#its been nice to just rest and sit and draw

[akrophobic]

heart racing

[alexiroflife]

"babysitting"

fluff, crack

Synopsis: that time you were babysitting your niece when sukuna came home...

to sum it up: sukuna is such a dad but doesn't know it yet

WC: 1,218

Warning(s): none

“What the fuck is that?”

You look up to see Sukuna standing in the doorway, a twisted snarl on his face as he glares harshly at the object within your grasp. You raise your brows, momentarily surprised by his arrival, and give him a soft smile. 

“Hi, Kuna,” you greet happily, ignoring his question. “I didn’t know you were gonna be back so soon.”

“Answer my question, woman,” he growls, looking almost disgusted by the sight before him. “What is that?”

He points one of his burly arms to you, and you look down at the cooing seven-month-old in your embrace, bouncing up on your knee as you sit on the floor just before Sukuna’s large bed. The baby gargles, hand stuffed into her mouth as drool dribbles down her fist, a thoughtless smile rising onto her small lips.

“She’s my niece,” you tell him, smoothing your thumb lovingly over the baby’s shirt, inspiring a small giggle and a senseless babble. You smile. “Isn’t she so cute?”

“It’s vile,” Sukuna grimaces and you frown. “Why is that beast in my temple?”

“Sukuna, be nice,” you roll your eyes. “She’s just a baby, and my sister needed some help looking after her for a few hours.”

“And you felt prompted to bring it here?”  he scrunches his nose. 

“Her, and where else would I be?” 

“As long as you’re carrying that creature, you must be anywhere else but here,” he grumbles, turning dismissively to leave the room. “I want it gone.”

“What?!” you exclaim, moving to stand with the baby resting on your hip. You walk over to your boyfriend, touching your soft hand to his large back to keep him from leaving. Sukuna peers over his shoulder angrily, four eyes squinting down at the two of you. “Come on, Sukuna! At least admit how adorable she is. Look at this precious little face.”

You squish gently at the baby’s cheeks and her fist falls from her mouth, big round eyes scrunching as a giddy beam rises to her rosy cheeks. All Sukuna can see, however, is the slobber shining over her chin and on her hand. “I do not understand what you are requesting of me,” he says coldly, eying the child as though she carries the plague. “Is it incapable of keeping its saliva inside of its mouth?”

“She’s teething,” you say flatly.

“What?”

“Her teeth are coming in soon, it stimulates drooling.”

Sukuna’s face of disgust grows more exaggerated, leaning his head back with curled lips. “Like an animal?”

Your face drops as you stare at him boredly. “Yes, Sukuna. Like an animal. All humans did it at one point.”

“Do you mean to inform me that you engaged in such a disgusting act when you were in this stage of life?”

“...Yes?”

He clicks his tongue, now eying you with an air of suspicion. “Good to know,” he says rather judgmentally.

The thought crosses your mind to point at that your boyfriend was at some point a human too, but you decide against it.

“Sukuna,” you groan. “Aside from the drool, she’s such a precious little thing. You have to agree, right?” you coo. You look down at the baby to grin childishly at her, tucking your finger under her chin and tapping her slightly, hardly tickling at her body but arising a few more giggles nonetheless. You babble meaningless sounds, speaking to her in a playful voice that Sukuna has never heard from you before.

Though still thoroughly confounded as to why you want him to take interest in this little animal, his eyes catch the way you soften for the child, how your eyes light and a sense of maternity takes you as you speak to the baby as though you know just what to say, drawing out toothless grins and thrilled gibberish. His brow twitches involuntarily, something within him almost enjoying the sight before him. You’re so good with this creature. Have you always been like this?

“What language are you speaking with it?” he suddenly asks gruffly, causing you to pause and look up at him as your niece reaches her small hands up to your cheek. 

“With her,” you correct again. “And I’m not speaking any language, I’m just playing around,” you chuckle slightly. Sukuna stares harshly now, examining the movements of the half developed human in your arms as she curiously taps against your face.

Suddenly catching wind of his presence, the baby’s head turns to him and her eyes grow bigger. She cries out excitedly, reaching her arms out to Sukuna with grasping tiny fingers. Sukuna falters, confused.

“What is she doing?” he asks urgently, and you laugh.

“She wants you to hold her,” you say softly.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Kuna,” you pout. “Please? Just for two seconds.”

“I said no, you brat.”

“Pleaseeeee? Pretty pretty please, my king?”

You give him the biggest puppy dog eyes you can muster, and when he looks between the two of you, your expressions almost match. Sukuna feels something in his resolve crumble, incapable of truly denying you though he tries his best to still appear as though you give him a hard time. 

With an agitated sigh, he reaches his upper set of arms to grab the child as you lift her up and hand her to him. “Two seconds,” he growls and your eyes sparkle with anticipation.

He holds the baby up before him, watching as her little feet dangle and kick around in her onesie as he grasps her from under her arms. His hands practically consume her entire frame, her fingers still reaching out to him curiously, joyfully.

The king of curses continues to glare, brow cocked while he tries to decide what is so special about it. Perhaps he can understand what you find to be “cute.” The baby’s got big chubby cheeks and huge doe eyes that almost remind him of you, and she’s so comically tiny it makes him want to laugh. 

He grunts softly as he pulls the baby in closer, complying with her unspoken request displayed by her constant reaching. She touches her little slobber-less hand on his forehead, touching softly at the plate structure on the right side of his face. Sukuna imagined himself to be a bit more perturbed by the contact, but finds himself unbothered, allowing the child to trace his features with innocent exploration.

You watch with your hands to your mouth, hiding your bright smile. The sight before you is just so adorable, you wish you could take a picture but you know that Sukuna would be quick to crush your phone in an instant if he caught you.

Sukuna finally pulls the child away, watching her grin happily. He hands her back to you and crosses his arms. “What is her purpose?” he questions, and you give him a strange look, adjusting the baby back on your hip as she plays with your hair. 

“She has no purpose. She’s a baby.”

“She is too young to work? To serve?”

“Wh- yes?!”

“Very well,” he nods. “She may stay for another hour.”

“...But my sister isn’t free for another two hours.”

“Two hours, and if she isn’t gone by then, tell her in her native tongue that I will be eating her fingers for dinner.”

[squiddy-god]

The Hydro Dragon? A closet freak!?

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I have no excuse for this other than I NEED this man so bad it makes me look stupid. He's just so…dreamy sigh anyway here are some hcs that i have for the Iudex of fontaine. This is really long. I think I blacked out writing this. This is 6 pages of google docs single spaced size 11 arial font. I think i need to be sedated

♥︎REQUEST ARE OPEN ♥︎

Cw : this is pure filthy smut, freak Neuvillette, dragon form, monster fucking, inhuman genitals, double dick, desperate kinda pussy drunk Neuvillette, soft dom and hard dom, no pronouns but afab anatomy, implied chubby reader, squirting, bath sex, rut, breeding kink, just pure horny, slight cumflation, oviposition,egg mention, a little bit of predator prey vibes, overstimulation, tail riding. Very slight watersports mentioned, Daycraphilia, Nasty dragon man, sweat and liquids. Spit swapping, spit swallowing, spit kink, marking, biting, possessiveness.PIV sex, possible anal, Title kink? Sir kink? Innocence and court kink?(trust me bro) Reader is matching this mans freak. Aftercare is given, safeword is in place even if not mentioned explicitly

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Neuvillette is not entirely oblivious, he knows that he has needs and instincts but what he is wholly unaware of is that many of these instincts and desires are quite… out of the ordinary

There's also the fact that he has like 0 experience, so all of these desires are rather new or have been festering in his dragon mind for centuries

What the Iudex of fontaine lacks in experience he makes up for in the fact that he is downright insatiable and animalistic at times

When you first got with him you quickly realized that this man was incredibly touch starved, even the most innocent and fleeting touch from his beloved sets his very being to a burning desire.

And he is embarrassed to say that he craves it Neuvillette craves your touch in both a innocent and intimate way to the point you are shocked to find just how clingy he is towards you

The only time when he's not touching you, holding you, trying to sait the burning you leave him with is when he has court, and once he is out of court his mind returns to you, making sure you have a permanent seat at the opera house right next to his usual reserved seating.

Once he's out of court he's by your side, placing a kiss to the back of your hand and guiding you with a hand to the small of your back

To the people of fontaine he is a doting and protective lover, which is true, but they don't know the sheer levels of clingy that he is

He tries at first to contain this, so he doesn't scare you off, but eventually he simply needs you to be close to him

The other thing that comes as a shock is that this man is a freak

Let's start with his more inhuman side

The reason he is so covered is because his skin is slightly scaly, beautiful scales of cyan and cerulean blues that layer his skin in large patches, the main areas are his sides and part of his back, his thighs and his arms where they seem to sit permanently much like his pointed ears and horns (the blue streaks in his hair are horns trust me on this) when he uses his hydro powers or lets loose they glow

When he really lets loose the scales creep up his neck to his jaw, his ears seem to grow longer and more pointed, his teeth get sharper, his nails seem to grow more into claws and his pupils draw into slits.

His eyes and the rest of him seems to give off a faint blue glow

His tongue is long- like really long- and forked- and when he lets loose its a deep shade of blue

His cocks- both of them are far from human, hidden behind a vent they are ribbed un the underside with the head coming to a slight point, the top side is lined with bumps that resemble small tendrils, they line the head of his cocks to.

His tips are flushed an angry dark blue

This man has nice veins, his cocks are quite veiny but the veins along his body are rather pronounced as well, a deep blue, good and hydrated

He also has a large tail, its long and a deep blue fully scaled, thick at the base and tapers till the tailfins witch are a almost iridescent cyan and resemble the ends of his coattails

Ok now into the real smutty stuff-

He needs it messy, as messy and wet as possible, the problem is the more wet and messy it gets the hornier he gets in return

If the bed sheets aren't soaked and dripping wet with just about every fluid possible then he isn't satisfied

And i mean the bed sheets look like they just came out of a river

He gets so pussy drunk- this man is insatiable and eats you out for his own pleasure, basically tongue fucking you to drink up all of your juices he possibly can

The taste of you is intoxicating and he cannot get enough

The first time he eats you out, his tongue fucking into your overstimulated hole before he finally pulls out and his long tongue wraps around your clit as he all but makes out with your lower half and you wine out that it feels weird like your goona pee-

And this freak without hesitation presses on your stomach as you cum from his unrelenting ministrations

Because he is a freak who doesn't understand that things like that are not in fact what most are into. (he is eternally shocked when you explain this to him, trying to tell him his taste in kinks and fetishes are abnormal. Cannot fathom how it isn't hot to others)

But when to his shock you squeal and squirt his mouth, chin, and chest soaked along with the sheets

You are mid apology for the mess when you look at his eyes, his pupils are blown wide as saucers as he stares down at you breath heavy- downright ragged and he groans so low it rumbles in his chest and almost sounds like a growl

“I hadn't known that this was something the human body could do” before his pupils contract into little slits and he is licking you clean before he goes right back into trying to make you squirt again-

He is obsessed with you squirting, the fact that you were so lost in (the sauce) pleasure that you produced a significant volume of liquid? This man lives off of moisture, his favorite drink is water and he needs everything to be moist and wet for him to be fully comfortable, such is the nature of the hydro dragon. So it shouldn't be a shock that he is obsessed with making you squirt

Usually this leaves you rather overstimulated, tears pricking the corners of your eyes and running down your cheeks

Oh and Neuvillette love it- tears of pleasure soon laped away by his tongue as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss

Asks you with utmost seriousness to spit in his mouth and is confused by how flustered that makes you

But once you do he is practically moaning at the taste, greedily drinking whatever you will give him

And if you match his freak? Ask him to spit in your mouth? He's gone lmao- truly you are a blessing hand picked from celestia just for him

The first time you gave him head and spit on his cocks so you could switch between sucking and stroking them, making sure they got equal attention, he came instantly. The sight was just too much for him to handle

Neuvillette cums an insane amount. Its slightly watery but the amount is ridiculous, his precum is enough to have you thinking he already busted, but when he actually cums its like a broken faucet taking several gulps to swallow down and it still manages to coat you

And he just stays hard as a rock, the dragon stamina is insane and is even worse when he's in a rut

He loves to see you absolutely plastered with his cum, dripping all over you and out of you

The way your poor tummy is bloated while his clawed fingers push the rapidly escaping liquid back into you

The breeding kink on this man is unmatched, and i mean the only other contender who even comes close is tartaglia “PLAP PLAP PLAP GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT” ajax,

Neuvillette doesn't care if you actually can get pregnant or not- he is breeding you and he will make it happen

More freaky shit the man is obsessed with your sweat

He always hates when it gets too hot out but he thinks he can stand it when he sees the beads of sweat rolling down your body as you guzzle down a bottle of water.

Has to restrain himself with a white knuckled grip on his cane to stop from licking the sweat off of you

Once you are alone tho? He is absolutely licking you, to the point you can't tell if it's the sweat or the saliva that's dripping off of you.

Another chance to match his freak. Once on a hot day in his office you gave him a chaste kiss to his jaw, witch already had him longing, but then you licked a strip up the chiseled line of his jaw and he came in his pants

Work was finished early that day

If there's one thing that gets him worked up its seeing you wet in any context, or seeing you return the desire he has for you. All in all he wants you to desire him, to long for him

I think he has a large bathtub, really its more like a pool that happens to be heated and deep, with benches along the edges for sitting. Again like a large heated swimming pool

His favorite place to fuck you is in his bath, despite the scene of soaked silk sheets being burned ito him mind, fucking you in his element is just something else honestly.

The water sloshing against you accompanied by the lewd sound of you getting absolutely rearranged? Music to his pointed ears.

Almost forgot to mention this but his cock glows and throbs, the veins pulsing with a slight glow- and if you get him horny and desperate enough (not hard this man is easy to get bricked up-) mostly after he's spent hours between your legs or making out with you, you can even see and feel how his cocks seem to writhe and they write inside you too, when their thickness is stuffed into your hole(s) and Neuvillette is about to cum again they writhe and squirm in your gummy walls sending you over the edge as they poke against that gummy spot inside of you

Neuvillette wants to have both his cocks in just your one hole but he knows the stretch of just one is intense so he won't indulge unless you beg him for it

Once when he was at work you decided to take a nice bath, to ease your sore muscles and the numerous marks littering your body, from bite marks to dark hickeys all over

The Iudex can be quite possessive at times, the dragon instincts letting that possessive streak coil in the pit of his stomach because you are his mate and when he says his, he means it.

When he gets possessive like this he gets meaner- no one in fontaine dares to flirt with his lover, out of both respect and slight fear of the consequences (harassment is taken very seriously)

But every so often someone wants to test his patience, or a foreigner who has no idea who you are oversteps. He is always calm, firm hand on your back as he states that it is rude and impolite to so vulgarly pursue his partner

But when the two of you are back at your shared home? He is a bit mean, rougher as he needs you to say that you're his over and over again.

This is where the title kink(?) and sir kink come in. call him “sir neuvillette” “sir Iudex” profess your innocence, plead your case to him, prove the other party guilty

And he will relent his marking and harsh grip infavore of soft open mouth kisses and the pleasure he bistoes on you

Afterall he is a benevolent and fair judge

Back to the bath-

You took a bath without him, witch is a rare occasion as he loves to bathe with you, even in a non sexual context. It is simply a comfortable intimacy for him

But this time is different

Seeing you surrounded by his element of hydro, the room moist with steam as your body glistens with moister, his eyes go to saucers again and he is quick to approach

Tugging off his gloves with his teeth and letting them cup your cheek and travel beneath the water while he leaves sweet kisses on your skin until he cant help himself and dips his head to the place where the water rest against your chest and he drinks

Like a man lost in the dessert, you can hear the obscene gulps this man lets out

The freak in him drinks your fucking bath water and has absolutly no shame about it

In Fact it has his cocks aching for you, while his expression can only be described as adoration

Because the Iudex of fontaine adores you in a way that is only brought on by centuries of longing for a person he has never met

He is much worse during his rut

It is a week solid of him just absolutely fucking you into whatever surface or body of water he can find

His throat is tight and dry, no amount of water seems to be able to quench this thirst and so he drink you

If you thought he was a munch before then the glint in his eyes at the scent of your arousal is downright predatory

He makes sure you drink about as much water as him, witch is a feat of its own, just so that you have more for him to drink from you

His taste for water is extraordinary on a good day but it even more apparent in his rut,

Because regardless of when it is he can taste you. The kind of water or liquids you drink seeps into everything, he can taste it in you sweat, in your slick, in your spit- the cool refreshing quality of mondstat, the mineraly flavor of inazuma, the sweet taste of sumeru, the tang and burn of inazuma, he can taste it normally but in rut he is downright shameful about describing how you taste on his tongue.

Has you drink different imported watters between rounds to get full flavor

Practically begs to breed you- hes already bad on a regular day, his paternal instincts too stong- but now its different, he wants his eggs inside you, wants you swollen and barefoot around his manor and he needs it- if you aren't ready he’ll just stuff you full like he normally does with cum he knows wont take, but he can hope

Remember how I said he doesn't care if you can get pregnant? Yeah that's because it doesn't matter- the part that matters is his eggs-

On the chance you do say yes to his eggs he is overjoyed, biting down on your shoulder with a bit of venom that numbs your mind- just enough so the stretch of his eggs and the way he has to deposit them doesn't hurt

Speaking of biting the first rut you spend with him is intense, its a week he takes off, (it is now regularly built into his schedule that he has a solid week blocked out for his rut) its his first rut he hasn't forcefully suppressed or simply worked through in solitude and now he has a mate to spend it with?

The first time he slides his length inside you he can resist the urge to sink his teeth into you, right where your shoulder meets your neck he bites down hard

A permanent bite mark with a small hydro mark in the center that glows faintly when he touches you, or when it rains, or you touch water. The glow sends a pleasant and refreshing feeling, like warmth without heat

Because he is so much more thirsty the dirty man fuck you in the bath a lot more and ends up drinking your bathwater more

Be a freak, do it back, drink this man up because he is a tall glass of water.

You do have needs, you can just be attached to the Iudex for a week straight, even tho he insists he could send someone to go grocery shopping, you so cruelly leave him to fist his cocks while you are out getting fresh air.

Personally I like the idea of neuvillettes home being underwater like those glass structures you can find in fontaine. Its huge in a lake, half of it is a beautiful mix of stained and clear glass, even some that seem iridescent, the other half is built in the same french rococo style as the mansions of fontaine, with the exception that it is built into the rocky wall of the deep lake. There is a tunnel that leads to the oceans of fontaine and its ideal for neuvillette. But you need fresh air

So you are gone for a few hours on the surface and he is suffering,

By the time you get back he the mansion is dark, none of the lights are on and it was raining outside (hence your hasty return)

The second you step in through the elevator down you can tell something- someone is watching you, the subtle growl and fleeting glimpse of glowing blue in the corner of your eye making the hair on the back of your neck stand up

Like a small lamb you wander through the large house knowing that hes right there, stalking in the shadows, hunting you

The only light is at the very ends of one of the halls, where you know the master bath is. With trepidation you walk towards the bathroom, knowing that's probably where he's going to absolutely jump your bones, you can't help the arousal that pools

Another thing that alerts you being the growl you hear behind you

When you finally get to the bathroom you decide to play his game- stripping off your clothes slowly- temptingly as his eyes burn across you before you sink into the water and swim to the center of his large bath (real basically a swimming pool)

You don't even hear him get in, but the second you turn back around expecting him to be at the water's edge- he's inches away from you, predatory eyes staring down at you as if to let you know he's won

The lights go off and all you can see is the glow of his eyes as you swim away slowly while he drops towards you until the cold hard tiles press into your back while you sit on the built in ledge, he rises cageing you between his arms as his long silvery hair falls disheveled down his back and cascades over his tense shoulders like a waterfall, he glows more and more and water drops hit your face, the blue streaks that cover the underside of his hair give off a faint glow, then the scales along his body, the long dark blue tail that you now see is also slightly alight. You dare to travel your eyes away from his, away from his hands- his claws that grip and cut into the tile slightly, down his chest and below his waist to the glow that sits just below the water

His tail wraps around your legs nudging them apart

“Look at me my beloved”

His tone is soft but there's a edge to it that has you snapping to attention, for once your eyes are blown wide as saucers and his are narrow slits like needles

Then you feel it, the rub of his thick tail that has your legs spreading to accommodate it while it grinds against you getting you worked up and just as desperate as he is

Ride this mans tail he will be put under a trance

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[gutsby]

Mouthful

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller thinks he’s strong enough to quit it, but something in the way you suck him says he isn’t.

Warnings: 18+. A man with a big, bad oral fixation + lots of love for a sneaky succ. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Age gap. Blowing Joel under the table at dad’s birthday dinner.

Snippet of Hating Game

He knows better than to let a moan slip at a time like this. Not when he’s sitting at the dinner table; not when he’s surrounded by the people he knows and loves the most. Not when he’s celebrating his best friend’s 51st birthday, and certainly not when that man’s daughter is perched between his thighs, out of sight from every eye but his.

Joel lifts the tablecloth. He almost unloads on the spot.

Seeing your mouth open wide and your lips curled tight around his hot, throbbing member, Joel can’t help but ache for a split-second lapse of judgment—one where he forgets all sense of decorum and simply goes to town on that pretty little face. But, as it is, the rest of the party is totally oblivious to your absence, and he doesn’t want to draw attention to it, or him, by roughfucking your mouth.

That’ll come later.

No, now he’ll let you glide your mouth gently over his shaft, leaving trails of thick spit and hints of a shiny pink lip gloss in its wake. He’ll let you bob your head softly—self-assured in a pace you get to set—and he won’t lay a finger on your face or let a thrust of his get in the way, because this was all about you giving him the pleasure.

That doesn’t mean he can’t steal a glimpse every now and then and pin you with an expectant look when he wants something done a certain way. The room is dimly lit and everyone in it drunk; Joel will gladly take the risk.

‘You can go deeper than that, sweet pea.’

‘Nope, three-fourths ain’t enough, I need your mouth around me whole.’

‘You did wanna make daddy feel good, didn’t ya, sugar?’

He doesn’t have to speak a word of it for you to know what he means. What he needs. You loosen your jaw and stretch your lips even wider, whining just a little when the head of his cock grazes your tonsils.

“Fuck that feels nice,” Joel says aloud.

You freeze.

Then, without missing a beat, you hear him continue just as comfortably, speaking to the people around him,

“Y’all feel that breeze comin’ in?”

Sick fuck. You continue to suck him anyway.

One hand braces tight against Joel’s leg and the other flits shamelessly between your own, and you try not to moan, but the sound escapes anyway. No one hears it, but Joel feels it reverberate down his shaft, and he grips his glass of Merlot like a vice. Your dad shoots him a curious look from across the table but says nothing.

“Can’t get enough’a her, huh?” Tommy grins beside him.

“What?” Joel falters. Sets his drink aside carefully.

Down below, you drag your mouth just far enough to take his tip between your lips and suckle. Joel grunts.

“The wine,” Tommy says, still smiling, “You must love it.”

Joel lets out another strangled breath that he tries to pass off as a chuckle and nods.

“Got me on my fuckin’ knees,” he admits.

And that’s the truth. Starved for air and blinking through tears as you kneel down to blow him, it’s still you with the chokehold on Joel, and both of you know it.

Try as you might to convince yourselves otherwise, the man is enrapt. It’s just that small matter of you being his best friend’s daughter that makes Joel loath to admit it. At any rate, he has your tongue licking stripes up his cock and feels a sudden, sharp clench in his stomach.

He knows he won’t last much longer. Neither will you.

Joel can’t see it now, but you’ve practically soaked your own hand from how hard you’ve been rubbing your clit—and how turned on you are from just sucking his dick, keeping your mouth wide open for a fucking whenever he wants it. While Joel reaches for another draught of wine, you bring one hand to his balls and keep the other at your cunt, triple-tasking like the efficient little slut he needs you to be: sucking, cupping, and rubbing all at once to get the two of you off in one minute or less.

You guide him down to the furthest place in your throat, then push him even deeper. You gag, just slightly, and feel a hand reach down for your cheek. A thumb starts to rub at the tears welled up at the corners of your eyes.

‘Sweet thing hasn’t felt a man this deep before, huh? Wanna swallow some more?’

You nod that you do. Can’t actually hear him now, or see much else besides the soft tufts of hair on his belly, but you can feel a light, heady warmth seep into your brain.

You rut your hips and hope no one drops a fork nearby. Buck desperately into your hand and feel the heat start to swell to a whole new feeling, and suddenly you’re whimpering, whining on Joel’s cock from under the shade of the table and cumming all over your fingers.

Joel returns a quick smile from your father and cracks a joke about the Super Bowl. Raises his hips just the slightest bit and wipes one of your tear-soaked cheeks.

‘Almost there, hon, keep that throat open for daddy.’

All you can do is cry and try your best. Wild feelings from both the slow, deep facefuck he’s giving you and the flurry of euphoric aftershocks coursing all throughout your body make it almost impossible to bear, but you obey your sweet and strong and steady-handed Joel and sense a blossoming desire crop up for something else.

You want to taste him as he blows his load in your mouth, floods your tongue with his spend, and paints every inch of your insides with that hot, sticky stuff.

You need him whole

Your Joel.

In tune with your thoughts—or perhaps just overcome with a need to see you before he reaches his peak—Joel raises the tablecloth when Tommy isn’t looking. His gaze locks on yours and his tongue darts quick between his lips. He cocks a brow. Brushes his thumb up again.

‘Ya want this, darlin’? Want all of me?’

You give one soft, wide-eyed nod, and that’s all he needs.

No sooner do you give him the green light than his cum goes pulsing out in ropes, coating your whole throat and eventually your mouth as you hold still and take it all.

There’s so much more than you thought. So much of Joel that’s been waiting to giving your mouth a proper fucking glaze that once he’s started he just can’t stop. Above the table, your dad shoots a pointed look in his direction—‘You good, man?’—and it takes every ounce of strength in Joel’s body to grit his teeth tight and nod.

He’s filled so much of your mouth it’s spilling out now.

You try to hold steady, keep your movements extra slow. You’d heard your dad’s voice and just know there’d be a lot more on the line than Joel’s dribbling seed if either one of you fuck up now. Your breath catches in your chest, and you feel too afraid to even swallow.

“I just…came,” Joel starts, and your head almost cracks on the wood surface from how abruptly you flinch back,

“—to the realization. That you are so…fuckin’ old, man.”

Your father’s laugh is the first thing you hear, followed by Tommy, your friends, and a dozen other party guests.

The next thing you feel, to your complete and utter shock, is Joel’s cock brushing your cheek. Then your lips. Then your tongue. He slides his still-hard member through the ‘o’ your mouth has made in awe and starts to move in gentle motions back and forth, like a man all but desperate to get a feel for your wet, sodden walls.

A man who can’t risk a glimpse at you now, but wants more than anything to see the mouth he’s just filled.

Your father’s words haven’t even cooled in the air.

Joel Miller, you sneaky, freaky fuck.

As the laughter subsides and Tommy scoots back in his chair, taking leave of your table, you feel a spark ignite. Whether it’s yours or Joel’s or both your perverted minds suddenly alight and insane, you can’t be sure, but you can make out a tablecloth flipping back up above you.

Joel slips his dick out of your mouth and grins. Takes a firm hold of your face under the table so his fingers are practically coaxing your jaw to unhinge before him.

It’s the lowest, slowest, menacing sort of sound you’d ever heard from him before, but it was his all the same.

Speaking to you now, softly, “Show daddy, darlin’.”

Your Joel.

[be-good-to-bugs]

ough. finally drawing digitally again

[hxnbi]

⸻ ( •ᴥ• ) ❝ IS THAT... ME? ❞

their reaction to you drawing them ﹒﹒blue lock boys

ft. nagi seishiro, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, mikage reo, chigiri hyoma x gn. reader (separate)

NAGI SEISHIRO | 凪 誠士郎  ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

"I'm home!" you called out, expecting some response from the same groggy voice you came to love. 

You had returned home after a long day, and from that, carried alongside a bag from NAGI’s favourite fast food joint as a peace offering for your boyfriend. "Sorry for coming home late. My professor had us stay back for extra lectures, but I brought your favorite—" You trailed off upon seeing him sprawled on the couch, fast asleep.

Nagi awfully had a way of making even the most uncomfortable sleeping positions seem restful. It was admirable, in a weird way. You always saw him sleep in unusual and sometimes contorted positions, and today was no exception. His tall, lanky frame was twisted in what could only be described as a shrimp-like posture, with one arm draped over his eyes and the other hanging off the couch, limbs hanging off the sides in what looked like the most uncomfortable posture imaginable. But for all you knew, he could’ve been having the most refreshing dream ever…

But instead of waking him up immediately, an idea sparked in your mind. You couldn't help but chuckle at the sight, deciding to capture this moment with a quick sketch. 

You set down the food on the kitchen counter and grabbed your sketchbook. Settling down in a chair nearby, you then began to sketch with light chicken scratches, the lines flowing easily as you captured the endearing, albeit charmingly awkward, way Nagi slept, his mind clearly off to dreamland. His mouth was slightly open, and his hair was a tousled mess—details you knew would make him laugh later.

Once finished, you couldn't resist teasing him a bit. You gently poked your boyfriend's nose with your finger, rousing him from his slumber.

“Sei,” you whispered, “I’m home.”

He mumbled something incoherent, slowly blinking his eyes open to see you standing there, a playful smile on your face.

“I have a gift for you. Well, two,” you said, holding up the drawing and gesturing towards the kitchen table where the food awaited.

That got his attention. Several groans and moans later, Nagi struggled to sit up from his awkward position. As he stretched, you could see his tall, lanky frame finally standing upward, his height and broad shoulders a stark contrast to your own. He sure did look the part of an athlete, even if he did act like a toddler at times.

“I think you look nice like this, don’t you think?” you teased, holding up the drawing.

He groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Why are you saying it like that…”

You laughed and handed him the drawing. He stared at it for a moment, a sleepy smile spreading across his face. 

“I look ridiculous,” he muttered, but you could tell he was amused.

“You should be grateful! Y’know, that’s the sleeping face I came home to tonight when I had bought him for,” you teased, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the kitchen. “I brought your favorite food! So, which gift did you like more?”

“The drawing, of course,” he muttered, his arms still encased around you as he fiddled with the hem of your sleeves and its bottoms.

“You’re just saying that because you want to make me happy,” you said, leaning into his embrace.

“Mhm…” Nagi took his chance—one that was as good as any—to pull you closer, finding a comfortable position that he could easily doze off right then and there. And in a way, he certainly did sound like he was ready to pass out at any second. “And I’m not fixing my posture,” he stated with utter conviction despite his sleepy tone, his tone almost comedic in its seriousness that made you deadpan.

“Sei…”

ISAGI YOICHI | 潔 世一  ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

From daylight to dusk, your boyfriend, ISAGI, would be playing soccer on the field. Sometimes he would be practising with others, but most of the time it would be between you and Isagi alone. He was easily someone obsessed over the sport, and during the times when you would join him on the field, you would merely sit and watch as he played on his own, all with a hand over your chin and cheering him on. You found it charming to see his love for the sport take shape, with each training session bringing noticeable improvement. But as sweet as it was, it did occasionally bore you at times. 

So you had a plan. During one of the days, before heading together with Isagi on the field, you grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and shoved it in your pocket. That day, a few of his teammates from Blue Lock had joined in, and not wanting to interrupt their practice, you would find yourself and your hands sketching out Isagi while he was playing, capturing a moment of time.

Hours later, as you two walked together, your boyfriend would notice the piece of sketch paper in your hand and, stopping what he was doing, holding the ball in his hands, curiously, sheepishly asked what it was. You laughed,  noticing the boy's hesitant expression—that he didn’t feel particularly comfortable asking, yet his curiosity was too strong to resist not to.

“Oh! It's just a quick sketch I drew of you while you were playing. Do you want to see? I was gonna show it to you later but I suppose there’s no harm in revealing the surprise now!”

A sketch? Of him? Since when did you draw him?

Did he want to see? A drawing of him made by you? Of course he did.

With his neck reaching over your shoulder to get a glance at the paper, his first reaction was a mix of panic and delight, his expression wide-eyed and beaming from ear to ear.

“This is… me?” He struggled to find words, if any at all.

“Yeah!” you laughed. “I tried to capture you in the moment, but it turned out pretty medi—”

Your words were cut off as Isagi came to embrace you, encircling your waist with a grip so strong that it almost knocked you to the ground. He tightened his hold, his arms around your torso, his face nuzzled into your neck.

“I love it,” he murmured. “I love it so much. I can’t believe my significant other is so talented.”

Your mouth went agape just at the level of physical affection Isagi was showing at a mere drawing. “T-Talented?! Me? Yoichi… you’re being modest.”

But that was just it. It wasn’t “just a drawing” to him. It was a masterpiece, a reflection of your love for him. And the playful teasing continued from there. Little did you know, Isagi would bring the drawing to his next game and flaunt it to his teammates, who, for the most part, couldn’t care less. Some were more interested than others.

“Tch, that asshole… not only is he disgustingly talented, but he also has a sweeter-than-sugar significant other.”

“I’d say that bastard is having too much fun.”

“Agreed.”

BACHIRA MEGURU | 蜂楽 廻  ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

With your binder and papers in hand, enjoying a peaceful moment right outside a school building, waiting for a certain someone to finish class, out of pure boredom and nothing else, you decided to pass the time by doing some doodling. If only he were actually here to be your model, you thought, but, oh well, you made do with what you had. Besides, it was just a little sketch anyway. It's not like he or you would care that much about the finished product.

“Whatcha doing~?” a voice sang loudly, a figure suddenly appearing right over your shoulder, making you flinch until you saw that familiar tuff of black and yellow hair, realizing it was only BACHIRA, your boyfriend.

Bachira excitedly looked at your drawing, his chin resting on your shoulder as a support. “Do you like it?” you asked, a bit shyly.

“I do! Hmmm, what's that supposed to be, an elephant?” he mused. 

‘I’m sorry, wha—’

You would expect that he was joking, but this was Bachira you were talking about. For all you knew, he could be completely serious. And if you knew anything about Bachira, is that he is unpredictable. 

“I- wha- NO! It's you!” you exclaimed, a laugh escaping your lips.

His face lit up even more. “Wahhh really?! I’m honoured!” Bachira grinned, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek. “You’re the best, you know that?”

You smiled back, feeling the warmth of his affection. “I try,” you said, your cheeks heating up with a mix of embarrassment and joy.

“You drew me so well! There’s no way I look this good in real life!”

‘Okk… now he’s pushing it.’

You swear you could see him smiling from ear to ear, and he quickly pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, but just enough to make your face flush red. “I can’t wait to show this to everyone!!”

“Ahah, alright…”

‘He’s not actually going to do that, right…?’

Oh how wrong you were.

The very next day, you'd be greeted by the sight of the drawing you made of him as Bachira’s new wallpaper, front and centre. 

Your mouth fell. ‘He… he really was serious.’

ITOSHI RIN | 糸師 凛  ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

“...ughhhh.”

“What are you looking at?” 

RIN tapped his own pen on your paper, his index finger rhythmically tapping against the desk. If you didn't know better, you would’ve thought that your own boyfriend was scolding you for doing something bad. Well, that’s because he was.

You and Rin were supposed to be studying together that day, but your mind was drifting elsewhere, going back to all the chores you have lying at home—as if you’re actually going to do them—and what to eat for dinner with your boyfriend; the same boyfriend, who, at that exact moment, was staring hypothetical bullets into the front of his poor paper. Meanwhile, while you were in la la land, Rin was diligently focused on his own work, his head fixated on his own work, while you were scribbling onto a piece of paper that was once your worksheet.

Rin looked up at you, an eyebrow raised. “You must’ve been rather inspired to get on your homework this efficiently..”

“What? O-Oh, yeah,” you stammered, trying to sound convincing.

How convincing indeed. In fact, Rin stood up for once in the entire study period, moving away from his own work to stare directly at you—talking to you in a language using nothing but his eyes. You immediately hid the paper with another piece of lined paper over it, which was, unfortunately, empty. This did not convince your boyfriend at all.

Rin came even closer until he was mere centimetres away from your face. “Do you want to show me what you’ve been doing?”

It wasn’t an order, but that didn’t exactly sound like a request either. You were screwed. 

“Promise you won’t get mad?” you said sheepishly, making Rin sigh, knowing that was even a request. He could never truly get mad at you. 

And with that, you sheepishly revealed your paper, removing your hands to unveil the lead sketch. A moment passed until you heard a sigh exhale from Rin’s exasperated lips.

“Were you seriously paying any attention to what I was teaching you earlier? My explanations may as well have gone through deaf ears.”

“But lookkk! You look so handsome.”

He gave you the most uninterested look imaginable, making you gloomily sink back into your seat in defeat. “Since when do I look like that?” He deadpanned, utterly republished with a scrunched-up expression before critiquing every, and he meant, every single detail, down to where his pupils were looking.

“If you didn’t like it, then you should’ve said so…” you pouted. “Got my hopes up for nothing,” you mumbled under your breath, thinking that Rin didn’t catch that. But if you knew anything about Rin, then you would know he always knows everything, whether you like it or not.

Though, he didn’t say a word, instead, he just shook his head, a small scowl—or was it a smile—tugging at the corners of his mouth as he returned to his chair. 

“We can study another day.”

You lit up. “Really!?”

With the blandest intonation you’ve ever heard, Rin nodded his head, “Yes, so you have all the time in the world to fix that atrocious drawing of me to your heart's content.”

“Aha…”

MIKAGE REO | 御影 玲王  ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

Sitting in REO's home on one of the dozens of chairs and tables in the grand Mikage mansion, with a pen held in between your fingers, you couldn’t help but gap at the fortune that is Reo’s family before you, the walls being littered with picture frames and paintings upon paintings.

Earlier, you had asked the butler if he could give you a piece of paper and a pen to write with, to which he graciously obliged, disappearing and then reappearing almost instantly with the said items in his hand shortly before Reo arrived home and joined you, settling in to do some homework. He was always a hard worker. As for what you were doing? Unbeknownst to Reo himself, you decided to use your boyfriend as an unpaid, unknowing model for your sketching.

His focused expression made him an ideal subject, and as you were scribbling and sketching, you found yourself lost in the details of the handsome features of your boyfriend. Only when he turned to look up and see what was really being drawn on your piece of paper, did Reo’s eyes widen in surprise.

"You drew this?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

You nodded, “Yep! Do you like it?”

He loved it. Absolutely loved it. 

Reo, with his hand running through the middle part of his hair, let out an exasperated sigh, “Hah… is that even a question? Of course, I do.”

He went back to admiring the sheet of paper that you had spent—unbeknownst to him—an hour drawing. Though you would never consider that to be a waste of time, anything for your lover was time well spent, and in fact, more than that.

“Can I take it?”

You blinked, for a second being taken aback. It certainly did take you a while, but Reo wanted it? Oh well, you were never going to refuse. “Uh-huh! The drawing is of you, after all. What could I do with it other than admire it? I already can do so in person.”

You had initially assumed that Reo would probably just put it somewhere and then leave it to collect dust. Little did you know, that the very next day, you would see your drawing framed in a luscious and expensive frame, hanging in the centre of the main hall. Reo’s butler had hung it with great care, that was ensured, displayed in a way that highlighted its importance.

Your heart melted in a thousand different ways. This… this was too much.

You felt a hand clasp your own. The warmth of your boyfriend and his hand wrapping around your own. “So~? What do you think?”

Tears. Tears and tears dripped down your face as you looked at the framed drawing. It was more than you ever expected.

And as Reo held you in his arms while you continued to weep, from the corner, Reo’s butler watched from a distance, giving his pleased nod of approval. Anyone passing by couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity and marvel at the audacity of such a bold choice in “home decor,” but to you, it was a moment of pure, heartfelt joy, and one that you would never forget. 

And you wouldn’t. Not when Reo would continue to keep that drawing on the walls for months and explicitly show off to those who were unfortunate enough to be invited to his mansion for “work purposes,” only to get a mouthful about his beloved significant other.

CHIGIRI HYOMA | 千切 豹馬  ─ ♬. ⁺ ♡

Utterly unperturbed by your presence and fully engrossed in the tangles in his hair of all things, CHIGIRI was doing his hair care like always. An extensive hair care routine that would take probably an hour at the very least, from all the times you’ve timed him while getting ready. Sitting at the living room table, you fiddled with the pen in your hand. You nearly wanted to drop it right then and there when you saw Chigiri bring his entire bag of presumably hair care products and a mirror.

You yawned, glancing around the cozy living room. Now who does their hair care in the middle of the living room?

“Do not worry. I won’t bother you with your work.”

You gave him a nod. “That’s not a problem at all. Do what you have to do. The shampoo you use smells good anyway.”

With a short laugh at your forward comment, thus began his haircare routine which felt like hours, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were missing the presence of your boyfriend at your side. 

Every now and then, you would glance up at Chigiri, admiring the way his hair glistened in the light, even with droplets of water still clinging to each strand. Chigiri did, and even with his wet hair, he looked oddly handsome. Granted, he always did look handsome in your eyes, but there was just a sort of natural beauty to him that anyone who passed by would be hard-pressed to ignore. And so, out of boredom, you decided to draw him while Chigiri was all but focused on his hair. His true one true love, as many would say and mock him for. 

“.....”

“Hm, I didn’t know you could draw.”

“GAH!”

Your shoulders jumped in fright, nearly knocking over your pencil and capsizing off your chair to the cold ground. “God… you nearly scared the life out of me.”

He chuckled softly. “I’m sorry. Is that me? It looks really nice. I had no idea you were such an artist.” Chigiri, still with his half-cleaned-up hair, leaned closer, examining the details with genuine curiosity.

You chuckled sheepishly. “You’re just saying that to be nice.”

“No no, I mean it,” Chigiri insisted, glancing over at your sketch while pushing the hair from his face to get a better look. “Can I see it again?”

You hesitated but handed over the drawing, allowing his eyes to roam all over it. A soft smile formed on his lips. 

“It’s beautiful. You captured me perfectly.”

Your heart swelled with pride. “Really?! You think so? …Your hair does look a lil wonky, it’s usually a bit more—”

“It’s perfect,” Chigiri assured you with a pat of your hair. “Just like you. I might have to ask you to draw me more often.”

You laughed, feeling a warm blush creep up your cheeks. “Anytime.”

©hxnbi. comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated ♡

[samkerrworshipper]

warmed - mapi leon x reader

just r cockwarming mapi.. not much more to it lol

ik i keep promising yall angst… its coming… at some stage

warnings: smut 18+

You’re overstimulated.

To the point where your skin is beginning to itch with the want and need that is pooling up in the pit of your stomach, right where you feel so full and so empty at the same time.

You fucked up, you were well aware of it, it wasn’t like you could make up for it now.

This though, this was so rewarding and unrewarding at the same time, you were stuffed full to the very brim which was perfect, but also so unfulfilling at the same time.

“Keep still or we start over.”

Mapi’s words are a brutal reminder of exactly what position you are in, crammed down against her lap, ass flush to her hips whilst you try your very hardest not to grind or jostle against her.

An hour and thirty minutes.

That’s how long you’ve been sitting in Mapi’s lap like this, no pleasure, no release, no relief.

The two of you had to rewatch your game from yesterday anyways, so Maria had set you the task of staying still whilst she analysed the match against Levante.

You were supposed to be analysing it as well, but it was kind of hard to pay attention when you were filled to the brim with 7 inches of silicone cock.

You wished Maria had given you the easy way out, wished she’d spanked you or edged you or done something else that would make you feel something besides mellowed out pressure.

“Maria.”

Your words are whined out for the room to hear, not that there is anybody else in your company.

“Eyes on the screen, carino.”

Your eyes struggle to obey her command, your pupils stuck to your naked bottom half that’s unmoving.

“I won’t say it again, eyes on the screen unless you want a spanking once we’re done.”

Your eyes snap up, what you want once this is done is for Mapi to fuck you senseless, you aren’t sure if you can handle another minute with her just idly sitting inside you.

“Eight more minutes princesa, you think you can hold up for me until then?”

You groan at her, you want to say no, but the words can’t make it past your lips, Maria seems to understand though.

“Tough luck, make it through the eight minutes or else you won’t cum for the rest of the week. I’m sick of your shit attitude and bratty fucking mouth, you have to learn some way.”

Mapi’s voice is gritty, you know that she wanted nothing more than to come back from dinner, cuddle up on the couch and watch the game replay before the two of you went to bed together.

She wanted soft, sweet, tender.

You wanted mean, rough and hard.

You supposed this was the halfway point, it was Maria’s way of punishing you without giving in to what you wanted.

You’d been obtusely bratty and cheeky.

The two of you had been invited out for dinner with Alexia and Olga, a little quaint double date to a cute boutique Italian restaurant in Barcelona’s core.

It was nice, everything had been going well, until you’d made the decision to start teasing Mapi.

It had started with a hand on her exposed thigh, then your fingers drawing patterns up and down, pushing her skirt out of the way as you paved a path through to her panties.

You were out of your mind thinking Mapi would let it slide, she told you as much when she leant over to your ear telling you not to push her. You’d blatantly ignored her, continuing your attempts at one upping the defender. You got as far as the inside edge of her panties before her hand was grabbing yours and shoving it into your lap with a look of so much annoyance that you knew you were in deep shit.

Now you were here, sitting practically speared on her dick, your juices leakingout all over her thighs and your own.

You watched the clock run down, your eyes aimlessly following the ball as it was passed from side to side on the pitch.

Your legs were aching from the position you were being held in, your thighs being put to use to keep you from moving.

“Maria, please.”

You knew that most likely, your begging was going to be pointless, normally Mapi couldn’t of cared less, but it was worth a shot.

“Say one more word and you’ll see just how much worse this can get for you.”

You close your lips, your eyes staying laser focused on the screen as the clock ticks down on the game.

The last thirty seconds are possibly the worst, your legs start to burn and everything is so much more painful.

As soon as the final whistle blows on the game Mapi is turning you around, so you are now face to face with the Spaniard.

“This is how it’s going to go, we’re going to go to bed, I’m going to fuck you how I like, until I’m satisfied, you won’t cum, you won’t move unless you’re told, all you are here for is to be my little slut for my pleasure, not your own, comprendida?”

You can’t do anything beyond nodding your head.

Mapi picks you up with ease, lifting you up and taking you straight to the bedroom.

Just the feeling of her cock jolting inside of you every few seconds has you moaning, Mapi doesn’t care, all she cares about is getting you to where she wants you.

She manhandles and roughouses you onto the bed, pushing you up against the pillows and spreading your legs open before beginning to move inside of you.

Mapi’s pace is nowhere near fast or rigorous enough to satisfy you, when she said that she was searching for her own pleasure you didn’t realise that she would quite literally use your body as a vessel for her orgasm.

There is no doubt in your mind that Mapi has the little vibe insert tucked into the strap.

Her thrusts into you are shallow, hitting none of the spots that you need her to.

It’s crazily unpleasurable, and yet you don’t find yourself minding too much, especially not when Maria is the picture of perfection, her messy bun bopping up and down, her moans echoing out across the room.

You focus on Mapi, completely syncing out of your own mind, trying to imagine how Mapi is feeling.

You know that your supposed ‘punishment’ would have gotten her worked up, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

She’s chasing a built up desire, deep pure pleasure thrumming through her lower limbs.

Maria isn’t a overly loud lover, but you can tell just by the way her eyebrows are scrunched up and her pupils are blown that she is teetering somewhere on the edge, you aren’t quite sure where she’s at until her legs spasm and her whole body jerks.

Mapi cums hard and fast, her body thrusting into yours until the after effects of her orgasm have managed to rid her body and she pulls out.

You feel emptier than you ever have, most likely a result of being stuffed full for hours on end.

Mapi makes quick work of removing the strap, once she does she lies herself down on the bed next to you, letting you breathe through the big feelings that you are experiencing.

“How are you feeling, princesa?”

Mapi’s hands are on your face, twisting the strays hairs out of your face and gently playing with them between her fingers.

“Good, just need a second.”

Your legs feel heavier than a hundred bricks, numb and weighed down to the point where you genuinely wonder whether they’ll be in use tomorrow.

“You want to cum? I think you’ve earned it, you were such a good little girl for me, princesa.”

You do want your own orgasm, you think that your cunt will implode if it doesn’t get to experience some relief, but you need a few minutes to recover from the last hours happenings.

“Just gimme a minute, seeing you like that made me think and feel things I never had.”

Mapi’s smirk was cheeky, cavalier and slightly proud.

“Mm, next time it’ll have to be three hours, hmm? I wonder how crazy that would make you.”

You shake your head at the suggestion immediately, an hour and a half had been pushing it, 3 hours was simply ridiculous.

“How about I promise to never be a brat again?”

Mapi rolls her eyes, her mouth reaching down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“We both know that would be a lie, carino. You’re my bratty girl and I wouldn’t dare have you any other way. Now how about we go get clean in the shower and I let you get off on my thigh, hm? You’ve been good but not good enough to deserve my mouth or fingers, you’ll have to work your way up to that.”

You nod eagerly at Maria, already willing your legs to begin moving so that Mapi can’t take back what she’s just said to you.

When Mapi realises that you need some assistance, she picks you up, gently carrying you towards the bathroom.

[notmyneighbor]

Scarlet Milk - Doppelganger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Word Count - 5.2k

Rating - Explicit

CW - sexual content, blood drinking

Also available on AO3

fanart by kaworinx

Your eyes flick to the clock mounted on the wall. Your morning shift at the telephone exchange was almost over.

“What number, please?”

You scan the switchboard for the correct sequence, removing and plugging in the jack to connect the call seamlessly. The next number requested is for a different exchange and you transfer the call with barely a delay.

At last it’s time to set the headset down. Your work as a telephone operator is done for the day.

Business in the telephone exchange office had really picked up since the war, and had increased further still after the DDD began their operation to help identify and weed out the invading doppelgangers. It’s the perfect time to work, getting as many hours as you need and stowing away the extra funds for a rainy day.

You ride a bicycle to work since your employer isn’t far from home. A little rougher going in the winter months, but now it was spring, the weather warming up nicely, the budding trees and renewed verdant color in lawns further signs that the seasons were changing.

You’ve barely left the city behind and entered the suburbs before you run into trouble: a sharp object, perhaps a bit of glass or metal, has punctured one of your tires. You slip off the bike seat after coming to a bumpy halt, now forced to walk alongside the bike the rest of the way home. You think there’s a repair kit lurking somewhere in the house, you’re just not entirely sure where.

You spy a milk delivery sitting near the front door of one of the houses you pass, still remaining unclaimed at this late morning hour. A small blue and yellow bird perched on the rim of one of the bottles is startled by your presence and temporarily abandons its assault on the foil lid before it regains its confidence and returns, the beak breaching the barrier so that it can drink the rich cream that has risen to the top. Clever, naughty thing. You’d shoo him away but you know it or one of its brethren will just return anyway. You had to be careful nowadays, leaving something like that unprotected.

You had to be careful nowadays, period.

You spy the milkman’s truck further up the road, the driver near the tailgate, lifting his cap and dragging the back of a pale wrist against his perspiring forehead. The rear of the vehicle is empty, the goods inside all distributed for the day’s route.

Your pace slows as you draw closer, nodding a greeting to the man. You don’t recognize him. Maybe a new hire for the dairy company. The other driver had been getting older. Maybe he’d finally retired. At least, you hoped his sudden absence was for that pleasant reason and not something more sinister relating to the doppels. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” His voice is warm and friendly. You see his eyes focus on the deflated tire, then back up to your face. “Flat tire, huh? Need a lift?”

“Oh, no, I can manage, thank you. I’m nearly there.”

“I’m heading that way. There’s no reason to tax yourself.”

You shake your head. “Really, I’m fine.”

He shrugs. “Alright, then. Get home safe.” You watch as he seals the back doors and returns to the driver’s side, climbing up and settling behind the wheel. You suddenly feel foolish. The man was just trying to be kind, surely. He starts the engine and eases back onto the road slowly, decelerating to a meager crawl to keep pace with you, calling to you through the open window. “Last chance to change your mind.” He smiles. Handsome. He has such an honest face. Weary eyes. The early mornings no doubt leaving those inky shadows on ivory skin. He must be eager to be home now that his job was completed, yet he was still offering to help.

In spite of your earlier caution, you find yourself feeling it would be rude to decline again, and you accept the milkman’s offer. “Alright, thank you. I promise it’s not far and then you can be on your way. I’m sure you want to get home.”

The truck halts, the breaks squeaking slightly. Your bicycle is lifted effortlessly and stowed in the back. There’s no seat inside save for the driver, so you remain standing, bracing yourself against the rear of the cab awkwardly. At least you don’t have far to go.

“Anyone at home to help you with that flat tire?”

“No, I live alone,” you admit, then silently curse yourself. You shouldn’t be volunteering that kind of information, even if it was the truth. Your brother had left you with the inherited house after he’d moved in with his new wife last year, still disappointed that you hadn’t found someone yet, disapproving of your decision to choose to live independently in such strange, dangerous times. Now you’ve just revealed this vulnerable fact to a stranger. A male stranger.

“The birds have been at your deliveries again,” you say, searching for something to fill the sudden silence.

“So I’ve seen. They can’t resist the cream. Interesting story about that. It’s only one particular species, have you noticed?”

“I haven’t, actually.”

“They had no trouble before they started sealing the bottles, but even after the lids were implemented they persisted until they found a way to get inside. Taught the others how to do it, too. Adaptation and evolution are necessary for survival.”

“I suppose you’re right. This is my house here,” you point and the driver slows and stops, parking the truck along the curb and shutting off the engine.

“Let me give you a hand unloading the bicycle.”

“I appreciate it, thank you.”

“No problem.” The milkman stands. Suddenly the cab of the truck feels very small. He’s positioned so that he’s blocking the doorway, making no move to head to the back where your bike is being stored. The smile on your features slides off like melting ice cream on a summer day.

No. He couldn’t be.

Your heart begins to beat rapidly. The smile he offers doesn’t quiet touch his eyes this time.

“Actually, I’ll just um…I can get it. Thank you for the lift.” You try to ease past him, thinking to make your escape through the rear of the vehicle instead, but he slaps out an arm to bar your path, crowding you against the steel frame.

“We’re adapting, too. Evolving constantly. Getting better and better at blending in. Finding new ways to breach your homes and sate our hunger.”

“Please don’t kill me.” As if the doppelganger would have mercy. You feel tears pooling in your eyes. How foolish you had been, walking into his trap. Why hadn’t you trusted your instincts?

“I’m not going to kill you. Not yet, anyway. See, it’s occurred to me to take a page from those birds’ books, so to speak. Sample the sweetest, most nutritious part. And let the rest of the meal live on, thereby providing an endless supply, rather than gorging on one human in a single sitting, then being forced to find another. We’ve already seen what happens when we indulge too voraciously. It’s why we were forced to visit your planet, after all.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“Your blood. That is what I desire. A sample each time, and then you go about your daily life as usual. A fair deal, isn’t it? Certainly a better offer than most of my kin would give you.”

“You want to…to…” You can even bring yourself to utter it out loud.

“Drink your blood, yes.”

“Like a vampire,” you whisper in horror.

“Something like that.”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then I consume you right here and now.”

Two tears spill over your cheeks. The doppel clucks his tongue. “There’s no need for that. It’s really a very obvious choice. The sooner you agree, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair for the remainder of the day.”

“Is it…is it going to hurt?”

“Not as badly as me tearing you apart with my claws, I assure you.” His features soften, and that impression of how handsome the original man he’s copied must be strikes you again. “This doesnt need to be violent. It will go easier for you if you don’t resist.”

You swallow thickly, trying to summon courage. “How do you know I won’t just call the DDD?”

“Because that would be a very, very foolish thing to do. And I think you are smarter than that, aren’t you?” His nostrils flare slightly and he inhales deeply. “I’m getting hungry. Do you agree to my terms or not?”

“What guarantee do I have that you’re not just going to kill me anyway?”

“None, other than my word.”

You could almost laugh. An invader asking you to trust him. To allow yourself to be fed upon until…when would this conceivably end? “How long will I have to do this for?”

He shrugs. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“Many things. How many others will supplement my diet. How much I decide to take. This will end whenever I say it ends,” he adds in a growl, and you shudder.

You close your eyes. “Alright. Just get it over with.”

“Not here. Wouldn’t want the neighbors to see, now, would we? Hop on down and I’ll deliver your bicycle. Then we can go inside and…have a little snack.”

You wish your neighbors would see your plight, but there’s no one to help you. The elderly man across the street was probably well into his morning nap. The young couple next door both worked. The housewife who lived on the other side was undoubtedly busy with chores, the children at school.

The doppelganger leans your damaged bike against the fence, following you up to the door, waiting for you to unlock it.

So. You really were going to invite him inside after all.

Normally you’d be fixing lunch at this time. Maybe doing some housework yourself. Now you set your keys in the trivet dish by the door and tuck your shoes neatly beside the frame, watching the doppel shut the door behind him.

“Come here.”

You’d taken a couple of steps further into the hallway and his voice makes you jerk to a halt. You warily turn back.

That smile again. Your stomach flips nervously as you move to stand beside him.

He makes a little hum of sound, pleased you’re being obedient and cooperative. Your hair is already pinned up, your throat exposed. Assuming that was where he was going to bite you. The thought makes your breath hitch and you close your eyes again, willing the moment to be over.

You feel the heat of his breath as he leans closer to your neck, hear another deep inhale. His lips graze your skin in the barest whisper of a kiss. His tongue traces a line down the side of your neck and then there is pain, sharp and fast, your body reflexively trying to pull away but his arms fasten around you, clutching your body against his.

“Relax,” he urges you again, his mouth lifting just long enough to issue the command to you before it returns and you feel the suction, the wet heat, that terrible drag of your life force pulled from the vessel beneath the skin. A little moan accompanies that gesture, sending vibrations as the alien savors the taste of you. Your fingers curl in his work shirt as you’re pushed back against the door. If there had been anyone there to see, it would have looked as if you were a young couple in the throes of passion. But there is no one witnessing this act. It is just you and the doppelganger.

“Enough,” he murmurs, his face revealed once more, no longer supping from your throat. You reach for the wound, surprised to find your hands coming away clean. No blood. Just scabbed puncture marks you can palpate with the pads of your fingers.

He’s breathing heavily. It had been hard to stop, maybe, fighting that natural instinct to kill and ravage. The dark eyes are bloodshot, a pair of fangs visible before they’re retracted again, the red haze gradually clearing as he continues staring at you. His appearance returns to that of the milkman he’s impersonating and he finally steps back.

“Tomorrow,” he says, a promise, a threat, before he exits, leaving you trembling, your fingers still cradling your neck. You hear the truck’s engine rumble to life.

Tomorrow.

***

He visits again the following evening.

You don’t know why you’d expected the doppelganger to be at your door at any particular time. Your anxiety has been peaking in anticipation. Dreading the next feeding. Still wondering what’s to stop him from just killing you anyway.

The marks he’d left had been surprisingly tidy. Easy enough to conceal. You’d struggled at work that day, your normally nimble hands and sharp eyes faltering more than once, your performance lacking. Your supervisor certainly noticed. You’d been spoken to. A warning.

Maybe you should take the next day off. Maybe you should…

A knock at the door interrupts your musings and you look up from the novel you’ve been attempting to distract yourself with.

He was here.

The temptation to phone the DDD is there again. But it would take them time to get here. You’d certainly be destroyed for your breach of contract long before the disposal team arrived.

You open the door.

He’s still wearing the milkman’s uniform, although this time he’s shed the cap, revealing the thick wavy brown hair that had been hiding beneath. Wordlessly you step back to make room for him to enter. Your eyes are on the floor now, suddenly shy. You hear the door being closed.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes lift and you gaze at the doppel through your lashes. Surely he could hear how elevated your pulse is. Did that entice him, that rapid flow of crimson liquid?

The mimic moves behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you back against him. Fingers guide your head to dip to one side, a gentle nudge before his lips are at your neck again. The same side as before. They press more firmly this time. The stripe he licks reaches all the way to your ear lobe. A whimper escapes you. It feels good, even though it shouldn’t.

The sharp pair of the monster’s cuspids pierce your throat. Another choked sound escapes you, this one a blurred mixture of pain and pleasure. The fingers resting against your abdomen dig in. His other hand is braced against your chin, manipulating your head, keeping you in position while he takes what he desires.

You clutch at the hand on your stomach. You think you’d faint if you didn’t have him at your back. There is something hard pressing against you there, another need digging into the cleft of your buttocks. Arousal. Your cheeks feel hot. There are no longer teeth sunk into your neck but his mouth is still there, laving and caressing the injured flesh. Soft, wet kisses planted. “So sweet,” he breathes against your ear. “Your scarlet milk is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

He departs minutes later and you stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you get ready for bed, wondering why you’re not more afraid.

***

The milk delivery truck is parked outside your home when you arrive there the next afternoon.

You lean your mended bike against the picket fence. There are people outside. Someone is raking leaves from last autumn. Children are tossing a ball back and forth. The doppelganger has a bottle of milk in his hand, the tips of his fingers clutching it by the neck. He’s leaning against the outside of the truck.

“Come inside,” you hiss, not trusting him not to make a spectacle right there and then. He smirks at your invitation, following you inside.

There are sunspots in front of your eyes. It was so bright outdoors. The interior of your house is darker, cooler. “You should be more discreet,” you mutter, your hands rubbing together restlessly. Nervous. You’re so nervous.

“No one is paying any attention. They didn’t care when I took the truck. They hand the goods over willingly. It’s made finding other…donors…so simple. Your kind is so oblivious to what’s right in front of them.”

“How many other people are you…?” The idea of the imposter operating as a milkman making deliveries as a guise to shield his true purpose of seeking more sources of that sinister meal he craves twists your stomach in knots. Worried. You’re guilty over what’s happening to your neighbors. Not necessarily your fault, but you knew about it, and you allowed it, participated in it…

“Not many. Discretion is best, we agree on that much.” He tips his head to one side thoughtfully. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous?”

“Don’t worry. You’re still my favorite treat.”

“I’m not jealous,” you reply defensively, perhaps a little too much vehemence behind the words. Was there some of that mixed in your emotions as well?

“You should let me give you a ride home one of these days,” he murmurs.

You frown, your reverie dissolving. “Why?”

“Because,” he drawls. Not an answer. His upper eyelids drip languidly as he sets the bottle on the kitchen counter. The foil lid is soon demolished into a crumpled ball. He drives a middle finger into the cream gathered at the top of the bottle, scooping out a dollop of the thick substance. “Open your mouth.”

“What?”

“This is the best part, isn’t it? You humans seem to enjoy it. Open,” he commands again, and this time there is a bit of a threat there, the easygoing teasing suddenly disappearing. His eyes darken and your lips part obediently. The digit pierces those borders and drives straight back across your tongue, your eyelashes fluttering, surprised, the brisk invasive movement catching you off guard. Your mouth closes reflexively over the offering and the wedge of muscle presses his finger against the top of your soft palate, the pad brushing past the ridges to find the smoother flesh as he offers you a taste. Your stroke across the joint of his knuckle, then the nail bed as he slowly withdraws back through the tight ring of your mouth, finally emerging with a soft popping sound.

“Good?” The word is croaked out hoarsely. Your heart jackhammers as you nod. You watch as he repeats the gesture in his own mouth, brow furrowing over the taste as he considers the flavor of the cream. “I prefer you instead.”

The doppel’s lips touch your throat. You can’t stop the needy sound that escapes. “I won’t see you for a few days. Need to let your body rest and replenish. You’re of no use to me without the proper nutrition.” He nips your ear lobe. “So I’m going to stay a little longer today. Prolong things. I’m sure you don’t mind.” His hands have found the bottom of your skirt, lifting the hem. There are curtains on the windows but anyone standing close enough outside could look in and see what’s happening. Your cheeks burn with shame, that rush of heat further elevated because some part of you wants this. His fingers snake beneath the waistband of your panties and dip between your legs, swiping through the arousal leaking from you to collect a sample.

He licks them clean. An appreciative hum. “Now this, I really enjoy. Why don’t you hop up here.” You never get the chance because he lifts you first, setting you on the edge of the counter. Your skirt is flipped back impatiently again, your panties dragged roughly down. And you allow it. You allow the manhandling of your clothes, your body, manipulated into balancing precariously on the edge before he pulls a chair from under the kitchen table over and settles into it, his fingernails lightly scratching against your thighs before he parts them and buries his face into your sex.

Your head tips back and you bite your bottom lip as the doppel explores the sensitive pink flesh, enthusiastically swirling his tongue over the folds and your clit before pushing inside you. The hands curled around your thighs are changing, the nails digging in no longer the replicated human’s. The tongue violating your canal seems to lengthen, expanding. You’re afraid to see and yet you want to watch, your fingers burrowing into his hair. Bloodshot eyes, the doppel’s easing through, yellow tinged, pupils now sharp, narrow, a flash of teeth before his mouth shifts impossibly wide, more than a human jaw could ever accommodate, sucking at your clit while still fucking you with his tongue. A monster is ravaging your body and your only thought is MORE. The wedge of muscle curves inside you, tapping in staccato movements against the shallow secluded shelf of hidden pleasure and it sends you over the edge immediately, keening and shaking as he continues sucking and stabbing until you can’t stand it anymore, your legs trying to close, the hand that had been pulling him against your pussy now trying to push him away.

He finally surrenders, mouth parting reluctantly from your sex. You’re on fire, every nerve tingling in your extremities, at your center, where the pulse is strongest. A satisfied grin, a flash of sharp teeth aligned in a row, before the imposter milkman stands, kicking the chair back so hard it knocks over. His fingers sink into your hair and he jerks your head back, grabbing one of your hands and pressing it over the bump in his trousers. You fumble the fly open, dragging his needy erection through the flap of his briefs. It’s large and hot and your hands seem too small, too delicate to stroke that engorged organ properly.

“Milk it. Make me cum.” His lips hover before your own. You wonder why he hasn’t kissed you on the mouth yet. Would those razor slivers of bone slice you to ribbons? The morphed tongue strokes the angle of your jaw. Your hand is working in harsh, jerky movements. Clumsy. You’re panting with fear and desire. You can’t reach his mouth at this angle so your lips find his throat instead, the patch of skin just above the fastened work shirt and knotted bowtie. He growls and bellows as your fingers finally, finally seem to have adapated, smoothing a gush of precum over the sensitive crown. Large as it was, his prick still felt human enough, so perhaps it was the same, or perhaps he still had yet to reveal its true nature. A moan now hummed against your throat, this soft and pleading noise the polar opposite of the menancing sound he’d emitted moments before. Teeth scrape your neck. The veins in his cock bulge against your hand. He’s so swollen, so ready to erupt. Fangs begin to dig into your flesh. Only a pair. He’s shifted appearances again, protecting you somewhat. You wonder how much of a struggle it is to keep it in check, during the height of something like this. The teeth descend further and you feel the suction as he pulls your blood into his mouth just as a hot spill of seed bathes your hand. He leans forward and your free hand reaches back to brace yourself, sending the milk bottle onto its side, mirroring the white flood that now coats your skin. He sucks and it aches and it feels like a second orgasm building inside of you.

At last, at last he draws back, and it is a human’s face you see, with shadow smudged eyes and mussed hair and swollen lips. The urge to kiss him flares anew but he backs away. You’re suddenly aware of the dairy product that’s spread across the counter, sinking into your clothes, spilling over the edge and dripping onto the floor. The doppel rights the chair he’d tipped over earlier. Clothes are straightened into some semblance of order.

You’re normally relieved when he departs. Today you find yourself clutching his sleeve as he reaches for the doorknob. Something has happened between you two, besides the obvious. A new kind of intimacy blossoming, satisfying other, more primal needs. Adapting and evolving like the doppel had said, perhaps.

“I’ll see you soon.” Not tomorrow. He’s already told you that. An anemic blood supply will not satisfy him. You’re more lightheaded than you’re letting on. He’s taken so much already, but you still want to give him more. “Soon,” he repeats. Then he’s gone.

***

In the dream, you’re in your bed, trying to achieve a slumber that won’t come. You toss and turn restlessly. Get a glass of water. Use the restroom. Flip your pillow over to the cooler side. Shift the covers. It’s no use. You can’t sleep.

You’re thinking about the doppelganger.

About that smile, that warm breath and wicked mouth and wet tongue. His body pressing against yours. Tasting you. Cumming in your hand. The vampiric kisses. It should be terrifying, knowing he holds your life in his hands, your fate determined by the whim of an alien creature.

The replicant is back.

You sense him before he even taps on the glass of the French doors that lead from you bedroom into a private garden area in the back yard. You recognize that shape behind the gauzy curtains that shield the glass, flinging back the comforter and sliding out of bed. The cool air wafts over you as you open the door. You’re only wearing a thin nightgown. You shouldn’t be dressed like this in front of him. You shouldn’t be doing any of the things you’ve been doing with him.

His palm settles warm against the side of your neck. His mouth touches yours for the first time.

Heat pools in your sex. He tastes like metal, copper heavy on your tongue. There is the flavor of tart wine and something smokey as your body is pressed down onto the bed. Your fingers siphon through his hair. You can feel his erection again, demanding somewhere near your own groin. His hips cant slightly and you both moan softly.

The hem of your nightgown is slid up the length of your thigh. You can feel the sharp points of the claws that tear your panties from your body, a casual display that leaves you gasping. A faint jingle of a belt moving and the whine of the metal teeth of a zipper parting and then his cock is shoved into your slickened entrance.

The tongue that twines around yours feels foreign now, the doppel revealing more of his true form. Long and thick, like the prick that’s invading your pussy. Your brain in its dream state has no sense of shame. There is nothing but desire, hot and wet. The front of your nightgown is sliced through, the fabric easily parting beneath the sharp claws that have replaced human nails. Your breasts are kneaded as the sound of lewd slapping fills the air, wet noises from your joined mouths, from the cock pounding into your dripping cunt. Had he been hungry? You’d been starving, you realize. Craving this. Undeniably wrong but oh so right.

“Bite me.” In your waking state, you’d never issued such a request. Only in dreams could you be bold enough. Your fingers clutch the nape of his neck, encouraging him as your knees dig into his ribs. You gift him your blood and he gifts you a load of something thicker, creamier, milky shots of cum spurting deep inside of you. There are stars in front of your eyes, fireworks, bursting lights in the darkness. He kisses your mouth and the tang of your own lifeforce is strong there. His teeth are still sharp. He hasn’t changed back. You kiss him again anyway.

***

Your eyes open.

It’s raining. You can hear the soft patter of it against the roofing shingles above. Your heart is hammering wildly. Your entire body is drenched in sweat, your panties soaked with something more carnal. You fling back the sheet and blanket much as you had in the dream, padding barefoot into the adjoining bathroom. You need a shower. You feel soiled.

You wish the events of the dream had really happened.

It’s been five days since you’ve seen the doppelganger. The water of the shower spills over you, pelting you gently. You drag the bar of soap over your body. There is something thick and wet between your legs, the fluids of your arousal a different kind of wetness than the spray of water. Your clit is swollen. You wish for his fingers, his tongue. You circle the raised bundle until your body trembles, until you’re forced to lean against the shower wall for support.

You shut off the faucet and towel yourself dry before pulling on a clean nightgown. You burrow your face into your pillow and think of the mimic’s smile until sleep reclaims you once more.

***

A week has passed. Now you think something must be wrong. The doppelganger’s delayed absence can’t be intentional.

Perhaps the DDD had gotten to him. Someone had seen something, called. Maybe not all his ‘donors’ were quite as willing as yourself. A hot flame builds inside you. You are jealous, after all.

It’s raining on the night he finally returns. Later than he has ever been. The water has soaked his skin, his clothing. There is only the living room lamp on to illuminate your view of the alien creature, looking so pitiful standing there, a drenched figure with tired eyes and dark hair plastered flat against his head, the rainwater spilling over the sharp angles of his cheeks and nose, over the gentle curves of his lips.

He steps inside and closes the door. Your breathing is harsh, rapid. A match for his own. “Where have you been?”

“Did you miss me?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. His voice drags against you skin like velvet. “No.”

“Liar.”

You reach for each other at the same time. Your fingers knot into the saturated fabric of his work shirt while his close over your upper arm, crowding you back against the door. “Where have you been?” You repeat again, your voice gentler this time. “I thought the DDD had gotten to you, I…”

“You were worried about me.”

“Yes,” you admit reluctantly.

“You missed me.”

“Yes.”

His thumb briefly strokes one cheek. “I missed you, too.”

“Why don’t you ever kiss me?”

“I do. Quite a lot, in fact. In many places,” he adds, smirking a little, some of his customary teasing emerging.

“You know what I mean. On the mouth.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Because,” he says, and for a moment you think he won’t answer you properly again, dodging the question, but then he continues, “that means something very, very different.”

“Different how?”

“Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes.”

The doppel’s lips press against yours. Closed at first. Then they divide and your tongue darts between them, granting you your first taste of the invader. Nothing like the dream. No bitterness or metal or sour flavor. No smoke or ash. Just clean, pure, natural.

“Do you understand now?” His gaze traps yours. Human pupils dilating. You know what really lurks beneath. You like both.

“No. Show me again.”

A faint smirk. Then the doppelganger’s mouth captures yours once more.

[hxrny-ftm]

Imagine this, you're at a bar. Its a high end bar in the nice part of town, and drinks are expensive. You wanted to treat yourself. You don't realize until you try to close your tab that you've left your wallet at home. Hoping to charm the bartender, you lean over the bar a little, showing off your tits in your deep cut dress.

"Surely there's something you can do bartender, without my wallet I can't pay."

"Don't worry," he responded. "There's ways you can pay us back. I'll introduce you to the boss, he'll work something out for you."

The bartender takes you into the back room of the bar. You can feel yourself getting tense with nerves. What's the boss going to want from you?

The bartender knocks on the door to the back office, throwing a wink your way.

"What is it?" comes a deep voice from inside.

The bartender pops his head in the door. "Sorry boss, but we have a customer who cant pay back her tab. I'm afraid its quite a lot, and she wants to discuss an alternative with you."

"Bring her in."

As you enter the bosses office, you momentarily forget your nervousness. His office smells sweet, and the loud music of the bar fades into a relaxing hum in the back of your mind. The boss gestures for you to take a seat in front of his desk, and without thinking you obey. The chair is comfortable, and you feel some tension leave your shoulders as you sit. The sweet smell you noticed earlier, along with the dim lights tinted pink, momentarily cause you to drift away. His deep, soothing voice draws your attention back to him.

"I hear you need an alternative payment plan sweetheart," the boss says. The rhythmic tones of his voice lull you into a sense of safety. "Don't worry dear, we'll fix you right up. Just relax now, I'll explain everything for you. Now I'm going to count down from ten..."

You feel your eyelids relaxing, your neck going limp, and your thoughts slow and fade away as you fall into a deep trance.

As you wake up, you realize you are no longer in the boss's office. You appear to be in a brightly lit bathroom, and you can hear the muffled tones of the bar music. You are sitting on your knees, with your arms tied behind your back. You look up to see the boss's face, a suggestive glint in his eyes as he gazes down at you. In a moment of panic, you realize you have been stripped completely naked.

"What did you do to me?"

"Hush darling, you needed a way to pay back your debt to us. Now, open wide."

Without hesitation you open your mouth and stick out your tongue. You see him rest the head of his dick on your outstretched tongue, and you begin sucking him off. You realize you cannot control your actions, and this is how you are expected to pay off your debts. A line of men begins to form behind the boss as he finishes.

"Swallow." And you obey.

[descendantsramblings]

Sunday Night

Morgie le Fay x Pixie!Reader

Pronouns Used: she/her/hers

Summary: After his friends let him down Morgie runs to his girlfriend for comfort and she convinces him to come try meeting her friends instead. (slightly inspired by that post about how Morgie would be sweeter than Bridget if the AKs took him in instead of the Vks)

Warnings: Sfw dominance (she does undo his scarf and shirt for him though), reader is a touch possessive, Morgie is a touch insecure, a few swears here and there, Uliana and the crew treat Morgie awfully, a touch of angst/ hurt/comfort, the reader snaps and then literally throws Uli, literally so many pet names (Mainly used by the reader), Morgie has mommy issues (If Morgana won't properly baby Morgie his gf will).

Word Count: 3.6K

Left, right, down, flick! 

      On any normal Sunday night, Morgie would be tucked around his girlfriend as she did her weekend homework. Sat in her lap with his legs dangling behind her and his face tucked into her neck as she worked, whining for her to finish her work faster. Her reading the things she was studying out loud to him if they both took the class, in hopes of helping raise his grades (something he’d hate to admit was actually working).  He’d laugh when she was finally done, dragging her to the bathroom connecting her dorm to her neighbor’s with excitement so they could do skin care together. Sundays, to the pixie, were for preparing for the week. They existed to prepare yourself for what the week had ready to throw at you, both physically and mentally. For her boyfriend, Sundays were for being babied by his girlfriend, and she’d never tell him otherwise. It was her favorite part of their relationship and anyone who knew her knew it. She’d grown too used to the feeling of having gentle kisses placed on her shoulder and neck while she worked; to sit there without them was driving her crazy. Maybe she owed her boyfriend an apology, always teasing him that she couldn’t focus when he was sat on her lap. Turns out, Morgie might have been the only thing keeping her focused. Somehow the pixie had made her one hour of homework turn into two and a half as she kept letting her eyes flicker to her door. Willing her boyfriend to appear behind the wood.

    Left, right, down, flick! 

   Finally she succeeds in making the stupid pillow in the center of her bed fly back to its set spot on the headboard. It wasn’t exactly the spell in how they’d do it for the test on Tuesday but she hoped it would be close enough. Morgie would’ve cheered for her by now, groaning out a teasing “finally” beforehand. She didn’t realize how much she’d miss that with him gone for only one weekend.

    It made her feel selfish in a way, she got an invite to the birthday party that Morgie was throwing for Uliana tonight. But he knew the second he extended it that she’d never take it.  Maybe if the party was for Hook she’d be there, she might even grin and bare it for Maleficent if she had to. But her hatred for the sea witch stopped her from being willing to go, even in support of her sweet boyfriend. (Y/n) regretted that now, realizing just how much her Sunday nights depended on him. Sundays were supposed to be the day that she excitedly waits for all week, instead it left her feeling lonely. The Black Lagoon wasn’t that far, she could go now. It wouldn’t draw too much attention if she just slipped in now. There’s a moment, as her lip rests between her teeth and her fingers drum on the desk in front of her that she considers this. How long was Morgie planning to keep the party going? Did she have the time to get an outfit on and get to the Lagoon before it was over? With the way Hook partied, there had to be. But how would Uliana react if she showed up without a gift? Did she really want to deal with that? And what would she even wear? One of Morgie’s nice button ups should be hanging in her closet, surely she could find something to do with that if she wanted to. 

     Her fleece blanket starts to slip down her shoulders and she reaches up to grab it, pulling it back up her arms, solidifying her choice for her. She wanted to be with the person she loved, even if she had to deal with assholes too. Not that she’d get the time to get ready though, instead stilled as a shallow knock hits the hollow wood of her dorm room’s door. 

     She could recognize the sound trying to be the way that her boyfriend knocked. The familiar two knocks, pause, one knock, pause, three knocks that she heard multiple times a week but it was too timid. (Y/n) pauses, heading to her door with furrowed brows. Her eyes drink him in, looking over the person she had just longed for with a new heat bubbling in her chest. Hazel eyes gleamed a little too green in the bloodshot and wet sockets that held them, making the color stand out against a splotchy red and tear stained face. “Oh, Darling,” she reaches out for him, pulling him in the room and closing the door behind him. Morgie opens his mouth to respond, letting it fall closed when the only thing he can manage to get out is a voice crack. He sits down on her desk, hands pressed to the cold, polished wood as he lets out a slow, shaky breath. She slots herself between his legs, soft hands cradling his face as she wipes away the stray tears that still clung to his soft, heated skin. The sorcerer's hands slot onto her waist, clinging to her as if she’d float away. Or maybe using her touch to ground himself, she couldn’t be quite sure if she was honest.   

     “What happened, sweetness? Who upset my boy?” The corners of his lips flicker up for a moment as she coos at him, eyes scanning over her face. “She,” his voice cuts out and he pulls her closer, letting his forehead lean gently against her shoulder, “Why do I try?” Her arms wrap around his shoulders to hold him, one hand resting on his back while the other softly scratches at his scalp. Morgie relaxes slightly into his girlfriend’s touch, fingers toying with the hem of her pajama top as he tries to steady his breathing. “What did she do, Darling?” (Y/n) does her best to keep her voice gentle, her focus had to be on him right now, not whoever hurt him. 

     “None of them showed up, they were all at Uliana’s dorm instead. They all forgot I planned a party for her,” he pulls back slightly from her shoulder so he could look at her, “They all forgot about plans we’d had for a month and then didn’t even invite me to their other plans.” Uliana hadn't forgotten, that's something the pixie was sure of. Her hand on the back of his head slides down to cup his jaw, forcing him to keep eye contact with her. “Oh Morgz,” she breathes, doing her best to keep her face even as she looks him over, “You put so much effort into that party.” He lets his eyes flicker from hers, “I just want them to see me. Wanted to, I don’t know.” He nearly whines as she lets go of his face, hands instead moving to his scarf. Undoing the fabric and placing it down on the table beside him. Fingers moving back to his neck, with her thumbs brushing over his now exposed flesh in gentle circling motions. An action that made him relax into her touch with a needy whine and closed eyes. 

     “I hate the way they treat you,” her voice is soft, eyes ghosting over him, “You’re too sweet to hang around villains.” He hums, “It’s better than when the hero kids were just staring at me all the time. They’re the only people who would take me in. Ya know, my mom and all.” Hazel eyes flicker back open to look up at her again, “Other than you. Sometimes I don’t know why you want me around when even my friends don’t.” That one was a stab into the chest, they’d made him so insecure that he didn’t even think she wanted him around? Because what? His shitty friends that treat him like a dog didn’t? That was her boy, how dare they make him feel that way? 

      “Oh no Sir,” (Y/n) gasps, her hands falling down to the buttons on his shirt, “Don’t you dare think like that.” “Why not?” His eyes are still glassy as he stares at her, voice weak and soft. Her fingers start to work over the buttons and Morgie leans back to give her better access to them. “Because,” she hums, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his collarbone, “Unlike those idiots,” another kiss is pressed to his shoulder as she pulls the fabric off them, “I know that you’re better than how they have ever dared to let themselves see you.” She presses a kiss to the column of his neck, “I know that you’re funny,” another kiss to his jaw, “And gentle,” his cheek, “Kind,” his forehead, “and so much better than they are in every way.” As she got further up on his exposed skin she could taste the salt that lingered on it, a mix of the misty air at the black lagoon and the tears staining his cheeks. She presses her lips to his nose next, “I know you deserve more than your friends, and your mom, have ever given you.” Another kiss to his other cheek, “And I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I will want you forever because I am so proud to be your girl.” A final gentle kiss to his chin, “Because I am so proud of you.” 

     His hand slots forward against her jaw, pulling her down into a real kiss. It’s needy, lips working against each other’s with passion. Rough and emotional and raw as if he needed her. He did, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he did need her. The way her hands rested on him like his body was made for her to hold onto, how her voice sounded like an angel’s choir. Everything about her seemed to set him on fire, and he loved to burn. She was proud of him. She took pride in people knowing he was hers.  “Do you,” he’s a touch breathless as he pulls away, letting a hand fall to one of hers that rests on his bare chest, “Do you mean that?” She hums, nodding her head as she softly cradles his face, “I’ll mean it forever, Darling.” His face leans against her palm, nuzzling against it. “How about you get some of your pajamas out of the drawer and come meet me in the bathroom to do skincare, huh? Let me get you all cleaned up?” 

    He nods, letting his grip slip off of her, his eyes following her as she walks away. Paying close attention to every detail of her as if trying to mark her into his memory. The black and gold shorts she had on, the forest green tee shirt that nearly covered them, decked out in colors he loved as if she was dressed for him. Surely that was one of his shirts, not that he’d complain.  She could take all of his clothes if she wanted, he’d get more. Drinking in the soft bounce in her step that made it seem as if she’d take flight at any given moment. Sometimes he saw himself as lucky that she couldn’t, he could barely get close enough with them both bound to the ground, he’d hate it if she was able to fly. “I can feel your eyes on me, Sweetie, best get changed.” He nods seemingly to himself as he slides off of the surface and over to her dresser, toeing off his shoes as he goes. Hands reaching out for the top drawer of her dresser, grabbing a golden toned tee shirt and dragging it over his head. He shuffles through the drawer as he uses one hand to undo his pants, letting them drop as he finds the pair of sweat shorts he’s looking for and pulls them on. 

     Morgie makes a b line from her dresser to her bathroom after that, letting his hands slot back onto her waist the second he reaches her. “Took you long enough, Darling,” she turns in his arms with a wet rag, softly brushing it over his face. “I wanted to make you miss me.” She hums, dropping some of her face wash into her hands and rubbing them together before touching them to his face. Her fingertips work soft circles over his skin, gently rubbing off the salt on his skin. He leans into her touch, enjoying each and every gentle touch or teasing word that she’d give him. Any ounce of praise or affection had him falling deeper and deeper for her. “I missed you all night, no need to prolong it,” she presses a quick peck to his lips as she finishes rinsing his face off, “There we go.” He smiles, reaching behind her to grab her face mask brush and the small container. “Can I put yours on?” She bites her lip, eyes flickering from the arabian mud mask he’s delicately holding to the excited look on his face. “Do not get it in my eyebrows this time, Morgz.” “Ma’am yes ma’am,” gives her a playful salute, smiling as he watches her climb up on her sink, beckoning for him to start. 

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    “You staying with me tonight?” (Y/n) finally asks as she taps his eye cream onto his under eyes. Usually it wouldn’t be a question, Morgie loved to sleep over and she loved to have him. It wasn’t like there was much time to be all over each other in any other scenario. The VKs hated that they were together at all, let alone how much she “babied” him. So on the rare occasions he got her to come hang out with them the most they did was sit with interlocked pinkies or his arm around her waist or shoulders when he much preferred to cling to her. And with the way that his friends acted towards hers, Morgie was scared to be around them for too long. But with how upset he’d been, (Y/n) didn’t want to make any assumptions, his friends could be a touchy subject.

     “Do you want me to?” She smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck, “If it was up to me, we’d be roommates, Sweetie. You know that.” Morgie nods, his lip finding its way between his teeth as he looks up at her from his place between her legs. “Sweetness,” she coos, prompting him to look her in the eyes. “Can I request something from you?” “Anything,” he moves closer, his hands falling lazily to her hips as he hangs onto her words. “How about you ditch your friends tomorrow? Come hang out with me and my friends.” He doesn’t respond, pulling away from her. “Morgie.” He looks to her with big eyes, “Can we go lay down please?” 

    (Y/n) slides off the bathroom counter with a sigh, following him to her room. She lays down, opening her arms for him to come lay on her chest. Morgie’s face fits into the curve of her neck, as if he was built for it, arms wrapping around her to pull her as close as he can. Humming as he feels her hand softly start scratching at his scalp, pressing a needy little kiss to her neck. “Pretty boy,” her hand slips up under his shirt as she talks, tickling his skin. “Yes, baby?” “I’m serious, you should come out with us tomorrow. You’re not a villain, why keep hanging around them if they don’t even treat you right?” “Because, my mom is a villain.” She tuts, gripping his hair slightly to pull his head back. Eyes searching his as he patiently waits on what she has to say. “Morgie le Fay, you are not your mother.” He opens his mouth to argue but lets it fall back closed. Instead settling back into her neck. “One day, and if they hate me then I’m staying with my friends.” 

     She hums, deciding not to argue with him. Her friends would love him, sure Ella might have her qualms but Bridget accepts everyone with open arms. And Charming was cool enough, he could get along with anyone. He could have better people hang around him than a sea witch who uses him and her crew of lackeys. But the conversation dies, (Y/n) instead focusing on scratching his head, humming to him as she soothes her lover to sleep. Morgie tries to ignore the nerves in his stomach, falling into a tranquil state as his mind begins to focus on her. He notices the way she hums “So This Is Love”, a sweet little love song that he’d only ever admit to her was his favorite. His girlfriend had him exactly where she wanted him and they both knew it. 

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    Morgie came to realize how ridiculous his nerves were when he actually sat down with her friends at lunch the next day. “Ladies, Charming,” she bows to both of the playfully before putting an arm around her boyfriend’s waist, “Hope you don’t mind but I wanted to bring my boyfriend today.” Charming gives him a slight nod, as Bridget reaches over to place a cupcake in front of the boy. “Oh,” he takes it, eyeing the pretty pink frosting and chocolate pearls that decorate the top of the  rich red cake, “Thank you.” “Of course,” she chirps, sitting back in her spot between (Y/n) and Ella, “(Y/n) talks about you all the time. I’m so glad you finally decided to give us a chance. She’s always going on and on about how sweet you are and how your friends don’t deserve you.”  His eyes cut to her, taking in the soft blushed hue that warms her cheeks. “Bridget, please,” she whines, letting her face nuzzle into his shoulder. 

     “You talk about me when I’m not around?” Ella rolls her eyes, “She never shuts up about you. You’re like,” she waves her hand as she talks, “Her only conversation topic.” (Y/n) pulls away from her boyfriend’s shoulder to glare at her friend, “As if you’re any better without Charming around.” “Hey!”  Her friends are more playful than his, teasingly pushing each other, but never enough to hurt them. Sharing snacks and homework answers, warning each other about stupid questions on tests. Is this what normal friends were like? Morgie couldn’t help but fear that he’d been missing out. 

     “There you are,” the thick accent causes all five of them to turn. The villains are standing behind them, looking over the couple with distaste. “What exactly do you think you’re doing here?” Uliana raises an eyebrow as she stares him down. “I,” he tries to explain himself but he has no clue what to say to her. “Well? You what?” 

     “He’s ditching you,” the words are so perky and sugary sweet you’d think she didn’t know what they meant, “Isn’t that your little group’s thing? Ditching people and leaving them out?” Uliana laughs, shaking her head as she turns to the pixie, “No one was talking to you. And even if I was, what I do is not your concern. He answers to me, he should be with my group. Not running around with your pathetic little friends.” There’s a visible shift in her as she untangles herself from Morgie, back straightening and shoulders stiffening. A grin that rivaled only the Cheshire cat stretches across her face, body turning in her seat to properly face the little group. “Pathetic?” “Yeah,” she says as if talking to a toddler, “Pathetic. I’m sure Morgie would need the definition but I thought you were smarter than that.” 

     Uliana doesn’t see the soft silver glow around the girl’s hand as she lifts it. “You wanna see pathetic, Uli?” She flicks her wrist up, sending the sea witch floating up into the air. “What’s pathetic,” she  rotates her wrist to flip the girl upside down, “Is needing to be cruel to everyone, including people who only want to please you, just so you can feel good about yourself in comparison.” “Aye Lass, put her down,” Hook interjects and (Y/n)’s head shoots to the side to look at him. “You wanna join her, fishbait?” His hands fly up, stepping back in surrender.  So she turns her attention back to the sea witch as she moves her hand, angling Uliana to the bushes on the edge of the courtyard. “You’re so insecure that everyone in this school can feel it. Maybe this year can change that for you, happy birthday,” she flings her wrist forward sending the sea witch flying into the bushes. Her friends run after her, leaving the lunch table in the dust as they go to check on her. 

     “(Y/n)!” Bridget’s voice rings out, making her turn back to her own friends. “You could’ve hurt her!” “Oh please, Bridge, she’ll be fine. It’s amazing she even went that far with how gently I threw her. She needed someone to knock her down a peg.” Her eyes flicker to Morgie, his hazel eyes a mix of worry and adoration. “Plus, she called the people I love pathetic. No one is going to disrespect the people I love.” He reaches out for her, face leaning on her shoulder as he clings to her, “She’s gonna make your year awful now, you know that, right?” She laughs, snaking an arm around him, “Of course she is. Unlucky for her though, I have someone who knows her way of thinking on my side. And even if I didn’t, she’s as scary as a seapony.”

[reidsdimples]

When Everything Changed | Part 2

Part 1

Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader

Enemies to lovers- Angst 🖤

Inspired by Wires by Athlete

Tw: hospitals, injury, Spencer near death

Your feud with Spencer feels trivial after you’re both shot

The first time you wake, you’re in a panic. The ceiling of the trauma unit is speeding by in a blur while people around you push the stretcher. There’s an immense amount of pressure and pain in your shoulder which is probably why you’re screaming. It’s also probably why every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire.

“They’re FBI agents! Get them in here now,” somebody screams.

You black out again and come to as you’re being moved onto a table. The room sways as you crash harshly into the metal surface.

“Spencer…” you murmur as one of the surgeons places a mask over your face. All goes black with shouts and medical equipment blaring in your ears.

-

The room comes into view in a blur. You try to glance around but the figure standing over you is indistinguishable.

Finally your brain catches up to your eyes and you see JJ and Rossi at your bedside.

“What happ…” your voice gives out.

“You were shot in the shoulder. It was a flesh wound, they got the bullet out,” Rossi says and places his hand on yours.

You allow Rossi’s father-like comfort to wash over you before panic seized you once more. The room stirs and your stomach drops as the reality of the situation kicks in.

You wince and lay your head back, it feels like someone placed a led weight in your shoulder. Then it comes back to you.

“Reid, what happened to Reid?” You gasp.

“He’s still in surgery,” JJ answers. Her tone tells you it’s bad.

“How long?”

“You’ve been here about 4 hours, Spencer’s been in surgery for 3,” Rossi informs you.

“Is he…” tears well in your eyes. He took a bullet for you. Both bullets should have hit you. Why would he do that?

“He’s in critical condition,” Rossi’s voice is filled with sorrow. The words are a blow to your abdomen, drawing all of the oxygen from your lungs.

“No,” you whisper and try to sit up. Guilt creeps its way in and claws its way down your spine.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N,” JJ reassures you. You shake your head.

The doctor enters and begins checking you out and encouraging you to rest. You argue that you can’t rest until you know your coworker is okay.

While the gesture was nice, whatever pain medicine he pushes into your IV sends you back into darkness before you can stop it.

-

The next time you wake, you feel more normal. As though waking up from regular sleep instead of from passing out in shock.

Sunlight filters through the massive glass windows which overlook the city. Your concept of time is non existent but at least you only have one IV in you now instead of three.

“You’re awake,” Garcia smiles and stands. Her usual bouncy optimism is missing in her words. She looks exhausted.

“Did he…” you don’t even know what to ask.

“He’s out of surgery. He’s critical but stabilized,” she answers in a hushed tone.

“I’m so sorry,” your voice cracks.

“Why are you apologizing? You were shit too,” she softens her voice and pushes your hair back from your face,

“That bullet should have hit me, I don’t know why he got in the way,” you sniffle.

“That bullet might have struck you in the head,” she raises her eyebrows like you’re being ridiculous. She was right though, your head is right at the same height as his neck.

“He couldn’t have known that,” you reason.

“No but he instinctively would have protected anybody on this team. He didn’t have to think about it,” she tries not to cry.

“I know,” you nod.

Just then Hotch and Prentiss enter the room, smiling to see you awake.

“Hey,” Prentiss hugs you gently.

“What are the doctors saying?” You ask anyone out loud.

“They’re hopeful you’ll only need to be monitored for another 24 hours,” Hotch informs.

“I meant about Reid,” you say.

“The bullet entered the front of his neck and lodged into his trachea. It was touch and go for a while but they were able to remove the bullet and reconstruct the damaged airway,” Hotch starts.

“He went into respiratory distress this morning and had to get intubated. He’s on a ventilator now. That’s why he’s still critical. He’s not breathing fully on his own and they’re trying to drain the blood and fluid from his lungs,” Garcia adds.

“I…” you lip quivers and tears start to fall. You’re horrified for him. “He must be so scared,” you whisper.

“He’s sedated, he doesn’t know what’s happening,” Prentiss says softly.

Of course he’s sedated, he wouldn’t be awake and intubated.

You’re about to say something when one of the ICU’s alarms begins to blare.

“Code blue, room 3489,” you startle and sit up as the three of them rush out of the room. Nurses and doctors take off down the hall.

“Wait!” You cry.

Code blue- someone is in respiratory or cardiac arrest. You want nothing more than to get out of the damned bed but you’re hooked up to an IV and an alarm.

Garcia nods and throws her hand over her mouth before darting back to you.

“It’s not him, it’s not Reid,” she huffs a relieved crying sort of laugh and hugs you.

You couldn’t do this, you couldn’t deal with losing someone on the team. It would destroy you.

You couldn’t imagine going to work and not competing with him to be the smartest in the room. It was annoying but god right now you missed it. You even missed his dad’s and his attitude and snarky remarks. You were so mad at him for taking that step in front of you. Yet you just wanted to be there at his bedside like the rest of the team.

“I want to see him,” you tell her.

“You will. You just have to focus on getting your strength back first,” she says. Garcia had a way of saying things that was so comforting.

The rest of that day was spent sleeping and getting a play by play of Reid’s progress.

-

The following morning you were up on your feet and able to walk around perfectly fine. Your arm was in a sling to prevent excess movement on your shoulder but for the most part you felt fine.

You were eager to go see Reid, though you weren’t sure why. The team had warned you that it wouldn’t be easy to see him hooked up to the breathing tube and other wires. You should be reluctant. But you just needed to show yourself that at the very least, he was still alive.

Stepping into his room was jarring and you froze in the doorway. His entire body was limp, his head flopped to the side, and his hair pulled from his face with a rubber band. He looked everything and nothing like himself.

He had drains and tubes coming out of his lungs and out of the hole in his throat, the tube down his throat forced his Adam’s apple to be protruded out, and you couldn’t count the amount of medication drips he was hooked up to.

His usual dark circles were deeper, more purple, his skin pale, and a feeding tube was inserted into his nose. You swallowed hard and took a slow step closer to him. He was always so animated and full of life, yapping constantly. To see him so motionless, so silent… it was devastating.

Morgan was sitting in the chair next to his bed, his head down next to Reid. He had fallen asleep. Reid was like his little brother, he hadn’t left his side. He was still wearing the same clothes from the night of the shooting.

You could see the breathing machine pumping, inflating his lungs for him. You could hear a low hum and what sounded like fluid in there. Occasionally it looked like he would cough or gag around the tube.

“It’s normal, his body isn’t used to there being a tube there,” the nurse informs you as she injects something into his IV line.

“Does it hurt?” You ask.

“He’s not aware of it if it does,” she gives you a sympathetic smile.

His fingers twitched momentarily but it was the only sign of movement.

You pull a chair up next to him and sit slowly. You can’t take your eyes off of him. You physically feel your heart break seeing him like this. Seeing any one of your team like this would devastate you. But Reid… you had a complicated but reluctantly understanding with. He was more like you than anyone else there. Seeing him often felt like looking in a mirror, seeing him hurt was too much.

“The machine is only doing 20% of the breathing for him. The fluid has reduced a lot. This is progress,” Hotch says somberly. You nod and wipe a tear.

You wished Reid could talk. He’d give you a million different probabilities of how this could play out along with a run down of what all of the equipment did. He’d be realistic but you had a feeling he’d give you hope. Maybe though, you just wanted to hear his voice.

You touch his hand, and trace his fingers delicately. You wished you could help him. Wished you could do something.

Garcia rubs Morgans back and gestures for him to follow her. The team leaves you to have a minute alone with him.

“Why did you take that step?” Is the first thing you say through tears. “That was so stupid,” you laugh. “You’re supposed to be the genius,” you breathe out another tear fueled laugh.

You wrap your hand over his and squeeze.

“This team needs you, please just keeping fighting Reid,” you implore him. “Your mom will be here tonight. It took some strings to pull but Garcia has her on a plane now.”

“I’m so mad at you. You brilliant asshole,” you can’t help but to smile.

And then, you don’t know why you do it. He would hate it surely, but you stand up and plant a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Your hair looks ridiculous by the way,” you whisper and push the baby hairs back.

You start to think that maybe if you hadn’t holstered your gun, Reid wouldn’t have felt the need to step in front of you to take the shot. That’s realization hits you like a ton of bricks and forces you to sit back down.

You were really starting to feel like it was your fault.

“I’m so sorry, Reid,” your voice cracks and you squeeze his hand a final time before leaving the room.

“Let’s get you home,” JJ says and grabs your uninjured arm.

-

Days passed, days passed and you didn’t want to leave your house. You listened to the doctors and primarily did bed rest, but you were ancy.

Spencer had been taken off of sedation last night and was becoming more lucid. You would get to see him tonight. Garcia says he’s improving quickly.

The last few days passed in a blur, the same way a hummingbird passes by a kitchen window. You rub your arms and sip your coffee. You don’t know how what you’re going to say to him.

Part of you still warred with guilt, with the way that technically you guys didn’t even like each other. Yet something had changed. Something gave way that night. You couldn’t explain it but you needed to talk to him. Maybe you needed to know whether or not he blamed you.

Did you make a bad call by holstering your gun?

You didn’t know. Hotch still hadn’t debriefed you or taken your statement of events.

Night falls and you step into Spencer’s hospital room hesitantly. You had been haunted by the state in which you saw him last time, the trauma of it all clawing at your heart.

To your surprise, his bed is propped up and there’s a book in his hand. You smile with delight at the way he can’t help but attempt to lean forward over the book like always.

“Wow,” you say. It’s remarkable how much better he looks. Still injured, still disheveled, but so much better.

He waves at you with that flat smile he favors.

“He can’t talk right now,” Morgan informs. “But he wrote down a list,” he holds up a stack of books.

“Of course Dr. Reid wakes up from a coma and wants to read Dostoevsky,” you smile.

He doesn’t return the sentiment but grabs what appears to be a white board and marker. He starts scribbling before holding it up to you.

“How are you?” It reads.

“Sore, but alive,” you want to say ‘thanks to you’ but you refrain. Instead you take a seat on the opposite side of the bed as Morgan.

“Well now that you’re here, I think I’m going to go home and rest,” Morgan sighs and stands.

“You’ve only been here a week,” you joke. “Get out of here, we’ll call you if anything changes.”

Spencer starts scribbling on his board again.

“I’m sorry,” it says in his signature hand writing.

“For what?” You ask softly and adjust in your chair to look in his bloodshot eyes.

“That you still got hit,” it says simply and he frowns.

“Don’t apologize! You saved my life,” you respond exasperatedly. “We almost lost you Spencer. You have nothing to be sorry for,” you don’t realize it but you start pacing. “I was so mad at you for stepping in front of me. That bullet should have been for me,” you gesture at him.

His eyebrows furrow and he starts shaking his head.

“No.” He writes on the board.

You sigh and sit back down when you see that his heart rate increases significantly on the monitor.

“Are you okay?” You redirect the conversation. He thinks for a moment and you find yourself wanting to touch his hair, to comfort him. It’s a new desire, an odd one.

“They haven’t explained what happened to me. I don’t remember,” he scribbles.

“Do you want me to tell you?” You ask and place your hand on his.

He looks down at where you touch him but nods.

You tell him everything from the moment you saw him bleeding to the surgery and the coma.

“But you’re out of the woods and making great strides to recovery,” you finish.

He presses his palm into his eye socket as though his head hurts before writing again.

“Thank you. I’m okay,” is all it says.

“You’re straining your eyes by reading,” you point out when he blinks as thought his head hurts.

He nods, aware of that fact.

“Here,” you take the book from him. He lets you and points out where he left off. You begin to read to him and he lays back in the bed with a deep breath.

“…He was so obsessed with what had happened to him that he was afraid to put it into words, lest he should lose it all at once, lest he should be left with nothing. He was so possessed by the idea that he was afraid to think of anything else; he wanted to forget everything else, to think of nothing, to do nothing, to feel nothing, so as not to lose what he had gained…” you trail off.

When you glance over at him he’s gripping his journal, the pen beside him, and he’s fallen asleep.

You dim the lights and take his journal from him. You glance only at what he had dozed off writing.

‘I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.’

The quote takes you by surprise, mostly the familiarity of it. You can’t place where you’d read it before nor could you figure out why he was writing it.

Nonetheless you place the journal on the table beside him before moving to get comfortable in the recliner. You would sleep there tonight.

Sleep finds you slowly, the quote he sketched replaying in your mind. You’ll figure out where you read it tomorrow.

A/N: I just finished season 8, I had no idea until after writing this that Spence suffers a similar injury in season 9- oops.

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Chapter 18:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Angsty feelings, fluff. Hurt/comfort.

--------------------------------------------------

Hunter watched through his visor, HUD illuminated with your steadying vitals. He watched as your chest rose and fell, spasming every so often, heart rate spiking as your face twitched in pain. It nearly broke him.

It was so easy to imagine a future with you - somewhere safe, away from the Empire, away from mercenaries and shady jobs that paid little to nothing. Away from the possibility of a mission that you might not make it back from.

Not just for me, he realized. You’d make a great mother to Omega and his brothers were proud to stand at your side. We all deserve some rest.

Hunter chuckled to himself. When did I get so soft?

He wondered when it had grown so difficult to erect the walls that separated the man within from the soldier trained to perfection. They were built with such a profound sense of professional discipline that it had felt uncomfortable - even painful - when the war came to its inevitable end. All those thoughts and emotions had come crashing together as if the floodgates had opened and it had taken all he had to hold his world together. None of them knew what to do or how to feel, so they threw all they had into surviving a world that was no longer meant for them.

His head told him one thing - keep moving lest the weight of all that is at stake find you asleep and strike - but Hunter was tired of simply surviving. Omega had changed him. You had changed him. It was hard to see the galaxy through a soldier’s perspective now that he had something to lose.

Your fingers wrapped around his hand as it lay beside you, drawing him from his thoughts.

“Hey,” his modulated voice sounded relieved as you blinked groggily awake. He brushed a stray hair from your face.

“Hey,” you replied softly, licking dried lips.

“Here,” he said, gently sitting on the ground behind you. “This’ll help you breathe a little easier.”

Putting two strong hands under your arms, he slowly slid you upwards into a reclining position, careful not to jostle you too much as he rested your back against his chest to relieve the squeezing pressure of gravity.

The strained and tightened muscles took several seconds to quiet their panic at the motion, but soon you felt yourself relax into his chest.

“There you go, nice and easy.” He pulled a hydro pack from his belt and guided your hands as they lifted it to your mouth.

The liquid flowed cool and refreshing across parched lips. It could’ve been poison and you wouldn’t have cared, it was the best water you’d had in what felt like an eternity.

He pulled it away as you grabbed at it with a whine.

“Not too fast,” he chuckled, “You’ll make yourself sick.”

You made a face and he shook his head. If you could see his eyes, you knew they’d be amused.

“How’s the pain?” he asked more seriously.

You stared up at the sky above, “Could be worse, I guess.” It was the truth, but you felt guilty for leaving out how much your ribs throbbed still with every breath or how your leg ached terribly and you couldn’t look at it without wanting to throw up. It was better though, no longer so sharp and overwhelming. The painkillers had done their job though they seemed to be wearing off. You bit your lip, inhaling as best as you could. You could feel him watching.

��You sure? I can give you a little more painkiller, it’s been awhile.”

You let out a breath, “Okay.”

He reached to the side, pulling another syringe from the pocket of the larger medkit before pulling aside the loose fabric and jabbing it into the thigh of your good leg.

Though it was barely a pinch, the muscle tightened and cramped as though it were spring loaded and ready for a fight. It held that way a few long seconds before relaxing once more.

He smells good. Even fully kitted and covered in dust, that familiar scent of an earthy plasma wafted over you, surrounding you with the calm and caring comfort you craved so desperately.

Inhaling evenly with eyes closed, you found your head resting backwards, nestling in the gap between his helmet and chestplate. He rubbed your leg, hand firm and warm beneath his glove.

“Good girl. Relax, you’re okay.”

Good girl. The shame from before rose headily once again - hot and cold all at once.

“Hunter?” you began.

He grunted in response.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I acted and for running away. I just want you to know I didn’t mean all those things I said.”

He breathed in, letting it out slowly. “No, I'm sorry.” He paused, moving his hand to brush the hair from your face. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled. I shouldn't have done a lot of things.”

“We both yelled.” You said softly, reaching to the side where his other hand rested on your thigh.

He squeezed your fingers. “Yeah,” he chuckled gently. He grew still as you drew his hand into yours, weaving your fingers between his own.

“I don't hate you, Hunter.”

He shook his head. “I know you don't.” He was silent again. “All those things you heard that day… they weren't true.”

The claw around your chest grew tighter. “W-what…?” It was all you could choke out over a sudden spasming of lungs sending hot bolts of pain searing through your chest, before calming again to a distant agony. He squeezed your hand, seeming to understand the unasked question.

“Tech called you an asset. A member of our team. The same way he'd describe Omega - his sister. But I….” He paused, looking down, helmet still on but easy to read. Uncertain. Afraid. He took a breath. “But I… I said you were more than that to me. I… I think I'm in love with you.”

I think I’m in love with you. I think I’m in love with you.

…In love with you.

His words played over and over again in your head, tolling like a bell. It didn’t feel like anything at all. Emotional shock, much like its physical counterpart, protected the senses, lulling you into a false sense of denial before hitting you full force and all at once. It almost seemed to good to be true.

Hunter watched your careful silence, a shameful panic beginning to take hold, as you gave no response.

“Don’t…” your voice was quiet, but Hunter knew it well enough to know the flood it held back. “Don’t say that. Don’t say what you don’t mean, Hunter. Please don’t just tell me what I want to hear. It isn’t fair.”

You were tired of crying, tired of that raw burning skin around your eyes, tired of the emotions that built you up only to drag you back down again and again.

“But… I do mean it.” He replied, “I mean every part of it. I love you, cyar’ika. I… I thought I lost you when you left and it was like I couldn’t breathe.”

You sniffed, ignoring how the shuddering breaths sent a growing ache through your chest. “But…. I saw….”

Hunter took a breath. “You saw the wrong thing at the wrong time.”

“But…”

He cut you off, “Tara came to me hoping to find a release - some kind of comfort. I couldn’t give that to her and I told her so. I don’t love her. I love you and will only ever love you!”

A whirlwind of emotion combined with already slowing thoughts left you confused, unsure, and at the mercy of that ever present doubting voice.

He can’t love you. You’ve screwed up so many times. You are unworthy.

“You… I can’t…” you began to protest.

“No.” Hunter spoke firmly as if to command that inner voice to submission. “Why do you think you don’t deserve this?”

He shot a second flare into the sky. A flash of light illuminated the darkened, cloudy sky, signaling that the Marauder had acknowledged and would make its way to extract. Hunter turned his head back to you.

“Everyone on that ship up there wants you to stay. You are a part of our team, our family.” He paused, “You are a part of me and I don’t think I can live without you.”

The tears came hot and quick now, dripping down his shoulder plate where they fell from your eyes.

“Hunter, I….”

The ground began to quake and rumble once more. Rocks shook with a violence and roared as if the splitting ground caused them great pain. And for the second time that day, you found yourself falling.

--------------------------------------------------

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[6okuto]

MATSUKAWA RELATIONSHIP HCS

gn!reader, timeskip mentions | 4 whoevah asked! 🫵👍

waits until you're distracted/busy before suddenly saying shit like "first one to get to the lineup gets to pick extra snacks" at the grocery store

eats your leftover food if you can't finish

works hard to take you to a fancy restaurant on one of your first dates... doesn't know which ones are actually good so he's on reddit researching, texting the seijoh 4 gc, etc etc. he dresses up too... he wants to make sure you're happy and treated well 🙁

issei isn't super into or against pda,, he's happy if you're happy. most of the time it'll be an arm draped around your shoulder while you're sitting together or casual hand holding. he isn't opposed to a quick kiss either! :3

if you show him one of those videos that are like,, "if you know your partner, which one would they choose?" and he gets it wrong issei's like "?? tf are u sure" as if it isn't Your choice

he isn't used to getting gifts. if you give him a gift his first thought (fear) is that he's forgotten some kind of anniversary. but you tell him it's just because you thought of him and he gets all flustered and can't keep eye contact 🙁 you catch him glancing at/playing with the gift for the rest of the day

^ him with a lot of stuff actually LOL he tries to hide how Not Chill he is it's so cute 😭 you ask him to hold something but your hand is empty and you just interlock fingers? he's like wow okay if you wanted me you could've just said so As if his ears aren't red hshsdbshs

denies crying over a sad movie as he takes the tissue box from you (refuses to look at you until he's wiped his tears) (looks at you with red eyes and sniffles and says It's not even that sad)

says he'll take a photo of you then takes a selfie LOL

^ you'll have to show him how to take good photos... or learn together... he promises he's a quick learner + he thinks you look good in all of them

takes your compliments/comments to heart. you say his hair looks nice grown out and he takes a few extra seconds messing with it in the mirror, pushing off a haircut for a little longer. you say his new jacket looks great and he's like yeah of course it does,, then reaches for it more often than planned at its original purchase.

i think timeskip mattsun would worry about sharing certain stories from work ;; like... would it upset you (more than him)? did you have a rough day and would he make it worse? he keeps it pretty vague until you ask him to share because you can tell it's been big on his mind

mattsun's not one to care about what side of the bed he sleeps on (it's just the one is closest to a charging port) until you're together. like if you pick a side yourself, it becomes a habit for him to slide into the other even times you aren't sharing a bed. it just doesn't feel right anymore bdhsjdbsj

you know those trends where you ask the other person/people to draw flowers or stars for your lockscreen. he just sends a shitty dick drawing LOL. but he ends up spending super long on decent flowers after i promise. scrunching his eyebrows, moving his finger really slow, picking good colours and everything... even pulls up references. yeagh

sees you online listening to sad music and texts "you up?" in hopes of distracting you. he gets away with coincidental timing the first couple of times, but you figure it out. not that this changes anything (other than maybe his text to "you wanna talk?") — mattsun continues as an offer / reassurance he's there if you'd like him to be

so supportive. SO SUPPORTIVE. you have a big project you're working on? he's checking on you and complimenting you with every day of work, even if he isn't knowledgeable on it himself. you get a promotion or offer you've always wanted? you have to celebrate—you deserve it!! you have a big game coming up? he's in the stands with your jersey on and he's brought his friends to cheer too

^ he isn't really one to Jump for Joy, but he'll be grinning so big, and always matches your energy. (you like hugs and kisses? you got them! you'd rather a solid high-five or verbal praise? that's good with him too! he just wants you to know he's happy and proud of you)

^ actually he might jump for joy. a little. not in a YAHOO! YIPPEE!! way but in a LET'S GOOOOOO way.

you ask to meet the seijoh team and he's like. begging the universe no one's gonna embarrass him. everyone's like No way someone wants to date our mattsun?! Are you sure?! and he's 😐

^ tries to act cool in front of you. gets called out like "lmfao what are you doing" "so obvious" "okay mr. tough guy?" "blocked a ball and thinks he's hot" WBDJSNSSJ

^ brightens when you tell him he Is very cool and you like watching him. shoots his team a look and says something about how they're all single LOL

doesn't post you a lot, but he doesn't really post in general so the ratio of you on his profile is still great tbh. maybe for anniversaries or if he took a really good photo—keeps it minimal and won't write long paragraphs. adds a couple blurry or 0.5x pictures if you're okay with it

accidentally kicks you while he's napping and apologizes even though you swore he was deep asleep shdbsbns

lets you have the window seat. he doesn't actually care that much (since it's you) but he makes a scene of giving it up for you /silly /he's smiling

issei always does his first karaoke song with you if you're there. the first time it happens he doesn't even ask he just hands you the second mic and you're like wait what ??? LOL

gets scared if you say his full name. skips right over confusion and freezes like a deer in headlights even if he hasn't done anything

middle guy for autographs.. LMFAO 😭😭 like what do you mean you know oikawa tooru and iwaizumi hajime who then knows msby etc etc. you show up and say his name like :)) isseii?? :)) and he's like 🙄 Who's asking now. you know you know them too right. /lh

bro does not decorate. imagine unpacking for your new shared apartment and you're like ?? is that really all your stuff. and he's like ....Yeah??.. a lot of the things on his desk/around the house were bought together or by you

i write hcs and im like wowww what a respectable post length and then i realize how long the points are and im like FAWK??!?! ur telling me i DONT actually have that many ?!?!?! so i keep adding more and thats why i take so long. then i stare at myself like GIRL GET IT TOGETHER!! EVERY TIME!!! 🙁🙁🙁

[leighsartworks216]

Hi! I’ve been thinking about this for awhile.

Imagine Astarion walking in to see his s/o, only to see them on their knees groaning and looking uncomftarble, because of Haarlep and his promise. ”Everytime I make love with your body, you will know.”

Maybe Astarion could like try to comfort s/o through one of those times? Not in a sexual way, just doing his best to show that he’s there, maybe throwing a comment to distract them ”pretend it’s me.”

If you’re uncomftarble with this you can ignore it! Have a nice day/night!😊

I used they/them pronouns for Haarlep when applicable because the Narrator refers to them this way

References and dialogue taken from a scene in the game, transcribed by yours truly

Warnings: rape/non-con elements, swearing, crying, reference to victim blaming, references to past trauma/abuse

Word Count: 1,031

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It comes on like a violent shiver. You can feel hands all over you, tracing up and down your legs and chest, but you’re all alone in your tent. You try to ignore it, focus on a book or something. Anything. But it’s overwhelming. Haarlep is using your body to pleasure someone else and you can feel it all. Maybe for Raphael it was incredible - another layer of pleasure to heighten the experience. To you, it’s violating.

You curl into yourself, tugging your knees to your chest as you sit on the floor, and hiding your face from the lamp light. If you could curl up tight enough, maybe you could block it all out. It’s a useless attempt. You know nothing can stop it.

“Darling, you’re going to miss… Shit.” Astarion rushes to your side, the flap of the tent shutting out the rest of the world. He’s not sure if he should touch you, where he should touch you. But you’re shaking, and whimpering, and he wants more than anything to help. “Can I touch you?”

You lift your face from your knees, nodding as a groan tears from your throat. It should feel good, but it doesn’t. You want to squirm and dive into water and roll in the dirt - anything to get rid of the ghostly hands on your skin.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and tugs you into him. His touch is more solid. He’s not a phantom taking pleasure in your image. You sigh with how real he feels. He brushes his fingers through your hair. “It’s the incubus, isn’t it?” he whispers by your ear. You nod and grab onto his arm. Your hands are trembling. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

“I can feel it, Astarion,” you gasp. You press your face into his chest. “Everything. Hands, just, all over me.” You can’t bear to speak out loud what else you feel. He can tell when your legs press tightly together.

“Tell me what I can do to help.”

Your mind is blank. You can’t think. You don’t know. You squirm closer to him and he draws your body into his lap, pressing his cheek to your head. He tries to be more firm in his touches. He scratches lightly at your scalp, tugs gently at the hairs at the nape of your neck. His hand runs up and down your arm, stopping only to press his fingertips against different locations that follow no consistent pattern. He can feel your tears against his skin, and he wishes more than anything to have killed that creature when they had the chance.

“Keep talking,” you whimper. A violent chill forces its way down your spine and you groan against his skin to avoid being too loud. He can’t imagine what the others would think or say.

When this happened before, it was in public. You couldn’t avoid it then, couldn’t rush somewhere private away from public eyes, and they scolded you. Told you to be quiet, teased you about liking it. It made his blood boil just thinking about it. It hadn’t been this bad then - the sound you made wasn’t out of disgust or discomfort.

“I know what it’s like to lose control over your own body. It’s a wretched thing.”

“I may as well just try to enjoy it.”

“I thought the same, once. It didn’t last. I know what’s done is done - you made your vow. But I’m sorry all the same.”

“Please,” you cry. “Please talk to me.”

He hushes you gently, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “It’s going to be okay, my dear. You’re going to get through this. And once these damn tadpoles are out of our heads, we’re marching right back to Avernus and killing that bastard.”

You chuckle, weak and wet, but it’s better than hearing you suffer. “Promise?”

“Do you even have to ask? I’d march down there tomorrow if we could.” He moves his hand from your arm to your leg. He rubs circles into your thigh with his thumb, applying various amounts of pressure as he does. Quietly, unsure, he whispers into your hair, “Can you pretend it’s me?”

He’s not sure if he wants you to, truthfully. But he’s willing to carry that weight if it means easing your suffering. It’s a sentimental thought, but it doesn’t last long as you shake your head. “They don’t touch me like you do.” There’s an edge of teasing in your voice, trying to make it a joke, but it doesn’t quite land.

“Good.” He wants to say something more, but nothing comes to mind. He’s almost… proud. Definitely possessive. If that incubus and whoever they're bedding now doesn’t know how to touch you in all the ways you enjoy, then Astarion won’t feel bad when he touches you. He would hate to ruin intimacy for you because Haarlep touches you the same way.

Your legs shake and you hold onto him desperately, wrapping an arm around him to dig your fingers into his back. You try not to dig too deep, try not to hurt him, even in your torture. It breaks his heart. A sound bubbles in the back of your throat, agonized and lewd. With just one touch of your hand to his cheek, he knows precisely what you’re asking for, and he captures your mouth with his own. It’s not romantic or sweet. It’s teeth clashing and swallowing every loud noise that would be louder if he pulled away. It’s offering you a final comfort as Haarlep desecrates you.

As your legs stop shaking, the phantom touches on your body fading, you kiss him softer, until you feel safe enough to pull away. You don’t hide your face again; you press your forehead to his. Your cheeks are flushed and stained with tears. He continues to play with your hair as he wipes them away.

“Thank you,” you whisper. A sob rises from your chest. “I’m sorry.”

He shushes you, pressing kisses to your cheeks and wrapping his arms around you. “It’s okay, my love. You’re okay. It’s not your fault. It will never be your fault. You’re okay.”

---

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[sluttyenthusiast]

Casual

Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sex and a boy ☹️

(you said, "we're not together", so now when we kiss, I have anger issues)

Your friends always made fun of you, calling you a loser for changing yourself for a boy who would forget in months after he was done with you.

You were happy to stand at the sidelines and be the quiet, good girl, for him, especially so. You held back all thoughts that didn't pertain to him, because at that moment he enveloped you completely.

You couldn't help but hear the words that were jokes between him and his friends, the utters of "we're just casual" filled your head while the whispers of "we only fuck", tug at your heart.

You had heard the rumors of Luke sleeping around, but you had no reason to believe them because that is all they were, rumors.

You let him consume you, when all your thoughts should've been about your plans after college, rather than if he was gonna call you tonight or if he was too busy.

You spent late nights together in his car. You'd sit there after everything was done, skin to skin, where he watched you draw hearts in the fog of the glass.

You remember the few times you met his parents, and how eager he was to get away from them for a bathroom hookup.

You watched as he left the bathroom, perfectly monotone as you continued to fix your makeup, not wanting to be anything less of perfection.

As you sat back at the table, his hand found its place on your thigh, a smile graced your lips.

Him mom began to speak to you, you always loved her need to include you.

"Summer will be here in just a few weeks, and I, we, thought it be nice to have a little get together at the lake house,"

You smiled at her, gleaming, before Luke spoke up.

"She would love to, but she's got graduation to worry about."

You felt a heat rise to your cheeks, not understanding why he doesn't want you there, before you could speak up, he started talking again.

"College is so demanding, especially for someone as bright as my girl."

His arm came to rest around your shoulders, as the words "my girl" echoed through your mind.

You felt comfortable then.

But it didn't stay like that for long.

Soon the only time you'd really see each other is when he needed to blow off steam.

You would allow it, loving that you're so close to him.

You would allow him to fuck you as he shoved your face farther into the cushion of the couch.

You wanted him to need you.

You think back to the day you went shopping with friends, when as soon as you got back, he wanted a fashion show, so you did, showing off your new favorite bra, which soon became his new favorite as he tore it off.

The bra laid there in his bedroom floor for 2 months, before he shoved it into his dresser.

Every thought you had was of him, every thought you have, is of him.

You lost every piece of yourself to a boy who refused to grow up.

And you let him drag you down with him.

[wzrd-wheezes]

sirius black has pretty hands, especially those long fingers he adorns with rings, one wonders how they would feel like stretching them out with them-

in which sirius catches reader zoning out while staring at his fingers then shows her what other type of magic they can do 🤭🤭

Pretty Hands - Sirius Black x Reader

AN - thank you so much for requesting. I'm SUCH a slut for a man with nice hands lmao.

764 words

warning: smut under the cut

Sirius’s bedroom was basked in a soft glow. He wasn’t one for having the overhead light on, much preferring the intimate warmth of a small lamp and a few candles dotted around. His guitar was cradled in his arms, his back hunched slightly as he leaned over it, fingers moving deftly across the strings. Every couple of minutes, he would glance up, blow his hair out of his eyes and scribble something in the notebook that lay open in front of him.  

Just opposite from where he was sat, Y/N was sprawled out on his bed. Though a book rested in her hands, she had long abandoned its pages, instead watching in awe as Sirius plucked at the strings of the guitar.  

His hands were slender yet strong, his fingers long and nimble, each movement deliberate and purposeful. The rings that adorned them caught the low light, casting delicate reflections that danced across the wood of the instrument. Y/N sunk her teeth into her bottom lip as she watched. 

Sirius’s finger faltered momentarily on the strings as he felt her gaze on him. He glanced up, his eyes meeting hers with a knowing look.  

“Enjoying the show?” he quipped, smirk evident in his voice. 

“Something like that.”  

He set the guitar down on its stand and made his way over to the bed. His armed caged either side of her head as he climbed on top of her, propping himself up.  

“Can practically see all those thought whizzing around that pretty head of yours.” he murmured, kissing up her neck, “Care to share them with me?” 

“You have pretty hands.” she said softly, leaning upwards to catch his lips with hers. 

“Oh yeah?” he smiled cheekily, sitting up straighter, and dragging his fingers down her torso. 

“Yeah.” Y/N replied breathlessly, suddenly feeling flustered as Sirius kissed his way down her stomach and settled between her legs. With ease, he slipped her trousers down, dropping them in a pile at the bottom of the bed.  

He grabbed Y/N’s hands and put them above her head, removing the rings from his fingers and sliding them onto hers.   

“Look after these for me, will you?” 

Y/N didn’t get time to respond as Sirius was already buried between her legs, drawing a gasp from her as he slid his fingers inside of her. 

“This what you were thinking about, baby?” he asked, cocking his head as he pressed his fingers up inside of her. Y/N nodded frantically, her mouth falling open. 

“Hm?” he pressed, “Answer me properly.” 

“Y-yeah.” she let out a ragged breath, “Was thinking about having them inside of me.” 

Sirius smiled cockily, withdrawing his fingers momentarily causing the girl to whine and buck her hips up at him.  

“Needy girl.” he tutted, tapping his fingers against her clit, “Been waiting all night for this, haven’t you?” 

He slipped back inside and she groaned, grinding down onto his fingers. His thumb circled her clit as he slipped another in, stretching her open.  

“Take me so well, don’t you?” 

Sirius enjoyed teasing her, he loved making her breathless and needy and then asking her questions knowing full well that she couldn’t form the words to respond. He found joy in the way that she would stumble over her words as she would try to reply to him, her voice becoming whiny and frustrated as he would increase the pace of his fingers every time she spoke, her words being rendered useless every time. 

“Are you getting close, gorgeous?” he taunted, once again, removing his fingers. They were slick with her wetness and he slipped on into his mouth, “Why don’t you ask me nicely if you can come?” 

“Please, Sirius.” she whispered, “Please can I-” 

A moan fell from her lips as he thrust back inside of her, smiling at the way her face screwed up in pleasure. 

“Try again, you can do it.” 

“Please, Sirius, please let me-” 

Another firm press of his fingers had cut her off again as she threw her head back against the pillow, her eyes squeezed shut. 

“Aw, you were so close that time, baby.” his voice was laced with condescension, “C’mon, ask me again.” 

“Please can I come?” she panted. Her brows were furrowed, her lips red and bitten as she looked down at him with glassy eyes.  

Sirius nodded and she clenched around his fingers, finally coming undone. Her hips jutted upwards frantically, her mouth hanging open as she let out a shaky breath. 

“Atta girl.” he grinned, “Wasn’t so hard after all, was it?”