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icarusignite · 19 days ago

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he leaves you out like a penny in the rain

Pairing: Zayne Li x Non MC Reader

Summary: You spent years orbiting Dr. Zayne Li, but when a careless comment shatters the fragile bond you thought you’d built, you walk away. Only then does Zayne realize what he's lost.

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst. slowburn. Zayne being emotionally constipated rip

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: This is my first time writing for LADS, and Zayne is my bbygirl, so I wanted to give this a try, hopefully it came out alright. I love me a good non-mc angst, so that's why this is the way it is. Part 2 will include Zayne's POV, but it's up to y'all if you want a comforting/grovelling chapter or more HURT lol. Would love to hear yalls thoughts <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | AO3

Dr. Zayne was an enigma of the most maddening, magnetic kind, and unfortunately for you, curiosity had always been your gravest sin. Nonetheless, it was a flaw you wore with something resembling pride. After all, not everyone could claim they'd managed to peel back even the faintest layers of the glacial fortress that was Zayne Li. But you had. Over the years, through careful observation and an embarrassing amount of persistence, you had glimpsed—just barely—the man who hid behind that frigid exterior. Not all of him, of course. He had never let you in entirely. But you liked to think you'd grown on him, just a little, like stubborn lichen.

Your fascination had begun back in medical school, the place where sleep went to die and energy drinks reigned supreme. Zayne was the kind of brilliant that made you question whether he was entirely human. The kind who could skim a textbook once and retain it with eerie precision, like his mind had never known the concept of forgetting. Meanwhile, you were a walking collage of colour-coded sticky notes, caffeine-induced tremors, and desperate all-nighters. A parody of a student, barely holding yourself together with mismatched socks and sheer willpower.

It wasn't fair, the way he always looked so composed. You'd catch sight of him walking into the exam hall, spine straight, slacks pressed to perfection, sweater vest unwrinkled and somehow smug in its neutrality. Meanwhile, you, in your hoodie that hadn't seen the inside of a washing machine in days, would feel something curdle inside you. Was it irritation? Admiration? You hadn't known back then.

At first, you'd approached him under the guise of academic interest. You told yourself you were merely studying the competition. A reconnaissance mission, nothing more. You wanted to see how he prepared, how he dissected practicals and diagrams with such mechanical ease. But somewhere along the line, observation turned into participation. You started joining him. Not officially, because Zayne didn't do invitations, but he didn't tell you to leave, and that was an invitation enough.

Were you friends?

You weren't sure. Not once in all those long years of shared library tables and late-night coffee runs had he properly smiled at you, but at least he let you stay. That had to count for something.

You suspected he only tolerated you because you came bearing offerings, carefully chosen pastries from the bakery three blocks away. Lemon tarts. Matcha cake. Anything delicate and within your meagre student budget. You'd Pavloved your way into his company.

Zayne's presence had a gravity to it, even in the silence, his attention never once straying from his notes. Watching him work made you want to do better as well. He didn't need to speak for you to learn from him. He just needed to exist beside you, head bowed over anatomy flashcards, long fingers ghosting over textbook pages like he was reading by touch alone.

It was enough for you. You'd learned long ago not to ask for too much. Life had a way of punishing the greedy.

It was a stroke of serendipity that after years of drifting through separate orbits, you and Zayne found yourselves working beneath the same roof again.

You hadn't expected it. The world was large. The medical world, larger still. Yet here he was, striding through the sterile white halls of Akso Hospital like a ghost from your past, just as distant and devastating.

You didn't expect your paths to cross often. As one of the hospital's new pediatricians, your hands were full with small patients and even smaller attention spans. Your pockets jingled with sticker sheets and crinkled candy wrappers, and your days were painted in primary colours. It was fulfilling, exhausting, and utterly chaotic work.

But somehow, you kept seeing him.

At first, you chalked it up to mere chance. But then a pattern began to emerge, and Zayne became a frequent fixture of the pediatric wing. Too frequent for someone whose field wasn't pediatrics. Too present to dismiss as a ghost.

Maybe you noticed because you were looking, or maybe the universe simply had a cruel sense of humour.

However, most surprising of all was his demeanour. Gone was the man who kept his emotions triple-locked beneath ice and iron. Or rather, he was still there, but softened in the presence of his smallest patients. You watched him kneel beside a whimpering five-year-old with a broken arm and distract her with the clinical grace of a magician. You saw him take time out of his rounds to bring puzzles and books to a chronically ill boy who refused to eat. And one morning, peeking around the curtain of Room 415, you caught him braiding a little girl's hair because she was weeping about not being able to do it herself post-surgery.

Your heart stuttered.

Admiration. That's what it was. That ache in your chest every time you watched him from across the room had to be admiration and nothing more. A professional curiosity and a desire to learn. You'd flourished under his shadow in med school, so it wasn't so strange that you wanted to do so again.

You told yourself that often, rehearsing it like a prayer.

Your own patients adored you, though your methods were far more chaotic than Zayne's methodical care. You bribed your way into affection with cartoon Band-Aids and fruit-scented stickers, offering jellybeans and lollipops like sacred talismans. The younger kids squealed when they saw you coming down the hall; the teenagers pretended not to smile while secretly pocketing the candy. You had always been this way—eager, perhaps too eager, feeding on approval like a deprived animal.

But there was one person whose approval you could never quite gauge.

After all these years, Zayne was still an unreadable cipher. You didn't know what he thought of you. Whether he remembered your shared study sessions or noticed your offerings. You carried forth the rituals from med school into the real world like a superstition you couldn't let die.

During late-night shifts, you'd sometimes find yourself hovering outside his office. You didn't knock to chat. You'd long lost the reckless bravado of your student days. No, you simply rapped twice on the door, cracked it open just enough to slip inside when he told you to enter, and placed a steaming cup of tea on his desk. Sometimes it came accompanied by a carefully wrapped dessert.

He never looked up right away, and his gratitude was an awkward mumble, but he never asked you to stop, either.

And foolishly, it was enough.

You never lingered long enough to chat, retreating with a bright, rehearsed smile and your usual farewell. "Make sure to take breaks, Dr. Li!"

You never got a response, but every now and then, you'd see expression soften the tiniest amount, which was akin to receiving a full-blown grin from a man like him. It made your heart hiccup.

You couldn't say how long this odd back and forth of yours continued like, but you began to catalogue your moments with Dr. Zayne like treasure.

There was, of course, that one time it was raining at the end of your shift, the vindictive kind that came down in sheets.

You stood under the hospital's awning, trying to muster the courage to open your umbrella and brave the trudge to the train station. But then you saw him, and all hesitation vanished.

Across the small stretch of concrete outside the side exit, beneath a narrow overhang, stood Dr. Zayne. His posture was immaculate as always, one hand clutching his phone, the other tucked neatly into his coat pocket. Water dripped in thin lines down the sleeves of his blazer, and you noticed—almost indignantly—that even in the middle of a storm, his expression was as unreadable as ever. His collar was damp, and his hair, though still neatly combed, was slowly giving up the fight.

You didn't think. You just acted.

You jogged across the short distance, the icy rain lashing against your legs. You flipped open your umbrella mid-step and thrust it up over both your heads, standing a little too close beneath its narrow span.

He looked up and blinked at you in surprise.

"Dr. Li," you greeted breathlessly. "You planning on standing there until the rain evolves into hail?"

"No."

You squinted at him, then angled the umbrella slightly more in his direction. "Lucky I found you before you melted."

His eyes flicked toward you, then back out at the storm. "I'm not made of sugar," he stated simply.

"Well," you replied, grinning, "you're certainly not as sweet."

Something in his expression shifted, like he wasn't entirely immune to the jab, and he stepped further into the umbrella's shade. Closer to you.

You adjusted your grip as the two of you fell into step. His legs were longer, and his pace brisk, so you had to hold the umbrella awkwardly high, your left shoulder slowly soaking through with rain.

Zayne noticed, but didn't say anything until you were halfway to the station.

"You're holding it too far left."

You glanced up. "I'm trying to keep you dry."

"You're getting wet."

You gave a half-shrug. "So? I'm replaceable. You're Akso's golden prodigy. Can't let you get drenched and catch a cold."

"That's a ridiculous hierarchy."

"Says the guy with the patent leather shoes."

"...They're waterproof."

You snorted. "Of course they are."

The silence that followed was companionable in a strange, off-kilter sort of way. Rain hissed around you, cars splashed by in the distance, but for a brief moment, the storm felt far away.

At the station entrance, you pressed the umbrella into his hands. "You need it more than I do," you insisted. "Your hair might actually un-gel out there."

In response, Zayne's brow creased like the suggestion had short-circuited a pattern in his brain.

"I'll return it," he said finally.

"I know."

He didn't reply, disappearing back into the crowd without a word, but the next morning, when you opened your locker at work, the umbrella was waiting for you. There was a thin elastic band wrapped around the handle, anchoring a packet of candy to its handle, and you felt a tentative smile tug at your lips.

You'd mentioned it once in passing during a night shift to one of the nurses—something about craving a very specific, obscure brand of citrus-flavoured hard candy your grandmother used to send you during your med school days. You had lamented about not being able to find in stores anymore.

Yet here it was, that familiar crinkled package winking at you.

You didn't stop grinning for the rest of the week.

Then there had been the incident with the wrist brace.

It had been a long week, an endless carousel of back-to-back surgeries, sleep-deprived consults, and aching hands from scribbling charts long past the point your fingers had gone numb. Everyone was tired, and even the invulnerable Dr. Zayne looked frayed around the edges.

You noticed his injury, almost instantly, a falter in movement as he flexed his right wrist after signing off on a file. It was expertly hidden, but you had spent years watching him, cataloguing every subtle shift in his expression like rare meteor showers. So, of course, you caught that wince.

"Overworked?" you asked mildly, leaning against the nurses' station as he passed by.

"Repetitive strain," he responded without inflection.

You hummed. "Do you want—?"

"No."

Of course not.

Still, when he left, you disappeared into the on-call lounge, rummaging through the staff med-kit you were fairly sure only you ever used properly. Thankfully, you found what you were looking for before he returned to his office. A soft, fabric wrist support brace in neutral grey. Nothing flashy, just something to ease the tension. You placed it on his desk without expectation.

He didn't bring it up the next day, or the one after that. There was no thank-you or acknowledgement, and you assumed that he'd thrown it out.

Until three days later.

You returned from rounds to find your usual patient folders neatly stacked on your desk, and beside them—perched so innocently it took you a moment to realize it hadn't been there before—was a box of your favourite pens. The ones you hoarded like treasure and had recently, much to your dismay, run out of.

There was a Post-it stuck to the lid.

"I assumed you'd prefer the 0.38mm ones. You always complain about ink bleed."

You stared at the note, and then at the hallway beyond the glass window of your office door, where Zayne was coincidentally passing by.

You stepped out into the hall and caught up with him. "Dr. Li!"

He turned and looked at you with an arched brow.

You held up the box. "You're not subtle, you know."

His gaze shifted to the pens. "I wasn't trying to be."

"Returning the favour, were you?"

"I don't believe in unbalanced exchanges."

You laughed. "I gave you a wrist brace, not a kidney."

He didn't smile, but his voice softened just slightly. "It helped."

Your breath hitched, but you tried not to show it. "I see...well, thanks for the pens."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Zayne calmly continued. "You should pace your charting. Your handwriting deteriorates after the fourth file."

You gaped at him. "Are you analyzing my handwriting now?"

"It's just always been that way."

"Wait. Always?"

Zayne's gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond your head. "Finals, third year. You wrote so fast during the pharmacology mock that your 'f's started looking like sevens. I wasn't sure if you were prescribing medication or unlocking a bank vault."

"You..." You squinted. "You remember that?"

"It was difficult to read your notes when we shared a study table."

"You remember us sharing a table?"

Zayne tilted his head minutely. "It was the only one near the east windows. You always took the seat closest to the outlet and claimed the light helped you concentrate."

"I didn't think you paid attention to any of that."

"You assumed I was unaware of the person sitting across from me for three years?"

"I assumed you were... indifferent."

Zayne's lips twitched in an imperceptible frown. "You used to rewrite your notes three times. All in pencil, because you said pencil was less threatening when you had to re-memorize everything from scratch. You also always sat cross-legged in library chairs and collected pens from every club's fair booth."

You let out an incredulous laugh.

"And," he added, still with that maddening calmness of his, "you muttered anatomy terms in your sleep during overnight study sessions."

"You—you heard that?" you exclaimed, horrified.

"You once said 'ischiocavernosus' so many times, I thought you were casting a spell."

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. "I want to dissolve into the floor."

"You seemed very dedicated."

You peeked at him through your fingers. "That's a nice way of saying I was completely unhinged."

"Also accurate."

You shook your head, but under the mortification was something else. He had remembered, and not just a few throwaway details, but every odd little habit you thought no one ever noticed.

"Why didn't you say anything back then?"

Zayne shrugged, as if he had no response.

You had been making progress. You were almost certain of it. Not in any obvious, sweeping way—Zayne wasn't a man of dramatic gestures or sudden declarations—but in the quiet consistencies, and the way he'd started waiting a beat longer in the hallway when he saw you approaching.

You were still careful not to be greedy. You never dared ask for more. What you had was already more than you expected: acknowledgement. A place in the periphery of his otherwise closed-off world. You orbited him the way the Earth orbits the sun—at a safe, unchanging distance. Warm enough not to freeze, far enough not to burn.

That was until she appeared.

No, not appeared. That implied novelty. You doubted she was new in his life. No, she seemed important, someone who had long ago carved out a space that had never been yours to want.

The Hunter. Dazzling and alive in the way people like you rarely allowed themselves to be. She was a presence that demanded space and then owned it unapologetically. You understood immediately why he who lived so carefully might have made room for her.

You hadn't meant to see them together. You were only there to return his charger—the one he'd left at your station after overhearing you grumbling to the nurses about your broken one. You hadn't even realized he'd been listening.

When you knocked on his door and he called for you to come in, you had smiled hopefully.

Only to find her perched on the edge of his desk like she belonged there. She was laughing casually, legs crossed, one hand braced behind her as she leaned toward him. She was telling a story, something fast-paced and colourful, her hands moving animatedly. And he was...

Smiling.

Not the faint, fleeting lift of his mouth he sometimes gave you on your most persistent days. Not the polite nod of acknowledgment.

No, this was a whole half-smile. Unmistakably soft and real.

You'd never seen him look like that. Not in all the years of having known him. Not even when you had once tried to make him laugh with horrible anatomy puns.

You'd barely stepped into the room when Miss Hunter spotted you.

"Oh!" she cried delightedly. "Look at this, what a coincidence!"

You blinked, caught off guard.

She beamed. "You work here? I had no idea you were at Akso too!"

You nodded numbly. "Pediatrics."

"Right, of course, silly me. All our conversations, and I didn't think to ask you where you worked," she apologized.

"It's alright."

"She's my neighbour, you know," Miss Hunter added, turning back to Zayne like sharing a favourite secret. "I haven't seen her come home in days! I hope you're not overworking her, dearest Zayne."

You felt something inside you crack at her term of endearment. And then you felt guilty. You hadn't done anything wrong technically, but the feeling took root anyway.

Had you been pining after a taken man?

Oh god.

The thought alone made your skin prickle with shame.

You'd never so much as look at him again if that were the case. You'd pull away completely and pretend you hadn't spent the past however-many months—years, even—watching his every glance like a starving thing. You would bury your humiliation deep, fold it into some quiet compartment inside yourself, and walk away with your dignity intact.

But was Miss Hunter really with him?

You remembered her laughter echoing in your kitchen last weekend when you had finally managed to crawl home after a particularly long shift. She'd come over with refreshments, and after one too many drinks, she had begun to ramble. Her cheeks had been flushed with wine, feet up on your coffee table as she slurred names and nonsense.

"He's so frustrating," she'd said, in that melodramatic tone she took when tipsy. "Like, emotionally constipated. But god, when he lets his guard down, it's like... ugh. It ruins you. He lives on the floor right above ours—you've probably seen him around. Tall. Blue eyes. Smells amazing."

"I don't go around sniffing my neighbours," you'd deadpanned.

"Well, you're going to have to trust me on this one, then," she'd insisted. "He's from the Association. I've worked a few cases with him."

You dragged yourself out of your reverie.

Surely if she were dating Zayne, she would have said something. You were friends. Not best friends, maybe, but close enough. She told you when she hated her lipstick. When she found a new favourite song. When someone from the Hunters' Association made a pass at her.

She told you everything.

Whatever had begun to splinter inside of you deteriorated even further when Zayne finally reacted to her words.

"I hope you're not overworking her," she repeated, "or yourself, for that matter."

"I'm not her boss," he replied curtly. "She makes her own hours. Maintaining a work-life balance is one's own responsibility."

"I—well, yeah," you tried to laugh. "That's rich coming from you, Dr. Li. Pretty sure you haven't slept in three weeks."

You looked to him, searching for the usual twitch of amusement and the barely-there softness he sometimes allowed when you teased him. But he didn't look up, and his jaw tightened like he was holding back a scowl.

"I have paperwork," he declared flatly.

Your hand, still holding the charger, hovered in the space between you. You hesitated before setting it on the edge of his desk. "Right... of course, I just wanted to return this."

You didn't let yourself feel the sting until the door clicked shut behind you, and you were alone again in the hallway, blinking at the linoleum floor as if it might give you answers.

You thought you were making progress, but maybe all you had ever been was a convenience. A background hum in the routine of his life. And now, suddenly, you weren't even that.

Over the next few weeks, a new pattern emerged, one that kept chipping away at pieces of your fragile heart. Perhaps it was your fault, too. You kept returning to the scene of the damage, stupidly hoping this time it would be different, but it never was.

You kept stopping by Zayne's office, in the hopes of regaining his favour. You'd even started doing the routine errands that should have been passed off to interns or residents. You told yourself it was more efficient to do it all yourself, but really, you just wanted to catch a glimpse of those elusive hazel green eyes, even if they now looked at you with disdain.

And every time you passed by, Miss Hunter was there too. She seemed to be always in his office, no matter the time of day, even at odd hours of the night. Sometimes you'd catch sight of her perched on the window ledge with her legs tucked beneath her, and other times she was just by his desk, leaning into his space. And most miraculous of all, Zayne allowed it.

He only allowed it for her, though. While in med school, he might have allowed you to share a library table with him, these days, he seemed adamant to distance himself from you as much as possible.

You wondered if Miss Hunter was working on a project with him. You couldn't really tell the true nature of their relationship, but that had to be the only explanation as to why she was always around. On your rare days off, she still came over to your apartment to keep you company and gush about her charming coworker, so you were still under the delusion that she wasn't dating Zayne.

It was the sort of delusion that was going to hurt you one day. And that day was today.

Tonight, when you stopped by the man's office, you fully intended to pass by without lingering. That is, until you heard your name.

Miss Hunter’s amused voice floated clearly through the door. “…I swear, she’s the only person I've ever met who doesn’t hate double shifts,” she was saying, chuckling fondly. “That girl is sweet. Like dangerously sweet. Even to you, and I know you don’t exactly roll out the red carpet.”

Zayne’s response was as dry as ever. “I didn’t ask for her kindness. She’s not helping anyone by wasting time with personal errands. If she spent as much energy on her department as she does playing nursemaid, maybe the pediatrics wing would run on schedule.”

"Don't you think that's a little—"

You didn’t stay to hear the rest of Miss Hunter’s reply. You didn't care to see if she would try to defend you or join him in his condemnation. The damage was already done.

Humiliation was the only word for how you felt. Humiliation and utter defeat.

You had done nothing but your best.

Day in and day out, you poured everything you had into your work—your time, your focus, your very soul. You had held the hands of anxious parents, wiped away the tears of frightened children before anesthesia dragged them under, and taken on shifts no one else wanted. You stayed late, came early, and went without sleep. You had practically bled for this job.

And now here he was, the man you admired so diligently, cutting through you with a few harsh words spoken in private. Words that struck you like open-handed slaps across the face.

You felt sick. Like something had lodged in your throat and was refusing to budge.

So that was what he thought of you.

When he wasn’t pretending to be nice. When he wasn’t lending you his charger or leaving pens in your drawer, this is what he believed. That you were incompetent and unprofessional. That your kindness was a distraction.

Zayne hadn’t just criticized your habits. He had questioned your calibre and your right to be here.

Suddenly, you were ten years old again, sitting in the back of a classroom while a teacher shook her head at your test score. You were fifteen, being told by your guidance counsellor that maybe medicine wasn’t for someone “with your academic record.” You were seventeen, crying in the school library after your chemistry teacher told you some people just weren’t “wired for science.” You were eighteen, slumped at your mother’s kitchen table, listening to your parents whisper that maybe it was time to pick something “more realistic.”

You were every failure, every disappointment, every bruise to your spirit, and now Zayne had joined their chorus.

His anger might have been easier to swallow than his indifferent dismissal of your abilities.

And the worst part?

You didn’t think your patients were suffering. In fact, you knew they weren’t. You were a good doctor. You had earned every stitch of your white coat. The day you took your Hippocratic Oath, you had vowed to devote your entire life to it.

So why did you feel like a fraud now? Why did one man’s brutal judgment make you want to pack up and disappear?

You weren't sure how you made it back to your office without breaking down into tears, but when you finally closed the door, you sank into your chair with a sharp inhale and buried your face in your hands. You could not find it in yourself to cry, so all you could do was exist in that suffocating space where shame and grief and rage all sat too closely together.

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kingkat12 · 11 months ago

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you're my drug (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, semi-public sex, sexual imagery, foul language, mentions of drugs/tobacco

summary: after you got caught making out with Eric at rehab, everything suddenly spirals into something much deeper

word count: 5,022 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is part two of draw you! enjoy!!<3

As I stood in the courtyard, kicking some rocks along during my lap around the premises, I couldn't help but wonder when I would see Eric again. It had been a week since we were caught making out in his room, and I had just gotten out of a two-day solitary confinement— it was definitely a harsher punishment than expected. Then again, I should've known; this place was an absolute shithole.

The worst part of the ordeal was having to write down my feelings and get another check from the warden, along with questions about whether or not I was a nymphomaniac. Excuse me?

Had Eric gotten a harsher repercussion than me? Maybe he had been moved to a different rehabilitation center? I didn't want to think about it. Again, I shouldn't be worrying about a stranger I barely knew. It was a little reckless of me to care for someone who had drawn me naked— now that I wasn't in a state of arousal, it dawned on me how creepy that actually was.

But then again... I had been the one to jump him. That was on me. Had I not offered up, I wouldn't feel so attached to him.

... Maybe I was a nymphomaniac? Fuck.

So when I eventually lost track of where I had kicked my stone, I started looking for new ones. And it was during my hunt for entertainment that I eventually spotted a familiar tall figure entering the courtyard.

Eric's cheeks were more hollow than the last time I had seen him, and I couldn't help the guilt that immediately seeped into my system. He seemed much darker than I remembered, the green in his eyes no longer having that playful shimmer I could spot from far away. However, when he spotted me on his way through the courtyard with a guard by his side, something changed in Eric. The flush in his cheeks returned, his eyes widened, and I could see the faint remnants of the smile that had etched itself into my mind for nights on end. But when he met my gaze, he looked away in a flash-- was he afraid we'd be caught staring at each other again?

I couldn't even control the way I immediately jumped into action as the guards left Eric's side, and I made my way to him with a confident stride. "Well, if it isn't Michelangelo?" I said, approaching with a smile. Seeing him in the flesh again made the tips of my fingers tingle, a certain excitement building in my system. "Where have you been? Did they put you in confinement too?"

But the smile I had seen in him earlier wasn't there anymore-- he turned to me, face blank. Eric blinked twice, watching me as though he didn't know why I was talking to him at all, his nose scrunching up.

My pulse quickened as my anxiety rose; what was happening?

"We shouldn't be talking," Eric eventually mumbled, looking away. His green eyes darted towards the guards on duty, wary of their movements. It didn't take long before he started walking away from me, which in turn left me stunned.

I wondered whether I had said something wrong as I watched him join a few guys that were working out, and I had to take a deep breath to ground myself. Everything about this made me feel like a complete and utter idiot-- I turned away from Eric, rubbing my temples as I made my way back inside. This was giving me a bigger headache than the ones I would get after coming down from a high.

This definitely felt similar to that; the crushing feeling. Having Eric dismiss me like that after what we had done felt more painful than usual, now that I couldn't dull down my feelings with anything.

I walked back into my room, slamming the door shut behind me. Everything about this made my whole body ache, and I couldn't understand why I even cared to this degree.

Had I been so delusional as to think Eric felt something for me too?

Later that night, I didn't care to come out for the last meal. Something told me I'd be staring at Eric again and that he'd dismiss me once more, and I didn't know if I could take it. I hadn't missed drugs as much as now-- everything about this situation reminded me of how I ended up here in the first place.

As I lay in my bed, hoping to fall asleep and wake up a new woman, I was dragged out of my sleepy state when I heard a light shuffling sound coming from my door. I sat up, rubbing my eyes before my gaze slowly darted towards the commotion.

There it was. A note?

I went to pick it up, feeling my heart thump hard in my chest in anticipation. The paper was familiar, like rough velvet to my fingers, and the same size as a page from a notebook. The smile that crept up my lips was impossible to suppress-- I turned the paper to see a new drawing of me, made in the same scratchy style as the previous ones I had seen.

It was an image of me laying in a bed, my eyes hidden in the crook of my arm, lips parted as though I was drawing in a big breath. The pink jumper I was pictured in was a lot bigger than mine; I suspected it was supposed to be Eric's. From the waist down, I was wearing nothing but a black pair of underwear, my legs dangling halfway off the bed.

I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling my chest rise as my heart skipped a beat-- it was beautiful. Completely breathtaking. And in the corner to the upper right, there was a scribbled message with boyish writing that was hard to understand;

messy mornings. let's have those someday? xx

My smile only spread, and I let out a shaky breath of relief as I leaned my forehead against my door, pressing the drawing tightly against my chest. The joy that coursed through my veins reminded me of the same euphoric feeling I'd get from doing a certain type of drug-- I wasn't sure whether it was good for me or not to be feeling these things, but I knew I was addicted already.

Was Eric maybe addicted to me as well? Was the incident in the courtyard just something he did in front of the guards, straying away from trouble?

I couldn't be sure. Nonetheless, I had gotten confirmation that he definitely thought about me too, and that was all I needed.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I could swear it was the same as getting high-- seeing Eric, I mean. It was especially exhilarating knowing he was right in front of me, but that I couldn't say a word to him.

We were currently in a typical meeting, a group of people sitting in a circle trying to work through why they had started drinking or using. I hated these gatherings the most; I wasn't the biggest fan of airing out my life to strangers.

But today was different. Eric had joined my group, even though his meeting usually took place later in the evening. I felt the air seep out of my lungs the second I spotted him in the door, watching him with eyes wider than expensive plates of china as he sat down on the chair opposite me in the circle, locking his gaze on me.

And there he sat, in a casual manspread as he twiddled his thumbs, waiting his turn. His dark mullet had grown out a little, the hair on his forehead inching closer to his eyes with each week he was here. It was easy to get lost when I stared at him for too long, hypnotized by his tall build and his green, green eyes darting right back at me. The smirk playing across his lips mirrored mine, both of us feeling the tension thicken between us despite knowing our minds should be elsewhere at this moment.

I had gotten so swept up with Eric that I nearly jumped out of my chair when my name was called. My eyes frantically ripped themselves off of him, finding the guidance counselor with a confused look. What question was I supposed to answer?

The counselor cleared her throat; "How are you planning to change your habits once you get out of rehabilitation?"

Oh. I had no idea. Flustered, I ended up shrugging, avoiding Eric's amused gaze. "I think... I might have to work on my impulses. So I guess I will try to make sure I don't give in to bad habits by..." I realized I was completely lost, and it made my cheeks flush. "By doing, uh... Doing breathing exercises?"

My eyes snapped toward the sound that came from the other end of the room-- I watched as Eric clasped a hand over his mouth, head hanging low to hide his blatant amusement. Was that a snort I heard? I had to actively bite back a smile from forming, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip with a force I had never used before.

The counselor cleared her throat, clearly unhappy with the direction this was heading. "Yes, Eric? Do you have anything to say?"

His green eyes darted up from his lap, and it was obvious that he was biting down on the inside of his cheek. Eric crossed his arms over his chest, nodding to himself as though he was thinking. "Well, if you're asking me the same question, I think I plan to surround myself with people I love. I think that's where it went wrong the last time,"

I held my breath-- I hadn't expected him to say that. And I had most certainly not expected Eric's eyes to find me immediately after, realizing his pupils had widened the second they landed on me.

I didn't try to suppress my smile this time. I let it happen, watching as Eric smiled right back with a shimmer in his eyes.

Something told me I was actually going to get something good out of group therapy.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

... It dawned on me a few days later that I didn't have much time left in rehab. It also happened to dawn on me at the exact moment another drawing slipped under my door, right around the time I was ready to go to bed.

It was probably the fifth one this week, and I had laid them out neatly on my nightstand. Every image was as beautiful as the last one-- two of me in bed, one of me out in the courtyard again, and one of me during a group session falling asleep on Eric's shoulder. It warmed my heart to think that he had thought about that imagery when we had sat opposite each other a few days ago. Actually, everything about this warmed my heart.

However, today's drawing caught me off-guard. Today, it was a nude one-- deja vu. My eyes locked on the image of me in what looked like Eric's room, gripping his hair as his head was dipped between my legs. One hand was clasped over my chest, and the other one was digging its fingers into my thigh, holding me down. Everything about it made my heart stop, letting out a laboured breath at the sight.

As always, there was a small message in the upper right corner;

in an alternative universe, there wouldn't be guards outside and there would be no stopping us. can't wait to taste you xx

My hands gripped the paper, almost to the verge of curling it. It felt as though my body was actively on fire, a need ripping its way through my chest. And it was this exact feeling that had me rushing to put the drawing away before bolting out my door, knowing Eric couldn't have gone too far.

Thankfully, I had been right. I spotted Eric further down the hall, towering over the people passing him. It was impossible not to notice the tattoos poking up from under his pink jumper, and something about it made my heart race even faster-- I so desperately wanted to see everything. Feel him beneath the pads of my fingertips.

And I burned. Burned, burned, burned up. And I kept on burning as I sped down the hallway, hearing the loud clacking of my shoes echo through the space along with the thumping of my heart. "Eric!"

Hearing his name, Eric turned around, eyes wide in surprise. "Hey, you," he murmured, brows knitting together as though he was about to scold me. "Thought you were sleeping?"

I finally caught up to him, quickly scanning our surroundings, realizing we were alone.

"... Are you here to return the drawing?" Eric asked, tilting his head to the side as he scanned the look on my face. A nervous smile spread across his lips, and he brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck as his eyes flickered around the hallway. "Might've been a little much, sure, but you didn't seem to mind it the last time?--"

His words trailed off as the small hand tugging at his jumper caught his attention. Eric's eyes rounded out, immediately understanding what I was getting at. When he leaned down, I let out a shaky breath before I flung my arms around his neck, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.

I had hoped it would satiate the burn ravaging my body, but it didn't. As Eric's big arms wrapped around me, pulling me flush against him, the fire only spread. My hands barely had time to go up into his hair, tugging softly at his dark locks, before he pulled away with an airy chuckle. "You'll get us in trouble again,"

That's true-- "Fuck," was the only thing I managed to say.

Humming, Eric glanced down the hall before pulling my hand into his, intertwining our fingers as he led me away. I was glad it was almost time for bed, seeing as there were barely any people out in the hallway and the guards were relaxing outside on their cigarette break. A familiar dulling of my brain seeped into my system as I remembered the smell of their cigarettes gliding into my room from outside-- I missed nicotine. But Eric was better than any cigarettes. Better than anything I had ever taken before. No high could match the one I would get from locking eyes with him, getting a drawing under my door, or the feeling currently coursing through my veins as he led me into a desolate stairwell. "This will do for now," he muttered, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. "I'll make sure to bring you somewhere nice when we're both out of here."

As my back hit the wall, I couldn't suppress my growing smirk as Eric neared me. The last time we had stood like this, had been right before he left my room after we made out. Seeing how tall he was, casting a shadow as he towered over me, I let out a sigh of joy; I had missed this. I had missed him. There was nothing that could make me happier than being alone with him. "I'm getting out of here soon, actually,"

Eric hummed as he placed his hand against the wall next to my head, his green eyes locking with mine. I wasn't too afraid to show my burning state-- he watched my lips part as I stared up at him, and I watched his jaw clench as he tried to digest the look in my eyes.

Sex. I was giving him those bedroom eyes that always worked on every guy I had ever been with. My eyes got all glassy, my thick lashes hanging low. I was quite sure I would let him fuck me right here if he wanted to-- I was past the point of caring who caught us.

"Soon, you say? How soon?" Eric asked, leaning down to press two separate kisses against the corners of my mouth.

I had to control the way my breath hitched before I answered; "A week and a half,"

Nodding, Eric's fingers brushed against my lips, pressing into the skin as he watched my expression with a heated one of his own. His thumb dipped past my lips, brushing against the tip of my tongue. "I'm out in three,"

I smiled before wrapping my mouth softly around his thumb, watching a breath escape him as his green eyes locked on the sight. Eric leaned down to kiss my cheek, watching as they flushed when he pulled his finger out of my mouth. "Where can I find you when we're out?"

"You seriously think I would leave this place without giving you my address?"

"Okay, good," Eric chuckled, his eyes rounding out with a newfound softness. "Because I think I'll need you out there more than I need you now."

What? I swallowed, biting down on my lower lip. Did he reciprocate the way I was feeling these things? I wondered whether he also felt the pit of fire in his stomach, whether he couldn't breathe whenever I wasn't around, and whether thoughts of me also wreaked havoc through his mind in every waking moment.

Eric's eyes lowered, taking in my stunned silence. "Honestly, I thought this was purely a lust thing, but... I've come to realize it's not just that. The one thing rehab has taught me, is that I need to break my habits, so here I am. Not running,"

I hadn't smiled this brightly in years. "Eric?"

A hum.

"I feel the same way," I reached out for his face, glad he had bent down a little to make it possible. "I'm quite sure I've gone mad, but standing with you here feels better than any drugs I've ever taken. And quite frankly, that drawing... Fuck, that was quite something." A breathy giggle escaped me, watching as Eric met my gaze with a smirk playing across his plush, pink lips. "That shit was hot. You're so fucking talented, do you know that?"

Eric freed his lower lip from his teeth, inching closer to gently nudge his nose against me. "Nope, I definitely don't know that. Completely oblivious. Which is why I need you around to tell me that, once in a while,"

"I'll tell you every day, if you want," I closed my eyes, relishing in the feeling of our closeness.

"Good," Eric whispered against my lips, his hands now grabbing at my waist, pressing himself closer to me. "And I'll eat you out every day. Deal?"

I was quite sure I was going to faint. Remember the drawing, I couldn't wait for our time to come. "Sounds like better therapy than anything they've done for me here,"

"Definitely,"

I smiled, giving his dark hair a tug, pulling Eric against me to connect our lips in a passionate kiss.

How we had gone from staring at each other to this, I had no idea. How it became this enormous feeling burning through my body, I couldn't guess the answer. But the one thing I knew, was that it felt right-- being with Eric like this felt right. Correct. Perfect.

As our kisses grew with hunger, resembling that one evening on Eric's bed, my body began to grow flushed as his hands dipped beneath my pink jumper, traveling up my torso with a fiery need to be close. "Can I take this off?" he asked, pulling away, panting just slightly.

I nodded, unable to wipe the grin off my face as my sweater got discarded somewhere on the floor, licking my lips out of pure habit. Eric was quick to dip his head forward, swiping his own tongue along mine. My back arched off the wall in surprise, the movement against his body earning me a small groan. This was how I realized he was hard-- I had to suppress another hitch of my breath.

"Shit, I want to take it all off," Eric whispered against my lips. "Everything. Feel all of you." He pressed his lips against my chin, moving his way down my throat and to my neck. I could feel the cool air hitting my back as he lifted my shirt off as well-- my nipples hardened at his attention, his hands gripping my breasts through my bra, squeezing them.

I whimpered against his touch, writhing in anticipation. I had no idea what he had planned for me, if we were going to go all the way or not; I could already feel my excitement pool between my legs, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The arousal had been in my system since the second I saw today's drawing, and I let it out by tugging at his dark hair once more, hoping for him to come back up. "Eric, kiss me-- Wanna feel you too,"

I watched Eric's eyes light up as he pulled away and met mine. And he complied, capturing my lips in a needy kiss, his big hands gripping at my hips and digging into my skin through my trousers. Realizing I was the only one with my shirt off, my hands dipped under his, hoping he'd get the memo as I tugged at the hem of his pink sweater.

Eric's lips barely left mine as he discarded his sweater elsewhere, satisfaction coursing through my veins as our chests pressed up against each other, our hearts beating at the other through our skin. I had desperately wanted to see his tattoos, drink in the sight of the art scattered across his body, but it hit me that we didn't have time-- we didn't know when we'd be caught. I figured I'd leave it to the time we'd be out of rehab, when we'd have time for messy mornings every day, and when we had time to be buried in each other completely.

"I don't know if I can wait three weeks," I breathed in between hungry kisses, my hands running up and down his toned torso.

Eric hummed against my lips; "Me neither,"

And with that, it didn't take long before his slender fingers dipped down into my underwear, making my breath hitch at the realization of what was happening. "Been dreaming about this for weeks," Eric whispered, one of his hands disappearing in my hair to hold me in place, making sure my eyes met his as he rubbed tight circles around my clit. "You're all I ever think about."

My mouth was open against his, small gasps escaping past my lips, bucking into his hand as he sped up his movements around my clit. "I'm so crazy about you," I whimpered, watching the green of his eyes swallow me whole with adoration and lust. My mind still hadn't completely registered that this was happening, especially not under the blue lights of the stairwell. "You're better than drugs, I swear."

Eric chuckled against my lips, watching me moan against him as he patted the pad of his finger against the slick of my core. "Better than drugs, you say?"

"Much better," My words were barely coming out properly, and any continuation of that sentence was stopped the second Eric pressed a finger into me. My breath hitched-- fuck.

He hummed, a sweet smile splayed across his lips; "You're my drug,"

It was almost too much-- I bucked against his hand once more, squirming in his grip as the flame spread through my body. I really couldn't remember the last time I had been this happy or aroused. I let out a breathy moan as he pumped his finger into me, the squelching sound of my wetness drawing forth a blush in my cheeks.

"I'd take my time with you," Eric whispered, capturing my lips in a short kiss before continuing; "But we don't have a lot of time. Forgive me if we make this quick."

I could barely nod, squeezing my eyes shut as I felt his thumb back against my clit, his middle finger curling inside of me. It was obvious that he had done this before.

My mind was already mush by the time Eric slid his finger out of me, turning me around and peppering my shoulder with wet kisses. It didn't take long before he leaned down to tug my pants down to my knees, fingers eager. I wasn't sure how to explain the burning need that was currently clawing at me, but I knew it was all-consuming. Eric had consumed me-- I knew I was his and only his.

So when I felt his big, strong hands grip my hips, pushing me towards him to allow for an easier entrance, I could only moan out in complete and utter satisfaction as I felt his cock sink into me. Eric let out a breathy grunt, now snaking both hands around my body, burying himself to the hilt with the slowest stroke known to man. "Fuck," was all he managed to say, hissing slightly against my shoulder before sucking down on a spot, wanting to leave behind a mark.

I couldn't believe the strange places my mind went to-- why was I contemplating getting that hickey tattooed? I wouldn't need it anyway, if Eric kept his promise and stayed with me after we both got out. There was nothing I wanted more in the whole wide world.

All my concerns flew out the window as Eric gripped my waist for leverage as he continued to thrust into me, leaving me with my mouth open against the wall. My body was aching with pleasure unmatched anything I had ever felt before, and I knew that the difference between this time and all my other escapades was how much I had craved Eric-- and how much I knew he craved me.

My breath hitched as he nipped at my jaw, whispering sweet nothings into my ear. "Wanted this... so, so long..." Eric let out a grunt as his hands went down to my hips again, pulling away from my neck to watch his cock pump into my dripping core. I was quite sure it was glistening with my slick by the sounds of it. "Wanted this-- Wanted you."

"Me too," I cried, resting my hands against the wall, meeting his thrusts. "Every night, all the time..."

"All the time," he echoed. "Forever."

My breath hitched at both his words and the way one of his hands left my hip, ghosting over my stomach. I knew exactly where it was heading, and I had to bite back a rather loud moan as Eric dipped his hand down between my legs. Eric spread his fingers, covering my whole cunt, feeling the sides of his own cock rut into me. It didn't take long before his whole hand was practically covered in my slick, and I was quite sure I heard a drop hit the floor. Everything about it made me shiver.

Like this, I was practically pushed to rut against the palm of his hand, the pressure against my clit making me gasp-- I knew I wouldn't last long like this. Perfect.

By the sounds of it, Eric wouldn't either. He let a breathy moan escape his lips before he let go of my hips, reaching up to grab my chin, tilting it to the side so that he could kiss me. I let out a soft cry against his lips, feeling my walls clamp down around his thick cock. Feeling beyond full, I reached around to grab his dark hair, feeling his locks between my fingers as a familiar tightening in my stomach appeared.

"You're the only one I've ever wanted this badly," Eric murmured against my lips, his thrusts becoming rushed and erratic, clearly holding back his high. "Be mine-- Fuck, be mine?"

If I hadn't been this close to my high, I would've cried. "All yours, Eric, all yours... A-Aah!--" My walls clamped around him as I was driven against the palm of his hand once more, driving me over the edge, coming harder than I probably ever had before.

Eric took this as a green light-- It didn't take long before he let out a grunt against my shoulder, gently biting down as ropes of cum decorated my walls, his thick cock twitching with its release inside of me.

Our pants filled the stairway, and I was quite sure my legs would give out as he pulled out of me with a wet pop, tucking himself back into his trousers. I could only smile, leaning against the wall as I let out a sigh of relief. I was so incredibly glad we managed to do all of this before getting caught-- I was sure I wouldn't have been able to wait until we were both out. The burning in my body subsided, the ache turning into an all-consuming feeling of joy.

I turned to Eric with a soft smile spread across my lips, trying to steady my breathing. He was especially beautiful now-- kiss-swollen lips really suited him.

He returned my smile, leaning forward to capture my lips in a soft, gentle kiss. My hands reached out for him, cupping his face as my thumbs caressed his cheeks. It was such an exhilarating feeling to be adored like this, and I wasn't sure I would ever experience it until now. Meeting Eric felt like seeing a lunar rainbow-- exceptionally rare.

However, Eric's sweet smile suddenly turned back into his usual mischievous smirk. Before I could even say a word, he had dropped down to his knees, leaning forward to wrap his lips around my aching sex, covering my whole mound as he sucked at me.

I could barely breathe as I realized what he was doing-- was he sucking his own cum out of me? This was new. And weirdly pleasurable. I let out a wanton moan, gripping his hair in the exact same way I did in Eric's drawing. I could only whimper as his tongue darted out, drawing a circle around my overstimulated clit-- instinctively, my hips bucked against his mouth. Something about this felt weirdly full-circle. "Eric, wait!-- Shit,"

He hummed, looking up at me with those green eyes I loved so much. "Will you kill me if I draw this?"

I could only sigh-- bliss.

(a/n: PART 1, PART 3 linked here!! enjoy<33)

#the crow 2024 #eric draven x reader #the crow x reader #the crow fanfiction #eric draven fanfiction #the crow #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard #eric draven

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notarmedandnotdangerous · 1 month ago

Note

i know you’re planning on making bucky eventually dom reader

i just wanna ask if you could make a fic where we punish bucky into a drooling mess, forcing orgasms and everything (as a part of not:3)

i'm not planning to make it fully dom!bucky, cuz there's already so much content 💔 i got carried away with this idea, and kept expanding on it til i reached 10k words so.. i'll seperate it into a few parts, cuz 10k words all at once is not for the weak

+18 mdni! watch your mouth; a fic where bucky's your boss, and you're his secretary. he ends up getting himself into a lot of trouble with you.

cw: dom!m!reader, sub!bucky, somnophilia, overstimulation, bucky has a wet dream, delirious bucky, sleep deprived bucky, praising, use of 'sir', softness (??) at the end

word count: >3.6k

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9.1] [9.2]

!! @swiftie-fault

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

by the time bucky fell asleep, the world was spinning. his thighs ached, and his skin hot. his cock was flushed, and throbbing, untouched for hours because you didn’t let him. he had whimpered into the pillows, sprawled across your sheets, until sleep finally dragged him under.

but even in his sleep, he wanted.

the dream was hazy, all pressure, heat, and soft touches. he was dreaming that you had tied him up. he couldn’t see you in the dream, he could only feel you.

the bed dipped with weight, and a hand stroked up his thigh.

‘you don’t need to think, buck. not right now.’

he shivered in his sleep, legs shifting restlessly beneath the sheets.

‘you’re so good when you let go.’

bucky’s cock twitched in his sweats, already hard, and leaking. that voice, your voice, was closer now, firmer. he imagined a thumb brushing over the tip of his cock, and physically jolted. he gasped, legs parting slightly. he was drenched in the dream, all pulse, and sensation, lost in the submission.

then he whined, audibly this time.

---

it started as a sound.

you stirred in the dark, barely awake. you reached for your phone, it was 6 am.

the room was quiet, but not still. a whimper threaded through the silence again, and again. it was soft, breathy, and weirdly familiar.

“mmh- nnh..”

it was bucky.

you blinked slowly, turning your head towards him. moonlight spilled in through the curtains in soft slivers across the bed, just enough for you to make out the shape of his body beside you, flat on his back, legs splayed under the covers. you slid closer towards him, only to find him grinding against the sheets.

the movement was barely there, subtle, and desperate, as if he was trying to not wake you, even in his sleep.

“need.. it..” he mumbled in his sleep.

that got your attention.

you turn fully now, silently watching as bucky’s hips rolled with precision, a little sharper this time. a tiny, shaky moan slipped out from his lips as his tongue darted out to lick his lips.

bucky was dreaming, and so fucking needy in it.

you exhaled once through your nose, eyes half-lidded. you watched him rut against the sheets once more, then shifted the covers down, careful to not wake him. your hand trailed lightly up his thigh, pulling his sweats down just enough for his cock to spring out. when you finally wrapped your fingers around that pathetic, weepy cock of his, he gasps, but doesn’t wake up. instead, his hips jerk helplessly into your grip.

“so hard, even in your sleep. so desperate.”

your hand brushes over his cock, and he whined, letting out a small, pathetic sound.

“sir.. i.. mmgh.. sorry.” he moaned softly, too tired to move, yet too far gone to wake up. his hips shifted weakly, chasing your touch. he thought he was dreaming, no, he had to be. there was no way you would.

“you’re so good when you’re quiet like this, letting yourself be used without fighting.”

bucky whimpered, his whole body was boneless, and limp. you were in the dream, he thought vaguely, you had to be. because you wouldn’t be this gentle in real life. your hand around his cock stroked a little faster, and he moaned helplessly, head turning against the sheets.

he’s still dreaming, he doesn’t even realise what you’re doing to him.

“still dreaming, sweetheart?”

he mewled, not answering. he didn’t have words, not when he was asleep. his cock throbbed in your hand, overly sensitive from being teased in his sleep. your fingers stroked him with quiet patience, steady, and cruel.

in his dream, you were saying something about how pretty he was like this, but it was all muffled, dreamlike.

“you don’t even know this is real, do you?”

bucky moaned, hips rocking helplessly, but still caught up in his dream, not quite awake enough to process it all.

“i’m so tired, sir..” he whined.

“i know, but you’re still hard for me.”

it was true, his weepy cock was leaking all over your hands.

he moaned again, a high, fragile sound. his thighs shifted uselessly under the sheets, trembling with each slow drag of your hand on his cock. he was so hard, and so on edge that he couldn’t tell if the pressure on his cock hurt, or felt good, maybe both, but he didn’t have the capacity to know anymore.

“you’re such a mess, so wet.” you leaned down, and kissed his jaw. your hand kept moving, fingers slick with pre-cum as you dragged every drop of sensation out of his body. you kept the rhythm lazy, just enough to keep him in that floaty, dreamy headspace.

bucky whined into the mattress as his hips bucked. the dream hadn’t faded yet, your voice still echoed in his head, while the in-dream version of you, and the real you blurred together.

‘you want to be good for me, don’t you?’

his body answered for him, hips jerking at every slow pump of your hand, leaking steadily onto your fingers. he was so sensitive, as if his nerves were exposed.

you pulled the sheets away, fully this time. you pressed a kiss to his temples, and wrapped your hand back around the base of his cock, though just a little firmer this time.

“bet your whole body’s sore, all that tension from last night. poor thing couldn’t sleep, could you?”

bucky tried to shake his head, but gave up halfway. his mouth opened, but only a breath escaped. he was panting now, soft, and rhythmic, like a puppy.

you chuckled, and shifted, kneeling beside him. you spread his thighs with gentle pressure.

“you have no idea how much i love it when you’re like this.” you whispered into his ear. “so fucked out, tired, and dazed you can’t even talk.” your other hand came up to toy with his nipple, rolling it slowly, but with firm pressure in between your fingertips, all while your grip on his cock became more deliberate. you stroked, squeezed, and dragged your hand in all the right ways.

“mm.. haa..” a strangled moan slipped out of his throat, his whole body jolting away from the bed. he was close again, his spine arched, painfully almost, and a full-body shudder that made you pause just long enough to pull a desperate whimper out of him.

“you’re going to cum for me.” you spoke softly. “and i’m going to do it again, and again, until you’re too tired to grind on me like a needy little brat.”

bucky gasped as he came with a helpless cry. his cock twitched in your grip, his body completely at your mercy.

you didn’t stop, just kept stroking him through it, slow, yet cruel, keeping him right there.

“that’s it, you’re not done yet.”

his thighs trembled, while his body flinched from every single touch of your hand. he wasn’t sure how long it had been, he couldn’t think, or speak. he didn’t end up cumming a second time, you just drove him far enough for his brain to turn to mush.

the dream still clung to him like sweat. he felt wrung out already, he must’ve came already, hadn’t he? his whole body throbbed like he had, so why did it feel like this?

reality slammed into him like a wall.

‘oh fuck. fuck. i’m awake? that’s- that’s his hand.. on me.’

bucky’s eyes snapped open, the ceiling swam, his mouth parted, but no words came out, just a high, helpless sound that cracked into a moan.

‘he’s still going. didn’t even wait for me to wake up.’

‘i was dreaming. i thought i was dreaming? he was whispering, saying i’d be good for him.. had me tied down.. and now it’s real?’

the thought was disbelieving. your hand never slowed, just kept dragging stroke after stroke on his cock. his cock pulsed in your grip, overstimulated and so hard it fucking hurt.

“wa- wait..” he gasped, voice completely wrecked. he couldn’t even breathe right.

you didn’t answer, didn’t need to. you kneeled beside him on the bed, calm yet cruel. his whole body jolted when you circled the tip with your thumb again, dragging out another spill of pre-cum.

his cock should’ve been soft by now, it wasn’t though.

“fucking- fuck..” he sobbed against the sheets, the aftershocks hitting him like electricity. he was awake now, but you weren’t letting up.

you were using it, taking advantage of his morning sensitivity, the rush of testosterone still thick, making every touch feel sharper, heavier, and harder to endure.

bucky wasn’t going to last, no fucking way he could. you knew exactly how to make it worse for him. the way you pressed your thumb under the tip, the slow twist of your wrist.

‘did he even let me sleep? was i dreaming at all?’

‘he just keeps pushing my thighs apart, as if it’s nothing.’

‘he’s making me think i belong here, shaking in his hold, whining, cock soaked, and twitching in his hand like a toy.’

‘at least i’m his toy..’

his stomach clenched, and his legs splayed wider, as if he was admitting defeat.

“took you long enough.” you leaned in, voice low beside his ear.

bucky’s panting now, his chest rises, and falls in quick, shallow bursts, fingers clutching weakly at the sheets.

‘i already came.. my cock, fuck, it hurts. there’s no way i can-’

your hand slid up, slowly, tracing a tight circle around the tip that makes him jolt violently. a whimper escaped him before he can swallow it down.

“f-fuck.” he gasps. his hips twitch, but you pressed your other hand into his thigh, holding him down with firm pressure. he shudders under it, whining lowly.

‘he’s going to keep doing it. i can’t- can’t handle another one. it’s too much.’

it felt like pressure in bucky’s spine, like every nerve of his is on fire. he keeps twitching in your grip, wet, and overstimulated, his mouth hanging open, barely making any coherent noises.

‘i should ask him to stop.’

he doesn’t.

because you’re looking at him like that, in that sickly sweet, yet condescending way, like this is exactly what he deserves for grinding on you the night before. he had wanted this, and now you’re giving it to him, just slightly meaner.

even now, even when it’s too much.

bucky lets out a choked-out noise when your thumb slides under the tip, pressing just right, and his whole body spasms.

“ah- fuck, fuck, i-” his voice cracks into a sob, hands going slack against the mattress. his body jerks again, hips twitching up, uselessly trying to escape your touch. he doesn’t say it, doesn’t beg for you to stop.

‘i should ask him to stop.’

‘but if i do, he might actually stop.’

‘but i don’t want him to.’

‘not if he’s going to stop looking at me like that.’

‘not if it means i don’t get to feel this.’

another stroke.

bucky’s hips jump, and his eyes roll back. his cock twitches again, it was too soon. there was no way he’d be able to cum again. he can’t, but he’s going to.

and you knew it.

he whined in a weirdly high pitch. and then he came again. there was no warning, just a wrecked, ruined sob as his cock jerked in your hand, oversensitive and hot.

and you didn’t stop.

bucky doesn’t say anything. he can’t. his lips parted, eyes unfocused, chest trembling with every shallow breath that he took, and your voice pours in again.

“you’ll keep going for me, won’t you?”

he moans, just barely. the motion was jerky.

you stroked him once.

his entire body jumps as if he just got electrocuted. a strangled noise escaped him, half-sob, half moan.

‘it’s too- too much.’

‘but it’s him.. it’s- fuck, fuck.’

another stroke, and he can’t stop shaking. his thighs twitch open wider, while his cock leaked against your fingers, dripping like it’s trying to apologise for how greedy it’s being.

‘i already- did i? i came- didn’t i?’

‘feels like.. like..’

another swipe of your thumb over bucky’s tip, and he wails, hand holding onto your bicep. he can’t tell if he’s begging you to stop, or to keep going. his brain is gone, all the thoughts crashing into each other like waves.

‘i can’t- can’t.. ’

‘it feels- i don’t.. know’

‘hurts.. so good..’

“you’re doing so well.” you said with a gentle voice, as if you aren’t slowly destroying him, as if you weren’t dragging him towards another orgasm with the same slow pressure that makes him forget his own name. “just like that, let me take care of you.”

all he did was just moan, weirdly high-pitched, hips jerking forward as his body answers for him.

‘his voice, fuck.’

‘wait- i can’t.. can’t think.’

‘please.. don’t stop. he- he can’t stop. not right now.’

another stroke, slow and sure, and bucky’s breath catches while his body coiled tight. his thighs keep twitching, opening wider, and wider. his cock pulses, and throbs in your hand, flushed, and leaking as if it was trying to catch up.

‘is this- fuck?’

‘already? did i-‘

‘did i cum?’

‘no way. i.. i don’t’

your thumb rolls over the tip again, and he mewled. he doesn’t know if he was begging or thanking you now. his brain is gone, just static, just warmth, and your hand dragging him closer to something he doesn’t have a name for anymore.

‘fuck- fuck, i can’t.. can’t..’

‘so.. warm..’

that’s the only thing bucky’s body could register, warmth. it was sudden, flooding through his chest, all the way down to his toes, and spreading like a wave. he doesn’t even realise what it is, only that it’s soft, and full, makes his back arch without permission.

‘what was that..?’

he twitches. his cock pulses in your grip, but the connection’s gone. all he knows is that something hit him, and he’s dizzy from it.

“that’s it, baby, i’ve got you.”

he shudders all over, his skin is so tender, his muscles feel like jelly.

‘still.. going?’

another stroke, wet, and slow, and he mewls.

‘did i..?’

‘did he make me..?’

‘i didn’t even- fuck.’

bucky’s crying now, he doesn’t even know when that started. his thoughts are crashing into each other in loops.

‘please, please, i don’t- don’t..’

‘hurts so good but- fuck, fuck..’

his body keeps giving, even if his mind can’t make sense of it anymore.

he sobbed, it wasn’t loud, wasn't clear. it’s just this cracked, helpless sound that slipped from his mouth. he lifts his hand, barely, and with shaky fingers, he reaches for your wrist, closing his hand around it. he doesn’t tug, doesn’t try to stop you, just held onto it, like he didn’t know what else to do.

his thumb brushed over your skin, the touch was featherlight, his grip barely there.

‘please.’

please what? he doesn’t even know anymore.

everything feels the same now, pleasure, and pain blurred together to the point that he didn’t know where they ended. he opens his mouth to speak.

“mmm- ah- s..” and then a gasp, a cry.

your hand strokes again, slick, and steady.

bucky’s entire body arched, he didn’t even know he could cum again. he doesn’t know if he just did. it’s all just heat, and wet.

‘i can’t..’

‘but it’s.. it’s him.’

‘he’s touching me.. like i wanted..’

his grip on your wrist tightens slightly, as much as he’s capable of. his lips form another shape, but it’s not a word, just a soft, broken sound.

you leaned in closer, your hand slipping under his jaw, and tilting his face towards yours.

“shh, you’re okay.”

‘am i?’

‘i don’t know, i don’t-’

“i’ve got you.”

the bedroom was quiet now.

bucky was still trembling in your arms, flushed, lashes damp with leftover tears. he feels as if he just had his soul ripped out, then forcefully returned, boneless in a way that only comes after being completely wrung out over, and over again. he barely remembers anything, just the heat, and the ache of it. his eyes are barely open, glassy, and unfocused.

now, you’re holding him close, a warm palm rubbing lazy circles along his back.

“you’re alright. did so well, baby.”

he makes a choked sound in response, he can’t quite form words yet.

“easy now, don’t have to move.” you didn’t expect him to answer, instead you reach for the damp cloth he brought earlier, and begins to carefully clean his thighs, and stomach.

bucky’s fingers twitched, as if he was searching for something.

you grabbed them, and squeezed gently.

“i’m here.”

once he was clean, you shifted him, gently, and slowly, onto his side, and curled around him. your arm draped over his waist, while you pressed soft, grounding kisses to his shoulder.

“still with me?”

he let out a tiny, broken exhale.

“can’t speak yet? that’s alright.” you spoke, while rubbing soft circles into his back.

bucky’s skin was warm, and sticky with sweat, but pliant. his body was pliant, like a puppet with its strings cut.

you don’t rush, just let him feel safe. every now, and then, he makes a soft noise, his breath catching as the last tremors ease out of him. when you speak again, it’s a whisper meant just for him.

“you were so good, such a good boy.”

a broken sound escaped his throat once more, and you soothed him.

“that was too much for one morning, wasn’t it? maybe that was a little cruel.”

he nodded into the pillow.

you shift just enough to grab the glass of water from the bedside table, then pressed the rim to his lips. then, you set the glass down. you let him stay wrapped around you for a little longer.

when bucky finally shifts, blinking slowly up at you with sleep-heavy eyes, you kiss his forehead.

“you ready to get up?”

he gives you a small, almost reluctant nod.

you sit up first, helping him slip into a soft t-shirt, and ease boxers over his shaky legs.

the both of you move slowly into the kitchen.

bucky’s trailing behind you, fingers curled into the hem of your shirt, as if he needed the contact to ground himself. he sat quietly, watching with wide, glassy eyes as you cooked. there was something soft, and vulnerable in his expression. he was completely blissed out, and now he’s drowning in euphoria.

‘how does he ruin me, take me apart until i don’t know my own name, and then turn around, and treat me like i’m something fragile, like i’m worth tending to, like i’m worth feeding.’

‘he’s the same person who made me cry, and now he’s watching over scrambled eggs like they’re fucking sacred.’

‘he scares me more than he thinks he does.’

by the time you set a plate in front of him, he’s already sitting up more upright. his fingers still trembled when he picked up the fork, but he manages a small bite.

“you okay?” you ask softly.

bucky nodded, chewing softly.

“yeah..” he cleared his throat. god, his voice was so hoarse it was embarrassing. “just.. floaty.”

you grinned, brushing your knee against his underneath the table.

the both of you ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until you break it with a glance at your phone.

“so we’re back to work tomorrow. you’ll have to go back home.”

“don’t remind me.” bucky groaned.

“we should talk about cues. for the office, i mean. can’t have you going glassy-eyed every time i go into your office.”

“i do not go glassy-eyed whenever i see you.” he muttered, face heating up.

“you got flustered when i stood behind your chair.” you raised a brow.

“you were breathing down my neck, of course i would be flustered!”

“right.. so we need a system.”

bucky swallows a mouthful of orange juice, and props his chin in his hand.

“okay.. something subtle?”

“mhm.” you nodded. “non-verbal, if possible.”

“i.. can’t think of anything.”

“i wonder why.” you joked. “no ‘sir’, no hesitation, don’t act different.”

“what if i mess up?”

“you won’t. but in the event that you do, you’ll find out just how creative i can be with office furniture.”

bucky almost whimpered at the sheer thought of it.

“okay, if i call you by your last name, that’s neutral. if i use your first name, that’s cue for.. you know.” your hand slides along his arm, and he twitches.

“and if i call you into my office, and say it’s about a ‘performance review’, that’s a command.”

“great. i’m never surviving this.” he sighed, thinking about just how difficult tomorrow would be.

“you’ll live.” you took a slow sip of your coffee. “tap of the pen means you’re reacting too much.”

“so.. no obvious reactions.”

“if i say ‘check the printer’?” you asked.

“uh.. bathroom?”

“which means?”

“you.. want me to meet you there..?”

you nodded.

“if i ask for your schedule, that means you need to stop squirming. and if i fix my sleeves while looking at you, you stop what you’re doing immediately.”

bucky nodded.

by the end of the discussion, the both of you had finished breakfast in contentment.

[9.2]

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x male reader #x male reader #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes #bottom bucky barnes #sub bucky barnes #top male reader #dom male reader #buckfics

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stuckyslut8 · 2 months ago

Text

I'm so very tamed now. III

Summary : just part 3 of the series.

Part 1. Part 2.

Warning : smut, angst. Degradation kink. Bucky bring a brat . Minors dni .18+poly stucky of course.

You were currently struggling to find stay up without collapsing, with the blonde super soldier fucking you from behind, your poor over stimulated pussy didn't know what to do .

You looked upto Bucky ,who was currently lost in his own pleasure, hands pumping his cock at the sight of you, on all fours taking his boyfriend so good, he was about to cum "fuck fuck Stevie I'm gonna cum". He whimpered pathetically.

Steve stopped what he was doing , pulled his long cock out of you for a moment,looked at Bucky sternly. "It's daddy for you , you pathetic little slut. Call me Stevie one more time you're gonna get the same treatment as this whore ." He gave your ass a loud smack as he said that, and pushed back into you, making you moan in pleasure.

"sorry daddy " Bucky corrected himself. But maybe that punishment isn't so bad . Bucky thought to himself. Oh he was gonna do it.

Steve was on the edge too, he was controlling himself, just as he was about to cum, Bucky did the one thing steve told him not to ..

"uhhh gonna cum Stevie" he said in a needy voice that was gonna drive steve insane.

"that's it " steve pulled out of you I'm one swift motion. ",you're so done today barnes" he pushed Bucky to his knees. "Open up you little slut, you're gonna take daddy's cock until you can't, and then thank me for it." Bucky obliged, this is exactly what he wanted after all, he was needy for attention all the time.

While you were relieved steve wasn't edging you for the 5th time since you woke up in the safe house, the sight before you was breathtaking, it felt...normal , like everything was back in place, like the whole week just didn't happened and you were back with your loving boyfriends again.

"fuck just like that, suck on my balls you little whore, and then daddy will decide whether you deserve my cum or not " steve's fingers tangled in the brunette soldier's hair, he was so close , so close but he was holding back a little longer to tease bucky.

Bucky finally took all of it in his throat, cheeks hollowed sucking him like he had done it a million times ,which he had . That was it, steve came all over the brunettes face, his chest and collarbone coated in hot spurts of cum.

"thank you thank you daddy " bcuky said trying to lick off whatever fun was left on Steve's tip .

Steve smiled at the sight, ",such a good little whore i got here huh? Know just how to take daddy ." He patted Bucky's head lovingly.

Then he turned to you, "come here you slut" , these words were harsher than when he spoke to Bucky, you can feel it.

You move towards them slowly . "You think you're gonna get out of this so easily? " Steve said in his business voice, which he hardly ever used with you.

You shake your head in response "no Stevie, i-"

He grabbed your throat in one swift motion, "no you don't get to call me that after everything you've done, call me sir" he had you pressed up against the wall, even bcuky knew it was ineffective to interfere now, so he just watched.

"sir I'm sorry, I didn't mean for any of this to happen,i -" you were trying to keep it together.

"no I don't wanna hear your lies, just telle the truth" steve said firmly.

You looked at him , before you could speak there was a knock at the door. Steve sighed , relasing his grip on your throat. "Come in" he said nonchalantly, throwing you one of his shirts to cover yourself up.

You were in a lace babydoll, that steve loved so much, it barely reached your ass barely covered anything,it was bucky's idea , "it's gonna work doll, once he sees you in this piece he can't resist you" and it did work, but somewhere in the middle of fucking you, he turned stoic again, went back to being the shell of a guy , the fierce mobster that he had never let you see before.

It was natasha at the door, she sensed the tension in the room as she entered. "Steve , stark is here to meet you again-" she was cut off by steve.

"again? I told him that was the last time he stepped foot in Brooklyn, what is he doing here again?" Steve shooter daggers at the redhead .

"i don't know sir, he uh he said he had a peace offering for you, he told you to bring the girl too" natasha said struggling to find the right words, even she was afraid of the mobsters wrath.

"the girl? You mean y/n ? " Bucky intervend.

Natasha nodded. Bucky looked at steve as if saying this was a bad idea, but steve didn't respond to that ." Tell him we'll be there in 10".

"yes sir". Natasha left the room as fast as she could.

"bucky, i don't wanna hear anything, ...you" he looked at me, "put on something decent" .

Ten minutes later you were standing in front of stark, in Steve's meeting room, it was smaller than the one in new york, but intimidating regardless. Steve and Bucky we're seated opposite to Tony.

"what is it stark? It better be worth my time." Steve was in no mood for this conversation it was obvious.

"oh just a little peace offering, you can have rhe manhatten trade" Tony said in his ever charming business tone.

"what's the catch? " Bucky asked , he knew stark more than anyone.

"oh that , my friend over here will explain you" he pointed to the man to his right, Alexander pierce.

"you said this was a peace offering, and now you have a deal? " Steve said skeptically .

"oh no that's where you're wrong son" pierce said. "We're doing you a favour really "

Steve rolled his eyes.

"give us the girl back, take manhatten, and we're bakc to being good friends" pierce said .

Bucky was trying to control his anger, he knew he shouldn't do anything that could lead to another war, he waited for Steve's lead.

"why do you want her? " Steve asked remaining calm as ever.

"cuz she's ours" pierce said. That made Bucky's blood boil, it was very visible he was trying not to kill the man on spot.

"don't get me wrong barnes, ...she's like..my daughter, I've known her since she started her training as a spy" pierce said trying to calm Bucky.

"yeah you send your daughter as honey pot to two deadly mobsters?" Bucky spitted out .

Steve placed a hand on his thigh, cue for telling him to stop talking.

"look , she's of no use to you now, or us, but she knows way too many secrets about all of us...so the sane thing to do is get rid of her, and we'll do the job perfectly, no blood on your hands" pierce said.

"noo ...you don't get to do that to me" you finally spoke., the bodyguards we're trying to hold you down but the failed, " I've done everything you said my whole life, I've lived by your rules."

"and look what happened, you failed your biggest task, putting all of us in a jam" pierce laughed at his own words as if he said something funny.

The guards successfully tied up your mouth at that point, stopping you from speaking further. Your eyes met steve pleadingly, would he do this? Give you up so easily, it was for the best after all but-.

"come on rogers " Tony finally spoke up " that bitch betrayed you , don't you think she deserves to be strangled to death? "

Steve remained stoic , as if he was looking at his options, Bucky next to him though looked like he was gonna beat up every one in the room, especially the guards holding you down, they were gonna have a very painful death.

" don't fall for her charms rogers, she's a whore , she'll sleep with any man if i told her to, you're not special" pierce said , words laved with venomm

Tears streamed down your eyes , not just because of those words but everything, the weight of everything finally sinking in., this is it ,this was your end .

Your legs were giving out , if it weren't for the guards holding you down, but suddenly you hear the sound of three continuous gun shots, you, were sure it was for you, this was your end. This is how it ends. .

But to your surprise , the bodies holding you in palce fell limp, you turned your head up to see steve holding his pistol. He grabbed you in one swift motion placing you behind him.

"she's ours , you can leave " it left no room for debate, making the other two men understand, the weather is steve rogers was something to be feared.

The door closed with a thud, turning bucky and Steve's attention on you.

"steve ...what pierce said is not true, I'm not a whore ,i really loved you both, I've never- " he shut you up with his hands on your lips, tears still trickled down your cheeks.

" I know, I know what you are sweetheart,we both know, you don't have to justify yourself to us" at that statement, you broke down in his arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm so sorry stevie" steve shushed you, you felt another pair of arms wrapping around you, comforting you, keeping you from blaming yourself for everything.

"shh...babydoll, we know, we know you're sorry , it's alright, everybody makes mistakes, we know you didn't have a choice" Bucky said kissing the back of your neck.

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thegreatgatslin · 4 months ago

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Hiiiii, could i get a margarita followed by a martini? i'm drinking with rin tonight ♡

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑 - 𝐑. 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

he wants all his teammates to know just how good he fucks you.

tags/cw: afab!reader, pro soccer player!rin, semi-public sex, dacryphilia, slight degradation if you squint || wc: 549

for 𝐋𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘 (𝟐𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓) read the menu and put in your order asap - we're closing very soon!

you shouldn’t have come to watch your boyfriend play.

you also probably shouldn’t have chatted with his popular opponent yoichi isagi before the match, or put your hand on his arm as you laughed along with him. and you definitely shouldn’t have tried to cheer rin up after his team narrowly lost to isagi’s 3-2.

you should not have done all that.

and now, you’re getting punished for it.

what a sight you are, to rin at least. teary, half-lidded eyes and mussed-up hair, shorts around your ankles, lacy underwear pulled to the side in a hurry - and the pxg jersey you wear. the metal locker door rattling with every thrust, your body shaking with pleasure as you try to balance on one leg.

you feel dirty. fucking in the pxg locker room where anyone could catch you - rin’s team manager, shidou, and god forbid it be charles, who’s only seventeen and, being charles, probably doesn’t even know what sex is.

but you feel too good, in this moment, to care about that.

rin looks down at where the two of you are connected, where his cock disappears into you, and hikes your leg up higher to hit that sweet spot inside of you amidst your cries of too much, can’t take it anymore.

he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck. for a moment he feels bad for you, wants to spoil you how he usually does. lay you down on a comfortable surface, part your thighs gently and fuck you slow and deep, swallowing up your moans with his all-consuming kisses. but no, he tells himself, steeling his resolve, this is what you deserve.

he slows suddenly, tearing you away from the promise of a delicious climax, you squirm, whining, trying to fuck yourself back onto his cock, but he hold your hips down against cool metal, nipping at your clavicle as he moves his hips at a snail’s pace.

“learnt your lesson?” he murmurs breathily, lips brushing your ear. “who do you belong to, hm, baby?”

“you!” you cry out desperately, voice hoarse. “o-only you, rin -”

“whose name are you wearing on your back?”

“yours!” you wail, clawing at his bare, muscled shoulders, and you scream as he bottoms out in you once again, immediately setting a punishing pace.

he’s panting now, chasing his high as desperately as you are. “wanna cum all over this cock, let them hear what a slut you are for me?”

and your frantic nods and mindlessly repeated mhms must be a good enough indication for your boyfriend, as he brings one of his hands down to furiously rub at your swollen clit, nearly making your knees buckle.

“cum for me,” he groans, and you do, throwing your head back against the locker door as you squirt all over him, soaking the hem of his number 9 jersey - both his and the one you wear. you coo at the feeling of warmth spilling into you, and lean into his kiss. it’s tender as ever now, now that he’s let all that anger out.

but then there’s a loud banging at the door, and a voice that is unmistakably shidou’s -

“hey, rin-rin, that was pretty hot, but can you fuck your ‘baby’ someplace else in the future?”

you groan.

a/n: i wrote this in one sitting i think i have problems (this is the FIRST request im so excited to get to my moots' requests)

#rushed as fuck ending free me #✦ lin writes #✦ event: lin’s speakeasy #blue lock #bllk #blue lock smut #bllk smut #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x reader smut #rin smut

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nicka-nell · 1 year ago

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Can i request tsukishima, kuroo, semi and futakuchi being interrumped at sexy moments with their s/o (for example, they are kissing your neck so slowly that you can't breathe and boom! the door bell)

Hi anon! I don't know what happened, but I suddenly had a big boost of motivation and just wrote your sweet request. 😅🥰 I really need to get back into writing... It was so unfamiliar and kind of hard, but it was still fun. Sorry if it's kind of bad. I tried my best. 🥹

Getting interrupted during sexy time

Pairing: Tsukishima x, Kuroo x, Semi x, Futakuchi Kenji x reader

Warning: fluff, slightly mention of nsfw, mdni

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Tsukki... are you still reading through that report on dinosaurs?” you sigh as you get up from his bed and walk over to his desk, looking over his shoulder.

“This isn’t just any dinosaur. It’s a Camptosaurus, one of the rarest. Researchers found bones of this dinosaur a few days ago.” Tsukishima replies in his usual tone. Instead of answering him, you just nod with a slight smile. It’s actually quite cute when he talks about something that fascinates him.

“Ooh, I see... what did they look like before?” you ask curiously, taking the opportunity to roll his desk chair backwards and sit on his lap. A grumpy ‘hey’ escapes Tsukishima as you make yourself comfortable, your back against his chest. He accepts it and puts his free hand around your waist.

“Here... this is what a camptosaurus used to look like.” Tsukishima leans forward. You automatically move with him as he hands you his cell phone and you look at the pictures in the report. “Wow, that’s a big dinosaur. I’d be an easy snack for it.” you giggle and glance to the side at Tsukishima, who is looking over your shoulder at his cell phone.

“No, they were herbivores. At most, it would eat your plants that you look after sporadically,” he replies sarcastically, and you stick your tongue out at him before laughing lightly. Now he looks away from his cell phone and up at you.

“What? I’m right,” he says, and you just roll your eyes playfully. “Sometimes you’re really mean. But I love you for it.” You reply and watch Tsukishima’s eyes widen for a moment. The tips of his ears redden before he turns away. Oh Tsukki... you think and turn a little more in his lap, so that you are now facing him head-on, before you cup his cheeks with your hands and kiss him. “What, shy?” You say mischievously, but he only returns your grin with an arrogant look.

“Shy? Did you see your reflection in my glasses?” he teases back and leans forward, trapping you between himself and the table. “Oh, now I’m scared,” you say sneeringly, as Tsukishima pulls you towards his hips by your waist, his face bent forward. “Don’t be cheeky, or else-“

“Or else what?” you interrupt him before he whispers softly, “Punishment.” Before you can get any further into your teasing, you feel his warm lips on yours. Your heart beats fast and you feel like you’re on fire. His fingertips, which sneak lightly under your t-shirt and touch your skin, make you sigh softly.

“Have you lost your tongue?” he whispers before his lips meet yours again. His kiss is slow and long. His tongue parts your lips before the kiss becomes even more intimate.

You feel his thumbs caressing your bare skin under your shirt, slowly traveling up your sides before you break away from the kiss and look at him with a mischievous grin. “Who knows? Looks like you’re going to have to try to get me talking again.”

“Easy.” he replies grinning, before he starts to kiss your neck. His lips are warm on your skin, his teeth nibble lightly.

“Is that a challenge?” you breathe as you tilt your head back, your hands wrapping around Tsukishima’s neck. You feel his smirk on your neck, his hands pushing your shirt up and his upper body pressing even closer to yours, pushing your back further against the table behind you. “Mhh Tsukki...” you sigh and feel the desire for more rising inside you.

“Easier than I thought.” he smiles triumphantly as he continues to kiss your neck when you suddenly hear the door opens.

“Do you want to have dinner with us later or are you going to the cinem-?” you hear Akiteru, who enters the room happily and quickly gets wide-eyed when he sees you both.

“Eh, I… well... I think mum just called.” He turns around somewhat awkwardly and instantly closes the door behind him. Embarrassed, you put your face in your hands and feel like sinking into the ground.

“Oh my God, how shameful...” you sigh, but instead of being embarrassed, Tsukishima clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Annoying... He’s old enough to know that doors aren’t decorative objects. They’re there to be knocked on before you pull the door open,” he says with a slightly annoyed undertone.

You feel your face grimace as you glare at him. “That’s not funny Tsukki. How am I supposed to look your brother in the eye at dinner now?”

Your snappy words make Tsukishima roll his eyes again. But it’s not an annoyed eye roll, more like an amused one. “Just don’t look him in the eye if it bothers you that much. But just for the record... my room has neither airtight windows nor doors. In other words, it’s not a soundproof room. Don’t you think my brother knows what we do here at night? I’m pretty sure he hears you every time. You’re not exactly quiet, are you?” Tsukishima teases you with a smirk before leaning forward and pulling your hands away from your face to look at you.

“Tsukki! My God, why would you say that? I hate you!” you say mad, feeling the heat only rise to your face more before you kick him lightly and sigh more. Ah, Tsukishima loves to see your embarrassed face when he teases you. “Sure, that’s why you annoy me every day.” he smirks before giving you a kiss on the nose.

The national team’s volleyball matches are coming up again and Kuroo is working overtime more often. He’s staying late at the office today. He's the only one except for a few colleagues there, when you knock on his office door and enter it. With a gentle smile, you hold a bag of food in the air. Kuroo still seems to be in a videoconference. You quietly unpack the box of food and place it on his desk before making yourself comfortable on the sofa in the corner of his office as you wait for his meeting to be over.

It doesn’t take long for him to say goodbye and take his headset off his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly before clicking on the “leave” button for the online meeting.

With an understanding smile, you walk to him, wanting to ask him if you should massage his shoulders, but Kuroo is already stretching out his hands, grabbing yours, before pulling you onto his lap and giving you a kiss.

“Don’t forget to eat something in between,” you say worriedly as Kuroo leans his head against your chest. “You know I’m not a child to look after, right?” Kuroo says teasingly, even though he likes that you’re worried about him.

You roll your eyes lovingly before looking at the bento box you have prepared for Kuroo. You release your hands from his before reaching for the box to open it. Still sitting on his lap, you pick up the chopsticks and a small piece of tamagoyaki before you bring it to Kuroo’s mouth. “Go on, eat my little baby.” you tease him warmly as Kuroo grins and puts his hands around your waist, opens his mouth and lets you feed him.

“Well, kitten, I could get used to that,” he purrs as you giggle. “In your dreams. Don’t get too used to it. You’re not old and fragile yet.” you say as you reach for the next piece of tamagoyaki, but you pause as Kuroo’s lips move gently over your neck, nuzzling your skin.

“I’m actually hungry for something else,” he whispers in your ear as he starts to nibble on your earlobe. His thumb lightly caresses your hip, his breath is warm on your skin and you quickly realize how shy you suddenly feel.

“Tetsu... there are still colleagues of yours in the office... what if someone comes in? We shouldn’t do something so naughty here.” You reply sheepishly and look to the side. But Kuroo doesn’t even think about stopping now.

The week was more exhausting than usual. He was hardly ever at home and had many meetings with sponsors or young talents who needed to be supported. To avoid waking you up in the middle of the night, Kuroo either slept in his office or on the sofa in the living room. He misses being close to you. He was glad to see you again today after a hard day. You somehow looked even more charming than usual today. Even if that’s not possible. He’s sure you could have come into his office in sweatpants and a baggy jumper, but his first thought would still have been, ‘wow, that’s my wife’.

“Let them be. There should only be a few colleagues left, anyway. The colleagues who are still working have no reason to come into my office,” Kuroo says throatily between kisses, before his hand strolls from your hip to your chin, he moves away from your neck and peers at you mischievously.

“Besides, you’re the one who said my statement was indecent. How could you possibly think that I had something naughty in mind? I actually only wanted to eat the rice in the bento box and not the egg,” Kuroo says you with a grin.

Embarrassed, you try to look away, but his hand on your chin stops you. “Now I feel a bit silly. Then... wait, I’ll give you the rice,” you say almost shyly, but Kuroo chuckles.

“Where do you think you’re going? That was a lie. The thing I crave most right now is right in front of me.” he whispers almost like a predator looking at his prey as he brushes your lips with his thumb before his hand moves to the back of your head when he pulls you close to kiss you.

His kiss is slow but firm. His tongue quickly finds its way between your lips and makes your heart beat even faster. “Tetsu...” you sigh between kisses, feeling his grin on your lips. “Oh my kitten, don’t worry about the others here. If you stay quiet, no one will hear us, and no one will find out that we’re about to give the desk a quality check.”

“Shush, you talk too much.” You say sheepishly, feeling his hand wrap itself tighter in your hair as his other hand slides under your top.

Kuroo is just about to say something, when the vibrating of his mobile phone makes him sigh briefly. He considers answering it, but then he ignores the call and concentrates on kissing you again, pressing your body even closer to him on his lap. “Ah, Tetsu, at least see who’s calling you. Maybe it’s important.”

“You’re the most important thing right now,” he says hungrily, but you push him away and look at him seriously. Kuroo sighs in frustration, making a mental note to block the contact who has now called him and disturbed your togetherness and remove him from his friend’s list if it’s not really important.

He clicks his tongue as he reaches for his phone and picks it up even before he can read who is calling him. But his annoyed expression suddenly changes. His eyes grow wide, almost panicked, as he reaches for his mouse and looks at his computer screen. “Kuroo-san, you really seem to have a lovely wife, and I don’t want to disturb you. But… You’re still in the meeting and we can hear and see you,” says an investor with whom he and two of his colleagues were at the meeting earlier.

Kuroo checks the app he had used for the meeting and sees that instead of clicking the “Leave” button, he had simply minimized the window. He was still in the meeting and everyone could see and hear you. Caught and with a charming smile, Kuroo apologizes before quickly leaving the meeting, almost not daring to look in your direction. Because he knows that you are staring at him with a look that could kill.

Semi is sitting in his garage as he plays a melody on his guitar and goes through the lyrics he wrote yesterday when he was slightly drunk and partying with his band mambers.

He is not entirely happy with the melody. It sounds so sad, although the lyrics are actually beautiful. Maybe he should take a break? After all, he’s been practicing here for a while now. “Just one more time, then I’ll take a break,” he mumbles to himself as he starts to play a new melody to the song. Completely in his element, he doesn’t notice when the door to his garage opens and you walk in.

You wait until he has finished his song before you start clapping. Semi flinches before looking towards the door in your direction. He grabs a cushion that’s next to him on the sofa and throws it in your direction. “Tell me, are you trying to kill me with a heart attack? I’m not that successful yet that it would be worth it for you,” he pouts, but he doesn’t mean any offense.

Laughing, you catch the pillow and throw it back before walking to him and placing two bottles of juice and two boxes of noodles on the table in front of him. Before you sit down, you cup his cheeks with your hands and give him a loving peck. “Oh damn, I guess I’ll have to wait a few more years than, right? Although... if you keep writing hits like the song you just wrote, then maybe it will only take a few more months.” You say playfully with a smile and brush a strand of hair behind his ear.

Semi’s ears turn red, his hands still on his guitar before he realizes that you must have just heard the whole song. He had written a song about you. About the woman who turns his head, who will be the death to him even in his dreams. About the woman who makes him smile every day, because that’s what she does to him every day and she doesn’t even have to be there. Because just the thought of you is enough. About the woman who makes him feel strong in every situation, who always supports him. And then there were a few lines that weren’t so suitable for minors.

“Do you think it’s really sexy if I walk into our kitchen in the morning in just your shirt and make us a coffee?” you grin teasingly. Semi pouts, unsure how to respond.

You lean further towards him, your fingers brush against his, still holding the guitar. “You know, I find it really sexy when you play the guitar. The way your hands move, how passionate you look when you sing the lyrics you’ve written yourself. Sometimes I wish you’d replace the guitar with me and play with me like you play your guitar,” you say seductively with a hungry look.

Oh, you really are the death to him, Semi thinks, now also red in the face as he turns to you and his shy look has twisted into a confident and strong smile. “Hey watch out pretty-face. A wise man once said that you should be careful with your wishes, otherwise they will soon come true,” he whispers hoarsely to you, just inches away from your face.

“Is that so? Then I hope he’s right.” You whisper just as confidently before closing the last distance between you two to kiss him. You playfully bite his lower lip. Your hand caresses his cheek before you wander down his neck, your fingers play with his necklace. You smile briefly before tugging on the necklace and pulling him closer to you.

“Oh, God, you’re going to send me to hell,” Semi says in a raspy voice before putting down his guitar to kiss you again. He leans forwards, pushing you down onto the sofa before lying on top of you between your legs his lips never leaving yours. His kisses are stormy, taking your breath away.

“Good," you breathe, reaching for the fabric of Semi’s top to pull it off. You throw it on the floor, your hands caressing his muscles hungrily, only giving Semi an even bigger ego boost.

“Fuck, I love when you do that,” he moans, still kissing you fiercely as his hand slides to your leg, bending it slightly and squeezing the flesh of your thigh. A murmur escapes him as his hand moves further up your skirt to your bum. “Baby, you do things to me-“

“Oh boy, here we go again...” a familiar voice suddenly interrupts him. Cursing, Semi flinches and pulls your skirt back into place before looking towards the door. Two of his band mates are standing in the doorway of his garage. The band’s second guitarist looks to the side, embarrassed, and scratches the back of his neck, while the bassist puts his hands on his hips and looks at Semi, shaking his head.

“Fuck, what are you doing here?” curses Semi, before standing up and helping you into a sitting position. He always meets up with his band in his garage on Fridays. Each of his colleagues has a key to the garage so that everyone can stay longer, even after band practice is over. But today was Thursday...

“Really? You were the one who wanted to move the rehearsal to Thursday this week because you wanted to meet up with your former school friends tomorrow. You wanted to cheer for that guy... Wakatoshi, right?” the bassist sighs, before taking a few steps forwards and grabbing Semi’s shirt. With a hiss, he throws the shirt in his face. “Can’t you find a room? This is the... fifth time we’ve caught you rubbing your love life in our faces. Or are you secretly telling us to join in? Are you into a gangbang or what?” The bassist laughs as he teases Semi with his words.

Annoyed by his own forgetfulness, Semi rolls his eyes as he catches the shirt. He sulkily puts the shirt back on before placing his hand protectively on your thigh. “Nothing there, I’m not sharing my girl,” he says seriously, even though his band mate had only said it as a joke. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to give his bandmates a key to the garage after all. Or maybe you should just start keeping your hands to yourselves before and during band rehearsals.

Futakuchi has just come home from work when he walks into the living room and sees you sitting there with a book in your hand. He looks around the room before his eyes land on you again. “Baby, you’ll damage your eyes if you read a book in this poor light,” he says, before flicking the light switch and turning on the light.

Engrossed in your book, you didn’t realize that the sun was already setting. “Oh, that’s right... thank you. How was your day?” you ask him as you close the book and look at him with a smile. He comes to you and gives you a quick kiss before stretching.

“Annoying. The customers were just extremely weird today. With some of them, I wonder how they even get through life,” he grumbles, before undoing the first buttons of his shirt. “But anyway, let’s not talk about work. I’d like to take a shower now and then maybe we can continue watching the series we started yesterday. What do you think?”

Futakuchi has never been someone who likes to talk about his work. But perhaps it’s just as well that he doesn’t take his work home with him. In any case, he never really seems exhausted or overworked. So you just nod with a smile and pick up your book again. In the time Futakuchi is in the shower, you’re sure to manage another twenty pages.

Fresh out of the shower, Futakuchi pulls on a pair of shorts and a shirt before rubbing his hair dry and heading back into the living room. With a sigh of relief, he heads for the sofa when he sees you lying there. You’re lying on your stomach, your book in front of you, and your ass right in front of his eyes. In those tight, sexy leggings. Oh, how he loves the way your ass wiggles in those things.

Unconsciously, he bites his lower lip, sneaks up to you before giving you a slap on the ass and squeezing it with his hands. He jumps on the sofa, kneels over you before playfully pretending to bite your shoulder from behind.

“Kenji! Haha stop, that tickles.” you laugh, close the book and try to turn around, but Futakuchi won’t let you.

“You’re doing that on purpose. Showing me your sexy ass like that.” Futakuchi grins, before leaning forwards and trapping you between him and the sofa, kissing your shoulder again. His still damp hair gives you goosebumps.

“Kenji... I thought we wanted to continue watching our series.” You say a little more quietly now, feeling your body react to his kisses and his touch.

“Yeah, sure, the series...” mumbles Futakuchi as he moves from your shoulder to your neck, buries his head in the crook of your neck and slides his hands between the sofa and your body, hugging you from behind. “Just let me lie like this for a while,” he sighs contentedly.

His body lies on top of yours, but he doesn’t press his full weight onto you. You can still breathe. His cool hands on your stomach caress you, his fingertips graze your lower for a moment, and you don’t know what makes your breathing most uneasy. His hands on your body, his body on yours or his breath landing hot on your skin.

“Ah... Kenji... that’s not the remote that’s between you and me on my butt, is it?” you say as you hear him smirk.

“No baby, you don’t need batteries for this thing to work,” he says mischievously, continuing to rub his pelvis against your ass. A soft moan escapes your lips, Kenji starts kissing your neck, his hand moves up to your breast, the other down between your legs.

“It’s easier if I turn around- “ you’re about to say, but Futakuchi interrupts you. “But it’s pretty hot like this,” he murmurs, and you feel him rubbing his pelvis harder against you, your own desire growing. With a groan, you lower your head, push your ass upwards and hear Futakuchi murmur.

“Yeah baby, just like that,” he says, playfully biting your neck before kissing you on the same spot. You both want more. The mood is charged, when you suddenly hear the ringing of your front doorbell. You startle, Futakuchi also briefly considers answering the door. But opening the door with a erection in his shorts wouldn’t be the best idea, anyway. So you both try to ignore it, but the doorbell rings again.

“Damn!” Futakuchi curses, stands up, pushes the curtains aside slightly and looks out of the living room window. From the living room, you have a good view of the entrance to the front door. His eyes widen and he looks at you. “Oh shit, shit, shit. Go on, say something. Something that really turns me off!” Futakuchi says, almost in a panic.

You look at him in confusion before sitting up. “Kenji... what’s wrong with you?” you ask, irritated. But Futakuchi seems to be thinking hard about something to get rid of his erection.

“I forgot that I promised my mum I’d look after my sister for the weekend. The two of them are just outside the front door...” says Futakuchi with a desperate smile.

“W-what? Kenji! Oh god, open the door, these two can’t stay outside! Or no... wait... you’re not opening the door with that...” you say, pointing at his massive erection. “Go, go into the bathroom and wait there until it’s gone again. And then come to us. I’ll tell your mum and sister that you’re still in the shower,” you say, before straightening your clothes and heading for the door, when Futakuchi comes up to you and hugs you from behind.

“You’re the best,” he says, kissing your cheek before letting you go. However, he can’t resist giving you a slap on your butt before he leaves.

#haikyu x #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #kuroo x reader #semi x reader #futakuchi x reader

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camficdiner · 13 days ago

Note

1. 5

2. 3 with a bonus of only one bed trope & enemies to lovers

3. 3

4. 3

i hope i did that right!! thank you love all of your work!🫶🏽💕

☕️cams fic diner — 098

🍒 thank you: to the girlies who like their tension mean, messy, and barely survivable. locker room chirps. one bed. dumb boys who beg real pretty. this one’s yours.

💬 “You always this much of a bitch?”

✨ description & prompts:

* character: Will Smith

* prompt: 𝙻𝚊𝚝𝚎-𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚜

* type: enemies to lovers, one bed trope, rough subby smut, dumb dynamic heaven

* wc ~1.3k

🛼🍒✨🧁

You’re brushing your teeth when the knock comes.

Annoying. Sharp. Persistent.

You frown at the door of your hotel room. “What?”

“Open it.”

The voice is unmistakable.

You sigh. “Smith, it’s late.”

“Just—open it.”

You tug the door open with an eye roll, already bracing for the attitude — and there he is. Will Smith, standing in the hallway in his dress pants and undershirt, tie hanging from his fingers, lip split and jaw clenched. His eyes flick to yours, then to the floor, like this is already the last thing he wants to be doing.

Which is rich, coming from him.

“What do you want?” you ask.

“My room’s fucked,” he mutters.

You blink. “What?”

“The lock’s jammed. Key card doesn’t work. Reception said they’ll send someone in the morning.”

You wait. You cross your arms.

His jaw ticks. “Can I crash here or not?”

“Ohhh, so now you’re asking for favors.”

“Don’t start.”

You lean against the doorframe, biting back a smirk. “Didn’t know you were so helpless.”

“Didn’t know you were so slow to help a teammate.”

“We’re not teammates, Smith.”

“That’s not what your coach says.”

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

“You’re lucky I’m not knocking on someone else’s door.”

You narrow your eyes.

Then sigh. Step back. “Whatever. Come in.”

He walks past you with that infuriating swagger, leaving behind a faint trail of sweat and cologne and something that smells like blood. You slam the door shut and toss your toothbrush toward the sink, watching him scope the room like a wolf about to complain.

He stops when he sees the bed.

The only bed.

You see it too — and brace for the chirp.

But he just mutters, “Figures.”

You grab the spare blanket from the closet, throw it on the armchair, and gesture. “There.”

He laughs. “You think I’m fitting on that?”

“I think you’re lucky I didn’t slam the door in your face.”

You turn to leave the room again, but—

“You always this much of a bitch?”

You stop. Slowly turn back. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

You blink once. “You just lost. You’re bleeding. You look like shit. And you’re coming for me?”

“You came for me first.”

“I let you in, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t beg.”

“You should’ve.”

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

You both breathe too loud.

Then—

Will stalks forward.

And you let him.

Because this has been coming for months. Since the first chirp, the first clash in the locker room, the first time he called you bossy, loud, mean — and you called him arrogant, spoiled, stupid.

You hated him.

He hated you.

And now?

He’s on you before the sentence finishes — grabbing your wrist, backing you up toward the bed. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” you breathe, heart racing. “Tell the truth?”

His mouth finds yours.

It’s not sweet.

It’s not gentle.

He kisses you like it’s a punishment — teeth and tongue, hands yanking your oversized t-shirt up, exposing bare skin underneath.

“No panties,” he mutters. “Figures.”

“You like it.”

“You piss me off.”

“You keep coming back.”

He shoves you onto the bed.

You let him.

Because this is how it always is — sharp glances, hard hits, and words that bruise more than fists. He’s the only one who gets you riled up like this. And you? You’re the only person he ever lets see him fall apart.

And tonight?

He needs to fall apart.

“You know what they said to me?” he pants, stripping off his shirt, his chest rising fast. “On the bench? After that goal?”

You stay silent.

He climbs over you, one hand in your hair, the other dragging down your stomach. “They said I’d never be enough. Not for this team. Not for—”

He cuts himself off. Swears.

You don’t ask who they meant.

You already know.

“I don’t care what they said,” you whisper.

“I do.”

And then he’s inside you.

No warmup, no warning — just raw, fast, desperate thrusts that knock the breath from your lungs. You claw at his shoulders, moaning louder than you should in a thin hotel room wall, but he doesn’t slow down.

Doesn’t care.

His hands pin your wrists to the sheets. His breath stutters in your ear.

“You hate me,” he growls.

“No.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You make fun of me. You laugh.”

“Because I like you.”

He freezes.

And you feel it — that crack in the tension. The shift.

You soften beneath him. Just a little.

“You’re stupid,” you whisper.

He thrusts again — slower now, deeper. “Say it again.”

“You’re so stupid.”

“You gonna fix me, then?”

You bite your lip. “Someone’s gotta.”

Will groans — long, guttural — and buries his face in your neck. He fucks you like it hurts. Like it heals. Like you’re the only place in the world where he’s allowed to let go.

And you take it.

All of it.

“You belong to me,” he gasps. “Even when you’re a bitch.”

You clench around him. “Say please.”

“Please.”

“You mean it?”

“Please. Please.”

Your hips lift to meet his thrusts. Your legs wrap around his waist. You hold him down when he tries to pull out. You make him stay.

Because it’s not about the loss anymore.

It’s about this.

About every fight. Every glare. Every insult.

It was always going to end like this.

You come first — loud, shaking, clinging to his shoulders while your back arches and your voice breaks.

He follows.

He doesn’t even try to pull out — just lets go with a hoarse, desperate cry, buried so deep you feel it in your spine.

He collapses on top of you.

Sweaty. Bruised. Silent.

And then, in the dark:

“I fucking hate losing.”

You smile.

“I know.”

#camficdiner #will smith fluff #ws2 #will smith hockey x reader #will smith nhl #will smith x you #ws2 x reader #will smith fic #will smith x reader #will smith imagine #wsmith #will smith x y/n #will smith hockey #will smith angst #will smith smut

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starlight727 · 8 months ago

Text

A little gift (part 2, no one asked for it but screw it)

Shadow Milk Cookie x reader fic (Chapter 2 - Theater of Lies)

Author's note: Made a part 2 cause I'm not done with my idea, I still have something else related to the story that I wanna show you (if you're interested, of course) Also, thank you for the wonderful comments in the first part, I'm glad you liked it! I hope you like this next part as much as the last one. Now, on with the show!

Part 1

Part 2 (you are here)

Part 3

A lot has happened since you got that hat: Elder Faerie died trying to buy you some time, and White Lily became the new guardian of the Seal, which made Shadow Milk Cookie changed the performance... into a quiz show! You were jumping up and down excitedly since you were eager to answer his questions (maybe that way he'll notice you for sure!). You sat down and took a deep breath before the quiz started, everyone else was standing up and steeling themselves, ready for any tricks he might pull on them. Everyone was feeling on edge after all of the recent events, and they felt very concerned and confused about the way you reacted to everything: You barely showed worry when Shadow Milk Cookie turned the whole kingdom into his personal circus, you showed remorse when Elder Faerie died but moved on quickly as soon as Shadow Milk started talking again, and now you're excited about a deadly quiz show, what the heck was wrong with you? Everyone turned to the stage when they heard Shadow Milk speak, but Wizard's gaze lingered a bit, he was gonna find out what was making you feel this way.

"Now, for the first question! Out of these False Heroes, which one is only half a Cookie? Choose your answer carefully and don't forget: time is ticking!" started Shadow Milk, as he pulled out five poorly-drawn cardboard cutouts of the Ancients, it made you giggle a bit seeing those goofy cutouts. Wizard Cookie was keeping an eye on you as you sat there, thinking.

"Half a Cookie? Isn't that... White Lily Cookie?" you pondered whether you should give your answer or not because you didn't want to put your friends in danger if you got it wrong (and you didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of him). Suddenly, you hear someone else answer.

"None of them!" yelled out Gingerbrave proudly, thinking he beat Shadow Milk at his own game.

"...oh crumbs." you thought to yourself.

"WRONG!!! Let the punishment ensue! Now... Who wants to be crumbled first?" announced Shadow Milk so loudly that it startled you. You gasped in fear of what might happen to you and your friends, and Gingerbrave (that dummy was gonna get you all crumbled!!).

"The right answer is... All of them" Pure Vanilla spoke up before anything else could happen. Thankfully, that was the answer he was looking for, so you sighed in relief, gave Gingerbrave a glare and moved on to the next question. Wizard noticed you do this, he was taking note of any changes in behavior you exhibited.

"Out of these three Cookies... Who is the biggest liar? Remember, your time is running out! So don't think for too long!" said Shadow Milk as he took out Pure Vanilla's and White Lily's cardboard cutouts and an amazingly detailed cutout of himself (you could tell how much he loved himself by the amount of effort he put into it compared to the others, it made you chuckle a bit).

"Ooh, a trick question! Ok, it can't be Shadow Milk because that would be too obvious, it might be White Lily because she lied about her being Dark Enchantress, but... how is Pure Vanilla a liar?" you thought to yourself as you wondered why Pure Vanilla was part of the choices, until you heard someone speak up.

"This is easy! It's Shadow Milk Cookie, who else!" said Wizard Cookie, so sure of his answer that he doesn't even realize that it's too easy! You started sweating and fidgeting your non-existent fingers until you heard a third Cookie speak.

"Oh no, that's... too easy..." commented Strawberry Cookie, at least someone had common sense. You got lost in your thoughts, thinking about the horrible punishment Shadow Milk had prepared for all of you!

"Well then, are you ready? What's your answer?" speak of the devil, Shadow Milk came back to hear your team's final answer.

"Come on, just repeat after me! 'Shadow...'" started Wizard Cookie, you were sooo gonna strangle him and Gingerbrave after you're done here cause like... DO THEY HAVE DEATH WISHES OR SOMETHING?!

"The biggest liar is... me, Pure Vanilla Cookie." his voice snapped you out of your silent frenzy, what was he doing?? Surely he had a good reason to call himself a liar now more than ever. Fortunately for you and unfortunately for him, that was the right answer (tho you didn't like the implications of it), another breath of relief is taken, then you give Wizard a glare, and prepare yourself for the next question.

...No, you know what? You were so angry at Wizard Cookie that, in a fit of rage, you took your hat from your head and threw it at him. Oh no!! What have you done?! You tried to apologize, but Wizard, who's been holding you suspect for having strange behavior concerning the Beast of Deceit, took it and came to the conclusion that maybe it was that stupid hat that was doing something to you, so the best course of action was to get rid of it entirely by turning it into ashes via a lightning bolt he casted on it after placing it down on the ground.

"NO!!!" you shouted as you ran to the place where your hat used to be, now turned into a pile of ash and dust. You picked up the ashes from the ground, hands trembling and tears building up in your eyes, your breath shaking and your voice breaking as you squeaked out your response.

"WHY?! Why did you do that??" you exclaimed as you threw ash at Wizard Cookie, who blocked your attack from his face but still coughed from the smell of it in the air.

"It was for your own good, that hat was controlling you, couldn't you see that?!" said Wizard Cookie in an unpleasant angry tone that even he wasn't proud of. He sighed in a tired manner and continued.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I did, but you have to understand that these are dire circumstances we're facing, so we need you to come to your senses so we can finish this and leave as soon as possible, alright?" he said with a softer tone to try to make you feel better. All you could do was get up, wipe away your angry tears and look away.

"Fine." you said, holding back more tears from flowing on your cheeks. Your face was red from the surge of emotions, so you took a few deep breaths to calm down.

But privacy isn't a thing for Shadow Milk Cookie, he saw and heard everything. There was steam coming from his head, his slit eyes were so small that they looked like toothpicks, his face might turn into a different color because of how furious he was! How dare that shorty ruin your perfect gift, he worked so hard to get it to you, and now it was nothing but a pile of cinder. He swore that he would exact his revenge on that so-called wizard and his friends, a devious grin grew on his face as he remembered his final question for them.

"Don't you worry, my little star, your darling jester will take care of this." declared Shadow Milk in his head, as he prepared everything for the last question... and final showdown.

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sweetpeaaquarius · 4 days ago

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Last Names & Lost Chances - Part 3

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x f!reader

Summary: Two people who were never meant to last find themselves caught in a night that blurs the line between anger and longing, punishment and forgiveness. It’s not love, but something just as dangerous: temptation, memories, and the defiance of the role, duty, and legacy everyone wants you to be.

What happens when the past isn’t done with you? What happens when neither is the person you never stopped loving?

Warnings: nsfw, smut, rough sex, teasing, unprotected sex, lovers to enemies to lovers, ex-lovers, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship dynamics, Dark Mark trauma, infidelity (Astoria cheating on Draco), regret, implied sexual history, swearing, angst tension, unresolved love.

Word count: 3,830

Series: Last Names & Lost Chances - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3*

The space they once shared, in secret, in silence, in sin, was still.

The same walls that had once held their whispered promises and stifled moans now felt too close. The room where she used to curl into him after long nights, where her laughter lingered in the velvet drapes and her scent still haunted the sheets.

Before the Mark.

Before the weight of the Malfoy name wrapped around his throat like a noose.

Before Astoria. Before Flint. Before Pansy. Before he let her go.

It was dim now, the moonlight spilling in thin slashes across the stone floor. The fireplace sat cold. The air was thick.

She moved through it like she still belonged.

She dropped her purse and crossed to the bar cart with maddening ease. Poured two glasses of wine, placing them on the low table in front of the old love seats.

His eyes tracked the space. He remembered the summer she lay there, book in hand, legs bare, while he sat across from her pretending to read, watching her instead. That was before their love turned sharp and before silence became the only thing they were good at.

He sat down across from her. She lounged like royalty, stockings torn, dress riding scandalously high on her thighs. A calculated picture of indifference. She took a sip of wine, slow and deliberate, eyes never leaving his, not even when the fire sparked to life at her fingertips.

That smile she wore was cruel. Stunning. Familiar.

“Your stockings,” Draco said, voice lower than he intended, the accusation buried just beneath it. He wanted to know, needed to know, if Avery had touched her. Had gotten close enough to tear the fabric himself. “They’re ruined.”

“The garden wall,” she said coolly, tilting her head. “I was sitting on it when Avery approached. All dark brooding, old money charm.” Her smile was cruel. “They tore when I slid down. Now I doubt he’ll come near me again, after you kindly beat him bloody.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but her voice lingered in the air like a curse, smug and razor-edged. The only other sound was the fire crackling, and the rush of blood hammering in his ears.

“I didn’t want to see you with him,” he said, voice unsteady. “Silas Avery.”

Her brow lifted.

“I could tell,” she said after a sip, “by the fury in your face when I stepped into the clearing. All while Pansy was curled up like a cat on your arm.”

The words hit like a slap.

“It’s almost impressive. You went from being cheated on by Astoria to publicly throwing yourself at every witch with a pulse, to playing prince of pity with Pansy, and then you still dared to throw a tantrum because I spoke to someone else. You’re nothing if not predictable, Draco.”

He exhaled slowly through his nose. Hollow. Tired.

“I’m drunk,” he muttered.

“Excuses,” she snapped. “Jealous behaviour.”

He looked at her, legs folded gracefully, wine-stained lips curled in disdain, chin raised as if she were looking down on him. He used to kiss that mouth as if it were the air he needed to breathe.

“You think I enjoyed it?” he asked. “Any of it?”

She didn’t flinch. “No.” A pause. “I think you were trying to forget me. I know you were.”

He said nothing.

“I heard about the others,” she continued sharply. “The French ambassador’s daughter. The half-blood heiress. Tell me, how would your parents have reacted to that? Considering my refusal to bear the Dark Mark apparently made me unworthy of you?”

Her voice cracked, not with weakness, but with fury.

“And of course… Pansy. The one bred for your heirs.”

“I never loved any of them.”

“I don’t care,” she hissed, but her hand trembled. “It was never about love. It was about drowning me in someone else’s perfume, someone else’s body, someone easier.”

He looked away, unable to bear the stare she sent him. One of disappointment, hurt and anger.

“I tried to hate you,” he said. “Every night I touched someone else, I told myself they were better. Softer. That you were poisoned, that I had to drown it out.”

Her breath caught.

“But none of them worked. They weren’t loud enough. Wild enough. Weren’t enough. You haunted me, even when they screamed my name and I moaned there.”

Her throat bobbed. The glass in her hand shook now, wine rippling.

“I didn’t want comfort,” he said. “I wanted punishment. I wanted to destroy the part of me that still loved you. I did. I’ve ruined myself trying to erase you.”

A beat passed.

“Then why did you let me go?” she asked. Her voice was quieter now, but no less sharp. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Because I thought you’d be better off,” he bit out. “Because I was weak. Because I was fucking scared. You made me feel everything I didn’t want to feel, and I hated it. I hated how much I needed you. I hated how easily you walked away.”

Firelight flickered across her face, catching in the shimmer of her eyes, but the tears didn’t fall.

Her expression was fierce and defiant, despite the tremble in her breath.

“I didn’t walk away, Draco,” she said, voice laced with steel. “You know why I left, and it wasn’t just your family; I could have faced them, but you didn’t fight. Not for me. Not once. So don’t you dare blame me for your regrets.”

The silence that followed didn’t feel empty. It buzzed. It burned.

He stood slowly, as though the weight of every word pressed on his spine. The fire threw jagged shadows across the hollows of his face. His fists clenched like he was holding himself together by force and failing.

“I’ve already paid for what I did,” he said, his voice low, ragged. “Every night, waking up beside strangers who didn’t know me. Every day, seeing your ghost in the places you used to be, in my bed, in my bloody clothes, in my head. I’ve paid.”

She rose too. The air tightened, the room shrinking around them like it couldn’t hold the weight of what they’d become.

“You think that’s payment?” she spat, venom in her voice now. “Fucking your way through every woman stupid enough to look your way? Sulking and brooding in ballrooms like some tragic prince, begging for pity? Don’t fool yourself, Draco. You’re not haunted. You’re cowardly.”

Her voice rose again, sharp, furious.

“You’re right. You are weak. You are scared. But don’t pretend you need me. You don’t. You wanted the fire. You wanted the fight. You didn’t want love, you wanted a battlefield you could win.”

He stepped toward her. Close enough to feel the heat of her skin. His eyes were cold steel now, burning under the surface.

“Don’t act like you didn’t thrive in that war,” he hissed. “Don’t pretend you didn’t love being the one thing I couldn’t control. The one thing I would’ve let destroy me. You liked knowing you were the reason I ruined everything else.”

Her laugh was low and broken.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said, voice brittle. “You didn’t ruin anything for me. You ruined me.”

A silence fell so sharp it felt like a scream.

“Say it,” he said, voice hoarse, shaking now. “Say you never loved me.”

She stared at him. A breath. Then two.

“I wish I could.”

It landed like a blow. Worse than hate. More honest than forgiveness. The kind of truth that left bruises.

They stood there, inches apart, neither moved.

The fire behind them crackled, furious and alive, casting flickering shadows that danced across their faces. The betrayal. The longing that never stopped gnawing at their bones.

“I hate you for making me need you,” she said, voice shaking.

“I hate you for leaving me with nothing,” he growled. “Not even a fucking ending.”

“I hate you for making me believe we ever had a choice.” She added.

“I hate you,” she whispered, her voice cracking like splintered wood, “because I still want to kiss you every time you speak.”

Something inside him broke. Not softly. It fractured, a visible shudder through his chest, through his breath, and then he moved.

He was on her in half a heartbeat, mouth crushing against hers with a violence born of grief and memory. It wasn’t a kiss; it was a declaration of war. Teeth clashed. Lips bruised. Hands fisted into hair and fabric, pulling, tearing, demanding.

She shoved him back, hard, into the wall with a gasp, her nails dragging down his chest as a wineglass shattered between their feet. Red spilled across the stone like blood. Neither flinched.

Their mouths met again, raw and devouring. She kissed him like she was punishing him for every night she cried alone. He kissed her like she was salvation dipped in poison, something he knew would kill him and still couldn’t stay away from.

His hands tangled in her hair, pulling just enough to make her gasp again. Her fingers scrambled at his shirt, popping buttons with rage and desperation, the fine fabric giving way like it had no say in the matter.

They were falling. Not to the ground, but into the madness of them. The wildfire. The hunger. The place they swore they’d never return to. Yet, they were here, again.

He lifted her without asking. She wrapped her legs around his waist without hesitation. The desk behind them was cleared with a single swipe of his arm, glass crashing, books thudding, a silver-framed photo hitting the floor and splintering with a tragic sort of poetry.

Her back hit the wood. Her head tipped up, and when he kissed her again, slower now, deeper, it wasn’t tenderness, it was confession disguised as heat.

“You don’t get to pretend we were nothing,” she panted against his lips.

“I never did,” he rasped. His hands gripped her thighs. “You were everything.”

“Then why did you fuck everyone else?” she demanded, fury sharpening her voice even as her fingers dug into his skin.

“To punish myself.”

“For what?”

“For losing you.”

She froze, briefly, like the truth had stunned the air from her lungs.

Then her head fell back, throat exposed, and he devoured it. Rough. Reverent. Marking her like he could still claim what he lost.

“You think this means anything now?” she gasped as his mouth burned a trail down her neck, her hips lifting involuntarily to meet his. Her voice trembled. Her body didn’t lie.

He pulled back just long enough to look her in the eye. “It means everything. It always did.”

The chaos swelled again. His hands were beneath her dress, tearing at ruined stockings and damp lace. Her nails dragged angry lines down his back.

Her moans were muffled against his mouth. His name, Draco, spilled from her lips like a curse and a plea.

“You don’t get to have me just because you miss me,” she snarled, her legs tightening around his waist.

“I don’t miss you,” he breathed, trembling now. “I ache for you.”

His voice was ragged. Not with lust. With something deeper. Older. Wounded.

Her dress was bunched at her hips. His belt hung open. Their skin met in a fevered tangle, harsh and unrelenting, mouths and bodies moving with the rhythm of something feral and half-forgotten.

“You don’t deserve me,” she whispered.

“No,” he said. “But I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”

When he finally pushed inside her, it wasn’t soft. It was desperate. Punishing. Worshipful. Everything at once.

She gasped, one hand fisting in his hair, the other clawing at his shoulder as she arched into him, like she could bury herself inside his bones.

They moved together, fierce and reckless and sinful.

It was punishment.

It was all unspoken, expressed through breath, bruises, and a kind of intimacy that felt like drowning.

Her nails raked down his back, her body trembling as her moans spilled out loud and unmasked. He hiked her legs over his shoulders, growling through gritted teeth, knowing this angle always unravelled her, and he needed her undone. Fast.

Because her sounds, those high, breathy cries, the way she clenched around him, he wasn’t going to last.

She shattered in his arms, cursing his name into his mouth like a hex and a plea. And he came undone with her, every part of him splintering into pieces she still somehow held in her fists.

Afterwards, they didn’t move. They couldn’t.

Their foreheads pressed together, gleaming with sweat and surrender. Their bodies trembled under the weight of what they’d done. Of what they were.

The fire behind them was the only thing breathing steadily.

Blood trickled from the split in his lip, right where she had bitten. A single tear slid down her cheek.

His shirt hung from one shoulder, half-ripped. Her dress was wrecked, torn and bunched around her hips. Still, neither of them pulled away.

“You still hate me?” he asked, voice like gravel dragged over broken glass.

She closed her eyes. Her lashes were wet.

“Yes,” she said. “More than anything.”

Finally, she moved, slowly, carefully, sliding her dress down to cover herself as though any sudden shift might shatter the fragile control she still clung to. Then she slid off the edge of the table.

Draco didn’t move. He just watched her.

Watched her fix her straps, her hair, everything he had undone. His breath came uneven. The cut on his lip still bled.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, voice low, her back to him. “Like you suddenly remember I’m real.”

“I never forgot,” he said quietly.

Too late. Too honest.

She turned, arms crossing over her chest like armour.

“You think this changes anything?”

He didn’t answer.

“Sex was never the problem,” she continued, colder now. “You were always good at that. Good at apologising with your hands. With your mouth. But the moment it mattered, when I needed you to choose me, you didn’t.”

He took a single step forward. She didn’t move.

“I know.”

“Knowing isn’t enough.”

He nodded, slowly. His voice dropped, all defences stripped away. “Then let me give you more.”

His tone was different. Not desperate. Not angry. Just bare.

“I ruined us,” he said. His chest rose and fell like the words were heavier than breath. “I let the pressure break me. My father. The legacy. The name. I let it all convince me you were too much, when really, you were the only thing that ever felt like mine.”

Her breath caught, and she hated that it did.

“I didn’t fight for you,” he said. “And I’ve been punishing myself ever since.”

“You don’t get to fix this with regret, Draco.”

“I know,” he said again. “But I’ll keep trying. Even if you never forgive me. Even if tonight was the last time.”

She looked at him, really looked.

His shirt hung open. His eyes were rimmed with red. Blood dried at the corner of his mouth. He looked like the war had never ended; it had just moved inside him.

Still, he looked at her like she was the only thing in the room that mattered.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asked. Her voice was soft, but steady. “Because if you don’t say it now, I won’t let you pretend it didn’t mean anything later.”

Draco stepped forward again, slowly. Carefully. Like approaching something that could break or bite. He reached for her hand, hesitated, then wrapped his fingers around her wrist like it was something sacred.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said. “Not tonight. Not in the morning. Not again.”

She stared at him. Long and hard.

“You’re not good for me.”

“I know.”

“You hurt me,” she added.

“I know.”

“Then why should I stay?”

“Because I’ve never been more willing to be the man you deserved years ago. I’ll prove it, even if you sleep in the guest room, and I don’t touch you again until you ask.”

That caught her off guard.

Enough to soften something in her gaze, not forgiveness, but maybe the start of belief.

A long silence stretched between them.

“You don’t have guest sheets,” she said finally.

He blinked. “What?”

“In the linen cupboard. There aren’t any. I checked last Christmas when your mother banished me to the guest room.”

Draco’s brow furrowed. “You remembered that?”

“I remember everything,” she said. “That’s the problem.”

He stepped back, gave her space, and gestured toward the hallway. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on in the guest suite this time.”

She didn’t move.

“I’m not sleeping in your bed alone.”

His breath hitched.

“I’m not asking for more,” she added. “But I’m not pretending we’re strangers, either.”

He nodded. Afraid to speak. Afraid to break it.

She walked past him slowly, murmuring a spell under her breath, and the shattered glass, the buttons, the mess, all of it vanished.

God, she was still so talented.

That used to make him jealous. The way magic bent for her, obeyed her like a second language. She had a natural gift, as if she spoke to magic, not just used it, while he struggled with wandless incantations and precision charms. Yet, she never seemed to study. Never needed to.

She disappeared into his closet like she owned the space. The rustle of shirts, the scrape of drawers, echoed into the quiet as he buttoned his trousers and raked shaky fingers through his hair.

He knew he wouldn’t leave this room unless she told him to.

For a man who prided himself on control, especially around her, she was the only one who ever truly had it. She told him what to do, when to do it, and how to do it, and he always obeyed.

Because he had nothing. Nothing but her.

His mind flicked to Astoria, probably crying on her friend’s shoulder, probably halfway through a bottle of wine she didn’t like, and planning her next attempt to win him back.

He could picture her face now, when she came looking for him and found him exactly where she always feared: in his room, in his bed, with her.

The girl who kissed him like sin.

The girl who broke him and still made him beg.

The girl he’d just fucked against his desk like a pathetic man with no self-control.

God, she was perfect.

Draco didn’t speak as she reemerged from the closet in one of his old Slytherin Quidditch shirts, faded from too many wears and washes. He had no idea why he’d kept it. Maybe for this moment. Maybe for her.

She padded barefoot across the room. Her makeup was smudged, her lips swollen, her hair still wild from his hands. Yet, there was something impossibly elegant about her even now, unapologetic and self-possessed, like she knew exactly how much damage she could do simply by existing.

Without a word, she slipped into the bed and curled onto her side, turning her back to him.

Draco stood frozen longer than he meant to, fingers clenched, heart pounding like a prisoner trying to escape its cage.

She sighed, quiet but sharp, as if irritated by the distance. Then she turned to face him, eyes steady, and patted the space across from her.

He crossed the room.

He didn’t take off his already half-undone shirt. Didn’t dare. Instead, he sat stiffly on the edge of his bed like a guest in her space, not his.

“You were shaking earlier,” she said, her voice hushed, her hair a halo of chaos against his pillows.

He blinked at the ceiling. “I know.”

She rolled onto her back, the blanket slipping slightly to reveal the soft line of her collarbone.

“I forget you’re human sometimes.”

“I try to forget it too,” he murmured, almost smiling. “It’s easier that way.”

A beat of silence stretched between them.

“You didn’t use to be afraid of me,” she whispered.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Then what is it?”

He looked at her then, her skin glowed golden in the firelight, but her eyes held him like a blade at his throat.

“I’m afraid of losing you again.”

Something flickered across her face. Not softness. Not forgiveness. But something.

“I’m still here.”

“For now.”

Another long pause.

Then, she slid closer. An inch. Then another. Until her fingers brushed softly against his wrist.

He swallowed hard.

“You said you wouldn’t touch me unless I asked,” she whispered.

“I did.”

“Good,” she said.

Then, barely louder than a breath. “Touch me.”

His resolve cracked like old stone beneath pressure.

He reached for her hand first, lacing their fingers together, and pressed his lips to her knuckles like a silent prayer. Then his hand slid to her hip, her waist, the bare curve of her thigh beneath the hem of his old shirt.

He kicked off his shoes. Her fingers tugged at the edges of his shirt, helping him shrug it off. Then came the slow fumble of buttons, zippers, and breath. He slipped beneath the covers beside her, closer now, skin to skin.

She was warm, soft, and genuine. When she kissed him again, it felt different.

It wasn’t chaos this time; it was surrender.

Their mouths met slowly, like rediscovering something sacred, something stolen. Her hand found his jaw, her thumb ghosting over the cut she’d left earlier. This kiss didn’t demand. It asked.

Permission. Forgiveness. Hope.

His body shifted over hers, settling between her thighs. There was no crash, no recklessness. Only hands. Only breath. The slow rise of heat like a storm with no lightning, only the tension, building and building.

She gasped into his mouth as he trailed kisses down her neck, over the gentle slope of her collarbone, to the hem of her shirt where her body awaited, where she trembled beneath him.

She whispered his name, not as a curse or as an accusation, but as something between a sigh and a vow.

When he entered her again, it was like a key sliding into a long-locked door. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lips found her pulse. They moved together with reverence now. Slowly. Deeply. As if they were carving new memories over the ruins of the old ones.

She clung to him with what felt like trust. He held her as if he were already mourning the moment she would leave. When she came again, soft and quiet, it was felt like permission. As he followed her over the edge, her name caught in his throat, her breath tangled in his. They lay tangled in silence afterwards.

Eventually, she curled into his side. One leg slid over his. Her head nestled beneath his chin like it had never left. And when he wrapped his arms around her, he knew that she might still walk away.

But right now?

She was here, and that was enough.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #harry potter fanfic #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy one shot #draco x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #slytherin boys fanfiction #slytherin boys #draco malfoy imagine

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brineoffire · 9 months ago

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Next day of my schedule is a fic update! BTW I'll pin my posting schedule after my poll finishes!

Chapter 3 of Wings and Wires!

Previous chapter link

vvv

Around you many of his guests stare and you all but ignore all of them. You keep your chin up, staring at the rafters once again. Do exactly what you were trained to do. Grit and bare the looks you get and the hands of your owner that trail over your knee and thigh absentmindedly. You've dealt with this over and over again, and you'll continue to deal with it as long as you're here. As long as you belong to Alphonso.

The worst part of it all was still when he allowed his associates to touch you. When he let them line up to get their hands on you. Greedy hands brushing through the fur on your wings and tail. Those closer to him he allows more intimate touches. Those more important guests are able to see you as you strip off your fancy silks and satins. Left in nothing but your tight underwear, lacy tank top and short briefs that lay low on your waist.

He usually leads them, pulling you down to your knees by the chains on your muzzle or collar. Keeping you between his legs he allows them to run their hands over your exposed body. They rub over where scales meet flesh, too many fingers tangling in the streak of fur that follows your spine. A select few would slide eager fingers over and into the edges of your underwear. Those touches still sent a chill down your spine and the sting of bile up the back of your throat.

It's easy to recall the time you first fell into Alphonso's hands. The first few months he kept you all to himself, breaking you in as you fought back. Heavy chains and straps always kept him just out of reach of your claws. In those times he kept your mouth fully covered with muzzles made fully of steels and metals, your teeth would snap behind them uselessly. For two months you fought him, each time your punishments getting worse and worse.

Bindings tightened. Dark rooms where he kept you isolated and hungry. When your fits had been at their worst he'd have you pinned down, your limbs immovable. He knew the slowest and most painful way to remove scales, claws, and fangs. Always pulling from the same spot after they'd regrow, relishing in your extra pain from the fresh growth. It broke you down after the third month. Three months of blood and tears. Three months of sobbing and anger. Three months of being forced into a mold to become the perfect pet for the mafia head.

You had no one to get back to after all. Your family would be the first ones to pay the price if you ever actually escaped. There was no love lost there, but you understood what happened. Understood the bleakness of all of your futures if Alphonso didn't get exactly what he wanted. So you played the role he forced you into. Became his attack dog, his lap cat. Followed every order to the letter ro win his praise.

Now here you are, sitting in his lap like the pet you've become. Answering every one of his demands no matter how outrageous just to avoid his wrath. It's easier now to ignore the eyes, the hands, the cold voices talking about you like an animal. You've spent so long tuning it all out while he totted you around, just like you do now, staring up at the rafters as if they were bars to the cage your life has become.

When everything from your sleep to your exercise has been dictated it's easy to fall into an autopilot. You've gotten to a point where you can tune out all voices but his, can focus only on his scent, but today is different. Somewhere on the edge of your consciousness you feel a pull. A little tug that threatens to pull your focus back to your surroundings and onto something other than Alphonso’s call. More than a scent, or a voice, it's something that tugs on your mind itself, pulling you to look in the direction of the other dragon and his harpy.

Your vision comes back into focus and you can't help but slowly glance that way. When your eyes finally settle on them again it confuses you to see concern from the bigger man, his brow furrowed even more as he watches you carefully. The harpy conceals it well, no one else would notice, but you see anger, though it's not directed at you. Following the line of his vision you know he's looking past you, at Alphonso. You know that sense is somehow coming from both of them, and you're about to give into it, about to turn to look at them directly, when Alphonso clears his throat and has your full attention.

Your eyes shift back to his face as you watch him talk. He thanks the crowd for attending and rattles on about his plans. Letting them know a vague outline of his manufacturing, subtle details and hints mean those who know the plans are reassured and those who shouldn't are kept in the dark. He has your full attention as he talks yet you feel that same odd sense again. That same pulling desire to give your attention to the two men across the dining room. For now you keep yourself in line and focused on Alphonso.

His speech finishes and the crowd claps lightly. In your peripherals you catch a blur of movement, and you know exactly what it is. Snapping your head towards the source you react in a split second. Launching yourself off the seat, using your wings to lift your weight off Alphonso before springing into action. A gunman rushes forward, shotgun in hand as they sprint to get a good shot.

You’re used to these attempts by now, though what you’re not used to is a smaller blur of movement. The gunner stumbles forward, their speed broken as one of their knees buckles forward, a gasp of surprise leaving their mouth as you continue to bound towards them. Grabbing the gun’s barrel you knock it upwards, kicking at its wielder's chest with enough force to drop them backwards. They cling onto their weapon desperately but you slam the butt of their gun into their face hard enough for them to lose their grip.

As they fall you press a knee to their chest, your wings flaring backwards as you drive your weight into them. Your clawed hands dig into their shoulders and they cry out in pain as your thumbs dig into their neck hard enough to draw blood. You hear Alphonso laughing loudly and clapping as you glare down at the would-be assassin.

“Well now ladies and gentlemen! Isn't this nice? Dinner and a show!” You hear mummers mixed with a few chuckles around you as your focus stays on your quarry. They struggle in vain under you, calloused hands gripping at your wrists as they squirm fruitlessly. Out of the corner of your eye you catch something falling from behind the leg they stumbled on. Something thin and pointed, made up of several brown shades with a slight glint of red.

Behind you Alphonso's footfalls ring out as he gets closer to you, his hand falling on your head, patting you.

“Good boy.” He raises his arm, a signal for his regular guards to approach as he laughs again.

“You fucking idiots never learn do you?” Your grip only loosens once the guards have their shoulders, yanking them to their feet roughly. Your tail subtly slides over what you now see is a feather. While the attention is on the assassin you deftly slide it under a scale on your tail, hiding it just under your fur. You can almost feel its owners' eyes boring into you, but you keep your focus on the task at hand.

#task force 141 #141 x male reader #141 x reader #141 x trans male reader #poly 141 #tf 141 #141 #poly 141 x male reader #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #brine scratch #141 hybrid au

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simplypaisleyjane · 4 months ago

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Chasing You: Part 3

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC Avery Simpson

Summary: After getting stood up on a date, and taking a totally non date walk on the beach with Jake, Avery decides to spend the rest of her night with Jake.

Part 1 is HERE. Part 2 is HERE

Warnings: Light Alcohol Consumption, Some Cursing/Language

Avery huffed, shaking her head but she was already moving, already following as Jake strode toward the pool tables like he’d known all along she’d come with him. And maybe he had.

Jake grabbed a cue stick from the rack, spinning it effortlessly in his hand before glancing at her. “What’s your game, sweetheart? Eight-ball? Nine-ball? Or do you just like the way the table looks?”

Avery scoffed, plucking a cue stick from the rack. “Please. I grew up around bases and bars. I know my way around a pool table.”

“That so?” He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough that it sent a shiver down her spine. “Guess I’ll have to take you seriously, then.”

Avery pretended that didn’t affect her. “You should.”

Jake chuckled, rolling up the sleeves of his button up shirt, revealing his forearms. Avery caught herself looking for half a second too long before snapping her gaze back to the table.

Jake didn’t comment on it. But the smugness in his expression? Yeah, he noticed.

"Rack 'em up, sweetheart."

Avery broke first, the cue ball cracking against the cluster of stripes and solids. She sank a solid, and Jake let out a low whistle. "Damn. You weren’t kidding."

Avery smirked. "Told you."

Jake took his turn, sinking a stripe effortlessly, before leaning casually against the table. "So, what do I get when I win?"

Avery raised a brow. "Cocky, aren’t you?"

Jake just grinned. "Confident."

Avery lined up her next shot, ignoring the way he watched her like she was the only thing worth paying attention to in the whole damn bar.

She made the shot. Barely.

Jake took another sip of his beer. “Alright, what do you want if you win?”

Avery leaned against her cue stick. “How about you leave me alone for a whole week?”

Jake let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, that’s just cruel.”

“That’s the point.”

Jake tilted his head, considering. “Alright. But if I win, you owe me a dance.”

Avery narrowed her eyes. "You realize that's not much of a punishment for me, right?"

Jake’s grin widened. "I know. But I think it’ll be a hell of a lot of fun for me."

Avery rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Midway through the game, Avery lined up a shot, squinting down the cue. And then suddenly, Jake was behind her. Not touching her. But close enough that she felt the heat of him.

“Your stance is off.”

Avery froze. She should have rolled her eyes. Told him to back off. Instead, her pulse betrayed her, hammering in her ears.

Jake leaned in just slightly, his voice near her ear. “Here, let me—”

His hand barely brushed hers, adjusting her grip. It was the lightest touch, but it sent a jolt of awareness through her body.

Avery cleared her throat. “I don’t need your help.”

Jake smirked, stepping back with his hands raised in mock surrender. “Suit yourself, sweetheart.”

Avery took the shot.

Missed.

Jake chuckled. “Well, can’t say I didn’t try.”

Avery turned, glaring. "That was dirty."

Jake grinned. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

The game dragged on, both of them down to their last ball.

Avery took a deep breath, lining up her final shot. If she made it, she could enjoy an entire week free of Jake Seresin’s smug presence.

She missed.

Jake laughed.

Avery groaned. “God, I hate you.”

Jake smirked, lining up his final shot. He barely took two seconds before sinking the eight ball with ease.

Game over.

Avery exhaled sharply, setting her pool cue down against the edge of the table. Jake stood across from her, arms crossed, a smug grin stretched across his face.

"Well, sweetheart," he drawled, "looks like you lost."

Avery rolled her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

She had come close. Damn close. But Jake was better, and she had known that the second she made the bet.

Still, watching him bask in his victory was infuriating.

Jake tapped the side of the pool table, leaning toward her slightly. “You gonna pretend you forgot our deal now?”

Avery scoffed, grabbing her drink off the nearby table. "Relax, Hangman. I always pay my debts."

Jake’s grin widened. “I’m counting on it.”

Avery turned before she could let him see the way her pulse had jumped. She walked toward the jukebox, sipping the last of her drink before setting the glass down on the bar. Her fingers hovered over the buttons, her heartbeat pounding a little too hard.

This is stupid. It’s just a dance.

But her body moved before she could think too much about it.

The bar’s usual buzz of laughing voices and clinking glasses faded slightly as the first few melancholic guitar chords of “Fire Away” drifted through the speakers.

Avery turned around and her eyes met Jake. He was watching her. The look on his face was one of slight surprise, almost like he hadn’t expected her to actually follow through.

Avery’s fingers curled around Jake’s hand, her soft dainty fingers brushing against his calloused ones. She gave him a gentle tug, stepping back toward the left side of the bar which was the only open space big enough for them to move.

Jake let her lead him. He didn’t resist or pull away. Didn’t give some smart ass comment. No, he just followed her.

A few heads turned in their direction, but Avery didn’t care.

And when the soft twang of guitar wove through the room, deep and slow, he did the only thing that felt natural.

He pulled her in. His hands settled lightly at her waist, his touch firm but careful like he knew this was a line she could still step away from.

Avery didn’t step away. Instead, she rested one hand on his shoulder, the other still laced with his.

The opening lyrics of Fire Away rumbled low through the speakers.

Jake let out a soft chuckle. “Hell of a song choice, Simpson.”

Avery smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You don’t like it?”

Jake shook his head. “Didn’t say that.” His voice dipped lower, just enough for her to hear. "Didn’t expect it, though."

Avery swallowed. “Why?”

Jake’s thumb brushed absently against the fabric of her shirt. “You don’t really strike me as the sentimental type.”

Avery huffed out a quiet laugh. “I’m not.”

Jake tilted his head slightly, studying her.

“But?”

Avery exhaled slowly.

“My mom used to play it,” she admitted, her voice softer now.

Avery’s chest constricted. She had no idea why she told him that. She didn’t talk about her mom. Ever. To anyone.

She glanced up at him, her fingers idly tracing the edge of his collar.

Jake Seresin was infuriating.

And yet, right now he was just steady. So steady.

Without thinking she leaned in. Not much, just enough that her cheek rested against his shoulder. Jake stiffened just slightly for a moment before his hold on her shifted. His grip tightened, one arm wrapping a little more securely around her waist.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t make some offhand joke. He just held her.

Avery squeezed her eyes shut, exhaling slowly. Her mind had already drifted. Back to the last time she’d heard this song. Her mother’s voice humming along to it in the kitchen. The scent of warm vanilla and honeyed tea filling the space. The sound of soft laughter of her siblings playing outside through the open window.

Jake’s voice broke through her thoughts. “You okay?”

Avery swallowed, just nodding. She wasn’t sure if she actually was. But for some reason standing here with Jake she felt a little closer to home. And she wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

Avery’s fingers curled lightly in the fabric of Jake’s shirt. His hand was warm where it rested against the small of her back, the other still wrapped around hers.

For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t overthinking. She wasn’t guarding herself, keeping space between them, pretending this wasn’t happening.

She was just there. With him. And she let herself stay.

The song wrapped around them, warm and slow, like a memory.

Jake hadn’t spoken in a while. Hadn’t teased, hadn’t pushed. Just held her. Avery closed her eyes, exhaling softly, letting the moment settle deep in her chest.

For the first time in longer than she could remember, she let herself feel safe.

The last few notes of Fire Away drifted into the air, fading into nothing.

Jake’s hold eased slightly. Avery felt it, the way his grip loosened like he was about to take a step back. Like the moment was over.

And that’s when it hit her. What the hell was she doing?

Her breath caught. Her pulse spiked. And suddenly she needed out of that moment.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she took a quick step back. Jake’s hands lingered for half a second before he let her go.

He started to say something, but Avery was already turning away.

“I—” her voice faltered, fingers twitching at her sides. “I need a drink.”

Jake’s brows knitted slightly, but before he could respond—

She was gone.

Avery gripped the edge of the bar, her pulse still thrumming in her ears. She needed something to dull the warmth still buzzing under her skin.

Penny turned, already raising an eyebrow. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Avery exhaled sharply. “Something stronger than soda.”

Penny didn’t move. Just leaned her elbows on the counter, studying her.

Avery shifted, avoiding the weight of that knowing stare. “What?”

Penny smirked. “Nothing.”

Avery glared. “Penny.”

Penny finally moved, grabbing a bottle. “You want to tell me why you just ran over here like your life depended on it?”

Avery gritted her teeth. “I didn’t run.”

Penny poured the drink without responding. Because they both knew she did.

Penny slid the drink in front of Avery, and Avery grabbed the glass before Penny could start talking again.

She then took a sip. Then a bigger one. Let the burn settle in her chest.

Penny just shook her head, still smirking. “He’s watching you, you know.”

Avery froze.

She swallowed hard and then slowly glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough Jake was still standing where she had left him. Hands in his pockets now.

Avery nursed her drink, keeping her focus strictly on the counter.

Maybe if she ignored it, the heat in her chest would fade. Maybe if she pretended that hadn’t just happened, it would be true.

She was halfway through her drink when Phoenix slid onto the stool beside her.

“So,” she said casually, nudging her elbow against Avery’s. “You and Hangman, huh?”

Avery nearly choked.

She set her glass down a little too hard, shaking her head. “What? No. That wasn’t—”

“Looked like something,” Phoenix teased, grabbing a beer from the counter.

Avery exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders. “It was just a bet. I lost. That’s it.”

Phoenix arched a brow. “Uh-huh.”

Avery scoffed, shaking her head. “I mean it. It was just a dance. Hangman’s a cocky bastard. He wouldn’t let me off the hook, so I paid up.”

Phoenix sipped her beer, unimpressed. “Sure. Just a dance.”

Avery turned, narrowing her eyes. “It was.”

“Right.” Phoenix smirked. “And that’s why you damn near sprinted to the bar the second it ended?”

Avery’s stomach flipped.

“I just needed a drink,” she muttered, taking another sip of her own.

Phoenix hummed, clearly not convinced.

“You know,” she mused, “I’ve seen Hangman dance with plenty of girls at this bar. Never seen him look at any of them like that.”

Avery froze.

Her grip on her glass tightened.

“Like what?”

Phoenix grinned against her bottle. “Like he actually gave a damn.”

Her gut reaction was to brush it off, call it bullshit.

But the memory of his hands on her waist, the way he held her like she might break, the way he checked in—Yeah. That wasn’t nothing.

Before she could find a response, a shadow fell over them.

“What’s not nothing?”

Avery whipped around just as Rooster slid into the seat on her other side, looking way too amused.

Phoenix chuckled. “Oh, just Avery here trying to convince me that dance with Hangman was nothing.”

Rooster’s brows shot up. “That was nothing?”

Avery’s jaw clenched. “Yes.”

Rooster smirked, stealing a sip from Phoenix’s beer. “Huh. Somebody should tell Hangman that.”

Avery’s stomach twisted. She slowly looked over her shoulder once again. Jake was still standing near the pool tables towards the left side of the bar.

The second their eyes met his smirk stretched wider. Like he knew exactly what they were talking about.

Avery snatched her drink off the bar, and turned back to Rooster and Phoenix. “It was just a bet that I lost. Nothing more.”

Phoenix and Rooster exchanged a look with each other. And she could tell that neither of them believed her.

After two more drinks and endless teasing from Phoenix and Rooster, she decided she’d had enough for the night.

The buzz of the bar still hummed behind her as she pushed open the door, stepping into the cooler night air.

She exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders like she could physically shake off the night. She was still too aware of the weight of Jake’s hands on her waist earlier during the dance. Of the way he watched her when she walked away. Of the fact that, no matter how many times she said it was just a bet, her heart didn’t seem to believe her.

She dug her keys out of her jacket pocket, eyes set on her car.

“You always leave without saying goodbye, Simpson?”

Avery stiffened. She turned, already expecting that damn smirk. And Jake didn’t disappoint.

He was leaning against the doorframe, hands tucked into his pockets, watching her with easy amusement.

“Didn’t realize I owed you one,” she said, arching a brow.

Jake pushed off the frame, falling into step beside her as she headed toward her car.

“Nah, just figured you’d at least let me walk you out first.”

Avery side-eyed him. “I can walk myself out just fine.”

Jake grinned. “I know. But where’s the fun in that?”

Avery sighed, picking up her pace. “Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“A pain in the ass.”

Jake let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Only with you, sweetheart.”

They reached her car, and Avery unlocked it, gripping the door handle. For a second, neither of them moved. Jake rocked back on his heels, watching her with something quieter now.

Thensoftly, without the usual teasing edge he said, “Thanks for tonight.”

Avery paused. Brows furrowing slightly. “For what?”

Jake shrugged, hands still tucked into his pockets.

“For not running.”

Avery huffed, rolling her eyes. “See you around, Hangman.”

Jake took a small step closer. Not enough to corner her. Just enough to make sure she could feel him there.

“I’d like to do it again sometime.”

Avery’s fingers tightened on the door handle.

She glanced up, arching a brow. “Do what?”

Jake smirked. “Spend time with you.”

Avery’s heart kicked against her ribs.

“You’re really not gonna let this go, are you?”

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. “Nope.”

Avery exhaled sharply. Then, reluctantly she pulled her phone from her pocket.

Jake watched, his smirk softening as she threw it into his hands. “Fine. Put your number in before I change my mind.”

Jake grinned, triumphant. He handed her his phone so she could add her number and then he took her phone, fingers moving far too slowly over the screen.

Then after a beat he handed it back.

Avery glanced down.

Jake 😎 aka Pilot of Your Dreams

She let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “Really?”

Jake winked. “Gotta make sure you remember me, sweetheart.”

Avery rolled her eyes, climbing into her car. “Like I could forget.”

Jake’s lips curved at that. And just before she could shut the door, he leaned in slightly, voice low, amused. “Drive safe, Avery.”

Avery hesitated. Just for a second. Then she nodded, closing the door.

As she pulled out of the lot, she didn’t look back. But she could still feel him watching.

And when her phone buzzed two minutes later, she already knew exactly who it was.

#Jake Seresin #Jake Hangman Seresin #Jake Seresin x Reader #Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader #Jake Seresin x You #Jake Hangman Seresin x You

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itz-amani · 2 years ago

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Sukuna as your boyfriend Imagines [Part 2]

Thank you for 62 followers ❤😭 Please send me more request I love yall sm. Here some Soft Sukuna for your day.

-He is the type thinking everyone in this world should die.Except you and him.He rather destroy the whole world for you. ''Anything for you my Queen''

-Jealousy?Hah even curses get jealous what about the King of Curses? He gets jealous over small things . Plushies.But that's not all.. Even animals like cats , dogs and others . You are walking with him in the streets , You saw a cat sleeping beside a trash can It looks so adorable You could not help yourself ditching Sukuna for a while to play with a cat. He taught he lost you He starting to get frustrated ended up seeing you playing with..a cat.

-''You like the cat more than me?`How could you'' You giggled at his ''possesived act'' . ''I didn't know the King of Curses gets jealous over a cat.''

-Movie nights are ON TOP. You like to make him watch cheesy and awkward romantic movies like Twilight . He even complains about the characters ''Bella is such a fool compared to you Y/n you are perfect''. If he's bored about the movie he will braid your hair making different hairstyles ,kissing your neck , him being the big spoon.

-Couple outfits like bad boy x good girl vibes or depends what you wanted to wear. He doesnt judge what style you like. ''Wear something that makes you feel pretty Paradise''

-Shares his evil plans with you . Like rather destroy a whole field just to find a four - leafed clover for you.

-Likes to show off with everyone around him about you even Yuuji ''How come Sukuna got a girlfriend? '' ''Maybe You if you weren't such a fool '' come one Sukuna please stop bullying teens

-Takes serious if You need help

-He can barely sense if you are injured .He gets so mad if you hurt yourself because you tripped on something . Him being a nurse Patching you up,kissing the spot where you are hurt. ''Don't get yourself hurt again..Brat''

-The type that throws you on the bed and throws himself on top of you

-He is addict with your neck . Gives you love bites and kiss it

-The type that jumps on the bed giving you jumpscares to wake you up if you are still sleeping so be prepared for it. Sometimes you found him beside you his eyes wide open , smirking horrifically just to scare you.He does that many times and his punishment is sleep on the couch.He sometimes regrets it but somehow enjoys it deeply

[End part 2] do yall want part 3

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low-budget-korra · 7 months ago

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Arcane Hot Takes

1. The hate on Jayce is mostly for no reason. He was a good guy, genuinely nice and with no toxic masculinity. He never created Hextec to be a weapon or to destroy the world. And only got really mad when Jinx stole his creation and honestly? He had the right to be mad at that. He ain't perfect, he made mistakes but c'mon guys.

2. If you hate on s2 Caitlyn but idolize Silco, you're a hypocrite. The difference is that Caitlyn did all blinded by grief while Silco did blinded by the thirst for power

And speaking of Silco…No, he is not this revolutionary man some of the fandom make him out to be. He was a Mafia boss who filled the streets with drugs, divided and weakened his own community and even used child work in his factories. Yeah, he was not some Che Guevara freedom fighter. All he had was beautiful speeches abt it.

And also not this perfect father figure for Jinx, as he kept filling her paranoias and manipulating her

3. The writers made a miracle managing to end the show in a nice way, but the truth is that Arcane needed at least one more season to be perfect.

In s2 they rely too much on characters' micro expressions and subtext. Which is not a bad thing at all, but in a first view a lot of things get missed

I already saw s2 three times, so if you think things were poorly explained, try to watch a second time. Better, binge s1 and s2 and I guarantee that a lot of stuff you think was outta nowhere, will make sense.

4. Caitlyn had the best character arc in season 2. Experiencing the phases of grief, getting radicalized and manipulated, opening her eyes and realizing what she was doing, a subtle yet important redemption.

And I Say "subtle" bc even if for me it was obvious, I know for a lot of people, it wasn't.

Also, the haters don't want her to recognize what she did wrong bc she already did, just not with those on the nose dialogues. The haters wanted her to be punished, which she also was. Girl was stabbed in the abdomen, betrayed by her right hand, was almost executed in front of her men, got beat up with a knife still in her abdomen and lost an eye. Yeah, I think she was punished enough and if you wanted more, just admit that you are a bit sadistic and move on

5. Arcane is fiction. Sure, it takes insp in real life problems but is still fiction. Its cool to be able to recognize the themes but project our world problems, anger and frustration towards the characters is stupid and makes you miss a lot of good stuff in the show. If you act radical abt the show, you don't have the right to judge someone that goes radical after losing her mom to a terrorist attack.

It doesn't matter if her mother was rich or something. In fact, Cassandra was one of the few council members, maybe the only one, who actually did something good for the Zaunites as she was the one that created those air filters for people in Zaun, the workers, be able to breathe without getting cancer or smt.

Yes, I know it's the bare minimum but she was the only one doing something. Heimerdinger in his 200y never did something like that and only tried to help Zaun when he was expelled from the council.

6. Vi didn know Jinx was wanting to off herself. Jinx already tricked her a couple times before and “breaking the circle” , from Vi’s pov could mean a lot of things. From offing herself to explode things again. She doesn't watch Arcane guys, she doesn't know Jinx as well as we do.

7. Having Zaunites helping Piltover in the battle wasn't lazy writing or disrespectful. It was literally about the fate of their world, y'all thing Ambessa and Viktor would stop with just Piltover? Who y'all think would be the next target?

They also used the enforcers uniform because it is a tactical one, useful in a situation like a battle. I can hate on the police all I want but in a situation like that, I would rather go to battle with that stupid uniform and bullet proof vest than go on a simple tank top, jeans and converse.

And this shows how better the Zaunites are compared to Piltover and it's enforcers. They were willing to shallow their hate, their pride and help their oppressors for the greater good. That's a good heart, maturity and emotional intelligence.

#Arcane #caitvi #vi arcane #jinx arcane #silco arcane #caitlyn kiramman #jayce talis #jayce arcane #ambessa medarda #viktor arcane

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the-xolotl · 1 year ago

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Worshiping At His Feet

Alastor x fem!Reader

⟢ a/n: i actually wrote half of this about 2-3 weeks ago and kinda left it to collect dust ^^, but here it is !! for my oral fixation bitches <33 i was listening to Rule 34 by Fish in a Birdcage and it was the perfect inspiration tee-hee.

summary: i don't have a quirky summary this time; you suck Al's dick lol

⟢ CW: service sub reader, cock worship (m receiving), no use of y/n, terms of endearment, praise, throat fucking, erotic asphyxiation, subspace, cumming untouched, leg/shoe humping, Al’s dick is like 9" in this one besties, reader w a long tongue.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL BE BLOCKED ON SIGHT. Thank you~

Alastor’s eyes raked over your trembling form kneeling before him with amusement and curiosity. The Radio Demon currently had you sitting on your thighs, bare from head to toe save for the green-glowing collar around your neck and the chain he currently has curled around his hand. Yet, your trembles weren’t from fear nor were you cold. No, the smell of arousal that tickled his nose is proof enough to let him know you’re the furthest thing from scared. There isn’t a sign of embarrassment or even shyness on your body as his red ruby eyes bore over every inch of your skin.

If anything, you sit with poise and elegance. Perfectly submitting to your figurative and literal place beneath him and wearing it with a straight back and puffed chest hints of pride in your position. You were writhing with anticipation; your little trembles came from the sheer excitement. You reminded him of an excited puppy, wiggling in delight, waiting to eat out of their master’s hand. Alastor couldn’t say he wasn’t pleased with this little display of obedience and devotion.

He has given you simple instructions: Strip, kneel, stay, sit still. Do not speak unless spoken to. And to your credit, you are doing just that. The twitches and shakes of arousal were somewhat out of your control. He knew you couldn’t help being a bitch in heat in his presence. Even still, you weren’t sitting still like he ordered. Your big eyes fixated on his own, waiting for your next instructions.

“Darling, what were your orders?” his velvety voice crooned, the radio filter crackling with his tone’s low notes.

You felt your eyebrow twitch and your heart pound against your ribcage. The Radio Demon doesn’t have you repeat instructions unless you missed a step or didn’t follow them correctly. Alastor is gracious enough to give you a singular chance at correcting yourself before punishment is dished out. “Strip, kneel, stay, sit still. Do not speak unless spoken to,” speaking with an even tone, struggling to keep your voice from trembling. He gave your collar a light tug, just enough to remove slack. You audibly swallowed, feeling your chest tighten at the pull of your very soul.

“Good pet,” he purred, “So fix it.” That’s all he offered. Leaving you confused, the words echoed repeatedly in your head, trying to find the mistake. Alastor’s smile grew impossibly big as the lost expression edged into your face. He was already kind enough to give you a hint. It’s your job now to figure it out. He had time.

Meanwhile, you readjusted yourself, planting your weight further into your calves and placing your palms at ease over your thighs. You had the urge to run a thumb along your flesh soothingly, feeling your thighs shaking, so you did. And that’s when it clicked. Sit still.

You stop immediately, your body going rigid, and flick your gaze to Alastor again, who has an approving glint in his eyes. The corner of your lips twitches upwards, and your heart flutters again, this time at his silent approval.

“That’s it. Good job,” Alastor praised extending his hand towards you. You lean in immediately resting your cheek on his palm, relishing in the warmth of his captivating touch. “Come closer, dear. You’re allowed to rest your hands on my lap.”

Alastor uncrossed his legs to allow you to slot yourself between them. Still knelt, you didn’t hesitate to let your hands come up to his legs. Your hands glided across his clothed thighs with a feather-light touch before they settled at the apex of them resting them there. With his hand still on your cheek, he tilted your head back, “You’re going to service me now. I’m going to use your mouth, and you’re going to let me,” his thumb ran over your bottom lip, “Understand, little one?”

Alastor saw your eyes light up like stars; he chuckled at you. “Yes, Sir,” you responded already with a breathy voice.

“Take me out.” He ordered. Wordlessly, you look up at him again once his pants have been undone, asking for permission. He lifted his hips, allowing you to drag his pants and underwear down to pool at his ankles. Now, with his half-hard shaft resting on his hip, your mouth watered. Lust flowed through your veins like a good liquor, slowly warming you. You couldn’t help but lick your lips and bite down on your bottom lip.

Your pheromones came off you in waves, permeating the air around you both. Alastor has a sensitive nose. While he wouldn’t admit it, your arousal alone had already caused a reaction in his body. His idea was to have you work him hard, but your eager responses had already done half the job for you.

The hand on your cheek came to grab hold of the back of your head, bringing your face centimeters from his hardening cock. You could see the bead of pre-cum already forming at the tip. Making your breath hitch and swallow back a needy noise.

“Use your tongue to get me hard, pretty pet,” he instructed, “Go slow, and don’t use your hands until I let you.” You nodded, your tongue already lolling out to drag the wet muscle across the entirety of his length; tongue swirling around the tip before wrapping itself around half his cock. You used your long tongue to your advantage, using it to stroke him in long, languid pumps. Alastor sighed a hum as you worked him and your lips sucked harder on the tip before taking him further in.

Just as instructed, you went slowly. You found a pace at which you bob your head up and down taking another inch at each downward suck. Alastor rewarded you by running his long fingers through your hair and audibly low moans of your name, his grip on the chain tightening when he felt his tip hit the back of your throat. You moaned then already feeling your mouth so full but still having at least half his dick to fit down your waiting throat. Without skipping a beat you sank your lips further on his shaft without breaking eye contact. The vibration sends a delightful shiver up Alastor’s back earning you a quiet good girl.

“So eager aren’t we, love?” he twitches in your mouth, “You look so pretty with those lips stretched around me like that,” Alastor can make sinful words sound so pretty with the way he coos down at you with his transatlantic accent. The praise makes your thighs clench tightly together, your fingers digging into the meat of his thighs to resist the urge to touch yourself. This makes Alastor chuckle and use the side of his foot to tap your knees to separate them. A little whine is muffled by his length being stuffed in your mouth but you look at him pleadingly. A smug expression crosses his features as he brings a leg between yours pressing the back of his shoe against your dripping sex. “Grind. If you need touch that badly this is all you’re getting until you’ve made me cum.”

Your back arches and cheeks become increasingly hotter as the blush reaches your ears. It’s a humiliating act to dirty his shoes in such a way, yet, your hips immediately rock down bumping his leg and holding on even tighter to him. Your concentration wanes on your main task becoming sloppier, and more messy with drool dripping from the corners of your back and down the rest of his cock that isn't already inside your mouth. Moans become louder and more frequent even as your throat becomes more occupied the bigger he swelled. The smallest mercy you’re granted is your lack of a gag reflex allowing you to take him deeper with better ease but that’s being challenged by the way his cock is obstructing your breathing while Alastor is digging the top of his shoe into your puffy clit.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes struggling to keep up, vision going in and out. Both from the tears and the lack of air going into your head. But you are so set on being a good girl, you could never disappoint your master. The deer demon could see your struggle but said nothing, delighting himself in watching your eyes roll back and eyelids drooping, your grip is also beginning to slack. Alastor laughed pulling you off his cock by the phantom collar and holding your face to make you look directly at him, “Breathe; take a deep breath, my dear. You can’t pass out yet,” he said as he tapped your cheek lightly and wiped the saliva off your mouth. “Such a mess and we’ve only just gotten started.”

There are dark spots in your vision and you’re fighting to blink them away taking sharp breaths through your nose. Your mind feels foggy and a little airy already and there’s a slight ringing in your ears. “That’s it, my love, stay with me,” a warm hand delicately cradled your cheek brushing a thumb over your bottom lip, “Such good girl for me.” It tickled your insides every time he spoke to you with such softness with the undertones of condescension, it brought a smile to your face to hear his acclamation of your work.

“I’ll allow you a break, use your hands,” his hand leaves your face to help you bring your trembling fingers around his pulsing hardness. He guided your hands up and down his shaft, “You know how to please me, don’t you pretty girl?” he tapped the back of his shoe against your folds again sending a jolt through your entire body making your hips buck.

“Yes, Sir, everything— anything— for you,” you pant out through little keens. So eager for your Master, the owner of your heart, mind, and soul. You were surrendered to this demon with every fiber of your being. There isn't an inch of you that doesn't belong to him. With a pleased grin he lets go of your hands allowing you to keep going on your own, your strokes remain long and languid and you can't help but let your eyes fall to watch your hands that can barely wrap around them go up and down. Alastor hisses as you tease and press into the tip to collect the bead of pre-cum that formed.

"Be careful what you wish for, little love," voice dropping ever lower to a more sensual tone, radio filter straining and crackling, "You might just get what you ask for and not realize it's more than you've bargained for." The devil danced in his eyes as he spoke leaning down to meet your gaze, your breath hitched but a mischievous grin tugged your lips to match his own.

"I can take it," you whisper, eye flicking down to his lips momentarily, "And if I can't, make me," your confidence excited him, made him crave you in sensual ways as much as you craved him. He stole your lips in an intense kiss, and your lips collided when he tugged you forward by the collar. He devours your lips like he is going to eat you whole. Your hands sped up on his cock making him moan into the kiss, noises are more than happy to swallow down greedily. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth exploring it, rubbing and pushing against your wet muscle in a sinful dance. It made you mewl back into his mouth melting into his lips.

"Let's test your resolve then, shall we?" he pulled away breathlessly, a string of saliva still connecting your lips. Your head is still reeling and you barely notice the tentacles that wrap around your thighs and bring both of your hands behind your back, he removes his leg from between your legs and stands up from his chair. You look up at Alastor with falling tears already rolling down your cheeks. "Open up, ma chère," you obey without a second thought, tongue lolling out. Alastor drags his thick cock over your open lips, rubbing up and down over your warm tongue then lightly tapping his cock over your face teasingly. You pull against your restraints already missing your hands over his body.

"Beg," he orders still teasing your mouth. His smile turned right down devilish hearing moan just from his words.

"Please, Master? I need your cock in my mouth, I want it so bad," big doe eyes looked at him with tears, "Let me have your cock down my pretty throat," you say with desperation batting your lashes and opening your mouth wider. "I'll be a good girl, I promise. Let me service you. I want to make you feel good," you lean to press your cheek against his pelvis cock hanging right in front of you but didn't dare lick or kiss just yet, not before giving you explicit permission.

Without another word, he cradles your face letting go of the chain, collar disappearing completely when he did so, and shoving his cock into your mouth in one go. He groaned demonically when your throat constricted around him. There's still a good inch or two of him you hadn't managed to fit in yet, "Make me, you said, mon ange?" your eyes widen from both fear and excitement. Adrenaline pumped rapidly through your veins as you held his gaze, heart beat like a drum against your ribcage in anticipation. Alastor almost looked apologetic as he pulled out to the tip slowly, teasingly then held both sides of your head to thrust into your mouth. Radio static buzzes through the air and his eyes flash radio dials.

"Ḿ̶̛̲̩͓̤̗̘͒͊̌e̷̟̼̳̼̭̿̾͋͒̐̿͌r̵̥͔͈͉̤͝d̴̯̞̙͚͆͗̈̋̔͘̕e̴̥͉̦̒̓͒̇̊̒͜͝ͅ," he cursed quietly, one hand tightening on your hair making you wince. The first thrust is nearly successful and he holds you there for a few long moments letting you adjust. One of his hands slides down to press the bulge that his cock is making in your throat and gently caressing it. He's so fucking big in your mouth and so long you doubted you'd be able to take all of him. More tears stream down your face quickly running out of air as he holds you down. "So close, almost there, my dear. L̸͕̔e̷̦̕t̸̮̏'̴̹͝s̵̠͂ ̴͜͠t̴̙͗r̴̘̽ÿ̶͙́ ̷̱̆ȁ̵̭g̷̨̈́a̷̧̎i̵̝̐ñ̴̻." Once again he pulled out but didn't give you time to breathe barely sneaking in one deep gasp.

He thrusts harshly into the heat of your mouth, pushing your head down in the process this time. You yelp and moan as your nose graces the tuff or coarse hair at the base of his length, writhing and squirming Alastor bows and arches his back over you, "So t̸̜͐ĭ̴̹g̶̹͌h̶̯͐t̴̟͝ ̸͔̏ã̶͍n̶̥̑d̸̢̈ ̴̦͑ẉ̷̐a̷̢̛r̵̼͆m̸̧̾, you're perfect." his voice is rough and the radio filter keeps switching in and out. The radio demon sets a brutal pace fucking into you, "Keep those pretty lips open, dear." Alastor gives you no mercy not letting you breathe between thrusts. Soon you're feeling woozy, your jaw slacking allowing Alastor to slide in and out more easily.

"That's it, you're mine. Aren't you, sweet thing? All mine," words coming out between pants and moans, "Let go, forget everything outside of these four walls and sounder to me, my dear." Your moans die at your throat completely muffled by this cock. As the seconds pass you feel less and less present laying yourself at his hands. No more coherent thoughts form in your brain, he relishes the way your body shakes and how your eyes roll back every time he bottoms out. You can tell the lack of air is getting to you; you feel faint, your jaw hurts, your chest feels tight, and your knees are possibly bruising but all your thoughts are of Alastor and the way he's ravishing you. How much do you enjoy being used as his little cock-sleeve. You gladly take anything he gives you with no questions asked, and he knows that too.

He only slows down when he feels his orgasm build and coil, so he removes himself from your mouth. You gasp so desperately that you're wheezing to let air into your burning lungs. Shadows dance across the walls and floor seemly also pleased with your performance. "Such a good girl, you know how to please your master." There's adoration behind those words and you feel elated. A rush of euphoria zooms across your body, and whines bubble up in your chest but only come out as broken sobs.

"You've trained me so well, Sir, only for you," your voice is scratchy and barely audible from the abuse to your vocal cords yet you still have stamina to keep going. Deposite the fact that there’s a buzzing in your head and the ringing in your ears has only gotten louder and you’re incapable of thinking outside of sucking off Alastor you’re ready to swallow him down again. Even through the ache that has settled in your body from being forced into a single position for such a long time you’re impatiently waiting to get face fucked again. Your cheeks sting slightly from the tears too, as a few more stays roll down the redden skin.

“You want more, don’t you?” Alastor pets the top of your hair softly, you nod tiredly. “You deserve a reward for such a wonderful performance, come here sweetheart,” his tentacles release their hold on you finally letting you touch him again. Immediately your hand comes up to grab a hold of his hips caressing and appreciating the soft short fur. Alastor guided his cock back into your waiting mouth immediately sinking in with a moan of your name. You brace yourself with hands on his thighs for his brutal pace and relaxing your jaw as much as you can for him. Just being used for his own pleasure brought you to such heights of ecstasy you’re able to get off in it, he didn’t even need to touch you.

The familiar coil in your abdomen tightens as the sounds pour off his lips and his fat cock slides in and out of your mouth, his balls slapping against your chin and nice pressing against his pelvis. “So close, darling, you’ll get your reward soon,” his radio filter glitches out. Once again his shadows grow taller, antlers extend and his smile strains as he takes harsh breaths in through his nose. He moans loudly through gritted teeth, thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier. It’s hard to say if you’re still breathing properly by the time you feel Alastor’s warm cum pouring into your throat. Alastor with his hand cradling the back of your head pushes himself all the way inside your mouth as he fills you up. Your whole body twitches and you choke a moan when your orgasm hit you right after his. Your juices make a puddle on the floor and cover your thighs.

He’s still coming but you’ve run out of breath before he pulls out, your vision blacks out and your limp body slumps against his legs. Alastor picks you up bridal style and pressures you close to him, still catching his breath. “You did so good my doe, so perfect,” he whispered next to your ear and murmuring small apologies for overexerting you. He’d worry about the mess on the floor later, so he carried you to the bathroom on the other side of his bedroom, nudging the ajar door open. Without letting you out of his embrace he lets water run into the bath, littering your cheek and forehead with kisses while waiting for the tub to fill up.

It’s not long after that you finally come back to, slowly, groggily and already in the warm water while Alastor has your back resting against his chest. You slowly blink the drowsiness from your eyes, too tired to move your body, you accept the fact you probably blacked out, it’s not the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Alastor asked softly, arms sliding under the wanted to wrap around your middle. He rested shit chin on your shoulder snuggling closer to you. Endearing how gentle he is after sex; the harder he is on you the sweeter the aftercare.

“My jaw aches, my knees hurt,” your voice comes out huskier than usual, “My voice is going to be fucked for a few days. But… I’m more than satisfied,” you turn your head to lay a sweet kiss on his lips. “Let’s get washed up so we can go to bed. I’m exhausted after our little tryst,” you giggle pressing your forehead to his, he chuckles along with you sharing a little intimate moment and a few more kisses before actually getting clean and stepping out of the shower to retire to bed, nice and warm cuddled and tangled up in each other as lovers do.

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