#THIS MAN HAS ME DEAD IN EVERY POSSIBLE WAY EVER | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bitchimasnake-sss · 5 months ago

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☆ suck-suck-succubus! ── a blue lock fanfiction. // where you come to wreck the blue lock boys but end up ruined instead.

synopsis: ego jinpachi was a crazed man, a man who had raised a team of monsters that devoured everything on field and made their way to national team in just their early twenties. but were these men ready to be the greatest just yet? were they ready to leave behind dirty temptations and sickening thoughts just to be the greatest? good thing he knew just the person to test them. pairing: afab!reader x multiple men [aged up isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, hyoma chigiri, meguru bachira, rensuke kunigami, nagi seishiro, reo mikage.] // every character gets a separate drabble with the same character (reader.) and it's implied that the reader has slept with them all. cw: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. [this means the story contains themes one may not be comfortable with. if you find yourself growing uncomfortable, please click away.] NOT PROOFREAD. WRITTEN DURING A DELUSIONAL PHASE. MDNI. girl don't. nsfw concludes: penetration, doin' it raw, cunnilingus, blowjob, teasing, nicknames, slight bimbofication and teasing, overstimulation, praise, marathon sex. please read it whole or i'll hunt you. pretty please :) m.list [part 02]

"you know what to do." the man nodded once, not even sending a fleeting glance your way as he casually leaned back into his chair, "just try to break them."

"i don't have to try, ego. just say the word and i would have already gotten them wrapped 'round my finger."

"that delusional?" the man enquired and you didn't miss the sharp glint in his eyes behind those rimmed glasses. all you could do was smile, "that confident. but—" your words drawled on, fingers clasping over the mahogany table, "what do i get from this?"

ego jinpachi smiled, and the sight sent shivers down spine. a cheque slid over to your side, a clear sum of one million yen printed neatly for you to claim. you stared at the piece of paper a second too long before dragging your gaze to the crazed man, "you're offering me money to ruin your players?"

"try your best." the man sat up straight, his lanky frame shifting under his usual suit, "ruin them if you can."

you knew ego jinpachi was an eccentric man, and you knew you owed him a favor from years ago. but for him to have called you, and asked you to seduce his own team before they went for championship felt crazy... even by his standards.

"why are you doing this?" you asked, nimble fingers mindlessly pulling the cheque and turning it around in your palm, "they're your team. don't you want them focused before the championship?"

"don't question me."

fair enough. after all, you were getting paid.

★player 01: isagi yoichi! ya think i don't know what i'm doing?

you had heard of the man, seen him on your television screen game after game. flowing, black hair, blue eyes with a crazed look every time he was on the field. isagi yoichi was a beast; an ever-evolving phantom that possibly haunted every footballer's nightmares. on the field, he was ruthless. he was the one to ruin others, and now it was finally his turn. at your hands, at that.

his hair was tousled, head tipped back and rested against the wall as weak pants slipped past his lips. his fingers were tangled into your hair as you kissed his erection, all sloppy from his salty pre and your lipgloss. he pulled his length out just to smear the tip against your lips, groaning at the feeling of you eagerly peeking out your tongue to tease his needy, aching dick.

all it had taken to break his resolve was to call him to your assigned room after everyone had slept, and tell him the thing as it was. no hidden games, no unkept promises. isagi yoichi was smart enough to see through any games, anyways. what was the point?

"so, ego sent you? to test me, probably." he had concluded by the time you had uttered the second sentence. you rolled your eyes, "has blue lock altered your brain chemistry to think of everything as a trap? i jus' wanna fuck, yoichi."

you saw his fist tighten as you let out honeyed syllables of his name, purposefully bunching your already short skirt upwards. even as his eyes swayed, transfixed against your soft, exposed skin, the man's tone stayed ever-so-polite, "i honestly expected better from ego. i didn't think he was a benevolent man."

"who says i am a product of his benevolence?"

"a-ah," and now the footballed panted, his fingers pulling at your roots as you bobbed up and down, taking his length deeper and deeper into your mouth with each mean, little suck.

"shit," he hissed, eyes clenching shut, "jus' like that, baby."

you felt his thighs clench under your touch, the muscle spasming all erratic as his hips bucked into your mouth. as you felt him breath heavily, you peeled yourself off of him with a lewd pop.

looking up at him, all wide-eyes and devilish smiles, yoichi looked down at you with part confusion, part impatience. "i—" his voice trembled, "i was so fuckin' close, why'd you stop?"

you pulled yourself up, cleaning your mouth with your fingers carelessly, "just cause. goodnight, isagi. you can go back to your room."

"wh-what?" the man spluttered, demeanor uncharacteristically disheveled as he took in the sight of you walking away from him, "what?"

"goodnight." you replied without even looking back, ready to cozy up in your bed and go to sleep. there was no reply from his side, and then something flipped.

"what?" his voice rasped, hands coming to close around your wrist to pull you back into himself, "you think i'll just let you walk away?"

the man turned you around, pressing your chest to the wall as your cheek came to squish against the cold, hard wall. a harsh tug had your skirt pulled upwards, has your drenched panties pulled to the side hastily and had him stuffing you full of his cock, "take it."

"sh-yoichi!" you yelped, thighs automatically parting to accommodate his mean, shallow thrusts. something in the air changed. the compliant man, ready to be ruined by you was suddenly a beast, a man who would break you just to build you up again. his voice dragged, a nimble finger coming to spread your puffy folds and toy with the wettened bud, "think you can jus' toy with me? hah," a humorless laugh left him, dick slipping in and out of you faster and faster and faster, "you thought i'll spare you?"

"ngh— y-yoichi," he pressed your face into the wall, using the pressure to drill into you, to find the spots that will undo you. your mouth fell apart, silent screams into the bricked walls as he rasped in your ear, "you just wanted to fuck right?" a harsh snap of his pelvis and you lost your balance, limply held up by his strong arms, "see? aren't i fucking you right now?"

as you stayed silent, too lost in the feeling of his tip brushing against your g-spot and a hurricane building up in your stomach, yoichi pulled your face towards his, meeting your bleary eyes with his crazed ones, "answer me."

"ye-yeah."

"feel good, huh?" his heavy breaths the only coherent sounds, accompanied by the slap of skin over skin and your stupid babbling, "y- hah yoichi, harder."

"huh?" the star player laughed, his agile finger rubbing patterns against your clit as he kept up his inhumane pace, "want more?"

he pinched your throbbing bud and you arched back into him, eyes growing teary, "ah, ngh please 'm gonna cum. mgonna— cum."

you heard the man shuffle behind you, fully expecting him to go overboard. except he didn't. pulling himself out, he left your throbbing, dripping cunt empty.

"what—" you turned around to look at your culprit only for him to slip back inside in one fluid motion, fucking you dumb again. your voice wobbled, your body falling forward and only held up by him, "shit, you feel so g-good, hah oh my god."

and then you were spasming around his dick, eyes clenching shut as he kept fucking into you through your orgasm. your stomach felt heavy, breath uneven and barely lucid as isagi emptied himself within you.

seeing you in front of him — his seed slipping out of you, your face all reddened and sweaty from his administration, beautiful — isagi yoichi was sure he had finally found another addiction, one battling even the likes of his football career and dreams of being a striker.

as he left your body and stepped back, you leaned on the wall, catching your breath. yoichi spoke up again, his words no longer formal and polite like they had started off when he had first came into your room. he was ruthless. "if you wanna get fucked dumb again, let me know."

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 02: rin itoshi! you thought this would work on me?

rin itoshi was nothing if not a fucking hard-ass. he was rude, blunt, downright cruel if you didn't fall into the small circle of people he could tolerate. he was a man with a purpose, a man with tunnel vision, and right now that vision was you bent over his desk, looking back at him with nothing but heady desire.

his strong grip held your wrists behind your back, the other hand toying with your entrance. for the activity he was doing, his voice was awfully bored, "what did you exactly think would happen once you came here?"

you tried speaking, "well—"

"—it was a rhetorical question." the man replied coolly, his eyes against yours in a heavy dance while his fingers teased your drenched cunt, "did you actually think you'd come here, and i'd fall into your little trap? ego has seriously lost his mind if he thinks this is enough to make me lose control."

"that being said," the younger itoshi hummed, finally looking down to see what a mess you were making of his table, dripping down obscenely onto the wood and coating his fingers, "i cannot lie that this is entertaining."

he had you spread out like that for however long, you couldn't even recall. but seeing how his green eyes locked onto you, how his voice slightly lost their edge as he played with you had you feeling like maybe he was losing control.

"rin," you whined, your chest arching further into the wood as you pathetically tried to move, "jus' do something. anything."

"tsk," the man husked, all disappointed as you tried to meaninglessly struggle against his vice-like grip on your wrist, "why? from the looks of it, you look like you're enjoying this a lot."

as if to emphasize, his fingers finally swept past your puffy clit, softly rubbing the nub. you threw your head backwards, a silent moan at the final contact. looking at you entranced, the man finally slipped a finger into your velvety heat, and then another immediately after.

stretching you open on his digits, rin itoshi couldn't lie he could see the appeal in you. the way your body molded to his touches, how you keened into his fleeting touches against your clit, how he almost all but buried himself within your sickly, sweet cunt.

"r-rin," you panted, eyes clenched shut, "f-faster, please."

"hm?" if you didn't know any better, you would have taken his tone as one of annoyance. dripping in boredom, he reminded you all while his digits pumped in and out of you repeatedly, "look me in the eye while you're talking to me."

"ugh," your voice shook as you forced your eyes open. looking at the raven-headed man through a shaky gaze, you tried to repeat the lewd request, "faster... please?"

as you looked back at him; eyes red, lips wobbling and body almost limp except for the jitters that shook you over and over again, rin swallowed hard. faking nonchalance was getting harder.

"let me do you one better." rin itoshi pulled out his fingers — all coated with your essence — and you whined at his action before he teased the stretched-out cunt with the tip of his aching dick, "take it all since you want it so fuckin' bad."

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 03: hyoma chigiri! gentleman in the streets, freak in them sheets!

hyoma chigiri prided himself to be a gentleman. he was always graceful, always so well-manner and proper. he was — what you considered — the easiest prey. you thought you would utter something suggestive, tie your hair and fall to your knees and he would explode right there. oh, how wrong you were.

"tired already?" his hair stuck to his forehead, long tresses half-glued to his sweaty back and half-falling over you as he caged you under him. his lean biceps flexed, his pelvic region coming in fleeting contact with your aching cunt every time he slipped his cock inside you.

you panted, words jumbling at his almost mocking tone, "chigiri plea—"

he cut you off, "please what?"

oh, how dare he act so nonchalant? especially after he had been keeping up the same tantalizing, torturous pace for the past hour. you knew the man had crazy stamina, you had seen his explosive strength as he ran the course of the field in a matter of mere seconds. but those same legs now supported his figure as he pressed your knees to your chest and rammed into you so, so slowly.

"the p-pace," you tried again and he furrowed his brow, looking so pretty hovering over you. he repeated, "what's wrong with the pace?"

"'s so slow." you hoped your weak words would do the trick but hyoma chigiri just looked at you confused, as if you were uttering an alien language. he laughed, "are you saying i'm slow? me?" shaking his head, he disapproved, "that's a bit harsh."

you whined, nails digging into his sculpted back as you tried to physically taint him into changing the pace. the reddish scars against his back ignited something within the man. he hummed, "well, since you've been so patient 'n all, i guess—"

his thrust almost took you by surprise, a gasp stuck in your throat at his sudden intensity. his pelvis met yours in a lewd grind and you keened into his touches, praying to any deity above that he just keeps up this pace.

and boy, did those deities answer.

because now you were gasping, reeling from your second orgasm, as the man above you kept going. a light layer of sheen covered you both, his hair was dripping, and you were sure that one more thrust and your body would rip open.

"c'mon," he insisted, his words now reduced to groans and stuttering moans, "gimme one more."

"no, no, no." you shook your head but a steady hand came to pull your cheeks together, forcing you to meet his eyes. the man rasped, "did i fuckin' ask? i told you i need one more."

the same hand that had been holding your face trailed downwards to toy with your neglected clit while his dick rammed against the same gooey spot within you. the pressure in your stomach rose dangerously, and you squirmed under him, screaming his name.

and then, you erupted. muscles spasming, cunt fluttering so tight around him as you screamed his name. and he came just as intensely within you, painting your insides white with his essence.

as chigiri hyoma finally caught his breath and looked down at you, at your blissful, spent expression, he almost envisioned a future where this was you and him every morning. a future where he woke you up with orgasms and candied words against your lips. ah, too bad ego was the one pulling the strings.

but dammit, was ego good at pulling strings.

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 04: rensuke kunigami! over 'n over again? let's go till infinity, tonight.

rensuke kunigami knew what he wanted in his life. you knew the muscled man as someone who never stopped, never gave up, never for a second ever held back from giving it his all. so, why would he act any different with you?

you had been so sweet to him, anyways. you had waltzed into his room late at night, complimenting his strikes and offering him a massage as a small favour. now, he was returning the favor by folding you in half, ramming in 'n out, in 'n out, in 'n ou—

"—oh my god, rensuke." you gasp, your legs dangling on his muscled shoulders as he used you as a ragdoll.

his untamed hair is now a bit matted, sweat drops cascading down his neck and down his rippling abs and chest. you would follow the path of that drop shamelessly if he hadn't forced you to focus on him and only him.

rensuke kunigami was an usually reserved man. but the way you ruined him was a experiment that needed to be studied. he lost control the second you showed up in those itty-bitty top and short combo to give him a free massage. ofcourse, now he was just repaying the favour.

he didn't care that ego might be behind it, that you were just a mere distraction. more like he couldn't care as you moaned out his name and tried to buck into him, tried to match his erratic thrusts.

he was such a deranged man at your touches, losing all inhibitions and acting on his most dark thoughts because as soon as you got comfortable in one position, as soon as he saw you about to come undone, he would manhandle you and have you another way.

this position was your fourth and you were half-afraid you'd pass out before his stamina ran out. the man panted, "shi-shit, gonna come?"

"yes, please." your legs locked against his broad back, trying to force him into the position and not edge you again. and although, rensuke kunigami was a crazed man, he couldn't lie that he wanted to feel you cum on his dick. ego's scheme be damned.

"c-cum for me," he hissed, pelvis grinding into you with more and more intensity as your eyes rolled back and muscles grew tense under him. he repeated, words coming so hard to his parched throat, "cum for me. cum on me, pretty girl."

"hah shit—" your voice pitched and you saw your vision fade to black, just a violent storm inside your body that calmed down slowly as the man above you finally pulled out and spilled white all over your abdomen.

he panted, gasping for air like he had just played 6 consecutive matches, he picked up the white on his index and pushed it past your wobbling lips, looking as you accepted his taste with a sweet hum.

"fuck, baby. one last time?" he asked. but what was the point of asking as he was already slipping inside you?

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 05: meguru bachira! ah, the monster won't let me stop!

meguru bachira swore he grew up with a monster. not the scary kind, no. his was kind, his was ambitious, his was his only friend growing up. but now, as you laid before him, he realized that the monster was him.

you had grabbed his wrist after dinner, and he had grinned and teased his friends as you dragged him away. he had heard the rumors. isagi, itoshi, kunigami, chigiri — all of them seemed to have gotten a pretty little session from you. and he would be lying if he said he wasn't waiting for his turn.

sure, ego was playing with them. ego wanted to test them. but what ego didn't know was that meguru bachira was a man at your service, ready for whatever.

he had waited for his turn so long, of course, he wanted to make a good impression. maybe that's why your hands were tied to the headboard of his bed, your thighs split open on each side of his face as he lapped at you like a man ravished.

you were so sweet, and he almost grew angry at the idea of all of them having you. but right now, you were pulling at your handcuffs so desperately, you were telling him he was doing so good and that you were gonna come again.

"meg—" you cried out, hips raising in a desperate attempt only for them to be pushed down by his arms. he kept lapping at you, kept fucking you with his tongue, kept staring at your face as it contorted into one of pleasure. you cried again, trying to push him away, "meguru, too much. 's too much."

he stopped, if only for a moment. he raised his head up, looking at your disheveled state. your hair stuck to your body, your eyes crazed the same way he felt he looked chasing after the ball on the field. except, you looked more beautiful than all of his sweaty teammates combined.

you sighed with relief, "stop, megs."

"hm?" he peeked his tongue out, softly licking away at the honeyed residue on his lips, "why?"

"i'm tire— meguru!" your voice climbed several octaves higher as he ignored you and delved right where he had made a mess with your unyielding juices, cum and his spit. you cried out, tried to rattle the bed with your actions.

but those sounds did nothing but make him rut the bed harder. his sweats and bedsheet were nowhere as sweet or plush as your cunt, or your mouth. but right now, it would do. he rutted, pressing his sensitive, wet cock into the fabric like an animal in heat. he wasn't ashamed to admit that he had already came once. and how could he not with your sweet voice just above him?

"m-meguru, baby." you tried to move away, but it was no use as he actively hunt you down with his tongue. he hummed against you, his words a broken mess, "yeah, what?"

"stop, please." the overstimulation was getting too much, it was going straight from your cunt to your head and you swear you were growing dumber as he wrecked you with his sultry muscle.

"no," he stuck his tongue out, teasing your swollen clit with his tip, "the monster said i cannot stop."

and maybe meguru bachira was a sadist cause he swore he came again when you whined and he answered by eating you out even more passionately.

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 06: nagi seishiro! the only kind of hard work i wanna do.

nagi seishiro thought everything was pointless, and so very energy-consuming. he had heard about ego's new scheme, he had seen you waltz around the blue lock facilities and all he wondered was: was all that hardwork with you worth it? yes. it was.

his arms pressed your back to his chest, and you were surprised by the force as he kept you pined against him. his leg snaked against yours and you found it difficult to move. rendered useless. all you could do was lay by your side, held by his arm and with his leg between yours, opening your drenched pussy to his greedy vision.

by now, everyone knew what you were upto. a succubus. a fucking witch that came just to fill their head with filthy thoughts, and wreck their cognitive senses. and now, it was nagi seishiro's turn.

"ah, ah, ah." the man tutted, shaking his head softly and the white tresses softly caressed your neck. he buried his face into your skin, inhaling you and exhaling a soft moan even though it was you getting utterly wrecked.

he knew it would be a lot of hardwork, so, yes, nagi seishiro did cheat. he went ahead and got a vibrator. a small, bullet vibrator that did more than enough work for him.

"s-sei." you cringed at how pathetic you sounded, your own voice drowning under the buzz of the toy, and the man replied against your soft skin, "hm?"

"turn on the higher intensity s-setting." your voice sounded confident, as if you weren't already making a mess on the little, buzzing adult toy even at the second setting. nagi's fingers were drenched, the sheets underneath you probably soiled with your juices.

"oh?" the snowy-haired man repeated your words in his head, "you wan' more?"

you nodded and the man pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder, muttering, "okay, then."

while you did expected a gradual increase in the vibration, you did not expect the intensity to go up to a 5, and then nagi slipping his erection within you immediately afterwards.

"feels good," the man muttered again, his voice so soft that you had to concentrate just to hear his little quips. nagi's hips pistoned in and out of you, a steady, jagged little rhythm that made sure he bumped against your g-spot drag after drag.

with a particularly harsh stroke, nagi stilled within your heat. his tip kept stationary against your kryptonite, and as he pressed the bullet vibrator to your clit, you felt a fire budding within you.

you thrashed against him but you were quickly reminded he was a professional player because he had a chokehold on your body. not one muscle moved without nagi's permission, and you were effectively all but in his control.

he was your puppeteer and you were the helpless, stupid doll he was playing with. he decided everything. from the pace of his strokes, to the intensity. he stopped as he pleased, and then started again. you almost grew frustrated, "sei, fuck me harder."

well, you should have given him clearer instructions. because now the snow-haired prodigy focused. his hips snapped, skin reddening by hitting against your skin and the tip of the vibrating toy placed perfectly on your swollen nub.

"oh my god," you rasped and nagi took it upon himself to fuck you toll you could not utter a word more. as you spasmed against his cock and he emptied himself within you, nagi seishiro could only ask one thing, "wan' more?"

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 07: reo mikage! etch me to your memory, forever.

reo mikage had all the wealth in the world. he could buy you whole if he wanted, but what was the fun in that? he wanted you to remember him. he wanted you to think of him everytime you touched yourself, everytime those wretched fucking bastards touched you.

"jus' like that," his smooth voice guided you, "go slower."

you focused on the smooth baritone of his voice, on the pretty way the syllables rang out of his mouth. you focused on his sound, because frankly, that was all you could do.

you were blindfolded, sat down on his bed and spread open for him to devour you whole.

even with all the access in the world, reo mikage didn't want anything that didn't make him work hard. so, naturally, he wanted to put on a show. he wanted to feel you follow him. he wanted to remind you who he truly was. even if ego wanted him distracted and in shambled, reo pledged to ruin ego's chess piece entirely.

"now, circle your clit." you did as you were told, pace slow and the actions well-calculated. reo smiled, a self-satisfying little thing as you followed his instructions like a lost puppy, "good girl. continue that, keep goin'."

you shook your head, already worked up with your own fingers against yourself. after being filled and defiled by each of them, just having your own fingers felt rather... bland. but as reo's voice guided you, you couldn't help but follow along.

"go faster," he instructed, his own hand falling on his hot, hard erection, "go as fast as your pathetic fucking fingers can go. yeah," he laughed, looking at how you tried to keep up the pace but faltered just a few moments in.

you felt shivers down his spine as you felt his hot breath on your inner thigh. he was so close, yet he did nothing but chant instructions, "put a finger in, and fuck yourself like it's my dick."

you tried, a helpless whine on your lip as you couldn't exactly fuck yourself as well as they could. "awh?" reo questioned, his breath so close to where you wanted it, "cannot?"

"reo, please." you tried to negotiate, still pumping a finger within yourself, "please jus' do something."

"hah," he player laughed, almost flattered at your whines, "can't. just work for it, pretty girl." he waited a moment, seeing your struggle before uttering out, "now, another finger. go on."

you put one more, and he moaned as he tugged on his own erection, "now fuck yourself open on them."

you threw your head back, finally finding some rhythm within your own digits. but as soon as you felt yourself growing hotter with your own touches, a soft hand caught your wrist and then you felt a soft, foreign kiss on your drooling cunt.

"r-reo?" you asked, taken aback by his tongue lapping at you. reo mikage hummed, his grip still tight on your wrist, "shh, just enjoy."

but there was nothing to enjoy. he stopped, making you realize his absence. "reo?" your voice grew feeble and then, you heard a deeper voice. a familiar voice. a voice that echoed against your ear, "missing me?"

rensuke kunigami?!

"huh?" you replied, confused and then a sharp smell invaded your smell. a characteristic smell. the same perfume rin itoshi always wore. and then, your heightened senses let you know that there were a lot more people in this room than you anticipated.

"told ya, didn't i?" isagi yoichi hummed, "if you ever wanted to get fucked dumb, just call us."

oh my god. what kind of a trap did ego jinpachi throw you in?

a/n: PART TWOO IS NOW UPP!! no, i will not apologize for this shit. it got me out of writers block. no, i don't take criticism. only compliments, thankyou. jokes aside, ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED WITH BLUE LOCK OMGGG. catch me writing for them day 'n night now. also, sorry if i mess up somewhere. uni started and brother, all my energy is gone. hope you like it, love ya hotties 💋💋 m.list [check out my other work mwuah]

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stromblessed · 1 year ago

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Mizu, femininity, and fallen sparrows

In my last post about Mizu and Akemi, I feel like I came across as overly critical of Mizu given that Mizu is a woman who - in her own words - has to live as a man in order to go down the path of revenge.

If she is ever discovered to be female by the wrong person, she will not only be unable to complete her quest, but there's a good chance that she'll be arrested or killed.

So it makes complete sense for Mizu to distance herself as much as possible from any behavior that she feels like would make someone question her sex.

I felt so indignant toward Mizu on my first couple watchthroughs for this moment. Why couldn't Mizu bribe the woman and her child's way into the city too? If Mizu is presenting as a man, couldn't she claim to be the woman's escort?

However, this moment makes things pretty clear. Mizu knows all too well the plight of women in her society. She knows it so well that she cannot risk ever finding herself back in their position again. She helps in what little way she can - without drawing attention to herself.

Mizu is not a hero and she is not one to make of herself a martyr - she will not set herself on fire to keep others warm. There's room to argue that Mizu shouldn't prioritize her quest over people's lives, but given the collateral damage Mizu can live with in almost every episode of season 1, Mizu is simply not operating under that kind of morality at this point. ("You don't know what I've done to reach you," Mizu tells Fowler.)

And while I still feel like Mizu has an obvious and established blind spot when it comes to Akemi because of their differences in station, such that Mizu's judgment of Akemi and actions in episode 5 are the result of prejudice rather than the result of Mizu's caution, I also want to establish that Mizu is just as caged as Akemi is, despite her technically having more freedom while living as a man.

Mizu can hide her mixed race identity some of the time, and she can hide her sex almost all of the time, but being able to operate outside of her society's strict rules for women does not mean she cannot see their plight.

It does not mean she doesn't hurt for them.

Back to Mizu and collateral damage, remember that sparrow?

While Mizu is breaking into Boss Hamata's manse, she gets startled by a bird and kills it on reflex. She then cradles it in her hands - much more tenderly than we've seen Mizu treat almost anything up to this point in the season:

She then puts it in its nest, with its unhatched eggs. Almost like she's trying to make the death look natural. Or like an accident.

You see where I'm going with this.

When Mizu kills Kinuyo, Mizu lingers in the moment, holding the body tenderly:

And btw a lot of stuff about this show hit me hard, but this remains the biggest gut punch of them all for me, Mizu holding that poor girl's body close, GOD

When Mizu arranges the "scene of the crime," Kinuyo's body is delicate, birdlike. And Mizu is so shaken afterward that she gets sloppy. She's horrified at this kill to the point that she can't bring herself to take another innocent life - the boy who rats her out.

MIZU'S ONE MOMENT OF SOFTNESS AND MERCY, COMING ON THE HEELS OF HER NEEDING TO KILL A GIRL TO SPARE HER THE WORST FATE THAT THIS RIGID SOCIETY HAS TO OFFER WOMEN, AND TO SPARE A BROTHEL FULL OF INNOCENT WOMEN WHO ARE THE CASTOFFS OF SOCIETY, NEARLY RESULTS IN ALL OF THEIR DEATHS

No wonder Mizu is as stoic and cold as she is.

And no wonder Mizu has no patience for Akemi whatsoever right before the terrible reveal and the fight breaks out:

Speaking of Akemi - guess who else is compared to a bird!

The plumage is more colorful, a bit flashier. But a bird is a bird.

And, uh

Yeah.

I like to think that Mizu killing the sparrow is not only foreshadowing for what she must do to Kinuyo, but is also a representation of the choice she makes on Akemi's behalf. She decides to cage the bird because she believes the bird is "better off." Better off caged than... dead.

But because Mizu doesn't know Akemi or her situation, she of course doesn't realize that the bird is fated to die if it is caged and sent back home.

Mizu is clearly not happy, or pleased, or satisfied by allowing Akemi to be dragged back to her father:

But softness and mercy haven't gotten Mizu anywhere good, recently.

There is so much tragedy layered into Mizu's character, and it includes the things she has to witness and the choices she makes - or believes she has to make - involving women, when she herself can skirt around a lot of what her society throws at women. Although, I do believe that it comes at the cost of a part of Mizu's soul.

After all, I'm gonna be haunted for the rest of this show by Mizu's very first prayer in episode 1:

"LET" her die. Because as Ringo points out, she doesn't "know how" to die.

Kind of like another bird in this show:

#blue eye samurai #mizu #akemi #kinuyo #bes #women are birds okay they are BIRDS #the let me die line is so SCARY AND SAD like a part of Mizu wants death but she cant? she doesnt know how?? excuse you show???#when all these other delicate birds are dying all around her #akemis character gets more and more gutwrenching upon subsequent rewatches because whenever she says her life is in danger #NO ONE BELIEVES HER - certainly not other women #because shes rich and pampered and that means shes safe and is worrying about nothing right? right?????#and it turns out that all of akemis instincts were right and she was in danger the ENTIRE TIME #also I need to make a post just for kinuyo because I am sad

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1mlei · 5 months ago

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I absolutely love the idea that Danny kills the Joker (because creepy clowns eww) and Jason happens to walk in right as he's panicking all over the place. Danny is desperately trying to explain it was an accident, while Jason's over here simultaneously feeling the best he's ever felt since his revival and falling head over heels in love at the same time.

Very cute, very fun, wholesome murder, 10/10 will read every time.

----------

Danny: *shoving Joker's body behind dumpster in a panic*

Jason: "Is that a dead body?"

Danny, recognizing Red Hood as someone famous in the Realms for avenging murder victims: "Oh hi Mr. Hood, ma'am, sir.. See this isn't what it looks like, it was a total accident I swear on half my life!"

Jason: "Half your wha-"

Danny, still in shock: It's just he was being all creepy, and I've had bad experiences with clowns before, I and then this one had a gun so I pushed him a bit, didn't mean to kill the dude, honestly!"

Jason: *walks over to check body*

Danny: "Soo, total accident, and I don't feel like being arrested, so I'm gonna go.."

Jason, realizing that is indeed the Joker lying dead behind a dumpster: "Hang on, at least give me-"

Jason turning around and seeing his saviour has vanished: "Damn, didn't even get his number."

...

Jason: *giddily takes selfie with corpse*

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Jason: *patrolling in relative peace when he sees some random guy and the flipping Joker in an alley, said Joker has a gun pulled on the poor guy*

Jason: *about to swing in to save the day and take out the Joker*

Danny, faced with a clown pointing a gun at his head while ranting about all the creepy things he's gonna do: "Yea no that's not gonna fly"

Danny: *Goes full on eldritch abomination and eats the Joker's soul, leaving his body as a lifeless husk*

Jason, standing at the mouth of the alley in disbelief:

Danny, turning back into his human form: "Oh eww, so not worth it, that guy tasted terrible."

Jason: *frantically straightens his jacket, tries to fix his hair and realizes his helmet's in the way, then strikes a pose and tries to look natural*

Danny: *turns around and realizes he's not alone*("omg is that Red Hood?")

Jason, using all his rizz: "Hey there handsome, don't suppose you'd let me treat you to some dessert after a meal like that? There's a place down the street ;)"

Danny: "..What?"

----------

Alternatively, Danny and Jason were already dating but got into an argument.

Danny, walking down a street brooding thinking: "Man, I've got to figure out how to make it up to Jason, chocolates, flowers, maybe get him a book, hmmm.."

Joker: *creepy giggling as he yanks a random kid that looks like he could possibly be a Wayne into alley™*

Danny, eyes lighting up: "Ohh yes you'll be perfect, thanks dude :]"

Joker: "Wh-"

..20 minutes later..

Danny, walking into his and Jason's apartment: "Babe! I'm sorry about earlier, but I have something to make it up to you!"

Jason, peeking around the corner with a frown: "Well whatever it is it's not just gonna fix- is that the fucking Joker?"

Danny: "Yep! Don't worry he only looks dead cause I'm holding his soul hostage right now, I thought you should get to do the honours <3"

Jason:

Danny:

Jason:

Danny: "...I have chocolates and that book you wanted to read as well..?"

Jason: "Marry me"

----------

Mmmhhh yes I love this trope so much!!

#dpxdc #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #dcu #jason todd #dead on main #dpxdc prompt

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darby-rowe · 5 months ago

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ᯓ today, I feel like pleasing you.

KINKTOBER 1ST. DAD'S BEST FRIEND!LOGAN HOWLETT X BUB!READER.

18+ | nsfw | mdni wc. 1.2k+ cw/tags. FAUXCEST, age gap (r is 21+), brief cunnilingus & blowjob, first time, p in v, usage of the phrase "little girl", unprotected sex, creampie, not proofread notes. happy kinktober 1st you freaks! here's the smutty installment in the dbf!logan x bub universe. sorry if you don't like it. title is taken from Today by Jefferson Airplane.

The first kiss was troublesome.

Locked away in the far corner of your queen-sized bed, his hands gently guiding itself up your leg, then it happened.

There was so much alcohol in his breath you swore you yourself must have gotten drunk off the way he breathed life into you. Yet the supposed life that found itself nesting in your lungs was something you’ve never felt before.

Taboo. Horribly, horribly wrong.

The kiss made your stomach feel queasy every time it entered your mind after the fact, however it made you feel like you were walking on air as well. Your dirty little secret, safely carried in the arms of you and Logan Howlett.

Your father would drop dead.

Things progressed after the kiss. He became more bold, touching you in more forbidden places that no man has ever touched before. It was all so new. Exciting. There was a rush that clouded your brain every time the older man gave you attention.

“Let your uncle take care of you,” he’d whisper to you.

Every single time.

Oh, it was dirty. So fucking dirty how the tone of his voice had you knowing he meant it. Your “uncle”. His “niece”. His pretty, young, smart, and bright niece who was so fucking ripe and ready to be eaten. The noises he made as his tongue swirled your already swollen clit, locking your fingers into his thick hair, wanting to grind against his hot tongue but ultimately being locked down by his strong arms.

Your hand slapped itself across your mouth each time you had to make a noise, desperately muffling the sounds of dirty dancing happening in your own bed. Your other hand kept jumping from fisting the sheets to fisting Logan’s hair to squeezing your own breast. In this state of being stimulated far beyond your own comprehension, you just didn’t know how to handle your body.

“Fuck,” you squeaked, feeling his nails unintentionally dig into your flesh, your thighs shaking as you grow closer and closer to making a mess of his beard.

It wasn’t planned, the sob that left your mouth when Logan pulled away just as you were about to see god.

“Why did you—”

“Legs up, bub,” Logan cut you off, making you gasp as he threw your legs back, completely spread open to him and any curious being who could walk in at any moment. You instinctually go to close your legs and cover your face, but he’s just so strong. So determined to watch as he takes you for the first time ever.

“Look at me, pretty girl,” he whispered, taking your hands off your face. You laid bare to him, like you had never laid bare to anyone before. Vulnerable and wet just for him.

The look on his face as he scanned you up and down in the position you were basically forced into will never leave your mind.

“Gonna make you feel good, ‘kay, bub?”

You just nodded, mind racing with how many possible roads this could go down. Everything felt like a blur as Logan unzipped his jeans, fishing out his rock-hard cock and began to stroke it in front of you. He was leaking at the tip, balls so full and swollen you could only imagine how long ago it was since he last jerked off.

He asked if you wanted a taste, and it took you a moment to consider. You’ve only ever fellated fake cocks in silicone form, and even so they were tiny in comparison to the monster hiding in Logan’s pants.

You nodded again, opening your mouth as he slipped in his cock inside past your lips. He fucking groaned upon first contact with your tongue, being careful to not shove his whole cock down your throat.

But you could tell that he really, really wanted to.

You felt your jaw begin to ache while keeping it open for his size. If you closed your eyes, you could concentrate on the subtle throb of his shaft, and the way your saliva accumulated around him. You were slicking him up just for you — to make the process easier.

He pulled out of your mouth right when you were beginning to memorize his taste, and it slightly disappointed you as you were enjoying your oral fixation being satiated. Your lips, parted slightly and drenched in your own spit, and Logan’s cock making its way to your swollen, soaked pussy.

He made sure to warn you just before sliding himself in. You couldn’t lie, it was a stretch, and it was an odd feeling to situate yourself in. You wanted to say that it hurt but that was untrue.

Just odd. Foreign. But not painful at all.

In fact, Logan was even surprised when you told him you were okay. Before you knew it, he was effortlessly sliding his dick in and out of you until it turned into him pounding into your pussy, arms wrapped around you as he held you close.

You had reason to believe this is when Logan fell apart.

You bit down hard on your bottom lip, keeping in all the lewd and pornographic noises that wanted to escape you, but some whimpers and small moans escaped.

“‘S good, bub?” Logan grunted in your ear, eliciting a shaky yes from you, digging your nails into his back and wrapped your legs around his waist. Your eyes screwed shut, concentrating on that familiar throb you felt in your mouth just moments ago.

If someone came up to you and asked you how it felt to get fucked like this, you wouldn’t know how to answer. It was just good. Fucking great, even. You wanted to sob, cry, wail out to Logan how good he was making you feel.

“Oh my little girl. My fucking little girl,”

He was like an animal in your ear: grunting and growling as he pounded you with little regard. He was getting louder, nastier. Treating you like a pocket pussy he had a forbidden affair with.

However, the way his arms locked around you as he buried his face in your neck made you feel a type of intimacy you had never felt before. Something so primal yet affectionate, making dirty noises in your ear as he fucked you. Taking your sweet virginity that he so desperately chased after for months.

“Tell me how good uncle Logan is fucking you,” he panted into your neck.

It was hard to form words. Your mouth opened and tiny choked sobs managed to crawl out of your throat, but no words.

“You gotta tell me, baby,” he panted again. But this time, there was a tinge of desperation edging his plea, like he could fucking tear up at any moment. Begging. “Tell me how good your uncle is fucking his little girl,”

Your virgin pussy throbbed, clenching around his cock.

“‘S good, uncle Logan. Fuck me. Fuck me, please…”

It took you by surprise how fast Logan emptied himself inside you, feeling his seed pump deep, knowing his balls were pulsating as they shot out cum. That knowledge was enough to make you cream around his dick, biting down on his shoulder to keep yourself quiet.

The moments after were uncomfortably quiet, with him still holding you with his cock softening inside you.

Your breath steadies. Your mind clears. And your body cools.

Your dad would murder Logan if he found out about this.

#♡; dally writes!#kinktober 2024 #cw fauxcest #cw age gap #divider by rookthorneartistry #dbf!logan #bub!reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut

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shehungers · 8 days ago

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CARNAL

werewolf husband x reader | 18+ | 3k

your husband is a painter who makes a meager, but comfortable living for you both creating portraits for nobles. his love of painting stems from his adoration of the night sky and the moon. he disappears one night and returns three days later—changed, distant, aggressive, and ravenous. not long after, you discover the reason for his behaviors and face the consequences of curiosity.

story warnings; dead dove do not eat, dubcon, explicit sexual content, explicit details of genitalia (werewolf), breeding, knotting, kinda cockwarming??, mentions of feeling "bloated", cumshot on body, brief piss kink mention, size difference, brief handjob, mc gets head a few times lmao, classism, mc is kinda a shitty spouse in this, detail + prose heavy (extreme), roughly proofread — you are warned.

so, this all started when I was talking to @/peachdues about her fic and idk, knotting has just been in my head since. awesome. now it's out of my system, I hope 😭

this is also my first official new piece of writing on this blog! everything before this has been reposts of older work. hopefully it doesn't disappoint!!!

would love, love, love to hear your feedback! reblogs are so tremendously appreciated!!.🙏🏻❤️

note: this is not my personal canon interpretation of werewolves. this is just a werewolf fic, y'know?

He was the wretched thing you kept behind locked doors with the rising of each full moon.

Once, the pale moonlight had been a thing of beauty to you both; an exquisite, lustrous pearl which seemed so small pinched between your fingers, squeezed and blurred through narrowed eyes. He, on the other hand, admired it differently from you by staring adoringly at its craggy features and the wan, white halo it emitted.

By trade, he was a painter and made a meager living for you both from it. His portraits were most popular as nobles found his style palatable, brushwork concealing of all flaws that showed in their faded clothes, their tarnished jewelry, their ravaged flesh and inbred faces. He knew what they'd wanted in a painting and created these fabrications as they wished because it meant more than old bread and leathery meats for dinner.

For you, he endured such mundanity if it meant you could eat well and dress warmly and in an enviable way to the neighbors. He enjoyed your simple delight; how little it truly took to keep you happy, how easy your marriage had been up until that point. You loved him and you loved the things he provided for you.

When it came nighttime, far into the blackest hours where the world seemed seized in so forceful a hush, you made no objections when he pulled you from bed to go outside with him to view the sky. There, he painted by the orange embers of lantern light and tried to capture all the likeness of the night sky with its misty moonlight and glittering, starry veil.

Sometimes you held the lantern for him, sometimes you did nothing but sit on his side holding the paint palette and lean into his hip, leaching away warmth from his body. Most nights, you were a handsome fixture and most beloved companion, trying to squash the moon like a grape with your fingers while speaking every thought out loud.

But, one night he went out alone and did not return for three days. He had left with his easel and stretched canvas and precious paint board, yet had come back to stand in the doorway with none of it.

“Darling,” you hesitated, starting out firm in case he was inebriated, altered aggressively in some way. You looked at him as though he were some strange person. “Where are your things? Your paints? Your canvas? My love, where have you been?”

“I—I don't have much of an answer to that. I'm sorry.” Then, he strode past you to the bedroom, shuttered the windows to muffle light and sound, declaring he needed rest. “Please, let me be. I'll look for my things another time.”

Later, he was ravenous at the dinner table and ate more than you thought it’d ever be possible for one man to do. You sacrificed your own portion in hopes he'd be sated, but he only turned irritable and mute, as if he were aware nothing good would come of his words to you. At the time, you'd feared that you had upset him in some way, perhaps no longer thought you lovely and fashionable or dependable as his partner and wanted to do away with your marriage.

That would mean you could only return home to rural hardship, or to the slums in the neighboring kingdom. The world would know your unwanted status, how much of a disappointment you'd been to satisfy your own husband, and you would never know another moment of quiet luxury again.

You couldn't accept such a fate, so you bathed him carefully that night. Purposeful with how you dragged the soapy sponge down along his back, fingernails a featherlight graze between the valleys of muscle and flesh protecting his spine. You kissed the back of his shoulders, lips a smouldering touch against his neck.

Then, you felt from stomach down to his hips, swirling your fingertips against the bony protrusions and in the fragrant water before wrapping your hand around his cock, stroking him to hardness. He still said nothing as he kissed your lips, tongue relentlessly pursuing your teeth to get inside your mouth, and pulled you into the tub with him fully clothed.

He fucked you deep and hard that night bent over the edge of the tub, hips pistoning up against your ass, skin slapping raw, thrusting into your wet walls at an angle that had you writhing with a face warped in equal parts exquisite bliss and agony. It wasn't until one of his hands gripped you around the neck, levering you against him, that you noticed a wound on his forearm right below where purple and green veins pulsed under his skin, translucent.

They were tooth marks—two rows of them. Crooked and sharp, arranged in a way that reminded you of the jagged spears wetted by sea spray at the base of a cliff. They looked deep, like whatever had bit him held on, yet hadn’t the intention to tear his arm off of the rest of him. The punctures were purple-red and abyssal as you studied them, vision jarred by his cock ramming you, his panting in the crook of your neck, and the bruise surrounding it bloomed a concentration of colors resembling an inkspill.

How had you not noticed it before?

“I fear what may come on certain nights from now on. When I ask it, lock the bedroom and shutter the windows from the outside. Don't ask me questions for I have no answers to give you.” He did not offer you the reassurance you had wanted, but it was enough to help you confidently stride through the days, knowing that your marriage wasn't in crisis.

Afterwards, it became imperative for you to act as someone educated because you needed to understand what was happening to your husband some nights.

It started days before a full moon: he became impatient, easy to displease, indignant upon any perceived blunder you made. He did not gorge on wine, but whatever meats were preserved in storage and what you could afford now with his inconsistent employment. You tried hiding these poor portions in thick stews with vegetables that had been infused in simmering beef stock for hours, but he was never fully sated by it.

At the same time he started to demand distance from you, he ravaged you at strange hours in your shared bed, tearing at your clothes to suck on your nipples, lap the glisten between your legs. New was his biting to leave marks and sup the blood mixed with his own saliva. More than once, he came on your body with hot, thick ropes and squirted piss on you like an animal marking territory.

When the night of the full moon arrived, he was transformed and horrifying. You had heard furniture crashing and shattering in the bedroom where he'd barricaded himself. Even his yowls throughout the evening had changed, no longer sounding like agony in the cries of the man you'd married, but something far more beastal. It came from within the chest, in the lungs behind the ribs, and was not human.

You had made the mistake only once to check in on him during this point in his shift, as you hadn't known any better. Your voice was a panicked flutter, a whisper of fear that something else might have broken through the fortress of wooden boards nailed against the windows from either side of it.

“My love? Darling, are you alright?”

He was there. You thought he was there because of the silhouette clambering across the broken remains of your shared dresser and vanity. The difference was that this thing was enormous. A creature with a bristling back, hair or spines standing out like a porcupine threatening with its quills.

It stood and was forced to hunch from the low ceiling of your house. A canine-like countenance glowered at you, red eyes partially obscured by patchy fur. Raw skin shined in the barren spots in the lantern light you'd forced into the room, and that hair didn't fully cover his abdomen nor his groin.

He was as much still human as he was this ugly beast. You'd thought to take another step into the room when he snarled and lunged towards the door. A shrill shriek pulled from your throat as you fully withdrew from the room, bolting the door shut with an iron key. He never made a ruckus against the door, and you left for the neighbor's right after, claiming that your husband had wanted space after an argument.

The next morning, your husband had somehow managed to escape the bedroom and sat in the kitchen clothed from the waist down, disoriented by the sunlight and his placement at the table. He didn't remember his transformation into the beast, but he did remember you.

Perhaps that's what gave you the courage to try to enter the bedroom the night of yet another shift. His yells of anger and pain had cooled after several hours, quieting to beastal groans and his heavy footfalls endlessly pacing the floorboards inside.

The door squealed, a call out to the darkness and creature within, and that creature responded with a growl—low, reverberating in darkness, a warning that you wouldn't be tolerated. You invaded the space carefully, meat and fish and other morsels for offering in a basket you'd woven yourself, that he had told you he thought was particularly artful at completion.

“Darling, I've brought you something. It's food. I've put fresh milk inside, too.” You caught sight of him near the boarded window, massive back rounded as he crouched low into a posture which looked as unnatural as when he tried to stand on his bent legs. “I know it—I know it won't ease your suffering, but you must still eat.”

He approached you, but it was unlike times before where he'd jump at the door to scare you away. This time he crawled towards you instead of intimidating you with his height—he wanted you to stay, and tried to appear small by dragging his long tail across the floor. The fur sounded like coarse bristles on a broomstick.

“Oh, my love. My love. My love. What has happened to you?” You moved away from the coverage of the door into the dark space, using your body to close it behind you so that he couldn't get out. You couldn't be sure how he'd behave if he could leave the house. “I'm here. Oh, you're so sweet. Look at you.”

You'd placed the basket aside neatly, making your movements obvious so as not to inspire ire, and didn't react when his long snout pressed into your abdomen. Stubble and whiskers pulled back to reveal long, stalagmite teeth which chewed mindlessly at your clothes. His damp nose nudged under your layers, pressing flush to your skin, startling you with a nasally gasp.

It was the instance where his nose left your stomach and went lower, pushing between your legs to lick you through your pants that you tried to cower, sidle out of his reach. He must've retained some semblance of himself because his arms rose to flank you at the waist, claws digging to the grain of the door, his strong snout pinning you, tongue knowing your shape even through cloth.

The fabric between your legs was wet, sticking flush to you, giving him as much nearness he could achieve without stripping off the layers separating him from your taste. The luscious imprint of you was unfulfilling, not even a teasing drop of what he instinctively knew he could have.

Your pants were removed unkindly; ripped at the waist, torn through impeccable artistry and threads and delicate fabric he had once paid for. Neither complete fear nor anger kept you silent, motionless for him to do as he pleased by yanking the pants off of your legs, but swelling curiosity. You wondered how much of your husband still remained inside this beast when the full moon was high.

The same unkindness followed him shredding through your underwear with his strange teeth, gnawing the fabric to a thin, sopping string before he could finally have you. Inhale you. Taste you with the paddle flatness of his tongue and make you squirm when his teeth skimmed that part.

“O-oh—” this wasn't like when he did it with his human tongue, as masterful as it was. He licked you with fervor you'd never felt, like he was reaching for something deep inside your viscera and blood and gore. Every subtle change of his immense nose and tongue was white heat behind your eyes, jostling pulses of electric, immodest moans, your hips driving forward on their own accord to help him find the treasure he sought within you.

Then, he stopped and hauled you to the floor with a single arm twice the thickness of that of his human counterpart. He knew no gentleness even now, dropping you onto your knees and palms against splintery floorboards which vented cool air up through the gaps, into your skin from the draft rising from underneath the house.

That cold reached deeper, seemed to lift off the ground to meet you as your husband—the beast—thrust your chest against the stiff boards and spread your legs apart with his mass. His claws sank around your hips without piercing your flesh, though their sharpness was undiminished to you regardless.

You knew agitation would not serve you here, neither would bursts of courage to escape. He would catch you with those talons, eat your insides with them and fuck you all the same.

He mounted you clumsily, then.

Enormous, coarse-haired hips grinding against your bare ass, prickling you, making you wince from where your face was nearly pressed into the wood below. You shivered at the first pass of his cock between your legs. Stiff and girthy, arched so well that you felt the moist tip drag across you, catching on spots he'd licked to flinching sensitivity, eagerly prodding at you.

The beast made a sound; a suffering groan with the tremble of his hips before he was thrusting inside of you. The sheer viciousness of his hips hammering against the globes of your ass and his heaviness forced you flat to the floor, where you reached out from the sides of your body for something to hold and grip for comfort. It was barren everywhere you touched.

Your walls were still tight around his cock even as the moments passed, growing no closer to accommodating his size than before, strokes animalistic and messy. While his fur muffled the friction of your skin, the airless dark of your bedroom was compacted with lewd squelching and moans you'd never known you were capable of making. Your noises were high-pitched and vile, paced with his hips, the curve of his cock stroking your velvety insides, and the wet suction releasing when he'd partially withdraw.

Above you, he panted with his long tongue lolling, dripping strings of saliva onto your back where they cooled upon contact and made you feel filthy. Your body ached from his weight pinning you to the inflexible floorboards, cold numbing your skin, hardening your nipples, grinding them down with each of his thrusts.

The enclosed space held an unusual smell, one apart from what you knew was sex. How sweat and salt and cum clung to the mustiness of old places. This was more pungent; earthier and heavier as it filled the room and leaked out of your hole, oozing down your thighs like nectar from a weeping peach.

You continued to let the beast—your husband—fuck you into the wood, the grain, to become an impression in the floor as nothing else could be done. But you were sore now and sure to be swollen, as you were an uncomfortable fit for him again; virgin tightness which gripped every vein and ridge in his cock.

The grinning beast bared even more of his teeth, clicking them together as he released a shuddering sound, too distant to be human but not entirely monstrous. He rutted you carnally, pushing your legs as far apart as they could go from where you were on your stomach, and went deeper inside of you still.

Something about the depth was so wrong—not meant to be, not meant to be experienced by a creature so simple as yourself. It was divine pleasure and pain, it was a threshold that shouldn't have been crossed, yet he had persevered and fucked you into screams.

His hips stuttered violently and he growled; he snarled; he whimpered like an actual beast mortally wounded. You gasped in awe at an enormity of sensations: his cum gushing inside of you, spurting out in thick ribbons to join the rest that had dried on your thighs, and his knot stretching your walls, locking his hips against your ass.

You fidgeted from the bulbous growth, clenching around it, whining wanly while he insistently humped you to burrow the knot as far as it could go. He was trying to breed you; plug his spend inside of you just as he would have had another creature of his sort. Because you were his spouse, perhaps he was only able to perceive you as his mate.

His movements soon slowed, calmed in a way of someone who'd been taken by blows of exhaustion and draped his large body across your back, prodding you with his spinose furs. There was some tenderness in how he kept his arms outside of you, bracing his weight onto them so as to not smother you. He did it to adjust his knot and half-hard cock inside you as well, unforgiving to the idea that you might have forgotten his fullness, that you were brimmed with his cum and felt bloated from it.

Nothing would come from this, only the shame of knowing you'd moaned and screamed for this beast, but not the human you'd married.

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rebelfell · 20 days ago

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Sooo this started out being all cute and fluffy but veered over the edge into the flangst canyon…my bad. 💌 1.8k

Thinking about bestfriend!eddie who shows up your boyfriend on Valentine’s Day.

Unintentionally, of course.

It was never something he planned to do.

He just happened to be in CVS the night before, blazed out of his mind and wandering aimlessly while the guys argued about what snacks to get. And when he made the mistake of turning onto the designated holiday aisle, he was met with a barrage of pink and red glitter and sparkles and hearts exploding off every shelf—an absolute affrontal assault to his cynical sensibilities.

But then he picks up this one card that catches his eye. It’s got a watercolor painting of this cute little porcupine who’s holding a heart-shaped box of chocolates, and there’s a speech bubble at the top that says “I Porcu-PINE for you!”

Eddie absolutely loses it.

He stands there making these stuttering giggling sounds and they’re coming out way louder than he intended, and the pimply and dead-eyed clerk behind the register leans over to give the laziest evil eye Eddie has ever seen. He does his best to stifle himself, but more little snickers still eke out as he picks up the envelope that goes with the card, and starts scanning the shelves for the Valentine’s variation of your favorite candy.

(Because it would be weird just to do the card, right? If he throws in some other stuff too, maybe it’ll be less conspicuous. Yeah? That makes sense, doesn’t it? Yeah, totally it does.)

Before he knows it, he’s collected a whole armload of crap. Two bags of the candies (they’re 2 for $5, that just makes good business sense), a little plushie with giant sparkly eyes (its stare is hypnotizing in an odd way, it kind of reminds him of you), and a small (tiny, honestly) bouquet of daisies wrapped in crinkly cellophane (he knows you like those way more than you like roses.)

He puts it all down on the counter and gets another withering glare from the cashier after he’s rung it all up. Eddie wonders if this guy is judging him; thinks he’s some lazy, loser boyfriend buying a bunch of junk gifts at the last possible minute. But Eddie doesn’t have the mental capability at the moment to explain that he’s not even buying these for a girlfriend—they’re all for his best friend, who he sometimes, occasionally, has some slightly inappropriate thoughts about, which yeah, is kind of inconvenient in a lot of ways, but it’s cool, he’s fine with that—

There’s another huff from the cashier as he repeats the total due, and Eddie realizes this guy doesn’t give a shit that Eddie might be a crappy boyfriend, he’s much more annoyed by the fact that he has yet to take out his wallet. And as he scrambles to do so, the rest of Corroded Coffin comes up to the front, still loudly arguing about the snacks they’re carrying in their hands.

They all give Eddie a funny look when they see what he’s getting, Grant being the first to bluntly ask who it’s for. They fall silent, exchanging wary glances when Eddie mumbles your name under his breath as he hands over a creased and wrinkled bill to pay at long last.

“That’s super weird, man, don’t do that,” Jeff argues immediately. “Just give it to Gareth, and he can give it to Annie instead. Problem solved.”

“Excuse me,” Gareth snaps, “but I’ve gotten my girl her gifts and they’re a hell of a lot better than this crap. Er, uhh…no offense.”

Their drummer winces, and his eyes dart guiltily between Eddie and his purchases.

“No—” Eddie’s face scrunches and he shakes his head defiantly. “They’re not, like, serious gifts. It doesn’t mean anything. And she’s dating that rich asshole, I’m sure he’s gonna bury her in expensive shit. This is barely gonna land on her radar,” he insists, now clutching his bag in his fist.

“So then why bother?” Jeff asks, widening his annoyingly perceptive eyes under arched brows.

But Eddie doesn’t respond. He just stomps out to the parking lot and waits by the car. All the while thinking about all the things he can never quite manage to say out loud when it comes to you.

The next day, Eddie’s rethinking everything.

Sober now and staring down at the offerings piled up in the van’s passenger seat, he can’t help but think this might be the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his life. And that’s saying something.

He talks himself in and out of going through with it about twenty times just in the ten minute drive it takes him to get to your apartment. And even as he climbs the stairs and raises his hand to knock, he has yet to decide if this is a good idea or not.

He came over semi-early, figuring you’d likely be busy later getting ready for some fancy dinner at some restaurant where Eddie probably couldn’t afford to order so much as a glass of water.

But when you open the door, he can’t help but frown at your appearance. You don’t look like you are getting ready to go out, if anything you look like you’ve retired for the evening before 5pm.

Your face is bare except for a couple spots of zit cream, and you have on an old headband pushing your hair back out of your face. You’re swathed in the kind of baggy, oversized clothes he only sees you in when you’re ass deep in a cold or some other similarly debilitating illness.

You don’t look sick, though. Just…sad?

How can you be sad on Love’s birthday?

“Hey, uhhh,” he says, forcing a tight smile. His palms start to sweat around the plastic handles he’s clutching behind his back. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you reply.

There’s no sharpness to it, yet it still comes out kind of flat. Like you’re trying not to sound upset. But Eddie doesn’t push it as he follows you to the kitchen, sliding into his usual seat at your bar.

“What’s that?” you ask, eyes falling to the bag he plopped down on top of the counter.

“It’s stupid,” Eddie starts, “just some dumb little things I picked up.” For you, he adds in his head.

A small smile finally breaks the thin line your lips had been set in since he arrived and Eddie’s back broke out in a cold sweat under his leather jacket as he bashfully pushed the bag over to you.

He then watches, choking on his own heart, as you start pulling things out one by one.

You grin at the daisies, bringing them to your nose to sniff even though they probably smell more like weed than flowers after spending all night in the trailer. You squeal over the plushie, holding it up next to your face and squishing it. You hum excitedly at the first bag of candies, and laugh when you pull out a second one.

Then you get to the card.

Your eyes roll, but you can’t help smiling when you see Eddie’s nickname for you scrawled on the front of the envelope in his chicken scratch. And you’re still smiling as you slide your finger under the flap to tear through the bright red casing.

Then you read it, and your smile falls.

Your whole face does, in fact. It starts with a minute tremble of your chin that escalates into your brow pinching and your mouth crumpling into a frown. And you seem to clench every single muscle in your face to stop yourself from crying, but you just can’t keep it from happening.

“Hey, hey, wait, no, no, nooooo—”

Eddie doesn’t think, he doesn’t take a second to consider doing anything differently, he just jumps to his feet and comes around the counter to your side. He puts his arms around you automatically, letting you bury your face in his chest as you cling to him and try to settle yourself.

“I’m so-sorry, I’m s-so sorry, I’m sorry,” you babble, blubbering through the words.

“No, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I swear, I just thought it was cute, I didn’t mean to—”

“It is cute,” you wail as tears stream down your cheeks, “It’s fucking adorable!”

“Okay, then what’s the problem?” Eddie chuckles, pulling back slightly and ducking his head to look you in the eye, trying to get you to smile back.

You sniffle a few more times before you manage to collect yourself and swipe your fingers under your eyes to smear the wetness of your tears across your cheeks. Eddie’s fists clench at his sides to stop them from reaching up to do it again for you when you miss a stray one.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve been in such a weird funk all day since Matt, um…”

Your voice wobbled again and Eddie’s expression turned stony, scolding himself inwardly for letting even a tiny bit of excitement rise in his chest at the thought that you might have broken up.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. “I mean, did you guys…are you…”

“No, nothing like that,” you inhaled shakily. “He just…he doesn’t really do Valentine’s Day. And it feels so stupid to get upset over it. Like it’s just a dumb holiday, and I don’t need, like, presents or a dinner or flowers or anything like that. I just…”

Your arms crossed, as if you were trying to hug yourself. Eddie wished he could do it for you.

“I don’t know, I thought we’d do something,” you finally add quietly.

“He’s not even coming over?” Eddie scoffs. Suddenly the outfit made more sense. “At all?”

Your eyes closed in a pained wince. “Don’t make me feel worse, please,” you beg him somberly.

“No, I—” Eddie sucks in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to upset you. Honest.”

His head dropped guiltily, eyes glued to his sneakers that stood out against the tile in your kitchen. He glanced one last time at all the stupid stuff he bought now strewn across your counter.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you told him firmly. “That was really sweet, Eddie. Seriously, like the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Your hand reaches out for the plushie again and you cradle it in your palm as you swoop in to drop a light peck on his cheek. The warmth of it makes Eddie’s whole face hot and he feels his neck tense from how much he wishes he could turn his head to the side and allow for his lips to meet yours.

But of course he doesn’t. He wouldn’t dare.

He sure would think about it, though.

Eddie was still staring at his feet, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off you for long. He glanced back up to see you pushing through all of the extraneous things you were feeling to give him a smile, small as it was. He nodded and opened his arms, welcoming you back into them.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispered into your hair. Too quiet even for you to hear him.

I thought for a while about whether or not this is them, but I think this might be an entirely different set of idiots.

also is it just me or is v-day particularly oppressive this year?

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson stranger things

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the-crooked-library · 9 days ago

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okay but like, as much as I am a fervent proponent of “not every ship should get married and in fact some of them would Never” - especially in context of enemies-to-lovers - I hope that everyone who sees me posting like that knows I am not talking about Spuffy. in fact, I would go so far as to say they are the two characters most willing and even desperate to get married that I’ve ever seen.

one of Buffy’s most persistent struggles is her right to girlhood and the inevitable expiration date she faces as the Slayer. she’s forced to fight and claw for every possible milestone that other girls around her take for granted - trying out for the cheer squad, running for prom queen, going to college, etc. one of the nightmares she has after killing Angel is about being unable to be a bride and get married. in Something Blue, she throws herself into wedding planning with a passion that speaks to her having daydreamed about it. in most cases, her commitment issues veer toward clinging rather than avoidance, and marriage is absolutely one of those beautiful, unreachable things that were ripped away from her when the Powers chose her. it haunts her.

Spike is probably even more obvious - he’s a man from Victorian England, a society that held marriage on a pedestal. furthermore, he is fundamentally a creature of devotion, never straying from Drusilla for over a century, and then from Buffy even after she was dead. their desperation is also quite similar - Spike’s original community had considered him undesirable, barring him from a love match; and while a union may have been arranged for him as a human, his vampirism took that option away entirely, in the same way that Buffy’s becoming did it. during Something Blue, he is just as committed to planning the minutiae of the wedding as Buffy is, even though they could’ve just decided to do it at the courthouse and get it over with under a shoehorned pretext. he’s been dreaming of a wedding for 150 years, let’s be real

Spuffy would’ve gone insane about a wedding. they would’ve fallen in love worse. they would have threatened each other with divorce constantly but stayed married anyway for however long they lived. hell, they should’ve done it just for the CPS reasons in season 6, just imagine having to hide it from everyone except the government, lest Anya thinks they’re trying to steal her thunder

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #spike btvs #buffy summers #william pratt #spuffy #buffy x spike #wedding #marriage #this isn’t shipper eyes this is my fully conscious opinion #I think this with my brain and believe this in my bones #they would have been the worst case of fell first vs fell harder #spike nosedives into love and stays there sure he would be insane abt being married to Buffy from the start. premium Wife Guy material #and actually. it would’ve probably made him more stable #bc it wouldn’t matter what else she’s doing or who she flirts with #that’s his Wife #and she can’t stop his helping with finances either!! they’ve got a joint bank account and everything!!#if money just happens to appear there spontaneously well. she won’t complain #meanwhile Buffy would slowly slowly fall in love with him for realsies over the course of like. the next two years #while he’s helping Dawn with homework or doing dishes or whatever #and she would drive herself progressively more unhinged about it #until she tearfully and angrily confesses and he damn near has a stroke

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lokidjarin-7567 · 3 months ago

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The Prophecy

Viktor x You When the friend of your youth, Viktor, sees you still living in the Undercity, and working in a strip club at that, he is determined to reconnect, and rekindle a childhood friendship that was rooted in something more. Contents: fem!reader, fluff, angst and smut all in one folks, 18+ MDNI, a few physical features described but still reader insert I think (hair colour and freckles), both Viktor and you POVs, long-ass one shot 8.1k words Taglist: @night-fall-moon @zsuzsu321 @sh1zhu @circeinspace @casualjagodek @retrokatz @am-3-thyst @xlittlemissydjx @sseleniaa @thefandomsfervent Hi guys, thanks for bearing with my while I've been working on this one!! I have been absolutely obsessed with this man ever since I finished Arcane, so I just had to write something about him! I also think a lot of people mischaracterise him, so I tried really hard to get his personality right - let me know if I actually have lol. Anyone who knows my works knows how slutty my smut can get lol, but this is actually quite tender so a new one for me too. Anyway, I'll stop waffling now, I hope you enjoy. TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

DISCLAIMER: while this, in my opinion, is still classified as an ‘x you’ fic, a few physical features are described, namely ‘you’ having burgundy red hair that is, at one point, described as curly and having freckles, alongside a handful of super vague descriptors (eg. fluttering eyelashes, slope of her nose AKA things that can be applied to any and all faces) - basically everyone in the Arcane show has cool hair so I thought this would be a cute detail. It’s possible to ignore if you don’t want to think about have a different hair colour, but if you don’t want to, don’t read it! Almost every comment on this fic has been relating to this which, when I put hours of hard work and effort into something that I was proud of, is insanely demoralising. There has always been a disclaimer in the contents above, but I’m adding it here as well so it’s as clear as possible. Dead dove do not eat and all that. And I’m always open to constructive criticism, but there’s a way to go about it, and a way that will put someone in a slump for months, so please think before you comment! Anyway, not to put a downer before the work, thank you for the reposts and loves so far ❤️

Viktor was lost in thought as he made his way back to Piltover, small tube of Shimmer tucked away in his satchel. He didn’t know what to do. Using it might stabilise the Hexcore, allowing it to keep the plants alive and accomplish everything he and Jayce had been working towards for years, maybe even curing this sickness that had taken over him, or…

Or it could end horribly.

The undercity was as dark and unpleasant as he remembered it. He had never fit in here in his youth - too scrawny, too bookish, and with his leg, he stood no chance. And now was no different.

The neon store signs stood out against the blackened buildings and muddy streets. This part of the city, deep in the underbelly of Zaun, seemed busier than the rest, roads bustling with call girls and salesmen and tourists from Topside taking their pick of unruly establishments. Hundreds of voices layered atop each other in a cacophony of harsh laughter, garish music and argumentative tones. There was barely space to walk, especially with his cane, and he was starting to wonder if this journey was even worth it.

Then something caught his eye. A flash of red, deep and vibrant, moving towards him on the far side of the lane. It was hair, bouncy and curly and his subconscious told him it was shorter than it should’ve been, but it was a colour he knew. Her face wasn’t one he could place at first, but as she got closer, he saw the freckles that smattered across her nose like a constellation, her pink lips that were perpetually curled into a soft frown, her eyes that she always accentuated with brown liner. It was her.

The only friend of his youth. A young girl who used to sit behind the foliage near the water where he tested his inventions. She was shy, even shyer than he used to be, too scared to ask him anything about what he was making for a long time, just watching with curious eyes. But he would never forget the day she moved closer. The way her long, burgundy locks flowed around her, almost touching the floor, the way she was trying her best to be confident, but there was a soft shake in her hand, and a slight stutter as she said hello. Then she produced a small invention of her own - a submarine, the same colour as her hair, designed to float perfectly so the periscope was the only thing that peeked out from the surface.

For years, they were inseparable. She was more artistic than him, always adding a flair to her designs that he didn’t have, so he’d let her ‘improve’ his too. They would play together, and then as they got older, build together, each creation more daring and experimental. And then they started to drift apart. They were in their mid teens when her mother got sick, and she couldn’t make it out as much. Viktor always offered to help, but she refused, not even allowing him to see where she lived. And so, when Professor Heimerdinger found him and offered him an opportunity to be his assistant, he couldn’t even tell her. He left a note, delicately placed under a rock where they would build together, telling her where to find him and how to get in touch, but he never heard anything.

And now here she was. He called out her name softly, not wanting to alarm her in this hostile city, but she didn’t hear. She’d walked past him now, so he turned, following but she was walking fast, faster than he could manage. He called out again, but it wasn’t until then that he noticed the headphones over her ears. She couldn’t hear a thing. He carried on, hoping she would stop but she didn’t. If it was anyone else, he would’ve gone home, given up, but now he’d caught a glimpse of her, he had to see her. To talk to her. To find out why she never got in touch. To apologise for leaving her behind.

She disappeared from view for a moment, and he panicked, thinking he’d lost her again, but he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, entering an alley beside a row of bars and clubs. He grimaced, following her to see the red locks just moving out of sight again, and a bouncer closing the door behind her. He tried to follow her into the building, but the man stopped him.

“Please…” he asked, out of breath, “it’s an old friend, I need to see her…”

“Staff entrance only, pal. You’ll have to go ‘round the front like everyone else.”

“But… she’s right there… I only need one moment, if she just saw me…” The words died on his lips. Would she even recognise you?

“Don’t make me ask you twice.”

It was dark inside the club, the lights low apart from on the stage and around the bar. It was only mid afternoon, but the place was near full of lowlifes just starting their evenings, sloshing their drinks and talking loudly. The neon from outside carried into this space too, strip lights around the platforms accentuating their presence. There were dancers atop each of them, but he averted his eyes. He shouldn’t have come here. This was so far from his comfort zone, loud and unruly, a long way away from his lab, but he had to see her. He couldn’t let her go again.

He found a stool by the bar, ordering a soda and waiting for her to start her shift. There was no way he could miss her again if he was right here when she started.

And then he saw her at the very edge of his vision, as though his eyes were programmed to search her out in any crowd. She was on stage, cherry red hair glowing in the soft lights, combined with the neon from below making her look like a ghost, ethereal. What was she doing up there?

***

“Afternoon, Joey.” You muttered to the bouncer, and he opened the door for you wordlessly as you slipped off your headphones, replacing your perfectly selected playlist with the sleazy music of the club. Just one of the many reasons you hated working here. You were running late, as per, throwing your things in your locker and quickly changing. Lacing up your shoes always took the longest time, and you barely even had a chance to check yourself in the mirror when you were finished. Your hair looked perfect at least, the naturally burgundy curls sitting at shoulder length. You missed the long hair of your youth, but it become impractical very quickly, and the memories it held… you ended up cutting it all off soon after your mum died. That was when you started working here too. You’d had dreams, of course you did, but growing up in the Undercity made it almost impossible to follow them. There were worse places to work though - for the most part, the patrons were respectful, and everyone who you worked with was kind, but it was still a strip club. At the end of the day, no little girl wanted to be an exotic dancer when they grew up. At least it just about paid the bills.

You had been put on a long shift today - late afternoon until the early hours. You didn’t mind though; it was exhausting, but more time meant more tips. And you needed the money. You were saving, slowly but surely. One day, it would be enough.

These shifts always started slow. Not many tips this early in the day. Not enough drunks - they were all too willing to part with their money, an exploit you knew how to use. After a while on stage, it was your turn to make your way into the crowd. You started away from the bar, smiling at a few, a couple of words of flirtation thrown around, but no one was loose enough for anything else yet. There was something different about the energy today though. You felt… exposed, on display, more than usual. Self conscious in a way you hadn’t been since your first week. By the time you got to the bar, you were already feeling frustrated at the lack of interest. But your favourite coworker was pouring the drinks tonight, and she had one ready for you already.

“Thanks, Katie” You crooned, knocking back the shot quickly and she immediately offered to refill - something you gratefully accepted.

“Thought you might need it. Slow start?”

“Yeah, not the best day so far.” You took your second, thanking her again, when you heard a voice call out your name. Your real name. It made you start, whipping your head around to find the source. You didn’t use that name here. You were expecting to see an ex, or an old boss, but instead you were met with a face you hadn’t seen in years.

His eyes hadn’t changed. Kind but tired, amber in colour and glowing like whiskey in sunlight. The curve of his nose was the same, the curl of his lips, the small moles like points on a map - one beneath his right eye and the other to the left of his lip. There was a cane tucked beside his stool, and he was dressed well. Too well to be in this part of town. A uniform of some sort, something a Topsider would wear: blue shirt accented with a cream ascot and waistcoat. It suited him.

As soon as you saw him, every fond memory of your childhood rushed back to you like a river. The gentleness when he explained his creations to you. His willingness when you asked if you could paint them pretty colours, or add cute designs. The way he held you as you cried about your mum falling ill. How quickly he offered you support, and how quickly you turned him down. You didn’t want to be a burden, but you regretted that choice as soon as he stopped showing up to your usual spot. You kept going for months before you gave up, still trying to find him. The last time you visited was to scatter your mum’s ashes - your stories of Viktor’s designs and the beautiful creek where you tested them out together being one of the last things that brought her comfort.

And now, he was here.

He’d made it out. He’d made it Topside. And you’d only fallen further down.

If there was one person you never wanted to see you like this, it was him. He was the only slither of your youth and innocence left, the only soul in the whole of Runeterra who knew the true version of yourself, the first version of yourself. The version you actually liked. And now, he had to see this. You couldn’t tell what you were feeling. Every emotion was vying for attention: joy, nostalgia, anger, envy…

He repeated your name in a questioning tone, and you realised you’d been staring at him, the rollercoaster of emotions you just went on likely visible on your face.

“Do you know him, darling? Or shall I grab Joe?” Katie asked from behind the bar, staring him down with a protective look. Viktor opened his mouth to speak, indignant look on his face, but you answered for him, never once being able to tear your eyes from him.

“Yeah I… cover for me? If anyone asks, he got a dance.”

“Of course.” Viktor’s gaze had returned you, confused, and you just muttered a ‘come on’, signalling him to follow you, and you lead him across the floor to one of the private rooms. They weren’t exactly the nicest places to talk, the whole room painted a hideous deep purple, a weirdly-shaped black velvet sofa the only thing to sit on. As soon as you closed the door, turning around to see the soft look on his face, every drop of anger seeped from you, replaced with relief. Relief that he was alive. Relief that he had done something with his life. Relief that you hadn’t lost him forever.

You couldn’t help it but let the tears fall as you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him tight.

***

He was surprised by her warm welcome. After all these years, he had always imagined she would resent him, but here she was, face pressed to his chest as she hugged him, tears falling onto his shirt. He didn’t even have to think about it, one arm naturally surrounding her as she cried, keeping her close, while the other held firm to his cane, ensuring it was stable for the both of them. He never wanted to let her go again.

She eventually pulled away though, wiping her tears with the shy smile he remembered so well.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.. on your fancy Topside shirt too.” She laughed nervously, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I… um, I imagined bumping into you one day, finding you again, but I never thought I would be dressed like this.” He finally let himself glance down at her when he said that, to take her in completely, safe in the knowledge that she wasn’t meeting his eyes. She looked beautiful - a black two-peice set, solid silk on the areas that counted, but the frills and accents were a sheer lace, stockings too, glittering beads woven into the delicate material. Even if the environment didn’t suit her, somehow the clothes still did, the same style he’d seen her develop in her teenage years. Simple in colour, beautiful in design - the cunning of her inventor’s mind applied to her other passion.

“What are you doing here, Viktor?” She sat down on the awkward sofa, curling her legs up onto it, and he followed suit, resting his cane against the arm.

“I could ask you the same thing.” It fell from his lips before he could stop it, and he winced, expecting her to be offended, but she just smiled sadly.

“You got out.” She stated as a shrouded question, ignoring his quip, and he nodded. He could explain, he should, but not yet.

“And you never wrote me.” He responded.

“Write you? Viktor, I didn’t know where you were.” She never got your letter.

“I left you a note by the creek. You never got it?” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve found you somehow, or…”

“It’s ok, Vik.” She shuffled closer on the loveseat, grabbing his hand and squeezing tight. Hearing the name she used to call him sent a pang of pain to his heart. This is what he had been missing out on all these years, all because of a stupid letter. “If I was in your shoes, I’d have done the same. Besides, I never let you see where I lived, or anything else about me. And when mum… I fell off the face of the earth. I wouldn’t have let you in no matter how hard you tried.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I know.”

***

You spent a long time asking about his life now. He was working in the academy, partners with Piltover’s favourite researcher, helping to create the HexTech that kept the whole city afloat… he had changed the fucking world. And you were… here. Still.

He said your name softly, as though trying to broach a subject carefully and you knew what was coming. You had seen the query floating in his eyes since the moment he saw you.

“What are you doing working here? I mean, you’re brilliant, more so than me, and yet…”

“I’m still stuck in the Lanes?” You sighed.

“Well, yes.” You’d never once thought of him as ignorant. Maybe he’d been living Topside for too long.

“I never got my break. You deserved what you got, of course you did, and you’re the smartest person I know, Viktor, but that doesn’t change the fact that you got lucky. And it’s not the same here as when we were kids. Sure, things weren’t great then, but now… There are no jobs, no money, housing is insanely competitive even though most of it is disgusting.. it’s a vicious cycle meant to keep you in the shitter. This is what I could get. It pays my bills and lets me save a little, the other girls are nice, it’s close to my apartment…”

“But…” You knew from the look on his face what he was going to say - a long speech about how much potential you have, and how much better you could have it. You dropped his hand.

“But what?” You couldn’t help but snap, defensive over the very job that you cursed daily. “But I’m better than selling myself to sleazy drunks? You think I don’t fucking know that? You think I want to be losing my sense of self every day just so I can keep the lights on? You think it’s my dream to feel like I’m a lesser human being because I will let someone pay me to take them into this room and…” You stood up then, starting to pace as silent tears fell. You never let yourself think about any part of your life longer than you had to. Not pondering on it was the only thing keeping you alive.

“You know I wasn’t saying that…”

“I know I’m sorry… I just…”

“I know… I know…” He stood up then too, wrapping you in his arms and letting you cry. Again. You felt so stupid. “I missed you.” He whispered, face nestled into your hair, barely audible.

“I missed you too.” The tender moment didn’t last for long though, as a sharp knock on the door startled you, jumping away from him and wiping your eyes.

“Vikki?” Joey’s voice called out, and you breathed a sigh of relief. “You ok in there?” You put on your smiley voice, cooing back to him.

“Yeah, all good Joe, got a paying customer in here...”

“You got it, doll.” You heard him walk away, and turned back to see Viktor looking at you, head cocked, small smirk playing across his features.

“What?” You asked with a shy smile, wiping away the last of your tears.

“Vikki?” Oh.

“Well I couldn’t exactly use my real name.” He laughed at that, and you couldn’t help but giggle too. “That does mean we’ve been in here too long though, I should…”

“Yeah, no of course…” he moved to open the door, grabbing his cane, but you stopped him quickly, pressing your hand against the door frame.

“One second…” He frowned as you reached towards him, but he didn’t move, just watched curiously as you took your time unknotting his ascot. Once it was off, you unbuttoned a few of his buttons, trying to ruffle his shirt a little, make it look like you had actually been doing your job rather than talking to an old friend. “There…” you muttered quietly, realising he’d shuffled a little closer to you as you worked, and now his lips were only a breath away. He was looking at you so intently, as though there was something he wanted to say, but he never spoke, just gazed at you in a way that made your heart swell. Your hands lingered on his chest, comforted by the warmth and solidness of him. A reassurance that he was real and here. You didn’t want to move.

“Please, don’t go anywhere just yet…” you muttered, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

***

She had been backstage for a while now, muttering something about trying to move her shifts around. She came back beaming, and it was infectious, a smile he was trying to fight taking over his own face just at the sight of her.

“Ok, if you’re busy tonight, or you have plans, you can tell me to piss off…”

“Never.” She blushed in response, her wide smile spreading further as she spoke, and he was helplessly drawn to her, eyes scanning her face intently.

“Well, someone came in early for their shift, but someone else is running late… anyway, our schedule is a mess, but good news is I only have to stay for another hour and then I’m free so… I was thinking, maybe you’d want to grab some food and catch up? Unless you have somewhere else to be…” She still sounded so shy, so unsure - the same habit she had when she was young, babbling when she was nervous. He was finding it hard to connect the dots in his mind: the timid person before him now, the girl he used to know, and the dancer on that stage, full of bravado and confidence.

“That sounds wonderful.” The joy in her face was intoxicating, and he watched as relief visibly washed over her body.

“Ok, brilliant.” She spun away for just a moment, trying to track down the bartender she seemed to know well. “Katie, he’s with me, ok? Send him back in like an hour, and his drinks are on my tab.” He tried to protest, but she rested a hand on his shoulder, quickly silencing him. “I insist. It’s the least I can do, considering how long you have to wait around.” Again, he tried to tell her didn’t mind, that he’d wait as long as she needed, anything for her, but she was gone already, slipping into the crowd, his shoulder cold where her hand had been. He sighed, turning back towards the bar on his stool, taking another sip of his soda.

“That’s our Vikki…” Katie mused, slicing a few garnishes behind the bar. “Never accepting that somebody else would want to do something for her.” He let out a dry laugh, half at the name, half in agreement.

“That sounds like her.” A beat of silence passed between them. The club was starting to fill up, but it wasn’t too rowdy yet, and nobody else was at the bar, all relying on bottle service and shot girls instead.

“Drink?” He shook his head politely. “How do you know her?” Katie asked, staying busy but obviously trying to snoop. He didn’t mind. She was a topic he didn’t mind talking about.

“Childhood friend. I haven’t seen her in… a very long time.” Her eyebrow shot up at that.

“What was your name, by the way?”

“Viktor.” A look of surprise flitted across her face.

“Ohh.” She drawled knowingly, smiling at herself as she continued to wedge limes.

“What?”

“I’ve heard of you, that’s all. Her childhood love who disappeared on her while her mother was dying…”

“You don’t know the whole story…” He snapped back quickly. He might hate himself for what happened, but he felt the need to defend his choices. It had turned out well for him, he just wished he could’ve found her. Taken her with him. Their life could’ve been so different. Katie chuckled, continuing her tasks.

“Oh trust me, I do. She’s very quick to defend you, you know. You can do no wrong in her eyes…”

“Not so sure about that…” As he muttered to himself, something she’d said suddenly hit him. Her childhood love…“Actually, on second thought, I will grab a drink please, whatever she usually has. But don’t put it on her tab…”

“I wasn’t planning on it, Topsider.” She saluted mockingly with a smile.

Two down and that was all he was having, just needing something to take the edge off after Katie’s admission. All those years wasted, because you thought childhood love was stupid and pointless. And now, seeing her again, you still love her as much as you did back then…

Katie was on her break, so he twisted in his seat, trying to find her in the crowd. She had never been difficult for him to spot, everything about her so familiar to him, and this time, she was centre stage, which made it even easier. Every part of him was screaming to turn away, to not taint his view of her, but he was instantly transfixed. She danced so fluidly, so gracefully. Every movement she made was purposeful and poised. However much she hated her job, she took pride in it. He was a scientist, sure, but she was a creator, through and through.

***

You were finally finished, and you were exhausted. Even though it wasn’t even half a usual shift, seeing Viktor, all the memories it brought back, it had been so emotionally draining.

You were grateful that the changing area was empty. It wasn’t the usual shift time, and no one ever came here on their break, so at least Viktor wouldn’t have to deal with that. You almost laughed at the thought.

There was a gentle knock, and his voice sent a flutter straight to your heart.

“Vikki?” He called out mockingly, and you laughed at the way he’d latched on to your new name. It was inspired by him, after all. “Are you decent?”

“Yes, you can come in.” You were looking good, if you said so yourself. The fashion and the opportunity you were afforded to express yourself in that way was one of the few things you did like about this place. You’d tried to incorporate the shapes and designs of your ‘work attire’ into a more Lanes-friendly outfit, layering a black organza shirt over the lacy bodice, beading shining through the sheer fabric, pairing it with a bubble skirt and knee high boots, just the right height to allow your stockings to peek from the top. There was only one item that wasn’t black; his neckerchief that you had taken earlier was now around your own collar, tied in a dainty bow. He grinned as soon as he laid his eyes on it, striding towards you and gently holding the hemmed edge between his fingers.

“I guess I’m not getting this back, huh.”

“Never.” He shrugged.

“I’m ok with that.” God, the way he looked at you. It made you melt without fail, warm flush spreading across your cheeks.

“Are you ready to go?” You muttered, eyes still glued to his, honey tones making you feel as though you were stuck in them. A fly trapped in amber, resigned to its fate.

“I’m ready when you are.”

You’d decided you were going to cook for him tonight instead of taking him out. The places near you either weren’t nice enough, or they knew you for the wrong reasons. Besides, you wanted to show him your place. To show him that, even though you were still here, you had done everything you could to make the best of it, to continue learning and inventing and developing yourself.

That did mean you had to stop by the store, though. Which meant bumping into Angel. He and Viktor would not get on.

You had grabbed Viktor’s arm as soon as you left the club, a habit from the times Joey had walked you home, knowing that you were safer beside a man than by yourself. Even though the Undercity was bustling tonight, there was something so soothing about being here with him. A nostalgia warming you from the inside out. He let you guide him into the shop below your apartment, chatting absentmindedly about nothing and everything, when a smooth voice stopped yoou in your tracks.

“Not so fast, Vikki…” You groaned, turning back the few steps you had made into the entrance.

“Hey Angel.” You cooed, although it felt wrong falling into your usual flirtatious routine when Viktor was right behind you. He was working behind the counter today, thumbing through the till. His long dreadlocks were down, grey peeking through his beard, wide grin as his eyes traced over you, following your arm to where it joined the man next to you.

“Is that a nickname, or…” Viktor muttered, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you responded.

“No, Vik, this is my landlord Angel…”

“Landlord, huh? Thought I was more than that, sugar…” He leaned across the counter, shit-eating smile on his face, clearing noticing and enjoying the fact he was winding up your new companion. Viktor scowled, moving a step closer to you.

“Yeah, yeah, keep dreaming, old man…” You sent him a wink, and he laughed, the booming noise of it always making you smile. “What have you got in that’s fresh? I’m actually cooking tonight…”

You chatted a little longer, grabbing what Angel recommended and some wine, before heading upstairs via the back of the shop. Viktor was still scowling slightly as you were unlocking your door, and you laughed lightly, nudging him with the bag of shopping.

“What?” He huffed.

“I don’t like that guy.” He grumbled, feeling smug that you had called it.

“He’s my landlord, Vik, and a friend. He’s a good guy, don’t worry.” He just shrugged as you finally got the door open, and you thanked the stars that you had remembered to tidy last night, or else it would be a complete tip. There were still remnants from your busy morning scattered all around the studio: scrap pieces of fabric and thread strewn across the kitchen table, the half-finished neglige you were constructing laid over the back of one of the chairs, the cogs and pieces of machinery lie abandoned next to your sewing machine in the wake of the modifications you were trying to make so it could handle more delicate material. The space itself was dark in colour, olive and navy washing the walls, brown leather sofa and black countertops marking their territory in the small apartment, the stain-glass screen in front of your bed the only splash of jewel toned colour. You could feel Viktor’s curiosity at the place, and as he stepped further into it, a smile settled onto his lips.

“It’s so very… you.” He said, and in any other intonation, it would’ve sounded like a bad thing, but when he said it, full of adoration.. it was a compliment of the highest order.

***

She was mesmerising as she cooked, twirling in the kitchen to her carefully selected vinyl, a wide smile on her face as she tested what she was making. He wanted to help but she wouldn’t let him, batting him away and telling him to sit down, and for now, he had obliged. But, as much as he wanted to help her always, right now, he just wanted to be close.

“At least let me pour the wine?” He said, already standing to help, and she huffed, but didn't object. Instead, she handed him the corkscrew and the bottle wordlessly. He smiled, leaning against the counter and continuing to watch her as she stirred. She was always so chaotic when she was creating, something evidenced by the near bomb-site on her kitchen table. It was just so… her. Everything about her apartment was as well, such a perfect and beautiful representation of everything she was, every tiny detail of her life and personality reflected in the space she lived in. The colours, the soft furnishings, the bookshelves lining the wall behind her bed. Then, he noticed something about the stain glass screen that separated the room, soft light from her bedside lamp washing through it and creating a blue ripple across the floor like a stream. It was of their place, their creek. It was abstract, sure, but he would recognise it anywhere. The way certain rocks jutted out, the colours of it all, the small boat floating in the still glass water.

“Did you make that?” He asked earnestly, and she briefly glanced up from the stove to see what he was looking at.

“Yeah, I've been trying out a lot of different hobbies actually, things to keep me busy when I’m not working. That was one of my favourites…”

“It’s beautiful.” She smiled sadly, focusing her attention back to the pan.

“It reminds me of you.”

He poured them both a glass, and she gratefully accepted.

“It’s nearly finished, just a few more… oh I meant to ask earlier…” Her mind was such a beautiful thing, the speed at which it moved so captivating, not even time to finish her own thought before starting another, “why were you even here today? In the Undercity, in my club… I just never thought I’d see you back here by choice.”

“I was visiting an old friend, a quandary about a new gadget Jayce and I are working on, but…” He was going to say something about it, ask her opinion on whether he should follow Doctor Reveck’s advice, what he should do next, but he decided against it. “He didn’t have any insights.”

“Maybe I can help?”

“No, I…” She looked hurt at the speed the word left his mouth, almost recoiling and turning back to her cooking with a frown. “I mean that you probably could, but I don’t want to taint tonight by talking about a project that has been frustrating me for weeks. Another time though, of course I would appreciate your insight.” She sighed in relief, smile flitting back across her face. She grabbed a spoon from the drawer, humming as she did, a flurry of breathtaking movement as she dipped it into the sauce, spinning back around and holding it up to him.

“Taste?” She asked, the look on her face so hopeful it melted him, her joy infectious. But underneath all of it, he couldn't help but notice the cracks: the bags under her eyes, the tiredness set into them, the subtle shake of her hand. But he just smiled, enveloping her hand in his and bringing the spoon to his lips.

“It’s perfect.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.” She looked proud nonetheless, spinning back away from him and he was left to watch again, heart swelling. He wanted this. Cooking with her, drinking wine in the kitchen to her favourite record, letting her order him around. He wanted the… intimacy of it. The domesticity. The realisation of it ached. You could’ve had this. All these years without her, all these years wasted. Precious time that you no longer have to spare. If you’d have just waited, just taken more time to find her, insisted on helping her even…

“It’s ready!” She exclaimed, presenting a plate with a wide grin, and every stress, every regret simultaneously melted away and intensified, a pit forming in his stomach.

“It looks wonderful.”

***

You had eaten, and you were both now on your second glass of wine. You felt closer to him with every single second, drawn to every word he said like moth to a flame. At some point in the evening, you’d moved to the floor, backs to the sofa, as you looked through some of your old sketches you had found. The conversation lulled momentarily, a faraway look in his eyes, and you realised how close you had gotten. Your elbow was leaning on the sofa, supporting your head with your body twisted to face him, knee pressing against his thigh. You moved your head forwards to glance at the sketchbook, and your hand fell, resting on his shoulder. A stillness fell over him at the touch, and he smiled sadly to himself.

“I think you should come back with me.” He stated with finality, and you froze.

“What do you…”

“I think you should come back to Piltover.” He closed the book, placing it gently on the low coffee table. He was serious. “Help Jayce and I with our projects. Let me teach you about HexTech.”

“Vik, I don’t exactly have any actual experience. I don’t have an education. I can’t afford to live Topside…”

“You can live with me.” He said it so simply, like it was so obvious. Of course you would love that. Now you’d seen him again, you didn’t want to be apart from him but… “Professor Heimerdinger can give you lessons, but you have the mind already. There are certain things that can’t be taught. You have the passion, the skill, the creativity…”

“But…” You weren’t trying to pick apart his plan, but it felt terrifying. Even though it was everything you had ever wanted, it felt so far fetched. Like a fever dream. It didn’t feel like your life, your future.

“No, I… I lost you once, I can’t do it again.”

“Vik…” He grabbed your hand that was resting by his shoulder, and you felt yourself relax into his touch. He turned head to meet your eyes, sadness creeping into them.

“I don’t have much time left.” The finality of his statement shocked you, and you couldn’t tell what he was talking about. Did he have somewhere else to be? Oh god, you’d already kept him here too long…

“What do you mean, time left?”

“I’m dying.” It felt like somebody had punched you in the gut, all the air in your lungs gone.

“You’re…”

“Dying.” He repeated factually, and your heart sank further into your stomach. “And if we don’t… Jayce and I are working on something that might help, but if it doesn’t, I need someone I trust to take over from me.”

“Viktor, hold on, I need to think…” Your mind was racing, and you still couldn’t quite wrap your head around everything, hands running through your hair. He was dying. He wanted you to move Topside. He wanted you to work with him. To take over his life’s work. “It’s been years. I haven’t seen you in years and now you want me to… now you trust me to…”

“Of course.” He muttered, speaking your name softly to get your attention, hand gently wiping your face where tears had fallen without you noticing. “You’re everything to me, you always have been. There’s nothing I wouldn’t trust you with.” His hand was still resting on your face, and as you searched his eyes, you saw something else. Something pleading, something that echoed the feeling bouncing around in your heart. It would be hard. It would take a long time to settle in, to learn the ropes, to feel like you belonged. But it was your dream. To help change the world. And if he didn't have long, there was no chance you were wasting any of your time left with him.

“Ok.” You answered nodding, and you watched a smile take over his face, heart swelling at the sight.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… Vik, you’re offering me my dreams on a silver platter, and on top of it all, I get to be…” You nearly slipped, about to say be with you but you knew that was a lot. That you had only just reunited and to spring the whole I’ve loved you since I was 10 and I’ve never loved a soul since thing on him might ruin the dream that he’s just given you. But, fuck, you wanted to kiss him right now. “I get to work with you again.. there would have to be one hell of a catch for me to say no to that.”

“The whole dying thing isn’t too much of a problem then?” He asked with a slight smile, trying to hide a genuine fear beneath a joke.

“Oh, honey, knowing that we don’t have another decade of time to lose… I’m not letting you slip through my fingers this time.” His hand felt so natural resting against your cheek you’d forgotten it was there until it moved to cup the base of your neck, thumb drawing gentle lines across your jaw. His amber eyes were searching your features, looking for anything to indicate that you were unsure, but your resolve shone through, and you could see the moment he realised this was going to work, relief flooding through them.

Then, before you could process what was happening, his hand gently guided you forward until your lips brushed against his—light as a feather. For a moment, you couldn't believe he had just kissed you, that it was real. But as you met those pleading honey eyes, everything else faded away. Every doubt, every regret, every sliver of worry vanished, replaced by such overwhelming care and love that you felt you might burst. Your body gave in without conscious thought, melting into his arms as you kissed him. His hands drifted to the back of your head, tangling in your hair and pulling you closer. You couldn't get close enough, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His fingers traced down your body until they reached your hips, pulling you over him. A soft giggle escaped into his mouth as you swung your leg over his, settling onto his lap. When he finally broke for breath, you found yourself chasing his lips, panting into the space between you with a wide smile.

His lips found yours again, this time with more urgency, more need. Your hands slid up his chest to his shoulders, steadying yourself as his grip on your hips tightened. The feeling of his fingers pressing into your skin sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft moan into his mouth. He smiled against your lips, one hand moving to cup your face while the other remained firmly at your waist.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered against your mouth, voice rough with emotion. You could only nod in response, too overwhelmed by the feeling of finally being in his arms after all these years.

The record had long since stopped playing, leaving only the sound of your shared breaths and racing hearts in the quiet apartment. His thumb traced gentle circles on your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, full of warmth and something deeper, something that had been there all along. Something that you had been too blinded by insecurity to notice earlier. Something that you knew all too well, reflected in your own heart. You pressed your lips to the mole on his cheek, and the one beside his mouth, a small smirk playing across his features as you did.

“I still can’t quite believe this is happening.” You muttered softly against his cheek, and he sighed, thumb dancing across your lips.

You eventually found yourselves entwined on your bed, limbs tangled in soft cotton sheets, his back pressed firmly against your sturdy wooden headboard as you rocked onto him with gentle, deliberate movements. Each subtle shift of your hips sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making your breath catch. You panted softly into his mouth as his strong, careful hands helped guide your every motion, his touch both grounding and electrifying. The overwhelming need to be closer drove you to pull him tighter against you, your arms wrapping securely around his shoulders until there wasn't even a whisper of space between your bodies. Your chest pressed firmly to his, feeling his rapid heartbeat matching yours, as your head naturally found its place in the crook of his neck. You pressed feather-light kisses against the sensitive skin, tasting the salt and breathing in his familiar scent. The intimacy of the moment was almost overwhelming - so intense, so raw, so perfectly natural - and you found yourself climbing toward your peak faster than you ever had before, your body responding to his every touch as if it had been waiting for this moment forever. You whined softly into his skin as pleasure built within you, each movement bliss, and he responded with a groan as he pressed his lips tenderly to your temple.

"That feels so good, sweetheart," he drawled, his voice coarse with desire, and your hips instinctively bucked harder against him, drawing a sharp gasp from both of you. His meticulous fingers traced teasing patterns across your hipbones before finding their way between your bodies, circling your sensitive clit with perfectly measured pressure that made your toes curl. His other hand gently cupped your chin, drawing you back until your eyes met his, gilded with desire but still so full of tenderness. His lips ghosted across yours before he pressed his forehead to your own, releasing your face and returning his hand to your hip, guiding you once more. You could feel yourself fluttering around him as your pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak, and his eyes rolled back, a broken groan escaping his lips and filling the charged space between you. The coil of pleasure wound tighter and tighter as you approached your climax, desperately seeking more of him, claiming his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss that swallowed the stream of desperate moans spilling from both your lips. When your release finally crashed over you, it was like nothing you'd ever experienced - all the pressure, all the built-up desperation exploded like a supernova and pure, white-hot ecstasy consumed every nerve ending, every thought, every sensation except the feeling of him inside you and against you. He followed shortly after, gasping your name like a prayer against your skin as his own pleasure overtook him, his lips finding purchase on your neck as he shuddered through his release. In that moment, it was perfection, hearing him, feeling him, everything you had ever dreamed of and more. But as you came down from your shared bliss, you couldn't quite silence the intruding thought lurking at the edges of your consciousness - that you wouldn’t have him for long.

***

She looked so peaceful curled against him, her head nestled perfectly in the crook of his chest as if she belonged there, her beautiful red hair fanning out like a fiery halo in the dim light. Her beauty was staggering - the gentle slope of her nose, the delicate arch of her brows, the soft curve of her lips - and he couldn't help but trace each feature with his fingertips, mapping the geography of her face with tender precision. She sighed contentedly in her sleep at his touch, unconsciously pressing closer to him, one hand curling loosely in the fabric of his sheets that lay across them. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this complete, this profoundly at peace, as if all the jagged pieces of his life had suddenly aligned. His fingers continued their gentle exploration, committing every detail to memory - the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the subtle flutter of her eyelashes, the way her lips curved slightly downwards even in sleep. He wanted to capture this moment, to carry it with him always like a talisman, a protection. A reminder that he would do anything to preserve her peace of mind. To make her happy.

The soft amber from the bedside lamp caught in her hair and painted her skin in warm honey tones, making her look almost otherworldly in her beauty, an ethereal being who had chosen, inexplicably, to be with him. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a feather-light kiss, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair, before letting his own eyes drift closed. Despite everything - the illness creeping through his veins, the uncertainty that clouded their future like a torrential storm on the horizon - right now, everything felt exactly as it should be.

#viktor x f!reader #viktor x reader #viktor arcane #fanfic #fanfiction #viktor fanfic #viktor x you #viktor smut #viktor angst #viktor fluff #one shot #arcane #arcane season 1 #glorious evolution #childhood friends to lovers #ttpd #the prophecy

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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

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18+

Dom Bucky who turns into a needy mess when he’s alone, watching your sex tape.

That’s it. That’s the warning.

He’s so dominant when he’s throwing you around like a ragdoll, phone propped up to get every angle possible. He’s gritting his teeth as he pounds from behind, gripping you hair in one hand and spanking you with the other. He grabs your hips so he can slam them back to meet his thrusts and the whole thing is so debauched with the way you wail uncontrollably.

You’re such a good bunny in bed and he loves what a good girl you, all just for him. You don’t know that he’s secretly even more subby than you when he has his fat cock in his fist.

When he’s alone in his room, he’s a whiny, whimpering mess. He slips his hand down his sweats to calm down his erection but it’s no use, he pulls his cock out instead. All he can think of is your soft body wrapped around his. He grabs his phone to watch your pretty face and he can’t help the breathy moan that escapes his lips when he sees your eyes roll back.

“So pretty bunny” he whines, throwing his sweats off so he can spread his legs wide and cup his balls. “Mmph, such a tight pussy”

He rolls his balls in his palm while panting, replaying the part where your face is between his legs, choking on his dick.

“Sucking so good, lookit that, oh god-“ his breath hitches at the sound of you gagging, thick drops of precum leaking out of the head, “oh fuck, you get me wet bunny”

The man fucking your ever loving brains out isn’t the same man currently jerking his cock off like a desperate little boy. No, the man in the video is in fully control, fucking his princess like she’s nothing more than a fucktoy, grunting and praising her for taking all of him.

But the man who can’t slow his fist down? The one who is squeezing the base of his cock tightly to keep from cumming? He is very different. He’s almost in tears watching his girl take all his dick in every position imaginable. He’s toying with the head of his cock, nimble fingers tracing and caressing his slit with breathy moans, wondering how he got so lucky to get a pretty bunny.

“Makin’ my cock so hard bunny, shit-taking daddy’s cock so good, huh? That’s it- gonna make a mess, God, s’fuckin’ pretty”

At some point he grabs his pillow and shoves it between his legs, humping it like a puppy with his lip caught between his teeth. He’d never be caught dead like this, so subby and needy, rutting his cock against his pillow but he can’t help it. Not when he doesn’t want to bust but toy make it so difficult.

“Lookit what you do to me baby, got me- mmph-humping the bed like a little boy, make it stop mommy”

He groans as soon as the word leaves his mouth, it was so wrong but felt so right. You were making him feel all those things, so soft and sweet and-

“Be my mommy bunny, gonna cum- gonna cum for you- fuck- FUCKK MO- UGH”

He throws his head back and tosses the pillow aside, furious jerking his cock till he blows his load all over his naked chest. He doesn’t stop until his very pink cock has nothing left to give.

It sits soft in his hand, more sensitive than ever and he can’t help but whine, giving it an experimental squeeze, thinking of the way you’d suckle him to make sure there way no cum left.

“Clean me up mommy” he says with a breathy whisper, continuing to play with his spent cock till he shivers and shudders at the feeling. “Need mommy”

He isn’t ready for you to see that side of him yet but-

K bye again.

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thepigeonhasapen · 4 months ago

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Finding Them When They're Trapped: Olympian Edition (NSFWish)

(I promise I'm working on requests but the horny bug bit ok)

🩷Aphrodite🩷

"Oh, darling, I'm afraid something simply tragic has happened. One of my suitors has taken advantage of me and left me like this!"

"...In your own bedchamber?"

Aphrodite waves a hand. As well as she's able to with the short chain connecting it to the bedpost anyway. "Sweetheart, it's sex. We don't need to apply logic to it."

"...I see." You sit next to Aphrodite, admiring the way the restraints draw her body into long, smooth curves. She wriggles in her chains, a deliberate enticement. An enticement too is the way she's looking at you, lashes fluttering and eyes locked sweetly upon your own.

"As I was saying..."

"Yes, yes, a horrible man left you tied to a bed and now I'm here to take advantage of that fact?"

"You do catch on quick, my dear."

⚔️Ares⚔️

Ares does not think this is funny. Unfortunately for Ares it is objectively pretty funny.

He glares at you from the bed, squirming against his chains. "Stop laughing and let me loose."

"I can't believe Aphrodite just left you like this!" You giggle. "I'm pretty sure she just straight up forgot you were here actually."

You can tell Ares is positively fuming about the whole thing. The headboard creaks as he yanks at the cuffs, but all the furniture upon Olympus is far too durable to break that easily. He glares at you once more and then sighs.

"Will you please set me free? I have something I wish to discuss with our dear Aphrodite."

Aphrodite has been so kind as to leave your favorite god naked, and you take advantage of this by resting your hand on his groin. You don't miss the sharp intake of breath when your skin touches his own.

"But it would be such a shame to let you go when I already have you here like this."

"I... be that as it may, I-" Ares's pupils blow wide with lust as you swing onto the bed to straddle his lap.

"Aphrodite isn't going anywhere. And-" You laugh. "Neither are you apparently."

"I suppose... my evening might still be salvageable after all."

🏹Artemis🏹

How embarrassing... to get caught in one of her own traps. Artemis is never going to live this down if anyone finds out about it. Too late for her, though, you've already found out about it.

"It's not funny! I just forgot where I set it, okay? Now let me down so we can both forget this ever happened."

Perhaps Artemis might be more intimidating if she wasn't blushing so fiercely. Oh yeah, and hanging upside-down by her ankle from a tree branch. That too.

"So if you're the prey, what's hunting you then? A deer? A bunny?"

You didn't think it was possible but Artemis blushes even harder. "Yeah, yeah, just get me down."

"Deal... but in exchange for not telling anyone about this, you'll owe me."

If looks could kill, not only would you be dead, you'd have been vaporized from existence. You start to walk away. "Or I guess you could just wait for somebody else to come by... Hermes, maybe?"

It doesn't take long for Artemis to break. "Okay, okay, deal! Now cut me loose before somebody sees."

As you're helping her down, Artemis shoots you another dirty look. "You’re just lucky I've got a soft spot for you."

🦉Athena🦉

One of the last places you expect to find Athena is stuck in a hole in the ground, but here you are. She looks up at you, visibly relieved to catch sight of you.

"Hail, Y/N. It would seem the Lady Artemis is leaving her pit traps strewn about the grounds. Again. I really must have a word with her about it. But first I require your assistance."

"Oh yeah? I hope you're not expecting me to carry you out of that hole." Look, Athena's like twice your size. You love her but it's just not gonna happen.

"No, nothing of the sort. If you could run to Hephaestus's workshop and fetch a ladder..."

You sit down at the edge of the hole, elbows resting on your knees. "I might do that. But to be honest, it's kinda hot seeing you be bested every once in a while."

"I was not bested. This was no battle of wills. This was my foolish half-sister being careless once again."

"Still... you being trapped is kinda doing it for me."

Athena sighs. "If you fetch me a ladder, I swear I will let you tie me up to your heart's content. Do we have an arrangement?"

"Done."

And you can't wait to take her up on that.

❄️Demeter❄️

"I'm going to kill that wretched foster brother of mine. We'll see if he can still throw his precious lightning bolts when he's encased in ice."

You've stumbled across Demeter cuffed to the railing of her balcony. You don't quite know what happened, but Zeus had something to do with it from the sounds of it.

"He told me I ought to get more sun! That it would be good for me! Put a smile on my face! Pah, as if there's anything to smile about upon this blasted mountain."

"Ahem," you say.

Demeter softens. "Ah... my apologies. Of course you give me cause to smile quite often."

"Would it make you smile if you said you looked cute in those cuffs?"

Demeter doesn't look in the slightest bit amused. "It most decidedly would not."

"Ah."

🍇Dionysus🍇

Dionysus had asked you to meet you in his vineyard but how strange, he doesn't seem to be here. Well, since you're here, you may as well look around. As you wander deeper through the plants, you hear rustling and the sounds of someone struggling.

He looks almost sheepish when you find him, half-buried in foliage with rogue vines twined around his limbs.

"Hey, so uh... there may have been a little... incident. Would you mind maybe lending a hand?"

"Don’t you have control over grapevines?"

"...These are special grapevines, yeah?"

And how kind of the vines to splay him out so beautifully. And to let him take off his cape first. And that all of his usual retinue is conveniently absent.

Dionysus shivers when you run a hand down his muscled chest. "And how exactly am I meant to help you if even a god as powerful as you can't set yourself free?" You stop just above where you're certain he wants you to touch him. "Shall I fetch someone to help?"

Dionysus whines when you remove your hand. "You’re such a damn tease, man! Just have your way with me already."

"I'm a tease? I'm not the one who's tied myself up in hopes of being ravaged."

"If you want we can switch places." Dionysus offers playfully.

"Hmm. Maybe later." You think you're gonna pass this up? Not a chance.

🪽Hermes🪽

You didn't expect to find the Messenger of the Gods tangled in a bunch of vines, but to be perfectly fair you're pretty sure he didn't intend for you to find him like that either.

"Oh, hi there, boss. I seem to have encountered a spot of trouble here but don't you worry, I'll be out in a jiffy."

He squirms, trying to free himself, but he's really just making the problem worse. Something he soon figures out when he sighs and looks helplessly at you.

"Don’t suppose you'd care to lend a hand?"

"Haha, oh alright," you manage through your giggles. "Hold on just a moment."

"Kinda can't do anything else," he points out.

You wade into the bushes, reaching for the vines that ensnare his wrist. Unfortunately, there's a bit more of them than you bargained for. One catches on your foot and you go tumbling forward, knocking both you and Hermes to the ground.

"Shit, sorry!"

But Hermes doesn't look as bothered as you thought he would. It's probably because your hand has landed squarely on his groin. You hadn't quite been sure if he was blushing before, but now he most certainly is.

He's not quite looking at you as he says, "You know it would really be a shame for you to let an opportunity like this go to waste, you know."

...He makes a valid point.

🔱Poseidon🔱

"Damn that blasted nephew of mine! I swear when I catch him, I'll- oh hello, dear! Would you mind helping your favorite sea god out of the predicament he's found himself in?"

You laugh. You can't help it; Poseidon looks absolutely ridiculous looking at you upside-down from the floor. Somehow he's ended up wrapped head to toe in chains, his arms pinned behind his back and his legs bound firmly together.

"What happened here?"

"That good for nothing nephew of mine, Hephaestus swore to me that he'd created chains so powerful that nothing could break them! I, of course, had to put such notions to rest. Nothing can overpower the might of the sea! Anyway, I uh..."

"So you let Hephaestus do this to you?"

You've never seen Poseidon look quite so flustered. "I, er... well, we don't need to linger on the past. Why don't you set me free and we can both go out to a nice dinner?"

"Not a chance, sea god." You drop to the floor beside him, greedily taking advantage of a sight you so rarely get to see. The might of Poseidon, bound. And looking quite handsome in his chains if you do say so yourself. "I think I've got a better idea than dinner."

It doesn't take Poseidon but a moment to catch your drift. "Ha! You best take advantage of the moment then because I don't imagine it'll be happening again."

Maybe. Or maybe Hephaestus will let you borrow these chains from time to time...

⚡️Zeus⚡️

It's funny... this situation that you've found Zeus in almost seems... familiar.

"Curses! Damnit... that blasted, darn Hephaestus... and my foul brother. I shall have both their heads for this, I swear..."

"Whatcha doin'?"

You've never seen the King of the Gods blush before. And certainly not so fiercely. "I um... well, I've run into a spot of bother. And it is entirely the fault of that wretched brother of mine. He insisted that these chains were unbreakable. Naturally, I had to show him the error of his ways. None can stand against the power of the heavens!"

Well, apparently being a cocky, arrogant idiot runs in the family. You drop to a crouch beside him, unable to keep the amused grin off your face. "And how's that working out for you?"

"Yes, yes," he huffs, "I can have a sense of humor like any other. You've all had your laugh. Now let me loose."

You reach down and squeeze between his legs, just enough that Zeus's eyes start to go hazy. He won't get mad at you for the imposition; he thinks far too much with his cock for that. "Oh, but I never get to top."

Zeus looks as if he's already having trouble formulating words. "Well... maybe just this once..."

Once? Not if you can help it.

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vaguely-concerned · 3 months ago

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for what it's worth I personally don't believe spite had anything to do with the pantry near-kiss experience at all. I think that was a 100% lucanis naturel disaster no supernatural additives present or indeed required. at most spite was watching that whole situation go down with mild puzzlement about approximately every part of it, I don't think he'd have much interest in it one way or the other. the explanation seems much more mundane and grounded and in some ways much sadder to me.

if your nervous system has never been in a place where any surge of emotion, even -- in fact sometimes especially! -- a good and exciting one makes you feel like your soul just touched a hot stove it can't get away from, then sincerely, from the bottom of my heart and without a trace of snark, thank goodness and I hope you never experience it. For the rest of you... fistbump of solidarity it's rough out here but *grits teeth* we stay silly etc. In the place lucanis is in during that part of the game, feeling like you're losing control (again even for ostensibly good happy reasons) can feel an awful lot like you're dying, or worse. on top of everything else going on for him -- again going only with non-supernatural elements and not even comprehensive: a year of non-stop horrific trauma added to pile of previous mountain of childhood and attachment trauma. chronic sleep deprivation. apparently dead grandma doubling as mother figure. cousin-brother aggressively fucking around and in real danger of finding out. fucked up the ONE thing he thought he knew how to do that's been the central pillar of his identity. the world might be ending even more than it already was because of it. keeps faceplanting with barely any dignity and having to get up again with alarming regularity GOD how could I ever not save treviso this man desperately needs a W (just one!!) like few people in the history of the world have before him. he's more caffeine than man because the alternative feels worse. it's bad in here. and ON TOP of all that he's in the process of falling just. appallingly soul-shrivingly in love, which can notably be playing on hard mode even when you're in a mostly functional place, that shit routinely rocks people to the core under the best of circumstances.

so I'm not surprised it's too overwhelming for him to handle when he tries to throw himself in head first -- in fact I'd have been more surprised if it weren't lol. he clearly wants it so much, which only makes it so much more painful that he can't actually bear to touch it when it's offered to him freely and eagerly. this is the tantalus-level awfulness of this kind of attachment trauma; food seems to be right there, you can see it, almost smell it sometimes, but no matter what you just can't seem to reach it. seemingly not for any flaw in the existence of the food, but because of something broken in you that can't or can't bear to actually eat. his deliberate flirting routine is kind of deeply dorky tbh lol (in the most endearing way possible let's be perfectly clear) and I don't think it's entirely natural to him -- that's a hastily cobbled together 'oh god I am getting the vibes here it is happening for some reason they like me for my personality quick what would illario do' approach if ever I saw it, supported by the fact that it never really makes a return after this --

BUT I do think his obvious near-unbearable delight with rook's existence and person that shines through in that scene is entirely real and unfeigned. he likes them so much. he wants so bad to be able to be close to them. he's so hungry for the reprieve and release and relief they represent to him, just for one moment, just one break from all the awfulness to have something uncomplicatedly good. and it's here, it's been offered, he's welcome!!! and he has to flinch away at the last minute anyway because he's an exposed nerve of a human being. there's a point at which every sensation including joy becomes indistinguishable from agony. he's pretty much exactly at that point. for the love of god have some mercy on him people. the feeling that salvation is right here but you're too broken a vessel to hold it is one I wouldn't wish on anyone. let him have a few moments to stare into the void before he's ready to get back up and try again surely we all deserve at least that much lol

#dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #rook x lucanis #rookanis #this is literally just me ranting about the feelings he evokes in me and not really directed at anyone I just. I Feel. things #in case you can't tell. I'm the lucanis. him is me. we be like this. this all makes the too much kind of perfect sense to me #it's odd in narrative structure but it's uh. uncomfortably real in some ways. freeze is difficult to describe in conventional narrative #it's a bad time to have in a bad place. but very decent company to be in I must say I love him. so much #also I think we might have exposed some of the basic garrusness going on here haha (just one thing please just one good thing)#and how much getting there hinges on feeling completely safe in that relationship. anyway. everyone ok. I'm not but someone should be

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luvergirl21 · 4 months ago

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caught...

sub!hamzah x f!reader smut (lowkey perv!hamzah if you squint)

hi everyone! i thought of this idea at like 3am a couple nights ago and it has been plaguing my mind ever since. please enjoy! message me requests please! i am desperate for prompts.

summary: after losing a few of your panties, you begin to suspect your shy roommate Hamzah. but, coming home early one night, you are met with a sight that would change things for good.

warnings: smut under cut! DON'T read if you are under the age of 18.

word count: 2575

For weeks, you had been losing your underwear. You would put your clothes in the washer, then the dryer, but by the time you got back to your room and folded your clothes, one, or sometimes two, pairs of your panties were missing. It was concerning, to say the least. However, when you lost your favorite pair (pink cotton with white lace and bows), you began to get frustrated.

“Hamzah?” you ask your roommate while he’s in the kitchen getting snacks.

“Mmh?” he responds, mouth full with doritos.

“Kind of a weird question—I mean, you probably have no fucking clue—but have you seen my panties anywhere? I can’t find them.”

At the mention of panties, Hamzah’s cheeks flush a light shade of pink. “Panties?!” he asks, mouth still full. He swallows thickly. “No, I mean, I don’t think so. What do they look like?”

“Um-” you felt yourself blush a light shade of pink, thinking about how embarrassing it was talking about your panties with your hella attractive roommate. “They’re pink and white—bows too.”

If possible, Hamzah flushed an even deeper shade of red. “O-oh, no. No. I haven’t seen them anywhere,” he huffed out an awkward laugh, looking anywhere else in the room but your eyes.

“That’s okay,” you say, giggling awkwardly. The tension palpable in the room. “Just…you know, if you do see them, let me know.”

—

Later that week, after getting home early from a party, you were met with the most surprising of circumstances. You entered your apartment and kicked off your shoes; the 4-inch heels had killed your feet. Every light in the apartment was off—save for the small light emanating from the clocks on the oven and microwave—and it was dead silent. Eerily silent. You knew that Hamzah was home, I mean, he never left. But it was only 11pm, which was way too early for him to go to bed. You at least expected to hear him typing on his computer, or hear the faint sound of his laptop playing a show, or hear him yelling at whatever stupid game he was playing with Martin. But no. Absolutely nothing.

Just then you heard it. Although you weren’t exactly sure what “it” was. A faint, but deep, groan, as if someone was crying out in pain. You strained your ears, listening for that noise again. There! There it was again, the exact same noise, although this time you could hear a faint squeaking following the groan.

“Hamzah,” you hesitantly call out. You creeped forwards in the direction of his bedroom. The deep sounds followed by squeaking got louder as you neared his room. The door was ajar and you peeked through the crack. You almost let out a loud gasp at the sight before you, clapping your hands over your mouth to prevent any noise from escaping your lips. Hamzah was stretched out on his bed, head tilted back as he thrust his cock into his hand. You shot back from the door, face reddening. You felt embarrassed for staring so unabashedly at the dark-haired man in such an intimate situation. Even so, you felt a throbbing deep in your core and you knew that if you reached down to touch your panties beneath your dress, you would be soaking wet. Slowly, mentally slapping yourself, you peered through the crack in the door again. Hamzah’s head was tilted back in pure ecstasy, pretty lips spilling whines and groans as the bed squeaked with every thrust into his hand. You watched, panties growing wetter by the second, as he reached next to him and brought a piece of fabric up to his nose, inhaling deeply and letting out a heady whine. Your eyes widened as you recognized the slip of fabric as your favorite pair of panties. The pink ones with the white lace.

Your name spills from his lips, eyes rolling back into his head. Holy fuck. You sat on your knees, rolling your wet folds against the palm of your hand. You couldn’t believe the sight before your eyes. Your roommate—who you’ve had a crush on since moving in with him—was jerking off to you, your underwear pressed deeply into his nose. Hamzah’s hips stuttered, edging dangerously close to release.

“F-fuck, y/n,” he whimpered. “S-so good. So fucking pretty. G-gonna, gonna cum, shit.” At this desperate confession, a high-pitched whine escaped your parted lips and your eyes widened, clapping your hands over your mouth. Hamzah abruptly stopped his motions, whipping his head in the direction of the unprecedented sound. His glossy eyes met yours, fucked-out expression directly mirroring your own.

“S-shit,” he said breathlessly, stumbling out of bed and covering his erection with the sheets around his legs. You shot backwards from the door, tumbling directly into the wall. Hamzah fumbled to get pants on, and ran towards you, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Holy shit, y/n. I-I, um, I had no idea that you were home. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t do that. Not if I knew that you were here.”

You were still sat on the floor, pink blush fast-spreading across your cheeks. You felt a coy smile tickling your lips. “Were you—” you looked up at Hamzah, feeling a dangerous rush of confidence flood your mind, “Were you jerking off to me?”

Hamzah’s eyes widened impossibly large. “I–no. I mean…no,” he said. ��Definitely not.”

“Really,” you said seductively, rising up from your position and stepping closer to the trembling man. “Because…” you leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I swear I heard you say my name.” A deep red blush spread across Hamzah’s cheekbones and he swallowed audibly.

His voice lowered a decibel. “No,” he whispered. “No, I wasn’t.”

You smirked at how flustered you made him. “I didn’t take you for a liar, you know.” You pushed past the taller man into his room. The moment you enter, you felt your core throb, the smell of sweat and sex and and something purely Hamzah penetrating your nostrils. You made your way to his bed, sheets strewn carelessly, and picked up the pink underwear that had fallen to the floor in Hamzah’s rushed attempt at maintaining his dignity. You dangled the fabric from your extended pointer finger.

“So what are these then?” The panties sway from your finger, and Hamzah’s puppy-like eyes follow the cloth to and fro like a tennis match.

“I–,” he gulped. “I don’t know how those got there.”

You stepped toward him. “So you’re really just gonna play dumb with me then, huh?” You took careful step after careful step until you were inches away from the timid, trembling man. “You’re not dumb, Hamzah.” You reached up until his glossy eyes came face-to-face with your panties. “Take them.”

Hamzah’s dumbfounded expression stared back at your own. You shifted the fabric forward, directly into his big nose, and he shakily inhaled, eyes almost rolling back into his own head. “F-fuck,” he whimpered out. Swiftly, as if they were never there in the first place, you removed the outstretched panties from his prying nostrils. The look he gave you, as his eyes slowly opened, made your legs weak and your core throb. He looked as though he would give you the world, or anything you asked, as long as he could be face-to-face with that stupid piece of cloth again.

“Tell me what you want,” you asked, voice low and seductive.

“You,” he whispered, eyes darting from your own, to the wall, to the panties still clutched in your hand, and back to your own.

You smile at his bashfulness. “A little louder,” you said, feeling cocky. You reach up to push back his dark, messy curls from his sweaty forehead.

Hamzah’s dark eyes met your own and you melted. “You…I want you. I want you so fucking bad it hurts.” You felt your core tighten. Hamzah looked at you with glossy, pleading eyes. You looked down and noticed the erection still straining in his pants. You turn around and walk to his bed, sitting on the edge. You pat the soft bedding next to you.

“Come here.” Hamzah moved at the speed of light, by the time you blinked he was sitting down next to you, hands politely together in his lap. You lean over to straddle Hamzah’s thick thighs, dress riding up, the thin cloth of your panties doing nothing to stop you from feeling his erection pressing against your wet folds. You intertwine your hands behind his neck while he looks up at you with intense adoration and devotion. Your hands cup his cheeks.

“What do you want, baby?” you ask. You reach down, beneath the waistband of his gym shorts, and grasp his hard length. Hamzah’s parted red lips elicit a whiny gasp as his large hands firmly grasp your waist.

“I want–” he starts, barely able to string a sentence together as you begin to move your hand up and down his length. “I want to be inside you.”

You chuckled coyly, moving your hand faster. “And what makes you think you have the right to be inside me.” Groans and gasps tumbled from Hamzah’s wet lips. His head was tilted back, a purely fucked-out expression bedazzling his beautiful face.

“I just—,” he blissfully moaned out. “I just want to feel you.” His hands snaked up your dress, reaching up to grasp at your covered tits. His big hands connected with your sensitive nipples that were poking out through the fabric. A dirty, stupid idea shot into your head. You pull away from Hamzah, untangling yourself from his roaming hands. “W-what?” he said, confusion written all over his pretty face.

“I don’t know,” you respond. “I’m kinda pissed at you right now. Do you know how fucking gross it is to come home to your roommate touching himself to you? Desperately jerking off, my favorite fucking pair of panties in your grimy hands. You’re a disgusting little slut, aren’t you?” Hamzah’s covered cock visibly twitched in his gym shorts. He let out a heady whimper at your vile tone and words. “Oh…” you said, a dark and naughty gleam twinkling in your eyes. “Do you like that shit? Do you like it when I call you a stupid fucking whore?” Hamzah’s hips grinded against the air, desperate for any sort of friction against his aching cock.

“I think,” you say, reaching down to pick up the pink panties you had discarded to the side, “That I don’t want a disgusting slut like you to touch me, not with those filthy fucking hands of yours.” Using the elastic of your lacy panties, you tie Hamzah’s hands together behind his back. He whimpered at your touch, the light graze of your fingers shooting electricity down his spine and into his desperate member. Once Hamzah was fully tied up, unable to move his hands to touch your body, you flung your current pair of panties off and sat back on his lap again. You reached into his pants once more, pulling his weeping cock from within his shorts. You rubbed his erection up and down your wet folds, looking down to see the soaking, wet mess you were making of his cock. You line his tip up with your hole, sliding him into your wet cunt. The stretch was unbearably pleasurable and Hamzah let out an unfiltered groan.

“Shut up,” you told him, placing your hand over his mouth. “I don’t want to hear a fucking word from you.” You began bouncing up and down on his cock, whines and moans escaping your parted lips at the fulfilling sensation deep within your cunt. Hamzah looked completely pathetic beneath you, eyes filled with desperation as he clumsily attempted to thrust up into you. You grab onto his curls, yanking as his cock hits a particularly sensitive spot deep within your cunt. Hamzah lets out another whine at the tugging sensation. Immediately, you stop your motions and slap him across the face.

“I told you to shut up,” you said roughly, voice rattling with an emotion you had never thought could possess you: dominance. And you were enjoying it. You enjoyed seeing this tall, muscular man writhe beneath your smaller body, pathetically attempting to engage and make you feel good. An idea flitted through your head. You reached down to the floor and grabbed your discarded panties. Squeezing his cheeks together in your hands, you opened up his mouth and shoved your panties in, effectively gagging him. Hamzah let out a muffled groan at the feeling of the used cloth being shoved between his lips. Hips jerking into you now at a frenzied pace. The increased speed of his cock inside you felt like heaven, and you let out a high-pitched moan, collapsing into his shoulders. You rode his cock violently, Hamzah’s pathetic face reflecting your own shining pleasure. Hamzah’s hips began to stutter, his gagged moans becoming increasingly frequent as his eyes fluttered closed, and you knew he was close. You reached down to touch your clit, hoping to reach your climax at the same time. The combined pleasure of touching your clit and the sweet stretch of Hamzah’s cock hitting that delicious spot deep inside you made your head tip back in ecstasy. Hamzah’s eyes widened and you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

“Do you want to cum, baby?” you asked sweetly, rocking your hips softly against his. He nodded his head aggressively. Your walls fluttered around his cock, and Hamzah looked in pain, nose scrunched and eyes squeezed shut. You realized, as you continued to rock your hips, that he was waiting for your permission to cum.

“Oh,” you say sweetly. “You want my permission, hmm?” You giggle softly as Hamzah tries to talk, the soft fabric in his mouth preventing him from doing so. “You can cum, baby, I want you to.” At this admission, Hamzah’s face tightens and his hips stutter and begin to shake. The feeling of his cock twitching inside you, spurting cum against your tight walls, sent you over the edge. Hamzah’s chest was heaving as he watched you writhe on top of him, your pleasure furthering his own. You let out a high-pitched whine as you come down from your high. Hamzah’s eyes were wide, glossy, and pathetic as they met your own. You pulled the pair of panties out of his mouth and he sucked in a deep breath. You slid off his length and reached behind him, untying your panties from around his wrists. He let out a sigh as his hands became free, rubbing them together to recirculate the blood flow.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, suddenly feeling a deep sense of embarrassment. “I’m sorry! That was fucking crazy! I didn’t at all mean to take it that far.”

Hamzah looked up at you, a playful smile spreading across his face. “Are you kidding me? You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to do that with you.”

“Yeah! But…like that?” you respond. “I-I mean…I slapped you. I feel like I took it too far.” You move to leave the room, embarrassment bleeding all over your face in a deep red color. Hamzah reached you in an instant, arms wrapping around your waist from behind, head resting on your shoulder. He placed a sweet kiss on your neck.

“Trust me,” he said. “That was exactly what I wanted.”

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #hamzah x reader smut #hamzah x y/n #hamzah x you #hamzahfic #hamzahimagines #hamzahthefantastic x reader #slushynoobz #youtube

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