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janumun · 13 days

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A Practical Demonstration (LaDS Sylus - NSFW)

Rated: NSFW/18+ Words: 9.8k Pairing: Sylus/Reader

Tags: size difference, oral and vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, mild mentions of stalking (not Sylus or Mephisto for once LOL), inexperienced (NOT virgin) reader, edging, drinking, [im]proper use of evol, explicit sexual content

Summary: When you end up disclosing a mortifying truth to Sylus about your dating life, deep in a drinking session; drowning yourself within a bottle — or three — of alcohol until you black out is the only option left to you to avoid that sharp, intuitive gaze for the rest of the night.

That is, until Sylus throws a counter offer your way, one that sounds far too tempting to your scrabbled brain. Being the brilliant voice of reason you are tonight, you accept.

[A fic where Sylus shows you exactly how good sex with a perceptive partner feels like when you confess your less than optimal dating experience.]

Author’s Notes: Truly clown moment when I believed this fic would not exceed more than 4k words and yet again, here I am sitting on an almost 10k monster. I love what being horny for these men has done for my inspiration. Thank you so much to @chibamari for providing the prompt that birthed this fic. Already working on a religious desecration imagery angsty sex fic with Xavier and Queen MC, based on his first myth, as we speak.

The lingering remnants of your foiled meeting are muted with the press of rouged lips against the cusp of your cool glass, the liquor within, sliding easy down your throat with your fervent swallow.

Placing it back down with a defeated sigh, you lean your arm against the counter, cradling your warming cheek against the crook of your palm.

You never should’ve let Tara talk you into an impromptu date with a mutual acquaintance she’d considered ‘the perfect match’ for you; her giddy excitement and enthusiasm to get you a date had been too difficult to turn down. You cursed yourself underneath your breath at your inability to say no to those big, wide eyes and cheery smile; exactly the components that had saddled you deep into the disaster you’d considered that date to be — if it could be called as such.

You’d excused yourself half-way through the man’s self-absorbed prattling — ruining the taste of the expensive steak in front, one you’d been wanting to try for ages — on excuse of an urgent mission coming up.

A hand tucking your phone close to your ear, to reinforce your hasty lie while the other had slipped your card to your assigned waiter, making hasty work of settling your end of the bill. You’d swept up your coat and purse, striding out the lavish restaurant on swift-heeled steps before your sputtering date could so much as lift a hand in protest.

Which is what had now landed you firmly in your current predicament, within the confines of a cosy, well-known bar, not too far from where you’d started.

Nursing a budding headache within the bitter notes of alcohol, to help ease at long fraught nerves. In between the ever-looming threat of Wanderers and the obstructive wrench thrown into your investigation into the Ever group, along with how busy work usually kept you, you were exhausted, suffice to say. The insignificant man tonight had just been the icing on this long-ruined cake.

Tara’s suggestion; to put yourself out more and ‘let loose’ for a bit, had ended in mild regret in going along with it, in the first place.

It had been far too long since you’d been in a relationship — let alone enjoyed a date with a man; your professional obligations kept you busy, coupled along with an extremely low desire to invest yourself into the dating pool, to wade and weed through to one that matched your wavelength.

A flash of an alluring garnet gaze sparks through your mind’s eye in passing, at the thought, one you physically shake yourself out of.

Now there was a man entirely on the spectrum opposite to your frequency. Your inability to resonate with him had only been just one of many failures toward mutual understanding.

“Another one for you, Miss?” The bartender inquires; you’re nodding before you can think it through.

“Yes, thank—”

“She’ll have a mojito instead. The usual for me.” A deep, rich voice drifts at your back — before it scotches down, involuntarily and low into your belly — just as the large hand you feel slip across your shoulder in greeting. You close your eyes against the intrusion, hoping the hazy apparitions of your mind would gift you a damn break just once tonight; as if having had him conjured out of mere musings. You shudder.

The alluring man at your side does not dissipate as you’d direly wished, seating himself down onto the stool next to yours, completely at leisure at having snuck into your space, unannounced once more. You hated how infuriatingly easy the Onychinus head found himself able to pervade your every space, along with each of your thoughts — the latter of which you did not wish to dissect apart tonight. Or, ever, if you had the choice.

“What are you thinking of, with such a severe frown on your face?” He speaks, as if he does not know the exact reason for your irritation. “You’ll put a permanent knot in there if you don’t stop.”

You choose to ignore him in lieu of offering a resigned nod to the bartender for the order Sylus had placed on your behalf. You could use a less inebriating drink now, especially so if you were to deal with the man beside you.

“What’re you doing here, Sylus?” You sigh against the dredges of your last drink, letting the bitter liquid warm your throat.

“Has the alcohol numbed your memory as well, sweetheart? We had an appointment, did we not?” Your respective orders are deposited in front, just as he moves to take the drink in between long, tapered digits, bringing it up to his mouth for a taste.

The slow drag of his Adam’s apple against his throat as he drinks, tugs your gaze towards it — an involuntarily reflex you aren’t able to control. Sylus’ scarlet gaze canting sideways to capture yours is what finally has you wrenching away from the delectable sight, cursing your fast settling inebriation for the mis-step.

He was an attractive man, your mind had long made begrudging peace with the fact, even if you’d both started off on an extremely wrong — horrid, actually — foot. And he’d proven himself to be a reliable companion, when the two of you had caused waves within N109’s criminal hub, in a quest for the Aether Core. His side of the bargain he’d kept, in exchange for your deal to forge a steady resonation with him. One you had no thoughts of reneging on, you’d keep your promise to him for the massive aid he’d provided. And yet, you could not help bemoan the fact that this very man confounded you, to your very core, to the point you weren’t sure what to make of his intentions. And yours.

But surely, you weren’t this physically deprived that Sylus of all people was beginning to sprout this visceral a reaction from you?

“And I texted you I couldn’t make it tonight, sweetheart.” You quip, pinching your forehead in between thumb and index. “This really isn’t the time, Sylus.”

He raises a careful brow at you, and God help you, even that gesture is incredibly beguiling to your slushed brain.

“And you couldn’t make it because” he prompts, tapered digits drumming against the marbled countertop. “you wished to spend your time out here, dressed to the nines, in a party of one?”

“So what if I wanted to?” All your prickly response earns you is a discerning gaze, zoned in on you. You exhale hard through your nose, shoulders steeling to utter your next words. “Oh alright, I had a blind date tonight.” You’re not sure why exactly you’re divulging something this private to the man.

The way his brows shoots in simmering surprise before they bunch in at his forehead in a frown is almost comical, you would’ve snorted at the expression he’s pulling if not for his next words. “So that’s what had that imbecile out there on your trail, lingering at the door for.” He scoffs. “You may not have enjoyed your date but you certainly got yourself a love-struck fool nipping at your heels, kitten.”

“Wait, what?” Bewilderment wars cold within your mind at the disgusting revelation of the man tonight having possibly followed you and Sylus having caught him dead in the act. “What did you do to him?”

“It’s fascinating how your first assumption is that I did anything to him.” His pleasant chuckle curls within your ears; a low, throaty burr. And when you give him one of your own looks, “Alright, don’t look at me so. Mephisto presumed you had a far dangerous stalker on hand than that sorry bastard, when he saw him lurking about you.” He swirls his glass of whiskey in between casual fingers. “I gave him some cordial talking to and sent him on his merry way.”

A million queries hurtle within your mind — what did his “cordial talking to” ensue exactly? Why had Mephisto been trailing you? Why did Sylus feel the need to step in and personally take care of your potential stalker?

You reach to take a swig of your own glass, feeling that headache pinching once more at your brow. “I don’t appreciate you having your silly crow keep tabs on me, Sylus. But,” Reluctant gratitude stirs at the tip of your tongue as your mind slowly processes the situation at hand. If it hadn’t been for Sylus’ interfering ways, you might’ve been saddled with a problem far worse than the infuriatingly suave Onychinus leader on your hands tonight. “Thank you for taking care of that creep for me, I guess. I appreciate it?”

You think you catch the strains of barely there surprise within his gaze, along with an amalgamation of emotions you aren’t able to parse before they’re shuttered out of sight. Replaced with a cool smile, he angles at you. “The alcohol has you honest for a change, kitten. I can’t say I dislike it.”

That infuriating remark has you almost wanting to take back your thanks, almost.

“Your engagement for the night has scurried off home with his tail in between his legs, leaving you to your celebration of one.” His touch is a flitting, warm caress against the shell of your ear as he folds a stray lock of hair back in place. “Are you going to say why you’re out here by your lonesome yet, furiously downing liquor, instead of back in the safety of your house?”

A gibe sits sharp across your tongue at his probing, wanting to tell him to back off and out of your business, he had no reason to be asking whether you chose to go out on a date or throw yourself a self-wallowing party, to let loose for one damn night. You weren’t even sure why Sylus pricked at your nerves the way he did — riling you up in the manner he did. Each single touch, every look fraught with meaning. He did and went as he pleased, without a care for what people made of him; self-assured as if the world itself, he held, in between those devious fingers. And he probably did too, his reputation one of absolute power within N109 Zone and without.

That very same man — the one who’d told you he’d make full use of you, as you did him — perched atop a bar stool by your side, asking you a question that seemed devoid of his usual ribbing. And perhaps, it’s because of that one sole thought that you find your mouth moving — or simply, because the alcohol has sniped your inhibitions. “Tara’s been on my case lately, insisting I need to get laid to blow off some stress.”

“Oh? That hunter girl with the bob, the very eager one.” Sylus looks immensely amused; your mind sifts through memories to recall how exactly Sylus knew her before it clicks: ah, the company retreat you’d stumbled into Sylus a few weeks back at. How could you ever forget? The day had been a nightmare.

“The very one,” you blink. “Hence the failed date tonight and my immeasurable disappointment.”

“Why? Were you planning on sleeping with that loser?”

You shake your head at him, horrified at the mere thought. “No, it actually went as well as I was expecting it to. Bad, that is.” You take another enthusiastic swig of your drink, a modicum of clarity returning to your stuffed head. “The sorry state of the dating pool at large, for a hunter with limited time on her hands isn’t exactly stellar. Even less so for men who know what they’re doing. And my luck in that regard seems particularly disastrous.”

In hindsight, you knew you were word vomiting your thoughts out at this point, with way too much candour than was appropriate for the situation, you’d regret it tomorrow perhaps — no, most definitely. But at the moment, underneath the glazed pleasant bubble of alcohol loosening your tongue and the enticement of an extremely alluring man, who had his entire attention focused upon you, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

He huffs an amused half-laugh. “What sort of men have you been with exactly, kitten?”

“Not that many.” You retort. “...Two and both during my schooling years, very briefly. I was a giddy teen, excited at the prospect of a loving boyfriend. Both their expectations from the relationship were obvious from a mile away, though.” You scrub a hand through the carefully primmed fall of your hair, not caring for the accessories you knocked askew. “God, I don’t think they even knew what to do with a woman, outside of getting their dicks wet.” You laugh at your own odd joke, tumbling within your brain.

“It’s actually crazy how I’ve never had a man make me properly come in all my years—” Your words die within your throat at the realization of your horrifying admission.

Surely, you’d thought them within your own mind and not just blurted your entire sob fest onto the man in front? A wretched sound of dismay leaves your throat at the inscrutable look upon Sylus’ face, shredding apart any sliver of hope you’d had that you had only been musing in thoughts.

Gods, Tara was right, your idiotic self did need to get laid, you’d gone mad at long last. And made of yourself, a fool in front of the man you were begrudgingly attracted to. There was no coming out of this and you woed the fact that you’d even let yourself drink in the first place.

“It does seem like your dating life has been rather disastrous up to this point.” Sylus responds, at last, insouciantly plucking his glass of whiskey off the counter for a swig, so at counterpoint to your rioting emotions.

“Sylus.”

“What is it?”

You reach over, a hand securing about his broad shoulder, as you tip precariously close into the man’s space, plucking the glass straight out of his hands.

“Hey—” Before darting back as far as you’re able, a feat Sylus did not think a woman even half-drunk was capable of.

Taking a large gulp of the acridly strong liquor down your gullet, in a prayer to knock yourself out like you’d originally intended to before Sylus had walked in all over your small parade. Anything to blot your memory of the knowledge of your mortifying words to Sylus. But curling vines of red and obsidian are cleaving through your plans just as swift, one sliding about your waist to prevent your precipitous tilt upon the narrow stool while the other plucks the liquor clean out of your hands after a single pitiful swig.

The swirls of misted red disappear just as furtively swift as they’d appeared once they have you righted upon the stool and out of harm’s way.

A low sigh rings heavy above your head at your absurdity. “That’s enough. We’re leaving.”

Affording you no room for feeble protests as he slips a cool palm around yours; long, thick fingers reassuring in between your own before he tows you away from the glittering inebriation of night life.

Clarity from the merciful remnants of your intoxication is unwelcome tonight — like cool gunmetal pressed fast against your temple, siphoning the entirety of the alcoholic flush from your system. Having utterly failed at your attempts at getting hammered so you would’ve had at least an excuse to fake post drunken amnesia in the face of your shame tomorrow.

Instead, here you were, deep within Zone N109 once more, incarcerated to the room Sylus had appointed temporarily as yours during your first visit to the place. One that had over time, turned into your housing and personal space, indefinitely, for whenever you happened to drop by on business with the Onychinus head. On business, you firmly reminded yourself. Even as the significance of the fact that Sylus had thought it fit to make space for you within his very own — his home — was not lost on you.

You remembered trying to sweep a kick to the back of his shins, back at the bar, for having you bodily dragged out into the sobering night air and towards where his car awaited, parked by the curb.

“Let go of me, you big brute.” Those vexing vines of red had curled about your leg mid-motion, tugging you up sharply before your world upended and you’d been tossed unceremoniously like a sodden sack of rice onto the broad expanse of one of his shoulders. You’d dug your nails into his back in punishing protest at his audacity.

Earning yourself a derisive snort for your efforts. “Continue pawing at me like that and I’ll have you trussed next, kitten.”

Your mouth had curled into a silent snarl, thumping futile fists against his solid back. “Try me.”

“Don’t think I won’t.” He’d warned mildly before he’d continued on his merry way, wide stride that had barely faltered with your struggles.

You sigh in defeat, scrubbing your palms down your face in recollection of the memory — your reflexive annoyance at his actions stemming more from your own mortifying situation than any real anger at him.

He’d brought you back to his place, closer from where the bar was located, instead of back home, where the two of you risked running into any of your acquaintances, Xavier for one.

And you couldn’t afford to let the people around you know of the Onychinus head — Sylus understood that instinctually, even if you did not speak of it. Content though he seemed to perpetually keep you in a state of life-threatening heart palpitations with his goading ways; absently recalling how Sylus had been Tara’s first man of choice for her date plan, owing to how he’d found it fit to barge in on their last team retreat.

Shaking your head, you press a hand against your forehead as you move to wipe your body clean, having opted for one of the more comfortable outfits to change into for the night, you’d brought over from your place to his during one of your earlier visits — amusement sparking at you to witness how Sylus had thought it fit to buy you a couple new dresses, to add to your sparse collection, hanging within your wardrobe. As if you two were something more than acquaintances and professional partners.

Your mind really seemed to have free reign over mad thoughts tonight.

A knock resounds through the quiet of the room, effectively piercing your thoughts. “Are you done yet?” His familiar, welcome burr sounds from the other side of the door.

“I am. Come on in.” The handle glides open, revealing Sylus standing in the doorway, having swiped his outerwear for a casual dark red button down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal the firm strength of his forearms; a sight you aren’t able to tear your ogling from, as he steps into the room. He closes the distance in between you in three easy strides. Crowding you within a room that feels too small and sweltering all of a sudden.

“Feeling any better now?” His voice wrenches your gaze away from the sliver of skin revealed beneath the top two buttons of his shirt unfastened.

You sigh, cursing at licentious thoughts. This man, in his incinerating, sensual entirety, frustrated you to no end. “I am, Sylus. Thank you.”

“Good.” He hums. “Because you should stay awhile, a day or two at least.”

“What? Why?”

“I have to make sure that weasel you had tagged to you tonight doesn’t try getting too smart. Mephisto caught him lingering close to your streets after the whelp bolted following his wretched stalking attempt.”

The revelation has nausea stirring at your gut; what had you gotten yourself into with that despicable creep? You were going to throttle Tara the next time you saw her.

You sigh. “While that is disturbing behaviour and I’m grateful for the concern but I think I could’ve handled that idiot fine on my own.”

A frown belts at his brow. “He’s a colleague from work, isn’t he? Despite his absolute spinelessness, that weasel is a trained Hunter with an authorized weapon on hand.”

You raise a questioning brow at him, half inquisitive how exactly he knew your date happened to be a work acquaintance. Barely a few hours spent on his radar and the sorry fool already had all his information scraped and into the Onychinus head’s clutches. You did not envy his position, at the moment, massive creep though he was, having stood witness to how Sylus wiped his enemies clean out of existence.

“Sure you’re capable, sweetheart, and your weasel is an idiot but do you want to be vigilant, glancing over your shoulder for a stalker, round the clock?” He pitches his head, waiting for your answer.

His words give you pause, his reasoning not entirely without weightage. You mutter a quick curse underneath your breath, frustrated at how terribly disastrous tonight had turned out to be.

Sylus’ smile quirks, taking your expletives for the affirmation they are. “And besides,” his hand shifts against your cheek, skimming a thumb down the curve of it, “you did enthusiastically mention your hazardous luck with dates. Might as well take care of this one before the vermin starts to fester.”

A skitter of irked embarrassment bruises at your ego. “Are you making fun of me right now?”

“Not in the slightest.” His thumb has switched towards your bottom lip, trekking a ghosting path across the swell of it. A different kind of emotion spurts within your chest along with the simmering annoyance, at his testing touch. “On the contrary, I was going to make an offer, one of mutual benefit.” His voice skims an octave lower and scotches deeper into your belly. “What do you say? Would you like to hear it?”

His searing touch drifts down your chin, sweeping against your jaw. You’re unsure of the mesh of emotions that are surging through you at his evocative touch; indignation, surprise, reluctance... desire. You can barely focus on the words issuing from his mouth.

“Well?” He prompts. “I don’t recall taping your mouth shut, sweetie.” His thumb returns to caress a path across your parted lips as if to make a point; a hushed throaty laugh leaving him at the hitch of breath that action elicits. He knows what he’s doing to you and he’s rousing you on purpose; the absolute scoundrel.

“What’re you trying to say? Speak clearly, Sylus.” Your tongue darts forth to lap a quick path across the bottom of your lip; Sylus’ gaze rolling down your face to settle at your mouth when you do, a sudden simmer of heat flaring within blood-red. “I despise riddles.” Another deep chuckle issues from his mouth, one that stirs into your belly without permission, much like the man himself.

“What was it that you said earlier?” The tip of his thumb edges just past your lips. “Ah yes... you’ve never had a man make you come.”

You flush at the recollection, cursing yourself for the umpteenth time tonight. You’d made a terrible mistake and you swore you’d never drink again, if it meant Sylus would just fucking drop it. Or you would, and the ground would swallow you whole. You’d confided a mortifying secret within a man who confounded you to no end.

“So what?” A challenging grimace drags at your face, just as you sink a bite into his invading digit, hard. He does not so much as even flinch, his smile tugging wider instead.

“What a spirited kitten I’ve lured into my hands.” He muses. “I like the face you’re making right now.”

His eyes crinkle in at the corners, a mild thread of tenderness you think you catch streak through the simmering heat of his garnet gaze. It makes you want to turn away from the look, not wanting him to scrabble your heart any more than he has.

“No,” A tapered index and thumb curve about your chin, firmly tempting your gaze back to him. “Don’t look away, keep your eyes on me.”

And for that one instant, you listen. “My proposition is earnest, sweetie. Despite what your consensus may be, I’m quite fond of you, more so than you think.” Your breath snags in your throat at the admission; you’d be blind to not catch the clear insinuation in his words.

His mouth skews into a smile. “Would you be averse to the idea of me showing you how it’s done?” He swipes at the swell of your bottom lip, his voice several octaves lower. Yes?” A sensual caress in the opposing direction. “No?” Your eyes flitter in hooded desire at the allure of his rich voice, scotching low into your belly to pool in between your clenched legs.

You take a moment to inhale, slow, processing his words. Reaching a hand out to trace careful fingers against the strength of his jaw. “Do you realize the weight of what you’re implying, Sylus?” An inane question by all means. You’ve never known a man more self-assured in what he desires; you admit it’s rather arousing.

“Oh, I do.” The distracting curve of his smirk pulls wider. “But do you, sweetheart?”

Your fingers leave his face to drift across the open collar of his shirt, pulling him close. “You’ve been lodged in my mind for a long time.” You allow him a moment of that infuriating self-pleased smile. “Even without that pesky Evol of yours invading my skull.” Before you’re fisting his collar to rise on the tips of your toes to press your lips hard against that irksome, delicious mouth.

Sylus’ hands curve about the give of your waist, fitting you firmer against the hard planes of him, without hesitance. He allows you free reign for a while before he chases your retreating mouth with his own, not sparing a moment of reprieve for the hungering breath you try and draw back into your lungs. His tongue slipping past your lips instead, granting you a taste and breath of what he alone affords you in that moment.

Your hand flies to grip about the base of his neck, appreciating the firm musculature of his upper back that flexes beneath your touch when he moves to snare an arm about your waist. Fingers sinking harsh into your hip as he grinds you impossibly close to his body, siphoning the rest of your breath from your lungs.

You’re near dizzy with the way his tongue licks into your mouth, tip teasing its way across the roof before it withdraws to slick a path against your wet bottom lip. You insist your grip harder against the back of his neck, dragging him back to you in the swelling smile he presses against your damp sighs — the drench of them flaming across your chest to pool low into your belly and settle deep in between your legs.

Sylus lets out a low grunt against your skin — a sound that has your insides clenching in on desire — before his clutch upon the flare of your hip tightens, hand curving downwards about the swell of your ass before he lifts you up entirely on the strength of one firm muscled arm. The whimper you’re unable to tamp even against the aggression of his mouth, at his show of unrestrained desire.

“Hold on tight now, sweetie.” He murmurs, sultry, against your lips.

Sylus strides you both further into the room without breaking your kiss, the corded strength of his arm sturdy beneath your ass and you take that moment to appreciate what the position allows you access to, fully. Covetous fingers you run through the hair at the base of his neck to tug him into the kiss as you wish — his rewarding grunt in answer, warming your belly — against your mouth.

Rushing down the buttoned line of his shirt, making quick work of undoing more of his buttons. A hand you slip past the edges of his shirt once the cloth against his chest is no longer impeding you, caressing your fingers against the hard planes of his pectorals. Sylus’ chuckle reverberates deep within your mouth, your fingers flexing into his shoulder at the sound. “Someone’s eager.”

He stops at your bedside before he tosses you back onto the soft of your sheets. Not giving you the chance to even hoist yourself up on your arms before he’s towering over your body — crowded against his large frame.

Chest heaving from the earlier stretch of your kisses and how he’d hurled you back onto the bed, you press a halting hand against his torso, playing at the lower buttons you weren’t able to undo earlier. Making hasty work of your remaining task before your fingers slide in welcome against the defined warmth of his abdomen.

Your mouth parts in breathless wonder, eyes drinking him in voracious need, before they slip lower towards the straining length of his arousal through the placket of his pants — a sizeable bulge visible even through the pitch-black material. “Like you’re one to talk about being eager.” you quip, inquisitive digits dipping lower to ghost across the clothed length of him.

His breath deepens at the touch, a thick chuckle slipping past his lips. “Point taken.”

Your hand slips to curve against the swell of his cock above cloth, once more, feeling for the shape of him; larger than any you’ve had before, it sets a flitter of nervous anticipation into your chest. You want to see it, him.

Sylus cocks his head at your inquisitive touches but doesn’t move to stop when your fingers work at the confines of his pants, until his arousal is far prominent beneath the remaining layer of his briefs. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight — he truly is big. Rather intimidating, entirely exciting.

“Having fun?” He inquires, capturing your fingers in between long, tapered digits to bring them up to his mouth in a brushing kiss, a keen garnet gaze that refuses to relent from yours.

“Yes,” you answer honestly.

“That’s a good start.” He hums. “My turn.”

Red and obsidian spiral about the length of your body, toying at the straps of your camisole, the edges of it at your belly before they’re dragging the material up across your body, and with the reveal of skin, Sylus’ eyes follow; the serrated intensity of his heated gaze, enough to have you try to squeeze your legs together on instinct to relieve some of the overbearing burn in between them.

You can feel how mortifyingly wet you are, and yet in that moment, your mind cannot seem to muster shame.

His thick fingers trail next across the waistband of your shorts — vined red making quick work of the ribboned bindings of the silken material before Sylus’ thumbs hook on either side, to drag your shorts and panties, torturously slow, down the plush of your thighs in one go.

He’s hunching over to overshadow you entirely before you can make sense of it, face sinking close into the space in between your legs, hot gaze drinking in the sight of the thin strings of arousal that stretch from your pussy to your underwear before they bow and break into the sheets beneath. You watch him hum his approval, your head raised to observe the erotic picture he paints, in between your legs.

A moan scratches free of your throat, your head falling back in shuddered pleasure when Sylus does not waste a single moment in ruining you; the broad pressure of his tongue you feel against the length of your quivering cunt as he swipes up a taste for himself before withdrawing once more.

“Sylus.” You protest, fingers rushing to catch at his hair to pull.

His gravelly laughter is devious against the inside of your thigh — so close to where you want him. “That’s a beautiful sound you’re making there, kitten.” He blows a hot breath against your centre, your pussy spasming at that bare action. “Let’s see if you’ve got any more of those for me.”

“Sylus.” You try and let the irritation ring in your tone this time but all it sounds to your ears is a licentious plead.

“I hear you, sweetheart.” He pulses a kiss against your outer folds. “I made you a deal, didn’t I?” He wrests his now loose shirt off his body before his touch returns to you once more, this time without the barrier of clothes in between you both.

You're entirely vulnerable and naked underneath him, held to his mercies as his forearms flex about the pliance of your thighs as he hooks them about his broad shoulders. “You’re going to let me make good on my word tonight,” your legs spasm against his back — useless — as he keeps them held within steeled grips at your knees; large fingers sinking deep into the soft flesh. “and witness it too, with your entire body.”

You feel the corded, hard strength of the muscles of his back flexing beneath the heels of your feet as Sylus ducks closer to your slit to suck at the pleasured bead of your apex. Your hips fly up on instinct at that first brush of stimulation, a moan crippled free of your lips. His smug smile you feel buried against your pussy when it gushes further against the skewed stretch of those lips. “And you know I never renege on an agreement once made.”

Your thoughts blank entirely the next time that adroit tongue lands against your drenched folds, his mouth swallowing you up entirely as he works at your slick with all the practised propensity of a devil set to wrecking you within your sheets.

You’ve never had a man’s mouth down there before; you didn’t quite think it were possible to feel anything remotely close to what he was doing with your body at the moment.

Sparks of jolting pleasure thrum throughout the length of your body, you’re not even fully aware of how hard you buck against his mouth. How Sylus thwarts each unconscious attempt of escape by dragging your pussy back to his mouth each time you squirm from the overwhelming sensation.

His growl of pleasure is what drags part of your hazy attentions back to how white knuckled your grip is within his hair, tugging at the strands as if they were your sole lifeline to sanity. And you were beginning to suspect they were.

Sylus’ knuckles brush against your tightened clit, knocking a groan of pleasure out of your throat. “You’re so wet.” He hooks a thick, tapered index up into your walls, clenching at his filthy words. “That’s it, sweetheart, keep doing that for me.” His laughter is a deep, hoarse sound. “I’m going to take all you’ve got for me.”

He laps a path up against the junction of your thigh; a second finger teasing at the rim of your slit before it joins the first, in a slick easy slide.

“Sylus,” You’re no longer caring; to your sounds, to the fact you’re dripping enough you’ve wet the sheets beneath his thrusting fingers. “Oh God, don’t stop. O-oh. God.” Not caring for the slight twinge of heat that sparks with the roll of your head to catch Sylus watching your entire downfall from in between the space of your legs; fervid scarlet gaze fixated to yours, the bow of your mouth in a constant, pleasured O curve as moans of senseless appreciation and babbled curses tumble from it. Even as his tongue laps a languid path against your outer folds, at screeching odds to the deft fingers he works into you.

“Yes,” his growl is vehement, pleased. “Scream louder, no one’s going to hear you mewl down here, kitten. Let go.” The squelch of your arousal is loud within your ears, the pads of his terrifyingly nimble digits lighting up nerves against that one spongy spot deep within you that has stars wheeling within your wide gaze.

And just as you think this is how he’s going to end you — the pinnacle of pleasure — he betrays your expectations once more with the hot slide of his tongue back against your clit. You nearly sob at the stimulation, a silent scream clawing up your bruised throat at how close you feel to breaking.

“I-If you—” your words are garbled, hard to breathe. You're so, so close to a peak you’ve never fallen off of, in this manner before. “—I’m... hah, going to come.” Never had your own toys or hand or even another human, scrabbled your brains out this hard; a height so vehemently approaching, you’re afraid to fall.

Sylus seems to understand you even through your incoherent babbling, stretching you open on his fingers in harder thrusts. “Then do it. Come on my tongue, darling.” His mouth sucks the abused flesh of your clit deep into his mouth. A peak so in sight, you hurtle into it, your pussy spasming about his fingers, his mouth so hard, you’re near thrashing your limbs about the broad strength of his shoulders. Sylus creeps a hand beneath your ass, to lift your back and shove up deeper against his mouth as you sob out his name in senseless prayer.

“That’s it, you’re so hot like this, you know that, kitten?” His guttural words, muted within your pussy and lost through the white daze of your prolonged orgasmic haze. Sylus continues to lap at you until you’re tumbling into buzzing overstimulation; the heavy weight of him like iron fetters at your legs as you weakly push at his face, his steeled shoulders in whimpered protest.

“I— give me a break, Sylus.”

He affords you a modicum of mercy, glistening mouth and chin withdrawing to rise from between the confines of your legs to fix a skewed grin at you. And when you meet his gaze, he makes a deliberate, erotic show of sweeping the broad of his tongue, slow, feral, against the edge of his upper lip.

His fingers maintain their languid position still within your sensitive walls, each measured thrust has you shivering against the intrusion.

You cup a hand about his strong neck, dragging him down towards your mouth. His voice low, heated in between the taste of yourself he sweeps into your mouth. “Enjoying yourself?”

You secrete a hushed sound of approval against his exploring tongue. “I’ve never come this hard in my life,” you confess, breathless. “You’re crazy.”

“I’ll take that as an enthusiastic compliment.” Knocking that smug grin of his only wider. And then, a softer whisper settles against your wet mouth. “You’re so good for me, sweetie. You drive me insane.”

You withdraw from him to catch the simmering heat of his fervid desires and affection commingled within that scarlet gaze you’re so taken with. Sweeping a thumb at the clinging wetness of arousal, against the angle of his jaw, you marvel at the sensual sight he paints. “...I’m no different.” You meet his gaze, your honesty heavy on your tongue.

He chuckles at the confession, canting his head to catch the plush of your thumb against his teeth, worrying at the flesh as he laves it up into his mouth on an obscene suck.

The way he looks at you has arousal flushing anew within your cheeks; your insides clenching in on the fingers that languorously thrust into you, stretching you open. Lashes nearly trembling shut when his thumb traces a whispered touch against your clit before withdrawing, having your hips juddering up into his hand.

Restless digits quiver down the length of his sculpted torso, working at releasing him from the rest of his un-wanted clothing; cut, well-tailored pants you’d more than once found yourself admiring him in but at the moment, you couldn’t survive a second longer without uncovering the entirety of his captivating body to your gaze. Sylus gently pulls out of your pussy to help you along, thick fingers running along yours at his buckle to slide is smooth out its confines before his Evol curls about the belt to toss it easy, at the side of his bed. His pants and briefs follow soon after and you nearly choke at the sight of him revealed at last to your gaze.

Sylus’ cock is a devastating thing of beauty; thick and intimidating enough it has you salivating at the mere sight of it. You’ve never seen a man this big, blessed in both length and girth, it has your cunt clenching in on need at the sight of him. You wonder how he’d feel against your tongue if you tried taking him in, parched lips you wet with a swipe of tongue, parting at the thought.

“Like what you see?” His self-pleased words wrench you out of your self-imposed stupor until you see that smug grin painting his face too. Your fingers delicately curve about the girth of him in a gentle squeeze; has grin falling open in a low, breathy laugh of arousal.

Your fingers unable to wrap him up entirely within a fist, even as you stroke a slow, steady path up across his length. “You’re right,” you murmur in wanton desire. “I do like what I see.”

“Such an honest tongue.” he groans low, in pleasure at your languid ministrations. Hooking a thumb at your bottom lip to tease it into your mouth and onto the wet muscle.

“Honesty isn’t the only thing it can provide, you know.” You bait, in breathless, risqué whispers around the intrusion of his thumb in your mouth, sucking at him in imitation of what you truly desire from him.

Sylus hums a pleased sound, withdrawing his finger to sweep it across your swollen lips. “Later.” He silences your protests with the wet ingress of his digits back into your walls. “You’ll have me, you have my word. But right now...” Your broken moan mingles with the guttural sigh that tumbles from his lips to witness your face shatter in pleasure. “we’re here to see how good I can make you feel, aren’t we, kitten? So, lay back.” He eases the flat of his palm in between your breasts to push. “And watch how else I ruin you tonight.”

You moan at his filthy threat of a promise, hips rolling into the fingers he’s pressed into you, their rhythmic propulsions turning faster with each moment until he has your crest building once more.

“Sylus.” you gasp out, fingers spasming around the wrist buried in between your quaking legs.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” He draws down closer, body crowding yours against the sheets, the heat of his breath sultry against your sweat soaked skin. You feel the weight of his arousal ghost a searing path against your thigh and jump at the stimulation.

“You.” you plead. “I need you so stop teasing me now, Sylus. I’ll—”

His lips capture yours in an incendiary kiss, a violent clash of tongue, drinking your startled mewls up into his own as his fingers curl about the back of your head to hold steady underneath his assault. “You sure you’re ready for it?” He rolls his hips against yours once more in emphasis, making you shiver underneath the intimidating heat of his arousal.

“I am, I can take it.” you insist against his wet tongue. “And even if I can’t, you promised you’d show me how good it can get, didn’t you?” You shiver. “So quit edging me any longer and put it inside me.” Your back arches in need at a particularly adept press of his fingers. “Sylus.”

His answering groan at your fervent desires burns you higher, his soaked fingers dragging out of your clenching walls. “You really do know how to rile me up, don’t you, sweetheart?” Large hands settle about the swell of your hips as Sylus presses himself in between your legs. Letting the head of his cock, at long last, stroke at the wetness of your cunt, gathering moisture on to it. So close.

His hips undulate in languid pleasurable strokes in between the fall of your legs, and each time the flared head of his cock bumps up at the tight bead at your apex, your hips try and jump against the caged strength of his hands holding you down. Every single stroke — up, down — has your breaths turning laboured in need, each single time he brushes down close to your hole, you clench in on instinctual emptiness, wanting to pull him deeper into you.

“Some restraint, kitten. We don’t want you too overwhelmed too fast.” A low sound of disapproval soughs past his lips at your squirming. “Impatience is not a good look on a Hunter of your repute.”

Your mouth falls open on a silent groan; hooking a leg about the snatch of his waist, you try and urge him into you. Earning an amused, guttural laugh for your efforts. “You’ve had me plenty ready. You’re just baiting me at this point.”

“But you like me being this way, don’t you?” And God help you, if your brain wasn’t entirely mushed at what he’s done to you, you would’ve tried refute his observations with a lie of your own. But in this moment, you let him have his victory.

Sylus curves a palm about the crook of your leg, fingers ghosting the underside of sensitive skin, up, until his hold catches at your knee. Keeping you fixed firm down onto the bed with the other, while he rolls his hips against you once more. “Keep holding tight,” he taps at your knee hooked at his back one last time before his hand drifts to curl about the base of his cock, pressing more of your slick up against the bulbous head.

The first breach of him burns you open in pleasurable bliss, you hiss at the intrusion, back arching on instinctual chase of the man you’re so drunk on. Just the head in has you dizzy around him, grateful for the anchor of his large hand holding you grounded, at your hip.

More of his member pushes past your rim; Sylus’ grunt of pleasure breaking in the tight scrunch of his brow in concentration. A thumb flits about your pinched bottom lip, end to end, before he’s coaxing it open with a firmer press of the pad of his digit against it. “Breathe for me, sweetheart.” You don’t think your body is capable of drawing air in at all but you try and trudge past the closure of your throat, gulping in a few, needed breaths. “That’s it, yeah, take me in. Slowly now.”

It’s only when your body shudders underneath his with the ingress of almost his entire length settled into you do you realize the sheer, unyielding size of him inside, Sylus’ throaty groan of arousal, he bites into the sensitive skin of your wrist he’s had curled in between thick digits. Your cunt feels stretched impossibly wide around the shape of him, in a manner that has you whimpering on his next few testing strokes up into your walls. Sending him curling impossibly deep on each long, heavy thrust up into you until you feel him nudging, as if at the very ends of you.

Your head rolls in restless need across the down of your pillows, your fingers skittering up the length of his arms, sinking harsh into the taut muscles of his biceps. Angry crescents you’re sure you’re marking into the skin but all it seems to do to him is make him push into you with greater need, approval heavy in the fervid grunts that issue from his mouth.

One of his hands steals beneath your body to press in between your shoulder blades, guiding your body deeper against his as his hips piston into you. The wet squelch of your arousal heavy in the space, commingling with your damp, thick groans.

Sylus withdraws from your body on his next slide, nearly all the way out, before he pulses back, slick, without resistance; each time, your body taken by the pleasant shock of how fully he sheathes himself into you, the stretch sending you into a dizzying spiral of mounting need.

And despite it all — the hazy pleasure, his long, deep strokes into you — your ravenous body needs this man closer, a desire you aren’t able to word coherently.

Sylus’ diligent handling of you — although, a gesture appreciated — is not what you require of him in the moment. He’s your first in so, so long; desires shuttered in since forever, along with the intense need to be thoroughly loved over by this man; your need to have him fuck you without restraint, after a heart so long spent in warring against its yearning for him, overflowing off the cusp of your poor control. Manifesting in the fingers you rush about the angled cut of his hips to squeeze, your legs tightening their hold at the back of his waist to pull deeper inside.

Your eyes meet his in fevered haze; a slip of your tongue to drench parched lips, falling open to voice your desires before Sylus’ face crowds your vision. His mouth pulsing a quick kiss of violence against yours, it siphons your entire breath from your lungs at the aggressive curl of his tongue into you. “Alright,” he utters on a wet, hoarse whisper against your lips. No more questions, no more unsurety. “I’ll give you what you need.”

He’s gingerly worked himself into you up to the near base of him when large hands move to grip on either side of your abdomen, the pads of them pulsing into the pliance of your skin — heated scaffoldings of flesh. Heralding the slow, squelching withdrawal of his cock from your depths up to the tip. Until Sylus plunges back into you with a force vehement enough you see stars white the scape of your vision with the audible slap of hips meeting the back of your ass.

And it isn’t until he starts driving into you in that punishing pace, manoeuvring your body as if you were a mere doll meant to house his cock do you realize with primal joy that you love how he’s taking you. You’re delirious on the feeling of his cock ramming up into your walls — the massive stretch of him, each single inch of hot, unyielding flesh — hard enough he’s driving you up the sheets, your voice you do not realize is a shrill scream of pleasure.

Everything — you, him, your hot, clenching insides around him — is all too much, all of a sudden, you’re drowning in the ecstasy of the feeling of him overwhelming your senses.

And the man above, an unfettered beast; he folds you deeper into the mattress with the ardent swing of his hips, large hands gripping hard onto your waist as he guides your own weak thrusts back onto his cock with ferocious precision. Each single glide of the swollen head of his cock dragging him deliciously against that one spot inside that has you quivering apart around him. A deliberate assault of your sweet weakness. Truly, he knows your body as if he’d had you before several times already; the thought is as exhilarating as it is terrifying, having your pussy spasm around him on instinct, dragging a vicious growl out of him that has you whimpering at the sound.

The sweat slicked concentration and fervid arousal that knits at his powerful brows is addictive, the heated flush of pleasure and effortless exertion — all of him an erotic sight, meant to throttle you into finishing ruin. The violent tatters of your orgasm you feel crumpling within your belly, fast approaching.

You try and buck against his hips faster, pace paling in comparison to the near bestial propulsion of his cock into your depths. Sylus groans at a particularly harsh squeeze of your cunt; a hand leaving your waist to feather his knuckles against the drenched slide of sweat and tears at your cheeks you know are ruddy in desire. “You’re taking me so well, kitten, so deep inside that small body.” You might’ve offered a word of approval if your throat wasn’t so swollen from the breathless moans and ruinous pleas he’s knocking out of you instead. “You’re clamping so hard around my cock. Do you not want to let me go?” His large hand drifting against the lower stretch of your abdomen, before he presses the flat of his palm in deep, as if he could feel for the place his cock pounds up as if against your very womb, angling his hips to brush at the sensitive bundle of nerves at your apex and you nearly weep at the tight stimulation.

“C-Clo—” is all the words your battered throat can manage out before your head’s falling back against the pillows, tear-strained gaze blown wide with the unrelenting intensity of his pillage of your body.

But Sylus groans in approval, understanding of your broken prompts. “I’ve got you. Let that pretty pussy of yours weep more for me, sweetheart.”

You moan unabated at the filth that issues from his lips, your body immediately moving to obey his instruction in the spasm of your walls.

His hand slides against the length of your hooked leg to hoist it up and over a broad shoulder as his large frame arches over you, nearly folding you in half. The new angle driving each of his wild thrusts hard against your swollen clit. Your back nearly snapping with the force of its curve up towards him with your next shrill scream of his name. “What a perfect, perfect girl for me.”

You're no longer coherent, a garbled speech and cotton head your constant companions — only dimly aware of the muted sounds of wood striking against concrete walls as Sylus drives your body violently up against the headboard. The distant absence of pain you only realize is possible when your cheek curls sideways to sink against the simmering warmth of the red and obsidian mesh of his Evol, keeping your head pillowed against the strength of his thrusts.

His face descends towards you, a thick hand easing beneath sweat soaked locks to grip at your neck, holding firm for the ravenous mouth that plunders yours, choking your moans against his tongue. Your spit trails useless past swollen lips, Sylus’ tongue immediately following a broad path against your jaw, your chin to lick at the combined essence of sweat and spit. His guttural moan at the taste, sending you nearly into your orgasm, so close at hand, you’re spasming useless about the great length of him.

Long, tapered digits flex about the delicate expanse of your neck, coaxing your pleasure-drunk gaze up towards his. “The way you’re looking right now...” You catch the flex of his other arm at the corners of your vision as it slinks in between your bodies. “a man could get addicted, sweetie.” His thumb presses against the abused bead of your apex in that instant, knocking a scream free of your parched throat, body arching in the slick slide of your breasts pressed flush against the broad planes of his chest. Even that stimulation at your nipples is too much; the heat in between your legs tempered to an inferno.

The precise, perfect strikes of his cock into your walls, along with the insistent pinch and press of your clit in between adroit index and thumb has your crest rising. White hot heat undulates through your entire body. The merciless sting of a delicious bite you feel Sylus sink at your straining neck, right beneath your jaw, “Come for me now, sweetheart,” accompanying the hammering thrusts of his cock, his thumb at your bundle of nerves is what finally has you ripping apart on an orgasm so intense your gaze blanks entirely.

Jaw falling open on a shriek so unlike yours, you do not recognize the sound of your own battered voice until Sylus presses two thick digits into your slack mouth to toy at your wet tongue as if he could capture that sound for himself. “You’re so damn beautiful.” His pace unrelenting through the violence of your orgasm, stretching your own peak so long, spasming about the wet heat of him until Sylus’ hips too stutter as he finds his release into your welcoming depths.

Pulse after pulse of ejaculate so abundant, hot, it drives you into another release — or perhaps, you’d never even stopped coming — a pinnacle so high, your fall from it is prolonged, pleasurable. Your mouth sucking hard at his fingers, willing them to serve your anchor.

Sylus’ gaze meets yours from across the small pocket of space in between your faces, heated and stifled with your breaths. Scarlet eyes, simmering, pupils blown so wide in low settling arousal as the two of you breathe deep in unison. Several moments of reprieve, you allow your bodies as you come down from your highs.

A small part of you distantly realizes a single session with Sylus has effectively ruined you for life and you’re unsure if you’re bemoaning the fact or thrilling in delight at it. You think you just might be far more infatuated with this infuriating man than you’d initially thought and the notion of being this adoring of him mildly terrifies you. Just as the sliver of tenderness that threads through that garnet gaze as he pushes back sweat soaked strands from your face to study you. “You alright there, sweetie?”

You can’t deny it any longer. “Never been better.” you wheeze past a sore throat. And God help you, the grin that skews at his beautiful mouth at your answer has your heart refusing to settle into rest, even after your mind-numbing release.

“That good, was it?” You do not have the energy to refute him, settling for a light slap at his bicep.

His arms flex about your body before he rolls you both over. Releasing himself, slow, from your depths — you groan weakly at the muted stimulation before he hoists himself onto his arm.

You reach a hand forwards, curving it about his face, thumb sketching at the angle of his jaw. “Stay with me tonight.” you ask of him quietly.

Mild surprise flickers within blood-red garnet before it’s replaced by the tender quirk of a strong brow. “Didn’t plan on leaving, sweetheart.” He tips his head further into the crook of your palm, pulsing a quick kiss onto the skin. “Sleep tight, now. Your eyes are glazing over.”

And for that one moment, you listen, letting the warmth of his engulfing embrace shepherd you into dreams of scarlet eyes and amused smiles — the only ones you’ve been able to think about for a long time now.

End Notes: Tagging as requested: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @bitches4lifebro , @beebumbo , @hellinistical , @chocomii-chan

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM!

You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to chat or just squeal with me about hot characters, in general.

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nicoliine · 8 months

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About the times when Alastor touched you and when he expected you to do it back.

☆彡 How in the world does the radio demon, who doesn't really like physical contact, end up looking for any excuse to have his hands on you?

☆ Reader is g/n; no pronouns or y/n are used.

☆ Warnings: not really. Does a mental breakdown count as a warning? Alastor is a warning itself yk.

☆ English isn't my first language, so if there's any mistake I sorry-

You noticed that Alastor didn't like people's proximity when you first arrived at the hotel and he didn't even try to shake your hand. There, with your hand on the air, you stand waiting for his shake as you observe his ramblings about a whole different subject—not that you mind about all the weird souls that can be met in hell—watching him around the other hotel staff, you confirm it.

After a couple of days in the hotel and witnessing his power display, you made a mental note to not mess with him. That being said, you didn't really want to touch him.

You were a very touchy person, content to hug Pentious when you first saw him around in the morning or cuddle on the couch with Angel before he started to make a lewd comment about his job and you just ended up leaving him alone. Nifty seemed to enjoy being all over you, sitting on your shoulders while you were reading or just playing with your hair.

Another one who was happy about your touchy personality was Charlie, but she is just happy about everything.

☆◦•◦☆

It started a month from your arrival.

Alastor, being a self-proclaimed gentleman, didn't seem to be aware of your not touching Alastor rule, he started holding the door open for you then creating a shadow to lift up that heavy box that you needed to move, and you ended up—it was hard for you—just trying to move up your body away so you didn't end up too close to him, but he seemed to love your personal space so much.

One time, you were in the hallway, not really aware of your surroundings, until you felt an arm around your shoulders. When you heard his static voice, you froze on your steps, slowly turning your head to see him there, standing with that so-known smile of his. When he started to walk, still holding you, talking about that great idea for the hotel, you just couldn't pay so much attention. Your mind is running on thoughts about his proximity.

This wasn't the only time he ended up having you close to him; being honest, it seems to have a personal liking to your presence. You doubt he was like that before your arrival (as you already spoke with Charlie about it), but he could be found anywhere you were. If you ended up helping fix the balcony fence, he was there behind you—you're glad he's at least silent—or when you are in the bar just scrolling through your phone and he is watching you from the other side of the room, not wanting to be near your technology artifacts, is he just trying to drive you mad? Even though that look of his seems to be asking for something you don't know, you won't ask what it is. Just wait to see how it goes.

His touch soon became more frequent. You often end up with your own theory that it's something involuntary, like something he doesn't even notice by the way it feels, like deep in the end he just wants to be touched but don't know how to ask for it. But with that demon, nothing is sure; everything he does used to be planned. That's why you found yourself confused and don't want to test your luck.

When you are in the lobby in the middle of one of Charlie's activities and his arm ends up holding you by his side.

Or when he just kisses the back of your hand every time you first see him in the morning and every time he leaves, no exceptions, that confusing look of his is always there.

Just about that, your hands—he often takes your hands. While you are in the kitchen and waiting for the pasta on the stove, one of your hands is resting on the counter as you hold a recipe book, reading the next steps. He's by your side the whole time; one of his hands takes your free hand, making you pause your reading and look at him in surprise for the sudden action. He says nothing, and both of you are standing there in silence until you have to go back to cook. However, he doesn't seem to want to let you go yet because he will follow you as you move around the kitchen.

From them, it seems that everyone is aware of this weird Alastor thing.

Nobody talks about it though—you are surprised as they have stayed out of the subject, just making silent bets about the cause of this behavior of his—but you know it wouldn't take long for someone to talk about it.

☆◦•◦☆

The last time he put his hands on you, you were scared. So much has passed since the last time you felt this way. Anxious and terrified, everything around you was spinning; you had to run away from the hotel activities all day.

When Alastor found you in your room, you were a mess, all your stuff scattered around the room. You saw him from your seat in a corner on the other side of the room; the only candle in the nightstand seemed to be dead soon. He just stood there in front of you; you didn't even try to look up at him, just his shoes. You can tell so much about someone else by his shoes; his shoes seemed almost perfectly clean even after destroying his enemies. He's such a collected person that it scares you.

"Why, dear, would you look at me?" Alastor surely doesn't enjoy being ignored; you know that. You just couldn't find the strength to move when he spoke to you. It passed almost 5 minutes before you turned your head up, and he was so patient with you the whole time. "What is that troubling your mind, dear?"

You didn't respond right away; you're not sure how much time passed until you did it.

"It's just... everything." Your hands run around your face as you try not to have an attack right away in front of him. "I'm so scared, Alastor."

He just smiled; nothing was said; he didn't even try to touch your shoulder or hold you; he just smiled with that now so common smile of his, —you could swear it was the biggest smile you had seen on his face —one of his arms extended to you.

You have no idea why you did what you did; maybe he asked you directly, or you imagined it all, or his eyes showed what he wanted, or the candle in your room was one of Angel's drugs, or you just simply had a death wish. You don't know.

But you hugged him—just a hug—so hard that you could break his bones. When you took conscience about what you were doing, you tried to back down, not knowing how he could react to your contact.

But he didn't let you; his arm took you by the waist, and his staff was forgotten on the ground when he held your head against his shoulder.

You now understand why he always touched you. While you hands grabbed fists of his coat, he held you so tight, like it wasn't enough, and you just needed to be closer to him forever; he didn't want anything else.

So he did, he didn't let you go for a single moment that night; even when you were in bed, he held your hand the whole time. He just let you go the next morning when Vaggie insisted he needed to go do his job, even so he wouldn't forget to kiss your hand before he left. The ghost of his touch accompanied you all the time; it was like your body grew so used to his presence and his touch that you could feel it as a part of you.

Touch Starved! Alastor folks!!! Alastor is such an interesting character to write! I want ro respect him so bad.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated 💞

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #istg this man smells like wood and coffee #nicolines

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depresseddepot · 1 year

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daydreamed about embroidery all day, played animal crossing, had a little peach beverage, and then finished tender is the flesh by agustina bazterrica. what whiplash

#i read it mostly bc i saw a lot of reviews abt it being fucked up but it was actually a very good book #absolutely suspend your disbelief bc its meant to be a reflection of society and not like. a bulletproof alternate reality #but the pacing felt sort of like someone grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you #i haven't decided if that was good or not but it was certainly very effective #no spoilers but the ending was. certainly something #the part with that guy in the interview and the very end were the only two parts that really made me feel ill #but i think that was more a result of the good writing over anything else #the main characters ''theory'' is a very heavy implication too #i read the book in two sittings and had a nightmare the first night so. here we go! lmao #anyway i made this post because i was surprised about how much i liked it #i do feel slightly sick to my stomach from the ending but frankly i read so much that anytime a book can evoke a physical reaction from me #(good or bad)#means that it was a good or at least successful book #anyway don't read this book if you have triggers because it has them all. also probably don't if you have a weak stomach

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joelsmochi · 7 months

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every man gets his wish - joel miller

rating: E 18+ pairing: neighbor!joel x f!pornstar!reader summary: joel discovers his next door neighbor makes porn in her spare time. once she's confronted, she finds out that he has an interest in helping create content ;) warnings: not proofread, no physical descriptions other than reader having an unidentified tattoo on her thigh and nice peach, unspecified age gap (ur choice pookie), [m] masturbation, objectively joel is a bit of a perv, some awkward dialogue, literal porn. literally, degradation (they get a lil rough), f + m oral, smacking/spanking, daddy kink (slight ddlg vibes too), pet names and plenty of dirty talk YUM wc: 3.2k a/n: happy valentine's day smut sluts :D!

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He almost couldn’t believe his eyes, but he’d recognize that tattoo anywhere; his gaze followed the tattoo on the back of your thigh as you rode your cute little excuse for a toy.

Your soft moans and breaths echoing through the speakers on his laptop made his legs tremble against the old desk chair in his room while he fucked his fist.

He didn’t even think twice about the video he clicked on. He just knew he was horny and in need of quick release, so he typed his favorite keywords into Pornhub’s search engine and clicked the sixth video that only showed your ass. He realized he never noticed how juicy it was, and the oil or lotion or lube or whatever you fucking used to make it so goddamn shiny only emphasized how perfect it was.

Staring at the screen, he grasped the armrest in one hand and cock in the other, watching your puffy pussy cream all over the dildo. He matched the strokes of his hand with the rhythm of you bouncing. Slowing down, speeding up, only fucking the tip or grinding—he reenacted every movement of yours as best he could.

Even waiting until you were shaking and shouting the words, “I’m cumming—fuck yes! Just like that baby,” before cumming with you.

He watched the last few minutes of the video, watching you slap the dildo on your creamy cunt and play with it a little more along with standing up off of your bed and jiggling your ass in your hands. You giggled softly watching yourself. Then, much to his surprise, you sat down in front of the camera and smiled.

He wasn’t expecting you to reveal your face, so when the video ended he looked out of his bedroom window into yours. You were lying on the bed reading a book in the very spot where you recorded that filthy video.

You weren’t trying to tease him, he knew that, but it certainly felt that way.

♡

Joel had successfully managed to evade you for a week feigning work has been keeping him too tired for company. He found himself a touch jealous that the world had seen you naked before him despite your relationship being completely platonic.

You owed him nothing, not even an explanation, but he still felt weirdly possessive over you. He had a slight crush on you when you first moved in, but you were so much younger than he was, and in his eyes you'd want nothing to do with such an old man like himself. Not to mention the 'crush' was mostly just a lingering desperation to fuck you.

The discovery led him to do a deep dive into your profile on the website. There he discovered what seemed like a plethora of your content along with your affinity for degradation whether it was to yourself or towards others.

However he felt like he could finally breathe when he saw it was all solo content. You didn't even seem to entertain the idea of fucking someone else and uploading it. He even felt a sliver of hope that he could be your first real fuck on camera, but if he already struggled with confronting his own feelings towards you then how could he ever open up the opportunity to doing a video with you?

Joel was finally over avoiding you. He was ready to admit his discovery to you and go from there. He just prayed you wouldn't freak out.

"Hi, Joel!" You greeted after opening your front door. "What's been goin' on cowboy, I've been a little lonely on this side of town."

He followed your actions and sat on your sofa; as instant as a heartbeat you noticed he was off. Nervous? Worry? Anger? You struggled to read him.

"Somethin' the matter?"

He pulled himself out of his daze and looked at you, mouth hanging open like he couldn't manage the words. They just sort of... Spilled out.

"I found your porn on PornHub the other day and I don't care that you sell porn. I really don't. You're a grown woman and it's your body and you can do whatever you want. I just felt wrong not tellin' you."

Poor Joel.

You wanted to laugh at him, tell him there was no guilt in finding it or even watching it (because let's face it, you know he did).

"Okay," you said.

"Okay..."

"...Did you like it?" You asked after feeling a little uneasy with the silence.

"Hell yeah," he responded without hesitation making you giggle.

"Really?" You tittered, "I feel like it gets old."

This was his golden opportunity. At the very least he could pass what he was about to say off as a joke.

"I could always help with that," he chuckled.

You were clearly taken aback by his statement but still smiling. "I'm don't like sharing my money, Joel," you scoffed.

"So don't pay me," he said just as he leaned in a little closer. "Just fuck me."

You couldn't fight the blush that rose to your cheeks and he cockily took notice of it.

"Are you fucking with me?" You bashfully asked.

This made him lean in closer, close enough for you to smell him, close enough to feel his breath cascading over your collarbones, close enough to know that the dark look in his eyes wasn't mischief. It was desire.

His hands cupped your jaw so that he could bring your nose to his. You felt beautifully trapped between his hands, gaze, and aura. Suddenly you were filled with the desire to let him take you in any way he wanted to imagine.

"You know what my favorite video is?" He whispered, breath hitting your lips. "You were on your side, getting ready to cum, and you kept saying I belong to you until you were screaming. Damn near crying. Your little fucktoy was soaked. You had cum everywhere. But the best part was when you did start to cum. You couldn't even look away from yourself, you looked too damn good and you fucking knew it."

"I'd look even better with you inside of me," you told him.

He sharply inhaled before placing his needy lips onto yours, pressing his face in as much as he could.

You moaned into his open mouth, reaching for his tongue with your own. His hands roamed down your body until they reached your hips; showing off his strength, he lifted you into his lap and stood up not wanting to waste another second.

He tried to be careful on the stairs but his eagarity caused him to misstep and almost drop you; he left no room for embarrassment and quickly returned to running up with you giggling at the mishap.

Joel placed you on the bed standing with his jean-covered erection eye level with you. "Where's your camera?"

"Really wanna record it, hmm?" You said softly, running your hand along his hard length and motioning your head to the dresser behind him.

He grabbed it, muttering, "Wanna show everyone you're mine now," whilst turning the camera on.

You cocked an eyebrow up as if to say oh really. "Is that so? I'm all yours now?"

Smiling, he pointed the now recording camera at you. He cupped your chin and dragged a finger over the bright smile you wore. "You're all mine now, darlin'."

You giggled coyly then kissed his clad erection slowly with eyes that remained on the lens.

"Quit teasin'," he demanded with a playful lilt.

You hummed and fake pouted, pulling your face away to toggle his jeans. "There are nicer ways to ask," you teased.

"I'm not askin'."

"Oh? My apologies, daddy."

Your hand began pumping his thick cock when you said that, making his cock jerk hard within your tight grip.

"Daddy, huh?" He entertained; you seductively nodded. "S'pretty right here..."

"Where I belong," you hummed.

Then, you lined your tongue up with the base of his cock, just barely teasing his balls, and licked a stripe up his girthy shaft before twirling your tongue around his red hot tip. You carefully watched as his face contorted, ensuring it was with pleasure and looking for any sensitive spots he may have.

He seemed to favor your tongue on his cockhead so that's what you prioritized for a minute. You tongue kissed it as if it were his mouth. Licking and sucking and pulling it into your mouth feverishly.

His cock tasted manly and the length was just as impressive as him. You finally pulled more of him into your mouth allowing him the privilege of feeling your gummy cheeks swell and close around his dick.

A strained groan left his throat and his head fell back in pleasure. You pushed some of him into your throat to gag, earning more spit to pump the rest of his length with.

Joel was enamoured to say the least. Your wide eyes locked with his letting him know you loved sucking his cock as much as he did. Spit hung from your chin prompting him to reangle the camera to get the side view of everything.

He placed a hand on the back of your head and gently fucked your throat. You moaned, grabbing his ass and pulling him in for more pain, more suffocation.

Your throat gagged over and over again, imitating the feeling of your swallowing his dick. You loved how he shamelessly moaned, filling your ears with the sexy sounds of his calloused whimpers and content praises.

"Such a good girl, sucking daddy's cock like that," he groaned. "You like the taste, don't you? Such a good little slut." He smacked your jaw as encouragement to keep doing whatever magic you were fucking performing.

Once your throat began to get sore you pulled your mouth off of him, still opting to use your hands as he laid you down and rested on top of you, giving you the sloppiest kiss you'd ever received and assisting you with undressing.

He tasted his cock on your lips and chin and slurped up whatever precum and spit you had leftover. It felt nasty and passionate, with subtle moans spilling from both of you, and Joel couldn't get enough of it.

"Sit on my face," he breathed.

"Sit on your face?"

"Mmhm."

You set the camera up on the dresser looking at the screen to ensure it would capture everything before complying with his wish. He let out a muffled moan as soon as your wet pussy came in contact with his wet mouth.

On the camera, everything could be seen: your cunt glistened effortlessly and his tongue lapped up whatever your body poured for him. His scruff tickling your freshly shaved skin made you giggle and moan, little noises everywhere that sung like a melody in his ears.

Your clit tingled with a pressure that encouraged you to started riding his face. In response Joel's calloused hands came up to grip your ass and assisted your movements.

He squeezed one cheek almost too hard before spanking it a few times, your flesh easily bruising red and stinging deliciously.

"Joel, your mouth... Perfect," you blabbered. You were filled with bliss: your eyes were closed, fingers twirling playfully in his messy hair.

God, he licked you so fucking good. So messy but that's what made it effortlessly perfect.

"I—oh my God. Fuck! I love your fucking mouth," you moaned loudly.

"Mhm?"

You shuddered at the vibrations, hips stuttering into his licks and sucks even deeper.

"Yes, Joel!" You cried, "Fuck you're gonna make me cum... You're gonna make me cum!"

He spanked your ass even more at this, making both cheeks turn a bashful color and jiggle against his jawline.

With trembling thighs you managed all of your strength to hump him harder and faster. Doing whatever you fucking could to reach your climax.

"Yesyesyesyesyesyes!" You happily cheered as your juices began to relentlessly pour out of your squelching cunt and down his chin.

A satisfied smile rose to your face as your clit throbbed through the orgasm Joel had just given you. You slowed down on your own time allowing him to savor every last drop he'd be tasting for now.

You carefully removed your weight from his face, feeling more out of breath than ever. Meanwhile Joel sat up and swiped up some of your come with his thumb just before forcing it into your mouth and using his other hand to pinch out some that managed to get inside of his nose.

You were a tad embarrassed by his action but his subtle grin let you know that there was nothing more sexy than getting you so wet that it literally almost suffocated him.

Your mouth latched into him, cherishing the scruff surrounding his face. He went to lay on top of you again, your head now hanging off of the foot of the bed; he held your legs to your chest and slid into you easily making you whine at the slight burn that came with being stretched out.

With furrowed brows and an agape mouth, he incandescently moaned into the thick air while his thick thumb found your sensitive clit. You flinched and exhaled harmoniously at the combination of pleasure, enriched in the ecstasy he gave.

"You're so fuckin' tight, babydoll. Agh—almost can't take it," he taunted. "M'gonna have to ruin ya."

He gently released the grip of your legs and put his weight onto you. His arms slithered beneath you, wrapping around you in a way that made you feel safe. Then he kissed you, much more softly than before and rolled his hips back and forth. Your slick walls gripped him, trying to suck him in deeper.

His lips pulled off of you with a pop and he licked a thick line from your clavicle to behind your ear as if he magically knew it was your sweet spot.

You giggled and shivered at the ticklish feeling, enduring it until it started to feel more sensual. He felt you relax within his touch and took it as opportunity to nibble the spot, biting it just enough to hurt a little bit.

Between his movements and your sweaty bodies sticking together you felt almost useless; you were used to doing the work, giving instead of taking. But it felt too good to stop now.

When you clawed at his back he pushed himself up and started slamming into you. You gasped, digging your nails into his arms.

"Love those pretty little sounds you're makin' f'me," he hummed, pushing his hand into your exposed neck and gripping it. "You like that? Hm? Ohh, you fucking love it. Look at you."

You raised a hand and smacked his cheek lightly—your way of saying fuck you considering his grasp of you. He reciprocated, landing a firm smack to your face and earning a smile in return.

"Fuckin' brat needs to be put in her place—"

You shook your head attempting to hum out a no.

The hand he had around your neck reached up to squish your cheeks so that he could come eye to eye with you. "God, fuck. I can't even punish you when you look at me with those pretty eyes," he said defeatedly. "Look at you, babydoll. You're so fuckin' tight. Best fuckin' pussy ever. So wet, just f'me."

"All yours, Joel. I'm all yours."

"Yeah?" He cooed. "You're all mine?"

"Fuck yes!"

"Cum for me, baby. Yeah, cum on my cock," he pleaded, "get it nice and wet for me darlin', need you to cum for me."

Between his scruff voice and brutal thrusts you found yourself falling into another orgasm, everything around you ceased to exist.

The world went quiet aside from Joel's encouragements and praises; you could feel the blood pumping throughout your body, your heart punching against your chest, and your body molding to the twists and curves of Joel's body.

As you squeezed and scratched and begged him for more more more you felt the tension between your legs dissolve passionately into a sear so strong you felt it warm and burning the flesh along your belly.

Joel watched your chest rise and fall with your tits bouncing to the rhythm of his thrusts. He rode you out until the very end of your high before picking you up and sitting on the edge of the bed with you straddling him.

Feeling even more horny and turned on than before you wasted no time and began bouncing on his painfully hard dick.

He was fighting his climax, needing to feel you wrapped around him as long as he could take.

"You feel so fucking good, daddy," you whined, "want your cum."

"You want me to cum inside you babydoll?" He pouted.

"Yes Joel. Want you to fill me up..."

"Gonna ruin that pretty pussy," he grunted, "gonna make you mine. This pussy belongs to me now, doesn't it?"

He listened to you whimper and weep and whine, coaxing you through it all while offering a few pops to your ass and thighs for encouragement.

You watched him lay down, arms folded behind his head to enjoy the little show you were putting on for him. Hair bouncing and flaying everywhere while you rode him with a bobbling head—the view from where he was looked pretty fucking perfect.

Your movements halted and you managed to turn around on his cock while keeping it inside; hearing a strained gurgly moan come from him as a result, you mercilessly began riding him again giving him the best view of your ass as it clapped against the peak of his belly.

"Good fuckin' slut," he slapped your tatted thigh and watched intently for a moment or two. "Good girl, mhmm. Doin' such a perfect job on daddy's cock."

Joel then sat up and reached for your clit, rubbing the sweetest little circles on it and using his free hand to turn your face to kiss him.

Reverse cowgirl had always been his favorite position, but he can't remember a time or even a moment where it felt this fucking good.

"You're gonna make me cum, baby," he whispered with his forehead leaning against yours. "Gonna make me fuckin' cum. Tha' what you want, baby? Want your daddy to fill this fuckin' pussy up?"

He gave your clit a mean smack but it only made you go faster.

"Need you to cum! Fucking—ohh! Cum for me, please daddy. Want you to f-fill me up!"

Joel began thrusting to meet you halfway, and his eyes stayed locked with yours as he muttered a string of profanities.

"Oh shit. Ohfuckohfuckohfuck. Fuck yes!"

He painted your pussy with his hot, sticky ropes of cum, moaning your name over and over with fluttering eyes and a tight grip on your hips. He thrusted a few more times before pulling out and meeting you with a few more soft kisses as a thank you.

You felt his cum slowly pouring out of your swollen cunt, trailing down his softening cock and on the sheets. You two stayed like that for a while, savoring the moment and taking your time.

A while later while he was cleaning up between your legs he said, "You better upload that video."

"You weren't joking?" You scoffed, wearing a smile.

"I wasn't joking," he said contently.

That night once he had fallen asleep in your bed, you decided to upload the full video uncut with the perfect title...

My DILF Neighbor Comes Over For A Creampie ♡

346K Views | 93% | 16 Hours Ago | ♡ 532

#pedro pascal #joel miller #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel tlou #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fandom

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flowersforbucky · 2 months

Text

moth to a flame

bucky barnes x reader / winter soldier x reader

"I know you. even when I know nothing else, even when I don't know myself, I know you."

summary: bucky is triggered into the winter soldier during a mission and then goes MIA, until he seeks you out in the middle of the night.

warnings/tags: SMUT, canon divergence (bucky hasn't been successfully deprogrammed in this), kind of dub-con, language, some violence, reader is afab, no use of y/n, 18+ only, friends with benefits situation, angst with a happy ending

word count: 4.9k

“You've reached Bucky. I can't answer the phone right now but leave me a mess–”

You hang up before the voicemail recording finishes. You already knew he wasn't going to answer, just as he hasn't answered any of the other thirty-something times you've dialed his number over the course of the last few days. Or read any of the two dozen text messages.

The messages had stopped delivering and the calls had started going straight to voicemail almost two days ago at this point. And yet you still got your hopes up every time you checked your phone, only to be met with gut-wrenching, nauseating disappointment.

It had now been three days of this - not to mention picking your cuticles until they bleed, flipping back and forth between every news station on your TV in hopes (and fear) of seeing his name, a few collective hours of sleep each night, and too much Red Bull.

Just when you were thinking about trying to kick your caffeine addiction, too.

Three days of feeling completely and utterly helpless.

You place the phone back down on your coffee table, staring down at the thick, white cast encasing your left leg from your foot to just under your knee.

Useless.

You knew you were doing what you physically could - the spread of laptops and tablets on the table in front of you continuously supplying data from facial recognition programs across the United States.

Realistically, you knew he could be on the other side of the world by now, but that didn't stop you from checking. It was the only thing that you felt you had any control over right now.

But it wasn't enough. Not when Steve, Sam, Natasha, Sharon, and every other currently able-bodied team member are out scouring every safehouse and known former HYDRA base in the tri-state area while you're holed up in your apartment with a fractured fibula and a brain that won't let you stop reliving the moments before he went missing.

“This is as straightforward as it gets,” Steve re-assures you both for what felt like the dozenth time that day. “You'll be in and out in no time.”

“So straight-forward that you're going to hang back here while we do all the dirty work?” You joke as you make the final adjustments to your parachute.

“We've been monitoring this base for months,” he reminds you. “This place is as abandoned as they come. Get in, get the intel from the database, and get back to the jet.”

“And then blow the place to smithereens,” Bucky adds with a devious grin.

“And then blow the place to smithereens,” Steve agrees.

If only things had been as simple as he had expected.

You had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach from the moment that you and Bucky landed on the ground outside of the HYDRA base. You told yourself that you were being irrational - but you couldn't shake the looming feeling that something was going to go wrong.

“See?” Bucky says after removing the USB drive from the computer. He sticks the device in the breast pocket of his tactical vest before edging you towards the desk. “Easy-peasy. You've been worried for nothing.”

“I have not been worried,” you deny, leaning against the edge of the desk. “This place is just old, and smelly, and creepy.”

Bucky takes a step closer to you so that there's no space left between you. He places his hands on the desk on either side of you, enclosing you.

“You think that I can't tell when you're nervous?” He says quietly, studying your face. You can smell a lingering hint of cool mint from his mouthwash. “That I haven't spent enough time learning your body to read you like an open book?”

Your thighs clench together and your nipples pebble at his words. You're almost embarrassed at how easily his voice, his scent, his closeness elicits a physical response from your body. Almost.

“What I think,” you murmur against his mouth. His hands come to grip your hips as he nudges your thighs open, standing between your legs. “Is you're crazy if you're thinking about trying to fuck me in an abandoned HYDRA warehouse.”

He exhales a dramatic sigh. “You can't blame me for trying.”

“I am relieved to know that you'd even want to do that here,” you say, hopping down from where you're perched on the desk. “I really think that shows you've processed your trauma–”

You're cut off by the room going completely dark. Every light, every computer, turns to black.

Bucky's flesh hand instinctively reaches to grab your wrist in the dark, tugging you to him.

“What the fuck,” he groans under his breath.

“We need to get out of–” you start to state the obvious but close your mouth when the computer that you and Bucky had retrieved the data from turns back on.

And then a computer to the right - and then across the room - and another to the right - and one to left - until every computer is on and showing the exact same screen. Bucky's hand grips yours so tightly that it borders on being painful.

Displayed on dozens of screens throughout the room is the face of a man. A man who you've never met, but recognize immediately.

“Zola,” Bucky whispers almost inaudibly.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Zola addresses him with a perverted smile. “Welcome home,” his voice pours from every computer speaker throughout the room and echoes off the walls.

“Steve?” You whisper urgently, clicking on the communication device hidden in your ear. “Steve, we've got a prob–”

“There's no use in that,” Zola interrupts you. “It's too late. They're almost here.”

The following sixty seconds were a jumbled blur that you were still trying to piece together in your mind.

You remember hearing the stream of words spoken in Russian.

Longing. Rusted. Seventeen.

You remember Bucky screaming at you to run, the sound of Steve's voice in your ear telling you that back-up was on the way and asking a dozen questions that you were too overwhelmed to respond to.

Daybreak. Furnace. Nine.

You remember begging Steve to hurry. You remember pleading with Bucky to come with you to try to get away; pleading with him to just look at you, just stay with you, help is coming -

Benign. Homecoming. One.

You remember the moment that Bucky went completely still as the room was infiltrated by HYDRA agents.

Freight car.

You knew that Bucky wasn't there anymore. You could sense it in his stance, in the way he wouldn't meet your eyes, in his silence.

Before you could say anything else to him, close to a dozen HYDRA agents came barreling towards you both. He charged through them, taking down one after the next with ease, until there were just a few left standing.

It was a side of Bucky you'd never seen. You thought that you had witnessed his strength, his agility, his determination, his ruthlessness working beside him in this field - but you then saw just how much he had been holding back.

He fled past the remaining few, out the door and down the hallway of the warehouse. The agents turned to follow him, forgetting about you - until you threw a knife directly into one's neck from behind.

Another agent shot at you, the blow hitting your bulletproof vest and sending you flying backwards onto hard cement.

Before you could catch your breath, there was a sharp cracking noise and a blinding pain radiating from your lower leg - but it was short lived.

The last thing you recall is the man's boot swinging towards your face.

You woke up some number of hours later, in a hospital bed with your temple throbbing and leg elevated in a cast.

“Hey,” a soft voice calls from your right. Natasha stands up from the singular chair in the room, both concern and relief evident across her features. “You're okay,” she begins to assure you. “You have a concussion and a fractured–”

“Where's Bucky?” You interrupt her, your voice scratchy. You clear your throat. “Is he okay? Did Steve find him? Did HYDRA get–”

“HYDRA didn't get him. Steve took care of the last of the agents after him,” she stops you from rambling. There's an immediate sense of relief wash over you.

“But we haven't found him yet,” she adds carefully. “Everyone is out searching for him now. You know we won't stop until–”

A gentle knock on your apartment door snaps you back to reality.

You freeze, your heart jumping to your throat. You stand as quickly as you can manage, grabbing your crutches propped up next to you on the couch.

“It's just me,” a feminine voice calls from the other side of the door. Your heart goes from your throat to your stomach. Not him.

“I'm sorry, I should have text you first,” Natasha continues. “But I brought you food. Street tacos from–”

You turn the deadbolt and unhook the chain lock before swinging the door open.

“You look–”

“Like hammered shit?” You finish for her, nodding your head towards the inside of the apartment as indication for her to come in.

“I was going to say exhausted,” she says, walking past you with a large paper sack of take-out food. Your stomach growls at the aroma - when was the last time you ate something more than a bowl of cereal or granola bar?

“Your favorite,” she tells you, placing the bag on the kitchen counter. “Extra salsa verde and lime wedges. Have you gotten any sleep recently?” Her eyes skim across the empty energy drink cans littered around the kitchen.

You maneuver yourself onto one of the barstools at the kitchen's small island, leaning your crutches on the edge of the counter.

“Yes,” you mumble. “For forty-five minutes from 2:30 to 3:15 today.”

She lets out a long groan, rolling her eyes at you.

“You're supposed to be healing from a concussion,” she reminds you, taking a seat for herself. “Which generally doesn't include sleep deprivation and excessive use of computer screens.” She stares in the direction of the array of laptops that overcrowd the limited space of your coffee table.

“Did you find anything in Connecticut? What about Sam, is he back from New Jersey?” You ask, ignoring her concerns as you unbox your food.

“Connecticut was a dead-end,” she sighs. “We're still waiting to hear back from Sam. There's a safehouse up in Vermont that Steve wants to head to tomorrow–”

“You don't think there's a chance of him letting me tag along for that, do you?” You tap the edge of your cast against the base of the island with your foot.

Her eyes soften as she looks at you. You already knew the answer.

“I know this is really hard for you,” she says delicately. “I may not know exactly what has been going on between you and Barnes these last few months, but it's obvious you care a lot for him. We all do. We are going to find him and bring him home,” she assures you.

You nod at her in agreement, not quite trusting your voice enough to speak.

Your eyes sting as you attempt to blink away the tears that threaten to spill over. You had yet to allow yourself to spend any time crying these last few days and you didn't wish to start now.

Her words remind you that no one knows exactly why you are taking Bucky's disappearance so harshly. You assume that your friends have their suspicions about your and Bucky's arrangement but the two of you had agreed to keep it between yourselves.

They didn't know it had started off being a weekly occurrence - late Sunday evenings, your apartment. Or how it had quickly escalated from once a week to twice, and then from two times a week to three - and instead of just your apartment, it would happen anywhere the two of you had a private (and sometimes public) moment - up against the wall of the communal showers at the compound's gym, in the back of the Quinjet after missions while everyone else would be sleeping on the flight back home, even during team meetings with his hand creeping between your thighs while you try to stay quiet enough to not draw any attention to yourselves.

They didn't know you were supposed to be friends with benefits but that at some point during the days and nights spent underneath one another, the line between friends and something more became blurry for you.

You had just been too chickenshit to tell him.

Natasha sits across from you as you inhale the Mexican food that she brought you. She doesn't say anything else, just keeps you company in a comfortable silence as you eat your first legitimate meal in days.

“Thank you,” you tell her as you're finishing your food. “I appreciate you. I've been going a little crazy here by myself,” you add meekly.

“Of course.” She stands back up. “I would stay longer, but I've got to prepare for Vermont. We're leaving early in the morning.”

“Be safe. All of you,” you remind her. “Let me know if you guys find anything. Just tell me if there's anything at all I can do. And please let me know when you hear from Sam–”

“You'll be the first to know when there's anything to know,” she assures you gently.

“Thanks, Nat.”

“You just try to get some rest, okay?” She requests as she walks toward the door. “Maybe drink some water, possibly consider taking a nice, long shower…”

“Goodbye, Natasha.”

She's chuckling as she closes the door behind her.

You lower your nose to your armpit as soon as the door clicks shut, inhaling.

Maybe she makes a valid point about showering.

Half an hour later, there's a heavy rain beating against the windows of your apartment when you finish bathing. You secure a towel around your chest before yanking off the garbage bag that you had wrapped around your cast well enough for you to rinse off.

Belly full and body clean, you felt somewhat better; at least physically.

You listen to the rain pound down as you sit on the edge of the bathtub, massaging lotion into your skin, and wonder where Bucky is right now - if he's safe, if it's raining wherever he's at, if he's somewhere dry -

You come to a sudden halt in the middle of brushing your teeth. It's hard to tell over the deafening roar of the rain and your bathroom fan, but you could have sworn you heard the creaking of a door or window from your living room.

I double checked the door locks after Nat left, you rationalize to yourself. This apartment is on the fourth floor, no one is going to climb the fire escapes to–

There's an unmistakable shadow visible through the crack at the bottom of the bathroom door. It's gone as quickly as it appears.

Shit. You start to panic as you realize you left your cell phone in the kitchen. As quietly as you can, you look around the small room for something to defend yourself with. A hair dryer, dental floss, a few week’s worth of dirty laundry..

You hear the creaking of floorboards as footsteps seem to creep closer and closer to the bathroom door.

Crutches. You have two crutches. You can clobber them with your crutches.

“I can hear you,” you call to whoever is just beyond the door. “I know you’re out there.”

Silence. No hint of any further movement.

You place one crutch under your left armpit for support, keeping the other one ready to wield as a weapon. “You have ten seconds to get out of my apartment,” you say a bit louder, willing your voice not to waver. “I have a weapon.”

Yeah, a weapon. If you can call it that.

Ten seconds come and go, followed by another ten seconds.

You weren’t going to let someone play this game with you in your own home.

Taking one last deep breath and tightening your grip on the defense crutch, you sling the bathroom door open quickly.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim, immediately relaxing your weight against the crutches, releasing the death grip that you had on your uninjured side.

It’s dark in your bedroom save for a few pale orange string lights hung around your bed frame and the light that spills in from the bathroom, but you would recognize his broad frame anywhere.

“Thank fuck you’re okay,” you exhale, swinging yourself over to where he stands at the foot of your bed. When you’re a little over a foot away from him, you realize he’s sopping wet - his hair dripping water droplets and his skin dewy. His clothing, the same clothing that you last saw him in three days ago, clings to his body like a second skin.

He remains still as a statue, and as silent as one.

“Are you okay?” You ask him apprehensively. You give him a once over, from head to toe. You don't see any noticeable injuries, but he is trembling.

“Bucky?” You ask in a small voice.

His lips are set in a hard line. He doesn't answer, just stares at you. Stares at you like he’s trying to figure out why he’s here.

Stares at you like he’s trying to decide if he knows you or not.

The immense relief that you had felt at knowing he's alive is washed away by a sinking feeling.

His eyes trail from your face and slowly down your towel-clad body. He pauses when he gets to your foot, glancing back and forth from your cast to the crutches on either side. His brows furrow together - almost like he's in pain.

“I'm okay,” you assure him in a shaky voice. “It's just a fracture,” you explain. “I'll be healed in no time.”

You notice that his features relax a bit at your words - just enough to give you hope that Bucky, your Bucky, is in there and he's listening to you.

Do whatever you have to do to keep him here. Don't let him out of your sight. Help him remember who he is, your inner monologue screams at you. Just don't let him run away again.

“Are you cold?” You ask him. You're not necessarily expecting him to answer, you're just trying to put him at ease. “How about we get you some dry clothes?” You add, nodding towards his drenched henley.

You retreat into the bathroom, grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that he'd left over the last time he had stayed the night - the night before he went missing. They were at the top of the laundry basket - maybe not the cleanest, but better that the wet, dirty clothing he's in currently.

You limp your way back over to where he stands at your bed, leaning against the mattress for support. You set your crutches down and hand him the shirt and pants, which he hesitantly accepts. He makes no move to remove the wet clothes from his body, instead gently places the dry clothes onto the mattress beside him.

“Would you like some help?” you offer cautiously, terrified of doing anything that could cause him to run. You slowly reach towards the clothing that he had just placed on the bed, but he stops you before you can pick the t-shirt back up - grasping your wrist in his vibranium hand.

You can’t stop the small gasp that escapes past your lips. His hold on you is firm, but not painful. You could rip your hand from him if you wanted to - but you don’t.

Instead, you let him hold your hand as he begins to rub his metal thumb in a circular motion next to yours. You’re frozen; watching him carefully as he examines the movements his metal digit makes on your skin.

The goosebumps that appear in the wake of his touch don’t go unnoticed by him. His eyes trail from where his hand holds yours and up the expanse of your arm, until they land on your exposed neck. The towel covering your midsection has started to come loose, hanging low enough to reveal the top of your breasts.

He drops your hand, taking a step closer to you. You have to remind yourself to breathe - your Bucky is in there. Your Bucky, who is gentle, and soft, and would never do anything to cause you harm.

You have to trust that.

He brings his vibranium fingers up to the edge of the towel, trailing them across the mounds of your breasts. Your nipples harden right away, visible through the thin material of the towel.

You would let this play out however he wants it to. However he needs it to.

When his index finger stops where the towel is tucked into itself at your side, you forget how to breathe. He pauses for a split-second before unhooking the cloth and letting it fall to your feet.

He drinks in the sight of you bare before him, his jaw clenched and pupils dilated.

Dozens of times he has seen you like this, and never have you felt so completely vulnerable under his gaze.

And still there's a slickness gathering at the apex of your thighs.

He brings his flesh hand to your waist, putting the faintest bit of pressure against your skin. You close your eyes at the sensation - he's barely fucking touching you and you could melt into him.

Your name falls off of his lips - it's barely even a whisper, nearly inaudible but unmistakable. Your name. He remembers your name.

“Bucky,” your voice cracks when you whisper his own name back to him. His eyes snap up to yours, a mix of realization and hesitation brewing in them.

You bring both of your hands to the tail of his wet shirt, giving him time to pull away before you start to tug the shirt upwards. He doesn't stop you - in fact, he raises his own arms to help you tug the soaked fabric off of him. You toss the shirt in the general direction of your bathroom.

You didn't think there would ever come a time that the sight of him getting naked for you wouldn't make you want to drool.

You unsnap the button of his tactical pants, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time, hyper-analyzing his expression for any sign of reluctance.

You dip your fingers past the waistband of his boxers, his eyes fluttering closed as your hand travels lower.

He's already fully hard as you hold him, stroking him as best you can from inside the confines of his underwear and pants. You pump him in your hand and his head rolls back so that he's looking up at your ceiling.

Fuck, it takes all the restraint you possess to resist leaning forward and sucking on his neck.

Another time, you tell yourself, anxious about overwhelming him.

He curses under his breath - something in Russian that you don't recognize but the expression on his face indicates it to be a praise. There's a shift in his initially reserved, unsure demeanor when you begin to pump him faster.

His head snaps back down, his eyes raking up and down your body once more before he brings his hands to your lower back, maneuvering you against the bed.

You scoot until your back comes in contact with the cool satin of your pillows, relaxing into the bedding. At last Bucky begins to shed the layers of wet clothing covering his lower half, not taking his eyes off of your body as he removes his boots, followed by his pants and boxers.

He kneels on the mattress, crawling above where you lay. You want nothing more than to grab him by the shoulders and pull his mouth to yours, but you are going to let him call the shots.

He nudges your thighs apart with his knee, nestling himself between your legs. He grasps your breast in his vibranium hand, giving it a firm squeeze before rolling your nipple between his icy fingers.

He lowers himself so that he's belly down on your mattress, his face inches away from your pussy. He removes his hand from your breast and you let out a small whimper of disappointment at the abrupt lack of sensation. He uses that same hand to hike your uninjured leg over his shoulder, securing his head between the soft interior of your thighs.

He kisses you, starting at your belly button and working his way to your center. His lips feel like fire against your skin. You keep your hips planted firmly on the bed, fighting the urge to thrust your pussy up to his face.

“Please,” you whine. “Bucky, please.” You swear you can see the faintest trace of a smirk that looks so undeniably Bucky.

You clench your thighs around his face and he lets out a low, guttural groan as his mouth makes contact with you.

Normally, Bucky closes his eyes while he's going down on you - gets completely lost in it. Right now, his eyes are wide open - making sure he doesn't miss the way your mouth gapes when he rolls his tongue around your clit and the way your chest heaves when he nudges his tongue inside you.

You don't know which you find hotter.

You can already feel the tightening of a coil in your lower belly, making it impossible to resist rolling your hips to meet the torturous pace he's set with his tongue. You grind against his face, the thin layer of stubble that's grown across his jaw since you last saw him scratching against the sensitive flesh around your cunt.

You're approaching your climax when he pulls away, making you mewl at the loss of contact. His face glistens with your slick.

He flips you onto your side, placing you on your left side so that your injured leg rests against the mattress. You prop your head up with your hand as he slides in behind you.

His chest presses against your back, the heat of his body warming you all over. His flesh hand juts between your thighs, raising your right leg high enough for him to slap his cock against your pussy.

He strokes himself in his hand while he teases your folds - lubricating himself with your juices.

You turn your head to look at him right as he sheaths himself inside you, filling you entirely in one swift motion.

Fuck, you have to taste yourself on him. You can't handle not having his mouth on yours for another second.

You tilt your head back enough to connect your mouth to his - every worry you once had about coming on too strong and overwhelming him melts away as he opens his mouth for you, moving his lips against yours in an effortless rhythm.

He starts slow, quickly working up to a rapid pace as he repeatedly slams into your cervix from the sweetest angle. The sounds that you're making for him are pornographic - moaning into his mouth as his flesh hand comes around your front, landing on your engorged clitoris. He rubs languid circles while he continues to pound into you from behind.

You pull your lips away from his when you feel your orgasm building. “You always make me feel so good, you know that?” You ask him breathily, your mouth now right next to his ear.

“Every time you fuck me, I'm more sure that no one could ever compare to you. You've ruined me for everyone else. There’s only you for me.”

“Fuck,” he curses and groans your name again - it's the closest he's sounded to his normal self, which only spurs you on.

“I’ve become so fucking addicted to you in such a short amount of time,” you say in between moans as the head of his cock hits your sweet spot just right. “Think about you anytime you're not near me, drives me fucking crazy.”

He flips you - doesn't pull out - so that you're now underneath him. He goes right back to the same brutal pace, bringing his flesh hand to cradle your face as he stares down at you.

Clarity - you recognize it plain as day on his features.

He gives you a few more fast, hard thrusts before you're milking his cock through your orgasm. You crash your lips to his and he's coming - filling you up with his warm seed as he kisses you senseless.

He gradually stills inside you, his body going limp on top of yours as he rests his face in the crook of your neck. You wrap your arms around him, peppering kisses across his scarred shoulder, where flesh meets metal.

“I'm so sorry if I scared you,” he murmurs against the sweat-slicked skin of your throat after a moment. “I wasn't myself. Not even entirely sure how I ended up here - it's like I was pulled in this direction - to you,” he sighs.

You're overcome with such an immense relief at hearing him speak that you could cry. You tighten your hold around him, rubbing your hands up and down his back.

“You could never scare me, Bucky,” you assure him. He pulls out of you, rolling off of you onto the bed beside you and tugging you to his chest. Your cheek rests just over his heart.

"I know you. Even when I know nothing else, even when I don't know myself, I know you."

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

thanks for reading! as always comments and reblogs are extremely appreciated!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction

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juleswritesstuff · 3 months

Text

Pieces

Just Theo losing his mind over a tiny, little dress

theo nott x fem!reader

warnings: smut (this one's filthy, y'all)

The music blasting through the Slytherin common room was not only filling your ears, but your whole body too.

It was running through your veins, every muscle and nerve consumed by the slow rhythm of the bass.

You were moving to the beat without a care in the world, lost in the flow, surrounded by warm bodies moving along the same melody.

Until a pair of hands found place on your hips, a presence making itself known behind you as your back collided with his chest.

You would've recognized that scent everywhere.

A smirk grew on your lips.

Bingo.

“Are you trying to kill me, bambolina ?” his smooth voice reached your ears through the loud banging of some song you didn't quite recognize. (babydoll)

His hands were scorching hot on your hips, feeling them through the flimsy fabric of your dress.

The way they wanted to touch, to feel, to own.

The grin on your lips widened.

Oh, he was so easy to tease.

You turned around, meeting his eyes.

Their usual sky blue had become deeper, a storm in full swing.

They were dark, hungry, and yet you could still find that glint of cockiness that never left his gaze.

Theodore Nott was as beautiful as he was devilish.

Good thing you knew how to take him.

Metaphorically and physically speaking.

“Don't know what you're talking about” you said, swaying your hips to the sultry rhythm and morphing your expression to one of fake cluelessness.

“Really ? I'm pretty sure you do” the grin on his face was teasing but you could see the light clench of his jaw.

Trying to keep it cool, to keep control.

Unfortunately for him his eyes scanning every inch of your body betrayed him and his illusion of a collected behavior.

“You don't like my dress ?” you asked, getting closer and circling his neck with your arms.

His hands were on your back, traveling up and down, tracing your skin through the fabric, memorizing every nook and curve of your body.

A shiver ran down your spine as he pulled you closer to him, chest to chest.

“You have the nerve to ask me that ?” he uttered, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief.

A chuckle left your lips.

“You sound so affronted, Nott” your hand slipped through his hair, combing them lightly while your bodies kept swaying to the music.

He closed his eyes in bliss, feeling your gentle fingers brush through his brown locks.

And then you pulled.

A bit harsher, a bit rougher.

Exactly how he liked it.

Theo groaned, his eyes snapping open as the grip on your hips became tighter.

His forehead touched yours as he leaned closer and closer.

“Oh, you want to play with fire I see” he breathed mere inches away from your lips.

“Maybe I do” you grinned, your tone challenging.

“And what happened to ‘I wouldn't touch you even if you were the last man on earth’, dolcezza ?” he asked teasingly, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. (sweety)

Your cheeks warmed up the slightest bit.

Yes, you and Theo hadn’t started off in the best of ways.

But things changed.

Especially after the most completely unexpected and undoubtedly best fuck of your life, courtesy of a very heated arguement between the two of you that ended with him buried deep inside of you while you basically chanted his name like a prayer.

You wished you could say it was a one time thing, a mistake.

But it wasn’t.

Because soon you found out that no one made you feel better than him.

Your body craved his touch, you couldn't help it.

“Well, I didn't know the wonders that your mouth and your cock were capable of at the time, can you really blame me ?” you asked back, lifting an eyebrow.

“So that's why you chose the tiniest, sexiest dress you own ? Cause you wanted to get your guts rearranged ?” he teased with a shit-eating smirk.

“Who knows” you shrugged your shoulders as a smug smile grew on your lips.

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“You'll be the death of me, bambolina” he mouthed right on your lips before leaning in. (babydoll)

And fuck that felt both like heaven and hell.

His mouth was soft and rough at the same time.

Hungry, needy, pure fire that was consuming you.

The taste of nicotine and alcohol mixed with a sweetness that you couldn't quite pinpoint, but it was there. And it was addicting.

You wanted more.

You always wanted more when Theo was involved.

His tongue teased yours, playing his dirty little games.

Your mind went blank.

“Your room or mine ?” you asked, millimeters away from his lips.

“Whichever is the closest, I don't care” he said hurriedly “Non vedo l'ora di strapparti questo cazzo di vestito di dosso” (I can't wait to rip this fucking dress off of you)

You didn't understand a single thing of the Italian coming out of his mouth as he was busy leaving a trail of eager kisses down your neck, going so slow that your brain started to melt.

You had no idea of how you managed to arrive at your dorm, too engrossed in the feeling of having him so close to you.

But now there you were.

The door closed with a click, and after a second you felt him everywhere.

His hands in your hair, on your face, your neck, hips, thighs.

Fucking everywhere.

Your back collided with the wall as he kissed you like he needed air and you were pure oxygen filling his lungs.

“You’re a vixen, you know that ?” he whispered “making me lose my fucking mind moving your hips like that”

His lips were still on yours, his hands kneading the plush skin of your ass, making you hiss in pleasure.

“Didn’t know I only needed a dress to make you go ballistic, Nott” you muttered with a chuckle as he decorated your throat with slow, wet kisses.

“I couldn’t give less than a shit about the dress, Y/n. You are the one making me go fucking feral, not this stupid piece of fabric” he groaned against your skin.

“Then rip it the fuck off of me, why don’t you ?” you said, whimpers leaving your mouth as Theo found the most sensitive spot on your neck, starting to tease it with his tongue, his teeth and that sinful mouth of his.

You felt his smirk right on your skin.

“As you wish, bambolina”

In a heartbeat you heard cloth being torn, shredded to pieces.

The air suddenly hitting your skin made goosebumps appear all over your body.

Your eyes snapped to his.

The fire in them almost burned you, matching your own.

Lust and hunger filled every cell of your being, seeing the poor dress resting in pieces on the floor.

Because Theo had literally ripped it off.

You didn’t think this man could get any hotter.

Guessed you were fucking wrong.

“Cazzo, sei una visione Y/n'' he whispered breathlessly. (Fuck, you're a vision Y/n)

His eyes ran all over your figure, taking in every curve, every inch of your body, imprinting it in his memory forever.

Then he began his journey of torture.

He started with his lips on yours, nibbling and sucking slowly, seductively, proceeding along your jaw, traveling down and reaching your neck, kissing the skin that was already turning a dark red from his previous attentions.

He stopped briefly at your shoulder, delicately removing your bra as the pads of his fingers brushed your skin tenderly.

He left his marks all over you.

On your shoulder, your collarbones, on your breasts teasing your sensitive nipples with his tongue before sucking gently, grazing them with his teeth and sending bolts of electricity throughout your entire body.

His lips were soft, but they left a burning path everywhere they touched.

Moans and whimper left your mouth with each and every caress of his skin on yours.

He kept giving attention to every single centimeter of your figure, going down and down until he sank on his knees.

The sight of him kneeling in front of you with that deep, dark look in his eyes turned you on like nothing ever did before.

“This might be my favorite angle of you, you know ?” you confessed, your fingers combing through his brown waves.

You felt him grin against your hip bone, kissing it right after.

“Is it ?” his tone was teasing, playful, as he traced your skin with his lips “when I’m on my knees ?” another kiss lingered on your hip “right at your mercy ?”

“Shit- yeah” you choked out a whimper as his mouth got closer and closer to your core.

The grip on his hair tightened and he let out a deep moan.

“Well, that’s good to know, princess” he said simply “cause this is my favorite place to be. Right between your thighs” and then he left a soft kiss directly on your clothed heat before sliding your panties down your legs.

A needy moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“You're perfect. You're so fucking perfect” he whispered in awe, completely drunk on the sight of your naked body.

“Theo…” you whined.

“Yes, baby ?”

Fuck, that word made your stomach churn in the best way possible.

“Just fucking get to it” you said urgently.

A cocky smile appeared on his face as he started to slowly get up, placing kisses here and there, making his journey back to your lips.

You whined, missing the feeling of his mouth lingering on your most sensitive spot.

“You’re needy” he whispered in your ear, making you shiver.

“You’re torturing me” you bit back, breathless and impertinent.

“Oh, so you can tease me in front of our whole House, but I can’t have my little fun when it’s just us ? Seems a bit unfair, tesoro” he mocked you lightheartedly with the most irritatingly hot smirk. (darling)

“Wipe that smug little smile off your face Nott, I can't stand it” you said, the annoyance in your tone as clear as the lust in it, too.

“Can’t stand it ?” he asked sensually, his breath tickling your ear before looking you in the eyes with that sinful grin that made you go feral “then why don’t you fucking sit on it, bambolina”

His gaze was dark, the blue of his eyes completely swallowed up by blackness.

The breath got knocked out of your lungs.

Hot liquid desire filled your veins.

Your entire body was consumed by him, every single cell screaming his name.

And who were you not to listen ?

“Lay down then” you said with a devilish grin, pushing him backwards until his knees hit the bed frame, forcing him to sit down.

You wasted no time and straddled his hips, your naked body flashed aginst his still clothed one.

“Fucking hell” he mumbled on your mouth as you dived in to kiss him hungrily, tongue brushing his in a filthy dance.

His hands gripped your lower back so tightly you were sure there would’ve been bruises in the shape of his handprints the following day.

And you couldn’t wait to fucking see them.

“Something wrong, pretty boy ?” you taunted, coating his neck with kisses, swiping your tongue over the skin and making him groan in pleasure.

“I have you naked on my lap, Y/n, nothing could be more right” he said, looking at you directly in the eyes with a smile and his usual cocky attitude.

“Why don’t you take off some clothes too, mh ? Preferably all of them” you muttered, breaths away from his lips.

“Get rid of them, then” he answered you with a challenging glint in his deep blue eyes, and a sardonic smile.

You smirked, fisting both sides of his shirt and pulling harshly.

Buttons flew everywhere as you ripped the shirt open, finally exposing his perfectly chiseled chest to your eyes.

Your hands ran all over his torso, tracing every hard and soft surface with fleeting touches.

God, Quidditch practice really had its benefits.

“Now we’re even” you said, kissing his lips again, referring to the dress he had shredded to pieces not too long ago.

Then your fingers traveled down, reaching the hem of his pants and brushing his half hard cock playfully through the fabric.

He hissed in pleasure, but as soon as you tried to unbutton them he stopped you.

“That can wait, baby. I need to taste you first” he purred in your ear before laying down completely, his back colliding with the soft mattress of your bed.

“Impatient, are we ?” you mocked him lightheartedly, but as soon as you felt his hands on lower back, massaging the soft skin, urging you to crawl on his body and come closer until your core was right in front of him, glistening with desire, the smile on your face was replaced by a moan.

“When it comes to you ? Always” he smiled, leaving a trail of steamy, open mouthed kisses on the tender skin of your inner thighs.

A pathetic sob left your throat.

He was going so achingly slow you were starting to lose your goddamn mind.

“Seems to me that you’re taking your sweet fucking time, instead” you snapped impetuously.

He was teasing you mercilessly, and you couldn’t stand it.

“I’ll take all the time I need if it means that I get to see you being a needy mess before my tongue even touches you” he sneered against your skin, mouth getting closer and closer to where you needed it the most, but never close enough.

“Theo, please” you cried as your hands swiped through his brown locks, spread on the pillow like a halo, eliciting him to do something, anything to give you at least some sweet relief.

“Sei così bella, cazzo” he whispered as his eyes shined with an earnestness that you had never seen in them “e sei tutta per me”. (You're so beautiful, fuck)(and you're all mine)

And then finally, finally he stuck his tongue out dragging it over your folds to get a long awaited taste.

The groan that came out of his mouth sent delicious vibrations to your clit, making your whole body squirm.

“Oh fuck” you moaned as he started to devour you messily.

He ate you out like he had been starving for weeks and you were his first meal, like he was born for it and his place was right there, between your legs.

He licked and kissed and sucked all over your sensitive core, pleasuring you like no one else ever could, making you feel everything.

You writhed above him.

Loud, shaky whines left your lips as he made out with your cunt shamelessly and sloppy, coating his face with your essence and feasting hungrily.

When his lips wrapped around your clit you whailed.

The whole castle probably heared you even through the music of the party that was taking place downstairs, but you couldn’t care less.

Because Theo was beneath you, eating you out so perfectly and filthily that all you could think about was his mouth on you.

“So sweet. You taste so sweet, Y/n” he said right against your throbbing core, making you shiver. Your hands on his hair tightened their grip, using it as leverage to move your hips back and forth faster, desperately.

“Theo- shit, baby-” you couldn’t even talk.

You were close.

You were so close that you felt the familiar tension building up, ready to explode.

And apparently he did too, because his mouth started to work faster, licking and lapping at an unforgiving pace.

“Go ahead, baby. Make a mess on my face” he wrapped his lips around your clit one more time and he sucked, sending you over the edge.

The coil in your tummy snapped, your vision turning white as waves of pleasure washed all over you, making your ears ring and your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

The moans coming out of your mouth were dirty, raw.

The movement of your hips slowed down as Theo kept dragging his tongue over your folds slowly, carefully, licking you clean and paying attention not to overstimulate you, but not letting even one single drop of your sweet essence go to waste.

Once you got down from your high and your brain started to regain its ability to form coherent words you shifted your gaze downwards, finding Theo looking at you while his hands caressed your legs tenderly.

“There you are. I thought I broke you for a second” he smiled, teasing lightheartedly.

You huffed a sneer as you crawled backwards with shaky legs, going back to straddle his hips rather than his face.

“Don't get too confident, Nott. It's not a good look” you bit back with a smile that matched his.

A chuckle left his lips as he lifted his torso to sit up, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

He kissed you softly, delicately, making your stomach flip.

“Everything ok ?” he asked on your lips while he tucked a rogue strand of hair behind your ear, stroking your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb.

And there it was, the thing that made you so confused about Theodore Nott.

It was in moments like these when you forgot that the guy in front of you, who gave you the best head of your life and was an actual fucking excellent lover was the same guy you used to have daily insulting sessions with.

Muggles had a saying, you heard.

‘There's a thin line between hate and love’

And you were sure that that line had been all kinds of blurry since Theo had put his lips on you for the first time.

Or, maybe, even before.

You didn't want to think about it.

The possibilities of that revelation being true made your stomach knot up.

So you put them to the side, and focused back on him.

“Yes” you answered, your fingers buried in the hair at the base of his neck, massaging reassuringly “I’m ok. More than ok, even”

“How about your legs ?” he asked, placing soft kisses on your shoulder.

“Is this some new way to ask me if I still have some remaining strength to ride you ?” you teased, narrowing your eyes mischievously.

“Would you believe me if I said it isn't ?” he questioned playfully, lifting an eyebrow and tightening his embrace on you.

“Not really, no” you said unconvinced, your face opened up in a smile.

“Guessed so” he shook his head in amusement, his eyes glinting in the dim light of your room.

“Unfortunately for you my legs are sore, so no riding” you admitted, your smile turning smug “but that doesn't mean that you can't fuck me in any other position know to man”

His hands on your hips tightened their grip.

“Is that so ?” he taunted, his eyes turning hungry again, the fire in them reaching the deepest parts of your soul “then tell me bambolina, how would you like me to take you apart tonight ?”

“However you want” you smirked, leaning in to kiss him again, swiping your tongue on his lower lip before biting the plump skin provocatively “go ahead pretty boy, make me cry on your cock”

His eyes got impossibly darker, hungrier.

Ravenous.

“Then get on all fours for me, princess” he rumbled lowly, looking at you like he wanted to devour you whole.

You wasted no time as you kept your mouth glued to his, getting off his lap and flipping your positions. You crawled backwards a little, Theo following you as he chased your lips until you were completely laying down with him above you.

His hands caressed your hips, moving down to trace the skin of your thigh, making goosebumps appear all over your body.

Your fingers traveled everywhere, feeling the heated skin against your pads.

They caressed his chest, his shoulders, his back, until they reached the hem of his pants, unbuttoning them with a swift move.

“Impatient, are we ?” he teased you, using your own words against you.

His lips latched to your neck, one hand on the mattress holding his weight and the other sliding his trousers down together with his underwear.

“Less talking and more undressing, Nott” you urged as your hands went to his hair, massaging his scalp, making him groan.

He pulled away from you just enough to take away his pants completely, leaving him naked.

Your eyes took in his perfectly sculpted lean body, and you clenched your legs unconsciously at the sight of his hard cock.

He didn't say anything to you eyeing him up like you wanted to swallow him whole, he just smirked.

But the look in his eyes told you that he knew every naughty little thought you were having in that moment.

Your cheeks heated up, and you turned around facing the mattress propped up on your elbows, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you that flustered.

You had seen him naked countless times, and yet his body still had that maddening effect on you.

The bed dipped with every move he made, getting closer to you again, until you felt his breath on your ear, chuckling.

“Going shy on me now, tesoro ?” he asked playfully, leaving a kiss on that sensitive spot that made you squirm. (darling)

“Shut up” you said weakly, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of his mouth leaving a path of steamy kisses along your back, causing your whole body to shiver in pleasure.

He stopped right over the little dimples on your lower back, kissing them tenderly.

“Ready ?” he asked to make sure.

You didn't answer him, you just lifted your ass up, bending your knees and arching your back in the most sinful way you could master.

“Ready” you confirmed with a smug smile, hearing him groan in pleasure.

You turned your head a little, enough to see him stroking his cock at the sight of your exposed cunt, right at his mercy.

“You and your perfect body will be the death of me” you hear him whisper before feeling his hands on your ass.

His tip teasing your entrance made you moan pathetically.

He went slow, so achingly slow that you wanted to cry, feeling him burying himself deeper and deeper inside of you, inch by inch.

Until he bottomed out completely, head to base, filling you up so good that you wanted to scream.

“Fuck-” you moaned “fuck, fuck, fuck” broken sobs left your lips as you felt him throbbing inside of you.

“Shit- baby, you're tight” he said through gritted teeth, feeling your warmth around him and trying so hard not to cum on the spot, hearing all the filthy sounds you were making.

“Move” you practically begged “Theo, please. Just move”

As soon as the words left your mouth his hips started to thrust, setting a slow and steady pace, making you adjust to his size without hurting you.

The head of his cock brushed your cervix with every prod, sending bolts of electricity to every nerve of your body.

But it wasn't enough.

You wanted more.

You needed more.

“Harder” you blurted, half begging and half demanding “I'm not gonna break, Theo. Fuck me. Harder”

Not a word left his mouth, but suddenly you saw stars.

His hips snapped ruthlessly inside of you, knocking the air out of your lungs, making you scream his name.

You buried your face in the pillows, trying to muffle the sound of your wails.

But then you felt Theo’s chest colliding with your back and his arms around your torso, pulling your upper body up with him while he still fucked into you mercilessly.

“Voglio sentirti” he whispered in your ear, breath rugged and broken by the intensity of his hips plunging inside of you “voglio che l'intero cazzo di castello sappia chi è che ti scopa così bene” (I want to hear you)(I want the whole castle to know who's fucking you this good)

You didn't understand a single word coming out of his mouth, but you knew it had nothing to do with the language he was using and everything to do with his cock splitting you in half.

Your body was on fire, every muscle and nerve consumed by pleasure, corroded by lust.

You were close again.

Your arm reached behind you, pulling Theo’s head closer.

The position was awkward, making the kiss even more filthy, a mess of tongues and teeth.

“God- Theo, I'm close” you moaned against his mouth.

One hand holding your body flashed against his, the other going to tease your clit with slender fingers.

You were right there, his fingers drawing circles on that little bundle of nerves faster and faster.

“Cum for me, bambolina” was what he whispered in your ear, his breath tickling your skin as your orgasm hit you.

The world stopped, every single thing ceased to exist except for the exploding pleasure in your veins and the feeling of Theo’s heated and sweaty skin on yours.

The clench of your cunt squeezing his cock sent him over the edge too, painting your walls white while a strangled moan escaped his lips.

Getting down from your high you collapsed on the bed.

With your breath labored and short, your body numb and your head in the clouds you placed your head on Theo's chest as his arm wrapped around you.

Was it weird to cuddle with the guy who used to get on your nerves more than anything else ? Most definitely.

Was it also weird to fuck said guy and wanting to sometime still punch his ridiculously handsome face at the same time ? Absolutely.

Did you care ? Not one bit.

“You owe me a shirt” he blurted out after his breath turned back to normal again, stroking your hair absent-mindedly.

“You owe me a dress” you retorted back, feeling his heartbeat slowing down right under your ear.

“Shopping at Hogsmeade next weekend ?” he asked nonchalantly, like he hadn't just dropped a bomb on you.

Your eyes widened beyond measure.

“Pardon ?” your voice went several tones higher than usual, in complete disbelief from the words that had just reached your ears.

“Calm down, bambolina. No need to get all flustered” he chuckled, but rather than mocking it seemed endeared “you'll buy me a new shirt and I'll buy you a new dress. Deal ?”

You had no idea what to answer.

But in the end you accepted.

“Deal”

What could go wrong anyway ?

He lives in my mind rent free, I can't help it.

Hope you enjoyed 💗

#harry potter #harry potter smut #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #theo nott #theo nott smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #mattheo riddle #tom riddle #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire

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rieamena · 20 days

Text

totally (not) beating the allegations

best friend!takuma ino headcanons

contains... best friends to lovers, mutual pining, casual confession of love, kisses (platonic), kisses (romantic), modern au, high school to university au, living together-ish, fem intended reader, pet names (baby, babe, love, sexy, handsome, beautiful, sweetie, the list goes on and on), lots of physical touch, nicknames (you call takuma, kuma.), reader has a mother and a father, y'all are basically dating just without the label...

word count: 2.3k (this wasn't supposed to be long. i told myself 0.8k maximum...)

riea's comments: all sixteen people living in takuma city RISE UP! i miss my husband of 35 years so much, come back to me loml :(( something to munch on while y'all wait for the next full throttle chapter. also not too much on me if this is a drabble and not hcs idk the difference :))

first off... i just wanna say that i KNOW I KNOW that ino is one of the funniest people in the jjk cast idc idc!!! if he had more screentime (and if the situation wasnt dire) my boy would be crackin some jokes!!!!

you've been friends with takuma for around 7 years, your first meeting happening in tenth grade, when your teacher paired you two up for an interview project. when time came to actually record the interviews, it was hard to edit out you two laughing uncontrollably every fifteen seconds or so

i mean, you two just had so much in common!!! same favorite color, same favorite franchise, same favorite tv show, same favorite video game; it was like yall were the same person. there was just one thing you both disagreed on: whether hex code #286061 was blue or green

your argument ended up being the last ten minutes of the final video you submitted...

without a doubt, after that, you two became inseparable. in school, people would take notice of your closeness. when one of you were absent, teachers would jokingly ask "where's the other one?"

there was not a single thing you didn't do together, homework, go to the gym, gossip, eavesdrop, etc etc. so of course, you ended up applying to the same universities and when it came time for college acceptance season...

takuma invited you over, forcing you to bring your mailed letters from the eight universities. sprawling out over his lap, you took in the all too familiar sight of his room. you've been in his room more times than you've been in your own (and vice versa!)

i mean ino's been over to your place so many times that he calls your parents mom and dad. and you've been over to his house so much that takuma's mom practically jumped for joy every time you burst through the front doors with a "guess who's home!!!" so it was completely normal that you guys knew the ins and outs of each other's rooms, right?

"kuma, baby," you started with a sigh, reveling in your best friend's repetitive motions. running his hand through your hair, ino looked down at you, eyes showing that he was listening. "i'm scared, what if we don't–"

"ah-ah-ah! no negativity here!" he cut you off, pushing you off his lap and grabbing the letters you left on his desk. "listen here beautiful," takuma says, bringing a hand to your cheek, his heart swelling when you subconsciously leaned into it, "we're gonna take each other's letters, and open them," he handed you a white envelope, the logo of both of yours dream university on it, "starting with, kyōmei."

taking a well needed deep breath, you nodded. "okay," you and ino began to open the envelopes at the same time, only looking at each other when you saw the status. "accepted or rejected in 3...2...1..."

"ACCEPTED"

cue the mandatory silence before the screaming. "holy shit. you got in." "you got in." "WE GOT IN!!! WE'RE GOING TO KYŌMEI!!!!" you two practically flew off the bed, jumping up and down in celebration. peppering his face in kisses, you nuzzled your face into takuma's neck. "i'm so proud of us! i mean, kyōmei," you pulled away from his neck, shaking his shoulders harshly, "the kyōmei?!!!"

anyways, soon enough, you both realized that you'd have to move away, resulting in a seven hour search for apartments near the university's campus. and just as takuma was about to give up, you found a listing for units 19A and 19B, right in the heart of the city and just a five minute walk from kyōmei

and with that, it was moving day, well, days is more like it considering that the whole process took like ten days... finding cute furniture is really hard! and moving all of it is even harder!! and don't even get me started on the appliances! although, you and takuma found a way around it

like what do both of you need a microwave for? and there isn't a reason to have two dishwashers, there wasn't even a reason to have one! y'all kept your fridges though... who was gonna be banging on the other's door in the middle of the night for some cold water??

with time, it came for the highly anticipated freshman formal, an welcome event hosted by kyōmei itself, and of course, you had to go. so here you were, staring at your figure in the mirror as your best friend's large hand rubbed your shoulder, the other zipping up your black dress. "all done!" he breathed, taking a step away so that you could see for yourself. "i look so cute~" you giggled, hearing the clack of your heels as you twirled. "you do!" he paused, looking you up and down, "when did you get that dress?"

"your mom gave it to me a couple days ago! where'd you get that tux? i don't think i've seen it before," you walked over and straightened takuma's suit, as he laughed in response, "your mom gave it to me..."

"this was planned."

"this was definitely planned."

"we should send a picture in the family group chat!"

"we should!!! but, hair first!"

notice how i said family group chat, singular, not plural. and that's because there's a gc for both of your families! it's name was a mix between "ino" and your last name, since, in all seriousness, your families were close

so here you were, sitting pretty on takuma's lap as you focused on straightening the front pieces of his hair, because that's what best friends do!

"okayyyy sexyyyy," you squealed, moving out of the way so that takuma could see himself in your vanity mirror, "damnn, i look hot!" he smiled as he checked himself out, his hand firmly on your waist (to make sure that you wouldn't fall, of course!). "i knew i was fine but, did i always look this fine?" he asked, looking up at you with his big dark brown eyes, a playful smirk evident on his face. "yes, takuma. you're the sexiest man ever. just a bit of eyeliner on you and we'll be on our way, okay?"

turning back to your station, you grabbed some brown and black pencils before starting to lightly draw over ino's outer eye corner, "do men as sexy as me really need eyeliner?" a look from you was all he needed to know to shut up and close his eyes

and oh, how he loved being so close to you. not just emotionally but physically as well. like, not every duo can say that they barge into the other's apartment to steal snacks! and speaking of snacks... let me just say, there's a whole cabinet in his kitchen reserved for your favorite foods and! he keeps your favorite ice cream flavor stocked in his freezer

you, on the other hand, have a little space where you hide takuma's favorite anything. chips, gummies, takeout menus, you name it, you have it. because your best friend is oh-so-optimistic, it can be harder for him when he's just not having the best of days. which is why when you go your (not so) separate ways at the end of the day, you pack up a basket for him. ribbons in his favorite color, his top 15 favorite snacks from that one time y'all bought one of everything in a nearby convenience store and ranked them, takeout on the way, horror flicks he's been wanting on dvd because he said "its cooler that way", and a handwritten letter from you, for my kuma, scribbled on the envelope

dropping off the basket at his door and retreating back to your place, you'd press your ear against the wall separating your units, physically feeling your heart break when you heard sniffles. that was all you needed to practically fly over to his, a few boxes of tissues in hand. because that's what best friends do!

and don't even get me started on how many belongings y'all have at the other's place... like that one time takuma walked into your apartment announcing his presence, only to be met with silence. let me set up the scene for you. you are taking a relaxing shower when you hear a knock on the door followed by four more and then three more. "come in!" you called out, unbeknownst to you, ino's voice was closer than you thought

"already in here..., anyways. is my shampoo in there?"

"the one with the purple cap?"

"yeah, thanks babe!"

"wait, can you get me my towel?"

or that time when you causally opened the door to his unit (because it was basically yours too) and greeted him with a simple pat on his head before skipping off to find those jeans you thrifted

slight cohabitation aside, the university life was definitely... something. it was clear and obvious that you two were close, a blind man could see it. but close is a really really really vague word, and it's surely not the word that describes the way the two of you act. in this friendship, terms of endearment drop like rain from clouds. every. other. sentence. contains a "babe" or "baby" or "sweetheart" or "darling" WE GET IT OKAY...

and it seems like if y'all go a single day without touching each other, a bomb will fall from the sky and earth would blow up. his hands are constantly on you, his favorite places (when in public) being your shoulders and arms, and when at home it was without a doubt your waist and thighs. just imagine how difficult it must be for people speak to you both on campus when his arm is slung around you and your hand is holding onto his side. the rumors practically created themselves....

and when i say people were shocked, i mean they were SHOCKED when y'all were like "haha, no, we're not dating!!! we're best friends!" everyone was thinking: yeah best friends who FUCK. best friends who are IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER. y'all became the campus' it couple without being a couple. how does that happen??!??

however... there were a couple of people who were particularly excited to hear that you both were single. a few girls approached you one day while in the general area, asking if it was true that you and ino weren't dating. "we aren't... why?" one of the girls shifted on her feet, clearly nervous. "well... could you um... give this to him for me?!" she bowed, presenting a pretty pink envelope. you froze, staring at the item before giggling. "i see what this is about! don't worry! i'll make sure this gets to him safely!" long story short, that letter was never delivered

and on ino's side, he had some classmates pestering him about you. asking for your favorite show, candy, date style, everything under the sun. "guys, guys! she doesn't even want a boyfriend right now!" takuma shouted, even though two days prior you were complaining about how spending too much time with him was scaring all the hotties away

but let's get into the real stuff... the realization of love

for takuma, there wasn't a "wow, i'm in love with her" moment. what he does know though is that he started feeling something different for you a few months before college admission season. to him, the world was always bright with you by his side but now... it was so much brighter. it was like looking directly into the sun; it hurt but he couldn't look away, he doesn't want to look away. you're the best thing to ever happen to him, and the mere thought of ruining what you have just for some feeling—no matter how intense—isn't... right to him

and you figured it out after a dream you had one night back in high school. you dreamt of being in takuma's arms, the ones you snuck glances at when he wasn't paying attention to you. in not dream world, all you had to do was ask and he'd gladly envelop you but the vibes in this dream were different. there was tension. and it was thick. his beanie was off and thrown somewhere on the bed, your bed. looking back at him, your breath caught in your throat, "hey pretty," he slurred, drunk off tiredness. ino's called you beautiful more times than you can count; he made sure to do it at least once a week, so why... just why did this time make your stomach heat up and your heart race? you woke up with a flushed face, queasy feeling in your gut, and a deep understanding. it wasn't just platonic love anymore

"hey," you started, eyes trained on the movie in front of you, but your mind was focused on something else, "y'know how everyone thinks we're dating?" ino nodded as you reached over to grab the bowl of popcorn. "i've been thinking... maybe they're onto something..."

takuma's gulp could be heard from miles away, "wh-what are you trying to say?"

"what are we? seriously. because i can't sit here and pretend like i don't wish we were something more."

"something more like...?"

"now's not the time to be oblivious! don't you get it?! i'm—"

"i'm in love with you,"

it was like time stood still as you looked at your best friend. his face was lit by the tv screen a couple feet away, his hair was a mess, and slightly prominent dark circles were under his eyes, but... he's never looked more beautiful to you. "have been. for a long time. we've basically been dating for like four years already. four more and then we'll get married?" he flashed his signature smile

"oh, shut up," he brought your face millimeters away from his, whispering "make me." before kissing you deeply, not on your cheek, or your forehead, or your shoulders, but on your lips this time. and all the times after that too

because that's what best friends lovers do, right?

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @discipleofthem

@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen

@stillnotherapy @oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath

@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation

@1ndee @yourhornysister @ancientimes

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