#hellspawn x reader

[blakeswritingimagines]

Oops! (Dark Smut)

Summary: Your stalker makes his move to finally have you as his

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Dark Yandere! Spawn, Innocent! reader, Stalking, Kidnapping, Begging, Spawn getting off on your fear, Mocking degradation, Virgin reader, Fem leaning reader, RAPE, Crying, Fingering, Reader being called pet names, Doggy style, Rough fucking, No protection, Cumming inside. Let me know if I missed and anything and READ AT YOU OWN CAUTION

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Al Simmons/Hellspawn character/s nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

The night was dark and heavy as Spawn stalked his prey through the narrow alleys of the city. His footsteps were silent, his body moving with the grace and lethality of a predator on the hunt. He had been watching you for weeks now, his gaze never leaving you as you moved through the world, unaware of the danger that was lurking in the shadows. You were beautiful, he had to admit but you were innocent, unknowing of the monster who watched you from afar. Spawn continued his stalking, his heart beating in anticipation as he drew closer to you. He could hear the sound of your footsteps, the way your breath caught in your throat as you looked around, your eyes darting in fear. He could smell the scent of your sweat, the perfume that clung to your skin. He could see the way your hair shone in the dim light, the curve of your body beneath your clothes.

You continued walking down the alleyway, feeling a sense of uneasiness in the pit of your stomach. You couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching you, as if a pair of eyes were fixed on you, following your every move. You quickened your pace, trying to shake off the feeling and put some distance between you and whatever it was that was making you feel so uneasy. But as you turned a corner, a figure stepped out of the shadows in front of you, blocking your way. Spawn stood in front of you, a towering figure draped in shadows. His crimson eyes pierced the darkness, drinking in every detail of your appearance. Seeing the fear in your eyes, he felt a sense of satisfaction ripple through him. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time and now that you were here, within reach, he intended to make every second count. You froze as he stepped out of the shadows, your breath catching in your throat as you stared up at him. Who was this man, and how had he gotten here? Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound of your own fear filling your ears. His eyes were like fire, burning into you, and you couldn't help but feel like a cornered prey animal, unable to escape. "I-I'm sorry, sir." Spawn smirked at your fear, his voice dripping with condescension. "Sorry? For what, darling? For being so damn clueless?" He took a step closer to you, his eyes roaming over your body like you were a piece of meat. "You have no idea what's been watching you, do you?" You backed away, your back hitting a wall as Spawn stepped closer, his eyes continuing their perusal of your body. You felt like you were being violated with his gaze alone, and you couldn't help but shiver under his intense stare. "Wh-what are you talking about? What's been watching me?"

Spawn leaned in closer, his body pressing against yours, pinning you to the wall. He was so close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, smell the scent of fire and brimstone that clung to his skin. "Oh, you poor little darling," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You have no idea just how long I've been watching you, do you? I've been following you for months, watching your every move." You felt a sense of dread wash over you as Spawn's body pressed against yours, trapping you against the wall. Months? He had been stalking you for months? The thought made your head spin, and your heart pounded wildly in your chest. "Wh-why?" you croaked out, your voice barely a whisper. "Why have you been following me?" Spawn smirked again, his face only inches from yours. "Oh, darling, you really don't know anything, do you?" he purred. "You're so damn naive, so innocent." He reached out a hand and ran his fingers along your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "I've been watching you because you're mine." Spawn grabbed your wrist, his grip firm and unyielding. He pulled you away from the wall, practically dragging you behind him. You tried to protest, but his grip was like iron, his strength far beyond your own. He led you through the dark alleys and deserted streets, until finally you arrived at a long abandoned building. The windows were boarded up and the doors were barred, but Spawn simply kicked them open like they were made of paper and dragged you inside. You trembled as Spawn dragged you into the abandoned building, the darkness inside almost palpable. You tried to pull away, to break free from his grip, but it was useless. He was stronger than you could ever imagine, and the fear that coursed through your veins made your heart pound in your chest. "Please, let me go," you pleaded, looking up at him with wide, fearful eyes. "I don't want to be here." Spawn didn't respond, his expression cold and unyielding. He tightened his grip on your wrist, pulling you further into the darkness of the abandoned building. You stumbled along beside him, your mind racing as you tried to come up with a plan to escape. The building was decrepit and dilapidated, the air thick with dust and decay. Spawn led you to a small room at the end of a long hallway, and kicked the door open, shoving you inside. The door slammed shut behind you, leaving you alone in the darkened room.

You stumbled and fell as Spawn shoved you into the dark room, landing on the hard, wooden floor. Fear clutched at your heart like a vise, and you scrambled to your feet, your eyes darting around the room for any possible escape route. But the room was empty, its windows boarded up and the door locked tight from the outside. You were trapped. You sat in the corner of the room, your body weak and bruised from days without food and water. You had been trying to find a way out, to escape from this dark and dismal place, but it seemed impossible. The door was locked from the outside, and the windows were boarded up. You were trapped, your hope of escape slowly fading away. Just as you were about to succumb to despair, the door creaked open, and Spawn stepped into the room. Spawn loomed in the doorway, his figure filling the small space. He looked even more terrifying than before, his eyes burning with an unnatural fire and his body radiating a sense of power that was palpable. You shrank back further into the corner, trying to disappear into the shadows as he approached. Spawn's footsteps echoed through the room as he stalked toward you, his eyes fixed on your trembling form. He crouched down in front of you, his expression unreadable, but his eyes betraying a hint of dark excitement. "Look at you," he said, his voice a deep growl. "So weak. So vulnerable. Just like a little mouse, caught in my trap." You tried to push yourself further into the corner as he crouched in front of you, the fear coursing through your veins like ice. You felt like a mouse, trapped and defenseless, and he was the cat poised to pounce. "Please," you whispered, your voice shaking. "Don't hurt me." Spawn's lips curled into a sadistic smile, his expression one of pure sadistic pleasure. "Oh, but darling, I have no intention of hurting you," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Not yet, anyway." He reached out a hand and gently caressed your cheek, his touch a mockery of tenderness. "I just want to play with you a little bit first." You shuddered at his touch, feeling revulsion and fear war within you. The idea of being his plaything, to be used and discarded at his whim, was almost too much to bear. "No," you managed to croak out, trying to sound defiant. "I don't want to be your toy."

"You don't have a choice, my darling," he said with a cruel smile. "You're mine. I'll do with you as I please." Spawn's smile grew wider at your defiance, his hand tracing down your throat and stopping at your collarbone. "You always have to be so damn stubborn, don't you?" he said, his voice a low rumble. "But that's alright, I like it. It just makes it more fun to break you." He leaned in even closer, his breath hot on your skin. "And I will break you, darling. Make no mistake about that." Spawn's hand moved to your throat, his fingers gently wrapping around it in a tight grip. He leaned in closer, his face just inches from yours, and his voice dropped to a low, menacing whisper. You froze as he wrapped his hand around your throat, his grip just tight enough to make you gasp for breath. He was so close that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, and the intensity in his eyes was almost too much to bear. You tried to speak, to protest or plead, but no words came out. You were frozen with fear, unable to move as he held you in his grip. Spawn smiled as he felt your body trembling, the fear and helplessness radiating off of you in waves. He enjoyed your fear, reveled in it. His grip on your neck seemed to tighten slightly, his fingers digging into your skin as if to remind you who was in control. "There's no point in struggling," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're mine now. Mine to do with as I please." He leaned in even closer, his breath hot on your ear. "And I plan to do a lot with you, darling." You could feel his breath on your ear, his grip tight around your neck as he leaned in even closer. Panic was rising in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You could feel your heart pounding a mile a minute, the sound of blood rushing in your ears. "Please," you gasped, your voice cracking. "Please, don't do this." Spawn chuckled, his grip on your neck slowly loosening. "Oh, but darling, I'm going to do a lot more than this." His hand moved to your chin, gripping it tightly and forcing you to look at him. His eyes burned into Yours with an intensity that made your blood run cold. "And I'm going to enjoy every second of it." You were trapped, physically and emotionally, unable to escape his grip or his gaze. You could see the sadistic pleasure in his eyes, the way he relished in your fear and helplessness. It was as if he was feeding off of your fear, getting stronger and more sadistic with each passing moment. "Please," you whispered again, your voice ragged and broken.

"Please what, darling?" he asked, his grip on your chin becoming even tighter. "Please stop? Please let you go? Please not to hurt you?" He chuckled again, his eyes darkening with a sadistic gleam. "I'm afraid it's too late for that, my sweet." He leaned in even closer, his face now just barely an inch away from your own. "You're mine now, and I have big plans for you. Do you think anyone is looking for you? Anyone who might care if I do… unspeakable things to you?" You felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, a sense of hopelessness washing over you like a tidal wave. You knew he was enjoying your fear and helplessness, and the thought of being at his mercy for who knows how long was too much to bear. The question about whether anyone cared about you made your heart ache in your chest. Deep down, you knew the answer, but you weren't willing to admit it.

"There's…there's someone," you managed to stammer out, your voice barely above a whisper. Spawn's eyes narrowed at your response, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Really now," he said, his tone dropping several degrees. "And who might that be hm?" His grip on your chin had slackened slightly, but his hand was still holding you firmly in place. You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. The last thing you wanted to do was give him any information that might incriminate the person you were thinking about. "It's… it's no one," you said, trying to keep your voice from quavering. "Just someone I know. They probably don't even-" You broke off, biting your lip, unable to say the words that had come to mind. Spawn's frown deepened, his eyes drilling into yours like daggers. "They probably don't even care about you?" he finished, his voice dripping with mockery. "Is that what you were going to say, darling?" You bit your lip, unable to meet his intense gaze. The words had come out before you could stop them, and you knew that he had seen right through you. It was a raw nerve, a weakness that you had foolishly exposed, and now he was going to exploit it. He chuckled, the sound dark and sadistic. "Oh, I see it now," he said, his grip on your chin tightening once more. "You're lonely. No one cares about you. No one is looking for you. How pathetic." He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours. "You're nothing more than a piece of trash, discarded and forgotten."

The words stung, digging into you like a knife twisting in your heart. You wanted to deny it, to fight back and tell him that he was wrong. But deep down, you couldn't help but think that he was right. You were alone, abandoned, with nowhere to turn. The weight of that realization threatened to crush you under its weight, and you could feel your resolve crumble. Spawn's grip on your chin loosened slightly, his expression shifting to one of satisfaction. He had hit the mark, and he knew it. "That's right ," he said softly, his voice dripping with a dark sort of pleasure. "You're all alone in this messed up world. No friends, no family, no one who gives a damn about you." His hand moved to your cheek, his touch oddly gentle for just a moment. "Except me, darling." Your heart clenched at his words, a strange mixture of revulsion and something darker. His touch was almost tender for a moment, and it unnerved you more than his cruelty. The thought of being dependent on him, of being his only lifeline, was almost too much to bear. But deep down, a part of you wondered if it was better than being alone. Spawn's grin widened at your pleas, his eyes glinting with malevolent glee. "Shhh, darling," he cooed, his thumb stroking your jawline. "It's okay. I know you're scared. But trust me, once we get started, all that fear will melt away… replaced by something far more exquisite, well for me at least." His other hand trailed down your arm, his touch cold and clammy against your skin. "Now, let's get comfortable, shall we?" With a sudden burst of strength, he pulled you to your feet and pushed you towards the bed in the corner of the room. "Lie down for me, sweet thing," he commanded, his voice dripping with dark desire. "Let's begin our little game." You stumbled as he pulled you to your feet, your legs feeling weak and trembling. The fear that had been building up inside of you threatened to overwhelm you, but for some reason you obeyed. Maybe it was the sense of helplessness, or the realization that resistance was futile. Either way, you found yourself lying back on the bed, the rough, moth-eaten sheets scratching against your skin. Spawn stood over you, his eyes filled with cruel excitement, as he began to speak. The sound of his voice sent a chill down your spine, his cruel words and twisted promises stirring a primal terror within you.

He stood over you, like a predator toying with his prey, his eyes roaming over your body with a sickeningly hungry expression. He could feel your fear, almost taste it, and it fueled his twisted desires. "Ah, there you are," he said, his voice dripping with sadistic satisfaction. "All pliable and ready for me to play with." He knelt down beside you, his hand trailing up your leg. "You're going to be such a fun little toy, aren't you?" As you lay there, helpless and vulnerable, Spawn began to undress, revealing his grotesque, hellish form inch by agonizing inch. His skin was a sickly green hue, mottled with scars and lesions. You shivered as his hand trailed up your leg, a sense of revulsion and fear coursing through you. You wanted to pull away, to escape from his touch, but you were paralyzed, a mixture of fear and helplessness gripping you like a vise. "P-please," you croaked out, your voice shaking. "Don't do this. I don't want this." His hand traced up to your thigh, his touch cold and clammy against your skin. "Oh, but darling, you say that now, but I'll have you begging for more before the night is over," he said, his voice a low, menacing growl. He leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours. "You'll see. I'll make you crave me, darling. You'll crave my touch, my attention. You'll do anything I ask, anything to please me." You shrank back as he leaned in closer, his breath hot on your skin. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. Your heart was racing, the fear and revulsion warring with something else, something dark and twisted. "N-no," you managed to stammer out, your voice trembling. "I won't. I won't give in to you. I won't let you break me."

Spawn's lips curled into a wicked smile, his eyes gleaming with malevolent amusement. "We'll see about that," he purred, his hand sliding higher up your thigh, fingers brushing against the fabric of your panties. "You're so innocent, so pure… it's delicious. And I'm going to savor every moment of corrupting you." His touch sent a jolt of revulsion through you, but also an inexplicable thrill, like a moth drawn to a flame despite knowing the danger. "Tell me, darling, have you ever been touched like this before? By someone who truly understands your deepest, darkest desires?" A mix of revulsion, fear, and something else stirred in your gut as his hand inched up your thigh, his fingers brushing against an intimate area. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and you knew that he could feel the fear and revulsion coursing through your body. His words sent a shiver down your spine, his dark and sadistic nature laid bare in every word he spoke. "No," you managed to croak out, your voice trembling. "I've never…not like this." Spawn's smile grew wider, his eyes gleaming with perverse delight. "Perfect," he breathed, his fingers tracing circles around the elastic of your panties. "A virgin, untouched and uncorrupted. Just the way I like it." He leaned in closer, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispered, "I'm going to be your first, darling. And I promise, you'll never forget it." His hand slipped beneath the fabric of your underwear, his cold fingers brushing against your most intimate flesh. "So soft, so warm… and already so wet for me, aren't you?" A mix of revulsion and something else you couldn't identify stirred in your gut as he whispered his perverse words in your ear. His fingers were unpleasantly cold against your skin, but there was something about his touch that sent a shiver through your body unwillingly. "Please," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Don't do this."

Spawn's chuckle was low and menacing as he continued to explore your body with his icy fingers. "Oh, but I must, darling," he purred, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "You see, I have a special hunger for innocence, for purity. And you…you're the most delectable morsel I've encountered in ages." His fingers dipped lower, teasing the sensitive folds of your sex. "Your body is screaming for my touch, even as your mind resists. It's deliciously contradictory, don't you think?" You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to stifle a wince as his thick fingers probed your most private place. The sensation was foreign, yet not entirely unpleasant. It was confusing, the way your body reacted to his touch despite the revulsion in your mind. "Stop," you begged, your voice strained. "This isn't right." But even as the words left your lips, you felt a traitorous warmth spreading through your core, a response to his invasive caresses that you couldn't control. Spawn's grin widened as he felt your body respond to his touch, your inner walls clenching around his probing fingers. "See, darling? Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind is still playing catch-up," he taunted, his voice laced with dark amusement. "And what it wants is me. Me, to claim you, to make you mine in every possible way." His fingers delved deeper, curling inside you as he sought out that elusive spot that would make you writhe with pleasure. "Just relax, sweetheart. Let go and enjoy the ride. We're just getting started…" A strangled moan escaped your lips as his fingers found that sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. It was wrong, so very wrong, but you couldn't deny the intense sensations coursing through you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of that exquisite pressure. "No, stop," you pleaded, but your words lacked conviction. Your mind screamed at you to resist, to push him away, but your body seemed to have a will of its own, craving more of his touch. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggled with the conflicting emotions raging inside you.

Spawn's eyes gleamed with triumph as he watched you succumb to the pleasure he was inflicting upon you, your body arching into his touch despite your feeble protests. "That's it, darling," he purred, his fingers working their magic, driving you closer to the edge with each deliberate stroke. "Give in to it. Let me show you the true depths of ecstasy." His free hand slid up your stomach, cupping your chest roughly, tweaking the hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "You're doing so well, sweetheart. Such a good pet, taking everything I give you." Your body trembled under his touch, overwhelmed by the dual sensations of pleasure and revulsion. You felt like you were losing yourself, fragmenting into pieces that no longer made sense. His words, laced with mockery and cruelty, only served to heighten the chaos within you. "Please," you whimpered, tears spilling down your cheeks. "It hurts. Stop hurting me." But even as you begged, your hips continued to move in time with his fingers, chasing the elusive peak of orgasm. You were trapped in a living nightmare, unable to escape the torment of his desires. Spawn's laughter was cold and mocking as he heard your pitiful pleas. "Hurts, does it?" he sneered, his fingers picking up speed, driving you harder towards that precipice of release. "Good. Pain is a reminder of your submission, of how thoroughly I've claimed you." He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "And when you come, darling, it'll be because of me. Because I allowed it, because I decided to bestow that fleeting pleasure upon you. Remember that, as you scream my name in ecstasy." With a final, brutal thrust, he sent you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing in a violent climax as wave after wave of agonized bliss crashed through you.

Your screams echoed through the room as the intense orgasm ripped through your body, leaving you writhing and helpless beneath Spawn's merciless grip. The pain and pleasure mingled into an indistinguishable haze, your mind shattered by the overwhelming sensations. As the aftershocks subsided, you lay there panting, tears streaming down your face, feeling utterly broken and defiled. "Why?" you choked out, your voice raw with emotion. "Why did you do this to me?" But even as the question left your lips, you knew the answer. This was exactly what he wanted - to leave you a shattered, obedient plaything, forever bound to his cruel whims. Spawn's gaze was cold and calculating as he gazed down at your broken form, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Because it amuses me, darling," he replied, his voice dripping with condescension. "Because you presented such a ripe, juicy target for corruption. And because I take pleasure in reducing the strong-willed to quivering, submissive messes like yourself." He reached out, trailing a finger along your tear-streaked cheek. "But don't worry, sweet thing. This is only the beginning. Now that I've had a taste of your innocence, I'll be craving more. Much, much more." His touch turned possessive, claiming you as his own. "You belong to me now. And I intend to use you however I please, until you're nothing but a hollow shell of your former self." You flinched away from his touch, a fresh wave of revulsion washing over you. The thought of being subjected to further degradation, of slowly losing yourself to his twisted desires, filled you with dread. But even as you recoiled, a part of you feared that resistance was futile. He had already broken you in some fundamental way, rendering you powerless against his will. "No," you whispered, the word barely audible. "Please, don't do this to me. I can't bear it." But the plea fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the sinister promises echoing in your mind. You were his now, a plaything for his darkest pleasures, and there was no escaping the abyss he had pulled you into.

Spawn's expression darkened at your refusal, his eyes flashing with malevolent intent. "Silence, little one," he growled, his grip on your chin tightening painfully. "You will learn to obey, to crave the touch that once repulsed you. I will remake you in my image, mold you into the perfect vessel for my depraved lusts." His other hand slid down your body, fingers digging into your flesh possessively. "And you will thank me for it, in the end. For showing you the true meaning of pleasure, of power, of existence itself." His voice dropped to a sinister whisper. "Now, let's see how well you can scream my name when I fuck you senseless, shall we?" You tried to pull away, to bite back against his cruel hold, but it was no use. He was too strong, too relentless. Panic set in as he manhandled you, forcing you onto your hands and knees before him. The air was heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, making your stomach churn with nausea. "Please, don't," you sobbed, tears streaming down your face. "I can't… I won't…" But the words dissolved into incoherent whimpers as he positioned himself behind you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. The head of his cock nudged against your entrance, and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable violation. This was it, the moment when he would shatter whatever remained of your innocence, leaving you irreparably damaged. Spawn's eyes glinted with sadistic anticipation as he lined up his throbbing member with your trembling opening.

"Open wide, pet," he commanded, his voice rough with arousal. "Take it all, every inch of my hellish cock." With a brutal thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching your virgin passage to its limits. You screamed, a sound torn from your very soul as searing pain exploded through your core. "Fuck, yes," Spawn groaned, savoring your anguish. "So tight, so pure… you were made for me just as I thought." He began to move, withdrawing almost completely before slamming back in, setting a ruthless pace designed to break you. Each savage thrust drove you deeper into despair, your mind reeling from the onslaught of agony and humiliation. You were nothing but a receptacle for his lust now, a vessel for his darkest desires. The pain was excruciating, a burning fire that consumed your entire world. Every thrust was a new agony, a fresh wound inflicted upon your already shattered psyche. You could feel him claiming you, marking you as his property, and the realization filled you with a profound sense of hopelessness. There was no escape, no respite from this eternal torment. All you could do was endure, to survive each brutal invasion of your body and soul. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the sweat that coated your skin, as you choked back sobs and pleading cries. But even through the haze of pain, you couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of shame, of guilt for allowing this to happen, for submitting to his depravity. You were lost, irrevocably broken, and the knowledge haunted you with every merciless stroke of his demonically possessed cock. Spawn's eyes rolled back in ecstasy as he savored the exquisite torture he was inflicting upon you. "Look at you, taking it so well," he panted, his voice thick with lust. "Such a good little slut, screaming for me, begging to be used." He gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, pulling you back onto his cock with punishing force. "You were born for this, weren't you? To be fucked raw by a monster like me, to have your purity corrupted beyond recognition." His thrusts grew more erratic, driven by his own insatiable hunger. "Come on, darling, give me those juices. Show me how much you love being violated, how much you need my dick to make you whole."

Your body spasmed uncontrollably under the relentless assault, the pain and pleasure merging into a maddening crescendo. You felt something building inside you, a pressure coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to consume you entirely. "N-no, please!" you gasped, even as your hips jerked involuntarily, meeting his brutal thrusts. "It's too much! I can't… I'm going to…" But the words died on your lips as the climax tore through you, ripping away any semblance of control. You came with a hoarse, ragged scream, your inner walls clenching around him in a vice-like grip. The intensity of your orgasm was staggering, a blinding flash of sensation that left you gasping and trembling. Through the haze of post-coital euphoria, you realized with a sickening certainty that this was only the beginning. Spawn's roar of triumph echoed through the chamber as he felt your pussy convulse around him, milking his cock for every drop of cum. "That's it, baby, squeeze me dry," he growled, his hips pistoning wildly as he chased his own release. "You're mine now, completely and irrevocably. My personal fucktoy, my plaything, my slave, my love." With a final, brutal slam, he buried himself to the hilt, his seed erupting deep inside you in scalding jets. "Take it all, whore," he snarled, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. "Let it fill you up, mark you as my property forevermore." As the last spurts of his cum painted your insides, he collapsed atop you, his weight crushing, his breath hot against your neck. You lay there, spent and limp, feeling the warm trickle of his essence seeping into your womb. It was a bitter reminder of what had been done to you, of the indelible stain he had left upon your very being. Even as your mind reeled from the aftermath of your first defilement, you knew that this was merely the start of a long, dark journey. You were his now, a toy for him to play with, to break and remake in his image.

Spawn stirred, lifting his head to gaze down at you with a mix of satisfaction and hunger. "Rest while you can, pet," he murmured, his voice low and menacing. "We've only just begun to explore the depths of your depravity. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging for more, craving the touch of a demon like me." He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle considering the brutality of moments ago. "But for now, let's just bask in the afterglow of our union. Enjoy the warmth of my seed inside you, the knowledge that you belong to me utterly." His lips curled into a wicked smile. "Because soon, I'll be filling you up again… and again…" You flinched at his words, a chill running down your spine despite the lingering heat of your shared passion. The contrast between his tenderness now and the cruelty of his earlier actions only served to deepen your unease, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed. As you lay there, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions and sensations, you couldn't shake the creeping dread that this was only the beginning of a descent into darkness from which there would be no return. And yet, even as fear gnawed at your heart, you found yourself drawn to him, helpless to resist the allure of his power and the twisted desire he had awakened within you. In that moment, you knew that you were lost, trapped in a living nightmare from which there was no escape. All you could do was surrender to the darkness, to let it consume you utterly.

[sugoi-writes]

I feel like Alastor would never walk in while you're indecent/in disarray physically... he knows how to knock, afterall... BUT--

I can see Alastor playing things off well enough. He's a gentleman, so he avoids eye contact. You feel his coat drapping over your shoulders as he rambles about something.

An incoming meeting, the next group activity, or simply what he had for breakfast that day. Mundane things that can absolutely wait... but he's such a Chatty Cathy! If Rosie isn't around or too busy, then you simply MUST hear him out about his struggles. Your clothing be damned, it's simply TOO important.

Much like with Charlie, he sits or lays directly across your bed, like a tween girl at a sleep over, his feet kicking in the air. He's relaxed. His eyes are half lidded. Your room may as well be his second bedroom. He doesn't mind making himself at home even while you're frantically trying to cover yourself or throwing things his way.

A classic case of "Hello dear, I was meaning to ask you about-- yes, I'm aware that you're undressed, why are you screaming? *covers you in his jacket* AHEM. Anyway--"

---

However, if you're closer than friends...

Alastor lets himself in, unprompted. Usually via shadow. Unlike before, eye contact is intentionally made, lest you get the idea his eyes are wondering. And if you relax enough, you may actually catch them doing so. He'd help himself to your closet, picking something out for you to wear.

"Oh Heavens, no, you are not going out like that! Here, why don't you try this instead? Red is positively RADIANT on you!"

Alastor would tut and force you to do little poses and spins, shifting you through multiple outfits until he's satisfied. But, of course, if you put your foot down, he won't stop you. That just means that tearing it OFF of you will be much more satisfying.

Alastor will, more than likely, forget why he entered in the first place. Or, better yet, he may not even have a reason to! He just wants to be near you, or he wants to kill time before he has to be productive. You are his one and only source of rest and relaxation. You help his brain disconnect with the world, and help him let his hair down (metaphorically).

Though Rosie and others are more than capable of helping him pass the time, he'd like to spend it with you, especially if your own time is limited. And, if you have no where to be... he may just find a way for you to keep your clothes off a little longer.

Don't mind him if there's a lingering touch here, or if your laces are tied a little too loose... he can't help himself. He'd much rather see you with nothing at all. For your sake, you better hope he isn't feeling too frisky... Because once something comes off by his hands... it make be hard or straight up impossible to be worn again.

[alilobsessive]

I learned about the Anti hero Spawn yesterday and that man lives in my head rent free, so here’s a Batfam Reader idea. You know those neglected Batfam reader becomes a Spider? That but instead of a Spider there like Spawn. Reader after being Neglected for years who dispute that still looks up to all the good things the Batfam does so they try to become a hero in another city after moving. Only to die very early on, there sent to hell for a sin they committed(accidentally killing someone) were they meet a powerful demon. They make a deal with the demon to be able to see there family again. Only to return 5 years later with little memory of there past and having been changed into a Hellspawn completely unrecognizable to themselves and their loved ones.

[decembersiris]

Not me thinking about meshing Astarlach with Silent Hill 2. Not me thinking about the Leave, In Water, and Maria endings specifically to connect to Astarion's guilt and regret surrounding Karlach's death. Not me thinking of the line, "Karlach, could you really be in Avernus, waiting for me?" Not me thinking of the letter read in Karlach's voice. Not me thinking about fanfic ideas. Nope, nope, nope.

[charmandabear]

If I did fanfiction commissions, is that a thing people would want?

Taxes were pretty rough this year and I'm going to have a ton of moving expenses for the summer.

So are there people who would be interested in fanfiction commissions? And how much would you be willing to pay?

[sarehime]

You're telling me to be more tolerant of people when I go into my ship's tag and other ships' stories come up?!

[katsudon2021]

There are 2 things in this world that there isn’t enough of. Happiness, AND AL SIMMONS SPAWN X READER FANFICS.

[nyursi]

NASTY DOG. . .ᐟ

⫘⫘⫘ㅤmale reader, brat taming, size difference, age gap (around 20-40 ig), ass eating, yeahhhh,,, livestock guardian dog x recon cat reader!!!ㅤ♪ㅤ───ㅤwc: 3k

"Ow, ow, ow!" You yelped, the fingertips digging into your scalp causing whimpers. Face scrunched up— brows furrowed, lips pulled into a pout. Like a proper hurt brat. 

Dean meanwhile, had ignored your struggles and continued to drag you through the field, eyes narrowed. The sharp blades of grass (freshly cut) dug into your skin, leaving red lines to mark up your thighs. 

He had a firm grip on your hair, tugging harshly. Let it fall it out for all he cares. "Tsk. Stop complainin', it's hurting my ears." Dean huffed, pulling your head upwards for a sharp jolt. Relishing in the quick yelp that followed afterwards— echoing in the field. 

With no warning, he dropped you down onto the ground, leaving you to keel, curling up like a worm. Dean crossed his arms, large and meaty, waiting for you to get up. "I already told ya, quit whining' and get up." 

You huffed and rolled your eyes— getting up to stand. Dusting off any dirt and grime on your clothes, you crossed your own arms and gazed at him. Eyes narrowed. "What is your problem?" You hissed. "Why'd ya have to— to drag me back!" 

Dean rolled his eyes. "This is exactly why. Your attitude won't cut it in this line of work, for cryin' out loud." He pinched his temple, right between his thick brows, the lines on his face more prominent than ever. You did a really good job at making him age by the second— and he was already old as is! 

The old dog was the definition of loyal. Having been working for the ranchers since he was young. And now, with greying hair and decades of experience under his belt, Dean was the perfect mentor in their eyes. The hell were they thinking? The hell was he thinking? 

"Yeah, sure,'' Dean said. Not paying any mind to the farmer's request. Something about some cat arriving next week. He's trained a couple of their guardians before, whats a recon cat to him? He's the top dog 'round this place, second in command if you may. Any new faces got to deal with him first. 

Unfortunately, the pretty little cat they took in was far from easy. 

A hellspawn he'd called you. Not outright of course. Dean still had some decency left in him, no matter how much you tested him. But he did imply it, a more passive aggressive approach. Let you know he was really disappointed with such a brat to deal with. Huffing and puffing like some wolf 'bout to blow the hay. 

"Yeah well you didn't have to grab me by the hair!" He eyed the finger pointed at him, scoffing. Completely unthreatened. Dean was big, a tank that won't be moved so easily. That dainty little finger you waved around? Laughable. Course, he did stare at it a bit too long for his own comfort— unsure why thoughts of how easy it would be to just... handle and carry you around like a sack of feathers. 

"Boy, you're givin' me a damn headache. Recon cats are supposed to be— what? Agile? Quick? Behaved? Is chasing butterflies your job or what?" Dean raised his voice. You winced at the jab. He frowned, eyes softening the tiniest bit. 

"C'mon kid. The farm’s still away. We don't wanna get stuck out in the dark." Dean nodded his head to the distance, a faint silhouette of your new home. He trudged forward without waiting for you. 

You sighed, posture slumping. Yet you followed along anyway, dragging your feet on the ground. 

"Stupid fuckin' old dog," you murmured, plopping down on your bed. It was small and creaky, put together last minute. Much like your room. Pretty sure it was an old storage closet without the shelfs lining the walls to make room. 

It was dusty, and cramped. Reeaaal welcoming. Guess they thought a room small as this would be fine, considering you weren't that hunkering anyway. At least Dean gets a proper room. 

You sneer, feeling your blood boil at the thought of his name. "Who does he think he is? He's not the boss of me." Well... he kinda is. But whatever! It's not like you signed up for this anyway. Some boring countryside life looking out for barn animals and whatnot? Psh. Boooring! 

"Some big old hunk bossin' me around... hmph." You lay on your back, the mattress was thin and barely did anything to soften the rough wood of your bed frame. Pretty sure your back’s gonna ache quicker than Deans. 

A small snicker escapes you, lips curling into a smile. The image sends you a rush of amusement. Tiny giggles echo in your room— sounding like some maniac locked up in a padded cell with only his ideas to keep him company. 

Dean stops outside your door. Hand raised midway the air, curled into a fist. He was about to call you out for dinner, escort you to the kitchen so you wouldn't get into any more trouble. But your laughter made him stop dead in his tracks. 

He was dumbfounded, kinda. You sounded so innocent despite your... behaviour. Huh. It was almost cute. Endearing, even. Dean coughs, shaking his head. An annoyed frown tugged on his lips.

Ain't no way in hell. Never in my life would I... 

Ah. But he has already fallen for you? Slowly and surely, even if he was unaware. The day you arrived on the farm, all prickly like a cactus. He almost found it cute (he did). But he wasn't sure if the intense feelings that were harbored deep in his chest was a really intense anger or something else entirely. 

Something Dean had never thought to consider. 

Affection. 

Affection? For him? Dean blanched. He stepped back from the door like it burned him.The fucking cat? With his naughty attitude and god-forsaken defiance? Dean couldn't count how many times you stuck your tongue out at him, getting him all riled up. But fuck, maybe he did find it cute. So what? He's just a lonely old man, what's he supposed to do when the heavens throw a feline right into his arms? 

A feline that'd fit in them all nice and snug, with how small you were compared to him. That's the first thing that came to mind when he laid his eyes on your form. 

"Are ya tryin' ta kill me? That little thing's our recon?" Dean scoffed that night, complaining his heart out. "I don't know what you were thinkin'— what's he gonna do against coyotes? Wriggle and squirm?" 

And unfortunately, it had only plagued him more as time went on. When he was introducing himself to you— albeit begrudgingly. You were just standing there, leaning against the wall. Acting all smug as if Dean didn't dwarf you by a landslide. Like he couldn't just pick ya up if he wanted to, swing you over his shoulders. 

The thought made him a bit too excited. 

When he was tourin' you 'round the barn. Walking behind him like some shadow. Even his sharp ears couldn't hear your footsteps— feel your presence. Light as a feather, indeed. Maybe he doubted you too much. 

Earlier when he was dragging you on the field. Truth be told, he didn't mean to be so rough. Never in his life has Dean laid his hands on his juniors. But with you? It was an entirely different story. There was something about you that ignited feelings he didn't even know he could feel! It was a whole new area for him. 

But god. Temptation had been building up, and Dean was only a man who could hold on for so long. He'd lost control, when those sinful thoughts kept him up. Shame welling in his being for every lewd image his mind conjured up in the middle of the night, keeping him from sleeping and getting some shut eye like an old dog should, as you said. 

Gods, and how many times had you jabbed at his age? He ain't even that old! 

It only made him feel guiltier. You were a young thing— all pretty and shiny. Like a brand new chew toy for Dean to maul on. Sink his teeth into your pristine skin, leave red marks that'd prove his territory. (Territory. And this guy has the nerve to act like he doesn't have feelings for you!) What sounds would you make? If he bit deep and hard, licked up the marks afterwards. Dirty dog. 

"Fuck," Dean snarled, dragging a calloused palm down his face. He stood in the hallway, trying to cancel out your laughter. What was he here for again? Right. Dinner. 

Well shit, ain't Dean got dinner right here? Beyond that door, laying on the bed... 

He turned his head away swiftly, ragged breaths leaving his chapped lips. Chest heaving up and down. "No, no... calm down. You ain't feel like that—" Dean chuckled. But it sounded more like a pathetic strain. "Not for him." 

He didn't call you out for dinner, and he didn't eat either. But that hunger would get you both sooner or later. 

"Just... a little... bit... more...!" You groaned, hand outstretched. Curse these tall cabinets. It's not like giants live here! And what the fuck was up with Dean? He was supposed to call you for dinner! 

You actually fell asleep but that doesn't matter. 

What matters now, is the hunger in your stomach driving you crazy. The rumbles could echo in the barn if they got any louder. It was embarrassing enough as it is. 

Sneaking around, avoiding the creaky floorboards. Ears raised and alert for any and every sound made. What were you? A spy? You live here! 

"Goddammit, coulda saved me some leftovers. Even a grain would've been nice." You grumbled, sighing and rolling your eyes. Pouting at the thought of the meal you missed. Damn barn animals and their never ending greed. Not even a single scrap was put away for little ol' you. 

You were so caught up in your actions that you failed to notice a figure entering the kitchen, getting a nice front view of your behind. Huh. Why were you archin' your back like that anyway? 

Dean froze, mind blue screening temporarily as his eyes registered your ass all puckered out in the dark. 

He had given in to his hunger, forgetting about dinner after his... ahem, revelations. Curled up in bed, sulking in denial like he was about to be put down. Pathetic really. Since when did Dean get worked up over pretty kitties? 

Since you, apparently. 

He thought about it. Since you were their first recon cat, he didn't have much experience with felines. Only knew that they were playful, independent, and incredibly alluring. Dangerously so that when you've fallen for one, oh brother, there is no getting back up. 

Might as well dig yourself a hole in the ground to live in. 

Playful, when you gave jokes he wouldn't understand. Quick-witted, aren't you? With a smart little mouth that said all sorts of things. Curiosities and glimpses of your personality past the shallow image of a no-good cat. That twinkle in your eyes every time your soft lips curved into a smile, a triumphant "hmph!". You just loved being right, didn't you? 

Independent, always going off on your own. No matter how many times Dean reprimanded you, kept you from wandering too far. Curiosity kills the cat, after all. That's what he said, and that was the first time you rolled your eyes at him too. Wonder what it'd look like if he made them roll back for a different reason. Dean could only sigh and expect a headache to form whenever you weren't round the barn. Away from the fence and enjoying the scenery like some tourist. 

And finally: Alluring. 

As much as he didn't want to admit it. You had this charm that... well, charmed him. He beat himself up over it. But everytime he promised himself to stop— the obsession only got more intense. Every time you weren't looking he'd catch a quick glimpse. Admire your features, rake his eyes down your figure in silent appreciation. Whenever he entered a room, Dean found himself looking for you. And when you entered one? He'd feel your presence immediately. 

It was ridiculous, how downright bad he was. 

Maybe it was fate. Here, with you oblivious to his presence, arching your back and presenting yourself (unknowingly) to Dean. 

He stepped closer, silently. A shadow casted over his face. 

You could only widen your eyes and gasp in shock when two hands placed themselves onto your hips, keeping you in place. "Gah! Dean!?" You yelped, blinking at him curiously. Sweat built up on your temple, heart caught in your throat. 

"I wasn't doing anything! Just... looking for food, I swear!" You reasoned, still planted on your palms for balance. 

Dean only hummed, massaging invisible circles into your skin with his thumbs. "That so?" He said. You shivered. What the hell? What was that? Why did he sound so... intense? 

"What're you doin' up late at night?" He asked, brow raised. Eyes boring into yours. Had the nerve to sound suspicious, too. "You were supposed to call me for dinner, don't act surprised." You huffed, turning away. 

Dean only tugged you closer— hips meeting yours. Stupid kitty. Even now you have the nerve to act so high and mighty. Maybe Dean should teach you humbleness, take you from your throne for a little while. 

"Don't test me," Dean growled, satisfaction creeping in his blood as he watched you tremble. "Mh," he hummed. Yeah. You were tiny. 

"Test you? What the hell are you—" Riiip! In an instant, the cold air had latched itself onto your skin. Dean tore apart the seam in your shorts— right in the cleft of your ass. His tail has begun to wag, eyeing the cute rim staring at him. 

You were too shocked to make a sound, and even then, before you could react, Dean had dove right in, licking and nibbling at your pucker. "Huh- ah!" Your claws dug onto the wooden counter, leaving scratch marks. Dean slobbered up your hole like a man starved, saliva dripping down your chin. 

He licked and licked, made you dizzy til' your hole was nice and soft. His tongue was rough and textured, making your cock tingle and come to life. "W-wait, it's dirty down there!" 

Dean wrapped his hand around the base of your tail, tugging it upwards to bury his face deeper into your behind. Slowly, he breached your insides, licking up at your gummy walls. Your soft whimpers was like music to his ears. Oh, he felt fulfilled. 

But not quite. 

"O-oh..." you gasped softly, blush blooming on your cheeks. Dean was massaging your insides with his tongue, desperate and needy. His movements were quick yet deep and stimulating— as if he was looking for something. 

"Hnn!~" Your tongue lolled out, thighs tensing up. Unkowingly, you began to thrust your hips baclwards, meeting Deans licks. His tongue rolled onto a soft bud inside— a sensitive cluster of nerves that made you weak in the knees. "F-fuck..." 

Dean continued his assault on your prostate, never once breaking his pace. His eyes were closed shut, as if he was trying to savor the taste and feeling— keep this memory in his mind forever. His own cock jumped in his jeans, straining to be released. 

You were so warm... so tight. He couldn't wait to bury his cock to the hilt, make your belly bulge and fill you to the brim. Hump you like a dog in rut— fuck. "Uh... guh!" 

Dean parted himself from your ass, panting and heaving. Your rim was shiny with spit, legs trembling and cock leaking pre pathetically. 

It was silent for a moment. Until you heard a belt buckle, followed by a zipper and the sound of fabric falling to the floor. 

And then you felt it. 

Deans cock. Hard and hot— rubbing against your behind. Fuck. How big was that? It felt huge! You whined softly, fear striking you. But there was excitement as well, you had never done this before, and for someone like Dean to make you experience it... 

Naughty. 

You had been nothing but a brat your time here, but you couldn't deny that Dean was a good looking man when you first met. Tall and buff, yet soft. Hair on his arms and chest, a little grey in his hair. Lines around his eyes and lips... you shivered. God. What did his cock look like? 

What would it feel like, to take him nice and deep? 

You bit your lip. Dean continued to rub his length between your cheeks for a goodwhile, like he was easing you into the harsh fucking to come. "Fuck, can't wait anymore." Dean groaned, and pushed his tip against your tight vice. 

He held your hips firmly, keeping you in place as you wriggled. He was big! Your pathetic rim struggled to envelop his tip. 

Dean's mind raced as his hips rocked up, driving his thick cock deep into your tight hole. The boy was so small, so delicate compared to his large frame. Your slender body bounced with each thrust. 

"Fuck, boy..." Dean groaned, fingers digging into the cat's hips hard enough to leave marks. "You feel s' good around my cock. So hot 'n tight..." 

He knew this was wrong. You were his junior, and Dean was supposed to be disciplining you, teachin' you the ways 'round the barn. Not... fucking you senseless. But god, the way your velvety walls clenched around him, the sweet little noises spilling from those plush lips— it was too much to resist. 

Dean's balls slapped against your ass as he pistoned his hips faster, chasing his rapidly approaching climax. "Fuck, fuck," he snarled. "Take it." 

The lewd squelch of saliva and the slap of skin on skin filled the kitchen. He could feel you shaking apart on his cock, the boy's neglected dick bobbing between their bellies, flushed an angry red and leaking steadily. 

He reached around to palm your cock, jerking you in time with his erratic thrusts. Huh. For and old dog— he sure had stamina. 

Dean's thumb swiped over the sensitive head, smearing the copious precum. You let out a high, keening wail, back arching as his orgasm crashed over him. Pearly ropes of cum painted Dean's fist and splattered across the counter as your hole clamped down around his pistoning length. 

The pressure sent Dean hurtling over the edge. With a guttural groan, he slammed you back onto his cock, all the way down to the hilt. Bulging your belly. At the same time, he had bit onto your shoulder, breaking skin and leaking blood. 

Your body twitched, eyes rolled back and unfocused. You leaned forward, finding support on the wooden counter (now littered with scratch marks) as Dean massaged your hips. "Hah.. haahh.." 

Uncontrollable sighs escaped you, bones melting against Dean. Smaller spurts of semen shooting out of Dean's tip sent shocks down your spine, smaller cock red and spent. With your cum dribbling down onto your tiny balls. 

Sweat trickled down their skin, breaths heavy. Illuminated in the moons light. 

Finally, with a groan, Dean pulled out (albeit begrudgingly) of your warm hole. 

He watched, transfixed, as a string of his cum connected his softening cock to your puffy, well-used hole. The sight made his spent dick twitch with interest. Fuck, he could do this all night. 

Ah... but you seemed tired. He chuckled, eyeing your spent form. All sweaty and twitchy. Particularly focused on the bite mark that stuck out on your shoulder. 

"Congratulations, boy. Now yer a true, fully-fledged recon cat.”

this was supposed to be lamb reader but idk,,, let me see how this does first then ill think abt it :3 ALSO WHAT IS IT WITH ME AND CAT READER??? ffuckin cat burglar n heavenly,,, urg. So sorry guys idk. I just love pussy!!

[taegimood]

— nudes?! (c.bg) ♡

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader genre: best friends to ?, non-idol au, suggestive rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 1.2k warnings: mention/description of reader’s nudes, beomgyu imagines Doing Things and gets hard, implication of sexy time at the end, they’re both horny for each other synopsis: what happens when your best friend who secretly has the hots for you accidentally sees your nudes?

requested forever ago by @mapofthemazeinthemirror <3 [blog status: semi-hiatus, requests closed]

| yeonjun ver. | soobin ver. | taehyun ver. | kai ver. |

masterlist

──────────────────────

beomgyu is often not too hard to read.

your goofy best friend who'd rather cause mischief than let a situation turn boring, who loves to stir things up and watch the chaos unfold around him.

but one thing that you just can't seem to get a grasp on... is how he really feels about you.

as well as you can confidently say that you know choi beomgyu, the never-ending mixed signals he throws at you may just be your downfall in that department, from the outrageous flirting towards you on one end of the spectrum to the bragging of his latest phone number acquirement on the other.

i mean, what are you supposed to think when he's sweetly tucking your hair behind your ear one second and then commenting on how pretty that passing girl is the next? (unbeknownst to you, he's actually just trying to gauge your reaction).

but at this point you've had enough of the guessing games. you're gonna take things into your own hands and find out exactly how he really feels.

...or at least... that's what you told yourself, when you'd laid out across your sheets and took those coy little pictures, fully nude and fully ready to "accidentally" send them to your best friend to see what he would do;

but now, you release a resigned sigh as you set your phone aside untouched and tug your — his — sweater further over your shoulders in the chilly air of your room.

"stupid beomgyu," you grumble. "stupid me... stupid idea."

your lost confidence seems to mock you as your phone suddenly buzzes with a text from none other than the exact man of the hour, and you huff as you read it.

— hellspawn 🙄🤎: i'm coming over

his contact name feels as fitting as ever. "right, just invite yourself on in," you mutter to yourself (as if that's not exactly what the two of you always do anyways).

you have half a mind to respond with something snarky, but instead you just leave it be as you stare down at the nudes still sitting hauntingly unsent in your end of the message box, and with a shiver you resort to sticking your tongue out at his contact picture and leaving the text unanswered as you punch the air in a mini fit and toss your phone away into your pillows.

"i hate boys."

and with that, you grouchily trudge your way into the living room to start up the show that you've been binging together, phone and pictures forgotten.

unfortunately.

because what you don't know, but what you're soon about to find out, is just how crazy your best friend actually is about you — and as beomgyu stands frozen outside of your apartment building, staring down at his phone with a short-circuiting brain and eyes growing blurred from lack of blinking in the chilly night air, convenience store bag full of snacks falling forgotten to the ground — well.

he didn't even buy a lottery ticket, but it seems he's just won.

your naked body glows back at him from his screen as he fumbles back into motion, urging his fingers to remember their own mobility as he gulps and swipes hungrily through the array of photos that you'd sent.

hurriedly he brushes his long hair out of his eyes as it falls forward, his hunched frame in the middle of the sidewalk probably resembling that of a homeless man as he holds his phone close, shielding the sight of you from any prying eyes (there are none) while his thoughts suddenly erupt into every possible direction.

is this really happening? is this real life? what does this mean? is this a confession? she obviously wants me too, then, right? shit, should i have dressed better? do i smell okay? should i run back home and — oh god, what if these were meant for someone else? did she really mean to send them? what if she never speaks to me again? oh god, she's so.. she's so.. holy fuck.

beomgyu is breathless as his eyes roam across your soft skin, your pretty curves, the sly hint of a smirk peeking from your lips as your finger slips between them —

he feels his cock straining tighter against his pants the longer that he scrolls.

relishing in the sight that he's been dreaming of for so long, he imagines it were his hand wrapped gently around your throat instead of your own, his fingers caressing your bare tits and sliding down beyond the camera where his imagination is left to run wild — fuck, he's gotta get up there.

forcing himself to tear his eyes away, he quickly gathers the scattered snacks and stuffs them mindlessly back into their convenience store bag as he hurries towards the entrance of your building, not even needing to think twice as he inputs the code and all but lunges for the elevator.

"alright, be cool, be cool, be cool."

the deep breaths he's been taking and mini self pep talk he's been mumbling all but crumble away meaningless when he types in your apartment's passcode and opens the door to see you standing there by the couch wearing his sweater, so big on you that it's easy to pretend that your little pair of shorts underneath aren't even there;

and he's suddenly grateful for the long length of his hair as he feels the way his ears burn red underneath, but the inevitable flush on his face doesn't escape your notice as you glance up at him for a moment before turning your attention back to the tv remote in your hand.

"why do you look like you just ran a fucking marathon?" you scoff. "did the ahjumma downstairs hit you with her grocery bag again?"

but beomgyu is far beyond saving as images of you underneath him flicker across his mind, now no longer fueled by his imagination but by the real thing that you'd just graced him with minutes before.

"those for me?"

you pause. his voice is raspy, strained, almost breathless.

you glance back up at him. your brows pull together in confusion.

"huh?"

beomgyu barely breaks eye contact with you as he unlocks his phone, wordlessly holding it up to show you, eyes raking over your face for your reaction;

the remote falls to the floor with a thunk as your eyes widen and hands fly up to clap over your mouth in shock.

what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck- I SENT THEM?!?!

you rip your eyes away from the sight of your own body on his screen to meet his burning stare, and when you do — all excuses fizzle away as a shiver runs along your spine and straight down to your core.

the desire pooled in your best friend's eyes is unlike any look you've ever seen on him before, breaths coming out labored from his chest though he tries to control them; and when he takes a step forwards and asks again, voice deep and words punctuated,

"were those for me?"

you're nothing but a goner as you answer him with shaky legs and a nod.

the triumphant grin that spreads across beomgyu's blushing face is downright sinful as his bag of snacks once again meets a forgotten fate on the ground — along with his jacket that he immediately shrugs off of his shoulders, already reaching for the hem of his sweatshirt as he moves towards you with well-mustered boldness and says,

"should've waited for me, sweetheart. we could’ve taken them together.”

──────────────────────

— taglist: @razsberrie, @saejinniestar, @hyukalyptus, @florestalio, @beomiracles, @kiss4baku, @hyukascampfire, @kejingken, @cherr4es, @stawmerry, @choikanghuening, @dawngyu, @soo-blue, @paradigms13

if you want to be added to my taglist and get notified whenever i post any writing, drop a comment or an ask and let me know! ♡

[astonmartinii]

a case of the cuddle bug | logan sargent social media au

pairing: logan sargent x fem!piastri!reader

someone check his temperature, he's got a serious case of the cuddle bug

author's note: thought we could all use some logan content to get us through the weekend

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargent and 201,445 others

tagged: logansargent

yourusername: he's not racing :( more time to cuddle :)

view all comments

user1: if i find out that that t-shirt was made by them i may need to be shot in the head

yourusername: sorry to be the bearer of bad news 😕

user2: y/n where do we find a logan?

yourusername: date your brother's best friend - the romance books did NOT lie

logansargent: hard to be too sad when you're around

yourusername: awwwww logie bear 🐻 i love youuuuu

logansargent: i love you too come back to the motorhome the hospitality coffee is not worth it

yourusername: not even if i swipe you a cupcake?

logansargent: okay..... maybe ....

alexalbon: i'm sorry buddy, i promise i'll do us proud

yourusername: yOU BETTER 👹

alexalbon: i'm soRRY are you like a gremlin? did someone spill some water?

yourusername: i'm gonna ignore most of that cause gizmo is cute

logansargent: she loves you really alex

alexalbon: do you still love me logie?

logansargent: yes?

alexalbon: I' SORRY I HAVE.A GUILTY CONSCIENCE I DON'T LIKE PEOPLE BEING MAD AT ME

user3: lol mood ^

oscarpiastri: you could support your BELOVED BROTHER NOW (AT HIS (OUR) HOME RACE)

yourusername: ugh i guess

oscarpiastri: you literally said you'd support me any time logan wasn't racing :(

yourusername: unless he can come with me, we'll be supporting you from the williams garage

oscarpiastri: better than nothing i guess

logansargent

liked by oscarpiastri, alexalbon and 459,046 others

tagged: yourusername

logansargent: no way around it, this weekend has been the hardest of my career. however, i'm thankful for alex for picking up a couple points for the team and for having y/n with me to support me this weekend, enjoy the cute picture of her (but not too much)

also i guess congrats to oscar on a podium at his home race 🤷🏻‍♂️

view all comments

user4: hardest weekend ever... here's a pic of my. hot gf :)))))

user5: he's real for that, just reminding us that he's still winning off track

alexalbon: thank you isn't enough logie, love you man, can't wait to see you back in the car next week x

yourusername: you're so lucky you got points otherwise your ass would've been grass xoxo

alexalbon: Y/N I SAID I WAS SORRY PLEASE STOP BEING MEAN YOU'RE MEANT TO BE THE NICE PIASTRI

oscarpiastri: you stole my soon-to-be brother-in-law's car and called me a shit padel player 🖕🏻

alexalbon: why is everyone ganging up on me :(

logansargent: you gotta take it for at least this weekend bro

alexalbon: i guess...

user6: they're so cute, but who is taking these photos of them?

yourusername: oscar makes himself useful sometimes

oscarpiastri: ugh i get NO CREDIT IN THIS FAMILY

logansargent: i at least appreciate it oscar 🫶🏻

oscarpiastri: that's all well and good and i love you, you're my bff but sometimes i don't want to see you be lovely dovey with that hellspawn

fredvesti: let it be known i will no longer be sneaking out with you guys for ice cream on a race weekend, the risk was not worth the third wheeling

logansargent: i paid?

fredvesti: thank the lord you did otherwise i'd raise an official complaint

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, alexalbon and 793,209 others

tagged: logansargent & yourusername

oscarpiastri: got a podium at my home race and i'm still not my sister's favourite

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user8: have we considered that y/n and logan have attachment issues?

oscarpiastri: she sat at the window like a woman waiting for her husband at war when he DARED to go home for christmas when we were 16

yourusername: as if you haven't cried over lily 🙄

oscarpiastri: i ACTUALLY don't get to see her very often, i can't separate you and logan

yourusername: LEAVE ME BE

user9: oscar says this as if y/n wasn't crying her eyes out at the podium

user10: and logan wiping her tears to prevent smudging her eyeliner - sigh

logansargent: don't hate the player hate the game

oscarpiastri: what happened to blood being thicker than water

yourusername: you know what else is thicker than water ... 😩😩😩

oscarpiastri: okay you can sTOP RIGHT THERE

landonorris: they're really one being huh?

oscarpiastri: believe me the dinner at mine? they were being TAME

yourusername: okay for the audience we are not that bad, we're just affectionate we aren't like making out in front of everyone

landonorris: .... shame

oscarpiastri: yOU HAVE SHAME THAT'S MY SISTER

logansargent: THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND

yourusername: AND THAT'S MY BOYFRIEND

landonorris: damn tough crowd

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargent and 212,934 others

tagged: logansargent

yourusername: a wee break before my boy is back to knock your socks off

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user11: they're so cute your honour

alexalbon: dating a racing driver and not wearing a seat belt? interesting.

yourusername: dating a professional golfer and still shit at golf? interesting.

lilymunhe: she did get you there alex, soz.

yourusername: also we weren't even driving, that hair acting is all a fan

logansargent: practically a professional photographer now (the model definitely helps, she looks perfect doing anything)

yourusername: hehehheheheheheheheheheheeh

user12: y/n really just gagging alex at every corner

user13: she saw logan wasn't holding a grudge and decided to double down on hers

user14: and we respect that

logansargent: you knock my socks off everyday babe

yourusername: as long as it's only me 😘

logansargent: i've been in love with you since i was 13 👍🏻

yourusername: SNAP🫰

oscarpiastri: once again left out of the photodump

yourusername: you are not 'my boy' that would in fact be inappropraite

oscarpiastri: you couldn't just change the caption?

yourusername: you're not cute enough to be a lannister (cersei and jaime call me)

logansargent: ????

yourusername: *call us 😉

logansargent

liked by lilymunhe, alexalbon and 592,309 others

tagged: yourusername

logansargent: glad to be back in the car this weekend, though if alex could stop terrorising y/n that would be great

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user15: were oscar and y/n's parents in the williams garage?

user16: so oscar wasn't lying about him basically being family already 🥹

alexalbon: i was not TERRORISNG I WAS ENGAGING IN SIBLING LIKE BANTER

oscarpiastri: hold on buster, that's MY sister 🤨

alexalbon: i can't win with any of you three 😭

yourusername: LET'S FUCKING GO EAGLE BOY GOD BLESS AMERICA 🦅🇺🇸

logansargent: i'll let you have this one for once

yourusername: as an aussie that was very hard to say, please appreciate it

logansargent: thank you my little kangaroo?

yourusername: kinda offensive they're scary

logansargent: koala?

yourusername: YOU SAYING I HAVE CHLAMYDIA?

logansargent: well i've ran out of australian animals now :(

user17: thanks for the violent reminder of chlamydia being rife in koalas :(

oscarpiastri: gonna have to beat you this weekend to win back my parents' favour it seems

yourusername: let's be real, they prefer logan over both of us :(

oscarpiastri: true 😔

logansargent: i can't help the southern charm

williamsf1

liked by yourusername, alexalbon and 1,034,672 others

tagged: logansargent

williamsf1: LOGAN POINTS, I REPEAT LOGAN POINTS 😤

view all comments

user20: TRUST HIM, I REPEAT TRUST HIM

yourusername: THAT'S MY BOY LET'S FUCKING GO

oscarpiastri: you never get this excited for me?

yourusername: FUCK OFF THIS IS NOT YOUR TURN, IT'S LOGAN'S DAY

maxverstappen1: pretty sure i won the race

yourusername: FUCK OFF ALL OF YOU

user21: y/n crying her eyes out she's so real

user22: based on the faces in the garage i think she may have let everything out lol

user23: as she should

user24: can't expect two people to be attached 24/7 and not be ride or die for each other

logansargent: thanks for the support, glad to pick up some points for the team

yourusername: I'M SO PROUD OF YOU

logansargent: i know you've shouted it in my face since i got back from media

yourusername: you need to know it :(

logansargent: i love you so much

yourusername: i love you even more

user25: the whole piastri family going wild in LOGAN'S garage was not on my 2024 bingo sheet

user26: but it was cute as fuck

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargent and 287,045 others

tagged: logansargent

yourusername: we're down bad with a case of the cuddle bug

view all comments

user27: the CUDDLE BUG?

user28: i need to be taken out of my misery

logansargent: i've got a high fever, a love fever

oscarpiastri: THAT WAS CORNY AS FUCK

yourusername: i thought it was cute :(

logansargent: and that's what matters

yourusername: exactlyyyyy

oscarpiastri: so fuck me, right?

yourusername: yes!

logansargent: yes!

user29: this whole interaction makes it so obvious oscar was the only boy growing up LOL

alexalbon: i'll concede, you guys are cute

yourusername: we been known

logansargent: no one does it like us

alexalbon: erm alex and lily erasure?

yourusername: lily cute, you not so much

alexalbon: stop being SO PROTECTIVE WHY ARE YOU A GOLDEN RETRIEVER WITH EVERYONE ELSE AND A RABID JACK RUSSELL WITH ME IT WAS JAMES' DECISION GO FOR JAMES' ANKLES

williamsf1: ???

yourusername: i thought it was friendly sibling banter (also james is logie's boss of course i'm not gonna go for his ankles dummy)

logansargent: she's my little guard dog 🫶🏻

yourusername: anything for you, come back to cuddle :(

logansargent: on my way cuddle bug!

fin.

note: i understand why williams made the decision they did, but i've had such a soft spot for logan since he admitted he's lonely in the paddock :( i hope he has a good next race to really prove himself to everyone xx hope you enjoyed! xx

[m00nchildthings]

ALUCARD X PREGNANT!READER

This story was based off of this one right here: https://www.tumblr.com/m00nchildthings/703854020457021440/mating-press-and-breeding-kink-with-alucard

if anything this can be read as a sequel where he managed to get you knocked up cw for pregnant reader, oral sex one sparing use of the reader being called mama, and alucard being a hovering creep towards you for carrying his child also slight pregnancy kink if you squint not even read over once bone apple teeth🧑‍🍳😙🤌

p.s. @yazzzmints @ch3rryistheg you asked and i delivered

“You’re hovering Adrian”.

“I do not hover,”

You sighed, closing the large ornate tome you had been reading and setting it on the small wooden table beside your chair. He was hovering and whether he was oblivious to it or simply choosing to be obtuse, he was doing it a hell of a lot more recently. You knew why though, you thought as you brought your hand over your swollen stomach. Seven months into your pregnancy and through every step Alucard had treated you and your unborn child like fine china perpetually teetering over a precocious edge.

“You are aware we won’t turn to ash the moment we leave your vision,” you said cheekily staring up at your dhampir lover. His eyes narrowed before he swept past you, moving to sit in the armchair beside your own. He sat there, for a moment beautiful like marble with his eyes closed, before turning to face you.

“I am very well aware of that,” he said, placing his chin in his hand as he peered at you. You hummed, turning away from him, instead choosing to focus on the crackling fireplace in front of you, pretending the warm embers floating around the wood were far more interesting than the golden haired man sitting next to you.

“Then I hope that you are also aware,” you began pausing to take a sip of the tea still hot on your side table “that fathers who hover around the pregnant wives are bound to produce children that do not enjoy their company,”

“That isn’t true,” you could see his brows furrow from your peripheral view, hiding your chuckle behind another sip of tea, you continued.

“It very well might be an old wives tale, but I have heard of children coming out fussy towards their fathers fresh out of the womb-,” you were cut off with a loud swoosh as Alucard gracefully stepped towards you settling down at his knees, hands placed on your stomach.

“You won’t dislike me right?” he directed at your stomach, brow even more wrinkled with worry “Surely they understand I am just so, eager, to meet them right darling?,”

He stared up at you now, golden eyes tense with worry, your lip wobbled as you held back your smile. Here before you on his knees was Alucard Tepes; one of the slayers of Dracula, the feared prince of the night that cut down his enemies like knives through butter- reduced to a simpering thing at the fear your child might come straight from you hating him. You relented not having the heart to tease him any longer you cradled his jaw in your hand.

“I was just teasing my love, surely our child will love you just as much as I,” immediately he relaxed, melting into the palm of your hand. His golden eyes cut up at you a small smirk tugging on his lips.

“You are cruel to do such a thing to your doting lover,” his alabaster hand gripped your wrist as he turned to lay a kiss in the fleshy part of your palm. “I treat you so sweetly and you insist on giving me heart palpitations.

“Consider it payback for what your hellspawn is doing to my body, I can barely make it from here to the door without my swollen ankles and aching spine objecting,” you said, bringing your hand away from him to stretch the intense cracking of your back emphasizing your point.

Alucard stood, staring down at you, he adored your changing body evidence of the growth of his child in you. You’d always been beautiful in his eyes, but something about knowing the swell of your stomach was from your baby growing inside of you, surely you were a goddess gifting him with the gifts of gifts. Bending down he looped his arms around your waist ignoring your grumbles of objection when he picked you up hoisting you into his arms until your knees hung over his elbows.

“Then allow me to be your legs,” you huffed rolling your eyes as Alucard toted you out of your rather comfortable reading room, you knew where he was taking you of course. The looming large ornate doors of your bedroom came into view as Alucard steadily carried you to them.

“Our bedroom,” you said flatly “I wonder what reason you could have for bringing me here Adrian,”

“I have no idea what you are implying deer,” he said, turning to press his back to the door, opening it with your combined weights. Barely holding back his impish grin (a look a great number of others refused to believe existed when you said he did so on the regular) he rushed you to your bed gently placing you on the downy mattress.

“Your feet must be killing you,” he said, gracefully moving to sit beside you and patting his lap. Begrudgingly you laid back against the comforter swinging your aching feet to his lap. He gently massaged your foot pressing his fingers into the soles of your feet soothing the pain that afflicted you. His talented hands seemed to pull all the aches from them knowing how to just work your body from months of repeated practice. A particularly forceful push into your left heel and you couldn’t hold back the moan that bubbled from your throat. Alucard smiled at you gently placing your feet on the bed beside him.

“See? So sweetly,” he said, placing his now free hand on your stomach.

“My body still aches,” you grumbled, still feeling the tension in your back

“I can help with that,”

“Your version of help is what got me into this predicament,” chuckling Alucard slowly spread your legs apart hiking your dress to just under your belly. There laid out before him nestled in a thatch of curls your cunt shined for him, already glistening with arousal. His slender fingers traced up the warm slit of your puffy lips noticing the audible hitch in your breaths

“If you don’t like my version of help then where are your undergarments,” he questioned, knuckles grazing up and down your quivering pussy

“They no longer -mmph- fit,” you moa, turning around to bury your head into the pillow.

“How lucky for me,” he murmured, just barely above a whisper as he sank down till his face was level with your heat “that my favorite snack is but a silk slip away from tongue,”

With one scathing breath his mouth was on you, pink lips pressing toward your own. His tongue wickedly lapped at you running wet circles around your throbbing clit before slipping its way into your clenching cunt. He couldn’t help the vibrating moans, near purrs that reverberated into you, as your juices flooded his taste buds. He couldn't help the way he ate at you ravaging your quim with every fiery stroke through your quivering lips. Your hands tugged at his golden locks pulling him closer and closer to your weeping cunt. How foolish, he thought as he drank up all you had to offer, why pull him close when you both know the last thought on his mind was pulling away?

Your orgasm crested, creeping up on you with each lascivious lick that toyed with your throbbing clit. It was with one particularly harsh suck that had you falling apart, melting apart like butter on warm toast your cunt creamed over your lover's tongue. Undeterred Alucard continued to viciously feast on your juices, moaning as they glossed his face. Clawed hands though gentle, held your hips in place as they began to buck so he could wrap his lips around your clit sucking on the shiny pearl undisturbed.

“A-Adrian please, s’too much I need-,” interrupting you Alucard sighed loudly, releasing your clit with an audible pop.

“You never let me have my fill,” he complained peering up at you over your swollen belly “but I know what you need,”

Rising Alucard reached for his trousers tugging the strings till his cock, heavy with a bead of precum pooling at the tip, fell free. Smiling and flashing those fangs of his wide he pulled your legs to wrap around his waist. Grabbing at his cock he lined the drooling pink head with your equally wet cunt, rubbing it between your lips and nudging at your clit. Gently he pushed inside of you, hissing as your heat slowly enveloped him till the hilt. The two of you rested there for a moment panting as your limbs tangled about each other. You whined under him, arms reaching towards him, hands making grabby motions for him. Alucard reached underneath you pulling you towards him. You both sat there, connected at your most intimate of places, your sweaty forehead resting on his cool one.

“Adrian,”

“Yes my love?”

“Fuck me.”

“Yes my love”

With a low chuffing noise, Alucard thrust up into you once, twice, three times, every one seeming to be deeper than the last. Your mouth hung agape as your lover continuously fucked up into you carving the shape of him deep into your cunt. Moans barely escaped you as every thrust seemed to steal your breath, your eyes stared into the golden ones of your lover unable to look away. Before you could process Alucard's hand gripped your ass holding you towards him as he stood on the bed, steadying his feet in the cushion and using his grip to lift you fast up and down his cock.

“Do you feel me sweet, deep, in here,” he rasped as he bounced you on his cock balls slapping on your ass. His hot breath fanned your face as he used your own weight to fuck you, one particular hard thrust had your eyes rolling back into your skull, and with a rush words escaped you.

“Fuck Adein yes! Fuck me please, I- oh god don’t stop!” you screamed nails clawing into the rolling muscles of his back.

“That’s it mama,” he hissed somehow managing to grip you closer, shifting to the balls of his feet he began to roll his hips up into you to match every bounce of your ass against his thighs “Take it, cum for me, let me feel your silk grip me,”

You don’t know whether it was his words that got you there so quickly or the orgasm he gave you prior, but with a barely audible cry you came walls gripping him tightly as you gushed around him. Alucard grit his teeth at the grip your cunt had him in, thrusting a few times before spilling inside you with a strangled cry. Alucard fell to his knees holding you close as you both bounced on the mattress. He pulled you off him holding back chuckles when you grumbled from the over sensitivity. Gently he laid you down before getting off the bed and leaving towards your bedroom bath chamber. He returned with a warm bowl of water and two warm cotton cloths.

Sitting beside you Alucard dipped the washcloth into the water wringing it before bringing it to your heaving body. Carefully he cleaned you off, wiping the spunk he left at your center. You groaned, pushing at his hands, still feeling far too sensitive. With a chuckle he dropped the now sullied rag once you were clean of him, reaching to prepare the second one he had brought and pressed the soothing cotton to your sweaty brow. Your eyes closed as you let your dhampir lover continue with his aftercare.

“Am I forgiven yet, for breeding you with my -what did you call our child- hellspawn?” he asked golden eyes trained onto your face. With a sigh you looked up at him already having forgotten the remark you had made earlier. A sly smirk tugged at your tired face.

“For the time being leonito,”

[blakeswritingimagines]

Yandere Al Simmons Having A Crush Includes:

He'd be very possessive. Like… you're his. No one else can have you. He would spend all day dreaming of you. Thinking about what he'd do if he were with you. He would want you all to himself. You would be his everything.

He would protect you from anything even before you're together. You would be the most precious thing in his world. He would kill at the drop of a hat if any guy even looked at you wrong. You would be his reason for living.

He would follow you around. Always watching you. Keep an eye on anyone who might even look in your general direction. He would make sure no one could hurt you. And he would make you his. Keep you all to himself. You would be his and no one else's.

He'd do anything for you. It would be his mission in life to make you happy. He would get jealous very easily. If you talked to other guys or even looked at another guy… he would freak out. He would protect you with his life. He would do whatever it took to make sure that you were safe. He would be obsessed with you, and only you.

When he has a crush, he can be timid, nervous, and sometimes awkward around you. It's a pretty overwhelming feeling. He'll think about you all the time, and imagine what life would be like with you. He'll try to find any excuse to be around you, and he'll go out of his way to make you happy. But he also has a fear of rejection, so he might hold back from expressing his true feelings.

As a yandere, he would be incredibly possessive and obsessive. He would get jealous easily, and he would want you all to himself. He would become overly attached and he would have a hard time letting go. He would do anything for you, even if it meant hurting other people. If you were with someone else, or even just talking to someone else, he would become unhinged.

He would be very controlling and manipulative. He would try to isolate you from your friends and family, and he would try to manipulate you into doing what he wants. He would be very obsessive and possessive. He might even go as far as to hurt you or others just to make sure that you were his and his alone.

He would act very protective of the subject of his obsession. He would be very intense and fixated on you. When he is around you, he will watch your every move. He would be controlling, keeping tabs on who you talk to and where you go. And he would not tolerate any other people in your life. If you were to speak to anyone else, or even just look at someone else, he would freak out.

Sweetness is definitely a part of his yandere persona. His obsession with you would manifest itself as extreme doting and love bombing, which could manifest in multiple ways. He would lavish you with affection, gifts, and attention in an effort to win your affection. However, his love for you would be incredibly possessive, and jealous. He would not tolerate any form of competing for your attention and would view others as threats.

As a yandere, he would likely flirt with you in a very intense way. He wouldn't play around with it or be subtle. In fact, the more overt the better. He would get very close, and make aggressive and suggestive comments. He'd be all over you. But it would all be under the guise of true affection. He'd want you to fall completely into his trap and become consumed by him.

One of his favorite ways to flirt as a yandere is to act like a doting lover. He will be extremely sweet and affectionate, shower you with compliments, and make you feel like the only person in the world. He would make it abundantly clear that he is obsessed with you and that he's not afraid to show it. He would be highly flirtatious and playful, teasing you and making it clear that you are the only one for him.

He wouldn't wait too long to make his feelings known. He would be highly impulsive, and he wouldn't want to risk the chance of someone else winning you over. He would make sure to act quickly to make his affections known and to show how deeply he feels for you. He wouldn't be afraid to lay it on thick, and he wouldn't hold back in expressing his desire for you.

When he's ready to make his move on you, he won't waste any time in asking you out. He'll be direct and upfront about his feelings, and he'll make it abundantly clear that he wants a romantic relationship with you. His approach would be forceful, yet sweet, telling you how much he cares for you and that you are the only one for him. His goal would be to make sure you understand that he's serious, and that he wants a commitment from you.

When he first saw you, he was instantly drawn to you. There was something about you that immediately caught his attention and caught his eye. You had a certain quality about you; like a spark or a light that was impossible to ignore. It felt like he had been looking for you his whole life, and finally found you. He couldn't imagine a world without you, and he couldn't imagine being with anyone else. He wanted to know everything about you, and he wanted you to be his.

Dates are very important for establishing a strong connection with you. He will put a lot of thought and effort into planning dates that are special and memorable. He won't settle for average dates, and will go out of his way to create romantic atmospheres. The goal is to create a strong emotional bond with you, to make you feel special and cherished. Everything will be done to woo you.

He has almost an unquenchable thirst for affection. He wants to drown you in affection, and then drown some more. He will find any excuse to touch you and caress you, and he will shower you in kisses. He will show you how much he cares with actions and gestures, and he will want to get as close to you as possible. Affection is essential to keeping you close and attached to him, and it's a major tool in his arsenal for keeping control and possession over you.

Dating as a hellspawn has its challenges, to say the least. First, there are the obvious physical complications. He can be very intimidating, with his green glowing eyes and his demonic appearance. The fact that he's a supernatural being probably doesn't help either… Plus, there are the more subtle obstacles that come with being part of the Supernatural world. His past is filled with trauma, and his trust issues make him an unpredictable partner. Still, there's also something incredibly appealing about dating a hellspawn. He's loyal and devoted, and he has a flair for the dramatics.

Having a crush after his marriage can be… complicated. The feelings he has for you are intense and overwhelming, and you make him feel like he's back to his teenage years. He wants to pursue you, he wants to confess his feelings, and he wants to be with you. So, it's hard to let someone else in. But on the other hand it's been a long time since he felt the joys of love and romance. He misses that feeling of butterflies in his stomach, and he misses having someone to care for and protect. He wants that again, so he's definitely open to it.

"You are the reason the stars shine. The moon gazes at you in envy. The ocean whispers your name. Your beauty shines brighter than the sun. I can't breathe without you. Your heart pumps life in my veins. You are my everything. My world. My star. My dream. My light. You are my destiny. Mine…”

[wendichester]

⋆˚꩜｡ long legs,

summary. it could be just another regular day at the bunker--laundry, research. except you're surprised by something of true evil nature: not a demon, not a ghost; no, much worse--a spider.

pairing. sam winchester x reader genre. fluff

wordcount. 473

notes / warnings. spiders, reader has aranchnophobia, one spider was harmed in the making of this drable RIP also mild language because of course

You were just trying to do laundry.

Just one normal, human thing in a bunker full of cursed books, ancient weapons, and half-eaten takeout boxes with ominous stains. You even managed to fold half your shirts before the hellspawn revealed itself.

A spider.

No. Not just any spider.

A daddy long legs. Dangling from the goddamn ceiling vent like it owned the place.

You froze. Heart stopping. Blood pressure skyrocketing. A whole meltdown already queued up in your throat.

“Nope. Nope, nope, nope.”

You backed away like it had a knife and bad intentions, tripping over your own laundry basket and barely catching yourself on the washer.

And then—like some guardian angel summoned by sheer panic—Sam appeared in the doorway, eyebrows pinched, book still in hand.

“You okay?” he asked, scanning the room like he expected demons.

You pointed.

He followed your gaze upward. Saw the gangly little nightmare twitching above the dryer.

He blinked. “Seriously?”

“I swear to God, Sam,” you hissed, backing up another step, “if you say ‘it’s just a spider’, I will set your laptop on fire.”

His mouth twitched. “Okay. Not saying that.”

“Thank you.”

With a sigh that somehow managed to be 80% amusement and 20% ‘this again?’, he closed the book and stepped fully into the laundry room.

“Want me to just take it outside?”

“I want it launched into the sun.”

He chuckled under his breath, grabbed a tissue from the counter, and went for it like it was nothing. Meanwhile, you stood ten feet away, arms crossed, half hiding behind the dryer like a Victorian woman about to faint.

He reached up.

Snagged it in one smooth motion.

Didn’t even flinch.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Sam tossed the tissue in the trash, then turned back to you like it was the most mundane task in the world.

“There. No interdimensional spider portals. You’re safe.”

You blinked at him. “I swear, you could kill a wendigo with your bare hands and I wouldn’t be as grateful as I am right now.”

He laughed. And it lit up his whole face—dimples, scrunched nose, the whole package.

“Good to know where I stand,” he teased, leaning against the doorframe now, casual and smug.

You scowled playfully. “Some of us weren’t built for giant-legged horror.”

“You know they’re not technically spiders, right?”

“Sam.”

“Right, sorry. Not helping.”

You picked up your laundry basket, sighing. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He raised a brow. “You think I’m cute?”

You walked past him, cheeks burning, and tossed over your shoulder, “I said lucky, Winchester. Don’t push it.”

But he was still smiling when you walked away.

And you were still smiling twenty minutes later, folding laundry with zero arachnid threats, safe in the knowledge that you had a 6'4 spider assassin on speed dial.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[tinytennisskirt]

Just Between Friends

art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

summary: the three of you, best friends, are up at a cottage for a bit. as the edibles you took kick in, playful conversation turns into playful banter, turns into a common ground realization. one that sets the tone for the rest of the night.

warnings: smut, obviously! lots of kissing. threesome. art x reader, patrick x reader, art x patrick. thigh riding. handjob, oral m!receiving. slight dom x dom x sub! attitude and tone. patrick fucks art. multiple orgasms. creampie. some fluff. implied romantic tension between reader and Art.

It was a warm Friday night, the breeze the perfect contrast to the mid- summer air. It was like any other Friday, where you usually ended up doing everything and nothing with your two best friends, Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig.

This particular Friday was calmer than most. The three of you lay on Patrick’s bed in the cottage you’d spent so many summers before, his uncle away on a fishing trip allowing you three to use it for a weekend. You’d each popped a badly-made, oily weed gummy. Supposed to be strong. You lay with your face to the ceiling, your head resting on Art’s stomach while your legs draped over Patrick’s thighs. Unconventional, but comfortable.

The light was warm-toned and dim, the atmosphere was quiet. There was something in the air, in the silence that Patrick now broke. “Who were your first kisses?” He asked. Silence. You smiled.

“Y/N,” Art answered, after a second, turning his head to gesture.

“Really?” Patrick said, moving a little bit toward you both so that your thighs now lay over his hips, readjusted.

You smiled to yourself, “Yeah. Grade seven, before he went off to MRTA.” The memory was sweet, but mostly an inside joke with Art. You were friends that way. “He was whining over all his friends having their first kisses so I… kissed him.”

“I didn’t whine,” Art replied sheepishly, relaying it back to himself, “But y’know, it wasn’t awkward the way it was supposed to be, it was kind of good.” He chuckled.

“That’s because I had experience in that field already.” You smiled wider, a playful confidence to your voice, turning your head back toward Patrick. “My first kiss was Johnny Brown at the beginning of grade eight. Art was at the end of grade eight.”

Patrick held his hands out flat to the air, “You’re saying Art here, THE Art Donaldson wasn’t kissed until the end of grade eight? He wasn’t getting babes his whole life?” Patrick was using the word ‘babe’ ironically (now), after a conversation you three had yesterday about things to call women.

You laughed and you heard Art let out a breath of mock-hurt, air passing through his lips, blowing the curls that rested on his forehead. You fought the full-set grin that threatened to spread up your face. “He was not getting babes his whole life. Are you calling me a babe?”

“Sure,” Art shrugged from where he was. You blew your hair out of your face. “What about you, Pat? Your first kiss?”

Patrick looked upward, “Do we get a first kiss for guys and girls, or is it just one?”

“Mmm- it’s whoever came first out of everyone,” you replied. “Ooh my girl first kiss, stop, that’s Alice Maybank.” You gasped, laughing.

Art, remembering the girl, laughed too. “Hellspawn.”

“So bad. Probably because she was a closeted twelve year old,” you theorized. “Does it count as a first kiss if it’s another gender?”

“Hell yeah,” Patrick replied as if it was common sense. Probably should’ve been. “I think there should be one for both, but a technical first.”

Art nodded in agreement slowly, eyes trained on the wood-panelled wall, lips pressed together in thought.

“Art’s realizing I was his first.” Patrick noted.

“Once.” Art rebutted, not truly all into discussing this matter. It wasn’t like it was bad or anything, just… fresh. And in front of you…

“Are you saying it meant nothing?” Patrick pretended to be offended, hitting himself in the chest and going limp. It seemed to break Art out of that protective little shell when you laughed at it.

Art reached over and grabbed Patrick’s arm in return, leaning into the bit. “It was everything to me. Come home, the kids miss you.”

“Oh, Donaldson…” Patrick pretended to swoon. You couldn’t breathe, you were laughing so hard. Your loss of breath worsened when the two continued the bit, both moving in for a kiss, but swerving last second. Soon all three of you were laughing pretty hard. Now that you thought about it, the edibles you three took earlier were probably kicking in. That explained the mad giggling.

Patrick tried to speak through his dying laugh, “My first kiss- was the summer before grade seven. Her name was Amber Wiley and she thought kissing was only tongue.”

“Yeah, I remember you saying that,” Art responded. “Reminds me of-“

“Penny and John.” Patrick finished with a knowing clap. The boys had a longtime joke about the couple most known at their tennis school for the most revolting PDA, you’d frankly heard more than enough. The mutual giggle filled the room again. Your body was starting to feel a bit airy.

You tried to breathe through it, “Oh that’s not fun,” your nose crinkled as you moved to lay between the men, your hand resting on Patrick’s chest for a moment before you sat up, just a little bit suddenly. Both boys sat up just because you did. “What about virginities?” You grinned.

“Oh fuck,” Patrick deadpanned. “Yikes. Y/N, you go first this time.” His smile couldn’t stay at bay, his dimples creeping up on him.

You chuckled, recalling it. “Jeff Lyonne. God, it was terrible, I broke up with him a few weeks after, before he tried it again. It was… mid-freshman year. One of my biggest regrets honestly.”

“That guy was a douche anyways.” Art snorted. “Not like I have a say, though. I lost mine to Sarah Greene.”

“No fucking way, which one?” Patrick actually sat up. “I lost mine to Sarah Greene.”

“I don’t know, blonde, kind of nice,” your eyes flickered between Patrick and Art. “Had this birthmark on her-“

“Left tit? Yeah, that’s her.”

Silence for a second. “You lost your virginities to the same girl and didn’t talk about it?” You asked, stifling a laugh. “Holy fuck.” There was a burning in the pit of your stomach. Odd. New. Familiar?

“When?” Patrick asked.

“Around the same time Y/N did. Mid-freshman year for me. We weren’t dating or anything either.”

“Jesus Christ,” Patrick laughed, putting his hands against his face. “That would be the same time she did me.” The same burning, stronger. Art sat up, so you took the cue to sit up as well. You sat cross-legged, taking in this information. “We fucked the same girl. We lied to Tashi for sure. How did we not talk about it?”

“I shut it out, honestly. I told you about the second girl, though.”

You tried to stop yourself from laughing. “I’ve never known you two to have the same taste aside from during the Tashi situation.” You felt Art’s hand loosely fall on your thigh. Casual. Like it was said before, there was something in the air that night. Art’s hand should not have made you feel the way you were beginning to feel. “That’s so crazy. I mean, the tennis academy is small but not that small. She was visiting?”

“Co-op games,” Patrick nodded. “Same girl same time period. Do you think it could have been the same day?”

“Definitely not, definitely not,” Art replied. “Would be funny if we fucked the same girl on the same day though.”

You looked at Art’s hand for a second, then at Patrick to see that he was looking at the same thing. Art’s hand on your thigh. Art’s fingertips pressed lightly into the pillow of your skin- just a little, and you watched Patrick’s lips part. It was almost in reaction… Your body rose higher.

It fell silent. All you could hear were the crickets outside. And in another beat, the air was hotter than it had been before.

You made eye contact with Art for a moment. Being friends for so long, there were boundaries, ones you knew. But tonight was different in an unspoken way. And he looked at your lips, eyelashes perfect as his eyes settled on your mouth. He looked soft, sweet, easy. You were all sitting so close, it was made easy. Or it was made hard to ignore.

Patrick had his eyes on Art, but he slowly moved his head first, then his gaze onto you, before smirking a little bit knowingly. He glanced back at Art, who was still very focused on you. The closeness. It dawned on them too. The slow hush of the edible was kicking in.

You moved a little closer, unnoticeable to Patrick’s eyes looking at Art, “Hey Pat,” you said, voice quiet. And the moment- the second he turned his head toward you, you grabbed the back of his head and you kissed him.

His lips were a little rough, but not in the way where you’d ever mind it. It took him only a moment to realize what was happening and kiss you back. Oh, he was good. Your hands travelled his neck, coming down to hold his jaw. His hands found your chest, your waist, strong, pulling you close to him.

Your other hand snuck down his chest, finding Art’s hand with ease, his fingertips digging deeper as he watched. Your fingers interlocked, then unlocked, your gentle pull luring him closer as your lips continued to lock with Patrick’s. It slowed naturally, your lower lip released from his teeth as you pulled away. It was only seconds before your lips met Art’s.

His lips were always soft. He was minty, but sweet, and his lips seemed to melt against yours. It was the easiest thing, but you felt it in your fingertips? You’d kissed Art a few times since your first kiss in grade eight- spin the bottle, drunk, truth or dare, bored- however, this kiss was different.

“Fuck,” you heard Patrick whisper from beside you. You smiled into the kiss with Art, mouths in sync, his hands gently cupping your face while your hands knotted in his t-shirt. Patrick was good, Art was better. Funny, you were just kissing all your best friends today.

And your best friends were doing the same.

Art pulled away this time, both boys not wasting a single second. Kissing, touching, pulling hair, clothes. You pushed your hair over your shoulders, watching them. So this is what’s happening now.

Patrick looked to you, your hand still holding a fistful of your own hair upon your head. Art looked a little dazed, kissing two people in the span of 80 seconds. “What are we doing?” He asked, looking between you and Patrick, expression soft. A little doe-eyed.

“Y/N?” Patrick breathed, a smirk at play on his upper lip, tugging, twitching. You could see in his eyes he seemed to know what was about to happen. Art looked at you, almost embarrassed, peeking through his eyelashes.

You let your hair fall as you said your words. “Fucking the same girl. On the same day.”

You watched both Art and Patrick react to your words as if they were physical. Patrick slumped down a little bit, smiling a small smile, and Art looked like if he didn’t hear those words in time, he might’ve ceased to exist, breathing out like he was saved by the bell. Your heart was beating out of your chest, determined. On fire.

Both reactions were positive- and so with force, you kissed Patrick again, harder, hard enough to push him onto his back again, letting yourself fall over him. His hands snaked around your waist and pulled your lower half against him, while your bent knees allowed for you to push against him where he wanted. He was already hard.

You pressed against him again, giggling as he groaned lightly into your mouth. It was satisfying, the sound of his approval, the feel of it underneath you. Hot, heavy, tongues allowing light dips, your head curling to tip his back.

He made a noise like a hum, breaking the kiss to breathe hard. You giggled again, trailing your hand down his chest as Art pulled you toward him. You happily followed his direction, kissing him again. It was soft, easy, yet starved. You rolled onto your side, kissing him as he kissed your mouth, then your jaw, then your neck… Trailing…

His gentle hand cupped your left breast, then softly traced down down your chest, your stomach. Art was a boob guy, this was a known fact. When you’d made out with him before this is exactly how it went except- he’d never taken off your sweater before. He pulled it up over your head and tossed it across the room, you swore your heart accelerated tenfold. The sound of the wool hitting the wall sent chills down your spine.

With a grin, Patrick filled the empty time by tilting Art’s head up, kissing him over your nearly-bare upper body.

You couldn’t believe this was happening, maybe it was the weed. This was kind of fun. But then again, you’d always had sexual tension, so it wasn’t any surprise that it was fun. Anyone who knew the three of you knew it was only a matter of time before one of you fucked the other. It just happened to be now. Together.

Patrick’s fingers found the hem of Art’s shirt and pulled it up, off. God, he was gorgeous, smooth and soft, gentle muscle definition. You tilted your head just slightly, watching as the boys kissed, tongues visible as they tried each other’s mouths. Art was so pretty like this… You could date Art… maybe. Huh. You knew exactly where this was going.

Patrick had Art by the back of his neck, holding him in a kiss that made you bite your lip. You had really hot best friends, there wasn’t any other way to put it. And lucky you, Art pulled away to put his focus back on your chest. He kissed your collarbone, his hand grazing over your chest with gentle fingers. You inhaled sharply, reacting, taking each movement in with your own motion. It was easy to melt into, but you were met with Patrick’s lips, hungry. He kept you busy while Art kissed down onto your breasts, nipping a little to make you hum. This was happening.

It was silent, aside from small breaths and the moving of the comforter beneath you all. You lightly pulled Patrick’s hair and in return, his lips also strayed from your mouth, leaving along with his body, leaving that gap. Unwanted. Unneeded. You grabbed him by his belt before he could go any further and while Art kissed down to your stomach, you began to undo Patrick’s buckle.

Belt open, you undid his zipper with a blind eye as you pulled Art up to your mouth again by his hair. He moaned into your mouth as you pulled him over you, using both your hands to undo the loop of his jeans. Goosebumps spread your body at the sound. It was somewhere between a whine and a soft moan. He sounded so pretty, too pretty. His body pressed against yours, propped up on his arms. You could feel his bicep flexed as your hands travelled his body. The sounds he made when your leg wrapped around him played over and over in your head as Patrick pulled Art back to him. And you let the boys kiss again, both of them discarding their pants, leaving you the most dressed in the room. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself.

They kissed until Patrick pushed Art onto his back. You didn’t think Art was all that into guys, but it was Patrick, so…

You took the time to take off your shorts, now equal to everyone else in a sense. Your whole body was hot, despite you complaining about the temperature and cold breeze through the open window not even thirty minutes ago. You couldn’t help but giggle softly.

Patrick then made the next move, and firmly cupped Art’s dick through his boxers. Casual, almost, but Art squeaked and fuck, that was enough to set both you and Patrick off. You slid your hand down overtop the material of your underwear, pressing lightly just to tide yourself over as the two of them went into a new, more clothing-less state of being.

Patrick already had Art’s dick in his hand, stroking up and down while he had his other hand on his own doing almost the same. You saw the opportunity. Art on his back, Patrick on his side you leaned over and looked Patrick in the eyes. “I’ve got this part.” You told him. There was fire in the way he looked at you. Pleased, almost, by the collaboration and he took his hand off of his own erection, entrusting you to the activity.

Art couldn’t help the noise he made watching you go down on Patrick. The second you swirled your tongue around, both sounds from Patrick and Art intensified. You liked that chain reaction. All these things you thought you’d never witness… not at the same time. Truthfully you really never thought about sucking Patrick off, he had a supernspecific type that he rarely let himself go out of. You were pleased to fall under that percent of women outside the bracket who he would let touch him this way. It was kind of funny.

Your head bobbed and he groaned loudly while Art moaned. A chain reaction, as every time you did something to Patrick a certain way, he’d react by gripping or jerking Art off tighter, harder. It was really only a matter of time before Art finished, Patrick following suit just a moment or two later. Both of them were breathing hard as you wiped your mouth, slyly sucking your fingers.

“Fuck,” Art groaned, propped up on his forearms, his head tilted downwards, his hair in his face. He was so gorgeous like this. Patrick’s hand rested on your thigh as they both tried to recover. This was mostly your doing, and you loved it.

You felt Patrick’s hand leave your thigh just a moment later ane he leaned over the bed to rustle with a bag of his.

You leaned over to Art, “You okay, pretty?” You asked. He was still regaining his breath.

He nodded slightly, pushing his hair out of his face to look at you with those eyes that looked a mixture of pleading and devilish wanting. He moved against the wall, just for better support. Patrick continued digging through his bag, taking his time- so you swung your leg over Art’s waist.

Your clothed cunt hit pressed against his now-sensitive tip and he took a sharp inhale. Like instinct, his hands found their spot around your waist. He looked up at you, half-confused, half lustful. “We’re going to fuck,” Art concluded, like the sentence was a foot on his chest. “The three of us.”

His hands gently pulled you down against him again. The fabric between made for friction and he tried his best to appear unaffected. You nodded. “Mhm.”

“Can you treat me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going to fuck me.” He said, swallowing hard, eyes looking away like it’s almost something he’s too shy to say. That shift in both you and Patrick settled into a click. He looked over. “I want you to talk to me like that, and act-“ He doesn’t let himself say much more. You can feel his pulse hammering.

“I can do that.” You nodded again, slowly moving your hips back and forth. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your waist. You want to do that.What he says is cryptic, but his eyes made it clear as day, he wants to be talked to, wants to be given everything you would give to another prospective partner. He wants to have it all done to him. Patrick read the room like it’s a picture book.

“You don’t look so good,” you grinned, moving from grinding on his dick to sitting on his thigh. “What do you think, Pat?” You asked, looking over at Patrick over your shoulder.

“Far gone.” Patrick said, moving over, closer. “All you.”

“I was about to.” You grinned, turning back to Art. And you let it come naturally, “Pretty boy. Already gone?” The rumours about Art being a sex king at school were most definitely untrue. You wrapped your hand around his dick, gently, but firmly.

“Y/N,” Art said, tilting his head up to look at you where you were perched with his leg between yours. “Please.”

“Mmmm, no.” You replied, slowly moving your hand up and down his length. You felt your hair move over, away from your neck, Patrick’s gentle, bare fingers making way, lips meeting your neck and shoulder. Gentle kisses, but the teeth following were what made it so electrifying. It sent shivers down your body.

Your hand moved up and down, faster as you pushed against his thigh with your clothed core. Patrick’s hands travelled down your shoulder, onto your back to the clasp of your bra.

Art groaned, “Please.” He said again. And you let him go, but that’s not what he wanted. Patrick’s hands that replaced your bra were too much. Squeezing as you ground down on Art’s thigh. You moaned quietly as Art whined at loss of contact.

Patrick leaned over your shoulder again, “I think you should fuck our boy over here. He’s getting kind of desperate.”

“So desperate,” you echoed. The edible was making your head spin. You craved the friction as it slowed. Art looked at you with eyes that wanted you. And it only made sense after this long that you moved over him again. “You want me, Art?”

“So badly,” he replied, gazing up at you like you were a star.

“How long have you wanted me?” You asked, removing your underwear.

“Years.” He replied, a little too quickly. That was much longer than you’d thought. You watched him, eyes unsure of what to look at, overwhelmed. “Fuck, just please-“ And before he could finish speaking, you sank down onto him. He let out a moan that sent chills down your skin.

“Fuck,” said Patrick. You smiled, slowly raising yourself up and down on Art’s dick. Rising, sinking. Oh my god, he felt good. Thick, but not too much, filling you perfectly. Art grabbed the back of your thighs, holding on for what seemed to be dear life. You hummed a moan. “Waiting for this one, hm, Donaldson?”

“Fuck you,” Art said through his teeth, peering over at Patrick who was now stroking himself as he watched. You picked up pace and Art shut his eyes tight.

You shook your head, “What did you say? Sorry I can’t hear you through all the… moaning you’re doing.” You stifled your own sounds just to taunt him, giggling .

“Fuck you too,” Art said, trying to hide his slight smile.

“Other way around,” you said, bouncing harder, faster. Art was pink in the nose and cheeks, flushed and blushing, his hair falling in his face. That smile fell, lips parting.

“Jesus- fuck,” you heard Patrick beside you. Good to know the content wasn’t boring.

“Poor Art,” You said, breathing out through pursed lips to keep control of yourself. “Seems like we’re ganging up against you, hm?” You kissed his partially open mouth. He whined. “So sorry.” You added.

Patrick groaned loudly. You had to finish Art off before Patrick finished himself off. You sped up, bouncing faster. You pushed yourself against Art and he managed to kiss your bare chest. It faltered your bouncing as you bit your lip to stay quieter. You needed to keep going, you pushed yourself entirely onto Art as you bounced, taking him in full every time. He was just slightly oversized for you, making it easy to feel good on him.

He pushed through you every time, fingers grasping at you, breathing hard, moaning and whining and squeezing what he could. His eyes shut tight some moments, gazing over your face. His eyes flickered over your entire body the next, eyes trailing over where you were connecting, watching your hip muscles grind as you went. His hand found the place between your stomach and thigh, slipping between, feeling it open and close as you moved against him. On him.

And you felt him spill into you. No warning, no anything. But that’s what happened when you fucked someone so senseless. “God- you-“ he huffed- “That was-“ You pushed yourself up and down him a few more times before getting off of him entirely. And he grabbed at your waist, but you pressed your finger to his lips.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes. You’re so-“ he breathed, unable to find the words, to catch his breath. His dick was pink, hard, wet, and slowly getting less hard as he came down. “Perfect. That was perfect.”

You planted a kiss on his open mouth, then once more when he was ready. And he gestured toward Patrick, “Think he needs you.” He grinned. You turned, smiling playfully.

“Need some help?” You asked breathlessly, to a breathless Patrick.

“Please,” he said, smug, gesturing to his dick like a seat. Asshole. He kissed you first, before guiding your body down onto him. “Fuck, you are perfect.” He groaned. You grinned, pulling his bottom lip with your teeth.

He was slightly bigger than Art in girth, taking you longer to adjust to than before. You couldn’t take all of it at first, keeping slow, drawn out. Art’s hand gently traced your upper thigh, where the muscle was tensing in order to raise yourself up and down on Patrick. You were aware of his eyes, settled kindly on you both, watching like art.

Patrick’s hand cupped your breast, squeezing gently as you pushed yourself up and down on him. It helped you sink down on him further. You moaned into his mouth and he seemed to like that, repeating that motion every other time you went up and down on him. A few seconds passed before without warning, Patrick pushed himself upward and you back, so that you landed flat on your back on the bed and he was over you.

“You’re sure it’s okay that we don’t have protection?” Patrick asked. He was the most sensible one here, you and Art were already somewhat lost to the craze and heat.

“I’m sure. Art’s already finished in me,” you replied, humming as Patrick slowly pushed back into you. “You can too if you want, I don’t mind.” You joked. He smiled.

You looked over at Art, still against the wall. He was deflated now, but he looked well-over fucked out. Too bad it wasn’t over. “You okay, Art?” Patrick asked, slowly moving in and out of you at the same time.

“Mmm yeah, m’fine,” he replied. “I’m gonna get water, I’m high and my throat is-“

“You’re not staying?” Patrick replied, casual as ever. “Sure you don’t mind us in here?”

“No, no, go ahead. Fuck, I don’t wanna get hard again yet,” Art chuckled quietly as he left Patrick's room for a brief bit. He was genuine. He meant it.

“Might need you back,” Patrick said.

“I’ll come back,” Art said, smiling, spinning, and walking out the door. He was totally gone. You laughed a little, but it turned into a moan as Patrick suddenly started thrusting into you, hard. Your hands found themselves around him, your eyes shut tight. The impact of skin on skin was suddenly very loud.

His nose pressed to yours, "You're the only one who hasn't finished tonight," he said, gruff, low.

You couldn't find the words to agree, you just tried to nod as the pleasure built somewhere inside of you, picking up almost from where Art had left you. An advance.

“I didn’t think I’d ever fuck you.” Patrick continued, breathing shallowly. “I thought you and Art definitely would, but not me.”

“It’s a friend thing,” you said, breathing out hard, then smiling. “Don’t say you don’t find me attractive though.”

“I definitely do, just not romantically.” He replied, moving a little faster, “You’re not ugly, you have nice tits, it’s not- fuck- horrible.”

You rolled your eyes and you almost rolled them back at the same time, “Thanks a-oh my god!” You couldn’t finish your own sentence. Patrick was good. “You aren’t so bad looking either.” You kept joking. The friendly banter as Patrick fucked you was well-needed and made it… fun. It was hot and fun and you never knew you needed that. Your pleasure climbed, you were almost there and Patrick started slowing. And Art came back.

“No, Patrick, don’t stop-“ you said. But he just kept getting slower and you tried to move your hips but the high was gone, unchaseable. You felt it pulse strong, then less, then less. “Fuck, you guys…” you groaned. “Come on.”

“Main event,” Patrick said. Art looked at you for a moment, eyes still lustful and hungry. “Art, come help me out.” Patrick ordered. He pulled Art in by his arm, kissing him roughly, hungrily. You stared at the ceiling, your hand migrating to help yourself but Patrick caught it before you could do anything.

“Hey-” he said, clicking his tongue. He looked back to Art. “You want to come back into this? I don’t think we’re done with you,” he said. And your dominant side slowly returned- suddenly you didn’t care about your orgasm anymore. Who knew playing with your best friends was so fulfilling?

Art shut his eyes and you watched his dick rise back to action, pressing at his boxers. “Fuck, I don’t know if I can-“

“You will,” you told him, getting a little closer. “But tell us no and we’ll stop right here.”

“I- I want to, I want- but I don’t know if I can handle it,” he swallowed hard. You got up onto your knees, understanding Patrick’s plan slowly through the look he gave you. You got closer to Art and his eyelids lowered as you held his face. You kissed him gently, slowly, softly, and leaned him forward until he was over you. He’d already finished twice, you were asking for a third.

You pulled away, “Make me feel good.” You told him. “I haven’t finished once tonight I want you to be the one to make me.”

He looked high and drunk. “I will- fuck- yes…”

“Come inside me again.” You permissed. He guided himself to your entrance and slowly pushed in. “You fill me so nicely, Art.” He slowly thrusted in and out. You moaned softly, fist tight around the curls at the back of his head. You knew things were about to get a lot crazier, like it hung in the air.

Patrick knew what he was doing. “Art,” he said, positioning himself behind Art as he fucked into you softly. Art ‘mmm’ed a response and you could feel Patrick’s smirk as if it was a tangible presence. “Can I fuck you?”

Art stopped for a second. “Me?” He almost sounded embarrassed, as if he hadn’t been jerked off twice by both you and Patrick and fucked by you in front of Patrick in the past hour.

“It’ll take a second to get used to, but it’s nothing new to the world, I promise. I just put a condom on, it’s extra lube.”

“New to me,” Art grumbled, slightly humiliated. You felt his dick pulse and twitch while he thought it over.

You whispered, “You don’t have to. It’s a lot. Whatever makes you feel good, comfortable.”

He looked over your face. You kissed his jaw once, gently. Art inhaled sharply, admitting. “Yes. Yeah. Okay.” He took another deep breath, slower this time. “We can try.”

Patrick clicked his tongue. “Alright then. Let’s see how you handle this.” Bodies mingle above you, Patrick’s hands finding a place on Art’s sides. It was slow, the process for them- And you knew exactly when Patrick was in by the way Art’s muscles tightened. And Art let out a very pained and pleasured moan, head falling against your chest. You grinned.

And it wasn’t Art that thrusted into you, it was Patrick thrusting into Art that started turning you to mush. Art was shaking, pink as ever and some movement was his own, but the rest was Patrick. He was weak. You moaned loudly, gripping Art’s hair with one hand and the bedsheets with the other. It mingled with Art’s, choked out and broken.

“Fuck-“ you sighed, chest heaving.

“It’s okay, Art?”

“I—“ he broke, eyes shut, eyelashes fluttering. “Yes. Yes.” Drool dripped from Art’s mouth onto your chest as he moaned and rocked into you. Not once in his life had he ever felt so good, so whole. “God,” he groaned loudly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck me-“ and he moaned openly, louder than before.

Patrick picked up the pace, panting at the top of the pile you three were practically in. Art kept himself up with one hand and he let the other slink down to rub circles on your clit. You almost screamed. In his state, fucked out and being fucked and actively ruined- he made an effort to make you feel better.

“Oh god,” you sighed. “God…” Your first orgasm, built up three times over was just around the corner. “Fuck!” You pulled Art’s hair hard, you were so close. And Patrick fucked Art harder than ever, adding movement, friction, and both you and Art came undone at the same time. He shot into you, more powerfully this time. Hot, heavy. And you cried out, letting the wave wash over you, take over all your senses.

But Patrick didn’t stop. He didn’t finish yet. So he kept fucking Art, so Art kept fucking you and it was too much for poor Art. His eyelids drooped, his eyes rolled back, and he moaned so loud you knew the neighbours heard. Drool pooled on your tits. Art was entirely gone, you watched as tears fell from his eyes. He was being fucked twice at the same time, his orgasm coming from two different places.

“Harder,” he groaned. Unexpected. You weren’t sure if it was the edible, but you could feel every little thing as pleasure, even his words. Patrick obliged, thrusting harder, stronger. “Fuck!” He groaned. You felt another orgasm kick into existence, building on itself. It would break you.

Art used the power he had to keep you going too. He moaned, you moaned, and you felt Patrick’s thrusts get sloppy. And like clockwork, you finished, then Art, and then Patrick. You felt Art gush again into you again, felt it as it pooled around the spot on the bed where you were.

Patrick hummed, slowly thrusting out the waves. Your whole body felt tingly. Full, even. You smiled, out of breath.

Patrick pulled out of Art and poor Art collapsed onto you, still inside. Patrick rolled onto the bed beside you. “That was fun.” He breathed.

“Mhm,” you agreed, dazed. “How are you feeling, Art?” The poor boy was done for. He lifted his thumb and this thumb only. Patrick grabbed a tissue and wiped off your chest, making sure to touch everywhere he could, on purpose. You looked at him slyly. He shrugged with a wink.

“How was it for you?” Patrick asked you quietly, a chuckle on his breath. “How are you feeling?

“Good, so good.” You grinned. “And I’m feeling full. Really full.” You touched the side of your stomach, as Art covered most of your body. Art pulled out, moving next to you. You felt the gush of the excess pour onto the bed. You winced. “Can we head into town for plan B tomorrow?” You joked, but it was probably needed.

“We’ll grab lunch too,” Patrick laughed, starting to pull the sheets off the bed. Your hand rubbed gently up and down Art’s upper arm, soothingly.

“Yeah.” You sighed. You were content. You looked over at Art, laying silently on his back. You rubbed up and down his arm. “I need help with him,” you followed. Then you nudged Art. “Hey, pretty, I need to get up.”

Art only made an ‘mmm’ sound. Patrick nudged him too. “I’m okay, I’m just- wow.” He sighed, eyes not even opening. “I never-“

“You did so well,” you smiled, kissing him on the forehead. “So good.”

“Took it so well,” Patrick agreed, ruffling Art’s hair. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Donaldson.”

He huffed, “I did.” And it took Patrick a second to piece together the joke. “Have it in me. Shut up.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Wow.” You sighed contently and rolled away- “Be right back.” You told them.

You fucked your best friends. That was your one thought as you went to the bathroom and rinsed yourself off and cleaned yourself out. You, high, let the absurdity of the situation sink in. You fucked your best friends, both of them… They fucked each other. You chuckled quietly- who knew that would happen?

When you were done and dressed, Patrick had already fixed himself and Art up. The bed had been remade with clean sheets. Art sat against the wall in just his boxers again and Patrick stayed shirtless, but put his pants back on- and he was fucking with the guitar in the corner.

“So do we speak of this again?” Art asked, looking at you.

“Only when we need to,” Patrick replied. “Keep this just between friends.”

You and Art chuckled. He looked at you a little differently now. Maybe it was because you couldn’t wash him off of you entirely. “You okay?” You asked him.

“Oh, yeah, I’m good. Very… good. I was just fucked dumb.” He answered, a little blunt, grinning. “By two different people- and one of them was a guy.” And Patrick laughed at that. “-Was good but I’m not doing that again…”

“Pleasure,” Patrick nodded. You leaned against the wall next to Art, and let your head fall on his shoulder comfortably. His hand moved just gently, coming to rest on your thigh. Not grab or anything, just rest. Your heart picked up a little. Hm. “It was good though.” Patrick admit. “Surprisingly. Unsurprisingly.”

“You’re welcome.” You replied, cheekily. “Let’s not do that again though.”

“Agreed.” Art and Patrick responded in unison. Different reasons. Art chuckled heartily.

“You guys are hot though. Just for the record.” Patrick added, pointing between the two of you again. “Especially together.”

You giggled, turning your head to look at Art, who was already looking down at you, a small, sheepish smile on his face. Patrick laughed. Art covered half his face, then looked away. His fingertips lightly pressed, one after the other, into the flesh of your thigh. He squeezed just once, in affirmation.

requests open <3

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[pursuitseternal]

“You had better tie me up, darling…” very nsfw (f*ck or die) update for Rogue Astarion in part 7 “Bites in the Night”

Astarion x F!Reader |E| 5.5K F*ck or Die Smut

Summary: He isn’t well… something he’s consumed… the blood of a Succubus in the heat of battle by mistake. He needs release… help… or else undead won’t be an accurate description of your vampire rogue any longer.

CW: rough sex, bondage, Sex Pollen Trope but blame those Succubi, feral rutting, blood kink (does that go without saying yet?), implied shared infection, tongue bath, raunchy and yet sweet confessions from his undead lips.

Read on AO3 | Series on AO3 | Master List

Better get your rope…

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Sunset always brought the demons out to play… and this time it had been real. Everything about the Shadow Cursed Lands fit the name… but you had all made it at last to the Last Light Inn.

Not without blood spatter and slaughter, fear and relief once victory over the Hellspawn was won.

Now at last, you can take your rest. In peace.

Most of your companions still drink and eat to their heart’s content. Of course, not your Rogue. After the fight, he had looked… gaunt. Tired. You had promised to come and let him feed, but first you needed your fill. He had flashed his smile at you before heading up the creaking stairs.

That was an hour ago. Now, you make your way to those same stairs, only to catch Shadowheart hustling down with wide eyes, Gale looking much the same as he follows.

“Come with us,” they whisper, leading you up the stairs in a hurry.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, anxiety darking your tone.

“It’s Astarion, he’s… unwell.” Gale… always so vague and polite.

“He’s in a rut,” Shadowheart snips back, exactly. “Literally.”

“What?” you startle.

“During the fight, he must have bitten and drank Succubus blood.” Gale rubs his fingers at his temple. “He’s locked in his room, but I fear he will claw his way through the door until he finds… relief.”

“Sex, you mean?” you can’t help but correct him too.

“It’s bad,” Shadowheart presses her lips together. “The blood is ten times worse than the spittle. Like, if he doesn’t find relief soon he could expire. Again. It’ll last him a full day to work out of his system.”

Your eyes go wide, your stomach sinking as well as your jaw. “Isn’t there some countermeasure? Some spell or… or potion?”

Shadowheart opens her hands, a small scroll in it. “Not for him, but for…”

“Me…” you realize. Your body tingles with the idea, that heady mix of fear of death and thrill of fucking with him. It always swims in your system before you go to his bed, but this time. It feels… more… exhilarating. More deadly. Riskier.

“It’s a scroll of Greater Protection… just in case he gets carried away.” Gale’s face screws into a look of discomfort.

“Keep your cunny from giving out on you.” Shadowheart winks.

That sinches up the knots in your stomach now. And by the time your cleric recites the spell, the dust in the air swirling into your lungs, you know you can’t turn back. You can’t forsake him.

You take a breath once they both wish you good luck, reassurances that the spell should be enough to keep you safe… but that they would come running if needed. That’s when Shadowheart stops you one more time, behind Gale’s back. She makes her face shush you silently as she shoves something into your hands.

A coil of rope. It tingles… enchanted probably for extra strength… that it could hold a deranged, sex-crazed vampire if worse came to worse.

That’s when you head up another flight of stairs, your heart beating faster with each step. Especially as you hear the grunts and growls that crescendo as you reach the landing. It’s easy to tell which room is his, the light under the door burns bright… the sounds of his voice raw and feral…

You hover your hand over the knob, sensing the magic that’s sealed him in. But you stop… that sound inside, you can tell already how he’s plagued. Rough, wet, and fast. The slap of his own hand tending to his… need.

You swallow, the beating of his fist on his cock already making you wet. Hells below… if there wasn't part of you that was just… tantalized. A small part, mostly cloaked in that heady fear to preserve your life.

But you feared no danger. And you by now… he would listen.

Maybe.

One last squeeze of the chord in your hand, you gripped the charged metal of the door, throwing it open.

He is naked, sitting on the edge of the bed at the back of the little room. His teeth glint in the firelight, his ivory skin glowing with sweat. Gods, if he had blood in his body, you are sure he would be beet red. His profile cut like the masterpiece he was. His throat bobbing as he swallows, the muscles of his arm bulging as he pleasures himself at a terrifying pace.

The sound as you shut the door behind him finally draws his attention.

He is… wild. Feral. Eyes so dilated, you can barely make out the ring of scarlet in them. His face shines from his exertions, he growls… like an animal… the second he sets eyes on you. His nose sniffing so hard at your scent… you can watch it open and close.

“Out!” He snarls, rising to his feet. That’s when you take in the full extent of his… suffering. He’s so erect, bigger than you have ever seen him. Harder. Throbbing so hard you witness it… where it stands almost vertically. Those intricate veins that usually rise subtly from his length strain dark, a web over his pale skin. “I’ll not hurt you, darling. Not you. Get out! I won’t have you!” He snaps his jaws. Every muscle in his body straining as he stands in place.

As if he’s fighting with himself.

“You will have me,” you snap back. “You don’t have a choice, do you?”

“Of course I do!”

“Not if you want to keep yourself in this realm. Undead you might be, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you alive… undead…”

That made him smile. Dark, wicked and still slightly manic. But it was there.

His eyes rake down your body, devouring you as he dares to let himself take one step. His eyes fall to your hand, the tangle of rope hanging visibly at your side. “Seems someone had the wisdom to not to send you in here defenseless and you stink of protective magic. Good,” he shudders as he talks. That voice sounding hollow. Pressed. Barely above a snarl. “I haven’t said this to many… but you had better tie me up, darling…”

He groans, forcing his body to move stiffly to the bed. The wood frame creaks and cracks as he crawls in, his rigid frame laying down.

That erection makes your mouth water, despite the obvious agony your vampire is enduring. But you can’t help but be mesmerized by how tall it stands as he pants on the bed. You cross to him, he can’t look at you, holding his hands out for you to bind.

Your hands work quickly, securing his arms firmly together, wrapping them to the scrollwork of the headboard.

His breathing is rough, ragged. His body twitches, shuddering each time your fingers barely grazie his arms and wrists. “Please,” he groans. “If you’re going to do this, then by the hells do it!”

His eyes are wide as he strains to look at you.

Your body aches, sympathy pains twitch down your spine to watch him quivering on the sheets. Your skin feels hot, your own body breaking into a sweat. He’s licking his lips, “Gods, if you go any slower getting something on this cock of mine, I can’t promise your safety, darling…”

You reach for that straining length, the second you wrap your fingers around it, he throbs and groans and twitches. His hips bucking into your hand, legs propped up so he can fuck anything you can get around his cock. You beat against his thrusts, that hardness unrelenting even as you move quicker than you usually do. Looking into his face, you move even faster, his face contorted in agony, his teeth biting so hard into his lips he’s bleeding.

He thrusts and groans and cries as he comes. Spurts of his seed drip down his shaft, coating his already damp lap, trailing milky streams as far as his belly.

But his breathing eases for a moment, his muscles softening just a bit perceptively. And Astarion gives a single contented sigh. “All that with just your hand. You little minx… pacing yourself?” he purrs. “Won’t you at least kiss me hello?”

You give him a small grin, at least he sounds like himself. His eyes are a bit more focused, his voice a bit more silken.

What harm could one kiss do?

You lay alongside him, pressing your lips to his.

The moment you touch, you can feel it, the heat, the lust, and the agony roaring full force through his veins. He’s straining on his bonds, trying to claw you into him. His mouth consumes you, sucking your lips inside his mouth, drawing them deep enough for him to bite. The tang of blood covers your tongue. And his.

He’s frenzied for more, biting you again and again. Drinking the blood that leaks from your kiss. Then you feel it, his legs, untethered, grip around your waist, sliding you to cover his naked, throbbing body. “Astarion!” you cry, muffled by his mouth. But he has you pinned between his thighs. Not unlike that first day in the wreckage.

His erection presses into your belly, he’s grinding it against the linen of your shirt. Rough and aggressive. As if he means to tear a hole in the soft fabric. He keeps you there, humping and riding into your abdomen. Grinding against your mound. Sucking and drinking your kiss as long as you let him.

Not that you have much of a choice, caught in his legs. “Easy,” you breathe, managing to steal your mouth back for the moment. “Easy…” you soothe again, making your body bear down against where he dry fucks against you.

“There is nothing I have in mind to do to you that would be easy…” he hisses. His voice almost sounds… not of this realm. And you press out of the clutches of his fangs. But he just raises his head higher, eyes crazed at the sight of the wounds he’s made on your bleeding and split lips.

“Sorry,” you murmur as you catch his throat under your palm. “It’s for your own good.” You feel his breath rasp, the ragged swallows of spit under your palm.

“The minx has claws…” he growls as you keep his head down.

“Only when you make me use them, Astarion,” you smirk. “Now, if you can keep your mouth to yourself, I’d be more than happy to put mine to other uses.”

“Gods, yes,” he moans. “It’s unbearable, the lust, the need to drive into you. Please put me out of this agony, darling. Please…”

The second you wrap your lips around that fleshy, pulsing head, his cock twitches out of your reach. With a smile and a lick of your tongue, you grip his straining, iron length, holding it steady as you run from base to bulging tip. The bitter tang of his cum fills your mouth. Making you swallow. Making you realize just how used to it you will be before the day of this torment is through.

You manage to still him enough with his squirming and bucking to get your mouth around him. Gods, it’s like stone in your mouth, every vein dragging over your tongue and you suck. You manage to bob your head up and down, avoiding the way he’s thrusting to get more of him down your throat.

The noises from his throat sound pained… agonized panting for more. “That’s it…” he’s hissing as you swirl your tongue around that ridge of his head. “Gods, do that again.” You do, laughing in your throat as you run your tongue over that seeping slit in his tip… so tight as you lap the stains of his cum. You feel it under your hand that works the base of his cock, that thickening, quickening spasm.

He howls, jamming his length into your pursing lips. And this time, you let him. His seed spills down your throat, spurting over your tongue and dripping in your cheeks. More with every pulse as he slowly begins to still again.

One last suck, you swallow him down. Greedily. Wondering if that succubus magic isn’t somehow in your system too. It’s heady, intoxicating. The way he’s glaring at you with his flame-kissed, glistening sweaty face.

But for now, he’s calmer. For now. “Darling…” he’s sighing as he tries to ease into the bed. “You… didn’t have to do this, you know. It’s still such a risk… if I didn’t… care for you… who knows how much of your body would be in one piece when this finally passes.”

“Oh I’m sure I’d leave in one piece… but maybe mostly bloodless and unable to walk straight…” you laugh leaning over him, placing a kiss on his dampened lips.

He slips his tongue in right away, searching for the taste of him in your mouth. He growls again, that throbbing suffering of lust raging beneath his skin again. “I want to see you,” he snarls. “I want to take you naked this time, my pet.” You shiver at the echo of pure desire in his silken voice. As if it doesn’t always drip with seduction. This… you shiver. This was even more wild, unchecked, feral. The need to rut. To fuck.

He looks at you with those heavy-lidded eyes, so dark with his lust, his attraction for you, you feel your own arousal dripping between your thighs. He purrs,“I want to be inside you, darling…”

Your hands couldn’t tug your clothes off fast enough, cursing the practicality of breeches. At last, you stood as he wished. Bared. Ready.

You scramble on the bed, throwing your legs around him. He seems… steadier. Still harder than rock, but less desperate. He strains against his binds, wriggling his lean and wiry body beneath you. So beautiful, every etched line of his muscles, every rise of his stomach, every vein that protrudes in his arms.

You caress him, once on his chest. So damp with sweat. Running your tongue up the center of those muscles, he shivers. The salt of his body makes your mouth water again.

“Hells, are we sure you haven’t ingested the same as me, my sweet?” He croons with a soft little laugh. “Or is this just all for me, darling, to ease my suffering.”

“To keep you alive? I’d do so much more than just lick the sweat from your body,” you taunt back, your voice so low and sultry, you barely recognize it.

He flashes his fangs at you, licking his lips. “Like slipping that sweet cunt on me? Riding me until you are dripping again?”

Ugh… you moan. “Yes,” you pant, “like that.”

The moment he feels your drenched folds hover over his cock, he spears into you. He screams at your union. “Sweet hells,” he groans, voice rasping and sore. “Yes, darling, give me everything. I can take it all…”

You lean over him, your hair cascading down in a curtain as you splay your hands on either side of his head. Barely brushing against his damp, unruly silver locks. You give the smallest rise of your body, the steadiest drag of your walls around his cock. He cants his hips beneath you, timing just right to shove up into your cunt as you settle back down.

A chorus of groans escape you both. He’s sputtering, “Please, darling, again,” over and over. Each time you give him what he wants, only to have him careening up into you harder. Begging for you to go faster.

Soon, your pace is breakneck, your own body shimmering in sweat as you buck and writhe and groan.

His eyes never blinking, those dark black pupils are wide as he watches your face twisting as you chase your own climax, flickering to the swaying of your breasts as they slap together each time you fuck him. They dart to watch where you are joined, where his stiffening cock pierces between your thighs, drenched in his cum and your arousal with every loud, squelching slap you make.

He’s merciless, finally hitching his hips to drive the hardest into you yet. You feel it when he comes inside you now, the sheer volume of his spew, hot and dripping from inside those walls where he’s buried in deep. Your belly aches from where he’s hammering against the end of your channel. More cum with each twitching spurt you feel. He screams like one wounded, his orgasm drawn out as you chase your peak yet. But he’s panting beneath you, catching his breath as he licks his lips.

Even more limp this time.

You’re relieved in your heart, even if your loins ache from the friction, the need to still release your own bliss. His brows furrow, his lips pouting as he looks into your eyes. “I’m… I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” you gasp, even as your arms quiver and your thighs shake with the need to continue.

“No,” he squirms and tugs at the tethers. “Infernal rope. If you just let me free, I swear I’ll make it up to you…”

Your mouth waters. He would probably just find a way to break it or chew through that rope if he had to. A smirk plays across your lips, leaning forward to reach your knots. His cock slips out from inside you as you do, making him groan again.

The rope tugs apart in your fingers. Instantly his hands pull free, he shoves you over his face, so close already as you lean forward. He growls, his tongue slipping into your folds. His hands claw into your, gripping at the backs of your knees, spreading you wider as he eats into your cunt with all the hunger you feel raging in his body.

Starving, he feasts on you, and it takes all your strength to hold yourself up, hands splayed on the mattress over his head. That swirl of his tongue… that sucking of his lips on your clit, you already creep closer and closer to that swirl of heat simmering ready to consume you. It sweeps through you, cresting and tearing from your core up your spine.

And then, the world spins. His arms clutch around your legs, throwing you over. You're screaming, still spasming and clenching around nothing. Until your back is sprawled on the bed… until he’s shoved his cock into the last dregs of your orgasm. It makes you whimper his name once more, until you feel another spasm ripping through you.

Only this time, he’s pounding into you, thrust by thrust. Giving you something long and hard and cold splitting you in two as you go limp beneath him. His mouth descends on yours, sucking your breath from your body even as he traps your lips, your tongue with his own.

Manic, driven, he fucks you like one possessed, eyes wide as he finally pins you beneath him. Having his way with you as he chases that required release.

You lay back, still swollen and numb from your pleasure. But he is nowhere near close, not as his hands claw down your side, latching around your legs to make you wrap around his narrow waist. “Gods, you’re so tight, so wet… there have been none like you, darling. None I have wanted as badly as you.” He growls, fingers reaching around the backs of your ass, clamping into your cheeks. He raises you just enough to drag his length all the deeper. Making you keen and mewl and sputter incoherently.

Every nerve in your body hums, every patch of pleasure between your thighs feels him inside you. Gods, if it wasn’t for that scroll, you are certain you would pass out, lying there unconscious while he works this tainted blood from his own body.

By using yours.

By using you.

It makes you smile. Twisted and delighted to be so at his disposal. You were used to his fangs in your neck, his cock plowed into your cunt and his hips clenched between your thighs… but this…

This was intoxicating. Unbridled, unihibited fucking.

For his own sake of course.

That tainted blood and its magic being burned up with each time he filled you to bursting with his seed.

And as if his fixated eyes, hazy with his lust, can read your thoughts, he groans as he thrusts the harshest into you yet. So deep and hard and wild, you wriggle and claw against him as if you could shove him away from where he prods at the end of your cunt. But he only laughs. A laugh swallowed up as he is thrown off by another climax, another spilling of his cum that runs down your body and sticks to your skin. He pants as he looks straight into your face, manic and depraved.

“By the time this is through, your belly will swell from me, won’t it, darling? So filled with my cum, gods, you’ll be leaking for a week. For a fortnight.” He kisses into your neck, your body shivering at the chill of his breath on your skin. “And I’ll have the pleasure of smelling it, of remembering every time you took it so well, darling. I’m so very pleased…”

You look at him, half lidded and panting as he lifts his mouth from your flesh. “As I am…” you hum, running your hands up the ridges of his back, over those mysterious lines of Infernal, to thread your fingers into his damp silver hair.

He purrs as he kisses your lips, a sigh of his satisfaction as he tangles his tongue with yours. You taste yourself still in his mouth. Always so hungry, he is. It makes you wonder… “Aren't you going to beg me to feed, Astarion?”

“Hmm, if the offer is on the table, I’d love nothing more than to sup on… all… that you have to offer…”

He slowly slinks down your body. Your breath quickens, heart racing as he wraps his arms around the backs of your thighs. “Sweet hells, you're going to…”

The lap of his tongue up your seam again unravels you immediately. Your hands fly into his hair, pushing him away and pulling him deeper into your cunt with equal measure. You don’t know which you want more. He’s feeding on you, humming in delighted pleasure as he licks his cum from your folds, his eyes gazing up into your face as you pant and watch. Mesmerized by every dart and swirl of his pink tongue.

He licks his lips, “There is only one thing sweeter than the taste of us,” he purrs, low and deep in his throat, before he laps in a long, wet streak up your thigh. “Your blood, darling, my first living blood, and the last I ever want to drink in the realm…”

Your heart skips a beat, his words sweetening the pain of his bite into your thigh’s supple flesh. “Yes, love, yes,” you feel the wave of your joining… your connection by blood as you now fill him as he has filled you.

“That’s why I call you my sweet, you know… my little treat. None I have tasted… nothing comes close to how your blood sings in my veins like the way your body trembles beneath me.”

He bites you again and again up and down your thigh… little nips of his fangs, making blood drip down the softness of your skin as he licks every tiny trickle.

And all the while, he growls hungrily as he feeds.

It isn’t pain that fills you… not even pleasure. It is pure rapture. Pure bliss that rides up and down your spine. His fingers slowly, languorously curling into your folds, catching on that secret spot just inside that he knows so well.

“You’ve been so generous,” he purrs, letting the low rumbles of his voice shake into your already throbbing folds. “So good to help me through this. Giving me everything.” He glances up from between your thighs, pure wicked delight on his handsome face. “Well, I hope you haven’t given me everything. I think this tainted blood is going to take much, much more before it’s through…”

He pauses his sweet words to circle your clit, sucking it hard in time with the pulsing of those long, cold fingers inside you.

“You will come for me again, won’t you?”

You can’t even get a word in before he builds you to bursting. Driving you to shatter on his hand, under his mouth, as that voracious tongue laps at the arousal that spills from you. Your world spins, nothing but his touch on your skin, his fingers still clenched deep in your cunt.

You’re floating, limp as your muscles flood with warmth and pleasure. Steadied only by the bed at your back and the little sucks of his lips and the wet passes of his tongue over the blood on your thighs.

“Mmm,” he hums as he draws himself up to sit between your outstretched legs. “Every time with you is just perfect. And not just because it’s chasing the devil from my veins, you know…”

He shifts over you, dragging that heavy, cold, unyielding body across your skin. Making you shiver. Spasm. Making you reignite with desire for more of him again and again. That knee… that wicked, provocative knee… it creeps beneath yours to hook you, to spread you wide again as he glides his cock through the mess of your unions already drenching you.

“Seems you still have some of the devil in you, needing to be driven away, hmm?” you flirt, trying to maintain some composure, until he grinds against your already overstimulated folds, your aching clit, reducing you to nothing but moans and spasm.

And he laughs. “Why, my darling, it seems your body is as raging as mine.” His hands stroke against your cheek, fingers teasing their tips into your errant strands of hair that stick to your face. “Why, if I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were the one infected, if I didn’t still have this raging erection needing release…”

You catch him by surprise, buckling your knees around his waist, the wetness of your cunt almost drawing him inside you as you buck against him.

He groans, just a little thrust of his hips and he’s sheathed, so deep and already pulsing with that tainted, blinding need to fuck again.

You giggle, watching his eyes darken, his lids lowering to gaze with all the raging lust in his body upon the one he desires. The only one. As he is yours. You sigh, running your hands up those intricate scars of his back, “I am infected too, you know. Infected by my need for you, perhaps.”

His kiss descends to cover your lips, but it is one of tenderness. Longing. Unsated need softened by the affection that brims in the way he takes you this time.

He is slower, deliberate. Each thrust an offering of adoration for your body. Each drag of his cock inside your folds an expression of his gratitude, his devotion.

His proclamation that you are, in fact, perfect.

Your body rides his, melting into every motion your legs tight around his narrow waist, his arms slinking around your shoulders, pressing your face into the broadness of his shoulder. You gasp against his neck, wrapped in his pleasuring of you, as if you could pull him into your very being more.

That rhythm, that rocking, it begins to sweep you away, binding you to his body. Claiming you for his own. That same fever crawls in his veins as he clutches at you, that tempo increasing harsher. Faster. Until he’s groaning with all his feral drive again.

He pulls out from you, only to slam himself into your cunt, every inch of that long, pulsing length of his filling you to bursting.

He can’t take his eyes off you, raised up in his hands now. His crimson glare consumes your every reaction, every twitch and grin and grimace of painful bliss that he commands from you. Pummeling into you over and over again, your hands claw into his shoulders, slipping down his back to savor the feeling of every undulation of his hips into your core.

“So good… so perfect…” he purrs, ravenous in his gaze, “my only blood… my living blood…” the hard lines of his body ride over every nerve in yours. Your body burns. On fire. Consumed. His words tingle in your ear, caressing your heart that raps in your chest, pattering in time with his merciless thrusts.

It’s brutal, it’s unrelenting.

It’s wonderful. The sliding of his sweat soaked body over yours, your skin flaming and damp. “Hells,” you groan as that thick head of his cock presses and drags over that sweet spot in your channel. “Astarion…” you moan his name, almost incoherent aside from all he is.

“Mmmm darling,” he rasps, “no sweeter sound than my name on your lips… well,” he hums giving you thighs and extra hard slap that squelches with all your sweat and arousal, “aside from the way your body sounds as you take me over and over again so eagerly…”

Your eagerness peaks, your body ripping in two around the rapid plundering inside you. You sputter his name again, a moan that tears from your throat, a scream that makes his handsome face twisting in ecstasy as he rams hardest yet, pulsing and hitching and forcing his eyes to stare as you unravel. Sopping and drenched, the warmth of your fresh slick mingles with his, coating your thighs and his as it seeps from where you couple.

He groans, dropping his weight on you, blanketing you in his scent and sweat and panting frame. He places his damp forehead against your cheek, his cool breath making you shiver as he finally seems to relax. Even if his cock is still hardened and buried inside you.

You feel the rigid planes of his body slipping across yours with every one of your combined breaths. Signing in relief, you relish just how dirty you feel.

How dirty you’ve been.

“Once this has worked its way from your system, you will need to bathe me,” you pant. Your fingers linger and stray through the damp and sweaty curls of silver that stick to his face.

“That can be arranged…” those eyes, that face suddenly twisting again with all the depravity he still has simmering under his skin and in his mind. “Or would you settle for my tongue instead, darling?”

You shake your head, face bright, amused and skeptical. “As if you could accomplish that without bending me over in your state…”

“Mmmm,” he nuzzles against you, tilting his face to run the cold, damp pad of his tongue up your jaw. Laughing as you tremble. “You assume I could accomplish such a feat as resisting your charms without this suffering of tainted blood…”

He slips his cock from inside you, and you moan into his mouth, turning to bring that taunting smirk against your lips. Just for a moment kissing him, before he returns to lapping and caressing your sweat soaked cheek. You sigh with relief, stretching your legs, clenching them together to relieve the throbbing of your muscles.

And this was with that magical healing to sustain you.

You shake your head, in amused, affectionate irritation. Feeling his still erect cock beginning to rub against your hip. His tongue darts across your neck, the unvoiced question in the deliberate lapping and dragging of his fangs on your flushed and pulsing neck.

“For the love, please,” you pant, arching into him with your feverish body, your lust still matching his each time it rises, even as your muscles and marrow scream for reprieve. “Just a bit of rest, love, surely that tainted blood’s hold on you is lessened…”

“But what of your hold on me, hmm?” he rasps into the rapid pulse of your neck. “What if it’s not the succubus whose magic has consumed me, driven me mad and feral, making me no more than a rutting beast…” he gives that low throated giggle. “Your fault, you know, my sweet.”

You breathe heavily, aroused and exhausted in equal measure. “I take full blame,” you laugh weakly, “but it’s only because you’re so beautiful…”

“And witty… and passionate…” he adds a roll of his hips as he utters that last word, grinding that still hardened cock against your side.

“Just… a breath,” you plead. “Just a moment. You don’t seem to be so near death’s door now…”

“I’ll try not to take offense at that barb, given how good you’ve been and how much I’ve fucked you senseless,” he chides.

You laugh again, a bit of a whine in your voice. “Can’t you take care of just one by yourself…”

He murmurs in your ear. “Darling, I’ll take my pleasure from you in every way, in every hole, until this tainted blood is burned up in the blaze of my lust for you,” he groans, “or until I’ve completely exhausted you, leaving you spent and heaving. And then I’ll simply seek my own pleasure just at the sight of you sleeping.”

You stretch, clenching your whole body hoping for that release and rest. If he lets you have it for a moment. “Mmmm, well love, sounds like I’ll really need that bath in the morning any way you come at it…”

He giggles again. Naughty. Dirty. His hand now wrapped firmly around his cock, rubbing for himself, letting it beat against your skin softly. “Oh… I’ll come at it, don’t you fret… darling.”

[delirious-donna]

The Best Worst Father’s Day [Nanami Kento]

an: I wrote this in like 20 minutes because i was ‘inspired’. Kento deserves a fantastic Father’s Day but let’s be real… kids are not always willing to deliver

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: fluff, mention of a child, suggestive at the end, kids being assholes, tantrums (not just the kid), Kento being a fucking hero, breeding kink (if you squint)

Masterlist

It was Father’s Day and it also marked the day that your precious bundle of not-so-small joy decided that they were going to be a nightmare. All day.

The morning started out on the right foot, Kento snoozing peacefully with his sleep-soaked face pressed into the spill of your cleavage, a subtle drunk smile plastered to his face. Awoken by the telltale stomps of what your child affectionately tried to pass as tiptoes grew closer to your bedroom door, you blinked away the dregs of sleep just in time. A head peeked inside, drowsy and rubbing their eyes with a beloved teddy bear tucked under one arm like a newspaper.

You smiled and whispered a good morning before pressing your finger to your lips and pointing to their sleeping father. The answering giggle melted your heart as you heard them scamper downstairs, awaiting their breakfast and entertainment for the morning.

Lost in a kaleidoscope of rose-tinted memories that led to this moment, you combed softly through the blond locks of hair hanging low on his brow. Kento shifted, his eyebrows pinching and smoothing out until he rolled over and continued to sleep. He deserved it, he really did.

All those nighttime feedings, endless nappies changed, hours of reflux and windings that never seemed to yield results. The skinned knees and the tears. A million cups of tea at your bedside table before your bleary eyes even opened for the day. Car seats researched to the nth degree for safety reviews and practicality. First steps. Their first word, and of course it was ‘dada’.

The years had sped by at an alarming rate, feeling as those dark tortuous hours in the depths of winter were only yesterday. There had been far more good times than bad, and without Kento by your side the whole time, you weren’t sure how you would have managed. He might not be your Father, but you were determined his day would be one of the best.

However, that slice of idyllic tranquility would be the last, although you did not yet know it.

Whether the stars had misaligned or some demonic imp had decided today was the perfect day to toy with the emotions of a young child, you didn’t know. What you did know was that they were ‘on one’, and no amount of coaxing or reminders of whose special day it was would deter their rampant destruction.

Kento, diligent and steadfast as ever, refused to back away from the plate. He smiled through the gift giving which consisted of a beautiful handmade card by his darling angel, the very same darling angel who was kicking off because they couldn’t watch their favourite tv show right now. Aptly, the bottle of whisky could not have been a better choice, and he glanced surreptitiously at you with a knowing smile.

From there it went from bad to worse. Tantrums and tears, and not only from the hellspawn, ensued. Your sobs of “you’re meant to be relaxing today, not doing all of this” fell on deaf ears. No amount of cajoling or attempts by you were working, leaving Kento to swoop in like a hero just minus the cape and with the addition of a garish tie.

You watched from the kitchen door, enormous mug of tea in hand and a tissue dabbing your puffy eyes as Kento chased your child around the garden. The laughter broke your heart, but in that way that a happy ending in a movie also broke your heart.

There he was, the man infamously referred to as stoic and reserved, growling like a lion and throwing your little darling around to hollering whoops of laughter. If only they could see what you saw, if only they had known right from day one that behind the cool facade was a man that would do anything for his family—for his wife.

With energy levels finally depleted and the boss level of bath and bedtime tackled and won, you fell into his open arms. Your nose buried in the collar of his shirt, inhaling the spice from dinner on his skin and drinking in the warmth he exuded.

“I’m sorry, Kento,” you mumbled, lip wobbling from the stresses of the day. The anger that had sizzled in your veins only hours ago defused into a mass of misery.

“For what?”

“For the shitshow that was today! Don’t ‘for what’ me.”

Kento tilted your head up, his thumb beneath your chin and his lips upon yours in a soft rush that surprised you. The red wine from dinner melted onto your tongue, pushed deeper as he took and took, only to give back everything and more.

Finally, he pulled back with a contented hum. “Father’s Day is all well and good, but you gave me the best gift you ever could years ago… a baby that has grown into a wilful little mischief maker just like their mother.”

If you weren’t already emotional, you sure were now. Tears brimmed in your eyes only to be caught on the pads of his thumbs. Soft kisses decorated your cheeks and you grasped fistfuls of his shirt in earnest.

“Better stop talking like that, or I’ll give you another one, mister.”

“Mm, now that has made my day. I’ll give you to the count of ten to strip and kneel on the bed,” he breathed in your ear, biting the shell and playfully grabbing at your backside.

“One… two…”