#and even then it's still on the upper range

[uchispeach]

Sycamore Tree (Ch. 2)

Pairing: Dark! Rafe Cameron x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Mention of violence & guns, implied stalking, non consensual touching, obsessive behavior, manipulative! Rafe…

This fic will contain dark content: such as dub-con/ non-con and violence. You have been warned.

12 missed calls. 10 from Jennifer and 2 from an unknown number. That’s what you’ve woken up to.

You sighed while rubbing your face. You were about to get up, leaving the comfort of your silky sheets just as your phone rang. “Hi” You spoke softly. “Thank God you answered!” A high pitched voice received your ears with no previous warning.

“I’m sorry Jen, I just checked my pho-” The dark haired girl was quick to interrupt you, adrenaline bubbling through her veins: “Did they arrest JJ?” The question took you by surprise “Why would they?” A frown decorated your face.

“Because he tried to shoot Topper?” Your upper body lifted itself from the pillows. “Wait- he fired the gun?” You made the move to get out of your bed, coldness hitting the soles of your feet. “Girl, yes he did! It was a miracle he didn’t hit him” Just like an automatic response, you paced back and forth, each step bringing you more and more anxiety.

“Is Topper pressing charges?” Your fingers grew white while you held the mobile with excessive force. “That’s what Kelce told me.” That last sentence made you stop in your tracks, frozen in the same spot.

Hundreds of scenarios traveled your brain, the last worse than the previous. “Y/N!” You flinched, remembering you were in the middle of a conversation. “Jen, I have to talk to Kiara. I’ll call you later.” The words were honeyed, almost like a plea. Even in the worst circumstances, you still worried about sounding rude.

“Alright, I just wanted to know you were safe… Even Rafe was concerned” The mention of the older blond made you tune back a little. “Rafe Cameron?” You couldn’t help the surprise on your tone. “Yes! He even asked for your number.”

(…)

“There’s no way on Earth we are letting you visit that boy!” Your mom didn’t hesitate in raising her voice, all in hopes of reaching your sister’s common sense.

“I already told you, we weren’t even on the same side of the island when it happened!” Kiara was relentless, stubborn with the idea of checking on her friends after yesterday’s rough night.

A lie or two had been told to your parents, something about assisting a small Kook reunion and religiously staying away from any messy party.

“I don’t care about that, you are not leaving this house on your own!” She waved her hands in annoyance. Desperation leaking through her words. “Then-” Your sister was cut short: “And you are not getting your phone back!”

Kiara took some steps back, rage exuding from her body as she stomped her way to her bedroom.

Flushed and tense, your mother made the move to follow behind. Starting with big strides and frustrated huffs.

You didn’t hesitate to step in as soon as she reached the white door. “Mom, I’ll talk to her…Don't stress about it” You basically begged, putting your palms on her tense shoulders as a comforting gesture.

The older woman just sighed, lifting her arms in defeat before turning around.

You waited a few minutes before turning the handle. Your sweaty hands held the metal piece with unnecessary force. Sobs were the first thing you heard, coming from the wobbling mouth of the brunette.

Step by step, you got closer to her sitting body. Your pace was hesitant, still, you made it to the bed. You felt the mattress weighing down as you positioned yourself by her side.

In a natural response, your soft arms wrapped around her. Skin to the raspy fabric of her blouse. “This is all Sarah’s fault” You backed up a little at the sound of her voice, afraid of possible harsh words being spat your way.

Surprised at the blond’s mention, you pulled her right back in, caressing her back with your warm palm. “What do you mean?” Your voice was quiet like a whisper. “Topper caught her and John B…” She raised her head, to look straight at you.

“…getting cozy.” She let out a bitter snicker while a sour look invaded her features. “And just like that, John B was being drowned by that pretentious Kook…We just saw how his life was slipping away. All for a stupid girl.” You struggled to swallow, a big knot already forming in your throat.

“Y/N” She squeezed your hand while her eyes pleaded at you. “JJ was just trying to save him.” A dreadful feeling leaked into your heart, ignoring it, you wholeheartedly said: “Everything’s going to be okay” You rubbed Kiara’s back as the optimistic words left your lips.

And as her teary face buried in your chest, you couldn’t help but think the worst.

(…)

“Please tell me you’re safe” You breathed frantically on the phone’s speaker. “We are for now…No idea what will go down after the police are involved.” You shrugged, Pope’s voice echoing in your ears.

You recognized the fear behind his words. A situation like this was putting his future at risk. “I’m sure they’ll understand JJ’s reasoning…At the end, nobody was hurt!” You voiced out at a rushed pace.

Silence was your answer for some excruciating seconds. “Is Kiara available?” It was clear he preferred to ignore your intended reassurance. “Is not that I don’t want to speak with you…I actually feel a bit better after hearing your voice.” It was almost like he read your mind, just as a childhood friend would do.

“…It’s just-JJ is going crazy without the capability to contact her.” You understood, quietly sneaking out of your room and into the hallway. “I get it. I’ll get her on the phone…Just wait” You focused on avoiding any encounter with your parents.

“Oh and Y/N” His tone was quieter than usual, almost as if it carried some shame to it. “I want you to know I tried my best to de-escalate things…they just got too ugly.” A frown appeared on your brows as you spoke in reassurance: “I know Pope. You have absolutely no blame in this!” You were as loud as you could, showing your honesty.

“Now, don’t beat yourself up. We’ll find a way to sort this out!”

(…)

“Your phone rang like crazy” Your sister handed you the device. With your hands full of unoccupied bags you stared confusedly at her. “Who was it?” Your legs made their way to the porch.

“A random number…I didn’t answer though” She shrugged her shoulders while realization made your nervousness spike. “Oh, probably just spam.” And as hard as you tried to find a hint of suspicion on the brunette’s posture, she simply looked defeated.

“Hey! When I get back I’ll make you something nice for dinner” Your hand caressed her tanned shoulder as a last sign of support.

On your way to the gate, you couldn’t help but stare at the growing number of missed calls. Still, you decided to ignore them and continue your walk to the store.

(…)

The bags felt heavier under the burning afternoon sun, but the summer breeze made the situation a bit better.

Having your sundress lifted up softly by a wave of air made you walk faster to the safety of your home. Too distracted by the possibility of your full bags breaking and making a big mess, you didn’t notice yourself walking straight onto a hard surface.

Your chest crashed onto what you recognized to be another person's torso. A loud gasp was all you could mutter while apologetically staring into the “stranger’s” eyes.

“Rafe” Your voice sounded almost like a squeak of a caught mouse. The Cameron boy stood proudly in front of you, reverse cap, characteristic polo shirt and navy shorts on. He wasn’t late to comment on your clumsy act: “You should really watch we’re you’re going, Y/N.” And as those words left his pink lips, a small smirk started decorating his face.

In contrast, your features morphed into an embarrassed look. “I am so sorry” You emphasized the ‘so’ with clear remorse, as to which the blond only smiled wider. “No worries! I’ve always known you can be a little distracted.” That made you relax a little.

“Let me help you with that.” He expressed while already having ripped off the bags from your smaller hands. “Don’t bother-” he didn’t let you finish. “You know…” His factions grew serious. “…I’ve been trying to contact you.”

Your palms unconsciously got sweaty as you saw him lightly tilting his head to the side, and you noticed how his tall figure blocked the light from the sky, making him look a tad more imposing.

“Oh! How?” You smiled, taking the easy route. “You should really answer the phone.” It was an order, not an advice. “I…” Suddenly, you couldn’t find your communication skills anywhere.

“I was concerned about you.” He took a step closer, making you feel like there was not enough oxygen for both of you (even though you were outside).

“Well” You gulped heavily, before taking a deep, silent breath. “I am not the one who is in trouble.” You couldn’t be anything but truthful, and against all odds, you felt a strong trust for the Cameron boy.

“My house is a crazy place right now, and Kiara is the one suffering the most” You just continued to spill in the almost empty parking lot. “I imagine, why don’t you let me drive you home?” Again, the question stayed as a formality as he got your groceries on the back of his truck.

“Just if you want to.” That made him turn to face you, a wolfish grin showing a hint of his pearly white teeth. “Of course I want to, I’ll be damned if I don't.” You didn’t know if it was his words or the heat of the sunny day, but you felt the warmth reaching your cheeks.

And your flustered state only grew deeper as he put his big hand on your lower back, helping you enter his luxurious vehicle.

Your breath got stuck in your throat as his arm rubbed against your chest and abdomen; only brought back by the ‘click’ sound of the seat belt.

“Safety first” His tongue had a charming tone while still having his upper extremities resting on your skin. You only nodded in agreement, too enticed by his proximity; and when he pulled back, you couldn’t help but feel a bit conflicted.

The blond got on the driver’s seat, confidently turning on the truck and maneuvering the steering wheel with his long fingers. “So, how have you been holding up?” Genuine interest lingered in his question. “I’m…scared. I don’t want my friends going to jail.” You stopped, taking in some fresh air “I know bad decisions were taken, but still…”

“I don’t think you should be around that type of people…” You frowned, and he continued “…volatile people, who put everyone around them at risk. You deserve better than all the stress that comes with it.” You saw him pull his eyes away from the street just to stare deeply at you.

You didn’t know what it was, if his intense gaze, the lack of sleep or a wave of sensitivity thrown your way by the universe; but tears started forming on your eyes and your lip started wobbling, making the young man look at you with sympathy written all over his face. “See? Pogues bring nothing but problems” His hand reached out to pull back a strand of hair that was blocking your face.

“I know…I know they weren’t exactly right for acting that way but-but” You stumbled upon your words, a small sob interrupting your sentence. Rafe’s attention was back on the road but he still looked at you through the corner of his eyes.

“It’s alright…” The palm on your upper thigh took you by surprise; he caressed it confidently, making the hem of your skirt rise a little. “…Maybe we could find a way to…fix things.”

You blinked in uncertainty. “But how?” Even with his head facing upfront, you could still see the playful look on his face. “I know Topper can get a tad too emotional…he just needs a little guiding here and there.” The more he spoke, the more you understood what he meant.

“Would you do that for me?” Your eyes sparkled in hope, hope that kept you from unnerving as his hand traveled further up your leg. “I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?”

“Thank you” Your voice sounded almost like a whisper, produced by the slight dizziness forming on your brain.

“I’m not gonna lie, Y/N. I don’t understand why you’re so attached to them.” The sudden exasperation in his voice was subtle but not unnoticeable. His anger was accompanied by a harsh squeeze to your flesh.

The feeling of his fingertips burying into your skin made you breathe heavier.

The truck stopped without a warning, making you jump slightly. “Here we are!” He let go of you with a pat, cheerfully speaking.

“Thanks!” Was all you managed to let out. Your fingers made the move to open the door but you were stopped by his strong arms.

His warm breath hit your lips, and you stayed still as he undid the belt. “See you around?” He asked with a smile on his face.

“Sure!” You were quick to reply. Before jumping out of the vehicle and onto your front yard, you spoke: “And Rafe, thank you so much for offering your…help.”

“Of course” He nodded charmingly. You made your way inside the house, too shocked with the interaction to think about how he drove you home without the need of giving him the address.

A/N: I had salmonella, I got hospitalized for a few days, then, I was forced to stay at an internet-less town for a month; anyways, I hope I’ll be able to post next chapter in a few days 💕

[valiantphantomangel]

Stubborn.

A/n:sorry for the low amount of fics guys, I was on vacation and had no inspiration. Anyways here is my little brain rot fic.

"Y/N get back here!" Elijah sighed as he raced after you on the upper floor.

"No! I'm 400 years old 'lijah, I don't need to go to some stupid school because I know all of it already" you yell back as you dodge him.

"You still need to socialize at some point" he said as he looked at you.

"Ugh, you know how much I hate that" you grumble before shrieking as you sped around him from where he tried to grab you.

"How about this? You go to school and I won't tell anyone about your adorable little secret" Elijah said with a smirk.

"That's not even remotely fair!"

"deal or no deal?"

"No deal!"

"That's a pity" he sighed before speeding towards you and yeeting you onto the couch.

You let out a yelp as you were pinned down by the older vampire who had a smug ass smile on his lips.

Now since he was the one who turned you those many many years ago, he knew you the best out of all the siblings even though they all basically adopted you as a mikaelson, which meant that he also is the only one who knew your ultimate weakness.

Tickles.

"Elijah! I swear to goDHIHIHIHIHII" you yelled before going over to cackles as he immediately went for your armpits.

"I'm sorry I didn't quite catch that" he said with a grin as he had one hand on your hip and the other on your side. Squeezing and poking wherever he could reach.

"GHAHHAHAG YOU BASTARDHIHIHIHI" you screamed through the manic cackles as you trashed around.

"Your adorable" Elijah laughed before blowing a long raspberry on your tummy.

You shrieked with laughter, your own hands shooting out to squeeze his sides.

He let out a howl of laughter before glaring down at you "You shouldn't have done that".

He got off your waist and grabbed your feet, pulling off your fluffy socks and scribbled across you sole.

"PHAHHAHAHHAHHA" you threw your head back as your legs kicked around as best as you could.

After minutes of torture he finally let up "Well you don't have to go to school today".

"What?" You said through the remaining giggles.

"I don't need to tell our siblings that your devilishly ticklish, your adorable laugh told it all for me" he said with a smug smile before petting your head and walking away like nothing happened.

Your eyes widen as you shoot up "Elijah!"

His laugh rang through the house.

[queenerdloser]

i'm going to see an apartment i really really like on wednesday (it is SO BIG! right in the neighborhood i like best! outside building is beautiful, on a tree-lined street, hardwood floors, so many windows!!) but i like. am trying to keep myself from getting too attached ahead of time bc it's just like a littleeee too expensive and i really should be realistic and get something about 100-200 dollars cheaper. but i love it soooo much, i want it so bad lmao.

[flesh-fly]

I can never choose whether I prefer the innocent victim who is repulsed by my actions but trapped and helpless or the manipulative "victim" who wants me to kill them, and will tempt me and make me worse until I finally do.

[licorishh]

OH YEAH ALSO finally watched the FNAF movie with the coolest person on Earth, 11/10 movie, Mike looked ready to curl up into a fetal position on the floor and burst into tears at all moments, he is so me, would watch again

[edwinisms]

see I can’t accept charles’ comic background and socioeconomic status as canon for the show because if I did that would mean the whole group would be a bunch of rich kids and that’s a horrifying concept

[fingertipsmp3]

That last post just reminded me of something honestly mind-boggling that that friend did

[mieluscious]

who cares. xavier

ෆ pairings : xavier x female reader

ෆ genre : drabble, smut, pwp

ෆ miel's note : so guys. unfortunately there aren't many fics about love and deepspace at the moment but here i AM so come aboard! i don't intend to let you starve.

ෆ warnings : mdni. switch!xavier, switch!reader, established relationship, couch sex, some teasing, riding, rough sex, unprotected sex, reader feeds him with her mouth, xavier is a cutie and a monster at the same time . . . ໑ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

"w-wait im thirsty-" you threw your head back and moaned xavier's name as you bounced faster on his cock.

"w-what?" you raised your head at his words and his hand came to rest on your hips, trying to slow you down as he blindly reached for a bottle of water on the coffee table next to the sofa you were both on. "fuck. baby we are fucking right now-" you squealed loudly as he raised his hips to try and catch the bottle, which was further away than he thought but still, he couldn't reach it. you put your hands on his chest and moved your hips slower against his.

"i know but.." he raised his puppy dog eyes to you and you couldn't resist him any longer. he opened his mouth and a little whimper escaped from between his lips as you placed your hands on either side of his head on the sofa. his hands slid down your back to grab your ass, making you fuck yourself harder on his cock. "please.." your teeth caught your lip to keep yourself from screaming as you felt his cock hit your g-spot. you leaned forward a little bit more to grab the bottle, without taking your eyes off xavier.

he smiled between moans as you felt him tremble between your thighs at the sight of you licking the bottle cap erotically. your other hand, which was still on his chest, slid to his nipple, which you pinched with a grin. xavier arched his back against the sofa with a loud mewl, your heart melting as you watched his ears redden. you finally opened the bottle and brought it to your lips, while he took the opportunity to pinch your ass in return, almost knocking the bottle out of your hands. you crushed your pelvis against his and raised an eyebrow as his teeth caught his lip.

"say sorry baby." your thumb pressed again against his swollen bud, making him thrust his hips up.

"ahhh... i'm sorry.." you leaned in to kiss his forehead and little whimpers escaped from between his lips with each of his thrust as he watched you straighten up to put water in your mouth. you leaned over him again and placed the bottle back on the coffee table.

"open your mouth." he opened his mouth and your gaze dropped to his collarbones, which were visibly reddening. you put your forearms on either side of his head and your lips caught his, making him tremble beneath you as he timidly swallowed the water you finally gave him. a trickle of water escaped from between your lips and xavier arched his back, moaning prettily into your mouth as he felt the cool water running against his ear. when he had finished drinking all the liquid in your mouth, you licked his tongue before letting go of his lips and you pressed your forehead against his. "f-faster baby." you straightened your upper body a little and your fingers entwined his soft blond hair. he tilted his head to the side and kissed your forearm without taking his eyes off you.

"everything you want." he tilted his head back slightly with a cute whimper and your moans started echoing against his living room walls as he started to thrust his cock deeper into your dripping cunt. his hands moved up the small of your back before getting back to your ass, which he slapped hard, making you bounce even faster on his cock, fucking him back roughly. "f-fuck. you're so wet..n'tight-" one of xavier's hands slipped between your breasts to grasp your throat and you threw your head back as you cried out louder.

a streams of yes’s escaped from your glossy lips as the doorbell suddenly rang throughout the apartment. you tilted your face back towards xavier, who was moaning with his mouth wide open and his cheeks more than flushed. he didn't seem to have heard and you tried to warn him, but you mewled when his hand, which was on your ass, slipped onto your hips before putting his arm around them, and you started to rub your clit harder against his pelvis. he pressed his arm down on your waist, making you lean your ass back to let him fuck you rougher. your grip on his hair tightened and you fell on top of him as he struck you with a thrust that was stronger than the others, your delicious breasts pressed against his chest made him blush even more. you looked up at him and opened your mouth to try to speak again, but seeing your face so fucked made him even more excited, you flushed as you could hear the lewd squelching and skin slapping against skin noises getting louder.

"b-baby....ahhh.. d-door-" the doorbell rang again and xavier smiled between two moans.

"it's the delivery guy-" he slipped his hands under your thighs and pushed you more against him, arching your back. you could feel your wetness trickling down to his fingers. you also smiled and licked his chin before biting gently, making him whimpers.

"ahh- let's keep..fucking then."

© 𝙢𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙘𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 ! 𝙢𝙙𝙣𝙞 — 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭, 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘱𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. ☆⌒(>。<)

[thinkinonsense]

LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO✿

old!logan howlett x young fem!reader

cw: pure fluff, sad lonely old man, brief mention of possible sa, soft logan

wc: 500+

a/n: this is part two to my 'work song' one-shot. thinkin' about making a hozier mini-series for old logan. if anyone is interested...

part one here

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

Your old apartment building was close to the club downtown where Logan would drop customers off every weekend. Some nights on your walk home from work, you would pass him in the parking lot where he sat alone with a lit cigar in his mouth and waited until he needed to take people back home.

The handsome stranger always managed to catch your eye but the two of you never spoke; till the night in the alley.

It was later than usual, almost three am when a group of men approached you. They called after you, harassing you until they caged you in against the brick wall of the club. You couldn't even hear your cries for help over the loud music. When one of the men placed his hand on your hip, the sound of metal rang in your ears, and blood splattered across your upper body and abdomen.

The blood belonged to the man who touched you. His friends scattered and that's when you saw Logan standing there. His claws hid back into his hands as you ran into his arms.

"Are you alright?" He bent down to ask.

"Y-Yes, Thank you." Your voice trembled as you cried into his suit. Believe it or not, you had seen crazier things than a man with claws.

Logan was confused by your kindness. He has just killed a man in front of you; both of you are still covered in blood. You didn't even ask where he came from or how he knew you were in trouble. None of that mattered though, when you offered him into your apartment to clean him up.

"I um, I shouldn't" Logan hesitated in your doorway.

"Please, allow me to help." You begged with pouty lips and wide eyes that he couldn't say no. He waited on your couch while you grabbed a wet towel and bandages.

"You first." He said, taking the rag from your hands.

You nod then give him room to run the towel down your neck and collarbones. His huge hand lifts the bottom of your shirt to get the blood underneath. All you could do was watch him take care of you.

When he finished, you sat closer to him than he expected. The scars around his knuckles weren't pretty but you took your time cleaning off any dried blood, kissing each knuckle softly before wrapping them up.

"You're good at this," Logan muttered.

"My mother was a nurse." You smile at him.

Logan already thought you were beautiful but now he stared at you like you had just hung the moon with your own two hands.

You spoke the same secret language to each other, and neither of you questioned how he managed to pull you from the earth. Logan thought you deserved a real explanation though.

"I heard you behind the-"

"Shh..." You cut him off. "Doesn't matter."

In the close proximity, he could see the longing in your eyes and before he could stop himself, he leaned forward to kiss you. It was quick and innocent, more of a thank you Logan thought; but the second you tasted him, you couldn't stop.

He knew not to get attached. After tomorrow, you wouldn't want some old pathetic man like him. Logan had to savor this moment though.

"Stay." You whispered.

"I appreciate everything but I should get-"

"Please, I want you to stay."

And so he did.

The two of you lay on the couch and talked for hours. Logan kept telling himself that when you fell asleep, he would quietly leave. That was before you crawled on top of him and decided to rest there for the evening. You felt safe here with Logan. He looked down at you as you slept on top of him then down at his bandaged hands. For the first time in a long time, he felt cared for.

[deadghosy]

I didn't know we could request readers getting hurt. In that case can I request the hotels cast reaction to dogday reader getting the game dogday treatment as an exterminator cuts them in half. Like game dogday they're still alive but ouchy

TW: GORE AND BLOOD MENTIONS (not detailed but it’s there)

HAZBIN HOTEL X DOGDAY! READER

prompt: during the fight against the Angels, you let your guard down at the wrong moment…..

You used your 8ft frame and to slap and crush the angels as Angel dust shoots the angel from your shoulder as husk throw explosive dice and sharp spade cards around you three. It was a good them effort as you had his stomped out an Angel with your huge paw. You were helping the hotel defend against the angels as you never saw this actually coming.

You heard a whimper seeing one of the egg boiz be chased by an angel as you ran over and crushed the angel’s head in your paw that had angelic metal in it. The egg boi immediately cuddled up to you as you picked it up.

You must have been so worried that you didn’t noticed an angel behind you and the egg. But it was too late as the egg boi’s eyes widen seeing an exterminator behind the two of you.

You felt a stab in your abdomen as you looked down to see an angelic spear stab you. You felt blood trickle down your mouth as it burned inside of you.

A piercing scream rang out the battle field as you felt you lose the strength seeing blood pour out. Your friends perk up at that knowing scream of yours. Charlie looks down from the roof with her father to see what was going on. She gasped covering her mouth lookin at you. The angel takes the spear out of you as she slashes your body in half.

Your upper and lower body collided to the ground and blood spill from your mouth hearing foot steps and an evil laughter as you heard someone’s voice. “DONT WORRY! WE’RE COMING SUNNY!” It was all muffled due to the blood loss as you couldn’t hear who it even was.

Blood filled your nose, screams, the feeling of blood loss, and the sounds of bombs blowing up. It all rang in your ears as the last thing you see is the angel who cut you being shot. Before you passed out.

You wake up seeing the crew look down relieved but some had a disturbed face as you tried to move your “legs”…..

Your legs….wait….

You look down to see your bottom half to be gone only to se a bandaged half. Your eyes widen shaking as the white pupils of your eyes disappear. You sob painfully looking down as your dog ears over your face. Charlie covers her mouth seeing your sadness at the lost of your legs as she hugs you .

Angel and husk joins as well as the other as they all crowed you trying to show that they are here for you. You felt loved, but what will you do now…….

Months has passed and you are in a wheel chair. At the loss of your legs, it’s like you became a new person who doesn’t smile much but still grant a smile towards a friend who needs one. You have the slight scent of vanilla but mixed with blood due to the blood in your body at times. Your voice also had changed as the scream you let out ruined your normal vocal cord. So now you sound a little depressed.

But still Charlie helps you to walk with you using your arms. You got the hang of it quickly but you’re use to the wheelchair since it doesn’t take your energy away.

Angel helps you move around in your wheel chair as he makes joke with you as you smile or with either grumble jokingly at his dirty jokes.

Lucifer, he’s trying to find a way to heal you as he feels like he failed to protect you. One of his own people. Even his own friend that he felt like you were as you always was friendly to other and him.

Alastor lets you sleep in your wheel chair as he plays soft jazz in your room or if you want to listen to his radio broadcast

Husk still snuggles again you but not like a cat in your lap type snuggle. Nah he just lays down with you on the couch as you snore while he purrs.

Niffty decorated your wheel chair to your liking as she smiles seeing your grateful smile as she hugs your fluffy arm.

[miss-fanfictions]

Sundays at the Library

Part Two

Pairing] Spencer Reader x glasses wearing! shy! librarian! fem!Reader

Synopsis] Spencer talks to the sweet librarian at his new library and slowly Sundays become his favorite day of the week.

Warnings] Cursing, creepy guy, misunderstandings (but its cute I promise), written from Spencer's POV

Word Count] 8.9k

Author's Note] This is my first fic here! I'm planning on doing a few more parts to this, so this is only the beginning 🙃

The first time Spencer saw you, the encounter wasn’t anything special. 

If he wasn’t working, he was reading, and because he can read 20,000 thousand words per minute, he needed new books often. Not even his FBI salary could afford the amount of books he consumed in a month and his cozy apartment certainly couldn’t contain them all. Already his bookcases were spilling out onto nearby surfaces. So to quench his constant need for new books, Spencer borrowed books from the library. However, since the one near his apartment closed just a week ago, he had to find a new one. That led him to drive to the library ten minutes away. 

It was larger than the one down the street from his apartment—it had a full three floors. Beyond the double doors, he followed two velvet rope barriers onto the main floor of the library, wandering past a grand front desk to his left to where the room divided into two sections and the barriers ended. In the left section, beside the desk, there were a couple computers set up, as well as two printers and a side wall dedicated to DVDs. In the other section there were tables and chairs set up for quiet studying, as well as more comfortable lounges for reading. Behind those two sections started the book shelves, nearly ceiling high and organized via genre and then further alphabetized. When he ascended the staircase at the back of the main floor, he found the upper levels were fully dedicated to rows of shelving containing books, interspersed with a few tables and lounges for reading. 

 He spent approximately 45 minutes getting the layout of the library, as large as it was, and finding the books he wanted to read. Of course, he got a range of books. Two books on psychology, a mathematical textbook, and another two books based in the sciences. A bit of light reading, really, just to occupy his time at home during a busy caseload week. 

He balanced the heavy books awkwardly in his arms as he made his way to the front desk, practically dropping them onto the counter. His lips twisted up in embarrassment, glancing around to see if anyone was disturbed by the loud clatter. When his eyes turned back to the desk, they met the bespeckled ones of you, the librarian, seated behind the counter. They were wide behind the frames, doe-like and startled by the noise. He winced and stuttered out an apology.

Too often he embarrassed himself due to his clumsiness. Over the years, Spencer got a lot better at the shooting range, but he still couldn’t run a mile without tripping a few times, or be able to participate in sports, and he didn’t even want to think about his driving. JJ often compared the experience of being in his passenger seat to riding shotgun with her senile grandmother. No matter what he did, the awkwardness crept in and all he could do was apologize. He didn’t mean to startle the nice librarian who he would seeing every week for the foreseeable future. 

“It’s fine,” your voice was a gentle whisper, perfect for the quiet of the library. You closed the book on your lap and placed it out of sight under the counter, standing up to help him. That’s when he could take you in completely, with your long flowy skirt and oversized sweater. Perhaps a shy attempt to battle the chill running through the library, or maybe a purposeful effort to hide yourself away from prying eyes. He could tell—despite your attire—that you were his age or maybe a little younger. You lacked the wrinkles, grays, and even the weathered dullness associated with age. Your hair was done up messily, effortlessly, and his eyes tracked your chewed up fingernails as you tucked a few strands behind your ears, out of the way of your eyesight. 

He thought you were plain and shy. The soft pastels and neutrals that colored your clothes and the fact the garments covered you so entirely, made you blend into the background. Had he not needed to speak to you directly, he might not have noticed you tucked behind the desk, folded up in your chair with your nose deep in a book. 

“Can I check these out for you?” You asked him, and he almost missed it due to both his staring and your airy cadence. 

“Oh, uh, yes,” he said, then quickly added. “And a library card, please. I’m new to this library.”

“I’ll just need an ID then,” you held out your hand while he rummaged through his wallet for his state ID, and when he placed it into your palm he was careful not to touch your hand. It was less about you as a person as it was his disdain for germs. 

You went about clicking and typing at the computer to the side of the desk, face plain as if whatever you were doing you had done a thousand times. Your nimble fingers only stuttered when you glanced back at him, catching his eyes as he watched you before he darted them away from your face, caught. Quickly, you grabbed the mouse, clicking only three more times before handing back his ID. He was careful not to touch your hand or meet your eyes as he took it back. 

He didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with his staring, he had a habit of it, always trying to profile. But you were just a meek librarian, and there was no reason to take note of your behavior. You went about printing out a physical copy of his new library card, and he opened one of his books to occupy himself as you did so. 

When you turned back to him, you scanned a plastic card before offering it to him with a small smile. “Thank you,” he mumbled as you went about scanning the books on the counter with the same barcode reader. You were on the fourth book when your brows creased and you looked back up at him. 

“Are you studying?” You asked, the words sudden as if you couldn’t hold the thought off your lips. 

“No, this is just some light reading,” he answered politely, because it was. Though he forgot that was maybe not normal, because you giggled at his reply. 

The sound brought his eyes to your lips, the way they parted to let the breathy noise out. It was a unique giggle, though he supposed everyone’s is, but something about it suited you so completely. It was soft, and when he glanced around the library to see that no one else had heard it, he thought it was also just for him. There was no taunting, just joy that you emitted in the most delicate of sounds. If only he could understand what he did to extract it from you. 

“Right,” You said jokingly, and then he thought maybe you didn’t believe him, but he didn’t get a chance to assure you he was being truthful before you finished checking out the books. “Here you go, have a nice day, Spencer.”

He hesitated, thrown off by your use of his name, but cleared his throat and collected his books nonetheless. He thanked you and mumbled a brief goodbye as he did so, not looking back as he rushed out of the library. When he got to his car, he used a pack of disinfectant wipes on the books and set them up in his passenger seat, thoughts of the little librarian withering away to the casework waiting for him at work tomorrow.

—

He finished the books quickly, in only two days actually, but thankfully most of his time was taken up by his work. In his remaining free hours, he resorted to rereading a few books on his shelves. On Sunday, he collected his library books and drove the ten minutes back to his new library, exactly one week since his last visit. 

The inside was chilly and smelled like old paper and leather. There weren't many people he could see on the main floor, a few of what looked like college students spread out studying and some preteens huddled on the computers, whispering snarks and giggles. He walked up to the front desk, following the rug and the velvet rope barriers that led right to it from the entrance. This time he didn’t pass by the desk, but stopped at it to place down his books—quietly.

Your familiar framed eyes looked up at him, just as doe-like as surprise crossed them right before a smile took hold. Again, you closed the book in your lap, though this time Spencer caught a glimpse of its orange and yellow cover before you hid it from sight. He couldn’t make out the title. “Back so soon?”

It had been exactly a week since he’d seen you, and though he had not thought of you much since then, Spencer was incapable of forgetting a face. You looked just as you did last week—messy updo, baggy clothes, bare face. It seemed that was your natural state, or at least what you wore to work, but what Spencer wore to work was pretty much his normal wardrobe and he worked in the FBI, not a library.

“Yes, I need to return these books,” he told you, returning your smile with a quirk of his lips and placing his library card on top of the stack of books. 

When your eyes roamed back down from his to the five books, your brows furrowed. “Give up on studying then?” You asked, scanning the books back into the system. 

For a moment, Spencer was confused, then he recalled every word of your last interaction, and realized you still thought he checked the books out to study them, likely for some graduate classes, given his age. “No, I wasn’t studying them. I just needed a few books for casual reading after work.”

You paused once you turned to the computer, looking at him down your glasses. “Casual reading?” Your eyes went back between the thick books and his face, a smirk of disbelief growing. “You read all these books in a week?”

“Yes.” He shrugged. 

“For fun?” You had a skeptical eyebrow quirked.

“That’s what casual reading normally implies.” Spencer furrowed his brows at your line of questioning. Maybe most people wouldn’t read such topics simply for fun, but why would he lie about that? 

At that, you giggled again, a bird’s song, and resumed clicking at your computer. Your gentle laugh tickled something deep in his chest. Again, there was no malice or ill intent to it, not any that he could see behind your genuine eyes and smile. You simply thought he was a funny guy, and no one ever thought that of Spencer. He was too awkward, or too serious, or even too annoying to be fun. 

You took the stack of books in your arms, the pile reaching right up to your chin, and walked them to a cart behind you. When you turned back, you were still smiling sweetly at him. “Your light reading has been checked back in.” You slid his library card across the counter.

He plucked the card back off it with a thanks, tucking it into the pocket of his sweater vest. For a moment, he debated telling you about his PhDs, his eidetic memory, and maybe even his genius IQ because Spencer always felt the need to prove himself—to state facts—because he wasn’t the funny guy. He was very serious and all the things he was telling you weren’t just silly jokes. Then he worried he might wipe the smile right off your face, and he couldn’t let himself do that. So instead he gave you a stiff nod and continued into the library.

. . . Only to spin right back around, fist awkwardly pressed against his lips. “Oh, also, what is the maximum amount of books I could have checked out at once?”

You had just cracked the spine of your book again when you looked back up at him, a swirling look of confusion on your face. “Ten books, but you don’t have any out so I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

Spencer gave another nod, spinning back around on his heels and taking himself right up to the second floor of the library. He spent approximately 37 minutes collecting books from around the library, setting them aside at tables as he weaved through the rows of bookcases for the different genres. A wealth of knowledge in all areas was useful for his job, and also just for him personally. He found great pride in knowing many things, as annoying as others might find his incessant info-dumping. 

When he finished, he took a stack of books from the table and carried them down from the second floor, slowly stepping down the stairs and craning his neck around the stack to watch his steps. He could be uncoordinated at his best, so there was no need to tempt fate into sending him tumbling down the staircase by not paying attention. 

After successfully making it down, he took long strides to the main desk and set the stack down on the counter. Of course, you looked up at him again, however skipped surprise and jumped into an inviting smile. You closed your book and stood up, taking in the books he set in front of you. “Another five to check out then?”

“No, actually, I’ll be right back.” He turned away so fast he almost missed the way your smile faded and you leaned over the counter to watch him ascending the stairs again, spindly legs taking them two at a time.

He grabbed hold of the second tower of books, nearly dropping the top one in his haste to get back to you. After that he continued to take the stairs carefully even as he felt your eyes on him. Maybe especially because he felt your eyes on him, because if you watched him fall down the stairs he’d have to drive an additional ten minutes away to find another new library, because he certainly wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes anymore. 

Beside the first stack on the counter, he set the second, then placed his library card between them. “This is it, I promise.”

Again, you glanced between him and the books, eyes bugging behind their glass shelter. After a moment or so, as if you were making sure he was serious (he was), you began scanning his card and the books. Despite the larger quantity of books, you were slower as you ran the barcodes on the back, taking the time to read the titles and authors. 

“Are you a graduate student?” You asked, looking at a book on human genealogy. 

Spencer twiddled his thumbs. “No, I’m finished with school for now, but I might go back for another PhD in the future when I have more time,” he answered honestly, the words flowing out quickly, even though he wasn’t sure why he was telling you that. Only about two percent of the U.S. population has a PhD, and an even slimmer percent had more than one. So it was an unusual thing to say.

He thought you might laugh again, or even question him, but you simply hummed and moved onto the next book, chewing your lip. “I’m in a graduate program for poetry,” your voice was quiet, as required by the library environment, but more so than usual, like you seemed embarrassed to share that information. 

It made sense you were a graduate student working in a library while earning your MA in writing. He wondered if you had plans for your degree beyond getting a slight pay increase as a librarian. There was a career as an author, or maybe you wanted to be a teacher or a professor, he could see you doing that, standing in front of a class in your skirts and sweaters pointing at a chalkboard with a ruler, though that image was outdated. More likely you’d be in front of a white board or presenting from a projector. 

“That’s interesting. I find myself reading a lot of nonfiction recently—it helps more with my job, though I also just enjoy facts and statistics—but I’ll always have a special appreciation for fiction. I’m fond of poetry in particular because it’s created for multifaceted analysis,” even in his own whisper, the words were breathy and fast. He had to catch his tongue between his teeth when he caught your eyes trailing back up to him. “What do you plan on doing with your degree?”

“Write poetry hopefully,” the words came out in a gust of wind and your eyebrows quirked up, as if you didn’t believe even your own dream. “Maybe you can analyze it one day.” You finished scanning out the books, putting them back into two neat piles as you did. You went about clicking at your computer, making sure the books were grayed out in the system, avoiding his eyes.

So you did want to be a writer then. He could easily see that as well. Though he got the sense you didn’t believe your aspiration was attainable, and it likely wasn’t due to lack of skill. He told himself he wouldn’t profile you, but he did it practically subconsciously. Your lowered gaze, modest clothes, shy smile, and even chewed nails all pointed to a lack of confidence in yourself. He wasn’t sure why. You were pretty in your own right, and were clearly intelligent and hard working if your pursuit of a masters degree said anything. If you needed a little encouragement, the least he could do was give it to you.  “I look forward to it,” he said, and he was just as sincere as he always had been. 

It only seemed to increase your embarrassment, causing your face to shy further away from his gaze. “Thank you, Spencer.” Even if you couldn’t look at him, your tone was of genuine appreciation, and if he tilted his head just right, he could see the wisp of a smile on your face.

He nodded with a tight lipped smile, staring at you while he waited for the conversation to continue, only to realize you’d finished with his books and it was over. His hands stuttered to gather up the first heap of books, muttering about how he’d be back. However he only got a few paces when he heard you say his name again, feet stopping dead.

“Would you like me to help you carry these out?” You were already trying to get a hold on the books.

Quickly, he shook his head. “No,” the words came out abrupt and firm, louder than he’d ever spoken before in the library, and you flinched. 

“You shouldn’t be following anyone out of here to their cars. This library has a disturbing lack of cameras and an abduction, even in a public area, can happen in less than ten seconds. It’s safest for you to remain in the library and follow the good practice of having someone walk you to your car after your shifts.” Spencer felt obligated to warn you strictly, because your distinct quietness and sweetness made you the perfect prey for the killers he hunted daily. 

Though he almost regretted it as he watched the way your hands retreated from the books, crossing around yourself, and the gentle smile became forced. “Oh. I–I guess I’ll keep that in mind.”

Spencer nodded and hesitated, but didn’t linger much longer before exiting the library and heading back to his car. He was quick to toss the books into his car, your tangled smile stuck in his mind. Was it an odd thing to say? He was only trying to warn you, to keep you safe. But the look on your face, you didn’t seem at all grateful for the advice. Spencer took brisk strides back to the library entrance. You were standing there behind the front desk, arms still crossed, a distant look on your face. When you heard him approaching the counter taking in breath just a little faster from boardline jogging back, you barely spared him a glance. He scared you a bit, he realized, and he didn’t want to leave you like that. 

He paused beside his leftover books, wetting his lips.  “I didn’t mean to scare you with what I said before.” He finally caught your eyes and you seemed to hear him out. “I work in law enforcement, for the FBI actually, and all too often I see cases of nice girls like you who go missing just because you want to help people. Unfortunately it’s a pretty common ruse. So, I—I didn’t tell you all that to make you worry, but because I want you to be safe,” he admitted, and your face softened again, your hands falling back to the counter. It brought a smile to his own face to see you relax your guard again. “It’d also be awful if my librarian went missing. Who will check out the heap of books I keep bringing you?” 

You giggled, your lips pulling into a toothy smile. “It’d definitely suck, but I’d hope you’d put those FBI skills of yours into finding me.”

Spencer chuckled, ducking his head into his chest to quiet the sound as he pulled his books into his arms. “Of course I would, and I wouldn’t stop until I did.” He was good at his job, he never stopped until he found their victim, their unsub. 

You bowed your own head, hand holding your glasses to keep them from slipping down your nose. “Goodbye, Spencer.” You gave him a small wave with the other hand, ending the conversation with averted eyes, but he still noticed the growing color in your cheeks. 

He fumbled with his own wave under the stack of books, really just an outward flash of the fingers he could manage to peel away for a second, and he was glad you weren’t looking at him with how awkward it was. He turned on his heel, pink growing in his own cheeks, and exited the library again for the final time today. The gears in his head grinded the whole way to the car and continued as he grappled to get into it and wiped the books with disinfectant. 

You lingered in his mind longer than a librarian should have. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to warn you, to explain himself to you, or even comfort you. There was something about you, as meek and bashful as you were, that he found charming. Perhaps he saw himself in you, the insecurity. Or maybe it was how different you were from his job, where he was met with the most wicked minds and evil acts. You in comparison were the very image of innocence and life, in your pastel purples and yellows, lively eyes magnified behind glass, and your—your laugh. He liked your giggle. Even though he suspected at times it meant you didn’t fully believe him, he let you find him unserious, just so he could continue to hear that sweet sound tickle his ears in a way that scratched an itch inside him.

He was sitting in the parking lot staring out the windshield lost in his thoughts of you. When someone walked by, he found himself clearing his throat and finally putting his car in drive. You dissipated from his mind as he pulled out of the parking space because his Sunday at the library was over. 

—

It took five days for him to finish the ten books from the library. The team was in California from Tuesday through Thursday, but he took four books with him to read during his down time and while on the jet. He still ended up with spare time that he spent shopping with Penelope and babysitting Henry for JJ and Will’s date night. It was for this reason he was glad to be back in the library on Sunday.

Inside he was hit with the familiar crisp air and the vague smell of paper and coffee. The tables to the left had quite a few more students than usual, though there were not very many to start with previously. He wondered if a bout of exams were coming up. As Spencer neared the front desk, he could smell something else, a faint vanilla scent maybe.

You were there as always, standing this time, and almost leaning over the counter to see the door. You smiled when you saw him and he realized that you must be wearing perfume, because around you the vanilla air became thicker.

“Sunday at 11am. You're more reliable than my alarm clock,” you hummed cheekily.

Spencer set the books he held in his hands on the counter, his messenger bag following them up. “Having a routine is actually really good for you. It’s been proven to reduce anxiety and stress and also helps people to cope with certain mental illnesses,” he told you, pulling the rest of his books out of his bag.

If you were thrown off by his fact telling, you didn’t show it. “That makes sense. I like having a routine, but I’m pretty sure my friends think it makes me boring.”

Spencer dug around in his vest pocket for his library card, brows furrowing. “Why would you think that?”

You plucked it from his fingers, bringing it to the barcode reader without breaking your eye contact. “Because they say it to me all the time.”

“Oh,” Spencer snorted a little and clutched the strap of his bag closer. There’s something different about you today. You’re much more talkative and playful, but it’s also in your appearance too. Your glasses are still perched on your nose and your face is bare as it always is, but your updo is more put together, less stands fall away into your face. You wear another long skirt, but it's tighter, less flowy, and he can nearly make out the shape of your legs through it. You’re wrapped in a cardigan too, but where one side falls open he can see your tank top underneath and the sight of your skin has him clearing his throat and bringing his eyes back to your face. 

“And how was your recreational reading?” You’ve started to scan the books back into the system. “You must have been pretty entertained with ten books in seven days.” You state it like a fact, but your tone has a whimsical disbelief to it.

“Actually I finished them in five days,” he corrected with an incline of his head. 

You reply quickly, like the words were primed in your mind. “Then you should have come back sooner.” Under the teasing, you sound serious, looking up from the books at him, lashes fluttering against their glass encasement. 

“I would, but I’ve been pretty busy at work.” He was too. He would spend hours in the library reading if working at the BAU didn’t take up so much of his time. He loved his job of course, and he wouldn’t have it any other way, but what is someone with his talents to do but hole himself up gorging every book he can get his hands on. Spencer had a thirst for knowledge, that’s why he wanted to be in the library so much. 

“Well, that’s too bad then. What do you do for work?” Your head tilts with interest and he almost mirrors the movement, brows furrowed. 

 “I told you—I work for the FBI. Specifically, I’m an agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” He has an eidetic memory which means he can remember every word you’ve said to him and every word he’s ever said to you, so he knows he’s told you this before. Of course he knows people forget things, but they also normally remember when he tells them he’s in the FBI.

Your face falls a bit and you chew your bottom lip, brows creasing. “Oh. . . right.” You finish scanning the last book quickly, gathering a couple into a pile to carry to a cart behind you. 

Spencer’s not exactly sure what he’s done to upset you, but his fingers twitch with the itch to fix it. Unfortunately, he’s got the idea his job is what makes you so uncomfortable. It wouldn’t be the first time someone was unsettled by the fact he carried a badge and gun, or that he had the authority to arrest people. But you had joked about it last week, possibly were soothed by the fact he was a cop after his blunt and maybe eerie warning. So why were you suddenly so upset with him? 

The thought occurred to him then that  maybe it was because you didn’t completely believe the things he was saying. Not only that, but you were no longer finding whatever game you think he’s playing by telling you those things to be funny. As you carry the rest of the books back to the cart, he fidgets with his fingers, wondering if it was time to show you proof of what he’s been saying. Or did you really even care? Maybe he was wrong and you would be even more frightened by him presenting you with his badge. Was it odd to flash his FBI credentials at his librarian? That was all you were after all. He didn’t even know your name.

You were back to clicking at the computer when you glanced at him. “They’re all checked in.”

Spencer froze as you pulled him out of his thoughts, his hands locking in the joints before dropping to his sides into fists. That was your cue for him to leave. “Right, thank you.” He went to walk away, but his feet were stuck. “. . .thank you, um, I just realized I don’t know your name.”

You didn’t have to tell him, you could have brushed it off. You were just the librarian and one didn’t need to know the librarian's name, but you looked back at him again, eyes studying his face. Then, you murmured your name so softly he almost leaned in to hear it louder. Soundlessly, he let your name ghost over his lips.

He used it as he thanked you one last time, certainly overkill but it seemed like the only correct way to exit. Although he only got a few feet before he heard you call his name.

“Spencer, wait!” You didn’t yell, he’s never heard you yell, but your voice was the loudest he’s ever heard it. You always spoke in a whisper or a hushed tone, but your voice was nearly normal when you called him back. The urgency of it had him back in front of you in just two strides.

You dipped beneath the counter and when you came back up you placed a basket on it. “When I used to go on picnics to read in the park, I used this basket. Well, I haven’t gone in a long time actually, but I thought maybe you could use it for all the books you check out,” you were bashful, tilting your head down and only sparingly meeting his eyes. Spencer was in shock, all he could think about was how this was one of the nicest things someone’s ever done for him. You gave him whiplash with how quickly you seemed to forgive whatever trespass he committed against you. He wondered even if he exaggerated the interaction in his head. 

The basket was woven, made from wicker, and had two handles at the top. It was rectangular in shape, pretty deep, and large for a picnic basket, he thought, big enough for fruits, pastries, sandwiches, and maybe more. It was a very nice basket, and the thought that you were giving it to him made his heart ache the most. You’d considered him, truly sat down and thought about him and then decided you were going to gift him a solution to his awkward problem. Not often did people solve his problems, it was always the other way around.

“Wow,” his finger grazed the side, considering the cost such a nice piece must be. “Are you sure? I really couldn’t take your basket it’s—”

“I don’t use it anymore,” you interrupted him for the first time. He realized that you never cut him off, you had always listened to him. “You can have it. . .” Your face was kind, then suddenly dropped into a panic. “Only if you want it of course! You don’t have to take it. I guess it’s kind of silly, carrying a picnic basket in a library. . .” You started to pick your nails, not meeting his eyes.

“I don’t think it’s silly,” he assured you quickly, leaning just a bit closer so he could catch your eyes again. “Thank you so much. Now I don’t have to worry about falling down the stairs or taking two trips to my car.” 

Your smile returned with a breathy chuckle. “Yeah, you kind of made me nervous going down the stairs like that with all those books. You don’t strike me as very. . . coordinated.”

“Ouch,” Spencer said, though he smiled back at you. You’d read him there, he was not very coordinated at all. Knowing physics was one thing, existing smoothly and with grace on the physical plane was another. 

“Sorry,” you shrugged half heartedly.

“No, you’re right. Thank you for the basket and uh, I’ll be back,” he waved you goodbye as he walked toward the stairs and you fluttered your fingers back at him. 

Spencer took exactly 52 minutes and 34 seconds adding books to his new basket. He got a few stares and side glances as he toted it around, mainly from a group of teenagers huddled at a miniature table and chair set in the children’s section. They snickered as they peeked up from their circle at him, but it wasn’t anything Spencer wasn’t used to. All his life people had laughed at him for a variety of reasons—he was too scrawny, too small, too bumbling, too nerdy—the list was miles long. All he could do was grow thicker skin, and he had. So he didn’t let it bother him as he wandered the library, adding books to his basket. 

No, the reason Spencer took so long to pick books was because each time he slipped one into a wicker embrace, he thought of you. He blinked and saw your face like a phantom burned into his retinas. The way the corners of your mouth twisted in your smile when you were so excited to give him the basket flashed and faded in his vision. Sometimes he cursed his eidetic memory because he’d memorized your face in its entirety with all its most miniscule details and peculiarities—and he didn’t even mean to. He would find himself staring into the empty space in the basket and have to drag his brain clawing back into reality.

His watch had ticked past 12 when he made his way back down the stairs to the main floor, lugging his basket in his right hand. It was heavy, weighed by two textbooks and eight other decently thick books, but the woven willow held strong. 

At the landing he could see across the library that you were already checking someone out. He meant to add himself to the queue, but pivoted to a lounge chair between two bookcases just as he got close enough to hear your voice. Immediately he felt wrong, a churning disgust with himself in the pit of his stomach. It was weird, wasn’t it? To watch you from afar just to gauge your behavior? But he had to know, it burdened his brain to wonder if you were just so saccharine it spilled out to everyone around you or if particularly you poured your sugar onto him.

You didn’t see him duck between the shelves to the lounge chair, not in any way that he could tell. With a tranquil neutral face you scanned the book that the college girl at the counter placed in front of you. The interaction was done in comfortable silence, even when you finished the transaction and she said her thank yous, you merely mumbled a “you’re welcome.”

It was different from how you interacted with him, he realized. You were much more playful and chatty with him, but he wasn’t sure what exactly inspired it in you. You were clearly shy, maybe anxious, but in some moments it faded when you talked to him. He didn’t think he said anything particularly special, but thinking you saw something in him that made you so comfortable, so cheerful, made his stomach flip in a way he couldn’t understand.

The next man in the queue placed his book on the counter. He was the only other person waiting. You asked him absent-mindedly for his library card. He was older than you and Spencer, mid to late 40s if Spencer had to guess, but it gave him an idea about how you interacted with men as well. Which was just as bland as your interaction with the college girl before you. Spencer had a fleeting thought that maybe—just maybe—you liked him. Why else would you be so inclined to laugh with him? To be so shy sometimes you couldn’t meet his eyes? He’d read books, watched movies, and he knew the signs. He was just not used to spotting them in women interacting with him.

He cleared his throat as if to shake off the idea. It was vain, and in all likelihood an arrogant over analysis of the little interaction he’s had with you. He was about to get up and put himself in line behind the man when he heard his lurid voice croak out.

“How about you give me a smile, pretty?”

Spencer froze in place, white knuckle grip engraving the grooves of the entwined handle into his palm. Something like anger flared in his chest. It grew hotter as he saw the way you bowed your head even further from the man's sight, pulling your cardigan closer around your body.

“Um, yeah, could I just get your library card?” You squirmed under his leering gaze, lips faintly curling into the most awkward half-smile you could muster. 

Despite the way you clearly showed you were in duress, the man leaned closer over the counter. “My name’s Todd.” He slid his book across the counter to you like that tidbit of information helped any. “I’ll take this book and your number, baby.” Spencer’s jaw clenched.

His body tingled with the readiness to step in, to tell this Todd fucker to leave you be because obviously you weren’t interested. But his mind, the logical side of him, stopped him because Spencer also respected you and your autonomy. He was not an expert on women, but he knew quite a few strong women in the BAU who would be offended if he stepped in to defend them when they were capable of doing it themselves. He definitely didn’t want to offend you if you were able to brush off Todd on your own.

The uncomfortable smile dropped to a grimace. “If I could get your library card. . .” Your hand hesitantly reached for the book only for Todd to grasp your wrist in a tight hand.

“Stop asking for the damn card,” his voice dropped into a growl. “Baby, I’m just trying to talk to you.”

Your arm fought to pull your hand back behind the counter, but Todd’s grip tightened and pulled back to keep you close. “Sir!” Your voice pitched higher, eyes widening almost too big for their frames. “Sir, please let go—”

Todd huffed, face screwing up in frustration. “Why’re you being so difficult?”

“Sir, you’re hurting her and you need to let go now.” Spencer practically flew over to the front desk. It was his instincts as an FBI agent kicking in. The need to de-escalate and protect was driving him. This man was now hurting you and he was not going to allow it to go any further.

Todd’s scowl looked Spencer up and down, assessing whether or not he could take him. He must have come to the conclusion Spencer was not a threat because he puffed up his chest and continued gripping your wrist. However, he was so distracted by Spencer, you were able to yank your arm away, rubbing at your wrist with your free hand. Todd shot you a similar glare before leveling his even angrier gaze back on Spencer.

“We’re just having a conversation here, asshole. So why don’t you get back to your books,” Todd barked at him so loud they had now attracted all the eyes in the library. But Spencer was only looking over at yours—your creased brow and the watery worry the glass highlighted. 

“Spencer, it’s—” You didn’t get to finish as Todd whirled his head between you and Spencer. 

“Spencer? No fucking way this wimp is your boyfriend.” Behind the rage, Todd looked almost smug.

But Spencer wasn’t. He hit his own boiling point and was passed asking politely. He pulled his credentials from his pocket and flipped them open in Todd’s face. “No, I’m the FBI agent who is going to arrest you for harassment, assault, and public disturbance if you don’t get out of this library right now.”

Todd’s head reeled back at the badge in his face, eyes squinting between the lettering and Spencer’s face. Realization of how much shit he was in passed briefly over Todd’s face before reverting to his glower. He must not have wanted trouble with the FBI though, because he started taking steps backwards toward the exit. But he couldn’t leave with a completely bruised ego.

“Whatever man. If you want the uppity bitch so bad you can have her!” Todd slammed open and closed the door as he made his grand exit. The entire library watched it, listening to him as he got his last dig in and fleeing before Spencer could make him eat his words. He didn’t have his cuffs or gun on him, but he’d dealt with enough unsubs to know he didn’t need them to handle Todd. 

When all the eyes slowly went back to their business, sure that Todd wasn’t coming back into the library, Spencer’s gaze returned to you. Your eyes were dinner plates, mouth agape, still clutching your wrist.

Spencer frowned, whispering your name. “Are you okay?”

“You’re an FBI agent. . .” The words slipped out of you in one shocked exhale. His brows furrowed. He just rescued you from an arrogant asshole and that was what you were stuck on, something he’d told you several times.

“Yes? But I told you—” 

“You were serious?” Your head bobbed forward in disbelief. So you really hadn’t been believing what he was saying. 

“Of course, why would I lie about that?” Spencer was confused and deep down a little hurt. It was such an odd thing to lie about to a stranger, he didn’t understand why you thought he wasn’t truthful. 

“I–I don’t know,” your eyes bounced around in a panic. “I thought you were just trying to impress me. I mean—you don’t really look like an FBI agent you’re. . . young? I don’t know, I thought you were flirting with me so I—” Your hand clasped over your mouth. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, sir—agent—”

“Spencer.”

“What?”

“Call me Spencer,” he gave you a tight lipped smile, a near look of pity on his face. Your complete panic reassured him you were just as embarrassed over the miscommunication as he was. “Technically it would be Doctor, since I have three PhDs—but you can just call me Spencer.”

“But—But I didn’t. . . you were being serious the whole time and I. . .” You stuttered, shaking your head in confusion. “I was so unprofessional. . .”

Spencer chuckled, unable to hold it back. “Unprofessional? Just because I’m an FBI doesn’t mean I can’t like to talk to people. And I like talking to you, you don’t have to be embarrassed about it.” His disappointment dissipated quickly. Your shyness and embarrassment was so genuine and charming he couldn’t find the space to be upset with you beside all his amusement. 

You crossed your arms, somehow becoming even more bashful. “You’re sure it's okay?”

“Of course it's okay.” Spencer grinned.

A small sigh of relief breezed past your lips. “Okay. . . I should—I should definitely apologize for not believing you.” You meet his eyes then with such profound remorse. “Because I am really sorry. It’s just. . . your accomplishments seemed so amazing they were kind of hard to believe, especially for someone so young.”

It was Spencer’s turn to become bashful. His head ducked and he laughed quietly. “I guess they can be hard to believe. Especially when you aren’t meeting me at work. I just thought maybe all the books helped prove it.”

You let out a shaky laugh, eyes wandering back down to the countertop. “I kinda thought that was also to impress me. I didn’t really think you were reading all of them.”

“Well. . . I do.” He shrugged, figuring you had to believe him now. As you smiled at him, he realized he left his basket and books back at the chair. “Speaking of reading, I’ll be right back.”

You eyed him as he retrieved the basket and set it on the counter in front of you along with his library card. “Oh, were you sitting over there?” You looked curious. Certainly you hadn’t seen him sitting there today or anytime before.

Spencer coughed into his fist. “Um, just for a second.” He moved on quickly, removing the books from the basket. “Thank you for this again, by the way, it’s so much easier to carry all the books.”

You hummed, eyebrows jumping up. “Yeah. . . I’m having trouble believing I really gave an FBI agent a picnic basket to carry books in.” You started swiping the books over the barcode scanner, adding them back into the basket once they appeared on the computer screen next to you.

He cracked a half smile. “I think you watch too many movies. We’re not as serious as you think we are.” Hotch’s face flashed in his eyes and he thought maybe they were pretty serious, but not off duty. Hotch could also be serious enough for the whole team sometimes, so maybe he wasn’t a very good example. “And I like the basket. It was nice of you to think about me.”

Your eyes caught on his for a moment, glazed over in thought, so deep you bumped the basket as you went to set the book you held into it. It snapped you back into reality and you watched your hand as you tucked away the book, clearing your throat. “You’re sure it’s not weird?”

Spencer’s head tilted to the left, considering you. He didn’t know what he could do to pull you back from this rut of self-consciousness. He was starting to regret ever pulling out his badge because now you seem standoffish in a way you never were with him before. He wanted to go back to when you laughed and smiled at him and didn’t find him intimidating. “Of course it’s not,” he paused a moment, wetting his lips. “And this isn’t weird either, y’know? Me being in the FBI? I’m still Spencer.”

You looked back at him again, eyes searching his face. “I know that. I’m. . .” You stared at him a second longer, taking in a deep breath and releasing it with a smile. “I’m letting it sink in.” You continued scanning the books quietly, not meeting Spencer’s eyes as he absentmindedly picked at a loose string in his pocket.

His thumb brushed against his FBI credentials and the encounter just before this revelation came flooding back. He glanced over at the double doors as if to make sure Todd had not come back, though Spencer already knew he didn’t. 

“Are you okay?” You met his eyes, brows pulled together. “About before—with that guy?”

“Oh.” You shrugged, rolling your wrist unconsciously. “Yeah, I’m fine. We get one of them every now and again. Normally they’re pretty harmless.” A glimmer of realization passed over your face. “Um, thank you! I should have said that before. Not everyone would have done that.”

Spencer shook his head, waving off your thanks. “Of course. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.” He was again reminded of the fact he was not a woman, and even though his job was to put away serial killers—monsters, creeps, pervs—he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be in your shoes. You shook it off well, but he didn’t doubt you were scared in the moment. Probably wondering how far he would take it, whether your reaction was appropriate, if your employer would be angry at you. He was just glad he was there to step in.

Slowly, you finished scanning all the books, tucking them neatly into the basket in an organized order he thoroughly appreciated. Heaviest books sat at the bottom and lighter books were stacked on top of them. You paused, flipping through the last book in your hand, a biography of Max Born, a German-British physicist. 

“So. . . you really do read 20,000 words per minute?” You had a cheeky grin as you peeked up at him from beneath those frames, and suddenly you were back. Spencer smiled.

“Yup. I also have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

You giggled, nodding along. “Right. Well then I guess this isn’t even enough books for you.” A finger waved over at the basket.

“It depends on work, actually. I’m usually busy, but I often have to travel too and then I become really busy so I don’t have time to read,” he explained. When he did sit down to read, he could get through one to three books, depending on their volume. “But yeah, ten books in a week is kind of light.”

You tapped the book in your hand with your thumbs, thinking. “Okay.” Suddenly you dropped the book into the basket, dipping below the desk to set another book in front of him. Examining it, he realized by its orange and yellow coloring it was the same book you had been reading the last time he was in the library. It was The Poetry of Pablo Neruda and from the look of its creased spine and faded orange cover, it was well loved. “You should read this too then.”

Spencer turned the book over in his hands, looking at you with a twisted face of confusion. “But the check out limit is ten books?”

You shook your head, gesturing for him to add it to the basket. “It’s not a library book,” when he still looked puzzled, you continued. “It’s my book. You can borrow it from me.”

Your kindness and generosity was both shocking and overwhelming. Spencer wasn’t sure how he was to thank you for being so gracious to him. He could only think of one thing. So he quickly fumbled his wallet up onto the countertop. “You have to let me give you something for this—”

“Spencer,” as you said his name, your hand covered his as he dug for bills to give you. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He shook his head, bewildered. Not only was your kindness startling, but so was the feeling of your hand on his. He had to stop his body from flinching at the contact. He was mostly uncomfortable at the thought of people touching him, but your palm was warm, soft, and offered the most comfort he’d felt in a while. “The basket and the book? It’s too much. I mean. . . you’re too nice.”

Your lips spread into a bright smile, flashing him your teeth. “Just bring me back your analysis. I’d love to hear what an IQ of 187 can cook up. Deal?”

Spencer laughed, ducking his head as he nodded in agreement. “Deal.”

When the laughter faded and his head came back up, he looked at you for a while longer, just feeling the paperback cover underneath his fingertips. You met his eyes just for a few moments, twiddling your own fingers. “So um, see you next Sunday?” You asked. He dared to see hope in your eyes.

“See you next Sunday,” Spencer agreed again. He hesitated putting the book in his new basket then finally left the front desk, waving you goodbye as he did. He watched over his shoulder you return his wave as he exited through the double doors. 

Spencer walked back to his car practically swinging the basket, so in his head he didn’t even realize he still had a smile on his face. He set The Poetry of Pablo Neruda aside as he disinfected his books and wondered what he would do the rest of his day off. What he was sure of, deep in his chest, was that he was excited for next Sunday. 

-

Part Two

[reidrum]

hey, if you haven’t wrote this before i was wondering if you could write a fic about spencer catching you admiring his hands and later on he fingers you (idk how to word this properly 😭)

fingers crossed | s.r

spencer reid x bau!reader

a/n: this is literally my brand fr

cw: 18+ no minors, fingering, reader is afab, spencer’s slutty ass hands, soft dom spence (duh), praise kink, office shenanigans lol

wc: 1.5k

—

you should’ve known you’d get caught, you work on a team of people literally trained to notice things. you working on that team meant that you thought you could be subtle. yet it didn’t stop you from gaping at spencer whenever he used those fucking hands of his.

it started off innocently, becoming so entranced when he would explain the geographical profile to the team on cases and his massive hands would span the map occasionally using a finger to point out a spot. then it was the way his veined hand engulfed his pistol, so much that it could disappear if he tried. you took detours on the days you knew spencer would be in the training range just so you could watch his fingers pull the trigger over and over again.

you’d go home thinking about those hands, how they would feel roaming your body, squeezing your chest, placed on your throat. it was enough to make yourself come three times over, just imagining what his fingers would feel like inside you. but it never felt as satisfying as what you really craved.

the next day you’d come to work, you and spencer had to work on a report together, and you weren’t sure how you were gonna keep your shit together if he was less than a foot away from you.

he pulled up a chair to your desk and you both started going over the files, and he’d occasionally reach over your lap to point something out in the files you were holding. he’d nonchalantly brush his fingers on your thighs, your shoulders, even placing his hand on the small of your back when hotch had called both of you to his office. it was turning you on so bad, you were getting wetter by the second that you had to cross your legs to find some satiation.

spencer knew you were getting restless, anticipating you were going to break soon. it’s just what he planned.

“everything okay?” spencer whispered, placing his hand on your upper thigh.

the action shocked you, “i’m good! i just think i need another cup of coffee.” you abruptly get up and practically run towards the break room. spencer watches you walk away with a faint smirk on his face. he gives you a minute or two to calm yourself before getting up and following you.

he found you leaning against the counter, coffee mug in hand and eyes closed, like you were trying to regulate yourself before returning. you heard footsteps and opened your eyes to watch spencer walk over right next to you, and grab the coffee pot in a way you could only describe as deeply sensual as he accentuated every movement, flexing his fingers around the handle and gripping so motherfucking tightly his veins popped up, before pouring himself a cup and speaking to you, “so, i think we’re missing a file. will you come with me to the records room to help find it?”

he calls your name again when you’re so obviously still staring at his hand holding the mug and not attending to him. you snap up and stare at his face blankly, he stares back with that smug ass smirk still and you realize he’s holding his hand out for you to take.

he has to be fucking with you right? it can’t just be a coincidence at this point. spencer literally rambles on and on about the actual probability of coincidence, and if it happens enough times, it’s intentional.

so you take his hand.

and now you’re reflecting on the last few hours, the maybe not so accidental touches to your thighs, the over exaggeration of his fingers pointing to lines in your files that you knew he didn’t need to check again, and now his outstretched hand leading you to a secluded room. you don’t have time to finish your conclusion when the door to the records room closes behind you both and spencer pushes you against it to cage you in with his arms.

“hi.” he’s so close to you oh my god.

“h- hi.”

spencer starts trailing his hand up the side of your hip, “you seem really distracted today.”

“oh…i didn’t realize, sorry.” you murmur, trying not to get distracted as his hand ends its journey on the side of your neck, curling his fingers around the back and angling your face up with his thumb.

“i’m not sure how you expect to get anything done if you keep staring at my hands all day, sweetheart.”

fuck.

your eyes widen, “i wasn’t, no it wasn’t like that, i..” but your protests fall on lost lips as he thumbs over your lower lip.

“if you wanted my fingers that bad, all you had to do was ask.”

your heartbeat fastens as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, slow but exploratory. he feels you relax a little and pushes his tongue through and attacks you more earnestly. your hands have rested on his shoulders while his have both moved to your hips, pinning you to the door.

one hand moves to play with the button of your dress pants, rubbing his thumb over the button and slightly dipping the tips of his fingers into your waist, “is this okay?”, you nod, “if you want me to stop, at any point, just tell me.” you nod again, pulling his head back down to kiss him, already missing the drunk feeling he gives you. he deftly undoes the button and pulls down the zipper, pushing your pants down around your thighs but leaving your panties on.

you thank whoever’s watching over you that you chose lavender lacy panties today, and it seems spencer’s especially thankful as well when he lets out a groan, “i think you’re trying to kill me.”

“i think it’s going both ways right now.” you pant.

spencer dips his index finger just below the waistband of your panties and pulls it back, “oh honey,” snap. “just you wait.” you let out a soft whimper while he chuckles to himself.

he runs his hand down the lace trimming of your panties, reaching the crevice of your inner thigh and your core. ghosting his fingers over where you really need him, he watches your face intently for how you react. your eyebrows are furrowed, and your breathing is heavy, but not enough to let out a moan. and spencer is nothing if not an overachiever.

he presses his middle finger flat against your core, staring as the increased pressure causes your mouth to fall open. he’s getting closer, but it’s not enough.

moving his fingers back to the crevice, he hooks two fingers and slides your panties to the side, wasting no time in collecting your arousal and spreading it all over you. he faintly hears his name fall from your swollen lips, and he knows he’s close to his goal.

giving your clit the last bit of attention, he dives his middle finger down and enters your hole, and you lose it.

the sharp gasp you let out immediately turns into a pornographic moan as he begins moving in and out of you.

“there’s my girl, knew i could get those pretty sounds out of you.” he breathes in your ear.

his praise goes straight down, making you clench around his slender finger, something that spencer made note of, “you like it when i tell you things like that huh?” he adds his ring finger to the mix, “wanna hear how good you’re doing for me?”

“spencer, please…i’m so close” you whimper.

“i know baby, you’re taking my fingers so well, can’t imagine how you’d look full of my cock.”

“fuck, oh my god…” you whine

he’s got you teetering on the edge of your orgasm as you let out another loud moan, the feeling of his fingers sliding in you so fucking easily is enough to make you delirious. spencer feels you clench around him again and knows you’re so close, and rubs his thumb on your clit.

“come for me, pretty girl, show me what my fingers do to you.”

it was enough to send you crashing into your peak, grabbing on to his forearms as you roll your head back, spilling out a mix of expletives, his name, and moans as he fucks you through your high. you slowly come back down to reality, panting heavily as you meet his honeyed eyes again. he slows his movements and gently pulls out, opening his mouth to suck the arousal off his fingers.

“jesus fuck, spence.” you whimper.

he laughs as he helps you pull your pants back up and resituates you with a pat on your ass, “come on, let’s go pack up our stuff.”

“what why? we still have to finish the report.” you lamely point out.

spencer leans down to plant a longing kiss on your lips again, “i think the file i’m looking for is at home,” he smooths your hair down, “go tell hotch we’re gonna finish it at my place.”

you can’t help but smirk, “why won’t you come tell him yourself?” your eyes panning down to his bulging crotch.

“don’t be a little shit, you know why. now go tell him, or i’m not gonna be as nice as i was now when we get there.”

[daisykihannie]

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 | 𝙷.𝙹𝚂

pairing: succubus!Jisung x afab gn!reader

warnings: smut, NSFW, spit, squirting, choking, degradation, fucking demons, monster cock, slapping, blood, bdsm, etc.

chapter 2 | chapter 3

"Come on Y/N! don't be such a coward~" your best friend Felix purred from his spot on your couch. He was watching you with a smirk as you stare down at the rustic looking book in your hands. The cover was tattered and the spine was disintegrating. The book was well worn from decades of use.

"Summoning demons? Felix this is-" your words died on your tongue, unable to think of an accurate way to describe the idea Felix chirped out as if it was the most common thing in the world.

"My dear best friend, you need to get laid and clearly you're not going to be bringing anyone home anytime soon. I've done it a couple times and honestly?" he paused momentarily, looking up at the ceiling. He seemed to be recalling some distant memory as a blush rose up the expanse of the pale skin of his neck reaching the tips of his ears.

"Lixie?" your voice rang out softly, unable to hide the slight quiver in the single word. Anxiety plaguing your senses as you awaited the blonde male to finish his sentence.

"It was some of the most mind-blowing sex I've ever had. That demon did things to me that isn't even possible for a human to accomplish." he hummed as his gaze met your again. You bit your bottom lip deep in thought as you gently moved the book around in your hands, fingertips fiddling with the fraying fabric of the cover.

"is- is it safe?" you asked, uncertainty still wrapping your words like a thick blanket, weighing them down so they were just a bit harder to force out of your vocal cords that felt tight in your throat.

"Y/N-ie..." he started before slowly climbing off the couch. His knees connecting with the cold surface of the hard word floors as he made his way to your side. You didn't move from your spot even when you felt his small warm hand land on your upper thigh, rubbing soothing circles against the bare skin that wasn't quite covered by your lounge shorts.

"I wouldn't even suggest the idea if I wasn't 100% confident that everything would be fine." you felt your shoulders relax at his comforting words. Your lungs were burning ever so slightly as you exhaled a breath you were unaware to be holding.

His eyes remained on you, searching your features for any unease. He truly only had the best intentions for you, noticing that you were so pent up that you couldn't focus on much of anything, getting aggravated and frustrated at the tiniest inconveniences. He just wanted you to relax, let go, and relieve all the built up stress for the past few weeks.

He had even offered to help you out on more than one occasion, just wanting to do anything to help you. It wasn't that you didn't want to sleep with him per say. He was insanely attractive, had a nice body with toned abs, and his voice could easily bring you to a state of euphoria on its own without any need to be touched. The problem was that he was your best friend. You saw him as just that, never really wanting to ruin that with any sexual or possible romantic feelings.

After a few moments of contemplating, you released your bottom lip from the vice grip of your teeth before nodding. "Okay, yeah. What could go wrong?" you giggled softly feeling a bit silly from being so anxious about the idea when Felix had done it more than once and was very clearly more than fine, sitting right next to you.

But, those were always someone's famous last words. When you ask that one question, the universe decides that if anything could go wrong then they will go wrong.

Felix stayed at your apartment for a couple more hours, watching movies together but eventually he left and it was just you and the book left alone. It remained in its spot on your coffee table, taunting you as you stared at it. Anxiety bubbling in your chest yet again at the thought of summoning a demon.

It didn't help your anxiety that you'd resorted to having to summon a demon to get laid. How pathetic was that? It's not that you couldn't go out to a random bar or club and bring a guy home but, it was just too tedious and potentially dangerous to do that. Funny how that was too dangerous in your mind but summoning a literal demon from hell wasn't.

You took a few deep breaths, calming the storm that was raging against your rib cage threatening to break through the skin. Once your heartbeat began to return to a normal rhythm, your finger tips curled gently around the worn cover, contemplating opening the book for the first time when your phone chimed.

The noice ringing through your far too quiet apartment caused you to yelp in surprise and jump far too much for your own liking. The book flying into the air a bit before landing into your lap. Clutching your chest, feeling your heart threatening to break free again you grabbed your phone from the other side of the couch to see a text message from Felix.

Unlocking your phone with shaking hands your eyes followed across the black lines of text on the illuminated screen that read "I forgot to tell you, do not- I repeat, DO NOT make the spell permanent. as long as you don't do that, everything will be fine." the text causing an ominous feeling to cocoon your body, breathing getting even harder in the now tense air that filled your apartment.

"It's fine Y/N... just fucking get it over with..." you mumbled in a weak attempt of giving yourself a pep talk but never the less, your fingers slipped under the hand cover again, finally opening the book. Your eyes skimmed over lines of English translations encompassing spells written in tongues.

Each page had a different spell, an illustration of the creature to be summoned, and descriptions of how to set up the spell and what each creature's purpose was. There were so many pages with entities you had no clue even existed, then your eyes landed on a page that was strikingly different from the rest.

This page had the title of "Succubus" and the writing was in red instead of black to match the previous pages. There were lewd sketches behind the written words, and warnings written along with the similar content of the other pages. What stood out was the big bold black lettering that read "SAFE WORD: ANGELIC" it was a bit ironic but fitting, surely the mention of anything holy would catch a demons attention.

A small chuckle fell for your lips at the silly thought of getting wrecked by a demon when the safe word is said, the demon recoiling in pain and hissing away from the summoner, the imagery similar to that of a horror film when an evil entity gets splashed with holy water or is faced with a cross.

Shaking your head softly, bringing yourself out of the comedic scene that played out in your head as you read every line thoroughly. Reading each word two to three times, dedicated to committing every tiny detail to memory to guarantee you don't fuck anything up.

Once you felt confident with the retained knowledge you let out a soft hum, feeling a lot less anxious than before. You were sure you couldn't fuck this up even if you tried.

(foreshadowing?)

Pulling yourself off your spot on the couch, you placed the book onto your hardwood floors, open to the necessary page and traveled through your home collecting the objects needed to perform the ritual. Humming a small tune as you skipped throughout the space, filling your arms before placing them in a small pile next to the book.

Realizing you didn't have enough space for the ritual you pushed your couch away from the center of the room till it hit a wall, the coffee table following in the opposite direction. Once you had enough space, you kneeled by your supplies reading over the book one more time before beginning to set up.

First step was to make a pentagram out of ashes, luckily you had a decently sized jar full of your incense ashes to use. The next step was to place a candle at each point of the star and one in the center. Then You were instructed to light each one with a match in a specific order, starting with the one at top point of the star and working your way around clockwise and ending with the center candle.

It specifically stated to not use a lighter, luckily there had been a box of matches in the back of one of the kitchen drawers when you moved in that you hadn't bothered to throw out. It was starting to feel a bit odd that you miraculously had every single item that was necessary but you brushed off the thought, continuing the ritual.

After the candles were lit, you had to recite the spell three times perfectly. That's the part that worried you a bit considering the spell was written in a foreign language but you were determined to pronounce every last syllable perfectly.

"Lastly, seal with deal with just a single drop of your blood" you repeated back to yourself from the book that lied open to your side. Picking up the sewing needle you'd found while on your scavenger hunt, using it to prick the soft, uncalloused flesh of your index finger, letting out the tiniest of hisses as a bead of crimson liquid formed on the skin.

Squeezing your finger under the pin prick causing more blood rushing out of the tiny wound, you held your finger above the center candle, high enough to not get burned but close enough to line the droplet up with the flickering yellow flame.

When your blood finally let gravity win, the droplet landed perfectly over the flame, snuffing out the fire before a large gust of wind blew through your home. Your lights went out and the force was strong enough to put out the rest of the candles, pushing any light weight furniture away from the pentagram, colliding with the walls with a loud echoing boom. The gust knocked objects off of the more solid surfaces, causing them to clatter against walls or to the floor.

It was even strong enough to throw your body back, causing your spine to collide with the edge of your couch, an oof being forced out of your chest at the contact and the air seemed to be sucked from your lungs. Once the wind was gone, your eyes shot back open to see your apartment in disarray, gasping to refill your lungs of the oxygen that was ripped from them.

Looking around the space, other than the effects of the wind, nothing was different. There wasn't a sex demon standing in front of you or really anywhere in sight. Confused eyes raked through your your surrounding to be met with nothing. It didn't work. Letting out a groan and rolling your eyes, you started restoring order to your living area.

Once everything was put back in their places you picked up your phone from it's location on your couch cushions before flopping onto the rough and plush surface. Unlocking your phone and opening your chat with Felix, you typed out a quick "didn't work, asshole. Can't believe I fell for your stupid prank." pressing send and turning your phone off again, a sigh escaped you as your body quickly felt far too heavy for your liking.

Your body felt like lead, truly and utterly exhausted. Your body was too heavy to lift any of your limbs as you drifted out of consciousness, the whole ordeal exerting far too much stress on your body than it could handle but that's nothing a long night of sleep couldn't fix. Finally giving in to the exhaustion, your body fell into the darkness of dreamland.

"Damn... what the fuck?" an unfamiliar voice rang through your home not reaching your brain in its unconscious state.

"Oh~? They're a cute one."

A groan slipped from deep within your soul as you began to wake up, stiff from the uncomfortable position you'd fallen asleep in on your couch. Your eyes remained screwed shut, not wanting to be awake at the moment but your body was screaming at you to ease the strain on your sore muscles.

You willed yourself to stretch out, baring resemblance to a cat as your arms reached out as far as possible above your head, legs mimicking the motion in the opposite direction. As you tried to turn your hips to finish off the most satisfying stretch of your life, they wouldn't move. It felt like they were pinned to the couch underneath you.

A groan of annoyance and confusion left your body at the incomplete stretch of your body, a huff escaping your lungs as your relaxed back down. Still not opening your eyes, not prepared for the blazing sunlight that threatened to seep through your eye lids as you attempted to roll to your side, yet again your hips didn't separate from the cushion underneath them.

"Can you stop fucking moving?" a growl filled your ears of an unfamiliar voice, sending a shiver across every nerve in your body. Alarms blaring in your head as your eyes shot open, flailing to get up as your fight or flight kicked in. The weight on your pelvis suddenly registering in your new found consciousness.

The weight remained unmoving as you looked down to see what the culprit of it was, seeing a heap of giant black...wings!? The adrenaline coursed through your veins, fueling your body to actually work. Pushing whatever the fuck was on your lap off of you with a strength you didn't know you had. A loud thud pierced your eardrums followed by a hiss as it made contact with the floor.

Only then being met with glowing pink orbs, piercing your soul and freezing you in place. It was a person? No. Not a person, people don't have giant black wings and a tail. People don't have eyes that glow neon pink. Your brain was desperately trying to comprehend what it was seeing, running a million miles a minute trying to come up with any realistic explanation for what you'd woken up to.

Unfortunately your brain wasn't making sense of the situation fast enough. The creature was standing up off the ground and rubbing their bare shoulder. Your eyes were frantically looking around your apartment which was still exactly how you'd left it the night prior, no evidence of a break in.

"Didn't I tell you to stop moving?" the creature growled again in annoyance, rolling the shoulder they seemed to have landed on, taking slow languid steps towards you. "Do you humans not know how to obey a fucking order?" the words brought your attention back to the creature closing in on you, your body instinctively backing away from the threat making it's way closer to you.

But of course your back hit the wall, inevitably corning you as they continued stalking closer. Your eyes scanned down the body in front of you, alarms going off in your head again for different reasons now. These alarms are the ones that finally got your mouth working.

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU NAKED!?" that was definitely not the first thing you'd expected to ask the stranger. Literally anything else would've been a better thing to ask like, who are you? or how'd you get in my apartment? but no, you saw cock and your touch starved brain just needed to make note of it.

"That's the first thing your human brain decides to ask me?" the creature tsked in mocking, pausing their advances to chuckle. The fear in your eyes bringing them enjoyment, your body shaking only bringing more chuckles from their chest.

"N-no! who are you!? what are you doing in my apartment!? how did you even get in here!?" your brain started working out all the questions in your head at the same time, causing you to frantically blurt out your questions way too quickly for the other to respond.

"You humans really are as stupid as they say..." long, black, talon-like fingers carded through the long blue locks that nestled neatly on the top of their head with a sigh. You couldn't find a response, hoping the other would finally explain what was going on.

When the silence egged on for a bit too long the towering male finally spoke up again. "Do you forget that you literally summoned me forever ago before falling unconscious?" his eyebrow quirked up in questioning as last night's events began replaying in your brain.

"It- no. that didn't- it was a fucking prank, nothing happened last night." your gaze still refusing to meet his and you weren't sure if you were trying to convince the one in front of you or yourself with your words, neither working as the creature erupted into a sickly cackle, a chill running down your spine as you felt yourself start to break out into cold sweats.

This was so so wrong. This can't be real, you're still asleep right? RIGHT!?

"You wouldn't have a succubus standing in front of you if that was the case now would you doll?" his words made another shiver run down your spine. The tone was flirty, almost hypnotizing you as you felt your body begin to heat up. Eyes finally traveling from the floor, up the expanse of the other's body and to their face.

Your gazes locked together and no matter how hard you tried, no matter how loud your brain was screaming at you to run, you couldn't. You were locked in a trance caused by those glowing pink eyes that made you feel nauseatingly bare and vulnerable. It felt like your skin was ripped open and flipped inside out, showing the other every single thing you'd kept tucked away inside for no other soul to see.

Your soul was barren and exposed to the other, you could feel them inside your brain, pulling out every single thought, desire, and need you'd ever felt. You body was betraying you, stepping closer to the other as you lost control of yourself, handing it all over to this stranger, this thing, that so easily willed every single drop of control from your cells.

Your body felt like it was on fire, your brain turning into cotton candy, the voice of the other ringing in your head accompanied by your heartbeat that pounded loudly in your ears. "That's it~ just like that. Give it all to me. Every wish, every desire, every want, every need. Give me your lust and I'll serve you. I will be your sexual servant until the day I'm rewarded with that sweet soul of yours."

Before you knew it, those long black fingers wrapped around your jaw, talons digging into the flesh of your burning cheeks forcing your mouth open. Your gazes never breaking as he took complete control of your psyche, senses flooding with nothing but him.

Your tongue lolled out of your mouth, the pink wet muscle twitching for the other as they leaning in closer and closer. Your pupils were blown wide as the taller male stuck his own tongue out and it began to tangle with yours, ripping a submitting whimper from somewhere deep inside of you, your body fully submitting to the entity that ripped all control from your being.

Your gazes remained locked on eachother as drool began spilling from your mouths, creating glistening trails down the hand that remanded wrapped around your jaw. The dance of your tongues pulling heaving breaths from your chest as your lips finally connected and you felt your body shaking, almost vibrating in the grip of the other.

The long sleek black tail encompassed your waist in a vice grip as the kiss grew more heated, more desperate as your lips clashed together fighting against one another. Then the demon shut his eyes, breaking the trance you were trapped in and your body gave out. Every muscle burned and your body trembled as all the strength left you, the only thing keeping you from melting to the floor was that tail that'd locked around your waist.

Breaking the connection between the two of you, ripping his lips from yours. A messy string of saliva keeping you two connected for just a moment longer before the other used their tail to ease you to the ground. Your body convulsed as if you'd just had the most intense orgasm of your life.

Your chest heaved in a desperate attempt to recover the oxygen that you'd been deprived of in that mind frying exchange that left you barely hanging onto your own consciousness. Your limbs were buzzing as you remained in a puddle on the floor. You were left as just a fraction of what you once were, a searing pain on your tongue barely registering in your brain as you fought to recover. Inevitably losing the battle and slipping back into a state of unconsciousness.

The demon watched as you finally gave into the rest your body desperately needed, your fight lasting significantly longer than any of the other humans he's dealt with in the past. This causing his interest to peak as he crouched down to your still trembling but unconscious form. His fingers pushing the hair that stuck to the sweat on your face back, feeling something new as he gazed at your beauty.

"You're a special one aren't you..." he hummed, asking nobody in the silent apartment since he knew you couldn't answer. He wasn't sure what the feeling was that coursed through his veins. It was something new, something special that he'd never experienced in his eternity as a succubus and in that moment, he knew he was fucked.

Your body felt even heavier as you stirred, waking up from what felt like a month long coma. Your brain began to recall the last two times you were conscious, memories causing you to shoot up from where you lay, looking around frantically trying to gather yourself.

Instead of waking up on the floor, you were in your bed and you were alone. Everything seemed normal as you concluded that everything that had happened was just a horrible nightmare. Letting out a sigh of relief, relaxing further into the safety of the plush blankets that encompassed your body and nuzzling into to comfort of your mattress.

Unfortunately that comfort didn't last long as you suddenly felt really really hot. Throwing the blankets off your body trying to cool off with the air of your ceiling fan cascading across your clammy, sweat covered, flesh but you just kept feeling hotter and hotter. Ripping the clothes off your body also did nothing to satiate the heat that was radiating off of you, a frustrated whimper escaping your throat through clenched teeth.

You screwed your eyes shut in frustration, using your hands to wipe off the sweat that continued to drench your skin. The stinky feeling of being drenched in sweat was just frustrating you more as your sheets stuck to your skin. You continued writhing around desperately in agony, needing some form of relief from the heat that kept building, wet hot tears streaming down your cheeks now.

You finally decided to climb out of bed and take an ice cold shower as a final attempt to cool off, but as soon as you stood up and put your weight on your feet you were hit with a dizziness you'd never experienced before. It felt like your insides were boiling as you crumpled to the floor, the spinning in your head racking your body with overwhelming nausea.

Suddenly your bedroom door flew open and your vision continued spinning as you looked up to see none other than the demon standing in the doorway. Your expression displaying your anguish as the demon leaned against the doorframe nonchalantly with muscular arms crossed across the expanse of his broad, muscular chest. A groan ripped through you, followed by a gag as the male's form wavered back and forth in your vision.

You clutched your stomach, your finger nails digging deeply into the flesh, far too uncomfortable in your own skin. Unfortunately your stomach was too empty from not eating in two days to actually expel anything from it as your dry heaved. You were clawing at the rug under your knees with the hand that held your body up, the other hand still digging into the flesh at your side.

You were fucking desperate to stop feeling everything. To calm the storm of nausea and to stop the searing heat inside your organs. All you felt was disparity.

As if he could read your mind, the succubus approached you and got on his knees on the floor in front of you before scooped you into his arms. He wrapped himself tightly around you, his skin was ice cold as he tried to cover as much of your flesh as he could with his own to cool you off. You were already beginning to feel some relief from the heat but your insides still felt like they were boiling.

A desperate whine escaped you, tears still steadily pouring down your face as your frantically nuzzled into the coldness that was the demon. Surely you looked like a drug addict going through withdrawal as your nails dug into the tan skin of the other, leaving bright red streaks all over the previously pristine skin.

Your brain was everywhere but also no where at the same time, you felt like a feral animal, writhing in pain and clawing at everything your nails came into contact with but the demons grip never wavered and never loosened as he held you tightly against him.

"Hot... so- so hot... please... s-stop it..." you were babbling at this point, not even sure if your words even came out coherently. "Shhhhh my sweet, I know. I know. I'm sorry." the demon's words seemed painfully sincere and his grip remained firm. He genuinely seemed to want to make it stop, soft hisses escaping his lips as your nails drew blood.

The whirring and buzzing in your head was so loud and you truly felt like your sanity was slipping. You couldn't focus on anything other than the need to cool down, when suddenly you were pulled into a firm kiss. His lips locked with yours as they moved together lazily and your body began to still. Your mind was finally quiet, the buzzing stopping completely as the demon's tongue filled your mouth, and began licking at every surface it could reach, causing your body to finally cool down.

Your insides no longer felt like they were boiling as the calm feeling took over you. It felt like you'd escaped an inferno just to be plunged into the deepest part of the ice blue ocean. A whimper of relief was swallowed by the demons mouth as his tight grip remained. You turned in his lap to straddle the strong muscles of his thighs, not breaking the languid kiss as your arms wrapped around his neck keeping your half lidded eyes locked on the demon.

With your mind and body finally settled, you were finally able to admire his beauty. He had long black eyelashes that rested softly on the tan skin of his cheeks and his eyebrows were beautifully straight and well kept. His midnight blue hair contrasted perfectly against the tan skin that was void of any imperfections. Pulling away from the kiss and panting heavily, your mouth remained parted slightly as your eyes traveled down the expanse of his facial features.

He had such a soft and round button nose and his cheeks were puffy, resemblance uncanny to a squirrel or chipmunk. His lips were spit slicked, red, and swollen from the kissing and he had a soft jawline that made him look far too cute for a demon. His eyes fluttered open to meet your glassy ones, the pink wasn't as intense as your first meeting. They seemed hazy and darker, the color look closer to a magenta than the blazing hot pink from before.

"It's lust. I'm a demon of lust and after we sealed the contract, your lust that you kept pent up poured out at full intensity. It normally isn't this bad but I guess you've been keeping it at bay for far too long." his voice was soothing as he explained what had happened to your body. The voice no longer emitting panic from you and instead replacing that with a serene type of calm. This demon was completely different than before. He seemed almost... tamed?

You hummed at the new information, your brain still a bit hazy as your hips began rolling slowly across the demons still bare cock, now making you realize that you were also completely naked as the rock hard cock slipped between your folds. Your arousal slicking up the long expanse of his shaft.

The fucked out expression still on your face as you stared at him with so much need and intensity that he felt his breath hitch. His was cock twitching in response to your movements and pressing against that sensitive bundle of nerves causing your body to jolt slightly. A whimper of pure need slipped past your swollen lips as your lashes fluttered slightly, not wanting to let your eyes close so you could keep admiring the pretty demon in front of you.

"Well, why don't you help me out with my lust and service me? My pretty demon." you hummed as your hips began to pick up their pace ever so slightly. The cock resting beautifully between your folds was drenched in your juices and the fluids began cascading further past where you were connecting, coating the muscular thighs in them as well. Sloppy wet sounds filling the room as his cock continued to slip against your core and you continued rolling your hips against it. The lewd and sloppy sounds causing goosebumps to erupt along your skin in arousal.

"Jisung. My name is jisung." the demon purred as the hands resting on your hips tightened into a bruising grip slightly guiding your hips and sharp pricks from his claws barely braking the skin causing you to hiss and arch your back. You were so sensitive and so desperate that you began to drool all over your chin and down the male's chest.

"God, you're such a messy slut for me. So fucking filthy." his words had venom laced through them that embarrassingly made you whimper, your hips starting to stutter as the still sore muscles in your thighs began to burn. Jisung must've noticed your struggling because in a flash he had your positions swapped, pinning you to the floor keeping his cock flush against you, not letting it slip in just yet.

The long slender fingers left their places on your hips, one hand planted firmly next to your head to keep the larger male above you as the other snaked up your sides. Razor-like claws stinging as they painted long red marks up your skin before lightly grazing across your collarbone. The digits wrapping eerily around your throat, pinning you filmy to the ground.

The grip was strong but not strong enough to cut off airflow, just enough to cause you to go lightheaded, a whine ripping through you as the demon kept his hips still. Your desperation causing you to plant your feet firmly to the floor and begin frantically grinding up against the cock that remained nestled between your folds.

"p-please... ji-sung...." you gasped and choked out, eyes pleading with the seemingly unfazed demon. His poker face was unbroken but he was fighting his own battle to keep from ripping you in half on his cock, having his way with you. and making you scream for him.

"But you're doing such a good job fucking yourself against my cock. Go on doll, use me to fall apart." he said before shifting his weight to be supported by his thighs as a sharp smack landed on your cheek, the sting settling into the reddening skin before another one followed in the exact same spot.

You were about to beg to be filled when your hips began to convulse, eyes rolling back as a silent scream ripped through your chest. You were cumming harder than you've ever cum in your entire life. Squirting all over the tan skin and tensing muscles as the demon rolled his hips to coax you through it.

"That's it, that's my pretty slut, covering me with your cum from getting slapped. Such a good fucking whore." his final sentence came out as a growl through clenched teeth. The sound was primal, almost animalistic and it only spurred you to keep cumming harder.

Your hole fluttered desperately around nothing as your thighs began to shake, body hitting the floor as you came down from your orgasm. The hand on your throat unwrapped itself and the demon sat back on his haunches watching your body twitch in bliss. His cock still painfully hard when you came to.

Seeing his rock hard cock still drenched in your orgasm, his abs glistening as your fluids cascaded down, and the sloppy wet mess you'd made of the demon made you need more. You were left panting on the floor as your trembling fingers wrapped around the backs of your thighs, spreading yourself open for the demon, your hole still fluttering and grasping around nothing and needing to be filled.

"Come on Sungie~ I can take it. Fill me with you cum, please?" you purred and you could see his eyes change. That feral hot pink flashing over the darker magenta color, seemingly fighting his urges as his eyes remained locked on your sloppy hole.

"Don't fight it su-AH!" you didn't get a chance to finish your sentence as the demon bottomed out inside of you, the burning stretch of his huge cock making you scream but your screaming only seemed to spur him on further as his hips began slamming into you.

His hips were immediately relentless as he jack hammered into you, his cock so big it caused a bulge to form in your belly every time he bottomed out. Gutteral growls and grunts erupted from the demons throat as his talons dug into your hips, holding you in place. "Oh fuck- so fucking sloppy and tight-" he growled, his hips never fathering.

The pain of the stretch and overstimulation mixing with the pleasure of his cock stretching your walls and abusing your sweet spot was so overwhelming. Your nails were digging into the muscles of Jisung's back, sure to draw blood as you continued screaming out for the other.

"fuck! oh my- ngggghhh! Ji- fuck! sung!" you couldn't form a coherent sentence if you tried, it all felt too good as you were practically split open on the monstrous cock. Your back was arching off the ground harshly as he leaned forward, both your chests flushed together and you could feel his sharp canines dragging against the soft skin along the column of your neck.

"You said you could take it didn't you? come in doll~ don't make me make you eat your words." his voice was deep, causing chills to run along your skin as wanton moans continued to escape you. The knot in your stomach snapping once again as you clamped tightly around the cock buried deep inside of you, earning a hiss from the demon who's pace remained bruising.

"So fucking tight- squeezing my cock so good like the fucking whore you are." the demon pushed himself back up one one hand to stare down at your fucked out expression as you were slammed back into overstimulation after your second orgasm, the demon not stopping anytime soon.

His free hand moved up your body to grab your jaw again, pushing his fingers into your cheeks to force your teeth to separate and your mouth to open wide for him. Drool was all over your cheeks and your chin, covering the hand that held your mouth open.

"Such a sloppy bitch. I fucking love it~" his words caused your stomach to tighten and your hole to clench around him again, eliciting another deep moan from him. "Such a good fucking whore, you were made to take this fucking cock weren't you?" his sentence ended with him spitting on that sloppy pink muscle in your mouth and a broken whimper left your body.

"f-f-fuck... I'm... ngggghhh" you couldn't even tell the demon you were gonna cum again before you were convulsing on his cock again. Overstimulation becoming way too much for your body that was vibrating and trembling and your brain was melted into a puddle.

"I'm gonna stuff you full of my fucking cum, you better take it all like a good fucking Fleshlight." he grunted out, you weren't coherent enough to respond as the hand holding your mouth open wrapped around your throat again, squeezing the sides to cut off blood flow and bring you that euphoric dizzy feeling again.

He continued to abuse your hole as he approached his own orgasm. You clenched your teeth as your back arched off the ground again, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth as you were fucked silly by the demon. One of your hands wrapped around the wrist that held you by your throat, nails digging into the unmarked flesh in an attempt to keep yourself conscious.

Your other hand clawed at the muscles in his back again before becoming a tight fist with whitening knuckles as your repeatedly punched the demon in the side and back, far too overwhelmed to go any longer. "My slut feeling so good she can't handle it? Have to hit me to keep from going brain dead huh? Demon cock too much to handle doll?" his words were mocking, rubbing it in that he did in fact make you eat your words.

Luckily after just a couple more slams into you, his movements stilled as his cock twitched deep inside you. Hot white ropes painted your insides, his cock filling you so much that his cum had nowhere to go as it slipped out from around his cock where you clamped around him again and you were wrecked by a fourth orgasm. His hips were barely moving in and out as he rode out his high, causing more cum to leak out from where the two of you were connected.

Once his orgasm ended he slowly pulled out of you, a whine escaping you as you continued convulsing on the floor. His cum was leaking out of your stretched out hole and mixing with the fluids of your own orgasm, both of your sweat, your droll and spit, and other bodily fluids that covered both of you and formed a puddle on the floor.

You your panting heavily, brain still melted and you felt the demon scoop you up from the floor. You weren't lucid enough after the fuck of your life to say, do, or think anything as you lay limp in his arms. Next thing you could feel was water encompassing your body and a rag was being dragged along your sticky flesh. Your eyes remained shut, still unable to register much of anything happening. It felt like you were outside of you body, watching the demon care for you.

For a sex demon, Jisung was awfully sweet after the contract was sealed. He gave you a bath and took his own with you, having your back pressed against his chest as he held you up in the water and cleaned you up. He did a very thorough job of getting every sticky fluid off of your body and out of any crevices it could've ended up, even shampooing your hair twice to get everything out of it.

After the bath, he wrapped a towel around his hips and dried you off with a towel of your own before carrying you bridal style to your bed which luckily stayed clean due to fucking on the floor. He planted you softly in the bed and wrapped you up in your blankets. Next, he removed the towel wrapped around his waist and used it to ruffle his wet hair once again, drying it off as much as possible before using it to clean up the floor.

You watched him through half lidded eyes, vision still hazy as he cleaned up the mess. When you saw him turn to leave, your shaking hand wrapped around his ice cold wrist causing the demon to look at you. "D-don't go... s-stay?" your voice was so small and fragile as you pleaded with the demon.

You couldn't see it but his cheeks heated up at your adorable actions, a funny feeling in his chest and his heart beating a bit faster. Even if he wanted to say no, which he definitely did not, how could he when you looked at him with a pout on your lips and those sparkly puppy dog eyes.

Letting out a fake annoyed sigh, he climbed into the bed behind you, spooning your smaller frame. He stayed above the covers, still completely naked but luckily you'd gotten use to the fact that the demon never wore any clothes. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you back against his strong form, holding you tightly as you fell asleep.

Once your soft snores filled the room and your chest rose and fell rhythmically as you breathed deeper, he knew you were asleep. He carded his fingers through your hair and took a moment to just admire how stunning you were, pout still on your lips as you slept and that strange fluttery feeling filled his chest again.

"How the hell am I supposed to say goodbye to you and take that beautiful soul..." he mumbled to himself, now fully aware of just how fucked he truly was and it was all because of you. A beautiful human who was perfect inside and out. "...I just had to go and get tamed by a stupid human." he mumbled but the expression on his face contradicted his cold words. The fond smile on his lips and the sparkle in his eyes when he gazed at you told a completely different story.

[connorsui]

Yours To Devour || R. Sukuna

♡Heian Era true form sukuna x female reader

♡one-shot

♡ Sukuna grapples with his growing obsession for the one mortal who sleeps peacefully in his presence, forcing him to confront an intimacy that both disgusts and entraps him.

♡ Tags: possessive Sukuna, soft sukuna (reluctant he hates it),watching you sleep, protective Sukuna,

♡ Genre/warnings : Mild possessiveness, obsessive thoughts, teennyyyy dark themes, small manipulation not really tho

Note: I wanted a sukuna that want to pretend he don't love you ....but he does

w.c: 1.1 K

The night stretched long and still, an endless canvas of shadow in which Sukuna sat, motionless, watching you sleep. The world beyond this room meant nothing to him in that moment, his kingdom reduced to the fragile form curled beside him, breathing so softly, so trustingly. It irritated him—no, more than that—it unnerved him. How could someone so powerless, so inconsequential, hold such sway over his thoughts?

You didn’t know it, couldn’t know it, but you had woven yourself into the very fabric of his being without so much as lifting a finger. It was absurd. He was Sukuna Ryomen, the King of Curses. His power knew no bounds, his cruelty no limits, and yet here he was, tethered to a mortal, incapable of tearing his eyes away from the steady rise and fall of your chest. He hated it—hated you for it. And yet… he couldn’t stop.

Why does it have to be you of all?

The question lingered, gnawing at the edges of his mind. Why did you sleep so easily in his presence? Why did the terror that gripped the souls of all others at the mere sight of him seem to bypass you completely? There was a recklessness in your serenity, a vulnerability that mocked the very core of his existence. You should have feared him. You should have fled, as all the others had. But you stayed.

More than that—you rested.

Sukuna’s gaze swept over your face, soft and untroubled in sleep, lips slightly parted as though you were whispering secrets to the night. A low growl rumbled in his chest. You were aggravatingly adorable in the worst of ways, and he hated that about you.

This is beneath me.

All of this is beneath me.

He told himself that again and again, a mantra that rang hollow with every passing second. How had it come to this? When had he allowed himself to sink so low, to be ensnared by something as meaningless as your mortal fragility? He had killed for less—decimated entire populations without so much as a second thought. But you, in your softness, in your maddening stillness, were undoing him.

Sukuna shifted closer to you, his breath catching in his throat when you stirred ever so slightly, turning toward him, as if even in sleep, you sought the heat of his body. The urge to touch you, to trace the outline of your cheek with his fingers, clawed at him. He wanted to deny it, to push you away, to crush the intimacy growing between you like a weed he could not pull. But he didn’t. He let himself drown in it.

You have no idea what you’ve done to me, he thought, the words a silent curse, bitter and laden with a weight he couldn’t shake. You had invaded his mind, his soul, in ways that made no sense. He, who had been untouchable, invincible, now found himself tangled in this absurd connection, like a moth drawn to the flame that would inevitably consume it.

But he wasn’t the moth, was he? No, you were. You, with your mortal fragility and your trusting heart, would be the one to burn.

Still, his hands betrayed him. They moved without his permission, his upper arms sliding under the blanket to pull you into his chest, while his lower hands hovered, uncertain, before covering your smaller form with their warmth. His grip tightened—possessive, instinctive—as if keeping you close was the only way to keep himself together. And it disgusted him. You disgusted him. And yet, the disgust was tempered by something darker, something more intimate.

Do you even know how much power you have over me?

He felt his chest rise and fall in time with yours, an unintentional rhythm that brought him no peace, only frustration. He had spent centuries mastering control over everything—his domain, his power, the very fabric of reality itself bent to his will. But you? You had slipped past his defenses without even trying, weaving yourself into his every thought, his every breath.

It was infuriating. It was intoxicating.

He lowered his gaze to your lips, slightly parted in sleep, the soft puff of your breath brushing against his skin. He could feel it—his need to touch you, to claim you, warping the edges of his sanity. The intimacy of it all, the way you had trusted him, was unbearable. And yet, here he was, allowing you into the space no one else had ever dared to enter.

Why do you make me weak? The thought echoed in his mind, bitter and raw. He could end this now, crush you in his embrace, sever this unwanted bond with a single thought. And yet… the idea of your absence unsettled him in a way that nothing ever had before.

“Foolish girl,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper in the dark. His lips curled into a sneer, but it was laced with something softer, something closer to tenderness than he would ever admit. You have no idea how dangerous this is, do you? No idea how close you were to being devoured, consumed by the very thing that now held you so carefully, so possessively.

But there was no terror in you, no fear, as you pressed closer to him in sleep. Only a serene acceptance that made his chest tighten in ways he didn’t understand. The idea of letting go seemed… impossible now. The King of Curses did not care for anything or anyone—but the thought of you slipping from his grasp was unbearable. It was absurd.

I’ll kill you and anyone else before I let such a thing happen.

His arms tightened around you, holding you closer, his body wrapping around yours with a desperate sort of finality. He was no fool. This was a weakness, plain and simple. But it was his weakness. You were his.

And so, as the night deepened, Sukuna rested, his head falling against yours as he allowed himself this brief surrender to the intimacy he would never acknowledge in the daylight. The world could crumble, kingdoms could fall, but for now—just for now—he would keep you here.

Close.

And he would never let you go.

Manz doesn't know what to do with himself ...but that's okay ..cuz you there

[spencerscoven]

the alternate … art donaldson

Art has a proclivity for giving attention to his enemy. He hates her— but particularly hates how she has Patrick wrapped around her finger even more.

warnings ; smut .. slutty drunk freshman art x Patrick's gf, infidelity .. unedited for now! oops!

It didn’t take much time for Art to settle into Cornell— it wasn’t just the tennis or the girls, of which he quickly learned were rather women, or even the academics. His hesitation on his attendance was especially foolish, especially in moments like these as he rolled over, crushing the red solo up beneath him. The buzzing in his jean pocket persisted, just like it had for the last five minutes before, causing him to utter another affirmation to ignore it into her mouth.

Maybe the women had one or two things to do with it.

"Maybe just get it?"

"Why?"

"So you... can tell them you're busy."

He hummed into her mouth as the girl above him detached herself, moving to grab the stitch of her top to remove it as he tilted his hips to reach for his phone.

Patrick.

His calloused hands came up to push her thighs over his hips, sitting up to read the rapid series of text Patrick had sent. And Art soon saw— was still sending. All of them ranged from different ways of him asking Art to check up on you, letting your attendance be known. Patrick's texts detailed the simple request of him checking to see if you were taking your alcohol well. Another saying he hoped you wouldn't get roofed. And one that blatantly asked that he didn't let any of "those Ivy League assholes" fuck his girlfriend.

Art rolled his eyes, resentment laced in his actions as he muttered condolences and pledged to "be right back", his large hands taking the knob of the door and peering out into the dark hallway to find you. When a look wasn't enough, he left the room door slightly ajar, stepping completely into the hallway filled with red cups, colored lights, almost sidetracked by his team that pulled him by the neck and fought to put a drink in his hand. With a light smile still gracing his face and beer in a can, his eyes wondered up to your face, watching as your lips wrapped around a bottle of Corona, some leaking out the side of which you swiped away with the back of your hand. He felt the same kind of resentment he usually felt when he saw you when Patrick visited fill him from his chest out. He watched as you leaned against the wall talking to someone. He took in your skimpy skirt and top with less resentment, though.

He especially didn't like it when the next time he looked for your face, you were staring at him, eyes hooded and smile nasty and condescending.

"He told me to look for you."

"I know." You raised your eyebrow dismissively, almost wanting to laugh at Patrick's good intentions. He knew what you'd say about Art. Just like you assumed what Art said about you, yet he asked him anyway.

"And by that, he means look after you." Art leans in, lips close to your ear as the music sounded. You roll your eyes as he lingers there a moment too long and you expect him to say something more, but he never does.

"We both know I look fine."

It takes a beat before he responds. "We both do."

"And we both know you don't want to babysit."

"But I'm a good friend."

"I've known corrupt politicians that are better friends than you, Art."

He sways away from you, facing the rest of the party as he rolls his eyes with the kind of insularity he only reserved for you, tipping his head back to finish the rest of his beer and tossing it towards the trashcan, only to miss.

He turns to you, irritation flaring as he stabilizes himself on the sticky wall behind him by holding your hips. It's something you're willing to let go of, your breath clicking as he whispers: "You smell like pot."

"It's a free country."

"Okay," he challenges, pursing his lips as he leans closer. "What's in your cup?"

"What? Yours and Chelsea's not good enough for you?"

His upper lip raises, in a look of both disgust and toleration as he grasps your wrist, forcing you to bring your own bottle to his mouth. The contents of it are mostly able to be swallowed but the rest flow from the corners of his lips, down his chin, to his throat where his Adams apple bobs as he swallows. You wipe it instinctively, causing you to both freeze for only a moment. He shutters before he opens his mouth again to slur,

"Chelsea?"

You look at him quizzically, your mouth opening once, twice, three times, only to say nothing but erupt in laughter that rocks your head backwards and your body closer to his. Art looks around frantically, his mouth tilting downwards as he looks around, grasping your hips forward and gritting his teeth as he repeats himself.

"Chelsea? What's the fucking joke I'm not getting?"

"The girl that you just— my fucking god, Art. I know you look the way you do, but you couldn't even remember her name?" You tilt your head towards the doorway, insinuating the room you're sure his cologne still lingered in. He groans, his head falling forward in a laugh as his right hand on your hip runs up the side of your torso, his head spinning.

"I'm not a very good date, am I?" You can nearly taste the alcohol on his tongue and you're out of laughs, humor gone as a consequence of being so close to him. And maybe he's too drunk to realize it's happening, but you're too cross to care when his thumbs rub circles on your hipbone, of which he had to invade underneath your waistband to do.

"I almost finished my night like this." It's so quiet that you're unsure if it was for you to hear. But it doesn't matter, as your hand runs up his arm and shoulders, eyes following over the ripples.

"This is not the same."

Your other hand trickles down to his waistband, guiltily skating over his bulge as you feel his pocket for his phone.

"Arthur, Patrick told you to check on me. So, tell him I'm okay."

"I told him that I'd check on you. I also told him you were a bad idea, like I always do," He saws it lowly, as if it's not supposed to slip out and has only found it's way because of his level of intoxication. You scoff, pushing him backwards as you're suddenly slightly more sober. You rock back and forth, eyes rolling back, but the distance is not created before you can hear him finish: "but I never said he didn't have good taste."

You don't like that it's still said in the way only drunk and resentful Art could deliver it. "You're not a very good fucking friend."

"To who, you?" He makes it his personal duty to invade your space, his face in somewhat of a snarl. You know that some would see this as uncharacterized for Art, but it's most familiar to you. It feels somewhat like home. Albeit, a house fire, but home.

Your first encounter with him was glancing behind yourself at move in, and seeing his blonde locks brushed back by calloused hands as he looked at you, then to your racket.

Your second encounter was only minutes later, when he stood next to his raven haired friend who asked for your number as he rolled his eyes with a knot in his jaw, as if he didn't find you worthy. He tugged on the shirt of his friend, telling him there were better things to do. Better, he had said.

And that never made much sense to you. Because in your relationship with Patrick, there had always been the inconsequential three.

"You're not my friend," You begin, mind calculating how many rooms and doors of Cornell's largest final club you'd have to go before finding somewhere, anywhere, that would fit just you. "Never was."

Art's only silent for a moment, nose flaring and eyes squinting. his shoulders are tense, and if you were to look down you'd see his hand balled in a fist.

"What? What now, Art?"

"You never gave me your number."

He watches as your eyes furrow in confusion, the heat in your eyes rising rather than deflating. And he speaks again:

“You gave it to Patrick. But you never gave me your number.”

Without your bottle, your hands search for something to do, blinking frantically. They resort to touching yourself in the same places he just had, your fingers running down your torso quickly, your hip bone. When you touch your shoulder is when the two of your gazes meet once again. Art watches through blue as you nod your head slowly in both horror and understanding.

You're quick on your feet. He's watched countless of your matches, even when he had no business doing so. But he is too. So when a short string of curses land out of your mouth and you march down the hallway, he's on your heels.

And all you can think is that you know his gaze better than any other. It wasn't something you intended but through these sporadic games, your body and soul had bargained to be familiar with Art more than any other. If he leaned against the net or lunch table, it became the kind of resourcefulness of movement that was so particularly him. It was rare you called on him, yet necessary when it was a matter of Patrick. He was always there, steadfast and urgent. It'd be days before you learned of the lecture he missed because of it. And while your boyfriend was off being a pro, Art never was slow to tell you how good his female counterparts around him were, while you were "only barely whopping college ass".

But somehow he was always there. You found his gels and handle tape in your tennis bag. You had more than half your dining points still because you were just "a casualty of being present” when he was buying his own lunch. And it all made you feel as if he was just very...

"You're a fucking con artist," You shoved him against the door of which he only narrowly made it "A fucking wolf in sheep's clothing."

It made you even angrier that he was stronger than you but willing to let his body fall back, lips pierced in a thin obedient line as his back hit the door repeatedly under your assault until he grasped both your forearms, holding them closely together. A wince escaped your mouth, his strength relenting and becoming lighter but still he held you. He leaned down, attempting to meet your face that now focused on the hardwood below.

"I know I'm the bad guy. Still, what's it gonna be?"

You didn't look up at that. But you did at the vibration that sounded in his pocket just seconds later. There were always three.

Art doesn't waste a moment to release your arms, wrapping his own in an enclosure around your head to reach your lips, tugging you impossibly close to him. You can't help but not move-- letting him twist your head and invade your lips. It's only until you release a small moan you latch back.

After Art's kiss, your night was haunted. It was distorted beyond your eyes' power of correction. So when a pair of lips landed on yours again, you came back home. You gave in.

His hands ran down your body, invading each and every corner of you. Your hips, your waist, the small of your back, the back of your thighs which he used to hoist your body upwards and against the doorframe, caging you. As the wet kisses sound on your neck, you look past his head to the room you two now occupied, no bed. Just various pieces of miscellaneous covered in cream sheets. When you look towards the window, releasing another whimper as you feel his middle and index finger prod at your cotton panties, you can see dust aligning with the moonlight.

Like everything else he does, he's good at the way he touches you. No, nearly instinctual. Art's fingers curve and level themselves out inside of you, yet he leaves his palms frigid, rubbing your clit back and forth with the surface of it. It makes you all so weak, Art murmuring your name as the two of you lower to the floor, you're suddenly reminded of the urgency of the matter.

"Art, I need--"

"I know,"

I know,

I know,

I know.

He repeats the sentiment into your skin and it almost makes your eyes brim with tears as you feel his bulge covered by denim slot against your soaked underwear. The feeling is delicious, so you excuse your decorum when you buck your hips against his. You watch as he detaches himself from you, the depth of his blonde hair twinkling in the moonlight. His lips and chin are swollen and wet from your messy kisses that appeared to be more tongue than anything. He lifts your hips to remove your skirt on his own once he catches the way your eyes watch him, still. He looks at you, sick with the same fever, but now you're not quite sure what this illness even is.

His hands move to tug your shirt up, yet you push his hands away, making them double up on his belt as both of you scramble to slide his jeans below his ass. You also help him when he leans to grab your right leg, sliding it up and against his hip as he sways above you. You watch as he thinks, only for a moment, places a feather right kiss on your knee, whispers something you can't hear, and promptly shoves his dick inside of you.

The force of it slams your head against the door, the hinges rattling but the surprise of his size makes it so you hardly notice. You close your eyes immediately until you're struck with the realization that you hope this never happens again. You hope you're never drunk enough, or lucky enough to have your boyfriend's best friend's dick rocking you back and forth ever again. You near your eyes open, willing to at least let yourself savor what little you have now, gazing in the middle of you two where you can see him disappear inside of you repeatedly.

Art huffs above you as your name escape his lips repeatedly as if it hadn't been the first time. You find yourself unable to cope, grabbing the hardwood until you realize there's not much give. So you resort to firmly biting his shoulder between your gasps and yelps. which only surges him on to drive into you faster, his hips snapping and the sounds of both your flesh filling the room.

You feel his clammy hand reach for the hair at the nape of your neck and you allow yourself to submissively follow regardless of your confusion. Art's breath mingles with yours as he asks:

"Is it good?"

You don't answer.

"Does it feel good?"

Your brows furrow together as you nod your head up and down as if you’ve been doped, chest heaving uncontrollably. He meets your lips and it feels as if he's kissing you solely for himself as he drags his hand on your cheeks and forehead, ridding your face of your sweat and hair. His other hand circulates your clit with a firm hold and you feel the familiar sensation approaching. Your skin felt both as cold and hot as it ever had, your teeth penetrating your bottom lip, biting Art in the process.

"I don't think we should do this.." You spit out quietly in intervals, because it feels like the right thing to say right before you come all over his cock and he leans down to look at the mess you've made in bliss. The results that it gives are fruitful, as you feel his fingers' relentlessness on your clit still. But you can tell he's struggling to stay where he is, trying to milk every moment he can inside of you.

You use your feet to push his hips back, arms reaching above your head as you untangle your limbs. Your legs remain sprawled out on his thighs, of which lay on his calves. The silence between you two is like molasses, and he stares at your core as you brush your socked toes against his abdomen, then cock.

You see a frown form on his face, but you're also met with the needy repeated rise of his hips that meet your foot and help you grind against him. You watch in awe as his eyes don't leave yours, confusion filling the air. You bring your feet faster, rubbing against his tip and watch as Art's whimper fills the air and his cum shoots to his lower stomach and your sock, his eyes closing, throat repeatedly bobbing as he rides his high. You watch as the thrusts into you become increasingly slower until they stop completely and the two of you are left still once again. You marvel in the way it seems almost as if he always gets what he wants. And Art isn't quite sure of what to make of you at all anymore, with his ears ringing and chest warm.

On his knees, he cascades towards your body that slumps against the door frame. He moves towards you slowly at first, hesitating if you wanted any of this at all. But you don't decline the warmth of his chest as he pulls you in, wordlessly. You let him bury his nose to your scalp as he takes you in.

And you both agree that if this may be a story of tonight alone, you both might as well melt indistinguishably into it once again.

[unorthodoxfaithxx]

Yandere Ghost Smut

afab reader ; nsfw

“This house is totally perfect! You’ll love it,” is what your realtor told you when they finally found a house within your budget. You loved the aesthetics of historical homes, so when they discovered an older house that not only was in your price range, but had just minor damages, they called you immediately. 

You moved in within the month. It didn’t take long to settle into your new home. There was a room with shelves meant for books, and you spent most of your free time there, enjoying the books from your collection that could rival a library. Sometimes, you would feel a sudden chill in the air when reading, and grow pensive. It would feel like someone was watching you. But besides that, nothing was out of the ordinary. You just assumed you were too stressed out and growing paranoid as a result. Everything was fine.

Well, it was. Until you started waking up with strange markings on your body. You woke up one day in a cold sweat, waltzing into the bathroom to wash your face off, only to find what looked like hickeys on your neck and upper chest area. Weird. Did you have bugs in the bed? Was it an allergic reaction to the new detergent you bought for the sheets? You had no idea. 

You were never able to solve the issue because the markings disappeared within a few hours, and didn’t come back again. Once more, you shrugged it off and assumed nothing was amiss. 

Yet eventually, things got even stranger. Your panties started disappearing one-by-one, and you were sure you hadn’t misplaced them. Specifically, your already worn undergarments would disappear from the dirty laundry bin before you could wash them. What the fuck?

“I don’t know, Mary,” you call your best friend one afternoon, “I feel like this place is haunted. And what’s even weirder is I keep getting these wet dreams…like every night. I’m not even sexually frustrated so I don’t know why I wake up wet or with markings on myself.”

“Maybe you got a ghost fucking ya?” She jokes around and you both get a laugh out of that. But for some reason, the deepest part of your being can’t dismiss that thought. 

You begin to grow paranoid and start searching for any signs in your house that someone else is living with you. You decide to enter the dusty attic, and find rather antique furniture and a box containing a photo of a man and a woman. He was handsome, albeit a little creepy looking, but what struck you as odd was woman next to him. She looked eerily like you. You brought the photos downstairs to do some research on your computer, but alas, found no information on the man or the woman. The only thing you found out was that there was a fire that had damaged the property all too many years ago. You felt the creepy sensation of being watched again, and called it quits for the night, opting to get some much needed rest.

That night, you saw him.

————————————————————

It’s midnight when he appears in your room, watching your beautiful self slumber. You were so perfect, all those years ago when you left him, and even now. He loves the way the sheets drape your body, but slowly peels them off to reveal that you’re in nothing but a bra and panties. There is a slight sheen of sweat on your skin as your eyebrows furrow cutely in your sleep. 

His angel must be having a nightmare, but he can take care of that. Gently, he trails his cold fingers over your curves. He admires your beauty, so happy to see you once more. He can’t wait another minute.

While you’re still on your side, he unclasps your bra, relishing the way your tits fall free without the support. They look so beautiful and perfect, he can’t even begin to describe how enchanted you make him feel. 

You roll onto your back. He slides your underwear to the side, revealing your pretty cunt to his ghostly eyes. With a delicate touch, he rubs your clit in small circles, playing with you. 

You gasp at the touch and he smirks. Your shuffling does little to deter him from his objective.

He’s on the bed with you, intently staring at your lower half. He admires your folds and moves them open and closed with his fingers, revealing a leaking hole that was your wetness. With a gulp, he slides your underwear off you, wadding it into a ball, burying his face into it as he takes a whiff of your scent. He’d be tasting the real thing soon enough. Once satisfied, he pockets your undies for safe keeping. He tilts his head down to your lower body, shifting into a more comfortable position. With a breath of anticipation, he slithers his cold tongue over your vagina, moaning slightly at the sensation. 

He’s been doing this every night he could manifest, and it never got tiring.

This time, and he doesn’t know why, you wake up, staring down at the mysterious man in terror as he laps you up like a man thirsting in the desert. You mean to run but you can’t move. You feel something cold and wet tying your body to the bed. You try to close your legs from your violator, but his icu hands grip firmly on your thighs, keeping them wide open for him to shove his face between. 

Under the moonlight, the two of you make eye contact but he doesn’t stop, instead opting to send you a wicked smile. “Good morning, love,” he says gently from beneath you. “I missed you so, so much. You know that?”

You’re in a state of shock, words screaming in your head but not quite reaching your vocal chords. The only sound you can make is a whimper as he shoves his tongue further into you, his nose rubbing you causing further pleasurable friction. He sucks, licks, and rolls your clit with his tongue. 

Suddenly, he slides a cold finger into your hole and you gasp, arching your back only to be stuck back down again. “Don’t move, pretty thing,” he scolds you. 

“F-fuck,” you finally manage to whisper, heart racing, “Who are you?”

“Someone who’s been watching you for a very, very long time.” He’s stopped licking you, instead moving to pump another finger into your pretty cunt, thrusting in and out at a moderate pace. His eyes show so much love, desperation, and lust in them that you have no idea what to do or where to go. Then it clicks. The man from the photo. That’s who he was. How could that be possible? Was he an actual ghost?

“I’ve been so lonely without you, princess. When you left me to burn, do you know how heartbroken I was? But now you’re back, and we can finally be together again. I’m not letting you leave me another time.”

He now has three fingers inside of you, picking up the pace. The lewd sound of slick fingers sliding in and out of your cunt drives him wild. His face is back between your thighs again, lapping you up and suckling on you until you’re visibly shaking. 

“Aw, sweet girl. Gonna cum?”

You don’t want to, but you feel something hot and heavy coming.

“Shit. Cum in my mouth, sweetheart. Wanna taste everything you got.” He latches back onto you. 

Your stomach drops and you let go, mind very distressed but body obviously in heaven. Your pussy spazzes out on him and he moans as he licks up the mess you leave behind. With a wipe of his mouth he grins, eying you like a rare prize he had just one at the fair.

He grabs onto you, embracing you in a hug you can’t run away from. Seriously, why can’t you move? He notices your struggles and laughs, snuggling into your chest. 

“Ah ah ah, no running away, love. I’ve waited so long for you. You’re not going anywhere.”

He flips you to where you’re face down, ass up. Your vagina is dripping, juices sliding down your thigh. He licks his lips before biting his lower one, admiring the roundness of your ass and your now puffy and pink pussy. 

“Oh, love. You got no idea what you do to me…”

You feel something cold and hard tap the entrance of your walls, and you freeze. Oh god, was he going to fuck you? His hands are on the sides of your ass, but you feel another set of cold hands grabbing your arms, and even another pulling at your tits. You whimper at the overstimulation.

“Enjoy the hands. They’re all me.”

Before you can reply, he’s sliding his dick through your entrance. Your pussy quivers at the sensation and he laughs. “Did you just come from that, love?”

Once you take all of him, he leans forward to whisper in your ear. “I want to hear you moan, sweetheart. Go on, make some noise for me.”

As he’s taking you from behind, a hand shoves its fingers into your mouth, and you gag on it. The sets of hands on your breasts are now fondling them, pinching and squeezing. You’ve never felt so much at once before, and you eventually yield to the pleasure, moaning as he thrusts into you.

“That’s it, baby. Take it. Take it all. You’re fucking mine,” He snarls, and you whine at how hard he’s pounding into you, ferocity now evident in his demeanor. 

You slurp and suck on the fingers, only for it to pop out of your mouth and slide into your ass instead. You cry out at the sensation. A hand is sliding circles around your clit as he fucks you, sending waves of pleasure over your body you’ve never known before. 

“Too much!” You cry, sobbing with pleasure.

He gives you a kiss on the neck. “Almost done, love. Just keep taking it, okay? You’re doing so good for me. God, you’re fucking perfect.” His thrusts became sporadic, and you know he’s close. 

In the end, you come once more, and you feel he does too. When he pulls out, you collapse on the bed, blacking out. Morning eventually comes, and you feel someone is holding you from behind. A set of hands grope your body as you wake up. 

“Morning, love. Ready for round two?”