#when you try so hard to split mind from body you end up sounding so so silly

[bloomburnburial]

we just truly can't have productive conversations about depression and chronic pain until we recognize the latter's role in causing the former. and obviously the relationship there is significantly more complex than that, but the basic sentiment holds true. i'm always torn between phrasing my experiences in a way that forces doctors to acknowledge this connection, and knowing that in certain cases, admitting to the ongoing presence of any depression or depression-adjacent emotions surrounding my physical health could potentially lead to massive delays in adequate treatment as i embark on the tedious process of proving the absence of any 'mental health issues' in order to have the physical ones taken seriously. like, come on. you know that's not how this works, right?

[honeyhotteoks]

under his eye (lnds; sylus)

summary: sylus puts you under his thrall and takes exactly what he wants from you and your body.

note: this is my first love and deepspace fic, and definitely one of my more intense fics thematically for my regular readers who may dip into this one too. i have a few lnds ideas knocking around, so i may post more at some point. ♡

warnings: actual vampire!sylus, fem!reader, mc!reader, this is entirely smut but please mind the warnings here: heavy dubcon (there is enthusiastic consent explicit in the fic just not at first), cnc, use of thrall/mind-control, dollification, fingering, oral (f receiving), actual somno, rough sex, allusions to primal play, blood play, actual vampire behavior, orgasm denial/orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected sex (he's a vampire tho get real), creampie, praise and shame in equal measure, a LOT of dirty talk from sylus, heavy use of pet names like good girl, sweet girl, kitten, sweetheart, darling, etc., some implied size kink with the use of 'little' but it's meant more mean teasing from him than anything, tenderness, consent talks, check-ins, aftercare, sylus literally loves her in this dw

pairings: vampire!sylus x hunter!reader

genre: smut, porn with very little plot

word count: 5.6k

for my fellow sylus fans, you can probably tell this was fully inspired by his secret times audio 'midnight warmth' - i basically hit level 35 and then went fully insane when i first heard it..... so a few lines of dialogue are borrowed from that.

It’s hard to imagine what it feels like to be in a vampire’s thrall unless you’ve experienced it before. You don’t think you’d ever be able to find the words, not properly. You’ve heard it described, in training, in books, in your own personal research, but it all pales in comparison to what it’s actually like. The slow, hypnotic build up into the haze and the sudden descent into a deeper, darker place where your mind resonates at a lower frequency, fixed on one singular sound. One voice.

Sylus. 

His rich, honeyed tone had pushed you under before you could even process it. 

You try to remember where you were before this moment, who you were, but there are only flickers. The hotel room around you is large and unfamiliar, outfitted decadently in the dark jewel tones he favors so much. The black silk sheets under your back is the only sensation you have other than the slow pulse of your own heartbeat in your ears. If you focus hard enough, you think you can remember a joke, something you quipped over your shoulder about how there must be laws in place in the N109 zone, how ‘vampire’s lair’ must be the only legal style of decor in this sector of space. 

He had laughed, a real, genuine laugh from deep in his chest before he wrapped his arms around you from behind and nuzzled into your hair. 

You don’t like being in a vampire’s lair, kitten? 

You can still hear his words, swimming around your foggy brain, his voice so low and warm in his chest. 

I thought you liked being my pretty paramour. 

Sylus’s hands had wandered, playing with the buckles of your hunter’s leathers and letting his fingertips ghost over your collarbones, up your throat, and pass gently over your lips before stepping back and away from you entirely. You felt strange from that moment on, disquieted. 

You made excuses in your own mind for how you were feeling, weeks of investigations and sleepless nights, that’s why your body felt like it was dragging itself through butter just trying to eat dinner. 

You apologized, you wouldn’t have called him if you had realized just how tired you were.

But he just smiled at you, appraising you with his sharp red eyes in that way he often does, nodding along to your staggered attempts at conversation. 

You realized what he was doing in the last split second before your mind became his. 

His gaze turned darker, searing into you, and with one word you felt the world drop out from underneath you. 

Sleep. 

You don’t remember how you ended up on the bed. 

Now your head is swimming as you try harder and harder to focus your mind and recall the little details.

“Stop resisting, darling,” Sylus murmurs, and you feel the mattress dip. 

You can’t respond, you can’t even really move, and a nervous panic starts to work its way up your spine.

Sylus sits on the edge of the bed, close enough to you now that you can see him in your vacant line of vision, and he nods, “Just relax,” 

Your muscles soften. 

“Let’s get you more comfortable, shall we?” Sylus leans closer, his fingers tugging at the buckles and straps of your clothes. 

You watch as he meticulously undresses you, peeling away layers of your uniform, a satisfied groan whispered from his lips as he parts open your blouse, another when he does away with your tight leather pants. All the while, you’re boneless, trapped by his last command and fully at his mercy. The Hunter’s Academy never prepared you for this. 

“You really are a pretty thing,” Sylus hums, his cool hand drifting up and down your body from the base of your bra to the top of your underwear, “so soft,” 

Nerves pulse through you again, your body twitching under his hands. 

“Shh,” He soothes, “it’s only me, relax,” 

Your muscles melt further, any lingering tension bleeding out of your body at his words, your head rocking softly to one side, your cheek against the silk pillowcase. 

“That’s a good girl,” 

You sigh, a sudden needy tug deep in your belly at his words. 

“Mm,” His hand drifts higher, dancing over your chest and passing over your breasts, the rough drag of your cloth bra against your nipple pulling a tiny whine from your lips. 

He chuckles softly, repeating his motions and you whine again. 

“How lovely and responsive you are,” Sylus says, pulling the fabric of your bra down until it catches under the swell of your breasts, “what other little noises can I pull out of you, kitten?” 

He rolls a thumb over your nipple, drawing it up to a tight, almost painful peak, and you whimper at the flood of sensation through your chest and down your abdomen. 

“And this?” He pinches, a tug that leaves you involuntarily jerking. 

“And here?” You can’t see him with the way your head is turned, but you feel his fingers ghost over the hem of your panties and you suck in a sharp breath. 

He adjusts one of your legs, opening it up at the knee to widen his access, and then he presses two fingers a little more firmly at the top of your cunt, expertly locating your clit through your panties and applying steady pressure. 

You moan softly and you hear him release a tight exhale. 

“My,” He lets his fingers slip down, pushing lightly against your slit, “are you wet already?” 

You know you are, your body responding naturally to his voice, to his tender touch. 

“I asked you a question, sweetheart,” Sylus leans over you, his breath against your cheek, “when I ask you a question, I’d like a response.” 

Your heart is fluttering, a thunderously fast pounding in your chest. 

His fingers hook under your chin and draw your gaze up, and gently he pushes the hair away from your face as he regards you, his dark eyes full of mirth and a little half smile on his lips. He nods at you, pleased as if you had turned your own head, “Now,” he says, “I asked if you’re wet already?” 

Your knotted up tongue loosens instantly at the question, “Yes,” 

“Good girl,” He coos, leaning over you to press his cool lips to yours. 

You can’t kiss him back, he hasn't told you if you’re allowed to move, but he peppers you with kisses until you feel his fingers slide under the hem of your panties. 

You gasp under him, heat pooling in your belly. 

Sylus dips his fingers into the dripping slickness of your cunt and groans into your ear, “You like this,” he nips at your earlobe, “you’re a mess between your thighs for me, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” The word slips out, your voice breathy and taut.

  “My pretty little hunter,” He slides his fingers up to your swelling clit and circles his fingers, “does that feel good?” 

You moan a little, his fingers pressing more firmly as he circles, “Yes, Sylus,” 

“Spread out for me,” He presses his head against your temple and turns so he can watch your body twitching as he works his fingers over you, “Wet for me,” 

A hot rush spreads up through your body.

You shouldn’t like this. You shouldn’t want this. But you asked for this, a confession of your fantasies whispered between the sheets at his apartment, and he peeled them apart one by one, teasing you with questions and collecting his information, strumming you to orgasm after orgasm all the while.

You just didn’t know it would be today, weeks and weeks went by without so much as an innuendo. The sudden onset of his thrall and his control over your body shouldn’t be this alluring, but it is. You can’t move, you can’t speak unless he allows you, but every touch of his skin on yours has you ready to throw every instinct out the window because you’re pretty sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been. 

His fingers speed up and your hips buck just a little into the sensation.

  “Dirty girl,” He hums, “you like the way this feels, you like that you can’t move,” 

He twists your dark desires back around on you, a flutter of shame in your chest at the truth of it. 

He explores your cunt with his fingers, toying with you and gathering more wetness to torture your clit with, “You like being helpless, completely in my hands,” he goads you as he works your body up to release, “unable to stop me, or tell me no,” 

Your core throbs, every inch of your body a live wire, shame twisting into a tight knot of need in your belly. 

  “Don’t you?” 

You gasp as he pushes two fingers deep inside you, “Yes, yes!”

”Are you close, kitten?” He purrs in your ear, thrusting his fingers hard and fast, his knuckles rhythmically connecting with your clit. 

  “Yes,” You whine, your body trembling.

  “That’s too bad,” He pulls his hand free and lets your underwear snap back into place. 

If you could move you’d be a whining mess, throwing yourself at him and begging for him to finish the job, but you can’t. He’s stolen your orgasm right out from under you and you can’t even ask him to finish the job. 

“Hmm,” He stands, and you hear the sound of his shirt dropping to the floor, “does it hurt?” 

“Yes,” You manage. 

“Poor baby,” He teases, mocking your little sob, and his thumbs hook under the sides of your panties to yank them roughly off your body, “should I kiss it and make it better?” 

“Please,” 

He drops back down to the bed, this time sliding in between your thighs, and when he speaks again you feel his cool breath whisper across your throbbing center, “Ask nicely,” 

Your voice is shaky when you finally find the words, “Please, Sylus will you touch me?” 

“Touch you where?” 

You whimper, the slightest involuntary jerk of your hips pulling a chuckle from his lips. 

“I said,” He reminds you, “touch you where?” 

“M-my clit,” You beg, “my pussy, please,” 

“Was that so hard?” You can practically see him smiling. 

You open your mouth, ready to respond, but his mouth closes over your clit and all thought and reason you had left disappear. He’s going to ruin you for any other man, you know it. 

Sylus hums, pushing your limp legs painfully wide and laps at your center. There’s no teasing left in him, no gentle licks and featherlight brushes of fingertips, there’s just him, needing to feel you come just as badly as you do. 

The knot in your gut is back with a vengeance, and every impulse in your body is to squirm away from his mouth and let him drag you back down, but you can’t. Sylus takes and takes and you have no choice but to let him. 

When he lifts his mouth to take a quick breath he gives you another command, “Watch me,” 

The tether between you draws your gaze down, and you gasp at the sight of him. He’s shirtless, his broad hands holding open your trembling thighs, and he eats at you like you’re a meal. Your breath comes quicker, blush lighting up your chest. 

“You taste so sweet here,” He groans, barely lifting his mouth, his tongue carving a line up from your entrance to your sensitive bud and you choke out a breathy moan. 

He knows you’re about to come before you do, and you see him smile into your wet heat before he shifts focus, lips closing over your clit and sucking hard, his hand sliding to push two fingers back inside and crook them just right. Within a few sharp pumps of his wrist and a steady flick of his tongue you’re moaning sharply, your release snapping in your belly so hard you see stars. 

You can’t move on your own, but your body crackles apart in rhapsodic shakes and he carries you through the crest of your orgasm with lazy licks. 

“Beautiful,” He murmurs, and you feel the sharp pin prick of pain at your inner thigh. He licks you there too, taking just a little taste from the vein, and then sighs pleasantly and squeezes your thigh. 

He kisses you here once, and then pulls himself up, arranging your legs back down before sliding next to you in the sheets and tugging you close to his chest. 

You rock into him, your body spent and boneless, unable to move to wrap your arms around him or press kisses to his chest. Instead you just are, and he pulls your body up until you’re in the perfect spot in his arms. He tucks his cheek against yours and palms your backside. 

“When you wake,” Sylus whispers low, “it will be on my cock.” 

You shiver, your core pulsing again. 

“And you’ll stay nice and soft and wet for me,” He kisses the hollow of your ear, “my sweet doll,” 

Your eyes start to grow heavy, your head lolling into his shoulder. 

“You’ll let me have my wicked way with your sweet cunt,” His hands flex tightly on your skin, like he’s restraining himself from taking you now, “and when you’re close, right on the edge of coming, you’ll tell me, do you understand?”

  “I understand,” Your words sound lazy, malformed in your cotton mouth but you answer him nonetheless.

“Good,” He murmurs, “and when you come, your hot pussy squeezing my cock, my thrall will end.” 

A hazy question forms in your mind, but you’re so foggy now. 

“But until then,” he sighs, his hands relaxing and his voice softening, “you’ll rest,” 

Your eyes drift shut, a relaxed sigh on your lips, your body indistinguishable in your mind from the sheets wrapped around you. 

Sylus presses a gentle kiss to your hair and strokes your back, “Sleep, little crow,” he says softly, “you’re safe with me,” 

Just like before, the world falls away. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

There’s no telling how long you’ve been asleep, not when Sylus wakes you the way he does. You come into consciousness incredibly slowly, as if you were out of your body and watching the scene in slow motion. The first thing you register through the muffled world of dreamless sleep is his voice. It doesn’t matter how deeply under you are, still encased in darkness, you hear his voice reach out to you and tug on the invisible tether tying your consciousness to his. 

Needy girl. 

Hands on your thighs, cool air on your cunt. 

Rutting yourself on my thigh. 

Were you? 

Don’t you know I’m the only one allowed to make you come?

A soft moan. Yours, you think distantly. 

Sylus chuckles and hums, no doubt appraising you once again with his hungry eyes. You still feel under the deep water of sleep, your body disconnected and pliant in his hands, his influence so impacting that you remain his plaything even now. 

Fingers dance across your skin, skating lines of ice over your flesh. Sylus studies your body with his touch, a brush against your collarbones, the curve of your shoulders, down your arms into the ditch of your elbows. A brush of lips against your palm, a reverent kiss to your chest, his mouth nuzzling against your belly as he searches more of you with his precious touch. 

Your skin turns sensitive, prickling goose flesh, and he sighs pleasantly into your skin, “So beautiful,” 

His voice feels clearer now, and somewhere in your brain through the membrane of your closed eyelids you register the cool blue of early morning light. 

“My darling,” He hums, another kiss, the shifting of the sheets as he moves, “my sweet girl,” 

You feel the weight of him above you, his legs between yours and his torso radiating a chill as he holds himself above you. Sylus slips one hand into your hair, cradling your head for a moment before he tightens his hold and uses his grip on your scalp to draw your head back, neck stretched long and exposed. 

He drops lower, body ghosting yours, and he buries his face in your throat, pushing his nose into your pulse point. A panicked thrill lances through you, your heartbeat fluttering faster. 

“Shh, shh,” He whispers against your throat, “don’t be frightened,” 

A sharp exhale leaves your lips. 

Sylus kisses your throat, letting his lips linger, “You wanted to play with a vampire, sweetheart, this is what you get,” 

Even in this false sleep, you feel your core flutter, heat pooling again. 

His tongue darts out, tracing a line from your thumping pulse up your vein to your ear and he groans pleasantly, a flutter of breath across your skin, “Next time,” he shudders, “maybe I’ll make you play my favorite game,” 

Your breath quickens. 

“Vampire,” He nips at your throat, his fangs still sheathed, “and vampire hunter,” 

The ache between your thighs melts into a throb, a pulse in time with your heart.

Sylus moves lower, lavishing open mouthed, messy kisses on your skin as he talks. His voice still a whisper, his fantasies muttered out from himself more than for you as he loses himself in your touch.

”You’ll come to me,” He teases, “ready to kill the big, bad, vampire,” he punctuates every word with a sharp lick to your breasts.  

A whimper passes through your slack lips. 

“Only I’ve played this game before,” His hand slides out of your hair and he settles his body weight over you, “and I never lose,” 

You shiver, his words, his cold touch, it hardly matters. 

“And you’ll run from me,” His hands drag over your skin, cupping your breasts, “and I’ll chase the frightened kitten into the woods,” 

Your breath hitches. 

He smiles against your skin, lips closing over a stiff nipple and flicking until you shudder beneath him. He hums, kissing across your chest, “Red and ripe as strawberries,” he observes, latching onto your other nipple and sucking, “I can feel how much you’re aching for me even in your sleep,” 

You’re dripping, you can feel it, making a mess of the silk sheets underneath you. 

He shifts, maneuvering your body to tilt your hips up and open, legs spread wide, and then you feel him. Sylus slides his impossibly hard length over your slit, rocking himself back and forth against your wetness, his velvet head nudging at your swollen bud. 

Your body is trembling, fluttering under his hands. 

“When I catch you,” He returns to his garish fantasy, “I’ll strip you bare,” 

You feel your stomach clench at the thought. 

“I’ll pin you right down to the ground,” He says it like a promise, rolling his hips harder, “and fuck your hot little cunt until you’re so cockdrunk you beg for more,” 

A pained whine bubbles from your mouth, hips arching involuntarily at his words. 

“Mm,” His hand drags down your chest, skimming over your body, “have I denied you too long, love?” 

You want to beg, to plead, to shift your hips into the exact right position so that his next thrust pushes his cock inside. 

“You’ve been so good,” He adjusts, finally nudging at your wet entrance, his hands finding yours in the sheets and drawing them above your head, fingers twined together, “just a little more,”

He inhales sharply and then with a forceful thrust he sheaths himself inside you, his hips connecting hard with yours. 

You moan sharply, your pussy clenching around the thick intrusion of him. 

He chokes a groan, “O-open your eyes, sweetheart,” 

Your eyes snap open, and the sight of him naked above you, inside you, is enough to send your mind spiraling out of control. 

“Your body was made for me,” He snaps his hips, setting a brutal pace as he ruts into you, “divined by gods for my cock,” 

Pleasure rolls up through your belly and your body tightens.

  “You’re mine,” His hands tightens on yours, his eyes boring into you.

  Tears gather in your eyes, a hot sensation through every inch of your body at the way his thick length spears you open with every draw of his hips. The knot inside you pulls again, a taut cord threatening at any moment to snap. 

“Say you’re mine,” He commands, his voice faltering into a moan.

  Your mouth opens, straining against the sure drop of your orgasm but you nod, “I’m yours, S-Sylus, I’m all yours,” 

“Good girl,” He pants, “there she is,” 

The praise on his lips sends you higher, and you suck in a sharp breath, “I’m… Sylus, I’m close!”

He descends, moving in a flash of nearly inhuman speed, and suddenly your head is pulled to the side  again and you’re cradled tight as he rolls his hips into you. 

“Come,” He directs, one more command on his lips before you fall to pieces beneath him, and his sharp fangs descend into your throat. 

“Sylus!” You jerk, true consciousness and feeling rushing back as the thread between his mind and yours severs, but you don’t have a moment to parse how it feels to be out of thrall when your orgasm rushes into you full force and the hot pain of his teeth melts into delicious pleasure. 

He groans, shuddering above you and stopping his thrusts as he feels your walls spasm and flutter around him, the taste of your blood on his tongue grinding the world to a halt at his feet. Nothing exists but you and him and your blood on his teeth and his cock buried to the hilt inside you. 

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, one hand threading into his hair, “Sylus,” you murmur, carding your fingers through his silver locks, “all yours,” 

Euphoria doesn’t begin to describe it, your orgasm feels never ending. Every suck at your tender throat spurns another wave through you, and you rock yourself against him, grinding up against his pelvic bone to draw out every ounce of your pleasure. 

When he pulls away, he does so with care, gentle with the skin of your neck to ensure he doesn’t hurt you anymore that he has to. Pushing up on the mattress he finds your face and you roll right into another aftershock. His eyes are brighter, wide in desperate awe of you and somehow an even darker shade of red, and that with the smear of your blood across his lips has you keening, arching and gripping against him as you babble out his name between moans. 

“That’s it,” He softens, gathering you close to press his forehead to yours, “come for me again, that’s my girl,” 

“Sylus,” You’re a whimpering mess, your body a pool of ecstatic pleasure, and all you can do is repeat his name and hold onto him through the wave of endorphins and emotions. 

“Shh, shh,” He hushes you softly as you ride through the last flush of pleasure, “I’ve got you,” 

Your skin is slick with sweat, and your legs are shaking, breath coming in shallow pants as you finally come back down. 

Sylus holds you, bracing you to his chest and he makes short work of rolling you both without disconnecting your bodies. When he settles he’s on his back with you perched on his hips, his fingers carving a line up and down your spine to settle you. 

Flush and trembling, you find his eyes again. 

His brows draw together, a knit line of tender concern, and he brushes his thumb over your jaw, “Don’t bite your lip,” 

Your mouth relaxes, you hadn’t even known you were doing it, and your eyes flick away. He says something, words you can hardly hear through the dizzy rush of your brain trying to catch up with the past few hours.

“Sweetheart,” he smooths his thumb over your cheek, “look me in the eyes, answer me,” 

Your head snaps back up. 

“Was I too rough?” He asks softly.

You don’t have words yet, you can’t reach them and string them together, but you shake your head.

”Are you sure?” His hands draw up and down your body slowly like he’s checking you for something, his broad hands finally coming to rest over yours where you brace yourself on his chest. 

You nod to his answer his question, “I’m sure,” 

He relaxes under you, pressing your hands into his chest over his heart, and it would turn you to romantic putty if he wasn’t still seated fully inside you and if your blood wasn’t staining his mouth. Your eyes keep flicking down to his mouth, crimson across his plush bottom lip, smears on his chin, a drip that made it to the edge and slipped down his neck. 

”Hmm,” His lips turn up into a smile and you sheepishly look back up, “are you still hungry, love?” 

Your stomach clenches, his voice turning husky again the moment he spies your renewed arousal. 

This time though, you’re awake. The heavy fog of his control and your barrage of orgasms has started to lift, and you need something more. 

You let your body melt, relaxing against him and letting his cock shift inside you, “Are you?” 

He almost laughs at your expression, one brow raised to challenge him as you push up to straddle him. His eyes rake over you and you feel his cock twitch, “You’d think I would have had my fill of you,” he says, hands moving to your hips, “but I find you make me insatiable, the more I taste you, the more I fuck you, the more I want,” 

“A vampire who’s never satisfied?” You tease him, “how original,” 

He exhales softly through his nose, smiling, “You’re the one still grinding on my cock, kitten,” 

You blush, but make no effort to stop unconsciously rocking your hips against him. 

“I was wrong, you’re the insatiable one,” He says appreciatively, and he smoothly slides his hands up your back to brace you so that when he sits up you stay with him. 

“If I was I’d never admit it,” 

He smacks your ass lightly with his palm and you wrap your legs around him, the position change sinking you back down onto his length and you sigh. 

”After what you just let me do to you?” Sylus shakes his head, his voice dropping the teasing tone when he presses his lips to your chest, “That’s admission enough,” 

He takes both hands to grip your backside, pressing into your soft flesh, and drags you forwards to coax you into motion. 

Holding onto his shoulders you follow his lead, working your hips back and forth, letting the press of his hands guide your speed. The feeling is dizzying, his cock feeling thicker and more filling in this position, and you can’t help the stammered moans and pants that bubble out of you with every downstroke connecting your hips to his. 

Sylus mutters a curse into your skin, his fingers pressing hard enough to leave bruises, and then you feel his tongue. 

“Fuck,” You whine, “Sylus,” 

He pulls at your hips harder and you pick up the pace, grinding your heels into the mattress for the right leverage, losing yourself to the steady wet sound of him inside you and the heat building back up in your belly. 

You shiver at the sensation of his tongue traveling, dragging a line up your chest from the swell of your breast to your collarbone, and when he groans and huffs a needy breath at your throat, you realize what has him so flustered. 

“T-take more,” Your hand in his hair again to direct his head, pushing him towards your throat. 

“Mm-mm,” He shakes his head and drops the flat of his tongue over the bleeding teeth marks at your throat. 

You hiss sharply, a familiar roll of pleasure through you and you grip his hair, “Please, baby, please,” 

“Not tonight,” He laps at you again, “just cleaning you up,” 

“God,” You moan, your pace faltering for a moment until the pressure of his hands pushes you back into action. 

“Don’t stop,” He urges you, pulling away from your throat and using one hand to tug you close by the back of the neck, “you feel…” 

You have to hold on, you need him to come after all the work he’s put into pleasuring you, and you can’t let yourself fall apart until he does. You lock eyes with him and his expression, almost pained, his mouth open in silent pleasure and still painted red, pushes you through the ache in your hips and the burning in your thighs. He’s so close. Nearly, nearly there.

”Sylus,” Your voice breathy, “kiss me,” 

There’s a flicker of a smile across his mouth but he surges up, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss. His tongue catches against yours, and you taste the iron of your own blood, you feel the sharpness of his fangs, but all it does is drive you closer and closer to delicious release. 

“My sinful little thing,” He pants against your mouth, “you never stop surprising me,” 

Your eyes flutter shut, your nails tight against his shoulders, “Please, I need it,” 

“What do you need?” He croons, hungrily at your lips once more. 

You moan against his mouth, tugging his hair sharply, “Come,” you pant, nearly out of breath, “I need your cum,” 

He shudders, groaning.  

“Sylus!” You whine again, “Inside, please, please,” 

His hand slips from your hair, and the equilibrium changes things back to Sylus in total control. With both hands secured on your ass he takes over, dragging you fast and hard on his cock and meeting every thrust with a hard jut of his hips. He’s fucking into you with reckless need, the head of his cock connecting over and over again with your cervix, and you arch and cry out in his arms. 

“No,” He pants, pulling you back to him, “eyes on me,” 

“Please,” You beg again, your cunt spasming and fluttering, “I-I’ll come if you just,” 

He loses himself immediately, pulling you down hard and choking out a moan, spilling his release deep and grinding you down to prolong his own pleasure, but you’re falling apart right behind him in a breath. A final, dizzying orgasm taking your body like a soft wave, languid and warm, and Sylus nods as you ride it out, coaxing you through every last moment. 

When you settle, you feel how much your body is trembling, and he releases his tight grip on your hips to gently massage your skin, soothing touches as he softens inside you. 

“Oh my god,” You laugh softly, your forehead pressed to his, “that was,” 

“Good?” He asks, a soft, quick kiss to your lips. 

“Perfect,” You sigh, “you were perfect.” 

He nods, drinking you in for a moment more before he exhales and relaxes, leaning back and meeting your eyes.  

“I must look a mess,” You press your cool knuckles to the warmth of your flushed cheeks. 

“A beautiful mess,” He counters gently. 

You smile lazily at him, feeling boneless and sated and delicious. 

Sylus takes the pad of his thumb to the very tip of his razor sharp fangs and pierces his skin, a bead of his own dark blood rising up from the puncture on his pale skin. 

His fangs retract and he reaches for you, smoothing his bleeding thumb over the bite mark at your throat. You hiss sharply at the sensation and grip his shoulder, the burn of your skin knitting itself back together something you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to. 

“I was too rough with you,” He comments, like he’s filing away that information for himself for next time. 

You shake your head though, resting your hand on his wrist, “You weren’t, I wanted every bit of it,” 

His thumb sweeps a final line over your skin and he kisses you again, “I’ll keep that in mind,” 

You smile against his lips, and then Sylus gives you one final, quick peck. 

“I think a shower,” He says, sliding you both smoothly off the bed and keeping you tucked in his arms, “and a nap,” 

“I think that’s a perfect idea,” 

“And I’m hardly hungry anymore,” He teases as he carries you into the bathroom, “but we’ll order something up for you,” 

You nod, relaxing into his care. 

“Perhaps a movie,” He suggests, sliding you onto the counter so he can start the shower, “or I could always read to you?” 

“Or you could tell me more about next time,” You say slyly, “what was it? Chasing me down in the woods?” 

He shakes his head, testing the warmth of the water on his fingertips. 

“Having your way with me?” You stretch out your leg to reach him, dragging your foot down his thigh, “Should I struggle? Beg you to stop?” 

His hand snaps up, closing around your ankle and he turns towards you, “Be careful, sweetheart,” 

“I’m simply curious,” You tease. 

“Mhm,” He scoops you back up and walks you straight into the shower until your back is against the chilly tile wall, “Curious?” 

You feel him hardening again against your belly and you nod.

“Kitten,” He smirks, “you know what they say about curiosity, don’t you?” 

“I think I need a little reminder,” You sigh, holding onto his shoulders again. 

He kisses you again, pressing you into the shower wall, a smile on his mouth as he nips at your lip, “I’ll bet you do,” 

[murdrdocs]

always has been, always will be

description. it was only a matter of time before you realized how hard you've fallen for your roommate.

includes. roommate!tyler owens, so much fluff, pining, appearance of reader's ex, protective tyler, sexual tension, copious amounts of pet names, minor display of anxiety, drinking,

wc. 3.5k+

a/n: before you ask, i am not opposed to a part two. no promises.

You’re jolted out of a deep, and much-needed, sleep by the sound of bowls crashing onto the floor. You lay there for a second, trying to listen for any other sound while calming your racing heart. When nothing else comes, you grab your phone from the nightstand and through squinty eyes start to check locations. 

Your parents are home, your best friend is at work, and there—Tyler Owens, 0 miles away. His contact, the cartoonish drawing of him usually seen on a tee shirt, hovers right above the blue dot that represents you. 

The giddiness that instantly floods your body is embarrassing. It pulls you out of bed, somehow being the only thing to convince you to wake up on your day off, and drags your feet into the kitchen. You don’t bother checking your appearance on the way out, Tyler has seen you through your worst since he nursed you back to health during flu season, and he’s seen you first thing in the morning many times before. 

But when he lifts his head from behind a cabinet at the sound of your slippers dragging against the floor, the shock on his face momentarily scares you. Do you look like absolute shit?

It’s not until Tyler grins, luckily a split second later, that you relax. 

“Sorry,” he says, looking back into the cabinet and closing it with three ingredients in his hand. “Butter fingers.”

You yawn, walking into the kitchen and sitting at the island. “‘s okay. When did you get back? I thought y’all were gonna be in Missouri for a few more days.”

Tyler brings the ingredients to the island, settling them down in front of you on the other side. It’s then that you realize what he’s making. Brioche bread that’s about to expire, sugar, eggs, milk, cinnamon, a tub of fruit that definitely wasn’t in your fridge. 

The memory of the taste of Tyler’s French toast makes itself familiar at the tip of your tongue without your permission. 

“We were, but then Boone got a tip that there would be some action happening right back here,” he cracks the egg into one of your mixing bowls, “so here we are.”

Home. Tyler’s back home for the first time in weeks. He won’t be here for long, but that’s okay. It’s the deal you initially wanted whenever you talked to Tyler with interest in him being your roommate. 

It was nearly a year ago now, right at the end of peak tornado season of last year. Tyler had been in Arkansas doing what he usually did, wrangling tornadoes with the others with him. You knew who he was, it was impossible not to, especially living right outside of his hometown. But you had never crossed paths, not until your sweet, but meddling, grandmother—bless her heart—told you that the grandson of her Bingo partner was looking for a place to stay. Permanently. Or, as permanent as a home for a storm chaser could be. 

You were desperate, struggling financially and emotionally with a still-fresh breakup weighing on your mind. So when Tyler Owens swooped in with a brunch recommendation, promises to pay his half of the rent on time, and explanations that he would rarely be home during summer months, you jumped on the deal. 

You should’ve known that you would’ve developed a small crush on him, but that’s all it is. A small crush on a guy who was sweet enough to make you breakfast since he dropped in. It would surely go away soon enough. 

“How long are you staying for?” You’re already preparing yourself for heartbreak when you ask the question. Initially, you liked the idea of having your house all to yourself. All of the freedom, half of the financial responsibility. 

But when you and Tyler grew closer, you started to hate the summer. 

“Um…” he hesitates, adding copious amounts of cinnamon into the mixture while he drags the word out. Is he stalling? “A couple days. Maybe three?”

You try to hide your disappointment but Tyler is already trying to make you feel better. 

He looks up, mouth broken into a wide smile that shows his white teeth. “But I’m here to make it worth your while. Breakfast, I’ll take you wrangling with us if you’d like, and then Betsy’s on me. Yeah?”

The promise of quality time and fattening barbecue was enough to brighten your mood. 

“Yeah.”

You knew you weren’t particularly fond of storm chasing, but you found yourself with the others anyway. And after an EF-0 where you prayed and clutched the harness strapped across your chest and Tyler’s hand across the console, you swore to yourself—and mostly Tyler—that you would never do it again. Even though the joy from the others was infectious and you found yourself giggling with Tyler when it was all over. 

Tyler quickly made it up to you, though. He called it a day earlier than you thought he would. You knew he did it on your behalf, but he pretended like it was a strategic decision. 

“Most of the action will be tomorrow anyway.” 

And he was probably telling the truth, but you saw the shock in Boone’s eyes as Tyler told the others that the two of you were going to split off for Betsy’s just when the day was getting started. He ditched the others for you, and it made your heart flutter. 

The two of you end up in a familiar place, seated in the back corner booth of Betsy’s. You’re nestled up against the window, wearing the sweatshirt you left in Tyler’s car months ago. You’re shocked he still had it, but he assured you that he would never give it away. And if he did, he would’ve given you a Tornado Wrangler one for free to make up for it. 

“Tell me what you’ve been up to while I was gone.”

You tear your eyes away from the window to look at Tyler. You shouldn’t be shocked that he was already looking at you, he was speaking to you, but something about the way he looks at you will always make your heartbeat a little extra hard for a moment. 

You hum, lifting your eyes and thinking. There’s nothing you’ve been doing other than trying to keep sane.

“There were a few weeks there where I almost bought a dog.”

Tyler’s eyebrows raise but he doesn’t seem opposed to the idea. “Really?” he asks. 

You nod, reaching out to take a sip from your drink. “Yeah. Someone in town had rescued a puppy and he was just calling my name.”

“What would you have named him?”

You hesitate, trying to keep the embarrassment from finding your face as you fix your lips to tell Tyler the truth. “...Wrangler.”

He grins and you’re already trying to do damage control. Tyler beats you to it. 

“You missed me that much? C’mon, sugar.”

The pet name almost slips by you in your haste. Almost. 

“That wouldn’t even have been why! You’re so full of yourself, Ty.”

“You make it so easy. Don’t blame me.”

Your laughter refuses to subside even when the waiter comes to check on you both. Tyler manages to tell her that everything’s fine, while also smoothly ordering your favorite slice of pie. You didn’t even have to ask for it. He just knew. 

By the time the order’s placed, you’ve calmed down a bit, taking small sips of water in an attempt to calm down the heat in your body. 

“A German shepherd…” He nods to himself. “Loyal. Intelligent. Good search and rescue dogs. I bet Wrangler would’ve been a good addition to the house. Someone to keep you company while I’m gone.”

You try to pretend that’s not the exact reason why you wanted a dog in the first place. “And I would’ve taught him to chew on the bottom of all your jeans.”

“Well, luckily I like the rugged look.” A second goes by. “What else were you doing?”

You shake your head, your way of telling him that’s it. 

“He didn’t come by again, did he?”

A painful kick meets your insides at the mention of your ex. You knew Tyler would’ve asked you about Beau since the breakup is what allowed Tyler to move in in the first place. He hadn’t ever mentioned him before, not until Beau showed up drunk one night and demanded you let him back in. It was a terrifying and embarrassing moment for you, but it also started the bond between you and Tyler. 

Unfortunately, if it weren’t for that night, you and Tyler would’ve never been as close as you are today. He wouldn’t have even known your pie order and you probably would’ve had a year-old dog for companionship by now. 

“No. I haven’t seen him since that night.”

Tyler nods, grinning up at the waiter as she brings your pie and Tyler’s banana pudding over. 

“That’s good. And the security system works well on the house, right?”

You nod in a response, sticking your fork into your pie. 

“I’ve been checking in periodically when I’m on the road. Testing the cameras. You’re giving the tomatoes too much water, by the way.”

You’re instantly on the defensive, abandoning the next perfect piece of pie that you’d just separated for yourself. Your eyes lift, settling on Tyler, but quickly you glance behind him, and shit. 

He’s here. 

Your face must drop or something because Tyler instantly sees that something is different. He quietly asks you what’s wrong, the same tone he uses whenever you’re sick smoothing over his words, but when you don’t answer, he turns around and looks for himself. 

He swears, already turning back around. “Do you wanna leave? If you go ahead out to the truck I can cover the check. Here, pull your hood up, and you can wear my hat—”

You shake your head, staring right back at Tyler and ignoring the pull that tries to get you to look at Beau. “No. Let’s finish our dessert.”

Tyler blinks, his lips parted. You can tell he wants to ask if you’re sure, but he doesn’t. He takes a second, staring at you, and then he sits back, clears his throat, and dips his spoon into his banana pudding. 

Your heart speeds up until it’s painful in your chest. You worry for a second, image after image of everything that could go wrong flooding your mind. Tears sting your eyes but you try to sniff them away, busying yourself with dividing your pie up into pieces that you don’t even attempt to eat. 

“Honey,” Tyler says, “eat your pie.”

You feed yourself a bite and are instantly reminded of you why like it so much. 

Tyler continues to talk to you about the garden, telling you that the conditions this summer weren’t really living up to last summer so the lackluster harvest from your tomatoes wasn’t necessarily you’re fault, but the entire time you’re simply praying that Beau will leave before he notices you. 

You glance his way multiple times, staring at the side of him as he stands at the bar, likely waiting on a to-go order. Briefly, you can’t help but miss him and the way he would always pick up dinner here on Sundays. 

It’s a Friday. 

You wonder what else about his routine has changed.

Tyler continues. “There might be better conditions leading into the Fall but truly, I doubt it. It might just be time to say goodbye to the garden for now…”

You nod, mindlessly eating pie while Beau grabs his bag and turns around. You should’ve looked down or at Tyler because as soon as he turns, he looks at you. 

He lingers for a second, staring, and you do the same. Beau smiles, tight and friendly, and lifts a hand in a wave. 

You do the exact same, not giving more energy even though something in you wants him to come over and speak to you. 

Quicker than you can realize, Tyler turns around and throws up two fingers in a wave to Beau. Beau leaves not long afterward, and you can’t help but wonder if he thinks you and Tyler are dating now. 

The idea is appealing. 

“Why does it always take you so long to get out of the car?”

“You don’t have to wait, just go inside.”

“Now that wouldn’t be very chivalrous, would it?”

“Thought chivalry was dead.”

Tyler scoffs as if you’ve offended him. “As long as I’m alive it sure ain’t.”

You purse your lips to fight off a smile. “You sound like Boone.”

“He’s my brother from another mother for a reason.”

Their twin-like synchronization will always be equal parts weird and admirable. 

Tyler watches you struggle to put your boot on, holding the door open for you the entire time. You really do feel bad that you’re taking so long, but midway through the drive your purse opened and spilled its contents out onto the floor. That, paired with your tendency to get really comfortable in Tyler’s truck, has you taking longer than usual to get out of the car. 

Tyler stood silently for the first minute, but after that, he’d—rightfully—grown frustrated. 

“Okay, almost done. Just looking for my lip gloss.”

You hear the tension in Tyler’s voice when he responds. “Just leave it. I’ll find it in the morning.”

You squint, searching under the seat through your spread legs. “You’ll forget.”

When you jump out of the car, he seems excited, until you bend over and peer under the seat with a better look. Tyler sighs but you ignore him. 

You swear you’ve almost found it but then it comes out of nowhere—a crack of thunder that resounds throughout the sky, immediately followed by rain pouring down. There are no warning drops, it comes out altogether, but Tyler acts quickly. 

He pushes you into the house, treating you like you’re in the military, yelling “Go! Go! Go!” against the sound of rain. 

By the time you get inside, you can feel the damage done to your hair. You’re already wincing, looking into the mirror in front of the door, turning your face this way and that. 

“If you weren’t taking so long—” Tyler doesn’t get to respond before you’re glaring at him through the mirror. He throws his hands up in surrender, but they soon drop to your waist instead. 

Just this casual touch warms your chest. 

“You look fine,” He reassures, even though your hair textures are different in multiple spots. But he says it like he means it, and not like he’s just trying to make you feel better. He stares at you through the mirror, his body right behind yours. 

You give up trying to fix it, besides there’s not much you can do without products and tools. Instead, you turn around, watching Tyler easily slip off his boots. You do the same with yours, placing them both together by the door. 

It looks right. It is right. 

Just as right as Tyler’s suggestion of popping open a bottle of wine and throwing on reruns. 

He tells you about the storms they’ve been chasing while you pass the bottle back and forth, occasionally stopping to criticize the actions of the characters on your TV as if this is the first time he’d seen this. 

It’s not until you’re three episodes in and trying to fight off the wine sleepiness (and horniness) that Tyler turns to face you. 

“Hey,” he says, resting his hand on your ankle that sits right beside his thigh. “You doing okay?”

At first, you don’t understand the point of the question. “Yep. Trying not to fall asleep.”

He smiles as if he shares the sentiment, but still shakes his head. “‘s not what I mean. After earlier, are you okay?”

“Oh. Yeah. ‘m fine, Ty. Thanks.”

He doesn’t press it anymore. 

“Sorry I’ve been gone.”

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s what we agreed on.”

“I know but it doesn’t feel right leaving you here all alone.” 

“I’m fine, Tyler. Seriously.”

“I know, I know. You can take care of yourself. But I like taking care of you, too. I like being here for you.” 

You turn to face Tyler, staring at the way the pink lights of a commercial illuminate the side of his face. He looks so honest as he usually does, but there’s something in his eyes that you haven’t seen before. Maybe it’s always been there, but you hadn’t been looking for it. 

Now, it’s plain and simple, sitting right there for you to do something with. 

Just as you’re about to do something, Tyler turns back to face the TV. You push away the dismal feeling that threatens to crawl up your throat. 

It fizzes away a bit whenever Tyler rubs his thumb over your ankle. 

You feel like you’re dreaming. Maybe you are. Maybe you dozed off on the couch to Tyler rubbing soothing circles over your ankle and the arch of your foot while you both mindlessly watched reality TV. You glance down at your hand, seeing only what you’re supposed to be seeing, and then you look back up at Tyler to see what you shouldn’t be seeing. 

You’ve lived in denial for a while. It’s been easy to pretend that you didn’t like Tyler because there’s no way he could like you too. He’s just a gentleman, raised right by his momma, and that had always been the explanation. Tyler’s upbringing explained why he was so eager to risk the flu just to help you out, why he drove an hour just to give you a jump when your battery died, why he taught you line dances until you were a puddle of sweat on your living room floor. Why he ditched his friends to hang out with you, why he briefly abandoned his one true love—tornado wrangling—to give you a day he thought you deserved. Why he punched your ex without any hesitation at the first sign of disrespect.

But Tyler’s upbringing didn’t put this look in his eyes. A look so defined that you cannot deny it anymore.

Both of you stand in front of your bedroom doors, backs turned to the wood in order to face the other. Tyler stares down at you, eyes lidded with bags beneath, but no less infatuated.  

He doesn’t say anything. He just looks. 

You speak first. 

“I missed having you home, Ty.”

This surprises him. He tilts his head, letting the surprise show on his face as his eyebrows raise and his eyes widen. “I knew you did, honey bun. But what happened to loving the place all to yourself?”

You shrug, trying to be nonchalant even though your feelings are anything but. “Turns out that’s boring and too quiet. I miss your chaos.”

“You miss my chaos?” He nods as he says it, astonishment on his face. “And that’s supposed to be a compliment?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, turning around, and reaching for your door. “You knew it was a compliment, asshole.”

He’s laughing through his apology. It’s as lighthearted as your chastising. 

He extends his arms, wrapping them around your body and hugging you from behind. You don’t mean to meld with his shape as quickly and easily as you do, but maybe that’s the thing. It’s natural for you to fit yourself right into Tyler, just like it was natural for him to fit himself right into your life.

He hums, resting his chin against your head. 

“I missed you, too, love bug.” Ugh, the nickname. He makes it sound like you’re in love with him. 

(Are you?)

You spin around in Tyler’s arms, doing so easily with the space he gives you, but then he’s right back on you, arms wrapped around your shoulders and your head resting on his chest. 

You have your arms wrapped around his waist, breathing in the soft scent of laundry detergent, outside, and his cologne all melding on the cotton of his shirt. 

You sigh, content with what life has given you. 

When you say, “I’m glad you made it home”, it comes out naturally. You feel it deep within you, glad that whatever divine intervention or luck was on your side to bring Tyler back safely. 

When he agrees with an earnest, “I’m glad I’m home”, he says it like he means it too, and you’re sure he does. 

A moment goes by and Tyler calls your name. You hum, waiting for him to say something as you lazily blink at him. 

“If I asked to kiss you, what would you say?”

Your answer is quick. “I would say yes.”

Tyler nods. “And if I asked you to come spend the night in my room, what would you say?”

You think about it for a second, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach and the way your heart has kickstarted. “I would say no.”

His face falls. You pick it back up. 

“My room’s better.”

Tyler smiles through his annoyance, already stepping towards your bedroom. You lead him in, one hand on the doorknob as you continue to face him. His hands find your waist, holding you steady and close to him as you both enter your bedroom. It’s not until you’re both standing in your room that he pushes his lips to yours. 

[phyrestartr]

Their Burning Bodies Keep Us Warm (1/2) | Sukuna x M!Reader

W/C: 3.4k #NSFW, top!Sukuna, bottom!Reader, ABO dynamics, cannibalism, mentions of sex trafficking, mentions of cults, questionable relationship, suggested Stockholm syndrome, post-apocalypse, enemies to friends to lovers, angst, drama, gore, typical zombie shite, not rlly edited kekw SORRY

tags: @flowersatwork @tr4nniez @kamote-kuneho @prettorett @better-imagination-9

You ran. Even when your lungs tore apart, your legs burned to ash, your mind split and ruptured, you ran. 

The destination was simple: anywhere. Anywhere away from the hell hole you'd been swept up into–a camp full of soldiers getting hopeful little bugs stuck in a honeypot with promises of safety and a life well-lived despite the end of the world. A colony. A chance to stop hoping to simply survive. 

But that wasn't what happened. You and so many others were victims of a breeding ring–a puppy mill, so to speak. One where those able to bear young were forced to. One where a hivemind fooled the naive into thinking this was all for the ultimate goal of repopulation, for a chance to reclaim the world should the infected finally fall.

Yet humans, as smart and powerful as the hive claimed, had already lost once, and now twice as they lit their humanity ablaze for the greater evil of satisfying twisted desires under the guise of necessity. You couldn't take it anymore. 

So, you ran. 

Then, you saw a light. Just faintly. It whispered promises of warmth in the cold deadness of Winter's night; you couldn't help but be drawn to it like a moth to a flame. 

But that meant someone was inside, too, which could be a blessing or a curse–if they found you, sidling up to the house, listening for signs of life or unlife, they could turn you in to the men chasing you; on the other hand, you might find a friend. A companion. A safe person to sleep by at night. To eat with. To talk to. That'd be nice. 

Your daydreams shattered when the voices of those soldiers echoed in the empty streets of the town you'd found yourself in. You peeked from your perch by the front door of the house, and ducked out of view when you saw two bobbing lights flicking and scanning over the snow. 

Shit, shit, shit. You swallowed thickly, trying to thick through the frost biting you and the snow melting on your bare arms. What were the odds they'd be able to follow your scent? All the way down to the spot where you hid beneath the front steps? It was hard to track another when it was raining, so snow had to be the same, right? So why were they coming closer and closer, why were their voices becoming hushed and their words rushed, why were they–

The door above you slammed open with the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. You covered your mouth with a shaky hand, hoping the boom coupled with your stalker's shocked, angry barking (just one voice?) stifled whatever pathetic squawk you garbled out. 

It must've. Because the person--the man--standing on the weather-worn deck above you laughed, and stepped down the creaky stairs with heavy, lazy steps before following that soldier's voice. 

Go, go, go. You forced yourself to move, pushing yourself up the steps under the cover of barked threats and the outbreak of a fight. You thought men like that stuck together. That they'd help each other out with delivering omegas back to one another. That they'd invite him to join their diabolic cult–especially when the thick scent of alpha filled your lungs.

You swallowed thickly, your inner omega going wild with curiosity and wonder and a need to curl up in the musk and laze in it all day, but your petrified self picked up the slack and kept you in motion, kept you scrambling for a place to hide. Staying the night was the plan–you wouldn't be able to survive outside, not like this. Not with a t-shirt, worn joggers and runners being your only defense against the cold. 

What happens in the morning? He'd no doubt catch your scent. He'd no doubt realize he had an unwelcome guest. What would he do with you? What would he do to you? 

“I don't care,” You breathed as you jammed yourself into the darkness of a bedroom closet and burrowed into whatever lay on the floor. “I don't care.”

And that was true; being a slave to one was better than being a slave to many. 

–

His eyes shone red.

You weren't sure if you woke in the night to find the demon. You didn't know if your dreamscape simply enjoyed tormenting you. But the burns left by that searing, glowing gaze were real. 

He stood there. Features melded with shadow. Body engulfing the snowy light of night. Staring down at you. Quiet. Still. Inhuman. 

Only your shaky breathing filled the thick, damp void of silence his presence brought. What were you supposed to do? What were you supposed to–

He closed the closet doors, and his lumbering footsteps sauntered away.

–

When morning came, the stranger was not so willing to leave you alone. 

You thought you were being quite crafty, quite sneaky with how you planned on escaping; you waited for sounds of his to stop in a far-off room, then you donned yourself in whatever gear and warm clothes you could find in the closet, and then you carefully, so so so carefully, opened the closet doors and–

“Leaving already, little omega?” A deep, playful voice taunted from the doorway of the room, just out of sight; if you pushed the doors all the way open, you'd see the man standing in the doorway to the left. 

But your hands fumbled alongside your heart. Your voice died in your throat. 

You were caught.

A large hand gripped the side of the closet door and pulled it open. You stumbled backwards, heart shattering from its frosted paralysis to jump into overdrive. 

Because the man, the alpha standing before you, was unlike anything you'd seen before. 

He was tall. His shoulders stretched wide and, judging from the strain of his shirt, his build was formidable and downright predatory. Muscle shifted and adjusted under an expanse of gilded skin everytime the beast moved, changing from looming over you to leaning against the doorframe. Maybe in an attempt to make himself smaller. More likely because of his cocky laziness. 

The smirk plastered on his face bore the same arrogance, too. As did the care in brushing back his hair and actually looking presentable in the guts of a fucking apocalypse. But maybe he relished in the anarchy. You could only assume so much from tattoos marking his skin and the mirth gleaming in hellborne eyes. 

“Go on,” the man drawled, hooking a thumb into his belt, bringing your attention to the thick knife strapped to his side, “Let's hear your pretty voice.” 

“I wasn't gonna stay,” you choked out, and the demon in front of you smiled wider. “I just–I saw your light, and–” 

“And you walked on in without even knocking.” He sighed and shook his head. “Kids these days.” 

“M'not a fucking kid,” You bit out, surprising the both of you with your venom. You thought you'd lost it long ago, but maybe not. 

The man laughed, showing off his brutal, jagged canines. You swore you saw red staining them. 

“You've got some bite, huh? Like that in a bitch.” He stepped closer, and you tried to meld into the wall of clothes behind you, but failed to escape the calloused hand that grabbed you by the jaw and forced your head up, down and around as he inspected you like a piece of meat.

You tried to pull away, tried to turn your head to break free from his grasp. “Don't fucking touch me–”

“Hah. This how you tried to get those alphas off of you?” He taunted, grinning at your sudden wide-eyed stare. “No wonder they used you up like a–” 

You headbutted him and kneed him in the dick before pushing past him and running. Your head pounded thanks to your stupid opener, but at least it worked. Now, you just had to get out of the damn house and–

“OMEGA.” 

–and escape from the devil chasing you. 

His growling voice ripped through your skull like a chainsaw revving to life as you threw yourself down the stairs and out the front door. You slipped and slid, nearly falling and breaking your fucking neck on the porch, but you caught yourself and made a break for the street as the thundering of footsteps clamoured after you. 

Churned snow painted in sour shades of rusted red greeted you. You could almost envision the struggle, the stabbing, the warmth bleeding from their bodies as they died for their selfish desires. It chilled you, gave you pause–and that's where you fucked up. 

The horizon reeled and spun when a heavy body crashed into you and pinned you to the ground. You gasped, straining to catch the breath that'd been punched from your lungs, failing to stop the burning in your chest as your face froze against the pavement. 

“Wily little cunt, huh?” The stranger breathed, rage and amusement fighting through his words. “You bring that much fight to the sack, omega? Hey?” 

You tried to rip free or push him off or something as he taunted you, but you couldn't. You were trapped. Again. Again.

“Fuck you,” you spat. “I'd rather fucking die than–”

You froze. The slow, stuttering shamble of footsteps pricked your ears before low, ungodly moaning and wheezing rattled through the streets. The noise was quiet, but so loud to a frightened deer. 

“Lookit that,” your captor whispered, leaning down to your ear, “Guess God heard your prayer.”

Your heart hammered. “Get off, get off.” Your voice quaked and broke as you thrashed beneath him. “Please.” 

“Thought you said you'd rather die.” His knee ground into your back and you bit back a yelp. 

“Please.” The diabolic gasping came closer, became more frantic as the thing saw you. You couldn't see it, but they always got so fucking excited and loud when they saw fresh, living meat. You knew it was coming. 

“Ah-ah, can't let you go. Your buddy won't be able to catch up and end things for ya.” The stranger cackled something hideous and unnerving. “That'd be a right fucking shame.” 

“Let me up,” You begged.

“Not yet.”

It got closer.

“Please!” 

“No.” 

Just a metre away, now.

“I'll stay.” 

The scent of alphan approval washed over you.

“Good pet.”

You were pulled up and off the snowy ground with ease as soon as you submitted. You even vaguely saw the man kick the undead back with ease, sending it toppling over into the snow and stuck on its back like a helpless turtle. Its motor functions were shot in this weather. It probably wouldn't be getting up for a while. 

You wondered if you were going to suffer the same fate: stuck on your back, unable to move, at the mercy of a sick freak you accidentally met while running away from other lunatics. You were doomed. But at least you were alive. At least you'd be warm.

The pink-haired menace locked up the door before throwing you down onto the couch with little grace. You would have been more mad if the purring roil of the fireplace didn't breathe warm gusts of comfort over you. And, well, you weren't being dragged into a bedroom and tied down. Not yet, at least. 

The make matters worse, the man didn't really say much. Just closed the blinds and ensured the entrances and windows were secured while you sat still and quiet, patient lest you suffer a worse fate. 

He glanced at you over his shoulder before returning to the task at hand. “If I wanted to kill your sorry ass, I woulda done it last night,” he said into the quiet of the room. 

You remembered those eyes staring down at you. How inhuman and evil they were. How much fear they bred in you. And now, you had to accept how real that was. 

He sat down on the coffee table in front of you and leaned towards you, resting his elbows on his knees, holding your gaze with his own. 

“Here's what's gonna happen,” he said, low and dangerous. “I'm gonna let you stay. Real nice of me, yeah? I'll give you food, water. Keep you warm, keep you safe from all the bullshit going on outside. Sounds good, doesn't it?” 

You looked over his face, brows furrowed, heart pounding so loud you almost couldn't hear him. But you nodded for fear of what he'd do otherwise. 

He smiled, satisfied. “Good. And in return,” he started, letting a hand slip up to your knee, “You'll make like a good little whore and keep my bed warm. Fair deal, don't you think?” 

You nodded. It wasn’t like you had a choice, anyway.

–

Sex with the man–Sukuna, as you’d come to learn–wasn’t the worst thing imaginable; for one, he had some level of patience and tact when it came to stretching and lubing you up for your occasional “duties,” which put him in your “good book” right away (Christ, your standards had fallen so low). 

Secondly, he didn’t make you participate. He’d command you in the same way each time (“face down, ass up, don't bite”), and he'd have his way with you. He never made you kiss him. Never demanded you speak. Never bullied you. He seemed like he just wanted to stuff his cock somewhere warm and forget about the world for a bit.

And you didn't really mind it. Sometimes. you almost looked forward to it. Sometimes, you let little noises escape when he railed you into the bed with reckless abandon. Sometimes, you wanted his hands on you just a little longer. 

Because when he wasn't fucking you, he might disappear out of the blue and leave you all alone, only to return a week later with supplies and clothes, unperishable goods and other random odds and ends he found along the way. Once, he even found a retro game store and scooped up an endless supply of gameboy advance and colour games and consoles. Another time, he carried home a bag full of weather-worn books. 

What'll it be today? You wondered when you caught sight of the man wandering back up the steps. He cursed under his breath as he messed with the lock for an eternity, and you took the opportunity to scurry away from the living room to put some distance between the two of you just in case; at this point, you didn't expect him to hurt you, but wild animals were unpredictable, even when seemingly domesticated.

“Fuckin' shit-ass door,” Sukuna grumbled as he nudged it open before kicking it closed and locking up. “Need to fix that shit.” 

You peered down at him from your perch halfway up the stairs and watched him saunter around, heavy boots clunking on the floors you just washed as he looked around. You had to wonder who the hell had taught him shoes inside was okay. 

“Where the fuck is that little bitch,” he mumbled, walking out of your line of sight. He traipsed through the bottom floor thoroughly before walking past the stairs again, pausing, rewinding, and meeting your patient statre. “The fuck are you doing?”

I don't want you to bite me; I don't know if you'll randomly kill me if you're in a bad mood; I don't trust you like that, all ran through your head, but none felt like a good option to admit to. So, you shrugged.

Sukuna sighed, loud and laced with an aggravated growl. “Downstairs. Now. Need you to do something.” 

Your brows furrowed slightly. Normally, you weren't asked to do much. The sudden command had your skin itching. 

“Now.” 

“Coming.” You tried to control the quivering of your legs on your descent to him, and just prayed he didn't notice. 

He stared down at you with narrowed eyes and a bit of a sneer before he leaned over, sniffing for your scent, circling around you a few times, and finally rubbing his wrist against your neck to half-heartedly re-mark you. 

You cleared your throat. “Is that it?” 

Sukuna scoffed and turned away, grabbing the medical bag from the kitchen cabinet and dumping it on the counter. “You know how to sew, yeah?” 

“Well, yeah. I can sew.” You approached warily as he gestured you closer. 

“Hah. Good to know you're not completely fucking useless.” He sat down heavily onto a bar stool and shrugged off his jacket and shirt before turning his back to you; a long, jagged gash marred his skin with trails of dark, gooey ichor and scarlett smears. Whatever had happened was serious.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, scrambling to look through the medical bag to find something, anything, that seemed like it'd help. You found some essentials: gauze, tape, bandages, antibiotic cream, disinfectant wipes. But you'd definitely need more than a few dinky wipes to deal with his back.

You felt his eyes on you as you puttered around the kitchen, grabbing this and that and some other things before returning to his side with salt, bottled water, and booze in-hand. 

Sukuna quirked a brow. “The fuck is all that for?” 

You jumped a bit when his voice interrupted your whirling thoughts. “I–gonna, um, try to make some kinda…saline. To clean it.” You cleared your throat again and set the mostly-empty bottle of sake by him. “That's for…y'know.”

“Loud and clear,” Sukuna sighed, dreading what was to come, and took a long, long drink from the bottle.

You pursed your lips and nodded to yourself before starting to mix the salt and water together in the bottle. You weren't sure what the ratio should be, but you figured there wasn't necessarily a limit, not when you were lacking isopropyl alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. You'd be sure to mention it to him next time he went out. 

“So. This'll…suck,” you warned, voice nervous and weak. 

Sukuna sighed again. Took a swig again. Then ripped his belt from his waist, folded it a few times, and bit down. 

He gave you an unenthused thumbs-up, and you found the nerve to jab a hole in the plastic bottle cap before spraying your makeshift saline solution against the wound. 

You nearly shit yourself as Sukuna growled with the force of a jet turbine. Faintly, you heard the creaking groan of leather crackle from his mouth as his teeth sank in deep. His canines probably already pierced through the material. 

“I know,” you whispered, actually feeling badly for the animal keeping you prisoner. “I know.”

You took your time cleaning the wound out, being sure to remove any sort of gravel or shrapnel embedded into his flesh. Luckily, the gash looked worse than it actually ended up being. It bled a lot, but it didn't cut all the way through to his ribs or beyond. Talk about lucky. 

When a majority of his trembling and snarling ebbed, you hazarded the question: “So…how’d this happen?” 

Sukuna groaned, and you almost smiled. “Fell off a fucking roof. Hit a sign on the way down.” 

You cringed at the thought. “Well. It's…not that bad.” You drenched the wound with another round of salt water before patting it dry.

“Yeah? Then no stitches,” he half-declared, half-asked. 

You gave his back a pitying look before reaching for the needle. Sukuna scoffed and muttered colourful obscenities when he saw your fingers snatch up the tool before disappearing behind him again. 

“Fuck me.”

“Sorry,” you offered softly, trying not to laugh. 

You saw his knee bounce in trepidation as you wiped his skin and the needle down with those cute little towelettes. You kinda felt bad for him. Healthcare in the apocalypse was a bit lacklustre.

As carefully as you could, you pushed the needle through his skin, and tried not to gag at the obscene feeling. The sound of his fist hitting the countertop helped ground you, though, and helped keep you on task stitch, after stitch, after stitch, after–

You set aside the tools and cleaned off your trembling, crimson-stained hands as best as you could before applying whatever ointment you could under gauze, and finally bandaging his torso up. Sukuna's eyes followed you, but you couldn't bear to look at him, quietly afraid of what he might do if your unsteady gaze met his; but that wasn't acceptable, judging by how he grabbed your arm and stopped you from turning away to clean up the mess. 

You looked at him, then, eyes laser-focused. Every shift pumped your veins with ice. Every flick of his attention sent electricity down your spine. Every silent word his lips failed to commit to filled you with dread. 

“Thanks,” he said. And he let go. 

[selinay-in-wonderland]

ART THE CLOWN X READER I (Silent Games)

——————————————————————————

It was already late, and the streets were emptier than usual as you made your way home from the library. You never liked walking alone in the dark—it wasn’t just the fear of what might be lurking around the corner, but the anxiety of being alone with your thoughts, with no one around to distract you from them.

The streetlights flickered, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. You walked quickly, your hands clutching the strap of your bag, mind racing with the usual anxious thoughts that always bubbled up when you were alone in public. It wasn’t like anyone was watching you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of exposure.

Then, you saw him.

You froze mid-step, your heart skipping a beat. Just a few yards ahead, at the far end of the street, was a figure. Tall, motionless, standing under the faint glow of the lamppost. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust, but once they did, you wished they hadn’t.

A clown.

Not a regular, cheerful clown, but one that felt like it had stepped out of a nightmare. He was dressed in a black-and-white suit, his face painted with an eerie white smile stretched across his face. His dark eyes bore into you, watching.

You swallowed hard, feeling your pulse quicken. A normal person might’ve run, but your feet felt rooted to the spot, like the air had thickened around you. There was something about him—this Art the Clown, if the rumors were true—that made your usual anxieties about people seem small. He wasn’t just some guy in a costume. He was something else. Something worse.

Still, you weren’t one to attract attention. You’d never been good with confrontation or even small talk. So you did what you always did when you felt cornered: you looked away and kept walking. Maybe if you ignored him, he’d leave you alone.

But you could feel him watching you, his eyes burning into your back. Every step you took, the weight of his gaze grew heavier.

A few more steps, and you dared to glance back.

He had moved.

Art was now standing closer, just a few paces behind you, completely still once again. But his head was tilted to one side, his black lips twisted into that same eerie smile. Your breath caught in your throat, panic rising. You didn’t hear him move. There was no sound, no footsteps—just the unsettling fact that he had closed the gap between you in complete silence.

You quickened your pace, trying to convince yourself that he was just trying to scare you, some sick prank. But the pounding in your chest told you otherwise.

A sharp exhale escaped your lips as you took the final turn toward your apartment building. You reached for your keys, hands shaking, when something stopped you dead in your tracks.

There he was again, standing just across the street, illuminated by another streetlight. Art hadn’t followed you in the way you expected. He had taken a shortcut. Now, he stood directly in your line of sight, his white-gloved hand raised in a slow, deliberate wave.

The wave was what unnerved you most. It wasn’t threatening. It was playful. Mocking, even. But there was no mistaking the intent behind it: I’m not done with you.

Your chest tightened, and you fought the urge to bolt. You had no idea what to do—should you scream? Run? But as you fumbled with your keys, your body betrayed you. You were frozen in place, heart hammering against your ribs.

And then, in an odd moment of desperation, you did something you’d never done before—something that even surprised you. You lifted your hand… and waved back.

It was a small, timid motion, nothing like his grand, exaggerated gestures. But it was enough to catch his attention.

Art’s grin faltered. His eyes widened, just for a split second, as if you had done something completely unexpected. He straightened, the playful tilt of his head replaced with something more focused, more curious. It was like you had broken some invisible rule in his game.

He mimed a gasp, his hand flying to his mouth in a dramatic gesture, eyes wide and feigning shock. The theatrics of it almost made you laugh, even though your heart was still racing.

But then he started moving toward you.

Step by step, slow and deliberate, his head bobbing in exaggerated, almost puppet-like motions. The smile was back, but now there was something else in his eyes—something sharper, more predatory. His movements were eerily graceful, as if every step was choreographed.

You took a step back, your stomach twisting in knots. What had you been thinking? Waving at him? What was wrong with you?

He was only a few feet away now, his eyes locked onto yours, that painted grin fixed in place. He stopped just in front of you, tilting his head to one side, studying you like you were some fascinating new toy.

Your breath hitched as he reached out a hand toward your face, his gloved fingers hovering just inches from your cheek. You flinched, but you didn’t move. Something about the way he looked at you made your legs feel like jelly, your brain too foggy to think straight.

And then, in a move that startled both of you, you stepped forward—just a tiny step—closing the distance between you and him.

Art’s eyes widened again, his grin twitching in surprise. He hadn’t expected that. His hand dropped to his side, and for the first time since this encounter began, he looked almost… unsure. As if you had broken the rules of his silent game.

You could see the tension in his body now, the way he shifted slightly on his feet, almost like he was deciding what to do next. He raised his hand again, this time slower, more cautiously, as if testing the waters. His gloved fingers hovered near your shoulder, close enough to touch but not quite.

Your heart pounded in your ears, every instinct screaming at you to move, to run, but something held you in place. You felt a strange thrill in defying him, in stepping into the tension rather than away from it.

And then you did something that shocked him even more. Something that shocked yourself.

You reached up and lightly grabbed his wrist.

It wasn’t a hard grip, just a gentle hold, but it was enough to stop him in his tracks. His entire body went still, his eyes wide, lips parting slightly in surprise. The grin had finally slipped. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected you to touch him.

For a long, tense moment, neither of you moved. You could feel the slight coolness of his glove under your fingertips, the silence between you hanging heavy in the air. His eyes searched your face, that playful mockery from earlier completely gone now, replaced by something else. Curiosity? Confusion?

He blinked, once, slowly, and for the first time, you saw a crack in his eerie façade. His head tilted again, less exaggerated this time, almost as if he was trying to understand what you were doing. Why you weren’t reacting like the others.

In a slow, deliberate motion, Art raised his free hand and tapped his chin, as though deep in thought. Then, his eyes lit up with that mischievous glint again, and his grin returned—but this time, it was different. Less mocking, more intrigued. You had surprised him.

Carefully, he withdrew his wrist from your grip, but there was no malice in the way he did it. Instead, he gave you a mock salute, bending slightly at the waist in a dramatic, theatrical bow, as if to acknowledge your boldness.

The tension in your chest began to loosen, just a little. You had no idea what was happening, but something had shifted between you and this terrifying, silent clown. It wasn’t fear, not anymore. It was something else. Something you couldn’t quite name.

Art straightened up, his eyes still gleaming with that strange amusement. He took a step back, then another, his movements fluid and graceful once again. He gave you one last, exaggerated wave before turning on his heel and vanishing into the shadows, leaving you standing there in the cold night air, heart racing, mind reeling.

You exhaled shakily, your body finally unfreezing as you realized what had just happened. You had done something no one else had—something that had shocked even someone like him.

You had stepped into his game, and in doing so, you had turned the tables. For now, at least.

That night, as you lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. About the way his expression had shifted when you waved back, about the shock in his eyes when you had touched him. It wasn’t fear that kept you awake now—it was curiosity.

What would happen the next time you saw him?

Because something told you this wasn’t the last time. Not by a long shot…

[dorabellingham]

Number 5

warning: none

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when you both play for Real Madrid and you accidentally end up in the wrong locker room

request: yess!

may contain spelling and translation errors!

Real Madrid Training Center — Spain

You were known for being as talented as you were discreet. Among the stars of world football, you had earned your place not only because of your surname, but because of your own merits. Small in stature, but gigantic on the field, you shone with your ball control and tactical intelligence, surprising everyone with every match. You trained hard, overcoming barriers and prejudices, especially for being a woman playing in a football league.

It was a late afternoon like any other, with the sun already setting on the horizon and tinting the sky a soft orange. Training had been intense, and you were eager to take a shower and relax a little. Still, your mind couldn't help but think about him. Jude Bellingham. The player you shared the team with, the same number on jersey — and, in a way, the same dreams. Although you had never openly spoken about your feelings for each other, the atmosphere between you had always been charged with something more.

Jude was charismatic, talented and, to you, dangerously attractive. You could feel his gaze on you at the most unexpected moments, like when you dribbled past an opponent or when you celebrated a goal. There was a bond there, a silent connection that you tried, without much success, to ignore. The problem was that this closeness was always on the verge of exploding into something more, something that both of you seemed hesitant to allow.

The training session that day had been particularly intense, and the feeling of adrenaline was still running through your veins when the final whistle blew. Tired, but with your head full of thoughts, you walked to the locker rooms, lost in your own thoughts about the game and, of course, about Jude.

That's when it happened.

Still a little distracted, you entered the wrong locker room. You didn't realize it right away, because you were familiar with the space, since the structure of the stadium was practically identical in both locker rooms. Your eyes scanned the room as you headed to the lockers, getting ready to take off your boots. Everything seemed normal... until your eyes caught a movement in the corner.

And there he was.

Shirtless, his bare back turned to the door as he took off the rest of his uniform. His tanned skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat that hadn't yet dried, and the muscles in his back moved perfectly with every movement he made. The sound of his boots hitting the floor echoed through the empty room, breaking the uncomfortable silence. You froze. Your heart, which was already racing from training, began to beat even faster, this time for a completely different reason.

You knew you should say something, that you should make some noise so he would notice you, or even that you should get out of there as quickly as possible. But you just couldn't. It was as if time had stopped, and your feet were stuck to the ground. A part of you wanted to look away, but another... you couldn't. You had never seen him like this before. So vulnerable, so natural. Jude, usually confident and full of energy, seemed almost... calm. And that mesmerized you.

You tried to take a deep breath, but it was at that exact moment that he turned around. For a split second, the shock of being caught by you seemed to take over his eyes, but then, when he realized who was there, Bellingham smiled. Not a nervous or embarrassed smile, but one of those charming and almost challenging smiles he used to give you when he wanted to play with you.

—Y/n? —His deep voice sounded through the empty locker room, and the way he called you made your body shiver. —Did you go into the wrong locker room?

You finally found your voice, although it was still a little shaky.

—I... I think so. Sorry.

You felt your cheeks heat up, trying to look away, but your eyes insisted on returning to him.

Jude quickly grabbed a towel, throwing it over his shoulders, but still without putting on his shirt, clearly not as bothered as you were.

—No need to apologize. —He replied, still smiling in that provocative way. —But it's funny... I always knew you wanted to see me, but I didn't expect it to be like this.

Your eyes widened at the blatant joke.

—You’re an idiot!

You said, trying to sound angry, but unable to hide the nervous smile that formed on your lips.

He took a step towards you, slowly, as if measuring the impact of each movement. You tried to back away, but the closet was right behind you, preventing any attempt to escape. Jude, still unhurried, stopped a few inches away from your small body compared to his. The heat radiating from his body seemed to invade yours, and for a moment, you were sure he could hear your heart beating.

—What's wrong, Y/n? Are you going to run away now? —He teased, lowering his head a little to meet your eyes. —We're always so direct on the field... I thought it was like that off it too.

You swallowed hard, unable to take your eyes off his smile.

—I'm not running away. I just... I didn't expect to see you like this.

—Like what?

Jude arched an eyebrow, his smile widening even more.

You felt the words escape your mind completely. There was no simple answer. Because, in fact, seeing him like this —without defenses, without the barrier of the uniform and the player's posture— was something new. He seemed even closer, more real, and this closeness disoriented you.

—Like this... without your barriers.

You finally managed to say, your voice coming out low, but full of sincerity.

For a moment, his smile wavered. He watched you closely, as if trying to understand the depth of the words you had just said. And then, to your surprise, he took another step forward, completely invading your space.

—I never had any barriers with you. — Jude murmured, now very close. Close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. —Since day one.

The world around you seemed to disappear. It was as if, at that moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you. You found yourself trapped between the locker and the young player, and as much as part of your mind screamed to get out of there, your body wouldn’t obey. Something bigger kept you in place, something that had been stuck between you for too long.

—Jude…

You began, but you weren’t sure what you wanted to say. You couldn’t form a clear line of reasoning with him so close.

He, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly what he wanted. Without breaking eye contact, Bellingham raised his hand and lightly touched your face, his fingers running along the line of your jaw to your chin. The touch was soft, but at the same time, electrifying.

—I thought you knew... —He said softly, leaning in even closer. —It’s always been you.

Your heart felt like it was going to explode. There was something about Jude that had always attracted you, something that went beyond the physical, beyond the talent. He had an intensity, a passion, and now, with him so close, you felt like you couldn’t run away from it anymore. You closed your eyes for a brief second, trying to process everything that was happening, but then… You gave in. With a quick movement, as if your body had finally decided to act on its own, you leaned forward and kissed him. The touch of your lips was like an explosion, and everything that had been bottled up between you for months, maybe years, came to the surface all at once. The kiss was deep, full of desire and, above all, of the connection that you both tried to hide for so long. He responded with the same intensity, his hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. You felt his body, strong and warm, pressed against yours, and you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was where you wanted to be. There was no denying it anymore.

When you finally separated, both of you panting, you looked at him, your eyes still wide with the intensity of the moment. Jude smiled, this time softer, but still with that mischievous glint.

—That explains why you went into the wrong locker room.

He said, teasing you once more.

You laughed, still breathless.

—Maybe I did it on purpose.

And there, between laughs and sighs, you knew that, after that day, nothing would ever be the same again.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Ownership.

Pairing: Yandere!Wanderer x Reader x Yandere!Childe (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Hybrid AU, AFAB!Reader, Non-Con, Rough Sex, Overstimulation, Oral Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, and Unbalanced Power Dynamics.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Childe’s grey ears twitched, his shoulders squaring as he tightened his grip on your thighs. He spread your legs further, settled deeper between them, his broad tongue lapping over your pussy and his nose bumping clumsily into your clit, but Kuni (the most recent name you'd settled on for him, because Kunikuzushi was a mouthful and you couldn’t get away with calling him your ‘little wanderer’ forever) only scoffed, his tail beating against your mattress in irritation as he watched Childe work. That wasn’t surprising. He was always annoyed, when Childe was around. You could count the number of full days he’d spent in your apartment after you brought home that hyper-energetic husky hybrid on a single hand, and when they did spend time together, it usually ended with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a new scar on Childe’s cheek. You couldn’t imagine when they’d decided to do this, how they’d come up with this plan when they could barely talk to each other. You couldn’t imagine why they’d do something like this, why they’d be so cruel to you after you tried so hard to be so kind to them.

You couldn’t imagine how you could’ve let this happen, when Childe and Kuni were supposed to be your pets.

From where you were laying, your head in his lap and your legs thrown over Childe’s shoulders, you watched Kuni reach out, tangling his fingers in Childe’s hair and forcing him to bury his face deeper in your cunt. There was a throaty groan, a wagging tail, and then his tongue curled around your clit, suckling the bundle of nerves and pushing your already fried nerves to their limit. You weren’t sure what Kuni wanted. You’d already cum on Childe’s tongue more times than you could count – a mix of his saliva and your slick already running down your thighs and staining your sheets, your mind already made useless by the fog of exhaustion and the pain of overstimulation. You’d stopped thrashing the first time you came, stopped crying by the tenth, but Childe never seemed to run out of energy and whatever Kuni wanted, he clearly hadn’t gotten it yet. It reminded you of how he’d acted the first few times you had to go to work after bringing him home, how he’d follow you from room to room with his ears plastered against his scalp while you got ready, occasionally knocking something over or digging his claws into your legs whenever you failed to give him the attention he was looking for. You used to think it was cute, the inconvenient but adorable insecurities of your formerly stray kitten. Now, it just felt dangerous.

Childe’s tongue slipped inside of you, stretching you open and brushing against something soft and over-sensitive, and your body tensed up, going rigid as you came undone with a long, fractured moan. This time, Childe didn’t try to draw it out, raising his head in spite of Kuni’s best efforts to hold him down and letting out a pitchy whine. “Is it time yet, kitty? Can it be my turn? Please?”

Kuni rolled his eyes. “If it’ll get you to shut up and stop assaulting my ears, you can do whatever you want.”

Immediately, Childe lit up. You could hear his tail start to wag faster, see him push himself onto his knees and take his cock in his hand, hastily lining it up with your entrance. He didn’t tease you, didn’t hesitate – just pushing himself into you with a rough groan, only stopping when he couldn’t possibly force himself any deeper. There was another sound, too ragged and too guttural to be called human, and a pair of massive, padded hands curled around your hips as started fucking into you properly. He was big, even for a canine-based hybrid. It felt like he was splitting you open, tearing your cunt apart with little more than erratic thrusts and tiny, airy whimpers. The curve of his knot knocked against your entrance, threatening to slip inside of you and stretch you even further, and Childe threw his head forward, his blunt claws digging into your waist, his—

“He’s so fucking gross.” Kuni shifted, drawing away from you and leaving you unsupported and alone. While Childe was busy between your legs, he straddled your chest, glaring down at you with a fanged scowl. “That’s what you get for bringing a mutt home. All he’s ever going to want to do is—” He let out a sharp growl. “—stick his dick in whatever he can reach and drool. You’re lucky I’m willing to teach him this much.”

Childe lurched forward, resting his chin on Kuni’s shoulder and licking a stipe up his cheek. Kuni cringed, but didn’t move, didn’t swat him away. Rather, he took you by the hair and jerked your head forward, pressing your lips to the head of his cock. You tried to keep your mouth shut, to ignore the beads of pre-cum dripping down your chin and past your jaw, but he dug his claws into your scalp and, when you opened your mouth to scream, shoved his cock past your teeth and down your throat. You gagged, fresh tears forming in the corners of your eyes, but he didn’t seem to care, a loose smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he bucked his hips.

“Maybe next time, you won’t be so eager to bring your stupid mutts home.” If Childe disagreed, he wasn’t in a state to protest, and to be fair, neither were you. A dark film spread over your vision, and before you could hope to hold yourself together, your eyes fell shut, your last tether to consciousness snapping.  Again, if Kuni cared, he didn’t find it concerning enough to stop. You felt him start to fuck your throat properly as you faded into that dark, empty void, with only the sound of Kuni’s voice for company.

“Maybe next time, you’ll remember that you don’t need anyone but me.”

[thesassypadawan]

Feel The Force (Hayden x FemReader)

Summary: It’s May the Fourth and what better way to spend it than with your big dork of a boyfriend, the dark lord himself, Hayden! Even though you two aren’t able to see each other all that much during the day…you still manage to squeeze in some quality time to ‘feel the force’.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut. Bad puns, public sex, up against the wall, and, as always… Hayden’s big, fat dick.

Notes: May The Fourth Be With You! 🖤❤️

- It was May the Fourth, one of your absolute favorite holidays!

- What better way to celebrate it than at a con. Rocking your FemObi cosplay. Surrounded by fellow nerds, who are just as passionate about the franchise as you are. And, of course, with your big dork of a boyfriend, the original moody teen from Tatooine, Hayden.

- Despite not being able to see each other all that much during the event. You two still manage to squeeze in some quality time here and there. Which typically involves Hay showing how ‘wizard’ he thinks the most recent addition to your costume is. A pair of black booty shorts with ‘I Only Date Sith Lords’ printed perfectly across one of your cheeks.

- As the day goes on though, your ‘negotiation talks’ become more and more ‘aggressive’. And, soon enough, he’s dragging you off to a somewhat deserted hallway in the con center. Begging you to let him show you his ‘lightsaber skills’.

- “Hay, we’re going to get caught,” you giggle. Shrugging off your cloak and handing it to him, just like he asked.

- Quickly he pulls it on, flashing you one of those damn smiles. “Guess you’ll have to find a way to muffle all those cute sounds of yours. Think you manage that?”

- Biting your bottom lip, you nod excitedly. Tugging impatiently at the cloak, wrapping it around you both.

- “That’s, my good little padawan,” he chuckles. Backing you against the wall, shrugging down a bit to capture your lips in a searing kiss. Big hands resting on your hips; squeezing and kneading them gently.

- Moaning softly, your fingers get to work. Frantically unbuttoning and unzipping, pushing his jeans just far enough to free his rock-hard cock. “Someone’s eager for the fun to begin.”

- “Can’t help it,” he groans. Yanking at and helping you slip out of those wonderful shorts. That are hurriedly stuffed into his hoodie pocket, most likely not to be returned until the end of con. “Want more.”

- “Ah uh, you know you shouldn’t,” you tease. Leg hiking up onto his hip, the other balancing precariously on your tiptoes. While your hand fumbles to shift your panties off to the side.

- Still having to crouch a bit, Hayden lines himself up. Fat head prodding at your soaked entrance, he growls low in your ear. “Oh well, I was never the jedi I should be.” Before thrusting forward, burying himself inside your tight pussy.

- You press your face in his neck, trying to cover up your sobs from feeling that familiar burning ache. Teeth nipping at his shoulder as he starts pounding up into you, splitting you open so deliciously.

- For as much of a hot mess as you’re becoming, he’s fairing no better. Panting above you with every pump of his impressive length, hand firmly gripping your thigh. “W-when I’m around you…m-my mind is no longer my own. It’s al-always a muddle…can only t-think of you.”

- Those words, coupled with his long fingers desperately circling your clit; aid in speeding your release along. Making you clench hard around him, head tipping back while you mewl out loudly. “Kriff! Gonna…gonna…”

- Bending, he leans his forehead against yours. His blue eyes blown wide with lust; lips curled in a smirk. “You grow too aggressive. Be mindful.”

- Picking up his pace, hitting that sweet spot over and over. You barely manage to gasp out, “I…I lo-love you,” before the pleasure overtakes you. Tears stinging at the corners of your eyes, whole body clamping down on him. While you completely and totally go crashing over the edge.

- “I know,” he grunts. Bucking into you one last time, reaching his peak too. Filling you with rope after rope of hot, sticky cum.

- Mouths melding to stifle the noise coming from both of you. Bodies trembling against one another, riding out your aftershocks together. Utterly oblivious to the slow, steady stream of con attendees filtering out of the nearby panel room.

- It isn’t until you pull your head back that you notice how packed the hallway has become. Letting out a small squeak of surprise, you tense up. Walls giving an involuntary flutter, fists scrambling to pull the cloak around you two tighter. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

- Hayden on the other hand… Realizing your predicament, a smug look crosses his face. Cock twitching in interest, hardening again. Hips start to rock as he leans in more, muttering. “Relax. Just feel the force overflowing inside of you…trickling down your leg, onto the floor.”

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen

[sensei-venus]

@gemini-sensei, suddenly had this idea.

What if Reader ends up dating Miguel after he dated Sam. Their relationship is going good but in the back of Reader’s mind she can't help but think about Sam. Sam is still good friends with the both of them, but every time Reader looks her way her mind starts going. She wonders how much Miguel actually enjoyed dating her.

Did he enjoy dating her?

What did he like the most about her?

Did she stack up the their past relationship together?

It's just a mess of random ideas that start going through her head. She tries her best to ignore all of those thoughts, holding Miguel’s hand a little tighter and kissing him gently. Looking at him with so much love.

But things change when they are in bed together.

She's riding him after a long day. She had picked him up from training earlier that day and they were now back at her place. Both of them were tired and stressed from just a hard day of working. Reader just wants to take out all of her stress including the anxiety that has been building up for weeks now. She’s so tired of it all, thinking about Sam and Miguel for so long. It's bubbling up as the minutes go by. Her hips are sputtering as she bounces on his dick. Sweat dripped down her body with even the slightest movement.

Miguel is digging his fingers into the fat of her sides. He gripped at her belly trying to get some kind of purchase to hold onto. He's grunting and moaning as he watches her through half-lidded eyes. Watching her work herself on top of him.

“Gonna cum on this dick. Cream all over it because it's mine, no body else. It's all mine.” she grunts out as she wiggles her hips. The sloppy sound of her pussy meeting the air.

“I bet she never made you feel like this, made you feel the way I make you feel. I bet she never got this dick as hard as it is now.” the words are crude.

Miguel's eyes open faster as the words keep spewing out of his girlfriend's lips. He has no idea where this is all coming from. He doesn't even really know who she's talking about. Whatever she is talking about is news to him.

Before he can try and say something his eyes are rolling back into his skull as he jerks. His balls twitch as he orgasms. Reader moans with one last bounce before she's cumming too. Collapsing on top of him in a big Huff. They both shake as they ride out their afterglow together.

Miguel rubs her back gently as they both pant. Relaxing into each other.

“Who were you talking about? That wasn't apart of your normal dirty talk I know it.”

Reader chews at her lips. She really didn't want to say anything out loud. She knew her feelings of slight insecurity where stupid. She didn't hate Sam and she definitely didn't hate Miguel. She wasn't mad at him for having sex with his previous girlfriend. Sex was a natural thing, especially at their age. But she couldn't lie to him about it. Keeping the burden of those feelings was bad for her.

“I….I was talking about Sam, you and Sam…”

Miguel was shocked for a split second before almost laughing. This made Reader look up at him, more sadness weighing on her. Maybe her feelings were right somewhat. Maybe Sam was better than she was. Maybe Miguel had more fun in bed with Sam than her.

“Babe, I never even had sex with Sam.”

“What?”

“Yep, we never had sex. We where so busy all the time with school and training, even with hanging out with our friends. We just never had the time not to mention our parents, especially her dad. If you want me to be honest all we did was make out… and I touched her ass a few times, maybe felt her tit up but that's as far as we got, I promise.”

Now she felt stupid for even letting those thoughts get to her in the first place. He just admitted to her that he never even slept with Sam while they where dating.

Then she was even more shocked.

“Wait so I was-”

“Yep, you where my first, well everything really.”

Reader blinked back tears while her lip trembled a little in a smile. She stuffed her face into his chest. Mumbling out “Oh Miggy!” Miguel chucked as he hugged her naked body to his. He kissed at the top of her head as they lay together.

Maybe it was a good thing she had said something, even if it was at an unexpected time.

(I'm making a part two of this I promise😈)

[sanspuppet]

Dom husband San x y/n?? 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

W/T: smut‼️

| thank you for your request anon! <3 sorry if the end kinda sucks because headache suddenly hit me, but i still wanted to get it finished

“Don’t hold back, darling.” San’s pelvis is slamming against your ass rhythmically. Erotic sounds filling the room, as you were once again supporting yourself on your wrists and knees, with your husband pounding joyfully into you from the back. Your face is buried in the pillow, your fingers hurting from how tightly your grip is on the sheets beneath you. You feel his hand caressing softly your hair, unlike the roughly way he was fucking you. “Come on… let me hear your pretty sounds.” you know that not listening to him would get his pace even worse. “Fuck— San” you try to appeal something but nothing comes out of your mouth but a loud, half broken moan. “Yes, babe?” you can’t see him but he clearly smirks, enjoying how fucked out his wife seems every time he takes the lead. San drags his gaze down, gluing it to the way his hard dick flowed easily inside you at every thrust. “Do you feel it?” he asks you, even though he knows very well that you aren’t capable of formulate any phrases at the moment. “How perfectly your pussy takes my cock?” you can only mewl back, making him chuckle: “I’ve fucked you dumb so many times, that now only my dick would fit your tight cunt.” the heat between you grows desperately as San starts to fuck you deeper, the pleasure that runs down his spine forces him to suck in a deep breath. The feeling of your creamy folds squeezing his dick makes his mind go blank, he slows his pace, his pumps inside your cunt getting sloppy. “Fuck”

You almost cry out when you feel emptiness as he pulls out, but you don’t have to wait too much before San flips you around, making eye contact with your hazed eyes.

“Sorry baby, just want to see your face when i’ll make you reach your orgasm.” he cooes innocently, as if he wasn’t standing in front of you naked, after almost splitting you in half with his rough pumps. San leans over you, lifting your chin with his fingers, attaching his lips to yours, biting and sucking on them as he was starving from days. “Wanna keep being a good wife and take the dick you’re married with?” you nod instinctively, sucking in your lower lip to repress the moan you’ll emit as soon as San’s cock will be buried inside your pussy, hitting all your sweet spots at the first push. “Y-yeah”

San stars to move again, the contact between his cockhead and your g-spot fulfills your mind, now incapable make any coherent thought. You trail your eyes down his chest, his abs flexing as he was breathing heavily to hold back any noises. You seem lost, watching his lower abdomen slapping against your thighs, his length quickly appearing and disappearing into your soaking entrance. You can’t believe how you lost your mind because you haven’t noticed that San has already reached his orgasm, a white ring around his cock as he was pushing his seeds further into you. More embarrassing’s the fact that after you realized it, realized how his cock can drive you nuts, it gets you so suddenly to your climax. You roll your eyes back, your mouth hangs open, but you let out nothing.

“Enjoying the view darling?” he smirks at you, his palm running up your body, wrapping it around your neck. “Aren’t we perfect, love?” He pulls away, staring at your red, puffed pussy, before making again eye contact with you.

“I fucking love you y/n”

[storiesofsvu]

Five Nights Pt 1

*not my gif* Aaron Hotchner x reader warnings: language, smut, masturbation, fingering, dirty talk. This is part one!! There is one or two more parts coming, it's a bit of a 5 + 1 trope/style but was getting too long so I figured I'd split it up. Following parts to come likely later this week!

Night One:

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d pulled the short straw and ended up sharing rooms, but at least it was with the silent stoic that was Hotch. He wouldn’t be rambling on about the case hours after leaving the precinct, he wouldn’t force the television onto some mind numbing trashy reality show and he didn’t snore like Rossi did. The only thing you had to ignore was the fact that you wanted to climb him like a fucking tree and were suddenly in much closer quarters and personal space than being in the field or office together.

The town was small, the hotel was cheap and the case was proving that you’d be stuck there for at least a week. All things considered, you needed some relief, some relaxation and all you could pray was that the sound of the shower would cover up anything else. For extra security you turned on a playlist on your phone, figuring that would be enough before you made sure the water was the perfect temperature and stepped under the stream. You let the water cascade over your skin, rinsing away the dirt and grime of the day as your eyes closed and you relaxed against the shower wall. Your hands began to roam your body, tickling at your skin as you let out little shivers, cupping at your chest you pinched your nipples, unable to hold back a quiet moan, Aaron’s name a whisper on your lips as you fantasized it was his hands sinking lower and lower on your body until you reached out for the small toy.

Out in the room Aaron was sitting on the bed closer to the bathroom, the television playing quietly in the background while he got caught up on paperwork. He could have sworn he heard his name, wondering if you’d forgotten shampoo or something in your go bag he glanced up, muting the tv to see if you’d repeat whatever you’d said. The shower was already running and suddenly he caught himself thinking about you naked and dripping, water trailing down your perfect skin and he couldn’t help the way his dick twitched in his pants. Paperwork tossed aside he was about to try and calm himself down before he got to hot and bothered when he heard it again,

“Oh Aaron…”

It was faint, barely audible over whatever music you had playing but you had very clearly moaned his name. Following that he heard the tell tale sign of a vibrator whirring to life and a small whimper. Not only were you naked and wet on the other side of a very thin wall, you were touching yourself.

Touching yourself while thinking about him.

Pretending that he was in there with you doing all the dirty things he’d been wishing he could do to you since the day you met. He let out a low breath, his ears picking up a breathy sigh from the other side of the wall, his cock now hard in his pants. He knew it was a potentially disastrous idea, but you’d just gotten in the shower, if you’d decided to start with making yourself come, you still had to actually shower afterwards. He had more than enough time to get himself off to the sounds you were making through the wall.

Pulling his cock out of the waistband of his pants his thumb swiped over the tip, smearing the precum down his throbbing length. His eyes fluttered shut as his hand squeezed, stroking up and down, listening for any other sounds coming from the shower. With each little whimper, moan or gasp he could hear he twitched in his hand, doing his best to keep quiet as he groaned. He could picture you perfectly, water tracing down your body, fingers pumping into your tight little pussy as you fluttered around yourself, imagining it was his cock buried deep inside you. He thought of you on your knees for him, cock stuffed down your throat as you drooled around him, taking it like the good girl he just knew you were.

“Oh god Aaron.” The music was between songs, this murmur a little louder than the last one, “yeah… right there.”

He squeezed tighter around his length, his hand starting to move faster as he grunted, the coil tightening in his stomach. He imagined you on all fours for him, ass waggling back toward him as you silently begged for his cock before he was sliding it into your cunt, pushing deeper with each thrust of his hips. How warm and wet you’d feel around him, how tight you’d squeeze him, the noises you’d make even better than the little ones he could hear right now. Pleasure burst through him and he groaned quietly, cum spurting out of the head of his dick and onto his stomach. It was only a moment later he heard a quiet muffled cry from the bathroom followed by silence. He grabbed Kleenex from the nightstand, cleaning himself up and tucking his cock back into his pants, relaxing back onto the bed in the exact position he’d been in when you’d left.

Completely distracted by the images in his head and the sounds he wanted to lock away in his brain forever he didn’t even hear the bathroom door click or realize you were back in the room until you spoke.

“What’re you watching?” You asked, crossing past his bed as you glanced at the tv and he looked up.

“Uh.. it appears Futurama.” His eyes darted between the tv screen and you, noticing how tightly your hand was clenched around the shirt you were holding and his pupils widened, knowing just what you had wrapped up in there.

“Huh.” You buried your items into your go bag before you crossed to the bed, “makes sense, I thought it was Family Guy for a sec.” You buried yourself under the covers, letting out a very satisfied nearly dreamy sigh as you did so.

“That good of a shower in this kind of a place?” He asked with a small tease and you chuckled.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” You rolled away so your back was to him, “night Hotch.”

**

Night two:

The next day was exactly the same, work was work, there was no indication that Hotch heard you masturbating the night prior and there definitely wasn’t even a thought that he’d been touching himself at the same time. Returning to the hotel room you fell into the familiar routine, you dug through your go bag for your shower essentials, leaving Hotch in the hotel room to change out of his suit.

The sound of the water running took over the silence of the room and a moment later music echoed from your phone, Hotch unable to hold back a smirk at the knowledge of what you were about to do. A quiet whirring followed by a satisfied moan as the toy slid into you, your free hand roaming your body and you succumbed to your fantasy world. Aaron felt his dick twitch when you let out a quiet whine, wondering how long he would have to withhold making a move now that he knew. He wondered if this week sharing a room would present him with an opportune moment, or if you would bite the bullet and make a move.  He was jostled from his thoughts at the sound of your voice,

“Dammit.” A frustrated huff and he realized the whirring had come to a halt, judging by your outburst, it wasn’t on purpose either. A clattering sound from the other side of the wall as you tossed the toy onto the basin and quickly finished your shower. It was only a minute later the door opened and you were changed into pyjama shorts and a tank, crossing the foot of Aaron’s bed as you made your way to your own.

“Everything alright?” He raised a brow in your direction and you nearly stumbled, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Ran outta hot water.” Distracting yourself with folding the clothes in your hands to place into your go bag you missed his smirk as he moved from his bed, grabbing his toothbrush and paste from his bag.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, you’d been on edge all day, trapped in an SUV with only him for most of the afternoon, the close proximity driving you wild as you tried to not let your imagination go too far. You’d been absolutely dying to get back to the hotel and take care of the pent up energy and now that Aaron was in on your little secret, he could tell. The grin remained on his lips when he flicked the bathroom light on and the first thing he noticed was the bright pink toy still sitting on the basin, unable to resist, he picked it up. The opportunity was staring him right in the face and he wasn’t about to pass it up now.

“You forget something in here?” He called.

“What?” You called back and he peeked his head around the corner. There was a large mirror across from the foot of your bed, a small table in front of it that you had your skin care laid out on.

“You missing this?” He asked, eyes gleaming as he stepped back into the room, holding up the pink toy. You re-capped the lotion in your hand, placing it down onto the table before glancing up and your eyes went wide. You felt the blush creeping up your chest as your heart began to race.

“Uh…it’s, uh, travel back massager.” You stumbled out, trying to cover your tracks, “you know how terrible the beds can be on these trips.”

“Mmhmm….” Hotch smirked, moving through the room to approach you, handing the toy over to you and you immediately tossed it into your go bag. “I sure do. I also know how stressful these little trips can be, it’s important to relax, and I’m guessing that little thing died on you?” He nodded in the direction of your bag and you gulped.

“Yup…” Your heart was beating a million miles a minute over just how close he was to you, never mind the smirk on his lips, the near teasing in his voice, his choice of words letting you in on the game. That he was more than well aware exactly what that toy was for, and exactly what you had just been doing in the shower. You should’ve known better, there was no way the walls were thick enough for you to not be overheard.

“You know…I think I’ve got something that could help you out,” he stepped behind you, eyes finding yours in the mirror, “all you had to do was ask.”

One of his hands came up to the back of your neck, thumb on one side with his fingers on the other and your breath hitched in your throat at the touch. His digits massaged for a moment or two, working down your neck until his hand slid to the crook of your neck and his free one came up to the other side, pinching at your body.

“Hmm… doesn’t seem too tight here. You must’ve been using it lower.” His hands slid over your shoulders, rubbing there for a moment and you felt like you were about to burst, your body tingling with pleasure already. “No… not there.” His hands ghosted down your back, settling around your waist as his thumbs gently dug into your lower back, occasionally slipping under the hem of your shirt and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet gasp at the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin. Hotch stepped closer to you, pulling you to him by your waist, his breath was hot on the shell of your ear when he spoke again, “here?”

“Hotch…” It was barely above a whisper, unable to control yourself, feeling the heat radiating off his body as you began to relax into him, your eyes almost threatening to close as a cloud of pleasure surrounded you. He chuckled, leaning down his teeth nipped at your neck and you let out a moan, this one loud and clear to his ears.

“Oh come on now, we both know that’s not what you were moaning last night.” He grinned and your eyes flew open, catching his gaze in the mirror as heat crept into your cheeks once again. “Now… I think you were using it even lower.” One of his hands wound around your body, pulling you flush to him as it slid down your body until it was between your legs and he cupped your pussy, squeezing softly and you let out a whimper. “Am I right?”

“Yes sir.” You breathed out, your knees felt weak when he massaged at your heat again and you let out a shaky breath.

“What do you say we get rid of these then?” His free hand came to untangle the knot of your shorts, “because I do think I can help you out much better than that stupid little pink thing.”

“Mmhmm.” Nodding furiously your fingers slipped into the waistband of your shorts, quickly tugging them down your legs and kicking them off to the side. Aaron remained behind you, eyes locked on your half naked form through the mirror, one hand holding your hip steady while the other slid up your body. He paused briefly only to grope at your chest through the thin fabric of your shirt, smirking at the little moans that escaped your lips when he did so. His hand continued upward, squeezing lightly at your throat and he felt himself twitch at the way your eyes fluttered shut, the way you shivered at the touch. Finally his fingers found your lips, two of them slipping into your mouth and you eagerly sucked at them, tongue lapping around them.

“Good girl.” He cooed, softly thrusting the digits between your lips before adding a third one and you moaned around them. “God I bet you’d look gorgeous with my cock in your mouth.”

“Mmmhmm.” It was mumbled around his fingers and he chuckled at the way you nodded, sucking harder around him.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” You gasped out when he pulled his hand away from your mouth, “oh please yes.”

“Later.” His other hand pinched at your ass, “first I’m going to get you off far better than that little toy could, alright?”

He glanced at you in the mirror, waiting for your eager nod before his hand slid back down your body and his spit slicked fingers easily found your clit. Fingertips brushing against it in slow circles as he began to increase the pressure, your hips jolting up to the touch.

“Fuck…” You muttered out, tingles bursting through your body as you shivered in his arms. Aaron’s lips found your neck again, trailing messy kisses down your skin as his hand began to move faster. Your head lolled back on his shoulder; eyes fluttering shut as you let out another quiet moan. Suddenly his free hand was wrapping around your chin, tilting your head back up as he spoke,

“Eyes open pretty girl.” He murmured, lips brushing against your ear, “I want you to see how gorgeous you are, want you to watch the way my fingers disappear into that pretty pussy.” His hand sunk lower this time, fingers slipping through your folds, a dark chuckle vibrating through his chest before he lifted his hand, fingertips glistening in the low light of the room, “you dirty girl, already this wet for me?”

“Yes sir.” You breathed out, catching his gaze in the mirror and you blushed, your pussy fluttering around nothing, begging to be filled.

“Have you been wet all day? Wishing I would get you naked, thinking about all the naughty things I could do to you?”

“Mmhm..” You nodded, doing your best not to whine as you shivered.

“Well I better follow through then.”

With another smirk his hand was back between your legs and you let out a gasp when a finger slid into your pussy, clenching down around the digit immediately. A second finger quickly joined it, easily thrusting into your warmth, pulling more wetness from it, as he set a steady pace the hotel room filled with the sounds of your pussy mixed with your breathy moans and whimpers. Your eyes landed on the mirror, watching the way Hotch effortlessly held you to him while his fingers thrust in and out of you, the heel of his hand brushing against your clit,

“That’s it…” he groaned, “such a good girl for me.” His hips ground against your ass and you let out a gasp at the feeling of his half hard cock rubbing at you through his pants. “Take my fingers so well, bet you’d take my cock just as good, wouldn’t you?”

“God! Yes!” You panted, struggling to keep your eyes open at this point, his fingers curling and twisting inside you as his lips brushed against your neck and shoulders. “Fuck… feels..s-so good.” His fingers curled once more and you let out a gasp, your body shuddering in his arms, “don’t stop.”

“Ah.” He raised a brow at you through the mirror, his hand pausing its thrusting so his fingers could curl again, finding the sensitive spot in your pussy, “right there?” He asked and you whimpered when he pressed against it again, nodding as you bit your lip,

“Oh fuck Aaron…” you moaned, your head dropping back onto his shoulder as your hips rocked downward into his touch. He felt himself twitch in his pants at the way you said his name and he wished he was buried to the hilt inside of you right then, but he’d promised you an orgasm first and he wasn’t about to back down on his word.

“You like that, don’t you?” He asked with a chuckle, beginning to move his hand again. He could feel the way you were pulsating around his fingers, how with each thrust of his hand there was more and more wetness dripping down his wrist. Your eyes were scrunched shut, your entire body on fire as he continued to finger you, curling with each thrust until your legs were practically shaking. The coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter, your hand shooting to his arm, clutching at him for dear life while you whined and shivered with pleasure.

“Fuck! Oh god… m’so close.” You could feel it burning just under your skin, he stretched you so perfectly with just his fingers you were absolutely driven to insanity at the thought of his cock buried in your cunt.

“Come for me pretty girl.” He cooed, nipping at your earlobe as he increased the pace, his free hand wrapping tighter around you to play with your clit.

You let out a gasp at the double sensation, your body jolting toward his touch, hips grinding into his hands as right as his fingers curled once again your free hand shot to your mouth, letting out a muffled cry as your orgasm shot through you like a burst of fire. Your legs nearly gave out, thankful for Aaron’s arm tightly wrapped around your middle as your body shook. A string of quiet swears and whimpers escaped your lips as he gently fucked you through your orgasm,

“So fucking hot.” He murmured, watching the way your chest heaved as you panted in an attempt to catch your breath, little trembles shooting through your body as his fingers lazily thrusted into you. “Was that better than that stupid little pink thing?” He asked, cocking a brow at you through the mirror and you let out a huff of a laugh.

“Much.”

His fingers finally slipped from your pussy and he grinned, “just fucking drenched.”

“All for you.” You muttered, finally able to stand on your own legs you turned slightly to face him.

“Bet you taste incredible too.” He replied with a grin and before he could even get another thought in your lips were wrapping around his fingers again, moaning over your own taste as you sucked his fingers clean, letting them go with a lewd pop. “Christ.” He felt himself throb in his pants once again as he looked down at you, his hands just beginning to toy with the hem of your shirt when his phone went off with a text tone and both of you jumped, suddenly coming back to the real world.

“Ignore it.” You muttered, tugging at his arm to regain his attention and he laughed softly, stepping back toward you when the phone went off a second time. His hand trailed up your neck to your cheek and all he could think about was kissing you to get a taste of what that pretty pussy tasted like when the ringtone began blaring through the room and he let out a frustrated groan, stepping away to answer the phone.

You dropped down onto the bed behind you, watching curiously as he muttered a couple of things into the phone before hanging it up and glancing back to you.

“I have to go back to the precinct.” He grabbed a couple more things from around the room before scooping up your abandoned shorts from the floor, handing them to you, pausing to pinch at your chin, “this isn’t over.”

“It better not be.” You replied with a grin, your eyes very obviously flicking from his face to the bulge in his pants, resisting the urge to reach out and palm him through the fabric.

*

By the time Hotch got back to the hotel that night it was late, far too late to have expected you to still be awake, completely unsurprised to find you curled up asleep in your own bed. He let out a tired sigh, stripping out of his clothes as he made his way to the bathroom. Tonight it was his turn to get off in the shower with the images of you coming around his fingers and fantasy of how it would feel to bury himself into that gorgeous pussy.

This certainly was very far from over.

Pt 2

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[1d1195]

Ding - Round 5

Read Ding here | ~5.2k words

Warnings: a bit of a filler episode here: smut 18+ (oral m and f, fingering, just some good old regular sex and maybe something that's semi-public if you look at it the right way) (finally right?), fluff, angst, etc. typical stuff. Also, this MIGHT have one of those 1d1195 classic cliffhangers 🤷‍♀️ who's to say (still not the bad cliffhanger for this series, imo).

Summary: Harry and Cupcake are a real couple now. Well... physically. Jury is out if she's invested emotionally.

“Why’s he so mad? He won?” She asked.

Niall shrugged. “I’ve never seen him look mad like that after a win.”

In waiting for his big fight, Harry refused to let his skills get weaker. She didn’t voice her opinion at the time, but she was happy to hear Niall say he simply thought it was impossible. Louis and Harry decided against him (and her).

But Harry wanted to add to his record. There would be at least one more fight before the biggest one of his life. The current one was hard fought. Harry’s eyebrow was split open once more, sticky with Vaseline and his lower lip was swollen. She couldn’t wait to kiss it.

His body glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. He didn’t have more than a hand towel sized rag draped around his neck and he mopped his face with the end of the fabric. It went eleven rounds. She imagined his exhaustion was setting in, she had an order ready to place as soon as he was ready to leave for something to eat. His favorite late-night tacos. But before they could leave he needed to clean himself up and get away from the crowd that continued to congratulate him.

That was where she and Niall saw him. He looked so irritated. People who shook his hand, people who asked for his autograph, and even the small-time, local media were looking for an angle. But Harry paid no mind to the attention. He was looking everywhere but the person talking to him. She stood by Niall away from the crowd—they were along the back wall, near the exit.

Harry muttered something to Louis who could hardly keep up with Harry, nearly running through the crowd. Louis looked just as agitated with Harry’s attitude and started to scan as well. She held both of their phones, so she had no way to contact him. She thought about texting Louis but thought the sound would get lost in the crowd. Maybe calling him would help.

Right as she scrolled for his contact, she received a request on Instagram from a stranger that distracted her momentarily. In doing so, she missed how Louis pointed.

But Niall saw. Realization came over him and he chuckled. “Oh, Cupcake, he’s looking for you,” Niall smirked as the grumpy look on his face changed and Harry rushed over, ignoring the pats on the back and the press trying to get to him. The look on his face was determined—maybe more than when he was in the ring.

Before she fully understood what Niall said and processed what that meant, she was wrapped in Harry’s arms. Her feet were swept off the ground. His face was buried in her hair at the side of her neck. Her body was warm and compared to Harry’s sweaty torso. His gloves inhibited him from grabbing at her the way he really wanted to. “Hi, Cupcake,” he murmured into her hair. She could have cried how it felt to be held against him. It was so good to be held, to be wanted like this.

“Nice job, baby,” she answered. Harry thought he was too sweaty and maybe a little smelly, but if he did or was it was apparent she didn’t care. Harry was vaguely aware of people staring at him, but it wasn't something he cared about at the moment. He waddled slightly hanging onto her and guiding her back toward the locker room.  

“Want you t’stay by the ring at the next one, Cupcake. So when I win, I can find you,” his voice is muffled by the people around him and the way his face won’t leave the crook of his neck. She couldn’t stop smiling even if someone made her.

This was nice. This was everything she wanted.

The guilt was crippling.

*

“You’re so perfect,” he cooed to her as he hovered above her. They were practicing again. Something they did frequently. Especially now that the classes had ended. Harry encouraged her to do so. Even though half the time it turned into the pair of them giggling like children wrestling. Her area rug was a nice cushion for them to lay on the floor without her back hurting.

She rolled her eyes at him as he ducked to peck her lips. “I didn’t get out of this hold.”

“T’be fair, I don’t want y’out of this hold,” he murmured and tucked his face into her neck, gently kissing her skin.

She snorted. It had been three weeks since their first date and they were still waiting for the right moment for her to try and take his pants off again. For the first week, it felt too raw or fresh. Harry was insistent they be slow. The second week they were simply busy. She had two huge birthday orders to fill and deliver. Harry had two new individuals who wanted his training—two young boys who regarded him so highly they insisted to their parents they sign up for personal instruction.

But now, they weren’t so busy. With Harry’s leg slotted between hers, his thigh causing the slightest pressure at the apex of hers... she was aching for him. “Harry,” she whispered.

“Yes, Cupcake?” She looked at him nervously. It clicked for him in an instant and he wondered what her nerves were about. “Do y’think m’gonna say no, sweetheart?” He asked brushing the back of his index finger along her cheek. She shrugged. He chuckled and shook his head. “Let’s start with you,” he suggested.

“Me?” She repeated. It was adorable. The way she repeated him.

He nodded, kissed her nose, then her lips. “Mhmm,” he hummed and slunk down further, pressing a line of kisses over her neck, her collarbone, over her shirt, across her stomach, and paused at the button of her jeans. “Been dying t’taste you, Cupcake. Sure, you’re just as sweet as the cupcakes y’make. May I?” he asked. Her heart skipped a beat and she nodded. He shook his head. “Verbally, kitten.”

She swallowed. “Please,” she whispered breathlessly. Harry popped the button and pulled the zipper down the moment the word came off her lips. Gently, he tugged her pants down and off her legs. He revealed her underwear, they were navy colored, a little pink cupcake printed in the center.

“S’adorable,” he murmured and pressed a kiss over the cupcake. Her heart skipped a beat. “Y’okay, kitten?” His voice was so gentle. She nodded in response. “I would feel a lot better if y’exhaled, Cupcake,” he smirked peering up at her. She wasn’t looking at him, could only sense his eyes watching her and feel his fingers hooking around the outside of her underwear ready to pull it out of the way—that way there would be just a bit of fabric still around her. He thought it might help keep her calmer if she was really that nervous. Harry watched as her stomach and chest deflated with her exhale. “Good,” he pressed a kiss to the top of her thigh. “We don’t have t’do this,” he reminded her. “If y’not ready.”

“M'very ready,” she mumbled almost to herself. Harry shook silently with a laugh and nodded.

“Okay,” he coaxed the fabric out of the way. Her breath hitched again, and Harry slowly dipped his head between her legs, licking a stripe up and down the center of her while her breath released, shakily at the feeling. He closed his eyes memorizing the feeling and moment of tasting her for the first time. He pulled harder on the fabric of her underwear to keep it out of the way while he worked. His tongue maneuvered slowly over her folds making her whine quietly with his mouth on her. Harry groaned softly against her and made his way back up to settle on her clit where he spent time sucking and licking the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Oh wow,” she gasped quietly. Harry instantly felt cocky and greedy. He dipped his tongue lower again, admiring the wetness that accumulated as he worked his tongue into her. Her hand reached for his hair, and she once more realized how soft it was. He reveled in the feeling of her fingers trying to get a grip to pull him closer and he somehow managed to sink his face further into her core. She moaned softly trying to keep her voice low. It felt so good. The tension began rolling off her the longer he stayed down there. All her muscles started to relax, and she really wanted to quit her job and have Harry quit his, so he could live between her thighs. It was downright heavenly. It was like his mouth and tongue knew every spot on her that would make her twitch and whine. Her other hand reached for one of his, the one that held her hip in place, the other moved from holding her underwear in place to her thigh, keeping her spread open just for him.

She tasted so good. As good as she tasted, Harry still imagined licking frosting off her in the way he was sucking and licking at her then. The idea made him harder, and he groaned again against her. The vibration flowing through her clit making her moan in response. The hand that wasn’t held by hers started to follow the path of his tongue. His finger gently coaxing between her wet folds and hovering at her very achy center with the need for some part of Harry to be inside her.

“May I?” his voice was husky. His breath was cool in comparison to how warm and wet she felt.

“Yes. Please, yes,” she nearly begged, and Harry wasted not a moment longer to give her what she wanted. He moaned again, sucking at her clit. She felt so warm around his finger, he thought about getting his dick inside her and almost finished right then.

Her whimpering was so hot, Harry was so in love with the sounds she made. He felt so happy to be between her legs and making her feel good. “S’that good, Cupcake?” He asked before devouring her clit again.

“Yes, yes, please don’t stop, please,” she almost sounded incoherent, breathy, and her fingers pulled a little harder on his hair. “Please,” she whimpered.

Harry wanted her to cum so badly he thought it would die if she didn’t. So he pumped his finger in and out of her, toying with the idea of adding another to make her fuller as he was certain that would push her over the edge and he wanted nothing more than to feel her squeeze around his fingers. It would be a delicious preview to how it would feel around his dick—whenever that time came.

“Oh my God,” she sighed arching slightly pressing her body further into Harry’s fingers and mouth. “Harry,” she whispered. “I’m—” she couldn’t even finish the sentence. Like it was a surprise that she was finishing without even meaning to. She groaned softly, her body twitching and her muscles clamped around his digit inside her. He continued licking, tasting how aroused and good she felt as the orgasm coursed through her.

She never wanted it to stop. It was the most relaxed she felt in years. She reveled in it, the feeling exploding in waves through every inch of her body. The expression ‘toe-curling’ didn’t do her justice. Every muscle was weakened by the pure, unadulterated euphoria that washed over her. “Holy,” she whispered to herself as she started to come down. Harry was still sucking at her clit like she was water in a desert. His finger slowly stopped pumping and he slid it out so gently—like he was trying to make the least unobtrusive exit he could muster. He pulled his mouth from her, kissing the inside of her thigh and centering her underwear where it belonged once more.

He moved over her again, the hardness beneath his pants pressed against her lower stomach as he held himself up around her on his forearms. He pressed a kiss to her nose as her breathing continued to come in short little exhales. “You’re beautiful.”

She smiled, thoroughly embarrassed. “Thank you... I believe it’s your turn,” she reached between them for the button of his pants.

“It doesn’t have t’be a one-for-one, Cupcake. M’more than happy,” he admitted. It was the truth. Harry felt lightheaded from her taste, her sounds, and the feel of her. It was enough to keep him sated regardless of how hard his dick felt.

“Okay, well, I would like to do it, if that’s alright with you.” Harry felt dizzy and nodded mutely. Unable to explain that he wanted it too, but only if she did. He lifted himself up and away from her, standing while she got to her knees in front of him. “Think it needs to be a verbal consent, baby,” she giggled flirtatiously.

“Oh fuck,” he muttered, practically blushing. “Yes, Cupcake. Please.”

She quickly pulled his pants down to his knees and admired the bulge that stayed tucked in the light pink Calvin Klein’s around him. It was nearly mouth watering and she pressed her lips to said bulge. She mouthed at his dick, getting the fabric of his underwear wet with her lips and he moaned, tilting his head back as he closed his eyes. “I like that they’re pink,” she murmured, playing with the elastic on his hips. “But I’m going to like them better on the floor.”

Harry was incoherent.

She was more determined than last time physically and mentally. It felt nice to have her mouth a fraction of a centimeter away, just the width of the layer between her lips and his most sensitive skin. He lightly caught some of her hair in his hand and pressed against her mouth to create more friction. He was going to cum in a matter of seconds once his boxers were out of the way.

Fortunately, that didn’t take long either. She pulled his boxers down to meet his pants at his knees. She didn’t waste a second getting his dick in her mouth, moaning at the feel of him on her tongue. He groaned at the sound pressing toward her ever so slightly, not wanting to push her further than she wanted. But her lips looked like the color of fresh strawberries in the middle of summer as they wrapped around him. He tilted his head back up because he wanted the feeling to last longer than twenty seconds that he was rapidly heading for with her mouth wrapped around him. If he looked for too long it was going to be five seconds at most. “That’s good,” he breathed his grip tightening around the handful of hair he had taken. Her other hand reached below and cupped—

God he was going to explode.

She bobbed up and down, her tongue licking the underside of him with each downward stroke. It was heaven; her mouth opening around him for him to press deeper was blissful. He couldn’t remember anyone being enthusiastic about going down on him ever. She had one hand on his hip and the other reached for his hand and she gently guided him to press her further over him. “Oh fuck, Cupcake,” he moaned and gently thrusted further into her mouth.

He was covered in her spit within ten more seconds. It was so fucking hot, physically and emotionally he thought he was going to pass out. But the idea of not watching her suck him off seemed worse than passing out itself. The feeling of an impending release was forming in the pit of his stomach; it was the sound of her slurping at him like he was a popsicle on a hot summer evening that was making it form so quickly. He groaned, putting his other hand on the other side of her head. “M’gonna cum,” he warned. For some reason, that seemed to make her work faster. She moaned against him sending vibrations through him as she bobbed faster up and down his length touching so much further down the length of him than he ever expected her to do. “Sweetheart, I’m—”

He swore he lost his vision. Like this was the first blowjob he had ever received (it wasn’t) but by comparison it should have been. He held her head in place as he released into her mouth, his breath shallow as she sucked on the tip of him fervently getting every last drop of him before she swallowed.

If Harry didn’t need a recovery period, he would have finished again at the sight.

Daintily, she wiped her thumb across the corner of her mouth, and she stood briefly, stretching her legs, her knees red from the carpet. She sat on the sofa and Harry was staring at her as he gathered his mind that had exploded across her living room. She looked up at him through her lashes, lips red as strawberries. “Do you think we could do that again?” She asked quietly.

Harry groaned, apparently not needing a recovery period after all, nodded. He dropped to his knees, pushed her legs apart, and pressed his lips against the cupcake printed on her underwear again.

*

It was embarrassing how difficult it was to work any day following Harry’s mouth on her body. Which was most of the days over the last week. Fortunately, she didn’t burn anything—as that would have tipped Maeve off immediately. Though she didn’t mind telling her best friend about the sex, she thought it was private between Harry and her. So, she didn’t want to become a mind-numbed idiot just because Harry felt so good inside her... and licking her... and touching her...

Which is how she kept forgetting which of her checks were going into which envelope, so she had to keep redoing them. Louis is going to kill me, Cupcake. Her phone read.

Tell him I will be REALLY sad 😔

He won’t care, sweetheart. I am losing it because I can’t stop thinking about you 😍

How is that different than before the sex? 😘

...

Good point.

Hehehehe

I gotta get back to work, Cupcake. Let me know when you’re home, have a good rest of your day 😘

You too 😘

By the way...

I’ve had to redo my bills three times now.

Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.

Well at least it’s mutual 😉

*

After her late shift at the bakery, she headed to Driven. Harry mentioned he was staying late, and it had been a drought of four days since they’d seen each other. Honestly, it was probably for the best given they’d been unable to get most things done when they were around one another.

Unless you counted orgasms as things to do.

In which case they were getting a lot of things done.

Can you let me in? Harry’s phone vibrated with the message.

His heart nearly jumped at the sight of it and he all but sprinted to the front door where he saw her waiting patiently in the lamplight. “Cupcake, y’should’ve told me. S’dark,” he pouted as he ushered her inside, locked the door again.

She shrugged, turning into his chest for a hug. His lips found the crown of her head, making her insides turn to mush. “Yeah, but I learned how to fight someone off," she told his shirt.

He rolled his eyes. “Doesn't mean y'need t'go looking for trouble,” he mumbled.

She ignored his worry. “Are you still working?” She asked.

He nodded, exhaustion plain on his face. “Do you want to stay a bit or are you headed home?”

They were wandering back toward his office. The only other car in the lot was Harry’s so she knew no one else was there, but the darkness and stillness of a gym gave her the slightest creeps. “Can we turn on a light? It’s so dark.”

“I didn’t even notice,” he chuckled and flicked the light switch. Immediately, the banners, the posters, everything was illuminated, making it the place she was beginning to love as much as Harry loved it. “Been working for so long...since before we closed. Holed up here,” he yawned then rubbed the back of his head. His eyes drooped a bit. “Didn’t notice the sun went down.”

“C’mere,” she said and tugged him toward his practicing ring.

“Are you going t’beat me up?”

“Yes, exactly,” she rolled her eyes. “I think you would knock me out in one punch.”

He shook his head. “You’re supposed t’block that, Cupcake. Also, I would never,” he snorted.

She smiled. “Just want you to relax a second. Surprisingly, you always look relaxed up here,” she told him. Harry was told his whole life there was no such thing as perfect. But he had met her. So obviously, there was. Just, not everyone knew her. Harry held the ropes open for her and she climbed through, then made her way to center ring. She got to the floor and laid in the middle of the ring like it was a field of snow and she was going to make a snow angel. He smiled as he looked down at her. “See, relaxed already.”

He couldn’t tell her it had nothing to do with being in the ring and everything to do with her because she seemed so proud. Even though it was innocuous, he didn’t want to disappoint her. Instead, he chuckled and nodded. He laid down beside her. They stared at the ceiling. “Think m’gonna fall asleep,” he yawned again. She giggled. “Missed you,” he told her. “How’s your dad?” He asked.

She nodded. “Good,” it was always the same perfunctory response.

Harry wanted to meet him. It was obvious that when they watched movies that her revere for the man was tremendous. While she was getting to know more and more about Harry’s family, she kept her guard up about her own. The only person he knew—beyond the mere existence of her employees—was mainly, just barely, Maeve.

He wanted to inquire more, but he was a simple man and sensing his hesitation over her lack of a response, she rolled over, straddling his hips. “Hmm,” he hummed. “Guess it is relaxing up here,” he slid his hand up the front of her shirt, pulling the cup of her bra down so he could brush his index finger over her nipple. Something he happily learned in the last week was very exciting for her. Her breath caught and she closed her eyes to fully enjoy the feeling of it.

Within seconds, Harry was wedged between her thighs, her shirt and bra tugged apart, exposing both nipples to the cold air. Harry sucked and flicked them with his tongue. She moaned loudly; it echoed through the gym. “Thought you were tired,” she whispered breathlessly.

“Never too tired for this, Cupcake,” he assured her sliding his hand down the front of her pants and checking to see how wet she was and enjoying the notion that she was already soaking her underwear. “God help me, I’ll never be tired for this,” he promised.

*

Harry fell asleep just like the first night they met on the table in the kitchen after another fight. His phone was blowing up with congratulatory texts, pictures of the baby from Gemma—one she saw was the little miss in a Driven onesie that made her swoon. Harry would be even more in love when he saw it, she was sure. Louis, hardly allowing Harry to rest, messaged him the workout schedule for the coming week. But Louis didn’t know that he wasn't responding because she was letting him sleep while she kept his phone on the counter away from him.

She only made a half dozen of his favorite cupcakes this time; mostly because she didn’t want Louis to hate her any more than he already did due to Harry's lack of focus. She kissed the top of his hair as she walked by him and went to run her closing report while prepping the dough for the cronuts she wanted to try the following morning.

Her phone buzzed with another message from a stranger.

Is it true? :( It read.

She sighed. It was probably the seventh or so message she got in the last month and a half—essentially since she told the girl from her self-defense class about Jack. It seemed that he was still trying to date girls in the area. She was under the assumption that her name was thrown about because of the bakery. Oh, the sprinkles-girl went on a date with him. She said he tried to force her back to his place.

The confirmation from her end happened at least twice a week it seemed.

Yes.

She prayed they didn’t respond because she didn’t want to relive it again. In fact, things with the sleepy boy were so good, she nearly forgot about it entirely—until someone brought it up again in her DMs.

“Harry, baby,” she cooed gently in his ear. How different it was to wake him this way than it was the first night. “S’time to go,” she hummed softly.

He groaned tiredly, probably sorely, she couldn’t wait to get her hands on him in the shower (for more than one reason) but so she could massage his aching muscles on the forefront of her mind. “Did y’make cupcakes again?”

“Only a half dozen this time,” she whispered so as not to bother him in his sleepy, waking state. He sighed, stretched, revealing the V of his hips and the lower part of his stomach.

Well...maybe the massage was the second thing in the forefront of her mind.

“Lou will be mad.”

“So don’t eat them all,” she giggled.

He pulled her into his lap, his face nuzzling into her neck and he shook his head. “S’not up t’me,” he told her.

“No? You don’t control how many cupcakes you eat?”

He shook his head. “Make’em taste bad, m’gonna eat too many,” he told her.

“It’s against my religion to make a bad cupcake.”

“Then m’stuck,” he mumbled into the side of her neck.

Her lips twitched to say she loved him, but that seemed a little ridiculous...so soon after sleeping with him. Not to mention, there was still a lot she was keeping from him.

*

After a particularly rough training session, she was holding ice against Harry’s knuckles, and kissing him as many times as he wanted. He showed her more pictures of his sweet niece. More importantly, she was very right that Harry was more in love with the little one due to the Driven onesie.

“Do you think I should be jealous of the other women in your life?” She teased, kissing the side of his face as he showed her. He chuckled, shook his head, nosing at her cheek.

“'Course not, Cupcake. Do y’want t’meet her?” He asked.

For someone who looked at Harry a menacing figure in a dark parking lot, successfully got away from a man that tried to harm her, and took self-defense classes, she looked downright terrified at the thought of meeting Harry’s family. “I don’t... I don’t know Harry. Are you... sure?”

“Am I sure?”

“Don’t be cute repeating me.”

“M’not,” he chuckled. “S’jus’ a bit ridiculous t’ask, sweetheart. Course I do.”

“What if...” she mumbled something that Harry couldn’t catch but he was almost hoping he hadn’t heard any semblance of the sentence he thought she uttered.

“What if what, Cupcake?”

“What if your sister doesn’t like me...or your mom or...what if this doesn’t—”

“Oh, for God’s...” he sighed and rolled his eyes. “Gem likes chocolate. Mum likes butterscotch. What can you bake with that in mind?” His smile was so adorable it made her stomach flutter.

The way she began to bubble and smile about the treats she could make his family made her so excited it was infectious. Harry was grinning, kissing her forehead as she continued speaking as if he hadn’t even moved to kiss her at all. He set his phone aside and then the ice pack on the coffee table. “Y’don’t have any siblings, Cupcake?”

Her bubbliness ceased at once. Harry swore he saw the bricks of a wall begin building in her eyes. She stood, grabbing his ice pack, and made her way to the freezer. “No, just me.”

“The world would have gotten a cavity if there were two people as sweet as you,” he tried to joke. She didn’t bite. “Where did y’live before here?” He asked.

This question was safer as she answered readily. But she stayed in the kitchen, rinsing some dishes from their dinner an hour earlier. “A few states away,” she shrugged. “But my dad took me here on vacations when I was younger. I always loved it. I’m not meant for a land-locked state,” she smirked.

Harry was grateful her living situation didn’t make her guarded. “Where does your dad live?” He asked.

As quick as it came down, the wall went right back up. If Harry wasn’t there to witness it, he never would have believed she could look cold. “A few towns over.”

“Yeah? Did he move out here with you or did you follow him after school?” He wondered.

She paused, gathering her thoughts. Like she was trying to escape. Harry had seen that expression before. Quiet calculation, eyebrows pinched together, lips pursed. It happened in her self-defense classes. Then again in the middle of her apartment while she tried to figure another angle out of Harry’s holds while practicing her skills. It killed him she was trying to find a way out now. “He moved out here with me.”

Harry wasn’t sure how much of his luck he was willing to press so he opted for a gentler question. “Do you know we’ve been seeing each other for almost a month now?” He asked.

She blinked, confused by the change in subject. “Yes.”

“I call you m’girlfriend when you’re not around,” he smiled.

She blushed; it melted Harry’s heart. “Really?”

“Of course, Cupcake.”

She came back to him on the sofa. “So you do like me,” she smiled.

He snorted, cupped her face between his hands, then brushed his nose against hers. “What gave it away?” He kissed her gently, no promise of anything more. Just a kiss, a reminder that he adored her and yes. He did like her. Honestly, he was surely in love with her. But he thought that should wait until he met her dad... or knew anything deeper about her family or why she came here other than good real estate for A Pinch of Sprinkles. “I want you t’meet m’family, Cupcake. S’what you do when you’re in a serious relationship,” he kissed her forehead and held her against his chest. Her ear was pressed to his heartbeat. Steady and sure. Perfect. But she knew what he was saying. Just like when he encouraged her to tell him about what happened to her, he was trying once more to get her to open up to him. He didn't press further. Just like last time. But the silence ate at her. She was sure it ate at him too.

Part of her knew she would have to tell him. She just really didn’t want to relive that part of her life either.

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[callmerainman]

Never Again | sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

PART 1 | PART 3

plot. You and Adam ended up sleeping together. Despite you two swearing that you would never have sex with each other, here you are in the same bed, incredulous. Shit like this happens, but you and Adam agree on never doing it again. Right?

word count. 2.2 k

tags. enemies to lovers, suggestive themes, mentions of sex, implied sexual content, making out, swearing, implied rough sex, Adam being nice, friends with benefits, Reader is a Royal Guard, Reader has wings

warnings! this fic is meant for adults, sex is not described in deep detail but mentions are heavy. please minors DNI!

"Fffuck" he says.

“Yeah, fuck”

So, you and Adam, the First Man you swore to guard to protect the Hotel, had sex.

You tighten a hand around the white sheets, pulled up to cover your bare chest. Your mouth is pressed in a straight line and your eyes are wide open, unable to blink. Black and (f/c) feathers are scattered all over the mattress, along with various articles of clothing. For a split second you look up and see that your bra landed high up on a chandelier in the middle of the room. A couple of pillows caught fire and were currently still smoking. Adam is laying on his back next to you, with the very same incredulous expression on his face. One hand is resting on his stomach, the other is outstretched over his head. A bare and hairy leg peeks out from under the covers. And the bed collapsed, by the way. It’s hard to decide where to look at, so you opt for the ceiling. Your cheeks still feel hot, your whole body too, it’s like you’ll never cool down. Even if it was exhausting. Perhaps the most marathon-level sex you ever had. And messy. And also…

“Okay” Adam begins “I know we never got along on anything but can we agree that this was-“

“The best sex we ever had?” you interrupt.

“Exactly”

Words couldn’t form in your mouth even if your life depended on it, so you just nod frantically. The very fact that not even Adam was able to produce a sentence is astounding. Usually he had the opposite problem. So you two just lay here, completely naked. Minutes later, which felt like hours, Adam talks again.

“And it means a lot from me, I had sex for billions of years”

“I like you more when you shut the fuck up”

“Okay got it”

You take some more minutes to recollect yourselves, your minds still foggy from the afterglow and dizzy. Your mouth, which was busy with Adam’s not so long ago, is painfully dry. You definitely need to rehydrate. You hear the sound of covers rustling, Adam finally moved. He rolls on his side, propping his head up with a bended arm. He’s trying so hard to look nonchalant.

“Just so you know, this was a one time thing, right? I still can’t stand the fuck out of your attitude”.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. You twist on your side too, facing the First Man. Still holding the covers up to not let him have another glimpse of your chest, with which he had his fun, you reciprocate his gaze.

“Of course, the fuck did you expect?”

Adam snorts, looking away “Nothing at all, things like this happen all the time. We just got a little carried away”

“Another thing we agree on, I guess…”

You both roll back to face the ceiling, your breaths steady and eyes closed. A crackling sound makes its ways to your ears, and you’re reminded that pillows are still burning. You drag a hand down your exhausted face.

“We need to ask Alastor for a new bed”

Adam shrugs. He sits up on the border of the bed, giving you his winged back. Your stomach drops a little when you notice the long scratches trailing down his bare skin, exactly in the valley between the base of his ebony wings.

“I’ll come up with something, it’s better if the others don’t know what happened here”

You nod in agreement “It’s not like they heard us, right? We’ve been discreet”

Downstairs, everybody absolutely heard everything. Every bedspring creaking, every bang of the headboard against the wall, every scream, exclamation, degrading nickname you both screamed to each other. The moment Alastor heard the first, undeniable sound of a wild intercourse, he stood up and bid everybody goodbye to pay a visit to Rosie in Cannibal Town. Husk chugged down two entire bottles of vodka to try to forget what he was hearing. He also had to hand Angel Dust money. Vaggie kept her hand on Nifty’s ears the whole time, maybe the only one who didn’t understand what was going on in Adam’s bedroom and that’s for the better. Charlie just stared at the floor wide eyed, her mouth morphed in an expression of pure uneasiness. Although she also lost the bet against Angel, Cherri tried to distract herself by bumping some music in her headphones to muffle the obscene sounds. Speaking of Angel Dust, he’s now sitting on the couch, his long legs crossed, merrily counting a plump stack of bills.

“Nah, I don’t think so” Adam brushes it off.

He scratches his messy hair, right between his horns. Then, he hunches forward to pick up his boxers from the floor. As he slides them on, you reach for a glass of water left on his nightstand.

“So, it was nice while it lasted, but never again” Adam says.

“Never again” you convene.

That night, you can’t sleep. It’s not the first time Adam hinders your relax, but this is unbearable. You keep rolling left and right on your bed, eyes squeezed shut but your mind still very much active and able to recreate every image your retinas registered that morning. Adam all over you, his wings twitching with every thrust, his voice raspy in your ears, your sweaty bodies brushing skin to skin. Then Adam under you, holding you by the hips with his hands, helplessly grinding against you. And his kisses, his oh-so-skilled fingers because he was a guitarist after all, and the names you called each other, your wings intertwined. You buried your face in your pillow and screamed in agony. You can’t do this. As if your body just gained free will, you get up. You only have a shirt and panties on, but for what you’re about do you decide to leave it that way. You turn the lights in your room on and check yourself quickly in the mirror, brushing your messy hair with your fingers just to be more presentable. Then you take a deep breath, and you rush towards the door. The moment you open it, someone is already on the other side.

Adam.

Eyes wide open in surprise, and his hand extended as if he was about to knock on your door. Your jaw is almost touching the floor right now, and you and Adam stand there for a couple of seconds just staring at each other. You break the silence.

“Were you thinking what I was thinking?” you ask.

“Yes” he blurts out, almost desperately.

In the matter of a second, your mouths are already interlocked again, light moans of satisfaction escaping from both of your lips. You feel Adam’s hands going down the back of your thighs, and you immediately oblige on what he’s suggesting. You jump and intertwine your legs around his waist, as he holds you up with his arms under your thighs. This time it’s Adam who kicks the door shut.

—

To set things straight, Alastor had to replace two beds. The second time unfolded exactly like the first one, with you and Adam promising that it would never happen again even if this is the best sex you both ever experienced. Becoming friends, or better, enemies with benefits wasn’t recommendable. You feared that Lucifer might not take you seriously ever again, and that would shatter you since you look up to him so much. And Adam didn’t want to admit that he was getting himself comfortable in the Hotel.

You fucked again obviously. A lot.

Adam started to question whether your hotel room was enchanted with some sort of sorcery to draw him towards it every night. Honestly you wondered the same about Adam’s room. Especially when you started finding yourself in his bed once, maybe twice a day. The situation is definitely out of control. So much that you and Adam stopped trying to rationalize it, and just came to terms with it. When you met Adam for the first time, not in a billion years you would have thought that things would go this way. He was insufferable, arrogant, a total dickhead. Still kinda is. But Adam’s also your…fuckbuddy? Plaything? Thing? The lines are blurred.

However, you’re good with it and that’s what matters. You don’t care about labels, especially not with someone like him. Who knows what stunts he could pull, you still don’t trust him completely. Something else that matters is that sex with him is astronomically good, but you make sure not to praise Adam too much to prevent boosting his already titanic ego. But Adam knows you like it. It’s in the way you cling to his shoulders, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, your hand tugging his hair in the gap between his horns, your mouth full of sounds of pleasure and his name repeated like a chant. But you managed, more than often, to also turn things around. When it came to sex, Adam was surprisingly able to pipe his ego down a bit to let you just take control, pushing him down and doing all the rest. And in a snap of fingers he was the one hopelessly repeating your name. It was hard for him to restrain himself from dirty talking you, not that you wanted him. You couldn’t judge Adam because you did the same. The rule about no derogatory names was utterly thrown in the air along with any kind of rationality left in you. You liked telling him how much of a fucking asshole he was as you straddled his lap, “I hate you”’s were also a regular between you and Adam when you were close to each other’s faces as you pulled his horns. All of this, to you, feels as if you really just discovered now what sex is, despite all your past experiences.

At first, aftercare wasn’t really a thing. You or Adam, depending on where you were fucking, would just get up and go to bed in your respective rooms. You had nothing else to share after reaching your all time high. You believed that it was the way it ought to be, it’s not like he was your boyfriend or something. Then, one time, you stayed.

—

A bead of sweat running down his temple, Adam rhythmically breaths in and out. That was back-breaking. Awesome as always though. You, on the other hand, are lying down on your stomach, your wings peeping out the sheets. A relaxed smile extended on your face, you close your eyes with your chin resting on your crossed arms.

“Shit, you almost ignited my fuckin’ nuts, fire tits” Adam slurs, his breathing still irregular.

You open one eye, looking at him “You hot?”

“As always” he says with a shit-eating grin, but goes “OW” as soon as you punch his shoulder.

“I mean, duh? We’re in fucking Hell, Heaven was a bit cooler. In every sense” he adds.

“Mh, you’ll get used to it. To be honest, I find your room too chilly”.

Adam pulls himself up in a sitting position, and turns his head to look at you. Your face still plunged in your arms, he could only see your hair spread all over your naked back. But the spots of visible skin were all punctuated in goosebumps, your wings slightly puffed up. He bit the inside of his right cheek.

“You cold?” he asks, unsure.

“As always” you chuckle, mocking him.

Adam rolls his eyes. Then, you hear the familiar sound of sheets moving under Adam’s body, and the mattress bouncing a little meaning that he just got up.

“Take this”

You feel something land on your back, your eyes springing open. You roll around, sheets sliding down from your chest. You notice something stuck hanging on the tip of your left wing, a t-shirt. You take it in your hands, a bit startled. Was Adam being nice?

“Uh…thanks” you say.

Adam mumbles a “Whatever” before getting back to bed.

You pull the shirt down your naked torso, and you check the print on it. A genuine smile forms on your lips.

“You like Limp Bizkit?"

Adam almost chokes on the milkshake he was slurping. He always had one on his nightstand for after sex, his equivalent to a cigarette. He turns around and looks at you with a spontaneous grin of his own.

“You know Limp Bizkit?!” he exclaims.

“Uh, what if I said that Fred Durst signed my tits at Woodstock?” you reply confidently.

Adam’s hands fly up to his head, plunging them in his hair “There’s no way! You’re so fuckin’ lucky! Man I wish Fred Durst signed my tits-no wait a sec”

“One of the best days of my life” you sigh “I miss concerts”.

“Ugh, what would I give to see a human concert. Earth is a shitty dump truck but holy fuck if they have the best music. But not a single artist ends up in Heaven”

You chuckle “I didn’t expect you to be into music this much"

“You literally asked me about my band and you saw my electric guitar getting fixed a thousand times!”

“I thought that was just an act to pick up chicks”

“Not an act but yeah that’s also a reason”

After rolling your eyes in annoyance, you find yourself asking him which other bands he also liked. And, to your surprise, you and Adam had the exact same taste. He excitingly asks you about the concerts you’ve been to, and you tell him all your crazy stories about festivals and concerts. None of you leaves tonight. Adam lies in bed next to you, daydreaming about music, rock or metal. You two scoot closer and closer, your wings touching, chatting and blabbering about everything, not only music, with permanent grins that hurt your cheeks. None of you can help it. And Adam ends up holding you in his arms, french kissing you but lazily and gently, until you two fall asleep. It felt good.

Adam, felt good.

[suusoh]

(pwp or something idk. just got horny in the tags of my last post about eddie not looking anywhere else but at his wife and only his wife while doing his husbandly duties.)

cw: female reader, sex, eddie's orbs, overuse of the word staring because I want you to start feeling annoyed and maim this man, slight yandere (maybe if you squint?) cheesy and unfunny frank valli reference at the end.

———

he's staring at you again.

Eyes fogged with a love sick haze in them at the absolute sight of you, his wife, all warm, soft, and pliant under him. You try to close your eyes from time to time, but even when you open them again— it just comes back to the first thing you see which is this man on top of you, mouth switching between grinning and gasping, and eyes wide open.

"...Eddie?"

He hums tenderly. "What is it, dear?"

"I-I.. can you just-"

It's so hard to talk when his hips don't stop moving despite his concern. The weight and absolute mass of him on top of you and grounding you into the bed with each thrust makes it all the more harder to think straight.

Thoughts on how to sound out your request begin to blur and buzz out with him fucking into you like this. In and out, in and out, inside of you. over and over again as he buries himself deep within your cunt. your pubic bone practically connecting with his, and sending sparks of heat inside your belly with each time he ruts himself into you.

"Just what? What does my darling wife want?" He starts searching your face for any indication or answer to complete it for you what you want him to do now. Still looking at you intensely.

Looking. He keeps looking. Which is, sort of the thing you wanted to point out in the first place.

"You're... o-oh- oh-"

"I...?" he acts as if he's not quite catching on. Pondering for a second with the sounds of your moans and wanton sighs, and the creaking of the worn out bed acting as background noise to aid his thinking.

"Oh! I'm doing a swell job is that it? Is that what you're trying to say, dearest?" he lets out a content loving sigh, and your breathe stutters as he picks up his pace. "You and your words never fail to make me blush, my love."

Another particularly good thrust has you arching your back, of which he's making sure his eyes connect with yours once more while you writhe and wiggle underneath. But your wriggling quickly eases from bodily pleasure, to slowly morphing into a sense of discomfort now.

Because he's staring at you.

Again.

Which should be good isn't it? Eye contact during sex is a sign after all of a good partner paying attention to your needs. And with someone like Eddie, him paying attention to your needs is the tiniest sliver of hope you cling onto to make sure his reason for keeping you alive is a bit more... cemented, substantial even. Gives you a little bit more reason (or delusion) to believe he'd be inclined to make this relationship, make you, last longer.

(Compared to the alternative route of him using your body for his own sick dispositions, and casually stringing you all up when he's done.)

Though you're sure that this is not the type of bedroom eye contact many normally wish for.

"Y-you... you're.." you try to murmur out again.

Not that you should talk about having anything normal with this man. You might as well find the solution to world hunger long before you find anything even remotely "normal" in this place.

It's not that you're expecting him to do things normally, but can't he... can't he just... do something else maybe?

Look anywhere but you for just a split second, maybe bury himself into your neck, or close his own eyes to focus on the feeling of his cock getting squeezed, or look at any other part of your body that could possibly entrance him; mouth, chest, stomach... hell, you could even hope that he tries to glance down at your clit? Maybe marvel at the sight of where the two of you connect, since that's all his fucked up baby fever mind thinks about anyways?

You'll take anything really, just one small thing to act as a reminder that you guys are indeed having... sex— and not engaging in some sort of impromptu staring contest out of nowhere.

Because his eyes are doing absolutely nothing but looking into your own and as they continue staring at you.

and staring at you...

and staring...

and staring...

and staring...

Jesus fucking christ you don't think he's even blinked in the past few seconds anymore.

You let out a mix of a whine and a groan, opting to shut your eyelids close and try to shield your face away from his unmoving eyeballs by trying to wiggle your hands free out of his grasp (him and his damn insistence to hold hands while making love as he calls it.).

"What is it my love? Must I pay you a penny for your thoughts perhaps?"

"You keep staring... "

You try to wiggle free again, inadvertently adding onto the delightful friction between your parts and his— to which he gets a small shiver of his own at the roll of your hips. A light laugh escapes him at your captivating and somewhat fruitless display. He finally gives reprieve to your brain's rising fear of being uncannily perceived at, and blinks.

"Ohhh, my darling."

He lets go of one of your hands so that he can cradle your face, tilting it so he can capture your mouth into a kiss. humming into your mouth, but the humming isn't just the usual sighs of pleasure, as you can pick up the movement of him saying some words.

He pulls apart from his half kissing-half speaking into your mouth, as he slowly begins to playfully laugh again.

"You can't blame a man for looking at his wife when she's like this; all breathless and beautiful, now can you? I sure can't!"

Said wife that he just knows for certain was sent down by god all-mighty himself into the 7th circle of hell named "mount massive asylums".

When Eddie sees you, he can't help but imagine your rotting carcass somewhere else. An alternate place where those filthy bastards could have gotten their hands on you, torn you limb from limb (if they didn't have the patience to pull your teeth and your eyes out first), then have their way with using your dead body as a urinal afterwards.

You must have been scared to not have your dear husband around to protect you from all the nasty violence around the asylum, weren't you darling?

No, no. No meed to fret now and get your panties in a twist! None of that here. Not when your dear ol' Eddie is here now.

You are very much alive and perfect, preserved by your own sheer dumb luck or maybe by fate itself to be kept alive long enough for him. Just him.

And under his care, your body is experiencing the furthest thing from excruciating physical pain right now, isn't it darling? Feels good, yes? To have your husband make love to you like the passionate man he is. Lest he's supposed to take in the sight of you rolling your eyes back and your legs hooking around his waist, pulling him in for more as something otherwise?

Oh goodness him... It's almost too good to be true.

And he really can't take his eyes off of you.

[rainandandy]

Hi your writing is amazing!! Could you do rain x reader where reader gets captured by the alien and rain saves them but it was too late :)

Rain Carradine X Fem! Reader

Content Warning: Violence, Character Death, Xenomorph Description

Word Count: 1236

The Romulus Station was supposed to be your beacon of hope, the last stop before you and your family could finally leave Jackson’s Star behind. It was meant to be a new beginning, a place where you could find peace and safety. But that dream had turned into a nightmare, one filled with blood, terror, and the relentless stalking of something that should never have existed.

The station was eerily quiet now, the halls once bustling with life now filled with only echoes of the past. You, Rain, and Andy were the last of your group, desperately trying to make it back to the shuttle before the xenomorph found you. The creature had already killed almost everyone else, including Tyler and Kay, your older siblings. Their lifeless bodies haunted your every step, the memory of their final moments burned into your mind.

Your body was exhausted, weighed down by grief and fear. Each breath felt like a struggle as you ran through the dimly lit corridors, Rain and Andy at your side. The eerie shrieks of the xenomorph echoed through the station, sending chills down your spine. You knew it was hunting you, stalking you through the labyrinth of metal and darkness. The fear of what might be lurking around each corner was almost paralyzing.

“There’s the shuttle!” Rain’s voice was urgent, her grip on her rifle tightening as she pointed to the small vessel at the end of the corridor. Relief washed over you at the sight of it, but it was quickly replaced by a gnawing dread. You were so close, but the danger was still very real.

You were only a few steps from the shuttle when you felt something cold and sharp wrap around your leg. You barely had time to look down before the xenomorph’s barbed tail tightened its grip, pulling you off your feet with terrifying strength. You hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of you. Panic surged through you as you looked up and saw the creature’s claws wrap around your body, its black, glistening form looming over you with predatory intent.

“No!” Rain screamed, her eyes wide with terror as she raised her rifle, but you knew it was too late. The creature’s grip was too strong, its claws digging into your flesh as it began to drag you away.

“Go!” you shouted, your voice strained with pain. “Get on the shuttle! Stay safe!”

But Rain didn’t move. She stood frozen for a moment, her eyes locked on yours, filled with a mix of fear, desperation, and love. Then, as if making the hardest decision of her life, she nodded. “I’ll come back for you,” she promised, her voice breaking. “I swear I’ll come back.”

The xenomorph’s claws tightened around you, the pain intense as it began to drag you toward the air vents. You could hear the distant sounds of Rain’s footsteps as she ran for the shuttle, but they quickly faded as the creature pulled you deeper into the station, into the darkness.

The vents were cold and damp, the smell of decay thick in the air. The creature dragged you through the narrow passages, and you could see the remains of its previous victims—eggs covered in a strange, sticky substance, and worse, the lifeless body of Tyler, his face twisted in a final expression of fear and pain. The sight made you want to scream, but the creature’s grip on your chest made it impossible to draw enough breath.

The xenomorph finally stopped, its jaws opening wide, revealing rows of sharp, gleaming teeth. You knew this was the end, that there was no escape. You waited for the creature to strike, to deliver the killing blow, your heart pounding in your chest, fear mixing with a strange sense of acceptance.

But then, a shot rang out, the sound deafening in the confined space of the vent. The xenomorph let out an ear-splitting screech as Rain’s bullet tore through its hide, the acidic blood spraying out, burning your skin where it touched. The creature’s grip on you loosened, and you fell to the ground with a painful thud, barely able to move.

Rain crawled into the airshaft, her face pale and determined, her rifle still smoking from the shot. She called out to you, her voice thick with worry. She reached for you, pulling you into her arms as she shot at the creature again, forcing it to retreat.

“Come on, we have to get out of here!” Rain urged, her voice trembling as she helped you to your feet. Every step was agony, your body screaming in protest as she half-carried, half-dragged you back through the vents, toward the shuttle.

By the time you reached the shuttle, you were barely conscious, your vision swimming as the pain and blood loss began to take their toll. Rain pushed you into a seat, her hands shaking as she fumbled to close the shuttle’s doors. The last thing you saw before darkness claimed you was her tear-streaked face, her eyes wide with fear as she turned back to you.

“Hey, stay with me!” Rain pleaded, her voice breaking as she knelt beside you, her hands pressing against the wounds that were bleeding freely. “Please, don’t leave me.”

But you could barely hear her. The pain was too much, the darkness too inviting. You wanted to fight, to stay with her, but your body was failing you. Each breath was a struggle, each heartbeat weaker than the last.

Rain’s voice was the last thing you heard as you took your final breath, her words barely a whisper as she held you close. “I love you, baby… please… don’t go.”

But it was too late. The pain faded, replaced by a strange sense of peace as you slipped away, your last thought a wish that you could have had more time, that you could have said goodbye properly.

When the shuttle door finally closed, and the engines roared to life, Rain was left kneeling beside your lifeless body, her hands trembling as she realized what had happened. Tears streamed down her face, her heart breaking as she reached out to gently close your eyes, her fingers trembling as they brushed over your cold skin.

“Andy!” Rain called out, her voice hoarse with grief as she struggled to hold herself together. “Andy, help me!”

The synthetic appeared almost instantly, his face a mask of concern as he took in the scene before him. He knelt beside Rain, his usually calm demeanor shaken as he looked at you, his eyes filled with something close to sorrow.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Andy said quietly, his voice gentle as he placed a hand on Rain’s shoulder. “She’s gone.”

“No!” Rain sobbed, her body shaking with the force of her grief. “No, she can’t be… I was supposed to save her!”

Andy didn’t try to argue. Instead, he simply pulled Rain into his arms, holding her tightly as she wept, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. The shuttle’s engines roared beneath them, carrying them away from the nightmare that had claimed so many lives, but Rain’s mind was only on the one she couldn’t save.

As the shuttle ascended, leaving the Romulus Station behind, Rain clung to you, her tears falling freely as she mourned the future you would never have, the life you were supposed to share.

[aplaceinthedark]

Trying to scramble for a crumb of serotonin, so here's a snippet of "ANYTHING > HUMAN", a paranormal Noah Sebastian one-shot that I tried to make into a series, but couldn't find a plot to apply to it.

He twists and bucks against the hand that holds him under the water that devours him. He knows it isn’t really water, that it’s something much worse, but right now that’s all it feels like. It’s something worse than the cold gaps between stars; worse than the hoarfrost that coats his being. He normally enjoys the cold when he can wrap up in hoodies and blankets, but when he’s naked as the day he was born, the cold isn’t very enjoyable. And this cold… 

There’s no warmth that could banish this cold away.

The Empty, he had heard them call it. It didn't feel empty. The… Not-Water pressed against his skin. There was no beginning, no end. Just… Not-Water. Normally, he would have a better idea as to what he could describe what he was drowning in, but the cold and lack of oxygen deprived his brain of any function other than live.

His lungs finally give up the fight, and he gasps for air, but instead gets a mouthful of the Not-Water. He finally can think of a better descriptor for it: the Burning. Because the Burning spreads through his body like lava, slow and unbearably hot and painful, and it’s so heavy that it weighs him down, so he sinks into forever.

The Burning spreads through his veins, boiling the blood in them until it evaporates. He opens his mouth to scream in agony, but the vacuum of the realm steals the sound from his lungs. Any air he had left escapes in the bubbles that leave his mouth, and more Burning enters his lungs this time, collapsing them with a familiarity that he knows all too well.

He thrashes in the darkness, not content to die like this. He seeks out the entity that had pushed and held him under the surface so he can seek retribution; so he can grab a hold of them and either pull himself out or pull them in to suffer with him. Except there’s no hand to bite. It’s just nothingness above him; nothingness below him, nothingness around him. He’s all alone.

Only a single thought crosses his mind; Was this how she felt?

And that crystallizing clear thought finally makes him panic.

Noah opens his mouth to scream again, his body wrenching upwards hard enough that he feels like he might have pulled a muscle in his stomach. This time, the sound travels. He opens his eyes and frantically casts his gaze around.

He’s no longer in the Empty. He’s in his home in Cooper’s Rock. And like the past several months, he’s alone.

He takes in a long, shaky breath that is thankfully free of liquid, but the air still burns as it goes down his raw throat. He collapses back onto his bed, cursing and rubbing his face. He must’ve been screaming or something like that in his sleep again.

Again. He’s had this nightmare for several months now. And it’s starting to drive him insane.

He’s startled when his phone rings, splitting the silence with its shrill tone. He kicks at the sweat-soaked sheets that are tangled and twisted around his naked legs, gives up when he only manages to get them down to his ankles. He grabs his phone and presses it to his ear.

Though he knows what the phone call has to be about when he sees the caller ID, he still snaps. “What?!” Like the caller had woken him up from a deep sleep. As if that were possible for him these days.

“There’s been a breach at the Site.”

Noah sighs at the tone of the Director of Site Security’s voice. His nightmare is still haunting him when he asks, “It’s her, isn’t it?” with no preamble.

“I don’t know what manner of–”

His grip on the phone tightens as well as his free hand tightening in the sheets. “You wouldn’t be calling me at three in the morning if it wasn’t her,” he snaps. He then lets out the tension that has formed in the past minute. It comes out as a huff. “Me and the team will be there in fifteen.”

“Make it ten.” The line goes dead.

Time to go to work.

If its something that interests you, please reblog and spread. If you're really interested, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for any future snippets and/or the full fic.