#Gifs x Reader

[ghouljams]

Absolutely nasty despicable Soap stuff under the cut

cw: Consensual Noncon(cnc), f!reader, groping, public play, masturbation, degrading, "strangers" on a bus, dom!Soap, come eating... nobody look at me

inspired by a since deleted user on reddit

The bus is packed when you get on. Rush hour nonsense. You push your way to the back of the bus and try to get comfortable with the feeling of breathing in so many other people's air. You check your phone, scroll through your messages, ignore the way the bodies around you sway with the movement of the bus. You keep your ear on the speaker, if you worked a little closer to home... but you don't, you have plenty of stops until yours. The bus comes to a halt, the doors open with a hiss, and you shuffle to make room for the new arrivals.

Someone slots into the cramped space beside you. The bus turns to continue on and you bump them a little, mumble out a hasty apology and glance up. Then just as quickly glance back down at the burning blue eyes and toothy smile. You keep your eyes on your phone and not on the handsome stranger, even shuffle a little to give him some room. The bus moves and you're pushed by the crowd. You bump him again, and feel his hand move to catch you, sliding down your hip to squeeze your ass.

Your breath catches in your throat, your cheeks burn. He does it again, sliding to squeeze a little further to cup between your legs. His fingers rub back and forth and your skin burns. You regret wearing a skirt, regret giving this stranger such easy access to you. You glance up at him, he isn't looking at you. You try to keep your eyes focused on your phone, when they aren't darting to glance at the people around you. No one is paying attention. You open your mouth to say something and he pushes his fingers, digs your panties, into your cunt. You shut your mouth tight to avoid letting out the squeak that rises in your throat.

"Be a good girl, yeah? Don't wanna cause a scene, do ya?" The man mumbles, leaning close to you. You nod, unsure what else to do. If no one sees, if no one comes to your aid...

His other hand slips under your shirt, raises to squeeze your breast through your bra. You jerk away from the touch, and end up pushing yourself back into him. You try to reason that the hard length poking your back is an umbrella, until you feel his hand pull away from your cunt and the telltale motions of a man fumbling with his zipper. You try to keep your head down, try to keep anyone from seeing what's happening, from asking you what's wrong. Your skin may as well be on fire with how embarrassed you are, how ashamed you feel.

You feel his cock grind against your ass, the hard length of it burning a hole through your panties as he rubs it under your skirt. His hand finds its way around your thigh, finger tugging at your panties so his cock can slip against your cunt. You stifle the noise that tries to whine out of you, watching the movement of his hand under your skirt, the squeeze of his other over your chest. You wonder how everyone around you can be so unaware. You see a man next to you clear a level on candy crush as the man behind you brushes calloused fingers over your clit.

You squeeze your legs together, try to make the thrust of his cock between them a little harder, and feel him groan low by your ear. Your pussy throbs, the friction of his hard cock, the circling of his fingers, have slick dripping from you. Which only makes him grind his hips a little faster. He tugs at your bra enough to pinch one of your nipples and you swallow a whine at the sharp pain-pleasure. Your hips rock gently against his fingers, your body betraying your mind as you try to keep your breathing even and pray no one notices.

The feel of his cock sliding between your folds, the head nudging against your clit each time, his fingers moved to spreading you open, makes your stomach tight. You can feel your own wetness dripping down your thighs, the hot puff of his breath against your neck, his fingers like a brand against your breast. His pace keeps picking up, uncaring of the way you hold yourself still, uncaring of the people around, uncaring that you're a stranger on a bus just trying to get home.

The steadily building crescendo snaps, the man's hand flies from your clit to grab at your panties, pressing the cotton against the tip of his cock as you feel the first spurt of warmth against your cunt. His hips give a few short thrusts, dragging his spend between your folds, filling your panties as you hold your breath. You keep startlingly still, your muscles tense, body wound tight without release. The man pulls back, tucks himself into his trousers, and tugs on the line for the next stop.

Your skin feels almost cold where his hands leave you. You try not to shiver, try not to give him the satisfaction of knowing the way his come is forced against your pussy makes you wetter. You watch his short brown mohawk, as he shuffles through the crowd, excusing himself to the people he bumps. He smiles at you, you feel like he must be smiling at you, through the window as the bus departs.

Heart hammering in your chest you try not to press your legs together too obviously as you ride the short few stops to your home, and run the last block to your apartment. All the fear and shame seems to leave you as soon as there's a door between you and that man. A solid barrier that you barely get the lock clicked on to before you're tugging your ruined panties off.

You stare at the come staining your underwear, the white spend mixed with your own sticky slick. It makes your mouth water. Maybe you're as bad as him, pressing your soiled underwear against your mouth and dragging your tongue through the man's come. Salty and a little bitter, but so overwhelmingly masculine, you can still smell him against the cotton. Your cunt aches, and your fingers are all too willing to aid it. Your knees hit the floor, fingers stroking over your needy cunt as you lap at a strangers come. You spread your folds wide like he did, circle your clit like he did, shove two fingers into your clenching hole and pretend he'd done that too.

Disgusting, a bitch in heat, (your eye roll at the tight tingling heat that clenches in your stomach at your own words) you're really getting off to getting groped in public. You move your fingers a little faster. Fuck you are so wound up. You didn't know this would get you so hot and bothered, you thought-

The door opens behind you, the lock clicking out of place as you push your hips a little higher into the air.

"Isn't this a bonnie surprise," Johnny purrs behind you, "didn't get enough on the bus?" He shuts the door quick, drops down behind you to smooth his hands over your ass. Almost as quick as his hand leaves you it comes down again, smacking your ass hard. "Look at you, face in your pants, presenting for your man, you really are a slag."

You whine, press into his hold, let his fingers take over for you as his thumbs pull your pussy apart to inspect. He clicks his tongue, sounding far too pleased with himself. "Naughty girl, you playin' with someone on the way home? Look'it all this-" His fingers scoop over your cunt, pushing into your hole, collecting the slick and come that still clung to your skin, "-messy cunt."

His fingers push in and out of you, a warm slide of friction that leaves you panting against your panties. He wiggles his fingers, jabs them against your sweet spot, until you finally can get a word out.

"Johnny," You beg, "please."

"Do like hearing you beg," He concedes, "but you think you deserve it? Already had my cock once."

"Please," You whine, "please, please." You keep going until his big hand grabs the back of your head and pushes you against the ground, grinds your nose in your panties like a dog.

"Quit your whinin'," He orders, as if you can't hear how pleased he is, can't feel his hard cock pressing against your bare ass, "should spank ya fer bein' so greedy." You wiggle your hips, grind back against his clothed cock. He rips his trousers down with a growl and fits the blunt head of his cock against your hole.

He fills you in one swift stroke that rips a moan from your throat as quickly as it splits you open. Your pussy clenches around his cock, your entrance burning with the feeling of being filled with no prep. Yet you ache for it, your stomach is tight, your skin tingling, you want it to hurt, you want to feel every perfect stroke of his cock. Johnny pulls out, agonizingly slow, making sure your walls feel the drag of his cockhead against them, then pushes back in hard. He angles his hips, driving down into you to hit that awful spot behind your clit that makes you see stars. You can feel the bulge of him where he pushes against your stomach, his fat cock rearranging your insides to suit his needs. You sob for him. His fingers dig into your skin, grip your hips like iron, intent on leaving bruises.

You rub at your clit, desperate for the stimulation as Johnny ruts into you. His balls hit your fingers and his hand leaves your hip, batting your hand away to take over. It's so much better, and yet so much worse. His rough fingers draw quick circles against your clit, pinching and rubbing at it in time with his thrusts. Your pussy flutters, pushing at his cock, tightening around it, he groans the same way he had on the bus, and tells you,

"Good girl, come on my cock, know you want to." So you do, you feel your pleasure snap and your muscles unwind like a gun going off. You see stars, your legs shake, you moan against your underwear and try to scramble away from the pleasure that keeps driving into you, only to be pulled right back into it. Johnny never gives you a moment to rest, making sure your hiccuped breaths never even, keeping you at that overstimulated plateau as he uses you for his own pleasure.

He fills you properly this time. Snaps his hips against yours with a swear and uses your still clenching cunt to milk himself. Low groans and heavy breaths fill the air of your apartment, you slip your hand under your hips to catch the come that drips from you when he pulls out. Another firm smack to your ass and you feel Johnny stand to go grab the wet wipes.

God. Maybe you should entertain his fantasies more often. You'll consider that. After a nap.

[philistiniphagottini]

So I may have a thing for Scar and I got so annoyingly horny for him that I'm going to make y'all suffer with me. I just... I need this man collar and leashed and grinding against me until my bones turn to dust. I hope you enjoy. Please indulge my wuwa brain rot as I slowly make my way through the game <3

cw. smut, intercrural (thigh fucking), dirty talk, pussy slapping ((like, two taps)), female reader, implied chubby reader

“Say, when I put my cock in, how far do you think I can make it in that pretty, little pussy?”

You could feel the heat of Scar's breath licking at the shell of your ear as he stood behind you, arms secured around your waist as he held you tight. Your breathing wavered, a pleasant tingle rippling down your back and causing your toes to curl as every hair on the nape of your neck stood up in anticipation. You shuddered in his grasp, a small whine crawling out of your parched throat as his hips bumped into your plush rump. You could feel heat curling in the pit of your stomach, your blood simmering hotly in your veins as Scar sandwiched his boiling cock between your plump thighs. All you could do was squirm; so pleasantly helpless against him as you cast your lidded gaze downward, fire burning your cheeks and turning the tips of your ears hot as he languidly wedged his fat cock between your legs. Your spine tingled with violent rattles as he blew air against your ear, teeth playfully gnawing on the lobe as a warm chuckle breezed past his lips. His question was left unanswered, but he was far from done with playing with his new, favourite toy.

Your pulse fluttered in your ears, heart beating wildly as a hum rumbled in his chest, the vibrations dancing along the ridges of your spine as the hot coil knotted in your belly. He continued to drag his cock through your creamy folds, a devious smirk lighting his features as he hooked his chin on your shoulder and watched what was happening between your thighs with rapt attention. You swallowed thickly, tasting desire lingering in the back of your throat as the tip of his drooling cock teased the pretty pearl of your clit, dragging another pleased moan from your bruised lips. Your hands blindly grasped at him behind you, fingers tangling in his clothes and trying to anchor to his hips as you held on for dear life. Your knees were starting to wobble and you didn't know how much longer you could stand before they gave out.

Every nerve in your body was set on edge as Scar raised his hand, sharp claws glinting under the dim light as he brought his hand to your chest. He flicked a single, rosy tip as you whimpered, your nipples pebbling in the cold despite the heat of a raging inferno searing your skin. Your hips ache as you weakly rolled and you were convinced your bones were going to turn to dust from the sparking friction created between your bodies moving in tandem. Your dazed mind snapped back to attention as Scar squeezed your chest, your tit eagerly jumping into the warm touch of his hand as he cupped it with his palm. Jolts of electricity raced down your back as Scar placed a delicate kiss to your skin, your pulse jumping under the press of his mouth as his hand suddenly started to travel lower. His fingers danced along your torso, nails lightly raking over your skin as his fingers walked down to your stomach. His nails intimately pressed into your skin as he dragged them over the sumptuous v-line of your body, a sound akin to a purr bubbling up his throat as he stared down at you with a lust filled haze. You had difficultly seeing his face, even as you tried to tilt your head and catch a glimpse of the expression he was holding. Perhaps it was a good thing you didn't see the crazed look in his eye, nor the love sick grin that split his lips.

“Do you think I could reach here?” Scar asked, continuing with his earlier question.

His fingers pressed against the soft pudge of your belly, drawing a line across your pubic bone. Your soused walls clenched around nothing as he whispered your name with a husky purr, a hint of desperation seeping into the tone as his sharp nails continued to draw patterns into your skin. Wisps of his hair tickled your cheek as he leaned over you, his body curling as he rested more of his weight on you and his hips dug into the round globes of your ass cheeks with a resounding smack. You whimpered, a constellation of tears clinging to your lashes as your core throbbed, your arousal dripping down your quaking things and staining the length of his cock with the translucent strings. Another thoughtful noise stirred in Scar's throat as he gnawed on the skin of your shoulder, dragging his nails further up your body until he could feel you quivering against him.

“Or do you think I could reach here?” he asked with a playful lilt.

His fingers circled around your navel before he rest his hand on your stomach, squeezing the soft flesh until your skin spilled over the splayed digits of his long fingers. The tips of your fingers felt numb as he continued to drag his cock along the drooling seam of your cunt and you struggled to peel your tongue off the roof of your mouth long enough to offer him an answer. Not that Scar seemed to mind. He was having too much fun watching you slowly crumble as he intimately picked you apart at the seams, one fraying thread at a time.

“Would you like that?” Scar mused. “Would like it if I gave your womb a little present?”

You moaned loudly in response, thrashing in his hold as you tried to twist around in his tight grip. All you could manage was a weak nod of your head, your core throbbing desperately as his sultry words spun around and around in your head like a broken record. The mere thought alone was going to be your undoing.

“Scar” you gasped loudly, voice scratching your throat and leaving behind a horrible itch. “Gonna…”

Your voice got stuck in your throat once more as Scar hummed a playful tune, signalling you had his attention. But you couldn't force the rest of your words out. You moaned sharply as his cock pressed against the slick, aching nub of your clit once more, kissing the tender nerve in just the right way that had you coming undone in an instant. You trembled violently as stars swirled in your vision, the coil in your stomach shattering as your veins were flooded with white hot relief. You tried your best to hump his cock stuffed between your thick thighs, grinding your swollen clit against his achingly hard flesh as your slick juices gushed from your core like a sweet nectar. Scar cooed in delight at the sight, eagerly reaching his hand between your sticky thighs as the sharp thrust of his hips came to a halt.

“Look at you~” he cooed.

His fingers spread apart the puffy folds of your soaked lips, pearls of your orgasm sticking to the tips of his fingers like the fine silk of a spider's web as your plush walls fluttered and pulsed. You restlessly rubbed your thighs together, pulling a soft groan from Scar’s lips as you squeezed his cock. He clicked his tongue behind his teeth as he dipped his fingers into your sticky folds, your arousal dripping from you like honey. He squished his cheek against yours fondly, teeth and tongue nipping and laving at the side of your jaw.

“Is my pretty baby hungry for me?” he cooed, his tone bordering on the edge of mocking but not quite dipping its toes in.

The smouldering embers in your belly were slowly stoked back into a fierce flame as Scar flicked his finger against the nub of your clit. The tightly packed bundle of nerves came roaring back to life as he slapped his hand over your drenched cunt, shocking your overstimulated nerves into overdrive. You shrieked and the sound was like a chime from a shimmering bell. He chuckled darkly, his cock throbbing harshly as he brought the palm of his hand down on your pussy once more, enjoying the little jolts of your muscles as you mewled for more of his touch. He buried his nose in your soft hair as his lips kissed your temple, hands squeezing your soft stomach with a fierce possessiveness that no one could rival.

“Our little game is far from over, sunshine~”

[reiderwriter]

Satisfaction Feels Like a Distant Memory

Chapter Three of I Can't Help Myself

Summary: Your mounting attraction to Spencer Reid pushes you to the edge, turning begrudging friendship to deep hatred when he finally shows up on your doorstep. He's the only thing that can out you out of your misery even as you sink further into it.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, hate sex, rough sex, argument as foreplay, oral (f recieving) and face fucking, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, forced orgasms, "forced" submission, creampie, p in v penetrative sex, etc.

A/N: I've had about as much sleep as the reader in this fic has for the last week, but HERE IT IS! Chapter Three 🥰 You may need a bottle of water on standby, or at least a hand fan, because this one gets a bit heated....

Masterlist || Add yourself to the taglist!

You hesitated in front of your office door, which you supposed was going to become a bad habit of yours now. You tried lying to yourself, that nothing was different now, that you weren't attracted to him in a completely stupid way, but you still stood frozen in front of your own office door. 

Frozen and horny. 

Shit. 

You mentally went through a list of the worst things that could happen if you went in. 

1. He was there. 

2. He wasn't there. 

3. He was there, and he touched you again, and you moaned. 

4. He was there, and he didn't touch you again, but you still moaned. 

5. He was there, and you threw yourself at him immediately because why wouldn't you when you'd seen what you could be working with the night before? Fuck moaning once, moaning multiple times as he pushed you against the bookshelf would- 

“Are you gonna go in, or are you just going to fondle the door handle?” He asked from behind you. From too close behind you. 

You turned, keeping the doorknob in your grin, and immediately flattened yourself against the door as he took a step closer. 

So close. He was so fucking close and it was suddenly all you could think of. 

“W-What?”

“You know, the CDC warns that door handles should be washed every 20 to 40 hours To prevent bacteria like Escherchia coli and Staphylococcus aureus from-” You ignored his words, drowning everything else out as you tried to dampen the fire burning under your skin.

“Cock?” You said, all attempts obviously not working. 

“Staphylococcus, yes. It can cause Adenovirus, Rhinovirus, not to mention-” 

“Okay! Okay, Spencer. Taking my hand off the handle now.” 

Finally, you twisted it and walked backwards into your room, walking backwards a few steps before your foot caught on a stray pile of books. 

“What the-” you cried, waiting for the impact of your landing as you swung out your arms frantically for purchase, screwing your eyes shut as you found none. 

Instead, you found an arm snaked around your waist, another wrapping your hip tight as Spencer Reid cradled your body to his own. 

“Thanks,” you breathed out, not even hearing the words yourself for how much air was in them. How was it possible to expel air and hold your breath at the same time? Because that was how it felt being in his arms: at once a sigh and a stopping of all bodily functions barring want. 

“I thought this was your office, Y/N. Surely you should know the layout by now.”

Moment over. You pushed at his chest to stand upright, and he stepped backwards, removing his hands from your person. 

“Very funny. We both know these are your books. Setting traps for me now, Spencer?” 

You moved around the piles of books again as he flicked the light switch, moving the opposite way around your desks, before meeting you again next to yours. 

“You're usually more observant than this. Is there something wrong today?” 

“What, like Adenovirus or Rhinovirus?” 

“No, like something…” he searched for the right words, pace slowing as he tried not to scare you away by talking with you like this.

“Like something on your mind.” 

You snorted, leaning down to switch on your computer, and also to avoid his eye contact. Unfortunately, academic curiosity had gotten to you in the last few weeks, and you'd read some of his psychological papers. You knew exactly what it was the BAU was apparently so good at, and you didn't want him to know that you'd imagined him balls deep in you hours before. 

“Not friends, Spencer. If there's something I need to talk about, I'll talk to a friend,” you said, standing straight again and turning to him again. You still avoided eye contact, but it didn't matter. His eyes weren't on your face but angled further down, like he'd been checking out your ass as you bent over or something. 

No. No, you weren't going down that train of thought. 

“Or even better, my therapist.” You were planning on the words being a bit more playful, but your voice came out deeper than you expected it, more gravely somehow. 

Your bedroom voice, you were using your stupid fucking bedroom voice on Spencer Reid. 

You cut yourself off again before you said anything else. Before he touched you or didn't touch you, and you got to test your earlier theory about which would be the more demeaning reaction. 

“I have class in ten. Clean up before I get back,” you ordered, and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up when he replied. 

“I don't take direction well, Y/N.” 

No, you didn't think he would. Neither did you though.

For a week, you tiptoed around the man, your words sharp, but your body weak to him. 

By day, you were hurling insults back and forth, messing up his papers and screwing with him via bookshelf again. 

“YOUR…FLY…IS….OPEN.” 

“VERY….MATURE.”

“MADE…YOU…LOOK…THOUGH.”

“BUSY….LOOKING…AT…OTHER….THINGS.”

“LIKE…THE…UNDERGRADS…THROWING…THEMSELVES…AT…YOU…?”

“LIKE…THE…PROFESSOR…I'M APPARENTLY…DATING” 

“Very fucking funny, Spencer,” you sighed at the last message, throwing the books off the shelf and pilling them up on the floor. 

“Don't even for a second entertain the idea of making that gossip a reality.” 

He grinned at you from behind his desk. 

“Okay.”

“Don't even - don't even think about it,” you said, stepping over his desk and poking at his chest as his smile deepened.

“Heard.” 

“I'm serious, Spencer, don't-” 

“You've thought about it.” You froze in shock at his words, as if your blood wasn't sure whether to run cold or burn hot and fast. 

“What?” You spat the words at him, unable to stop them coming out any other way. 

“You've thought about entertaining the gossip. You've thought about it a lot.” 

You needed to deny him, but he was right. By day, you tried to torment him, but by night, he did torment you. A week of wet dreams, of imagining him taking you over every inch of your office, of sleepless rest and failed orgams, and you could not escape. 

“No,” you said with a whisper, shaking your head and trying again even as your voice cracked from the lie and your body's cry for pleasure, for this man. 

“No, I haven’t- I don't-” You took a deep breath, but you knew it was no good, as his hand grabbed yours and flattened it against his chest. 

“Your pupils are dilated, your pulse is heightened, and your legs are practically clamped shut. Your mouth is dry, and I'm not sure if you've noticed yet, Y/N, but you're shaking.” 

“All signs of anger, Spencer, as you're well aware.” 

He let go of your wrist and sat back in his seat, just out of reach of you again. 

“Shame,” he whispered under his breath, nearly low enough that you didn't catch it, as he flipped open his book and continued whatever the fuck it was he even did in this office. 

You ignored it, anger really flooding you now, warring the heat of arousal that was firmly settled in your body for dominance. 

The anger won out. 

You grabbed books from your desk, files, and papers from the side table by the couch and your laptop from your desk and left the room quickly. 

You slammed the door, and you didn't look back, knowing that if you did, you'd see his winning smirk staring right back at you.

You marched yourself right to the staff administration office and put in for a week of leave. Spencer had one more week of work at the university, and then he would go back to being a regular FBI agent. 

Your paths wouldn't cross because you wouldn't let them cross, not when it meant for certain that you would give in.

You spent the week working to distract yourself from work. You finished books for your next semester courses, highlighting the better articles and essays to use, going through each bibliography to find better sources if they weren't good enough. You wrote more of a research paper you didn't have time to think about with so much going on. You corresponded with students, with TAs, with the other professors who wanted to know where you were. 

Okay, that was a lie. You aired the professors, but you did look out for any inboxes from him. Surprisingly, there were none. 

You spent a week throwing yourself head first into your work, and still, each night, you felt his phantom touch on you. No matter how exhausted, your brain still co jured images of his hands grasping your wrists, pushing them above your head and forcing his cock into you, his lips biting against your skin, the fire of his kisses leaving scars where they trailed down. 

You were running on three hours of sleep per night, sure, but at least you were as far as you could possibly get from the man ruining your life. 

You poured yourself a glass of wine the next Sunday, knowing that when you went back to work the next day, he'd be gone.

You wrapped yourself in blankets and put everything else off for the day, ordering food and eating it and not moving as you worked your way through boxes of pizza. 

It was when you finished your first glass and went to pour yourself another that there was a furious pounding at your door. 

“Y/N, I know you're in there, open the door.” His hand sounded again, and you nearly dropped the glass at the sound of Apencer Reid's voice. 

Your body acted alone, immediately following his directions as you damn near tripped over your own feet to open the door for him. 

Throughout all of your arguments, all of the quips you'd thrown at him, every stupid little thing you'd done to get under his skin, you had not once seen Spencer Reid looking this angry. 

His brow was furrowed uncomfortably, as if it were frozen in place. Gone was his perpetual smirk. 

“Spencer, what the fuck a-” 

“Thoughtless. Careless. Do you even know what you've done?” He snapped at you, stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind himself as he immediately walked into your space and began touching things.

“Stop! Fucking stop it, Spencer!” You said grabbing his arm and pulling him around to face you. He brushed you off quickly and worked his way through papers you'd left on your coffee table. 

“No. You stormed out over a week ago, you blocked my number, you did not answer any of my emails-” 

“I didn't get any emails,” you spit back, pushing yourself between him and your things now, bodies so close they were touching. 

“Then you blocked my email, too. You don't even know what I'm looking for or the damage you could have done, do you?” His hands were on you then, not threateningly, as you'd expect, his anger still burning through him if his shaking voice had anything to say for it. 

His hands stroked up your sides and back down again, smoothing away your need to think. 

“My files. My team sent me a file. It was on the coffee table, and you took it with you when you left. The case is ongoing, and I'm flying out tomorrow, and without some of the classified information in that file, we will be at a disadvantage. Our odds of catching our unsub fall from 83% to 47% without all of the pertinent information.” 

Your breath hitched as he leaned in closer. 

“So yes, I'm going to go through your things, and if you're a good girl, you'll root through with me and help me find it.” 

He stepped away then, and you held your tongue. As much as you hated him, he was right. You knew what he did, you knew who he was and to trust him not to lie to you about his chances without this information. 

“The files on the coffee table are research notes, everything I took from the office is in that case over there,” you said pointing at a bag still where you'd dropped it by the door a week earlier. 

He walked to it and rooted through it quickly before finding the file he obviously needed and letting some of the tension out of his shoulders. 

“You're probably glad to see the back of me, right?” He said, laughing bitterly as he turned back around to you. 

“Obviously not as happy as you are,” you spat back, stepping back over to him. 

“If you ever speak to me that way again,” you started, spitting at him in the most threatening voice you could muster. “It won't be a fucking unsub that ruins your life.” 

“And how are you going to manage that, Y/N?” He said, stepping closer to you until he had you backed up against the wall, trapped in by his bigger frame, using it to his advantage to intimidate. 

“How will you manage to ruin my life,” he said, his voice softer as he finished his sentence, but not by much. “When you shake with just every time I get close?” 

“This is not lust,” you growled the words out, but try as you damn might, you were shaking, vibrating even. 

“Then what is it?” 

“Hatred, dislike, loathing, detestation, abhorrence, fuck Spencer, you can pick up a thesaurus yourself and find out.”

“Yeah. Okay. I'll believe your lies for a second.” He walked away, he was walking away but the fire was ringing in your ears and you needed him to stay fucking put so he could take it all. 

“You're a jackass.”

“Original.” 

“You slammed into my life, expecting me to bend to your will and be at the mercy of your needs, your wants. Your office space, your fucking case files, your job-” 

“None of that was my choice.” 

“And it wasn't mine either, but at least I fucking left you alone. I spent the week in this apartment and left you the fuck alone, and you couldn't even allow me the same.”

His focus was back on you again, but you refused to be backed against a wall this time. 

“What did you say?” 

“You will not let me know peace. I have lost my security, my patience, my fucking sanity with each word you have said, my peace of mind, my sleep, my fucking sanity, Spencer.” Your chest was heaving, touching his with each exhale as he too held his place in front of you. He was so close, you'd practically spat the words directly into his mouth. 

“How is that my fault?” He whispered, voice still dripping with disdain even as his hands again wrapped themselves in your hair, and he tugged your head back, baring your neck to him as he leaned down into you. 

“How do you know that you're not doing the same to me?” 

You refused to answer, though, meeting his eyes for one last second before you grabbed his hair in your hands and yanked him down to your mouth. 

It wasn't so much a kiss as a battle for dominance, each trying to torture a surrender from the other with clashing tongues and teeth. 

You made the first move, but he was obviously expecting it, and he didn't even pause before launching his own attack, finally pushing past your strong defence to walk you back to the sofa you'd abandoned earlier. 

His tongue still lashed against yours as you retreated, refusing to give up your upper hand even as you moaned into his touch. The couch hit the back of your knees, buckling, and you silently cursed your lack of sleep for leaving you so unstable right now. 

No, that wasn't true. It was him. He had left you so unstable, moving between happy and playful to angry and wrathful in the space of a week without you, and you'd been denying yourself the ability to even entertain any of this happening. Now that it was, your body was unprepared, totally at his mercy, as he pushed you to your back and pushed up your skirt. 

“You're already so fucking wet,” he groaned slipping two fingers inside you as you moaned around him, no longer capable of thought. This was the moment, this was when he was going to make you submit to him finally. 

Instead, he dropped to his knees and you gasped as his to guess found your sweet cunt and he began sucking to your clit. 

You were on fire, skin scorched from the inside out, spreading in waves from your pussy to the furthest regions of your body. 

With one hand, he spread your thighs further apart and pushed his entire face further into your cunt, tongue pushing inside right by his fingers, nose pushed right up against your clit as he didn't relent. Every movement was another curse falling from your mouth. 

“Shit, Spencer, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimpered, hips rocking back and forth as you tried to fuck his face, begging for more. 

To your surprise, he didn't keep your hips still but let you keep riding his face, riding his fingers as you chased your first orgasm.  

It came quickly, overwhelming you with the impact, jolting through your body like a lightning bolt as he let your hips shake and crash across his tongue. 

When he finally pulled his face away, it was glistening, and he wasted no time shoving his tongue back in your mouth. His message was clear - he may have let you take whatever pleasure you'd wanted with him, but he was still the one in control. 

You trailed kisses along his cheeks, neck, shoulders as he divested himself of clothing, shirt, belt, pants, ripping at yours to free your body as well, until the two of you were only left with underwear and you'd picked up every last drop of your cum left on his skin.

“On your back, now,” he said, and you complied. You spread your legs, and rubbed at your still wet cunt, jolting as he finally lined himself up with your cunt. 

But he didn't push in yet. Instead he wrapped two arms under your knees and pulled you closer, so his cock rested over the top of your stomach, and leaned down, his face hovering inches over your own, holding himself up with a forearm rested just above your head. 

“You see that?” He said, glancing down. “That is how much I am going to fill you. That is how deep I am going to ease into you. That is how far I am going to go to claim you. You can take it like a good girl, right?” 

“Just shut up and put your cock inside me, Spencer.” 

“You're so fucking pushy for a submissive little slut,” he said, smiling finally. 

“I am not a-” you started to protest, but he slid inside of your hot cunt and you lost the ability to focus. 

“Not a what, Y/N? Speak up,” thrusting shallowly as your cunt grabbed him and held tight. 

“I'm not a- SPENCER!” You screamed his name as he pulled out quickly, thrusting into you again with a speed and strength that had you wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly, fighting for him to stay right there deep inside. 

“Not a sub? Y/N, you're whimpering and drooling right now. You're three seconds away from begging for my cock, why the fuck can you not be honest with yourself?” 

“Fuck…you,” you said between moans as he rutted into you like a beast. He wasn't man anymore, bit monster, and he was claiming you inch by disgustingly perfect inch. 

“Let go. Let me take care of you, let me control you. Come on, baby, you know how good it would feel,” he said, before ducking his head and wrapping his tongue around a nipple. 

You screamed his name again, but you still tried to resist. 

“Come on, Y/N. Show me. Cum on my cock.” 

For a brief moment, you'd thought you'd resisted the demand. But then your brain faded, and your nails cut into his back like daggers as your body followed his commands and you came on his cock for a second time that night. 

“Perfect. One more, you can do one more,” he said, kissing your lips and lifting himself back up so he was sitting on his knees as he again picked up the pace. 

You mumbled his name over and over again as he fucked out all of the frustration in your body. Every thing either of you had said or done melted away in the glow of pleasure, your body buzzing from the feeling of him taking ownership of you. 

“One more, Y/N. One more, you need to cum one more time.”

“I can't, I can't I can't I can't, Spencer I can't I really can't,” you said, voice growing pathetically whiny as the tears sprang to your eyes and you choked back a sob. 

“Yes you can, one more. Together, we can do it together,” he said, groaning as you clenched around him.” 

He claimed your mouth again, his hand wrapping around your throat as he cut off your air supply for a second, then two, then three, as your ears buzzed and you finally slipped over the edge again. 

But this time, as promised, you weren't the only one caught in the pain of pleasure. Spencer collapsed on top of you as his dick spurted inside you, holding you close as he unloaded everything he had into you. 

He sat there, warming his cock as he lazily kissed open mouth kisses into every inch of your shoulders, collar bone and chest. Everywhere he could reach without pulling out of you and leaving you there. 

After weeks of no sleep because of him, it was his soft lips that finally enticed you into the hands of the sandman, his weight a comfort as you closed your eyes. 

When you woke in your bed, clean and clothed, he was gone, and so was every sign that he'd ever been there in the first place. 

🔖 @stillhere197 @understandingsunrise @mindfullycriminal @aliteralsemicolon @r-3dlips @alexafromamazon15 @jasf444 @subunitless @thebloomingeagle @lackingoriginalthoughts @empressgraytea @nox-sprite @alondralolll @allspicestones @chiyozai @i_heart_mgg @2hiigh2cry @tiyuel @jiuseoks @readinglatenights @placidus @dreamsarebig @pisceslovrr @waywardgoddess66 @tampon_racecar @kbaby-024 @luvdella @feyresqueen @a1dyn @pleasantwitchgarden @kolasbombaf @lovehadlovelost @kissesforspence @moonchildooh @bubbleebubz @theoraekenslover @melagem02 @calypso-read @ari-aurelia

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[ghoulbrain]

Animal Instinct

18+ 3.5k ghoul x f!reader. graphic depictions of violence, wound tending, hurt/comfort, established relationship, feral/protective cooper, cannibalism, blood, dirty talk, vaginal fingering. gif credit. read on AO3. written as part of the Saddle Up, Sweetheart verse, but can be read as a stand-alone.

When you're both ambushed by raiders, Cooper comes to understand the lengths he'll go to keep you safe.

This never would have happened if Cooper was still traveling alone. He would have been more aware of his surroundings, he would have seen the signs of an ambush long before he stepped into it, and he wouldn’t have been so focused on you instead.

It’s lazy to blame you, though. The fault is his. Without preamble or flourish he draws his revolver and starts emptying shots into the spill of sorry sons of bitches that decided they would ruin his evening.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees you move forward, weapon drawn. His lip twitches. Your grip is good, but your stance is horse-shit. If this is going to become a thing–you taggin’ along like this–he’ll have to show you how to properly fire a gun.

He refocuses quickly, stepping forward to keep himself angled between them and you. The ambush isn’t anything special: just a bunch of jumpy junkies with twitchy trigger fingers looking for their next score. He takes a shot to the shoulder, another to the sternum. He doesn’t feel anything but the impact and pressure of irradiated flesh being forced apart around the bullets. There’s no pain, not so long his system is flooded with chemicals.

It’s your cry of pain that sets his nerves ablaze. He fires two more shots–dropping the men who hit him–before he whirls around, a hot rush of fire rolling through him at the sight of you with a man pressed up against your back, one arm fitted around your throat while he crushes your wrist in his other hand, squeezing hard, keeping your gun pointed at the ground as he chokes you out.

That’s when he sees the knife sunk into your thigh, blood soaking a wide crimson circle into your clothing around the knife’s hilt. In this infinitely long and horrible instant that your gaze meets his. The pain and fear in your eyes trigger something in him, and the whole world becomes both brighter and slower all at once.

Cooper aims, fires, but his revolver clicks emptily. He doesn’t reach to reload. Instead, he moves on pure animal instinct, bearing his teeth and charging with a guttural snarl.

Adrenaline mixes with the chemical cocktail in his veins and he moves faster than the man reacts, ripping his hands from you and throwing both himself and the man to the ground with such incredible force it dazes the man beneath him, his eyes glazing over. He roars in the raider’s face, spittle and yellow flecks coating his dirty skin, before he lunges, sinking his teeth into the pulsing jugular below.

He lends no thought to how natural it feels to bite into warm, living flesh.

Rearing up, mouth bloodied and full of viscera, Cooper winds his fist back and strikes the man in the face. His first blow hits his jaw. The next strikes his temple.

Straddling him, he doesn’t stop hitting. One fist after the other. He aims for the jaw, the temple, the high of his cheek. He misses and shatters his nose with a satisfying crunch, blood spewing from his nostrils to coat his knuckles. His jaw breaks with a pop. Broken teeth and bone slice flesh, mixing with gore and falling to the dirt in wet chunks.

The violence feels raw and good, like the first deep inhale of a vial or a hot wet fuck. He swallows the blood and meat lingering in his mouth and lets out a rough breath. Gritting his teeth he hits harder, driven on by the scent of blood and dirt. The gurgle of choked breaths. The slip of split flesh against his fists. It's all gasoline on the flames your peril sparked.

Cooper thinks of him stabbing you. Choking you. He thinks of your watery eyes, bright and terrified. He thinks of everyone he’s ever let down, ever failed to save, and he keeps hitting. Even when the man beneath him seizes. Even when he drowns in his blood.

Even when he dies.

Cooper is beating on a hunk of ruined flesh when he finally stops, drenched in the blowback of it.

Wheezing breaths saw from his lungs as he places one hand on the dirt road, lifting himself off of the mess of battered meat. He stares down at his knuckles where pain throbs with every heartbeat. It's a welcome sensation. Not because he deserves it, but because the raider did, and because he delivered. Destruction with his bare hands. Suffering where it’s meant to be found. He drags his tongue along the soaked leather of his glove and greedily swallows what collects on his tongue.

Heart thundering in his ears, Cooper stands, dipping briefly to pick up his gun. The grip slides around in his bloodied hand before he holsters it, cloudy eyes scanning for movement until his gaze lands on you. Down on the ground, clutching your wound, you look like a doe with a bum leg, your eyes blown wide and afraid. You look… irresistible. Not just as a woman, not just as his woman, but as an easy meal.

He takes a step forward, lips parted. The edges of you are blurry to his addled mind. The only part of you that’s in focus is the bright red of your wound seeping into your clothes. His memories of lapping the salt from your skin cross wires in his brain and all he can imagine is holding you safe and sound as he devours you.

“Cooper?”

The sound of your voice acts like a shock to his system that drags him back from the sweet coppery tang of warm, fresh blood in his mouth. He’s standing above you, closer than he realized he got. The sweetness in his mouth sours into putrid rot and he takes a step backwards, rasping out a cuss under his breath. He turns his head and spits, aggressively wiping at his mouth with his sleeve, smearing away blood and little chunks of flesh, abruptly and horribly aware of himself.

Shame blooms in his gut, unfurling all the way up to a tightness in his chest. He looks down at the mutilated body on the ground. There’s no head left, just wet gore soaking into the hungry dry earth below.

He completely lost control of himself. He spits, wipes, spits, wipes, rubs his mouth raw against his sleeve in an attempt to scrub away the taste and feel of it before he dares look at you again. He contemplates shoving a handful of dirt into his mouth just to chase away the lingering tang. He never wants to see you–to think of you–like that again. Like you’re just another hunk of meat.

Your touch makes him jerk away. He looks at you sharply, furious that you would come so close after what he’s done. What he could have done to you.

“Cooper–”

“M’not right,” he says roughly, taking hold of your wrist. You flinch and he realizes that he’s snatched the same wrist the motherfucker he beat into a paste had been crushing. He softens his grip, throat tight like there’s a hand squeezing it. “Fuck, would y’just–m’not right,” he says again, an edge of desperation in his emphasis.

“I know,” you say, voice tender, as if somehow he’s the one in need of gentleness. “I know. So come back. Don’t shut me out.” There’s more authority in your voice than you have any right to have in your position, shaking like a leaf while you touch his face, hushing him with such tenderness it fractures something in him that he thought long dead and buried under the weight of the last two hundred years.

Wish I could, he thinks, wiping his hand on his thigh. That you would look at him like that even now, as if he’s somehow still a man, eats at the very core of him. Makes him want to shy away, prove you wrong, and disappear into you all at once. He takes in a steadying breath before he clutches both of your arms, moving you to the ground. 

“Easy,” he says, voice barely above a rasp. “Y’bleedin’.”

You’re holding onto his elbows as he lowers you, gritting your teeth against the pain. He focuses on your discomfort, on the risk you face, fragile thing that you are, to keep his mind far away from the abyss he walked the edge of while maiming the body behind him.

His first priority is to stanch the bleeding. His movements become practiced, hands that of a soldier. He uses a strap from his pack to create a makeshift tourniquet, twisting it around a scrap rod. All the while he’s hyper aware of your gaze on him and the shallow huffs of your breath, the way it catches when he pulls the binding tight.

“Hurts,” you say tightly.

“I know,” he says, drawing his knife. He lifts your blood soaked pant leg–don’t pause, don’t think, don’t breathe it in–and slices open the fabric. “S’about t’hurt a whole lot more. Gimme a count, I’ll pull it on three,” he tells you, bracing one hand on your thigh, the other gripping the hilt of the knife.

“Okay, okay,” you say, sucking in a deep breath. “One–”

Cooper yanks the blade free, startling a yelp out of you that carries into a pained groan.

“What happened to three?!” You ask sharply, fingers digging into the dirt.

He hurriedly smothers the wound with the cleanest cloth he has before he works on tightly wrapping the wound. “S’better when y’don’t know it’s comin’.”

“Asshole,” you breathe.

The faint twitch at the corner of his mouth is reluctant, as if there’s an invisible string tugging at it against his will. “Can’t be that bad if y’still mouthin’ off.”

“It’ll take more than a measly stab wound to keep my mouth shut,” you say, familiar playfulness slipping in alongside the strain in your voice.

“Don’t I know it,” he grouses, glancing up at you. There’s nothing reluctant about your smile. It’s the opposite of his, earnest in a way he’s long forgotten how to be. You’re making an attempt at comforting him, he realizes, looking back down to finish his work, removing the tourniquet once he’s satisfied with the dressing.  “It’ll do for now. Y’need stitches.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say dismissively, shifting onto your knees.

He makes a skeptical noise in the back of his throat, sheathing his knife. “Would it kill y’not to be so damn contrary?”

“It might,” you say, catching the lapel of his jacket and pulling at him, bringing his attention back to you. He looks down at your hand, stained now with the crimson wetness spattered all over his coat. His clothes are soaked heavy with misery and blood, but it doesn’t dissuade you any. You touch his jaw with your other hand and lift his eyes to meet yours.

“Hey,” you whisper. You’re close enough that he should feel the ghost of your breath on his lips, but he can’t. Most of the subtleties of life are lost on a man so close to death. The only ghosts he knows now are those of his past. “You okay?”

Holding your gaze, he doesn’t answer you. Sometimes you feel like one of them, like another specter haunting him. The only difference is that you haven’t died yet.

Yet.

“Come back to me,” you murmur. His vision refocuses, finding you closer than you had been a second ago. The warm pressure of your lips grazing his cheek makes him falter, wanting the tenderness of your touch so viscerally it feels dangerous to admit even to himself. “Stay with me.”

Your hand lightly cups the back of his neck, holding him without caging him. You move closer, settling in his lap, grounding him with the weight of your body against his. He moves at that, grasping your hips and squeezing.

“Stay with me,” you say again, the words as fervent as prayer. His own lips parted, he can taste the breath of each word, sweet and warm, the way a distant part of him remembers things like love could be.

Why? He nearly asks. You won’t.

He had thought himself immune to this sickly feeling. This sense of grief for someone who isn’t yet gone, but you rip it out of him. The truth of the matter is that the Ghoul should never have entertained your company. He should have left you where he found you and been on his way without ever casting a backwards glance. The Ghoul would have.

It’s Cooper who didn’t. It’s Cooper’s hands sliding up your sides, squeezing your ribs and pulling you closer, deeper. He kisses you hungrily, craving you the way the Ghoul can’t. The way a man craves.

I ain’t dead yet.

And neither are you.

Two hundred years of surviving for tomorrow has eroded his ability to exist in the here and now, but your touches demand it of him. Your lips against his bring him into the moment as he lives it. As you live it with him.

“I ever look at you like that again,” he says gruffly, swiping his tongue along his bottom lip, catching yours in the process. He moves you back enough to lock eyes with you. “You put a bullet between my eyes.”

Your lips curve in a bittersweet kind of anguish. “Like you’re gonna eat me? Because right now–”

He gives you a sharp little shake. “Y’know what I mean,” he says, startling the smile off your face. From day one he’s liked your wit, the cavalier way you face life, but on this matter he needs you to hear him. “You ever look at me, and I’m not there, you promise you’ll put me down.”

The set of your mouth turns to a flat line, your gaze somber, and you nod. “I promise.”

Some of the tension in his haggard lungs eases and he kisses you again, need shooting up his spine like a hot geyser. “That’s my girl,” he breathes, leaning back and bringing you with him, saddling you properly astride his lap, his long legs stretched out behind you.

You kiss him back just as hungrily, heedless of the blood and gristle between your melding bodies, and he’s forced to remind himself that this is the only world you’ve ever known. There’s no time before this, not for you. Your life has always been full of horrors, and for reasons he’ll never fully comprehend, you’ve decided he’s one that you want close.

He slips his hands under your thighs and squeezes, hiking your legs around his waist until you’re seated closely enough to feel the growing ache between his legs. You don’t miss a beat, grinding down against him so fervently his breath breaks into a low groan. Not even he can deny his humanity in this. You turn his blood hot and shock the deadened thump of his heart into thunder. You make him feel alive.

He’ll return the favor. He’ll turn his spit to wine on your tongue and make your whole body fucking sing.

Breaking from your lips, he uses his teeth to tug his glove free, letting it fall to the ground. His mouth feels sandpaper dry, but your lips are plenty wet. 

“Open up for me, sweetheart,” he rumbles, parting your lips with the tips of his middle and index fingers. Your eager tongue slips molten wet between his fingers, your eyes hazy on his. He pumps his fingers slowly, cups the back of your head to keep you still while plunging all the way to his last knuckles before drawing them back. “That’s it… Get ‘em good and wet.”

It’s agonizing how easily you fall apart under his touch, and even more so how good you look doing it. Somewhat reluctantly, he withdraws his fingers from your mouth and with practiced ease maneuvers his hand down the front of your pants, curving his fingers to follow the contour of your pelvis until his fingertips slide through hot, wet arousal.

“Cooper,” you exhale, the pitch of your voice canary-sweet. If you have any care regarding the death that surrounds you or the blood between his body and yours, you don’t show it, nor pay it any heed. You’re focused entirely on him, lips parted on shallow breaths of pleasure. He strokes your clit in slow, deliberate circles, the rest of the world falling away the longer he watches your euphoria build.

Fuck, you’re goddamn beautiful. Why the hell you let a creature like him have you is beyond him, but he won’t let go. Not now. Not so long as you still look at him like this.

He swallows dryly, finally slipping his fingers into the welcoming heat of your pretty cunt. You’re soaked, his own personal oasis in the Wastes, velvet walls quivering around his toughened fingers. He angles the pad of his thumb against your clit and starts to finger fuck you in earnest, his cock throbbing beneath you. 

“Fuck,” you keen softly. Your hands braced on his shoulders, you meet every thrust of his hand, huffing divine little sounds while he fucks you with his fingers, crooking them until he feels you shudder.

“Yeah,” he breathes, enraptured. “That’s it. Got y’now, don’t I? Ah ah, don’t get shy on me,” he tsks when your eyes fall shut. “Eyes on me, darlin’. Eyes on me,” he says, voice frayed. You pry your eyes back open and hold his gaze, your own heavily lidded. “Good, s’good. Y’close now, ain’t’cha, sweetie?”

You nod fervently, moans bubbling up instead of words, your sweet features twisted in the exquisite agony that comes just before climax. You roll your palms against his shoulders, fingers digging into the thick fabric of his coat. He wishes he could feel the bite of your nails on his bare skin, wishes it were his cock sinking into you, but all that wistfulness is erased the second you cry out, your back arching, your cunt squeezing his fingers as you’re pitched forward into the throes of release.

Cooper grits his teeth, baring them like an animal as he fucks you through the tremors, grabbing hold of your jaw to keep you from collapsing, to keep your eyes on him. You slide your hands up and cup either side of his face, yanking him into a messy kiss. He falls into it easily, slowing the thrust of his fingers as the aftershocks of your orgasm settle until his hand is still against you, fingers pressed in deep, savoring the feel of you.

You kiss him leisurely with tongue, teeth and barely sated hunger. Your bliss slows you, and Cooper is content to simply feel. Even the lingering ache of his own need is a welcome sensation in a world he so often walks through feeling numb.

After a time, he slides his fingers from your pants, wiping them absently on his own before wrapping his arms around you. You sink into him in turn, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. The sun has almost disappeared completely, and the chill of night is beginning to nip the air. All of this carnage will attract predators soon, but he finds himself unable to rush the matter. His embrace tightens.

“I love you,” you murmur.

There was a time long before his heart became an open grave that he would have been eager to return the sentiment, but hearing those three little words turns his tongue to lead. They flood him with memories of an era where love came naturally–the way only violence does now–and shooting a man in the head was the most abhorrent act he could fathom for himself.

These days, a headshot is a kindness.

His stomach is tight, a bile-like burn creeping up his throat. He screws his eyes shut, swallowing it back. To his relief, you aren’t tense with anticipation. Instead, you pepper butterfly light kisses along the scarred column of his throat, paying special attention to the nicks and scars along the way to his jaw.

You kiss him. He takes your face in his hands and deepens it, pushing into you until your back arches. 

“I’ll keep you safe,” he whispers against your lips, the words both a promise and a prayer. Not to God–He gave up on God a long time ago–this prayer is for you. It’s what he knows. It’s what he is. No matter the monster that threatens you, you’ll always have one of your own to bite back. You’ll always have him.

Strained, quieter yet, he says, “I swear.”

Or so help me, I’ll swallow the bullet myself.

“I know,” you say, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. There’s a blissful kind of sorrow in your expression, but so too is there understanding. He kisses you, closing his eyes against the dry burn of them. He’s not sure he’s even capable of tears anymore. He’s been worn down to the bone by sandstorms and bloodshed. Nothing goes untouched by the misery of the Wastes. No one goes through it unscathed.

What he does know is that he will do everything in his power to see that you’re never broken by it.

[v1x3n]

[lichenes]

Velvet Ring

There's only one bed! And nightmares choose to not let you live them down. Prompt by the lovely @smdb-joost :D CW: nightmares, mutual pining<333, confessions, brief mention of kissin wc: 800

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

“Shit, uhhh what do we do now?” Joost said as you both entered the room. “Uhh… I’m assuming I'm taking the floor?” He laughed.

Giving the fact that you and Joost have been friends for a long time you didn’t mind sharing a bed but when he suggested taking the floor, a small piece of you thought about all the ‘accidental’ touches, his sweet smiles which seemed only brighter when directed towards you and the way he looked at you when he was sure you weren’t. You hoped for the cheesy fantasy to come true so you could finally admit your feelings for him, hoping he’d reciprocate.

“So what’ll be?” You asked, leaving it up to him to decide. “The floor ‘s fine.” You felt your heart sink but you didn’t lose hope yet. You both showered, admittedly - separately and took your places. 

“Goodnight!” 

You were surrounded by your loved ones, your friends, yet- why… why did you feel so alone, so… unwanted. ‘What was it that gave you the idea to come here and ruin all of this for us?!’ You heard opting to not answer the remark and instead shield another part of yourself from others. ‘I can’t look at you anymore, you disgust me.’ Said a familiar voice which soon manifested as Joost’s form with a malevolent grin on his face. ‘You’re nothing.’

You gasped as your body rose to accomodate for the sudden pain which you couldn’t quite place as physical nor mental. You put your hand to your chest and realised you were heaving. Joost called your name from the foot of the bed. “What’s wrong?” You crawled from under the sheets towards him. “‘s nothing, just a n…” Your voice got stuck in your throat. “Nightmare.”

“D’you need to talk about it?” You looked at him with pleading eyes. “Can you please just hold me, please?” 

You were both lying on the bed, his arm around your waist, both spent from the day you had. You were more tired than ever, trying to keep your eyes open just to feel Joost’s warmth for a moment more.With the other hand he was tracing lazy patterns into your scalp. “You know you can tell me anything…” He said clearly expecting something from you. 

‘Not yet’ you thought. ‘Not just yet.’ 

“I know.”

You spent the rest of the night sleeping soundly. His strong arms gave away a pleasant heat which was comforting. You woke up feeling well rested which was a new but not an unwelcome feeling. “Hey, I just wanted to apologise for forcing you to comfort me yesterd- well, tonight.” 

He grinned at you with his usual charming smile which made your face get just a bit hotter. “You really didn’t force me, I was just helping a friend out.” A friend? No. You were more than that. You were stars, the moon itself, the way aurora borealis cast itself over the night sky. How could he ever convey that through words?

He saw them, the signs of your affection. The silly presents, the small touches, the playlists full of his songs, the love that radiated from you. Yet still he was unsure of your intentions, your feelings.

Next night went about as well as it could’ve. Joost still on the floor invited you jokingly to join him on the floor and you, as a joke - of course - did. “It’s not very comfortable, don’t you want to get on the bed?” You both decided after a while that actually, your idea was brilliant. 

You settled into the bed and so did Joost giving just enough space for the lord. You signed and scooted slightly towards him. He followed suit and put his arm around your waist staying mindful of your personal space so as to not scare you off. “Joost you can…” Your voice got stuck in your throat once more. “Alright!” He said enthusiastically, bringing you closer to himself. Your face got seriously hot when you could feel his breath on your neck and his eyes on you. 

“Wanna tell me something?” He said as if he knew and could feel your growing anxiety. “Joost.” You started. “I’ve been…” You couldn’t speak, your knees went weak despite you laying down. “Joost. I lo-” He interrupted kissing you deeply. You reciprocated the kiss not wanting to lose another minute without his touch on your body.

The kiss left you breathless and he looked even more content when you pulled back. “I need you. I need you so badly in my life.” You said, sounding increasingly desperate. “You know I need you too.” You went back for another kiss. That night you spent in his arms, this time not by chance but choice. His voice still echoing in your ears ‘I need you too..’

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

masterlist

[peaches-and-creamm]

𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓶 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽!

here's the ask! hope this is okay :)♥

warnings(?): you tell satoru to 'die', sukuna calls you 'little one'. gn reader! kinda suggestive on suguru's

featuring: satoru, suguru, sukuna, yuta, megumi, yuji and bonus nobara!

M.LIST♥

[anisscarletstarlet]

nsfw, modern!anakin skywalker

anakin being your first a dream of yours. you two have been together for a while, neither of you ever initiating anything. the furthest you’ve gotten being a good old make out session on his beat, old couch. but you never brought it up, not wanting to embarrass yourself.

visiting him and using his laptop to find hardcore porn open in one of the tabs wasn’t though. you knew you should’ve turned it off, looked away, pretend you never saw anything, but you just couldn’t help it. you let yourself press play, and you watched with a mixture of excitement and apprehension as the girl in the video got pounded into a thin, disgusting mattress. she was folded in half, tears streaming down her face as her faceless partner threatened her, telling her to tamp it down with his hand covering her mouth, other hand slapping the back of her thigh.

you quickly shut the laptop after that, joining him back in the living room and cuddling up next to him. your thighs were involuntarily clenching together, and you were barely paying any attention to what anakin was going on about, your thoughts preoccupied by the image of you and anakin in that same position.

he seemed to notice that you were lost in thought, wrapping his arm around you and asking you what you were so busy thinking of.

you were so used to brushing off such questions, but you just couldn’t this time, and you had a slight idea as to why. your response was simple, you kissed him, and anakin was never one to shy away from kisses. his hands were quick to find the back of your head, and his tongue was even quicker to start licking into your mouth.

“what’s gotten into you?” he pulled your head back, waiting for a verbal answer this time as he held you there with a solid grip on your hair.

“need you” you tried looking away, kissing him again, just moving, but with the grip on your hair you were left struggling against his hand.

“need me? i’m right here, baby, what is it? ” he watched as you grabbed one of his hands, guiding it to rest between your thighs, eyes shutting softly as a sigh left your throat. “yeah? what’s gotten you so worked up?”

you didn’t reply, instead letting your hips grind against his palm, looking for some sort of friction. you knew he was watching you as he pressed his fingers against your clad hole, rubbing against it slightly and making you bite your lip to keep quiet. he helped you onto his lap, his lips finding your neck, kissing and nipping at it slightly all while your hips moved involuntarily against his growing bulge, his hands guiding you.

your clothes were suffocating you, putting a barrier between you and the pleasure you so desperately needed. he could tell you were frustrated now, hips moving faster, hands griping the fabric of his shirt, and his voice coming from where his lips rested on your neck didn’t help. “is this what you wanted? made me wait all this time just to hump me and get your shorts all dirty? go ahead, baby, i’ll make you lick them clean.”

“no ani, please. can’t- i can’t. fuck. touch me, please” you tried moving his hand to where you needed him once again, but his grip on your ass was unrelenting. you were moving against him frantically now, tears willing up in your eyes, your hands pushing at your shorts yet failing to get them off. you were beyond frustrated, your entire body felt hot and you couldn’t take it anymore.

he chuckled, and that was what broke you. tears finally started falling down your cheeks, feeling utterly humiliated as you couldn’t stop moving, your orgasm so close yet so far. you pleaded, begging him to just touch you, but you watched as that only made him smile wider, now watching you move against him.

“not so innocent, are you? been watching dirty little videos, baby? is that what got you so worked up?” you shook your head, unable to get the lie past your lips. he seemed to take mercy on you, holding your hips still just enough so he could help you slip your shorts and panties off, missing the way he tucked them between the cushions. your hands were now working on getting his pants off, pushing them down until his cock sprang out, rock hard and dripping.

“slow down, can’t have you hurting yourself” he said, holding your hips and stopping you from sinking down his length. he made quick work of fingering you open, stopping his fingers each time he sensed you getting closer, then proceeding to stretch you out. you could swear he wasn’t four fingers thick, yet he didn’t stop until four of his fingers were fucking into you with ease. by the end of it you were a trembling mess, your lips raw bitten, your eyes red and glossy.

it was with sure hands that he then positioned you just over his cock, his tip twitching against your hole. he pushed into you slowly, watching the way your eyes clenched shut, your lip already wobbling.

“that’s it. did so well, angel” you opened your eyes to find out you had taken all of him, the little hairs by the base of his cock tickling your clit. you didn’t know how long you waited before he started thrusting into you, rough and fast. your hands held onto his shoulders for support, your entire body jolting with each thrust.

you’ve been starving your orgasm off for what seemed like eternity now, so it wasn’t long before you came all over his cock, moans spilling off your lips unchecked. he didn’t stop, the mere idea of you cumming on his cock driving him crazy. you were holding onto him tightly, sobs filling the room, face tucked away into the crook of his neck. you started failing against him when his finger found your clit, circling it as you begged him to stop.

“come on, cum with me, so good- shit, so tight.“ his voice broke off into a groan as he filled you up, triggering your own orgasm.

and as he held you close, feeling the way both his cum and yours were dripping onto his pants, your body slack against his, he knew he should keep porn tabs open more often for you to see.

・───・・✦・・───・

A/N: asks/requests are open

[akiw0]

falling asleep on haikyuu men

⋆˙⟡ featuring : bokuto koutaro & kageyama tobio ⋆˙⟡

⋆˙⟡ gender-neutral reader

⋆˙⟡ warning : no warnings!! pure fluff ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ enjoy !

BOKUTO KOUTARO would suddenly go still ( which is a shocker ) when he would feel the weight of your head fall onto his shoulder. you were both on the train home from school, and it was fair that you were tired from the exhausting school schedule. peering over to you carefully, he'd try his best not to burst from how adorable you looked, and he'd lean back against his seat, lounging his arm softly around your shoulder, to keep you still and comfortable in the moving train. he'd also anxiously check the stations every second, as to wake you up when you were nearing yours. he'd also sneakily try his best to sneak a picture. ( failed ) ( akaashi laughed at him when bokuto told him the next day )

KAGEYAMA TOBIO would shut down. you probably would be tutoring him in the empty club room, sitting next to him on a couch, and trying your best to make him understand. after giving him a particularly hard excerise to solve, you leaned against the couch and closed your eyes " for a second " to give him some time to try to solve it. clearly, it was taking a bit too long, as 15 minutes later you found yourself snoring and slightly drooling with your head against the hard couch. when he heard the noise, he finally looked up at you. blinking repeatedly, he shut down for a second. what should he do? what is appropiate for him to do without making you uncomfortable? looking around, a bit panicked, he sat up and carefully moved your upper part on the couch, taking off his jersey and putting it on you to make up for not having blankets in there. awkwardly shuffling, he sat down on the floor and continued trying to solve the exercise ( he didn't , with his heart beating way too fast )

credit : i used @cafekitsune's dividers! <3

[cobaltperun]

Mad Love

Bottom Cairo Sweet x Top female (G!P) Reader (Smut, minors do not interact)

Basically Genius 7.5

Story Masterlist

Word count 3.9k

You would be lying if you said you were okay with Cairo’s recent visitor, and sure, you were jealous, but more than that, you were worried about her. Why did he insist on spending so much time with her and being that close during classes? Sick fuck… Well, problems for Monday, for now you wanted to give her the letter mistakenly left at your address and seeing as she was clearly dressed up for something leave her to it. You pulled the letter out of your jacket and noticed the way she smiled, as if she was expecting it. “The mailman left this at my parent’s place. I think he doesn’t like coming all the way over here,” you tried to joke, to release the tension you were currently feeling as you stepped closer to her. One of you was already wet from the rain, so Cairo getting wet as well wasn’t needed.

You handed the letter to her and, even through your glove, you felt as if lightning passed through you. Fuck, you needed to leave before you did or said something you couldn’t take back, besides, she looked so stunning you had to stop yourself from staring. “I’ll leave you to whatever you dressed up for. You look, never mind, I should go,” you turned, she most certainly didn’t dress up for you. And that, as much as you hated to admit it, made you jealous.

She wouldn’t be yours. No matter how hard you wanted her to be. Then, before you could fully realize what was going on she was grabbing you and pulling you back to her, the phone and the letter falling from her hand, and you somehow managed to catch them both. But, while you were busy catching her things you dropped your umbrella and she took your helmet off, tossing it to the side carelessly, and you would have complained. “Hey! Watch the hel-“ you did try to complain, but then you saw her eyes, you saw her lips and suddenly it didn’t matter that you helmet was somewhere on the grass, or that your motorcycle was getting wet as the rain started falling even harder. “Cairo,” you breathed out her name as if that was the last word you ever wanted to say and pressed your forehead against her own. She was going to get wet like this, her hair was already a bit damp.

“How do I look?” she asked, and you shivered as her fingers went from the bottom of your jacket to your collar and you watched as the raindrops glided across her bare arms. You watched as her dress got soaked in the rain, and you just put her phone and the letter into your pocket before pulling her closer. You needed to have her close, to feel the fabric of her dress, to touch her skin, to hold her.

“Like the most tantalizing poem ever created and then given flesh,” you spoke, feeling like no amount of oxygen you breathed was enough as your lips brushed over hers and you pleaded through your eyes for the permission to just kiss her.

And she gave it to you. “Satisfy those desires then,” she spoke, and you could no longer resist her, you pressed your lips against her, feeling like the two of you fit together like pieces of a puzzle that was broken apart a long time ago. Your tongue brushed against her lips and she eagerly opened her mouth, eagerly pressed her own tongue against yours and neither of you cared that the rain was turning into a downpour. She was in your arms, she was kissing you, you could touch her, run your fingers through her wet hair, you could pull her closer. It wasn’t enough with the gloves on, and you just took them off, tossed them carelessly aside and sighed into the kiss as you felt her skin against your bare hands.

It wasn’t enough yet. Just kissing her wasn’t enough, you gasped, filling your lungs with oxygen as you got lightheaded, intoxicated by her. You tugged at her soft hair, your heart skipping a beat when she leaned her head back with the quiet moan. “You’re a need I can never satisfy,” you confessed, kissing her neck and memorizing each sound her erratic breathing produced. “You’re a dream I can’t wake up from,” you went lower, kissing her left shoulder as her fingers unzipped your jacket. “The only melody that can fill my silence,” You bit her lightly, inducing more soft gasps as she pushed your jacket down, as her hands slipped underneath it and clutched your shirt.

Suddenly, she moved her hand to your chin and lifted it up to kiss you again with even more intensity than before. Her tongue slipped into your mouth, rough and desperate and you felt a string of saliva breaking apart as you separated. “You’re the desire that inspires me,” you admitted, looking into her eyes before her lips found yours once more.

“Then be inspired, my madness. Take me in all the ways you desire,” madness, that was exactly what all of this was, and if you were her madness, you’d gladly accept that role. And you would take her, as long as she doesn’t stop you, you were going to take her, And her whisper, as she said that, fuck your jeans were getting uncomfortably tight. “I’m yours, every part of me, in every way you want me. Love me, Y/N,” she sighed, and you latched your mouth onto the side of her neck, aiming to leave a hickey that would last for a while, that would let everyone know she was all yours.

“You know I’ll stop if you tell me, right?” you asked her when you separated your mouth from her neck and she just returned the favor, biting your neck and leaving a deep mark on it, and damn, you had no idea you liked it mad.

“Do I look like I want you to stop?” she asked, slipping her hand into your pocket and pulling the letter out. “This is for you, the letter, the dress, what’s underneath it, all of me,” she told you, causing your eyes to widen at that revelation. She planned this, well, maybe not everything, but your arrival, she most definitely planned on that. And that turned you on even more.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” you lifted her up bridal style because you weren’t sure how else to carry her with the ridiculously hot dress she had on. You lost your shoes somewhere along the way, though you were sure they were lost inside the mansion.

Cairo ripped the letter open. “You want to read what you’re doing to me? Take me to the bedroom and you can read all about it,” she pulled herself up and moaned right into your ear and your entire body twitched. You weren’t sure how, but you managed to get to her bedroom, but your patience was already at its limit, and you pressed her against the closed doors.

You took one glance at the letter she was offering you and chucked it to the side. “I’m busy, tell me what you wrote,” you suspected it before, but tugging the straps of her dress while the two of you shared desperate, breathless, kisses, confirmed she wasn’t wearing a bra. You groaned into the kiss, feeling her soft breasts under your touch. You cupped her breasts, felt her nipples get hard under your thumbs.

“Fuck!” she hissed as you pressed your thigh between her legs and her eyes widened as she felt the bulge in your pants. “Strap?” she gasped as she took your elbow guards off and threw them to the floor or somewhere in the room.

“No,” you rasped, taking the jacket off and letting it fall to the floor, not caring one bit for your or her phone at the moment. You had her in your arms, you were kissing her, leaving hickeys all over her neck and shoulders. You bent down a bit, kissing each of her nipples as she slipped a hand down to cup your cock through your clothes.

“Fuck, I need this inside me,” she rasped, unzipping your jeans and slipping her hand into your boxers to feel your already fully erect cock and you felt relief as she gently pulled it out of your clothes. She looked down, her smile widening as her thumb rubbed the head of your cock. And then she pushed you back until you walked into her bed and fell back.

She bit her lower lip and pushed her dress the rest of the way down, baring her naked body for you to see. “I want you to take me,” she got on top of you, and you could only watch, still surprised that she had nothing underneath the dress. You took your shirt and bra off as she pulled your jeans and boxers further down and licked her lips as she grinded her naked pussy on your cock and teased both of you.

“Damn, Cairo,” you groaned, throwing your head back as she stopped grinding on you and wrapped her hand around you. “A bit gentler,” you hissed when she squeezed a bit too hard.

“Sorry,” she pecked you on the lips. “Is this okay?” she asked as she slowly moved her hand up and down along your shaft.

“Yeah, the letter,” you sighed, clenching your eyes shut and reaching for her.

“Relax, let me make you cum,” she whispered in your ear and used her other hand to keep your arms above your head, and you let her, enjoying the warmth of her body pressing against yours and her hand around your shaft.

“I’m burning up, drowning in my desire,” she began sensually, slowly, making dramatic pauses as she began whispering right in your ear, and you clutched the sheets beneath your hands. “I’m alone, longing for you, your hands touching my body, exploring every bit of me, your lips marking all the different paths between my breasts, my lips, my pussy, anything you want. It’s all yours,” she moaned softly into your ear. “I want to touch myself as I write this for you, I want to quench the thirst within me, I want to cum with my fingers deep inside my pussy while I scream your name. I want to lick my fingers and pinch my nipples, to imagine it’s your mouth, your teeth, your tongue.”

You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, you had to touch her, your hands gripped her sides, and you moved them up, all the way to her firm breasts. “Keep going,” you demanded, your eyes finally opening to look her in the eyes, to take in her lustful gaze.

“I want you to play with my breasts, to squeeze them, press them together, to show me they are enough for you, to make me whimper and beg for the sweet relief only you can give me as you pull my nipples,” you did everything as she spoke, her breath shaking just a bit more with every command you listened to.

Cairo needed more, she craved your touch. It felt so good to feel your hands on her breasts, but she was greedy, she wanted more, she wanted to feel your cock inside her. Fuck, you were big, and hard, and desperate for her touch. “I want you to play with my nipples until they get sore,” she paused, inhaling sharply as you tugged a bit harsher on her nipples. “And then I want you to soothe them with your mouth,” you were yet to do that, she wasn’t in the position for you to easily do it. “And when you’re done with my breasts, when you are satisfied, I want you to move lower, to spread my legs and look at me. My pussy is soaked right now, I want to touch it, I need to. The thought of everything you could do to me is driving me insane. I’m not touching it though, It’s like I’m edging just for you, hoping you’ll come and fuck me soon. I want you to do it, I want to feel you bending me over, making me kneel on the bed for you. I want you to push my legs apart, to spread my pussy, my soaking wet, untouched pussy, and devour it. Be rough, be gentle, be whatever you want to be, just make me cry your name. Make me take it as you fuck me, hard and rough, or soft and sensual, whichever way you see fit as long as your fingers are inside me!” she’s never been as focused on sounds as you were, but she couldn’t deny how wet the sound of your labored breathing was making her. She watched you, falling apart with your cock in her hand.

“I want to be ravaged by you, until I’m a broken mess, until my virgin pussy takes shape of your fingers. I want to fall apart on your fingers, your tongue,” she could feel your cock twitching. “I desperately want to be yours, to feel my virgin pussy clenching around your fingers, to feel your tongue on my clit. I want to be eaten. Devoured. Taken again and again, on my knees, on my back, my side, against the wall, or on the floor, or maybe you want to on the table. Do you want me to cum all over our book?” she whispered, nibbling on your ear as you moved from her breasts and hugged her, your fingers digging into her skin as your precum leaked. “Hmm, Y/N? Do you want to leave marks on my body, visible to anyone caring enough to look? I want that, I need everyone to know I’m yours and that you are mine. Ruin me however you want, wherever you want,” her breath hitched, pussy gushing as she imagined you taking her but not just anywhere. She imagined you bending her over the motorcycle, while the engine was still on and staking your claim on her, spreading her open and splitting her on your hard cock, and then coming deep inside her. Then she’d get dressed and, with your cum still inside go on with her day. “Come and take me, I’m desperate for you, I’m madly in love with you,” she finished repeating what she wrote to you and went down, licking the head of your cock and feeling it twitch.

“Cum for me,” she whispered against your cock and took it in her mouth. She went down, trying to put as much of it as she could in her mouth, and she moaned, wondering how it would feel inside her. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing, but you weren’t complaining.

“Cairo,” you moaned eventually. “I’m about to cum,” she sucked harder, wanting you to finish in her mouth. “Cairo!” you cried out, warning her one last time before you came into her mouth. She watched as your cock softened slowly and swallowed, proud of her efforts for her first blowjob. “Fuck,” you sat up, breathing deeply as you looked her in the eyes. “So, about the things you mentioned in your letter,” you grinned, pulled your jeans and boxers off completely and lifted her up. She wrapped her arms and legs around you and curiously looked you in the eyes as you went over to her table and laid her down on top of it. You spread her legs and your mouth twitched as you watched her pussy lips spreading a bit.

“I’ll be taking you now,” you said, she took control for a while, but she wanted you to devour her, and that was what you were going to do. You hunched over her and pulled her swollen nipple into your mouth. You sucked hard, twirling your tongue around the small nub.

As you did that you slipped your hand against her pussy and teased her, just gently rubbing her pussy lips and occasionally tracing a finger between them. “Take what’s yours,” Cairo encouraged you.

“Tell me more,” you pleaded, desperate to hear more from her. “What do you want me to do right now?” you switched your attention to her other nipple.

“Fuck me on your motorcycle!” she cried out and you had to pause,

“You know what, I might just do that one day,” you smirked when she gasped, seeing as she likely didn’t expect you to agree in any way shape or form, “But, first,” you slowly slipped a finger inside her and began gently pumping it in and out. “I’ll just fuck you like this,” you went down on her and took her clit into your mouth as she whined and whimpered. Her hands went to your shoulders and the back of your head as you ate her out.

“More, please, Y/N,” she cried out, her walls clenching even tighter as you added another finger inside. The table shook beneath her as she rocked her hips against your face and fingers, but you just kept going. “I’m coming,” she gasped, her eyes widened as you massaged her between her asshole and pussy with your free thumb. “Y/N!” she screamed your name, coming hard and arching her back. It took her a moment, but she began coming down from her high, still sensitive and already squeezing her breasts, pushing them together and rubbing her legs together. “Keep going,” she demanded and reached out for your cock as she did so. It wasn’t fully hard yet, but you were getting hard, and her grabbing it definitely wasn’t slowing the process down. “Take me,” she demanded, pulling you in and once again teasing her entrance with your cock.

“Mhm,” you kissed her lips quickly and then squeezed her thigh. “Get on your hands and knees,” you ordered, surprised slightly when she obeyed right away and presented her ass to you.

Cairo wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but you inserting two fingers into her from behind instead of your hard cock wasn’t one of those things. “I want to stretch you out real well,” you explained as Cairo began fucking herself back.

 “Oh! Oh, Y/N!” she moved her hips back, pushing your fingers deeper into her. “More! Fuck me!” her hands gave in, and she dropped to her forearms as she kept fucking herself on your fingers.

“You want to be mine?” you asked her, though her letter and everything she was doing made the answer fairly obvious.

“YES!” she shouted, her movement growing erratic as you watched her trembling in pleasure.

“You’re all mine, Cairo,” you assured her and pulled your fingers out so you could rub her clit with them. “And I’ll fulfill every single desire you have, I’ll make you cum any way you want,” you assured her as she cried out from your fingers teasing her clit as you felt desperate to her more of her cried of pleasure.  

She writhed, close to her second orgasm of the day as you ghosted your lips against her pussy, occasionally peppering kisses all over it. But she needed more. “I need your tongue inside me!” she gasped, begging you to do more. You went down on her, your tongue penetrating her as her pussy throbbed.

And amidst all those sensations she felt your once again hard cock pressing against her thigh. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she cried, digging her fingers the wooden table as she arched her back. She felt like she was burning up, like a torrent of fire engulfed her. “Y/N!” she screamed your name as she came, her entire body shaking and mind processing the pleasure she never experienced before. She lifted her head up, realizing there was a bit of drool on her forearms now, she turned around and just began breathing heavily to catch her breath.

You watched as her face morphed into pure bliss when you lifted her up and brought her back to bed as her body slumped against it. “Did I tire you out?” you teased as you kissed your way up from her stomach to her neck, but she tilted your chin up with the tips of her fingers and captured your lips in a kiss. It was quick, but it lasted long enough for Cairo to grasp your cock and stroke it a few times.

“Take me,” she whispered against your lips, and you smiled, fully intending to follow her demands.

“Got a condom? Or are you on a pill?” you asked.

“No, but, I want to feel you inside me, raw, I want you to cum inside me, to fill me up, make it drip out of my pussy all night long. We’ll deal with it in the morning,” she told you softly, though there was a bit of uncertainty in the way she held onto you. It wasn’t that she worried about doing it raw, she was worried you’d say no.

“As you wish,” you gently stroked her cheek, getting lost in her eyes, the frantic, desperate need to make love to her, the adrenaline pushing you faded for the most part, and you wanted her to have the best first experience you could offer her. “I’ll go slow,” you promised as you spread her legs and teased her entrance.

“Only at first,” she countered as you slowly pushed in, pausing as she breathed deeply and adjusted to your cock being inside her.

She was tight, warm, and clenching around you so hard you struggled to move, and she groaned with a large smile on her face. “It doesn’t hurt, fuck it doesn’t hurt, I feel so full!” she moaned, encouraging you to start thrusting into her. “Take me,” she pleaded as she slowly started to move alongside you, meeting your thrusts almost halfway there and moaning even harder as you slipped a hand between the two of you and began rubbing her clit.

Your thrusts picked up speed and so did her cries of pleasure and you had the opportunity to listen to her most exquisite moans she let out. “More, please fuck me more!” she begged, and you complied, speeding up a tiny bit more. You wanted her to cum again, before or right after you, it didn’t matter as long as she came again.

“Faster,” she begged and as you sped up, as your thrusts became harder and faster, she realized she got what she wanted, she got her madman’s love. How else could all of this be described? The way you were desperately loving her, the way you were fucking her now, it was just rough enough for her liking, besides, you weren’t ramming your cock into her. But your every move was filled with passion and desire, and she felt it deep inside.

“Fuck, Cairo,” you were close again, just a bit more and you’d fill her up

And then, as her pussy squeezed your cock you came inside her, your cries of pleasure mixing with her own. She came again, and you were both spent, that much was clear.

You weren’t spent to the point of being unable to be there as she came down from her high, Her body shuddered as you softly massaged all the sensitive spots and Cairo purred relaxing under your touch once more and letting you give her aftercare. And then, after you truly were done for the day, the two of you fell asleep with Cairo in your arms.

Taglist: @deimaisgail @bee-keeping @marvelous-disaster @jmwetterlund @tekanparadiae

@alexkolax @ioveyouyouloveme @aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh @autorasexy @lifeforsimp13

[plussizefantasia]

Don't Cry Over Spilled Lemonade

Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None that I can think of, this is kinda angsty tho

A/N: Surprise post IG I wrote this in my notes app because I couldn't sleep so if there are spelling or grammar issues I'm sorry. let me know if you want a part two because I wouldn't mind continuing this.

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings. You had become a close family friend ever since you defended Daphne against some creep at her first-ever ball out in society, it was your second season and you had taken it upon yourself to keep an eye on the diamond, looking out for her quietly in the background.

You weren’t going to intervene at all, just offer her some advice woman to woman if the need arose but when you saw Baron Taylor grab the redhead by the wrist you couldn’t hold back.

Anthony himself was only seconds away from coming to his sister's aid when you ‘accidently’ tripped into the man spilling your glass of lemonade down the front of his vest. 

“Perhaps my Lord if we kept our hands to ourselves certain… interventions might’ve not had to happen. Don’t you think?” When Anthony had seen your raised eyebrow and defensive posture all aimed at the scumbag who dared lay a hand on his baby sister he couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love right then and there. Not that he’d ever admit it to himself or anyone else for that matter.

A day later Daphne had invited you to tea at their family house in order to thank you for the rescue and potentially make a new friend and ally within the marriage mart.

Ever since that day, you’d been a regular in his home, but you were never there for him as much as he’d have liked you to be. No, you were always there for one of his siblings. You were there to talk with Daphne, first about her counting of the duke and then slowly transitioning into how she felt about being a married woman and then a mother. He could also find you sketching in silence next to Benedict, the two of you after attending to draw the same scene and then critiquing each other's work when you were done. You would trade books and ideas with Eloise, listen to Fran play the piano while working on your embroidery, and the scenes which would warm his heart the most, you’d come around to chase after Greg and Hyancith playing with them in the gardens and keeping a watchful eye to make sure they stayed safe. 

Anthony adored how close you were to his siblings, and he loathed how much of a distance there seemed to be between the two of you. 

You were cold to the Viscount, you had been since the evening you came to Daphne’s rescue, he had attempted to give you his thanks and you had simply excused yourself, “My apologies my Lord but I seem to be down a glass of lemonade presently and I find myself to be quite parched, excuse me.” Your tone was cold and Anthony spent the rest of that night and the next two years trying to figure out what he possibly couldn’t done to make you so icy towards him.

“I do not understand it Ben, she is so kind and lovely to the rest of you but is like a stone wall when it comes to me, what could I be missing?”

“Perhaps she just doesn’t like you brother have you ever thought of that?” Benedict was too preoccupied with this still life to deal with his older brothers pining at the moment. 

“That is not possible, I’ve done nothing but be the perfect gentleman to her.” 

“Anthony I have no idea why dear Y/N does not like you but what exactly will you whining in my studio do about that?” 

“I resent that. I am not whining I am simply asking my dearest brother for his advice on a matter I care very much about. I thought that was what brothers were for.”

“You want my advice, Anthony? Think. Think long and hard about what you want and how you’ll get it because Y/N has no patience for wishy-washy men.”

“That is horrible advice, Ben.”

“When then perhaps you can find better advice from your other brothers. Which will it be Anthony, the one who has been blindly in love with his best friend for years, or the ten-year-old?” 

“I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know. Now leave, that storm cloud above your head is casting shadows on my fruit.” Ben pointed his paintbrush at the bowl of fruit balanced atop a stool. Anthony huffed and knowing that it would bother his brother, he grabbed the apple off the top of the pile and took a bite of it as he strode out of the room

Ben had told him to think, but Anthony didn’t know what to think about. He knew that he craved your attention. He knew that he enjoyed seeing you around his house, interacting with the people whom he loves. He enjoyed hearing your witty comebacks and the way that even if you were not doing anything in particular you still fill the space you’re in.

He wanted her in his life, and if he was being completely honest with himself he wanted more than that. 

It’s during his musing that he runs into her in the hallway, you have a book clutched within your hand, and your head is held high. You don’t stop your stride even though he knows that you saw him. He bites his lip and tampers down a smirk. Add another thing to that list of things he likes about you, you have fire, he just wished that it wasn’t always aimed at him.

“Lady, L/N which one of my dear siblings are you spending your day with today?” He attempts to match his pace with yours catching up to you so that the two of you walk shoulder and shoulder.

“Actually, Lord Bridgerton, I was having tea with your mother this afternoon she invited me over so we could discuss what to do about Frannie’s debut next season.”

This was not something that normal family friends do, you know that and he knows that. His sibling’s entrances into society are a matter which the viscountess must handle, something his mother has had to continue to do because of his lack of a wife. 

“That was very kind of you to help her with.”

“Well, she doesn’t have anyone else to help her.” Your words cut him down, not for the first time. 

“Lady L/N may I be frank?”

“It is your home, you may do as you please.” You turn to face him, your face a mask of indifference. 

“What have I done to cross you, for the longest time I have known you you have been cold to me and I do not understand why?” 

“I had figured that you did not remember, either that or you had purposely forgone trying to speak with me about it.”

“About what?” 

“Our first meeting My Lord.” 

“I remember our first meeting very clearly, it is one of my fondest memories seeing you stand up for Daphne and ruin Lord Taylor’s vest.” He tilts his head to the side and smiles at the memory.

“That was not the first time we met My Lord, the first time we met you snubbed me in front of the entire ton and sparked rumors that did not leave me until two seasons later.” She was harsh in her words and the tightness in her shoulder’s belayed her desire to flee.

Anthony was speechless, surely he had not? He would’ve remembered her, would’ve remembered turning down one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, intentionally or otherwise. 

“I- I beg your deepest forgiveness Y/N I do not remember and if I had I would’ve tried to make it up to you tenfold by now.”

Your eyes began to gloss over and you looked at the wall beside his head, “It was my first season out, Lady Danbury’s ball, and I had seen you standing there surrounded by other gentleman. I had thought you a very fine figure and despite the rumor mill telling me you were nothing but a rake I had tried to begin a conversation. All you did was turn to me and laugh. I wasn’t asked to dance for the entire rest of that season and it was only until my Mother forced the son of one of her garden party friends to dance with me was that streak broken. You were the first and only man I had ever attempted to pursue and you laughed in my face. Were it not for my deep need to help those I see in need I would never have talked to you or any member of the Bridgerton family for the rest of my life.”

“You must know that I regret that, I regret everything I have ever done to hurt you and I will spend the rest of my days working for your forgiveness.” If Anthony was a weaker man he would’ve fallen to his knees and begged for your forgiveness until his last breath, right there in the hallways of his family’s home.

“I appreciate your words Anthony, but that’s all they are… words. I am unmarried, one year from becoming a spinster in the eyes of the entire ton, and you, you are the only one I can blame.” You don’t wait for his reply, just stalking off and wiping the tears from your eyes.

Anthony resolved himself in that moment. He would do whatever it took to make it up to you, to bring a smile to your face, and to cast away the hurt he had caused.

[takes1]

p.2 asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

this is gonna get so fucking good ya'll i love thisss!! it's fun writing this sweet guy be a little dirty lmao

warnings. nsfw. minors DNI info. nsfw / build-up to more smut / phone sex / mutual masturbation / blue balls / suggestive conversation / gentle giant!asahi / mutual size kink / sweet asahi / long-mid distance issues / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / kuroo being protective / 2.3k words / multipart series so reply to be added to taglist! haikyuu collection. more hq here! part one here. part three here. more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

Your pencil twirled, tap-tap-tapping against your half-filled page of notes as you searched for the next header to copy for this dreadful, draining history class.

Anything to distract you from the fact that he hadn't called you.

The game was Tuesday- now it was Friday evening, and still, no word from him. Maybe you had something in your teeth when you spoke to him, or you smelled bad, or he just didn't like your hair. You had dedicated hours trying to figure it out.

A phone call was hard evidence he was interested in you. Practically a 'yes' to your fantasies, which had only gotten more unhinged with the hurt of this perceived rejection.

He still remained just a few minutes worth of your real energy on some ordinary day. But God, how you mourned for what could've been. How he would've filled you up, wrecking you with the satisfaction and excitement you yearned for.

buzz buzz. buzz buzz. buzz buzz. buzz buzz.

The sound initially deepened your already lackluster mood, because you learned to be disappointed with every call that wasn't from a Miyagi area code.

You were grateful that your eyes happened to glaze over the screen before you completed the swipe to ignore it.

A piercing scream of delight filled your entire house through a cracked bedroom door.

Tetsuro's unwanted, grating voice across the hall shattered your elevated state of bliss:

"SHUT UP!"

"YOU SHUT UP! I'M ON THE PHONE!"

You took a deep breath on the fifth ring and, shaking off the nerves by standing up out of your swivel chair, you swiped across the screen to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey, is this (Y/n)?" A deep, rumbly voice made your knees weak.

"Y-es," Your voice cracked, tummy tingly, "Is this- Asahi?"

His name left your lips so well. You fell onto your back on your bed, pressing your thighs together at the sound of his reply.

"Yeah, that's me."

You hadn't heard his voice before, thinking hard about it now, because he didn't say anything to you in person.

"I thought you wouldn't call," You bit your lip in restraint, but kept the tension in your belly, "Why'd you keep me waiting for so long?"

A grumbly sigh on the other end gave you a full-body shiver. You crossed your legs.

"I was nervous," He admitted.

The giant did have a heart, after all. Curious, you smiled and looked up.

Your face fell.

"Get out of my room!" You shouted at Tetsuro, who was lingering in the doorway.

"How long have you been in here?!"

"I'm not in your room," He tested you by putting a foot inside, and didn't answer your question, instead pressing his own, "Who the hell are you talking to?"

It reminded you: A quick 'Hold on' and what you thought was the mute button--

You scrambled across your bed to the doorway to close it, but he dove out of the way and you ended up shutting him in. You flung it open again.

"Get out!!"

The demon-spawn was making for your phone, so you leaped onto his back and weighed him down to the floor instead.

"It better not be--," He grunted with effort as he shoved you off by the face, "Some country-bumpkin prick!"

There was no contact on the screen, so he couldn't be sure who you were talking to even with your phone in his hand.

"Who is this?" He interrogated, his torso leaning on your bed, his knee on your chest to keep you down.

You punched his leg over, over, and over again. He swatted at you while looking at your phone to figure out why nobody was responding to him.

It gave you the opportunity to push him off while his balance was uneven. You slapped your phone out of his hand and it clattered to the floor.

There was a violent hush over the two of you.

Tetsuro rose of his own accord, dodging a slap, and kicked your phone far under your bed with a grumble.

"Like I'm gonna just let that happen."

The door slammed behind him. You skittered up, opened it, then called after him, "Stay out!!"

You made sure to lock and barricade it this time.

When you leaned down to find your phone, it was impossible to reach with your hands or legs from either side of the bed. That asshole had made sure to kick it just far enough to make you get creative.

You had to tie together a ruler and a clothing hanger to retrieve it, then use your foot to leverage it out.

To your relief, the call was still active. But it wasn't muted.

Heart sunk halfway down your ribcage, you asked a grim question, "How much of that did you hear?"

His chuckle lifted your spirits instantly.

Almost as a conditioned response, you glanced to the door. It was still secure.

"I'm so sorry, my brother is the worst." You grumbled, climbing back into your bed with a sore face, hand, and knee.

Asahi's tone was clear and smooth.

"It sounds like he just wants to keep you out of trouble."

Your body jumpstarted again at that word. You wanted all the trouble he had to offer. You couldn't help but giggle, since his response sounded as if he was referring to himself.

"I know how to handle myself," You grinned, "I'm only a year younger than him."

"He's a senior, isn't he?"

"Mhm."

"So you're a second-year."

"Mhmm," You could listen to him talk all day. Your hand rubbed over your prickled chest, savoring his voice against your ear.

"Good. I feel like less of a creep, now."

In his admission you could hear his lips curl into a smile- your covered your mouth and kicked your legs in the air.

"Don't tell me you thought I was a first-year," You teased with false surprise.

"I-," He sighed, a little labored, and something shifted against the receiver, "Knew it was a possibility."

His standards aside, your interest moved to the extra sound on his end of the line. You prayed it was something risque.

"What else do you wanna know about me?" You stretched your legs up and watched your blank ceiling, biting your lip in wait for his response.

The way he towered over you- his frame was perfect for your fantasies. You imagined him leaning over you now, legs draped over his massive shoulders.

"What made you want to give me your number?"

Another shift, a heavy sigh. You couldn't raise the volume any higher, nor could you hold the phone any closer to your ear to try to hear what he was doing.

In the hopes that he was dirtier than he wanted to let on, you smiled at the freedom to paint his imagination.

"Hmm..." You drawled.

An eager hand dipped between your legs, with one last glance to the door, and you palmed yourself through your shorts while you spoke.

"Your serve really did it for me," As you recalled that last hit, you heard him shift again, "I like your look- y'know, the whole samurai vibe--,"

Asahi laughed a little, making you grin.

"-I think it's really hot."

A pause. "Wait- really?"

"Yeah!" You giggled, "You're a good mix of cute and scary, that's a huge turn-on."

"Wow."

Maybe it was a bit forward of you to say, but so was everything else until this point. Your breath stalled, hoping that was a good wow. It felt so quiet for so long. Everything was still on both sides.

You sat up after a few moments, pulse quickening, and you bit your finger to keep from blurting out another stupid claim. It must've been too much- you were just about to hang up when you heard a quiet, different tone through the speaker.

"What are you wearing right now?"

Mouth open, you made sure to click mute before squealing into your pillow-- when you came up, teary-eyed from the pressure and excitement, you had to catch your breath.

Your voice was slightly hoarse when you unmuted yourself and asked, calmly, "Do you want me to lie to you?"

Thrown in a dumbing whirl of arousal, you went to reach for a vibrator, but realized the sound would probably be too much. You opted for your own fingers instead and tried hard to visualize his heavy hand over yours.

"Shit-," He huffed an uneven sigh, "Go for it."

Did he have any idea how sexy he sounded? You hoped he did- you hoped he knew exactly how to touch you, pleasure you, break you, then put you back together.

Your raised, flirty tone didn't match your answer, "Nothing."

The rumble of his laugh guided your hand to swirl small, soft circles around your clit. Your chest rose and fell a little faster, chasing the budding tightness that was finally coming back to you.

"What are you doing right now?" You couldn't help but ask. It was too tempting to wait around for him to tell you.

"Mm, I'm talkin' to you," He evaded. His smirk was audible through the phone.

His slight regional accent was so perfect. To Hell with city boys, you wanted this big, gruff countryside boy.

He laughed at your whine.

"I wish you weren't so far away," His tone lowered to a bare mutter- it was dripping in lust, but he covered it with a thin veil of wariness.

Your fingers felt so good, but his reminder only made you more sensitive to how you could never fulfill the ache deep inside without him right here, in Tokyo.

You could appreciate how he still kept his cards close. You weren't as patient as him- but upon your inevitable frustration that he wasn't as candid as you, the realization that it was the safer outcome dawned on you. If he wasn't so careful, he might hurt you.

Still, you were riding gentle, pleasant waves while you daydreamed through your response.

"How long would a train ride be?"

He didn't have to tell you how pretty you sounded for you to know. The little raise at the end of your sentence, the tiny waiver in your voice, you knew he liked it.

The quiet seethe on his end confirmed this. He told you without having to look it up, "Hour and a half."

Your pussy practically shut down.

"I could do that," You lied. Your brother would explode if he found out you hopped on a bullet train by yourself to go see some Karasuno boy- and he would. He always did.

Another low laugh. It fixed everything. You threw your head back again, fingers in your mouth so your fingers could slide a little better.

"Don't sound so disappointed," He cooed, "Me and the guys are gonna be in town for the weekend- and I was just thinkin'--,"

"Oh my god, yes. Whatever you're about to say, yes."

His distant 'Damn' away from the phone made you blush. You stopped touching yourself, just for the time being.

"There's just one problem."

You waited for the reveal without responding, then realized he wanted you to ask him.

"What?" You giggled at the weird pause.

His laugh was faint through the rest of his point, "Your brother."

You squinted at your ceiling again with a grumpy sigh. He was right. In fact, you were sure he didn't know the extent of how right he was. Your family was on Life360, and he had your location at all times.

If you turned your phone off, or deleted the app, or put it on 'battery saving-mode' he'd know, and it would be more ground to question you on.

It wasn't the tattling that bothered you, it was his nosiness in the first place.

The last time you snuck out to go see a boy further in the city, he followed you and ruined your movie date by kicking the back of his chair for half of the film. He drove you home and grilled you the entire way back.

"Fuck," You sighed, sitting up with a bit of a tummy-ache from your abandoned orgasm, "Yeah."

It sounded like he was moving again, but he was less flirty, and it made you think he maybe put his dick back up to think better.

"He actually called our team captain, Daichi. We were uh, still on the way back from the game. On the bus. And he put it on speaker."

Your jaw dropped again.

"Said he'd- ha-ha, he said he'd castrate anyone who touched you."

An annoyed sound left you.

"Don't tell me you believe that," You laughed pitifully.

Part of you believed it, so you wouldn't blame him if he did. That same days-long disappointment was creeping back.

Asahi considered his answer. He landed on, "I think... ah, I don't know. I think being cautious is smart."

You nodded slowly, but he couldn't see.

"I still wanna see ya," He added.

You grinned, relieved, and a little aroused again at his drawl, "Good."

It still left the obvious problem. You deliberated on what you could do. A glance to the locked door gave you one idea. Another glance to the window elaborated on it.

How could you see him, not leave the house, and have your brother not know at the same time?

Your question was slow as you slid off of your mattress and started to test the reliability of your window frame.

"How good are you at climbing?"

taglist.

thank ya'll for supporting this!!! i love this series it's so fun to write so i'm glad other people do too!! reply to be added to existing list :)

@valiantqueengarden @rinheartshyunlix @alpha-mommy69 @yuyunhoo @insertamazingnamehere @kreishin

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[ahqkas]

♯ BACK TO THE OLD HOUSE ; mattheo riddle

❛ when you cycled by

here began all my dreams ❜

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! the countless nights he spends fighting over any sized inconveniences were getting to him. he didn’t even think about visiting the professional medic to patch his wounds, not when he had you (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 2.9k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fighting, blood, angst + fluff, kissing, violence, rage filled + soft mattheo, slytherin reader, friends to lovers, lovesick idiots

NOTES! my man my man my man

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

TO MATTHEO RIDDLE, FIGHTING FELT LIKE A SECOND HOME. He could insert all of his rage and anger into the punches and kicks because it was required to do so. You wouldn't throw a good punch if you didn't put your emotions into the action and so that's exactly what he did. Fought with his emotions.

The courtyard was a peaceful place for the students of Hogwarts to relax for once, bringing a sense of peacefulness with its stone pathways and patches of greenery. The yard was often filled with laughter and conversations for everyone to hear. But on some days, you could hear more than the good nature of people. Curse words and spells casted at another, yells and shouts of anger. The same goes for violent actions. The sickening snaps of bones and emotional sounds from the audience that gathered around the ongoing fight was heard for miles away.

The same goes for today.

The joyful laughter quickly turned into terrifying shouts when a nearby fight broke out among the students in green robes. Slytherins fought the most. Mattheo Riddle fought the most.

A small group of onlookers had gathered around him and another boy, his robes the same green color to match Mattheo's. Their hushed whispers and excited yells were echoing through the halls, bringing even more attention to the crowd. Just exactly what they needed.

The other boy, Aaron Banks, stood with an arrogant smirk plastered on his face, his arms crossed as he stood chest to chest with Mattheo. A dangerous combination, considering that Mattheo's bad temper could handle only this much and Aaron's instincts for his own life weren't working like they should. This situation screamed trouble.

"You really think you're something special, don't you, Riddle?" Aaron sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "Just because of your name, you think you can walk around like you own the place."

Mattheo's eyes narrowed into a glare. If one looked deeply into his eyes, they would be able to see the dark storm brewing in their depths. "You don't know what you're talking about, Banks. Why don't you keep your mouth shut before you say something you'll regret?"

A mocking laugh escaped the other boy's throat, the sound harsh. "Oh, I think everyone knows exactly what I'm talking about. A Riddle will always be a Riddle. Trying to pretend you're better than the rest of us won't change that."

The crowd murmured among themselves, little jabs and comments about the two boys escaping from their lips. Bets were already in the making, money being thrown around like it meant nothing.

"Last warning, Banks. Walk away now," his jaw tightened, a muscle tickling in his cheek. He looked tense and if you looked close enough, you'd see his nails digging into the heel of his palm, trying to control his temper. He had promised to someone to do so.

"Or what? You'll run crying to daddy? Oh wait, you can't, can you?"

That was it. In an instant, all of the restraints Mattheo was trying to gain snapped away and he launched himself at Aaron Banks, who had a death wish in his eyes.

Mattheo's fist connected with Aaron's jaw in a bone-crushing punch. The audience could hear the sickening snap of a breaking bone and let out an empathic 'Oooh'. The boy's fate had already been written and no one would dare to stop the writer from his art work. They'd have a death wish as well. Aaron staggered back, more shocked than hurt at first, before he quickly recovered and his fists were flying toward another face.

The courtyard erupted into chaos of excitement and shouts of frustration as the two boys collided in a flurry of punches and shoves. Mattheo landed another hit to the boy's ribs, making him grunt in pain, which Aaron rewarded him with a swift uppercut that snapped Mattheo back.

Blood trickled from Mattheo's split lip, but he barely seemed to notice. With a snarl, he drove his shoulder to Aaron's chest, knocking them both to the ground. The two of them hit the floor hard and rolled across the cobblestones and grass.

"Fight! Fight!" some of the onlookers chanted, probably the ones who placed their money into a bet, their voices holding an edge of excitement as they watched the fight like muggleborns watched soccer matches on TV. Others tried calling for help, but their calls got lost in waves of noise.

Aaron managed to get on top, his fists raining down on Mattheo. A brutal punch on his cheek sent blood spraying on both his face and the ground beneath them, painting the green grass scarlet. With a burst of strength, Mattheo twisted around and reversed their positions, pinning Aaron beneath him. The Slytherin boy started landing a series of blows, each one hitting the blond harder and harder, with such a force it almost made his face look unrecognizable.

Aaron's nose finally cracked from the pressure Mattheo was punching with and blood gushed around his fingers as he tried to block the violence and shield his face. It didn't work.

"Had enough?"

"Stop! Both of you, stop this instant!" a voice boomed across the courtyard and the audience of students departed to make a way for the owner to walk through.

Professor McGonagall strode into the circle with her wand raised and eyes blazing with authority. The witch flickered her wand, and the boys were magically separated, levitating a few feet apart and struggling against the invisible force that held them. Mattheo was still seeping with rage, his eyes showing exactly what he wanted to do to the other boy.

"This is disgraceful!" her voice trembled with fury. "Both of you, to my office, now!"

Mattheo could see the few students that placed a bet on his behalf collecting galleons with a satisfied expressions on their faces.

The silence in Professor McGonagall's office was thick and oppressive, broken only by the ticking of an ancient clock on the wall. The room, usually a place quiet authority, now felt dangerous, like the eye of a storm. Mattheo Riddle and Aaron Banks stood before her desk, their faces bruised and swollen, their uniforms disheveled and splattered with blood.

Minerva McGonagall stood behind her desk, her expression a mask of controlled fury. Her eyes, sharp and unforgiving, darted between the two boys, assessing the damage and the simmering rage that still radiated from them.

"What, precisely, did you hope to achieve with this barbaric display?" McGonagall's voice was icy, each word clipped with disapproval. "Explain yourselves."

Aaron shifted uncomfortably, wiping at the blood still trickling from his nose before he spoke up first. "He started it, Professor," he muttered like a child, casting a resentful glance at Mattheo. "He couldn't handle a bit of teasing."

"A bit of teasing?" McGonagall's voice rose, incredulous. "You think this is acceptable behavior in response to teasing? Violence is never the answer, Mr. Banks. And you, Mr. Riddle, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Mattheo's jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on a point just above McGonagall's head. He refused to look at Aaron. "He insulted my family," he said quietly, but with a hard edge to his voice. "He went too far."

McGonagall's eyes softened, just a fraction, but her voice remained stern. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even herself, but the woman had a soft spot for the boy. "And you thought physical violence was the appropriate response? You are both old enough to know better. This kind of behavior is not tolerated at Hogwarts. We are a respected school, and such actions undermine everything we stand for."

She paused, letting her words sink in. The boys remained silent, their hostility now mingled with the sting of reprimand.

"What makes this even more disgraceful is that you're both members of Slytherin. Slytherin house values ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness. This situation not only reflects poorly on you but also on your house. You should be allies, supporting each other in your ambitions, not tearing each other down."

"You will both serve detention for the next month," McGonagall continued, her tone brooking no argument. "Every evening after classes, you will report to Mr. Filch. And you will write a letter of apology to each other. Not just a few lines, but a sincere apology. This kind of conduct must be addressed not just with punishment, but with understanding and reconciliation."

Aaron's face twisted in disgust, but he nodded. Mattheo, though still simmering with anger, gave a curt nod as well.

"Furthermore," McGonagall added, her eyes narrowing, "you will each receive fifty points deducted from your respective house. I hope this serves as a reminder of the consequences of your actions."

The silence that followed was heavy, both boys digesting the severity of their punishment. McGonagall's gaze softened slightly as she looked at them. "I understand that emotions can run high, especially with matters as personal as family. But you must learn to control yourselves, to find better ways to resolve conflicts. Violence only begets more violence."

The witch walked around her desk, standing closer to them. "You are both capable of better than this. I expect to see you prove that in the coming weeks."

With a final, stern look, she dismissed them. "You may go. Reflect on your actions and do better. Dismissed."

Mattheo and Aaron walked out of her office, the tension between them still palpable but now mingled with a grudging acknowledgment of the consequences they faced. The door closed behind them with a soft thud, leaving McGonagall in the quiet of her office, the ticking of the clock the only sound as she sighed, returning to her desk with the hope that the punishment would lead to some measure of understanding between the two boys.

Ignoring the sting of his split lip and the throbbing on his bruised jawline, Mattheo headed down the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, the destination clear in his mind. The logical choice would have been the infirmary, where Madam Pomfrey would undoubtedly patch him up with expert care, even if it meant hearing the scolding she'd have prepared. But Mattheo wanted something different - someone different. He needed to see you.

Mattheo wouldn't call himself desperate but he wasn't far from being just that if it involved you.

The Slytherin common room was quieter than usual, the murmur of hushed conversations about today's fight between their two housemates barely audible over the crackling fire. Mattheo slipped past the few students lounging on the green leather couches, their eyes following him with curiosity and whispers trailing after his steps. He ignored them like always, his focus solely on reaching your dormitory.

Reaching the door to the girls' dormitory, he hesitated for a moment, then knocked softly. His bloody knuckles rapped on the wood of the door, each tap sounding more quiet. What was the worst that could happen? The door creaked open to reveal you, your eyes widening as you took in his battered appearance.

"Mattheo, what happened to you?" you whispered urgently, taking in the bruises and cuts marring his face.

"I got into a bit of a disagreement," he said, downplaying the severity of the fight because he knows how much you worry about him. Which he doesn't deserve, he thinks silently.

Your eyes narrowed, a mix of concern and frustration flashing across your face at his behavior. Mattheo Riddle stood at the entrance of your dorm, bloodied and visibly in pain. "You should be in the infirmary," you exclaimed, the tone of your voice firm but gentle.

The dark haired Slytherin shook his head. "I'd rather you patched me up," he admitted, his tone softening. "Please."

Sighing, you stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. "Alright, come in," you immediately went to help him in, taking most of his weight with the way you slung his arm around your shoulders, closing the door quietly behind him. Your dormitory was cozy, the dim light from a few enchanted candles casting a warm glow over the room.

"Sit," you ordered, pointing to a bed that probably belonged to you. The giveaway was the single snake plush he gave you for Christmas in the third year. Mattheo obeyed with a pleasant feeling spreading across his chest, sinking into the bed with a groan as the adrenaline from the fight wore off, leaving him acutely aware of the pain coursing through his body like a lightning.

You rummaged through a small trunk at the foot of your bed, pulling out a vial of healing potion and some clean cloths. Dipping a cloth in the potion and gently dabbing at the cut on his lip, your touch was both tender and precise as your palm met the side of his face that wasn't hurt that badly.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" you muttered quietly, not meeting his eyes.

"I've been told," he replied with a smirk, though it quickly faded into a wince. "But Banks had it coming."

"Even so, you need to control your temper," your fingers working deftly to clean the blood from his face. "You're better than this."

Mattheo's lips stretched into a grin despite the pain, causing you to wince at the new blood that started to ooze out of a cut on his bottom lip. Without another word, you took his jaw into your hand and angled his face so you could examine and attend to his injuries better. Your thumb brushed against the forming bruise in a comforting manner as your eyes locked. Your irises, a shade of [colour], met the brown of his ones. The dim lighting of the lamp cast a glow on your face and Mattheo could see the highlighted concern etched into your brows.

You have never looked so beautiful in his eyes. He felt a warmth spread through him, the sight of you dulled the pain more effectively than any potion could.

"There," you said finally, stepping back to examine your work. "That should hold you until you can see Pomfrey."

His hand, almost of its own accord, moved to the small of your back to keep you close to him. The warmth of your skin under his fingertips was electrifying, the soft fabric of your shirt having ridden up slightly. Mattheo caressed the bare skin there, his touch both gentle and hesitant, as if afraid to break the spell between you. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, your eyes widening just a fraction, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you leaned into his touch, your own hands resting lightly on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

He could be tough and rough around the edges, but he found himself melting in your presence.

The proximity was intoxicating. Mattheo could see the faint freckles across your nose, the way your eyelashes cast delicate shadows on your cheeks. He could feel your warmth seeping into him, a contrast to the cold reality of the world that brewed outside this moment. The world was dark out there, but he felt safe in your arms.

"[Name]," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed, even in your presence. Your name felt like a plea, a confession, and a promise all at once.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering down to his lips for just a moment before meeting his eyes again. The tension between you was palpable, a taut string that could snap at any moment. His thumb traced small circles on your back, the simple motion sending shivers down your spine as he gazed up at you with those big brown eyes of his, his breath intertwining with yours. Mere inches kept you apart and he looked at you as if you've hung the moon on the dark sky and brought the stars with your heavenly beauty.

"Mattheo," you whispered back, voice trembling slightly. The sound of his name on your lips sent a jolt of desire through him, making it even harder to think clearly. Although, he couldn't think straight already.

Your breaths mingled in the small space that separated you, and Mattheo felt a pull, an almost irresistible urge to close the distance, to bridge the gap that had always seemed so close yet so far away. And so he did.

His hands, resting on the small of your back, pressed into you, urging you even nearer until you stood flushed between his legs.

Your hands, previously light on his chest, tightened their grip as you felt the heat radiating from his body. Your fingers trailed up to his face, where you angled his head slightly, silently urging him to meet your lips. Mattheo obliged, his heart pounding in both nervousness and excitement. Lord knows how long he wanted to do this.

With a surge of courage, Mattheo closed the remaining distance, capturing your lips in a tender yet passionate kiss. It was like a spark igniting between you, a rush of emotions and longing finally being released. The kiss deepened, fueled by years of unspoken feelings and the intensity of the moment.

Mattheo's hands, now fully embracing you, held you close as if afraid you might slip away once he let go. You responded in kind, fingers tangling in his dark curl, anchoring him to you as he touched you nothing but love and passion.

Time seemed to stand still as you kissed, the world around you fading into insignificance. In that moment, there was only Mattheo and you, nothing mattered anymore. Not any stupid fight. Not any family problems. Just you two.

For in each other's arms, you had found love, love that would carry you through the darkest of times and cherish the brightest of eternity.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified.

[candycandy00]

The Maiden’s Voyage - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 3

You’re a passenger on a ship attacked by pirates. The pirate captain Sukuna chooses you to be his entertainment for the voyage.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Sukuna as a Pirate Captain. Noncon/Rape! Very rough sex! Bondage. Violence. Blood. Spanking (with belt). Sukuna is a cruel, sadistic monster here! You’ve been warned!

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! There will be multiple parts because I got really attached to this idea and it was getting too long. Any feedback, comments, reblogs, etc. will make my day sunny and bright! 💖 Dividers by @benkeibear!

Pure, unbridled terror overwhelms you as Captain Sukuna drags you back into his quarters and slams the door shut behind him. He’s angry, you can feel it even though he’s still wearing his regular, smug expression. The fact that he’s not outwardly showing his rage is somehow even scarier. 

“Sukuna, I’m sorry! I-“

He suddenly rips the dress over your head, cutting off your pleading voice. You’ve been naked in this room many times, but you’ve never felt more vulnerable. You curl in on yourself, wrapping your arms around your body as you shrink away from him. 

“Do you know what I usually do to women who try to escape?” he asks, stepping closer to you. 

You shake your head, tears pouring down your face. 

He grins. “I use a hammer to break their ankles. Then I force them to dance for me.”

You look him in the eyes. “Is that what you’re going to do to me?”

He stares at you, and for a brief moment, the smirk disappears, and an unreadable expression replaces it. But it only lasts a moment before he grins again. “No. I don’t want to hinder your ability to get on your knees for me. You suck my cock so well after all.”

Sukuna puts his hand on your face, wiping your tears gently. “But I have to punish you. You understand that, right? So I’m going over options in my mind.” His hand moves, his thumb brushing over your lips. “I could break your fingers one by one. Watching you try to jack me off with your little mangled fingers might be exciting. Or I could dig one those pretty eyes out of its socket and keep it as a souvenir.”

You flinch as his fingers come dangerously close to one of your eyes. Both his hands are on you now, pulling your arms away from your body. “Of course the easiest way would be to hand you over to my crew for the night, let them take turns fucking all your holes.”

All you can do is look up at him with teary eyes, the occasional shudder or hiccup shaking your body. 

“But I don’t like sharing my toys,” he says, one hand moving to your hair while the other slides down to lightly grope your breast. He jerks your head back by your hair, then kisses you roughly. When he pulls away, he says in that smooth voice of his, “Thirty lashes. With my belt.”

“What?” you ask, not sure you heard him right. 

“That’s the punishment I decided on. I’ll give you thirty lashes. That’s the standard on this ship, though we use a whip on the men. I’ll be extremely lenient with you and use my belt.”

You blink away your tears. Being whipped with a belt will surely be painful and humiliating, but it’s far better than broken bones or gouged out eyes. “Why?” you find yourself asking him. “Why be lenient with me?”

He pulls you closer, your body flush against his. “Because I don’t want to completely break you just yet. You’re so delicate,” he says, his large hands moving over your nude, trembling body, “the slightest little thing could crush you. I’m not done playing with you yet.”

You shudder under his touch, his fingers ghosting over your bruises. The room isn’t cold, but you feel an inexplicable chill. 

“Now get on the bed, on your hands and knees,” he commands. 

You do as you’re told, not wanting to anger him any further. When you’re on the bed, facing his headboard, you suddenly feel shaky on his firm mattress. “L-like this?” you ask. 

“Raise your ass higher,” he says, “and spread your knees.” 

You glance back at him in time to see him pulling his shirt off, those mesmerizing tattoos moving with his taut muscles as he unbuckles his thick leather belt. 

He’s seen every inch of you so many times by now, but somehow you feel more embarrassed than usual as you follow his orders. You move your knees far apart and lean slightly forward so that your ass lifts higher than the rest of you. In this position, your pussy is totally exposed. You bury your face in his sheets, mortified. 

“Keep your face up,” he says, stepping closer and wrapping one end of his belt around his fist. “I want to enjoy the expressions you make.”

You look over your shoulder at him as he stands behind you. “Monster,” you mutter under your breath. 

“What was that?” 

“N-nothing!”

He grins, his red eyes seeming to glow menacingly. “I’ll show you a monster.” 

Then, he swings the belt down, hitting it right across both your ass cheeks with enough force to knock your body forward a few inches on the bed. Fresh tears fill your eyes at the pain. You didn’t think it would hurt this much! 

Whack! 

The second hit is somehow worse than the first, and you choke back a sob. You’re supposed to endure thirty of these?!

Whack!

You clamp your hand over your mouth to avoid screaming. In your mind, you’re repeating a mantra: it’s better than broken bones! It’s better than broken bones! 

Whack!

This one hit directly where a previous strike had, and it occurs to you that there’s only so much space on your ass. Meaning most of the hits are going to be on already damaged flesh. 

Whack! 

You whimper, finally letting pitiful cries escape you. 

Sukuna pauses, stepping around to the side to look at your face. “Don’t tell me you’re breaking already,” he says in a mocking tone. 

“It hurts!” you cry, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you. 

Suddenly you feel his hand on your sore ass. He squeezes it, making you yelp. “It’s supposed to hurt,” he tells you. “This is a punishment, remember? Though I’m not sure your slutty body understands that.”

You look back at him. “What?”

He’s behind you again, staring between your quivering legs. “You’re a mess back here, dripping all over my bed. It’s running down your thighs.”

No way. That can’t be true! You’re not enjoying this! But now that he’s mentioned it, you can feel the wetness there, the fluid sliding down your skin. More humiliated than ever, you try to hide your face again. That’s when his hand slides down, his fingers slipping inside your soaked pussy. 

You gasp, your body jerking. Your first instinct is to try to crawl away, but his fingers feel so good! They’re stroking you just right, and the pleasure is such a sweet distraction from the pain. You let out a weak moan, and you hear Sukuna laugh. 

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you? You’re clenching around my fingers.”

“No!” you cry, you legs growing wobbly from the pleasure. “It just… it just…”

His thumb glides over your clit. “It just what?”

“It just feels good!” you scream, on the verge of climax. 

He moves his hand away, and you whine at the loss. “I’m not letting you cum,” he says, and he brings the belt down again. This time the rough leather collides with your sensitive pussy, and the sting of it makes your vision go white. You cry out, but Sukuna is merciless, giving you five more lashings in the same spot, reducing you to a sobbing mess. 

“Now you’ve got my belt sticky,” he says, holding it up. You can see parts of it glistening with your juices. 

“Please, I don’t think I can take anymore!”

He moves to the side again, this time putting a hand on top of your head, rubbing your hair. “You can, and you will. And when it’s over, I’ll reward you. I’ll make you cum until you lose your mind, then I’ll fuck this needy little cunt until you can’t walk.”

*********************

Sukuna loves the look on her face, the mixture of arousal and pain. He’s already so hard he could burst out of his pants, and watching her drenched pussy twitch and leak is making it very difficult for him. But he’s strong enough to hold back until her punishment is over. 

He continues the lashings, enjoying the sight of the red stripes appearing on her soft skin. Droplets of blood bead along some of the lines, and she makes the sweetest whimpers and sobs. She’s shaking, the sheets balled into her small fists, her lovely face wet with tears. He has to start talking to keep himself from cumming at the mere sight of her. 

“Why did you wait so long to try escaping?” he asks her. “I was just about to give up and go back to my cabin. Were you afraid of getting caught? Or… something else?”

Her voice is so small when she answers, “Something… else…” between strikes. 

“Oh?” Has she broken down to the point that she can’t think to lie? “And what would that be?”

She doesn’t answer, so he gives her a particularly hard strike, and she cries out, dropping her head onto the mattress. He gives her a moment to catch her breath. When she raises her head again, she looks back at him. Her pretty face looks so embarrassed! It’s delicious! 

“I just… had trouble walking out the door,” she finally says. “I don’t know why!”

His hand moves to her wet, quivering pussy again, rubbing it gently. She flinches, probably because of the lines etched into the delicate skin by his belt. “I see. Your body is growing addicted to the pleasure I give you.”

As if to emphasize his point, his fingers stroke her clit, making her moan. 

If Sukuna were honest with himself, he’d admit that he’s also becoming addicted to her body, to the way it responds to his touch, to the way she feels wrapped tightly around his cock. 

To the way she looks at him and says his name. 

There’s only a few lashings left, and bizarrely, Sukuna is eager to finish them. Is it because he wants to fuck her as soon as possible? Or because he’d rather hear her moan than sob? 

He’s being very lenient with her already. He didn’t lie when he told her he usually broke the ankles of those who attempted escape. And he did actually consider doing it to her. But when he looked into her terrified eyes, he just couldn’t bear the thought of maiming her. 

It’s strange. He finds the pain of others arousing, especially that of beautiful women. And he certainly enjoys hurting this lovely maiden. But he doesn’t think he could enjoy seriously injuring her. 

“Last one,” he announces as he swings the belt down a final time. Her body jolts from the impact, but she holds back any sound. Her shoulders are shaking, and he feels the inexplicable urge to pull her into his arms and hold her. But he doesn’t. 

“I believe I promised you a reward.”

She looks back at him sharply as his fingers begin caressing her sore, striped body. “Wait, please, I can’t-“

He finds her clit, rubbing it gently, and her words become a moan. Perhaps as a reflex, her body presses back, toward his hand. He looks over the red lines covering her flesh, admiring the way they criss-cross to make beautiful patterns. He traces them with his other hand, then begins lightly kissing them. 

She shudders, sighing softly. The small droplets of her blood cling to his lips, and he licks them clean. Every part of her tastes so sweet. Speaking of which…. 

“Ahhh!” she cries out when she feels his mouth on her dripping pussy, his tongue invading her folds to lap at her swollen clit. He wants to bite her, but remembers this is a reward, so he licks gently until her whole body trembles and she nearly collapses. She cries through her orgasm, overwhelmed by sensation. 

He continues licking her, his fingers sliding in and out of her. Totally exhausted, her arms give way, and her top half falls limply on the mattress, her ass still slightly elevated and her thighs still spread. It’s such a vulnerable position, it’s almost pitiful. But how can Sukuna resist such a feast laid out before him? 

He makes her cum twice more with his mouth, leaving her weeping and pleading for him to stop. She’s overstimulated, sore, and probably getting emotional. That much is obvious. But Sukuna hasn’t had his fun yet, so he opens his pants and pulls out his rock hard cock, then shoves it into her tender, drooling pussy. 

She cries out in sheer desperation, her body practically a rag doll at this point. He firmly grips her waist and pulls it back toward him at the same time as he thrusts into her, allowing him to penetrate even deeper than ever. He thought she’d lost all strength, unable to move, but she’s clenching him so tightly that he has to think of the smelliest, grossest member of his crew for a moment to try to calm himself down. 

He slams into her, over and over, while she lies there with her tear streaked face smashed against the sheets. Poor little thing. She doesn’t even realize her night is just getting started. 

******************

The next few days go by in a blur. You spend all your time in Sukuna’s quarters. If he’s in the room, he’s usually fucking you, or he’s looking over maps at his desk while you suck him off underneath it. 

When you’re alone, you sleep. Once a day you bathe in his private washroom. So far he’s given you no restrictions on how often you can use the bathroom or what you can eat. From what you can tell, you eat the same things he does. 

One day you realize with a start that you’re looking forward to him returning to his room, looking forward to seeing his face. You can’t understand why. You’ve come to crave his touch, even though he’s rough and often hurts you. Because sometimes, his touch brings you so much pleasure that you think you might die. 

“We’re stopping at a small port today,” he tells you out of the blue. “Just to load up on supplies. You’ll be staying in my quarters of course.”

You nod, having no desire to risk another escape attempt. You got off easy last time. If it happens again, he’ll surely do something terrible to you. 

Sukuna leaves, and you spend the day waiting for his return. When he comes back hours later, he reaches you something wrapped in brown paper. “What is this?” you ask him. 

“A present. Something that suits you more.”

You can’t imagine what it could be, but you sit on the bed and carefully open the package. Inside, you find a beautiful dress made of red velvet with white lace trim. You hold it up, marveling at its luster. “This is for me?”

He’s grinning as he watches you. “Try it on. I think I guessed your measurements well.”

You hurriedly pull off the tattered dress you’ve been wearing, barely feeling any embarrassment at all at this point. Then you pull on the new dress. It fits you perfectly, and feels luxurious. You rush over to the mirror in the corner of the room and look at your reflection. You’re bruised and your hair is a mess, but the dress looks lovely on you. 

“It doesn’t compare to your beauty, but it’s better than the rag you were wearing,” he says. 

You feel heat flood your face. You don’t know how to react when he says something like that. “Thank you for the dress. I love it.”

“Good,” he says. “I’ll try not to rip it off you.”

Two days later, Sukuna invites you to join him on the deck. There’s no celebration this time, but the sun is setting over the water, and he pulls you close to him as the two of you watch. 

It’s a quiet, peaceful moment, and you almost begin to relax for the first time in days. But then you hear a strained voice say, “Sukuna!”

Both you and the captain turn around to find a man standing a few feet away. He’s clutching a shiny silver dagger in both hands as he stares at the two of you. Sukuna looks at him for a moment then says, “You’re not a member of my crew. Who are you?”

The man has rage in his eyes as he says, “My fiancé was on a ship you raided a month ago. You bastards murdered her and left her body ripped open on the deck! Now I’m going  to kill your woman!”

Everything happens so fast. The man lunges at you, pointing the blade right at your chest. You scream and try to put your hands up in a defensive manner. And at the last second, Sukuna moves in front of you, his tall body creating a shield. You hear the terrible sound of a blade stabbing into flesh, and blood splatters across the wooden deck as you cry out Sukuna’s name. 

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

can I possibly ask for a Lucifer x gn!reader drabble where it’s super fluffy and cuddly?

Like maybe they just woke up from Lucifer’s alarm and he turns it off and instead of getting up to start his work as king of hell he turns back over and just hugs y/n closer to him and she tries to tell him that he has to get up then fails

I’m bad at requests (this is my first one 🤧) but I hope that’s a good amount of information :))

A/N — I LOVE THIS IDEA. It's so sweet 😭💖 sorry it's so short, I hope it's good regardless!

As always, my requests are open and since as of 5/22/24, I reached 50 followers, I will be doing a writing spree for Hazbin and Helluva requests. Refer to this post for more information (if you're interested). I've since reached 55 fantastic followers! <3

Mornings In | Lucifer x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, procrastination (guilty!)

Word Count: 346

Summary: With your partner being the literal King of Hell, he had duties he had to attend to. That didn't mean he wanted to, especially when the bed was so warm and you were right there.

Peaceful quiet.

It was unheard of in a realm like Hell.

The only sounds in the room were two different breathing patterns and the occasional rustling of the sheets as one of you adjusted in the temporarily unconscious state. 

Even in sleep, you could smell Lucifer's sweet scent that enveloped you like a warm hug, influencing your dreams of a future filled with nothing but love. 

Though soon enough, the peaceful quiet was interrupted violently by the sound of Lucifer's alarm going off. 

Between the sound of ducks mixed with a circus song, you were quick to wake up. 

Before you could pull yourself from the warmth of the shared bed to start on your morning routine, the alarm stopped abruptly and you felt Lucifer's arms wrap around you, pulling you into him with his head resting atop yours. 

“Luci, Honey, you have to get up.” You said into his chest, sighing contently at the feeling of his arms tightening around you. 

“No.” He whined, burying his face in your hair. “Don't wanna.” 

You laugh lightly and kiss his shoulder. “You're the King of Hell, and as much as I would love to lay in bed with you all morning, you have a realm to rule. There's that meeting with Asmodeus—”

“Mentally canceled. Now hush and cuddle me, dammit.” 

You laid in silence for a solid minute before thinking of what to say next. He was being stubborn, but you love that about him. 

Defeated, you nestled into his hold, wrapping your arms around him in return. 

“What about the other meetings?” You whispered, listening to his heartbeat. 

“I'll reschedule. ‘M spending the day with my love.” He pulled you closer, as if it were possible, and wrapped his wings around you to act as an even softer blanket. 

You hummed in reply, unable to form words as tiredness overcame you once more. 

Just before you fell back asleep in your lover's arms, you caught the words he whispered into the silence: “I love you.”

And you knew that you loved him too. More than anything. 

[v1x3n]