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dejwrld · 1 month

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⤷‧₊˚ nanami kento wants another bundle of joy.

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — female reader, female anatomy described, reader is black coded (with descriptors), established relationship (married), oral (f.receiving), pet names (baby), cute couple banter, profanity, missionary position, breeding kink, reader and kento have a daughter named yu (yes she's named after yu haibara), this was a one shot for nanami bday btw, wc: 2.6k, mdni

a repost from my old account, that sadly was a victim of tumblr's label crusade. also can be read on ao3.

You should have known the talk about another kid was coming. The way he would talk about Yu’s old baby stuff and the importance of hand-me-downs just in case you two would have another bundle of joy. Or the fact that he and your five-year-old daughter Yu would get lost in the department store, just for you to find them in the baby section. Nanami also was becoming very handsy towards you. Outside looking in, anyone would assume that it just was a loving husband showing his wife love. But Nanami was like a hormonal teenager that had just hit puberty. His kisses were deeper, which leads to a makeout session (cue your daughter clearing her throat when she enters the room). Gosh, you couldn’t forget the twinkle in Nanami’s eye as he and you attended a friend’s baby shower as you two watched them open gifts for their child.

Here you were, stumbling and sharing an intense kiss as you entered the home you shared. Hands grasping for each other as you shared kisses that caused your lips to be swollen and for the once lip gloss you were wearing to now be smudged across your lips. You pulled away, breathless and shocked. “Another kid?” You questioned. You just wanted assurance that this is what the blonde-haired man wanted.

“Another kid.” He repeated to you as one of his hands cupped your face while the other was placed on your belly as if it already was a child growing inside of you.

Even if you two weren’t trying for a kid at the moment, you still knew that the pink sundress you wore to the baby shower—hugged your body perfectly was something to always gain your husband’s attention. During the time at the baby shower, Nanami always made it his goal to touch you. From his hand taking comfort on your thighs as you were sitting and socializing to grabbing your hand as you move around your friend’s backyard where the baby shower was set up at. You adored that Nanami couldn’t get enough of your body. He cherished every part of you from the imperfections that you felt insecure about to the striking beauty that had him staring at you with a goofy grin when you weren’t looking.

You stared up at him searching for any problems in his eyes. Searching for anything that would cause you yourself to back out, but you didn’t find anything. He truly wanted another kid. He wanted your daughter to have a sibling.

His lips begin to kiss your jawline, the kisses went from soft to excited. “Please let me fuck a baby in you [Y/N],” Nanami mumbled against your golden skin.

“Okay.” was the only thing that escaped your mouth before Nanami threw you over his shoulder to take you to your bedroom. A giggle bounced from the back of your throat at each step he took. You never saw the man so serious about something other than work, but here he was on the mission to make sure he get you pregnant.

When your back felt the fluffiness of your shared bed, it was a wonderful sight to see your husband standing above you. His fingers combed through his hair as he tugged off the pastel pink polo shirt he was wearing. Fingertips tracing down his toned chest as you watched intensely. His chest was toned as could be as if he was sculpted by a Greek god himself. His hands finally traveled down to the waistband of the pants he wore before he’s unbuttoning them. You could see the band to his grey Calvin Klein briefs and the tent in his crotch area. Your skin felt hot feeling Nanami grab a hold of your ankle to drag you closer to the edge of the bed. He brought your ankle up to his mouth, peppering the inside of it with soft kisses. The scent of you lingered up his nostrils and he could only bask in the familiar scent he has smelt for years now.

“You said you were going to fuck a baby in me, what are you waiting for? You asked with innocence dripping off your tongue. You glanced up at your lust-filled husband through your eyelash while letting your pearly whites graze at your plump lower lip.

Nanami only let a hum pass by his lips before he’s stepping closer in between your legs after dropping the one he once was kissing upon. His hands danced up the sundress you wore. The heat of the moment only turned you on more causing dampness in the panties you were wearing. The silence from Nanami scared you. Not in a fearful type of way, but you knew that when he didn’t say many words during intercourse, he would be focused on one thing. That thing is to make sure you feel good from head to toe.

His fingers grasped at the thin fabric of your panties before he’s slowly taking them down your thighs. He soon discarded you of the sundress you were wearing. The crisp air and Nanami’s touch caused goosebumps to adorn your skin quickly. The look he gave you caused your heart to quicken. When he saw your bare body, he always looked at you as if he was falling in love all over again. The gaze was a complete panty soaker for you, it caused you to want him, even more, when you guys made love.

“It’s not fair that I’m the only one naked here.” You said as your hand reached out to grab a hold of your husband. You lightly brushed against his abs just so you could get a feel of him similar to what he was doing. But he soon pushes your hand away before kneeling in between your thighs.

His firm grasp upon your thighs before tugging you closer to his face caused a soft gasp to come out of you. He tugged your dress up so that it was around your waist. Your lower half was completely exposed as your heart was thumping against your chest waiting for the next move Nanami was going to make. The growing anticipation caused you to shiver under Nanam’s touch before feeling his soft kitten licks upon your folds.

You relaxed under his touch with each soaked lick upon your puffy lips. Your head fell back into the fluffiness of your bed as Nanami was in between your thighs. The pornographic sound of him in between your plush thighs. Each delicate suck on your clit and any rough moan Nanami let out while eating you out pushed you further on the edge. Your teeth nibbled at your lower lip holding back a moan before you once felt Nanami tug you closer to his handsome face. Your thighs vibrated when you felt the flat of his tongue traced along the entrance of your pussy. “Gosh, Nanami.” You sighed happily at the way he was in between your thighs.

As if you cooing his name was the green light, you let out a sudden gasp when you felt his fingers push themselves inside you. The wet squelching noise of him gliding his fingers inward and outward at a beautiful pace instantly caused you to moan. Your back arched off the bed before you felt Nanami’s free hand push back down before he dove right back in between your thighs. As his slim digits curled inside you, his tongue brushes against your clit in a teasing manner. His brown eyes glanced at your fucked out expression while your fingers grasped at the sheets below your naked body. His nose rubs at your soft skin with each flick of his tongue. Your orgasm was nearing and the way his tongue was moving was only pushing you further from being a cumming mess.

With Nanami’s slender fingers inside you, while his tongue flickered at your tongue, you could feel the wetness below you that stained your sheets. Your orgasm was screaming to come out as you attempted to run away from Nanami’s explicit touch. He only pulled you back and pinned you down to continue what he was doing (uninterrupted this time).Your slick coating his middle and index finger with each curl inside of you. As soon as you met his brown eyes, the fierce feeling in the pit of your stomach burst. Your head fell back in complete bliss as you sob for Nanami.

You were seeing stars with each delicate whimper that you let out. Your fingers intertwined in Nanami’s blonde hair while your hips bucked through the passionate orgasm you were experiencing. Nanami’s mouth still lapped up every droplet of your wetness as if he was a starving man. The pad of his thumb rubbed comforting circles on your thighs—it was a kind gesture to help soothe the electrifying feeling of your orgasm being pushed upon you so soon. He removed his mouth from your pussy with a pop. The addicting taste of you on his tongue while his lips dragged hunger-filled kisses on the inside your thighs before he’s standing up fully.

If you looked closely you could point out that his bulge indicating how hard he was grew. You quickly gained your composure as you backed yourself further on the bed, your legs quivering with each movement. But you still ached for more. You could hear Nanami tugging off the remaining clothes that were blocking you from seeing his naked body that you’ve seen so many times.

When the time came for you and Nanami to finally intertwine with each other, you felt so many emotions hit you at once. The feeling of love with the way he caressed your thighs with soothing circles as he lined himself up to your entrance. You felt hopeful that after this you would have the satisfaction to carry yet another bundle of joy that you were so proud of to be raised with such a wonderful man. Your nails dug into his forearm as your lips gasped apart with each shove of Nanam’s hips. The intense feeling of his cock stretching you out bit by bit only caused you to choke up a whimper.

Nanami stared down at you with worry in his eyes. His brown-colored eyes look into yours before he’s crashing his lips upon your gasping ones, “I got you, baby, just relax.” He mumbles against your lips. “I always got you.”

His easeful tone and even more comforting words caused your body to relax. Soon your body relaxed and felt like you were on cloud night. The astonishing feeling of Nanami’s hips bucking forward caused your eyes to lolly in the back of your head. Breaking apart from the kiss to moan out his name like a sweet tune playing on a Sunday morning. Once Nanami heard his name fall off your tongue, it was as if a light switch was turned on. His hips pushed forward quicker. His hands quickly spread your thighs apart even further just so the tip of his cock could hit that spot that caused your pedicured toes to curl.

“Fuck—you feel so good,” Nanami uttered through breathy groans. Slow and sensual strokes were always the start of Nanami making you feel good before he turned into a madman that drove you insane.

He took the enjoyment of having you whine out for more like a desperate cat in heat and soon giving you just that until you’re begging for him to let you cum under his strong body. His lips dragged kisses upon your neck as you felt his thrusts become quicker. The sound of the bed's wooden headboard was attempting to overpower the pornographic sound of skin slapping against each other. Your eyes fluttered open to glance up to see Nanami hovering over you. The beautiful sight of seeing the way his teeth chafed upon his lower lip holding back a moan and his cheeks stained red due to the pleasurable sensation of the way your cunt wrapped around him. He was so handsome in a state like this.

Nanami’s hand reached above to grasp at the headboard, not particularly stopping it from knocking against the wall—but to help himself move at a rhythmic pace. He felt your legs snake around his waist completely trapping in the trace of being balls deep inside of you. It was as if you sense that he was about to cum. His body felt hot instantly as beads of sweat decorated his forehead. The salty droplets caused some of his blond hair to stamp upon his forehead. His hand grasped the headboard as he only stuttered out sweet nothings and praise about you.

Something along the lines of, you look so beautiful y/n or you’ll look so gorgeous pregnant with his child. You couldn’t tell due to your constant moaning. The sensational feeling of your orgasm slowly tugging you further and further towards the light. Your legs locked around Nanami’s waist so tightly that you were sure he could feel the heel of your foot tap at his bottom with each thrust. As your orgasm came upon you, the one hand that was holding upon the headboard intertwined with yours completely entrapping you upon his thrusts through your orgasm.

“Kento!” You snarled out his name. Fingernails digging into his skin wanting to feel his body some more even though you two were around practically insufferable with each other.

“Shit—I’m so close sweetheart. Just hold on a lil longer.” Nanami breathed out as he was nearly going insane with the way your pussy quivered around him.

It didn’t long before Nanami was releasing himself with a quickness. Whiny moans and stuttered words were the only things you could hear from your husband. Your fingers intertwined with each other’s as you could feel Nanami’s cum inside you, a feeling you’ve felt many times before even when you weren’t trying for a baby. Your mouth gaped open before Nanami enclosed the breathy moans that you let out with a passionate kiss. The taste of him imprinted your tongue as you brought him closer basking in the moment of feeling him inside of you. The warm feeling of his cum being inside you caused you to moan in the kiss as you felt yourself flutter around his cock. Both of you cumming at the same time, making it a perfect opportunity to relish the perfect moment you two shared.

When the both of you were tugging out the temporary feeling of your sweet ecstasy, Nanami plopped down next to you. Your legs felt numb, you felt stuffed and you could feel the love bites Nanami placed upon your shoulder. Your eyes barely were open as you lay on your back. Completely dazed and possibly still dickmatized from the feeling of Nanami being inside of you. Nanami’s cum inside of you as you hoped you two did got the job done to give Yu another sibling. You could feel Nanami's head in the crook of your neck, his lips kissing at the small trail of bite marks he left on your body which caused you to close your eyes in complete bliss.

“Hopefully, the first time was it.” You would mumble and could hear Nanami chuckle.

“If you remember, with Yu it took the fourth time and it was at my job Christmas party,” Nanami answered, gaining a groan from you.

“Seriously?” You questioned.

“Seriously. I remember because I had to cover your mouth with my hand to muffle your moans.” Nanami pointed out as his fingers were tracing little shapes on your naked skin.

You didn’t recall Nanami fucking you four times to conceive Yu. Perhaps it was due to him fucking you senseless a few minutes ago that caused your brain to go fuzzy.

“Three more times to go,” Nanami smirked as he once again kissed your skin.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #anime smut #anime x reader #jjk x black reader #black reader #female reader #anime x black reader #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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latenightreadingpdf · 25 days

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Familiar Faces - Spencer Reid

Summary: Doctor Spencer Reid reunites with childhood friend Y/N, only to discover she's being stalked. As the BAU investigates, old feelings resurface between them.

The bright fluorescent lights of the FBI building cast a glow over the corridor. Doctor Spencer Reid adjusted his satchel on his shoulder, his mind racing with the details of the latest case file that had just landed on his desk. He was lost in thought when he bumped into someone, nearly dropping the stack of papers he was holding.

"I'm so sorry," a familiar voice said.

Spencer looked up, his eyes widening in disbelief. Standing in front of him was Y/N, his childhood friend from high school. Memories flooded back as he took in her familiar face, though older and more mature than he remembered.

"Y/N?" Spencer stammered, his voice laced with shock.

"Is that really you?" he continued, his eyes scanning her face for confirmation.

She smiled, her eyes shining with recognition and surprise. "Wow, Spencer Reid. I never thought I'd see you here in Quantico."

"It's been years," Spencer replied, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

Before he could say anything more, Y/N stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. Spencer hesitated for a moment, his touch aversion making him uncomfortable, but he found himself wrapping his arms around her in return.

The team, who had been watching the interaction from a distance, exchanged confused glances. They had no idea that Spencer and Y/N knew each other.

"Is everything okay here?" Hotch, the BAU's unit chief, asked, stepping forward with a stern expression.

"Yeah, we're just... catching up," Spencer explained, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

As they pulled apart, Y/N's smile faded, her expression turning serious. "Spencer, someone's been following me. I think I'm being stalked."

Spencer's eyes widened in concern. "We'll handle it," he assured her, his voice firm.

The team gathered in the briefing room, reviewing the details of Y/N's case. The stalker had been sending her anonymous gifts and messages and had even been spotted near her home.

"We need to catch this guy before he escalates," Morgan said, his voice filled with determination.

"I agree," Hotch replied. "Reid, you'll stay with Y/N to ensure her safety."

Spencer nodded, his mind already racing with the details of the case. As he and Y/N left the BAU office, he couldn't help but feel nervous and flustered around her, his usual calm and composed demeanor faltering.

Over the next few days, Spencer and Y/N spent a lot of time together, trying to piece together clues about the stalker. Despite the seriousness of the situation, they found moments of comfort and familiarity in each other's company, reminiscing about their high school days and catching up on lost time.

One evening, as they were going over the case files in Y/N's house, Spencer found himself lost in thought, staring at Y/N's face as she concentrated on the documents spread out before them.

"Y/N, I..." Spencer started, his voice faltering.

She looked up, her eyes meeting his. "What is it, Spencer?"

"I just... I never thought I'd see you again, let alone like this," he admitted, his cheeks turning a shade of pink.

Y/N smiled, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his arm. "Life has a funny way of bringing people back together," she said softly.

As they continued to work on the case, Spencer realized that his feelings for Y/N had never truly faded; they had simply been buried beneath years of separation and missed opportunities. He found himself hoping that once the stalker was caught and the case was closed, they would have a chance to explore the connection that had unexpectedly rekindled between them.

The days turned into weeks, and with the combined efforts of the BAU and local law enforcement, the stalker was finally apprehended. As Spencer and Y/N said their goodbyes, both promising to keep in touch, he knew that this was just the beginning of their story.

Standing in the hallway of the Quantico FBI building, Spencer took Y/N's hand, pulling her into a gentle embrace. This time, there was no hesitation, no discomfort—just the undeniable realization that sometimes, life gives you a second chance to reconnect with the people who matter most.

And as they parted ways, both Spencer and Y/N knew that they were embarking on a new chapter of their lives—one filled with hope, promise, and the possibility of a love that had been a long time coming.

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maybankcore · 2 months

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rafe cameron — nsfw alphabet ༝༚༝༚

context : the alphabet.. but each letter has a new rafe cameron nsfw/sfw concept. this is also bunny!reader x rafe.

tws : smut, nsfw, rafe x sweet/bunny reader, cream pie, voyeurism, brief degrading, brief daddy kink. fingering, porn/nudes, tying reader up, oral sex, a ton of nsfw headcanons.

A: aftercare • you would tend to get sleep almost immediately after you come, and the first thing rafe does is take you to the bathroom and let you pee so u don’t get a UTI, n he’ll probably wait outside and keep asking “u done baby?” ‘till you clean up. and obviously, after the oh so harddd task of peeing, he’ll carry you back to bed. rafe somehow doesn’t get tired after sex, but seeing you already get lazy eyed, he has no choice but to lay down with his little bun and cuddle up with her.

B: boobs. literally boobs. • rafe loves your tits, and he loves grabbing them even more. he’ll randomly come up behind you when you’re doing your makeup, hair, etc. and just grab ur boobs. he loves the way they fit perfectly in his big palm, and how flustered you get too. “rafe! stop— i’m doing my makeup!!” you’d say, as you wave his hands away, feigning annoyance. “relax baby, their just too tempting.” rafe snickered, smirking. rafe just can’t get enough of them, especially when your wearing the thin, baby pink, lacy top from victoria’s secret.

C: cum • okay, rafe knows that he has to use a condom, blah blah blah. but on those days where he just needs a good, raw, fuck.. trust me, he’d cum inside you, making sure every inch of his hot cum fills you up to the brim. and rest assured, you’d hate and love it at the same time.

D: dirty talk • he’d soooo dirty talk you in public, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, knowing how wet your sweet pussy gets just by the sound of his voice. he’d sometimes say the most vile things about what he’d to you when you both get home.

“do you really think i’m not noticing your blowjob eyes as i’m golfing, huh? y’know.. i’d love seeing those eyes of yours when i’m fucking you endlessly. making you cum so hard. oh god, baby, i can hear those pretty moans of yours already. hmm?” he’d huskily whisper, inches by the shell of your ear. and then, he’d walk off as if nothing happened. leaving you anticipated for the entire day, squeezing your thighs and drinking an excessive amount of water to help with the heat building in your cheeks.

E: experience • rafe deffo has experience with sex. but i wouldn’t call him the biggest man-whore, since he met you in s2 of obx, i’d say he had 4 bodies by then. 2 of them being random hookups and the other 2 being girls from a short term relationship w/ him. i also hc that bunny!reader would have a few bodies, but would act like she’s a virgin just for rafe, similar to how maddie perez did it.

F: fingering • mmm, rafe is a master at fingering. he knows how to get your pussy wet and make it even wetter when he’s touching you. he’d start off with just a few strokes on your clothed pussy, building up tension that you so desperately want to release. n then when you’d get all needy he’d slide your panties down and spread your thighs.

you’d position yourself on his lap, head on his shoulder, looking at him with your big bambi eyes, pleading. and he’d slowly circle your clit in circular motions, taking pleasure in the way your hips jerked and lips parted with heavy breaths. and then he’d sink two fingers in, slowly at first, and then going faster. the cold touch of his golden rings slipping between your lips made you moan. loud. and in amidst of all this, he’d be doing some random thing on his laptop, but secretly taking a voice memo of your sweet moans. to obviously jerk off to later, you really think he’d pleasure you and restrict himself from doing it later on?

G: g-spot • imagine no guy has actually found your g-spot before, they’d just fuck you and you’d get that tiny ounce of pleasure that made you cum, but when rafe first fingered you, curling up his fingers to hit that sweet spot that only you yourself could find, you UNRAVELED. i’m sure he was shocked at how loud you moaned. he had thought you’d never gotten fingered before. but when you told him that no guy had actually fingered you that good, he was both pleased and shook. “what d’you mean no one’s found your g-spot? isn’t that like— the main thing in sex??” but to be honest.. him being the only guy that found your g-spot really boosted his confidence lol.

H: hair • rafe absolutely loves your hair, playing with it, braiding it, seeing how it drapes over your shoulders elegantly. he had never met someone who takes care of their hair like their life depends on it. you’d have serums, hair masks, good hair days and bad hair days, and rafe was all here for it.

(this is for my curly hair readers btw). sometimes when your hair wasn’t cooperating you’d get annoyed and bang your hairbrush against your head, clearly disheveling your hair, and rafe would come over and brush it for you. putting in your gel, mousse and even diffusing it.

rafe also is weirdly obsessed with how your hair smells, he’d bury his shoulder into it, or randomly smell it throughout the day, and once he’d even gotten wheeze to smell your hair.. “her hair smells so good right? i don’t even know how, it just smells fuckin’ amazing.” he’d proudly state, and you not being sure if wether that’s creepy or cute.

I: initials (tattooed) • right on his chest, beneath his heart, are the two letters of your name, more so, your initials. Y/N.Y/L/N written in a bold, italic font. and right next to it is your favorite animal, a bunny. you were struck when he had actually gotten a whole ass bunny tatted next to your initial!!

J: jerking off in ur absence • whenever rafe has trips, or if you’ve been away for some time, rafe deffo jerks off to pictures you sent to him. you’d send a teasing mirror pic of you getting dressed, your hand covering your nipples. and then you’d send a soapy tit pic of you in the shower. but lastly, a day before you come back, you’d send the hottest picture of you in rafes favorite pink lingerie set, playing with yourself and moaning rafes name. leaving him needy and desperate until he lands..

K: kinks • omg the amount of kinks u and rafe would share imagine him fucking you for the first time and slowly starts roughing you up, only to see you cooperate and urge him to do more. the smirk on his facee😩.

L: location (where you fuck) • personally, public sex is a huge turn in for rafe, but being the little slut you are, it’s an even bigger turn-on for you. obviously you’d fuck in his bed or yours, and sometimes i’m the couch or kitchen counter. rafe would also take you on the druthers boat and make you ride his lap, stopping when a boat comes buy, your sweaty face and messed up outfit being evident.

M: marks • rafe would leave hickeys everywhere. stomach, thighs, neck, collarbone, shoulders, tits, even inches away from your pussy. you’d leave bite marks on rafe, scratches illuminating his back, and lipstick stains all over his collar and cheek.

N: nudes • he just has a hidden album filled with your nudes. wether its videos of you both fucking, teasing pictures you’d send him of your bikini try ons, or you fingering your self. he’d also have voice memos of your moans saved. p.s, rafe would so ask you to talk about something random for a minute on voice memos and jerk off to your voice.

O: only fans acc • a little similar to the one on top ^. but imagine making an only fans account where ur only follower/subscriber is rafe. and trust, he will act like a whole ass fan. he’ll comment on your videos; “omg ur so hot can i request food play” with a +400$ message next to it. youd livestream and he’d be your only viewer, talking you through playing with yourself. and when i mean he’s a fan, i mean this man would literally pay you 1000$ per month as per his ‘subscription’..

P: plushies • whilst fucking you hard, rafe would grab your favorite plushy and tell you to hold it. he found it so fucking hot seeing you cling onto the soft toy, bringing it to your mouth to bite onto to hold back your loud moans.

Q: quickies • yall would deffo have quick fucks in between parties, hangouts, dinners, etc. sometimes if your ovulating you’d practically beg on your knees for a quickie with rafe. “rafeyy, please. if you don’t do anything i’ll go to the bathroom n’deal with it myself!” you whine, nudging his arm to get up from his seat at an event. and obviously, he gives in. every. single. time.

R: riding his thigh • when your extremely horny, and need an immediate relief youd prop yourself on rafes thigh and start grinding. this would be your only option as he’d dismiss your attempts to make him fuck you, so he’d tap his thigh and say “if your really that horny jus’ ride my thigh. cmon, you wanted to come, right?”. you’d get so wet, making a mess on his sweatpants.

S: sucking his dick • messy blowjobs>>. sucking him off after a hard day, at a party when he’s high and needy, or right after you went to his family dinner. you’d look so perfect with your big, glossy eyes staring up at him. head bobbing as you perfectly swirl the pad of your tongue against the base of his cock. him groaning and praising your amazing head-giving skills.

T: tying you up • hands above your head, a belt knotted against both your wrists, restraining you from pushing rafe away whilst he fucks you mindlessly. rafe would be destroying you, pounding in and out as you take the pleasure like a good girl. you are his little bun, after all.

U: unfair • teasing you when your sat on his lap, waiting for him to finish off his work, whilst he slowly and lightly circles your clit. “daddy, i really need you.” you’d moan in his ear. “i know baby, i know. daddies gotta finish this off first, ‘kay?” and so you waited, only for him to go into the shower, not even letting you in.

V: voyeurism • sliding your panties off and stuffing it in his pocket is his favorite thing to do when he’s off golfing whilst your sitting in your garden chair, feeling the coldness of the air blowing against your sticky cunt. not being able to fix the unbearable tension in your pulsing clit, and having to wait till you get home.

W: what/how big is he • a whopping 7.3 inches. a tad bit specific ik, but the way he’d ruin you.. and what’s funny is the fact that rafe knows he’s big!! and he knows that you can take it too.

X: ion know what to put for this one.. so i’m gonna put a random hc of rafe.. • has a weird food play kink?.. i just feel like he’d take ice cream and lick it off your tits, or spread chocolate syrup all over your nipples and stomach and lick it off too. (obviously nothing down there, don’t wanna get a yeast infection).

Y: ‘your too big!’ • lining himself up against you, seeing his big cock already needy of slamming into you, made you worry. your eyes slightly widened at his size, how the fuck is he gonna fit?. “rafey, i don’t think it’s gonna fit.. your too big.” you mustered out, wanting but at the same time not wanting him. “shhh bun, ts’ gunna fit, i’ll go realll slow? okay baby?” he stated, making you ease up and unclench your pussy, allowing full entrance. he slowly slid inside you, already owning a long moan and scatters of whimpers escaping your mouth. he went in further, and you took him in fully. “good girl, i told you it’d fit.”

Z: also have no idea, so another random hc one again! • loves seeing you spit out his cum after sucking him off. just seeing his cum drop down your chin turns him on sm and makes him hard asf.

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prythianpages · 28 days

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I Can't Pretend | Eris x Reader

summary: After your sudden disappearance, Eris takes it upon himself to find you. When he does, he breaks down and can no longer hide his feelings for you.

warning: angst, suggestiveness, smut (p in v, loss of virginity); this one is kind of a rollercoaster of emotions and the longest imagine of this series (at 6K words)

a/n: you can find the masterlist to this series here or read this as a stand alone imagine (: all you have to know is that reader is engaged to Eris's brother and in the part right before this one, reader and Sawyer got threatened by Beron. this piece here is brought to you by Tom Odell's Can't Pretend.

“There will be a bedding ceremony at your wedding.”

“You just marked your death sentence.”

Your body grows cold, muscles tensing once again. The tears running down your face feel endless as you stare at the door closing behind the High Lord. When it finally shuts, the sound feels like a sentence in itself, locking you into those promises. Bedding ceremony. Death sentence. The words repeat themselves over and over inside your head like a haunting melody.

You’re going to be watched as you're forced to be intimate with Sawyer. Then, you’re going to die. You want to run…but where to?

A whimper drags you from your thoughts, directing your attention back to the male lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Your fate is sealed and cannot be helped. But you can at least help him.

You hardly recognize him as you kneel beside him and help him sit up. Blood trickles from his face and every exposed inch of his pale skin is littered with open wounds that make bile rise in your throat. You can also sense all the broken bones in his body, something urging you inside to mend them.

“Let me help you,” you whisper, unable to hide the tremor in your voice and your hands. Slowly, you bring your hands to his face, grimacing at the lack of warmth.

A choked, rattled sound escapes from Sawyer. He instinctively leans in to your touch, welcoming the surprising wave of relief that comes with it. It’s as if something deep inside you is calling to him, telling him that you can fix him.

“Did you…did you mean it?” He croaks out.

You don’t have to ask to know what he means. “Yes.”

Sawyer’s pained expression softens for a brief moment. “Sometimes…” he begins and as you blink away your tears, you catch the way he averts his gaze, focusing on the splatters of his own blood that taint the marble floor. “Sometimes, I wish the Cauldron had made me different too...”

“The Cauldron makes no mistakes,” you assure him, your voice steadying with every breath. “It doesn't matter who you love. All that matters is that you love strongly and freely. I sense you have a good heart…which I’m coming to find is a rare thing in a place like this.”

“I thought I was an asshole.” There’s a subtle hint of regret in his tone.

“Yes,” you say with a small exhale. “I’m afraid that you still are… An asshole with a good heart.”

And for the first time since you met him, a faint ghost of a smile graces Sawyer's lips as he looks back at you.

You continue to help heal Sawyer, the same way you’ve done for others in the past. The cuts on his face close as your fingers brush against them, the swelling of his face goes down and the broken bones begin to mend. It’s like a miracle. There’s no trace of any injury left behind other than the blood that has not yet dried.

It’s strange for it to be quiet between you both. You’ve grown accustomed to the insults thrown your way in his presence and even the look of disgust that usually mars his features when looking at you. But all you see is the bewilderment in his face.

As the weight of silence threatens to consume you, you find yourself humming to deter the thoughts lingering in your mind. It’s a familiar melody, one your mother would gently sing whenever your injuries and the sickness that would often befall you begged for relief. Just as it did in those tender moments, the melody you hum washes over you, bringing an immediate sense of comfort.

The warmth returns to your veins and Sawyer, too, senses the soothing energy as it radiates from your touch. His sharp aches dulls into a distant memory. “I didn’t know you were a healer,” he says quietly and then realizes how little he knows about you. He has an inkling that his older brother knows more. “Are you from Dawn Court?”

“My mother was. I think I inherited it from her side,” you reply, helping him to his feet.

As the two of you stand, the door slams open, causing you to involuntary flinch. To your relief, it is Lady Raelynn and not her fearsome husband. Her breaths are quick and shallow and eyes full of concern.

“Oh thank the Cauldron,” she breathes, rushing toward her son. She assesses him for injuries, not caring over the blood that stains her hands as she softly touches his face. “Let’s get you cleaned up. The healer is already waiting in my quarters and I’ve had my maid prepare some tea to soothe your ails.”

The way she speaks leaves an unsettling feeling in your stomach, as it gives away that situations such as this occur with such frequency. Lady Raelynn then turns to you, gaze dipping down toward your hands. They’re stained with Sawyer’s blood. “The both of you,” she adds as emphasis.

Her hand reaches for yours but you take a step back, suddenly feeling sick. She had already included you in the disconcerting routine. The urge to run comes over you again as Beron’s words resurface in your mind. Is this what your life will become? A routine of suffering and torture until death harshly claims you.

“I’m okay,” you say, taking a deep breath. It’s a lie and you all know it but they don’t push you further. They share a glance filled with understanding, deepening your revulsion. You think you’re going to throw up. “I–I think I need to rest.”

“Of course,” Lady Raelynn nods, a deep frown settling upon her face. “Please allow one of my maids to escort you back to your room.”

Eris has grown to know fear over the centuries. It held him in its grip, bringing forth tears and whispering sweet nightmares into his ears until there was no trace of hope left behind. But this feeling surging through his veins and creeping into his heart is much, much worse. Like a fear he’s never known before.

You’re not in your room. You’re not in the gardens. You’re not in the library.

All air has left his lungs and he feels like he can’t breathe until he finds you. There’s one more place within the Forest house he’s yet to check. He’s racing toward it, his pace reflecting the erratic rhythm of his heart. He knows he should tread carefully but you’re flooding him with your emotions through the bond, pushing away all rational thoughts from his mind.

The doors to Lady Raelynn’s quarters slam open. His eyes are drinking in the room like a man deprived of water, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Y/n,” your name is spilling from his lips in a choked breath. “Where is she?”

His gaze lands upon Sawyer, who sits on the couch and then to his mother, who sits right next to him. You’re not here either. His heightened senses take in the bloody cloth in his mother’s hands–not your blood–and then, the somber expression on Sawyer’s face. Across from them, three teacups rest on the small table, the faint scent of chamomile wafting over to him.

Suddenly, Eris is livid. His gaze darkens and he’s rushing toward his younger brother. Hands roughly grasp onto the front of Sawyer’s shirt, forcing the younger male to rise to his feet. Flames tickle around his throat, tightening with every second.

“What did you do?” Eris seethes. It’s more of a demand than a question.

“Eris!”

“Answer me,” Eris nearly growls, his eyes mirroring the flames tightening around Sawyer’s neck. “Or I swear to the Cauldron, I’ll–”

“Eris!” His mother calls out again.

This time, she’s successful. She steps in between her sons, a hand at Eris’s chest and she can feel the frantic beating of his heart. The flames around Sawyer’s throat loosen their grip but only a little.

“Your brother has endured enough blows today.”

“He looks perfectly fine to me,” Eris retorts, amber eyes taking note of the lack of injuries on him. Despite his mother’s words, he’s inclined to give him one. One that will remain and act as a reminder to never cross him. He already knows that whatever happened, was Sawyer’s fault.

“Yes,” Lady Raelynn begins, voice heavy with caution. She knows Eris will find out what happened one way or another and though it fills her with dread to be the harbinger of bad news, she rather her son hear it from her. “Because y/n healed him.”

The sound of your name brings Eris back down and the flames around Sawyer’s throat extinguish. He looks at his mother, silently urging her to go on.

“Your father caught the ear of the rumors circulating in court and well…well, he called for a bedding ceremony.”

Sawyer swallows thickly at the reminder. He casts his head down, overwhelmed by Eris’s heated gaze that is directly solely on him now. A realization hits him then and slowly, he lifts his head. “You care for her, don’t you? All this time…,” his voice trails off.

Eris falters. He shakes his head, a mix of horror and panic tainting his delicate features. “I told you–”

“Then you should know,” Sawyer interrupts him, lips pressing into a tight line before speaking again. “Father plans to kill her after the wedding.”

Flames erupt from Eris’s fingertips, itching to wrap around Sawyer’s throat once more. He warned his brother not to be a fool. To be more careful because this was not just a matter of life or death for Sawyer but for you as well. Eris just needed more time to help you and he fears Sawyer just deprived him of it.

A firm push from Lady Raelynn stops him from raising his hands. “Eris, your brother is not the enemy,” she reminds him, tone pleading with him to hear her. “Y/n is in her room. Go to her. She needs you.”

Eris's fiery temper flickers, dissolving into the familiar grip of anxiety that had driven him to this chamber. He takes a step back and Lady Raelynn’s hand drops back to her side. “She’s not in her room.”

It’s now Lady Raelynn’s turn to panic. “What do you mean she isn’t? My maid personally escorted her there. She even helped draw her a bath.”

“She’s gone.”

Sawyer lets a curse under his breath, a shiver running down his spine. “One more mishap,” he murmurs, fear swirling in his eyes. He falls onto the couch, sinking into the cushion with dread. “One more mishap and father warned…,” his eyebrows furrow, not being able to finish the threat Beron had made to the both of you and Eris feels his heart at his throat.

“She couldn’t have gone far.” Lady Raelynn speaks but it does nothing to reassure Eris.

“When I bring her back,” Eris says, voice steady with determination because he will find you. He takes another step back, toward the doors. One hand grasps for the knob while the other points a finger at Sawyer. “Then, I’ll deal with you.”

Sawyer says nothing but Lady Raelynn nods, urging him to go. “We’ll cover for you,” she assures him. “Please be careful.”

Eris leaves without another word, the doors closing shut behind him.

“He loves her.” Sawyer's words are tinged with sympathy and bitter amusement. A humorless chuckle escapes from him and he looks toward his mother. Her gaze remains fixed on the doors of her room, where Eris had left just moments ago, as she gives a silent prayer to the Cauldron.

“Are we cursed? To love those we cannot have?”

“I’m afraid you all have inherited it from me,” Lady Raelynn confesses softly, her voice carrying the weight of years of unspoken longing, clouding her eyes with regret and sorrow.

Leaves crunch beneath Eris's boots as he makes his way toward the stables, the crisp autumn air biting at his cheeks. His face dons his usual mask but his heart is still racing. He would much rather take his hounds in his quest to find you but the risk of raising suspicion held him back. It’s not uncommon for him to ride during these hours of the day and it’d give him a better vantage on covering as much ground as he can as opposed to winnowing.

The sound of a high-pitched whinny echoes through the air as Eris approaches, drawing his attention. His gaze settles upon the stablemen, their focus fixed upon a solitary stall.

“Lord Eris,” one of them greets, bowing his head in respect. “Do you wish to ride? I can ready your horse. Just give me a moment.”

Eris offers no response as he strides purposefully toward the stablemen, his curiosity piqued by the source of the anxious sounds. The stableman follows his gaze, his expression troubled. It’s your horse, Maximus. The white stallion throws his head back, pawing at the ground with such force that the dirt rises in swirling clouds.

“He’s been restless all morning, my Lord.”

“I’ll take him,” Eris finally speaks, his gaze lingering on the horse. From where he stands,he can sense the tension rippling through Maximus’s powerful frame. It reminds him of the way his hounds act when they sense something is wrong. “Perhaps, a ride will soothe him.”

The stableman’s eyes widen in alarm. “I would advise against it, Lord Eris. This one has a temper that only Lady Y/n can soothe. He’s bitten us before.”

Eris lets out a quiet amused huff, undeterred. “I’ll saddle him myself,” he says and it’s as if your horse understands for it tilts his head to look directly at Eris, a silent exchange passing between them.

The stableman simply nods, reluctantly handing the necessary equipment to prepare your horse. As Eris steps into the stall, Maximus steps back with a deep and heavy exhale. “It’s okay. I’m y/n’s…y/n’s friend,” Eris reassures though the word ‘friend’ rolls off his tongue awkwardly.

As he utters your name, Maximus's body relaxes slightly, mirroring the calm that had settled over Eris earlier in his mother’s quarters. He admires the way Maximus’s eyes soften slightly, betraying his deep love for you. Animals are the true definition of unconditional love, he thinks. However, there’s a flicker of doubt in the horse's eyes at the mention of the word "friend," as if he could sense something more. It makes Eris wonder if your horse can see past the glamor he meticulously placed over himself and you.

Maximus doesn’t move when Eris takes another step forward. He pats his neck softly, running his fingers down the silky white strands of Maximus’s mane. The white stallion’s head lowers and ears relax under the gentle touch.

“Can you take me to her?”

Maximus taps one of his hooves in response and Eris smiles.

Eris can feel your bond growing stronger and stronger as Maximus gallops, taking both of them deeper into Autumn’s forest. Around them, trees adorned with golden leaves blur into a whirl of color. The sound of thundering hooves fills the air. He pulls on the reins and the white stallion immediately obeys, coming to a gradual stop.

“Stay here.” Eris commands as he dismounts.

Maximus lets out a noise in protest but does not fight when Eris secures him to a nearby tree. He looks around the forest, allowing his senses to guide him through the labyrinth of trees. He feels a sharp tug against his ribcage, prompting his head to turn right. How did he not think of it sooner?

Eris quietly makes his way toward the clearing ahead, where the meadow he often frequents is. The canopy of the tall oak trees filter the golden sunlight into a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow. A kaleidoscope of wildflowers blooms along the edges, their petals kissed by the wind. His senses sharpen with anticipation. It’s as if a taut string is pulling him inexorably closer to you.

He’s flooded with relief when he finally spots you but it is short lived as he takes in your appearance. Relief is quickly replaced by a terrible sinking feeling that he feels in his very core.

The river is a distant murmur as you face it, your back to him. The shifting patterns of light and shadow play across your form, casting you in muted hues. You’re dressed in his clothes, the same ones he had given you when the two of you snuck out. The ruffled long sleeves do nothing to protect you from the biting Autumn winds and he frowns as you curl into yourself, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You seem smaller somehow, more vulnerable. He’s already taking his coat off as he approaches you.

“Angel,” he calls out softly, placing his coat over your shoulders, but you don’t move. You don’t even react…are you even breathing?

Eris steps around you, his eyes pools of amber concern and as he comes to stand in front of you, his heart clenches. Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy. Tears stain your rosy cheeks, making his knees weak. Yet it's the emptiness in your gaze and the absence of radiance in your expression that shatters his heart. This court has broken you beyond repair. You, who always shined so bright, who lit up his world, were losing your spark. This is what he had been trying to prevent and he failed.

His hands cup your face in a tender caress, internally wincing at the lack of warmth he feels. Drawing upon his powers, he channels heat into his hands. As the warmth envelops you, he watches as your distant gaze gradually returns to him.

A pained expression clouds his features, tears stinging at his own eyes. He knows the answer, recognizes it the more he looks at you. He knows because you wear the same expression he does after facing Beron’s temper. But he needs to hear it. His brows furrow, barely able to contain the anger that had been left simmering. Anger not directed at you but at his father.

“Did he…did he hurt you?”

“I’m okay.”

There’s a roughness to your voice he’s never heard before that kills him inside. You lean in to his touch, tilting your head slightly to the right. Consequently, the same cheek Beron had struck earlier. Eris frowns. There’s no mark on your pretty features, no trace of harm of any kind. Though, he knows better now.

So he asks again. Differently and more carefully, this time. He’s trying very hard to tame the fire raging through his veins for your sake, worrying that he’d scare you if he allows you even the slightest glimpse of it.

“Did he touch you?”

You shift your head, attempting to escape his hold. But Eris doesn’t allow it and takes your silence as an answer. He swallows thickly. His father had laid his hands on you. Fiery tongues surge from the earth, swirling around you both and painting the air with bright hues of amber and scarlet. How dare he? His father is going to pay for this, Eris will make sure of it. He’s going to return the pain Beron inflicted on you tenfold. He’s going to ki—

“I’m okay.” You try again and it’s as if you’re also trying to convince yourself.

Eris leans his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m so sorry, angel,” he murmurs, voice thick with longing and regret. He had been so careful about leaving Autumn since your arrival and the one time he has to leave it, is when you find yourself in trouble.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“You’re here now.”

He feels the softness of your hand against one of his, prompting his eyes to open. His amber orbs glisten with a haunting luminosity as quiet tears escape them. “I put you in this situation,” he confesses quietly.

Confusion flashes onto your face, your eyes searching for answers and he feels his heart at his throat. “I arranged your marriage, knowing the life I would be damning you to. This is all my fault.”

“You couldn’t have known. You didn’t know me then and my father…this marriage would’ve happened any–”

“Don’t.” He interrupts you, inhaling sharply, voice strained with emotion. He doesn’t think you’d be defending him if you knew what he did to your father just hours ago. “Don’t defend me. I don’t deserve it.”

And then he reluctantly drops his hands, stepping away from you, needing to put some distance between you both.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Eris–” You take a step closer but he holds out a hand, flames erupting from the ground right between the both of you.

“No. You don’t understand, Angel. I’ve tried to fight it but I can’t contend. You’ve pierced through every defense of mine and now… I’m exhausted.I can’t pretend anymore.” Eris bows his head, flames dancing around him with heightened intensity. He collapses to his knees, surrendering to the turmoil within.

“You awaken sensations within me that I’ve never known. Sensations that both exhilarate and terrify me. If you–if you only knew the depths of my capabilities, the lengths I would go for you, the sacrifices I’ve already made...”

He can already imagine the heartbroken look on your face when you find out the truth. That he, your mate, the very being that should bring you nothing but joy and shower you in love brought harm upon your family. You’re one and only remaining family member. It did not matter if your father was a monster because either way, you adored him. Or rather, the idea of him.

Eris should tell you the truths he learned. How your father poisoned you for years, treating you not as his daughter but as a mere experiment instead. He only read snippets here and there from the journal, read just enough to be sickened with the horrors purposely inflicted upon you.

And Eris will tell you. He knows he needs to. But you’re breaking and he can feel you on the verge of shattering apart this very moment. If he tells you now, he fears–

“Eris.”

Your voice pulls him out of his racing thoughts and he winces. As if it physically pains him to hear the sweet way you say his name. “Don’t say my name like that, angel,” he nearly pleads. You don’t know what you do to him.

The flames pulse around him with the rhythm of his heart. He decides at that moment that you can hate him all you want after. As long as you’re alive, as long as your radiance returns to you, that’s all that matters. He just desperately needs you to be you again.

“Just tell me, angel, and I’ll do it,” Eris says, closing his eyes as he tries to steady his breath. “Tell me what to do to make you feel better? I can’t bear the sight of seeing you like this so please tell me.”

His words strike a nerve in you, the devotion in them unfamiliar to you. How cruel, you think, tears pooling at your eyes for an entirely different reason. You’re marrying the wrong Vanserra. You take a step forward, the flames of Eris’s fire threatening to swallow you whole.

“You care for me?”

“Devastatingly so.”

Another step forward. Your heart hammers in your chest. The flames lick at your feet and you should fear them. But you don’t. Because it’s Eris and though you shouldn’t, you want him. Not Sawyer or anyone else. You want Eris. All of him.

“You’d really do anything for me?”

Eris lets out a sound–a mixture of an exhale and laugh. It’s humorless and singed with disbelief as if he can’t believe you’re really asking him that after he just confessed it all to you. But you need to hear it again.

“I would traverse all over Prythian, surmount every obstacle, and brave the fiercest storms just to see the light of your smile. All you have to do is ask.”

And then you’re taking that last step, braving yourself against the searing heat that dances in the air to reach him. Because if you’re going to die, you need him to know. You need him to know the truth that lingers in your heart.

That he’s your golden hour, painting your world in shades of warmth and love, but also your midnight hour, where secret desires and dreams are whispered under a canopy of stars and now…

Now, he’s everything in between. You’re every waking thought and the last before you sleep. You need him to know that you burn for him. Ardently. Your breath catches and Eris’s eyes snap open, widening as his fire reaches out to embrace you.

But it doesn’t burn you.

The two of you look at each other in awe before you’re falling to your knees in front of him, the flames enfolding around you in a tender caress. Neither of you say a word. Your hands reach out to cup his face, coaxing his gaze to you. He doesn’t stop you this time. Not even as you lean in and press your lips against his. He should pull away but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips move against yours, kissing the warmth right back into you, giving a piece of light from him to you.

You pull away, just enough to speak but still close enough to feel the warmth of his mouth. “And if I ask you to take me in a way only a lover could, what then?”

He looks at you with such an intensity it sets you alight but then he’s averting his gaze and there’s an ache in your chest. “Please,” you whisper, eyes glistening with tears.

You always dreamed of what your wedding would be like, who you would marry. A part of you always knew that it would be arranged. Still, you foolishly hoped that in light of the arrangement, love would blossom. That your husband would hold affection toward you and learn to love you. That on your first night together, he’d be gentle and caring.

But your dream was morphing into something darker. Your husband would never love you in the way you desire. He hated the very thought of you and though you caught a mere glimpse of the caring male underneath the harsh exterior earlier, it did nothing to soothe you. It can’t be Sawyer.

The night you dreamed of was becoming a nightmare. The last thread of hope was hanging precariously, threatened by the sharp blade of anxiety and fear. You can’t lose the last part you hold dear to Sawyer. You can’t let Beron win. They don’t deserve to forever hold this over you.

You look at Eris, your last thread of hope. “Your father called for a bedding ceremony and I don’t want that to be my first time. I don’t want Sawyer to…to…”

“I know, angel,” Eris murmurs, not letting you finish your sentence. He wipes at your tears and then places his hands over yours, which remain on his face. He gives a gentle kiss to your lips but his body is tense. The thought of you having to endure the horrors of a forced bedding ceremony. Your body on display for others to see, the emotional and physical pain it will bring upon you, the—

Eris has to force himself out of those dark thoughts, the bond in his chest roaring with a fierce and protective anger. He kisses you again. This time, on your forehead. “It’s not going to happen.”

“But your father–”

The fear in your eyes pains him. He pulls you closer, nose brushing against yours as he forces you to look into his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“With my whole heart.”

“Then trust me when I say that no one will touch you against your will again.”

“Even though your father, the High Lord, has condemned me to death?”

“No one,” he repeats, voice firm as he pulls you close to him. One arm wraps itself around your waist while the other cradles your head to his chest. He brushes his fingers through your hair, basking in the sweet scent of rose it brings forth.

Silence envelops you both and you allow it to embrace you, the same way Eris does. In his arms, you are safe, you are warm. It is just the two of you…against the world.

“Tell me what you’re thinking of,” Eris speaks softly.

“I’m thinking…” your voice trails off as you shift in his hold to face him. His hands fall to your waist and you make yourself comfortable in his lap, placing a knee on either side of him. “What if it's your touch I will?”

Heat and desire pour through the bond, filling his veins.

“Your eyes I dream of,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his red hair and tilting his head up to look into his eyes. When you lean in to delicately kiss the corners of his eyes, he shudders beneath you.

“Your heart I want.”

Your hand trails down his neck in a tender caress, stopping at his chest. Right over the organ that beats for you. The golden threads stir under your touch and he swallows thickly, eyes locked onto you. He wonders if you can feel it–the way the bond is singing madly like it wants to be heard. With a sudden boldness, he tugs on it.

His eyes widen when your body seems to react, lurching forward slightly. Your movements still, hand lingering on his chest and he watches you with bated breath. You felt it…but your end of the bond remains quiet. Still waiting to unravel, only giving him a glimpse of the emotions stirring within you.

Something that both uneases and relieves him. He wants to know exactly what you’re feeling–if your emotions resonate with the same fervor that consumes him. He wants you to understand the depth of his devotion to you. However, amidst his yearning, your oblivion toward the bond allows him to mask the subtle shift in your scent. A silent sacrifice that weighs heavy upon his heart but a burden he is glad to carry if it means he can safeguard your innocent heart from the cunning foxes at court.

Your hand continues its path downwards, tracing a tantalizing path toward his. His heart stirs with a flutter of anticipation. He can feel the unspoken yearning in your touch. With trembling fingers, he intertwines his hand with yours, each brush of your skin igniting a wildfire in him that grows brighter as you bring his hand to your lips.

“Your hand in marriage I long for.” You press a soft kiss upon the fourth finger of his left hand and his resolve is faltering. Teetering on the edge of surrender…

The flames surrounding you both catch on the ring on your fourth finger, the very one claimed by his brother. A forced and loveless claim. Yet still, regretfully, not him. A stark reminder that you are not his and perhaps, will never be. The simple golden band glistens precariously as if acknowledging his thoughts. He should stop you.

“Y/n–”

“Your touch I crave,” you continue, your longing turning into a desperate need as you kiss him. Harder, with more urgency, sending a delightful sensation down his spine that makes his cock twitch.

As your hips roll against his, Eris abruptly pulls away. The hands at your waist tighten, keeping you still and holding on to that last wall of defense. He wants you but he shouldn’t.

Your brows furrow and Eris hates the hurt that flashes in your eyes. The hope that deflates. “I’m sorry.Have I misinterpreted your—““

“I want you too,” he interrupts, needing to reassure you. He licks his lips, gaze flickering to your own, already missing their taste, before lifting back up. “Gods, do I want you but not like this.”

He gestures to the autumn meadow around you both. The meadow that is painted in hues of crimson and gold and alive with the whisper of falling leaves and dancing flames. It’s beautiful. The epitome of Autumn. But it’s no proper place to have you.

“You deserve better. You deserve for your first time to be special.”

“It does not matter where we are. As long as it’s with you, it is special. Please,” your bottom lip trembles and Eris leans in, gently kissing it steady. “I want you to be my first. I don’t want it to be Sawyer or anyone else. I want it to be you.”

“We don’t have to do this now. There will be another time,” Eris utters but his voice lacks strength. The promise in his words hangs in the air delicately like a wisp of smoke that is already dissipating into uncertainty.

“Time,” you echo quietly, a wistful shadow casting over your features. “What if we don’t have time? What if–what if this moment is all we have left?”

Eris wants to respond but the words catch in his throat. There’s nothing he can say to reassure you there. He knows you’re aware of the impending dangers that wait for you back at court. His father will be watching you closely now, security will be tighter. Eris will have to be more careful, tread lighter and with higher caution.

There’s only a little less than two weeks away from your marriage to Sawyer. The three of you are running out of the time and there is still so much to do. The stolen moments with you will have to cease and he senses you’re aware of this truth as well. This may be the very last one between you both.

If you thought Autumn was a terrible place before, then you’re about to learn that it’s much, much worse. It’s a living hell. And Eris curses the Cauldron for its cruelty.

Angels like you shouldn’t live in hell.

“So much has been taken from me and I fear there is very little choice I have remaining in this world. But this,” you pause, placing his hand over your racing heart, an urgent plea echoing in the rapid rise and fall beneath his touch. “This is mine to give and it wants you. I want to give it to you before it’s too late…”

Eris’s entire body tenses, muscles tightening with restraint.

“And if your heart feels the same, then I need you,” your voice trembles under the weight of your emotions and suddenly, Eris feels like he can’t breathe. “Like fire craves the kiss of air–”

No one has ever looked at him with such devotion, spoken to him with such passion. It’s overwhelming and threatening to drown him in its intensity. While his mind is screaming for him to run away, his heart wills for him to stay.

“–like flowers thirst for the tender caress of rain, like–”

Eris’s lips crash onto yours. His kiss is searing yet gentle and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and he groans into your mouth. He carefully guides you back onto the soft bed of fallen leaves and golden grass, cradling the back of your head with one hand while the other remains over your heart.

He kisses you until you’re both breathless and forced to pull apart. His body hovers over yours, amber eyes drinking you in. He tenderly kisses the remnants of your tears away, reveling in the way you softly sigh and lips begin to curve upwards into a smile.

“I love you, Eris.”

The three words hit Eris so hard there’s a crack in the last wall of defense. He’s terrified to move, not wanting to leave this moment but also in fear that if he does, that last wall will crumble entirely.

“Me? Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more unequivocally sure.”

Eris studies you intently, captivated by every subtle shift in your expression. There’s nothing but unwavering love and desire reflecting back at him with such luminous intensity that it threatens to blind him. He can no longer think properly. Every reservation, every thought telling him to stop is slipping through his fingers.

All he can think about is you and how you love him. You love him! You love him! You love him!

And when he meets your eyes again, it’s too late.

The damage has already been done. That last wall of defense is crumbling at a devastating speed. A soft flush creeps up his cheeks, betraying the vulnerability that seeps through his every pore in surrender.

“Is this what you really want?”

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation as his nose brushes softly along your neck. “Even if it’s just for this moment, let me be entirely yours. Every beat of my heart. Every breath. Take it all.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Eris murmurs against your neck, inhaling sharply and when the honeyed scent of your arousal greets him, he whimpers.

Gentle is not a word Eris Vanserra would use to describe himself. That is, until he met you. His mate. The one who dismantled the walls he spent centuries constructing around his heart in months with little effort. In your presence, lies a burning desire to soften the edges of his demeanor. To be the gentle male worthy of your affection.

You wield a power over him unlike any other, leaving him utterly captivated and surrendering to all rationality. He should tell you he feels the same but he is beyond words. How can mere words capture the magnitude of his devotion?

So when you’re asking–begging–to be his, he can’t bring himself to say no. Not when this may be the very last moment shared between you both. Not when you’re giving him the perfect opportunity to show you the depth of his feelings instead.

Everything fades into insignificance. Nothing matters but this moment. With a touch as light as the brush of butterfly wings, his hands explore your body. Tentatively, as if scared to burn you with his burgeoning desire. Always asking for permission–”is this okay?” “yes”–before venturing further, before discarding your clothes–his clothes.

Flames continue to dance around you both, a protective circle and barrier against the cold winds. Each flicker of light casts intricate shadows upon your faces, your bodies. Eris pulls away just enough to admire you. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down and capturing your lips for what feels like the hundredth time. But it will never be enough. “So, so beautiful.”

You’re melting like wax beneath every touch and then his lips are tracing down the paths his hands have forged. Gentle and somehow still urgent. His mouth lingers on the swell of your breasts, sucking and eliciting the prettiest sounds from you.

“If it’s too much, you tell me,” he utters, holding your gaze as he rests his chin on your stomach. He can sense your nerves. He’s nervous too. He wants this to be perfect for you. As perfect as it can be, given your circumstances.

“We can stop whenever you want.”

You nod but it’s not enough for Eris. “Words, angel,” he says, pressing a tender kiss to your stomach. “I need your words.”

“I’ll tell you,” you breathe, body arching into him. “I promise.”

Eris presses another kiss to your stomach before continuing his path downwards, to where he can feel you aching for him the most. He’s breathing so hard and kissing every inch of your skin, setting you ablaze. His nose brushes against the apex of your thighs and he’s flooded with your arousal. It’s overwhelming all his senses and he’s pulsing with need to have a taste.

Still, he pauses to look up at you through his long eyelashes.

“Please,” is all you manage to say.

Eris moans in anticipation, drinking in your otherworldly beauty, the same way he wishes to devour you. One hand rests on your hip while the other reaches for yours. His fingers intertwine themselves with yours and when you squeeze them, he lowers his mouth and finally has a taste.

You throw your head back with a choked cry. “Eris!”

Eris groans, lapping and working his tongue against you. He’s never loved his name more. “You taste absolutely divine,” he breathes, losing himself in you. If this is how you taste, his cock throbs painfully as he imagines how you’d feel.

You reach your peak soon, crying out his name again. He lifts his head and brings your locked hands to his lips, admiring the look of pure bliss on your face. “Beautiful,” he whispers again, heart swelling with warmth. Overcome with emotion, he dives for your lips and pours them out into his kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

The hand not intertwined with yours, caresses against your core, fingers prodding at your entrance. Your mouth parts in a gasp at the intrusion but he eases you through it until you're clenching around his fingers and begging for more.

“Are you sure you still want this?” He can’t help but ask, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Yes.”

“I’ll go slow,” Eris promises, his amber gaze filled with softness and tenderness. Blush rises to your cheeks and it’s instinctual, the way you look away. He lets out a low sound in disapproval. “Eyes on me, angel.”

When you meet his gaze, his pupils are blown but his gaze remains soft and warm. Your lips curve upwards and he does the same. Both of his hands are locked with yours, resting on either side of your head. He holds your gaze, slowly sinking into your warmth and stilling at the furrow of your brows. He kisses them, allowing you to adjust and wanting to ease any discomfort you may be feeling.

“You’re doing so well for me, angel,” he encourages, voice strained. The bond in his chest is surging with pride at being your first and with a primal fervor to be the only one who gets to have you like this.

He feels like his heart is going to burst into flames and when he finally sheathes himself inside you, everything catches fire. His mind. His body. His soul. Every muscle, every nerve in his body is coming undone with every thrust. His kisses, though still soft, grow intense. So hot yet so sweet.

Fire consumes him, its vibrant flames igniting not destruction but building something new. Something beautiful. Something heavenly. where hopes and dreams, once thought lost, are resuscitated. The wounds of his heart being mended by you.

His body presses further into yours, mouth pressing feverish kisses down your neck, whispering sweet praises and worshipping you for the divine being you are. Your moans grow louder and you’re clenching around him tighter. “I love you,” your voice is a mere whisper but he hears it loud and clearly and you don’t seem to mind his lack of response. Not when he’s following after you, bodies shuddering as release courses through you both.

Eris pulls you close to his chest, arms tight around you. He can feel your heartbeat. Fast but steadying and in tune with the rhythm of his own. The gentle rise and fall of your chest let him know you’ve fallen asleep. Letting out a sigh in content, he closes his eyes, wanting to bask in this moment longer.

His fingers lightly trace along your back, tracing the four words he couldn’t bring himself to say back to you earlier.

I love you, too.

a/n: I've never written soft smut before so I hope it was okay. I also hope I was able to convey the desperation between Eris and reader well. I debated a lot on whether keeping the smut or scrapping it. Huge thank you to @stormhearty for helping me out with this part and giving me her input! ily! ❤️

series tag list: @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @fxckmiup @stormhearty @skyesayshi @sfhsgrad-blog @crazylokonugget @evergreenlark @secretlyhers @mybestfriendmademe @ib525, @96jnie, @glitterypirateduck @thatsassyhufflepuff @acourtofbatboydreams, @mal-adaptive-dreams, @dandelionfairyyy, @queerqueenlynn, @circe143

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria

#eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra imagine #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x y/n #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #eris angel au #eris vanserra smut #eris smut #acotar smut

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mywritingonlyfans · 9 months

Text

Rapture. // Cillian Murphy X Reader. (Smut!)

prompt: You're younger, and love partnered with Cillian in filming a movie. He's developed certain feelings for you and finding himself struggling with them recently, until things get worse with the idea of a sex scene being added to the script. (age gap, wax play and some other sex stuff)

words: 4,3K.

He had received the script update that morning, and as he saw your eyes shift away from him during casual conversations before rehearsals, he knew you had read the new scenes. Both of you were aware of the possibility of that much-discussed sex scene that the director was considering adding. However, neither of you had imagined how it would play out, and the thought of being partially undressed in front of each other felt somewhat odd. Still, Cillian couldn't help but envision the words he had read earlier that morning coming to life in just a few weeks' time.

Now, you were sitting across from him, wearing a loose blouse and comfortable shorts, with your legs crossed. Your fingers tapped lightly on the script as you read your lines. As the others left the room, he realized that your nervousness wasn't about needing to rehearse in a few minutes, but about him being there. Cillian had initially dismissed his thoughts about you, attributing them to the recent divorce he was going through. However, he soon realized that these feelings were more than just passing thoughts.

He had already developed a pure and genuine admiration for you. He found himself lost in daydreams of conversations you could have, where he could rest your head on his chest and kiss your forehead, assuring you that everything was alright. Just as he found himself reliving the moments when you would get excited and talkative about the books you were reading after he mentioned that he had already read them. Each time you passionately shared your thoughts and enthusiasm for the stories, he couldn't help but be captivated by your animated expressions. The way your eyes would light up, the gestures you made, and the genuine joy in your voice made him smile, even long after the conversations had ended.

Yet, your expressions, your smiles, and your worries were too precious for him, but he reminded himself daily that such feelings were wrong, even though he couldn't stop them from growing.

What used to be harmless had taken a different turn after those new scenes were added to your interactions. Reading the scene had been somewhat painful, but seeing you there in person made it even more overwhelming (though not necessarily bad). The room was small, with scented candles around, something the director believed would help the actors feel at ease, though that wasn't the result Cillian was experiencing. He was practically lying in front of you, trying to make himself comfortable, avoiding looking into your eyes, though he hadn't noticed that his hands were sweaty and his breathing was heavier.

Still, he mustered the courage to gaze at you for a brief moment, trying to keep his thoughts from spiraling. "You've read it, haven't you? How do you feel?" Your nervous laughter was adorable, and your hands tightened around the script, making him notice how delicate and smaller they were compared to his own. "Yeah, I read it," your voice sounded weak, and he waited for your prolonged sigh before you continued. "I've never done something like this before, not even in theater." His face turned red, and he tried to comfort you with just a look. Touching you at this moment felt like a terrible idea, but he still did it, sitting next to you, making sure his shoulder touched yours. Contrary to what he thought, you seemed to relax at the contact, appearing more relieved. "It must be strange having to do this scene with me, given that I have no experience. Sometimes I feel like I'm not bringing positive results to your work." He immediately shook his head, hating it when you belittled yourself. You were incredibly talented.

Still, he lingered on those words. How inexperienced were you really? He had to control himself not to sound breathless as he continued, "You actually make it more enjoyable, and it'll be fine. If you agree, we can go through the lines before filming the scene. And if there's anything I can do to make you feel more at ease with this or anything else, I'll be right here." You turned to him, your angelic face now less worried, and nodded, unsure of what to say. There was a comfortable silence, and Cillian found himself smiling with closed eyes. Stopping these thoughts might be better, but they were inevitable. All he could do was wait and deal with it when the time came, even if there were more scenes after this, as well as marketing and interviews after all the filming...

...

He woke up feeling hot, drops of sweat on his temples and his chest damp. His mouth was dry, and his mind was still on your slightly parted lips, imagining how they would grow wetter as you felt him on your skin the previous night. He felt tight in his shorts, and your scent near him caused a pounding in his head. You were peacefully asleep as if you had never given yourself to him, as if you hadn't suggested adding more intensity to your lovemaking after exhausting all your muscles and neurons together. He hugged your body tighter, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer against him. You snuggled into him, and he brushed your hair away from your face and neck, kissing the spot with caution, yet urgency, until you slowly woke up and reciprocated. Your touch was delicate and gentle, just as he had fantasized before, and it fed his mind entirely.

And you felt like you could still taste yourself on him as he intensified the kisses, and your control was slipping away with each firm squeeze he gave your hips and how solidly hard he was against you. Cillian was aware that you enjoyed it—the marks left, the momentary pain when he bit your thigh, and the darker hues that you hid the next day from the intense way he kissed your breasts while you rode him. Your serene eyes and slightly parted lips showed calm facial expressions, and you found yourself surrendering to him fully. Despite no apparent reason except him being older than you, and even though it might be considered inappropriate, he found himself enjoying the thought while your features became even more devoted.

He unbuttoned your last buttons, leaving his hands free to explore every inch of you, and smiled at your soft moan when his fingers touched the marks under your breast. He kissed the spot, running his tongue over the sensitive skin, and grunted at your soft whimper. Your head was buried deep in the pillow, and Cillian didn't hesitate to position himself so he had a full view of you.

"I have an idea, I think you'll like it," he whispered, out of breath, and you chuckled in response. The room was still dark, far from dawn, and the only illumination came from the scented candles you kept on the nightstand to create a soothing sleeping environment. He had them well-reserved in his mind at the moment.

"Can I hear it first, sir?" you asked curiously, completely surrendering to this. Cillian loved how you trusted him without even needing to hesitate, even though there was no apparent reason to trust him other than him being older than you, and even though it might be considered inappropriate. He found himself enjoying that thought as your features became even more devoted. He nodded and unbuttoned your last buttons, leaving his hands free to explore every inch of you, smiling at your soft moan when his fingers touched the marks under your breast. He kissed the spot, running his tongue over the sensitive skin, and grunted at your soft whimper. Your head was buried deep in the pillow, and Cillian didn't hesitate to position himself so he had a full view of you.

"I'll try it, and you'll tell me if it's not okay, alright?" You were a bit whiny and clearly still sensitive from the previous hours, and he loved that. Your gaze was satisfied, and your muscles visibly relaxed; he loved the effect he had on you. You nodded, "I'm okay, Cill." Your hands went to his hair as he moved to your collarbone, showering it with kisses, bites, sucks, and eventually, firm grips. He could taste the flavor of your moans and cries on the tip of his tongue.

Something about it felt so real it burned in him. The recorded scene of the film was recurrent and he was there confirming the perfection of what he had seen before.

He enjoyed the way you let him do whatever he wanted with you, how it consumed his mind and forced him to maintain control, not to go too far with you. The knowledge that no one had touched you before, tasted you, or marked you in such an intense way only heightened everything further. His teeth chattered, and his knees felt weak at what was to come.

Pulling away, he gracefully tugged on your hair, and his chest was filled with your half-closed, half-tired gaze that seemed to pierce him. He rubbed against the sheets beneath him, feeling sore just from the thought alone, and you chuckled sweetly. His head swirled, and he leaned over and grasped the candle holder, his fingertips briefly turning red from the heat. You paid more attention, adjusting yourself on the pillow, but he disapproved, "You don't need to do that; I want you to relax like before, princess. Just focus on emptying your mind, lie down and be cute."

You did nothing but nod and return to your previous position, but this time letting your body go limp wasn't so easy. You could feel how wet you were from the mere thought of what had already corrupted your mind. Still between your legs, Cillian caressed the inside of your thigh, and you realized you had closed them; your mind was cluttered and hard to control. You spread them apart, leaving no room for ambiguity, making it clear that you didn't want him to hold back with whatever this was. He positioned himself better between you, allowing you to feel how heavy he was even with layers of fabric between you—his shorts and your panties. You could swear you already had a wet spot in yours. Your chest was desperate, rising up and falling down slowly, and Cillian couldn't look at you without wiping the satisfied smile off his face.

He raised the candle holder, and you could feel the heat on your breasts, your nipples excited by the sensation. The flicker of the fire was reflected in his eyes, and your lips pressed firmly together. You stifled a whimper, but couldn't hold back the whining when the wax dripped onto your sensitive skin that had already been exhausted by him. "I want to hear you, don't hold back," his high-pitched voice with a serious expression, his lines well-defined from how focused he was, left you dazed, and you needed to grind against him strongly, causing both of you to grunt and release the air from your lungs. He was happy with this, happy that you were desperate and that he was causing you some pain.

Cillian lifted the candle again and watched the droplets of wax fall onto you, tracing a line from the center of your breasts to your lower belly. Compared to his, your face was angelic with each movement, the soft moans leaving your expression even more inviting as you felt small in front of him. Your stomach clenched, and your face displayed a mixture of pain along with soft, adorable moans that made him want to explode. His hands trembled, and he had to focus hard not to finish right then and there and be done with it.

"Fuck, pumpkin, you look so good," and you enjoyed how seeing you like this had that effect on him. Your eyes closed, and everything felt intensified; your hips involuntarily spasmed against his, but it was a futile act. He audibly laughed from time to time, sweet and mature yet perverse, as if to make it clear how satisfying this was for him, and it left you completely dizzy and longing for more. He peeled off some hardened wax from your skin, admiring the marks it had left, and after massaging the area for a while he allowed the liquid to accumulate as it burned, running his tongue over the area and sucking the skin to him.

Your nails dug into his shoulder with enough force to leave crescent moons, and he let go, his teeth clearly imprinted on your skin, your fervor only making him more determined. He ran his thumb over the spot that would later be darkened and poured the excess of wax into you. Your legs tightened around him, and your hands grasped the sheets, tears welling up in your eyes, and your whimpering was soft but pleading, not exactly knowing what plea was being conveyed through it all. "Fuck, Cill, fuck, fuck," you tried hard for some relief. He halted his movements, forcing your legs to stop and holding your arms down to the mattress. He was delicate yet firm, just as you needed. You had a safe word; he knew you were okay, you were just trying to get his attention.

The holder, with the candle still burning, was now beside the sheets next to you. "Look at me, babygirl." You swallowed hard, tears streaming down the sides of your face. "Let's be good and not knock over the candle," he said firmly and clearly, and you nodded in pure eagerness, watching his well-defined and prominent muscles due to the force with which he was holding you. He kissed your face, wiping away the salty dampness, then moved to your mouth, which you wisely captured in a somewhat desperate act. He pulled away slowly, a thin trail of saliva connecting you both and slowly fading away.

He chuckled, and with no more, held your jaw and used his thumb to make you open your lips for him, sealing them with his, and soon you felt the buildup in you, and with a fuller sigh, you swallowed his breath over the messy kisses, feeling somewhat comforted. He caressed your cheek with his fingers, studying you, and you stuck your teeth into them, still trying not to move too much and be good. It was obvious you were struggling with this task. "It's good, Cill, I don't mind." He continued with more kisses and wet bites on your body, tightly gripping the open bars of your shirt with a gentle yet firm grip, almost causing your back to lift slightly off the mattress in need of him. It wasn't hard to tell you were younger, just looking at your genuine eyes was enough, and the reminder of that, that it was wrong in a way, made him want more of it all.

"Stay still, or we won't get anywhere, pumpkin," he said, and indeed you had forgotten about the candle by your side. You couldn't and wouldn't let it fall. He still sensed your scent so prominently on you, a lingering blend of sweat from the night before. Dry droplets adorned your panties, and a damp spot in the center was visibly apparent; it was adorable in his eyes. He kissed the area, gently brushing his nose against it, and you let out a graceful sigh. And once again, he found himself immersed in the feeling of having you like this, a sensation that was exclusively his. No one else had the privilege.

Unable to hold back any longer, Cillian pushed the thin fabric down and traced his tongue through you. He was familiar with it, but each time he tasted you, it fueled him with more energy. He didn't need to go too deep; you were already sticky enough, and yet clearly sensitive, a delightful mess nonetheless. Cillian pushed your swollen lips up, reaching your intended spot, and he licked it avidly. You gasped, your fists clenching the sheets. He blew on the spot and sucked on it for his own pure pleasure; he loved how the smell and taste lingered vividly in his mind afterward. However, he knew neither of you could last much longer in this way, and it wasn't how he wanted to end things.

He tightened his fingers on your thighs, using more of you, already feeling his chin and cheeks sticky from you. Reluctantly, he withdrew, mesmerized by how your essence still overflowed his mouth as he swallowed deeply, seeking oxygen. Your whimpering turned more pleading and disapproving, and he understood; he felt the same way, sore and neglected, begging for any hint of relief.

"I'm being good, Cill." Your eyes were wide open as you pleaded your case. He nodded, wiping the corners of his mouth with his fingers and still licking them to avoid any waste. It only quickened your breathing, and he felt a twinge of pity.

"You are, babygirl, you're being wonderful." He massaged his fingertips into you, spreading the burning sensation. You wouldn't be able to stay still even if you wanted to.

"You're okay, right?" he asked, pushing his fingers in slowly and deftly to fill you, watching your eyes squeeze shut tightly and your back arching a little.

"I am. I'd tell you if I weren't," you sounded weak, with sweat glistening on your forehead. It wasn't a very convincing vision, but Cillian trusted that you'd speak up if something was wrong. He moved his fingers until you got accustomed to the feeling and relaxed, making sure you wouldn't have any trouble taking him after. But you were so wet that he knew you could handle him easily even without much stretching. He made a mental note to try that later.

He pulled his fingers away, his hand sticky and wet from the excess that had dribbled, his mind taken by you, all the positions, and possibilities.

"No waste, remember?" You recalled something he had told you. Soon, your hands were around his wrist, and he didn't hesitate to let you take his fingers into your mouth, enveloping them and sucking on your sweet flavor, your eyes closing as he savored the sensation only he could describe. Your touch of sweetness and genuineness taking him over completely.

"Enough," he declared, pulling them away from you, leaving you with sad, pleading eyes. You could easily be death of him if you wanted.

You felt a bit hazy, things moving fast but still light, and surprisingly comforting after just waking up. You couldn't say when or how, but as you shifted slightly in bed and your eyes met his, he had already managed to shed his shorts. He was pulsating; he wouldn't last much longer, and you could tell he had held back for quite some time until then.

"I love how you look," he chuckled, smugness evident. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were flushed from the stress. His hair, with some strands of gray, fell over his face, and before you could brush it away, he held your arms again. You gasped, hesitating, and he forced your body onto the mattress, his weight and legs spreading yours apart. Lightly, he closed the gap between you, then settled inside you. As he had imagined, he slid in skillfully. Your head was thrown back, and you felt complete ecstasy just from finally having him after such a wait, even though it burned, and Cillian didn't feel much different.

His grunts were deep, and it made you even more flustered and messy for him. He rose, still dripping from your body, holding the candle holder. Even though he hadn't planned to tease since he was just as eager, he proceeded anyway. His hand rested on your waist, and without moving, he allowed you to ride him slowly with lazy thrusts to get what you wanted. You were shy, and your movements were as delicate as your body, adjusting to his as if you couldn't let him know. Soon he would be emptying himself inside you, deep, and that made him pant. In the meantime, he measured the droplets of wax over your belly and breasts, watching in awe as your body trembled from exhaustion.

Your moans were mostly breathless tones, and your mouth remained partially open. Your eyes never left him, of how his v-line joined yours as he filled you perfectly, until all the air left your lungs. He let a few drops fall on his own abdomen, grunting hoarsely at the warmth of him, and he smiled sweetly as your hips stopped their motion, and you focused solely on watching him.

Cillian paused, gently placing the candle holder back on the nightstand, and he tenderly turned you over onto your belly on the bed. You complied with grace, leaning forward to be closer to him, not holding back your affection. He cradled you, running his fingers through your hair, and his body welcomed yours against his chest. With utmost care, he joined with you, moving deep and fervently, his movements filled with passion, turning your whimpers into soft moans of pleasure.

The sight of you brought him immense joy, and he cherished the intimacy you shared. He was overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings for you, and he wanted nothing more than to fill you up warmly. He knew he had to be gentle, to ensure your comfort, and to respect your boundaries. Even more knowing you weren't used to that.

With each tender touch, he felt the connection between you both, savoring the moments of ecstasy that flowed between your bodies. He marveled at the depth of your trust in him, and he felt an overwhelming desire for more and more of you.

As he continued, he held you close, your hands seeking his to anchor you in the intensity of the experience. The room was filled with the sweet sounds of your pleasure, and he was enthralled by the way your body responded to his touch.

He adored every moment, every caress, and every gasp that escaped your lips. As your passion reached its peak, he held you tightly, ensuring you felt safe and into his arms. Your shared climax made him dizzy, leaving you both breathless and content.

Afterwards, he stroked your back, waist, and shoulders, reveling in the intimacy you had just shared. He admired the marks and traces left on your body.

"I treasure every moment with you," he whispered, his voice filled with adoration and a strong accent.

You smiled softly, feeling the warmth of him envelop you. His presence brought you comfort and peace, and you knew that you were deeply his.

With a caring touch, he wiped away the traces of passion from your lips, and you savored the lingering taste of him on your tongue. You nestled even closer to him, and he let you, holding you tighter. You could still feel him oozing between your legs, the liquid turning cold, tingling a little from the soreness, but it felt great. You knew he would treat you like precious pearls, bathing you and leaving you clean before you went to sleep, and that was comforting.

"I'd never let a single drop go to waste," you said, your voice filled with sincerity. Your eyes are genuine and serene as you watch him, as if you really had no dimension to it. And then, you got filled into his solemn and comforting laughter at your fragile soul causing a pleasant vibration in your body.

...

His eyes opened as if breaking free from a suffocating hold, his head emerging above water, and oxygen flooding back into his lungs. Nevertheless, he remained still, feeling a warm weight on his shoulder and his pants suddenly tighter and less comfortable. Slowly, awareness seeped into his brain, and he became conscious of his surroundings. He felt a sense of worry, unable to move even if he wanted to. Gently, he brushed aside strands of hair from your face without touching your skin, observing how peacefully you rested against him, completely oblivious to his internal turmoil when it came to you.

He gazed at the ceiling, still wrapped in the comfort of your body's warmth against his own. Despite his mind being entangled with images of you, with your hand between your thighs and your cheek pressed against his shoulder, your lips slightly parted and looking so delicate and untouched, he couldn't bring himself to meet your eyes directly anymore. The once sweet thoughts now mingled with wilder and more fervent desires, a concoction of heated emotions that overwhelmed him. He felt like he wouldn't be able to endure all of it until the end. He already felt completely entangled and trapped.

As he lay there, he found himself torn between the conflicting emotions that had taken hold of him. The intensity of his feelings for you had reached a point where he couldn't contain them any longer. It was as if everything had shifted, and what was once a tender connection now burned with a passionate fire. He did desire you and that horrible way, but he had also fallen for you, and it frightened him.

The realization that he had developed such strong emotions for someone so close and yet so out of reach weighed heavily on him. He couldn't help but wonder what would happen if you ever found out, or worse, if he acted on those impulses. He wished he could go back to the simpler times, when he could bask in the innocence of your presence. But it was too late. He had crossed a threshold, and there was no turning back. The feelings were there, tangible and consuming.

On top of it all, the candles still exuded essence as they burned hot and bright before his field of vision.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

rinhaler · 3 months

Note

i’m in love with your yakuza toji and shiu like actually OBSESSED!! if your requests are still open, can you do one like the meeting, but you’re being a brat to get their attention and they’re won’t do anything till after the meeting? you can see how the rest goes thoo!! lots of loveee -🦦anon

I'm so behind on requests I'm so sorry agdjsjklaghsj hopefully this is worth the wait tho!! Haven't thought about that drabble in forever but I'm glad u liked it so much!!

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, daddy kink, exhibitionism?, public setting, cucking? shiu idk, reader used as an ashtray low key, spanking, pussy slaps, face slapping, vaginal sex, degradation, praise, creampie, orgasm denial, brat taming. (lmk if i missed any!)

words: 1.3k

“Daddy—”

“Shush, baby. Gotta pay attention.” Toji tells you, bringing his finger to his lips to tell you what you need to do. You need to be quiet and behave. And yet, you can’t.

You aren’t sure what’s wrong with you today. His jaw is strong and his muscular frame dominates the room. He won’t mind if you touch him a little, you’re sure. He’s just as insatiable as you are. More so, normally. You’re a little surprised to see him actually focus on a meeting for once, but you’re confident that you can steal his attention from it.

He looks down at his thigh as your hand settles there, dainty fingers start to grab and squeeze at his quads. They roam upwards towards his crotch, and you smile to yourself as you get closer and closer. Though you gasp, lightly, when you feel his hand grasp firmly around your wrist.

You look up to see his eyes fixed on yours. There isn’t a hint of amusement in his expression.

“Was daddy unclear when he said pay attention?” he asks. You quickly shake your head with a downtrodden pout. Even your little sniffles don’t bother him, his face stoic and unchanging. “I thought as much. So sit still and be quiet, brat.” he warns you.

You fold your arms over each other and you pout harder than you thought possible. Your eyebrows scrunch as you do all of you can to focus on the meeting, just like your daddy. But you can’t. It’s so boring and you just don’t care. It scares you to hear about murder and violence, even if it is menial to them.

It’s their norm, not yours.

“S-Shiu…” you whisper, turning your head to face Toji’s second in command who sits on the other side of you. “Wanna go home.”

You don’t notice Toji looking at you, but Shiu does. It’s brief, but scathing. A subtle look out of the corner of his eyes to display his frustration with you. Shiu swallows lightly, feeling sorry for your predicament. Normally Toji is so mindful of you and your neediness, he can’t help but wonder what has encouraged his boss’ change of heart today. Perhaps he’s trying to train you better. Regardless, he clears his throat and looks into your eyes.

“You can be good for a few more minutes, sweetheart.” Shiu tells you as he checks the time on his wristwatch. “Not much longer, promise.” he assures you, he lightly holds your chin and strokes it with his thumb.

Just a few more minutes.

“Keep your fucking legs open or I’m not touchin’ your cunt for the rest of the year.” Toji warns you. You sniff as tears spill from your lashline, slowly opening your legs again for the man circling the meeting table. You yelp as a stinging slap comes down atop your thigh, and another harsh wet smack hits your pussy.

“Ah!” you scream, squirming from the impact.

“Sh, sh shhh, ‘m here.” Shiu coos from behind you.

You’re flat against the desk while Shiu stands behind you. Your wrists are crossed while he holds them against the table above your head. His cigarette dangles from his lips, and you can’t help but wince as ash flickers down on occasion.

Toji told him to use you like an ash tray.

“I fuck you one time in a meeting, and you think that’s how they’re all gonna go? Hm.” Toji states. It feels like a question, though you don’t try to speak in fear of making things worse. Your eyes roll back as his thumb carefully rubs over your clit, only twice, before he wipes the residue on your exposed stomach. “Glad you’re wet, jus’ how daddy likes…” he starts.

“You risk embarrassing your daddy when you misbehave like that, you know.” Shiu tells you. He’s seamlessly able to pin your wrists down with just one hand, deciding to flick ash down into your face to accentuate his point. “Do you want people to think he’s weak?”

“N-No! Daddy isn’t weak!” you explain. You should be ashamed of yourself when your eyes cross and you silence yourself with a bite to your lower lip as Toji stuffs his thick cock into you.

“You should have just fucked her.” Shiu smiles. You don’t even react when you feel his palm land harshly against your cheek. In fact, your tongue lolls as you lose yourself to the feeling of being their toy. “Look how quiet she’s being now, little slut.”

“You don’t even deserve my cock,” Toji speaks. And you know he’s right.

You shouldn’t be rewarded for disobeying him like you did. But you don’t care, you’re getting what you wanted all along. Toji does your thinking for you, after all. And right now, he doesn’t want you to think. He just wants to remind you that you’re his dumb pet. He wants to remind you of what you love so much and what he can easily take away if you choose to act up again.

“Wasn’t gonna do this for ya, princess. But I can’t help myself, not when there’s a perfect wet cunt in my face.”

Shiu strikes your face again. And your face contorts as you feel dry, tarred ash land on the tip of your tongue after he aims it to land there. You almost choke from the vile taste, but you’re prevented from thinking again as Shiu offers you a third and final slap on your cheek.

The hardest one yet.

“Say ‘thank you’ to your daddy.” he orders.

“T-Thank you daddy! Thank you.” you cry, looking into his eyes as he continues to perfectly angle his cock into your sweet spot. You know you won’t last much longer at this rate. You want to tell him. You want to tell him that you aren’t going to be able to hold out and that you’re going to make a mess any second now. “I love you, d-daddy!” you wail, and he smirks.

“Yeah? You fuckin’ love me?” he chuckles. “I love you, princess, such a good girl f’me.”

“S-So much!” you answer. “Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou I—!”

“Something tells me she’s going to cum, Toji.” Shiu smirks. He looks down at you, focusing on your eyes as they begin to squint harder and harder. “Are you cumming for daddy, sweetheart? Are you going to let her?” he asks, looking at his superior after speaking to you.

Toji grunts as he cums inside of you, and you feel the warmth spread throughout your womb. You feel so full. So content. Because this is what you wanted all along. You wanted daddy’s love. And it’s almost enough to pull you over the edge right along with him.

But his hips begin to slow, the pressure he’d built up within you begins to dissipate and you feel like you’ve been thrown out of a rocket ship without any gear. You’re starved for oxygen and you can’t take a single breath.

“Daddy, daddy don’t stop.. ‘m g-gonna cum for you. I was s-o so close!” you whimper, lip wobbling as you try your damnedest to convince him to finish you off, too.

But you don’t like the look in his eye. The menacing, mischievous look that tell you no such thing shall transpire. You aren’t going to get to cum. After all of this, you don’t get to fucking cum.

“I will decide when you are allowed to cum again, princess.” Toji tells you. “But after your bratting today, that won’t be for a very long time.”

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celtic-crossbow · 3 months

Text

These will be updated here and there. It’s likely that there’s some I won’t stick to when it comes to requests and even story ideas where they won’t fit.

He hates pickles. Anything that is green and smells that bad does not belong in the food section. But he loves pickled pigs feet.

He likes sex but can easily live without it.

He hasn’t been a virgin since his early teens (thanks to Merle and a handful of drug money)

It would take some serious, repeated encouragement and assurance (and a lot of time) before he’s comfortable having sex.

He is the type of guy that goes one step at a time, testing the waters. Making out, touching you, letting you touch him (slowly because his brain has been conditioned to flinch away). Everything would be through the clothes and then progress. Slow and steady wins the race.

He’s a switch. Sometimes, he wants all the say (so to speak) in the bedroom, watching you whimper and beg. Sometimes he just physically needs to give up control to balance the chaos.

Rarely, when he’s extremely needy, he wants you to tell him he’s a “good boy” and praise him for how incredible he makes you feel. He’d never ask for it but when you call him that on accident, his reaction was quite telling.

He can easily go from gentle to rough. He would never want to hurt you. Squeezing your throat, slapping your ass, teasing your breasts, or leaving love marks with his teeth absolutely do not count as hurting you.

Consent is a huge deal to him.

He’s always been quiet during anything sexual; On the rare occasions he talks, it’s reassurances and quiet, gentle praise. Otherwise, grunts and whimpers and low growls are what you get until he’s about to orgasm.

However, sometimes he’s just so wound up, so needy for you, that he can’t help but moan loudly or call your name.

He always tells you he’s close to or has already started cumming. No real rhyme or reason. Maybe just his way of letting you know that you took him there.

He has a genuine dislike of cats. He doesn’t hate them by any means but if he had to pick an animal that was secretly plotting world domination, it’d be cats.

He prefers boxer briefs.

The only name brand clothing he ever owned was underwear because his junk deserves only the best.

He’s superstitious, even if he pretends not to be.

He doesn’t like giving his significant other pet names beyond “sunshine,” “pipsqueak”, or “woman.” Things that you find endearing regardless. On rare occasions, he’ll use “doll” or “darlin’.”

He secretly adores when you call him “baby” or “sweetheart.” Pretty much any endearment that labels him as yours.

He rarely (but it does happen) says “I love you.” He’s more of an actions guy and if you say it first, he’ll usually only say “me too” or rub his knuckles over your jaw.

He can’t sleep if his feet are hot.

Spiders freak him out.

He hates showers, not because he just doesn’t like them. Being in a space with scars on display makes him feel vulnerable. The water touching the scars forces him to relive when he received them.

Contrary to popular belief, he does keep specific areas of his body acceptably clean, using the bathroom sink or river/lake/creek when he’s in the forest.

The dirt and grime that coat his skin is a grounding reminder of who he is, so he doesn’t completely lose himself in that dystopian world.

He has never hunted for sport, only for survival. He respects nature and what it provides.

He loves to read. His favorite book is The Outsiders.

He doesn't/wouldn't understand why his girl can't talk to him instead of a stranger. He would need some mental health education as the urging of Carol or Michonne before even remotely understanding. He wants to be supportive, first and foremost.

He fights tooth and nail to avoid getting "his head shrunk" but in the end, if it meant not losing his girl, he'd give in.

He is a horrible patient for physical ailments and even worse for mental ones.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon headcanon #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon walking dead #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon twd #daryl humor #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you

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cyanhydrangea · 4 months

Text

Loneliness [Bayverse TMNT x Reader]

[Friendship Fic]

Summary: You feel lonely for the lack of friends you have in school, but the presence of the turtle boys makes you forget about it

You sigh for what it seems like a hundred time.

It seems like scrolling through social medias was the worst decision you made for the past hour this night. All you ever found was the posts that shows your classmates and friends happily hanging out without you.

You wondered why they never asked you to hang out with them anymore, maybe because they think you were boring. They never actually get to be your close friend, but still, having lots of best friends and gets to brag about it to the world seems fun.

The realization that you never actually have a close friend at school makes you feel lonely.

Turning off your phone, you decided to play on sad songs and cry yourself to sleep.

That is, until you suddenly feel a tap on your shoulder.

"Angelcakes?"

You jolted awake from the sudden touch, but relaxed when you see who the culprit was.

"Mikey, you scared me!"

"Sorry, sorry"

Behind mikey, you can see there are also the rest of his brothers, Leo, Raph, and Donnie.

"Sorry [name], we knocked on your window but you didn't respond", the leader in blue explained their sudden presence in your room.

"Right, it's okay", you responded.

"[Name], were you...crying?", The turtles noticed but Donnie is the one who asked.

You didn't realized there were some tears left on your cheeks and you wiped them and said "uh...no?"

"You were, anyone we need to beat up?", Raph ready to throw fist on anyone that hurted you.

"No!" You cried.

"Then, why were you crying, angelcakes?", Mikey asked

A brief silence fell in the room as you didn't answer mikey's question immediately.

"I...don't want to talk about it, guys, sorry"

The four brothers looking at each other, concerned of your well-being.

"Don't worry guys, it's nothing serious, I promise"

The boys weren't convinced, but at least you promised them, and you never break your promises.

"Alright, but we're all ears if you need someone to listen to your problems, okay?" Leo assured you.

"Thank you"

"Well, we bring something that hopefully can cheer you up", Donnie handed you something.

"No way!" You can't believe they just brought you the Blu-ray of the movie you've been dying to watch.

"What are we waiting for!? Let's watch this right now!" You excitedly leave your room and go straight to your kitchen to fetch snacks.

Raph sets the movie on your TV and you guys watch it together

It was in the middle of the movie when you realized you should be grateful the turtle boys being your best friends despite not having one in school.

You might not be able to hang out with the turtle boys out in the sun, not be able to post pictures of you with them on social medias, not be able to brag about them to the world, but with them you don't feel lonely anymore.

#CyanHydrangea

Date Written: 09/01/2024

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pursuitseternal · 5 months

Text

“Persuade Me,” Ascended Astarion tells you, a sub!Astarion, all tied up for you in “The Rogue You Were”

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 3.9K persuasive dom/sub bdsm smut

Summary: He’s so terribly stubborn, it will take a lot of persuasion to get him to come around. All tied up, it should be easy, but no matter how *hard* it is, it will be… delicious for you both…

CW: bondage, sub!Astarion, tender confessions, possessive and stubborn Ascended behavior, persuasive bedroom techniques so effective, he tells you the reason he can’t let you out of his sight, why you are not just… some… spawn…

Based on “Just A Drop🩸”

Read on AO3 | Astarion fic Masterlist

How will you persuade him…

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t seen Lord Astarion all morning,” you give your most convincing look of worry, of concern and confusion. Eyes wide and brows furrowed, painted lips pouting as you close your dressing gown tightly around your body. “Perhaps try the grounds? Everyone knows he enjoys a good stroll in the dawn…”

And with that you shut the door in the poor trembling servants face. A brief flash of relief on their fearful countenance that dismissing them and shutting the door on them was the worst you did. You hear their poor feet skitter away. And then, you turn with a deep, contented breath to view the sight stretched in your bed.

Yours. And his.

He’s waiting. Patiently. Spread wide and tethered to the four posts of your bed frame, and most of all, your mouth waters to see that hardened, twitching, eager cock proudly erect.

Just as you left him.

Only now, his eyes are drawn, half-lidded, his tongue licking his lips.

“They will get suspicious eventually, darling,” he croons, all the tones of confidence as you draw alongside the bed, dropping your thin, little dressing gown to reveal you pale figure again.

“Let them,” you purr right back. “They wouldn’t dare enter without my permission,” you cock your head flirtatiously, “or yours. But since you are… tied up with other matters…”

“Puns, darling,” he groans, face twisting in a sour show of distaste.

“…they will just have to take my word for it.” You laugh slowly, sitting yourself beside his hip, a single finger tracing through the ridges of his stomach. Ignoring his little taunt, savoring his submission as your willing plaything for now.

“Liar,” he croons rolling his body to press against your ass, where you are perched almost out of reach. “You said Lord Astarion isn’t here,” he’s growling. Provoking. Straining against his binds that are restraining both him and his ever-growing magic.

You give him that wide-eyed innocent look, scanning the room, a show of searching, a pantomime that only makes him sneer playfully and shake his head. “All I see is my lover, my Vampire Rogue, who is being rather stubborn about all this,” you sigh as you swiftly roll to brace yourself above him, perched on your hands and knees to hover over his taught form. Tantalizingly close.

He groans, trying to lift himself to touch any part of you. But you are clever, you’ve played enough games on the receiving end of such pleasurable punishments to know just what you wish to do.

“I am allowed to be stubborn when what you ask for is reckless… painful… dangerous…” he’s snarling below you, his chin jutting up to make his shining fangs all the more fearsome.

“It has been months since the end of our adventures,” you reply in calm and steady tones, “months of solidifying our power, of eliminating the traces of our enemies and assuring alliances, even with old friends…” you think of Wyll, new Duke Ravenguard, and the tenuous agreement to turn his literal blind eye on most of what Astarion does. Trusting you to be the one to keep him in check from anything horribly nefarious.

“You think my consort… my queen… should wander the streets of Baldur’s Gate alone? Unguarded? Like some….”

“Adventurer and hero?” you interject.

“I was going to say commoner…” he sniffs, disgruntled.. “You’re so much more than that now, my love. Let me free and I’ll show you just how special you are… how regal and unique…”

You skate your fingers down the hard lines of his stomach, barely ghosting their way towards his straining erection. “Mmmmm my love, you’re always so good at persuading with your body, I’d like to give it a try.”

“You can try, darling…” he swallows his grunt as you finally touch him, just the pads of your fingers tracing up the underside of his cock. “But you’ll find my tongue is better suited to other… pursuits… than merely trying to give you my word.”

“I’ll take my chances,” you simper, you pout, lowering your head to place a gentle kiss at the joint of his hip. “I think all you need is the correct incentive… the sweetest persuasion…”

“What you ask will certainly take a lot to persuade me, darling,” he groans. “If you think I’m about to allow you to go without an escort around the streets of Baldur’s… hngf…”

You suck him hard, taking in as much of his straining, painful erection as you can until it jabs at the back of your throat and makes you gag. But that’s it. You release him with a deafening, sloppy pop. Meeting his eyes, they are glassy, his teeth bared in a grimace of pain. Or pleasure.

“Hells,” he whines, bucking his hips erratically off the bed, even with his legs tethered and spread as they are.

“You want to rethink that assertion, my love?” you preen, crouched beside him, nested in the bedcovers.

“Never,” he growls, a playful smile on his full and pouting lips. “But I’ll join in your game all you want, darling. You’re burning for my cock as much as I am for you and all your deliciousness.”

“Is that so?” You simper, slowly lowering your mouth back down to hover above his aching erection. The closer you get, the more he betrays his anticipation as it twitches. You barely run the tip of your tongue around that ridge of its head. “Just a simple acquiescence to the little thing I ask of you… just to walk beyond our palace…”

“Not without me,” Astarion’s eyes flash, his fangs glinting in the morning light that seeps through the window. “Never alone, my pet…”

You take him in mouth lips again, loose and sloppy, just a bit of wet and warmth to tease him before you dodge away, avoiding the thrust he attempts to make for some relief. “Ah, ah,” you scold with a simpering pout, “we ask first before we start fucking faces, my love.”

“May… I…” he clenches his beautiful white teeth, forcing his words through them, “fuck… you?”

“No, but thank you for asking,” you taunt, running your tongue up that grooved underside, letting it linger along the intricate map of veins that weave around that hard, throbbing length. “Once you agree, then I’ll be more than happy to let you in… somewhere…”

He lets out a ferocious growl, a smile still playing around his lips, eyes craning above his head to inspect your bindings. Even as they tingle with a little magic, a little extra assurance against all his mighty vampiric powers now. “I swear, if I could shift into my newest form…”

“Your cute little bat?” you grin, laughing loudly as you take him deep enough into your throat to feel the vibrations of your throat. Then, you release another strong suck with a pop. “What would you do, make a nest in my hair?”

He laughed at that, low, dark, and rolling. “Tempting,” he hissed back, “nothing short of what you would deserve, darling.”

“To wander without needing to wait for you to be free from your rule… your duties?” you return your attention to that glistening cock with a hungry grin, “I’ll take my chances again.”

He squirms as you barely graze it with your lips again, just little nipples of that smooth, stretched skin up and down its shaft. “Please, darling, please,” his voice grows desperate, edged with need, “give me just a little of your body.”

“And in exchange?” you croon, gracing him with one last lingering suck and swirl around that blunted tip.

“I will take you where you wish to go,” he groans at the continued release, your little reward of rhythmic bobbing over his length as you take him satisfyingly deeper. “To hells with duties, if that is your wish.” Tone softening, he bucks into your mouth, his timing as always impeccable, jamming that slick hardness down your throat as you lower. You sputter and gag, your throat closing around him before you can lift away.

“Naughty,” you chide him gently, frowning with a hint of a smile as you creep to dangle your body over him, all hands and knees and swinging breasts. Breasts he’s licking his lips for as you draw nearer.

“Just a taste, darling,” he flashes those wide, pleading eyes up at you, “I swear I only need a little…”

“Mmmm, I’ve heard such beautiful lies before,” you raise yourself onto your knees, straddling those clenching muscles of his belly. A single one of your finger slips inside your own folds, and you let him hear just how wet you are. It squelches, sloppy and thick as you tease yourself. You ride over his belly, locking your half-closed eyes with his, wide and burning and dilated as they are. “Good rogues get the spoils,” you pant, letting yourself thrust those fingers into your dripping folds harder, faster. You spasm, riding your own hand, feeling his belly rise and fall against your thighs and cunt as you pleasure yourself.

You can hear the bed groaning, the wooden frame creaking loudly as he pulls at every binding. It makes you lick your lips, eyes fluttered shut to savor the way he’s writhing between your thighs, shaking as he comes undone to watch you panting. Always watching as you begin to come, trembling and moaning as you shatter, your arousal pooling over his belly. As you try to catch your breath, you let him look into your gaze, that feral, barely-bridled glow of red in his eyes. You feel his cock throbbing against your ass, twitching as you make the slightest of contact with where his is in deepest agony.

It makes you smile wickedly, leaning forward to proffer your slick and dripping fingers for his lips. You need not say a word, not when he opens, straining against his tethers to suck you clean. Every lap and lick of his tongue, he feasts on your cum, little noises of feeding in his throat, the same he has always made, lips bruising your neck in the wee hours of night.

You tug them roughly from his mouth. “Enough of that from you,” you chide, smiling. Taunting. “I give you a little, and you still have yet to give me my due, my love.”

He grins, licking the corner of his lip. “You still haven’t figured it out yet, have you, my darling… my treasure…? Have you stopped and thought, perhaps, why I won’t let you wander aimlessly into the open, outside of my protection?”

“Because you just can’t bear to be without me…” you tease him, a wicked smile on your face as you place a quick kiss on his insolent lips. He fights for you not to break away, his teeth biting into the swell of your lower lip. “Selfish lover that you are…” you mumble as he tries to devour you all the more.

“Naturally, my little love,” he pants as you raise up, a hand firmly pushed on the base of his throat. “Has it not always been so, darling? Your ferocious rogue always at your side? But now, my sweet consort, have you ever wondered why I can’t resist being just oh.. so… possessive of you?”

You pause, tilting your head, considering. You wait for an answer, but those full, smirking lips of his just press silently together.

“Oh, you wish for me to draw out your answer,” you needle him, an edge of irritation in your voice now.

“Isn’t that the point of your charming, little game?” he presses, tugging at his bonds to make them snap with tension.

“Then let’s play,” you smirk, neck taut as you cock your chin, posturing with all the dominance you can muster.

“Anything to get some wet part of you on my cock, my love…” he arches his body as you slide off his belly. “If you please,” he adds, extra silken temptation in his tone.

“You haven’t been good, but I suppose you require more persuasion,” you hum, “and perhaps you could use a more convincing sight. Until you tell me exactly why you insist on being my constant escort, at least.”

“You’re clever,” he hisses as you begin to turn your back to him, hand gripping that throbbing shaft, his pulse pounding beneath that smooth skin. “If you can defeat the Absolute, the Netherbrain, it should be easy for you to puzzle out why your vampiric lover can’t let his consort out of his sight for a moment…” He groans as you straddle those narrow hips of his, one hand sweeping his cock through your drenched folds. “No matter how powerful… or insolent she may be…” he adds, a deep-throated growl on every word, a snap as he taunts you.

You let him dip slowly inside you, barely taking more than the ridge of his tip between your thighs. Hands gripped on his knees, you feel his legs shaking, trembling to finally find some relief as you fuck him leisurely. A gentle sway, an agonizingly slow riding. And never enough to let him sheath inside you fully.

A mischievous smirk on your lips, you glance over your shoulder. His teeth are grit, his eyes darkened with lust and wide as he cranes to watch your ass, the gradual, rhythmic rise and fall as you pleasure him with total control. “Powerful, am I?” you gloat, taking him just a little deeper.

It makes him hiss, his eyes shutting as sweat begins to dampen his forehead.

“More than you realize,” he gasps, voice grating as he forces his eyes open to drink in the sight of you. “More than I have ever admitted to anyone… to you.”

“Tch,” you suck your teeth in that way he always has, “how sweet, my love. Is that why you keep me here, keep me at your side always? For my power?”

“Don’t forget your beauty that would launch nations into battles for you, my treasure…”

That makes you smile, makes your stomach flutter in expectation, and for your own sake, you take him in, all the way, until you feel the slap of his thighs between your legs.

He roars, pulling on his binds on this hands and feet to make the wood of your bed groan almost as loudly. “Please,” he spits, “do that again, darling.”

“Tell me more reasons, and I just might,” you toss over your shoulder at him, making him feel only the tip of his cock piercing you again.

“Why don’t you think, clever girl?” he hisses, trying to buck into your cunt, to reclaim that little hint of wet and pressure you gave him.

“Because I am your equal?” you grind with every thrust, letting your walls clench as you take him just a bit deeper.

“Yes…” he pants.

“Because you just can’t bear to be so far you can’t smell just how aroused you make me…” you giggle, splaying a hand behind you, over his navel, pressing against those hardened muscles of his belly as you sink all the way down.

“Gods, yes…” he’s groaning, licking his lips as you let him fill you at last.

“Because you’ve given me your power, extended your blessings…” you cant your hips slowly, still drawing him along, but he can only sigh, at last feeling the tightness, the wetness he’s sought for so long now.

“Not just my blessings and power, darling,” he cranes his head back into the bed with a sated sigh as you ride him. Even slowly.

But you pause. Clambering over his hips you spin around to face him, cock still sunk inside you, a hand gripped around the lines of his jaw, his chin, to make him look at you. “What do you mean?” you bite.

“Don’t you recall, clever girl?” He’s laughing under your hold. “That night, your final night… what more did I give you?”

Your mind races, your hips grinding, that need now built inside you too, finally feeling filled to bursting, his cock twitching as it drags right over that perfect, secret spot between your walls.

“Free me, if you please, so I may remind you…” he’s crooning, purring as you fuck him. “Please,” he adds, a little extra seductively, his face twisting in that way that makes your stomach knot as it always has. You spread your hands beside his head, eyes narrowed to see him gloating so smugly under you. His little order sends ripples of anticipation down your spine to pool even hotter where your bodies join.

Your hand shakes, your body now riding him of its own accord, even as you reach for the binding around one wrist to slip it off his pale skin. Instantly, his hand grabs your wrist, pulling it to his mouth as he sinks his fangs into your flesh. You groan, the wave of painful pleasure tearing through you hard enough to make you come. All you feel is his lips drinking you in, his cock throbbing as you spasm and ride him still through the clenches of your orgasm. You’re so full, so taken, so overwhelmed.

And he’s laughing, swirling his tongue over your dripping blood.

“Blood,” you breathe through your climax.

“Not yours,” he growls before biting into his own wrist in the same way. Then, he proffers that flow of his blood for your own lips to taste. “I gave you mine… I made you mine.”

You suck your fill, the tingle of his power, the rush of all that he is, all that he has always been, filling your belly.

“You are not some spawn, darling,” he smirks, that secret dancing over the full pout of his lips. “Your vampire lord gave you his own blood.” His words reach your ear through the euphoria of drinking him in. Suddenly, his hand pulls from your hungry mouth, fingers clawing around your throat. He presses, just enough to make your eyes wide as you swallow under his strength, his hold pulling you down so close to his handsome face. “Even a drop given to you, to turn you, it makes you mine… my consort, my bride, my vampire lover forever, beyond the touch of time itself.”

“Not spawn?” you rasp through his hold on you, a pleased, pleasured smile flickering around your lips as he stares with such longing and adoration up at you.

“No,” he purrs, “but it means I will never let you out of my sight, my power, my protection, so long as we walk this earth. I would rather burn the world to keep you with me forever than risk losing my bride for an instant….” You tremble, you gasp at the ferocity in his gaze as he pulls you down by your throat until your lips crash into his. He feasts on your mouth, groaning at the taste of how your bloods mix and mingle into an intoxicating flavor. Rich. Powerful. United.

Inseparable.

“What a good, good master,” you simper into his kiss. “You shall be rewarded…” You touch the binds again, they all go limp as he shakes them off. He growls his pleasure. He touches you everywhere, fingers sliding from your neck to claw into the hairs at the nape of your neck, nails grabbing for your hips. Legs now liberated, the muscles of his thighs bunch as he starts to fuck hard into you from beneath, feet planted firmly on the bed at last.

“Thank you, my dearest love,” he grins widely, wickedly at you. “I hope I need not persuade you to trust me. Never again forget what it means to be mine…”

“Your bride,” you simper, tasting the title on your tongue, face quirking in a slight and knowing smile. “And that makes you my hus-”

“Your master,” he lifts his head, the weight of his hand at your nape pressing your mouth back down, barely brushing his taunting smirk. “Your lover… your mate or spouse or what have you behind closed doors only.” Then he bites into your neck, fangs piercing like the razors they are. A loud moan slips from your lips as you shiver and shudder in orgasm again from the pain and pleasure. His voice cuts through just as sharply, “And you may only call me husband… three times… for all eternity…” His tongue laps the blood that spills from your veins and down your shoulder now. “Choose wisely, my dearest darling.”

You fight the pull of your pleasure, the need to go limp and just let him fuck you. Not after your hard won victory. So you pull from his mouth, pushing that controlling hand at your neck back down to the bed. “Of course, darling,” you give a naughty smirk, a defiant rake of your brows and flutter of your lips as you press to whisper against his neck instead. “Whatever you say, husband,” you hiss with pure, delightful insolence before you bite him back. Now it’s your mouth that makes him squirm, your control that makes his shudder and hitch as he chases his climax, seeking with reckless abandon the thing that you have kept just tantalizingly out of reach.

“You fuck me like this, my love, and you just might persuade me to get used to it…” he rasps, hands grasped at your hips to keep you steady so he can pummel you mercilessly.

“Ah ah,” you tut your tongue to chide him. “Remember, good masters ask before they come inside their brides,” you gloat, feeling that truth, that connection of your blood and your undead hearts beating all the stronger for it.

“Please,” he begs harshly through gritted teeth, his fucking undeterred as he waits for your word.

He slams up into you with all the more force, his face already screwing and twisting with how close he is.

“Yes, my love,” you acquiesce with a dramatic lilt. It doesn’t take long, not after he watches you smile and feels you clench your walls around him with all your strength. He roars, writhing and spasming as he empties inside you. Buried so deep you feel the tip of his cock twitching against the end of your channel.

You gasp, your sweat dripping down your temple as you watch him begin to still and relax beneath you. But you stay, cock deep and warm inside you, his thighs beneath you soaked with your mingled juices.

“So,” you pant, letting your own body respond with its own basking in the glow of your pleasure, as you slowly lower your body to blanket him. His hand strays absentmindedly through your hair, fingertips softly brushing your cheek with each pass. “You must have lots of ruling to attend to now that you’ve persuaded me,” you murmur, nestled against the hard bone of his jaw, tracing your finger through the pooling of his blood from your bite. You bring that finger to your mouth to suck it clean. “I’ll wait for you before I wish to venture out for the day.”

“Oh,” he grips into your hair, raising your head to look at him again, and your smile widens to see the intensity, the possessive glint in his crimson eyes. “I think all that can wait. Right now, you can choose, venture out and then fuck again until you’re begging me for more? Or fuck first and then venture out into the day, my love?”

You giggle, a grind of your hips to drag over his still hardened cock inside you. “Hmm, a tough choice,” you grin, scoring your own fingers through his hair, “perhaps you need to persuade me this time…”

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thatanimeramenchick · 2 months

Note

Yandere! Lucifer visits the Hazbin Hotel because his daughter called him, but there he meets a human! Innocent! reader and Yandere! Alastor... Where the two of them start fighting over the reader...

Yandere Alastor vs Lucifer and Human Reader

Ha ha ha, I live for the chaos that this would be.

---

“You mean, she’s alive? Not an official sinner?” Lucifer asked.

“Yep,” said Charlie, “Um… we’re not quite sure how she got down here, to be perfectly honest, but she definitely doesn’t fit the sinner criteria in looks or attitude.”

You hesitate before you give a small curtsy to the king of hell. You weren’t sure if the act was going to count against you when you actually died for real, but who knows, maybe he’d be as nice as Charlie was? Either way, Charlie was a good girl, and you wanted to help her out. Surely no one could blame you for being kind to someone, even if that someone is the King of Hell himself.

“Nice to meet you, your highness,” you say, voice timid.

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen a… living human,” Lucifer said, circling you, as if you were a rare exotic animal, “It’s been decades. Centuries even. And you don’t know how you got down here?”

“No, your highness,” you said, “I really don’t know what happened. I-I just ended up here somehow.”

“And no way to get back home either, I’m assuming?” he said, “How odd. Must find it terrifying down here, not to mention dangerous.”

Charlies chuckles a little, but you see a certain nervousness in her eyes. Your safety had been the talk of many stressful meetings.

“We do keep her as secure as we can,” she said, “Considering she’s so vulnerable down here she stays in the hotel pretty much all the time.”

“Ah, yes,” said Alastor, who seemed to be butting into every conversation poor Charlie was trying to hold with her father, “This little lady here, I assure you, she is under the strict protection of the hotel. The very best, as I tend to her safety personally.”

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders as he said it, pulling you closer to him. The touch startled you, as he wasn’t one for physical affection. In all honesty, you don’t recall him ever touching you in any way ever other than the brief handshake you had shared on meeting. You tense a little at the unexpected contact.

Lucifer’s eyes turn to Alastor and narrow. He looks at him like one would look at a spider crawling on the wall. A chill runs through you with the amount of malice in his eyes.

“… I’m sure you do,” he finally said.

His eyes return to you, a hint of curiosity in them, most of the malice gone.

“But! I’d be more than happy to assist in this matter,” he continued, “I’m not sure if there is anything we really can do as far as sending you back up to earth, but I can do my best to make sure you stay safe. Demons are fine and dandy, but there’s nothing like a royal seal of protection. You haven't made a deal, have you?”

As you shake your head, Alastor’s grip tightens, making your shoulder ache. You worry he’s going to claw through your blouse and into your skin if he’s not careful.

Saying you were uncomfortable would be the understatement of the year.

Lucifer Morningstar

Lucifer would have a clear upper hand in this situation, and oh, the nostalgia you would bring! He’s had plenty of experience getting innocent, naive human women to warm up to him, both in the romantic department and outside of it. While he is a bit out of practice, if he actually tried, I could see him using all of his experience, charm, and knowledge to seduce a shy girl out of her shell.

If you’re still a living human, he’s going to be quite protective of you. You want to leave the hotel? Have you gone straight mad? Honestly, if he had it his way, Charlie wouldn’t let you out of your bedroom with those nasty sinners crawling around the hotel. Do you want to end up as corrupt and filthy as the rest of hell? Perhaps he can talk to Charlie and convince her that you need to be taken somewhere more… secure.

Once he finally moves into the hotel, the real battle is going to begin. He'll be seeing you regularly and therefore make it impossible for him to push you out of his mind. And he has to put up with Alastor's antics now on a daily basis.

While he'd like to think he's levelheaded and mature, I can see arguments with Alastor quickly spinning out of control and getting very personal and very nasty fast. The only thing holding him back from just killing him after a certain point is the fact that Charlie likes him as much as she does.

Alastor

Part of me would wonder if he actually even likes you or if he just wants to mess with Lucifer tbh.

All jokes aside, Alastor would be pissed. He knows that Lucifer is more powerful in every sense of the word, and he can’t do a thing about it. Well, at least nothing that really matters. He’s simply going to have to be more charming than Lucifer is, to the point where you prefer him.

He’s going to pull out all the stops of being a suave southern gentleman. While Lucifer will try to wow you with bombastic displays that only he can provide, Alastor will offer himself as the sweet, traditional lover that has your back. He's a distinguished romantic compared to this circus leading clown. At least that's what he'll want you to think. When it comes down to it, Alastor has far less experience than Lucifer with women and romance.

Also I see him as being one of those people who’s like, “Since I know I can’t lift myself up more, I’m dragging this asshole down to my level.” Verbally throws barbs at Lucifer, both to piss him off and to try to make him look worse in your eyes. He’d have a real hayday if he can provoke Lucifer into saying or doing something that scares you.

Even when Lucifer’s not around though, he’s the type to plant ideas in your mind that the king of hell is simply not a good match for you. He’d use his verbal skills to make Lucifer look less attractive in your eyes or to make you feel like it would be unwise to get in a relationship with the literal Devil.

I’d like to think you’d turn them both down, but they’re both too polite towards women to be that forceful with you, so instead they just butt horns for what feels like eternity over who should have you. Clearly it’s the other guys fault that you don’t want him, not yours! Then when you finally die, you go to heaven, leaving them both quite upset about the whole situation.

But if things did get ugly and push came to shove, Lucifer would definitely win. At this point in the game, Alastor doesn't stand a chance. Hope you enjoy solitary confinement!

#hazbin hotel #yandere x reader #alastor #yandere alastor #yandere lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar

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sunshine-and-moonshine · 26 days

Text

Soulmate Aus

Requested: No

Warnings: Discrimination based on tattoos and brief description of kidnapping

Ghost - His scars as tattoos

Twisted and burned flesh blooming into roses along your chest, deep cuts and gaping holes turned into pitch black stars that shone on your skin, drawing all sorts of attention that you hated to have on you. The whispers that follow after in your shadow leave you nauseous and uneasy. Marks, given to you by your soulmate. Barbed wire in a slash across your throat, stitch like markings on either side of your mouth like a permanent smile, thorny vines and skulls and knives littered throughout your body. That wasn’t even speaking to what might be on your back, too afraid to ask anyone or try and even maneuver to see it in a mirror.

Making friends was hard, making money even harder. They said you scared people, that you looked unprofessional. But you managed, you got by. Found work in the back of a butcher shop, so far removed from the customer service section that no one would ever even catch a glimpse of you. Straight to work then straight home, maybe a chat or two with one of your gruffer co-workers, those just as covered in tattoos as you were. Those who got it, who understood you in a way no one else seemed to.

It was in one of those conversations that you got invited out for drinks, something you regretted accepting as soon as the words had left your mouth. But it was too late, your friends already abuzz with excitement at you joining them. Assuring your that this joint was filled with people like yourself.

And they didn’t lie. Every glance you took of the place revealed someone who appeared to be in a similar state to yourself. A man with a black dagger going over his eye, little blood droplets making a trail like tears down to his chin. A woman with snakes peaking all around her hairline, their tails curving along her jaw and intertwining on her chin and down her neck. Most you couldn’t make out except for giant globs of black ink painting their face. It was reassuring, putting you at real ease for the first time in a long time. Relaxed enough to have a drink, then another, then another, laughing along with some corny joke the bartender was telling when a big man sat beside you, some surgical mask over the lower half of his face, the hood of his jacket over the upper half. But it revealed just enough for you to make eye contact with him when he glanced your way, feeling the world shift beneath you and crumble away.

Soap - Colorblind until you touch your soulmate

Shades of grey. White and black, sometimes you think you might be seeing colors, something just a hint different then the usual monochrome of your existence but you turn your head….and it’s nothing, just more of the same. It was fine when you were younger, when everyone your age saw things the same way. When you were, in this sense, just like everyone else. But things changed, you got older. Your classmates changed, met their people. People who became friends, family, lovers. Their closest confidants. Their soulmates.

And you were left behind, drifting further and further from the people who you, at one point, might have called your friends. Unable to escape their giggles and whispers of seeing color, the wonder in their voice when they described how vibrant everything seemed, that shift in their eyes. And then afterwards, getting to know the person that held that other half of their soul, it was almost as emotional for them all. But you, you were left without that.

For a time you could convince yourself that it could still happen, that you could find that person, that you would be able to see what your peers did. Eventually.

But time moved, it changed, and your vision stayed the same. Unable to witness the beautiful colors of the flowers that line your driveway, the shimmering scales of fish in the pet shop, the color of a soulmate’s eyes.

You gave up after a few years after secondary school. Defeated and broken down, chipped away at by your school mate’s whispers about how you still hadn’t met your soulmate, the only one in your grade that hadn’t. You convinced yourself that you didn’t have a soulmate. That you were just one soul, not intertwined with anyone.

Or maybe they were dead.

That was the thought that haunted you, no matter how much you tried to tell yourself that it was just you. That you were different. Or that maybe you just hadn’t met them yet. It would keep you up at night, nightmares of a faceless person reaching out to you, only to fall short, darkness swallowing them whole, drifting farther and farther away no matter how much you ran after it. Always just out of reach.

It was one of those nights when you decided to take a walk, shaking hands shoved into your coat pockets and neck slick with sweat, just wandering aimlessly when you bumped shoulders with some guy you hadn’t even seen til last second.

“Ey, watch where you’re-” He started, only to stop, anger leaking into worry. “Oi, you okay?”

“Piss off-” You snapped in return, whipping around to face the man, only to freeze, eyes locked onto his, both of your pupils’ widening, visions shifting. “What….what fucking color is that?” You whisper when the grey of his irises shifted to something vibrant, bordering on overwhelming.

“Been told that they’re something called blue.” He breathed.

Gaz - His name on your wrist

Gaz.

The name written on your wrist, messy chicken scratch that resembled scribbles more than actual writing. It was confused for dozens upon dozens of other names growing up, but this one. Gaz. It resounded in your skull in a way none of the other nicer or more normal sounding ones did. It rolled off your tongue, appeared in your dreams, a whisper in your ear that just wouldn’t fade away.

Gaz.

For someone with such an unusual name, he was certainly hard to find. Everywhere you went, everywhere your friends and family went, they asked if they ever heard of anybody named Gaz, only to come up with zilch. Nada. Nothing. A needle in a haystack but it seemed the needle grew legs and ran away, or maybe even just got dropped into a wormhole somewhere. It was an unhealthy and depressing thought but it was what came to mind when you became overwhelmed with it, consumed by thoughts of an elusive soulmate that you might not be finding just because you keep getting stuck on what you think his name is instead of any of the other possibilities that it could be. It was days like this that you wanted to find your soulmate just to strangle them for their shitty handwriting that would brand you for your entire life. Written on your flesh in a deep black.

Gaz.

It was during one of these times where one of your friends asked to set you up on a blind date. A cousin of theirs, good looking they’d said. Sweet guy in the military, on break for now. If nothing else, he’d make for a good shag to take your mind off of the whole soulmate ideal. It was with great reluctance that you accepted, dressed in a semi formal/semi casual outfit for a date at a place that was a few steps above a Maccy’s but nothing michelin star worthy. Not too formal, not too casual.

And the guy was nice, introducing himself as Kyle. Shook your hand and pulled out your chair for you, letting you set the pace for the date. Made you laugh, his eyes sparkling at every chuckle you couldn’t contain. He seemed too good to be true, and you agreed to a second date despite the name inked onto your wrist.

A second date led to a third led to movie nights led to slow kisses under the sheets led to moving in together led to meeting his friends, his brothers in arms. Where, for the first time, you heard them shout his callsign.

Gaz.

Hearing it from someone else was sweeter than any of the times you’d whisper it to yourself at night.

Alejandro - The first words he says to you written on your wrist

“Now what’s a beautiful thing like you doing here all alone?”

Possibly the blandest soulmate question anyone could ever have written on their arm, looping cursive that was on the edge of appearing just a little hard to leave. The question itself may be awfully common but the handwriting was not. It was something you liked about your soulmate, tracing the letter with your thumb over and over and over until you were sure you could perfectly write out every elegant letter with your eyes closed.

It was what you were doing now, scared and curled up into a ball after being kidnapped by some drug lord or other. No matter how much you tried to plead that they had the wrong person, that you didn’t even know who they were, it didn’t matter. They snatched you up all the same, tossing you in this grimy cell and leaving you on your lonesome. You were scared, terrified. You wondered if you’d die before you even had the chance to meet your soulmate, all because they nabbed the wrong person.

It felt like weeks, but surely must have only been days, before you saw another person again, hazy, on the brink of a sleep you weren’t sure you were going to wake up from. Your eyes were heavy, so much so that they almost didn’t have the power to open again when the door slammed open, the rushing of feet following, the whoosh of fabric as someone knelt beside you and pressed their fingers to your throat, checking for your pulse.

“Now what’s a beautiful thing like you doing here all alone?” A voice whispered, an arm curving under your knees and another cradling the back of your head, a warm body pressing against you, offering you the first real source of comfort you’d had since you were taken.

“I think I’m dying of thirst.” You mumble, voice a shaky slur. So out of it that you didn’t feel the man pause for a moment before gripping you tighter.

“Probably, Amor.” He says, voice more strained now. There were more sounds now, more stomping and heavy doors slamming. It was hurting your head. “But we’ll fix you right up. Get something for you to drink.” He says, his voice fading for a moment before he said “I’m Alejandro, by the way.”

You weren’t sure the babble that left your mouth before you passed out was any sort of comprehendable to him.

#cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #Alejandro Vargas #alejandro vargas x reader

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bit-dodgy-innit · 2 years

Text

The Shape of You

Summary: Steven loves your boobs. A story of his devotion to them pre, during, and post-pregnancy as you welcome your first child together.

Pairing: Steven x afab!Reader, with some minor Marc x afab!Reader and Jake x afab!Reader. Reader is married to the system and all three alters are no longer working for Khonshu

Rating: Tré Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 9.4k (yes, you read that correctly 😳)

TW/CW: Heavy breast and nipple play, lactation kink, some awkwardness and embarrassment around Steven and Reader discovering they share a lactation kink, pregnant sex, breeding kink, p in v sex, fingering, dirty talk, slight somnophilia, daddy!Steven (in both senses of the term 😜), breastfeeding and angst about struggling to breastfeed, postpartum hormones, sundress!kink (that’s a thing, right?), public teasing, a smidge of masturbation, public bathroom sex…so exhibitionism? (no one hears or catches them), more fluff than I’ve ever written iN MY LIFE, titty-fucking, come-eating…writing these always make me feel like a dirty ho 😈

A/N: Sorry friends, the OP got flagged...so let’s try this again with a slightly less steamy gif!

First time writing in second person so please, like Adele, go eaaaaasy on me :) Also I do not have DID, so please forgive and Feel free to educate me if I didn’t nail any dynamics. One more thing - Jake speaks Spanish a bit in this translations will be below

Marc, Steven, and Jake may’ve shared a body, but each alter had a different part of yours that was their favorite. Jake was an ass man, plain and simple. He loved smacking it, biting it, grinding himself between your cheeks…the list could go on. Marc loved your mouth. He never wasted an opportunity for you to suck him off, to feed you every last drop of his cum, to spit into its warm, wet cavern.

Steven, on the other hand, was damn-near obsessed with your breasts. If it were up to him, his hands would never leave your chest. He’d been shy at first, bashful, citing his relative inexperience compared to the other alters. But the endearingly awkward bumbling phase of your relationship soon developed into its current one: The Steven-Can’t-Stop-Won’t-Stop-Playing-With-Your-Tits Phase.

You remember the first time he undressed you and got to see your boobs in all their naked glory. The expression on his face was so reverent it was almost comical. He looked at you as if you’d taken him straight to the Field of Reeds.

“Bloody hell,” he’d whispered.

You asked him if he was alright, to which he nodded frantically and asked, “Can I…can I touch?”

“Of course baby,” you cooed.

From there it was off to the races. Steven cupped your breasts, damn near whimpering when he felt the weight of them in your hands, and gave you a gentle squeeze. You mewled, and his gaze snapped up to meet yours.

“That was a good sound, I promise,” you assured him. “Please, Steven, more.”

He was all too glad to oblige. He massaged each mound in his hand and swiped each thumb over your nipple, delighting when you shuddered at his ministrations. It emboldened him to experiment further. Steven dropped a kiss between your breasts on your sternum, then tilted his head to mouth at one of them. You urged him on with a breathy cry, and Steven took the signal to suck on your nipple.

Whereas most past lovers of yours had treated your tits as a fun but brief pitstop on the way to your pussy, Steven lavished ample delicious attention on them. And he seemed to enjoy it just as much as you did, if the way he was frantically humping the mattress for relief was any indication.

Later, after he’d fingered you to orgasm with a nipple in his mouth and you’d rode him like your life depended on it, Steven murmured to you, “Blimey babe, I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of your tits.”

***

So you shouldn’t have been surprised when you got pregnant that Steven became even more fascinated with your breasts. They kept growing, almost vulgarly large, and you’d caught your husband flat-out staring at them many a time .

“My eyes are up here, honey,” you’d tease him.

Steven snapped out of it and apologized, “Sorry, love.”

“Honestly, I don’t blame you,” you conceded, looking down at your chest, using the insides of your arms to push your breasts together. “Even I can't believe how big they’ve gotten. The baby will be well-fed I guess.”

Steven watched you entranced, his mouth ajar, a bulge in his pants growing. “Uh huh.”

Sex was starting to get tricky as you entered your third trimester, but that didn’t stop Steven from fucking you on your side shortly after your little display. He lay behind you on the bed as he drove his painfully hard dick into your cunt, both of his hands on your tits. You rubbed your clit furiously as he alternated between squeezing them and tugging on your taut peaks.

“Ohhhh, Steven, yesssss,” you moaned.

“Are you close darling?” his lips were centimeters from your ear. You could feel his warm breath on its shell.

“Mmmhmmm,” you whined.

Steven picked up the pace and force of his hips. “Come then love, come for me. Gonna come too, your big titties get me so hard, you feel it, don’t you? So good at taking my cock and growing our baby inside you. Fuck love, yeah.”

That surprised you. Dirty talk was usually a Marc or Jake thing, but you definitely weren’t going to stop Steven as his filthy words hurdled you toward your climax.

“Your boobs are so big, gods, I wonder if they’ll get any bigger? Want ‘em to,” Steven was babbling, his thrusts lost their rhythm. “They’ll spill out of your shirt. Gonna have so much milk–”

You interrupted him with a strangled shriek as your release consumed you. Your pussy spasmed delectably around your lover’s cock, compounded by Steven’s dick pulsing inside of you as he reached his peak. You were so lost in the euphoria, the relief of your orgasm, that you didn’t notice the few drops of fluid that had dribbled out of your left nipple.

It wasn’t until Steven withdrew his spent cock from you and rolled over to snuggle into his side that you noticed him examining his wet fingertips.

“What’s that?”

Steven tensed. “It’s…um, not sure how to put this…I think you leaked a little.”

“Obviously,” you giggled, “The sheets are soaked.”

His cheeks burned. “Not from there, love.”

Mortified, your hands flew to your engorged breasts. You could feel it too. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t worry darling, I’m sure it’s normal,” Steven tried to assuage you.

You didn’t answer him, instead, you maneuvered your very pregnant self up and waddled towards the bathroom.

He followed you, not needing to exert much effort to stop you. He captured your hands in his and brought them to his lips. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re a bloody miracle, growing our baby inside of you.”

Steven’s tender words and touch allowed you to deflate some, yet you withdrew your hands from his grasp. “Thank you honey, it’s just…a lot to reckon with. I need a moment to catch my breath in the bathroom. Alone.”

“Alright love, take your time and I’ll put the kettle on.”

You kissed him softly, languidly, trying to pour all the love you couldn’t put into words into the liplock.

But in the privacy of the bathroom, you crumpled. You were embarrassed. You were ashamed. Because why on earth did it feel so good to have liquid trickle out of your boobs and to come at the thought of how much milk they contained?

Nevertheless, you splashed water on your face and composed yourself, joining Steven on the couch for a cup of tea and an episode of the latest documentary series you were watching together.

What didn’t you know though, was later that night, long after you went to sleep and Steven had stayed up working on next semester’s syllabus for the course he now taught at UCL, your breasts had leaked again.

Steven had noticed when he’d called it a night and was situating himself next to you in bed. The t-shirt you wore one to bed, one of the only things that still fit you, and now had twin dark spots staining the loose cotton.

He didn’t know what to do. Steven didn’t want to wake you, he knew how the discovery would likely upset you again, nor did he want you to awaken and to have soaked through your shirt. He cursed his cock, which had twitched at the previous thought. He tried to ignore the arousal beginning to surge through him, but your tits made his blood rush south.

The best course of action, Steven (and his dick) had decided, was to take care of it for you. He fetched a wet cloth from the bathroom, then pulled the already stretched out v-neckline of the shirt to reveal one of your tits. Steven gently cleaned the peak of your breast, the warm, damp feel of the cloth making you shudder in your sleep, though not enough to wake you. He switched to the other one, and found a small, perfect pearl of milk right on the tip of your nipple.

Steven didn’t know what possessed him - he certainly couldn’t blame this on his alters - but he swooped down and lapped up the milk with his tongue instead of the cloth. The drop was small, which meant Steven couldn’t taste much when he licked your nipple. So he sealed his lips around the bud in hope of getting a taste of the cloudy milk. Before he could, you rolled from your back onto your side.

Your husband knew he’d have to call it a night, but that didn’t stop him from shuffling to the bathroom and rubbing one out, imagining what you’d taste like.

***

Any thoughts of sex flew out the window when Nyla was born. All of your husbands had been co-conscious for the birth, the four of you equally in awe of what your love had created.

You loved your squirmy, wrinkly little girl more than you could comprehend, but the first weeks after bringing her home were rough. Nyla was a few weeks early, so your parents hadn't made it to London yet. There was no sleep. There were a lot of attempts at sleep training, but not a lot of sleep actually happening between you, your husband, and your daughter.

Furthermore, Nyla had problems latching when you fed her. You tried to stay calm, telling yourself that plenty of women went through this with their babies, but you couldn’t help but feel like you’d already failed as a mom. Plus, the wildly fluctuating hormones didn’t exactly help you keep your cool either.

Steven, however, was a godsend. He never hesitated when he heard Nyla fussing over the baby monitor, he always had a backup bottle ready to go, he even sang silly songs to your daughter while he changed her. Marc and Jake adored Nyla too, yet you’d noticed that Steven had been fronting the most as of late.

You suspected it wasn’t that they didn’t care for the baby, more that they didn’t trust themselves around a being so small and fragile. The thought broke your heart. You wanted to talk to them more about it…when you had the energy. Which, currently, you guessed would be somewhere around Nyla’s 18th birthday?

Tonight, you’d actually had gotten Nyla to go down at 8:30. You and Steven silently rejoiced while getting ready for bed as quickly as humanly possible. The two of you had already learned to sleep when the baby slept.

It felt as if you’d only laid your head on a pillow for a second when you’d heard Nyla crying through the monitor.

Steven sprung up before you could. “I’ve got it. Keep sleeping.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You were just starting to doze off again when Steven re-emerged with a wriggling, still upset Nyla.

“She must be hungry,” he explained apologetically. “Her diaper wasn’t wet and I tried rocking her for a little.”

You nodded in surrender, reaching under your shirt to unclasp a cup of your nursing bra, then extended your arms for Nyla.

Steven carefully placed her in your hold, then announced “I’ll get you a glass of water, yeah?”

“I’m not thirsty right now,” you told him as you tried to get Nyla to latch. Steven was already retreating from the bed.

“Just in case,” he called from the kitchen.

You let it go, focusing more on Nyla than the observation you’d made that as doting as Steven had been, he was rarely present for when you breastfed. It could’ve been because your sweet husband didn’t want to add any eyes and pressure given your difficulties with it, but you couldn’t help the sneaking suspicion it made him uncomfortable.

Nyla wasn’t latching. Again. When Steven returned, he only needed to take one look at your face to see what the problem was.

“I’ll get a bottle.”

Your face crumpled, unable to hold back the tears, which of course, caused Nyla to cry as well.

Steven rushed back in, and scooped your daughter out of your arms.

“There there, little dove, you’re alright,” he shushed Nyla, expertly feeding her the bottle.

“You’re better at nursing her than I am,” you lamented.

“That’s not true, you fed her perfectly for nearly nine months” Steven objected. “We’ll call the specialist Doctor Slater recommended first thing tomorrow.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “Sorry, it’s all these goddamn hormones.”

“Don’t apologize,” he told you, moving to burp Nyla. “You did the hard bit, now let us all help out how we can.”

“Alright,” you sniffled.

Steven rose to take Nyla back to her bassinet, kissing you the top of your head on his route.

You wanted to settle down, you did. You wanted nothing more than to surrender to blissful slumber but a fresh wave of tears came when your breasts began to ache.

Steven came back and his face fell. “What is it, love?”

“They hurt,” you bemoaned. “They’re too full. It feels like my body’s punishing me for not feeding Nyla.”

“Oh darling,” Steven scrambled for his phone on his nightstand. “There’s gotta be a fix for it, yeah? I’m going to see what Google says.”

You passed Steven his reading glasses so he could see, privately reveling in how cute he was as he studied his phone screen so intently. It helped distract you from the soreness in your chest.

“Well, it says the best thing to do is to ‘manually express’ any excess fluid,” Steven read.

“So milk me? Like a cow?” you spat.

Steven put his phone down so he could give you his undivided attention. “Hey, hey, I won’t have you talking about yourself like that. Especially since I have Nyla beat at the moment for being the biggest fan of your tits.”

You cracked a smile. Steven crawled closer to you on the bed, “I know tonight’s been a bit full on, but truly babe, I’d love nothing more than to make you feel better.”

“Oh yeah?” you goaded, watching Steven’s gaze zero in on your still exposed breast.

“Uh huh,” he grunted, then looked up at you. “To be honest…you remember that night a few months ago when you first–”

The night you first leaked. “Yeah.”

“Well, I’ve erm, I’ve been curious since then about…about your…tasting you.”

“Oh,” you gasped. That explained his skittishness when you fed Nyla. Steven left because it made him horny. Well, that turned you on rather quickly. Postpartum hormones were a trip.

Steven gently cupped your engorged breasts, then groaned. “Will you let me try?”

“Oh-okay.” You batted his hands away so could you strip off your very unsexy sleep shirt and shed your bra.

While you were self-conscious about how the milk stretched the skin of your breasts and puffed out your nipples, Steven looked at them like a kid on Christmas morning.

He spared one more glance at your face, “Just tell me if it’s too much or anything.”

You consented with a nod and then Steven lowered his mouth to your left nipple. He started by tracing his tongue around your areola, warming you up to his touch, then enclosed his mouth around it. You mewled as he began to suck on your teat, the feeling of liquid being pulled out of you foreign and therefore thrilling in this context. Your eyelids fluttered shut, the sensation of Steven steadily sucking at you was overwhelming.

Soon the novelty and lingering sheepishness melted into sheer relief as Steven suckled at your tit. You blinked your eyes open, nearly needing to close them again at the sight of your husband resolutely drinking from you. It sent another shiver of arousal down your spine.

“Feels so good sweetie,” you encouraged him. “Are you–ah! How are you doing?”

In lieu of answering, Steven guided one of your hands to his crotch where you could feel his pulsing length. He was enjoying this too. Good. You gave him a squeeze, which incited a groan that you felt against the oversensitive skin of your weeping nipple.

Steven used his free hand to pluck at your right peak, gently coaxing milk out with his fingers. You inhaled sharply at the feeling of both your heavy breasts being drained. Keeping your hand molded around your husband’s crotch, you buried the other in the dark curls at the back of his head.

Steven’s enthusiasm gave you the confidence to ask, “Do you like how it tastes?”

His mouth still around you, he nodded. At last, he pulled off and mumbled, “Why weren’t we doing this sooner?”

A winded chuckle escaped you as Steven massaged your chest. “Might have had something to do with the newborn.”

“Clearly there’s enough to go around,” he remarked before he turned your attention to your other breast, latching on to your already leaking nipple and going to town once again.

You stuttered out a breathy shriek, instantly worried that it’d wake Nyla. Luck was on your side however, the monitor remained silent. You resumed groping Steven’s dick through his pajama pants, letting the fabric catch on the wet stain his cockhead had created.

Steven moaned at the stimulation and switched to flicking his tongue over your nipples, causing you to tamp down on another yell.

“Ohhhh fuck,” he rapsed, pulling off your breast, “I’m gonna come.”

Steven began humping your hand frantically while he gathered both your tits in his hands and swiftly alternated licking at each nipples. You mewled at the feather-light shifting touch on your puffy peaks, now hardened into points for a good while now.

“Yeah, that’s it, come baby,” you urged him.

No sooner had the words left your mouth did Steven’s cock spurt, soaking his sleepwear and your hand with his seed with a whimper. His head was thrown back, his eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, and it was in moments like these you understood how your husband and his alters could’ve been avatars for an Egyptian god, because Steven looked absolutely divine.

Once he came down from high, you withdrew your hand, expecting Steven to walk bow-legged to the bathroom and clean himself up. Instead, he shucked off his pants, and went right back to lapping at your breasts, mopping up the milk that had spilled from you as he came.

“Sweetie,” you panted, “you don’t need to–”

“You haven’t come yet,” he whispered from the valley of your tits. He nuzzled the two mounds briefly then reclaimed a nipple between his lips and resumed his feverish suckling.

“Nnnnngh, Steven,” came your delirious reply.

He pulled off for a split-second to ask, “Can I touch you?”

You were still a few weeks out from being able to have penetrative sex again, but you gave Steven the go ahead to slither his hand down to your clit.

Another cry loud enough to wake Nyla ripped from you when his fingers meet your neglected bundle of nerves. You were wet enough to flood the Thames, and Steven wasted no time stroking you exactly how you liked it. Fuck, if Steven sucking on your peaks and playing with your tits felt good, him doing that and rubbing your clit was rapturous.

You began moaning, a tell-tale whine in the back of your throat that meant you were close. Steven switched teats and redoubled his efforts – your orgasm building to its zenith...then snapping and drowning you in pleasure. One last sob escaped you as your release spread through your body, Steven never detaching himself from your breast until you gently pushed him away from oversensitivity.

You both laid with your backs flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling in sexed out wonder.

Steven spoke first. “No need to call the lactation specialist, I reckon.”

“Steven!” You exclaimed in a whisper, playfully slapping his arm.

“That fixed it, didn’t it?” he pointed out. “Your tits feel better?”

“Well yeah,” you admitted, “but I still want to breastfeed our daughter. You read all the books and journals along with me, I don’t want to deprive her of its benefits.”

Steven hummed in defeated agreement. You rolled over on your side to caress his face and assure him, “That doesn’t mean you can’t still get your fill.”

Your husband’s face split into a wide smile and he pulled you into a dirty, open-mouthed kiss. It allowed you to taste traces of yourself and your milk’s mild, nutty flavor as you plundered his mouth with your tongue.

Steven cradled you to him, tucking you into his side and the pair of you drifted into the best night’s sleep you’d both gotten since Nyla was born.

When you awoke the next morning, your husband was spooned against your back.

“Mmm, we’re naked,” Marc murmured.

You turned to face him and with a grin, “Fancy seeing you here.” You planted a kiss on his lips. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi, mama,” Marc shifted and groaned, “Any reason why I feel weirdly full this morning?”

You blushed. “Well, Nyla isn’t latching still–”

“Still?”

“Still,” you confirmed, “so Steven relieved some of the…buildup I was feeling. With his mouth.”

Marc grumbled, “Just when I thought he couldn't be more fixated on your tits.”

Nyla made her presence known on the monitor before you could say anything else. Marc sat up, but you put a hand on his bare pecs. “I’ll get her. You start on breakfast please?”

He acquiesced with a kiss to your temple.

Marc was in the midst of scrambling eggs and frying sausages when you brought Nyla into the kitchen, “Look who’s changed and dressed and happy to see Daddy!”

Marc beamed, rinsing his hands quickly before you passed her to him. “Hey little girl, I’ve missed you.”

You took over at the stove as Marc walked his daughter over to the couch. He sat down and rested Nyla’s back on the thick, sturdy expanse of the tops of his thighs.

“Now, Miss Nyla Spector, I hear that you’re not letting Mommy feed you,” he began with mock seriousness. “Don’t you know her huge boobs are a gift from Tawaret herself?”

“Marc!!”

***

Things slowly improved after you began seeing Pippa, the lactation specialist your obstetrician had recommended. Nyla now latched the majority of the time and you learned how to keep calm when she didn’t.

Your parents arrived in London too, which also made the care of your newborn a lot more manageable. They did diaper runs whenever you needed, helped with cooking so you and your husband stayed fed, and would watch Nyla so you each could take showers longer than 30 seconds, even nap.

The only drawback was it made you and Steven having what you’d codenamed “Parental Time” a lot trickier. They’d gotten an AirBnb flat around the corner from yours, and your mom especially had a pesky penchant for dropping in unannounced, resulting in a few very close calls of her catching Steven’s head under your shirt.

So you and Steven developed a new routine. On the days he was fronting, after your parents went back to their rented flat for the night, you’d feed Nyla one last time, put her down and then Steven would get his turn at your tits.

To be honest, it happened a lot when Marc and Jake had fronted that day too. Your parents knew about your husband’s DID and had met each alter, but the men tried not to switch in front of them. They figured their in-laws being so accepting of their daughter being married to three men was already enough of an ask that they didn’t want to alienate your parents further. Therefore, if Jake was fronting when they came over in the morning, he’d have possession of the body for the rest of the day, or at least until your parents left.

This was a blessing in disguise you found, since it evened out the time each alter spent with their daughter. All that being said, you didn’t exactly protest when Steven would force a switch late at night to get his mouth on your breasts when you were feeling particularly swollen.

“What is it, cariño?” Jake asked when you padded over to the bed after you tucked Nyla in for the night.

“It’s my boobs,” you told him, trying to massage the ache out of them. “Nyla didn’t eat a ton today so they’re feeling extra hea–”

Jake’s quizzical expression changed into Steven’s unmistakably hungry gaze. “Then come right over here love,” he beckoned you over to the mattress. “And let Daddy help you.”

His naughty words made you whimper and obey him at once. You sat on his lap, where you could already feel his erection growing against your dampening core, and lifted your arms so Steven could disrobe you.

“Missed these titties,” he growled, motorboating his prominent nose in between them.

“They missed you,” you sighed back as he wrapped his lips around a nipple and began suckling.

And what are we, chop liver? A disgruntled Marc asked from their bedroom window.

Jake chimed in from the standing mirror. It was my day to front, pendejo.

I’m the only one who wants to do this, Steven countered in his head since his mouth was full of milk, See how much she enjoys it?

As if to prove his point, you ground down on Steven’s stiff length and squealed at the combination of his thick, hard cock against your pussy and the steady tug of your milk flowing into his wanting mouth.

“Wanna ride you,” you told Steven. “Need that big dick inside me.”

Steven groaned and his hips bucked against you. “You sure you’re feeling up to it, babe?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed feverishly. “Doctor Slater said it was okay.”

Your husband didn’t need to be told twice. He all but ripped off both of your clothes and flipped you back on the bed to prepare you. He slowly fed one, then two fingers into your pussy while he lapped at your dripping tits. After Steven worked you through your first orgasm, you two resumed your position where you sat on top of him.

The two of you went easier than you normally would. As much as you wanted to bounce on Steven’s cock until the sun came up, your body was still on the mend, and your lovemaking consisted much more of your husband grinding into you, finding the perfect angle to rub his pubic bone on your clit while you clenched around him. And of course, his hands and mouth lavished non-stop attention on your puffed out nipples.

While Marc had long retreated to the depths of the headspace, little did you or Steven know that Jake had stayed to watch. It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was to watch Steven drink from you, nor should’ve the way you grasped your breasts to squirt some milk on his alter’s tongue when you came, but Jake was intrigued.

***

Just before Nyla turned three months, your parents had convinced you to leave Nyla and go out for lunch with your husband, just the two of you.

You’d agreed at first, positively exhilarated by the thought of an hour or two without thinking about diapers, feeding, and sleep schedules, but now that the afternoon of your lunch date with Steven had arrived, you couldn’t conceive of leaving your daughter, even if it was for a few hours and she’d be with her grandparents.

“She’ll be fine,” your mother insisted. “Nyla-girl knows us now, and besides, didn’t Steven say you’d go to the bistro on the corner? You’ll be five minutes away tops.”

“But I’ve never left her before,” you protested as you tried to feed her. Nyla wasn’t latching, now a rarity rather than the norm. You used it as evidence to postpone your lunch. “See!”

Your mother took her from you, “She’s only doing that because she can sense you’re stressed. Sweetheart, trust me, it’ll be good for you and Marc–”

“It’s Steven today,” you corrected her.

“Right, Steven. It’ll be good for you two to spend some time as just husband and wife. Your marriage is just as important as this little one here.”

“But mom–”

“Now finish getting ready,” she wasn’t taking any buts. “Wear something nice.”

As old-fashioned and misogynistic as the advice seemed, it had been a long time since you’d worn something remotely appealing. It felt good to feel like a human again too. Your styled your hair and applied some makeup too, giggling to yourself that Steven probably wouldn’t even recognize you now that you’d put some effort into your appearance.

You strutted out of the bathroom in a little sundress and wedge sandals, “I’m ready!”

Your dad appeared, “Shhh Nyla’s napping.”

“Sorry,” you lowered your voice. “Where’s Steven?”

“He went ahead to grab you two a table,” he explained. Nyla began to fuss faintly over the baby monitor by the couch, “I’d make a run for it now if I were you.”

Though it felt like there was a physical tether pulling you to where your daughter was fidgeting in her crib, your parents were only here for a few more days. You and Steven had to make the most of it. So you slipped out of the flat as silently as you could.

You felt strangely unencumbered as you walked the thousand or so meters to your favorite little neighborhood spot. The few times you and your husband had left the house, it was almost always with Nyla, which meant you’d brought basically the entire contents of the flat with you. At the very least a diaper bag filled to the brim. With only a small purse for your phone, wallet, and lipstick, you couldn’t help but feel like you were forgetting something.

Any worries you had evaporated when you rounded the corner and caught sight of Steven sitting outside on the bistro’s patio. He’d cleaned up too - his hair brushed and parted to the side like he favored, clean-shaven, and same as you, he’d traded sweats for a pair of trousers and a patterned, short-sleeved button down.

“Hi, handsome,” you greeted him coquettishly as you sauntered over to him. “Is this seat taken?”

“You’re a bloody menace, you know that?” he fumed.

You played dumb, “What do you mean?”

You stretched your arms up and over the back of the chair, further emphasizing your cleavage in your sundress.

The dress was from your pre-pregnancy days. Beyond its fit flattering your post-baby body, you’d chosen to wear it since it also provided solid support in the bust, which meant for once you didn’t need one of your frumpy nursing bras. It was a tight fit however, clinging to your breasts and resting just above where the smooth, creamy skin of your breasts darkened into your nipples. You wore it to drive Steven wild, and it seemed to be achieving your desired effect rather nicely.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?”

“No,” You continued to play coy. “I thought I’d dress up for the first date with my husband after our daughter was born. Feels like a significant moment for us as parents.”

“You want me to say it.”

You leaned over the table to prop your ribcage on your forearms, giving Steven a new, even better view down your dress. “Say what, my love?”

Steven whimpered, straight up whimpered, a sound you’ve never heard him make outside of the privacy of your bedroom.

You were on the verge of showing him a bit of mercy when your server appeared. “Mr. and Mrs. Grant, nice to see you! How’s the new baby?”

“She’s good, thanks” you grinned at them.

“Lovely. Would you two like something to drink?”

“Yeah, we’re both pretty thirsty,” you replied, kicking Steven’s ankle under the table to tear his eyes off your bosom. “Steven, what would you like?”

“Uhh, tea, please.”

“‘Course,” the server noted. You and Steven were regulars so he knew your husband’s order. “With cream and sugar, right?”

“Yeah,” he grunted. It took another kick to his angle to elicit a proper response from Steven, “Yes, please. Thank you.”

“And for the Mrs.?”

“Just water please, and one for him too. Thanks Alex,” you told them with a smile. Once they departed from the table, you turned your focus back to Steven. “Wow, you really like my tits in this dress.”

Steven glared at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t think it’d make you this frustrated,” you apologized. “I thought we could use a break from the baby talk of it all, concentrate on the two of us, remind you of the person who made you and the other boys want to have Nyla in the first place.”

He took your hand. “You look bloody gorgeous, and yes those were quite instrumental in creating Nyla if I recall correctly.”

“I can run back home and get a sweater,” you offered, “if they’re too distracting.”

Steven squeezed your hand and rumbled, “Don’t you dare.”

“Then you’ll behave yourself?”

Steven sent you a mischievous smirk and a shrug.

And for the majority for the meal, he did. While it was impossible for your conversation not to include Nyla, you two did manage to discuss other topics. Steven got your thoughts on the changes he was thinking of making to his course at UCL for the fall semester, you mentioned a new restaurant you wanted to try, and the both of you brainstormed baby-friendly places to spend Steven’s fall holiday if Marc and Jake’s schedules also allowed.

Throughout the meal however, you noticed Steven barely touched his tea. That was odd for him, since he downed no less than six cups a day.

“Hon, are you alright?” You inquired after Alex cleared your plates and settled the bill.

“Never better, why?”

“You had like two sips of your tea,” you noted, “What, did they change their stock?”

“No,” Steven replied without elaborating.

“Then what is it? “

“It’s the creamer,” he confessed with a suggestive look in his eye. “I’ve developed a taste for something a little sweeter.”

You felt yourself flush. “Steven,” you warned him.

“Come on, babe,” he pleaded, “you can’t wear that dress and expect me to wait until tonight.”

He had a point. You’d spent all of lunch teasing him. “But where would we go?”

“Bathroom.”

“Together?”

“You go first, I’ll follow you and knock three times so you know it’s me” he instructed. “Then if anyone asks, I’ll say you’re having ‘a new mother moment’.”

“What the hell is ‘a new mother moment’?”

“Dunno, but no one will ask anything more if I tell them that.”

“We can’t get caught, I really like this place, Steven,” you cautioned, “I don’t want Alex and the staff here thinking we’re perverts.”

“I don’t think anyone will blame me after seeing you parade around in this little dress all afternoon,” Steven pointed out. “Besides, that’s up to you darling, as my mouth will be occupied.”

You cursed the hot shiver that slid down your spine at his words. You rose from the table. “Five minutes.”

Steven nodded, a tad too emphatically.

“Be cool!” you whisper-yelled before disappearing inside the cafe.

Thankfully it was a small bistro, so they had only one bathroom, so Steven couldn’t accidentally get the wrong door, plus the lunch rush was over, which reduced your chances of being interrupted.

You locked the door behind you, and found yourself giddily pacing the length of the small loo. After checking your reflection in the mirror, you planned how you wanted Steven to find you.

You decided to keep your chest covered for now and let your husband ‘unwrap his prize’ so to speak, so you opted to step out of your knickers and tuck them into your purse. Next, you hiked up the skirt of your dress and began touching yourself. Fuck, you were wet. Maybe this little rendezvous wasn’t only for Steven’s benefit.

Three raps on the door sounded and you lunged to open it as quickly as possible and resume the lascivious tableau you’d created for Steven to discover you in. You managed to swing it, sinking down on the closed toilet seat and fondling your pussy while Steven slipped in and locked the door behind him.

“Shit,” Steven exhaled at the sight of you.

“You going to stand there all day and make me get myself off?” you challenged him with a playful lift of your brows.

Your husband pounced on you, caging you into his grasp and then drawing you into his lap, where you could feel his already throbbing erection. He yanked down the straps of your dress as once, your tits tumbling into view, already dribbling from your lust. He dove right into your cleavage, his tongue tracing the rivulets of milk that had trickled down your skin.

Meanwhile, you made quick work of his belt and fly, eagerly fishing Steven’s length out of his boxer-briefs and giving him a few tugs. You took a moment when you lined yourself up to sink down on his cock, slipping his head back and forth to feel your slick.

“Were you not wearing knickers this entire time?” Steven asked before latching onto a nipple.

“Maybe, maybe not,” you hedged, figuring that the ambiguity would only rile him up more.

He groaned deeply around your tit when you sank down on him, while you bit your lip to muffle your own moan. You two worked in tandem to draw your bodies together, the force of your coupling causing Steven to have to pull off of your breast. That didn’t stop him from drinking from you however, he simply grabbed both of your tits and contracted his hands to spray your nectar into his mouth.

It was Steven’s new favorite thing. He liked to switch, drinking a splash from each nipple, and you were a fan of this technique too, since it meant he could talk dirty to you while he consumed you.

“Taste so good,” he mumbled after swallowing a squirt. “Ugh, wanna milk these jugs into a glass so I can have you anytime.”

You dug your fingers deeper into the meat of Steven’s shoulders and keened. This was some of his naughtiest stuff yet. Getting off on the impropriety of your situation seemed to be doing the trick for both of you today.

“So bad daddy,” you gave it right back to him. “Looking at my titties all while I’m trying to eat, thinking about eating me.”

“Don’t play innocent,” he retorted. “Stuffing your big boobs into this flimsy dress. I know exactly what you were trying to do to me. Is that what you wanted? For me to pound my cock into you while I suckle at your tits?”

He punctuated his question by doing just that, flicking his tongue over one of your weeping nipples and latched on to coax your milk into his mouth faster.

“Yesssssss,” you moaned. You added a swivel to your hips for good measure. “Ohhh I wanna come.”

“Yeah? Then rub that little bud of yours, come all over my cock,” he provoked you.

You did just as he said, maneuvering your hand around his that were still attached to your boobs and worked frenzied circles over your clit. Your release hit you less than a minute later, your fingers providing the last push over the edge, where the novelty of the location and desperation for each other had brought you there quicker than usual.

You kept impaling yourself on your husband’s dick. He was close too, you could tell from the little cries he let out around your breasts that took on a borderline forlorn tone, as if Steven didn’t want to come yet, he didn’t quite want your fucking to be over.

Steven was no match for the heat of your cunt and the sweet creaminess of your teats however. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you even closer to him, and planting his face in between your boobs as his cock gushed inside you.

A few moments of silence transpired between the pair of you, save for your heavy breathing, then Steven slowly and gently extracted himself from your core.

“I can’t believe no one interrupted us,” you marveled.

Steven nodded from where he stood by the sink to wet paper towels to clean you both up. “Lucky, innit?”

“Thank you honey,” you said softly when we passed you paper towels for your breasts and slit. “We should be getting back.”

You tried to think of something else to say, but when you and Steven looked at each other, the two of you simply burst into a fit of giggles in disbelief over what you’d just done.

“You could ask me for anything now and I’d say yes, I reckon,” your husband joked while you two switched spots in the small bathroom. You checked your appearance, smoothed down your hair, and prayed that people wouldn’t be able to see how fucked out you felt.

“You and the other boys already gave me everything I could ever want,” you turned away from the mirror to gaze straight at Steven. “A beautiful, healthy baby, and a trio of loving fathers to raise her with.”

“Awwww, darling–”

“Jewelry would also be nice,” you swiftly added. You found the idea of a “push present” too transactional, having a baby was both your and your husband’s idea thank you very much, and you knew what you were signing up for. In fact, you’d fiercely wanted it. But something sparkly had caught your attention recently. “There’s this stunning gem bracelet I saw on the Tiffany website that would go great with my eyes. I’ll send you the link.”

Steven rose from the toilet seat and crowded in behind you. He sprinkled a few kisses on your neck, then locked eyes with your reflection. “Whatever you want.”

***

Marc and Jake didn’t protest when Steven mentioned he purchased you the Tiffany bracelet, work had been steady for all three of them, and you had a solid maternity leave package.

“Besides, think of how much we’ve saved on groceries now that every night Steven eats local for dessert,” Marc quipped.

Steven had fucked you in full view of the mirror to get back at him for that, using every trick in his book to show how much you enjoyed him enjoying your body.

Though drinking from your tits didn’t really appeal to Marc (truthfully he had no qualms with it, despite an offhand joke here and there), Jake was different. He hadn’t forgotten the look of elation you wore on your face that time he watched you and Steven fucking while he tasted you.

His chance came a week after your parents had left. Nyla was soundly settled into her sleep schedule, and things didn’t feel quite as chaotic as they had when you first brought you little bundle of joy home. You two were lying on the couch, watching a trashy reality show after folding a load of laundry while Nyla napped.

“Ugh, shit,” you swore, seemingly out of nowhere.

Jake clicked off the TV. “You okay querida?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I leaked again,” you took the pads out of your bra. Jake couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. “I’m just pissed because I thought I was done with this.”

“Lo siento, mami.”

You rose from the couch.

“Where are you going?”

“To take a shower,” you told him. “Warm water helps ease the ache.”

Jake caught your hand. “Wait.”

“What?”

“No”, Jake barked at his reflection on the dormant television screen, then furrowed his brow. You recognized it as the look he made when he tried to stave off a switch, “I want to help.”

“You do?” you asked carefully. “You do know what Steven usually does to relieve the pressure?”

“Si mami,” he reiterated. “I figure if Steven likes it, why wouldn't !?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because I’ve seen you eat two burgers in one sitting and Steven’s a vegan?”

Jake waved a hand as if to swat the implication away. “That’s different.”

You weren’t convinced. “How so?”

“Because Steven and I share a taste for you.”

“Okay,” you watched him cautiously as you sat back down, “We can stop if it’s too weird for you.”

“Please,” Jake scoffed, climbing over you and pinning you down onto the cushions. “They’re your tetas and they’re still so big. And you know I’m the kinkiest one out of all of us.”

“Bien bien Papi,” you surrendered. “Show me what you got.”

Your husband hastily rid you of your clothes. When his mouth first made contact with your pearly nipple, a hearty groan resonated in his chest. He’d held the warm, heavy weight of your post-baby tits many a time, but this was something entirely different.

“Mmm, mamacita, su leche es tan dulce,” he switched to the other peak, already getting drunk off your milk, “no wonder Steven didn’t want to share.”

***

Your family’s fall holiday came together more smoothly than you’d anticipated. Steven’s students were on holiday, Jake took time off from the limo company he owned, and Marc was between consulting jobs.

You were still on maternity leave, but planned on returning to your job in the new year. This time was precious - it felt like the end of a chapter, the last hurrah, the eve of “what comes next”.

So you and the boys rented a seaside cottage in Cornwall. Though you were anxious about Nyla and the four-hour car trip, she was a champ. It turned out that Jake was the one you needed to worry about, nearly veering off the road when he caught a glimpse of you feeding Nyla in the backseat. Apparently your daughter wasn’t the only one who’d gotten hungry.

It was past the busy season, so the little village you were staying in was quiet, exactly what you’d all wanted. You pushed Nyla’s stroller around the sleepy high street, hoping the serene location would ease the blow of what you needed to discuss with Steven.

“Solid foods.”

“Yes,” you confirmed, “We’ve waited long enough to start her on them. I don’t want her to fall behind “

“So no more breastfeeding,” Steven spoke slowly, deliberately.

“Yeah.” you tried to soften the blow. “But not right away, it’s a process.”

Steven looked at you like a kicked puppy, but ultimately he wanted what was best for his daughter. Trying to look on the bright side, he remarked “Well, there’s always the next one.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, storminess flickering behind your eyes. “This one–” you pointed to Nyla, “--needs to be potty-trained and eating solid foods before any of you–” you jabbed your finger at him “--in there can even begin to think about the next one.”

Steven immediately squeaked out a “Yes ma’am.”

“I freaked out,” you acknowledged. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright love,” Steven comforted you, affectionately bumping his shoulder with yours. “You have to do the hard bit after all. Feels like it goes without saying, but we don’t want another until you’re ready.”

“I know,” you exhaled. “It’s been a lot. And as only you could, you turned my struggle with breastfeeding Nyla into a way for us to celebrate being new parents, when it could’ve sent me straight off the deep end. I can’t tell you how much it means…I was so self-conscious about my body after giving birth, and you–Jake and Marc too–but you especially made me feel desirable when I was afraid I never would again.”

Steven drew you into a misty-eyed kiss. “I will always desire you. If anything, your post-pregnancy self is the hottest version of you so far.”

You preened from his praise. “You’re a good man, Steven.”

The week you were spending on the coast also marked your anniversary with Steven (each alter had their own “relationship anniversary” with you, though the four of you shared your wedding date).

As gracious as he’d been earlier, you knew Steven was gutted about you weaning Nyla off the boob, so you intended to do something special for him that night.

You knew he’d spoil you, and your husband didn’t disappoint. Steven ordered takeaway from one of the nicer restaurants in town, setting up a candlelit dinner in your AirBnb cottage so you two could commemorate the evening without having to leave your daughter with a sitter. The Tiffany earrings that matched your bracelet though were a pleasant surprise though.

For your gift, you’d encased his favorite photo of him and Nyla in a frame where you also made imprints of her little hands and feet.

“For your desk at uni,” you’d elucidated when he unwrapped it.

“Darling,” he whispered in awe.

Steven’s dinner also included a bottle of very nice wine, which led to you making out like randy teenagers on the couch after your meal.

“Are you ready for part two of your present?” you queried breathlessly.

Steven looked up from the spot on your neck he’d been nibbling on. “There’s a part two?”

You assured him with a flirty little nod. “See, there is one more thing I want you to do to me while I still have these.” You grasped your tits and pushed them together with your palms.

Your husband’s eyes widened and his hips jerked underneath you. “What is it?”

Instead of answering, you climbed off of him and led him to the bedroom. Your gaze kept dropping to the tent Steven’s turgid cock made in the dad-trousers he wore long before Nyla had been born. You found the view just as lewd as it was invigorating.

Once you hopped back on the bed, you ordered Steven not to move a muscle, and peeled off the rather modest loose-fitting dress you’d worn for dinner to reveal the lingerie you sported underneath. The skimpy set consisted of a mostly sheer bustier that embraced just how obscenely big your boobs remained and a tiny, strappy thong.

Your husband’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “Fucking hell, babe. You look incredible.”

“I was hoping you’d have that reaction,” your voice was lilting. “Now remember, stay there, and no touching”

“What are you going to do?” he whispered with a mix of crippling arousal and a perhaps a hint of fear.

You palmed your mounds once again, squeezing them to urge more milk to spew from your teats. Breathy little gasps and sighs stuttered out from your lips as you soaked the thin mesh of your bustier, you wanted to put on a show for him.

Steven’s hand crept down to his crotch but before it could reach its destination you snapped, “Hey! I said no touching.”

“I thought you meant you,” he whined.

“Nope,” you quipped, popping the ‘p’. “You’ll get your chance soon.”

“When?”

“Hmmm,” you glanced down at your chest and rib cage that was now bathed in your own milk. “Think I’m slippery enough?”

“Uh huh,” came Steven’s articulate reply.

“Okay then,” you leaned your arms back on the bed, “Now fuck my tits.”

Steven’s knees threatened to give out. He caught himself and what he said next was a bigger surprise than the earrings. “Alright, mommy. But I wanna get my prick wet in your pussy before I stick it between your knockers.”

It was your turn for your jaw to drop. Where the hell had sweet Steven gone and how did he learn to talk like this? Two could play that game. You fiddled with the straps of thong. “Then come over here and move these panties out of the way.”

Steven jumped you, knocking you back on the bed, too impatient to get inside you to properly deal with your scanty underwear so he did exactly as you’d prodded, he pushed the crotch of your thong aside and sunk two fingers into your sopping pussy.

They went in without much resistance, thus Steven only felt the need to drive them into you a few times, curling them against your g-spot for good measure. He licked off the residue of your desire from his digits and proceeded to tear at his own clothes until he was naked.

His eyes were wild, wilder than you’d ever seen them, as Steven notched the head of his angry-looking erection at the opening of your cunt and sheathed himself in one fluid stroke. You cried out while Steven groaned, your husband wasting no time to start hammering into you.

Every forceful push of his hips punched a “uh” from you, his unrelenting pace stringing them together in quick succession. He couldn’t stop watching your tits swing freely and the copious amounts of milk spill from them. His orgasm mounted in his groin sooner than expected, which propelled him to wrench his dick from your folds and grip the base tightly. Steven wasn’t coming anywhere except your tits.

“Ready, baby?” he asked, his voice gravel as he clumsily scooted up your body to straddle your bosom.

“Please daddy.”

Steven advanced with a goddamn growl, positioning his cock between your milky tits and plunging his length in between them as you held your breasts together. It was nasty, your milk mingling with your juices and his precum, all spread across the expanse of your chest.

Yet the years of love and trust you and Steven had fostered with one another allowed you both to succumb to the kinkiness of the sex you were having without shame. It had taken a hell of a lot of communication and vulnerability for you to get to here, so yeah, you were going to revel in the slick sound Steven’s cock made as it slipped between your tits, the way his face was contorted with pleasure and concentration, how his hands had fallen on top of yours to create the suffocating channel for him to fuck his rock-hard length through.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you realized this meant you were going to have to be this slutty for all of your husbands’ anniversaries, but the thought was kicked out of your consciousness when Steven removed his hands from the top of yours to pluck at your nipples.

A primal sound of pleasure tore from your throat that also ignited your competitive streak. You tilted your neck up and opened your mouth so that the tip of Steven’s cock could brush against your tongue on every drive of his pelvis.

The kitten licks were what did him in, Steven orgasmed with a roar and raised himself higher on his knees at the last possible second to paint your boobs with his seed.

“Oh. My. Days.” Each word required their own breath from your winded husband, now speaking his normal register once again.

“Yeah,” was all your scrambled brain could add before you tried to squirm away from Steven’s tongue on your sternum.

“Please, love,” he nuzzled the one patch of skin on your torso that wasn’t doused in some form of bodily fluid. “Wanna taste us.”

“Fine,” you submitted. “Be grateful I can’t move.”

Steven hummed happily, getting a total of three sweeps of his tongue across your torso before Nyla’s fussing echoing down the cottage’s small hallway.

“Perfect timing, as always,” you groused.

“Ehh, she could've announced herself a lot sooner,” Steven countered. “Hey, you didn’t come.”

There was your Steven, ever the gentleman and egalitarian in the sack. “Honey, if you go take care of her and let me shower right now, we can call it even.”

He pecked your cheek and hopped to. “Only if you let me make a cup of tea too.”

“‘Kay,” you said as he pulled on his, well technically Marc’s, boxers and headed toward the door. You, on the other hand, set yourself the task of maneuvering to the en-suite without dripping everywhere and being kicked off of AirBnb.

“Hon?’ you looked to where Steven watched you from the doorway, ignoring Nyla’s fussing for one more minute. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I am sweetheart,” you assured him. “My pussy’s going to be wet for days after this.”

Steven grinned, remarkably sweetly for a man who’d just come all over your chest. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” you parroted.

Read the follow up fics : Close Encounters of the Maternal Kind and First

A/N: Writes nearly 10,000 words of lactation kink and *takes myself to horny jail*. Thank you so much for reading and please feel free to let me know if you enjoyed!

Also I wrote this in less than a week, isn’t that terrifying?! Leave it to the moon boys to inspire my to write obscenely long and dirty fics.

My weird little headcanon on the reader and Nyla’s surnames are the on paper and official documents, you use Spector, but casually and in social situations you use the last name of whoever’s fronting.

Translations:

Pendejo - Stupid/Idiot

Querida - dear

Lo siento mami - I’m sorry, mommy

Si mami - Yes mommy

Tetas - tits

Bien bien Papi - okay, okay Daddy

mamacita, tu leche es tan dulce - little mama, your milk is so sweet

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wandussyfantasy · 9 months

Text

I Can See You

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x G!n Amab Reader

Summary: Wanda Maximoff and Reader are having a relationship in secret in order to appear professional around the other Avengers. But it's not as easy as they thought it would be.

Word Count: 2094

WARNINGS:

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ & DO NOT INTERACT!!!

smut, gn!reader amab, powerbottom!wanda, oral, hand job, fingering, sneaking around, dirty talk.

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

You roll your neck to fix the stiffness of it from staring at the screen in the boardroom for over an hour. Wanda watches you from the other side of the room and when you bring your hand up to massage your neck she can’t help but bite her lower lip. She loves your massages. You always make a flirty remark about her magic fingers but she thought yours held a much more satisfying magic than hers. You feel her stare and wink when your eyes meet. Wanda blushes and returns her attention to Steve giving the long briefing.

“I wish I had Wanda bent over this table with my tongue inside of her,” you think to yourself as you look in Wanda’s direction. By the way she clenches her fist shut, you know that she read your mind. “That’s against the rules, Wanda,” you playfully scold in your mind. Wanda pretends to ignore you which only makes you want to fluster her even more. “Then again, you were never good at following rules… Naughty girl.” You test out but with the lack of authority to your tone it makes her laugh behind her hand.

“Nice one,” she says back to you.

Feeling a little embarrassed that the pet name didn't take. You go back to your earlier tactic. “What would you do if I were to touch you now?” She licks her lips and pretends that she didn’t hear that one. “I could see you up against the wall with me. My fingers inside of you. What would you do if I…” You smirk as she snaps her pen in half, making the ink fly everywhere.

She sits up in her seat and unsuccessfully tries not to draw attention as she tries to clean the mess. The others in the meeting look in her direction and Steve is upset by the disruption and stops talking. Tony presses a button and calls in someone to clean the mess and you grab one of the tablets from the charging station and one of the pens that go with it. When the spot on the glass table is cleared, you place it in front of Wanda with the notes app already open. “This is why we have the best technology available to everyone,” Tony says. “Just please, don’t break that one.” Wanda apologizes again and the two of you focus on the meeting until Steve is done.

Once the group is dispersed Tony comes up to you to tell you that he expects you to join him in helping him, Natasha, and Steve talk to some government officials at an event later. They needed to play nice with them in order to continue to operate with so much red tape but because of the destruction the Avengers continue to cause with their missions it’s gotten increasingly difficult. Especially after what happened in Sokovia. There are rumors that they are trying to make something that prohibits them from operating how they normally do and they want to get ahead of it. Hopefully win over some congressmen to vote in their favor. Natasha is skillful in persuasion, Steve knows how to talk to those who have served in the military and you and Tony know how to talk to people with money. You agree to come along and assure Tony that you’re going to be on your best game and behavior. He smiles and tells you when to be ready.

You get in the shower and get dressed in a timely manner. When you come out of your room, Wanda brushes past you in a tight red dress as she adjusts her earrings. “Sorry,” she says as she continues on without looking back at you.

“Where are you headed?” You ask as you try to catch up with her.

“Tony said that they need me to read minds,” she explains. “Get a sense of who we’re winning over. But I can’t be seen with any of you. Tony is afraid they will kick everyone if I’m there.”

“Makes sense, politicians are full of career ending secrets,” you see their point. “Is that why you’re all dolled up?”

“Yes, and I have to wear some facial disguise for extra measure,” she informs you as the two of you walk into the main area of the compound. “Looks like you have to go,” she points to Steve pacing as he checks his watch with Natasha leaning against the wall bored and Tony pouring himself a drink. “I’ll see you later, but you won’t see me,” she winks.

“With that dress, I’ll be able to spot you in the crowd,” you think to yourself and she blushes. “Rules, Wanda.” You playfully remind her.

“Rules are meant to be broken,” she replies and you smile as you part ways.

“What’s the hold up! Let’s go,” you clap your hands as you direct the team out of the building. Tony chugs the rest of his drink and returns the glass to the bar as the rest of you leave the compound.

Once at the event, which is being held at a museum, the four of you go your separate ways to cover the most ground and talk to as many people as possible. You focus on the task and make many people laugh and hopefully help them see your point of view. Express that the Avengers work best when they aren’t tied down to the government's restrictions because the way the bad guys operate, they don’t care for restrictions. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a red dress through every conversation and you know she is watching you. After talking to a very handsy woman who has just come into another great fortune as her third rich husband has just passed, you spot the woman in the redress again, this time she is leading a man away with their hands locked together. You excuse yourself from the woman and follow the red dress. Your heart begins to race from imagining Wanda with some random man, even if it is for a cover.

Unfortunately, you lose her in the crowd in your search. She had walked through the large hall of the main party. There are many people with their cocktails chatting away while an orchestra entertains them with live music. You go into a sensory overload as your eyes wildly scan the room for her. Trying to figure out the face they gave her for the night. Trying to not imagine another man with his hand between her legs. You adjust your tie and straighten out your suit as you calm yourself down enough to spot the man she led away with her in the crowd all alone. Your body relaxes as relief fills you. She wouldn’t do something like that behind your back. There wasn’t any reason for you to panic. You know. But you don’t like how often they require either of you to flirt with people in order to get information out of them.

Finally, you see the familiar red dress leaving the hall across the way. You make your exit and find your way around the building until you spot her. You stop when you spot her chatting with the mayor as they admire a sculpture. You pull out your pen and rip out a piece of paper from your leather pocket book and write down an invitation for her. “Meet me tonight,” it says. You fold it up and you make your way towards the two in conversation.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a fan of Clodion, Mayor Fisk” you say to the man as you stand beside him in front of the Intoxication of Wine sculpture. “Y/n Y/l/n,” you grin at the lady beside him and offer her your hand. She takes it with a shy smile as she introduces herself as Ana.

“You found me,” Wanda’s voice enters your head and you let go of the slip of paper in your hand.

“I told you that dress is quite unforgettable,” you remind her. You let go of her hand and start to chat more with the mayor. Now that you know what face Wanda has on tonight, you’re able to relax and focus on the task at hand. The night runs smoothly and you’re able to head home around two in the morning. You hated how long those events could run but it was part of the job.

Once you’re back in the Avengers Compound, you hide around the corner of Wanda’s room and wait for her to return. It’s a few minutes before she finally arrives and she still has her disguise on her face. She shuffles around in her clutch for the keys to her room and once she disappears from your view, you walk towards her room and swiftly enter before she shuts the door. You lock it behind you and a slow smile grows across her face.

“I have to give a briefing in half an hour,” she tells you.

“I guess we’ll have to move fast and keep quiet then,” you tell her as you grab her waist and move her against the wall. You turn the disguise off and peel the layer of technology off of her face. “Hey,” you whisper.

“Hey,” she whispers with a light giggle.

You put the disguise in your pocket and quickly remove your jacket and toss it to the floor. Wanda pulls you closer to her by your tie. You lift her leg around your hip and roll against her so she can feel how hard you are for her. You kiss her on the lips, humming at the feel of her soft lips against yours. “I thought you didn’t like champagne,” you say as you taste the beverage on her lips.

“I don’t but Ana does,” she says as she chases your lips. “We don’t have time for small talk,” she reminds you as she reaches down and pulls your zipper down. She pulls your hard cock out of the fly of your pants. She spits in her hand so she can stroke you and you are both turned on and amused by her eagerness. “I have been thinking about you all day. I hate how we have to keep everything professional,” she mutters as you kiss her neck.

“One day they won’t keep a watchful eye on us,” you say against her collarbone with your fingers pumping in and out of her. When her walls start to grip your fingers tightly, you know that she is close and you pull your fingers out of her and pull her hand off of you.

You are quick with your penetration, needing to get this done before they send someone to get her so she can give her report. You slam your hips into her roughly, the way she likes it and she is gripping your shirt as she gets closer and closer to the edge. She bites down on your neck when you thrust deeper inside of her, then she places soft kisses along the accidental teeth marks that she left. You continue to fuck her against the wall until her body spasms and twitches against you.

You pull out of her without finishing and Wanda smiles at you as she falls to her knees in front of you and licks her juices off of your wet cock. You stroke her cheek as she kisses the base of your cock, leaving red lips on the skin. You don’t even think about the mess of red lipstick that you have all over your face and neck. Wanda licks the tip of your penis a couple of times before she takes you into her mouth. She bobs her head back and forth as she tightens her lips around your cock.

It doesn’t take much longer until you are blowing your load into her mouth. She swallows every last drop and cleans whatever she doesn’t catch with her finger and sucks it off of her finger. You tuck yourself back into your pants and grab your jacket off of the ground. You straighten yourself out and return the disguise device back to her.

“I might be a little late to the briefing,” you inform her. “I need to clean my face.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, “Whatever. I’ll see you then.”

You sneak your way back into your room, satisfied by the successful mission of getting a moment alone with Wanda. You can’t wait to have the chance again.

The End.

#wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda smut #wanda fanfic #smut #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader

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