal he heard.

“Oracle, what can I do for you?” He never pulls his eyes away from the group, he's ready to act as soon as they do.

“it's about operater, they're awake.” He tenses when he hears that, no wonder his phone was constantly vibrating earlier…

He leaps off the ledge, intending to just startle the group so he can get on his way, maybe he'll scare em straight.

🔹🔹🔹

M.list | prev | next

A/n: bruce and reader will have their meeting soon I promise 🙏 I think they just need to have their "WTF" Moments first 🥲

Taglist: @cxcilla

[infin1ty-garden]

MEMORIES MAKE EVERYTHING SO DIFFICULT

⋆｡°✩ summary: where you fake amnesia to get out of a fight with your enemy and he lies and tells you'd been dating for a year ⋆｡°✩ character(s): draco malfoy, theodore nott, mattheo riddle, lorenzo berkshire and blaise zabini ⋆｡°✩ warnings: meantion of injury ⋆｡°✩ word count: 644 ⋆｡°✩ author note: this is my first time writing for the harry potter fandom. so, sorry if the characters are ooc

masterlist.

DRACO MALFOY

⋆｡°✩ Draco found out through a friend you'd gotten amnesia, he immediately went to find you. Stating he was so worried you'd gotting injured by a gryffindor no less.

⋆｡°✩ When you expressed confusion over who he was, the lie slipped out. "Your boyfriend."

⋆｡°✩ You dismissed his suggestion of visiting the hospital wing. He decided to patch you up himself.

⋆｡°✩ This act went on for a while. He didn't know why. He wasn't in love with you. Was he?

⋆｡°✩ He told you he lied about being your boyfriend and understood if you never wanted to speak to him. You made an admission of your own. How you don't have amnesia and remember everything.

⋆｡°✩ "The love I have for you is real."

THEODORE NOTT

⋆｡°✩ The hole time you talking about how you don't remember him, he was just smirking at you. That's when he proclaimed you were dating him.

⋆｡°✩ Since forever he'd been in love with you but you'd always treated him like a enemy. When the opportunity presented itself, he wasn't gonna waste it.

⋆｡°✩ He didn't make a big show of dating you. Wanting to make the gestures more intimate and personal but also easier for him when it blows up in his face.

⋆｡°✩ When you finally told him you'd lied about the amnesia, he didn't speak to you for a while. You thought that was it but he'd cornered you asking if everything you'd said was a lie as well.

⋆｡°✩ He'd falled deeper in love then he ever has and the thought of you not reciprocating those feelings crushes him.

MATTHEO RIDDLE

⋆｡°✩ Mattheo didn't believe you as soon as the words left your mouth. He decided to fuck around to see how far you'll take it

⋆｡°✩ Saying how you'd been together for the better part of the year and "How could you not remember me?" bullshit

⋆｡°✩ You both went along with it. At the same time, Mattheo stopped flirting and sleeping around. What a weird turn of events? Why would he do that?

⋆｡°✩ You played along for a time but decided to tell him the truth. "I know. You're not as good at lying as you think."

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

⋆｡°✩ As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt horrible. Why did he feel so bad? He was supposed to hate you.

⋆｡°✩ Still he never corrected himself and proceeded to take you on many many dates

⋆｡°✩ Pretending to be your boyfriend was a lot more enjoyable than he thought it would be. Was he falling in love with you? No way!

⋆｡°✩ Lorenzo knew he was lying to himself but it was better than admitting what he already knew

⋆｡°✩ You went on all kinds of dates. His friends noticed the change as he was a lot more happy and made fun of him for it.

⋆｡°✩ One of your friends accidentally mentioned you had lied to him. At first he was furious but he'd lied to you as well.

BLAISE ZABINI

⋆｡°✩ Blaise is not some one who makes fun of medical conditions but...

⋆｡°✩ He introduced himself as your boyfriend and for the last few months his feelings of hate had turned into love

⋆｡°✩ He was going show you how good of a boyfriend can he be and maybe just maybe you'll fall for him as he had for you

⋆｡°✩ It doesn't take him long to realise that you'd lied but he goes along with it. Ignoring obvious signs of you actually retaining your memory.

⋆｡°✩ He was his happiest when hanging out with you and he knew his feelings were real. He hoped you'd realise yours were too.

⋆｡°✩ Unable to lie to him anymore you told him the truth. How you lied and love him. His answer? Kissing you.

Thanks for reading!

[reignpage]

The Other Man

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

Your worst nightmare is avoiding your eyes. 

Still sweating and slightly out of breath from the sprint you made from your home to the hospital, you try to wipe your hands down the material of your jeans, and you’re mortified to find them shaking. 

Is it from adrenaline or from fear? 

When they said they found your husband, alive, and he’s been fixed up all brand new, you thought everything would be fine, that things would go back to normal. Your home will finally stop being so stifling, you won’t burn a hole through your carpet from all the pacing like your friend tried to joke, and you no longer have to hold yourself at night just to stop from hyperventilating.

But when you look at his eyes and see only confusion and a drop of anxiety, you know something’s gone terribly wrong. 

“He suffered trauma to the head and we noticed no signs of it during surgery, so the symptoms only showed up now. We’re sorry we hadn’t been able to warn you ahead of time,” the doctor says. 

Maybe now your hands are shaking from anger. 

You step towards the doctor, the sterile smell of latex gloves and death stinging your nose, and you splutter out, “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with my husband? Why is no one just telling me straight up?”

He flinches. 

They both do. 

You don’t feel bad, can’t feel bad. 

The doctor opens his mouth and he’s explaining, rambling about all sorts of medical terms you don’t know and it’s likely he’s doing it to distract you, or punish you, but you do hear one word. It registers and sends a static ringing through your ears. 

“It would seem your husband has developed retrograde amnesia.”

Amnesia. 

When he finishes, a silence takes over, filling up the room and pressing you to the walls, daring you to suck in a breath. A beat or two passes whilst he wait for either one of you to say something, ask something, anything. But no one does, so he leaves and immediately you wish he stayed. 

“Hi.”

His voice breaks you out of your internal panicking. It has a slight quiver, perhaps from the deep sleep he had been under, or the exhaustion that had built up, the price to pay for saving so many people in one night. The reports said, on the night he disappeared, that there had been many curses, strong ones, gathered in an organised attack, an ambush. They had backed your husband in a corner and pushed him to his limits. 

They did this. 

You try to smile. 

“Hi, baby, how you doing?”

There’s a blush forming across his cheeks and you smile for real, finding his embarrassment adorable, but then it drops just as quick when he clears his throat, as if setting a boundary. 

“So,” he drags out, “you’re my wife, huh?”

What’s the procedure for losing your loved one to an internal injury so bad you feel it cut deep? What’s the etiquette? Because you’re so sure screaming at him to stop playing this cruel joke is probably not a good idea; you already know what the doctors would say.

It would be unwise to push him.

Your steps are hesitant but you push through that invisible force keeping you back. You need to touch him, need to feel that, despite it all, he’s warm and real and breathing — at least one of you has to be. 

He looks up at you from your position beside his bed and watched your hand lift towards his face. He doesn’t move, he steels himself for your sake, you know it, because your husband has always been the kindest, most empathetic man you’ve ever met. 

Then you cradle his slightly cut up cheek and tears stream down before you even know it, a laugh bubbles out and you sob it out. He’s really alive. 

“I’m so happy you came back.”

He smiles, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s still a genuine smile and your heart leaps. If he can smile at you like that even without the pull of the shared memories of his time with you, then surely there’s hope. Because through his dazzling eyes, always dazzling, you believe there’s a huge box of everything he had filed on you, on his love for you, his wishes and desires for for you both. It’s just locked away at the moment, but you’ll find a key. 

You have to. 

“I must have been pretty great to bag a gorgeous woman like you.” 

“The greatest.”

He laughs in surprise. He did that every time you played along, because no one else ever had, not his own family or his friends, and not even himself. 

And the hours pass by with him asking questions and you answering patiently, despite the stab at your chest from every moment he forgot, every special occasion he doesn’t remember, and you both relive the bad times, the terrible times. 

Except he’s going it through for the first time. 

All the nurses and doctors filter in and out, changing this, emptying that, wiping here, walking there, and throwing all sorts of information at you. Eventually, they give you a care pack full of pamphlets filled with numbers and websites for support, letting you know he’s free to leave, but that check-ups will have to be frequent to monitor his progress. 

You can tell he’s getting tired; you don’t blame him, it’s been too much too fast. So you tell him, “Alright, handsome, it’s time to go home.”

He cheers up at that, eagerly packing and hobbling out of the hospital and into your car. The car ride home isn’t quiet like you had dreaded, it’s loud, bustling with more questions and excited remarks. 

“No way. He ate that finger? That’s so funny.”

“Oh, his hair is really that spiky? And she puts up with both of them? Wow.”

“He’s still teaching? That’s great.”

When you pull up to the house at the end of the street, all the lights are off and you feel a little embarrassed that it doesn’t look inviting, and  of course you forgot to clean up the dishes and vacuum the carpet. Maybe you should have gotten balloons and streamers, maybe invited his friends. You know the doctor said don’t overwhelm him, but they’ll definitely come knocking sooner than later. 

That’s how loved your husband is. 

You have a bashful smile when you finally glance up at him, both walking up to the door, and it plummets at the disappointed look on his face. He doesn’t care about the lights, only that the home he had been expecting is the one across the city, the one you had made him move out of years ago so you could live together as a soon to be wedded pair. 

Now, he’ll have to live in your home as a guest, borrowing your cups and plates, and wearing clothes he didn’t buy but the other man did, and then he’ll be sleeping next to you. 

A stranger. 

You gulp the horrified scream down and, with shaky hands, you unlock the door, ignoring the overwhelming feeling that you’re losing an uphill battle, that things will never be the same, and he’ll never love you, not like he did. 

Your husband is loyal to a fault; he won’t leave you, not because he loves you, not because he can’t imagine being anywhere else but here, with you, but because there’s a ring on his left finger that he keeps playing around with like it feels wrong to have it on. 

And the realisation that you don’t care, that you have enough love for the both of you, that you want, need, to have him in any way he’ll let you, creates a dull ache in your stomach.

You don’t try to smile when you turn to him, even when he does. 

All you say is,

“Welcome home, Satoru.”

[babybeeelle]

Hiii, long time no see. I was writing a different story, but I wasn't satisfied in the direction it was going so this just spouted from my brain. This was based off a request, but I'm dramatic so I amplified it :)

Summary - When Agatha's grief causes her to lash out at the reader, she hurts them deeply.

Warnings - Agatha needs therapy, mention of self-harm scars, near-death experiences, and detailed? suicide attempt.

Word count : 4400+

a/n - Very important Warnings. The is a very detailed fic. Please please please read them and make a safe decision to continue reading💖

What's Said and Done

You didn't intend for your reminiscing of Nicky to trigger Agatha the way it did. You had hoped that maybe the decades upon decades spent grieving together created a safe space to talk about the short, but treasured time you all had with Nicky. You craved to fill the hole his death left with the precious memories that had filled your heart with joy. You wanted that for Agatha. You wanted to mend the corrupted memory of him. He deserved to be cherished.

It was obvious now Agatha couldn't. You knew that unadulterated grief that was entangled into her loving soul very well. You thought her forgiving Rio, inviting her back into her heart after two centuries, meant that she was in a stage of grief where she would want to talk about him.

You had so many memories of Nicky etched into your heart, moments that glowed like a lighthouse in the violent weather of grief.

The day he first came into your lives, his tiny hands were gripping tightly to your fingers as Agatha held him, and his wide, curious eyes darted around the unfamiliar space in the bedroom of the little cottage you shared.

Rio had been cautious at first. Viewing his birth from the door frame, knowing she was going to be the one who would lead him to the afterlife before he could truly live.

Yes, she created him, but she also knew the possible complications of creating a precious life unnaturally. But when Agatha looked at her, tears brimming in her eyes as she nodded her head, she could see Agatha was thankful for giving her the time he deserved. To Rio, the pain would be worth it.

Anyone could tell Nicholas was made from Rio. The resemblance was uncanny as he grew older. His facial structure mirrored hers perfectly, from his sharp jawline to the delicate angles of his cheekbones. His eyes a warm chocolate, filled with mischief, were identical to hers. Even down to the smile lines that shined so brightly with his perfect smile. He truly was a mirror image.

There were the little everyday moments that had became everything.

Rio kneeling in the backyard, dirt smudged on her cheek as she pressed her hands to the soil, coaxing life from the earth. Nicky crouched beside her, his tiny fingers buried in the dirt, eyes wide with awe as delicate petals bloomed before him. Every time a new bloom appeared, he’d clap his hands and turn to Agatha with Rio's smile.

Then there were the nights Agatha loved most. She would sit on the edge of his bed, her hands glowing with a soft purple light as galaxies lit across his bedroom ceiling. Stars twinkled, planets drifted in slow, mesmerizing orbits, casting his room in a cosmic glow. Nicky’s small hands would reach up, tracing constellations only he could see, his laughter light and full of wonder.

It was all the things Agatha didn't want to remember.

Her shoulders stiffened while she was putting away laundry. “Why?” Agatha asked finally, her voice low and clipped.

You frowned, caught off guard by her tone. Feeling the sudden change in energy, you began to rub your scarred arm, a self-soothing habit you picked up when you began to feel on edge. “Why what?”

“Why do you have to bring him up?” she said, halting the chores. She turned to face you as you stood beside her. Her eyes were trained on yours, unwilling to break eye contact. “Do you think that helps? Reliving every little memory like it’s going to bring him back?”

The words stung, but you took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay calm. “I don’t bring him up to hurt you, Agatha. I just... I miss him. I thought maybe we could talk about the good times, try to focus on—”

“On what?” Agatha snapped, her voice rising. “On how he was never ours to keep him? How we couldn't heal him? On how everything we tried wasn’t enough?” She slammed her hand on the dresser in agitation causing you to jump, eyes-widened as your breath was caught in your throat from surprise. “Because that’s all I see when I think of him.”

Your heart clenched as you watched her unravel, the grief in her voice morphing into anger. “It wasn’t your fault, Agatha,” you said quietly reaching out for her hand. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head as she avoided your touch, crossing her arms defensively. “Of course you’d say that. You always have to be the understanding one, don’t you? Always so composed, so...forgiving”

Her words hit like a slap, but she was being unfair. “You’re not the only one who lost him, Agatha. I lost him too. And Rio—”

“Don’t,” Agatha interrupted, her voice cutting through the room. “Don’t you dare bring her into this.”

The tension between you thickened as your shared grief and unresolved pain collided.

“Why not?” you challenged, ready to defend. “She loved him too. We all did. And maybe it’s hard for you to see, but she’s been trying, Agatha. She’s been trying to make things right with you.”

Agatha's lips curling into a bitter smile. “Trying?” she repeated mockingly. “Trying to what? Pretend like everything’s fine? Pretend like she didn’t—”

“Like she didn’t what?” you demanded as you cut her off, beginning to believe she had never truly forgiven Rio. “Say it, Agatha. Whatever it is you’ve been holding in, just say it.”

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her body trembling with fury. “Like she didn't take him from us. He’s gone, and all you can do is sit there and talk about him like that’s going to fix anything.”

You stared at her, a silent conformation of your theory. "It wasn't her fault and you know it. He was our boy too," you whispered in defeat. You weren't sure if she had even heard you. But her response showed you she did.

"It wasn't her fault?"

But before you could respond, she delivered the blow that shattered your soul.

“He was never your son,” she said, her voice sharp as she looked at you like you were nothing to her. “Not you. Not Rio's. He was my son. I'm the only one that did anything and everything to keep him alive, and here you are defending Rio like you always do,” she spat out with a sneering expression.

The words hit you hard. You felt physically sick. Your breathing was shallow like Agatha's words were constricting your lungs.

“No,” You protested, your voice breaking. Your eyebrows scrunched as your eyes shone with tears, searching Agatha’s face, desperate for any sign that the woman you loved hadn’t truly meant those words. “You don’t mean that."

Agatha’s expression hardened leveling down to look you straight in the eyes. “I mean it from the bottom of my heart,” she seethed, annunciating every word. “God, I can’t even look at you. It's pathetic. You have no right to be crying right now.” Pushing past you, she walked to the door like your very presence disgusted her.

You staggered back a step, clutching the edge of the dresser to steady yourself. Your tears fell freely now.

“Where are you going?” You asked, your voice thick from crying, inadvertently pleading for her to stay.

“Anywhere but here,” Agatha bit without looking back.

With that, she stormed out, her footsteps echoing down the stairs. The back door slammed shut moments later, leaving the house in a suffocating silence.

Letting the dam crumble, you clasped your chest, trying to ease the ache that felt like it was tearing you apart from the inside.

Your legs seemed to move on their own, carrying you to the bathroom in a haze.

As you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the reflection staring back at you felt foreign, like someone you barely recognized. You searched your own face for something, anything, that might explain why you weren’t enough. Why Agatha couldn’t bear to look at you.

"How could anyone love you?" that dark, familiar voice in the back of your mind whispered. It had been gone for a while, but it has returned making its mission to demolish all the progress you've made.

You gripped the edge of the sink so tightly that your knuckles were turning white. Agatha's words echoed endlessly.

"He was never your son." "Not you. Not Rio. He was mine."

The venom in her voice, the disgust in her eyes—how could she say something like that? How could she not see how much you loved him, how you would've given everything if it meant saving him?

You couldn't wrap your head around it. She couldn't actually think that of you, right?

The intrusive thoughts came in waves, each one dragging you deeper into despair.

"She doesn’t want you anymore. She'd be better off without you. Rio too." You squeezed your eyes shut, as though it could stop the endless spiral.

The thought of Rio did it for you. Rio’s face flickered into your mind. Her eyes, usually filled with warmth, was devoid of any love for you. She's death, literally. She is a cosmic being, and you are so...ordinary. You didn't have a sharp, captivating aura like Agatha who demanded anyone and everyone's attention the second she walks into a room.

Your love wasn't worth all the pain. You weren't worth all the pain. You're a burden to them.

The weight of those thoughts pressed down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. You needed both of them. There was already a piece of your heart missing, but Agatha and Rio kept your heart from crumbling. You wouldn't survive that pain again.

You glanced down at the sink, where droplets of water had leaked from the faucet. For a moment, you began to visualize your arm as the faucet, slowly leaking blood.

Your gaze shifted back to the mirror. The self-hatred hit you like a tidal wave. How could they love you? Agatha’s words weren’t just anger—they were confirmation of your deepest and darkest fears. That they didn't need you the way you needed them.

The familiar ache in your chest morphed into a dangerous mission. You opened the drawer beneath the sink, your trembling hands rummaging through its contents until they found what they were looking for. You hesitated for a moment, pausing as you were unsure if this is what you wanted. You had been so good, so happy. Then you remembered what your reality had shifted to.

It was a little purple jewelry box. It once held the ring on your finger from a day you'd never forget. A vow of a love that would be everlasting. But as you opened the box and found the blade hidden within, none of that mattered anymore.

Freeing it from the packaging, you noticed it still had the same sharpness from the last time you used it, and the glint made your stomach twist in anticipation.

The blade felt cool and familiar in your hand as you slowly sank into the cold, empty tub, the icy surface sending a chill down your spine. You hesitated again, gripping it tightly, the thoughts racing through your mind almost convincing you to stop. But one reason kept you convinced: you were doing this for them. This way, you could take the burden of yourself off their shoulders. You were doing them a favor.

With a shaky exhale, you glided the blade lightly across the center of your arm, testing the waters. The first cut was a shallow line that only allowed little bubbles of blood to come to the surface, but the sting grounded you nonetheless.

With more urgency, you pressed down harder, carving another line into your skin. Blood welled up, slowly making its way down your arm like a raindrop rolling down a window.

Taking a deep breath in, you moved the blade down to your wrist where you knew the blood would really flow. As you exhaled, face scrunched, you swiped quick and deep, finally getting to the point where you knew you did damage.

But it wasn’t enough. You craved balance, symmetry. You mirrored the cuts on your other arm, your movements growing more frantic, wanting you're relief to come faster. The tears flowed in rhythm with your blood, causing a hysterical laugh to escape from your throat.

Your vision swam as exhaustion began to set in, your body growing heavy. The pain that had once felt grounding now dulled, your consciousness blurred. It never really dawned on you who would be coming soon.

On cue, a familiar presence filled the room. The usual warmth was now an unwelcoming cold. Her usually composed demeanor was gone, replaced by wide-eyed panic as she took in the scene before her.

“No, no, no, no,” Rio panicked, her voice raw and breaking as she kneeled beside the tub. Her hands were trembling as they hovered over your wounds.

“You can’t do this to me. I won't do it. I refuse to take you,” she cried out in anguish as tears streamed down her face, denying her duty as Death, denying the natural order.

Her hands glowed a faint green as she pressed her palms to your arms. A tingling warmth spread through the cuts, knitting the torn flesh back together. She murmured soft reassurances under her breath, though they were as much for herself as they were for you. Her power wasn’t meant for this, for preventing death, but she gave freely of herself, pouring every ounce of her strength into pulling you back from the edge. The strain showed in her creased forehead, but she fought against it because her heart depended on it.

When the bleeding finally stopped, Rio sagged back on her heels, her hands trembling as the adrenaline drained from her body. Her breath came in uneven gasps, her pulse pounding in her ears. She stared at you, her vision blurring with a mixture of relief and pain.

Carefully, as though you might shatter at the slightest touch, she reached out and gathered you into her arms. Your body was limp against her, your head lolling weakly onto her shoulder. She could feel the shallow rise and fall of your chest—too faint, too fragile—but you were breathing. That was enough.

She pressed a trembling kiss against your temple, her lips barely grazing your skin as she carried you from the bathroom. Each step was slow, deliberate, as though she feared moving too quickly would send you slipping away from her again.

By the time she laid you down on the bed, the world around you was a hazy blur, shifting in and out of focus. The weight beneath you felt unfamiliar—softer than the cold tub, warmer than the tile floor. A distant pressure tugged at your limbs, grounding you, but your thoughts drifted in a fog. Sounds came muffled, like you were underwater.

Rio’s voice, low and strained, broke through the haze. You couldn't make out the words, only the shape of them, the warmth in them. Then she was gone, footsteps fading, leaving you adrift in the silence.

A moment later, something soft slipped over your head. The scent of lavender and something faintly smoky curled into your nose, stirring something deep in your chest. A trembling breath left your lips, the familiarity of it pulling you back, dragging you closer to the surface of awareness.

Your lip quivered. A whimper—barely more than a breath—escaped before you even realized it. The sweater clung to your skin, warm and safe, and for the first time since your body hit the tile, the numbness began to crack.

“What is it?” Rio asked urgently, cupping your face with her hands, searching your face for any signs of pain or discomfort. “What’s wrong?”

Tears welled in your eyes, spilling over as you whispered, still dazed, “She doesn’t want us anymore.”

Rio froze, her heart dropping at the words and the hopelessness in your voice.

She cupped your face, her thumbs brushing away the tears that continued to fall while she forced herself to stay calm, to steady her voice. “That’s not true,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “Agatha loves you. She loves us. She’s just... hurting.”

You shook your head weakly, your gaze unfocused, lost in the thick fog of exhaustion and heartbreak. "She said it. She said... he wasn't ours, only hers. She doesn't want us.” Your voice cracked, breaking on the last sentence. “She doesn’t want us.” Your words grew softer, fading into incoherent murmurs as exhaustion pulled you under.

Seeing you like this brought bile up. Your pain was making her physically nauseous. Rio’s arms wrapped around you tightly, as though sheer force alone could keep you from slipping away again. “She’s lost in her grief,” she said softly, resting her chin on top of your head. “She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t.”

But your eyes were already fluttering closed, exhaustion and despair pulling you into an empty, restless sleep. As your breathing evened out, Rio stayed by your side, her hand resting on yours.

For a long moment, she simply sat there, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

She wanted to believe Agatha hadn’t meant it, that the words had been spat out in grief and anger, not truth. But seeing you like this—weak, barely conscious, drowning in the pain Agatha had inflicted—made it impossible to excuse.

“She’s lost in her grief. She didn't mean it," Rio murmured again, this time to herself.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The argument replayed in Agatha’s mind as she sat on the bench, viewing the garden Rio created centuries ago as the cool night air brushing against her skin. Her fingers pressed against her temple, rubbing slow, desperate circles as if she could knead away the headache forming beneath her skull.

She took a swig from the half-empty beer bottle, the taste flat and useless to distract her from the ache in her chest. Her words had been cruel, sharp-edged daggers thrown in anger. "He was never your son. Not you, not Rio. He was my son." The memory of your devastated expression was seared into her mind.

She’d meant it in the moment. Or at least, she’d convinced herself she did. Grief over Nicky had festered into something raw and ugly, and in her anguish, she had taken it out on you—the person who had only ever tried to love her through her faults. Your love was pure.

While Nicky had inherited little of your features, what you had given him was more personal than any resemblance. Your ability to love someone regardless of their past and all the terrible things they've done is one of a kind. Agatha was sure there was no one who could ever grace this world the way you did. That was what made you stronger than any power she or Rio could ever possess.

But that purity was suffocating. It was too much like his. It was like he had never left. And yet, he was gone.

That was the worst part. Every time she looked at you, at Rio, it was a reminder of what she had lost. Of what she could never get back.

It wasn’t fair that you and Rio were still here with her when he wasn’t. It wasn’t fair that you kept loving her, even after all the ways she pushed you away. It wasn’t fair that you could carry on, bearing his memory with softness, while she was drowning in the weight of it.

Maybe that was why she lashed out. Because she hated that you were proof love could survive grief. And she hated herself even more for resenting you for it.

But now, in the openness of the garden, regret gnawed at her, eating her alive. She wished she could take it back, wished she could go back in time to undo the pain she’d caused. She hated herself for how easily the words had slipped out, sharp and unforgiving. It was a defense second nature to her. It was as unstoppable as her magic siphoning. It relented before she could remember that the people she lashed out at were the ones she loved most.

The sound of the back door slamming and heavy footsteps jolted her from her thoughts.

Agatha shot to her feet, as she carelessly discarded the bottle she had been nursing. She turned sharply, her heart hammering against her ribs as Rio strode toward her. The guilt and sorrow clung to Agatha like a shadow, but Rio wasn’t here to acknowledge her pain. This wasn’t about her.

She didn’t speak at first, only stood before Agatha, her entire body trembling with a rage barely containable as she tried to formulate her words carefully. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths, her fists curling so tightly at her sides that her knuckles went white.

Agatha froze. The half-empty bottle hung uselessly at her side, momentarily forgotten. Her gaze flickered toward Rio, taking in the rigid set of her shoulders, the barely restrained fury rolling off of her in waves. Then Agatha saw it—dark stains smeared across Rio’s hands, stark against her skin. The realization hit her like ice water.

Your blood.

Her stomach twisted violently. She felt the breath hitch in her throat as her gaze snapped back to Rio’s face. The rage was still there, burning bright, but beneath it—buried just deep enough to go unnoticed by anyone else—was fear.

“You know what you’ve caused?” Rio’s voice was low and deadly, trembling with restrained rage.

Agatha swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “I—”

Rio cut Agatha off before she could try to explain. “Do you know what Y/N tried to do because of you?” The words were spit through clenched teeth, but her voice cracked on your name.

“What... what-” she stammered. Once again, getting cut off.

“She thought you didn’t want her anymore. That you didn’t want us anymore.” Rio’s composure shattered, her breath coming in ragged bursts. “Do you have any idea what it felt like to find the love of our lives bleeding out in that tub? Because of you? Because you let your grief fester into something that poisoned her?”

Rio’s hands trembled as she dragged them through her hair, her breath coming in sharp, angry heaves. Then, suddenly, as if overwhelmed by the weight of it all, she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes and let out a harsh, shuddering breath.

Agatha couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Her vision swam, your face flashing in her mind—not the way she had last seen it, but the way it looked utterly lifeless

Tears welled in her eyes, her hands trembling as she clutched at the edge of the bench for support. “I... I didn’t know,” she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.

Rio dropped her hands, her gaze snapping to Agatha with something close to disbelief. Then she laughed, humorless and bitter. “You didn’t know?” she echoed, voice raw. “How could you not know, Agatha? Don’t give me that pathetic reasoning, Agatha. You know her more than you know yourself. You know how deeply she feels everything. Love. Pain. And now she thinks you hate her.”

Agatha’s tears spilled over, her chest heaving with the weight of her guilt. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I just... I didn’t know how to deal with it. I didn’t know how to-.”

Rio’s expression softened for a fleeting moment, the raw pain in Agatha’s panic stirring something deep within her. But she quickly steeled herself, unwilling to let sympathy distract her from the truth.

"You need to fix this." Her words were quiet. Firm. And final.

Agatha blinked through the blur of tears. She hadn't felt this type of fear since Nicky.

“If you’ve ever loved her, if you’ve ever loved us, then you’ll make this right,” Rio said filled with tiredness and desperation. “Because if you don’t, you’ll lose us both.”

Agatha’s breath hitched.

Rio’s words hung in the air like a heavy, suffocating fog. Without waiting for a response, she turned and strode back inside, the door swinging shut behind her with a thud.

She had been so consumed by her own grief that she hadn’t realized she had become the very thing she had feared, the thing that had broken you.

Agatha stood there in stunned silence, her mind reeling. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed into the dirt of the garden, her fingers dug into the soil as though it could somehow anchor her to the ground. The weight of Rio’s words crashed over her like a tidal wave, and for the first time, the full gravity of her actions hit her.

Her guilt twisted like a knife in her gut. Her sobs were quiet at first, but soon they grew louder, wracking her body with the force of hardened grief. Her pain pulsed around her, a sickness that spread without forgiveness. Her gaze darted around, watching in anguish as the pink azaleas she had once tended with such care now wilting, their petals curling in on themselves as if recoiling from her presence. The energy emanating from her twisted the life around her, black veins creeping up the stems, the poison of her emotions seeping into the earth.

Just like she had seeped into you. It was a silent parallel of how she had poisoned you.

The thought made her sick.

She had always known that her anger and pain had pushed you and Rio away, but she hadn’t realized just how far it had gone until now. The fear that she might lose both you and Rio, it was too much to bear. And for the first time, the full weight of her actions hit her, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She didn’t know how to fix it, how to undo the damage she’d done. But she knew one thing for certain: if she didn’t try, she would lose you both. And that was a price she couldn’t afford to pay.

[crsssie]

deux ex machina - spencer reid x sharpshooter!reader

Spencer's never ungrateful for his eidetic memory, but he is painfully thankful for the memory because it means he can recall the exact moment he had first met you.

It was untypical for him to offer himself in as collateral for an unsub, and it was atypical of him to find himself with a gun pressed to his forehead. The chances of him escaping unscathed were closer to zero than anything else. The unsub was highly unstable mid-psychotic break, and unless someone had the incredible ability to even talk the unsub down (which, by the way, logic would not have worked), he would likely find himself with a hole in his head from the bullet.

"We don't want to hurt you."

"Where is she?! WHERE IS SHE?!" The unsub screams, jamming the barrel of the gun into Spencer's head.

Spencer winces (oh, that's definitely leaving a bruise).

"She's on her way." Hotch lies through his teeth, and he holds up two fingers.

A bullet flies past Spencer's ear, missing him narrowly, and the unsub screams in pain, leaving Spencer to nab the gun and press it to the unsub's head, and he watches as a second bullet flies past his waist to the unsub's other hand, one that he hadn't noticed was reaching for a knife.

The unsub shrieks, both hands rendered useless as Hotch moves in to arrest him.

Spencer feels his legs give out from the sudden collapse of adrenaline, and Morgan catches him.

There's a moment where one of the lights in the background is too bright for him to see, and then the next second there's a figure in all black leaning down to stare at him.

"You good?"

Spencer squints at the figure, mind blanking out when he catches a good look at your face, jaw going slack. Oh. Oh, he thinks he understands what the newspaper was writing about when he was reading about how some people can literally feel the dopamine and oxytocin flood into their system when they fall in love because there is truly no scientific explanation for why he's so attracted to you right now. He thinks he understands how Lila felt when he had saved her from her stalker so many years ago because heavens forbid he stop staring at you. He can literally feel his IQ drop to zero as he swallows.

"Is he alright?" You raise a brow at Morgan, and the man laughs at Spencer's reaction.

"Oh, he's more than alright. Will you take Reid to the hospital?"

"Don't I have to check with Agent Hotchner on how I did?" You tilt your head.

"I'll put in a good word for you." Morgan winks. "Give me two minutes and you can leave with Reid here."

You watch Morgan rush off, tilting your head as Spencer finally snaps out of his haze. "I'm sorry... are you?"

"I'm the new sniper." You hold your hand out, helping Spencer up as he swallows slowly. "Um, I'm like mediocre at analyzing people at best, so please take care of me."

"Um, Reid. Doctor Spencer Reid."

"The genius of the BAU, right?" You raise a brow.

"Y-yes." He nods. "Did you know that when the adrenaline rush from a situation crashes down, your body releases cortisol and it can kill? Usually in high doses, but it does cause the body to crash. I think I can feel the adrenaline wearing off from the situation."

"That would make sense, yes." You tilt your head. "Deep breaths, yes? In... one, two..."

Spencer breathes, exhaling when you count down, feeling his heart slow a little more.

"All better?"

"Yes. Thank you." He manages, suddenly sheepish.

"You're free to go." Morgan nods. "Pretty boy, get the medics to check you real quick. You already look a lot better. Seems like Snippy did a good job, hm?"

"Hey, don't call me that—"

"Yes." Spencer nods. "I'm all good, promise. I feel better too."

"Snipe." Hotch calls for you, and Spencer watches as you turn around, swallowing.

Oh, this was going to be bad.