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reiderwriter · 4 months

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Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

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jelliedink · 5 months

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Making love with your DILF!Boss

Warnings: huge age gap, manipulative behaviour, slut shaming, sex.

Author's note: I brought him back, loves. This was originally part of the first headcanon post, but I decided to divide it because it was getting way too big. Please, get yourself comfortable and feast on the depraved fantasies my brain creates about this fictional toxic man.

Divider by @cafekitsune

First let me say that: this devil of a man is patient and he'll wait until you're crawling up the walls from desperation and desire. And then he'll wait a bit more.

DILF!Boss also considers himself an old-school man. He's not entirely opposed to fucking like a dog in heat but, in his head, this treatment is for other people. You are not a "cheap whore" or a random one night stand. He's preparing you to be his pretty perfect wife and new mommy of his children. You deserved to be treated with respect.

And he would tell you exactly so if you asked him to fuck your brains out. He would feel disgusted just by thinking about what kind humiliating of things your previous partners asked from you, his precious doll. But now you were with a man that knew how to treat you. A man that knew how to make you things you couldn't even imagine. A man that's been doing it since before you were born. A real man.

During sex, your DILF!Boss took care of you the whole time. He would take how long it needed to get you soaked and ready for him. Even then, lube was always easily accessible, just to be sure. He checked in with you in every step of the way and in between, making sure he was touching his precious little doll in all the right ways.

"Let me prepare you just a little more." "Do you like when I touch you like this?"

The nickname he used the most in those moments was "my little angel" because you did indeed feel heavenly. Your skin was so warm and soft, your moans, whispers and pleas so beautiful. And you have no idea how big his ego got when seeing you melt under his touch so easily.

Your DILF!Boss held you so close that at moments it felt like you were drowning in him. No matter the position, he'd always find a way to cage you in his arms, his body touching yours in all the places it could. You both were so entangled you could feel the movement of his lungs filling with air, his throat vibrating when he groaned or whispered sweet nothings in your ears, making you tickle. His scent was all you could feel, your sweat and his were the same, your bodies moving in such synchrony that you were not sure where you ended and he began anymore.

His thrusts were slow and deep, most of the times not pulling even half of his cock out before getting it all in and reaching places you didn't think was possible again. The way he rocked his hips into yours made it almost unbearable to keep your eyes open, and he had to ask you many times not to hide your face. He needed to see and praise you when he saw you loosing focus and part your lips to let out another delicious moan.

"Just like that, my buttercup, just let everything go while I take care of you."

Your DILF!Boss's thrusts were agonisingly slow. You felt the pleasure building and, the closer you got to your orgasm, more desperate you got to increase the speed and reach your peak. But he wouldn't let you: he locked your hips in place and kept his rhythm, the delay of your pleasure so overwhelming that it was almost painful. It made you want to sink your nails into his skin. You begged him until your voice was nothing but a whine, but to no avail, and often mixed tears from frustration and pleasure rolled down your cheeks.

All this time he would have one hand at the back of your head, his finger running through your hair in an effort to comfort you, his words gentle despite his laboured breath. "I know, my precious, I know. It will get better soon." "Calm down, my little minx, we've just started." "Breathe, my dear. In through your nose, out through your mouth. See how you can feel every inch of me in you when we go like this?"

It wasn't often that you came multiple times in one night: the first orgasm was so strong for being build for so long that it got you completely fucked up and you just wanted him to hold you in his arms and kiss you better after this pleasurable torture session.

He would often take longer, though. Your pleasure always came first, and after you calmed down a little he would ask if you could take just a little bit more of him. You almost always said yes. It didn't take him very long to finish seeing you so spent from his blissful touch, and he praised you the whole time for being so good to him.

After you're both done, your DILF!Boss would cup your face and kiss all of it, saying how much he loved you, how you were the best thing that happened to him, how he couldn't believe he was gifted with such a perfect angel like you. Then he would carry you to the bathroom; if not for taking a bath, at least to make sure you peed while he threw out the condom and got both of you water.

He couldn't hide his smile while watching how you curled up in his chest when you got back to bed, so tired you could hardly maintain a conversation. He'd still always try to ask how you were feeling, if he had hurt you or done anything that didn't feel good, although most of the time you passed out before he got the chance to finish this questionnaire. It didn't take him long to sleep after that. Feeling your now slow breath in his skin, he drifted off thinking how lucky he was that such a pretty little thing fell so deep into his trap.

#yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #boss x employee #boss x reader #dilf x reader #oc x reader #yandere smut #female reader #fem reader

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talesofesther · 10 months

Text

the one who stayed

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: For a moment, Sebastian thought he lost you, and now the guilt for what happened is eating away at him.

A/N: Yes, this is very random. I debated a lot on whether to even post this here or not, but, this Tumblr is, before anything else, a library for me to store my own works. I post everything I write here, so I figured this one shouldn't be the exception because I did like how it turned out.

Masterlist

Cold. That was all your brain could register at the moment; how the ground felt so cold underneath you.

"She's not moving."

You could hear a familiar, urgent voice right beside you. But as the seconds slowly trickled by like blood dripping from an open wound, it became increasingly hard for you to understand what exactly that voice was saying. Yet you could still register the fear laced within the tone, you could feel it in the shakiness of his hold.

Trembling hands held onto your arm, one of them slowly brushing against your skin until it found your hand.

You wished you could see his face right now. Sebastian had always been bold, confident. Though you were almost certain there would be a faint blush hidden under his freckles right now because of the intimate gesture.

But your eyes were heavy. Try as you might, you couldn't seem to blink them open. Come to think of it, your whole body felt heavy, maybe that's why you couldn't move. Even breathing was slowly turning into too much effort.

The hand holding onto your own tightened its grip.

People were talking around you. You couldn't make out any words anymore, they sounded like nothing but faint noise. The tune of his voice still kissed your ears, however; even if you couldn't recognize the words, you knew it was him. And he sounded erratic, scared. There was a tightness to it, syllables getting stuck in his throat; it was all wrong, you didn't like to hear him in this state.

A deeper voice was there too — you instantly recognized the timbre that belonged to the man who was always crushing Sebastian's hopes — and in the back of your mind, it brought anger to your chest. But there was nothing you could do anymore. Wisps of remaining magic tingled on the tip of your fingers and held your heart in a tight, hurtful grip. Maybe you'd gone too far.

A pair of rough hands then picked up your body, taking you away from the cold embrace of the catacomb's floor.

And when the blood dripping from your nose reached your lips, coating your tongue with a metallic taste, you realized that maybe you did go too far after all. Part of you could already hear the keepers berating you for rushing your abilities.

Consciousness slipped from your grasp shortly after that. Your head falling limp against someone's shoulder, and feeling a hand still holding onto yours.

—

Hogwarts' hospital wing was pretty quiet most days, only with the usual first year who scraped their elbow falling from a broom or suffering the effects of a spell gone slightly wrong. They never stayed for long though, nurse Blainey was all too used to these types of encounters.

Yet every now and then, one of the beds stays occupied for a longer period of time.

There were several beds — their metal frame and pale sheets doing little to ease the hospital vibe — one beside the other on each side of the spacious room.

You were glad to be put on one which stayed further away from the main doors; it made for more calmness this way. You had no need to engage with the unfortunate first years and could focus on leaning back and feeling the soft wisps of sunlight kissing your skin from the high window behind you.

It bothers you that you can't exactly remember how you got here. The nurse hadn't filled you with much information either; she told you an older man had brought you in, talking about a casting exercise gone wrong and you overworking yourself; she also said you remained unconscious for about 15 hours before finally waking up — pale, weak, confused.

Most of those feelings still crawled under your skin. Your body is still feeling 10 times heavier than it actually was. You wanted to get up and run off to find Sebastian but you had a nagging sensation that, if you did so now, you'd fall face-first on the floor.

The fabric of the thin blanket draped over you felt soft as you worried it between your fingers, nearly tearing it apart. The last thing you remembered was being in the catacombs, with Sebastian, and wanting to do nothing but protect him — both from himself and his uncle.

His uncle.

Could it be that he was the one who actually brought you back to school?

You doubted Sebastian would have the strength to carry you all the way back here — as much as he might fight you on that argument.

Running a hand through your hair, you pulled at the roots. Your frustration escaped with a long sigh.

The old floorboards creaked under a new weight. At first, you assumed it would be nurse Blainey coming back to check on you. But, from the side of your eye, you caught a glimpse of green, and your heart fought against your ribs, trying to escape your chest.

Sebastian stood a few feet away from your bed, though you could hardly recognize him. The brown locks of his hair were all over the place, way messier than usual; his eyes had a red tint to them, mixed with dark circles of someone who hasn't slept in a while; his usual grin was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced with a pained frown; his hands held onto his robes with a death grip.

"I heard you were awake."

His voice didn't sound like the one you had grown to love.

"How are you feeling?" The question stumbled past his lips and he avoided your eyes shortly after. He sounded as if you would yell at him to leave at any moment. It only got you more confused.

"Better, a little weak still," you bit at the inside of your cheek. This moment shouldn't feel as fragile as it does. "Care to tell me what happened?"

You didn't think your tone was harsh, but Sebastian flinched at your voice anyway. Bad memories washed over him like a bucket of icy water.

He met your gaze before hesitantly closing the distance between you, choosing to sit at the edge of your bed.

He looked worse up close. Eyes distant, trapped elsewhere.

"We were fighting against my uncle and the-" Sebastian gulped, guilt squeezing at his throat like barbed wire, "the inferi."

You acknowledged his words with a soft nod, slowly remembering things as he spoke. You pushed yourself up to sit straighter, just a couple of inches closer to Sebastian. He looked like he needed it.

The words lingered on his tongue. You never thought you'd see him this way; hesitant, lost, regretful. With tears on the verge of spilling over his freckled cheeks.

"You were trying to reason with my uncle; and me, for that matter," Sebastian chuckled halfheartedly, "trying to stop us from killing each other, when the inferi started to close on us. You didn't think twice, and all I saw were lighting strikes coming through the ceiling of the catacomb, destroying everything but us, and… you laying on the floor afterwards."

Memories were clearer now. Sebastian had attacked his uncle after he destroyed the relic and they started exchanging spells at each other while the inferi slipped from Sebastian's control. Everything could go very bad, very quickly. You remembered trying to speak with them, make them see past the anger clouding their judgment. But it was to no avail. What you remember the most, however, was seeing Sebastian so focused on his uncle, and unaware of the mass of inferi coming towards him.

You really hadn't thought twice at all. Ancient magic flowed through your veins like wildfire; it was all you could feel. The rumbling of thunder became your heartbeat. You killed each and every one of the creatures, burning out all of your energy in the process.

"And what of Solomon?" You found yourself wondering.

Sebastian pursed his lips. His eyebrows scrunched slightly as his body tensed for a moment and then relaxed again. "We stopped fighting as soon as I ran up to you. I- I begged that he'd help me bring you back to school. I'm not sure where he is now." His body shook with each intake of air. "Or Anne."

"Well, guess my plan worked after all. At least I got you to stop fighting," you tried to lighten the heavy air around you and Sebastian, mustering a teasing grin as you tilted your head to try and catch a glimpse of his eyes.

Sebastian worried his lower lip between his teeth to keep it from quivering. There was no witty remark, no ironic comment. Nothing. His tears were one blink away from spilling over.

Maybe if you listened closely, you'd be able to hear your heart shattering. For him. For this broken boy barely holding the last pieces of himself together in front of you, for this boy who stood so desperately alone in the world.

You reached out, your hand closing tightly around Sebastian's — because you couldn't bare seeing him alone one second more. Your thumb brushed against his skin. You could feel his trembling. "We'll find him, and Anne. I promise we'll figure things out, Sebastian."

He was shaking his head before you even finished speaking, squeezing his eyes shut and causing a single tear to roll down his cheek. "No, you don't understand," his broken words fell from his lips at the same time he pulled away from your touch.

"I never-" Sebastian stood up then, choking on his own breathing as he looked at you with a mix of longing and anguish. "It was never my intention to hurt you… I'm sorry," he whispered, so quietly that if the hospital wing wasn't as empty as it is, you would've missed it.

"Sebastian, you didn't-" you cut yourself off when he abruptly turned away from you and started marching towards the main doors of the spacious room, putting as much distance between you and him as he could.

The fatigue still gripping at your muscles was the last thing on your mind when you threw away the covers and stood — albeit on shaky legs — to go after him. "Sebastian, please wait," you called, grimacing as he took your heart with him.

Ultimately, you didn't go very far. Nurse Blainey stopped you in your tracks before you could even reach the middle of the room.

—

The sun rays shining through the tall stained glass windows were warm against your skin, doing little to help with your current sleepy state as you tried to at least pretend to be paying attention to class.

"It's been nearly a week, Ominis." You groaned, folding your arms on top of the table so you could lay your head down, "do you think he's mad at me for trying to stop him?"

The boy sitting beside you chuckled quietly, twirling his wand in his hands. "Darling, I don't think Sebastian could be mad at you even if he wanted to."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Professor Binns walked by a little too close for comfort; his ghostly form sending a shiver down your body.

"He's been spending most of his evenings hiding away in the Undercroft," Ominis felt around on the table until his fingers brushed the fabric of your robes, he gently closed his hand around your wrist and squeezed comfortingly. "I believe it would do both of you some good if you went to see him."

—

It was mostly dark out already. The sky slowly filled with stars as night settled in and a soft cold breeze hung around the DADA hallways. The pristine floors reflected the image of your shoes, pacing back and forth restlessly.

You were having second thoughts. Apprehension tugged at your heartstrings because as much as you didn't want to admit it, the sight of Sebastian walking away from you so desperately that day had stung.

Though no matter how much you stalled, you knew you'd relent. The sleepless nights you've been going through lately are enough of a telltale of the effect Sebastian has on you.

A deep breath filled your lungs and you closed your eyes, pleading for your heartbeat to settle as you pushed open the door to the Undercroft.

The familiar warmth hugged you instantly. All of the candlelights dimly shining against the stone walls forced away the frown that clung to your brows. You'd never blamed Ominis for being so protective of this place, it really was the perfect hideaway.

You found Sebastian pretty quickly. He sat on the floor against the far wall to your right, knees tucked close to his chest as his wand moved delicately, making a paper bird flap its wings and fly around in front of him. The bird fell limply to the floor when Sebastian's eyes landed on you, however. You thought you saw him gulp and straighten his back too, but other than that, the Slytherin boy expressed no other reaction upon seeing you. It felt almost as if he was expecting your arrival.

Your feet were momentarily frozen to the stone floor, Sebastian's gaze burning through your soul. You also couldn't help but notice how lonely he looked, just sitting there by himself; it made your stomach turn unpleasantly. You wondered if he considered himself deserving of it.

It was as if you spoke with your eyes for a beat. You saying that if he wanted you to leave, you would. And Sebastian pleading for you to stay.

All that could be heard were your steps echoing through the Undercroft as you carefully came to sit beside him. Your shoulder just shy of touching his.

The silence wasn't a comfortable one, but it also wasn't awkward. It was just heavy. There was a tension in the air that none of you knew how to address.

Sebastian's knuckles were white around his wand, he sat stiff beside you, not once glancing your way.

You figured that if you didn't speak, you'd be sitting in silence for hours. You glanced down at the paper bird that lay discarded on the floor, your lips quirking up just slightly as you picked it up; "you know, my mother taught me how to make these when I was younger. Without magic, that is." You chuckled. You rarely spoke about your parents, it was a sensitive topic. But it was your way of trying to make Sebastian feel more comfortable to share what he was feeling with you; what was bothering him.

"I used to get rather frustrated when I couldn't get it right the first times," you gently inspected the small bird with your fingers, thumbs running along the smooth white paper, "but she'd always tell me to take a breath, count to five, and start again."

With your eyes fixed on the paper bird in your hands, you didn't notice Sebastian's eyes fixed on your profile. The grip on his wand loosened slightly as he committed every detail of you to memory.

A shiver ran down your back when you finally turned your head to face him again. He was close, your breaths mingling as the lines of your relationship blurred and burned with the candles.

"Sebastian…" You breathed, watching the way his eyes darted to your lips and back to your eyes, "about what happened at the catacombs, I'm-"

"Don't you dare say you're sorry." He cut you off suddenly, voice quiet and a little choked, but firm.

"I am, though," you leaned your head back against the stone wall, involuntarily leaning closer to him as your body gravitated to his warmth. "I'm sorry things didn't go as planned, but I promise we're not gonna stop looking for anything else that might help Anne."

Sebastian averted his gaze from you, furrowing his brows. You saw tears steadily collecting on the bottom lid of his eyes, despite his efforts to hide them. "Stop it," he mumbled.

You shifted in your seat, your jaw set tightly in place. The beats of your heart against your chest were painful. The thought of Sebastian distancing himself from you was painful. So much so that you fear you'd be willing to do anything to fix it, within reason or not.

"I mean it, Sebastian, I will do anything-"

"Stop it! You don't get it, do you?" He snapped, his eyes burning into yours again and shining under the candlelights. "I saw you laying on the floor of that damned catacomb and I thought you were dead!" The syllables broke and stuttered past his lips, the pain and fear he felt that day came back in waves and twisted his expression.

You were stunned to silence, watching as Sebastian opened his mouth, lower lip trembling as he searched for his voice again.

"Do you have any idea of what that felt like?" He whispered, words strangled and squeezing his chest until he had trouble breathing. You were nothing but a blur in front of him. Sebastian pursed his lips to try and keep himself from breaking. Speaking it out loud somehow felt like making it real. "I thought I'd just lost you, and… and it would be my fault."

The feeling of your gentle thumb carefully brushing against his cheek brought Sebastian back to reality, and he realized his tears were already dripping down his chin.

"I would never blame you for what happened," you shook your head, smiling sadly as you felt your own eyes sting, "you were just trying to help your sister, when everyone else had given up."

"I will cure Anne… but not at the expense of you," in some ways, he looked surprised at his own words; at the truthfulness of them. He gulped back a sob, "I thought I could control it," Sebastian breathed in sharply, avoiding your gaze but leaning into your touch, "I went too far, as Ominis has probably told you a thousand times already."

You chuckled softly, sneaking your fingers over his jaw and until they disappeared between the brown locks of his hair. Sebastian closed his eyes briefly at your comforting touch, allowing himself to melt against you. "He's more understanding than you give him credit for," you smiled.

That got half a smile out of Sebastian, his freckles highlighted by the candles around you. His hand inched closer to your free one resting on your lap, the tip of his fingers timidly closing around yours, craving more of you. His pupils were blown wide when he finally looked up at you again.

"I promise to never do anything this reckless again." His low tone left no room for doubt.

You leaned in slightly, feeling his fringe tickle your forehead. You thought you heard him trying to suppress a gasp, but maybe it was your foggy mind playing tricks on you.

There was a glint in his eyes you'd never seen before, still shining with remains of his emotions; but vulnerable, calm, loving.

"I am quite fond of your reckless side, though."

Your unexpected words brought an endearing blush across Sebastian's freckles. You felt the shape of his teasing grin when his lips touched yours.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Sebastian’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagine #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x f!reader #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy x reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #sebastian sallow fanfiction #my story

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lvgrrqs · 10 months

Text

SUGAR SWEET — E. WILLIAMS.

summary. the cake you had baked your girlfriend for your anniversary wasn’t the only sugar sweet thing getting eaten that night.

note. living for ellie brainrot posts, this is just something i wrote up really quick because i couldn’t sleep at all last night and i think it was the frosted coffee i had - i’m gonna stick to tea from now on. also i know i said angst wasn’t my thing in my last post but smut is something i really don’t dabble in too much, so i’m just letting my mind run off.

word count. 1.7k

the warmth that you felt, just, everywhere, was electrifying.

the air felt foggy, going up a noticeable temperature and you werent sure if it was from the friction you and ellie had going on or if you had just forgotten to set the thermostat.

“oh god.. ellie…” you couldn’t help the whimpers that left your mouth as her tongue guided itself from your neck down to the valley of your breasts. her calloused hands traced your hips, giving the soft area a squeeze before reaching towards your tits - fondling them and tweaking your nipples between her index finger and thumb.

she knew just how to touch you, how to get you wet and needy for her. it was always heaven, the way she knew your body inside and out and knew just where to touch. all of your special spots, your sensitive ones.

“keep making those pretty sounds princess,” she hummed, replacing one of her hands with her mouth. your back arched into her instinctively, molding into her perfectly so she could take more of your flesh in between her warm lips. your body could feel every trace her tongue had made, every round trip it took as she licked your nipple. it set your core on fire as she tugged at the other, stretching the flesh and letting it go to watch your tit bounce back.

it was only fair for her to treat you so good, to take her time to taste you. after all, you had put so much effort into that sweet little cake you made her decorated with her favorite frosting and sprinkles. it was almost as cute as you, and she couldn’t help but choose to eat you before digging into it.

you, of course, had no complaints besides being able to eat a slice while it was fresh, but when it came to ellie and when she wanted to get her hands on you there was no way you would ever turn her down. not when the frosting came with you guys to the bedroom.

when you started, ellie had your stomach lathered with it, loving your curves and your tummy in general. if she could, she would put a baby in there for you, yet she loves the area all the same. then, when she had already licked it clean, she had started to go for your chest, your tits putting her in a trance that you had to pull her out of.

another needy whine left you, your hands running into her hair and tugging at it. her teeth caught your nipple, pulling it with her as she let you pull her head back and off of you. you hissed, but didn’t complain.

your body was hers to enjoy, especially on your anniversary.

“no more, please..” her eyes locked with yours, a smirk on her lips. “tell me what you need baby, be a good girl and let me hear it.” her hands went down to your hips, fingers playing with the lace that protected your pussy from her fingers that were aching to indulge in it. she wasn’t going to give it to you that easily though.

she wanted to hear you beg.

“y’know what i want!” you cried, her fingers ghosting over your clothed slit. “come on baby, use your words.” her tone was attentive, but also authoritative. you knew you had to say it, she was going to make you, otherwise you would lie here unsatisfied.

her hands gripped your chin, forcing you to look her way and into her eyes. they were fiery yet full of love for you. there was no doubt that your cheeks visibly changed color and the smile on ellie’s lips confirmed that. “please els… ‘m want your fingers, your tongue..” “you think you can handle them both, pretty?”

you nodded vigorously, never breaking eye contact with your girlfriend. “well, gotta give the pretty lady what she wants.” she hummed, capturing your lips in a quick, heated kiss before starting a trail down to the lacey panties you wore - no doubt you took some time choosing these just for tonight, you hadn’t expected her to see them this early though.

the eye contact ellie kept with you was skillful, never once breaking it even when she got to the barrier between you and her lips.

you thought you would only ever see it in movies, or the little porn videos you would watch where the dominant figure would remove the others underwear with their teeth. you didn’t see how it was possible, but you were enamored to say the least with how flawless ellie seemed to do it.

her teeth connected with the top of your panties, tugging the fabric down as her hands came up and lifted your hips. it was able to slip off easier, and she continued to guide her hands from your hips to the curve of your ass, to the fat of your thighs and your soft calves until she had sat up between your legs - panties in hand, or mouth in this case.

it was sexy, in a way, and you almost wanted to snatch them out of her mouth and put them back on just so she could do it again.

her hands pushing your legs apart gently brought you back to the real world, giving her body more space to slip in between your thighs which she lifted to rest on her shoulders. her eyes looked back up at you, a small smile on her lips. “you ready, pretty girl?”

“yes ma’am, please be ge- ohh, fuck…” her tongue quickly delved between your folds with your approval, not letting you finish your sentence. your hips bucked up, pushing her face into you more. she didn’t fight it, instead allowing it and rubbing your thighs to give you comfort.

her nose nudged your clit, the slick and gushing sounds of just her tongue on you echoed through the room along with the sounds of your moans and cries. “‘m so good, ‘s so good els!” you encouraged her actions, her tongue drawing figure 8’s on your clit as one of her hands made it’s way down.

you swore if she kept that motion up you would cum on the spot, the aching and ever so tightening feeling in the pit of your stomach growing.

she pulled back, the feeling of that pit in your stomach disappearing. you came to clench around nothing, bucking your hips into the air as ellie had moved to reposition herself. “patience, sweet girl. i gotcha, y’know i gotcha.” her body moved to the edge of the bed, though she leaned over and helped scoot you to the edge of the bed to make the job easier for her.

“‘m promise, won’t leave ya’ hanging.” you nodded at her words, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch her get down on the floor at the edge of the bed. once again, she placed your legs over her shoulders, but the new angle gave her more room to work her magic with both her fingers and her tongue.

teasingly, despite her current statement, her thumb came to press flat on your clit. the sensation made you whine, ellie watching as the slick of your pussy grew. in awe, her eyes stayed trained on it as her fingers moved from your clit to run through your slit, gathering your wetness on her fingers.

“always so pretty for me, always taste so sweet too.” she hummed, the praise making you clench on thin air once again. “els, please..” she looked at you, awaiting the words you knew she wanted to hear. “fuck me, please?”

“atta girl.”

with care, but also in a rush to finally give you what you wanted, ellie pushed her fingers past your folds, starting with two just to get you adjusted. that was enough to send you to space, seeing stars. what you were finally craving had been given to you, and it enough to have your back arching off the bed. your fingers gripped the sheets of your shared bed with the girl who’s head was between your legs.

pants and heavy mewls filled the room accompanied by ellie’s encouraging words. the gushing sound of her fingers going in and out of you at a rapid pace followed suit, getting louder as she added a third finger. “fuckkk.. you feel so good, it feels so good els!” you cried, hand reaching down to find her hair. her locked became entangled in your fingers and you urged her head towards your pussy. “please, just a little more..” you begged.

and how could she say no to you? you were her darling angel, and you looked so cute crumbling under her touch. she hadn’t even used her strap on you, and yet here you were about to come from just her fingers and words.

without hesitation, her lips found their way around your clit, sucking and licking against the sensitive nub as stars clouded your vision. “shiiiiit… i fucking love you..~” you squealed, hips bucking upwards and forcing ellie’s fingers to dive deeper into your pussy.

she had loved you too, dearly, but she was too focused on bringing you your orgasm to pull back and say it. she was just going to show you, curling her fingers in a rapid ‘come hither’ motion, getting your breath caught in your throat before you went silent altogether.

in a silent scream, your legs shook harder than they had before, ellie’s fingers still skillfully pulling in and out of you as her tongue sped up its pace - if that was even possible at this point, hell. ellie felt wet, in a way, and it wasn’t just her own slick that was gathering in her pants as she found herself grinding into the air at your response to her love filled actions.

you had squirted, and oh god did she love it. you hadn’t even noticed you did it until you came down from your high, panting and sheepishly looking down at her head between your legs. you could see your wetness dripping down her face, from her nose to her chin. with a red face, you muttered out tired apologies that she silenced with kisses to your thighs.

“it’s okay, beautiful. i always told you that you tasted sugar sweet.”

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laurzzz · 25 days

Text

Robo-Boyfriends AU (My Sona Version) - Effort

Woe word-less comic be upon ye! I think it's very fitting with my sona being mouthless LMAO. I haven't worked on RBAU in a short while so take this thingy before I continue to work on MO again :thumbsup::thumbsup:

Explanation/vent under the cut (it's VERY long, so know you've been warned)

I'm tired. I'm tired of pretending it doesn't affect me at all. I'm tired of not wanting to express genuine frustration on my blog. I've been trying my best to keep my blog and every other platform I have as a place of escape for myself. I want it to only be filled with mostly good and optimistic things. I already get enough crap and more in my private life, I don't want to see reminders of them in places where I want to escape. Which is why I've been pretending to not see the numbers, that I don't feel under appreciated, that I don't vent as much when I want to or when I do I'm quick to delete them.

I know that many artists online go through this and have expressed their frustration on this experience-- where they put in so much effort and time on their works and they barely get any feedback or interactions or when they do get feedback it's often on the works they don't even put that much effort in. I love RBAU and Cloud Nine.. they're my AUs that basically gained the most traction here but the time and effort I gave to making those comics and random pieces of gradient-themed drawings don't even compare to the rendered pieces or the animated works I've made for them.

As much as I appreciate the reblogs and comments on the posts that reached so many people, I often wonder why it's always the works that I didn't put my all into. It makes me feel discouraged... not in continuing to draw or make creative work, but to actually put in more effort. But if I'd do that--stop putting in more effort-- then I would only make myself even more miserable as I don't like stagnation. I hate stagnation. I hate getting bored of the things that mean so much to me. Sharing my art and improving on it means too much to me.

But it's weird because I tend to observe the interactions with other blogs. They look to put in so much effort and make such beautiful rendered pieces that I adore and yet they are appreciated as deserved. While there are artists who make "shitposts" (their words) who also gain so much traction and appreciation. This observation makes the voices in my brain start correlating the quality of my work to the interactions. If I'm being completely transparent, I get these thoughts a lot. But I also don't believe them. I don't want to believe them.

Before anyone starts saying "ohhh you shouldn't attach your appreciation of your work from external factors" etc etc-- I KNOW. I am FULLY aware. I'm completely aware and have rationalized this situation over and over. That this is just how the internet goes. That these are factors I don't have control over. That my work is gold and it doesn't have to be determined as such by numbers. That someday the people who appreciate my works will find me. I. Know.

Still, knowing these things doesn't make the feelings disappear. It's like I want to be mad, and cry at the same time but also understand that I just can't really do anything about this but let it be. It's as if the more I care about a project, the less likely people will. I don't want to pretend like I don't care about a project just for it to be appreciated. But I also don't want to feel as if I'm not getting as much appreciation or attention that I think my work deserves.

I've been experimenting with my works and how I post them here on Tumblr and on YT since last year. The ones that are shitposts are seriously what gets more attention AHAHAHA I am laughing with frustration. Look, I love making memes and poking fun with characters as much as the next viewer and artist but by god. I can't just keep churning out funny haha low substance stuff in exchange for interactions. That's not the kind of artist that I am. I like making things that has lore; that has depth to them. Like how I tend to make lore heavy AUs right after getting my silly, lighthearted works blow up just to remind myself that the relationship I have with my works will not grow if I keep chasing after the interactions, the numbers by prioritizing quantity over quality.

Or maybe people just don't like my ideas? I guess that's a possibility too. Maybe my ideas just don't resonate with people enough. It's not "consumable" enough. Or maybe they don't like my art/writing/animation style. Yet more factors that's out of my control. But I also get told that people like my art, my writings, my animations. And they mean so, so much to me. But it just doesn't add up sometimes, y'know? If people like my work and stick around because they like my art no matter the fandom then why don't I see it? Thoughts like these make me feel so ungrateful actually.

I'm sure there are many people who look up to me as an artist and think how "popular" I am. I've been told this so many times. And yet, I don't feel either of those as strongly. Hell, even as I type this long vent out, I feel like people will not even care. Or worse. Perhaps they may think I'm focusing on the wrong things or think I'm being insecure and jealous of other people's well-deserved appreciation from others.

For the record, I am not. I think every single (actual, not AI) artists put in so much effort and love to their own works most of the time and if they get appreciation for it then I'm sure as hell that they've been seeking for it too and now that they're getting it and it's there then they should bask in it and rejoice. They really should.

Sigh. This is getting far too long. I'll stop here. I hope my words and my thoughts came out clearly. I'm writing this out late at night. Don't worry, I'll still be putting in the effort I've been putting in lately. I'm still going to work on MO, and give my best to make Assassin Eclipse's design to be as on par with Assassins Sun and Moon. I'm still going to write and continue the lore in the fic. I'm still going to animate the lore-heavy Welcome Home animation I've been working on slowly day by day. I just wanted to let this all out. Venting it to my friends just seem to not be enough. I gotta express it where people can see it. I think this is just my last straw too. I've been holding out for so long and 2024 really hasn't been that kind to me lately that I just can't anymore.

Anyway, the next post will be much lighter, I promise.

#sorry i focused too much on my dca related works but this also applies to all the other fandom stuff ive created on here and on YT #oh also #thank you and shout out to xit #i was having doubts on posting this before i sleep tonight #but her recent answered ask unintentionally gave me courage #hey xit! if you see this i think youre cool #robo-boyfriends au #but with my sona instead of y/n #dca fandom #fnaf sun #fnaf sundrop #fnaf daycare attendant #laursdraws #cw vent

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devildom-moss · 7 months

Text

The demon brothers reacting to an MC who hides their burn marks headcanon

The demon brothers version of a previous request for the dateables + Luke reacting to an MC who has burn marks all over their arms/legs and avoids wearing revealing clothes because they're self conscious about it. I hope this one is okay. Please ignore how much my tenses shift - hopefully it reads fine. Also why is it that usually when I do another version of a previous post, it gets longer. Why am I like this?

requested by: @justalurkerheretolurk

(slightly suggestive for some of the brothers)

Word Count: +2,400

Lucifer

For once, his approach is that it’s none of his business. He doesn’t wear revealing clothes himself, so it takes him forever to notice that you have self-esteem reasons for hiding your body.

He might sense some of your discomfort when someone suggests that you should wear more revealing clothing (Asmo), but he doesn’t make much of it. If you don’t want to talk to him about it, he won’t question you (unless you seem really upset).

Lucifer doesn’t find out unless your sleeve accidentally slips too far up your arms or until one of those shared outdoor bath/hot spring trips. He’ll get suspicious if you aren’t willing to join him in the baths despite his efforts to tempt you. Basically, he’s not going to question you trying to keep covered until he’s trying to get in your pants.

The second he finds out, he’ll be speechless for a moment – to the point that it worries you. Is it really so bad that he can’t say anything?

Side headcanon: I think he gets it. He’s probably scarred up from the Celestial War. There are parts of his body that scratch away at his pride sometimes. He wants to ask about it, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

It’s not disgust or shock that shuts him up, it’s shame – and under that, affection. He’s ashamed that you didn’t feel you could show him until now, ashamed that he never questioned you before or didn’t notice, and ashamed that he let someone he cherishes so dearly feel self-conscious without him knowing. He wants to choose his words carefully – lace together something that would make you feel better – but all he can do is take hold of your arm and ask you if you had been hiding those marks the entire time.

He’ll almost sound scary, but his eyes will look so desperate. Lucifer will beg you not to hide your body – not from him. (He’ll even say please.) You don’t have to show anyone else (in fact, he’d prefer if he was the only one), but you have nothing to be embarrassed about around him. He wants to see everything.

He’ll pull out the bedroom eyes and tell you, “I mean it. Let me prove it.”

Mammon

He probably sees your marks because he walks in on you changing. Man does not believe in knocking. You should be grateful to get a visit from the Great Mammon.

He’s almost too embarrassed to notice the burns at first. His brain lags, and then it hits him like – well, like Lucifer when Mammon’s racked up a huge debt on his card again. His eyes widen, and he shuts the door behind him.

“What happened to ya?” he asks frantically, running up to you. However, his tone doesn’t match the gentle touch he has when his hand slides over your marks. Even if you’ve already covered up, he’ll caress you over your clothes. The location of your scars is burned into his mind. The next words leave him in a softer, somber tone, like some wounded child, “when’d ya get hurt?”

In Mammon’s mind, if he can figure out why, how, and when, maybe he can do something to help you. Whether you feel comfortable enough to tell him or not, he won’t press you too much.

He’s hurt that you didn’t let him know sooner – that he only found out now. He’s always clinging to you, so how is that even possible?

“Hey. Is that why yer always covered up?” He noticed that you avoided revealing clothes, but he thought maybe you were like Lucifer. Mammon didn’t want to make you self-conscious about it, so he never brought it up before. When you agree, he feels as if his chest has been stabbed by dozens of long upholstery needles.

With the softest, saddest smile, he tells you, “ya don’t have to hide nothin’ from me, y’know?”

He’d pull you into a hug, and even though he was too shy to manage more than a whisper, he’d say, “listen close. The Great Mammon ain’t a fan of repeatin’ himself, but I think ya look fine. I mean, ya shine more beautifully than any precious metal, my treasure.”

Mammon will probably ask you to show him more of your body when you’re alone. Of course he wants to see more, he’s the avatar of greed, after all.

Leviathan

You can’t convince me that this man won’t try to get you to wear revealing cosplay at some point. Levi’s too embarrassed to ask you to wear something skimpy himself, but if it’s for cosplay, maybe you’d go along with it.

He doesn’t even warn you that it’s revealing as he hands it to you, practically begging you to try it on for him. If you refuse, he won’t hesitate to drop to his knees and grovel. “Please? It’ll be so moe. Please? Pleeeaassse?”

There’s instant regret when he finds out why you were so reluctant – whether you decide to just tell him or change into the clothes and show him. His stomach will drop, and his eyes will widen. He feels terrible for making you reveal that information, possibly far sooner than you wanted to.

His mind will flood with self-criticism, but he knows that this moment isn’t about him, so he pushes his own shame back down. Levi knows what it’s like to feel self-conscious, and he wants to help, but he doesn’t know where to start.

“I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me, but I like how you look. You’re my IRL fav.”

If you let him, he’ll pull you into his tub while in his demon form, wrap his tail around you, and hold you. You can game or watch anime – anything to help you feel better.

Levi doesn’t know how to go about comforting you, and it’s embarrassing for him to tell you how gorgeous he thinks you are, but he’ll try, and he’ll keep asking you to cosplay for him (especially the revealing stuff). If you just want to hang out in his room while wearing revealing clothing, he’s happy with that – even if he gets so horny shy that he feels like he’s going to die.

He’s another one who would prefer it if you only wore revealing clothes around him. If anyone else got to see that much of you, he’d be jealous. A more selfish part of him would also prefer it if he was the only one who knew about your marks. You’re his Henry. You’re his best friend. You don’t need to be that vulnerable with anyone else as long as you have him.

Satan

Satan is likely to find out on accident: a sleeve falling down too far or something kind of ridiculous like getting caught in a downpour while wearing a white shirt.

The rage boils up in the pit of his stomach when he sees your marks, but he isn’t sure who to be mad at because he doesn’t have any of the information. Maybe he’s just mad at the world for having hurt you.

When Satan notices your embarrassment at being caught, he calms himself. He’ll ask if it ever hurts you, and then he’ll ask to touch you. If you agree, his touch will be delicate – as if he expects you to break.

Without much warning, though, he’ll wrap his arms around you. He’ll tell you that it’s okay to be self-conscious. If you’re comfortable, you can show as much or as little skin as you want. He’ll love you all the same. You could swear that you felt a teardrop hit your shoulder as he hugged you, but when he finally pulled away, his eyes were clear.

Satan brings up that he’s heard that cats’ purring could be healing. Maybe you could get a cat to sit on you and purr? In part, he’s using this as an excuse to invite you on a cat café date.

He encourages you to try more revealing clothes around him. When you’re alone, he’ll get clingier. He strikes me as a kiss-the-scars kind of guy.

Asmodeus

Asmo loves to treat you like his little dress-up doll. He’s not blind, and he’s noticed how often you’re covering yourself up. Usually, when he dresses you up, he tries to keep your comfort levels in mind, giving you clothes that would flatter you while still covering parts of your body that you may be trying to hide – whether or not he understands why.

But eventually, Asmo is going to want to push you out of that comfort zone. While you’re out shopping one day, he’ll grab something a bit more revealing (probably a sheer-sleeve shirt) and put it into the pile. You might not even notice until you’re in the changing room.

You’d put off trying it on, modeling every other shirt in the bunch for Asmo. Maybe he would forget the revealing one, but he didn’t. After an approving nod from him on the second-to-last option, Asmo would knowingly add, “one more, gorgeous.”

“Asmo, I can’t wear this,” you’d tell him as you buttoned the shirt up. It was just as you feared: your scars were visible. Asmo sighed; he figured you might be hesitant. “Can I at least come in and see? Pretty please?”

It’s hard to say no to Asmo; you could imagine the pout on his lips. When you unlocked the door, he quickly snuck in. He noticed immediately as he appraised you. A soft, solemn “oh” left his lips. It all made sense now.

The insecurity started to build, but Asmo was quick to squash it. He took your face in his hands and reassured you. “Darling, you look absolutely beautiful.”

Asmo will constantly tell you how lovely, pretty, and cute you are. Yes, that absolutely includes the marks. They don’t take a single bit of beauty away from you. He’s the most gorgeous creature in the Devildom, after all, so he would know.

Asmo is delicate with his approach to encouraging you to wear more revealing clothes, suggesting outfits that show just a bit more and staying aware of your comfort levels. He’ll never push you to wear anything revealing in front of anyone except him if you aren’t comfortable, but he can be a bit pushy about letting him see more of you. He won’t judge, so just trust yourself with him.

He doesn’t really think about how it happened; all he knows is that it makes you feel self-conscious now, and that’s something he can try to do something about.

Will probably try to flirt and tell you that if you ever want to show him everything, he’ll make sure you don’t regret it.

Beelzebub

Beel notices something is off when you show up in sweats to work out with him and never take them off. It’s hot. He’s five seconds away from taking off his shirt. How are you even alive?

“Seriously, you need to change. You’re going to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” you insist. Worried, Beel will insist that you call it a day. He’ll offer to take you out for food once you’re both washed up and changed.

The next time he gets you alone in his room or yours, he brings it up again. He’s nervous and worried, with his hands clasped awkwardly in front of his heart, as he asks why you don’t wear shorts or tank tops – even when you’d probably be more comfortable.

When you tell him (or even show him), Beel’s shoulders slump. It makes sense now. He feels bad – because you were hurt, because he feels like he pressured you to tell him, because you’ve been hiding it the whole time, because you feel bad about your marks.

He doesn’t know what to say. Instead, Beel engulfs you in his arms. His grip is gentle, barely touching you as he asks you if the burn scars hurt. If you’re not in pain, he’ll hold you tighter. He wants to comfort you, but nothing feels like it’ll be enough, so he just holds you quietly for a long time.

Eventually, the only words that hold any weight in his mind escape him in a low tone.

“I love you. I think you’re beautiful.”

After he finds out, Beel goes out of his way to tell you how handsome and beautiful you are more often. He assumed you knew how he felt before, but he doesn’t want to leave any room for doubt now.

Belphegor

I feel like Belphie is the one person who is more likely to discover your marks through touch. He’s very clingy and touchy and a bit of a perv, so I could see him just noticing something about the texture of your skin through your clothes. He’s so used to pressing himself firmly against you, and if you are prone to pain or irritation from that, he’ll notice your reactions, too.

He also strikes me as someone who slips his cold hands into your clothes. Especially if your shirt is tucked in, he has no problem just slipping his hands up your sleeves.

Unfortunately, he won’t consider that he may be bringing up a sensitive topic for you when he almost immediately questions you. (If he’s exhausted, he may wait until after a nap to ask you.) On the bright side, because the others usually bug him about cuddling you, your chances of it happening when you’re alone are pretty high.

Belphie feels bad when you tell him that he touched your scars/burn marks and that you had been trying to keep them covered up because it’s embarrassing – especially if you tell him that you’re worried about how other people look at you. Your shame ignites a fire in him, and he launches into an irritated rant.

“Who gives a fuck about what other people think about how you look? There’s nothing inherently wrong with it, really. Maybe it’s fucked up how it happened. I don’t know, and you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but they’re just marks now. It’s just a part of your body. And I like your body. I liked it before I knew they were there, and my feelings haven’t changed now that I know. You’re still my favorite cuddle buddy.”

He’ll pull you against him and stroke your hair with an indignant blush staining his cheeks.

“If anyone ever makes you feel bad, tell me. You’ll never hear another cruel word from them after that. No one hurts my precious human pillow.” Except for him that one time.

(the dateables + Luke version)

A/N: Hopefully these came out alright. I'm such a sucker for comfort stuff, which is why I took this request even though my requests aren't technically open right now. Can y'all tell who I loved writing for on this prompt the most?

Also, I'm over here wishing September had another day so I could finish the September poll story without rushing it. If it's a day late, I'm sorry! I'll be preoccupied for most of tomorrow, and I have to drive a lot so I can't skip out on sleep tonight. Putting the pro in procrastination. I don't even know what to put on the poll for October, either. My brain is just soup right now. screaming Anyway, I do have something planned for October that hopefully you'll all find enjoyable. Okay, I'm going to shut up now.

#lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #gn!mc #requests #obey me headcanons #obey me demon brothers #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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