MDNI, NSFW, 18+ Smut AFAB!Fem reader x boyfriend Hotch
cw: Hard dom! hotch | Mentions of drinking | p in a (anal..) | degradation and all that jazz :)
Not proofread. Blurb ❗️ Masterlist Reqs open
The two of you are still on his couch when the conversation takes the turn you never expected.
It started soft, his low voice weaving through the air between you as he poured the last of the bourbon into his glass, the amber liquid catching the lamplight. You were leaning against him, your head on his shoulder, the familiar weight of his arm draped over you as the tension from your earlier disagreement slowly melted away.
But then he brought it up.
“Anal,” Aaron said suddenly, like he was testing the word out loud, his eyes locked on you over the rim of his glass. “You wouldn’t be opposed.”
Your cheeks warmed immediately. “I… yeah. I said that.”
He set the glass down, the faint clink against the coffee table loud in the quiet room. When he looked back at you, his dark eyes had sharpened, something new flickering there.
“Have you wanted that for a while?” he asked, voice low enough to make you shiver.
You opened your mouth, then closed it again. “I… maybe,” you admitted softly.
The corner of his mouth curved slightly, but it wasn’t a smile. “Or did you keep it to yourself because you thought I’d find it… what? Slutty?” He leaned in close, his breath brushing your ear. “That it would make you look bad?”
Your pulse jumped. “I didn’t think you’d—”
“Stop.” His tone cut through yours easily, smooth but commanding. “Don’t lie to me.”
You froze under his gaze, heat pooling low in your belly when he murmured, “I think you’ve wanted it. And I think you were too shy to ask.”
Minutes later, you’re on his bed, face down, the cool air of the apartment skimming over your bare skin as he drags your panties down slowly, deliberately, like he’s savoring the sight of you bent over for him.
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, running his hand over the curve of your ass. His palm lingers, firm and warm. “You have no idea what that does to me.”
Your breath hitches when you feel him spread you slightly, his thumb teasing near the tight ring of muscle in a way that makes your whole body tense.
“Relax,” he orders softly, his voice dark with promise. “We’re going to take it slow. You trust me, don’t you?”
“Yes,” you breathe.
“and you are okay with this?”
“yes”
“Good.”
He slicks his fingers with lube before pressing one in slowly, circling first, then sliding inside with maddening control. “There you go,” he murmurs when you whimper, letting you adjust before adding another. “You need to be open for me first. Want you ready to take my cock, not running from it.”
By the time he’s satisfied, your thighs are trembling, and his voice has gone rough with restraint.
“God, look at you,” Aaron growls softly as he lines himself up, one hand steadying your hip, the other spreading you wider. “So fucking tight. Gonna feel every inch of me, aren’t you?”
The first push is slow, deliberate, making your breath catch hard into the pillow.
“That’s it,” he grits out, leaning forward, his chest pressed to your back as he keeps sliding in. “Taking me so well. My perfect little slut letting me fuck her ass.”
You whimper at the stretch, and he smirks against your ear. “Didn’t think I’d do it, did you? Thought you could say it and I’d ignore it? No, sweetheart. You ask for it, you get it.”
When he starts to move, the thrusts are shallow at first, testing what you can take. But each one gets firmer, his voice a low rasp near your ear. His pace increasing just enough to make you gasp. “You like that? Like me using you like this?”
“Yes,” you pant, your voice breaking when his fingers slide between your legs, circling your clit expertly even as he fucks into you harder.
“That’s right,” he growls, his control slipping as his hips start to snap forward, filling you completely each time. “Such a dirty girl, letting me ruin you like this. Gonna come with my cock in your ass, aren’t you?”
You shake your head desperately, but your body betrays you, already clenching as the pleasure spikes.
“Yeah, you are,” he grits out, fucking you harder now, his thrusts deep and brutal as you come hard around him, crying out his name into the sheets.
“That’s it,” Aaron groans, his grip bruising on your hips. “Come on me like that. God, you’re so tight I can barely—fuck—”
His thrusts turn rougher, sharper, until he growls low into your neck, emptying himself inside you with a shudder that sends you collapsing boneless against the bed.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room is heavy breathing. Then his big hand smooths over your back, the other squeezing your hip gently as he leans in close, his voice warm and low again.
“You did so good for me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Next time, you’re telling me what else you’ve been hiding, sweetheart. All of it.”
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can I pleaseeee request telemachus x reader smut fanfic in which they have like sort of a secret relationship but are also such HORNDOGS that they start doing it literally anywhere so one day the guards are busy not doing their jobs and they just end up having sex on the hallway outside of penelope's locked room pls pls pls 😭😭😭
Sleeping “Cows”
A/N: Hi! Thanks for the message! Sorry for the other requests I haven’t done I know it’s been MONTHS but damn bro this life is gonna kill me one day 😂💔 This is the first smut I’ve ever written—enjoy!
PAIRING: Telemachus x FEM! reader
SUMMARY: You both do the deed on Penelope’s door to test if she’s awake.
TW: smut, descriptive
How someone could fall asleep standing up was a mystery for.. always.
On this lovely evening, you were tangled in bed with the one and only Prince Telemachus. Your lip was swollen from biting back your moans right now and 2 hours ago.
Was Telemachus ‘horny’ today!
At the royal gardens, he kissed you for no particular reason. And now, he pushed you onto the bed and recreated what happened earlier. Something that was noticeable in all of your sessions was the secret of it. The cracks the willow tree formed let in bright sun and shelter, something you found yourself used to. Awkwardly used to. The effort of holding back screams was automatic now. So automatic your lip was constantly red.
But why?
For starters, Telemachus is of royalty, and you’re just one of Penelope’s ‘old’ friends. She only let you shelter in Ithaca due to the war you managed to escape back in Troy. The thought of it made you drift to sleep, along with the soothing words Telemachus gave you. Incoherent, of course, but still sweet.
You woke up from the sun Greece offered, eyes shining in exhaustion and hidden pleasure. The aching headache was as hard to ignore. Telemachus seemed asleep- you were not to bother him. It seemed early, as if the sun had just risen minutes ago. It shone through the crack of the thick, velvet curtains. Your legs ached unbelievably. You crawled over to your clothes and used the last remains of strengths in your body to get the garments on. Then, you used Telemachus’ desk to rise up and stroll out.
Nobody ever saw you walking out Telemachus’ room- not even a maid or a guard. You suppose that over the years you have learnt to walk with the shadows.
Hours later
“Do you think Penelope will come out?” Your voice came out gentle and genuine, as Telemachus’ came out defensive. “Not if the guards aren’t doing their work.” He gestured to the ‘working’ protectors of Penelope. Their eyes were shut even if their legs remained awake, a fairly amusing sight. “How can someone sleep like that? Like cows?” Telemachus uttered, almost spat in disgust. Of course, you had pity for the guards—yet something about his anger clicked you on. Of course, it was rare that he ever raised his voice around you, but when it did happen—it was unnecessarily attractive.
Though his anger was never louder than the Grand Hall, never.
“Is she awake? I hope the suitors don’t wake her.” “Don’t worry, Y/N. She’ll be fine.” “Are you sure?” Telemachus seemed irritated now, with his brow furrowed and a scowl plying on his lips. “Yes, I’m sure. Want me to prove it to you?”
“Prove what? That she’s asleep?” “Yes!” ‘Yes’? What did that mean? How was he going to prove it? Your curiosity burst, and you gave in. When he gripped your wrist and pinned you against the door was when you realized. You couldn’t help but a smirk play on your lips. In the process of so, a blush crawled up your neck and sprawled to your cheeks. You raised up just enough of your tunic for him. “Be quiet, Y/N.” He ordered automatically.
And with that, he thrust into you hungrily. Your faint whimpers drove him crazy, motivating him to go inch by inch. Telemachus couldn’t help but let out a groan as well. It all felt too good—the way you fit perfectly and the way your body was so responsive against his. When he felt you clench around him, his grip slid down from your waist to your hips. Another of his hand raised your thigh. The angle caused Telemachus to survive off of ragged breaths and heartbeats too fast.
“T-Too deep..” Your brain was mushed. He thrust so greedily that you saw stars and fumbled on your thoughts. It was all too familiar, but it always felt as if every time it felt better. Was that possible? It didn’t matter, all that mattered was the rhythm he rubbed your clit. He swirled you with experience. His thumb went up and down faster every time you let out even the slightest of sounds.
The air smelled of spit and sluggish, unclear tension between you two. It swirled over to your flushed cheeks to your lower waist. The roars of the suitors covered your moans in layers.
His other hand flew up to your chin, pushing in two fingers into your mouth. You sucked like a starved one, tongue slipping between two. He would’ve laughed at your obedience if it weren’t for the given circumstances. At this point, it felt as if he was just hungry for you and not trying to prove whatever he wanted. Telemachus lived for when you tightened on him like this. It felt like heaven.
Goosebumps trailed down your back as he moaned against the crook of your neck, only causing you to bite down at his fingers harder. Without warning, he bit down at your beauty bone. Wet kisses trailed down. Wet, sloppy ones. Your eyes rolled back and you bit your lip. You felt as if Telemachus was insatiable! He always tried to get into these ephemeral situations.
Finally, your thighs quivered and release fell over you. Galvanized, you gripped onto his shoulder as he himself made you both come at the same time. Your jaw fell loose, his fingers sliding out with a sloppy groan. Even after your shoulders heaved up and down and hair strands stuck to his face, he refused to pull out and let it drip over.
He glanced over to the door. “See? She’s asleep.” So admiring when his voice was raspy. In between the sentence, he pulled out. Telemachus observed all of it leak out with a satisfied grin on his face. It looked almost—triumphant?
Warnings: Language, yandere vibes, manipulation, putting reader in danger
Tags: Hurt/comfort, dangerous situations, fluff, tension tension tension, pre relationship, catching david off guard (for once), gender neutral reader, no use of y/n, short read
A/N: OHOHO anon you're in for a treat cause I saw this post and had thoughts. It may not be the kind of hug you're hoping for, but it's the kind of hug you need. Kinda short but packed with vibes. Enjoy!
I saw that your requests are open and I tried to think up a fun idea. I really loved your Damian fic from early :]
Could you possibly do a fluff fic for Damian x fashionista!reader? Cause Damian mostly does 2D art and he’s planning to be a doctor, so I think the dynamic would be fun (I’m planning to go into fashion or costume design after I finish high school, I really love clothes and try to be sustainable cause I’m a goth-punk)
YESSSSS.(heads up, this might be very ass)
Damian Wayne x Fashion!Reader
Summery: Just a short story about how i imagine Damian would act with someone who's into fashion.
6 am, in the morning. An hour before you had to get up for school, your phone was vibrating on your nightstand.
You get out of bed and shiver, you picked up your phone ignoring the contact info. “Hello?”
“Habibat. Im glad to hear you alive.” It was Damian
“I’m also glad…?” You pause for a moment, still not fully out of your sleepy daze and slightly confused.
“What do you want.” You fill in the silence.
“I wanted to know if you were going to class today.”
“Yes, Damian, I am going to class today.” You say annoyed
He already knew your whole schedule from top to bottom. So why was he asking now?
“Very well beloved. If it’s alright with you, may I pick you up after your done with your classes?”
“Yeah, Yeah.” You mumble back, and hang the phone up.
You wince a bit after you did that because you didn’t even let him respond back but you’re sure he’ll be alright.
You dragged yourself back to bed and plopped down, falling back to sleep. Just like you knew, your phone was playing your alarm. “Great” you mumble to yourself and grab clothes from your closet and walked to the bathroom.
Once you were done getting ready you grabbed your backpack and your fabrics and started walking to school. When you got there you had to help out with the school play, SpongeBob The Musical.
You were working on Patty’s outfit which took up half of the school day, which was just great! Totally not like you had a bunch of test coming up that you had to worry about.
When the school day was over you remembered you still had to study for taking measurements on people since it was your weakness. You saw Damians car pull up and smile spreaded on your face. You jumped into the front seat of his car and buckled yourself in.
“Hello, Beloved” He was still in his outfit that he wears when he volunteers at hospitals. You could say it wasn’t a bad look but why would you fill his ego.
“Hi love. I have a slight request, and that’s only to take your measurements!” You quickly add on. The last time you tried to make Damian an outfit or do anything you might have pricked him more than a few times.
He raised an eye and looked like he was waiting for the punchline of the joke but once you didn’t add on he started driving and let out a quiet sigh. “Fine.”
Once you get to his place and sat down your keys, you got to work making sure he didn’t move, you did pinch him once or… twice.
“Are you done, Habibat? I also have something to study for” His face was staring very intensely at wall not wanting to disturb you too much and just wanting to get this over with.
You took a Quick Look back at your notebook and replied with “Yeah!”
“I’ll be back.” He gives you a soft kiss on your head and walks to the bathroom.
‘Finally,’ you thought to yourself as you plopped down on the couch and turned on your favorite show while sketching some new outfit ideas. Damian came back in his old shirt he left here and some sweatpants his hair was still a little damp.
He sat down ext to you wrapping an arm around you while pulling out his tablet to review what he took notes on today.
This is what you enjoyed with you and Damian, the comfortable quiet between you sketching and the hum of the show, occasionally looking up to see what’s happening and Damian, who’s eyes are locked on his tablet, and would look over at you sometimes.
A number generator. A random number generator. That sends out a random number. A number. From one. To infinity. But that description wouldn't be correct, as this utter
mockery of the universe's laws can only spit out finite
numbers. How many finite numbers? All of them. This
monstrosity of a metal box can only be used once. It has
never been used.
The sheer idea of this horrifying beast completely and
utterly baffles me. The year is 2088. We have solved the
Riemann Hypothesis. We have three odd perfect numbers.
There are three numbers that don't succumb to the
"unavoidable" 4-2-1 chain when faced with the Collatz
Conjecture. They were the same. Three. Numbers. All of these monumental discoveries, few of many. Discovered by the most intelligent mathematician that ever lived. Me.
And despite my mental prowess, the sheer idea of this.
Thing. Eludes me. This kind of machine shouldn't even be
possible. Not only does it break the laws of mathematics,
it breaks the laws of physics. And yet it sits in my hands.
My feeble, significantly intelligent, yet mortal hands.
I am holding the heart of a god. The skull of the devil.
The core of the universe. The Big Bang. The Theory of
Everything. And it feels. Like a dense, rusty metal cube.
What would the number spit out even be? The chance of any
number at all would be that number out of. Infinity?
So all and every single number would have an absolute zero
chance to be chosen. Yet a number must be chosen. A number will be chosen by this unfathomable entity. Despite every singular rule from every singular law of the universe
screaming and begging at the top of its brobdingnagian
unfathomable ethereal cosmic lungs.
I take what is likely the most quenching breath of all of
humanity. I slowly position my index finger on the obnoxious
rectangular shaped button. "GENERATE". It's red. The warning signal of nature. Not the warning signal of the universe, as the universe heeds no warning, the universe is what's heeded. I squeeze my eyes shut as tight as possible, hope for the best, and press down. I slowly, but surely, open my eyes. Would the feeble, unworthy human eye even be able to comprehend the sheer scale and impossibility of the outcome?
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note: this was written a while ago, i’m trying to clear out my drafts. i have over 100 drafts to edit and publish, you’ll see some fandoms i haven’t written for before and some i have, it’ll be a surprise each time.
proofread?: yes, but still could be errors
pairing: Sylus x reader
first ever public Sylus fic, so hope it’s good!
“Sylus! Come on, give it back!” I said, standing on my tippy-toes, trying to grab my book from him.
“Ah, ah. Stay right there.” He said, before handcuffing me with his Evol. “Much better. Now, let’s read this together shall we?”
He cleared his throat and scanned the book for something a little more juicy to read. “Ah.. Here we are.”
‘I was caught again on my fourth try, whilst sneaking into Sylus’ room. I noticed him showering, I wanted to open the door a crack to see a little more than what the fogged up glass was showing me.
I held back the want and tried to to look for my brooch. I later realized, it was on Sylus himself and tried to get it. The first time was a flop, the second time he was asleep and I handcuffed him with the handcuffs the twins gave me, but those handcuffs didn’t help.
I still managed to get the brooch, but in the process Sylus, pushed me down into the bed, and held my arms down. I made it out of there with the brooch, but what I would give to have him pin me down again..’
“My, my… Kitten.. I didn’t take you for a needy one.” He smirked, as he slowly closed the book.
“Happy now? You’ve invaded my very private notes. Proud of yourself?”
“When you’re under my roof, there are no secrets.”
“And when did I sign up for this?”
“When you started talking to the leader of Onychinus.” He said, a smug and sly grin crept up and only enhanced his already, extremely handsome, features.
I sighed deeply, letting my head fall against his silk satin pillows, and he? Only a laugh fell from his perfectly sculpted lips.
“You know, I don’t mind you like this.”
“And Mephisto is a dog.” I said, with a dry laugh, as tying to get him to look at my bound wrists. Refusing to believe he actually liked, looking at me, in my current predicament. “Come on, untie me.”
He didn’t seem to hear me, his eyes busing themselves, with examining every inch of me. If his eyes had cameras imbedded in them, he’d be taking so many pictures of me in this very moment. “Sylus?”
He finally heard me, and looked me in the eye.
Leaning in, faces just inches away from each others.
My breath caught in my throat.
“I could untie you, but where’s the fun in that, sweetie?” He moves his head and moves closer to my ear, and a hand gripping on my wrist. “And besides, you did want to stay awhile.. didn’t you, ___?”
I finally let out and suck in a breath of fresh air after holding it, for what felt like eons. “I.. uh..”
“Look at that.. the kitten in my bed is a finally at a loss of words.” He said, and I still couldn’t formulate a proper sentence. “Crow got your tongue?”
Caw!
He laughs, the mechanical crow only further proving his point.
“If you wish to leave, say the word.”
“I…” I started and gulped.
“I don’t want to leave..”
“I’m glad you want to stay with me, sweetie.” He says and gets off the bed, slowly undoing the tie that was attached to his robe.
I moved my legs around on his bed sheets.
This action didn’t go unnoticed by him. Nothing seemed to escape his attention, only when he pretended to not see it.
But he wasn’t going to let it slide this time.
“Relax, kitten. Good things come to those who wait.” He replied, letting his robe fall to the floor.
He wasn’t a godly man, but every time you fucked he’d shout out “oh god” enough just to send up his own little prayer, the feeling of you under him as he rutted into you feeling borderline evangelical, tears pooling from his eyes as he thanked who ever had sent your body to him.
He wasn’t a lucky man, either but you certainly had him fooled. You managed to carve out a better man, one that truly loved you through and through. But now; as his own hand didn’t feel as good as you he questioned whether he showed you that enough.
He used to spend whole evenings watching the movement of your mouth, he’d take it all in and thank god that he did because the memory was all he was left with now. His thoughts were trapped inside for another night, as his junkie fingers scroll him back to another life, the tobacco cigarette stinging his fingers as he lets it burn, his eyes burning holes through pictures of you and him.
Fuck, he missed you all of the time. He couldn’t accept that it’s over, letting the air run out. All of those pictures of you and him, plastered on the hallways of his mind, but now that it’s over. He let the air run out.
He’s just a crooked man, he found god in sin. He’d dig up the past again, just to watch you dancing within like that time you both stayed over Christmas, enjoying tunes over the gramophone.
He’s missing the Call Lane and your cigarette stains, all the poetry in his hands that he never read. As he was outrageously dreaming of you both reconvening and you leading him back to bed.
He still wakes up with things to tell you, and he’d dream of you no matter who he was sleeping next to. Good god, he resents you for leaving but he can’t pretend he doesn’t need you. Please, indulge in this sin with him; he needs your delicate fingers trading his hairline again.
Just once again.
He’s not a godly man, but every time you fucked.
He dragged himself to your dorm, relatively hitting the door, tears running down his face as his knuckles bruised against the wood. You opened the door to him, and furrowed your brows as he collapsed onto his knees, begging to you reconsider him, praying like you were a saint able to revert his sins. “Please, I need you back. I need you so bad.” “Marcus,” “I don’t think I can live without you. I’ve read all the poems, I’ve smoked all the cigs,” he begged “I’m seeing someone else-” “I know, I know. But I’m in love with you.” He said through gasped breaths, as choked sobs escaped his lips.
You chewed on your lip for a moment before pushing the door open, allowing him in as he collapsed into your arms with a bear hug.
