#(like almost 1.8k long)

[lovesickeros]

Ur writing is just soo!! mwah♡♡ I just read pt3 of " Even the God's bleed " and I- I can't I just love the way you write all the characters ( especially Furina<3 ) but like I can't wait to see where the story goes and ugh I'm so excited 💖 💗 ( remember to take care of urself pookie )

(/@^@/) ~*♡☆♡♡°~

well good news then bc ive already started pt 4 so there (hopefully) won't be a 2 month wait time between chapters this time.......at the most I'd give it a week, maybe

[foolinafable]

family matters

Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader Synopsis: You and Five return after seven years away in a different timeline- but you don’t return alone Word Count: 1.8k Tags: Fluff, No Lila and Five, Pregnancy, Children, Season 4 fix it (kinda) Note: Got so much love on the last one I wrote this! Try to ignore spelling mistakes it's currently 3am.

── ✧

Stuck with only your irritable CIA colleague Five Hargreeves was anything but a good time. You both got lost at the godforsaken subway station he mistakenly teleported you both to. Travelling for a year by his side certainly mellowed you out. His personality slowly making you feel comforted as you both explored multiple timelines together trying to find your way home.

Surprisingly, the idea he possessed powers was the easiest thing for you to come to terms with, probably due to your job at the CIA making it seem plausible to you that the government does hide a lot- they’re even hiding the whole science of separate timelines.  After around a year of trying and failing to find your way home, you and Five decided to ease off the vigorous schedule you unwittingly created, finding a timeline safe enough to stay in for a while allowing you both to rest and brainstorm ideas of how you could both find a way home to your families. 

You both made a mistake. Falling to know how long a while would be you find yourselves still in the timeline you chose as your ‘temporary’ home six years later. Finding each other a lot less frustrating than at the start of this. You suppose that’s an understatement as you watched Five play with your child, a girl who possessed brown hair and green eyes not too dissimilar to her father’s. It almost wasn’t fair how much her features favoured his. But, seeing his beauty reflected upon her features could never be something you would complain about. 

“Maybe if we get lucky the next one will resemble you more,” you remember his words from a few days earlier when you started to show a hand placed under your abdomen smiling as if this was the greatest gift he could ever receive. But you don’t think it would matter if this one ended up looking like their older sibling and their father. If anything you would prefer it- not that you would ever admit it.

Picking another fresh strawberry from the greenhouse of the abandoned home you now called your own. You placed it into the basket plans to make jam and jelly already filling your mind when you felt yourself begin to flush from the sweltering heat of the sun beating down upon the glass. Your skin heating up to a point of large discomfort, sweat beginning to gather at your temples. You sighed knowing that you couldn't continue to harvest anything else unless you wanted to face Five’s rath over you overheating again. 

“Mom!” Maxine ran towards you eagerly hands encircling your legs as she got close enough for a welcoming hug. She quickly looked up towards you big green eyes staring at you prettily 

“Hiya munchkin” You stroked the top of her hair as she smiled up at you with glee

“What doing?” the three-year-old questioned head titling as she waited for your response 

“Strawberries” was all you replied grabbing the basket to show her 

“Have one?” she asked pointing at the basket, batting her eyes to try to sway your decision. You simply plucked one out of the basket and gave it to her relishing in the delighted smile she sent your way before biting into the sweet fruit. You smiled at her before looking up to meet the other pair of green eyes that had made their way into the greenhouse. Five watched the interaction of his favourite girls softly only moving closer once you looked at him.

“Everything alright mumma?” he questioned noticing your flustered expression from the moment he and Maxine stepped foot in the conservatory

“A bit hot” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders as he drew closer, trapping Maxine in between the two of you as the back of his hand touched your forehead he hummed in agreement with your words

“Let’s get you inside the house, don’t need you getting heatstroke” You forced down the urge to roll your eyes at his dramatics and simply nodded in agreement

“Some cold water and a sit down would be nice.”

He grabbed one of your hands and Maxine’s with the other leading you both back towards the house. After placing the basket of strawberries in the kitchen you quickly sat down on the couch feeling a slight ache in your feet while Five grabbed you a glass of water with more icecubes than you could even count, you smiled in thanks as he passed it to you while Maxine sat next to you, a small children book in hands that she was determined to read to you and her younger sibling as she wanted them to be just as smart as her. 

You could hear Five pattering around the house, tidying up before you could even think about it. Maxine had quickly given up on trying to read, getting bored after two pages and was instead sitting playing with some wooden blocks by your feet. You furrowed your eyebrows when you couldn’t hear Five moving around anymore a stark silence surrounding you now.

“Everything alright?” you shouted trying to figure out where he had gotten to, heart fluttering when there was no reply. Setting your glass down on the table in front of you as you rose from your rather comfortable spot on the couch, you walked into the other room where your lover was his body was stick straight, eyes not daring to leave the notebook in his hand. “What?” you questioned softly walking towards him, eyeing the words on the book as you got close enough.

“This” he began astounded “Is our way home, it’s written by me but I didn’t write this. Another me did.” you simply nodded before smiling  

“Looks like we’re going home.”

── ✧

You and Five found yourselves outside of what he assured you was his brother Diego’s house. Maxine who was resting her head on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his middle looked astounded by the snow while nerves filled you- the last time you saw any of his family was when you were put on the case that got you lost in the timelines to begin with and even then you barely saw his brothers and sister-in-law as they were quickly taken to hq for a show round to get them out of the way. You didn’t even want to think how you would explain this to them let alone to your own family but you guess this is the easier of the two as they all had powers and also been to multiple different timelines. Five set Maxine down next to you as he rapped on the door you quickly grabbed her hand before she could run off into the snow when the door opened 

“You back!” the man, Diego you assumed, smiled as he looked at Five 

“I am” he stared at his brother almost in shock that he had seen him for the first time for him in seven years

“Good” the man confirmed “We were all starting to get worried.” his eyes then turned towards you and the brunette-haired little girl who was trying to hide behind you “And you are?” he questioned and you quickly gave him your name his eyes sparking in recognition for some reason as he crouched to the ground to greet your daughter “And who is this little princess?” he asked quietly as Maxine started at him 

“This is Maxine” is all you said feeling Five’s eyes on you knowing he wanted to wait until you got inside to drop the bomb you could see Diego begin to connect the dots as he introduced himself to you but he was clearly confused because he would know if Five had a child in the last three years in this timeline at least.

“I will explain everything once we get inside- can’t let the missus get cold” is all he said to Diego as the man allowed you into his home. 

He quickly led you to the living room where to sat on the sofa, Maxine being picked up by Five and placed on his lap when she tried to climb onto yours, you turned towards him to complain but quickly stopped when you met his glower instead choosing to put a comforting hand on your tummy a habit you kept from your first pregnancy. Diego called for his wife Lila to come to sit with him when the door opened revealing more of Five’s family he whispered their names to you as they walked in all choosing to sit down when Diego told them that Five was going to explain where he’s been and why his colleague, a word you hadn’t been referred to as in a long time, was here. With most of his family here excluding Ben and Viktor, he cleared his throat to get their attention

“As you all know the marigold has made our powers a little different to what we are used to” They all made sounds of agreement “My blinking takes only to a tube station where each stop is a new timeline and we” gesturing to you “got stuck, unable to find our way back until now. We were away for seven years but for you has only been a few hours” he took their silence as a sign to continue “This is my wife” he spoke your name “And our daughter Maxine.” you sat in silence for a moment.

“Wait! This is the colleague he was always telling us about?” Luther asked excitedly you turned to the larger man confused when Klaus and Allison quickly agreed with him

“I thought he was joking when he said there was a cute girl who he worked cases with” Claire, Alison’s daughter, announced making her mother and uncles laugh

“I can’t believe you have a child” Lila spoke eyes wide

“Well he is going to have another one in a couple of months,” you told the already shocked woman who quickly smiled at the revelation while the others called out congratulations to their brother 

“How far along are you?” Allison asked as she came up to you silently questioning if she could touch the small bump you simply nodded “We think around thirteen weeks” looking to Five who simply nodded

“She only started showing a few days ago”

“I can’t believe it” Luther called out while pulling funny faces making Maxine laugh as she got a little less shy around her family.

You smiled as you watched Maxine get up and walk towards Lilas’ children playing with them as Five’s hand found its way to yours stroking your knuckles. You never thought you could ever get home let alone come back home happier than you had left it. You suppose a thanks was due to your rather irritable husband and his wacky powers.

[aemondfairy]

Blood Lust

summary: With his ego inflated after Rook’s Rest, Aemond makes another move against the blacks — taking you.

pairing: Aemond x Niece!Reader

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: Explicit smut, dark!Aemond, incest, oral sex (f recieving), p in v sex, heavy dubcon, loss of virginity, mention of blood, knife play, angst!!! 18+ MDNI

Destiny was a fickle thing but Aemond Targaryen knew three things for certain: he was destined to lose an eye, destined to claim the largest dragon of the known world and destined to be with you.

For as long as Aemond could remember, he wanted you, dreamed of you. The mere thought of you made his cock ache at any moment.

It was not as if Aemond had no other options. There were plenty of Lord’s willing to send their daughters to King’s Landing to be married off to a prince.

As lovely as those girls might have been, they all shared the same detrimental flaw: they simply were not you. You were a member of House Targaryen — bastard born or not, the blood of Old Valyria ran deep within your veins. You were a skilled dragon rider, you carried yourself with grace, held a quick wit, spoke your mother tongue. Above all else, you had been there for Aemond when no one else was. You were perfect.

Aemond had no interest in being betrothed to a Baratheon or a Lannister, nor an Arryn or a Stark; even the most beautiful girl the Tyrell’s had to offer would simply never compare. After a denied proposal for a betrothal and you being taken away to Dragonstone Aemond felt powerless — until now.

Your entire body aches as you make out your surroundings. You had been taken in the middle of the night, forced onto dragon back with your hands and feet tied.

“Listen to me,” your uncle says as he crouches in front of you, “if you scream the guards will come and you’ll be thrown in the dungeons. You have no friends here except me. Do you understand?”

You nod your head in agreement, desperate to be free of the makeshift gag he had made for you.

“Aemond, this is treason,” you state plainly.

“Treason, would be betraying the crown, sweet niece,” he responds, “I am the crown.”

“Fuck you!” you grumble at him.

“Iksos bona skoros ao jaelagon?” Is that what you want?

Against your better judgment, you spit right in his face, observing him nervously as he wipes it away.

“Fiesty little thing you are.”

“What do you want with me, Aemond? Will you force me to kneel before you? Carve out my eye? Perhaps I’ll suffer the same fate as my brother?”

Ah, Lucerys. He was waiting for you to bring that up.

“While I’m sure that seeing you on your knees is a glorious sight, I have other plans for you.”

“I have no desire to bed you, Aemond. I am betrothed.”

The smirk on his face slightly drops at that. Betrothed.

“And where is Lord Stark now?” He questions casually.

“Preparing his army for war.”

“I wonder how it must feel?” he goes on, “to be whored out? Practically sold like a broodmare so that your pretender of a mother can build herself an army?”

“Better to be his whore than your war prize.”

The mask of cruelty on Aemond's face fades for a moment, and for a second, he almost looks hurt at your words.

“Is that what you think? That you’re merely a ‘prize’? You wound me, dear niece. Do you not remember that I love you?”

Ice fills your veins at his confession and your heart drops into your stomach. Things could’ve been different, they should’ve been.

“I don’t understand why things had to escalate in this way, Aemond,” you say as you start to cry, “you could’ve —“ you choke back a sob, “you could’ve had me.”

Aemond takes your chin in his hands as he lets out a laugh.

“I do have you, baby.”

Fear courses through you at his words. Aemond unsheathes a knife from his jacket pocket and holds it to your chest for a brief moment before pulling away.

“Hold still,” he demands as he cuts the rope that holds your ankles together.

You wince as Aemond forcefully spreads your legs apart, violently cutting a hole into your undergarments, exposing your cunt to him.

“Tell me, has Stark fucked this pretty little pussy yet?”

He knows he hasn’t, he knows you and Cregan still have yet to meet. He wants to hear you say it.

“N-no,” you stutter as you continue to cry. Gods, you look so pretty when you cry, Aemond thinks to himself. He only smirks in response.

“You are still a maiden, right, sweet one? You haven’t let little Lord Strong defile you, have you?”

“Gods, Aemond. No.”

“Hm,” Aemond frowns, “a shame for him, really. Now he’ll never have the chance being that you will never see him again.”

“They’ll come for you,” you tell him.

“If they wish to keep me away from you and your perfect cunt they’ll have to kill you,” he muses, “But even then…”

A darkness takes over your uncles face and you soon realize the Aemond you once knew is gone. You are dealing with a whole new monster. He is an animal, a beast — and you are merely prey.

“Do you touch yourself?” he asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“S-sometimes,” you whisper, feeling ashamed, but finding it difficult to lie to him.

“What do you think about when you do?”

“Not you,” you retort.

He runs two fingers through your soft folds, causing you to gasp, before bringing his fingers up to the light.

“Liar,” he states as his fingers glisten, coated in your slick. “You know you don’t have to lie to me, baby. I think about you, too…”

You can’t help but notice the evident bulge in your uncle's pants, his cock strains against the delicate fabric. You can tell how big he is. You try your best to divert your gaze elsewhere.

“Now, I’m going to untie your wrists. Might I remind you of what I said earlier: You are far better off in here, with me, than out there,” he says, pointing to the door with his dagger.

You’re not sure if you believe him. At this point, you might prefer to be thrown in the dungeon with the rats, left to starve. Instead of arguing, you simply nod your head as Aemond cuts you free.

You feel wobbly as you stand on your feet, Aemond holds your hands as you gain your composure. Your ankles and wrists feel sore, but Aemond rubs his thumb against your wrist soothingly.

Your heart is practically beating out of your chest as that familiar ache between your legs begins to grow. You know you shouldn't be aroused by this behavior, but your body is betraying you.

Aemond picks you up swiftly and places you onto his bed. There was a time where you dreamed of this. If only your younger self could see you now.

Your thoughts are interrupted once again as Aemond’s large hand wraps around your throat. He squeezes lightly, trying to keep you in your place. You make a feeble attempt to push him away, but he is too strong and you can’t break free.

“Please, don’t be afraid of me,” he pleads, “I need you,” the timbre of his voice is so low that you aren’t sure if he meant for you to hear. His free hand moves to your breast, massaging it roughly through your chemise.

"You are so beautiful," he says, leaning over you. You feel him press himself against you, his cock rubbing against your leg, pre-cum leaks out of the tip and smears onto your thigh.

He pushes back and nestles himself comfortably between your thighs. His dexterous fingers part your folds ever so gently, exposing you to him completely.

“Gods, you’re perfect. The most perfect girl in the entire realm,” he groans before his face is buried between your thighs. His plump lips suck at your clit as he prods at it with his tongue before moving up and down your slit. You feel yourself getting wetter, arousal leaks from your core and Aemond laps it up eagerly. On instinct, you spread your legs even further apart, your body betraying you once again.

Aemond licks harder, and you feel the soft muscle of his tongue slip inside you. A loud moan erupts from your chest as a tight knot forms in the pit of your stomach. Your hand shoots down to to tug at Aemond’s silver tresses.

You’re so close, you’ve never been touched like this before and one final glide of his tongue pushes you over the edge. You cry out loudly as you cum, your vision going blurry as your cunt contracts around him.

Aemond pulls himself from your core and stands up, grabbing your hips. He harshly pulls you to the edge of the bed and you feel his cock pressing against you. You eagerly push towards him this time. There is no point in fighting him. You gasp as he enters you fully, filling you completely. The stretch is overwhelming, a tight burning sensation. The fullness begins to feel good as your silky walls flutter around him.

“Just relax,” he coos, “I know you want me.”

You feel his cock twitch inside you slightly as he groans, leaning down to bite your shoulder.

“Fuuuck,” he drawls, “you’re so tight and wet, baby, so perfect; just like I dreamed you would be.”

Your cheeks bloom crimson at his praise and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tightly as he fucks into you. The sharp pain soon fades into pleasure. The fat tip of his cock relentlessly bullies that sweet spot inside you that you were never able to reach on your own.

Aemond reaches up to paw at your breast, pinching at your nipple roughly, and a wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your spine tingles and your toes curl, causing you to moan in response.

"You think Stark could fuck you like this? Make you feel the way I do? That anyone could?" He rasps as his thrusts become relentless. He slaps your face when you fail to give him an answer. A shameful whimper escapes you.

"Answer. Me." he demands between thrusts, his teeth gritted together, his thumb swiping over the rosy, delicate flesh where he hit you.

“N-no, Aemond! Only you, just you! I'm sorry!” you all but choke out to him.

“That’s right, my sweet. You were fuckin’ made for me,” he grunts before pausing his thrusts, his hips stuttering before he pulls his cock out of you almost entirely. Making note of the blood that coats his shaft, hoping you don’t notice.

“You know it, I know it, your mother knows it,” he grits out, “you’re mine.”

“Yes, Aemond, I’m — fuck! I’m yours,” you mewl.

“Do you love me?" he asks, your mind is hazy, and stars blur your vision as he continues to drill into you. Even while he is taking control, his insecurity still has a way of shining through his cruel demeanor.

You loved him once, long ago. Maybe you could love him again? You know the answer he is looking for is not ‘maybe.’

"Kessa, Avy jorrāelan." Yes, I love you.

Aemond grins at this, impressed with your knowledge of your shared mother tongue.

He slams his cock into you full force, stilling as he presses hard against your cervix, making you cry out again. His hand tangles in your hair as he places his forehead against yours.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he tells you.

You grip at his hips, pulling him into you.

“C-cum inside me,” you moan through bated breaths, “claim me as your own, once and for all.”

“You’ve always been mine,” he says as he complies, pushing into you deeply as he shoots his hot cum inside of you, warmth blooming in your chest as he does so; before collapsing on top of you.

“What happens now?” you ask, as he gently pulls himself out of your heat, allowing his seed to seep onto the bed sheets.

“This is just the beginning.”

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Sweet Temptation - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer’s a pervert and so are you (a.k.a Spencer doesn’t know how to control himself when the team goes camping)

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: This isn’t that accurate to canon but I don’t really care, I just love the concept of pervert!spencer and wanted to write something filthy ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i wrote half of this half asleep so give me a little grace pls, not proofread cuz i never do oops

TW: pervert!spencer, bau!reader, panty stealing, dubcon, public sex, outdoor sex, oral sex (reader receiving), penetration, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cum eating, softdom!spencer, afab + fem reader

Rating: R, 18+

——

When one of the higher ups suggested the BAU team go on a wilderness retreat, you figured it’d be at some cushy wellness resort with cheesy team-building exercises and sleeping in cabins, not a campsite in the middle of the woods, with only a flimsy tent floor separating you from the hard ground.

You didn’t want to be here, truthfully you felt that the team was a little too close to each other at times, and there certainly wasn’t any bonding you could do out here that couldn’t have been done back at the office. You were cold, the rocky dirt beneath you was hurting your back, and you could not get to sleep for longer than twenty minutes at a time no matter how many times you tossed and turned into different positions.

You had enough, and decided to try your luck at a walk to wake yourself up until the rest of the team was up. You unzipped your tent, careful to be quiet to not wake anyone, and stepped out into the fresh morning air. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon, and the hazy orange hue was almost enough to make you understand why you were on this stupid trip to begin with.

You began your trek down the trail, the sound of birds chirping and the light layer of dew coating the underbrush making you feel momentarily like you were in a fairytale. Maybe a return to nature wasn’t such a bad thing. You came upon a small clearing, just through a slightly overgrown offshoot of the trail, and decided to take a closer look at the wildflowers growing there. There was a small overgrown picnic table in the center, the perfect place for you to sit and take in the beauty of nature.

You sat there for what felt like hours, your eyes fluttering shut as you slumped down against the table, finally getting some much-needed sleep in your blissful surroundings. The abrupt ‘snap’ of a twig startled you awake, and you almost fell back off of the withered bench. You looked around through hazy eyes, watching as a tall figure approached you. Your eyes quickly adjusted to the bright light of mid-morning, seeing that the figure was none other than Spencer Reid.

“How long have I been out?” You asked, rubbing your eyes.

“Not long, the rest of the team just left on the hike, I volunteered to stay back and wait for you.” He explained, pushing his hair out of his face. You weren’t sure how honest he was being, the telltale nervous lick of his lips telling you that at least part of what he was saying was a stretch of the truth.

“Were you watching me sleep?” You jokingly accused, playfully pushing his shoulder. His face turned bright red, and for a second you thought you might’ve been right. He said nothing, shaking his head before turning around and walking quickly away from you. A flash of pink fabric caught your attention, just a sliver sticking out of the back pocket of his shorts.

“What’s this?” You ran up behind him, snatching the fabric out of his back pocket. You stopped in your tracks, mouth hung slightly open in shock when you realized what you held in your hand. It was the pair of dirty panties you had changed out of before bed last night, the pair that you had sworn you put in your laundry bag.

“What the fuck, Spencer?” You raised your voice, holding the pair up so he knew you’d caught him.

“I-I can explain!” He frantically tried to reason, taking a step back from you.

“Oh really? Explain to me why you pulled a pair of my dirty underwear out of my laundry bag while I was sleeping, I would seriously love to know what rational explanation there is for that.” Your heavy sarcasm was almost too exaggerated to take seriously, and to your detriment it had blood rushing to Spencer’s cock. He attempted to stutter something out, but it was all jumbled nonsense.

“I don’t need an explanation Spencer, you’re a pervert, plain and simple.” You scoffed, backing slowly away from him.

“You always walk around in those short skirts, how else am I supposed to react?” He attempted to defend himself, starting to gain a small bit of confidence as he took steps to close the gap between the two of you.

“That’s awfully misogynistic Spencer.” You retorted, the initial shock of the situation starting to wear off.

“Every time you bend over in those skirts I get an eye full of your underwear, and you know what? I think you’re doing it on purpose.” His accusation wasn’t entirely incorrect, you had noticed him staring at your ass the first couple times you wore a shorter skirt to work and thought it’d be fun to embarrass him a little. You never thought he’d resort to this, though.

“That’s bullshit.” You laughed, taking another step back until your back hit a tree, stopping you in your tracks.

“Really? Then why did you bend over right in front of me in those shorts last night?” He pressed his hand against the tree about your head, leaning over you. He may still be the slightly awkward, nerdy Spencer you knew before he did time, but prison surely did bring out an incredibly intimidating side of him. Now you were the one with nothing coherent to say, simply swallowing your pride as you looked up at him.

“I think you want me just as badly as I want you.” He breathed, his free hand meeting your waist. He leaned down, lips brushing yours until you raised yourself onto your toes to close the kiss, wanting to swallow him whole. The kiss was intense but short-lived as Spencer pulled away, his hand on your waist turning you so you were facing the tree. He dropped to his knees behind you, hands gripping the waistband of your shorts and yanking them down, exposing your bare cunt. Your slick was already starting to drip down your thigh, the thought of getting caught fucking your coworker in the middle of the woods only spurring on your arousal.

“Look how wet you are, and you think I’m the pervert?” He teased, not giving you a moment to react before his tongue was between your folds, drinking up all of your wetness. You leaned your cheek against the tree as he ate you like he was starving, his hands kneading your ass as his tongue explored every inch of your needy pussy. Just as he began sucking on your clit, the two of you heard someone coming up the trail outside the clearing.

Spencer scrambled to his feet, his hand covering your mouth as he wrapped his arm around your waist to shield your bare bottom half from view. You carefully listened, waiting for the couple’s conversation to fade as they walked past before Spencer finally let his grip on your waist go, continuing to hold his other hand over your mouth.

“I need to feel you.” He whispered, pushing his pants down to free his erection. He grabbed your shoulder, pushing you forward against the tree again before kicking your legs further apart, the head of his cock prodding your entrance. You whimpered against his hand, pushing your hips back in encouragement. He pushed into you, your wet cunt gripping every inch of his thick cock, stretching you out just enough to bring tears to your eyes. He filled you up perfectly, like he was made for you, and it grew increasingly hard to swallow your moans.

Spencer’s hand over your mouth could only muffle so much, but you didn’t care about getting caught anymore, you just needed him to fuck you as hard as he could. He started at a quick but steady pace, but you need more. You tried to talk against his palm, only creating confusion until he pulled his hand away just enough for you to speak.

“Harder.” You whined, holding onto the trunk of the tree for dear life as he granted your request. Each thrust of his hips against yours was almost brutal, his free hand digging fingertips so hard into your hip that you knew they’d bruise. Spencer had never been more grateful for his eidetic memory, knowing that he’d be able to remember how perfectly your ass rippled with every slam of his hips each time he wanted to relieve himself in the future. He finally dropped his grip from your mouth, the now free hand wrapping around your front and moving down your stomach to your clit, rubbing quick circles to match his pace.

“S-spencer, I’m not on birth control.” You choked out, sensing that he was as close as you were.

“Then let’s make a baby.” He groaned.

“Oh God!” His empty threat pushed you over the edge, your walls pulsing around him as you bit your forearm to stifle your cries of pleasure. Your knees began to buckle, Spencer’s grip the only thing keeping you standing as he came inside of you. He held you close, waiting for you to come down before pulling out, his seed dripping down your thighs. He brought his hand down to gather the extra, bringing his semen-covered fingers to your lips.

You didn’t have to be told what to do, sucking them clean as you caught your breath. He pulled your underwear and shorts back up your legs, helping you straighten up before doing the same with his pants.

“You really are a pervert.” You broke the silence, turning to face him.

“Oh yeah, like you’re completely innocent in all of this.” He quipped, wiping the slightest bit of his cum off the corner of your mouth.

“You might’ve just knocked me up in the middle of the woods, I think you win that title, Spencer.” He was blushing again, somehow shy again after the dirty things you’d just done together.

“I’ll take you into town to get the morning after pill, the rest of the team shouldn’t be back for a while still.” He took your hand, guiding you out of the clearing to start the walk back up the trail.

“I wouldn’t mind having your baby.” You told him, causing him to trip on a rock on the path. He caught himself, laughing it off, but secretly wishing he could pull you into the tree line and fuck you all over again.

——

Tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

[lavenderspence]

Missing the happy hormone | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: emotional reader, period mention, fluff

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Apparently Spencer Reid could make anything better - even the emotional disaster of being on your period

A/N: First, huge thank you to the cutie that sent in this request, you literally caught me while on my period so this was born. Also, here’s to my inability to write short fics, this is your only warning that i can make and will make anything long, lol. Also, my titles suck omg. And shoutout to my crazy bestie for making me a Mamma Mia girly, she rocks.

But also, happy one month to this blog! When I carved out this little space for myself a month ago I wasn’t really sure how I’d feel being back here and writing again, but so far it’s been a treat. A huge thank you for all of your support and love and thank you to my mutuals and everyone that interacted with my blog. 💕 Here’s to many more months to come!

Request: spencer x fem!reader on her period/ovulating and shes in tears all the time?? Im ovulating and have been crying for hours and keep calling my mom lmaoo he’d been so lovely and sweet I know it I can feel it in my bones

It was a slow day at the BAU. The most exciting thing in the 6 hours Spencer had spent at work was Rossi’s invitation to dinner the following weekend. 

Paperwork had piled high after their last 2 cases, so every team member was hunched over their desk, writing and revising reports. It was a never-ending cycle - finish a report, close the file, open a new one, and start all over again.

His eyes had started getting tired after four and a half hours, his hand had started cramping and he was down two pens so far, yet there was still a prominent pile on his desk.

He suspected Morgan and Emily might have pushed a file or two from theirs onto his load, seeing as he was getting done the fastest. Regardless, every few hours JJ was bringing even more to pile on top of everything that wasn’t finished, so buried in paperwork they stayed - no matter how fast he wrote or read, or how used to the load he was.

He was just thinking about getting up to prepare a fresh pot of coffee so he could function properly for a few more hours when his phone started ringing. He felt around the pockets of his suit jacket, where it sat draped on his chair, and then pulled it free. 

His display showed an incoming call, a picture of you as he hugged you, hands around your middle and face almost buried into your neck, a soft smile gracing both your faces. A scenery rich with reds, browns, and yellows stood behind you, the beauty of fall was nothing short of spectacular. 

The picture you’d taken last year when the team spent a weekend at Rossi’s cabin in the woods, surrounded by the beauty of landscapes and leaves, nature for miles. 

He accepted the call right away, a small smile on his face. 

“Hey sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, if a little raspy from misuse. He hadn’t talked much in the last few hours - just a distracted short answer here or a hum there. He was happy you were calling, though, welcoming the reprieve from the most recent report. 

It was silent for a few seconds, and he wondered absentmindedly if maybe you hadn’t called him on accident, and then there came a tiny little sniffle from your side. 

“Sweetheart?” He prompted, “Are you there? What’s going on?” Worry was starting to creep into the base of his spine, but he still remained calm and kept his voice gentle. 

“I’m here. Hi.” Another small sniffle, “All’s good. Just…I was just wondering how much longer you’d be gone.” Your voice was small,like you thought you might upset him by asking, and a little crackly, like you yourself were upset about something. 

His eyebrows furrowed, and he checked the time quickly - 3:57 pm. 

“Probably about two more hours, there’s a lot of paperwork we need to go through.” His eyes met Emily’s as she sent him a curious, questioning look. 

“Oh, okay.” The resignation was clear in your voice, “I’ll see you later then.” The call ended abruptly, and it took him a second to catch up.

He couldn’t help but feel like not everything was as good as you claimed it was. For one, you rarely called to ask when he’d be home - you knew his work could span into the late hours, or even stretch for days. You let him update you on any changes in his work schedule. 

In your interactions, your voice was usually upbeat and teasing - especially on the phone. Your kindness was always evident in your voice, as was your mood. You were a sunshine person, if he ever met one, that’s probably why you and Penelope formed such a close bond upon meeting. 

There was something that nagged him - a change in your mood he could pick up on just by your voice - too low, too small, and the cracks that he could now identify as he replayed your conversation in his head. You were keeping yourself from crying out, and yet there was nothing more apparent than the tears in your voice. And that made him worry. 

“Reid, are you okay?” Emily’s voice snapped him from the hard stare he’d been giving his phone in the last several minutes since the call ended. 

“I…I don’t know.” His eye twitched, and he cleared his throat before he tried and failed to articulate exactly what was happening - he himself had a hard time understanding. One thing he knew was that he needed to get home. “I..um, I need to go. Can you, please?” He asked, gusting at the remaining three files on his desk before he pulled his suit jacket on and grabbed his satchel. 

Morgan and Emily shared a mildly concerned look before they both nodded their heads, “Yeah, go. Text to let us know if everything is okay.” Morgan reminded him before he exited the bullpen with a fast step and tried to keep calm.

He was aware the situation wasn’t anything that he needed to be incredibly worried over - if something was really wrong, he knew you would have let him know. Yet, he couldn’t help the way his heart constricted by the sound of your voice, or the overwhelming desire to come home and gently hold you, see what could have caused this behavior. 

You were curled up on the couch, watching as Donna helped Sophie get ready for her wedding, the gentle melody of “Slipping through my fingers” filling the empty apartment. Your eyes were watering, to the point that everything was starting to get blurry. A shaky exhale left your lips.

Today has simply been a rollercoaster. Kissing Spencer goodbye this morning was the highlight of the day. What followed was nothing short of an emotional disaster. 

You’d teared up during breakfast, images of picking berries with Spencer flying through your mind. The desire to make it a reality was strong. 

Following that had come the overwhelming urge to bawl your eyes out, for no apparent reason whatsoever. Just cry and cry until you had it all emptied out and you could take a deep breath and continue with your day. So, cry you did, and then you’d finished with your chores for the day. 

Apparently letting it all out and emptying your tear supply hadn’t happened. Seeing as around 3:30 you’d started missing your boyfriend so much, the need to hear his voice had won out, so you’d called him. You felt the need to have him home to hold you because this month’s visit from mother flow was making you feel like a crybaby.

But then there was disappointment at the notion that you needed to wait close to 3 hours before that could happen. So you quickly ended the call before he could pick up on the tone of your voice, and then you shed a few tears. 

Now here you were, rewatching Mamma Mia because you really needed a pick me up, and once again, eyes shining as the tears started falling. At this point, it was a losing battle, so you let them fall, humming to the song with a broken voice. 

That’s exactly how Spencer found you, not a minute later. His keys were in his hand, the satchel on his shoulder, and he was just a little bit out of breath. 

The moment his eyes met you, they softened as he dropped everything and sat down next to you. His hand reached up and he cradled the side of your face, wiping your tears away. 

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” He asked in a whisper.

“Look at Donna painting Sophie’s nails, it’s...” You hiccuped, another wave of tears washing over you. “And you’re home, why are you home?” Your question was met with a furrow in his brow, as his thumbs continued wiping underneath your eyes. 

“You called.” He answered simply. 

“But you said-” He stopped you before you could finish your sentence.

“I did, yes. But you sounded off and sad, so. Want to tell me what’s going on?” He prompted you gently as he pushed your hair back and pulled you into his lap after, feeling like you needed the physical contact. 

You weren’t ashamed to admit it, per se, but you were ashamed that your hormones had caused him to leave work and race home to be with you. 

“It’s my period,” you mumbled, hands wrapping around his neck as you hid your face in his chest, too tired to prevent your eyes from watering again. “It’s been going on all day. Randomly, I’d just get so emotional, and the tears would start. I was missing you so much too, and then hearing the song, bam, tears again. I’m so done with this Spence.” You sounded barely coherent, with your face pushed as close to him as possible. 

It all made sense now, you’d been cranky a few days ago, and then you’d told him last night your cramps were unbearable, so he knew you were on your period, but right now he felt like an idiot for not figuring it out himself. 

“It’s okay, everything is fine. The drop in estrogen and progesterone, following your ovulation triggered this. This in turn reduced the production of serotonin, your happy hormone. So, we just need to boost it a bit.” He whispered into your ear as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“How?” You sighed into his chest, almost being able to pick up on the sound of his heartbeat.

He got deep in thought for a few seconds as you breathed in his scent, and a sense of calmness slowly overtook you now that he was home and holding you. One of his hands was running soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand, fingers interlocked. 

“How about we take a trip to the store and get you some snacks? We’ll pick up dinner on the way home and then I'll hold you some more and you'll pick a movie for us to watch.” He suggested, kissing the crown of your head once, twice, and many more times until you gave him an answer. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think that would help, but just having you here has done wonders.” You finally laid your head against his chest, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiled, and so did you. Having him here really had helped immensely, and when had it not? He was your other half, your rock, and even when your emotions ran rampant or you were feeling down, just his presence, his touch, and his understanding were enough to make it all okay. 

Later in the evening, Penelope sent you a photo of Sergio sleep-hugging a little plushy you’d gotten him, and the waterworks started all over again. Luckily, Spencer was there, wiping your tears and kissing your head, saying a thousand things without actually speaking a word.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Requests are open for both Spencer and Hotch if you want to send any!

[nastybuckybarnes]

Car Rides

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Road trips are usually pretty boring, but you and Bucky find a way to pass the time.

Warnings: Smut, Public sex, Car sex, Language, Fluff, Mutual Pining,

Word Count: 1.8K

A/n: I got this request AGES ago apparently and I'm only just seeing it now! hope y'all enjoy!

~*~

"Can you move your seat up?"

There's a brief pause, almost like Sam's thinking about it, before - "no."

Silence hangs heavily in the car for a long moment as Steve drives and you can't help but feel bad for Bucky.

He's squished in behind Sam, While you've got a decent amount of room behind Steve.

"We can switch, if you want?" You offer quietly, nudging Bucky's knee with yours.

"Steve's not stopping the car just so Terminator can feel more comfortable," Sam interjects, ignoring the ice of Bucky's stare.

"I'm sure we can switch spots while he's driving. We've done far more on missions with less room, I have faith. Unbuckle your seatbelt."

"Yes ma'am."

You take off your own seatbelt, ignoring Steve's warning look in the rearview mirror.

"Okay, I'm gonna climb over you in the middle seat so when you scoot over I'll climb over and then we'll be set!"

Foolproof! Brilliant!

Bucky scoots over to the middle and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself, then grab his shoulders and stretch one leg over his lap.

Steve chooses that particular moment to hit a bump in the road, sending you tumbling into Bucky and forcing his face into your chest.

Your shirt of choice today is fairly low cut, leaving little to the imagination, even less now that Bucky's face is pressed to your goods.

Regaining your coordination feels like it takes a lifetime, but you eventually manage to pry your boobs out of Bucky's face and plop down in the seat behind Sam.

Your heart hammers in your chest and you avoid looking at Bucky with all your might as you put your seatbelt on.

It's no secret that there's tension between the two of you that has only been growing the more time you spend together, but now? Now that you pretty much forced him to motorboat you?

Horrible. Stupid. The worst idea you've ever had ever.

You almost pray for the car to roll off a cliff to save you from the embarrassment licking up your spine.

The ride is silent for a little while, with some of Sam's music being the only thing stopping it from being too heavy, and soon his soft snores accompany the tunes.

After maybe about half an hour, Bucky's knee brushes against yours once briefly, then rests against it more firmly, with purpose.

Your gaze darts over to him but he's got his eyes focused out the window. You let your eyes fall to where he's manspreading into your personal space, and freeze when your eyes land on the bulge in his pants.

The bulge that certainly was not there before the two of you switched spots, not that you looked.

And now you can't tear your eyes away from it.

Sure, all this time the two of you have been flirty and a little more than friendly, but never to this extent.

Your eyes raise to his face once more and your heart stops for a moment when you meet his gaze.

You're caught now.

Swallowing hard, you glance at his crotch once more then turn to look out your own window, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt at fighting the warmth that's quickly spreading.

Bucky rolls his window down, and the light mechanical whirring sound masks the soft gasp that leaves you when his hand lands on your thigh.

You glance down at where his hand is, watching as his fingers flex as he squeezes your supple flesh.

Your body acts on its own, thighs spreading slightly and giving him the green light he needs to slide his hand up closer to your centre.

Eyes focused on the rearview mirror, you slowly grab Bucky's discarded jacket and drape it over your lap while spreading your legs further, successfully hiding his fingers as they dust over your core.

"Cold?" He asks, glancing at you as he slides his hand down your pants.

You swallow hard and nod, leaning back and breathing through your mouth as he slides a thick finger through your folds.

"With the window open it's a little breezy, but the fresh air is nice," you whisper, breath hitching when he rubs your clit gently.

He nods his agreement, coating his middle finger in your essence then slowly pushing it inside of you.

"Clears the head."

You nod, eyes falling shut as he begins a steady pace, pushing on your walls deliciously slow.

"Exactly," the words are a mere breath on your lips as you lose yourself in the feeling of him.

He leans his head back, his eyes focused on your face as he massages your walls, pulling his finger out only to push two right back in.

He watches as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, brows furrowing as you try your hardest to stay quiet through the slow building pleasure.

It's almost torturously slow, and he knows that, but watching your small twitches and movements has Bucky's dick growing hard enough to cut diamonds.

"We got a good day for this, huh?" Bucky asks, grinning when you struggle to open your eyes.

"Yeah it's... good... it's really good," you whisper, eyelids fluttering slightly before you finally raise your glassy eyes to his.

"I could go for a snack soon though, something sweet to eat."

"Mhmm," you let out a soft moan of agreement as he slips a third finger inside you, pumping them in and out at a slightly faster speed than before.

Not fast enough to draw attention to the two of you, but fast enough for you to be struggling to keep still.

"Next gas station isn't too far out. They probably won't have much but we can stop there to grab a snack and stretch," Steve's voice says from the front seat, his eyes glancing at you and Bucky in the rearview mirror before focusing on the road again.

"Sounds good to me," Bucky says, his voice low and his mischievous eyes focused on you as you nod your agreement.

You dig your head back into the headrest, toes curling in your shoes as his palm rubs against your clit with every thrust of his fingers inside of your wet heat.

He stretches your walls deliciously, enhanced senses picking up the tangy sweet smell of your cunt on every gust of wind that blows through the car.

He can't help but lick his lips, greatly looking forward to tasting you once he's finished enjoying fingering your tight snatch.

Eyes slowly opening, you let your head roll to the side eyes finding his as you breathe softly through your mouth.

He grins cheekily at you and stuffs his fingers inside of you a little harder, watching in smug satisfaction when your face screws up with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

The car slowly rolls to a stop and Steve lets out a groan.

"All right. I'm gonna stretch my legs and grab a snack. Are you guys coming in?" Steve's eyes find Bucky's as he opens the door.

Sam jolts upright with a groan, rubbing his face then yawning and pulling off his seatbelt.

"I'm gonna come inside," He says groggily, stumbling out of the car and stretching.

"I think we're good back here, she's falling asleep," Bucky whispers, giving your clit a particularly rough rub before pulling his fingers out of you.

Sam and Steve head into the gas station, and as soon as they are out of sight Bucky is tossing the jacket off of your lap and yanking your pants down your legs.

He licks his fingers clean while using his other hand to undo his belt and shuck his pants down his thighs, exposing his weeping hot cock.

"We don't have much time, sweetheart, better make it count. N'when we get to the cabin I'll fuck you nice and slow and proper," he promises quietly.

You straddle his waist once more, wet core dripping onto his lap and Bucky can't help but hiss when he slides his aching cock through your folds.

He rubs your clit a few times then slides inside in one quick thrust, pressing his mouth to yours to swallow the sound of your moan.

With the window open, you guys aren't exactly safe. Anyone could drive or walk by and Sam and Steve will likely only be gone for a few minutes.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby... shit..."

His voice is strained as you begin rocking your hips in his lap, eyes squeezed shut as the tip of his cock drags across your g-spot.

Rather than let you have your fun, he flips you onto your back in the back seat of the car and hammers his hips down to meet yours, his lips trailing over your throat as you moan softly at the new angle.

He's hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and kissing your cervix with every other roll of his hips.

The pleasure and pain mix and make your head foggy, and it doesn't take long for your toes to curl around Bucky's hips and your climax to creep up on you.

Metal fingers toy with your clit with expert precision, and within only a few moments, your walls are clamping down around him and successfully milking him of his cum.

He lets out a few shuddering breaths as his own orgasm washes over him, balls tight as he pumps you full of ropes and ropes of thick white cum.

His head rests on your chest for a moment, breathing you in as he basks in his high, and then he's carefully pulling out of you and yanking his pants back on.

You, on the other hand, are stuck on your back as aftershocks wrack your frame.

Chuckling softly at his handy work, Bucky helps you back into your pants then pulls you up into his arms.

You collapse against his chest when he leans back against the door, cuddled in his arms as much as you can in the cramped backseat of the car.

He holds you gently, his own eyes closing as he relaxes into his post orgasmic bliss with you.

Your heart is racing even minutes later when Sam and Steve return to the car, each climbing in quietly when they see the two of you curled up together.

Steve sets a grocery bag full of snacks and drinks down on the floor in the backseat, then turns the music on quietly and starts driving, oblivious to what's just gone on.

As he drives you settle against Bucky, falling asleep gently while his load drips out of your swollen cunt. A mess he plans on thoroughly cleaning up as soon as you reach your destination.

[farfromstrange]

S.M.S | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Getting intimate with Matt in the morning on a lazy Sunday.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), SMS (soft morning sex), slight Dom!Matt, praise kink, use of "good girl", unprotected p in v, slight choking, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, slight (very slight) breeding kink, mention of cum eating, use of "my wife"

Word Count: 1.8k

A/n: This is pure filth with no plot. I don't know what came over me. I'm so desperate for this man, it's not even funny anymore. I'm gonna take a cold shower because writing this made me feel some kind of way... anyway, enjoy this little smut piece! Diving right in under the cut (with a gif), so minors, scramble!

Read me on AO3

The morning sun streams in through the windows. In the distance, a few birds are chirping at the top of their little lungs. A car honks. The people of Hell’s Kitchen are slowly waking up and going about their weekend. 

All the noise doesn’t matter to you though. The four walls you call home form a protective shield around you, and the only music in the air is the mixed sound of your moans and Matt’s strong thighs meeting the back of yours as he thrusts his thick cock into the tight confines of your cunt.

He’s behind you, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders from the front, and the other holds on tight to your hip. He moves your body back against his, thrusting into you over and over again at a gentle pace. You don’t have to do anything but take his long, deep, and slow strokes that you can feel in your stomach. 

With every thrust, the tip of his cock brushes against the spongy spot inside of you. The spot that makes your eyes roll back, your toes curl, and stars erupt in front of your eyes. It makes your entire body give in to the compelling pull of absolute pleasure, the coil within you tightening and tightening and tightening, but still too far away to explode. 

Matt’s fingers are rough, but when they touch you, they remind you of soft feathers, always making sure not to hurt you. He pours his love into his touch like a poet would bleed his soul into his rhymes. His touch burns into your being—into the essence of who you are—and it consumes you to the point that you could never forget the feeling of Matt Murdock touching you. Sometimes it’s rough, sometimes it’s sensual, but it’s always full of unconditional love.

His sweaty skin slaps against yours. He drags his cock out of your cunt again, slowly, until only the tip remains inside, and you whimper at the loss. He grunts into your ear. The sound of your wetness collecting around his shaft, pouring down your thighs together with his pre-cum like an overfilled glass of white wine, reverberates in his ears. It drives him crazy.

Matt grunts, and he pushes back into you. The squelching sound that your slick folds make is not only audible to him. 

You convince yourself that you can feel every single vein along his cock as he fills you in a way only he can. You can feel him twitch, already so sensitive from a sloppy morning fuck—but are you even fucking or are you, in the most literal sense of the word, making love? Are you being primal and animalistic or are you being gentle with each other? It’s more of the latter, you suppose. Neither of you is in a rush. It’s early morning on a Sunday. All you need is each other after life kept you separate for most of the past week. What you have and what you are doing right now is raw, unbridled intimacy—and a primal need that you need to satiate. 

His stubble scratches against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You moan again. The added stimulation intensifies the burning in your core. The position he has got you in allows him to go deeper, but it tightens your walls to the point it’s almost painful. It’s not unlike you to crave a little pain with pleasure.

“You’re so fucking tight like this,” Matt growls into your ear. “I can feel your pulse against my cock. Do you know how fucking lewd that sounds?”

“Oh, God!” Your eyes roll back, and your toes curl as you moan his name again and again. 

He chuckles roughly. “Never heard something more beautiful.”

“Matt, please,” you beg without knowing what you’re begging for.

You want to come. You want to clench your walls around his cock and cover him in your wetness until the sheets are soaked; you want him to fill you up with his cum until you’re stuffed to the brim, and you want him to eat it out of you like a starved caveman, but you also don’t want this to end. 

You want to keep feeling him just like this, in every ounce of your body, consuming you whole, and loving you endlessly, emotionally, and physically. 

He smiles against your heated skin. Again, he kisses your shoulder. His hand comes to rest around your throat, not squeezing but simply holding you. 

“Lift your leg for me, sweetheart,” he commands.

You inhale sharply. How could you ever disobey him? You lift your leg as he told you to, and he grabs your thighs with his hand, throwing it over his own. You’re on your side, spread wide open for him—over him. His cock hits even deeper, even further than before, and you ask yourself if that is even possible. He’s just so fucking thick. 

“There you go,” Matt purrs, his lips pressing to your ear. The sweat dripping down his temple mixes with yours and soaks into your skin. “Good girl.”

The good girl gets you. It gets you every time. Praise from him is like being praised by a higher entity. Your walls tighten in a vice grip. 

He groans. The groan is so deep it makes his chest vibrate, and his hand tightens around your neck ever so slightly. It’s enough to make you gasp. 

You cling to him. Your nails drag over the hairs on his forearm. The moan you let out sounds high-pitched and too far away to grasp, but he hears it. He hears it all.

And then Matt—that fucker—reaches his free hand between your legs and he cups your wet pussy. His cock still thrusting in and out of you scrambles the words in your brain and turns them into desperate mewls.

He curses when you clench down around him. “You take me so well,” he never fails a beat with the praise, knowing just when to use it to pull a response out of you.

You reach behind yourself to tangle your fingers in his hair. The strands are sweaty, sticking to his skin, and you wish you could see more than his stubble. You wish he would tilt his head down to kiss you. Instead, you have to press your lips to the skin of his neck, tracing your tongue over his pulse points and tugging at his hair. That is how you can taste him. 

You are needy and desperate, and your body is the one thing in control. You couldn’t form a coherent thought even if you tried. It’s just him, his hands, and his cock; he consumes you, all of you, without mercy.

Your touch burns his fuses. He whimpers. You love it when he does that. When he sounds wrecked for you. Only for you. You are the only one that can make him feel this way.

His hand disappears from your cunt. “Open,” he instructs. 

Out of instinct, you open your mouth. He slides the three fingers in the middle between your lips, pushing down on your tongue until you gag like you would on his cock. 

“That’s it. Get them nice and wet for me so I can rub your clit.”

You moan, swirling your tongue around the digits. You suck on them. The saliva drips from the corner of your mouth, down his forearm.

“Gonna make you come, okay?” Matt pants. It turns him on just how messy he can get you, and every time anew, he sees how far he can go. He gives another harsh thrust, then adds, his voice still beyond breathless, “Make you come all over my cock.” 

A strangled moan escapes him, and it is like porn to you. 

When he finally kisses your cheek, you turn your head to meet his lips. As soon as you taste him and yourself on his tongue, you’re done for.

He cups your pussy again, this time rubbing all three fingers you just sucked over your sensitive clit. You howl. Your back arches away and at the same time into his touch–you’re going to burst soon, you know it. 

As if he read your mind, he presses his fingers just below your jaw. The rhythm of his fingers on your clit matches the pounding of his cock, and he skilfully drags his thrusts along your G-spot. 

You pull at his hair. “Matt. I’m gonna–” The words are too much to utter at this time.

“I know,” he coos. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

“Fuck!”

“Come for me.”

The coil snaps, sending a shockwave rippling through your entire body, and drowning you in ecstasy. Your thighs quiver and you shout his name like a prayer. You’re falling, and there seems to be no end in sight. No one to catch you. 

You come long and hard, his thrusts faltering as you suck him in and clench with the sheer force of your orgasm. Instinctively, you pull your leg back to shut them and keep him trapped inside, but his hand stops you. 

“Keep your legs open,” Matt says.

You cry out. With every thrust, with every flick of his finger over your already sensitive clit, he drives you deeper into a state of overstimulation.

“I want you to give me another one, baby. One more, and I’ll fill you up. Please.”

It doesn’t take long for you to be back on that edge. You intertwine your fingers with his on your throat. The perfect necklace. 

Matt pulls out again. You tilt your hips back, forcing him back inside. “I’m gonna come,” you warn him. 

It hasn’t even been two minutes since he last made you, but he knows just how to keep you on edge. That way, he can drag several orgasms out of you, each more intense than the other. He has made it his mission to ruin you for any other man.

When you come this time, Matt lets you snap your thighs shut as your entire body shakes in his arms. You cry out, bucking your hips, and clinging to his hand, but it isn’t enough. 

He thrusts upward into you once more, and then he’s coming, too. His hot cum spurts into your cunt. For a moment, he stills completely. 

Matt sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, the copper taste exploding on both of your tongues, but a little blood has never turned you off. 

He fucks his cum into you, slowly, passionately, making sure that no drop goes to waste. Only when he’s satisfied does he stop, and he allows the two of you a moment to breathe.

Thump, thump, thump. Your heart begins to slow down. 

“Holy shit, Matthew,” you murmur. 

He chuckles, smoothing the spot where he dug his teeth into over with his tongue. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Oh, good morning, indeed.” A satisfied giggle passes your lips. “I think we just woke the neighbors.”

“What time is it?”

You peek at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Half past ten,” you say.

“Then it’s not a disturbance of the peace,” he states as a matter of fact. 

“It’s not?”

“Nah.” He pulls out, rolling over to pull you into his side. “A noise complaint would never hold up in court. Even if they filed one, I’m a really good lawyer,” he says, “and I will defend my wife’s pleasure until the day I die.”

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

[rottiens]

WHISPERS OF RECONCILIATION ┊S. GOJŌ

✮ word count: 1.8k

✮ summary. your husband is less and less at home due to missions he can't turn down, so every time he comes back, you feel him more distant.

✮ tags. . husband gojō x afab reader, they have a daughter, marital problems, angst to fluff, canon au, the struggle of being a first time mom. divider creds: cafekitsune.

You turn on the faucet, releasing the stream of water as you hear the front door open.

The noise doesn't scare you or stop you from your task since you know it's him. As you cover the sponge with the fun bubbles from the dishwashing gel, you hear his footsteps like a muffled distant noise, in the passage from the main entrance to where you are, his presence looms like lightning warning of a storm. All the lights are off except for the one in the kitchen which makes gojo trace his path directly towards you.

It doesn't take long for his arms to wrap around your waist from behind. You don't flinch, unlike when you did at the beginning of the relationship.

"What?" Gojo laughs at the line of your neck, it's a snort that denotes weariness. He smells of beer, far beneath that are traces of the perfume he had soaked himself in this morning when he left the house. "No reaction now?" Gojo breathes your skin, you smell of sweat and dirty clothes and the kisses he leaves on your neck make your stomach clench.

You do your best to pretend that his touch doesn't set your skin on fire, that his long fingers slipping under your nightgown have no effect on you.

The grip on the innocent plate tightens, a little, then tighter. Gojo keeps breathing into the shell of your ear, just behind the cartilage where he manages to bristle your skin until you can pretend no more and set the plate aside causing a clatter in the puddle of water, your fingers form fists under the warm spray of the faucet.

"Stop." It's not a command but a gentle request, you press your lips together and gojo stops right away.

"Are we still fighting?" Gojo sounds like a puppy you just kicked to the curb and yet he doesn't insist, pulls his hands off your body and takes a step back, you almost instantly regret it.

"Yes," you reply after a while, to a question he forgot he asked.

You hear him sigh heavily, then you feel him grab you by the waist and with your help you allow him to turn around until you are facing him. You refuse to look at him however after a while you give in, his tousled hair falls like snowflakes across his forehead, his eyes are naked, blue and alert staring at you. On top of his uniform he had a denim jacket on, you're sure it didn't cover him much from the winter cold and that probably geto lent it to him when they went out drinking because your gojo always forgot his coats.

You imagine him going reluctantly, just not to say no to his best friend, because your gojo hates the taste of alcohol as much as you do.

Gojo doesn't move, he lets his hand seek yours without detaching from your eyes. His fingers are icy cold and you shiver at the sudden touch, suddenly Gojo is taking your hand into his mouth. His lips rest on the back of your wet hand, droplets of water manage to reach the floor and his shoes and you let him do it because the scene is too commniveddorative to damage the moment.

His mouth murmurs a sorry for each kiss he deposits. Immediately your damp skin releases him from the cold of the street and when he kisses you a fourth time, you can feel them grow warmer. Gojo suddenly stops from the task and looks up at you from his position raising his eyebrows, your hand still close to your mouth, so close that his next words brush your skin. "I don't like it when we fight."

You don't like it either. But you had no choice but to stop talking and frown as you gave him a killing look when he told you he couldn't say no to a mission. What did he mean by that? you wondered. His daughter was three months old and all he did was miss her first babbles, not being home when you needed him, barely changing her diapers and barely feeding her.

Your feet are killing you, your muscles looked like they had been bitten by a giant monster and the circles under your eyes were getting darker with each passing day.

"You're frowning." When gojo speaks again, you notice that his back is straight now.

Slowly you move away from his touch and your arm returns to you, dangling beside your body.

"I don't want to talk about it."

You get ready to turn around to focus on washing the dishes, including his because his dinner got cold in the dining room, next to yours, while you were feeding your little girl, however gojo interrupts you by returning to make prey to your hips with his hands and thus sticking you a second time to his body. 

"Leave it. I'll do it." 

Your lungs fill and soon empty with another exhalation. And before gojo can respond to anything else you were already leaving the room.

You were tired, you could feel it in the way your bare feet dragged the floor beneath them, swollen and full of calluses. Gojo watches you as you turn the corner and lose yourself in the hallway with a dark aura surrounding your whole figure and your shoulders being pulled by the force of the floor.

Gojo returns to the dishes in front of him. Only his, a glass and a pair of forks remained, which he washed without haste.

The silence of the kitchen serves as an executioner that punishes him along with his thoughts for his actions. Gojo thinks about the day, thinks about his girl and thinks about you and how unfair it must be for you to have given up these months of being a sorceress who risked her life every day to be a full-time mother while the drab and boring walls loom over you.

His footsteps are long and silent, Gojo crosses the hallway where he can hear water spurting from part of the guest bathroom. He thinks about stopping at the door and asking you if you need anything else, however he leaves you this moment alone and heads towards the baby's room. Gojo pushes the door causing a rustic scream from the wood, in the background there is an acoustic melody playing and a bluish night light carrying in them figures of stars and moons swaying on the walls of the room. Gojo had bought it especially for her, it was the first gift he bought when you told him you were pregnant. The memory makes him smile, nostalgic.

Gojo restrains himself from stretching his arms and pulling her to his chest. So he just bends his back until his spine complains and deposits a soft kiss on her forehead that his girl never feels, since he activates his technique in time to not touch her and prevent her from waking up.

Just as he came in, he left. He no longer hears you in the hallway, there is no more water dripping from the shower, yet there are wet footsteps going towards the shared room that give away that you were done.

Gojo slips into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him and contemplates himself in the mirror for a moment, still the same as always, with a couple of black spots under his eyes and the occasional irritated red vein in the infinite sea of his blue eyes. He fills his lungs with your scent, the liquid gel of vanilla flowers bounces inside the four walls of the bathroom, he drops his eyelids and buries his fingers in the ceramic of the sink.

Gojo takes off his jacket and lays it on the floor, then discards the rest of his clothes. His fingers curl around the faucet and he lets the hot water wash away the traces of the day from him as he relives over and over again the arguments you’ve had these past months. 

The soap scrubs away the weariness of the day along with his dreary thoughts, these run down the drain along with the dirty suds that the water bathes off his body.

Once he is done, he wraps a towel around his hips. He turns off the rest of the lights and goes to bed.

You are on your side of the mattress with your back to the door, everything is dark except for the moonbeams that manage to enter through the crack that the curtains cannot protect. He closes the door with a soft sound and turns to you, leaving the towel hanging behind the door, gojo climbs into bed with his body and soul naked.

He knows you're not sleeping. It takes him a moment to find his voice, lost in the spots on the ceiling, he searches for the right word he should use instead of "I'm sorry."

"I," he clears his throat, one finger tapping his own rib. "I'm not going to school tomorrow."

At first gojo thinks you are sleeping, you say nothing and your breathing is slow and steady.

"And?" That's all you say, encouraging him to keep talking.

"I will tell Yaga that I need a couple of weeks off, I want to have these days together with my wife and daughter."

You don't answer again, you let your body do the talking. You push further into him, your ass collides with his side and he laughs softly, improving his posture to better embrace you from behind. His arms immediately cling to your waist in a possessive manner, drawing you to his chest where you feel his ragged breathing.

"I'm still upset," you finally say, feeling him smile against your ear as he squeezes your body tighter. "But I guess that's a start."

"You have worked so hard these days and I am sorry to leave you alone, I promise I will make it up to you, there is no justification in having left you alone these weeks." You force your lip between your teeth to keep from giving him the pleasure of making you smile. "I'm going to start with cooking tomorrow."

You laugh instantly, gojo pulls you further into his body, threatening to tickle you and you raise your hands in submission.

"You cooking sounds very tasty, satoru. It's just..."

"Hm?" 

"It's just that you haven't done it in a while." Then you add, "It's been a while since you've been home."

Gojo merely kisses your bare shoulder and plays with the skin on your abdomen.

"I'm sorry," he says, after a while. You nod looking at his hands, looking at how pretty the engagement ring looks on them. "I love you so much, I love our daughter, I love what we have. I don't want to ruin that."

You bring his hands to your mouth, your stomach swelling with tension, your gut roiling as you bring them close enough to kiss his knuckles and then assure a barely audible, "I love you too. Let's talk about it tomorrow, shall we?”

[lipringlrh]

HE DOESN’T WANT ME WHEN HE’S SOBER PART 2 (LANDO ENDING)

read: part one | logan ending

summary: lando’s your best friend but seems to like you when he’s drunk. but then again, he seems to like everyone when he’s drunk.

pairing: lando norris x gn!reader

wc: 1.8k

Lando wouldn’t admit it to anyone but that night was the worst sleep he’d ever had. He left as soon as he found out you’d left with Lily and Alex, and made his way to your house just to find out you weren’t there. He messaged Alex to get no response and contemplated waiting outside your door until you came back, whether it be days or months, he’d wait for you. But, after almost falling asleep numerous times and getting laughed at by a group of teenagers, he made his way back to his apartment, knowing you’d be looked after.

He was awake almost all night, messaging and calling you and regretting everything in its entirety. He didn’t fully know if you had even seen him kiss the person that resembled you, he only felt it deep down, but even if you hadn’t, he shouldn’t have done it, and he could never apologise enough. He thought of how to explain his thoughts but nothing would suffice; nothing would ever be able to explain how he felt.

At some point in the early hours, he finally drifted off, but awoke not much later to an aggressive banging on his door and a voice screaming at him to hurry up. He wished the voice was you but it wasn’t and he hated it. He rushed to his door, barely having time to pull on some grey joggers before opening it to an angry Alex, very close to breaking the door down.

“Are you stupid?” Alex questioned, fuming, pushing his way into Lando’s house, “I know that you’re in love with her so what are you doing?”

Lando looked like a deer in headlights. He couldn’t explain his actions, he didn’t even want to think about them. All he remembered feeling was grief at watching you walk away, so when he found someone that looked eerily similar, he took the chance to kiss them and create the image in his mind of kissing you. It didn’t last long. He realised too quickly that they didn’t smell like you and the way they kissed wasn’t the same. He hated it, he didn’t want to kiss anyone but you.

“I know, I didn’t mean to-”

“What, you just tripped into her mouth then?” Alex questioned, pushing a finger against Lando’s chest.

“No- no. I don’t know why I did, I really love them I promise. We almost kissed but then they walked away, I was hurt, I didn’t think they wanted me,” Lando almost cried, his voice cracking.

“You do this every time you go out. You kiss her every time you go out and she follows, you don’t get to pull that card. You might be upset but I promise you’re not even feeling half of it,” Alex spat, not caring if he hurt Lando because he hurt you much more.

“Help me apologise. I need to apologise, please Alex, please help,” Lando begged, wanting you to more than anything, “Please Alex, I’ll do anything.”

Alex sighed. At that moment, he hated Lando for what he did, but he’d been wishing for you both to get together since he first saw you both together, making heart eyes at each other. He contemplated in his head whether to help or not. He always envisioned you together but always wanted what's best for you and right now he couldn’t tell if that was Lando or not. But looking at the state of him, red, wet eyes, begging for his help, he wanted to believe Lando regretted everything and would do anything to prove he loved you.

“Okay, but I’m not letting you be forgiven easily, I want you to prove it,” Alex sighed, running his hands over his face. A feeling of simultaneous relief and guilt eating him alive.

Lando promised Alex over and over again, and in between each syllable, promising himself also that he would give you the world in apologies, and whatever happened he deserved it, but even if there was the slimmest chance you could forgive him, Lando would take it and cherish it.

Alex messaged you and you told him it was fine to bring Lando over, as long as he didn’t expect much, and so they turned up less than five minutes later. Alex left you both alone in the kitchen to sit with Lily in the living room after repeating countless times he was a shout away.

You almost broke down just seeing him but managed to keep it in. You didn’t want him to explain, you didn’t care to hear it at the moment, but as soon as Alex left he began spilling out apologies and trying to explain himself, which you quickly shut up.

“I want some space,” you sighed. You wanted Lando close but you wanted everything you felt for him gone first. You couldn’t believe he ever felt the same, not after that.

“Of course, I understand,” his voice broke as he stepped back, trying to show you he would do anything you said.

“Not like that, Lando. I mean it, I don’t think I can see you for a while.”

“Oh-” he said, “When can I see you again?”

“I’m not sure, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be, this is my fault,” he sighed, clearly upset and looking at the ground, “I’ll go, I’ll see you soon.”

After he left, you broke down crying, debating your decision on if you handled it right. You already missed him, and still loved him, but you also didn’t want to see him. Alex explained the whole morning, and his perspective, giving you hope you could fix it with Lando, especially after Alex’s approval, which you trusted more than anything.

The next few times you saw him were at hangouts with your shared friends. You knew he’d be there as none of your friends would invite him unless you were completely sure you didn’t mind him there. He stayed away, but didn’t make it awkward to the people around you, and always gave you a shy smile when you caught his eye.

He didn’t try to text or call again, despite wanting to more than anything, and instead waited for you to make the first move whenever you were ready. You had missed him more than anything, in both an “I love him” and “he’s my best friend” way, and it was killing you from being away from him, especially after how well he listened to your instructions.

You were at a mutual friend's get-together, a small barbecue in a back garden when you decided it was time. You had been debating texting him but after seeing him, you decided you couldn’t wait.

He was standing alone in a corner beside a flower patch and some grass, drink in hand, and surveying everyone that was there when you walked over. He didn’t know how to greet you and so awkwardly moved his hands between going for a hug or a handshake. You laughed and hugged him, both of you holding on tightly, unhappy to let go.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered gently, looking down and playing with your fingers, slightly nervous to admit it to him after all this time.

“I’ve missed you too,” he grins, adding on, “So much,” with a quiet whisper.

“How’ve you been?” you asked, trying to make small talk before delving right in.

“Okay, I’ve not really done much. Races have been okay.”

“I saw,” you smiled, “You’ve done really well.”

“You watched?” he questioned, a little surprised. You met his eyes and nodded, explaining how you could never miss one.

“Do you want to talk inside?” you asked, heart pounding as you said it. He nodded immediately, without hesitation, and followed you in through the double glass doors into the kitchen, but only after picking out a daisy from the grass next to him and offering it out to you, causing both of you to grin.

He closed the doors behind you both, blocking out as much other noise as possible, ready for you to begin. “I want to know how you feel about this and about me,” you started, voice shaky.

“I’m sorry, I’m still so sorry. I love you and I want what’s best for you and I can’t even find an excuse, I was being stupid and thinking how you’d never want me. It was all nothing, you’re the only person that’s ever meant anything, I’m so sorry. I will do anything to fix this- anything.”

“Lan,” you let out a breath, “You still want me?”

“More than anything,” he grinned and you stepped forward to reach him, locking your arms around his neck.

Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair as you pull his face down until his lips are almost touching yours. He was smiling so much you thought it might be impossible to kiss him but you pulled him into you anyway, finally kissing him again.

“Stop smiling,” you laughed, pulling away to say it before immediately kissing him again.

“What? Can I not be happy? I’m getting my girl back,” he pulled away, grinning harder, then trying to drag you back in, which was almost successful until you pulled away at the last second.

“I can barely kiss you like this and I’d really, really like to,” you giggled, tugging him back again to enjoy another impatient kiss.

Your hands were running all over his head, completely ruining his hair, but he didn’t care. His hands were wrapped around your waist, holding you impossibly close. When you finally parted he still kept you close, resting his forehead on yours.

“Are you sure you want this?” he questioned, his breath still heavy.

You kissed his cheek and looked straight into his eyes, “More than anything, I promise,” you paused for a moment, “But you’re going to have to grovel to repay all the lost time we’ve had.”

“I’m going to prove to you that I’m all in, that I want this more than I could possibly explain,” Lando promised, meaning every word. He was already planning out exactly what he wanted to do - he knew he had to work to become your official boyfriend, but he would do everything possible for you.

You just stared at him, showcasing the biggest smile you’ve ever had, eyes full of love, knowing you weren’t ever going to let each other go or even risk it again.

“God I love you,” he grinned, ignoring the fact he still hadn’t caught his breath and pulling you into another, more intimate, kiss.

taglist in reblogs

[xvysarene]

ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕕

Pairing: LADS Men (Main 4) x Fem!Reader Prompt: When you're feeling needy 🫦 Words: ~1.8k || 400-500 per LI Genre: Suggestive (Explicit), Established relationship Notice: Mentions of kink, nudity A/N: It's my birth week, and I'd like to give a little something to all of you who have supported me so far! Obviously, I was ovulating when I wrote this.

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

⊱ 𝕏𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕣

The sight of Xavier fresh from his workout was… intoxicating. He leaned against the doorway, chest rising and falling with each exhale, face a little flushed from the exercise.

His white, mesh tank top clung to his torso, accentuating every contour of his sculpted abs. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the droplets of perspiration gliding down his defined biceps.

Innocently, he tilted his head. “𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑙𝘰𝘰𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝘵 𝑚𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝘵?”

The wait for him to finish his exercise had been almost unbearable, each passing minute pulling tighter the simmering anticipation that now felt nearly overwhelming.

“𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝘵?”

He took a step closer, the space between you shrinking. “𝐿𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝘰𝑢𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝑑𝑒𝜈𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑒.”

“𝘑𝑢𝑠𝘵… 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝘵𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑤𝘰𝑟𝑘,” you replied, voice much breathier than intended. Though, the subtle biting of your lip betrayed any pretense of innocence.

A slow smirk formed on his lips. “𝐼’𝑚 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝘵𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝘰𝑠𝑠, 𝘵ℎ𝘰𝑢𝑔ℎ,” he said teasingly.

“𝛮𝘰𝘵 𝑔𝑟𝘰𝑠𝑠.” You felt a blush creep up your neck, breath quickening as heat pooled low in your belly. “𝛢𝑐𝘵𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝑖𝘵’𝑠 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝘰𝑓 𝑖𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑠𝘵𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒.”

Xavier’s knees bumped into yours as he stood tall before you. How he looked down at you made your heart race with every beat.

“𝐼𝑠 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑠𝘰?” His tone was playful, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

The room suddenly felt too small, too warm, as he leaned in, a flicker of something darker crossed his features.

“𝑊ℎ𝑎𝘵’𝑠 𝘰𝑛 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑?” His breath was hot against your ear as he effortlessly shifted you on the sofa. 

The faint musk of sweat clouded your senses as you parted your legs, welcoming the solid weight of his body pressing into yours.

Tongue-tied, your thoughts scattered, solely concentrating on the way he began deliberately leaving a map of kisses down the column of your neck. 

“𝐼…” The words died in your throat when he lightly bit on the sensitive spot just below your ear, soothing the sting away with his tongue.

“𝐶𝘰𝑚𝑒 𝘰𝑛, 𝑑𝘰𝑛’𝘵 𝑔𝘰 𝑚𝑢𝘵𝑒 𝘰𝑛 𝑚𝑒,” his soft, seductive purr ruined you.

The way your hip involuntarily bucked, desperate to feel every inch of him, sent a ripple of excitement coursing through you as it met his unmistakable bulge.

You swallowed hard. “𝐼—𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝘵 𝑠𝘵𝘰𝑝 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝘰𝑢𝘵 𝑦𝘰𝑢. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝘰𝑢’𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚, 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝑦𝘰𝑢—”

Before you could finish, Xavier yanked his top off, tossing it aside in a blur.

“𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑒𝘵 𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝘵𝑖𝘰𝑛 𝘵𝘰 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒.”

Once you felt one of his hands caressing the inner of your twitching thigh, inching higher to cup your core—that wouldn’t stay clothed for too long—you knew that he would satisfy every craving you had.

⊱ ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕒𝕪𝕖𝕝

A week of waiting for Rafayel to return from his international exhibition felt like hell—especially with his endless teasing, sending you lewd pictures and provocative texts which only made it worse.

The constant reminders of what you couldn’t have gnawed your patience thin.

Like that photo of his glistening chest, fresh from the shower, while bearing a towel low on his hips, displaying the lines of his Apollo’s belt and the hint of what lay beneath.

Or when he sent you that audio message, voice rough and raspy, graphically describing what he wanted to do to you. His laboured breathing and the rustling of sheets hinted at the naughty thing he was doing, likely touching himself.

“𝛭𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒, 𝑔𝘰𝑟𝑔𝑒𝘰𝑢𝑠?” Rafayel called out from the front door.

You ran to him, unable to contain yourself any longer. As soon as he was within reach, your arms went around his neck, pulling him down into a desperate kiss.

“𝑇ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ, ℎ𝑢ℎ?” he murmured, breath hot against your lips, palms squeezing your ass with a playful touch.

“𝛭𝘰𝑟𝑒 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝘰𝑤,” you whispered, fingers tangling in his dusky purple hair. “𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑛 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝘵𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠.”

A wicked smile painted his lips. “𝘑𝑢𝑠𝘵 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝘵𝘰 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔.”

Without another word, he scooped you up and carried you to the bedroom. If it were up to you, though, you would have been fine even on the parlour’s floor.

In a whirlwind of kisses and tangled limbs, he expertly discarded your clothes, laying you bare beneath him.

His eyes drank every inch of you, desire palpable in the way he pressed you into the sheets.

“𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑠𝘰 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ,” you breathed, arching against him as you were finally feeling the warmth of his bare skin again.

“𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝘰𝑤.” His teeth found your ear, tugging at the lobe. “𝐼’𝜈𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝘰𝑢𝑛𝘵𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝘵𝑖𝑙 𝐼 𝑐𝘰𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝘵ℎ 𝑦𝘰𝑢, 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢, 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛.”

His hands were everywhere, and he was a menace, deliberately taking his time in memorising every dip and curve of your body, stopping you from taking things fast.

Rafayel tutted when he felt your trembling hands graze his belt. “𝛮𝘰𝘵 𝑠𝘰 𝑓𝑎𝑠𝘵, ℎ𝘰𝑛𝑒𝑦.” As a punishment, he pinned your wrists above your head, securing them with his belt. Tightly.

The whimpers coming out of your mouth only fueled him more. He chuckled at your impatience, leaving more butterfly kisses down your stomach, before beginning his descent to where you throbbed most intensely.

“𝛦𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝘰𝑛 𝑚𝑒,” he demanded, his voice commanding and gentle all at once.

A smouldering fire lit up in his pretty orbs as your eyes locked with his. “𝛮𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝘵𝘰 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝘰𝑤 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑐𝘰𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑟𝘵 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛.”

⊱ ℤ𝕒𝕪𝕟𝕖

Your fascination with Zayne’s hands may have to be questioned.

There was something undeniably captivating about them, scars and all—those pale, jagged lines, if anything, only added to their charm. 

For all their roughness, there was a grace in his hands. They had saved countless lives. And they also knew how to bring pleasure, especially when those skilled fingers delved into your—

“𝛨𝘰𝑤 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑙𝘰𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑔𝘰𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵𝘰 𝑠𝘵𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝘵 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠?”

Lost in thought, you didn’t even realise that Zayne had abandoned reading the journals altogether. His attention was now entirely on you.

“𝐼𝑠 𝑖𝘵 𝑎 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝘵𝘰 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝘵𝑒 𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑚?”

A knowing smile pulled at the corner of his lips. With a gentle flick to your forehead, he murmured, “𝑌𝘰𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝘰𝜈𝑢𝑙𝑎𝘵𝑖𝑛𝑔.”

Of course, he kept track of your cycle. How he noted your dilated pupils and the rosy hue tinting your cheeks only confirmed what he already knew: your libido was reaching its peak.

Driven by the growing desire, you flung a leg over his thigh, straddling the solid muscle beneath you, seeking the contact you craved.

“𝛢𝑛𝑑?” you challenged, “𝑊ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑔𝘰𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵𝘰 𝑑𝘰 𝑎𝑏𝘰𝑢𝘵 𝑖𝘵?”

As he shifted to support your weight, the movement created delicious friction through your thin pyjamas, causing an unbidden mewl to spill out of your lips.

His mouth left a trail of heat along your exposed décolleté, tongue flicking out ever so slightly to taste your skin.

“𝛭𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑠ℎ𝘰𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝘵𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑦𝘰𝑢’𝜈𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝘰𝑢𝘵.”

Lips brushing over the sensitive hollow between your collarbones, he pressed a deeper kiss right above your heart. 

Excited, you whispered in his ear, “𝑅𝑖𝑔ℎ𝘵 𝑛𝘰𝑤, 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑏𝘰𝑢𝘵 𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝘰𝑤 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝘵 𝑖𝘵 𝑤𝘰𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝘵𝘰 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑒, 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑜𝑝 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑢𝑚.”

That stopped him in place. You felt a surge of satisfaction as you watched his eyes darken, almost consuming all the greens in his eyes.

“𝑌𝘰𝑢’𝑟𝑒 𝘵ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝘵𝘰 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝘰𝑢𝑠 𝘵𝑒𝑟𝑟𝑖𝘵𝘰𝑟𝑦.”

Though you typically played it safe, the two of you still indulged in the feeling of raw intimacy every now and then.

Feeling a bold urge, you decided to take it up a notch. “𝐷𝘰𝑛’𝘵 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑚 𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝘰𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝘵𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝑖𝑛 𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝘰𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒, 𝑍𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒?”

The effect was immediate. A low growl was your only warning before he pushed you back against the soft bedding, his masculine body looming over you. 

Those hands that you loved so much moved to your hips, fingers digging in with a bruising grip as he put you in a position that highlighted your vulnerability and his dominance.

“𝐷𝘰𝑛’𝘵 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛’𝘵 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛 𝑦𝘰𝑢.” His once smooth and controlled voice had turned rough, full of dark promise. “𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑠.”

⊱ 𝕊𝕪𝕝𝕦𝕤

Nothing looked better than seeing Sylus a bit roughened up after the end of a long day.

Silver strands had grown unruly, hanging down over his forehead. A new scratch blemished his sharp jawline, though the red mark had already faded to a tender pink as he shucked his suit off.

The midnight black dress shirt he had meticulously buttoned earlier had now popped open, blessing you with a view of his firm pectoral muscles.

“𝑊ℎ𝑎𝘵’𝑠 𝑔𝘰𝘵𝘵𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝘵𝘰 𝑦𝘰𝑢, 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔?” Sylus’s arms snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. The towel in your hand slipped from your grasp as he nuzzled into your shoulder like a cat seeking affection.

“𝑊-𝑤ℎ𝑎𝘵?” you stammered.

Goosebumps danced across your skin as he spun you around, trapping you between the cold marble of the shower and the heat radiating from his bare chest.

“𝑌𝘰𝑢’𝜈𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝜈𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑗𝑢𝑚𝑝𝑦 𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 ℎ𝘰𝑚𝑒.”

When his rough palm “accidentally” bumped into the hard nubs of your breasts, a sharp gasp broke free from your lips. His other hand had journeyed between your thighs, finding your essence sticking to the fabric of your shorts.

“𝛢ℎ… 𝑠𝘰𝑚𝑒𝘰𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑛𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝘵𝑦 𝘵𝘰𝑑𝑎𝑦.”

Bashfully, you attempted to slip away, which was stupid as there was no easy way to escape the solid barrier of his broad frame.

“𝐼𝘵’𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑙𝘰𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑦𝘰𝑢, 𝑔𝘰 𝑠ℎ𝘰𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝘰𝑚𝑒 𝘵𝘰 𝑏𝑒𝑑,” you managed to blabber out, cheeks burning at the intensity of his gaze.

Your yelp was loud as the rain shower was suddenly switched on, the cascading water drenching you both in an instant.

“𝘚𝑦𝑙𝑢𝑠!”

His rich laughter echoed through the steamy shower. He dipped his head, tugging your hair slightly before his teeth grazed against your pulse point

“𝐿𝑒𝘵’𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑢𝑝 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝘰𝑟𝑒 𝜤 𝘵𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝘵𝘰 𝑏𝑒𝑑.”

You called out his name in a needy moan, the sound trembling with urgency as he undressed you both. The warm water slicked your skin, and his hands glided over your wet, exposed body with an electrifying touch.

“𝛢𝑟𝑒𝑛’𝘵 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝘵𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝘰𝑚 𝘵𝘰𝑑𝑎𝑦’𝑠 𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑛𝘵?” you gasped.

Despite the concern, you still eagerly welcomed his mouth as it collided with yours. Your lips parted to invite his tongue in, clawing at his shoulders desperately as you struggled to maintain on your tiptoes.

He pulled back slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “𝛨𝑚𝑚, 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝐼 𝘰𝑢𝑔ℎ𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑤𝘰𝑟𝑘 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑖𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝘵.” The teasing lilt in his voice stole your breath. “𝑊ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑏𝑒𝘵𝘵𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝘵𝘰 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝘵 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝜈𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑚𝑒?”

However, as he hoisted you up, his hardness aligning perfectly with your aching need, you knew that he would never let you leave the shower unsatisfied before doing so.

[lovebugism]

Okay soooooooo

How bout something like King Steve picking on shy!reader, then later finding out she has a shitty home life plz

ty for requesting!! this can be read as a prequel to this fic — steve comforts you when he accidentally makes you flinch (enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, cw for brief mentions of abuse, 1.8k)

Sitting alone at the Hellfire table, you feel a little like fishbait. 

Your spot in the very back of the cafeteria is normally full and loud — with Dustin’s bickering, and Eddie’s laughing, and Gareth’s stupid jokes — but they’re not here now. They’re off getting their trays while you sit in wait for them (and the cold fries you’ll ultimately steal from Eddie’s plate). It leaves you perfect prey for circling sharks.

You hear laughter from behind you, over the sounds of the bustling lunch room. You’re certain they’re laughing at you — ‘cause you always think someone’s laughing at you — but you try hard to ignore it. You disregard the subtle pang of anxiety in your chest and stick your nose in your book, eyes flitting across the words without reading any of them.

Someone flumps down at your side then, where Mike usually sits. The overwhelming scent of spiced cologne stings your nostrils. With watering eyes, you look beside you. At Tommy fucking Hagan.

“Hey, Wallflower,” he greets like it’s normal — like he hasn’t spent the past four years pretending you don’t exist. You think he only calls you Wallflower now because his friends have been doing it for so long they don’t remember your real name.

The boy props his elbow on the table and puts his chin in his fist, trying hard to hide his boyish beam and accompanying laughter. He fails.

You cower at his presence, all but shrinking into yourself. “…Hi?” you reply in a tiny voice.

“How’s it hangin’?”

“...Fine?”

“That’s great!” he answers instantly, like he hadn’t heard you at all. “You see, my friend Steve, over there— you know him, right?”

You don’t bother to look where he’s pointing. Of course, you know Steve The Hair Harrington. You don’t think there’s a single person in Hawkins who doesn’t.

You nod in response.

Tommy’s smile widens. “Well, he’s got this massive crush on you,” he confesses, choking back a laugh halfway through. “I mean, he talks about you all the time.”

You know he’s lying. And not just because he’s grinning so hard that his eyes are crinkled and his freckled cheeks are turning pink. You’re almost certain Steve Harrington doesn’t even know who you are. He never had a reason to. Why would the King of Hawkins High ever stoop so low to know someone like you?

You glance at him over your shoulder, a couple tables down from you. He’s almost magnetically pretty. You couldn’t ignore him if you tried — with his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his pretty smile. His golden cheeks flush as all his friends start poking fun at him. 

He rolls his eyes and scoffs a laugh you can tell is forced from here. He doesn’t think any of this is funny. You can see it on his face. But he isn’t trying to stop it all from happening. You’re just collateral damage, really.

You turn back to Tommy with a disbelieving look in your eye.

He continues to ramble despite it. “He was just a little nervous coming up to you, that’s all. So I thought I’d do him a favor and slip you his number. You know, as his wingman and all.” He tosses a folded-up index card onto the pages of your opened book. “You should call him tonight— It’ll make his day, I swear.”

He pats you a little too hard on the back before he goes. His laugh echoes over all the rest when he sits back down at his table. You watch them over your shoulder as they fall over themselves to crack jokes about you. 

Steve’s the only one not smiling. “Not cool, Tommy,” he mouths.

—————

Locker 148. The one right across from yours. Property of Steve The Hair Harrington. 

You shove the thick card with his number written on it between the slits in the metal. You’d carried it around all day, utterly unsure of what to do with it. You decided ultimately to return it, figuring he might feel a little better if a total stranger didn’t have his phone number.

You struggle to slide it through the thin gap, though. The paper gets caught halfway through, and you try to yank it back out again. The old locker moves with you, like it’s not completely shut but still somehow latched. 

You’re so in your own head you don’t hear the gymnasium door down the hall squeal open and shut again. Steve pants heavily and tries to recover from a ruthless basketball practice. He hunts for a water fountain and finds you instead.

“What are you doing?” he calls as he nears you, not malicious or unkind but genuinely curious.

Your heart lurches into your throat as you all but jump out of your skin.

Steve laughs, a pretty sound in the silent hallway. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t— I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” you assure with an averted gaze, though your frightened demeanor says otherwise. “I was just— I was trying to give you this.”

You hold the paper out towards him. He takes it with hesitant hands. “What is it?”

“Your number. Tommy gave it to me earlier, and I know it was just a stupid joke, so I… I thought you’d feel more comfortable if I gave it back to you.”

Something in Steve’s chest aches. He doesn’t understand why you would care about what might make him comfortable. It’s not like he ever gave you the time of day — or ever tried to stop his friends from being total assholes. As far as he’s concerned, you’re the last person who should give a shit about him.

“Oh. Right— Yeah… Thanks,” he stammers and shoves the thing into his pocket. “And I’m— I’m sorry about Tommy and everything. He can be a real douchebag sometimes. I didn’t… I didn’t tell him to bother you or anything—”

“I know,” you assure in a mousy voice. “Tommy gave me your number hoping I’d be dumb enough to call while your friends were over so you could all… laugh at me? I guess. He could’ve been a little more original, honestly.”

Steve cracks a smile. He almost laughs, but he can’t tell if you’re joking or not.

“I’ll talk to him later. Tell him to leave you alone—” He rambles and walks closer to you. You watch him with tentative eyes as he approaches. “—He’s a total dumbass sometimes, but he usually means well. Most of the time, anyway—”

Steve raises his hand suddenly. And, because you’re frightened by everything little thing, you flinch and stumble over yourself in the process. The lockers catch your fall, and you hit the back of your head. Hard.

“Shit— Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you squeak, holding the crown of your hair and squinting as your skull pounds.

Steve rushes to your side, then idles just ahead of you because he doesn’t know if you want him touching you. His brows pinch, chiseled features swimming with concern. His cinnamon eyes glitter with it, too. “I wasn’t trying to scare you—”

“It’s okay.”

“—My locker was just jammed. I was going to shut it.”

The metal door is open now, from where it wasn’t shut all the way and where you just smacked your head on it.

“I just wasn’t expecting it,” you assure in a tight voice, trying hard to ignore the sharp throbbing. “It’s fine. I’m fine—”

“You’re hurt.”

“It’ll go away—”

“Let me get you an icepack.”

“—I’ll be fine once I get home.”

Steve, feeling purely at fault and aching at how effortlessly you shrug him off, decides to approach you fully. He curls a warm hand around the outside of your elbow. A touch surprisingly gentle. “No. C’mon. Let me help.”

You don’t feel much like you’re in any position to fight him about it. Not with the world still swaying under your feet. 

Steve guides you the short distance to the empty cafeteria. Slow and kind and dreadfully patient. He sits you down, makes sure you’re still okay, and then rushes to fix you a makeshift icepack — a ziplock bag filled to the brim with chipped ice.

He sits at the chair beside yours, slightly askew so his knees bump your thighs. He holds the pack to the crown of your head and gazes at you attentively. You’re not looking back at him to see it.

“Does it still hurt?”

You shrug, eyes flitted to the wringing hands in your lap. “It’s fine. It just feels a little like I have a migraine.”

Steve winces. “I’m sorry.”

Your doe eyes peek at him from beneath your lashes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I scared you.”

“Everything scares me.”

It’s a dumb joke. You mean it, but you still expect him to laugh about it. He doesn’t even crack a smile, though. He just keeps looking at you with that puppy-like twist to his features. The worry is evident in his face. 

“Do you wanna, like, talk about it or something?”

“About what?”

“Why you flinched.”

You freeze, breath hitching in your throat. No one’s ever noticed your incessant panic — outside of making jokes about it anyway. No one’s cared enough to ask about it, either. Steve Harrington is the last person you expected any kind of concern from.

You shake your head after a few long moments. “No.”

“You could,” Steve assures, suddenly shy. You didn’t know he could be anything other than totally full of himself. “You know, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t tell anyone—”

You scoff a disbelieving laugh.

Steve’s features swirl with hurt. You hate that it makes your chest ache. You hate most that he hasn’t stopped being soft with you. The hand holding the pack to your head hasn’t yet wavered, even though you know his arm must be tired now.

“I wouldn’t. ‘Cause I— I know what it’s like to… to have a bad home life or whatever,” he confesses, stammering hopelessly. He forces a laugh at himself. “Probably more than most people do, honestly.”

His admission takes you by surprise. It comforts you in a way you didn’t think someone like him could. 

Even still, you shake your head. “I— I can’t—” you murmur, clearing your throat when the words get stuck there. “I can’t talk about it…”

Steve nods, firm and reassuring. “That’s okay. You don’t have to, I was just… I was just saying, you know? I get it.”

You swallow through a tight throat, nodding wordlessly in response.

“Plus, you know, you have my number and everything… If you ever wanted to talk…”

You flash him a timid look and crack a quiet smile. “I gave it back to you, remember?”

“I’ll write it down for you again,” he promises with a shrug and a lopsided grin. It’s easier to ignore his aching arm and the ice stinging his palm when he’s looking at you. “For real this time.”

[lottiies]

LIKE A LITTLE PIECE OF HEAVEN

→ Sneaking around with your grandparents’ ranch hand during the summer!

CW: x Fem!reader with she/her pronouns, starts with fluff and turns into smut, switch!Leon, dry humping, cowgirl, butterfly (i think that’s the position name?), fingering, short hold the moan snippet, reader wears a sundress at one point, mention of a palm injury via a cut

WC: 1.8k

NOTE: written just for fun to entertain myself during an excruciatingly long car ride, sorry that it’s fast paced </3 title lyric is from ‘tulsa jesus freak’ also i tried my best at a southern accent for him okay

MASTERLINK

You always complained whenever your parents sent you on your annual trip to your grandparents’ place. Mosquitoes ran rampant and a prayer whilst holding hands was mandatory before every meal. Summer was supposed to be a break so you could be lazy in bed all day, but now you had to go help tend to the animals.

Sure, farm animals are cute and all…but gushing over how adorable they are is much different from actually taking care of them. So much for that ‘Charlotte’s Web’ childhood dream of yours, none of the pigs are like Wilbur!

But you had a change of attitude when you went the summer after your freshman year of college. Upon your arrival, your suitcase was hauled by strong skin-kissed hands, like if your packed belongings weighed a mere pound.

Looking up, your eyes met irises that rivaled the beauty of the ocean.

Oh.

You almost had to physically lift your jaw back up to introduce yourself. Then you ran upstairs to bury your face into your pillow.

Leon Kennedy. Would his last name suit your first name? Or vice versa? Jesus.

That first summer was full of fleeting glances and flirtatious conversation. There was something romantic about being in a space far away from civilization. Like you were in your own little universe with him whenever the two of you snuck around. During dinners, you always nudged at his leg with your boot to mess with him, liking the way he cleared his throat to ward off a smile.

And maybe you relied on silly methods to see if your feelings for him were reciprocated.

Pluck.

He likes me.

Pluck.

He likes me not.

Pluck.

He likes me.

Pluck.

He likes me not.

Pluck. Last one.

He likes me!!!

Childish excitement coursed through you, an instantaneous smile on your face. You thanked Mother Nature for giving you the answer you wanted.

You also thanked the Sun every day for gifting freckles to Leon. One day, you held onto his face and tried to count them all. Squinting your eyes, you counted aloud, missing the way he looked at you with nothing but sweetness in his gaze.

The world around you was muted, as if the cows standing behind the fence had stopped mooing just for the sake of your concentration.

“Sure this is gonna work? Listen, I’ve always been an optimistic fella but—“

“Shh, you’re distracting me.” After a beat, you groaned. “Fuck I lost count. Okay, hold still for real this time.”

“Sure, doll.” She’s real cute, he thought to himself.

Or that one time when the Sun’s beams were too hot and made Leon take his hat off so he could pour a fresh bucket of water on his head. You felt so betrayed at the sight.

“You’re shitting me!”

“What?”

“Your roots…” Not very polite, but you pointed at his hair. “I thought you were blonde. Like, born blonde.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He hid his amusement with a shrug, lowering his head to give you a better look. “Haven’t had time to dye it.”

And of course, you owed the Moon some gratitude for being an audience member to a memory you cherished. If said memory could be physically stored, you’d keep it on a frame so you could rewatch the moment your relationship blossomed.

The confession came when two heartbeats aligned, two bodies snuggled against each other on top of the roof. Leon gazed at you as if you hung up the stars and moon that were beautifully assorted in the sky, the same ones he had admired all alone prior to you coming here. He never thought he’d have a pretty woman wanting to get to know him.

“This is crazy…I can actually see the constellations out here.” Your words were a murmur, the glimmering dots above reflecting in your pupils.

“And ya couldn’t back at home?”

“Pfft. With all the pollution in the city? Not a chance.”

“Yeah? Mus’ be a special night for ya, then.”

It was. But not because of the view, rather, because of the handsome guy holding you close like you were his girlfriend.

“Yeah, it is.”

A hat was placed onto your head. His hat.

You broke your admiration of the stars, turning to look at him instead. The tip of his nose brushed against yours, suddenly his hand was cupping the side of your face. His skin was scarred and calloused against yours, a physical manifestation of how different his lifestyle was from yours.

Books always made it seem like butterflies would be swarming in your stomach at moments like these. But you felt calm. This was fate, it was supposed to happen. And who were you to deny the universe’s pull and Cupid’s arrow?

Leon was a gentleman first and foremost. “Can I…?”

“Mhm.”

Your first kiss was witnessed by the moon.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

You kept in touch through letters. Leon was old fashioned, and very rarely did he pick up his cheap flip phone when you tried giving him a call. Something about his phone always being stored away, he hardly used the thing anyway. He already had the task of picking up the mail, so it wasn’t like your grandpa or grandma would get it.

You didn’t mind much. There was something endearing about sending letters, running to the mail like you were a dog fetching the weekly newspaper. It was hard to imagine his voice sometimes when reading his letters because he wrote all properly, it didn’t match his accent.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to send another letter. I accidentally cut my hand when fixing up a fence and it took a while to heal, it left a scar. I’m okay though, promise. Just don’t want you to think I forgot about you or anything like that. Your grandpa was real nice about it, he gave me some time off, he’s got a kind heart. And your grandma kept cooking up some soup…said it would help me heal quicker. Not sure if it’s true, but it left my stomach happy and that counts for something.

The entire time I was resting, I found myself thinking of you. Would you have patched my hand up if you were here? Kissed my pain away?

Every time I look at the moon, I wonder if you are too.”

You always traced over his handwriting with an unclicked pen before proceeding to leave a kiss mark on the corner of the page and putting it in your stored pile.

Summer became the highlight of your years. You actually packed cute clothes now, flowy sundresses and some matching undergarments you wouldn’t mind Leon seeing. Of course, you also bought some riding gear, wanting to partake in his hobbies too.

The instant you were back at the farm and the two of you were alone, Leon grabbed you by the hips and pressed you up against the outdoor wall of the house, smiling at you all coyly.

“Missed ya. Shoulda jus’ stayed here with me.”

“Thought you liked me for pursuing a higher education?” Your grin matched his. Maybe after you got your degree you’d join him more often.

“Mhm.” God, that intellect of yours was sexy. He could listen to you ramble about your ambitions for ages. “Wish that college of yers was nearby, though.”

“That makes two of us…I missed you too, by the way.” Your lips inched closer to his. “A lot.”

His cheeks turned roseate, his heart thumping as fast as the hooves of a bronco at a rodeo. “…Yeah?”

“Don’t sound so unsure! Need me to show you?”

“I’d appreciate that, y’know how I am.” Leon wasn’t the most self assured, having been worried you’d find some college guy to get with.

All it took was some more sweet talking and daring touches on your end before he hoisted one of your legs up with your permission, the fabric of your dress lifting and bunching around your hips, the plush of your ass pressed against the weathered down paint of the walls.

He let you set the pace, keeping you steady as you bucked your hips against him, your panties soaking from the friction of his rough denim jeans. Your mouths clashed messily out of pent up desperation.

It didn’t go farther than dry humping, though.

Leon made sure your first time with him was more planned out, not wanting it to be in some confined space or rushed. You rode him until dawn, your knees meeting the soft blanket he laid down against the grass with each roll of your hips.

“Ah ah ah. Slow, sweetheart, slow.” He pleaded in a throaty voice, you were killing him, milking him over and over.

“Fuck…okay.” You slowed your pace, your breaths mingling when you rested your forehead against his.

“That’s it. Like that.”

And after that, there were more spontaneous times.

You wanted to get dicked down on your mattress so that’s what Leon gave you, if only your bed wasn’t so fucking squeaky. He had to put pillows behind your headboard.

“Shh…gotta be quiet f’me.” His hand covered your mouth, muting the moans that almost spilled from your mouth.

Leon wouldn’t live to see another day if his boss found his sweet granddaughter’s ankles hugging his neck and her toes all curled.

You ran your nails against his scalp, turning his hair into a mess, taking advantage of the fact he didn’t have a hat indoors. He bit down on his lip harshly to prevent himself from groaning aloud. Yeah, he had to climb out your window after that.

You almost got caught once inside one of the rundown abandoned stalls that was in need of some fixing. You were sitting betweens Leon’s spread legs, his hand down your pants. His palm gently smacked your clit with every push of his fingers inside your cunt. Open-mouthed kisses grazed your neck, making you loll your head to the side.

If only your granddaddy hadn’t interrupted.

“Son, ya in here?” Some incoherent grumbles before he got to the point, thankfully giving you some time to smack Leon’s hand away, snickering at the expression on his face — like he was about to be put six feet under. “Need yer help with the pipe I was tellin’ ya about earlier.”

“‘m on it.” Leon called out after pecking your lips, but there was a crack in his voice that left you silently giggling as he got up and wiped his fingers on his pants. He seemed so embarrassed, sparing you an apologetic glance and then tipping his hat down to hide his flustered expression from his boss.

But who knows, your grandparents adored Leon. One day he’d muster up the courage to tell them he was sweet on you, or maybe they’d catch the two of you holding hands under the dinner table.

Either way, you were no mere summer fling, and he let that be known by adorning your finger with a shiny promise ring.

[lokisgoodgirl]

No Mercy [Loki x Female Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki interrogates you....sexually. Warnings. 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Ceremonial erotica. Fun & Games. Soft! Dom Loki. Established relationship. Light bondage. Denial. (w/c 1.8k)

“Do you plead mercy, little one?” Loki’s voice is terrifyingly calm. If it weren’t for the violently hard erection pressed against his thigh beneath those tight, slutty trousers you might actually believe you were in danger. Deny me, you’d challenged him. Make me break. And he has. And he’s close.

“You’ll never make me talk,” you say defiantly. The layer of fear in your voice is fake, but the tremble isn’t.

It feels like you’re dripping on the bed, knees together, folded to the side, hands tied to the posts. Loki’s eyes flicker to the sheets beneath you as you squirm and a slight narrow of his eyes confirms that yes, you are in fact, dripping on the bed.

You’ve been at this for almost an hour. He’s barely touched you. Just a graze of his tactfully deployed fingers, a blindfold, the targeted skim of his breath and the devastation of his carefully chosen words.

Now the blindfold runs between his fingers as he tilts his head, thinking. “My interrogation requires a little more...finesse, then,” he says, making the blindfold disappear in a flash of green. “A touch more...pressure.’ You whine, yanking the thick leather binds wrapped around your wrists. The manufactured innocence on your face is like blood to a free-wolf and Loki’s lips curl in a wicked smile.

“I’ve been doing this a long, long time,” he says imperiously as he unbuttons a cuff. His long fingers make slow work of folding the sleeve up the meat of his forearm. “I may be a Prince, but an Interrogator of the Crown was my calling, I think. Don’t you?” Your chin rises and you nail him with your stare, hoping your tits look as great as you think they do. You arch valiantly towards his quiet wrath and with a deep breath, you deploy your best 50's starlet impression. “You’ll never break me….Loki Laufeyson.” He releases an exaggerated growl that makes new arousal well between your tightly closed thighs. “Is that right?”

A golden flicker licks from his forehead, the horned diadem unfurling from nothing at all. He’s working on the other sleeve as he swaggers to the side of the bed, taking his time. An oil of sweat has formed on your chest and you squirm for real, trying to break free. “You know how I feel about the horns, oh god-” you mutter, breaking character, clenching as another devilish smile stretches his lips. He stands by your head, crotch inches from your face. So close you can see his cock throb through the fabric. So close you can smell the earthy sweetness of his pre-cum. A low rumble of laughter penetrates the air. “I think you’re closer to defeat than you let on, little one,” he says, drawing a cool finger down your cheek. “Desperate to yield to me, desperate to give in to my demands; to furnish me with the carnal knowledge of your body that I require…that the realm requires.” Against every instinct screaming in your body, you yank your face away. “Perhaps not,” he says bitterly. A wave of dark sandalwood fills your nostrils as the mattress dips and Loki mounts the bed one impossibly long leg at a time.

He spreads his knees while he spreads yours. His face is bladed and angular in shadow, smouldering eyes sparkling beneath his battle-crown of gold.

The god reaches forward and runs his huge palms up the front of your thighs. His touch is electric. You buck up, feeling a web of arousal stick against the bedsheets. Loki glances at it through half-lidded eyes, his trunk heaving with heavy, silent breaths. “You bring this on yourself,” he whispers coldly as a strange object appears in his hand. It looks like a little bell with a round, tapered tip. But heavy. It looks heavy. There's a slight amber tint that warms in the low light.

“My seal,” he explains with an air of condescension. He swings it between his thumb and forefinger. “You will submit to me...one way or another.” He leans closer, dragging the cool golden seal over the curve of your breast and a violent shiver wrenches down your spine. “They always do,' he says. "And I have come prepared.” His eyes follow the metal seal’s descent over the dip of your waist, enjoying the shudders of overstimulation they cause. The graze of his raised markings harden your nipples and you strain your neck to the ceiling as he runs a line down the centre of your stomach and pauses at the top of your mound. The weight between your legs is unbearable; it’s an emptiness only Loki’s cock can fill. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk?” he murmurs sweetly with those dark brows peaked. But it’s an act, trying to trick you – of course. Oh god, he’s so fucking hot, it’s terrible. Every urge screams to cry mercy and have him fuck you like a victorious king; ride him as you hang onto those horns and make him see double. “Do it,” you spit, clenching your teeth. You yank the leather ropes again. “Pervert.” Loki’s brows rise in genuine surprise, a flash of mirth you recognise skating across his face before his features harden again. Role play with Loki is like nothing else. The king of your heart, but king of the performance too. “Very well,” he says, and the cool roll of metal slips against your cunt. He toys with it, pressing its ridged base against your clit and rubbing it in slow, maddening circles. “This seal has started wars,” he says in the same calm, even tone, “ended them, too.” Your stifle a groan of pleasure as the curved tip dips inside your pussy. Its sharp bite seems to melt inside the heat of your slit. “But you may be my greatest challenge,” he purrs as he slides it from the hole. You whimper as he brings it to his lips, rolling it, moaning in a low inhumane frequency. “And since I have just now claimed you with my crest...perhaps your conscience will allow me to claim you with my cock.” Your will to resist is fading fast. Loki tsk’s with feigned irritation as the seal vanishes and his attention turns to the mess beneath your legs. Arousal sticks to your inner thighs in a glistening sheet.

You groan as he flexes his fingers in front of his face, thick veins standing to attention on the back of his hands. He folds all but two, sucking them between his lips and hollowing his cheekbones in the process like an absolute whore. Without a pause, he curls them inside you and the air dissolves from your lungs in a strangled moan of his name. “Doesn’t count…” he warns. You look at him with your mouth open, brow a map of twitching lines. "You have to say it."

Loki kneels between your legs, as cool as Jotunheim ice, pumping his fingers slowly inside your slippery cunt, thumb sliding against your swollen clit with an arrogant smirk on his face. Your hips rise to meet him on every thrust of his palm. Breath comes in short bursts as you clench around his fingers, back arching into his touch as orgasm threatens to ruin you- He slips them out. “Loki!”

The frustration is real - no need to act. The god’s eyes widen in a shameless caricature of innocence. “I have given you every opportunity to yield to me, I have I not?” He pushes the rolled sleeves of his perfectly fitted shirt higher in a targeted attack. Your legs have begun to tremble at the loss of his touch. “And at every opportunity," he continues, "you have stayed true to your loyalties...which I respect."

The ceremonial sincerity in his voice is sickeningly erotic as he hooks his hands beneath your knees. “But pleasure...true pleasure...is a privilege reserved for those who yield to me.”

The sharp cool of his metal diadem stings your flesh as he kisses your inner thigh. He draws closer to your desperate sex, so close you can feel his breath cool against it as he says, “So cry mercy darling, and it will be yours.” He’s really dialled the drama up to eleven tonight. Instinctually you try and lurch your arms forward to grab the curve of his horns and press him deep into your pussy; mad for the feel of his tongue flat and flawless moving against it. “Oh god,” you whimper, fighting yourself. “Good girl,” he purrs, grazing his parted lips over your swollen labia. It’s too much. “Oh god, Loki…” “Good girl, say it...beg for it,” he spits as he falls back on his haunches and reaches for the button of his suit trousers. He looks so fucking mean.

The beat in your chest has turned to syrupy thumps as your legs straighten and contract on either side of him. “You want to be my good girl…” A pop echoes and his cock suddenly weighs in his hand like a weapon. You’re salivating...actually salivating. He pumps slowly back and forth, jaw clenching, his eyes hard as flints. “Don’t make me finish myself on your traitorous face.”

“Mercy,” you gasp. Loki’s grin widens and it touches his eyes. He licks his lips. “Do you want me to stay in character?” he asks quietly as his clothes disappear- everything but the horned diadem on his head.

His shoulders roll and every muscle in his torso tightens, thighs bulging as he clenches against the punishing grip of his fist. You bite your lip, nodding. His eyes flash. “Well chosen,” Interrogator Loki says. The hard edge in his voice has returned with a vengeance and he melts the leather binds holding you with a wave of his hand. “I trust my faith in your repentance is not misplaced,” he says as he crawls up your body with intent. Loki’s hair swings around your jaw, the scent of him, the weight of him. His length presses like metal against your throbbing clit and you buck your hips, trying to catch him. Every thought in your head evaporates as Loki of Asgard buries himself inside you with a shuddering exhale. Your legs wrap around his hips, forcing his ass down, pushing him deeper.

There’s a thud, and then another one; the curve of his horns beating against the headboard. Loki deploys a wolfish smile as his fingers curl around your wrists. “Can’t take any chances with my minx of a prisoner,” he whispers against your cheek. “No mercy,” you moan into his open mouth. It’s a request he understands as he delivers another targeted roll of his hips. “No mercy,” he replies.

A/N - Have I told you guys how much I love you recently? Because I really do. I hope you know that. x

Tags ( in comments - all of you, soz. Normal way is not workinnng)

[dollyhao]

succubus!reader x nerdy!ellie

summary: ellie is desperate to lose her virginity that has been looming over her her whole college career.

toni’s note: i made it guys! i promised this back in october and it’s the end of january… but it’s here.

cw: this is pure smut, no plot at all lol. 1.8k words

༊*·˚

ellie has not a single regret about what she’s about to do. ellie is in college and is still a virgin, at this point she didn’t think she’d ever lose her virginity. until one of her friends joked that she should summon a sex demon, that it was ‘the only way she’d get laid’. it wasn’t meant to be taken seriously, but desperation makes people do crazy things.

she read in an old book she found in the library about one in particular, the book had a picture of you drawn in and ellie thought you were absolutely gorgeous and perfect for her. what was the worst that could happen?

ellie lights the candles around the circle she made on her bedroom floor. she chanted your name 5 times like the book told her, then after 20 seconds the candles all blew out and a gust of purple smoke floats in the air. you pop out the smoke looking even more perfect than the book describes.

“who dares summons me?” you say in this slow sensual voice that ellie feels course through her body. you look around the room you were summoned in before your eyes rest on a short girl with black rimmed glasses on her face. ellie is looking at you with those pretty green puppy eyes, mouthed formed into an o shape.

“a girl? well thats new,” you walk closer to ellie sizing her up. “your cute… tell me what you want from me.” “i-i,” ellie is literally speechless. shes staring up at you, the lady demon whos probably gonna take her virginity. you have long horns on your head and a cute skinny tail, but the best part is that your completely naked. breast out in the open, nipples standing at attention, nothing covering your cunt and it’s just begging for ellie to drop to her knees to taste you.

“did you call me here to waste my time?” you ask her putting your hands on your hips with a quirked brow. “no no! i-i want you to take my virginity.” ellie says playing with her fingers. you hum, “ok ill do it. but you have to sign a contract-” “yes yes! anything!” you spawn a paper out of thin air, “dont you wanna know what your agreeing to?” but by the time you finish your sentence ellie has already signed the paper.

after she is done signing, the paper disappears. “i wanna let you know i-i’ve never done this before. well i almost did in my fourth year of highschool but that was a missed opportunity-“ ellie’s nervous rambling was cut off by you running your hands over her shoulders and ripping her shirt open exposing a blue sports bra underneath. ellie gapes at you, suprised at the sudden intrusion. you push the ripped shirt off her shoulders. “do you wanna touch me?” you say voice softening seeing how nervous the poor girl is.

she nods vigorously trailing her hands up your tummy to your breast. “you can touch me however you want.” you say smirking at her. ellie feels like she can hear your voice inside her head, a slow sensual voice with a rasp that can only be described as wild and sexy. she feels a rush of arousal pulse through her as she pushes you to lay on her bed. your eyebrows shot up, you feel her start to kiss down your stomach swirling her tongue around your navel before her head dips between your legs.

you buck slightly when you feel her inexperienced tongue flicking all around your cunt. she takes your clit into her mouth rolling and flicking her tongue all around it (like they do in the videos she watched before the summoning). you can feel her breathing heavy against you. she pushes two experimental fingers into you feeling how wet and tight you were. you taste sweet like honey and something else addictive that ellie can’t name, ellie suspects its part of your demon powers.

you grab her hair squeezing your legs around her head trying to contain your moans, no human has ever made you feel so good. you might just… like this girl. she’s cute and gentle. and she looks at you like your aphrodite instead of a sex demon.

you feel yourself about to cum when you push her head from between your thighs. ellie is looking at you, chin covered in your juices looking pussy drunk with her glasses fogged up. “are you ok?” she asked you, looking genuinely concerned. you want to coo at her but instead you flip her over taking place in between her legs this time. you peer up at her with this look that looks like you want to devour her. you pull down her sweat pants and underwear licking your lips at her slick pussy.

you give her clit a sweet kiss before using your thumb to rub circles on it. ellies moans out loud when she feels your abnormally long tongue enter her. your tongue is reaching places her fingers couldnt possibly reach. she chants you name which only encourages you to move your thumb faster on her clit. ellie grabs your horns and pull before locking her ankles together keeping you still as she grinded on your tongue feeling the knot in her stomach ready to explode. you let out a groan as ellie tugs on your horns. “im so close.” she says before her body goes rigid.

you pull away from ellie, swallowing her essence, seeming to have had an energy boost. “is there anything else you wanna try?” you say rubbing up and down her legs. she nods getting off the bed grabbing a box from under it. in the box are sex toys but ellie pulls out a girthy purple strap. “oh,” you say eyes widening, “you wanna use that on me?” you ask with that same sensual tone from the beginning. “yes.. please”

she puts the strap on before she feels you push her down on the bed straddling her. you hover over her dick grabbing it and running it up and down your slick cunt. “you want me to fuck you?” you say placing a hand on her chest still hovering over her. ellie nods her head grabbing your hips panting in anticipation, “yes please…” “ask nicely,” you say leaning down licking and biting her ear. “please fuck me. please.” ellie says bucking her hips. the tip of her dick pushes into you, you moan sitting completely on ellie’s cock.

you are bouncing and riding with no sign of slowing down. ellie is running her hands over your body, transfixed at the way your breast bounce as you ride her. when she sits up, she wraps her arms around your waist, holding you close to her as she kisses your neck and chest leaving marks.

you grab ellie’s face, tilting her head to the side so you can have access to her neck. you use your tongue to lick and suck marks into her neck until you get a little too excited and nick her neck drawing blood. ellie let’s out a groan followed by a guttural moan, completely dazed. you lick at her neck getting all the blood up before humming and planting a kiss on the mark.

ellie is gripping your ass meeting your thrust with her own desperate ones. “are you close?” ellie asked desperately, leaning to kiss you again. “very.” you coo out, kissing her using that long muscle of yours, twirling your tongue around hers.

you let go and ellie is staring in awe at the beautiful look you made while cumming. she lays back on the bed, exhausted and satisfied. when she feels your very sharp nails trail up her stomach and latch at her sports bra causing it to rip as if it was being cut by scissors. “more.” you whisper with a wide grin.

“what?” ellie asked wide eyed. “i want more. i think im going to keep you.” you whisper in her ear.

༊*·˚

I, Ellie Williams, am allowing succubus y/n to take on a human form and co habitat with me. I will fulfill her needs of sex so that she may stay by my side and use me for a long as she wills.

signed: ellie williams

[sun-snatcher]

If you're writing for dp3 then Hiraeth from your prompt list would work SO well since they're all stuck in the void! 🤲🏽😭 We need Gambit fics its a DROUGHT HELP

♧ ⎯ LUCK O’ THE DRAW !

summ. You find the Devil himself at the end of the world. Surprisingly, it isn’t the first time you have. It is, however, the first time it hurts. pairing. Void!Gambit x f!Anomaly!reader (established relationship. Kinda. Multiverse be funky like 'dat.) w.count. 1.8k a/n. Because Channing deserved that Gambit all those years ago, and I've come to (attempt to) deliver what the the people have asked. Masterlist here.

MOST PEOPLE MEET THE DEVIL at a crossroads, but you meet yours in— quite literally— the back end of fuckin’ nowhere.

It hurt more than it should.

Your heart practically stutters. 

“Remy.”  

Then he turns, and you wait for the flash of recognition in his eyes.

Nothing comes.

And then. And then.

Realisation— logic. The cold, hard truth: This isn’t your Remy LeBeau. Your Remy had died long before, in a Universe that was pruned and erased into nothingness by the TVA. Your Universe. The joke? That the Gambit before you is merely a variant amongst a million. The punchline? He looks exactly the same as the day you’d lost your own. 

“Well, this is awkward. You know off-shoot Hawkeye here?” Wade says, astonished, before his eyes widened. “Ah. Tragic exposition time for the readers, I see.”

Your mind is still reeling. It feels like someone’s just jammed a chisel straight into your gut. “I— Knew a version. Variant, I guess,” you manage to correct yourself, distracted by the skirting trenchcoat and the all too familiar sound of shuffling cards. 

Christ, it’s like he’d stepped right out of your memories.

Remy’s eyebrows shoot up as he studies you. Something in your chest pulls taut, threatening to snap as he speaks. “Apologies, mon ami. But as far as I remember, I ain’t never seen you before.”

“Ouch,” Wade winces, looking between you both. “What a classic trope! This is like, me talking to my past Mom in The Adam Project. Funnily enough, my Mom was you!” He snorts, pointing to Elektra. 

You ignore Wade and offer Remy a wan smile. “I figured. It’s okay.”

…It is obviously, in fact, not okay. 

You avoid him like a plague shortly after the entire commotion; it’s almost comical. Wade had managed to come up with a plan with the rest of the group, albeit a ramshackle, flimsy one, but you’ve hardly been able to pay attention through the bloodrush of shock rocketing in your head, anyway. 

Being around this Remy is stunningly stifling. 

The lilt of his accent, the sharpness in his smile; the flourishing of cards and the faint hum-drum of kinetic charge against his fingertips. 

You’ve seen it all before, once upon a time. You never thought any of it could ever bring you to this bad of a heel. 

It hadn’t taken long before you’d tried drowning yourself at the end of a bottle of brandy Logan had handed you that night. (The whiskey tames his mordance and makes him uncharacteristically civil. He’d said something along the lines of: Y’need this more than I do, bub; look like you’ve just seen a fuckin’ ghost. Shit, I guess you did, huh? )

“Mais la,” comes a huff. “Ain’t that mine?”

A frisson runs through your heart. 

“Sorry,” you say, barely glancing up from the barrel fire tucked outside the team’s hideout. You’re not quite sure you can handle meeting his gaze. “I know I should’ve asked.”

A playful hum. Remy settles on the log adjacent to yours. “S’alright. No harm done, chèr.”

It takes everything in you not to flinch at the endearment. If he’d noticed, well— he’s smart enough not to mention it. He’s curious and it stands to reason; afterall, he’s never quite seen someone look at him as weathered as the way you do. It’s as if the effort itself to do so would be unbearable.

“Y’kno’, I been told I’m easy on the eyes. Not for you, tho’, eh?” Remy shoots you an amicable smile. It’s charming, if a little compelling. “Guessin’ I made bad on you where y’from? You done been boudéin’ since y’first got here.” 

You let out a laugh. It’s the most brittle sound he’s ever heard come from someone. 

“No, no,” you shake your head. “It’s… You just make me a lil’ homesick, is all.”

Remy bristles with his deck of cards. A Charlier cut; a One-handed shuffle. It’s a mindless tic; your variant used to do the exact same with the exact same ease.

(Such a miracle, you remember thinking once, that there could be symmetries in the Multiverse. Now you learn, perhaps, it’s far more a curse. Either way, you can hear Remy’s doting voice in a distant memory, dimpling coyly at you: “S’just the luck o’ your draw, chèr.” )

You tamp down the memory before it could sink its jowls any deeper in you. 

“You’re curious,” you say.

He makes a noise of assent. Revolution cut; One-handed shuffle. Repeat.

“I ain’t gon’ axe if y’ain’t wanna answer.” 

It’s kind of him. 

You forgot he was like this.

Witty, yet gentlemanly. The way Remy always has been.

Underneath the blanket of the night, the crackle of the flames limn the planes of his face in flickering, hazy saffron. The look in his eyes is sincere as they meet your red-rimmed gaze. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him, and in this light no less: tall, cutting, strong.

Lively.

The last you’d seen Remy, he’d been drawn out and battered by the war. Not that he’d ever admit it; he always insisted on keeping up his sunny disposition despite the constant losing battles happening. (Sometimes you think you resent him for doing that; it’d felt like he’d taken the light of the world with him when—)

You thank your lucky stars the variant Remy doesn’t make a comment on how you must be staring so openly. It’s a feeble attempt to committing every detail to memory, you suppose, in case you don’t get the chance again.

“In my Universe, a war was waging against mutants.” Your nails tinker against the empty bottleneck of the flat whiskey you’d nursed, thinking of how to cut a bloodshed of a story short; to get your point across before you falter and lose your footing.

“There was a mission sanctioned, and during it— a decision had to be made at that moment. So… you chose. Easily.” Your brows pinch tight against your will. The molten burn returns to the back of your eyes. “You saved so many lives the day you died.” 

Something catches in your throat when you realise your mistake, find yourself amending instantly, “He. He died.”

(It had been swift. A small mercy, all things considered. There wasn’t even a need to check for a pulse when you finally managed to reach for him.)

You’re fidgeting, too, with something in your other hand. Remy catches sight of it only now: a card, sitting pinched between your ringed fingers. Nine of Hearts. Its edges are torn and creased across the face, singed an ashen black. 

A proverbial piece of Remy’s heart, carried to the end with you.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a cold rush over his body at the sight. 

“…I’m sorry, chèr,” he offers quietly, inadequate as it is. He hadn’t expected that. 

He can’t imagine how haunting it must be to look at someone you’d shared a lifetime with and be met with a complete stranger instead. 

A living, breathing, ghost.

That unbiddable feeling of longing had always seemed to accompany the sight of him; but now it’s different. Now, there’s a blistering, brutal pain to come with; All-encompassing grief, thick as molasses in your lungs, overturning itself like a phantom from wherever you thought you’d buried it a long time ago. 

The only way to smother it would be to reach out, to hold him like you had once before, and isn’t that an ironic inconvenience? 

“No, no. I’m sorry,” you tell him, sigh coming out as an awkward laugh. A breeze passes and you inhale deep to ground yourself. Press your eyes shut momentarily to will away useless tears. “It must be so weird to hear all of this from me about— well, you, technically.”

“Mais, can’t ‘ave all been a bad memory, tho’, right?”

Right. No. It hadn’t been. There’s something else too. An undercurrent. Beyond the grief, the deep ache in your marrows— you think it’s nostalgia. Hiraeth. More bittersweet than it is painful.

It’s… It’s watching mutant schoolkids teaching him UNO for the first time. It’s the bickering over the beignets for breakfast, or your feet on his lap at the couch in the lounge after dinners with the rest of the X-Men. Lazy banter. Conversations that go everywhere and nowhere.

“Yeah,” you agree, feeling something bloom in your chest you thought long lost. “You taught me everything about your home, too. Down South. Told me about the bayou, the cypress trees. Your Cajun, your ways. We used to play Bourré.”

Talk of home has him ducking into a laugh. Remy had been in the Void far longer than the rest (he figures, at least)— he’s very nearly lost most of his fragmented memories to time by now. “Did I? Oughta’ play a game or two wit’ you.”

You buckle at that. “Ah. You were always the better player.”

Then:

He makes the leap before he runs out of steam. “Was we…?”

His finger darts between the space you two share.

“Oh, no,” you override, sheepishly. “No, we, we were good friends and stayed good friends. I was—” Your breath scurries; a reconsideration. “I was glad with that. You had a Southern belle named Anna Marie. A powerful mutant called Rogue. You two were good for each other.”

You must have given yourself away somewhere, though, the way Remy is reading you with a pinned gaze. It’s the same, levelled look you’ve seen before— the kind he gets in a game of cards. 

Something discerning eclipses in his eyes.

He’d gotten the measure of you in an instant. 

“Gambit musta’ been blind blind not t’see you.”

Ah.

You smile. It’s windswept. Resigned. “Well. Doesn’t matter now, does it? My Gambit’s gone. No matter how much I wish I can see him again.”

Remy’s eyes dart to your hands.

“Y’kno’, chèr,” he begins, something spirited in his tone. “In the world of cards, each a’ these and they suits hold a meanin’.”

He flourishes his deck, hypnotisingly smooth with every elegant cut, fan and spring. Every shuffle cascades as smooth as liquid in the sleight of his hands.

“Some of my folks back in New Orleans I remember, they learned me to read ‘em. Now, outta the whole deck? What you got there; the Nine of Hearts is also called the Wish card.”

The small laugh that punches out of you is bell-like. “Really?” 

It’s warm. Bright. Musical to his ears. It washes over him, and he can’t help but hang on to the peal. He wanted to hear it again. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Remy clicks his tongue as he shoots you a sunny look. “Would never lie t’you, chèr.”

The cracks in your soul don’t disappear, but they surely lighten as you look gently at him. “Huh. Well, I guess I got my wish, didn’t I?” 

He chuckles. 

“Mais, I ain’t your Gambit but—” 

He leans. Reaches out behind your ear with an empty palm, playfully revealing a gilded card from seemingly thin air with a sharp flick of his wrist:

Another Nine of Hearts. His. He hands it over to you, by way of meaning—  I’m here, now.

New beginnings.

You take the card with a smile.

[aklaustaleteller]

Might Fancy You

Y/n went from fearing Klaus, to studying in his studio, to then throwing Shakespeare insults at him while chasing after him to put paint on him; he'd started it. But what happens when she ignores his one warning and he has her cornered in a flash?

Warnings - few mentions of blood and some kissing. Word Count - 1.8k

I told you I'll have part two out in two days and here it is! You can read part one here, and well, I hope you enjoy both the parts!

“And you are?” Elijah asked the girl standing in the doorway of the mansion, clutching onto so many things that he worried all of it was going to fall out of her trembling hands any time now. 

“Um, I’m here to meet Klaus?” She said, an awkward smile pulling up the corners of her mouth. “He’s helping me with an art project,” she continued when the original didn’t say anything.

But he did raise an eyebrow at that, making her even more nervous and bunch up her shoulders in a defensive shrug. “You know what? I’ll just leave,” her voice made a few tumbles as she turned around and began walking out the door she’d just come in. Her guard was high up because she had no reason to believe that this vampire wasn’t going to drain her of blood then and there for stepping onto his property without any permission. 

“Y/n!” She heard a voice call out and she flinched, her heart trying to make up for the missed beat and speeding up as a result. 

“Y- yes?” She stuttered, slowly turning to face him, fearing what’s to come. How stupid had she been to ask a goddamn original to help her out with some- some school work! 

“What did you say to her, Elijah?” Klaus glared at his brother on seeing his new friend so shaken up.

Elijah only turned towards him in a slight confused daze. “I simply asked her who she was,” he said, walking away from the scene to probably his reading chair, leaving as nonchalantly as he could’ve killed her. 

A smile creeped up on Klaus’ mouth, a chuckle rumbling inside his chest at how easily she’d been frightened. It was almost bordering on endearing. 

“C’mon love, follow me,” he urged her as he walked up the stairs, coming to halt when he didn’t hear her move. “Y/n?” he called her, looking back at her from midway up the stairs. and coming to a realisation that she might genuinely be scared of him. 

“I think I’ll go,” she said, looking very close to passing out. “Forget I asked you for anything.” She didn’t even look him in the eyes and turned back around to leave and get away from this mansion as fast as she could.

But of course, Klaus stood in front of her just as she turned, almost sending her heart flying out of her mouth. It was strange, to witness this completely new side of the girl who ferociously bit right back at him the most creative insults he’d ever heard in his long life.

“Why are you so suddenly terrified of me?” Klaus asked, his face creasing in confusion as his eyes showed her specks of hurt that could very well just be the mossy-green of his eyes deceiving her. “What happened?”

“I- I don’t know maybe the sense that you’re an original who could rip me to shreds or drain me of all my blood right here,” she stopped herself like she’d done something insanely stupid and – ”finally knocked at my brain,” she trailed off very softly, almost as if cautious of making him angry.

“Y/n- love, you know I’d never do that,” he mumbled, cupping her face and almost flinching when she went stiff. “I mean I could do that but I never would!” he reframed his sentence when she narrowed her eyes, for some reason, desperate that she understood him.  

“What do I have to believe you wouldn’t?” 

“Because I do not have any reason to,” Klaus reassured her, not saying that maybe because he fancied her a little, just because this wasn’t the ideal moment for a confession like that. 

Y/n didn’t say anything at that. Standing still and looking into his eyes, searching his face for any signs of underlying betrayal but she didn’t find any – not that she expected to, he is a thousand years old after all, surely he’d know how to disguise his motives.

And yet, when Klaus grasped her arm and led her up the stairs, she let him. 

“I see you brought all of your stuff,” Klaus chuckled, trying to lighten up the mood as he took a million things out of her hold, placing it all on the rug and smiling when he saw her setting up the canvas for him. He could get used to this very easily. 

“I did, it’s my work you are doing after all,” she said softly, slowly coming out of her shell. “I didn’t want you to waste your supplies on it,” she continued. 

“I wouldn’t say this is wasting anything,” Klaus proposed, thinking that maybe this would be the topic for their discussion today, slight banter even? 

“I wouldn’t either,” she agreed with him, catching him a little off guard. “But the school people will tear this apart and throw it in the trash before I could ever get to it.”

Klaus shook his head at that, preparing the paints and the brushes. “And why would you want to get to it?”

Y/n had managed to make herself comfortable on the floor a couple feet away from him, her papers already scattered on the floor of his studio,  and Klaus only hoped that they could do this more often after this day.

“Well, I wouldn’t want it go to waste… you see? Maybe hang it somewhere in my house when it’s purpose in school is served,” she shrugged nonchalantly, taking the cap off of a pen by her mouth and Klaus wanted nothing more than to rush over to her and cup her face to kiss her. 

Which reminded him that she was quite fastly transitioning back to her usual self around him. He smiled at that, the scary thrill in his heart that had come at the thought of her fearing him slowly fading away. 

Neither of them said anything after that, getting to their individual works in silence. The soft sounds of Klaus’ brush against the canvas, mixing colours on his palette and rinsing the brush rid of the previous colours filled the room along with sounds of Y/n flipping her book, turning the pages in notebooks and changing pens. 

The sun peeked in through the windows, the lighting constantly changing as the clouds drifted calmly through the sky. 

While painting, Klaus began to worry about this girl who was so engrossed in her homework that she hadn’t moved once. He worried that she’d gotten so serious and quaint that she might just tumble into sadness. All that to say, he missed her laugh a little as well.

He tuned to just look at her while he was sure that she was unaware. Her hair was tied up, circular glasses that had a coppery rim slipping lower and lower on the bridge of her nose until she had to fix them. She looked cute, Klaus caught himself thinking.

Her lips were resting in a faint pout as she focused, her fingers picking at them while she jottled down something in her notebook with her free hand. His hand ached to trace its fingers over the highs and the lows of her face. The little frown that had formed inbetween her eyebrows made her look all the more cute and Klaus found himself walking over to her, his feet functioning on a mind of their own. 

He bent down to come face-to-face with her as she was sitting, and he almost cooed at the fact that she still hadn't quite registered the close proximity at which he was in front of her. Raising up his hand, he booped her nose – getting the very reaction he was hoping for.

She looked up at that, slightly startled, only to catch Klaus’ eyes widening a little themselves. 

“Why did you do that?”

“Uh, because there was something…” he panicked, his eyes frozen on the spot he had gotten yellow paint on her nose. “I removed it though, don’t you fret,” he smiled, brushing over his pants as he began to stand up straight. 

But she passed him a glare then, clutching the bottom of his henley to stop him. “Klaus,” she began. “Did you remove something or put something there?”

He shrugged at that, focusing back on the canvas and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her getting up. 

“Klaus.” She said his name with an underlying warning. She brushed her own finger over the very spot he had touched, and saw the paint.

“Everyone’s entitled to act stupid once a while, but you really abuse the privilege,” she was walking closer to him and Klaus knew exactly what was about to commence, making him cover his head with his arms when she pressed her hand against the paint on the palette. 

He howled with laughter when she dragged her hands across his neck, twisting and turning to get away from her. Still laughing at the insult she threw at him because it was a bloody good one, Klaus swiped his finger across her collarbone, earning a whine from her as she began chasing him around the studio. 

Stopping to catch her breath, she began shouting at him – “thou crusty batch of nature!” But laughter slipped past both of their mouths before they could even contemplate what she’d just said. 

“No way you just threw a Shakespearree insult at me,” Klaus laughed, standing on the complete other side of the room, opposite to her.

He feigned a growl when she began walking towards him, red paint almost drying on her palms. “Take another step, and I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” Klaus whispered loud enough for her to hear. 

And she ignored his warning, just like he was hoping she would. Watching her creep up closer and closer to him, Klaus felt a smirk pull up a corner of his lips. 

In a flash, Klaus had her pinned against a wall, her wrists held above her head in his hands. His face tilted to the side lightly, his eyes focused on her mouth as he felt her gaze on him heating up her skin. She tipped her chin forward, her lips not quite meeting his’, making him close the gap between them and connect their lips. 

Lips moving in a perfect sync, Klaus brought one of his hands down to snake it around her waist, her mouth opening with a gasp at the sensation and giving him the chance to kiss her further. The back of her head met with the wall behind her as they kissed with a passion that felt too heated. 

Detaching their mouths, both of them took in heaves of breath, Klaus pecking her lips once more before releasing her wrists. She was looking into his eyes, searching them for something and Klaus couldn’t help but smile at her, her lips very lightly swollen, looking like they’d just been kissed. 

“Think I might fancy you a tad,” he grinned, laughing out loud when she grabbed his face to kiss him again, making him lose his balance only for a second before he was cupping her face ever so gently.

"Never realised I wanted to hear you say it so much,” she let slip a breathy chuckle, looking into his eyes before kissing his lips once more. Lord, it was addictive – he was addictive.