#(to just silently think about when he took that side street to get away from enforcers as a kid etc) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starsforxavi · 1 month ago

Text

half a heart

·······•✦ description: In which; you asked zayne to accompany you to a work party, but after he got tipsy and letting you lead him back to your apartment, some feelings came bubbling up to the surface.

·······•✦ pairing: virgin!zayne x afab!reader ·······•✦ word count: 10.7k ·······•✦ genre: smut, porn with plot, fluff ·······•✦ general tags: Loss of Virginity, Virginity, Cowgirl Position, Drunken Confessions, Slight spoilers for Zayne's lore, Fluff, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Condoms, safe sex, Nipple Play, Teasing, Jealousy, Marking, Penis In Vagina Sex, Vaginal Sex, Grinding, Fluffy Ending, Aftercare, Naked Cuddling, First Time, Virgin!Zayne, Reader-Insert, Awkward First Times

·······•✦ posted on: ao3

Footsteps echoed on the pavement as two pairs of feet walked to the office. A light breeze brushed past, goosebumps rising on both pairs of arms. A shiver couldn’t help but cause you to shake, which didn’t get past the calm man walking beside you. His eyes shifted, noticing the goosebumps, and he silently took off his coat.

“Here,” Zayne murmured, draping the coat around your shoulders. Although he felt his own skin pebbling with the bumps, he ignored it. The cold never really bothered him, and all he wanted to do was warm you up. His hand brushed your shoulder as his arm fell to his side. The dress shoes he picked out specifically for the event clicked on the pavement, his tailored slacks covering his ankles from the chilly breeze of the evening air.

Though he didn’t let it show, his heart rate spiked when you invited him to the annual Hunter’s office party. He wondered if you had been asked by anyone else or if you specifically sought him out. There were many options for you to pick to ask to accompany you, yet you chose him …

You said it was just so you weren’t one of the few without a date, but your brain said otherwise. It was partly for that reason, but you couldn’t deny the small smile on your lips when he agreed. Even a small part of you hoped no one else asked him, or if they did, he didn’t accept their offer… Maybe he waited for you to ask him…

“Thank you.” You grinned, curling the coat around yourself. It was warm and smelled just like his cologne. The lights of the office came into view, and you noticed the way Zayne’s hand brushed against your own. As you looked up at him, you noticed a slight blush on his cheeks from the cold air. “I’m glad you agreed to come with me. I don’t know what I would do if I showed up and I was the only one without a date.”

A soft breath left Zayne’s nose, a hint of a smile appearing as he met your eyes. Thoughts drifted in his head, and there was one thing he couldn’t stop pondering over…

“Did you think about asking anyone else?” Curiosity laced into his tone, gaze flicking to you for just a second to gauge your reaction. Your pace didn’t change, shaking your head when you thought back to it. There was no hesitation; you were only thinking about asking Zayne.

“No.” The answer was simple, but you wanted to elaborate. “If you had declined the offer, I probably would have gone alone.”

His steps slowed, eyebrows twitching. The muscles in his back tensed as he heard your words, but he immediately straightened up and cleared his throat. He couldn’t help the smirk that formed, looking away from you towards the street. Once he maintained his composure, he looked over at you.

“You probably had men ready to accept your offer… But you would have gone alone if I said no?” He couldn’t help it; he knew people had their eyes on you, and he wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t bother him.

“Well—” As you tried to speak, you heard yells from the office doors, some of your friends yelling and cheering. The sound of their cheers turned Zayne’s ears pink, his gaze looking down, but his face remained stoic.

“Look who finally showed up!” Tara yelled, pulling you into a hug. You exchanged a short look, knowing she had talked to you about asking Zayne to go to the party. Her eyebrows wiggled, and you shook your head, her loud laughter echoing in the parking lot.

“Sorry, sorry. I was taking so long deciding what to wear.” You laughed, walking a step back to be beside Zayne once more. The smell of your perfume surrounded him, and he relaxed a bit, shaking hands with your coworkers. They all knew Zayne. Of course, they did… He did drop by sometimes to give you lunch or a ride home from work if he was off. A few had even asked if he was your boyfriend, to which you denied it, your heart speeding up at the thought.

Tara led you inside, the music pumping through the air. In the cafeteria, tables were pushed to the edges of the room, leaving the middle empty for dancing. The atmosphere was light, yet you noticed some people getting calls on their phones, missions not stopping even in the midst of a party.

“You have to try this drink!” Yvonne screamed over the music, handing you a blue liquid in a cup. With a whiff, you winced, already smelling the pungent odor of alcohol.

You took a small sip, eyes locking with Zayne’s over the edge of the cup. A warning gaze met yours when you swallowed, your nose scrunching and your head shaking. With a disgusted expression, you heard Zayne chuckle. He watched you carefully take another drink, needing a buzz to give you a boost of confidence.

“Careful.” He said in a soft voice, stepping closer to you so he could talk over the music. “I’ll carry you home if I need to, but I really don’t want that to happen.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.” You assured him. It was all Zayne wanted to hear that you’ll be okay. Holding out the cup to him, you smiled sweetly, trying to tempt him. “You should try this, though. Once you get past the taste of the alcohol, it isn’t that bad.”

There it was. The look . He couldn’t resist you with that look. You knew that, and he knew that. So he reached out, his fingers brushing yours. Tilting the cup to his lips, he raised an eyebrow, silently giving you a cheers.

The alcohol didn’t affect him as much as your eyes burning into his skin. He tried to chalk it up to the slight buzz, the way your pupils dilated and unblinking. Even though it hadn’t been but a second since he took a drink, it had to be the buzz… At least, that’s what he convinced himself it was… Your eyes mesmerized him, distracting every thought that tried to pass through his head. Next to you, Tara asked a question, but he didn’t hear it.

Though he didn’t mean to, Zayne found himself finishing the cup. It wasn’t often that he indulged in alcohol, especially not the mixed drink in his cup, but the only way to get away from your eyes meant looking at the bottom of that cup. It didn’t phase him in the slightest, the liquid courage effortlessly sliding down his throat.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Setting the cup down on the table, he raised an eyebrow towards Tara, a light pink hue on his cheeks. You smirked at him, noticing the way he refilled his cup. He took another small sip of the sweet drink; eyes now focused on Tara to hear exactly what was said.

“I asked if you coordinated your outfits. You guys look so good together!” Tara pointed to the matching colors of Zayne’s tie and your outfit. Heat flickered across his cheeks as he took another drink, ignoring the way the alcohol had already raced through his system.

The air around you was tense, your eyes flicking across Zayne’s outfit and finally noticing the coordination. He did ask you what color your outfit was going to be… So, he really picked out a matching tie? A fluttering in your stomach made you clear your throat, bumping shoulders with Tara as you watched Zayne finish his second drink.

Okay, I’m finished. Zayne’s thoughts raced as he set the drink down, his lips quirking up slightly as he noticed your gaze flicker from his tie to your outfit. Of course, he did it on purpose, wanting everyone at the party to know he was your date. He felt the eyes on him as he walked in with you, and people recognized him from the hospital. Everything in him wanted to show you off, even if he wasn’t officially yours; he needed everyone to see he was with you.

“Oh, he asked what color my outfit was going to be. Probably so he didn’t lose me in the crowd.” Shuffling on your feet, your voice raised due to the music, making sure that both Tara and Zayne heard you. It was hard to figure out Zayne’s intentions, and you could only assume it was just him tagging along as a friendly date. Even though you hoped for more…

“ Please ,” Tara whispered into your ear, leaning close. You watched Zayne’s eyes travel between you two. “He’s been giving you the fuck me eyes since we walked in here.”

With a laugh, you landed a light smack on her shoulder. You shook your head, stopping yourself from looking Zayne in the eye. It hadn’t been long since you got there, the songs changing about 10 times overhead as you stood and talked. It felt like an eternity; however, the slight glint in his eyes shone bright as he looked at the bottom of his cup.

Zayne held his cup, looking down and debating whether or not he should get another. It’s not like either of you drove here, and his heart couldn’t help but beat faster as he watched the lights dance off your features. His memory was exceptional, still remembering exact phrases from medical school textbooks, and nothing could erase the sight of you standing there, lights flickering and shining in your eyes, out of his brain. If he could choose one moment to relive before he died, that would be it.

Before you could shut Tara down, telling her that you had only asked him as a friend and that you chickened out and took the easy route, you were interrupted by one of your coworkers coming up to you. His eyes traveled between you both, and Zayne’s jaw clenched. It wasn’t until he extended a hand to Tara, his voice softly asking to dance, that Zayne relaxed a moment.

As Tara looked at you, she winked, walking away with the male. Her laughter echoed as a soft song played, her hands wrapping around the man’s shoulders.

Zayne moved closer to you, leaning over to grab another drink. This one wouldn’t be downed in one shot, he told himself that. As he leaned, his shoulder brushed yours. A shiver ran through him; his face flushed as he noticed just how close you were. All he had to do was lean down and-

“Be careful,” Your voice cut off his thoughts, eyes drifting to the cup in his hand. “I don’t want to have to carry you home.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t. I can handle alcohol.” A chuckle rumbled through his chest as he stepped back, his attention focused on you. Taking a small sip, he held his cup up. It was true; he could hold his alcohol well. His balance and posture remained steady when he drank; however, his words, more often than not, betrayed him.

You raised an eyebrow at him, pointing towards Tara and the man she was dancing with. Grabbing Zayne by the sleeve, you pulled him closer, turning him around to watch. Their moves were awkward, with Tara stepping on his shoes and him holding her waist a little too tightly.

“They look like they’re having fun.” Sarcasm laced your voice, a small laugh puffing out from your lips as your hand drops from Zayne’s sleeve. As he looked over to them, he stifled a laugh, finding their awkwardness kind of endearing.

Then, all at once, he realized how close he was to you. His arm brushed against yours, the hand that held his cup tightening slightly. Your perfume surrounded him, and he felt drunk both on the alcohol and his proximity to you. To avoid making his flush even darker, he stuffed his hand into his pocket.

“I think it’s endearing,” Zayne commented, watching them gently sway with the music. Her cheeks were red, hands resting on his shoulders. “I’m sure you’re no better.”

With a laugh, you looked over to him, raising an eyebrow. Just as you were about to challenge him, you heard someone clear their throat. A man walked in front of you, a crisp black vest over a plain blue collared shirt. He looked handsome, his curly brown hair falling just in front of his eyes. Glasses framed his blue eyes as he gave you a sheepish look. If he was also a Hunter, you didn’t recognize him. When your eyes fell on him, he cleared his throat again, his eyes meeting yours momentarily.

“Oh, hi, I’m Alex.” His voice was soft, words stuttering in random places. “I just started here and noticed how pretty you are.” Another cough and he held out a hand for you. “I was wondering if you wanted to dance?”

Zayne’s jaw clenched. Everything in him wanted to intervene, tell the man that he was your date, and if you were to dance with anyone, it would be him . However, he didn’t push it, eyes flickering between you and the man. He didn’t want to force you to stay by his side, and if you wished to go with someone else, you could. Besides, you were just here as friends .

“Oh,” You looked over at Zayne, seeing his jaw clenched slightly. Part of you hoped he would cut in, but another part knew you were just here as friends. With a gentle smile, you looked at Alex, “I’m sorry, but I’m good. I’m already here with someone.”

When you gestured over to Zayne, you watched in amusement as Alex’s eyes traveled over, widening as he took in your date’s calm but mysterious demeanor. Having many articles and interviews in the city paper definitely paid off, a flicker of recognition passing across the man’s features. With a stuttering excuse that you didn’t quite catch, he walked away, his ears a bright red.

“Am I really that scary?” Zayne’s voice was soft in your ear, his cologne surrounding you as he stepped closer. The music overhead drowned out a lot of voices, the soft tones pulsing against your ear drums. Even though you left Zayne’s coat at the door, it was like you were enveloped in the fabric all over again. Is this what it would feel like to be wrapped in his arms?

“No,” Chuckling, you watched him take a sip of his drink, the tips of his ears red from the alcohol. “At least, I don’t think you’re scary…”

His eyes scanned the crowd, watching the men meander around and confront some of the women still standing along the walls. Sure, you were also standing there, admiring the people dancing… But you were standing next to him … Why would they come up to you?

It took him a moment to come back to reality, his gaze falling back on you. That was all that mattered. People could be intimidated by him or scared of his naturally stoic expression, but as long as you weren’t… Nothing else mattered.

“Good,” Zayne said, setting his cup on the table behind him. As the song came to an end, Tara and her partner stood on the dance floor. After a few moments, they walked deeper into the room, closer to the speakers.

A more upbeat song came on, and you smiled at Zayne, focused on the way his eyes darted over your features. With a gentle smile, he nodded, the alcohol affecting him in more ways than one.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” After a small nod, he walked away, weaving through the dancing people. It was somewhat awkward trying to get past people doing everything but grinding against each other.

While he was away, you turned to the table, taking in the beautiful decorations. As a celebration of all the hard work over the last year, the Association decided to throw the party. It was amazing, the small snowflakes hanging from the ceiling and icy white projections making it seem like you were outside in the middle of winter. After all, it was the end of the year, and the cold was already beginning to set in. A subtle shiver ran through you, thinking back to Zayne’s cologne wrapped around you along with the warmth of his coat.

“Excuse me?” A male’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, the face of a man you barely recognized filling your vision. He was very close, his cologne filling your senses. It wasn’t bad, just strong and distinctly not Zayne …

“Oh, hi?” Giving him a small smile, you stepped back against the table. Just a little bit of space…

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” He chuckled, one of his hands behind his back while the other was pushed into the pocket of his slacks. It seemed he decided just to dress business casual and while he didn’t look bad, you couldn’t help but compare him to the beautiful outfit Zayne came in. Your thoughts always drifted back to him… “We work an office away from each other, Stephen?”

“Yeah, Stephen!” Nope, no recollection. A laugh with no intent behind it left your lips, your eyes drifting around the room to find Zayne. He wasn’t there to scare the guy away…

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to dance with me?” Stephen asked, his ears bright red as the song changed to one that was much slower.

The thought of dancing to that song with him was unappealing. Your heart raced as your mouth fell open. Stuttered half-words fell from your lips as you looked around. You did not want to hurt his feelings, but you did not want to dance with anyone but Zayne.

Your attempt at a rejection was cut off by someone standing in front of you, his back nearly pressed to your front. Zayne’s cologne overwhelmed you, and you smiled, looking from around his shoulder as Stephen took in Zayne’s appearance. Far too handsome for an event like this…

“Actually, they already have a date, and we’ll be dancing now.” Zayne’s icy voice cut through the music, his tone polite but curt. With a nod, Stephen left almost as quickly as he appeared, his cheeks now matching in tone with his ears.

A short laugh fell from your lips as Zayne turned around, the tips of his ears red, and his eyes focused on yours. While it was most likely the effect of the alcohol in his system, you couldn’t help the shy smile; your eyes drifted to the ground. The way he looked at you was so intense as if he was committing every detail to memory.

“Thank you for coming to save me.” With a smile, you let out a relieved, breathy laugh, your heart returning back to normal as Zayne looked at you.

“Well?” His voice was soft, the song wrapping around him and causing his already tipsy mind to go to other places. He held out his hand to you, head bowing and eyes meeting yours through his eyelashes. “I thought we were going to dance?”

Oh… He actually wanted to dance? With a small nod, you took his hand, his warm and clammy palm enveloping yours in a gentle hold. It must have been from the tipsy whirlwind going on in his mind… It must have … The calm doctor becoming entrapped in your eyes. You had never known Zayne as one for such intense eye contact, nor did you remember his gaze traveling over your body as it did.

As he led you out onto the dance floor, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. Electricity tickled your nerve endings as he stopped, the hand that wasn’t holding yours moving to your hip to pull you just a little closer. Even though the winter air settled outside, there was a warmth that grew between you.

“Is this okay?” Zayne’s voice was gentle, much like the way he held your hip. You were far enough away that you could push him off if you wanted to. Of course, you didn’t want to… As you tried to speak, your voice was lost in your throat, and the close proximity was nothing new; he had been close while listening to your heart and whatnot. But his eyes and his touch were different, and they made you feel like you were the one drinking.

“Yeah!” You spit it out as Zayne began to pull away from you, taking your silence as rejection. After clearing your throat, you rested your hand on his shoulder, stepping closer. “Yes, it’s okay.”

Under the icy white lights, Zayne looked at you, and instead of shivering, he was warm inside. For as long as he could remember, you made your home in his heart, and having you close, his fingers brushing your lower back, caused his already tipsy state to dive off the deep end.

“You look beautiful tonight,” He murmured, making sure the words were for you and only you. Taking a step left, then right, then back, you let Zayne lead you. The song was very slow, almost one that would be played at a wedding. Zayne couldn’t help the drifting thoughts spurred on by the alcohol… Is this what you would look like if you got married to him?

“Thank you,” The words were whispered in the air, your feet brushing against each other as you danced to the music. It was like everyone else disappeared, and you focused solely on the man in front of you. His eyes drifted across your face, a gentle smile gracing his lips. If Zayne were anything, it was truthful, sometimes to his detriment, but he would never lie about how he found you stunning, talented, amazing…

“Of course.” His cheeks were bright red, and you were pushed into silence. Your eyes locked onto his as you stepped to the music. The song seemed to stretch into eternity, and you lost yourself in Zayne’s eyes as you danced.

As the song drifted to a close, you stepped away from Zayne. He couldn’t help but stand still, his hand still resting on your hip. When you stepped away, his hands fell to his side, his cheeks a bright red. Whether it was from the alcohol or the proximity of your body, he didn’t know; perhaps it was both.

An upbeat song began to play through the room, and you chuckled, looking around at the table where you had previously stood. With a jerk of your head, a smile graced your lips. “I’m not a good dancer when it comes to these songs. Let’s go.” “Agreed,” He hiccuped, following you back to the table. Somewhere along the way, the alcohol caught up to him, his vision blurring slightly as he leaned against the wall. It was slightly embarrassing; he didn’t want to be seen like this.

“Zayne? Are you okay?” As you spoke, you pressed a hand to his forehead. His skin was unusually hot, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes blinking in a slow flutter.

“I’m afraid I may have had too much to drink.” Leaning down, his face moved closer to yours. He stared at you, an amused smile on his lips. He chuckled, pulling back and closing his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he nodded, a long sigh hitting you. “I should probably go home.” “How about we head to my apartment? You drove there, and you’re not driving to your house…” you trailed off. “I have a spare bed; you can sleep it off.” With a nod, you held onto Zayne’s arm, beginning to steer him towards the exit. Tara would probably ask you questions on Monday, but you needed to get Zayne home and safe in bed. His bicep flexed as you grabbed his coat. It didn’t look like he needed it, so you draped it over your shoulders. “Ready to go?” You asked, trying to ignore the way his hand brushed across your hip. It was just a friendly gesture, holding onto Zayne’s arm and leading him out the door. The night air was crisp and cold, but Zayne’s face was still bright red, his eyes drifting to the ground, watching the way your hand wrapped around your arm, the way his coat draped over your shoulders. His coat … Wrapped around you…

Your footsteps echoed on the sidewalk, passing bars and clubs with yelling people and bass-filled music. This was a stark contrast to the silence that drifted between your bodies. His skin was warm, and his breath came out in soft pants as fog rose in the air.

It wasn’t long until you made your way to your building, letting Zayne lean on the wall as the elevator brought you up to your floor. With shaky steps, you wrapped an arm around Zayne’s waist, feeling him lean on your body as you unlocked your door. He was silent as he leaned into you, his eyes slowly blinking.

His mind was whirling a mile a minute, enjoying the way your arm wrapped around him. Your touch on his waist sent electricity down his spine, his thoughts running to what it would feel like to hold you in his arms.

Closing the door behind him, you walked him to the spare room, letting him fall onto the bed with a hollow thump. Chuckling, you watched him lie on his side, looking up at you. He was thinking something, his eyes searching yours, and although he was a bit tipsy, it was still hard to read his expression.

“Sit, please,” Zayne asked, patting the spot next to him. Moving to sit against the headboard, he watched you sit facing him. With his heart beating in his chest, he closed his eyes, thoughts fluttering around like butterflies. You were so distracting with your beautiful face and the way you looked at him. Sometimes, he could imagine that you felt the same way.

“Do you need anything?” Worry spread through you as Zayne closed his eyes, leaning back against the headboard. It wasn’t often that you saw him drink, and there was no way you had seen him like this… What if he was sick?

“You,” His mouth caught up to him, his eyes shooting open as he realized what he said. Your eyes widened, wanting to speak, but you couldn’t. With a sigh, he relented to his mind, his hand rubbing along his shoulder to release some of the tension that had built up there. Silence echoed in the room, and Zayne swallowed, the feeling of your eyes on him making his skin tingle.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.” He sighed, watching your expression for any sense of discomfort or disgust. That was the last thing he wanted… And he wasn’t sure if he could live in a world without you. The thought of losing you made his chest hurt, and he shook his head. “I… I understand I’m springing this on you, but now that I’ve said it, I guess I should let it all out in the open.”

“Zayne-”

“I… I can’t bear the thought of being without you, and if this ruins our friendship and our professional relationship, then so be it.” Crossing his legs, he ran a hand through his hair. His normally colder expression turned to one of exasperation and worry. “But I feel things for you that a friend wouldn’t feel for a friend. My body reacts in ways that nothing else can cause except you .” Your breath hitched, listening to the words fall from his lips. He really felt that way… All of your dreams rushed back to you, the thoughts of going on dates, visiting his office with lunch. His feelings made everything clear. He felt the same way …

Except what if it was the alcohol? What if he was only saying these things because he was past the point of tipsy? Alcohol can make people say things just to get into bed with someone… Who’s to say that it isn’t affecting Zayne the same way? With a sigh, you looked down at your hands, seeing Zayne’s fingers twitching on his stomach.

“Zayne…” You started, your heart racing quickly. Wanting to believe him and also knowing the effects of alcohol on a person’s feelings. “I think it’s just the alcohol speaking. You need to rest.”

Your hand brushed against his shoulder, and his head spun. Just the smallest touch from you made his muscles freeze, his fingers clenching. He couldn’t take it, every touch and glance, his heart beating so fast. The fact that you didn’t believe him was slightly frustrating, but he also understood. Maybe in the morning …

“Yes, rest.” With a nod, he looked at you. “Let’s rest.” His eyes drifted down to your hands, wondering what they felt like on his face, or his neck, or his chest… “Is it too much to ask if you’ll stay here with me?”

He knew he was pushing it, your own belief wavering at his suggestion and the alcohol running through his system. Desperation flowed through his veins, and he wanted so badly to wrap his body around you. His soul ached to be closer to yours, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it.

“Uhm…” Humming, you searched his face. Of course, you trusted him; he wouldn’t pull anything funny, but what would happen in the morning if he woke up with you in his arms? Would he regret what he said? Would he even remember ? Taking a deep breath, you relented, nodding your head. “Let me go change into something more comfortable… And I’ll be back.”

Before he could say anything, you walked out of the room. Your mind was running a mile a minute as you changed into comfortable pajamas. Standing in the middle of your bedroom, you took a few breaths. Half of you wanted to climb into your own bed and let him sleep it off. The other half wanted to crawl into his embrace, kiss him, let him hold you close.

The latter half won, and you walked into the spare room, finding Zayne already under the covers. Resting his head on his hand, he sat up, watching you with a smile. The blush on his cheeks was illuminated by the lights of the room. He had flipped the covers back, silently inviting you. A small smile forced its way onto your face, and you shook your head.

Climbing into the bed, you immediately felt his warmth. As you lay on your back, you felt Zayne’s eyes on you, trailing down your body to the edge of the covers. Your face heated up, looking over and catching him staring. With a laugh, you turned over to face him, your eyes searching his face.

“What are you thinking?” It was a dangerous question to ask the tipsy man who just confessed to having feelings for you that a friend shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help it. His breath sped up as he looked at you, his hand hanging off his waist.

How could he describe what he’s thinking? That he needed you in every sense of the word? That he felt incomplete when you weren’t around? That no matter what he did, his thoughts always drifted back to you?

“I’m thinking about you, laying right here in front of me.” His voice dropped low, lips curled into a small smile. Nothing could stop the way he admired you, like nothing else in the world mattered. Nobody could take him away from you; nothing could take him away from you… He would always find you. “I’m thinking about how my heart calms whenever I’m around you.”

Your skin prickled with each of his words, the distance between you seemingly too much for either of you to handle. Despite your better judgment, you moved closer, watching as Zayne flipped onto his back. With an open arm, he watched you crawl into the empty space. Your arm rested on his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat under your hand while your head nestled into his shoulder.

It felt nice, but the worries crept up to you as you remembered he was drunk… The thought of waking up in the morning to an empty bed, the aforementioned man gone, along with the hope of any real truth to his statement, was terrifying. Yet you were swayed by his warm embrace, his fingers dancing along your arm as you lay still.

“Just relax, darling,” Zayne whispered, his own body still quite tense. It was everything he ever wanted, to hold you close. While he knew in the back of his tipsy mind that you might only be doing this to appease his drunken demeanor… He also hoped that he would remember this happening in the morning. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

With a deep breath, you nodded, your muscles relaxing as you closed your eyes. It was nice, his fingers slowly dancing up and down your arm. Since you turned off the light overhead, the only source of sight was the lamp on the nightstand. The events of the night caught up to you, and you yawned, your own body preparing for sleep.

“Good night, Zayne.” The nickname he called you… Darling … Your heartbeat sped up, and you took a breath, forcing your eyes to close. If you lay like this for too long, you wouldn’t ever be able to sleep, too caught up in the feeling of his muscular arm wrapped around you.

“Good night, darling.” Zayne yawned, his own eyes closing as the alcohol caught up to him, pushing him into a deep sleep almost instantly.

You laid awake for a few minutes, drifting back to the party, his jealous actions that you brushed off, and then the drunken confession. Was it real? Was it genuine? You weren’t sure, but you fell asleep with the hope that the morning would bring a clearer picture.

--------

Zayne’s eyes ripped open as he felt the sun’s rays on his face. Waking up in an unfamiliar room, with you in his arms, was not something he expected. You looked so peaceful, sleeping soundly in his arms. Your chest rose and fell with each breath, and Zayne smiled.

Wait… What happened?

Looking around, Zayne took in his surroundings, realizing that he was still in his formal attire from the party and you were dressed in pajamas. His mind drifted to the party, remembering the men coming up to ask you to dance… The drink in his cup slowly disappeared with each clench of his jaw. It was sweet and tasted just like candy.

“Fuck,” Zayne couldn’t help the expletive, pressing his head further into the pillow. Why couldn’t he remember?

His erratic breathing and small movements shifted your body. Your eyes opened to the sight of a flushed Zayne looking around the room. Your heartbeat sped up as you remembered everything that happened.

“Morning.” You whispered, sitting up. His eyes flicked over to meet yours, his cheeks a light pink as he moved to sit against the headboard. “Do you… Uh, do you remember what happened?”

Zayne’s heart sped up, clearing his throat. He never wanted to lie to you, and he had to admit he was curious about what had transpired, seeing the position he had woken up in. With a shake of his head, he looked down at his lap. “No… No, I don’t remember.”

Your heart sank, throat constricting around all the words that you wanted to say. Of course … When he figured out what he said, he would probably regret it, taking back all of the feelings he had shared with you.

“Oh… Okay.” With an awkward chuckle, you tried to pull back, escape the room, and wallow in tears for a bit. The thought of being so elated that he shared your feelings only to look up and see sharp icicles ready to pierce you. “Well, I guess you can go now if you want.”

“Wait,” His voice was firm, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist. He didn’t want you to go, and he didn’t want to leave without resolving whatever happened. Judging by the look on your face, he knew something happened after you left the party. “What happened? At least tell me.”

He wished he could just remember , but perhaps it was the alcohol that kept him from retaining all the memories. Perhaps it was just his own brain that knew what happened and didn’t want him to remember…

“Uhm…” You paused for a moment, caught between wanting to tell him exactly what happened and lying. At least if you lied, you could continue your friendship with no hurdles. Except for the deep hole in your heart when you heard his voice in your head saying those lines over and over. I feel things for you that a friend wouldn’t feel for a friend …

“Please tell me. I want to remember.” Zayne pleaded, his voice desperate. If there was anything he wanted to do, it was remember . “I want to know…”

It was embarrassing even thinking about it, much less saying it out loud. With a breath, you closed your eyes, not wanting to watch as the realization set in. “Well, you said that you felt things for me that a friend doesn’t feel for another friend… Then you asked me to join you in this bed… Then you said that your heart calms down when you’re around me…” You cleared your throat, your body heating up as you recalled the last part. “Uhm, you also said that your body reacts in ways around me… Yeah.”

Silence fell between you as Zayne stared at your face, your eyes still closed in fear of seeing the regret and realization pass across his features. It took a moment for him to realize everything that you said, his mind vaguely remembering the words falling from his lips. “I did?” His voice was nearly a whisper, disbelief in his voice with a hint of embarrassment. How could he do this? What if it ruined his entire friendship with you… He could lie and say it was just the alcohol, but could he really say that he didn’t mean it when, deep down, he just wanted you to know his true feelings? “Oh, I- I’m sorry. If I ruined things between us.”

Your eyes remained shut, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as you heard his voice. Fuck . So he didn’t mean it; he didn’t reciprocate all the things you felt for him. With a sigh, you struggled to speak, wanting to ask if it was true but also not wanting to hear the answer…

“Did you mean it?” Your mouth started the sentence before your brain could stop you, and your eyes fluttered open to see the deep blush on Zayne’s cheeks. This time, it wasn’t the alcohol… “Everything you said, was it the alcohol speaking, or do you actually feel that way?”

“Of course, it wasn’t the alcohol.” He was caught now, and he had no choice but to admit the truth. He couldn’t lie to you, especially after hearing the vulnerability in your voice as you asked him. “I actually feel that way about you. You’re beautiful and, talented, and kind. I think about you every second of the day, and there isn’t a moment of my life where I don’t want to be near you. I can’t help the way my body reacts around you…”

“Oh,” Looking down at your hands, you couldn’t help the way your heart raced as he looked at you, your own body reacting to his words. You wanted him, and it seemed he wanted you just the same.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way…” He trailed off, his dress pants bunching around his thighs as he moved to get off the bed.

“Wait!” Your hand on his wrist stopped him, his skin now freezing cold compared to the night before. “I do, though. I feel the same way.” You clarified, trying to calm your beating heart with a few deep breaths. Just the feeling of your hand on his wrist made Zayne clench his jaw. Every atom in his body vibrated as he smelled your fragrance waft around him.

“Really?” His eyes trailed down to your mouth, watching as your tongue darted out to trace along your bottom lip. The thoughts he so often fantasized about flashed in his mind, and he wanted so desperately to reach out, pull you closer, and never let you go. A flash of deja vu passed through him, and he turned his body to face you. He remembered this…

“Yeah, really.” Your hand moved to rest on top of his, feeling his muscles strain and tighten under your fingers. Watching as his eyes drifted to your lips, a surge of need flowed through you, and you sat up on your knees.

“Well then,” Zayne moved, taking your hand in his. His body angled towards you, legs stretched out on the bed. With a small tug, he pulled you closer, your hand now burning into his shoulder. Your warmth emanated through his entire body, and he sighed. The feeling of you so close made his heart feel complete. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart raced, Zayne was asking to kiss you … It was all you had ever wanted, and now that he was there , asking to kiss you… The only thing you could do was nod in confirmation, moving so your nose brushed against his cheek.

Zayne’s hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing along your cheekbones. Every nerve in his body was on high alert, his heart thrumming so badly he was worried he might not survive even kissing you for the first time. His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitance, his nose nuzzling yours. His breath mingled with yours as he felt your hands on his waist, your knee pressing against his thigh as you inched even closer.

“Are you sure?” He needed confirmation to know that you wanted him just like he wanted you. A trepidation passed over him as his voice pleaded with you.

“Yes, I’m sure…” You breathed, smiling in hopes of easing some of his obvious tension. “I want you to kiss me, Zayne.”

It was all you had to say before Zayne pressed his mouth to yours. His lips were chilly, and he was slightly awkward, the way his nose bumped yours. It had been a long time since he kissed someone, and never this intensely , and never did it feel that good. The hands on your cheeks barely touched you, like he was afraid of holding you too tight.

So you took the initiative, moving your leg over to straddle his thighs. Oh my god … Your hands played with his collar, pressing your mouth into his. Soft smacks and low moans fell from Zayne’s lips as you kissed him, his cheeks a cherry-red and getting hotter by the second.

Zayne pulled away first, his head hitting the wall behind him. His touch traveled to your hips, holding you still. If you moved up any further, he would have a very big problem… The sensations were too much, and he needed to take a deep breath, afraid he would make a mess of his slacks and embarrass himself even more.

“Hold on,” He panted, taking in the sight in front of him. You were so beautiful , sitting softly on his thighs, your own chest rising and falling with deep breaths. The way your hands held his collar, your lips glistened with saliva, it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Do you want to continue this?” Your voice shot right through Zayne and straight to his cock, his slacks becoming even tighter than they already were. The feeling of his hands on your hips, a ghost of his presence against your skin, made you frustrated. If only he would touch you … “Because I do.”

Zayne stared at you in disbelief, his abdomen clenching as he closed his eyes. Never in his dreams did he think he would be in this position, your perfect thighs on either side of his own, hovering dangerously close to his hips. Your eyes, watching his every movement, every twitch of his eyebrow, every small quirk in his lip. Your fingers played with his collar, drifting close to the buttons of his shirt. The need to just rip open his shirt and see him laid out for you was high, yet you needed confirmation.

“Yes, yes .” He breathed out, pulling you forward to kiss you again. The thoughts of his inexperience didn’t hinder him; he needed you in every sense of the word. “You have no idea, darling, how much I want this. Want you .”

His words were pressed into your mouth, your tongue tracing his bottom lip before entering to tangle with his. A low groan echoed in your chest as Zayne’s hands moved you up onto his lap, where you could feel just how excited he was. Your clothed pussy pressed against his erection, both of you feeling the shocks through your body.

“Please,” He groaned, your hands playing with the buttons of his shirt. The fact he slept with this on, just for your comfort, so you didn’t feel weird with a half-naked man sleeping next to you, made you smile. With quick fingers, you pushed his shirt off his shoulders, your lips still meeting between moans. His skin glistened with sweat as you cupped his jaw, your lips moving along the expanse of his neck and shoulder.

You were careful not to make marks, and your sloppy licks and nips only made red spots that would disappear by the next morning. That doesn’t mean you didn’t want to mark him; make sure he remembered what you two did. Each nip was accompanied by a groan from the man above you, and his hands remained motionless on your hips.

“Zayne,” Your hands ghosted across his abdomen, thumbs brushing his nipples before moving to rest on his shoulders once more. A gasp fell from his lips as you said his name, his hips adjusting and his cock brushing against your pajama pants. “You can touch me, grab me, anything .”

But I don’t want to hurt you … His thoughts echoed in his head; eyebrows furrowed as he held onto your hips just a bit tighter. Something deep inside him was scared , like one wrong move, and he would cause you pain. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but hearing your voice broke him out of his fear slightly.

“Just… If I do anything you don’t like…” His voice was a whisper pressed against your shoulder, his hand playing with the hem of your shirt. “Or if anything hurts , please tell me. I haven’t done this before… And I don’t want to hurt you accidentally.”

As his hand slipped under your shirt, you gasped, nodding along to his pleas. His fingers were cold, and your nipples immediately hardened as his thumb brushed your left breast. He was testing the waters, his mind clouded with need but also hesitance.

The way his large hand drifted across your skin, along your stomach and breasts, you couldn’t help the moan that brushed across his shoulder. He needed to touch you, all of you , and as he reached your back, his nails lightly scratched your skin, enjoying the way your thighs clenched around his hips.

“Yes, fuck.” Your forehead rested against his bare shoulder, your hand gripping his skin tightly as his fingers danced up and down your back. “I’ll tell you, but I need you right now, Zayne.”

With frantic hands, you tugged your shirt off, enjoying the way Zayne’s eyes widened only for a moment before you were standing up. “Pants off,” you motioned to the man on the bed, your hands pushing your pajama pants down. You didn’t mean to be so demanding, but as Zayne’s fingers twitched slightly, his cheeks flushing deeper red, it was clear he enjoyed it a bit.

Zayne fumbled with the button of his slacks, his fingers shaking in anticipation of what was about to happen. A gasp echoed in the room as he struggled to take his pants and briefs off, his cock pressing against his abdomen as he finally let the pieces of fabric fall to the floor. Sitting back on the bed, he looked at you, eyes pleading silently.

His pupils dilated as he took in your naked form, from your feet to your thighs, to your stomach and breasts, all the way up to your face. He didn’t miss the way your gaze settled on his cock, and he blushed, knowing he was big but hoping you were okay with that.

Walking towards him, you settled back into your previous position, his cock now nestled between your slick folds. Arousal dripped from your entrance and coated his balls as you rubbed yourself along his length. His hands gripped your hips tightly, muscles in his arms straining.

“Wait,” He stopped you, his jaw clenched as he felt a pool of his own precum settling just below his navel. With a shaky breath, he looked down, seeing only his tip poking out from between your bodies. “I’m afraid if you keep doing that, I’m going to cum.”

His honestly always amazed you, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you nodded. Your hands wandered across his body, thumbs tweaking his nipples and watching as he closed his eyes and groaned.

The noises he made were so pretty , each moan and groan only adding to the dripping slick that covered his thighs and cock. You wanted to hear every single variation, every moan, and whimper, every gasp and whisper, but hopefully that could be for another time.

Zayne knew what was coming, the sight of you on top of him, your hand drifting dangerously close to his cock. Leaning over to the nightstand, he grabbed his wallet. His cheeks bloomed red as he brought out a foil packet. As he met your eyes, he chuckled, shaking his head at your teasing smirk.

“This is just a precaution… In case something like this happened…” He stuttered, his hand shaking slightly as he looked at you. Sex wasn’t something that was on his mind often, yet he knew it might come up, and he wanted to be prepared. The fact that it was with you … It was his dream come true. “I mean if we did something… Or someone else… Or-”

Your hands covering his stopped his rambling. You laughed, taking the packet from him and ripping it open with your teeth. Scooting back just enough to take hold of his impressive cock, you stared straight into his wide-open eyes as you slid the condom onto his length. He swore he could cum just from that alone, your gaze piercing through his soul and making his cock twitch as you released him.

“Oh my,” He gasped, his hands moving back to your hips as your pussy glided back across his cock once again. “Don’t tease, darling.”

A silence fell between you both, your eyes searching one another for any hint of hesitance. Your hands drifting from his chest to his shoulders. Leaning closer, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, softer than the previous clash of mouths and tongues. Zayne’s heart raced, his thumbs brushing along your hip bones as you kissed him, and he relaxed a bit.

“Are you sure you want this?” You asked, your lips only centimeters away from his. The light from the sunrise filtered through the curtains, casting a beautiful orange hue across the room, and Zayne couldn’t think of a time when you looked more stunning than you did now. Your body displayed in front of him, your eyes following his every move and your smile , asking to make sure he really wanted it, and fuck of course he did.

“ Yes ,” He couldn’t say anything else that would convey just how badly he needed you. No amount of whining or pleading could ever show you how much he wanted to be buried deep inside you. “There’s nothing else in the world that I want more…”

Time seemed to slow down as you stroked his cock, sitting up on your knees to position him at your entrance. His attention flickered from where his tip nestled against your hole to your eyes, hooded and watching him like a hunter with their prey. Keeping your plea in mind, his hands tightened on your hips, feeling you sink down onto his cock in one fluid drop.

It was like the air was knocked out of your lungs, his thick cock stretching you out so deliciously. Your heart rocketed against your chest, your nails digging into his shoulders as the back of your thighs finally laid flush against his hips. The curve of his cock pressed right into your sweet spot, your pussy clenching around him.

Zayne needed to take a breath; his eyes squeezed shut as he centered himself. Breathe … In through his nose and out through his mouth. It was insane to think, but he felt complete , like he was made to fit inside you, to fit against you or even next to you. One of his hands moved to cup your breast, the other drifting behind you to knead the flesh of your ass. He needed his hands on you, all over you, and hopefully, in the future, inside you .

“You’re stunning,” he whispered, his tone one of shock and awe. The thought had you laughing, and you pressed another kiss to his lips in appreciation. His hands were still cold, and you shivered both from his touch and from the way he looked at you. It was like his hands were making a map of your skin, drawing imaginary lines and dips that he could chart on his journey to touch every inch of you.

“Thank you,” You moved your hips, feeling his cock rubbing against your walls. A soft hum fell from your lips, your head tilted back, and your eyes closed as you enjoyed the slow drag. “You’re quite handsome yourself.”

He wasn’t sure what to do, his hands roaming along your body, caressing every inch of skin he could reach. It was all so much , the feeling of your thumb brushing his nipple and the way your pussy so perfectly fluttered around him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes closing in an attempt to prolong his orgasm. Although he tried desperately, his fingers curled tighter on your ass, and you were sure you would have a bruise there in the coming hours.

“You- you can move now,” He stuttered out, his tone nearing a whine. His suggestion sounded more like a plea, one that you were happy to oblige. Sitting up, you felt the smooth drag of his cock, until only his tip was nestled inside. You picked up the pace, sitting down on his cock over and over and over. Each time was even more pleasurable than the last.

“ Fuck ,” Zayne didn’t indulge in swear words very often, but the circumstance seemed right. His mind was so caught up in the way your thighs slapped against his own, the noises echoing through your apartment, that he didn’t realize the tight grip he had on your hip. His fingers dug into your skin, and his jaw clenched tight as he tried so hard to will his orgasm away for just a few more minutes.

Your breasts bounced in his face as you rode him, your moans wrapping around him and pulling him closer to you. Without warning, his nose pressed into your chest, right between your tits. Claps and groans filled the air, his tongue lapping at your salty skin. His hazel eyes shone as he looked up at you from his spot between your breasts.

To tease him, you stopped momentarily, your hips flush against his. It was fun toying with him, watching his eyebrows rise and mouth gape open in a gasp. The furrow in his brow made your stomach leap, a soft groan coming from behind his closed lips as he stared at you. Desperate to be closer to him, you leaned forward, pulling him up from his spot between your tits to press your lips against him in a harsh dance.

Zayne hummed, his tongue pressing and wrapping around yours. A trail of spit dribbled from the side of his mouth, his need and desperation showing in the way he held you. One of his hands dug into your hip, the other now pushing against your back until your chest was flush against his. His heartbeat matched yours, the vibrations echoing through his head as he held you close. It was like you completed him, your body fitting perfectly against his. The cold and empty half of his heart had finally found a home in you, and he wasn’t sure why he felt this way, nor exactly what it meant… But his body knew.

“Fuck, darling.” Zayne rested his forehead against yours, biting his lip as your thumb tweaked his nipple again. He loved it, and having never experienced anything like this before, he didn’t know just how he would react. Gasps and lewd moans spurred you on, his hips bucking up into you for some other type of friction - though he had a feeling he might have been able to come just from his nipples alone…

“You like that?” You didn’t mean for your tone to be as teasing as it was; you were genuinely interested, wanting to elicit any sort of reaction from the normally hard-to-read man below you. It seemed like he enjoyed your voice, however, because you felt him twitch inside you, your bouncing slowing down to help him speak.

“I… I guess so.” He fought between his teeth, his thighs flexing under you as you languidly dragged your pussy up and down his cock. Having never done anything close to this before, he had to pride himself on his resolve, his abdomen flexing and releasing as he fought off his orgasm.

Zayne’s hand on your back moved to your ass, his hand kneading your flesh as you sped up your hips. Riding him was a thrill, feeling his thighs tensing every time you sat fully on top of him, his hands both guiding you and helping you grind your clit against his stubbly pubic bone.

You weren’t prepared for the way he suddenly leaned forward again, his face pressed against your chest. Turning his head, his nose brushed against the side of your breast, his warm breath fanning across your nipple. In an attempt to silence himself, he sucked on the skin of your chest, leaving a dark red mark. His tongue flattened along your flesh, moving to the side and nipping at your other breast.

Seeing the way your chest moved in front of his face, your moans echoing around him, and your pussy clenching him so tight … He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. His hand dug into the flesh of your hip, his other hand lifting to bring your nipple to his mouth. Gasping, your hand flew to his hair, holding him against your chest as he dragged his teeth along your skin.

With a hiss, you pulled him off, seeing his apologetic look before his tongue flattened across the sensitive nub. His warm mouth enveloped you, his tongue flicking and doing things that made you second guess his claim of it being his first time.

Your hips stuttered, clit grinding against his abdomen with each thrust. His hand held you so tightly, guiding you to ensure you were feeling just as good as he was. Heat pooled in your lower stomach, and you whimpered, the combined sucking on your tit and each thrust that filled you to the brim; it was too much.

“Zayne, I…” You stopped, a vibrating hum pulsing through your body as the man below you nodded. His own hips stuttered, jerking into yours as he tried to help you there. Caught in his own heat, he wrapped his lips around your nipple, looking up at you through his eyelashes.

“Oh my god , Zayne.” You moaned, closing your eyes. The heat ignited in you, feeling Zayne’s groans against your chest as he came undone, emptying into the condom. It wasn’t but seconds later that you followed, your pussy tightening around his cock as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

It wasn’t until you stopped that you realized just how much your knees ached, and you fell into Zayne’s arms. Feeling the stickiness of his sweat and spit on himself, he rolled you over so you were lying on your back, your limbs stretched out across the bed. Standing up, he let his eyes trail across your body for a moment, admiring how beautiful you looked in the afterglow, the sun greeting you from behind the horizon.

Quick steps brought him to your bathroom, disposing of the condom and splashing some cold water on his face and chest. His eyes met his reflection in the mirror, and he chuckled, somehow thinking he had traveled to another dimension or was stuck in a dream.

Except when he saw you laying there, your body glistening and spent, he knew it was real; he wasn’t imagining it. Slipping on his briefs, he joined you in bed, his heart speeding up as you curled into him. Your still naked body pressed against him, chin resting on his chest as you analyzed his features.

“Zayne…” You started, your mind wandering to thoughts that you hoped weren’t true, yet you couldn’t help but worry. “Did this mean anything to you?”

He pondered it for a moment, his hand wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you so you were lying fully on top of him. Looking down at you, he smiled, closing the small distance to press a kiss to your lips. It was innocent, holding the hope of something real in it.

“Of course it did, darling.” He said simply, his hands trailing across your hips. Trying to put it into words was hard; just how much it meant to him that you were his first, the one he felt the most connected to. It meant a lot that you felt the same way and that this was the beginning of a new chapter in your friendship, one that drifted more to the romantic side of things. “It meant that, hopefully, this was the start of a new step in our relationship. A step into something more real.”

The memory of the way he held you so tightly popped up into his mind, and his eyes widened. With a jerk of his head, he looked down, inspecting your hips for any marks. He frantically searched you, looking at your jaw, down your neck, across your breasts. A dark red mark in the middle of your chest had his jaw gaping.

“Did I hurt you?” His hand drifted over the mark like he was afraid to touch it in case it caused you more pain. He couldn’t live with himself if he hurt you, whether it be due to the intense pleasure or not, it was unacceptable …

“Oh, no.” You shook your head, tilting it to the side to look at him from another angle. His hand cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing your cheekbone, and you closed your eyes, a sense of peace washing over you. You knew he would never hurt you, though you had to admit you wanted to see what he could give you if you riled him up enough. “I liked it, don’t worry.”

“Okay… Good.” Zayne smiled, watching as you yawned and lay on his chest. The sun was beginning to rise, but he shifted your body up against his, his arms wrapping around you securely. Throwing the blanket back over your bodies, he closed his eyes.

Although your relationship was uncertain, you knew he felt the same way, and you wanted nothing more than to make it work. He patted the top of your head, his heartbeat returning to normal as he watched you drift off in his arms. “Let’s go to sleep, darling. I can take you out for a lunch date later before I go in for my shift at the hospital.”

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submattsmxmmy · 4 months ago

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roughdom!stepbro!chris x bratty!stepsis!reader

🖤 content warning: smut, stepsibling kink, daddy kink, mentions of porn, posessiveness, praise/degradation, biting, kinda risky, unprotected rough sex

🖤 summary: your stepbrother, chris, gets jealous when he sees you flirting with another man - and not just any man, but one who's nothing like him.

hiiii it's me, @ariestrxsh. if you don't fw the stepcest shit, then idk what to tell you. lmao. don't read this shit. sorry mom, sorry god, and sorry chris sturniolo, if you ever see this deranged, god-forsaken piece of writing.

dividers by @/strangergraphics

holdyourbreath

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

The sun was beginning to descend below the horizon line as Chris turned down his street, indie music playing softly through his speakers.

He didn't think much of the old, beige sedan sitting in the driveway when he got home, except for being slightly annoyed that it was in his spot. He figured you had a girlfriend staying the night who didn't know he always parked there or something.

He let out an agitated sigh as he pulled up beside the curb and cut the engine. He made his way up the driveway with a basketball under his arm and his t-shirt clinging to his sweat-covered chest.

He turned the knob and stepped inside. He cracked a subtle smirk at the sound of your laugh, a noise that once would have made him roll his eyes. He hated that you were secretly growing on him - or maybe he liked it. He wasn't completely sure yet.

The smile on his face faded quickly when he heard a second voice - a man's voice. He quickly made his way into the kitchen, envy already brewing inside of him.

He burst through the door to find you sitting across from a dark-haired boy, batting your lashes and twirling your hair around your finger as you thoughtlessly giggled at every word he said. You jumped as if you were doing something wrong when your eyes flew up and noticed Chris.

You took note of his flushed, pink cheeks, his tired, blue eyes, and his sweaty brown hair sticking to his forehead. You adored the way he looked when he'd just finished up playing basketball or working out, but you didn't let your glance linger for long.

"Hi, Chris," you casually mumbled before turning your attention back to the boy sitting across from you. "Hey. What's up? I'm Josh," the man said, getting up from his chair and extending a hand for Chris to shake.

"You parked in my spot," Chris shot back, peering down at Josh's hand with a look of contempt and silently rejecting his polite gesture.

"Sorry. You'll have to excuse my stepbrother. No one ever taught him manners or how to use the bathroom without getting piss on the toilet seat," you remarked in a snide tone as Chris pushed past him.

"So, uh, what do you think?" Josh asked, redirecting you back to what you two were talking about before Chris interrupted. "I love all your ideas," you giggled, brushing a strand of hair out of your face and licking your lips as you looked at Josh.

The boy across from you may have been oblivious to your flirtatious demeanor, but Chris clocked it right away. "God, could ya be any more fuckin' desperate?" Chris mumbled under his breath as he swung open the door of the fridge.

"What was that?" You wondered, stopping your conversation and turning your attention to your stepbrother who wasn't taking the hint that you wanted to be left alone with Josh, or so you thought.

He actually was getting the hint. He was just blatantly ignoring it.

"I said, what're ya guys workin' on?" Chris asked, but it wasn't so much that he was genuinely curious as much as he was trying to figure out how much longer he was going to have to endure the jealousy of watching you pathetically throw yourself at another man.

"We're working on building our argument for our debate class. We were all paired off, given a controversial topic, and we have to present our arguments next week to the opposing side," you responded, fidgeting with your pencil.

"What's the controversial topic?" Chris asked, a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth. He loved contentious subjects and arguing. "The subject is pornography and whether it's pro or anti-feminist," you replied.

"Oh, yeah?" Chris asked, the topic piquing his interest. "What's your argument, kid?" Chris asked, cracking open a can of Pepsi and leaning against the counter. He was eager to hear your take on the subject.

"Our argument is that it's anti-feminist. It prioritizes male pleasure, gives unhealthy and unrealistic expectations about sex, and it's just overall degrading and exploitative," you casually stated, shrugging your shoulders. Chris scoffed. "Isn't that kinda sexist of you to say?" He shot back, sipping from his Pepsi can.

"What are you talking about?" You huffed back, crossing your arms and glaring in his direction. "Well, isn't it kind of infantalizing to assume that any woman who is in the porn industry is only doin' it because she's bein' exploited? Why can't a woman just become a porn star because she wants to?" Chris asked, sounding rather genuine.

You were at a loss for words, unsure of how to combat Chris' argument. "And what about the girls who like bein' degraded? What about the girls who like watchin' shit like that?" He added.

"What's your point, Chris?" You scoffed. "It's anti-feminist for you to assume that porn only exists for male pleasure when women probably get off to it just as much," Chris stated a valid point before taking a sip of his soda.

"Whatever, Chris. You wouldn't know feminism if it sat on your face," you rolled your eyes, dismissing his comments. "What? You tellin' me you've never gotten off to that shit? Maybe even the rough stuff?" Chris snarked, deviously grinning at you, his eyes scanning you up and down as if he were calculating the exact categories you were into.

Your stare grew wide, and your cheeks grew hot. You couldn't believe Chris was putting you in this position in front of your classmate you were secretly crushing on.

Josh sat quietly, wide-eyed and mouth agape as he listened to the two of you bicker back and forth, astonished that step siblings felt so comfortable talking to each other about hardcore porn.

"Chris! I-," you started to say, but your breath hitched in your throat. "I'm not saying- Look, Chris. We were given a topic and told which side we had to argue for. That's the key to being good at debate, is being able to argue both sides regardless of how you personally feel about the subject. My thoughts on it are completely irrelevant."

"Right, but don't you have to really believe what you're saying to be good at arguing your side? You know my room's right next to yours, right?" Chris shot back, insinuating he knew something. His lips curled into a sadistic smile, knowing he was humiliating you. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

"Chris, can I talk to you in private?" You narrowed your gaze at him. "Yeah, sure. Whatever," he scoffed and rolled his gorgeous, blue eyes.

You excused yourself, and you and Chris headed upstairs. You led him into your bedroom, and you shut the door behind the two of you before you whipped around and glared at him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" You sternly questioned him. "What the fuck do ya think you're doin'? That guy?" Chris blurted out, surprised that you'd be into such a docile man.

"What? He's a nice guy," you defended Josh. "You don't want a nice guy," Chris chuckled, giving you a dark smirk. "You don't know what I want," you replied. "Sure, I do. I think I know whatcha want better than you do," he cooed, reaching up and softly running his thumb across your bottom lip.

"Chris. I really like him. Please don't embarrass me in front of him," you whispered, giving Chris a somber look. "You'd get bored of him. Bet he could never fuck you as good as I do," Chris purred, stepping closer to you and studying your expression.

"Are you.. jealous?" You wondered, a satisfied grin spreading across your lips. "No," Chris sneered. "Of course I'm not jealous. I just know what ya need better than anyone else." Chris firmly grabbed your jaw and pinned you between the door and his body.

"Chris -" you started to retort, but he cut you off by pressing his lips into yours. You softly moaned into his mouth as his free hand flew to his waistband, pulling his cock free from his shorts.

You immediately felt all your willpower to stop him leave your body, and you relaxed into his kiss. You felt his drooling tip brush against the inside of your thigh as he hiked up your skirt and roughly pulled your panties to the side.

You felt the cool air rush over your exposed heat while Chris ran the head of his cock along your sensitive clit. You shuddered at the sensation. As he slipped it into your entrance, he bit down on the soft flesh of your bottom lip, leaving it swollen and bruised as he slowly pulled away.

"Awh, she's so happy to see me," Chris cooed, smirking up at you as he sunk his length all the way in, feeling the way you stretched around him.

"She thought she was gonna have to settle for that loser downstairs, huh? Don't worry, baby. Daddy's home now," Chris grunted, jerking his hips forward and starting to pump in and out of you at a rough pace as you hooked one leg around his waist.

You threw your head back, and a soft thump sounded as you made contact with the door behind you. A loud moan escaped your lips at the way Chris spoke to you coupled with the way he brutally pounded into you.

He thought about covering your mouth, but a sly smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he imagined the boy downstairs, possibly hearing the two of you. "Can't stay quiet, huh? Is my dick really that good or do ya just really want Josh to know how good I'm fuckin' ya?" Chris chuckled into your ear.

Your eyes rolled back, and a subtle smile crept into your expression. You were too fucked out to even answer him.

"Be a good girl and take it," Chris groaned, leaning in and latching onto your neck. The faint, sweet smell of his natural musk filled your senses, heightening every touch. He began suckling on the soft skin above your collar bone, listening to the pretty sounds that fell from your tender lips.

His fingertips dug into your sides, leaving red prints on your flesh through the fabric of your clothing. You couldn't get enough of the way he manhandled you, the way he touched, licked, and bit at you like it was all that you were good for, marking you up with his perfect teeth while he pounded away.

"You're gonna leave a bruise," you weakly told him, but you said it as more of a lustful observation than a warning or a request for him to let up. You secretly liked the idea of him claiming you as with a hickey in such a visible place, knowing you'd have to hide it from Josh when you got back downstairs.

"That's not the only thing I'm gonna leave bruised," Chris teased you, talking into the crook of your neck. You could already feel the knot forming in the pit of your stomach, a testament to the effect Chris had on you.

Your hands were draped around the back of his neck, clawing at his t-shirt as your legs grew weak. "Daaaddy," your quiet voice trembled like you were talking while driving over a cattleguard due to how mercilessly Chris was fucking you.

"What was that?" Chris inquired through his breathlessness, slowing down his thrusts. "No, no. Please don't stop," you begged through your panting. "Then tell me what you said," Chris murmured, his intense blue eyes locked on yours.

"Nothing," you whispered, feeling your face grow hot from letting that word slip out. You knew you'd never hear the end of it.

"Mhmm. Sure," Chris smirked and narrowed his gaze at you before he went back to his fast, hard movements, bottoming out with every stroke. It didnt take long before you picked up right where you left off, your stomach doing twists and turns as Chris rearranged your guts with his unrelenting cock.

He was going at it so hard that the door was jiggling against the frame and making a sound as if someone was trying to repeatedly open it. Your body started shaking uncontrollably at the whole situation and how Chris didn't care that you had company sitting at the kitchen table. He was going to take you however and whenever he wanted.

"Be a good girl and cum all over daddy's cock," Chris cooed, feeling you begin to rhythmically clench around him. You were fighting for your life, biting back the sensual sounds that desperately wanted to make themselves known as your orgasm tore through you.

The feeling of you finishing onto him caused a ripple effect. His length twitched inside of you, filling you up with his white, sticky cum as he moaned into your ear. He followed it up with a faint chuckle, his breath tickling your neck as he found amusement in how easily you always gave into him.

He pulled himself out of you, leaving his seed leaking onto the inside of your thigh as he did so. "Such a fuckin' slut," Chris teased.

"Okay, don't keep your prude boyfriend waiting too much longer or else he might start suspecting something," Chris winked at you, keeping his voice low. You took a few deep breaths. You tugged down the hem of your skirt, smoothing out the fabric to conceal the mess Chris had made between your legs.

"Chris. Can you please just give me and Josh some privacy while we work on our project?" You asked, considering that was the whole reason you'd asked to talk to him in the first place.

"I'll keep my mouth shut, but I'm not leaving you alone with some other guy. Not a fuckin' chance," Chris answered, his voice thick with jealousy as he bore into your stare with his own.

You spun around, cleared your throat, and popped open the door. Chris delivered a harsh smack on your ass as you stepped out into the hallway. You let out a small squeal and swatted his hand away with your own, but you otherwise ignored his gesture.

The two of you descended the stairs. Chris made his way back over to the fridge to poke around for something to eat. You draped a thick strand of your hair over the red spot on your neck and sucked in your swollen lip as you sat back down across from your classmate.

"Sorry about that. My stepbrother won't be bothering us anymore," you calmly said. "How'd you get him to do that?" Josh asked, furrowing his brow at how quiet Chris was now compared to how loud-mouthed and obnoxious he was being ten minutes ago.

"I have my ways," you replied through a subtle smirk.

part four here 🖤

#sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo #dom chris sturniolo #stepbro!chris

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nanaslutt · 1 year ago

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ʚ nsfw under the cut,, minors and ageless blogs dni

Thinking about Gojo getting you two matching Bluetooth vibrators for Valentine’s day....

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Gojo’s body jerked forward when you upped the intensity of the toy from the little remote in your pocket. The man behind the counter was turned around, pointing at some specialty dessert as he explained it, so he unfortunately missed the way Gojo’s jaw fell open in a silent moan before he corrected himself.

His jaw muscles clenched under the weight of his teeth, his eyes briefly rolling back in his head as the tight cockring vibrated intensely around his sensitive shaft, vibrating his balls along with it.

Turning his head to the side inconspicuously, Gojo gave you a malicious smile, silently cursing at you before he stuck his own hand into his pocket and gave you the same treatment.

Luckily there was no one behind you, so they were unable to see the way you fell against Gojo, your inner thighs pressing together as you gripped harshly onto the sleeve of his expensive jacket, wrinkling the material. You could feel the small bullet vibe shaking against your walls as well as the flat piece stimulating your clit, pressing firmly against it.

“I-“ Gojo cleared his throat before he finished speaking, noticing how hoarse and unused it sounded. “I’ll take that one, and the brown sugar boba milk t-tea.” Gojo smiled politely, his muscles flexing under your arm.

You gripped him harder, praying he would take mercy on you and order for you with the state you were in.

Unfortunately for you, Gojo was at his limit as well. He was worried if he tried to speak for you he would cum in his pants before he even finished ordering. "What about you baby?" He asked, looking down at you, trying to turn his head as far to the side in your direction and away from the cashier as possible. This fucking asshole.

Swallowing hard, you went to open your mouth when you shut it just as fast. Gojo had started to slide the intensity up and down, up and down in a wave-like motion, making you feel weak in the knees. Biting your lip as inconspicuously as possible, you stuck your hand out in front of you and waved it, dismissing the attention on yourself by feigning like you didnt want anything.

Gojo smiled to himself when you started repeatedly tapping agaisnt his arm, silently begging him to turn down the vibrator as he took out his wallet to pay. Wanting to show you could be could, you turned him down as well, which made his body visibly relax.

Gojo cracked his neck to the side before he tapped his card quickly and shoved his card back into the sleeve before he turned the intensity of your own vibrator down, to match your energy. Gojo grimaced when he felt a fat bead of pre-cum spill out from his cock, undoubtedly staining the inside of his boxers even more. The softer intensity was arguably more painful and hard to endure than the faster one. The soft, barely there vibrations made his cock throb, begging for more.

After waving thanks to the worker, Gojo turned the two of you around and walked you over a few steps to the side of the building, letting you lean back against it. You took the opportunity to squeeze his arm hard, your lip trembling as you turned your face away from the street and buried it in his arm. "Satoru take me home right now." You begged your hands shaking as you gripped onto him, your legs matching.

Gojo looked down at you and cooed before biting his lip. Caressing the side of your face Gojo made you look up at him, his blue eyes finding yours from under his dark shades. "You sure? Seems like you were havin' fun teasing me back there. Almost came in my pants in front of that poor guy." He joked, his cock throbbing at your pathetic and desperate face.

"Toru, please. Please take me home right now I- I can't stand anymore." You begged the fabric wrinkling under your fingers more. With a soft kiss to the top of your head, you were lifted into Gojo's arms in a princess carry as he started off in the direction of the nearest alleyway so he could teleport the two of you home without being seen. "You can dish it but you can't take it huh princess? Did I play with you too much?" Gojo whispered as he strolled down the sidewalk.

You nodded into the crook of his neck, ignoring his irritating words. "Don't worry baby, I'll fuck you nice and good when we get home." He reassured you, making you whimper in response before Gojo turned abruptly and walked into the dark shade of the alleyway. He leaned his face close to yours before he added, "But the vibrator is staying inside."

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dckweed · 2 months ago

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tiktok made me do it!gf vs tf141 bf

You had it coming.

After weeks—months, even—of pure chaos, unhinged pranks, and emotionally distressing text messages, your boyfriend and the rest of Task Force 141 finally decided it was time for payback.

And when they team up against you?

Yeah. You're fucked.

Captain Price – "hate all of you"

You were getting ready for bed, hair up, pajama shorts on, about to relax after another beautiful day of causing chaos.

Then—

A crash downstairs.

You freeze.

Your heart stops.

Your phone is across the room, out of reach. The only thing you have? A baseball bat by the door.

You tiptoe toward the hallway, bat in hand, when you hear it—

Heavy footsteps. A low, gruff voice muttering, "Spread out."

You panic.

No hesitation. No thinking.

Just action.

The moment a shadow rounds the corner, you let out a battle cry and SWING—

BANG!

“FUCKIN' HELL, SWEETHEART—"

John hits the floor. Hard.

You stand over him, panting, bat raised, fully prepared to cave his head in until—

"SURPRISE! PRANK, BABY, PRANK—"

Soap, Gaz, and Ghost leap out of hiding, dying with laughter.

You stare, still panting. "I hate all of you."

Price groans, clutching his definitely bruised ribs. "Jesus fuckin’ Christ, love. When the hell did you get so quick?"

You glare. "When you taught me to take out a target before they take me out, John."

Soap, wiping tears: "Taught this one right, sir, she did it so well!"

Ghost, nodding approvingly with Johnny’s thought. "Genuinely impressed."

You flip them off and stomp away.

Price groans again. "Right, lesson learned. Don’t fuck with the missus." The boys help him up off the floor, snickering when he grabs his ribs and winces.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick – "baby it’s me!"

Gaz thought he was so fucking smart.

Late at night. Dimly lit street. You walking back from your friend’s place.

The perfect setup.

Soap and Ghost wait nearby, cameras rolling, as Gaz sprints toward you from behind, gloved hand reaching for your arm.

Then—

CRACK!

Gaz eats a fucking fist to the jaw.

He stumbles back, eyes wide, a "holy fuck—" leaving his lips.

But you’re not done.

You grab his wrist, pivot, and slam him against the nearest wall.

Gaz groans. "BABY, IT’S ME—"

You freeze.

Blink.

"Kyle?"

"YES."

You look up—Soap and Ghost, cackling their fucking lungs out, recording everything.

"What. The. FUCK." You shove him for good measure.

Kyle, still dazed: "Okay, maybe—ow—maybe we took this too far—"

Footsteps come shuffling out of the shadows, his partners in crime showing themselves. "SHE FUCKIN’ ONE-PUNCHED YOU, BRO."

Ghost drops a meaty arm around your shoulders, you state up at him as he squeezes you like he’s a proud father despite the glare on your face. "Respectfully, I think she owns the competition now, you’re a deadman, Gaz."

You storm off. "I hate you all."

Gaz just leans against the wall, rubbing his jaw. "I think I saw God for a second."

Simon "Ghost" Riley – “live this life now"

Ghost doesn’t scare easily.

But when you scream like you’re about to commit a murder, he flinches.

Which is a problem, considering he was the one trying to scare you.

It had been perfectly planned—dimmed lights, a low growl in the dark, creeping footsteps…

Then?

BAM.

You launch yourself at him, tackling the motherfucker to the floor.

Your knee slams into his gut.

Your elbow connects with his face.

Ghost groans. "Bloody hell, love—"

"STAY DOWN, FUCKER—"

"IT'S ME—"

"I KNOW IT’S YOU, SIMON, BUT I LIVE THIS LIFE NOW—"

Soap and Gaz start to die laughing in the background, recording all of it. You growl in anger, vowing silently to get them all back.

Ghost grumbles, rubbing his side. "Jesus, you fight like me, love."

You glare. "You taught me this shit."

Soap, wheezing as he clutched the back of your couch. "Bro, she fucking bodied you—"

Ghost, sighing as he brings himself upright. "Yeah, yeah. Next time, I’m taking the piss outta her."

You roll your eyes. "Just wait till you let your guard down."

Ghost suddenly regrets everything.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish – "kicked me in the soul"

Soap’s plan? Simple.

Hide in your closet.

Wait for you to walk by.

Jump out.

Scare you.

Have the boys film it, visiting under guise of watching a football match.

Easy, right?

Fucking wrong.

Because the moment he jumps out, screaming—

BAM.

You scream right back and kick him in the fucking balls.

Soap collapses.

Like a fucking ragdoll.

His entire life force leaves his body.

Soap wheezes in pain, clutching himself tightly. "AGH—FUCK—"

"WHAT THE FUCK, JOHNNY?"

"WHAT THE FUCK, ME?? YOU FUCKING KICKED ME IN THE SOUL."

Meanwhile, outside the doorway Gaz and Ghost are FUCKING DYING.

"YOU KICKED HIM IN THE NUTS??" He had the phone in hand, his only job,

Ghost was bent over, hands on knees laughing at his friend, his only job to stop you if things went too far. "I CAN’T BREATHE."

Soap groans, curled into the fetal position. "Babe, why—"

You cross your arms. "Serves you right, dumbass."

"I THINK I SAW JESUS."

Moral of the Story:

TF141 thought they were getting revenge.

Instead?

They just got their asses kicked.

And now?

They sleep with one eye open.

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writeriguess · 2 months ago

Note

hey darling! could I please request a katsuki bakugou x yn (dating) whereby they got into a heated argument post fight (against a rather dangerous villain) in which yn took a shot that was evidently meant for kats, so he’s reprimanding yn on how careless they are (as he struggle to properly express himself), thus, yn just accepts his scoldings and mean words and became distant w him. of course, he feels guilty after some time and tries to talk to yn, but it’s not going in his favour whatsoever (a cliff hanger type of ending please, thank you!)

Fears

The air was thick with the lingering scent of smoke and gunpowder, the aftermath of the battle still fresh in the ruined streets. Katsuki Bakugou’s hands were clenched into tight fists, his jaw locked so hard it could snap. The streetlights flickered dimly, casting long shadows over the debris, the only sounds being distant sirens and his own ragged breathing.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" His voice was raw, hoarse from shouting commands during the fight—but this was different. This was anger laced with something else, something heavier. "You just fucking jumped in front of me! Do you have a goddamn death wish?"

You stood there, the pain from your injury dull compared to the sting of his words. The wound on your side throbbed, the makeshift bandage already darkening with blood. But what hurt more was the way he was looking at you—furious, livid, like you had betrayed him in the worst possible way.

“I—”

“No! Shut up! You think you’re a hero for pulling that shit?” His crimson eyes were ablaze, but they were also shaking, betraying the fear he refused to voice. "You don't get to be so fucking reckless! What if—what if you had died, huh? Did you think about that?" His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he masked it with a scowl, stepping closer, towering over you as his hands trembled at his sides.

You swallowed hard. "I just... I couldn't let you get hurt, Katsuki. I—"

"That's not your fucking job!" He raked a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "You’re supposed to have my back, not throw yourself in front of me like some dumbass martyr! You think that makes you strong? It makes you fucking stupid!"

You bit your lip, absorbing the weight of his words. He didn’t mean it—at least, not the way it sounded. You knew that. But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, barely audible over the distant sirens.

Bakugou stilled. His breath was ragged, his hands still trembling at his sides. He wanted to say more, but the words refused to come. He wanted to tell you that the thought of losing you had made his blood run cold, that seeing you bleeding out on the ground had sent a fear through him that he didn’t know how to handle. He wanted to admit, in some messed-up way, that he had never been more terrified in his life.

But all he did was scoff. "Whatever. Just... don't fucking do it again."

You nodded once, silent. And then you turned away.

Over the next few days, something changed. You still showed up to missions, still trained, still shared space with him—but you weren’t really there. You didn’t joke around like before, didn’t meet his eyes, didn’t linger near him like you used to. You spoke when necessary, but your words were short, distant.

And he fucking hated it.

At first, he convinced himself it was fine. That you just needed space. That you’d snap out of it soon enough.

But days passed, and nothing changed. And the guilt settled in, suffocating. It ate away at him during training, during missions, during sleepless nights where he found himself replaying that moment over and over. The way you had looked at him. The way your voice had sounded so... small.

One evening, he finally cornered you outside the agency, frustration boiling over. "Oi," he called, but you barely glanced at him before continuing down the steps. His eye twitched. "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

You halted but didn’t turn around. "What do you want, Bakugou?"

The way you said his name—so formal, so devoid of warmth—sent a sharp pang through his chest. "What the fuck is your problem?" he snapped. "You've been acting weird all week."

You exhaled slowly, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. "I got your message loud and clear, alright? You don’t have to yell at me again."

His brows furrowed. "What message—"

"That I'm a reckless dumbass who needs to stay out of your way."

Bakugou's mouth opened, but no words came out. Because that wasn’t what he meant. That wasn’t what he wanted you to take from it at all.

You finally turned to look at him then, and something in your eyes—something unreadable, distant—made his stomach drop. There was no anger, no fire, no fight left in you. Just a quiet kind of acceptance. And it fucking scared him more than any battle ever could.

Before he could get a grip on what to say, you turned and started walking away again.

And for the first time in a long time, Katsuki Bakugou didn’t know how to fix what he had broken.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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snowluvvie · 4 months ago

Text

₊˚⊹ ♡ . EASILY CONVINCED.

₊˚⊹ ♡ . RED K!CLARK X READER

₊˚⊹ ♡ . you want to leave him, but there's one thing keeping you there

₊˚⊹ ♡ . MDNI 18+ | word count — 2.8k | warnings — established toxic relationship, Clark does not care about your feelings at any point at all, manipulation, crying, oral (m. recieving), finger sucking, unprotected p in v, name-calling, hair-pulling

When Clark strolled into your shared Metropolis apartment, it was already after dark. The moonlight streaming in through the window glinted off the smooth marble countertop and illuminated you, already waiting in the shared kitchen for him to arrive home. Your arms were folded over your chest, eyebrows furrowed lightly. You were finally going to have the conversation you’d been needing to have with him for the past few months.

You thought if you came to Metropolis with him, stayed by his side rather than letting him run off on his own, things would get better. That isolation wouldn’t be good for him, and your presence would sway him to take off the ring and return to Smallville. It hadn’t. Sometimes it seemed like it worsened with the passing days—the going out and staying out for hours, sometimes overnight, being mouthy and rude, or just downright insulting. And you saw the way he looked at women passing on the street sometimes. It felt like being stabbed, though you’d given up on reprimanding him a while back. Now, though?

You’d come to the long overdue conclusion that this simply wasn’t the same Clark anymore, wasn’t your Clark. He wasn’t the guy that insisted on fixing your car when it made him late for school that day, or the guy that practically ran to your parents’ house to fix their fence when it broke, or the guy that kissed you like your face was something precious between his hands and fucked you like you actually meant something to him.

As Clark closed the front door behind him, your eyes caught on the obnoxiously large crimson ring still nestled on his giant hand. That old Clark was gone. Maybe one day he’d come back on his own, but for now? You wanted to go home. You wanted your life back.

You cleared your throat, and Clark raised his eyebrows as he regarded you standing there, waiting for him. “It’s late.”

He gives a halfway nod, lips quirking up into a smile, “It gets busier the later it gets. I should’ve stayed, really.”

By it he means that stupid club on the corner downtown. All pulsing blue lights and girls in the tiniest skirts you’ve ever seen. You’ve always tried to push its very existence out of your brain, and an involuntary shiver wracks your arms as you’re afflicted by thoughts of what he gets up to there.

“Well, I ate already.” Your arms tightened around you, silently cursing yourself for always fumbling when it came to things like this.

Clark hums in response, barely paying attention as he tugs his jacket off and tosses it onto the back of the chair. His keys clatter against the counter with a metallic clang, and he’s visibly already thinking about something else entirely.

You take a deep breath, “I wanna talk to you.”

“Y'are talking to me. Right now.” He flashes his pearly teeth, the little points peeking over his perfect bottom lip.

You shake your head, your eyes flicking away from him and instead focusing on the wall, or maybe the fridge. That was always how he got you—it was the same smile, the same twinkle in those blue eyes. It took all your willpower to stay grounded and remind yourself that no matter how bad you wished he was, he wasn’t your Clark. Your resolve trembled every time you looked at him.

“No, I mean talk to you about us.”

He rolls his eyes, “Not this again.” There he was. Dismissive and careless, which was all he’d been the last few months when he wasn’t just being blatantly mean.

“Listen! Yes, this again, you never let me finish!”

“I let you finish plenty. Wasn’t it…three times, last weekend?” He wanders over to the fridge, tugging the door open placidly. He looks over to you for a few moments, only long enough to see the way your jaw tightens as your face warms despite yourself.

“That’s not—I was trying to—” You huff, throwing your hands half-heartedly in the air as you struggle to articulate yourself. Like you always did, which Clark knew. “You know what I meant.”

Just as the last word left your lips, he slammed the fridge door. So hard the wall behind it rattled. "Can't this wait til' after I get somethin' to eat? 'M starved after tonight." He huffed out a laugh cause he knew what he was doing, leaving your imagination to run wild about what he'd got up to.

Though your bottom lip quivered a little bit, you shook your head. "No, you're a selfish dick. If I waited for you to want to talk to me, I'd be waiting forever."

Clark was across the kitchen and in your personal space in less than half a second, making you gasp. You tried to back up as he towered over you, but you bumped into the corner—he had you caged up against it. You avoided his eyes, though you couldn't escape his smell with how close he was. Delicious despite his bad behavior—oak barrels and gentle shampoo and sunlight. Your head swam as you took it in, you couldn't fight it when he grabbed your face, forcing it upwards. He craned your neck back to look at him, and his gaze was amused, lips tilted slightly upwards.

"My dick is a lot of things. Selfish is not one. You'd know, huh? There's only one greedy bitch here."

You were shaking like a leaf, and the squeak you let out was pathetic. "You know how I feel about the b-word."

Clark laughed loudly. "How you feel, and how you feel," his tone of voice lilted suggestively as his hand dipped down to the front of your shorts. "Are two very different things."

He paused for a half second, so you'd have time to say no, but it was mocking—he knew you wouldn't stop him. That made the seconds that stretched between you taunting, a total mockery of what you'd been trying to do, the corpse of your dead resolve practically half-buried already as you stood with baited breath, waiting for him to slip his hand where you wanted it.

As his hand went between your thighs, he grinned. “You’re real predictable, y’know that?” His fingers slid through your folds easily from how drenched they were. When he pulled his fingers from your panties, a glistening strand of your arousal clung onto them, and he shoved it in your face. Raising his eyebrows, “and you keep trying to act like you want me to be different. Liar.”

Your lip quivered from the misconstrued truth in his words, the way he could always use that against you. It wasn’t your fucking fault your boyfriend’s voice got you all hot, he was literally the most perfect man in the world, even when he was like this—that didn’t mean you wanted him to stay this way. The late-night whispers between the two of you as you laid on his barn couch back in Smallville, about a house and a family, were more important to you than the sex you seemingly couldn’t stop having. But why couldn’t you stop having it?

Clark shoved his fingers in your mouth, making you clean your own wetness off of them, and he intentionally shoved them back far enough to make you gag lightly. You hated the disappointment that bloomed in your belly when you realized he wasn’t going to relieve you further with his hand, he was just making a point. Your eyes burned.

"You owe me! I was ready to have a perfectly nice night an' settle in—you're the one who had to start somethin'." He rolled his eyes. "You're always doing this, y'know. Not very fair to me, is it?"

Your eyes watered and, though you were fighting furiously to keep it in, a little sniffle escaped you. The sound made Clark's eyes snap to you, just in time to watch the first tear slip down your cheek. The grin that spread across his face was sickening.

"C'mon. On your knees."

You hesitated for a moment, just long enough to make him punctate it with, "now."

The last of your resolve was officially gone and buried as you sunk to your knees, which met the cold tile underneath you, and looked up at him. Clark raised his eyebrows, prompting you with a nod, and your fingers found his belt and began undoing it. You fumbled with it a little, hands shaky through your crying.

When you raised a hand to wipe the tears from your face, Clark swatted it away. “Makes it extra wet, y’know that.” He reasoned with a charming smile.

You ignored him and finally got his belt undone, and his cock sprung out of the confines of his boxers already stiff. That only rubbed it in more—every insult and mockery he threw your way only made him harder, and your tears were just the nail in the coffin.

No matter how upset you were, it was muscle memory to take him as far back into your throat as you could, though you struggled. You gagged around it, saliva bubbling from the corners of your mouth. He was right, and the longer you went, your tears from both Clark’s mocking and how harshly you were gagging mixed with your spit and left his cock slick, your mouth sliding around it too easily. Your hand wrapped around the base so you could cover more of it, and his head fell back a little as you twisted your fist around his shaft at the same time your tongue swirled over his tip. The sigh he let out was contented, and he ran his fingers through your hair at the nape of your neck.

For a half second, you pretended it was Clark—your Clark. The guy who had held your hair back for you and rubbed your scalp soothingly when you had his dick in your mouth, doing his best to reward you for every good feeling you ‘gifted’ him, which was how he saw it.

The illusion was shattered when the fingers in your hair tightened sharply, making you yelp at the sudden pain. Clark groaned as your pained sounds vibrated around his cock, and he held your head in place as he started sliding in and out quicker, fucking your face at a more demanding pace than you’d been able to handle yourself. You gagged every time his tip hit the back of your throat, and Clark was letting the grunts and moans fall from his lips freely as you gagged, whined, and swallowed desperately around him.

“I like your mouth so much better when I do this. Not all that other shit.” He groaned. “Ah, fuck, ‘m gonna—”

Before he could finish his sentence, or cum down your throat, Clark was yanking you off of him by your hair. You let out a surprised yelp, but he was already snatching you up and tossing you over his shoulder like you were weightless. His shiny, throbbing cock still hung out of his blue jeans as he carried you to the back of the apartment and to your shared bedroom. He bumped your head on the doorframe as he brought you inside and ignored the noise you made, before tossing you down on the bed.

You sat there numbly, defeated, face streaked with tears and drool and precum, as Clark shrugged off his clothes and bared his inhumanly defined body to you. The moonlight coming in through the massive bedroom window—which wasn’t covered by the curtains, so you were sure some news helicopter would get a real eyeful of the habit Clark had developed to avoid a break-up—hit his chest in a way that made his tanned skin glow. Your mouth watered a little at the sight of him, something you’d truly never get used to, as if you needed more spit on your fucking face.

Clark wordlessly snapped his fingers at you as he knelt on the bed, and you moved obediently to hook your fingers in the waistband of your shorts and tug them and your panties down in one motion. Clark finished the job when he got impatient and made quick work of your thin sleep shirt, leaving it in two pieces by the foot of the bed.

He moved you like a doll, on all fours in front of him, fingers digging into your skin as he positioned you the way he wanted. The scream you let out when he sheathed inside you in one smooth motion—too big to fully bottom out, instead abusing your cervix immediately and giving you zero time to adjust—was muffled by his giant hand shoving your face into his pillow. That scent invaded your nose again, familiar and musky and clean, and you focused on it to distract yourself from the sting, gritting your teeth as you waited to adjust. Whines and yelps fell from your lips and were swallowed by the plush cotton, Clark still palming the back of your head to keep it there.

His pace was selfish and unforgiving, and though he was sliding in and out of you with no rhythm and no regard for how you felt, that didn’t stop the way your body began going limp, your pained squeaks turning into desperate moans and whimpers. “Nghh—ah, ah,” and you were sure Clark could hear it, no matter how drowned out it was by the wet, explicit skin-on-skin noises that filled the room.

He let your face up for a minute, and you gasped for breath.

“Feelin’ better now that you’re all full? Y’know—you’re always goin’ on and on—y’say you’re ‘not happy’” he did a high-pitched voice, mocking you, and you keened in response as he kept pumping inside of you, “I think what you mean to say is empty. Cause you’re all smiles when you're like this—real happy, right?”

Your only response was a low whine, and he smacked your ass hard. You jolted and yelped from the pain, but couldn’t move away from the second loud slap he landed against your cheek. He was holding you too tightly in place.

“Answer me.” Clark prompted, though his amused tone concealed an underlying threat as his hand still hovered over the globe of your ass, which was already blooming with red.

“Nngh—yes.” You cried out, but he clucked his tongue at you, ramming into you particularly hard to punctuate it. Your eyes rolled back.

“Yes what?”

“H-happy—‘m happy, thank you.” Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks from the way he was punishing your cunt.

You could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “there ya go!” Though, of course, nothing nice. He never fucking said anything nice. Said you hadn’t earned it, no matter what you did.

“Aah, shit—” His hips stuttered a little bit, and he let out a breath through gritted teeth. You clenched around him harshly and he groaned in response, your own release was creeping up on you.

“I dunno if you—argh—deserve my cum. Not today. Y’just cause problems.”

The pleading whine you let out was high-pitched and pathetic, the pillow wet with your still-flowing tears and the idea of him pulling out right now was torturous to you. He could’ve threatened to kill you and it would’ve been a less horrific idea.

“Please… please, Clark, please.” You babbled like a broken record, borderline incoherent through the snot and tears and broken moans. He was drilling your pussy, which was still squeezing him like a vice, and he laughed at your begging.

“One day I’ll stop bein' so nice, y’know?” Was the last thing Clark said before he came inside of you with a low, delicious groan, hips slamming into yours harshly as he fucked you through his orgasm. Your whole body shook with the force of it, limp and spasming, though he held you up easily. Your own release washed over you, and you finally let out a desperate, ecstatic cry as you were rewarded with the white-hot pleasure. The two of you were one, actually together for a few moments as you both reveled in the pleasure, something you didn't get from him anymore. Something you desperately missed, and your face screwed up at the familiar feeling.

It was over as quickly as it happened.

After Clark pulled out, he had the decency to arrange your limbs into some semblance of a laying position for you, since you were far too gone to do it. Your whole body felt like syrup. He laid your head on your own pillow, which made you miss the familiar smell of his, and tugged the covers over you. You didn't think you could speak if you wanted to, or remember your own name—or think of anything but him.

Clark rolled back over, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He was perfectly composed, though your chest still heaved as you tried to catch your breath. Shakily, you took a few slow, deep ones. There was a fuzzy warmth tugging at the edges of your brain and your chest. Like there always was after he was done with you.

“I love you.” You mumbled as your eyes drifted shut.

Clark’s answer was matter-of-fact, so close to being neutral if it wasn’t for the smugness that crept in.

“I know.”

#thinking: clark kent ₊˚⊹♡#clark kent x you #clark kent x reader #clark kent smallville #clark kent #clark kent fic #clark kent drabble #clark kent x female reader #clark kent x y/n #clark kent x you smut #clark kent smut #clark kent imagine #red kryptonite clark kent #smallville fanfiction #clark kent x fem reader #superman smut #superman x reader

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lxvebun · 9 months ago

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if it's okay could you write something about simon asking the reader to stay the night and it will be the first time they sleep over? no pressure ofc!

Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader. Fluff! i'm yearning for fall/winter so it's written with that in mind. The heat is getting to me🥲 not proofread im nervous. Eng isn't my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes!

“I should probably go."

It took you an embarrassingly long time to finally get those words out. Every minute ticking by only making you more and more nervous to actually say them. You truly don’t want to leave just yet. Don’t want to pull away from your place next to him, tucked into his side, soft, warm. A strong arm wrapping around you keeping you nice and close to him, occasionally his hand traces invisible heart shapes and silent i love you’s into your skin.

(a habit that has shifted into his love language. Simon Riley loves quietly, but deeply. And moments where he can get his hands on your skin to spell out his devotion to you, fingertips burning pleasantly, leaving behind a trail of falling stars, is something he makes time for often)

It feels all too safe and domestic to leave just yet, but the colder months are approaching and it’s well into the evening now. The sky has already completely settled into a deep dark blue with clusters of stars and a bright full moon. The streets however are still lively, early sunsets and longer nights having no affect on most people's schedule. People are coming back from a long day at work, couples are running their last errands at the corner store and old grannies are coming back from their weekly bingo night down the street at the community center. Right now, it still feels safe enough to walk back home on your own. Without a doubt, Simon would offer to walk you, but he’s barely made it through your annual movie night and you’d rather not keep him from his much needed and well deserved sleep.

(it would not be your first time walking home alone at night, don’t tell Simon, but you prefer not to. Being so hyper aware of every movement and every sound is tiring and your 15 minute walk back home feels like you just finished a marathon)

He shifts next to you, the haze of sleep laced in his movements, a groan of disagreement falling from his lips as he throws a glance at his watch.

"T’is only eight, sweetheart. You never leave this early. Something wrong?" A twinge of worry coursing through his voice, brows furrowed at the thought of you being uncomfortable. His hand changes from tracing shapes to rubbing comforting circles into your side, albeit a bit frantically.

(he’s so attentive it honestly makes you wanna cry sometimes)

"No, nothings wrong," You begin. Smoothing the crease between his eyebrows with your thumb and placing a gentle kiss to his jawline. "I just don’t want to walk alone at night. Nor do I want to keep you from your sleep"

You’re quick to add the last bit, practically hearing the words "I'll walk you " escape from his mouth already.

He doesn’t make an attempt to remove his hands from your waist, or sit back up straight. On the contrary he’s taken it to melt into you a little more, pull you a little closer and you think he’s doing this to convince you to stay

(it's working)

even months deep into your relationship, every sweet touch and gentle kiss still manages to cause your heart to soar and flutter in your chest.

He takes a moment to just look at you, and it makes you avert your eyes at its heaviness. Too sweet, too piercing, you feel like he’s looking into your mind and soul, breaking it open like a book and taking everything in. Usually, he coaxes you with delicate words and a warm hand on your jaw to keep looking at him but he’ll let you look away for now. You who’s so sweetly tucked into his side, you who feels so warm and peaceful against him it makes him wanna squeeze you to his chest and never let go. How could he possibly let you go when you look so content and so safe in his arms. From the look in your eyes and body language alone he can tell you feel good here, that you want to stay. He’s right but It’s the nerves, the shyness and not being sure where his boundaries lie that make you pull away from this moment

"You could always stay the night." He whispers, honeyed and soothing. Making sure you know there’s no pressure behind his request. It makes something warm curl in your heart

He’s been thinking about it often, what it would be like to wake up next to you. Seeing you first thing when he opens his eyes all angelic and soft in the golden morning sun rays, sleeping in his bed, draped in his sheets. Would you have any special night routines, would you like to use a nightlight or do you prefer complete darkness, do you move around a lot, are you cuddly. It honestly takes over the majority of his thoughts when he goes to bed himself. Finds himself imagining in detail what it would be like and he swears that he sleeps best on those nights. He can only imagine how good he’ll sleep next to you.

Your silence would worry him if he wasn’t able to read you so well. A hitch in your breath, eyes looking everywhere but him, a shy smile tugging on your lips

(you’re so cute)

"I’d like that." Your voice comes out soft, a little vulnerable but you know you’re safe. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves.

You’ve been thinking about it too. Spend many nights imagining what it would be like to curl up in his arms and drift off to sleep. Waking him up with a plethora of kisses to his face. Making your respective morning drinks in the kitchen together, stealing kisses in between sips. Thinking about it always leaves you feeling a little dizzy.

His response comes in the form of a wet kiss to your forehead that trails down to your cheeks, then the corner of your lips before finally pulling you into one. You'll choose to spare him and not comment on the flush on his cheeks, just this once

"I’ll go grab a hoodie and some sweatpants, you can use those to sleep in"

reluctantly, although motivated by the image of you in his clothes, he stands up, warmth slipping away for a moment before it’s contained again by the blanket he drapes over you.

"I’ll grab the clothes, you pick another movie"

With that he makes his way to the bedroom to retrieve said clothes. Before you can pick up the remote to pick a movie however, his voice booms out of the bedroom

"Do not pick twilight. Can’t stand that edward fucker."

Perhaps the Notebook will be more to his taste then:)

thank you for requesting nonnie! and thank you for reading angels!

#simon riley x gender neutral reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod fluff #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x reader

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klausysworld · 5 months ago

Text

(This one’s only short but I still just wanted to post something)

New Daddies

Klaus and Elijah hadn't ever been too great at sharing. They were both men who knew what they wanted and would fight to. have it just for themselves.

But Y/N was something they quickly forgot all that for.

She was just so perfect, she never seemed to hold any judgement for them. It hadn't taken long for them to discover that she was a little. It was obvious from the moment they'd met.

Poor thing, the brothers had been storming through New Orleans, wiping by without a care for pedestrians when they smacked right into her. Her milkshake was completely wasted and her bottom hit the floor with a cry of shock and pain leaving her lips.

Usually they'd just keep walking but Elijah stopped. and looked down which drew Klaus's attention too as he turned back on his heel.

Y/N's eyes were full of not yet fallen tears and her sweet nose was twitching between sniffles. Klaus watched silently as Elijah gently helped her up and removed his jacker, placing it over her shoulders and doing the buttons up to cover her dress which was now ruined with milkshake.

"Poor thing..." He muttered and Klaus's lip twitched.

"We'll have to get her some new clothes, and a new drink." Klaus announced with a smirk and placed his hand on the small of her back.

It was clear that the girl was in no mindset to consider it odd how two strangers were touching her gently and guiding her down the street, talking to her in simple sentences so she could nod or shake her head.

It was as though, just like that, whatever death was about to stumble into their clutches was disregarded. Instead they were in a dress shop, Y/N on Elijah's knee whilst Klaus consulted with a stylist and picked out a few pieces himself.

"Come with me, little love, lets get you into something clean." He coaxed, taking her hand in his as she slid down from Elijah's thigh and wondered over to him, her other hand holding her two fingers near her mouth as she nibbled nervously at her nails. Klaus pulled them away form her lips and took her behind to the changing rooms, leaving Elijah to make some calls so that people knew they were out for the day.

Y/N's head leant against his chest as he shimmied the old dress from her body, his hands and eyes eager to get her in her underwear. A little groan left him as her perky little breasts were left braless. "Oh my love..." He murmured and stroked her soft skin, her shoulders and arms before his palms cupped each breast. Her lashes fluttered before she looked up at him through them, an innocence he hadn't seen in such a long time shining back at him.

"It's cold, Daddy." She whispered and a soft rumble vibrated in his chest.

"You're right little love, it's cold. Let Daddy dress you now." He smiled, grinned, and picked the first dress he'd chosen from the hanger and slipped it up her body. "Turn for me, baby." He purred and she did, her back now to him so that he could do her up. "There, what do you think, hm?" He questioned, his hands on her hips as he looked at her through the mirror.

Her head nodded almost shyly and he smiled, leaning down to kiss the side of her face. "We're taking you home with us, you'd like that wouldn't you little one?" Klaus murmured to her and she leant her head back against his chest, tilting her head back to look up at him. His lips pulled to a smirk and he hummed. "Lets show Elijah hm?" He encouraged, wrapping his arm round her waist to lead her from the changing room.

"Is that my other Daddy?" She asked and he chuckled.

"You learn fast, love." He grinned and lifted her, placing her down in front of his brother who was now out of his seat and examining their little girl thoroughly.

"Beautiful." He uttered, his hands skimming over her skin and the fabric of the dress.

She went home with them easily, ate the food they gave her, watched the movies they picked and let them change her into a pair of Elijah's boxers and one of Klaus's shirts before being tucked into a bed with them both either side of her body.

"Go to sleep little one, you're our baby girl now."

Y/N woke up between them every morning, stayed between them every day and laid back between them every night.

She would continue to do so, always and forever.

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esotericsorrow · 5 months ago

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i've got this anxious feeling (but it goes away for a minute when i'm with you breathing) - ekko x reader

wc: 1k

warnings: mention of blood

ekko x medic!reader

ekko doesn't remember the exact moment when everything changed between you two. one minute, you were just kids running through the streets of zaun, stealing glances at each other and dreaming of something better. the next, you were both standing midst of a revolution, both bearing the weight of your choices and responsibilities.

it had always been that way, hadn't it? both of you carried the pain of zaun’s broken streets in different ways, and that pain had shaped who you were—who you were meant to be.

“y/n,” ekko whispered, his voice strained from the blood loss. “how did we get here?”

you didn’t answer right away. you finished wrapping his side with gauze and then gently cupped his chin, tilting his face up toward yours. there was no judgment in your eyes, only the kind of quiet understanding that ekko had never found anywhere else.

“we were always going to end up here,” you said softly. “those were the shitty cards we were dealt with.”

you were no longer the girl that played in the streets with him. no longer the girl to whisk away to some dingy rooftop to stargaze at the barely visible galaxy. you were the firelight medic now. your eyes were laser focused as you worked, hands steady and efficient. back when you were children, you had patched him up after every scrape, every reckless stunt. nothing had changed, you were still the one taking care of himself when he couldn't.

“still think you’re invincible?” you asked, glancing up at him as you cleaned the wound.

“i’m still breathing,” ekko shot back, but the words felt hollow, more tired than defiant.

you didn’t respond, just continuing to work on him. it was always this way. you’d never say what you really wanted to say, but ekko knew you too well. there were things between you—things left unsaid—but both of you had been too afraid to voice them. back then, it was the simple question of whether you’d be able to survive together. now, it was bigger than that. now, it was about whether if you guys could still see each other as more than the people you had been, more than the roles you both were now trapped in.

ekko met your eyes, his chest tight. “i don’t know if i can fix this. everything’s falling apart, y/n, i keep trying, but it’s never enough.”

you finished cleaning the wound, your hands pausing as you looked up at him. the same intensity you had always carried was still there, but now it was mixed with something else—something softer, something more fragile.

“you’re not supposed to fix everything,” you said quietly. “you’re just supposed to keep going. we all are.”

there was a pause, and for a fleeting moment, ekko saw the girl he had known all his life. the girl who had bandaged his scraped knees, who had silently supported him with his creations. the girl who had always believed in something better for them, for zaun.

“and what if i don’t know how?” he whispered, the vulnerability in his voice something he hadn’t allowed anyone to hear in years.

you set down your medical tools and stepped closer to him. you took his hand, your fingers warm against his cold skin. for a moment, he felt a wave of emotions crash over him—memories of their childhood, of simpler times, of a connection that had always been there but was buried beneath the chaos of their lives.

“you don’t have to know how, ekko,” you said softly, your voice just for him. “you just have to keep trying.”

you took a seat beside him on the tiny bed, bodies squished together, shoulders pressing. you hesitated for a moment before leaning your head against his.

“you’re not the boy savior or the leader of the firelights when you’re here with me. you’re just ekko, the boy who always offered me the last bite of his food, the tastiest part. the boy who indulged in my every stupid theory about aliens. the boy who always managed to pull reckless stunts after stunts and inevitably end up injured and come to me, hands expectantly raised to be patched up.”

you fiddled with the ends of your skirt. “you still do. all of that.”

he rubbed his neck sheepishly. “your aliens theories are very interesting.”

you smiled at him softly. he mirrored a similar one of his own.

ekko looked at you then, really looked at you. and in that moment, something shifted—something he hadn’t expected but had always hoped for. he wasn’t sure where this path would lead them, but he knew one thing for certain: you was still here, still standing by his side.

“i don’t know if i can keep doing this without you,” he said, his voice low, vulnerable.

you smiled, gently flicking his forehead before cupping his face to press a chaste kiss on his cheek. ‘you dont have to, silly. i’m not going anywhere. i’m not leaving you ever.”

for a long moment, you simply stayed there, the weight of everything you both had endured settling between, unspoken. you didn’t need to say more. not yet. there was time.

#arcane x female reader #arcane #ekko x fem reader #ekko x female reader #ekko x y/n #ekko x reader #ekko x you #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #ekko arcane #arcane x reader

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bokutoko · 25 days ago

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hi cutie!! first of all CONGRATS ON THE 500 FOLLOWERS, you deserve it omg<333

and then i love your spring event it’s so cute!!! 🌸💐🌷sooo here’s my order: can i please have a mini carnations & roses bouquet as the main flowers and thistle as filler flowers for iwaizumi? (i was imagining uni student iwa but up to you to you if you prefer smth else)

forever

h. iwaizumi x f!reader

wc: 1.2k

cw: night confessions, exes to lovers/second chance romance, uni!au, reader is followed walking home

you didn’t know who else to call.

“hello...?” his voice was muddled with sleep, woken up from the ringing. it was close to one in the morning at that point, but you were desperate—he was the only one to pick up.

“iwaizumi?” you softly asked, your voice shaking, no matter how much you tried to control it. the call was silent on his side for a moment, most likely iwaizumi staring at his phone, wondering if he was actually awake or just dreaming that.

but then he processed the tremble in your voice, his mind zeroing in on it. “what’s wrong?”

“i’m walking back to my apartment,” you whispered into the phone, “i think i’m being followed.”

you hear immediate rustling of the sheets and iwaizumi’s more alert voice. “where are you?”

“about to cross fourth and university drive.”

“i’m coming,” he announced, grabbing his keys, “stay on the phone with me, okay? talk me through this. what’re they doing?”

you know you probably shouldn’t have called your ex-boyfriend, knowing the two of you ended so you both could focus on your respective studies—the same cliché excuse all college exes used—but he was leaving in a couple weeks to study abroad.

despite all this, nothing could ever replace how safe he made you feel around him. he was always the protective kind; he had always been your scary dog privilege.

you swallowed and took a shallow breath in an attempt to calm your heart rate—fight or flight definitely began kicking in. looking around, it was too eerily quiet down this road, with only a couple empty convenience stores still open at that hour. however, they provided enough light for you to remain illuminated at all times, keeping the creeper far behind.

you glanced back, noticing the figure walking slowly, but consistently taking the same turns as you—even after you deliberately went in a circle around a couple blocks to test them.

“they’ve been following me since i left campus,” you explained in a shaky voice, “they’re keeping their head down so the lampposts and shop lights don’t show their face… i’m just gonna walk to your place—you live closer.”

probably not the best idea, but it was your safety on the line.

you heard the controlled breathing on the other line as iwaizumi ran down the street. “keep talking to me, i’m about three minutes away,” he panted.

as you kept checking behind you, the figure kept getting closer, stumbling over their own feet at times—definitely inebriated. as you turned a corner, you saw iwaizumi running to you, and you met him halfway with glassy eyes.

upon seeing iwaizumi holding you in a protective hug, the mysterious person turned to walk a different direction, sober enough to realize it wasn’t worth a fight—especially a fight that your ex-boyfriend would most likely win.

he rubbed your back comfortingly as you buried your face in his chest, taking in the familiar, nostalgic scent of cinnamon. “it’s okay, princess. breathe for me,” he cooed in your hair, using the same pet name from when you were together, “that’s it, just like that. breathe with me.” he drew exaggerating breaths, modeling deep inhales for you to copy.

“didn’t know who else to call,” you whispered, “i’m sorry to bother—”

“don’t finish that. you could never bother me.” with a protective hand on your back, he guided you back to his apartment, knowing you needed to get inside somewhere as soon as possible.

walking into his apartment, it looked the same as the last time you visited. with the mini shelves of books and knick knacks, the minimal wall decorations, and the ugly grey couch in the center of the room, a wave of nostalgia washed over your body.

and then you noticed a picture on the shelf. it was a picture of the two of you on a hike, sweat glistening on both of your smiling faces. it was one of your first dates.

a part of you wondered why he kept such a thing, an intimate memory that only you two could recall. it was the first time he kissed you; his lips met yours right after you took the picture.

“you can take the bed,” iwaizumi stated, dragging your mind back to the presence. you quickly shook your head, but he insisted, walking into the kitchen to get you a cup of water. he remembered you always wanted one next to you in bed in case you woke up thirsty.

as he held the cup out to you, you softly asked, “why did you come?”

he met your eyes, an unusual softness in his eyes—a look reserved only for you, and he shrugged. “because you called.”

silence was stretched thin between you both, wrapping around your throats and preventing the two of you from speaking. you cleared your throat, willing yourself to say something. “iwa—”

“that’s not what you call me.”

you hesitated. “hajime…”

he dared a step closer, a finger lifting your chin up to look into his beautiful olive green eyes. his gaze bounced between your own eyes, searching for something. he wasn’t even sure what he was seeking out, maybe he just wanted to continue looking at you.

god, he could look at you forever.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, “damn, i’m an idiot.”

you paused, your heart skipping several beats as you waited for him to elaborate. you ignored the burn in your eyes or exhaustion that laced your weary bones.

but he didn’t ignore it. he knew how exhausted you were—he could see it in the dark circles under your eyes, in how your body hunched just slightly.

you were gorgeous—perfect, even.

“it kills me how much i still love you,” he whispered, adopting an almost pained expression, “so get some sleep, princess. we have a bit to talk about in the morning.”

your jaw dropped. “there’s no way you’re gonna tell me that, then expect me to go to bed. hajime, you’re going abroad in—”

“two weeks, i know.” shifting uncomfortably, he placed the cup down. “but i also know how wrong i was to think that i could just forget about you.”

the air in the room fell quiet again, leaving the two of you nervous, like it was the end of your first date all over again. both hearts beating wildly, wondering what the other’s next move would be. it was equally exciting as it was terrifying.

“hajime,” you whispered with an exasperated sigh, “you know you’re the one.” your words were gentle, candid, raw. you knew you couldn’t love another like you’ve always loved him. ever since you were little kids sharing the neighborhood swing set or riding bikes together. every time you fell and cried, he was the one to pick you back up.

he sighed, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “and you know you are too, princess. it’s always been you.”

with a soft kiss on the lips, whispers of “let’s get to bed,” and a night of almost desperate cuddles, you fell asleep in the strong arms of the love of your life once again.

iwaizumi knew he wanted to live out his days with you and you alone, no matter how many miles he was separated from your embrace. he’d swim and walk thousands of miles across the world if it meant he’d be able to kiss your lips and hold you again.

three months apart would come and go, but you were his forever.

a/n: protective iwa… save me protective iwa…

want to see more by me? here's my masterlist!

main masterlist

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comfortless · 1 year ago

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Pygmalion!König and Galatea!Reader………. 😖 What do you think?

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. pining, light angst. self harm, implied animal death (not done by König or reader), fluff, König is horrible and by that i mean yes— he fucks the statue, outercourse, unprotected piv, implied mutual loss of virginity.

notes: lovely Salome did something similar to this already! 💖 however. yes. i am thinking about it and well…. take this out of my hands.

König has never had anything that could properly be called his own.

He walks the city entirely alone, no wife at his side to paw at his chest and bless him with adoring glances. His only steadfast companions are the grit slipping into his sandals as he walks, head held high even as the shadow of a boy begging on his knees for any semblance of love eternally tethers itself to him.

A glance lingering too long at the appeal of a soft face, the brush of his calloused fingertips against a pornai’s bare stomach before deciding that no, he didn’t want something so simple.

He merely slips a few apologetic drachma into her waiting palm and sets her free of him.

A warm body would never be enough, it was the heart that he starved for. To bed some poor creature that would never properly love him would be worse than the greatest of tortures in his mind.

It wasn’t a simple affair to find a lady to marry, either. Foreign soldier that he was, he had no right to some politician’s pretty daughter, court her properly and sweep her away to a bed that’s only ever been a harbor for lonely, twisted bitterness and blood.

Most turned away the moment he passed by: frightened glances that rightfully accused him of immense violence, shushed whispers of “barbarian” passed from soft lips before the sand beneath their fretful feet shifted and their shapes had disappeared from view entirely.

The ceaseless loneliness carves a burning ache somewhere within the expanse of his chest, something he knew he would never truly be free of, not until it rotted it’s way out of him in full.

It only seemed to quiet in moments he shed blood for this foreign country; burying his sword in some poor man’s gut was the closest he could get to sheathing a part of himself inside another, to touching a heart, seeing lips part in a gasp as their world becomes entirely consumed by him.

Just as the many days prior to this one, he grips the hilt of his blade, letting the metal dig into his palm, his knuckles bone white, as he makes his way back to the empty shack deemed a home.

Streets quiet and crowds disperse with each of his silent footfalls— not one of these smaller men or fearful women dares to look him in the eye. The only thing that does, the only eyes that ever lock to his, are those peering out from the harbor.

The figurehead guarding her expertly crafted ship has always called to him.

Her beauty was remarkable, from the curl of her hair to the patient look in her eyes. Her hands clasped before her breasts in silent prayer as she looms over the darkened depths of the sea beyond the soil, calling him to board, to venture away from this place that his left him in such an acute state of misery.

He swears he hears it then, a mere whisper on the wind, urging him in featherlight comfort to lie down his sword and take up the chisel and hammer.

It’s only when he pauses to look the gentle face of the figurehead over once more that he finds himself resolute in what he must do.

— — —

When he took to crafting her it was born of this desperation; hazy moonbeams cutting through the shade of his shack for hours before he would reluctantly pull away from a beautifully carved hand or the soft but stiff curve of a neck to retire to the straw-stuffed mattress at the corner of the room.

She was beautiful, a representation of all of the sweet, effeminate softness he would marvel at from afar. The swell of plush breasts, curved hips and silken thighs, eternally parted by her stance, the sweet face that could make any man feel entirely weak…

His hands tremble when they rest upon her form, unsure of just how such splendor could have come from his own coarse palms.

Weeks of scarce sleep only seemed to further his devoted madness. Though the warring dulled the ache and sated his blade, the longing seemed to only grow far more prevalent.

He yearned when they were apart, dreamt of coming home to her less lifeless and only demure smiles and hurried kisses the moment he would return to her. He would always come back.

Upon her completion, he took to courting her proper. Though she could not in any way reciprocate or reject his advances, he believed wholeheartedly that the cushiony love that had blossomed within his aching, neglected heart must be mutual.

Gifts were strewn at her cold feet, some gilded and shimmery, some soft with an abundance of colorful petals: offerings for a silent goddess that kept a part of his soul hidden away deep inside the pristine marble that she was carved from.

When he wraps her neck in a necklace with a sparkling beryl amulet attached, his hand does drift to the swell of her breast beneath the woolen chiton.

It’s hard and cold, but his groping becomes as incessant as the kisses he presses to her jaw, to her cold lips, tongue leaving a warm path down to her neck before he finds himself committed to having her.

He’s careful when he disrobes her, slowly revealing the mounds and curves and softness of her imitation of human flesh.

Dropping to his knees, his tongue laps at the ivory depiction of smooth lower lips, spearing between each silken ridge until he imagines her eyes squeezing shut as she cries out for him, rolling her perfectly sculpted hips to coat his tongue in waves of vulgar honey.

He moans into her cunt, drools and sucks at the mimicry for as long as it takes to find her thighs drenched in his saliva and his cock aching horribly between his thighs.

He rises to slot himself between her legs, pushing forward with a keening whine that dissipates into a relieved gasp. The feel of her pressed against him; the smooth ridges of her makeshift flesh running over his stiff, leaking cock is akin to finding divinity.

His hands rove over her breasts, thumbs pressed against her eternally pebbled nipples as he kisses her, each sloppy and filled with years of need.

It is pure bliss, almost as though he is burying himself to his hilt inside of her pulsing cunt.

He would fuck her better than any man— not a single other could match the strength of his affections nor his hapless willingness to please.

If he could have carved a proper hole between her legs, not a drop of his seed would be wasted on thin sheets or spilled into his palm, she would be filled, womb brimming until some loving god or goddess blessed her with child.

His pace quickens to the point of frantic, feverish hands drifting to her hips as he mouths at her breasts instead, hissing out praises for how good she feels against him, how his heart bleeds to feel her nearer.

There is so much heat between her thighs now he could swear it burns like the cold mist of the Underworld itself; the fuzzy heat pools from his navel and further as his muscles begin to tense and leave his thoughts a haze and his lips parted in a silent, worshipping cry.

It’s only when he envisions her tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, back arching as she drags her nails over his shoulders and whines through her own damnation that his cock throbs in repetition as his eyes roll back. His heavy sack arrives at her mound as his seed spills from him, cascading down to paint the thighs of his silent lover, smeared pearly and glistening over her labia as he rubs his cockhead against her with an agonized groan.

His forehead finds her shoulder, warm breath replacing the coldness of her skin as he wraps his arms around her perpetually beckoning form, lovingly trailing kisses from her clavicle to her ear where he whispers a breathless, “I love you.”

It’s only after he’s finished wiping away the evidence of depravity from her that he feels the first wave of shame, sharp and feathering from his chest that leaves his jaw set and throat tight.

What lowly man envies the warmth others experience with far less gratitude? König has never seen himself as pathetic, no matter how commonly he’s been sent off and kicked like a stray.

She’s the only thing that’s brought him any sort solace in a world that’s left him starved, but also a cruel mirror casting a reflection of his own nature.

Pulling the thin blanket from his mattress, the statue is soon swallowed up in her entirety, all guilt and pity-drawing attestation neatly hidden away behind rippling sable fabric; her form silent and waiting as it would remain eternally.

None of this is enough.

———

König has never found himself fond of prayer, never felt the need to partake in the festivals and ceremonies. His luck in battle was only a mere measure of skill, of a body so brutal and immense that most trembled before him, not born of any benevolent gift. There was no need to kneel, to bestow offerings upon the altars. If the people turned away from him, then surely any god or goddess would be even more inclined to do so.

Only… his mindless wandering has led him here, to Aphrodite’s altar whilst the festival of Aphrodisia plays on everywhere around him. The people invoke and dance, abundant offerings brought forth as the scent of timber burning and bold floral incense floods his senses. Blood and flowers already riddle the stone, a stark vibrancy of color that lures him closer, commands him to kneel.

He doesn’t have a thing to offer to the goddess, not so much as a petal, but if the pull were not just the first signs of a withering mind…

The glimpse of hope he’s offered is not taken for granted.

Thick fingers curl over his sharpened blade, dragging his palm against the steel until it stings almost sweetly. If she could accept the blood of a goat then surely, his could be no more polluted. Beads of crimson revel and dance along his forearm before dropping down onto the stone.

And he does pray.

It is not a vulnerable prayer, one that bares him in full, but only a wish— a longing for warmth, to have her share his breath, to admonish his shame and live free with the one thing that has never given him anything but safe harbor.

He unveils her when he returns, knowing that this is the closest he will ever come to love.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes against her cheek, leaves a kiss there before dragging himself away to disrobe and pull himself back into bed.

When the weariness takes him, his sleep in dreamless and calm. If any blessing were bestowed upon him at all, the surely that would have been more than enough. A night without turning, without visions of a darkened grave devoid of anything to haunt him.

He only begins to stir when the mattress dips at his side, a soft palm pressed to his chest, stroking along the loose curls of auburn there.

“König..,” a voice calls out, more gentle than any he’s ever heard.

He wakes to find her, leaning over him with the sweetest glimmer in her eyes, wide and fascinated. Her touches only trail further up to his face as he tries to silence the rapid beating of his heart, the stinging born of adoration in his own pale blue eyes.

“I missed you,” she whispers, moving to curl at his side, her hands cradling either side of his jaw.

König is utterly stifled and so terribly smitten, the most he can manage is a quiet huff of breath as he rolls onto his side to take this sweet, unreal woman into his arms. Dreaming or waking, it mattered not, if he were given only the night or a lifetime with this beautiful little creature it’s still more than he has ever had.

His head dips to press a chaste kiss to her soft lips, only finding a warmth there that had never been the many times he had kissed her prior. His palm runs along her side, feeling ever perfect dip and curve, all heated and so very alive.

She only falls apart beneath his touch, already quivering and softly gasping even from such a gentle kiss. The thought that this little dove has been longing for him just as much makes his heart bleed. He whispers his apologies against her temple, for his frustrations, for his doubt in their love, for all of the temptations and hatred that plagued his mind before she came to be.

She only answers with eager touches, grasping at him as she murmurs her own perceived shortcomings. If only she knew that she could never do wrong, that she was what’s saved him and that nothing could shatter that.

When her tongue slips past his lips and his breath grows heavy, there’s little else he can concentrate on than the throbbing pillar between his legs, the scent of her around him, under him when he guides her onto her back.

Thanking the goddess could wait, he’s far too focused on the one that’s willingly climbed into his bed.

One hand splays at her side forcing him upright as the other trails over her breasts, a satisfied groan leaves him as he feels her softness, fighting back to urge to squeeze and pinch until she cries in pleasure, howling out like those at the altar he had encountered only earlier.

A nipple is snared between his thumb and index, twisted gently beneath each pad, her back arches…The wetness of the dew slicked flower between her legs brushes against him and he whines like a starved dog finally presented with the aroma of a meal.

His hand falls from her breast to her hip, encouraging her to buck the source of her own need against him— take anything she needed. If she were to pull a blade and carve a hole in his own chest he would only let her, the taste of this heated bliss and the look that she gives him, enchanted and curious, is more than he has ever deserved.

Only does he pause when he parts her thighs, and her stare becomes more curious, searching him for any reason as to why he would even stop.

“We have done this before. Are you afraid now?”

No, he wants to tell her, that before was not the full extent of it. Instead he only laughs, peeling away just enough to fit his head between her legs, mouth only a small measure from her weeping cunt.

“I want to taste you.”

With a whispered plea from her lips, he raises her hips, mouthing and suckling at her until she shivers and sings against the cushions. He groans against her when she does come, her hips stuttering in his grasp as she drives further against him.

He hisses in his mother tongue when he pushes the backs of her thighs up, grinds his leaking tip against her until he swears he really will fall into madness if he doesn’t fuck into her immediately.

The ache in his chest that his been so prevalent for so long is finally smothered out the very moment she tugs him down by his shoulders and pulls him into a frenzied kiss. She encourages him in each lapse, murmurs how long that she’s waited, how starved she’s been for him while hidden away.

He nearly sobs when his tip snags against her entrance, so divinely wet, pulsing and begging just as he is. When he penetrates her, the breath is punched from his lungs, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of her within reach as she wraps around his shaft as though her cunt was made for him.

His little dove only covers him in kisses in turn as he mumbles obscenities into her flesh, revelling in her tightness, in the way her body fits so perfectly against his, mutually carved by the gods to fulfill one another. His professions of love come in abundance as she fits her legs over his narrow hips, crying out from his sudden depth as his cock jumps against a spot that leaves her writhing.

Though it’s almost painful to keep himself restrained, he tries his best not to rut into her like a mindless animal, even when he feels her constrict around him as another orgasm leaves her cunt drooling and pulsing. He doesn’t give her time to recover, however… forced to lie in wait for so long, it’s nearly taken out on her as he spears into her as she moans and babbles her praises against his chest.

He’s lost to the empyrean as his muscles finally pull taut, crying as he buries his head into her shoulder and pumps his come into her, shaking as he wraps her up in his arms and clutches her close as he melts against her.

Spent and sated, König holds her tightly against him as they pant and share sweet words, secrets and giggles from her that make every moment of dolor before this night seem insignificant.

She slots her fingers between his own, compliments his damaged face and the worships his body with brushes of her lips and tongue just as he does her. He does not leave her empty, warms her heart with words he’s kept trapped in his throat for months, guides her gently as she perches over him to descend back onto his cock, his thumb stroking her stomach as he tells her over and again just how much he loves her, compared his feelings to that of Orpheus, how he would suffer anything all for her.

A pleading “Stay” is uttered as she falls limp against him, stroking along her back as they come down for the second time that night.

The last thing that leaves her lips before sleep takes her is the most saccharine she’s said that night, a simple, “I love you.”

It’s the only thing that he’s ever truly longed for.

———

They marry after the voyage back to his homeland, his head clouded during the entire trip of seeing her swell with his child in time, a home built with her in mind for the two of them, of lying flowers at her feet just as he had before.

His blade lies neglected in the little glade they had chosen, taking up only a hammer and his own hands as he works tirelessly to provide for his wife, the dove that looks at him as though he were not a dog but a king.

When their home is built after many weeks of tedious work during day and bedding her beneath the stars each night, König only then thinks to pray his thanks to the foreign goddess who gifted his salvation to him with little more than a scrape from his palm. All the while his true goddess leans over him to tickle his cheek with flowers he had plucked for her only moments prior, covering him in a fragrance so sweet it only seemed befitting of herself.

She giggles and sighs when he pulls her down into the grass to roll over her, blanket her in kisses and gentle bites to her throat.

The beryl amulet around her neck catches the glimmer of the sun above as she sifts her fingers through his hair and tells him that the gods already knew he was grateful, that his worship of her was already telling enough.

#könig #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig #cod fanfiction

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