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plutoswritingplanet · 2 months

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Ring Of Fire (Lucifer x Female!Reader) pt.2

a/n: we're taking a turn for the weirder, next chapter will be slightly more comfort than hurt (you know, as much as i know how to write comfort). for now, all we have is darkness and edginess. Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con (wow that never fking happens on this blog), Soulmates, Emotional Torture, Biting (not the sexy kind), like...a teeny tiny smidge of cannibalism.

Summary: The psychological torment of being chosen for the Devil tips over as he visits you in your sleep.

PT.1

At first, you're not aware that you're dreaming. A strange haze falls over your vision, as if you've just woken up from a devastating fever. Your limbs sway slowly, like you're treading through honey. It fascinates you, the way the light of a streetlamp flickers over your fingers, as you raise your hand. Bare feet on the concrete, your toes contract, pebbles stuck to the skin. The air feels weird on your skin, like liquid pouring over your form in an invisible cascade. It feels real enough, yet so far away.

You remember falling asleep on Bobby's guest bed, brought down by the events of the night. What were those events, you couldn't remember, but you can smell smoke swirling in your nose and your eyes are puffy with tears. You sniffle, swipe your hand across your face and feel as if by this simple gesture, your skin has been pulled like fresh taffy. Perhaps you have died in your sleep. The thought is, for some reason, incredibly funny to you, and from somewhere far away you can hear a voice, strangely similar to yours, giggle. It echoes through your skull like a church bell, and you groan at the reverberating sound.

- Crossroads? Really? - you turn around without any grace in your movement, as another voice rings out right next to you.

Your breath catches in your throat and you can feel all the muscles in your body constric, then relax forcefully, as if some invisible strength was trying to keep you docile.

There he stands. So human, so plain, it tugs on your heart in a way you were not expecting. Lucifer. His hands clasped in front of him, red spots and abrasions decorating his skin in a grotesque display. Sick, your brain supplies, he looks sick, as if he's starting to rot where he stands, and suddenly, in this strange dream the worst possible feeling comes to surface. You pity him, truly and deeply. Normally you'd jot it down to caring for the poor man he has chosen for his temporary vessel, but here, where reality doesn't exist, you can't force yourself to entertain this lie. Your fingers flex at your sides, a need to heal, to help, pushing at them to come forward, to cradle his face like he did to yours.

God help you, you wanted to help this monster.

Then, his words register in your brain, and you finally look around.

You're in the middle of a cement road, somewhere you don't recognize, and sure enough, there is a crossroad. You haven't been to one in such a long time. Not since Dean got dragged to hell and pushed by grief, you were about to do something unbelievably stupid. You remember begging. Actually begging a demon to take your soul, to save your friend, only to be met with a cruel laughter and emptiness so profound, it nearly broke you. Shame washes through you like a sudden wave, and you try to keep some integrity by encircling your chest with your arms. It does you little to no comfort, and Lucifer cocks his head to the side, as if he's in tune with your emotions.

- Do you dream of this place often? - Lucifer asks, walking around you at a slow pace.

You don't know how to respond. Do you? Perhaps that is the case, perhaps somehow you've always had some sort of connection to the crossroads, where the most wicked of deals were made. Perhaps it was all his fault, from the very beginning. You nod, once, not trusting your own voice, and the Devil flashes you a quick smile, before his expression darkens, as if he's deeply in thought. There are prominent shadows falling over his face, his eyes sunken even more than you remember.

- I can't find you - he finally looks up at you, and your heart stops just for a second - You're invisible to me, I wonder, why is that?

Castiel, you immediately think, and you have to look away from him at the memory of your friendly neighborhood Angel carving Enochian symbols into your bones. It's almost like you can feel them, beneath your skin, beneath the muscle and the guts. Not hurting, not really. Just, there. A constant reminder, that you're hunted by a being that feels entitled to your very existence. Being, which is currently taking small steps towards you, looking over your body as if you were a piece of prime meat in a display case at a grocery store.

- You're hiding from something you cannot stop - he says, and you feel the coldness of his breath on your collarbones - It's Dad's will after all.

That, for some reason, wakes you up from your previous stupor. Shaking your head, you try to take a step back, a litany of "no's" spilling from your lips. To that, he frowns, grabs at your shoulders to keep you in place, and with a sudden wave of horror you realize, you can't move. And you want to move so badly, your body feels as if it's tearing itself in half. White fire, cold burning floods you, when his hands make contact with your skin, fingers skimming over the flesh of your arms, dragging down and down, until they grab at your wrists.

- I don't want this - there's conviction in your voice you were not expecting, because truly and deeply, you fucking hate this situation, this responsibility which has been placed upon you without your knowledge or consent.

Lucifer laughs an airy laugh.

Gently, as if you're a porcelain doll, he brings your hands closer to his face. He maneuvers your fingers, eyes watching with fascination at the way your knuckles move under your skin. The tendons, the veins, he swallows it all with a greedy gaze, and the coldness of his breath makes hairs stand at the back of your neck.

- I'm not particularly thrilled by this revelation myself - he whispers to your fingertips - I mean, isn't this insulting? To force me to care for a thing I swore to hate.

You shudder at the sudden harshness in his voice, and his hands dig further into the meat of your wrist. Reminding yourself that this is just a dream, you try to steel your nerves, focus on leveling your breathing, on freeing yourself from his grasp. It's harder than you anticipate, trying to collect any sort of self-preservation, while your mind is cradled by the smothering blanket of whatever dream-magic has been placed on you.

- But then again, I am a child of an absent father - something akin to mirth flashes through his face, and as he looks up at you, eyes gleaming with something you're too scared to decipher, you're convinced you'll never truly escape him - And such a gift... - he sighs deeply within his chest, pressing the scarred surface of his cheek to your palm - Well, who am I to deny it?

Your face twists into an expression of disgust, and with a whine, you tear yourself away, craning your body as far from him as it is willing to go. Which arguably isn't much. His grip on your body tightens, arms digging into you, as he forces a perversion of a hug onto your unwilling frame.

- I've killed for less - he whispers into your ear, and revels in the way your entire body shivers - You're really lucky, and I don't think you quite realize how much.

- I don't want to be lucky - painted nails dig into the cotton of his shirt, as you try your hardest to hurt him, force him to back up, or just react to your defiance in any other way than patronizing indifference. - I want nothing to do with you, I don't want you.

To that, he humms low in his throat, and you whimper, as cold lips descent upon the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. You can't truly describe the kind of fear he brings upon you, but your entire body seems to surrender despite your best efforts at doing otherwise. Must be magic, you reason. He must've placed you under some kind of a spell, there is no other explanation.

- Don't you think you're being just a tad ungrateful? - he asks, nose dragging along your artery - I mean, here I am, ready to love you, to care for you, to accept you as the gift that you are... - he takes a long drag of your hair, savoring the scent as your knees start to buckle - And you're ready to throw it all away because, what exactly? Because I'm what my Father has made me?

- Because you're a monster, only capable of hurting others - you seethe through your teeth, and immediately get cut off, when presses your bodies tighter together, something worryingly similar to a growl resounding deep within his chest.

- Is that what you think?

You've made a mistake, immediately you can recognize that. Playing the tough guy in front of the literal Devil, while having no real idea of the supposed bond tying you both together, wasn't your smartest moment. Cold sweat forms on your forehead, when Lucifer extends his hands out, fingers digging into the flesh of your arms. Then, looking at you from that small distance, he gives you a strangely bored look. Like he has seen everything you've done play out in front of him a million times, like he knows all there is to know about you.

God save you, you hate that look more than any atrocity he has committed.

- Don't look at me like that - bravery, or stupidity, you can't decide as words leave your mouth in a snarl. - You don't know anything about me.

- I know all that's important - he counters - I know God made you for me.

He takes a step closer, and suddenly you've grown very tired of this constant dance. His hands massage their way towards your shoulders, where he grips you tight and drags you towards him. You stumble, nearly falling into his chest, but he straightens you out forcefully, like you're some doll he can maneuver all he likes.

- I know you're rebellious, just like me - his whisper seeps into your very being, as if you've become infected by his gentle tone - You're lonely, just like me.

You want to shake your head no, you really want to, but he keeps you frozen, enchanted by his sudden closeness, and the barely noticable note of vulnerability hidden in his grey eyes.

Sam and Dean flood your mind. Your boys, your closest friends. The times you've spent together were few and far between, but you cherish them. You truly do. Which is why, your heart breaks at the realization, that Lucifer is right. Despite the bars, and the hunts, and the long drives, you're lonely. Loneliness follows you like a shadow, too ingrained into your bones to ever leave. But not right now, never when he's around.

- It's okay, you know - Lucifer sighs, leaning down to kiss right between your collarbones - Sooner or later you'll realize, there's no shelter, no hideout where I wouldn't find you. That's true love, babe.

- Stop - a plea slips between your lips, quiet and pathetic, reminiscent of when you've fallen to your knees, begging a demon to bring your friend back.

What you were pleading for this time, you couldn't really comprehend, all you know is, you don't want to do this. You can't do this, and if this really was true love, wasn't he supposed to understand?

The beating of your hear escalates, when he moves to grab at your face, hands so perfectly fitting alongside your jaw. He turns your head from side to side, as if wanting to commemorate every angle, etch it into his mind. If it were any other man, you'd be over the moon. If he wasn't a threat of catastrophic magnitude, just waiting to end the lives of your friends and everyone on Earth, you would've craned your neck further, given him access. Accepted your fate.

Yet, when his cold lips press into yours, it's so easy to forget why you've been unwilling all this time. He's gotten better at it, you muse, as he kisses your unmoving mouth, trying to pull some reaction out of you. Finally, you gasp, when he traps your bottom lip between his teeth, and bites down hard enough to draw blood. Immediately he takes advantage, thumbs digging into the hinges of your jaw, until you have no choice, but to open up to him. It's nauseating, the way he kisses you, as if he needs to map out the insides of your mouth right this instance.

Lucifer pulls away so suddenly, for a second you follow his mouth before steeling yourself. Blood trickles down from your bitten lips, and he launches at the small streak. Tongue laps at the skin of your chin, licking off every trace of red, and the sound he makes is downrigh sinful. Then, emboldened by your taste, his hands push upwards, the muscles of your neck straining, as he moves your head back.

The skin of your throat is exposed and pulled taunt, and your entire body is ready to collapse, when he presses open mouthed kisses along your trachea. Then, as you let out a whimper, he moves to the side, kissing and licking a line towards your pulse point. He stays there for a moment, dragging his teeth down the cullumn of your throat, hard enough to make you squirm in discomfort. From gentle coaxing, his ministrations took a sharp turn to roughter territories.

- So sweet - Lucifer muses to himself, taking another whiff of your scent - I could just eat you up.

Something in his tone of voice startles you. It's not a cute love confession, a cliche line from a romantic movie. From his lips, it sounds daunting, like a promise he can't wait to fulfill. Your eyes swipe downwards, but all you can see is the top of his head, as he dips down to further abuse your throat. He's not gentle by any means, all teeth and no comfort with the way he nibbles at the skin behind your ear. It's pleasurable, or it would be, if it were any other person, or a person at all.

Then, the air seems to shift, a sinister streak you're not familiar with crawls the lenght of your back, and you tremble like a caught bird in his unwavering grasp. As if sensing the change, his hands switch the hold on your face, supporting the underside of your jaw and chin, pulling up and up, until you have to stand on your tippy toes.

- Perhaps I should - ringing fills your ears as tears flood the corners of your eyes - Perhaps that will show you, who you belong to.

And with that, he pulls back. Like a priest raising his cup at the Holy Communion, he raises your head, eyes roaming across the marks he has made on your throat. And then, he dives down, jaw open, teeth glistening in the darkness of the night.

You can feel it all, as he tears through skin and muscle, sinking into your trachea as if taking a bite out of a ripe apple. Your scream sounds so far away, so muddled, for a moment you can't recognize it's you that's screaming. Then, he pulls back with a sickening, wet, tearing sound, and your voice dies down in a gargle. Blood floods your mouth, spills through your teeth, a waterfall of red soaking your entire front. Through hazy vision you see him chew and swallow, and the sight churns your insides, as you double over, bile quickly making it's way up what's left of your throat.

Except, it doesn't hit the pavement. It lands on the wooden floors of Bobby's guest room. Confusion barely registers in your panicked state, as you roll off the bed, grabbing at the gaping wound in your throat. A wound that isn't there at all. Phantom pain wrenches a series of shouts from you, like an animal caught in a trap. Begging from help. Knowing it will recieve none. The coarse surface of the floor scratches at your thighs, as you push yourself into a nearest corner, tears mixing with sweat on your face.

That's when Dean rushes in, Sam right after him. Any other day, you'd consider their company a blessing, but right now all you can think of, is what Lucifer has in store for them. How he can hurt them, to get to you. Castiel teleports into the room soon after, and you wish the floorboards would open up and swallow you whole.

- He was... - you wince, voice creaking like old hinges - He was in my dream.

That's all Sam needs to cross the room and kneel in front of you, gently pulling at your hands, which are still clutching the non-existent wound on your throat. The skin is red and raw, nail marks trail down from under your chin to your collarbones, but there is nothing else.

- I know - Sam whispers, arms encircling you in a warm hug, that just feels like entrapment - I know, I'm so sorry.

Deep down you know, he understands. The weight of being promised to the Devil, the torment he can bring upon a person, the fear. But right now, all you can feel are teeth, and lips, and hands which are too cold to be anything other than a monster.

Castiel has questions, you can see it, in the way his eyes scan the room, fall on your shaking frame, still pushed into a corner. He doesn't ask them, thankfully, opting to gruffly mutter something about checking the wards around the house. Bobby yells from his office, Dean yells back. You try to focus on the warmth coming from Sam's chest. You stay like that for a couple more minutes, before finally, calming down enough to stand up and wipe your tears off your face with a heavy hand.

- We'll figure something out - Sam supplies his usual response to anything Apocalypse related.

What used to be a hopeful promise, right now sounds more like a hollow echo.

Dean keeps his opinions to himself, chewing on them as he hands you a beer fresh out of the fridge. Only when the liquid freezes it's way down your pipes, you are certain your throat is where it should be. Your brain is coming back as well, rebellion, loneliness, all the traits Lucifer has read from you. They mix with anger, slowly rising within your chest, because fuck that. Fuck him, fuck God and fuck every single entity responsible for your current predicament.

- Yeah - you force yourself to sound convinced - Yeah, we'll kick his fucking ass.

#my writing #supernatural #lucifer x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn lucifer #spn #spn x reader #spn lucifer x reader #supernatural lucifer x reader #besties i don't think we can “power of love” this one through

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toastedcatbread · 3 months

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I'm sorry, but I don't really find "At the Altar" to be very sexy or cute at all. I've been thinking for weeks how to phrase that doesn't sound like outright bashing, so I'll do my best. First of all, Cloud becoming blessed without even realizing it (lacking CONSENT), can't remember if he was even a child, and then Sephiroth coming around to collect his 'due' in sexual favors is just coersive and cringy. And later, Sephiroth outright killing everyone in his village because reasons??? and Cloud's all like, "Oh ALL RiGHT but don't you do it again~" is just?? mindboggling? Cloud would do anything for his people, for the ones he cares about, and sparing just a few isn't doing Cloud any favors. He'd want to save everyone he could, even if they weren't his biggest fans. There's a huge imbalance of power here that doesn't jive with 'loving, consenting relationships'. Cloud is subjected to painful, unrealistic sex because he has no CHOICE; and therefore, Sephiroth can't just fuck the living bejesus out of Cloud and woops, that's how love happens. It's unbelievable, it's really kind of rapey, and it really isn't for me. For a reader, I approached this story "Porn Without Plot", and that's fine, but there is some semblance of plot here, though it's so poorly presented that it's painful to read and it rarely deviates from, 'Sephiroth does something bad, but it all goes away because Cloud just loves getting dicked until he can't see straight' and because he's such a subserviant individual - which, canonically, he isn't. He wants to live for himself, in the end, find his own identity. I really hope you consider wrapping up the story soon, because even as I can't stand it, I'm hoping that somehow, really hope, that Cloud realizes how much he's been manipulated and gets away from Seph, because this is not the basis of a healthy relationship, at all, and it frightens and upsets me to my very core.

Sefikura, as a whole, has never been healthy or cute or wholesome. In canon, it's presented as a manipulative, dark, gritty, and horrendously co-dependent in a way no one can call healthy.

Listen, anon, you're entitled to your opinion on At the Altar just as anyone else is. I didn't write the story to explore any deep plot or dynamic. It's not meant to be fun or cute. It's really just a fantasy theme that I'm writing to practice writing sex, which I personally find difficult.

However, you're bleeding "real world" into fantasy at this point. No one today would disagree that, should something like this happen in real life, it would be horrific. Of COURSE, Cloud isn't subservient in canon, especially not to Sephiroth. Of COURSE he's trying to find his own identity in canon. They don't have gods or blessings or offerings in the actual FF7 storyline. In this world where humans identify themselves as "followers", things are different. Cloud is different. It's an AU and, at some point, it will deviate from "normal" Cloud's actions.

Stop comparing fanfiction with canon or real life. AUs exist as a genre and people write them to explore outside the box of canon. You don't have to like it, nor do you have to read it. I understand that you may like some of my other works, or maybe you don't, but I'm not really writing for clout or popularity in the fandom. If it's not to your taste, I'm sure there's plenty of other works out there that can scratch that itch for you.

If I'm perfectly honest, there's thousands, maybe millions of people reading on AO3. How in the world is anyone supposed to write something that satisfies every single reader anyway? It's impossible. So I don't aim for that. It write for various reasons and At the Altar just happens to be me practicing porn. It's not meant to be realistic or true to canon.

#sefikura #At the Altar #ao3 comment #You don't have to like it anon #It just means that the work wasn't meant for you

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cinemastyles-backup · 6 months

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Spill or Fill Part 3

Summary: final part to the mini Spill or Fill series

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, pregnancy talk, squirting with fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, oral (f rec), choking, rough actions, general filth

My original CinemaStyles-blog has been terminated, so I created a new one.

DUNKIRK HARRY

"Do you think we can just sneak out? I don't really feel finished with you just yet." I slide my hands down Harry's semi open white shirt.

He smirks, "We'll say you aren't feeling well." He pulls me in and kisses me, "I'm not finished with you either."

I bite my lip and walk with him as he grabs my hand and leads me down the hall way into the room where the party is.

Jimmy loves us. He threw us another surprise party a few weeks after the last one when we were on his show, but even still, Harry and I continue to jump each other when we get the chance, and now it’s even worse now the longer you’re engaged.

"There you guys are!" Jimmy yells, dancing to the music, "Thought you left."

"We're going to head out, y/n isn't feeling well, so I'm going to take her home." Harry yells, "Thank you so, so much for this, Jimmy, again."

He look at me and winks, "Feel better."

I laugh as Harry and I quickly make our way out of the club.

"He so knew what we are up to." I wrap my arm around Harry's and he laughs, "Oh yeah."

He opens the car door for me and tells the driver we're heading home.

He gets in and I'm immediately on him, "I don't know if I can wait until we're home, Harry."

He bites his lip and shakes his hand up my dress, "Let me help you until we're there." He slips his fingers inside my pussy, slowly curling his fingers.

"You're so unbelievably sexy with a pussy full of my cum." He whispers as he nips my ear lobe, "Fuck you make my cock so hard."

I moan and grip his shirt, popping open a few of the buttons, "Fucking shit, baby." I gasp as his thumb rubs circles on my clit.

"I can't wait to have my face buried in between your legs when we get home."

I moan at his words and arch my back off the seat. I grind my hips down onto his hand, whimpering as he edges me closer.

"Use my hand, baby. Fuck your self on it." His lips attach to my neck, definitely leaving a deep purple mark or two.

"Fuck. You're soaked." He groans, "Shit."

I reach over and lay a hand on his cock, palming him through his pants. He groans lowly, pushing his hips up, desperately trying to get more.

"H-How much longer?" I ask between pants, "I-I'm gonna cum."

"Almost there baby." He moves his fingers in and out at a steady rate, drawing me closer and closer until I cum on his fingers.

"You made your dress wet, darling." Harry moans, "Fuck, that's so hot."

I whimper and move my hips as I come down from my high, panting as I continue to palm him.

He takes his hand away and lays it on mine, "You can play with it all you want when we get inside, baby. Okay? Come on."

As soon as the car comes to a stop, Harry's out the door and pulling me with him, "Thank you." He yells as we basically run to the door.

He unlocks it as I push myself on him, "Harry." I whine lowly.

"Hold on, sweetheart. Almost.." the door opens and he wraps an arm around my waist, "There."

He pulls me in and shuts the door with a slam, "That dress needs to come off." He takes his shirt off the rest of the way and undoes his belt, groaning as he finally frees his aching cock.

I slip my dress off and kick my heels off as Harry stands there watching me intently. I drop my dress, revealing my naked body to him and he bites his lip and shakes his head.

He walks over to me and walks be backwards until I'm on the couch. He drops to his knees and pushes my knees apart and up. I grab my thighs, holding my legs up for him as he rubs my clit and licks my folds with his tongue.

I gasp and let out a loud moan, "Harry."

He moans against me, sending vibrations through my skin. He switches and sucks my clit as his fingers slide in and out of my soaked cunt.

I turn into a mess, whining and moaning as I dig my nails into the back of my thighs. My eyes roll back and my back rises off the couch, "Fuck fuck I-"

I feel myself cum and he moans as he licks it off of me, "I fucking love when you squirt for me, baby. Shit."

He moves me so my back is against the arm rest and puts one knee on the couch. He brings my one leg up and lays it up his chest and over his shoulder and holds the other one over.

He slides his cock into me and I bring my arms up and grip the arm rest, "Harry." I gasp as my eyes roll back.

"Shit baby. Your pussy gets better and better each time I'm in it." He pulls out and his grip on my leg gets harder before he thrusts back in.

His pace is hard and fast, and it feels so fucking good.

I turn my head and push my forehead against my arm, letting out a scream, "Yes, yes. Harry, fuck."

He moans loudly and reaches down to grip my throat. I smile up at him and my lips part as I moan. His grip tightens and my eyes roll back.

My boobs bounce up with each thrusts and I can feel myself being brought to yet another, mind blowing, orgasm.

I clench around his cock and moan as loud as his hand around my throat will allow me.

Not long after, Harry is pushing his cock deep inside of me and pumping out his cum.

He lets go of my throat slowly, "Are you okay?" I nod, "I'm great." I smile up at him and he pulls out and gently sets my legs down.

"You need time to relax. I'll go start a bath then I'll come down for you. Okay?" He leans down and kisses me, "I love you."

I nod and lay a hand on his cheek, "I love you."

——

A few months later

"I now pronounce you, man and wife."

I smile at Harry and he smiles at me.

"You may kiss the bride."

Harry swoops me up and bends me back, planting his lips on mine. I wrap an arm around his neck and the audience cheers for us.

"My beautiful wife." Harry whispers before standing me up. I smile and take his hand as we turn forward the crowd of our close friends and family clapping, crying, and cheering for us.

We walk down the isle and it's nothing but pure happiness.

"We have a little before the reception." Harry whispers pulling me closer. "you wa-"

"Yes." I immediately say without letting him finish.

He smirks and helps hold up my dress so I don't trip as we run upstairs. We find and empty room and quickly shut and lock the door.

"First time having sex with my wife." He says pulling me in for a kiss, “My pregnant wife.” He smiles and kisses me again. The kiss is heated and passionate and I bite his lower lip, earning a moan from him.

"First time being fucked by my husband." I pull my dress up and bunch it up under me as I bend over the bed. He smacks my ass and squeezes where he hit, "You're more beautiful than you were yesterday."

I smile and look over my shoulder at him as he pushes his pants down. He spits down into his hand and pumps his cock a few times as he rubs my pussy with the other hand.

I'm already wet. I was wet as soon as I seen him in his suit.

"Harry." I whine, "Please."

He rubs the head of his cock against me and pushes in, "Fuck."

I grip the sheets and push my hips back to meet his, pushing him all the way in.

We share moans and he grips my hips, groaning as he starts to move his cock slowly building up to a rough pace, "Fucking hell" he moans, "Y/N. Baby."

I moan and tilt my head back, clenching around him, "H-Harry."

"Cum on my cock baby. I want to fill you completely full." He digs his fingers into my hips and pulls me to him, "Fuck."

My body tenses as my orgasm rips through me. Harry and I decided not to have sex for a week before the wedding, and as hard as it was to keep our hands off each other, it was totally worth it.

"You're going to be so full." He moans as he slowly pushes his cock in and out. I can feel him twitching, unloading his cum deep inside of me.

I lay there panting for a few minutes before he fixes my dress and helps me stand up, "We should do that more often." He chuckles, "That felt so good."

I shrug, "Maybe in a few months. That was us just getting started." I lean up and kiss his cheek, "Do I looked like I just got fucked?"

He fixes my hair and smiles, "You look amazing."

I walk over to the mirror to do one last look over and Harry walks up behind me, "Let's go join the party, I know it's going to get wild when we tell them the news."

Harry lays a hand on my stomach and I smile and lay a hand on his, "Let's go tell them we're having a baby."

——

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated and don’t forget to hit follow! ♥

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deadbydangit · 9 months

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I'm sorry this is a funny idea in my head but I understand if its stupid or something lmao 😭❤

Characters with an S/o who's like notoriously down bad for them. Like so down bad they aren't afraid to show it, even before they started to date. So down bad that they will swoon if character compliments them in anyway. S/o is just a down bad simp basically

This with Ghostface, Pyramid Head, Leon, Jake, and Huntress? I'm so sorry I just thought it was funny 😭👍

Alright. I think I can work with it. I'm going to switch it where the Reader isn't dating them yet.

With a Reader who is down for them.

Ghostface, Pyramid Head, Leon, Jake, Huntress

Ghostface

He sees the way you look at him.

Of course you're down bad for him.

Like, he's the great Ghostface.

Danny has an ego to match a prince.

Yeah, he's sexy and he knows it.

He's going to show off for you.

But that won't be subtle either.

A lot of flexing.

Teasing by almost taking his mask off.

Leaning in really close to you before moving away really suddenly.

Oh no! His shirt accidentally ripped.

He'd be lying if he didn't find you cute too.

So some of this is actually flirting.

Cause TBH you're really cute.

Maybe throw a few signs his way.

Eventually everyone will find all the flirting so unbelievably unbearable that they'll shove you two in a room together.

Just fuck and get it over with!

You two make a really cute couple.

Pyramid Head

What is flirting?

Why are you so close?

You're wearing less clothing.

Danny is going to have to fill him in.

Oh! That's what flirting is.

Okay!

Until some of the more mature killers step in and show him more appropriate methods.

Don't listen to Danny please.

You can't just grab someone and lick them.

He's kind of into you too.

He'll start showing off his muscles.

Raise his sword a bit higher.

Check him out.

With no face and no voice, he has little to work with.

But he's going to find his ways.

He's going to need some help from the others.

He's well like in the killer circle.

Sally will approach you and directly tell you.

You probably had an idea.

But this will solidify it.

He'll take hold of your hand one day.

Just hold it.

It's really quite romantic.

Leon S Kennedy

He is clueless.

Like, really clueless.

Oh, they want to stand close?

Must mean they want to work together.

More revealing outfit?

They must be hot.

Subtlety touching his arm?

Must want to protect him.

Dense boy.

He's used to girls and guys alike fawning over him.

But to him, it's just them being grateful he saved them.

You might need to up your game.

Start telling him you like how he looks.

"Thanks, you look nice too."

Jill is going to have to literally smack that boy into realizing you've been flirting.

Oh, okay. Yeah, he can see it now.

He'll try to flirt back, but it's so painful to watch.

Jill is just going to shove you two together.

"Just kiss already!"

Jake Park

He's a smart guy.

But he's also super awkward.

Like yeah, you can flirt with him.

But he'll act like it's nothing.

He's actually freaking out because you're totally his type.

Maybe he'll get you a present.

But there's nothing to give...

A stick?

Yeah.

He'll give you a stick.

Really mixed messages.

It is really painful to watch the two of you.

So painful that even Dwight can't take it.

This needs to stop.

Jane is probably going to be the one to initiate your meeting with Jake.

"You like him, they like you. Now stop dancing around."

She'll lock the door and strand you two in there.

Ah well, you'll have more time to get to know him.

Huntress

Hmm? Flirting?

What's that?

Some sort of battle tactic?

Oh she is oblivious.

Just um... Maybe start with something obvious.

Wave to her and smile.

Then maybe hold her hand.

Then a hug.

Then work up to a kiss.

She will take any flirting attempt as either a challenge or someone doing something insane.

It's easier to just go up and say it.

And he does like you.

She just doesn't have a word for it.

Just give her some time.

She'll probably figure it out.

#dbd imagines #dbd ask blog #dbd x reader #dbd killer #dbd ghostface #dbd survivor #dbd jake park #dbd huntress #dbd pyramid head #dbd leon s kennedy

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sandylovespablito · 9 months

Text

This is me trying - Pablo Gavi x Reader

Ok so this is my first time writing a " x reader " story + I was really shitty at writing romance last year but I think I'm better now 😭

Also some parts of this will relate to my life so sorry if it doesn't fit what you're looking for

warning: anxiety

_______________________________________________

" they told me all of my cages were mental, so I got wastes like all my potential "

2 in the morning. Anxiety had filled your body as you remembered when you gave up. Pablo could feel you twisting and turning in bed, trying to fall back asleep. " amor? What's wrong? " the angry bird questioned you. And that's what you really didn't want to hear. " everything. nothing. I don't know." you said before hiding your face and sobbing.

This made your boyfriend quickly sit up and hold you close. " talk to me, y/n. What's happened? " and that's when you finally felt comfortable enough to talk about it. What gave you anxiety, and how much it ruined your life. Pablo knew about your anxiety, he helped you when it was difficult, but he had no clue you were feeling like this now. It broke him.

" I feel like- my anxiety is making me waste my life.." you said in between a mix of breaths and sobs, tears weren't only rolling down your face; but Pablo's too. " you haven't wasted your life. You're still full of potential to do anything." your loving boyfriend told you softly. You held him tight and asked him " do you promise? " and without hesitation he answered: " Sí, mi amor."

" and my words shoot to kill when I'm mad, I have alot of regrets about that "

You and Pablo never really fought now. At the beginning of your relationship with him, it was different...

" I can't stand it! I don't like seeing people fall in love with you whenever we go out! " Pablo yelled, after you two went on a date and you got checked out by two different guys. Pablo without realizing was taking all his anger out on this- out on you.

Without thinking, you snapped back with your first thought. " well maybe they wouldn't stare if you weren't a fucking famous football player!!" you were even louder than him, which Pablo hated.

" Excuse Me!? Are you blaming my job on this?! Are you fucking serious!! " your boyfriend matched your volume now. Only now processing your words, your whole body filled with regret and you started to shake your head sobbing. Pablo came over to you, to support you. " I didn't mean that.. I know not you're fault cariño.. "

That was back when you and Gavi had only been dating for a month. Now, dating for two yeats and engaged you still remembered the fight and went over to the love of your life and hugged him tightly, still regretting those words.

" I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere "

Your boyfriend was always so proud whenever you met success. As a (insert profession) and a footballer couple, you both saw success in your careers differently.

And you were obviously so proud of him.

Pablos biggest success? A tie between marrying you and winning the world Cup. He became the youngest Spanish player ever to win the world Cup, and it made you unbelievably proud.

He really was ahead of the curve in his career. And you couldn't be prouder.

" fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here "

Skipping this bc I have no idea, but here's a cute collection of Pablo pics as compensation 🫶

he's so cute I can't 💕

" pouring my heart out to a stranger, but I didn't pour the whiskey "

You only met the rest of Barça + their lovers when you and Gavi hosted a massive party at your shared home, to celebrate Gavis 19th birthday.

You were sitting at the kitchen table, talking with Mikky. You were wasted, as you were comfortable drinking at home compared to a club.

This was your first interaction with Mikky, but you could not shut up about your feelings for Gavi.

" he makes me sooooooooo happyyy " , " I love him more than anythinggg " , " he's so sexy when he's mad oh my godddd ", and you just continue, you really poured your heart out to a total stranger. But that stranger would soon become a person you couldn't imagine living without.

" I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying "

Sobbing in your arms, Gavi held onto you tight. " I'm really trying.. Trying to be good enough.." he repeated over and over. This was the first interaction after this training, he hadn't even showered yet, he hadn't even kissed you yet and he hadn't even taken his shoes off yet. You were just sitting on the couch, crying while you're boyfriend cried.

You assumed it was about training, and you didn't know much about football so you couldn't comment. You just held him tight, rubbed his back and tried to tell him that he's wrong and he is good enough as well as kissing his tears off his face.

Your boyfriend looked up at you, " I'm a good boyfriend, aren't I? " and then it clicked. He wasn't upset about training. It was because you were home sick. Being from (your country), you felt home sick of your family.

" amor.. I'm home sick because I miss my family. But whenever I'm away from you, even for a day I get home sick.. You're my home.." you confessed. You saw Gavi smile abit at the reassurance and nodded, kissing your lips.

You didn't care if he was all gross and sweaty, you misses kissing him. Even of he kissed you before going to training.

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi x reader #ily pablo gavi #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #this is me trying #folklore #taylot swift

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masterjasper223 · 1 year

Text

Then and Now - Blood Moon

(Warnings: underage sex, period sex, angst)

Lupin Then

Dating a werewolf wasn't something to romanticise, but that wasn't to say it didn't come with its advantages.

For one, no one had more sympathy for you when you were on your period. Remus knew all too well what it was like to have to deal with something painful month after month, something that many of your classmates were blissfully exempt from, yet would most likely be repulsed to hear about.

In fact, you were acutely aware that Remus had it worse on every score, especially the latter; his "condition" was a very well kept secret at Hogwarts, and his education was only able to continue for as long as it remained as such.

But somehow, you'd never expected him to understand all of it: the cravings, the sudden drop in self esteem, the bursts of emotion- from irritation, to sadness, to feeling suddenly... well, unbelievably horny.

Yet as it turned out, you were wrong.

********************************************

It's Sunday afternoon, and the two of you are studying together in an empty classroom on the sixth floor. Or, rather, that had been the plan, before you'd woken up with the tell-tale discomfort in your lower abdomen.

There's little chance of your being productive today, but you decided to join Remus anyway, vaguely hoping that you'd absorb a few scraps of revision just by being in proximity to him.

But even those prospects are looking grim, as you have yet to summon the energy to open your textbook, and are currently slumped across the desk with your cheek pressed into the faded leather cover.

"Remus... Why do you have to be so handsome?" you sigh, staring vacantly at his profile. Something about the way his brows knit together when he's concentrating is very alluring all of a sudden.

"Terribly sorry for the inconvenience," Remus replies, a little testily. To his credit, he's actually trying to get some work done, and has already filled half of the roll of parchment in front him.

"I want to study," you grumble. "But I got my period this morning."

Remus pauses mid-scrawl, shooting you a sympathetic glance. "Then I really am sorry. But you'll be all right if you skip a day or two- I'll give you a copy of my notes to go over later."

"Thanks, Remus," you say, smiling up at him affectionately.

He clears his throat, and shakes his hair out of his eyes in that twitchy sort of way that tells you he's feeling self-conscious, before starting writing again- but he's barely jotted down two words before his quill stops on the page.

"Hang on. What does my being handsome have to do with anything, then?" he demands, shooting you a sideways glance.

"Because I'm horny," you whine, watching with some satisfaction as a flush creeps up your boyfriend's neck. "But since I'm on my period, we can't... you know..." You walk your fingers up his arm, searching for the right expression. "...play around." You haven't actually had sex yet, but you've gone a bit further than snogging on more than one occasion.

"Why not?" Remus asks, hoarsely. His quill slides from between his fingers and rolls to the side of his notes, where it lies dripping ink, forgotten.

"Because we'd make a mess, of course. Not to mention, I'm in pain." You grimace, massaging your belly under the desk. "And I don't feel very sexy today."

To your surprise, Remus offers you a wry smile and says, "Ah. That sounds familiar."

"Which part?"

"All of it. The pain, I've told you about. But leading up to the full moon, I'm- something of a mess. Less so now than I used to be, but I still can't stand to see myself in the mirror, and I get... cravings."

"Me, too!" you say, sitting up and swivelling around in your chair to face him. "I crave chocolate worse than if I'd been hounded by dementors."

"I crave red meat," Remus admits. "And, er... human contact."

You raise your eyebrows at him. "You mean you get horny, too?"

Remus nods, his cheeks now very pink. "But I wouldn't want to do anything about it," he says, quickly, glancing away. "I can't. I don't trust myself." He shakes his head, as if to clear it, and you're surprised to find that there's a mischievous spark in his eyes when they flick back to yours. "But it's different in your case. Very different."

"How so?" you ask, a little more sharply than you had intended. You can't help but feel that that's rather presumptuous of him.

"Well, for one, this is the safest time of the month for you to have sex," he points out. "And for another, according to- certain sources- it might just be one of the best times."

You understand 'certain sources' to mean the debauched experiences of Sirius Black.

"At the very least, it could provide some temporary relief," Remus continues, crossing and uncrossing his legs with a wince.

"Are you suggesting we...?"

"Well... yes. I mean, only if you want to."

You smirk at him, but a split-second later all of your confidence evaporates. "You wouldn't find it a turn-off?"

"Of course not. I've seen blood before."

"It's not just the blood. I'm..." you trail off, hugging your stomach, reluctant to put too fine a point on it.

"It won't change how sexy I find you," Remus murmurs, gently. "But if you're uncomfortable, we can wait."

You consider for a moment, weighing your options... but with your heart racing, and desire already pooling in your belly, drowning out the pain, it doesn't take you long to make up your mind.

"If you're sure... I mean, I'd like to." You reach across and place your hand on Remus's knee. He stiffens for a moment, swallowing thickly, before laying his fingers over yours and giving them a squeeze. "But where? When?"

Remus glances around the empty classroom. "Not here- we won't be able to relax. There's always the Astronomy Tower, no one goes up there during the day..." He pauses, glancing up at the ceiling. "But I, er, think I can arrange for the boys' dormitory to be empty for a few hours. Tonight, if you like."

"Tonight, then," you agree, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek.

*********************************************

It's not your first time in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, and it won't be your last. As promised, the two of you are alone- which is why you're sitting on the end of Remus's four-poster, with your thighs wrapped around his hips, and his arms wrapped around your back, snogging as if your lives depend upon it.

But when you reach between your bodies to grasp his cock through the fabric of his robes, Remus squeezes your waist and draws back, panting, his lips flushed from kissing you and his eyes bright with desire. "Are you sure?" he asks, eyes flicking between yours. You nod impatiently, tugging at the front of his robes. "Okay," he chuckles. "Just- tell me if you want to stop."

"You, too," you say, sucking in a big breath before crashing your lips against his. But you're not content with snogging anymore. While Remus's hands cup your cheeks, yours begin to wander, raking down his back and chest, squeezing his biceps and hips, before slipping under the hem of his robes.

The second your fingers close around the hard length straining at his boxers, Remus's fingers are on your bare thighs, hitching your own robes up to your hips, as if he's been waiting for permission to touch you all this time.

"Robes- off-" you manage, in between kisses, and you part just long enough to allow Remus to tug your robes over your head, and to help him do the same. A moment later, your bra joins the pile of robes on the floor. Then he stands up- your legs tighten instinctively around his hips- and lays you down on your back on the mattress, supporting himself on his elbows in order to get a good look at you.

"What about the blood?" you ask, breathlessly, plucking at the quilt underneath you.

"That's what scouring charms are for," he says, grinning as he nuzzles your cheek.

Your answering giggle turns into a gasp as his warm hands slide along your bare skin. Remus licks and sucks at your neck as his fingers explore every inch of you, relishing in the little hums and moans you make for him, until he works up the courage to remove the last scraps of fabric separating you from him. Then he begins massaging your inner thigh as he kisses his way down your neck, fingers trembling and blood pounding in his ears.

"Remus... Aren't you forgetting something?" you pout, tugging at the waistband of his boxers, and he chuckles nervously before kicking them off.

But soon all trace of nerves are gone as you start pumping him in your closed fist, and he becomes putty in your hands, weeping precum into your palm, fingers digging into your thighs as he pushes them apart.

"Can I- try something?" he asks, squeezing your wrist with shaking fingers to get you to stop. You nod, releasing him, and lick your lips, wondering what he has in store for you.

Remus takes a moment to admire you again as he settles back on his haunches, before slowly lifting your thighs, spreading them, and positioning himself at your entrance. But instead of sliding in, he begins swirling his tip around your slit.

Fuck, that feels good.

You're so warm and slick that the tip of his cock slips in by mistake, and dips in and out of you without any resistance. You're even more sensitive than usual, and the extra moisture feels so delicious on the head of his cock that within minutes the two of you are twitching spasmodically, on the verge of release. Neither of you is going to last long, but as you watch Remus bite down on his lip, and his Adam's apple bob as he moans low in his throat, suddenly you don't care.

"Remus- please..." Your breath catches- you can't think of anything more to say- and a moment later you've stopped thinking altogether as he fills you for the first time.

It's bliss, pure and simple. Even more so when he begins to move, snapping his hips back and forth, creating delicious, slippery friction. You fit him like a glove, but even though you're tight around him he has to be careful only to pull out halfway, in case he slips out.

You can tell that exercising this control is costing Remus a lot; his brows are knitted together in concentration, as if he's studying a particularly tricky revision question, and sweat is trickling down his naked chest.

He's watching you, too; his eyes flick between your face and the place where your bodies are joined, enraptured at the sight of you beneath him. You can feel him drinking it all in: your spread thighs, your trembling breasts, your flushed cheeks and messy hair...

He groans your name, and that's when you feel a throb- a throb so deep within your core, and so unlike anything you've ever felt, that at first you're not sure if it's coming from him or you. Then you feel a tug behind your navel, not unlike the sensation of using a portkey, followed by a flood of wetness between your thighs as a fresh wave of bliss washes over you. Remus's fingers dig into your skin, and he bucks his hips several times before collapsing on top of you and burrowing his face into your neck.

You lie like that for a long time, just holding each other, revelling in one another's warmth; though you can't help but fidget a little, as slick drips from your slit, and his soft cock, still inside you, begins to firm up again, making your sensitive walls tingle.

You wonder if he'll want to go again- wonder if you could even handle it- but eventually Remus pulls out of you and rolls onto his side, propping his chin on one fist. Gazing down at you through half-lidded eyes, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and whispers, "How do you feel?"

"So good." The ache in your belly is gone, and every last muscle in your body seems to sigh with contentment at your release.

"Well, that answers my next question," Remus chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple. "But don't get too comfortable. We'll have to clean up soon."

"Just a bit longer..." you groan, nuzzling your face into his chest. You're already dreading the walk back to your dormitory.

"Of course. I don't mind." He rolls the quilt over you and tucks it under his arm, pressing you more firmly against him. "But- best not stay too long if you want those revision notes. I, er, didn't get much done after our talk earlier."

*******************************************

You're both so spent that neither of you notices the door click shut behind you, or hears the whispered exchange between James and Sirius as they tiptoe down the stairs to the common room.

"Moony, you beast..."

"You owe me ten galleons, Prongs."

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

Lupin Now

When you open the door, Remus is more surprised than you- but then, Dumbledore had told you to expect him.

Clearly, Remus had not been so well informed.

His eyes fly wide, and he whispers your name like a prayer- before quickly clearing his throat, as if to erase it. "Er, how are you?" he asks, with all the forced politeness one uses when addressing a total stranger.

"I'm all right, Remus. Or should that be Professor Lupin?" you tease, managing a grin in spite of the ache in your chest.

"Just Remus, now," he says, returning the smile a little stiffly. "My teaching career was rather short-lived, I'm afraid."

Ah. Perhaps you're not as well informed as you'd thought.

"Well, come in," you say, throwing the door wide. "I'll make us a cup of tea, and we can catch up a bit before we get down to business."

You make it halfway down the corridor before you realise Remus isn't following you, and turn to see him framed in the doorway, staring at his feet. Without meeting your gaze, he mutters, "I'm... not sure that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

Remus swings his arms, and inspects the frayed sleeve of his robes, clearly stalling for time. In fact, you get the distinct impression that he's searching for an excuse. Finally, he says, "I'm afraid I'll disappoint you."

"Disappoint me?" you echo. You feel a sharp twist in your stomach, and something hot and prickly claws at your throat. "Disappoint me?" you repeat, louder this time. "After all these years, that's what you say to me?"

He flinches, and his face twists as if he's in pain, but he still doesn't look at you.

That does it.

You storm up to him, yank on his sleeve, and, the second he's over the threshold, shove him against the wall next to the door, which slams shut of its own accord. Remus doesn't fight you- in fact, he barely reacts at all- but he does place a hand on your shoulder, as if he's determined to keep you at arm's length.

It's insulting. You grind your teeth, resisting the urge to draw your wand.

"When you cut me out of your life the second we left Hogwarts, do you think I was disappointed? When you made sure none of my owls could find you, do you think I was disappointed? When you tried to get me kicked out of the Order, do you think I was disappointed? When I had to hear about James, and Lily, and Peter, and Sirius second-hand, do you think I was disappointed? Do you? Because I wasn't disappointed! I was bloody heartbroken!"

Silence hangs in the air between you.

Then Remus looks up, and finally meets your eyes. "I am sorry," he says. He pauses for a moment, as if to let the words sink in, before continuing, "I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was doing what was necessary to protect you. It was a foolish notion. I see that now- and I regret it.

"But at the time, I thought that it was right, and that that fact alone justified the pain I was causing you. It was selfish of me. I told myself I was sacrificing my happiness for your safety, when in reality, I was sacrificing your happiness for my peace of mind." He gently squeezes your shoulder, and tries to extract himself from your grip. "I have no intention of asking for your forgiveness. The fact that I tried to avoid this conversation proves that I am a coward. Once we've concluded our business here, I'll make sure you never have to hear from me ag--"

You push him back against the wall, cutting him off. His arms fall limply to his sides.

"I can't believe you. You're about to make the same mistake all over again!"

Still holding your gaze, Remus takes a deep breath and slowly shakes his head. "This is diff--"

"No, it isn't! You're making it seem like you're doing this for me, but this isn't what I want! I've never..." Suddenly, a terrible thought occurs to you, and your fingers curl reflexively into the front of his robes. "Unless... it's what you want?"

He hesitates for only a fraction of a second before answering. "It is."

The words pierce your heart like shards of ice- but you have to be sure. Swallowing thickly, your eyes desperately searching his, you force your numb lips to form the question. "You... don't want to be with me... like we used to... anymore?"

Remus stiffens, and you could swear you feel his pulse skip under your fingers. But his reply is as cold as it is resolute. "No."

"I... I see."

Your heart drops like a stone in your chest. You're not sure if he's being honest with you, but you decide that it doesn't matter anymore. If this is how he wants it, then so be it. You've made up your mind, as well- on two counts.

The first, you retrieve from its clever hiding place in your kitchen. It's a delicate charm bracelet, from which dangle three tiny phials, each brimming with a pearly substance that is neither gas nor liquid. You grab Remus's hand, still hanging limply by his side, and coil it into his palm.

"This is everything I can tell you about the Department of Mysteries. I hope it helps."

Now your Order business is concluded.

As for the second count...

You wait until Remus has tucked the phials safely into his briefcase. Then you splay a hand on his stomach, and spear him with a look so intense that you feel him freeze up under your fingertips.

"When was your last time?"

It takes Remus half a second to catch your meaning. When it dawns on him, his mouth forms a small 'o', and at length he replies, so quietly that you have to read the words off of his lips to make them out, "Seventh year. Right before the end-of-term feast."

Your answer exactly.

So, he hasn't had anyone since you, either. Which means- if your memory of his libido is anything to go by- Remus must be as touch-starved as you are.

"Spend the night."

To your surprise, he places a hand over the one splayed on his stomach. You lace your fingers with his, and he doesn't pull away.

"Please."

But then Remus laughs bitterly and shakes his head. "I cant. Tonight's the full moon." He cups your cheek with his free hand, and his thumb strokes the fullness of your lower lip. "I'll have to lock myself away."

You sigh and lean into his touch, wishing you could be there for him, that he didn't have to go through it alone. But you know he wouldn't want you to see him in that form. So instead of offering, you ask, "Do you have the potion with you?"

He answers with a curt nod. You can't help but notice that his hands still haven't left you.

He wants you.

No, scratch that- he needs you. You can see it in his eyes. Try as he might to hide it, you know that look all too well.

But you also know that he doesn't trust himself enough to be close to anyone right before the full moon. You never did make love during the week leading up to the transformation; he was always careful to put some distance between the two of you, and you respected that distance, knowing that he would close the gap the moment the lunar cycle began anew.

The question is, what will Remus say now? He's already denied himself the chance to be with you. Will he really deny himself this, as well?

You lick your lips, deciding to make this your final push. You've made up your mind- it's time for him to make up his.

"It's still early. You could stay until you need to take it, then disapparate. Or... we could make it quick."

He hesitates. The fingers laced with yours spasm, as if he's on the verge of pulling them away- but his other hand betrays him, thumb gently tugging on your lower lip.

"Do you still remember our first time?" you ask, before you can stop yourself.

"Of course," Remus says, a little too quickly. A flush creeps up his neck, and he clears his throat before continuing. "We were... rather irresponsible." He swallows, and his eyes briefly dart down to your mouth, before flicking back up to meet your gaze. "I suppose nothing's changed."

And, without giving you a chance to process this, he crashes his lips to yours.

There's no preamble, no more hesitation. Your tongues dance, and your fingers waste no time in getting reacquainted with every inch of skin they can reach; seeking out the similarities, and revelling in the changes.

This Remus isn't all that different from the one in your memory, except for his features,(he's aged quite a bit), and the fact that he's a little underweight for his stature. He also has more scars than you remember, more lean muscle, too; and he's bigger, in more ways than one.

You've probably changed more than he has, and you feel his calloused palms and fingers appreciate every last detail, everything that you are- everything that you've become in his absence.

Remus is the first to strip, kicking off his shoes and breaking the kiss just long enough to tear off his robes. Yours come off next, and any remaining scraps of fabric are left in place, to be pulled roughly aside whenever they get in the way.

You throw your arms around his neck, and he picks you up at the waist, spinning you around to press your back against the wall. Squeezing his hips with your thighs, you reach in between your bodies to grip his cock, pulling back just enough to be able to watch his expression as you touch him. Remus's eyes are dark with lust, his breathing ragged- you've never seen such a look of intense desire.

And it's all for you.

Biting your lip, you rub the head of his cock around your slit. He's painfully hard, leaking precum onto your palm. It feels so good- even better than you remember. You could come for him, just like this.

But Remus groans and clutches your wrist. "Mmph. Best stop that- if you want me to last."

So you lean up and brush your nose against his, nibbling on his lower lip and teasing his tongue with yours as you slowly fill yourself up with his cock. You're dripping wet for him, so it doesn't hurt, and any twinge of discomfort is quickly drowned out by the pleasure of being stretched.

It starts off slow, as Remus matches every thrust with a sweet kiss, a sweet caress- but it's not long before you find yourself bouncing up and down on his cock.

He fucks you senseless, and you ride him for all you're worth. It's like you're venting your frustrations together- or maybe on each other. But there's no anger or hatred between the two of you; just understanding. Longing. Need. Years and years of it, pent-up and begging for release.

It's delicious. Intoxicating. He fills you to the brim, rubbing places your fingers could never reach. You come quickly- too quickly- but Remus holds himself back, gently rocking his hips as he kisses you down from your high.

Then he carries you into your bedroom, (the door standing open on your right), and lays you down on the bed. For a heartbeat, you think it's over- that he's just going to leave you there. But then he settles himself on the floor between your legs, tugs your ankles over his shoulders, and buries his face between your thighs.

"Remus- fuck-"

Remus has always been good with his mouth. He's so eager to taste you- so eager to devour you. He kisses your slit, open-mouthed, no differently to how he claimed your lips; spreading your folds with his tongue and swirling it inside you, sucking on your clit...You run your fingers through his hair, digging your nails into his scalp, torn between holding his head in place and pulling it away. The pleasure is almost too much to bear, and your thighs are shuddering uncontrollably.

Then, just when you think you can't handle it anymore, Remus stands up, rests one knee on the edge of the bed, and slides his cock back inside you.

Your breath hisses through your teeth, but the pain soon fades as he picks up the pace, rubbing your clit and rolling his hips with every thrust.

Finally, you feel a gush of warmth, and Remus judders to a stop, his eyes boring into yours as he groans your name. That's all it takes for you to come undone a second time, and you're still twitching in pleasure as he slumps forward onto your chest.

You wrap your arms around him, eyes fluttering closed. It almost feels like you could be back in the boy's dormitory in Gryffindor tower, taking advantage of your alone time in his four-poster.

"I've missed you." The words spill from your lips before you can hold them back, but you instantly regret them as Remus freezes up again.

"I..." There's so much he wishes he could say, but to do so would mean going back on everything he's said, and undoing the choice he made all those years ago. The choice he reaffirmed the instant you answered the door.

So Remus swallows the words he was going to say, and replaces them with, "I have to go."

Even though you knew this was coming, it still hurts. You pull your arms away from him and roll onto your side, hugging yourself instead. Then, without looking at him, you tilt your head in the direction of the front door. "Lock it behind you for me, will you?"

Remus nods and pulls himself to his feet. He ducks out of the room, dresses quickly and cleans himself up with a wave of his wand. Then he comes back in and gently covers you with your duvet.

"Take care," he murmurs, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"You, too."

You hear the front door close, and a faint rap on the wood as Remus taps it with his wand, followed by the sound of the lock sliding into place of its own accord.

Then there's a loud crack, and just like that, he's gone.

#reader x Remus Lupin #reader insert #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin smut #remus x reader

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smuttyfang · 7 months

Text

Endeavor, Addicted

This is a scenario I thought of that I'm actually super proud of! Endeavor has been messing around with you since he began struggling with his family, and he decides it's time to break things off.. but can he?

Words: 1,776

Would anybody believe you, if you told them? No way they would. You? Banging one of the most well known and strongest heroes in the world? Yeah, right. But it was true. Endeavor. Enji Todoroki. The Flame Hero. You were dating him.

Well.. could you really call it 'dating'? You had to keep the relationship a secret since it started. He wanted to keep up appearances, and avoid his family discovering his affair. Sure, most people would be super turned off by the whole situation. You found it unbelievably sexy though. As you went through your day to day life, you felt like you had power. Knew more than most did. You had him wrapped around your finger. He told you things he was never supposed to tell others. He came to you, to your bed, every time he felt defeated or frustrated. He made love to you. He fucked you.

Lately, he's been coming less and less though. There were a lot of new dangers and villains coming along here lately, so you tried not to let it get to you. But you felt like lately, his emotions for you had been waning. You didn't know what to do. It didn't feel like 'love' in a conventional sense. But fuck, you didn't ever want to be without Enji.

Ever.

Knock, knock.

The noise at your door distracted you from your thoughts. Going to answer it, you opened the door to find Enji standing there.

"Well, well, I was just thinking about you." You admitted.

"Good thoughts, I hope." He stepped inside.

"More than good." You lied, closing the door behind him. You went to him immediately, wrapping your arms around his large frame as much as you could. You began rubbing his shoulders, and he sighed in enjoyment. He let his head fall back, basking in the feeling of your touch. "Want me to show you what I was thinking about you?" You said, seductively.

"I.. I do.." You could hear the hesitation in his voice. You pulled away, crossing your arms. He turned toward you.

"What's wrong, Enji?" You asked. He sighed, his eyes telling you everything you needed to know. Your worst fear was happening.

"I.. I adore you, so much. But we can't continue this." Your sadness immediately turned to anger, tears welling up in your eyes.

"Why the fuck not?"

"I.. I'm sorry." He said, defeated and unsure.

"Just tell me what is going on, Enji. Don't beat around the bush." You couldn't hear it. You couldn't handle it.

"I'm sure you've been able to tell I haven't been myself around you the last few weeks. I.. I'm trying to be a better father. A better husband. I want to.. reconnect with my family." You let out a sarcastic laugh, walking over to the coffee table. There were some old, dead flowers still there that Enji had gotten you a few weeks prior.

"So, you're just going to leave me?"

"Listen, I'm not leaving you with nothing." He approached you, trying to place his hand on your shoulder, but you pulled it away.

"Sure fucking sounds like it. If I don't have you, I have nothing." He sighed.

"Listen, please." He tried to lift your chin to get you to look at him, but you refused to meet his eyes. "I've made an anonymous payment for you to permanently own this house. You won't have to pay anything for it anymore. It's yours." He tried once more to get you to look at him. "I've paid off your car, too." You shoved his hand away from your face.

"Is that supposed to fucking make things better!? What does that do!? Clear your guilty fucking conscious!?" Tears were falling from your eyes now. He stopped talking to let your scream at him. He listened as your scream echoed throughout the room, he let you beat his chest, he didn't even move or flinch when you threw the vase of dead flowers at the wall behind him.

"Let it out.. I deserve to hear and bare it all." You didn't know how long you went for. You completely lost track of time. By the time you finished, your living room was trashed. You sat down on the couch, your emotions beginning to make your body and mind feel numb. Sitting there in silence for the longest time, you simply stared at the floor. Enji eventually moved to sit beside of you. He placed his arm around your shoulder. You wanted to push him away, but your energy was gone at this point and your mind was numb.

"Enji.. please don't do this to me. I'm begging you. I.. sacrificed so many good relationships I could've had for you." You thought of all the times you'd had others interested in you. You felt stupid for turning them down now.

"I don't want to hurt you. I never did, and I never meant to hurt you. I was.. in a very dark place when you came into my life. I shouldn't have lead you on like this. I'm so sorry." He tried to show how genuine he was by getting on his knees in front of you. He pushed your knees apart gently, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tightly. "You helped me through such a dark time. I don't want to hurt you. Not in the slightest." You thought you could hear his voice crack just a bit. "I just feel like this is what I need to do. For my family." He looked at you, hoping you would look back. You did this time. You could see in his eyes how hurt he was. "That's why I tried to help you by paying for your things. Not to clear my own mind. Just to make your life easier, after me making it more difficult.." His hands gripped you tightly as he let out a shaky breath. "I am still here. I always will be. I will help you if you ever need it. You only have to ask."

"I don't.." You sighed, trying to form a proper sentence. "I don't want anything else. I just want you, Enji.."

"Please, tell me what I can do to make this change easier. If I can do it, I will." You felt your anger boiling up once more, but you just couldn't let it out like you wanted.

"Can you do one more thing for me?" You asked, and he nodded. "Please make love to me one more time." He sighed, letting his head fall to look at the floor.

"This is only going to make things harder for both of us.." He looked at you again, with a mixture of sadness and lust. His eyes went from yours, down to your lips, and back again. He clearly didn't want this to end either.

"I don't care. Make it harder." The emotion and lust for you overwhelmed him. He pushed his lips onto yours, his tongue immediately sliding past your lips to explore your mouth. He continued, only breaking the kiss long enough to pull each of your shirts over the others head. He didn't even allow the passionate kiss to be broken as he ripped your pants away, along with his own. Unclasping your bra, he tossed it across the room. He reached down, fondling and playing with your tits with aggression and desire. He sucked your nipples. switching back and forth between playing with one and his mouth on the other. "Fuck, Enji.." He let his other hand trail down your stomach, roughly moving your panties out of the way enough for him to play with your clit. Your hand trailed down his stomach, grabbing his cock out of his boxers. He was leaking precum already. He hissed through his teeth at the feeling of your hand on him.

"Shit.." He gasped. "I can't.. I can't get away from you." You grinned, letting your body fall off the couch and onto the floor on your knees. You took him into your mouth, also using your hand to please him. Looking up at him, he was looking down into your eyes. Seeing you like that made his cock twitch even more in your mouth as you bobbed up and down on him. You gave him one final suck, pulling him out of your mouth with a 'pop'. He reached down to you, picking you up like a rag doll and making you lean your body over the coffee table. You spread your legs wide open for him.

"Please, Enji.. my body craves you.." You could hear him gasp slightly, your words turning him on even more. Before you had time to think of anything else, he began shoving his huge cock inside of you. Inch by inch, he sheathed himself inside of you. He was large, making you feel so full and stuffed. You loved the feeling. "Nobody else can fill me up like you, Enji."

"F-fuck.." He sighed and began thrusting into you. His hot hands gripped your hips almost painfully, pulling you back onto him with every thrust. The coffee table began rocking with your body, becoming unstable with his thrusts. Getting frustrated at this, Enji picked you up once more. He sat down on the couch, spreading his legs wide to offer you a seat. You listened immediately, plopping yourself onto his lap. Lifting your body up, you used his shoulders to stay up while he placed his cock at your hole. You let your body fall back down on him, both of you sighing in pleasure as he was sheathed inside of you once more. You began bouncing up and down on him, only slowing down to move your hips back and forth so you could lean forward and kiss him. His thrusts then became more erratic and random, his breathing became heavier and more loud. He reached between your legs, playing with your clit. "Come with me." He breathed out. You used what energy you had left to ride him as hard and fast as possible. Your orgasm hit you hard, your body convulsing and walls tightening around his cock. He came soon after, unable to control himself once you clamped down on him.

"G-god.." You shivered and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. As you came down from your high, the reality of the situation came back. You held him tightly. "You're not leaving me, Enji." He wrapped his arms around your back, not saying a word.

"Fuck.." He thought to himself. "I'm in love with her.. What am I supposed to do?"

AO3

#scenario #smut #fanfic #mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #endeavor #endeavor x reader #enji todoroki #enji todoroki x reader

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butler-on-beale-street · 2 years

Text

Sharp Dressed Man | Austin Butler X Reader | Part 1

Warnings: Minors DNI! oral (f. receiving), semi-public sex, lots of sexy back and forth, foreplay for part 2, sight deprivation/sex in the dark, smutty smut.

Word Count: 4K

At the Premier of his own movie, Austin can't seem to get your off of his mind, especially considering what you decided to wear...

"Austin–James Bond," a reporter said with an impressed grin. "That's a lot to live up to. How does it feel to fill such big shoes?"

“Terrifying,” Austin answered with a humble chuckle. He was dressed immaculately tonight, cloaked from head to toe in Prada. Every seam and fold was pressed to perfection, tailored to his body within the milimeter. “But I am so grateful for the experience. Daniel has really taken me under his wing and showed me the ropes, ya know?” He asked rhetorically, stroking his stubble with his thumb and pointer finger. “Daniel is just–he knows everything ‘James Bond.’ It was strange to step into the role for a good while,” He chuckled. The reporter nodded enthusiastically, returning the microphone to his mouth, continuing to speak.

You watched streams of celebrities float about the red carpet sucking in their stomachs, posing in their best angles, obsessed with capturing the best version of themselves within the lens of what seemed like thousands of cameras. You could already feel the cramp in your cheeks just by watching so many beautiful, yet immobile smiles. You made your way to Austin slowly, watching him speak to several reporters. It still halted you in your tracks to observe his grace and beauty. He wasn’t performative, at least not outside of set. He was one of the few genuine stars in Hollywood. Though you weren’t famous, he made you feel more worthy than any woman in attendance. You both had made a last minute pact to not see each other before walking onto the red carpet in an effort to surprise each other. Of course, he stepped out looking like a modern adonis. Everyone in attendance wanted him. If they didn’t know who he was before, they certainly did now.

“Who are you wearing tonight?” Another interviewer asked Austin. The camera man beside the reporter panned over him from head to toe, zooming in on every detail.

“Prada dressed me tonight,” He said confidently, placing his hand on his chest in a casual manner.

“Well you certainly look the part, Mr. Bond.” The interviewer winked playfully at Austin, eliciting a soft chuckle from him.

“Thank you, thank you. They told me to dress nice, so this is what we came up with,” He said, continuing with the tongue and cheek bit. You waited to approach him until he was finished speaking to the press. You didn’t mind at all; this way, you could stand back and admire him from afar. He looked unbelievable. Of course he was painfully beautiful to look at–anyone who denied this truth was a liar. Tonight in particular, he was devastatingly handsome. So handsome that you dreaded having to sit through the entire premiere thinking about all of the filthy things you’d want him to do to you, regardless of the black tie affair.

You decided it was time to step forward and join him. You walked onto the red carpet smiling politely, moving your way past the cameras as fast as you could. It helped that it wasn’t really you that they cared about. You floated about as gracefully as you could, landing just out of reach from him, off to his right. As if he could sense you, you watched his head turn, his eyes locking with yours. You watched his friendly smile fade, falling into something far more intense. His eyes widened with surprise, the bright sparkle within them morphing into a fiery stare. You watched his face redden as the interviewer repeated their question.

“Who’s the beautiful lady over there? Someone special?” They asked, but Austin wasn’t listening.

“Hmm?” He asked, turning his head briefly to address the reporter. “What was that?”

“Who’s the lovely girl?” He asked again.

“Hold on just a moment,” Austin said distantly, throwing up a pointer finger, stepping away to greet you. He approached you with an expression that you only saw in private. His eyes were half-lidded with lust, and he couldn’t help but break eye contact with you. His eyes wandered about your body, taking in the barely-there silk dress that elegantly hung from your body, pooling upon the floor around you. The reporter waved you over enthusiastically and you offered him a polite smile, taking Austin’s hand in yours. This time it was you that led him back to the barricade.

“Well hello there, gorgeous,” the interviewer mused. “You look phenomenal tonight. Tell me, what are you wearing tonight?” he asked you, handing the microphone over the barricade.

“Thank you! It’s Versace,” You answered, pinching your fingertips at the silk and pulling it from your body, letting it billow about your legs as the fabric settled back to the floor. The dress was one hundred percent silk, a beautiful rose champagne color that looked beautiful against your skin. The dress was a daring choice, in that it left nothing to the imagination–so much so that you would have to forego undergarments to avoid any unsightly lines. The deciding factor for wearing the dress was that you knew that Austin would be looking. He’d find out about the lack of intimates later.

“You look gorgeous,” Austin said, most definitely to you and you only. The interviewer nodded in agreement. “Exquisite.” You felt Austin pull you into him, his hand snaking its way across your back, discovering that the dress was entirely backless, leaving your skin exposed and bare. His fingertips glided about the small of your back teasing lower and lower.

“Well, Austin. Miss,” The reporter continued. “Have a wonderful night, and congratulations again.” Austin nodded and thanked him politely and you offered your brightest smile before he led the way, stepping forward with you in tow.

“I don’t think I can make it through the entire movie,” Austin said gruffly in your ear. You smiled ahead at the cameras as he spoke.

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking up at him briefly before posing for another camera. You were careful to maintain an innocent exterior. He leaned down once more, whispering just beyond the cuff of your ear.

“I mean, I want to rip that dress clean off of your body. Donatella herself can send me the check.” You eyed him, processing what he had just said to you. You felt your jaw go slack.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you? It’s just a dress,” You murmured matter-of-factly, just loud enough for him to hear.

“It’s barely a dress. I can see your nipples popping straight through it,” he murmured, his tone deepening. He squeezed your hand firmly. He leaned over you, the scent of his cologne cloaking around you, leaving you feeling intoxicated. “Wanna know what I can’t get out of my head?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, turning his head to the cameras.

“Austin!” A slew of reporters shouted. You both turned in time to take several pleasant pictures. You soon felt the warmth of his breath return as he leaned in within inches of your face.

“I can’t seem to shake the image of me pulling this ten-thousand dollar dress over your hips, bending you over a stair railing and taking you from behind,” He pinched at the fabric of your dress with his forefinger and thumb, as if testing how easy it would be to pull off of you. “Am I crazy for thinking that you wore this because of me?” His gaze met yours, the intensity in his eyes daring you to look away.

“Mm,” You hummed in response, unable to form an adequate response. He grinned in satisfaction.

“That’s all you had to say.”

“Austin!” Another reporter bellowed. “What’s it like being James Bond?” Austin took your hand and guided you further along the red carpet. You vaguely noticed his thumb stroking the softness of your skin over and over as you walked as a pair. “Another movie on the way?” Another interviewer shouted from behind a litany of camera flashes. The crowd suddenly began to hoop and holler, their heads craning toward the other end of the red carpet as Daniel Craig arrived, dressed effortlessly.

“Never happier to be upstaged,” Austin said under his breath, practically yanking you off of the carpet.

“Wait, what-” You blurted, feeling his grip around your wrist tighten as he pulled you into the theater lobby. “Austin, they wanted pictures and to talk to you-” you began. “You can’t just walk off of your own red carpet–”

“I can when Daniel ‘fucking’ Craig is walking on it,” He said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I think they will be perfectly fine,” he answered decidedly. You observed him as he eyed the lobby for any spying audience. You gave him a mischievous grin when he turned to face you. When the coast was clear, he pulled you down a vacated hall, away from the pomp and circumstance of the celebration. The theater was beautiful, decked out in beautifully preserved art deco filigree. The floors were decorated in marble tile, causing your heels to click loudly. You focused your gait, changing your footfall pattern so that the ball of your foot touched to ground first, causing less of a din.

“Austin, wait. We’re here for a reason,” You whispered, stopping where you stood.

“And I say,” he murmured, closing the distance between you and him. “The reason for being here right now, is to take care of the elephant in the room. You and I both know you wore this for a damn good reason,” He said, taking a fistful of your dress in his hand.

“Maybe,” You said, slowly bringing your eyes up to meet his. You wanted him badly, but you didn’t expect his abrupt reaction. You just couldn’t help the irresponsible feeling rising in your gut, making you feel guilty for sharing his exact thoughts. “I don’t want to ruin such an important night for you.”

“Ruin it? Are you kidding?” He said, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hear me out. Convenient wardrobe issues during cocktail hour. While everyone’s getting plastered, they won’t even think about us.”

You paused for a moment, thinking through his proposition. “I like the way you think. Are you sure you’re as innocent as everyone claims you to be?” You teased, offering him a flirtatious wink.

“If only you could read my mind right now, you wouldn’t have just said that,” he said, wrapping an arm around you back, leaning you back as he leaned down to kiss you softly on the lips.

“What are you thinking, Austin?” You asked, pulling away from the kiss.

“Do you want the honest answer?” He asked, his eyes sparkling brightly. You nodded slowly.

“I cannot get the idea of fucking you behind any door that will lock. Right here, right now.” You remained silent, tossing the risk and reward of the situation back and forth. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t feel the need to squeeze your thighs together as he spoke, arousal likely to slip down your thighs at any moment. Austin pulled his fingertips up your face, taking hold of your chin softly, tilting your face up. Before he could say another word, you spoke up.

“Maybe we should do something about that,” You said, bringing his free hand up to cup your breast.

He paused for a moment, meeting your eyes, his lips turning upward in an enthused grin. He chuckled softly through his nose before squeezing your hand and continuing the journey down the hall, turning a corner to find another long corridor. He jiggled doorknobs as he walked, cursing when he found that they were locked. Maintenance Closet, he read the sign on the next door and pulled its doorknob, feeling no resistance. He looked left and right one more time before pulling you into the room, shutting the door quickly behind you. It was pitch-black inside of the room and you found yourself clinging to Austin out of necessity. He reached his hand over his head to find a light switch.

“Ah,” He said in success when he finally found the switch, however when he flipped it, nothing happened. “Shit,” he spat into the room, sighing with exasperation. “Looks like we’ll have to figure it out in the dark,” He said with a sing-song chuckle.

“Mm, guess you’ll just have to work off of memory,” You said playfully, bringing your hands up his chest, walking your fingers up his outfit to find his bowtie, working blindly to untie it. “You really couldn’t have chosen a room with a working light?” You said softly with a light chuckle.

“Well I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t really prepare to be doing this right now.” He bent to kiss you softly before grabbing his iphone, turning on the flashlight to begin scouring the room. It was cramped inside; just four walls, with shelving littered with cleaning supplies. The floor space was clear except for two mops that had fallen across the floor. “Stay there, don’t peek,” he said, bending down to stand the mops back up. Using the toe of his patent leather dress shoes, he kicked several boxes to the corners of the room, creating as much space as possible.

“Austin, shh! We’re gonna get caught! You’re being so loud.” You hissed into the dark, not exactly sure where he was.

“What if I told you I don’t give a shit? Call it a double feature. Not one, but two shows for the evening.” He sounded distant, somewhere within the room until the scent of his cologne looped around your head, infiltrating your senses. You could feel the heat of his breath against your cheek. “Shut up, Austin. Do you always have catch phrases?” You teased softly, knowing that he was just within touch. Suddenly, you felt his hands digging into your sides, spinning you around and pinning you against the door hard enough for it to rattle from the force.

You yelped out of surprise as he threw you against the flat of the door, his hands moving along your sides. “They work, don’t they?” He said in a low murmur, his hands moving to trace shapes along your belly.

You swallowed, submitting to him completely. “Always. You always know what to say.”

“Hm,” He hummed in response, his hands moving lower down your curves, then down your thighs. His hands found yours from below, giving you a clue as to where he was. He disconnected his hands from yours, finding the silken hem of your dress and pulling it upward, snaking his hands up your thighs. “Really Y/n…” He said softly with an amused tone, stopping suddenly.

“Hm?” You responded, knowing what he was about to ask.

“No underwear?”

“Couldn’t have panty lines on the red carpet, baby. I thought you’d appreciate it, too. Easy access.” You said, grinning down at him even though he couldn’t see you.

“You’re evil,” He chuckled, stroking the softness of your skin before pulling at your thighs, spreading them open. “Baby, let me show you what I’ve been thinking about all day.” You widened your step for him, still unsure of what he would do next. Save for the sliver of light underneath the door, the room was pitch-black, showing nothing except the toes of his boots.

“That’s it,” he purred below you. His hands dropped from your skin completely, making you gasp when you felt his hand again, this time at your pussy. “You’re already such a mess, love.” Austin said matter-of-factly. “Who thought that such a goddess of a woman could make such a mess of herself at an event like this.” You felt him moving through your folds, your jaw falling slack when you heard the sound of him licking the tips of his fingers.

“Austin, oh my–”

“What? Can’t I help clean up?”

You could only manage a lustful murmur. “I won’t stop you.” You found the top of his head and eventually his shoulder, placing your hand on him. “Baby, please. Show me how it’s better in the dark.” With the lack of sight, your sense of touch was magnified, leaving you heightenly aware. You felt the coolness of the wooden door against your ass as well as the soft silk of your dress skimming the back of your legs. One of his hands rested upon the curve of your knee. Who knew where the other one was.

“Happily,” He simply said before moving both of his hands to the crease in your hips, pulling you forward against his tongue in the darkness.

The sudden movement earned a gasp from your lips. “Austin, fuck–” you blurted, grasping for something in the dark to right your balance as he pulled you from the door.

“Mmm,” served as his only response as he delved into you, his tongue slowly tracing the surface of your pussy, stopping to flick lazily at the swell of your clit.

You could hear when he took breaks to breathe, heavy exhalations falling from his lips into the room, the sound reverberating off of the four concrete walls and back at you. “You’re an unhealthy addiction,” He whispered, his tone ravaged with lust.

“Yet there you are, on your knees practically begging.” You responded, knowing your sass would only encourage him further. He smacked the roundness of your ass with his palm, eliciting a gasp.

“The addiction is reciprocal, Y/n.” He tugged at your dress to adjust it back above your waist. “You don’t have to use words for me to know that you want me buried inside of you.”

“Stop talking. I want more. Now.” You gasped, groping from the top of his head, pulling him back downward. All you got as a response was a chuckle. He was in a teasing mood tonight; you had expected a quickie, but he had different plans.

“Patience, Y/n. Why would you want to strike something this sinful off of your bucket list so quickly? If we get arrested for indecent exposure, we might as well make it count, hm?”

You felt his fingertips running circles on the insides of your thighs. He placed kisses on your inner thighs, sucking harshly, surely leaving red, angry marks. His fingers found their way to you again, this time using the flat of his thumb against your clit, rolling it in slow spirals. You couldn’t help but busy your hands by bringing them up to your breasts, pinching your nipples in response to the action happening below you.

You felt his tongue directly on your clit, slurping and sucking wildly. His hands found their way to your asscheeks quickly, pulling you roughly against his face. In the tightness of the room, the sounds ricocheted off of every surface, sending your eyes rolling backward. Austin was an expert with his tongue and had no shame when it came to pleasing you. Too many times you’d look down at him completely painted in your slick, grinning from ear to ear. Though you wouldn’t see that tonight, the circumstances of the evening and the risky behavior you were both displaying far outshined everything else.

“Goddamn, Austin–” You pulled one of your hands to the top of his head, the other propped flat against the door, leaving you in a balancing act. His tongue molded to every curve of you, eventually moving to your entrance, teasing at the opening with slow, intentional strokes. Coming up for air, he practically gasped.

“Cum for me, Y/n. Let me taste you. All of you. Please.”

Austin rarely begged, but when he did, you crumpled every single time. Something about a man who knew what he wanted and knew how to get it was sexy; but even moreso, a man who was willing to let the stoic, unbothered exterior fall away…it split you apart in almost every sense. He moved his way back to you, exercising his tongue in various rhythms, shapes and speeds, getting you there in every way possible. You eventually found the doorknob, grasping onto it for dear life, not realizing that the door wasn’t locked until it pulled slightly open, spraying the room in a thin slant of bright light. Your heart jumped as the door shut again from your weight.

“Fuck!” You spat, covering your mouth immediately. Austin’s hands grabbed your legs hungrily, daring you to think of anything else except for the orgasm that was mounting in your core. He couldn’t have cared less if the entire cast, crew, press and audience had front-row seating to the event. “Aust–I–fuck–” you stammered, rocking your hips against the curve of his nose. You felt your knees buckling beneath you as the torrent of sensation began to take its toll. He steadied you, willing you to bear the consequences of the orgasm. He wouldn’t relent and though your inclination would be to tell him to stop–that you couldn’t take it, he would push you to the furthest limit before pulling you back in. Though you knew this about him, every time felt like the very first. You arched against him and felt his fingers digging into your outer thighs.

“Oh my god, Austin–fuck!” You shouted, forgetting everything except for the feeling of his tongue. You felt the scratch of his facial hair chafing between your legs, but you couldn’t care less. You knew that his face would soon show evidence of tonight’s rendezvous.

“That’s it, Y/n,” He finally said, using the flat of his hand to swipe feverishly at your clit to make you finally surrender. Your entire body trembled from his touch. His timing was immaculate, bringing his face back down against you as your hips surged forward, your body fraught with crippling ecstasy. You exploded against him, and heard him messily taking every bit of you, stealing you for himself. In the blackout of orgasm, you felt his teeth sinking into the flesh of your inner thigh. The pain only sent you plummeting further and further, giving yourself to him completely; a devotional unto him–as a sinner sacrificing themself completely for the promise of retribution.

“That’s it, give it up to me. Don’t fight it, baby girl.” He finally let go, his hands sliding back down to the crease of your knees. You felt him lean forward and kiss you delicately a few times as you tried to regain your composure. You leaned backwards against the door, letting it support you as you fell backward, sliding yourself down into a crouching position.

You heard Austin tsk repeatedly with his tongue against his teeth. “You’re forgetting–I’m not done with you just yet. I said I wanted to worship you, yes? Let me do it from start to finish. Me starting on my knees and finishing with you on yours.”

The room was silent, save for the sound of your heart beating in your ears. “Or I can stop now and we can get a glass of wine and–”

“Austin, shut the fuck up and come here,” You whined, grabbing for him, finding a handful of his suit jacket. He chuckled knowingly through his nose.

“We all know that sex-drunk is the best drunk, hm?” He rose, pinning you against the door, finding your lips, inhaling your scent upon contact. “Do you taste yourself on my tongue?” he moaned into the kiss, his touch feather-light upon your lips.

“Yes,” you replied before returning his kiss.

“How about the want? The risk…the payoff? It’s all there, Y/n.” His lips dragged from yours to your jawbone and down your neck, his tongue running along the smoothness of your skin, stopping intermittently to leave you speckled with purple-pink blotches. “Yes, baby. I’m all over you.” You responded, overwhelmed by his closeness to you and the overwhelming need for him to ravage you. “And soon I will be all over you. Let’s get one thing clear, darling. Both of us will leave this room drunker than anyone in this building–having not consumed one drop of alcohol.”

End of Part 1.

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aperrywilliams · 10 months

Text

Green Card - Ch6: And if It Were True? (Spencer Reid x Fem!OC)

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Author Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Previous chapter < > Next chapter

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!OC (Ana María González)

Series summary: What reason leads two complete strangers to marry? For Spencer, the chance of his mom being admitted into a new medical trial. For Ana María González is to get the elusive green card.

Chapter summary: Ana and Spencer share some intimate memories and truths, and they start to feel confused about their new friendship.

Word Count: 6k

CW: I marked this one like 16+. Please respect that. Strong words. They talk about blood and medical stuff. Spencer has nightmares. Mention of Spencer's abduction and addiction. Semi-nudity and sexy dancing (fem). Mention semi-nudity (male). Description of molestation episodes as a child and danger of rape (not consumed). Mention of suicide, murder, and rape (none of the characters involved). If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: This was a bit hard to write, but it gives more context about Ana's life before coming to the US.

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"That can't be credible. A transplant in one hour? By a kid of sixteen?" Spencer complained, pointing to the TV.

"Hey! They were in a hurry, and it was not any guy. We're talking about Doogie Howser," Ana clarified, sipping her tea.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Still, I can't believe they made it. Did you know the record time for a massive emergency team response in Los Angeles is 4.5 minutes? Here they did it in 2.5! That's ridiculous!"

Ana narrowed her eyes.

"We are still clear this is fiction, right?"

"I know! But I suppose they wanted to make it believable. That's my point."

Ana and Spencer just ended up watching the entire show's first season. Both were absorbed by the screen enough not to pay too much attention to the clock until the credits of the last episode.

"We are going to regret this in the morning," Ana anticipated, standing from the couch and stretching a little. Spencer nodded in agreement.

She was right, but for Spencer, these were the best hours of his last week. And not because of how good a show Doogie Howser was, but rather because he turned off his brain for a while. And all thanks to Ana's insistence. If Spencer felt anything at this moment, it was gratitude and appreciation for her.

True to her word, Ana didn't ask or insist that Spencer get to talk about what had him so frustrated.

They both tacitly agreed it was time to sleep. Without saying a word, they walked until they reached the door of their respective rooms.

"Good night," Ana said, just about to enter her room.

"Ana?" Spencer stopped her.

"Yeah?" she asked curiously.

"Thank you. For today. For everything, truth be told."

"Don't mention it. Sleep well. You need it, mister accuracy," the girl joked, pointing to his chest. Spencer chuckled.

"Sleep well too. Good night."

And as unbelievable as it sounds, Spencer slept great that night, waking up from only a few hours of sleep.

On the way to work, he couldn't help but remember last night's coming and going of comments about the television show, making a smile appear on his face.

What was all this? Definitely something new for him. Something he partly had with his friends at the BAU, but it was not the same. Spencer felt an unspoken complicity with Ana that he couldn't place with anyone else. Not with Maeve, that's for sure.

He had never gotten to that stage with Maeve—something as simple as doing anything, reading, watching TV, even going to the movies.

No, the activities with her were going out to dinner, visiting museums and conferences, and catching up with sexy time. She spontaneously appeared at the BAU and met Spencer's colleagues only a few times. At most, she agreed to go to one of Rossi's dinners, but the taste of the evening got somewhat bitter. She didn't look comfortable, and neither did Spencer. From then on, Maeve disappeared from the BAU's radar.

"Hey Reid, you look pretty good compared to how you left the bullpen yesterday," Luke pointed as soon as Spencer arrived at his desk.

"I had a good night of sleep, I guess?" he offered as an explanation, although he knew it was more than that.

"Nice to hear. The bad thing is Penelope already called us with a new case to the conference room," the guy shrugged apologicately. Spencer sighed, his good mood faltering a little.

The case looked worse than the one they wrapped yesterday, and Spencer couldn't hide his disgust. At the police station, flipping between the case file, his mind wasn't really there.

'What will she be doing right now?', 'Will she have ended her shift right now?', 'Maybe I should make the dinner when I get back,' 'I should ask Rossi for a recipe to try.'

Spencer stopped suddenly when he realized where his mind had gone. Why was he thinking of her? It wasn't bad, but the man felt odd doing it. They were still strangers in need. Friends to some extent. Roommates for necessity. It wasn't right.

"Are you okay, Spence?" JJ's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Yeah. Yeah," Spencer assured, returning to the file he was reading.

But things didn't improve for Spencer. In two days, the case turned into a mess when they found the unsub was using religious motives to kidnap, drug, and torture his victims until they died. The similarities didn't go unnoticed by Spencer or the team. Hankel. Too vastly matching what Tobias Hankel did.

Spencer sidelined himself a couple of times from discussions about the case and could not participate in the take-down to arrest the unsub. Emily understood Spencer's reluctance but was worried about the consequences this might have on him later.

Back in Virginia, Spencer was drained and only thinking about sleep until next week—something odd for someone as workaholic as him.

His teammates looked shocked at how Spencer was the first to cross the glass doors out once Emily sent them home after the debriefing.

Disappointment found Spencer when he realized the apartment was dark. Nobody was there. What was he expecting? Be greeted by Ana, who would have waited for him? Yeah, maybe he did expect that.

Huffing for his own silliness, Spencer walked to the kitchen. His stomach grumbled, and he didn't want to go to bed without eating again. The smile returned to his face when in the fridge found a Tupperware with a note on it: 'A leftover if you haven't eaten yet.'

Those little gestures have made Spencer's heart swell. Was it the fact nobody had made things like this for him before? Was the idea of having someone thinking of him? Spencer didn't know, but whatever it was, he was afraid of the consequences.

He left a note over the counter in case he couldn't see Ana the next day: 'Thank you. I promise dinner is up to me next time. And don't worry; I won't cook.'

The note caused the desired effect when Ana read it a couple of hours after when she returned. Chuckling, she moved to the sink to fill a glass of water before bed. Ana soon walked the corridor to her room when a sound from Spencer's room stopped her. It was faint, but she was sure to hear it. A whimper? A sob? Cautiously, she neared her ear to the wooden door. And then a scream.

"Let go of me! Let me go!" Now it was clear, it was Spencer's voice, and it seemed he was struggling with someone. Ana opened the door without much thought and saw the man jittering on the mattress, covered with sweat. His arms were fighting with the air, and his voice strangled with tears.

"Please, let me go!" He repeated over and over.

What should she do? Clearly, he was having a nightmare, but was it a good idea to intervene? The main concern for Ana was Spencer could hurt himself. She knew about vivid nightmares, and that kind of outcome wasn't rare. Slowly she approached his bed, speaking in a soft voice.

"Spencer? Can you hear me? It's me, Ana. Can I come closer?"

Spencer kept tosing, wiggling his arms as he tried to fight against something or someone.

"They want to kill me. Don't let him kill me, please," he begged, still dreaming. Ana dared to hover over Spencer, tentatively touching one of his arms.

"They won't do anything. Spencer, you are in your apartment. We are alone here. Please wake up," she encouraged him.

"I don't want to die. Please, tell him I don't want to die," he cried.

That broke Ana's heart. Now more confident, she sat beside him on the mattress, holding his hands and rubbing them in smooth patterns. Spencer's breathing was still irregular, but it seemed he was waking up.

His eyes shot open, and seeing Ana's face broke the dam. He was fully crying now, hiding his face on Ana's lap.

"Hey, you're okay. You're safe," Ana mumbled, rubbing Spencer's back.

"No. I'm not," he sobbed, clutching at Ana's sweater. He looked so vulnerable it cracked her heart.

Ana wondered about what horrible things had happened to Spencer's beautiful soul. She had some ideas, but he hadn't told her much yet.

"I promise you're safe. I'm not letting anything bad happen to you, okay?"

She didn't know where those words came from. Ana wasn't even sure what was happening, yet she felt the urge to protect him at all costs.

Still rubbing his back, Ana held him until his sobs became sporadical sniffles. Maybe it took five minutes or ten; Ana wasn't sure, but when she saw how Spencer's breathing evened out, she felt things were improving.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, still not able to let go of his grasp of Ana's sweater. "I did you wake up," he apologized, drying his tears with the sleeve of his pajama shirt.

"Nu-uh. Don't be sorry, Spencer. You were having a nightmare. A nasty one, I would say. And if it makes you feel better, I just came home. I was heading to my room when I heard you," she explained, reaching for some locks of hair that covered his face. Spencer sighed, now fully conscious of his surroundings.

"I haven't had one like this in a long time. I sure scared you with my screams," Spencer mumbled, embarrassed.

"I would say more than scaring, I worried. Can I ask you something, though?"

Spencer's eyes found hers, almost fearing the question was coming. Ana noticed.

"No, you don't have to tell me what happened, but it would be a good idea if you changed your pajama. It's damped, and it wouldn't be good to keep it like that on your skin. And you could use a warm cup of tea. Conozco un secreto para hacer una agüita milagrosa, especial para estos casos (I know how to make a cup of miraculous brew for this specific purpose).” Spencer frowned.

"Agüita? Like little water?"

Ana chuckled.

"It's more like 'brebaje especial,' or medicinal tea," she explained. Spencer hummed. Even if he managed to understand most of Ana's Spanish, there were words still too specific for him. He liked to learn about them, though.

"Come on. Change your clothes and join me in the living room, okay?"

When Spencer came to the living room with a new pajama and a robe covering his frame, Ana walked from the kitchen with two mugs. Sitting on the couch, she handed him a cup.

"It's hot, but it'll help. I promise."

They kept silent for a while. Spencer carefully sipped his brebaje. It tasted bitter, but he felt better after a few drinks. Ana did not say a word, not wanting to disturb him.

"He drugged me," Spencer mumbled suddenly. Ana looked at him, confused. "Hankel. Tobias Hankel," he clarified.

"The guy who kidnapped you?" Ana asked, remembering what the BAU girls told her at Rossi's. Spencer nodded.

"The team says I died, and he brought me back. I don't remember much; he kept me drugged constantly. With Dilaudid." The images and flashes came to Spencer's mind as he recounted what happened.

"Jeez, Spencer. I'm sorry," Ana mumbled, clutching her mug tighter. She suspected where this was going.

"Worst part was I got addicted. I struggled to come clean. I have been sober for ten years now. But when the nightmares come, I still think of getting high," Spencer sighed. "I'm so weak."

Immediately Ana's free hand flew to one of his biceps.

"No. You are not. Cravings happen. You fight every day against that, and you're here, still fighting."

Ana was determined not to let Spencer go into that rabbit hole. She knew how vulnerable he felt but would do anything to help him.

"But sometimes I feel so tired. You know, I - the last case. The unsub was drugging his victims like Hankel did with me. And I asked myself, why can't I stop them? Why do more people have to put up with that? And then I think a hit could make everything easier."

Spencer's words rang heavy in the air. It wasn't the first time he thought about that, but maybe it was the first time he voiced it.

"But you know the hit at the end won't make go away those things, right?" Ana prompted.

"Yeah. I know. And then I think about what you told me the other day. About why I'm still doing this," Spencer mentioned.

"I wasn't trying to impose my perspective. I'm sorry if it sounded like that," Ana hastened to apologize, and Spencer's hand went over hers to reassure her.

"It was a valid question. It is a valid question, indeed. Don't apologize. The thing is, I found myself wondering the same, you know?"

Ana sighed, she could see his struggle, and the urge to do anything to ease his pain increased.

"You are a good man, Spencer. You should know that. And it's completely valid if you want different things in life. It doesn't mean you have to shut down everything, but you can see changes as good things and not so terrifying," Ana told him, squeezing his hand. It was a gesture they got used to. Her hand on his felt comforting and right. Spencer looked at her with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Thank you. And I'm sorry for overwhelming you with my - you know - things."

Ana shook her head.

"Don't be sorry. I'm happy to help. Also, I told you I was a good listener," she reminded him, releasing his hand to pat his knee.

"I can be a good listener too. I mean, if you need to. I know you said you didn't like to talk about yourself that much, but if you need to, I would be happy to hear you," Spencer offered, shyly looking at Ana. She returned him a smile.

"Thank you. I appreciate it. And I'll keep it in mind, okay?" Ana paused. "How do you feel now?" now she asked, pointing to his mug. Spencer looked at the empty cup. He did feel better.

"Way better. I would say this 'agüita' worked," Spencer confessed. "You were right." Ana chuckled, Spencer's Spanish accent wasn't the best, but she found it cute.

They kept talking for a while until he saw how tired Ana was. Despite her offering to stay up with him, Spencer insisted he was fine and both should go to sleep. Reluctantly, Ana agreed.

After that night, Spencer started to feel more confused. For him, Ana was still an enigma in many ways. Despite his skills as a profiler, he could tell the armor she placed in front of her rarely allowed him to see beyond. He had no doubt Ana was a powerful and tenacious woman with a difficult past. But whenever they came up with the subject of her life before coming to the US, she tended to say general things and then move the topic elsewhere.

He wanted to know more. Sure, he told himself it was for the best outcome in the interview, but deep down, there was something else, and he couldn't pinpoint it.

How much time had he left to find out?

During another case happening in Los Angeles, Spencer's phone chimed with a text. It was from Ana.

'I just got a letter from Immigration. They scheduled our interview for July 3rd.'

That's a month from there, Spencer estimated. He didn't know how to feel, to be honest. In a month, things would be over. Ana would go with her life, and they would part ways.

It was what they both wanted, right?

Ana told herself the same. As she got the letter, her anxiety thrived. It would happen eventually, but she wasn't sure how to feel about it. She had grown closer to Spencer in the almost two months they had been 'living together.' But she knew it wasn't her place, and it wasn't her life. The guy needed to get back his life, and she must move on with hers. Period.

A heatwave stroked hard in DC on the first days of June. Ana was displeased, so one of those days, when she got to the apartment after a long shift, she took a cold shower and decided to keep out of clothes except for a sports bra and panties. Spencer wasn't home, he left for a case four days ago, so it was no harm. She cooked dinner and ate watching a TV show. When she was done, it was still early, so she decided to tidy up the place. With her earbuds on, Ana chose her 'aseo playlist' and started to work.

A while later, she was so immersed in the music she didn't hear the front door open.

"Ana?" Spencer called once he realized the lights were on, but he got no response.

He wasn't prepared for what he entered in his living room. Ana was sweeping the floor while she danced and sang to the rhythm of a song.

'The lights are on, but you're not home

Your mind is not your own

Your heart sweats, your body shakes

Another kiss is what it takes.'

But seeing her dancing wasn't the only thing that captivated Spencer; it was her outfit or lack thereof. Spencer's eyes fixated on Ana's exposed skin as he felt his cheeks burning - and other parts of his body too.

'Whoa, you like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh yeah.

It's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough. You know you're gonna have to face it;

You're addicted to love.'

Without knowing what was going on behind her back, Ana kept performing to - for her - a non-existing audience. The cadence of the music made her hips move sensually. An open-mouthed Spencer watched as this beautiful - and almost naked - woman danced. Still scanning her body, he noticed a tattoo on her back and another on her right ribcage.

It was wrong, he knew, but he couldn't stop looking at her.

The charm bubble burst once Ana turned around to find a stunned Spencer staring at her.

"Oh, fuck!" Ana almost tripped with the broomstick, which fell to the floor. "Spencer! I didn't see you coming!" she yelled, pulling out her earbuds.

Spencer still couldn't say a word. He tried to keep his composure and gaze at her eyes, not her body. Then is when Ana realized her appearance. Little she could do for it, though.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I know this is inappropriate, but I didn't know you would be coming home today," she apologized, trying to cover herself behind the counter.

"I - uh, sorry. I should have texted. We caught the guy early this morning," he explained, averting his gaze to any direction but her.

"Good! That's good!" she nervously chirped.

Spencer knew he had to move. Ana was feeling enough embarrassment, and it wasn't right.

"Uh. I'm going to change. Don't mind me. You can resume your - well, what you were doing," Spencer said, still nervous but trying to sound calm and forcing his legs to cooperate and walk out of the living room.

"Oh. Okay. I can heat some dinner for you in the meantime. Well, after I put on some clothes," Ana half-joked as Spencer sauntered to his room as fast as he could.

Heat. What a choice of words, he thought.

"Thank you!" he called before shutting his bedroom door.

Ana felt mortified. It wasn't the fact she was almost naked dancing in the living room, or maybe it was, but it was more the fact Spencer saw her like that, so exposed.

She would never admit it, but she had also seen the boy in almost no clothes getting out of the shower one morning. Clearly, she didn't mention it to him. Ana realized the kind of domesticity they were hauling and how it could expose them in this way. It's not that she didn't like the idea; it was more that she liked it too much.

Spencer tried to forget what he saw that night. Still, even without an eidetic memory, he wouldn't—another reason why Spencer was captivated by Ana. But he wouldn't do anything about it; he was in a relationship with Maeve and didn't want to mess it up.

However, Spencer started to question his own decision.

It was one of the rare days of paperwork in which he could leave the BAU early. Spencer was grateful for it; the exhaustion from the previous case still had him wishing he could sleep for days.

Spencer was about to put the key in the lock when he heard a loud sound from inside, presumably a glass breaking. In fully-alerted mode, he pulled out his gun and carefully opened the door.

He kept frozen on the spot when he saw Ana yelling at the top of her lungs while knocking on the kitchen counter and throwing another glass to the wall.

"Hijo de puta! Maldito bastardo! (Son of the bitch! Bloody bastard!)"

That's when Spencer reacted, holstering his gun and slowly approaching Ana.

What the hell had happened?

"Ana? Hey, hey! What's wrong?" Spencer tried to call her attention, but Ana didn't acknowledge his presence yet. When their eyes met, Ana stopped shouting but still panted and disoriented.

"Qué me estás mirando, ah? También te vas a reir en mi cara? (What are you looking at?! Are you going to laugh at me too?!" the girl asked angrily. Spencer's face was pure confusion.

"What? No-I - what are you talking about?"

"You're not different from them. Nobody is different," Ana kept babbling, eyes to the ceiling to stop the tears pooling from her eyes.

Spencer's concern grew. He's seen people lose their temper like that in his line of work, and not for nothing.

"Ana, talk to me. What happened?"

That's when the girl broke; falling to her knees, she covered her face with both hands, fully crying now. Spencer quickly knelt in front of her to envelop her in a tight embrace.

"Hey, it's okay. It's going to be okay," he reassured, stroking her hair. Ana hid her face in Spencer's chest, crying disconsolately.

"I made a mess," she whined, clutching Spencer's cardigan.

"It doesn't matter. It's not important. Do you want to tell me what's wrong? How can I help?"

Ana contemplated her answer for a while. Spencer deserved an explanation for what was happening. She could have lied about it, but it wasn't fair to him, and she didn't have the energy to.

"I thought I could just forget it, you know? Maybe like that, I could have convinced myself that nothing wrong happened," she sighed.

"Come on, let's go to sit down," Spencer offered, getting up from the floor, helping Ana to do the same, and leading her to the sofa, avoiding the scattered glass shards on the floor.

Seeing she still had trouble breathing steadily, Spencer grabbed her hand and encouraged her to mimic him. Inhaling deeply and exhaling in the same way.

After a couple of minutes doing so, Ana nodded. She felt capable of talking.

"I know you already have noticed I avoid talking about a specific part of my past. Part of my childhood, to be specific. It's not I wanted to hide something from you instead from myself. I have never told anyone about this. I never even told my mom before she died."

Ana shifted in her spot on the couch. Suddenly her throat went dry.

"In my family, well, on my mother's side, blood ties have always been tremendously valued. My mom leaned on her family, especially after my dad left us. In fact, we lived with an aunt for several months until my mom managed to find an apartment that could afford both of us.

At that time, in the house, my aunt lived with his husband and their son. I almost didn't see my uncle; he worked all day. And as the money wasn't enough, my aunt found a job too. My mom doubled shifts at her job, partially to make money and partly to forget her husband had left her. That meant I was alone with my cousin almost every afternoon I got back from school."

Ana paused to gauge Spencer's reaction. He was listening intently to every word. And even if he was running every possible turn in her story in his brain, his trained poker face didn't reveal anything.

"I was a 9-year-old girl, barely trying to understand why her dad was no longer with her. I didn't know much about anything. Just my mom always told me to be careful around strangers. That's why it didn't seem weird to me when my sixteen-year-cousin got very close to me, coincidentally when we were alone. At first, he would agree to play any game I could think of with me. Dolls, cars, PlayStation, whatever. The problem began when he wanted to decide what game to play. The way he looked at me went unnoticed by me at first. But something in my gut told me it wasn't okay when once we were playing doctor-patient, and he wanted me to take off my dress. He convinced me somehow. And I was so confused. God, I thought it was part of the game. That time he only watched me for a long time. The next time it happened, he touched me, fortunately, nowhere intimate part. Every time, he was increasing the risk. The next time it happened, he - he tried to touch me down there, but out of instinct, I didn't let him. But I didn't know what else to do. Then I froze when I saw him grabbing his dick, and he started jerking off in front of me. I didn't even know what that was!" Ana recounted, disgusted at the memory.

"Did he-?" Spencer trailed off. Ana shook her head, knowing what he wanted to ask.

"No. He couldn't. After he finished doing it himself, he sent me to my room. And I got so shocked I couldn't stay with him anymore. I begged to stay at my classmates' houses until my mom could pick me up. A month later, my mom found us an apartment."

Spencer let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Why you didn't tell your mom?" Ana shrugged.

"She already had a lot on her plate. And she trusted so much in her family. Also, I didn't know what really happened until later in school when people started to talk about abuse and stuff like that." Spencer nodded in understanding.

"What did you do then?" he asked softly.

"For a long time, I pretended it never happened. My mom died, and I didn't have time to think about that. But sure, you can guess I couldn't go like that forever. A time after my mom died, I had to go to therapy. And it helped. I did acknowledge what happened, and it wasn't okay. Still, I couldn't let that event dictate how I establish relationships with people. You know, despite my trust issues, I engaged in some healthy relationships in college and moved on. At least I thought I did until today," Ana sniffled—head shooking in denial.

"What happened today?" Spencer asked.

"I - I never knew what happened to him. I lost all contact with my family after my mom passed. But today I discovered he - he was found dead in his cell after being sentenced for raping and killing three women," Ana winced as the words left her mouth. "Do you know what it means? He hurt others. And I didn't say anything back then! The bastard harmed people and didn't pay for it. And I didn't do anything to prevent it!"

Her tightly-fisted hands collided with the couch's cushions. Frustration, guilt, and anger poured from her. Spencer was quick to react, holding her hands in his.

"Hey, no, no, no. Don't say that. You fought for your safety. You didn't know. You were a child. It's not your fault, okay?" Spencer reassured her.

"But I should have said something! To anyone! Maybe someone could have stopped him," Ana debated, feeling the guilt eating her. Spencer shook his head.

"You had your reasons, Ana. You wanted to protect your mom and yourself. And nothing guaranteed it didn't happen again. He was sixteen then; he was already on the wrong track. It wasn't your call to notice and warn people about him."

Ana took in Spencer's words. It was reasonable. She was a child. Still, it didn't feel enough right now. Her rational brain was fighting with the nagging feeling of remorse.

"Is it bad I wish I never knew what happened to him?" Ana cracked, feeling the tears down her cheeks.

"Not at all. Believe me. There is nothing wrong with that," Spencer assured, embracing her tightly. "And I know you're thinking you were luckier than the others he might and did hurt during his life, and you were. But remember, he did hurt you too. And that isn't any less."

Ana cried, held by Spencer in his arms. It was an intricate feeling. On the one hand, she felt terrible knowing justice didn't get served and how that man managed to hurt more people. But on the other, a relief washed over her after letting it out.

Minutes became at least half an hour. Spencer traced comforting patterns on Ana's back as the tears subsided. He thought she was falling asleep until she spoke again.

"I still made a mess in your kitchen," she mumbled with a raspy voice from the crying.

"It is the last of my concerns right now," he replied, a gentle hand still stroking her back.

"I should go to get rid of the glass shatters," she lifted her head from Spencer's chest, attempting to stand up, but Spencer didn't let her.

"No, no, no. None of that. You'll stay here. I'm going to clean that off, and I'll make some tea for both of us. It may not be like your 'aguitas,' but it will help," Spencer announced.

That made Ana chuckle. Even if she wanted to argue with Spencer about it, she felt already drained to do so.

Spencer was right. His tea was different from Ana's, but it helped. It helped in such a way sleepiness found her quickly, making her doze off on the couch with her head on Spencer's lap. He didn't have the heart to wake her up, so he snatched a blanket from the chair next to the couch and covered them both. As Spencer watched her sleep, his thoughts wandered toward that lingering feeling in him—the urge to embrace her. Not only physically embracing her yet embracing her heart, her whole. It was something new for him.

It wasn't like the need to protect someone vulnerable to danger as he usually did at his job. Ana had already shown early in life that she could cope with adversity. Even so, seeing his heart exposed this way elicited a feeling of admiration and unconditionally. He could no longer see her as a stranger, let alone get the idea she would soon be no longer in his life. Was he naive in thinking they could keep this friendship once everything was over? Was he a fool in believing the feeling was mutual? Was it reasonable to think this was just friendship? Without answering all those questions, an exhausted Spencer fell asleep with Ana in his arms. In his mind, embracing her in more than a way.

Morning found Ana curled on the couch, covered with a blanket and something - someone - else. As she stirred, she felt a pair of arms around her waist. That was enough for her to open her eyes fully.

Those arms were Spencer's. Shit.

Not daring to move, Ana mentally revisited the night before. She fell asleep on Spencer's couch with Spencer himself wrapping his arms around her. Why didn't he wake her up? Was he still sleeping? The soft snoring escaping his lips told her yes.

Ana thought it was a crime to feel so comfortable right now. Should she move? Ana contemplated her options until, as on cue, Spencer stretched, losing his grip on her waist. She moved slowly, sliding off the sofa until she touched the floor. Seeing Spencer still not open his eyes, she got up quickly.

Still groggy from sleep, Spencer opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Ana standing before him.

"Hey," he mumbled. Ana mirrored him.

"Hey. Good morning."

"Good morning," he smiled. Ana cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep last night. Why didn't you wake me up?" she asked, not mentioning how they were cuddling in their sleep. Spencer shifted to a sit position.

"You looked tired, and I didn't want you to disturb your sleep," he simply explained, rubbing his palms on his eyes to sweep the remaining slumber.

"I'm sorry. You must have been uncomfortable all night," Ana deduced, taking in the couch and the tall man on it.

Spencer thought about it, and the truth was far from that statement.

"Not really. Quite the opposite," Spencer admitted at loud. Ana gave him an odd look, and he realized what he said. "How are you feeling?" Spencer quickly changed the subject.

"Better, I guess," she shrugged. "I wanted to thank you for listening to me and, well, not kicking my ass out of here after the mess I made in your kitchen," she chuckled. Spencer did the same.

"I would never do that. And I'm glad you're feeling better," Spencer said, giving her a wide smile. Ana could have melted in the spot. How could he be so cute like that? She couldn't help but take in his adorable messy hair and how he rubbed his eyes like a sleepy little kid.

Get a grip, Ana. Get a grip.

"You know, I'm going to make breakfast. If you want to take a shower first," Ana offered, ready to head to the kitchen. Spencer checked his watch, and an idea popped.

"Ana! Wait!" he stopped her. She looked confused, asking if something was wrong. Spencer shook his head. "No, no. It's just, can we do something today? I mean, what if we go out and do breakfast in a new place I found?" Ana raised an eyebrow.

"Are you betraying my coffee shop?" Spencer laughed.

"Never! But I think you'll like the place. It's a beautiful day outside, and we can take a walk afterward. What do you say?"

Ana didn't know why she felt her cheeks turn red. It's not like he's asking her out on a date or anything like that. It's just a friendly outing. He only wanted to be nice to her, she thought.

"Okay. We can do that. One condition, though," Ana prefaced in a serious tone.

"Name it," Spencer quickly replied.

"Only if we're going to eat ice cream afterward," Ana said, and Spencer smirked.

"Deal."

——————

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!oc #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x latina!oc #spencer reid series #green card

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cinemastyles-blog · 1 year

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Spill or Fill Part 3

Summary: This is Part three in the Spill or Fill series.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, praise kink, creampies, unprotected sex, oral, fingering, squirting, choking, pregnancy talk, some fluff not a lot.

Spill or Fill | Spill or Fill Part 2

Master

Dunkirk Harry

Do you think we can just sneak out? I don't really feel finished with you just yet." I slide my hands down Harry's semi open white shirt.

He smirks, "We'll say you aren't feeling well." He pulls me in and kisses me, "I'm not finished with you either."

I bite my lip and walk with him as he grabs my hand and leads me down the hall way into the room where the party is.

"There you guys are!" Jimmy tells dancing to the music, "Thought you left."

"We're going to head out, y/n isn't feeling well, so I'm going to take her home." Harry yells, "Thank you so, so much for this, Jimmy."