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angelwithdemonictendencies · 2 days ago

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my palms ran red turning over jagged rocks, thought i'd find some kind of sign; you pressed your mouth to my wound, weren't your bloody lips sign enough?

qh43 x reader: you really have to stop meeting like this.

(warnings: mostly plot, but also blasphemous filth (yes, we're back on the smut train), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), fingering, hair pulling (i haven't changed), choking (i really haven't changed), descriptions of self-doubt and shame and all my typical stuff. mostly tension building (10k words worth), general debauchery. please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: oh my god, favorites. i hadn't read this one in so long, so thank you for allowing me an avenue to rediscover it. i'm so happy you're getting to rediscover it now, too. if you want a song to listen to that i think goes with this story really well, give BONES! by girly teeth club a try :) i do genuinely believe that this story was a real turning point for me, and it holds a very special place in my heart because of that (i had the line then who was i praying to? well, who answered? taped to my computer for a long, long time. personal favorite of mine). i hope you enjoy this one again, and also hello to the followers and readers who have no idea what i'm talking about when i bitch and moan about my old account. i see you, and i love you, and i'm so eager to hear what you think. enjoy mechanic qh43 and all of the mythical divine powers that he inspires within me. to the seven people who care, more ol and rus coming momentarily. sunday is now my designated tumblr day, so if you want to chat, sunday is your best bet. i love you and your snakes! be kind to yourself).

like most all-consuming things, it started with something insignificant.

if your tail light had never gone out during the summer before your third year at university, perhaps none of it would have ever happened. part of you wanted to believe that some determined power would have guided the two of you together no matter what, but most of you thought the powers of the world to be nonchalant at best, hostile at worst.

regardless, your right tail light went out a few weeks before school started, and despite your intense unwillingness to spend money on your car, your mom insisted that you get it fixed.

"that family auto shop will do it quickly," she suggested, "the one a few streets down from school."

so here you were, standing uncomfortably in the lobby of the mechanic's, less than soothed by the harsh noises that echoed through the small garage.

you cleared your throat, attempting to get the attention of the teenage receptionist, probably the daughter or cousin of the owner, currently on her phone.

she looked up immediately, smiled wide, full of braces and friendliness. "sorry," she said, only a little guilty to be caught on her phone. "how can i help you?"

you smiled right back at her, immediately put at ease by her presence. "my mom called earlier," you said. you went to continue, but were enthusiastically cut off.

"miss tail light!" she exclaimed, to which you laughed and nodded. "have a seat," she urged, "quinn should be out in a minute, and that's a quick fix."

you nodded and sat down, then crossed your legs as you waited, bouncing one foot against your other calf. you looked at your hands, twisted one ring around your finger.

"you're the tail light?" a low voice called from the lobby entrance, forcing your gaze up from your hands to meet a pair of eyes that somehow swam with both steel and uncertainty.

this newcomer, quinn, supposedly, confirmed by the embroidered patch on his breast pocket, seemed to be immediately off-put by your matching gaze, as he shoved his wide hands in the pockets of his coveralls and blinked several times, a bit too fast.

his confusing mannerisms, combined with his curious combination of handsomeness and beauty, forced a small smile to your face as you stood up.

he really was pretty like you had never quite seen before, tall but not menacingly so, broad across the chest in a way that just looked warm, his coveralls hanging off of him, drawing attention to his frame, his thighs, his arms.

his hair was messy, curling only slightly at the tops of his ears, his cheekbones and jawline so, so sharp, but his nose and mouth softly curved.

you cleared your throat again when you realized you were probably staring.

"i suppose i am," you said, answering his question, approaching him and the door, by extension.

he gave a forced nod before turning to leave, urging a fluid reaction from the muscles in his neck and shoulders, which you pretended not to notice as you walked behind him.

in a choppy, sudden motion, he made to hold the door open for you, arm extended but gaze averted.

"thank you, quinn," you said, trying out his name, surprised to find how natural it felt on your tongue, something like a hymn a past-life you must have sang with unmatched conviction.

he seemed just as surprised as you, practically tripped over his own feet before quickly recovering. you bit your lip to stifle a laugh.

"should only take a second," he said as he crouched down next to your car, his voice a bit rougher than before, pulling a couple of tools and bulbs from his many pockets.

"take your time," you said, sitting down nearby as he got to work, and you meant it, feeling a somewhat shameful urge to just watch him. just look at him.

you fumbled to distract yourself, settling on looking interested in your phone. in reality, it took real effort to keep your eyes down, away from him, when you felt as if he emitted some kind of magnetic force suited only to you.

it felt like an eternity, but it took all of ten minutes, a couple swift motions, and he was done, rising again to his full height and turning to face you.

you allowed yourself to meet his eyes and it felt like a heaving exhale. "all done?" you asked, rising as well, willing brightness into your voice.

he nodded in affirmation, and you could have pouted. a man of few words, it seemed, and how you wished he would give you a few more.

he wiped his hands with a rag, and you refused to let your eyes follow the motion. "so i should pay..." you started.

he nodded towards the lobby. "you can pay with bean," he said, gruff.

you grinned right at him, and anyone else would have seen his gaze soften from stone to molten rock. "bean?" you asked.

the slightest smile took over his mouth. "my cousin," he said, slowly, "at reception."

you hummed, comforted by his sudden ease. "well then," you said, "i'll go check out with your cousin bean."

"i'll walk you," he blurted out, a blush coming to tint the tops of his ears in a positively dreamy sort of way.

so you walked the several steps back to the lobby together, the silence so comfortable you could have sighed, fallen asleep wrapped up in it.

already you felt some sense of loss creeping in, knowing you were probably never going to see him again, knowing this was all you were going to get. just a couple of glances and words and blushes, that's as far as this would go. and it made a lot of sense, but logical reason grew over your hazy, momentary crush like ivy on a brick building.

he held the door open for you again, and as you walked past him this time you looked up into his eyes. stone and steel and ivy.

you thanked him again.

"quinn?" came that delightfully girlish voice from behind the desk, this time intensely confused. "what are you doing?"

he stood in the door frame, his swallow almost cartoonish. "just making sure she checks out okay," he mumbled, not quite looking anyone in the face.

the girl smiled so wide, you could see she had chosen to make her braces purple last time she visited the orthodontist. "you've never done that before, is all," she observed with all the subtlety of a volcanic eruption.

was that pink tint creeping past his ears to his neck, now?

"do it plenty," he muttered, less than convincing and more to himself than anyone else.

the girl shot you a knowing look before turning to her cousin again. "if you say so," she relented. "miss tail light is in good hands with me, now, so you're all set, mr. random acts of kindness."

quinn muttered something under his breath before making to leave, embarrassment still flushing just under his collar.

the knowledge that this was it, this was all this would ever be, that's what made you reach a hand out to lightly grasp his forearm, stopping him where he stood.

you swore some kind of divine warmth rose to meet your hand.

he looked down at where your fingers met his arm before meeting your gaze. molten, yet again. he didn't move, didn't dare to scare off your touch.

"thank you again, quinn," you said, just to him.

a pause charged by meaning sparked between you both.

maybe some minuscule fraction of your heart feared he would push you away and roll his eyes, mumble something about personal space. or maybe that disgust would flood his lovely gaze, and he would say something much meaner.

you should never have touched him, you scolded yourself, stupid, desperate, foolish girl. you began to lift your hand away when his rough voice became a whisper, just for you.

"anything, doll," he said. and then he walked away, leaving his words to rattle around in your head like the whirring noises around the garage.

you paid, laughed playfully with the young receptionist as she insisted she had never seen her cousin so embarrassed, and especially not so bashful.

"i'm sure that's not true," you said, trying in vain to force your sky-rocketing hopes back to earth.

"oh, it is," she said as you made to leave, giving you a big smile and a wave as you bid her goodbye.

as you drove back home, those tendrils of reason crept back again, began to suffocate the dreamy romance that had settled like a glittery mist in your head.

you gave a single exhale, breathing out any unrealistic expectations. you'd probably never see him again, you admitted to yourself, and you tried to convince yourself that you were fine with it.

and so you let the image of steel and stone and ivy become a phantom in the back of your mind, along with the scorching solidity of his forearm underneath your delicate palm.

you'd never see him again, you believed.

in theory, you knew you could have had one of your friends find him on social media, it probably wouldn't have been too hard. a first name, an occupation, they'd tracked down fleeting flings and past crushes with much less information to go off of before.

but you didn't like the idea of interference, much preferred the way he looked in your memory to the fear that he would be someone very different online, that he would be someone different than the person that now existed exclusively in your head.

you were never supposed to see him again, and yet you did, and just as you had almost forgotten the way his shoulders moved when he walked, too.

three weeks later, just before you went back to school, you were eating dinner outside with your family at the country club they belonged to. you had been there maybe twice in the last couple of years, as your mom worked long hours and your dad only really used his membership for golf.

now, though, sitting outside, overlooking the course, in the pleasant air of the late summer, you were glad you were here, enjoying these last few moments with your family before you began your third year.

you were laughing at a joke your mom had made when you heard someone close by call out, "that's my marker, quinn!"

something distant fluttered in your stomach as you registered the name, tried so hard to not care if it was him or not. trying so, so hard to not care, but you cared so much it felt as if you might have willed him into existence yourself, wanted him enough that even the uninterested powers were forced to relent with a bored sigh.

so, in truth, you knew it was him even before you turned and focused on the hole just below the patio.

you knew it was him, and yet you were wholly unprepared for the way your head spun when you registered his familiar figure.

as if compelled by your gaze, or by something else worth worshipping, he turned, too, and there you were, staring at each other. did he recognize you the way you did him? the way you recognize your first lover's cologne? the way you recognize what's waiting behind a door with a scalding doorknob?

but then he took a hand off of his club and gave a timid wave, and you felt your body relax as you waved back. he paused for a moment as if in thought, then motioned towards him, silently asking you to come down.

"who is that?" your mother asked, not critical, only curious.

"my mechanic," you answered, "be right back, promise."

so, even though it was probably (definitely) against the rules, you made your way down to the impeccably cut grass, holding your shoes in one shaky hand.

you waved again as you approached him at the edge of the green, his friends gathered closer to the hole, talking animatedly amongst themselves.

he tilted his head and gave you a small smile, which gave you wings. a smile, and you hadn't even done anything!

"hi, quinn," you said, getting your first good look at him up close, and this time not in coveralls. this time in a polo that brought out his eyes and shorts that had you straining not to stare at his thighs.

"doll," he greeted, that ghost of a smile still on his full lips. "thought that was you."

heavy uncertainty suddenly settled between the both of you. what were you supposed to say? what was he supposed to say? what do you do with time that feels stolen?

"didn't think i'd see you again," you landed on, then physically cringed at yourself. "not that i was thinking about you, or anything," you added, then pursed your lips in a line.

awesome save.

he let out a laugh, though, and it shook his shoulders and lit up his face in a way that made it impossible to regret your rambling.

his laugh made him look human in a way he hadn't really, before, at the garage. it stripped back all the flowery expectations your imagination had buried him in and set him down here, in front of you, a real person.

a real person, who, in this summery light, was much more unabashed and generous with his smiles. his eyes had a softness to them that you hadn't noticed before.

"i wish you had, then," he said, in that deep, low, voice with a confidence that didn't quite suit him, like he was just trying it on.

it almost made you drop your shoes, regardless.

"yeah?" you asked, tilting your head and letting your satisfaction drench your face like sunset light.

he gave a little nod.

"c'mon, huggy!" one of his friends called. what do you do with time that feels stolen?

he looked back at them and his jaw clenched, for a second.

you knew you had to be the one to walk away, or it would haunt you like some ancestral debt.

"maybe i'll see you again, then, quinn," you said, your tone not conveying the desperate hope you felt.

he looked you up and down, amusement alight in his eyes. it seemed his nervous demeanor existed only in his coveralls. "you willing to take your chances on a 'maybe,' doll?"

were you?

you silently begged those distant forces to prove your hopes were not futile, but you didn't really believe that. you were headed to school in just two days, and who knows where he was headed, this mysterious mechanic who liked to golf and had eyes like a deity.

you knew you were on stolen time, and that this, again, was as far as this would ever go.

"we're going!" his friends called.

"i hope i see you again, quinn," you amended, already feeling a sense of loss again. but you had to be the one to walk away, so you began to.

his face was unreadable, some mixture of disappointment and interest and knowing.

"think about me some more this time, yeah? until you see me again?"

your smile glowed. "if 'm honest, quinn, that'll be hard," you said, thinking about how he had been a constant in your mind for the last couple of weeks. you leaned into your flirtatious side since you were both moving apart. it was always easiest when you were on the way out.

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "try extra hard for me, would you, doll?"

and for a moment, time seemed to ooze like amber. a blink felt like eternity, like you were both suspended in an hourglass.

"promise," you said. it came out like a whisper, but it felt like you screamed it across an open expanse.

and so you parted ways a second time, practically daring the universe to stop you from meeting again.

do whatever you want, universe, you seemed to say, i don't care! i'm fine with the story ending here!

oh, sweetheart, the universe seemed to say, yawning, barely looking at you, then why do you clutch at the book until your fingers bleed?

you could have scowled.

and, just as he wanted, and just as you were afraid of, he was there, in the back of your mind, for several weeks into the school year.

everything started smoothly. you were happy to see your friends again, to be living with them. classes started well. you went out when you wanted to. you began your regular job, tutoring other students in classes you had already taken. it was nice to see the students you had helped out last year, to continue helping them.

teachers referred you to help students who were struggling in their classes all the time, so it wasn't anything significant when one set up a time for you to meet at the library with someone who wasn't quite getting intro to calculus.

it was significant, however, when you opened up the reserved study room door to see quinn sitting at the table, textbooks out in front of him.

so significant, actually, that it genuinely scared you. "jesus," you muttered, exhaling and placing a calming hand over your heart.

he looked up when he heard the door open, and you were frozen in place.

this is what you wanted, right? the universe probably asked, bored. now will you leave me alone?

"i was not expecting you," you admitted, willing your heart back to beating normally.

you couldn't read him, yet again. and yet again, you felt as if you had wanted him hard enough that even the fibers of the universe were annoyed enough to comply.

ugh, they probably said to each other, just give that desperate fool what she wants! i'm tired of hearing her pleas!

but you could have sighed at how beautiful he looked, this time different again - sweatpants and a t-shirt and messy hair. soft looking and sleepy after a day of class and whatever else.

"yeah?" he asked, although he hadn't expected you either. he wasn't shocked the way you were, though. only pleasantness played across his full features. "who were you expecting?"

not you, you wanted to say. things just don't work out like this for me. "i didn't know you went here," you said, simply.

"i didn't know you were a tutor," he replied, leaning back in his chair.

i didn't know your smile gets lopsided when you're tired, you thought to yourself. you could never forget that, now.

"safe to say we know very little about each other, doll," he added, as if he could hear your thoughts.

and he was right - you hadn't asked him anything about himself the last two times you saw him, and he didn't know anything about you. how easy would it have been at the course to say you were going to the local university in a couple of days. why had you not?

why had you relinquished control so easily?

it practically pained you to think about that, just as it was practically painful to look at his face head on, eyes weary with sleep yet bright with amusement, so you decided to solve both of those problems.

"well," you said, sliding into the seat next to him at the table, excruciatingly aware of your closeness, "what do you know about derivatives?"

he gave a huff of a laugh. "probably even less," he said.

you gave him a smile and started to go over your notes with him. the more you spoke, and the deeper you got into the topic, the easier it was to be close to him.

you were still hyperaware of his warmth, his presence, his beauty, his being, but you could do this. getting lost in your purpose here instead of getting lost in him.

after about an hour of you explaining derivatives, you looking at your notes, and him looking at you, you shut your textbook.

"i think that's good for a first session, hm?" you asked, turning to face him and hugging one knee to your chest.

he held your gaze as if studying your face. it felt like being center stage, under a white hot spotlight.

he spread his legs out and reached his arms up, stretching after sitting in the same position for a while. you had to look down at your hands.

"five more minutes?" he asked like a kid begging for an extended bedtime. only now he was asking for more time with you.

you scrunched up your nose, which made him smile, a bit. "can i ask you a question, quinn?" you asked. "since we don't know anything about each other."

"only if i get one, too," he answered.

you thought carefully, flexed your hand on your knee as your gaze met his sleepy one. "it's not that late," you started, "why are you so tired?"

he laughed again, making your chest sing. "busy day," he answered, "had two classes, practice, and a lift."

and as he elaborated you added to the carefully protected vault in your mind of information you knew about him. he played hockey for the team here, he was a defensemen, he was always busy.

"my turn," he said after he was done, low like a secret.

you nodded, forced away the flush his tone alone was able to pull from you.

"did you keep your promise?" he asked.

of everything he could have said, you were least expecting that. of course you knew what promise he was referring to immediately. of course it felt like something abominable to tell him the truth.

suddenly the space between the two of you felt much too little, much too dangerous. so small that you could see each of his eyelashes, he could see the way your eyes dropped to his mouth for a second.

there was something in his eyes that surprised you, though. there was a trace of those nerves you had seen in him that first day - that instability and uncertainty. he wanted you to say yes, you realized. he wanted it so, so much.

"of course i did, quinn," you soothed, leaning forward onto your knee just a bit. it was always easiest on the way out. "did you have any doubts?"

did he let out a breath? his silence spoke for him. still, you had to be the one to walk away. you couldn't afford any more ghosts.

"same time next week?" you asked, gathering your things.

"not gonna leave it to chance this time, doll?" he asked, getting his things together too, but in a lazy sort of way. his hands moved slowly, reluctantly.

you tried not to stare at them.

you gave him a last look before you left.

"do you want to leave it to chance?" you asked, genuinely.

ugh, chance seemed to say, can't you just do it yourself?

his molten gaze dripped over you like honey. "no," he decided, "no, i wouldn't say that's at the top of my wishlist."

you didn't ask what was.

so, each tuesday night, you tutored him in calculus. and each tuesday night, you learned more about him, and he learned more about you.

you learned about how he got into auto mechanics (he never grew out of his childhood truck phase), why he liked golf (really just an excuse to talk with his friends for a couple of hours), what was so special about hockey (it felt like he could see things that others just couldn't). his favorite candy (sour skittles), his favorite color gatorade (red), his favorite t-shirt (a worn in concert shirt from high school).

but you also learned that he got shy when you complimented him, that he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek when he was about to say something that made you blush, that he got more confident as he got to know you.

his nerves only came out when he grew unsure, and you did your best to make him so, so sure.

and he did get to know you. how you got into your major (data analysis was the family business), why you applied yourself so vigorously in your classes (you didn't know any other way), all about your close friends and family. your favorite soda (cherry coke zero), your favorite frat (pike, only because a couple of your friends were dating brothers there, and they had the goofiest themes), your favorite snack (pretzel goldfish).

he was nothing if not observant, too, so he noticed that you had a special smile for when he got a question right, and that you only wore your hair up when you were extra tired, and that, towards the end of the session, when you were caught off guard, you would lean a little closer to him without realizing.

that was his favorite. when you would lean into his space, just a little more, as if you were pulled towards him by a magnetic force.

and each session, you made him a little more confident, and he made you blush a little bit more. until you both felt utterly comfortable with each other, like you had known each other for ages.

well, as comfortable as you could feel with a person who made you feel like every inch of your skin was on fire. as comfortable as you could feel with someone whose voice made your throat go dry, whose hands made you stutter, whose mannerisms made your stomach flutter.

one tuesday night, late into a session where he had told you he had passed his quiz with flying colors, he twisted his pen in his hand.

"you know, doll," he started, "you should come to a game sometime."

you looked up. "one of your games?" you asked, searching his steely eyes for meaning.

his lip quirked. "yes, one of my games."

here, he might as well have said, have a little more of me.

"unless you don't want to," he added to your silence. "which would also be fine. i don't want to force-"

you stopped him with a hand on his forearm, transporting you both back to that first day. did you imagine him relaxing into your touch, this time?

"i'd love to come," you said, looking him square in the face.

"good," he replied, content.

but nothing could have prepared you for what awaited you that friday night, standing with your friends in the student section of the rink you had never been to.

"how have we never been to a hockey game?" one of them asked, looking around at the crowd.

"basketball's just better," another said, although, to be fair, she was on the club basketball team. "what the hell is icing, anyways?"

"we never had a reason to, i guess," your best friend said in a teasing tone. you shot her a look, to which she raised her hands in surrender. "hey, no judgement," she said, and you laughed.

as soon as quinn was on the ice, though, he had your complete and undivided attention. he skated with a mesmerizing fluidity, hit with a concrete, undeniable kind of force. and he was right - he did see things no one else could see, made connections that you, nor anyone on the ice, could predict until they were already completed.

he was all over the ice, all over this space, he was everywhere. and you were transfixed.

walking back to the house with your friends, they noticed. of course they did.

"oh god, i know that look," one said.

"this is gonna be trouble," another added. was this trouble? was trouble when everything someone did felt like some great treasure you had discovered? was trouble this kind of fire, of comfort, of excitement, of rest?

you shook your head. "calm down, guys," you said. "it's not that serious."

"right," someone said. you didn't believe yourself, either.

"what did you think of the game?" he asked the following tuesday after you had covered enough material to be satisfied.

you were so close to him now, it probably would have been easier to just share a chair. so close you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, could all but feel his chest against your back.

"what did i think of the game?" you repeated lazily.

you could hear his smile in his voice. "yes, doll."

you hummed. how honest could you be, here? what could you get away with?

and maybe it was your closeness to him that made you bold. maybe it was the heat you saw in his eyes that had you leaning your head on his shoulder and looking up at him. you felt his breath rumble through him and into you.

the air sparked.

"thought you were incredible, quinn," you said honestly. "like nothing i've ever seen."

his exhale was shaky as he peered down at you. "yeah?" he asked.

"mhm," you hummed, your body buzzing with his contact, the most you had ever had. something unspoken settled between you like dust.

"you would come again, then?" he asked, hopeful but drowsy.

you couldn't help but smile, a bit, gaze up at him through your lashes. "think i'd have a hard time saying no to you, if 'm honest."

something like wonder misted across his heated gaze. "i like knowing you're there," he said. "like knowing you're thinking about me."

dangerous desire swirled around the two of you, melting your gaze and blurring the lines.

things don't work out like this for you, a voice said, bitter and mocking, drawing the lines up again, sturdy and menacing.

you cleared your throat, lifted your head from his shoulder. if you could look at him, you would have seen that uncertainty swimming in his eyes again, along with something like hurt.

but you couldn't look at him. at the drowsy slouch of his shoulders, the rugged line of his jaw, the glossy want that practically dripped down his face like starry tears.

i'm always thinking about you, you wanted to tell him. i'm sorry.

but you gathered your things, stood up. "i should go."

he was silent for a moment, looked you up and down, gave a small sigh. "okay, doll," he conceded. "on one condition."

you scrunched up your nose in confusion.

"you agree to come golfing with me tomorrow," he said in a completely satisfied tone. "then, you can go."

a million excuses flooded onto your tongue.

"i'm busy tomorrow," you tried, your voice coming out tight.

he waved that off lazily. "me too," he said, something like a smirk growing on his pink lips. "but we're both free at four, so let's plan on that. next?"

you sputtered.

"but i don't know how to golf," you tried.

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. trouble.

"don't worry, doll," he offered. "i'll go real slow for you."

you flushed, almost walked into the doorframe, quickly decided you needed to leave immediately, if you wanted to maintain any level of mystery or dignity.

"fine," you said, already on your way out. it felt like flames were nipping at your heels, biting at your nose. "i'll come."

his smirk deepened, a different look on him. "don't put up much of a fight, do you, doll?"

"i'm leaving," you choked as you walked out, turning to face him one final time. "what if i just didn't want to come?"

he seemed to ponder this for a moment. "i think," he started, "if you really didn't want to come, it wouldn't make you blush like this to say so."

he didn't ask you to think about him, but by the look on his face, you knew he could tell he didn't have to.

so, the following day, you found yourself on the course with quinn.

a terrible, terrible idea, really.

especially considering the want that filled his gaze when he first saw you, catching on your legs before returning up to your eyes.

"showed up for me, did you, doll?" he asked, a hope you recognized tinting his voice a shimmery pink.

you rolled your eyes, but smiled. "you knew i would."

"thank you anyways," he replied, and his genuineness, his honesty, his straightforwardness, it all made you melt. made you want to know what his smile felt like against your neck, what his hands felt like in your hair.

so, as you both made to tee off, you turned to him. "can you help me with my swing, please?"

his gaze softened. liquid steel. "sure, doll," he said, then lined up next to you and explained his way through it.

you bit your lip. "i'm a hands on learner," you said, which was a lie. "i think i need you closer." that part wasn't.

he didn't adopt a cocky smirk, like so many would have. he didn't lean into your act, didn't pounce on the opportunity to show his superiority. he only approached you from behind and reached his arms around you to grip your driver with you, his hands on top of yours, warm and rough.

you could feel each breath he took in your back, felt the solid plane of his chest on your shoulder blades.

"close enough?" he all but whispered into the space between your neck and your shoulder.

something sinful must have possessed you then. "for now," you breathed out.

he went through a swing with you, slow and fluid. you weren't paying attention, not really, but how could you, when he was just so, so close? was this dazed sensation, was that what he felt when you touched him, that first day? or later, in your study room?

but, of course, the swing was soon over, and he reluctantly retreated off to the side.

"your turn, doll," he said.

you took a breath to shake the phantom of his embrace away, then teed off - beautifully straight and hard, arcing through the air like a physics textbook problem.

you looked at him to find a knowing, teasing look on his face. he ran a hand through his hair, displacing the curling ends as he gave a quick laugh.

you smiled. "call me a natural," you offered, shrugging.

"oh yeah?" he said, tilting his head. "how about i call you a liar?"

you leaned forward onto the end of your driver, grin widening. "how about i call you gullible?"

he shook his head, let out a playful scoff. "like you'd ever have to trick me into touching you."

the rest of the round went by quickly, both of your guards down, lost in conversation and high on each other. too soon, it was over.

it was this realization that urged you to act uncharacteristically - in that, you acted according to what you truly felt.

"can i see you tomorrow?" you asked him as he loaded your clubs into the trunk of your car. you didn't cringe as much as you would have a few weeks ago.

he wiped his hands on his shorts, looked at you with something that looked like relief. "think i'd have a hard time saying no to you," he parroted. his ability to remember things about you warmed you from the inside out.

"meet me at the sig nu party tomorrow?" you asked hopefully. "maybe you can meet some of my friends?"

he looked truly touched. "some of the guys are going already since we don't have a morning lift on friday," he said, "so you could meet some of them, too, if you want."

you nodded, flushed with expectation. "see you then," you said, making to get in your car. "and yes, i'll think about you."

his smile as you shut your door was something of dreams.

sigma nu was not one of your favorite frats. their basement was especially dirty looking, their brothers were on the sketchier side, and the never seemed to have enough alcohol to make it through the night.

but one of your friends was talking to one of the brothers, who also played club basketball. so you and the rest of your group were going for moral support. and also because no one else was throwing. it was only a thursday.

you were nervous. you had only just begun to accept that you were really, really into quinn, and you had only just begun to accept that he might, possibly, probably, be just as into you.

it still didn't make much logical sense to you. when had it ever been so simple?

don't talk about logical sense around me, chance would say, that bitch knows what she did.

when you first saw quinn across the crowded room, chance and logical sense and all those divine powers, they all melted away.

it was just him. his hair was messy and his gaze was relaxed and the lights made it look like his face was glowing as he laughed with his friends.

but the crowd got the better of you, for a little while. you danced with your friends, politely escaped several "so, what's your major?" conversations, and actually spent a while talking to your friend's new talking stage.

as you laughed at something, you were internally surprised. this guy seemed perfect for your friend - they shared so many interests, and he was able to laugh at himself easily, which was something that was at the top of her priority list.

after a while of learning enough about him to approve of him graduating from the talking stage, you looked up. of course your gaze was immediately drawn to quinn, closer than you had seen him last.

closer, and yet farther than he had ever been, because he was leaning against the wall, talking to another girl.

you couldn't really see the girl, but it wouldn't have really mattered. it wasn't about her. she was just a girl talking to a guy at a party. a guy who was, in all technical senses, single and available.

it was more so about him, and how close he was to her, how he leaned down to hear her, meaning she could probably smell his all-but-worn-off cologne.

your grip tightened on your red cup as you swallowed.

before, quinn had only ever been yours, because even when you doubted that he could ever return your feelings, he had never given you concrete evidence that he was interested in anyone else. so even though he hadn't been yours, he had been almost yours, probably going to be yours, or something like that.

but here he was, giving you concrete proof that he existed to others, too, that other people could be interested in him and he could be interested back.

and of course that had always been the case. how could you have been so narcissistic? of course people would foster crushes on him, like you did, and of course he was bound to reciprocate eventually, to someone.

you had let yourself believe that you were the center of the world for a moment, of his world, and you hated that.

so, honestly, it was barely even about quinn. this struggle, this was about you.

but if you stripped back everything external, oh, how downright jealous you felt right then.

so jealous that you had to leave, that you couldn't watch anymore. when you got home, you shut the door and exhaled.

what did i tell you? that bitter voice said, things just don't work out that way for you.

you could have growled, now, at how lazy, how self-centered that sounded.

don't look at me, chance would have said, hands raised in surrender, this was all you.

he was just talking to another girl, logical reason would say, that doesn't mean he's not interested in you. you have what, a couple months of history?

and of course reason would be right. of course, you knew, deep down, you didn't have to let this consume you.

but now a tendril of doubt had woven its way into your heart. if you had been so misled by your own ego before, how could you tell if any of it was real? how could you trust yourself to know if this wasn't much more to you than it was to him?

time. you needed some time.

thankfully, that was doable. you went home for break on friday after class, and planned to stay there for the week.

so you stayed home, caught up with your parents, ignored his numerous texts.

it hurt to do so, but you told yourself you needed some distance.

which wasn't that hard, considering he was playing a series of games across the country. you still put on his games though, which your parents noticed.

"didn't even know we got this channel," you dad observed one night as you watched quinn stickhandle around a sloppy winger.

"when did you get into hockey?" you mom asked, never critical. "we could go see a game sometime, if you want."

you started to settle down a bit, really enjoyed the time at home. before you knew it, though, break was almost over.

"sweetheart," you mom called to you on your second to last day, "would you mind taking the car in?"

you were skeptical. "why?"

"they just called," she explained, "said we're due for an urgent oil change."

you thought it was weird that they would call for that, but quinn was supposedly still away, so you figured it wouldn't be that much of an issue.

"sure," you responded. "i'll bring it in now."

you knew it was a trap as soon as you opened your car door at the garage.

the young receptionist approached you quickly with a guilty smile.

"hi, miss bean," you said, trying to gauge what she was about to say.

"look," she rushed, "i didn't want to, and i'm thought the plan was stupid, and i'm sure you're ignoring him for good reason-"

you sighed, knowing what was coming. having walked right into it. "i'm not, really," you stopped her, then felt the need to clarify. "it's not really a good reason."

"what is it, then?" that low voice asked from your side, and everyone else disappeared.

just him, standing there, looking the same as you had last seen him, but so, so different.

the same, because he was just as lovely as you last recalled. was it insensitive to say that he wore his weariness beautifully?

so different, because he just looked so tired. his coveralls did little to hide the slight slouch in his shoulders. a subtle stubble now shadowed his face, making his jaw sharper. and his eyes. that steely stone that had occupied your mind all this time - it was cracking, desperate for something to hang on to.

"just needed some distance," you mustered. you were jarred by his appearance, by being close to him again, just the two of you.

"yeah?" he looked you up and down, that desperate disappointment now running down your figure. there was no malice in his tone. "why, doll? so you can say you were right?" you could have hissed. "so you can go on knowing everything went exactly as you told yourself it would?"

things like this don't work out for you. who had been telling you that, again?

you sucked on your teeth, had no idea what to say. what do you say to someone that sees right through you? the pause settled like sludge. "i thought you were away," you eventually whispered, ignoring his question.

he ran a hand through his hair, let all his grief flood into his eyes. "and i thought it would be a lot harder for you to forget me," he said, "so i guess we're both at a loss."

you took a step forward, then stopped yourself, almost dizzy. "you actually think i would forget you?" you breathed, practically choking on your words.

he scoffed. "what was i supposed to think?" he rubbed his palm against the back of his neck. "i think everything is going well when you ask me to come to this party, then you spend the whole time talking to some other guy-"

your brow furrowed before you understood. "my friend's new boyfriend," you interrupted. to his confusion, you clarified. "i was talking to my friend's boyfriend."

he blinked, registered this information, appeared a bit lighter. "regardless," he sighed, "you were supposed to be talking to me, doll."

"hold on," you said, the memory of jealousy seeping into your bloodstream, "you were talking to someone else, too, quinn." you crossed your arms, images flashing in your mind of him leaning down, his ear much too close to her lips. "and i don't think that was your friend's girlfriend, unless they're trying out an open relationship."

"i just-" he gave a frustrated gesture, looked down at his feet for a moment.

"you what?" you pressed.

he sighed, now flushed. "i just wanted you to look at me."

you both were silent for a beat as you processed his words. you exhaled, took a few steps until you were right in front of him. his eyes flickered down to your mouth, took the long way back up.

you took his face in your hands, his stubble rough under your palms. you knew you didn't imagine the way he softened into you touch.

"surely by now you know you're all i think about," you said, an offering. like some sacrifice at a long-abandoned altar, so terribly desperate, shamefully honest.

so terrible, the way he grabbed at your hip, pulled you forward, against him. so desperate, the way his other hand twisted into your hair.

so shameful, how he captured your lips with his, all brute emotion, sleepy resignation, a million pleas of "look at me" answered with "i never looked away."

so honest, how he just barely whimpered into your mouth when you tightened your grasp on his jaw, kissed him harder. he pulled so slightly on your hair, you slid a hand down to his chest, gathered the collar of his coveralls in your first, trying to get him impossibly closer.

here, you both were practically screaming, here, have some more of me.

someone whistled across the garage. you pulled away from each other with a jump, having gotten a little carried away. quinn flushed on the tips of his ears and shot the culprit a look, which made you let out a light laugh into his chest.

the little rumble made him look down at you, wrap his arms around your waist and clasp them on the small of your back.

you stayed like that for a moment, just looking at each other. stone, molten.

"i have this thing next week," he said eventually, barely anything more than a rasp. "a formal for the team."

you nodded, reached up, twisted a strand of his hair around your finger.

"come with me," he asked, soft. "please."

you didn't have to think about it. "yes."

and so, about a week later, you found yourself at the hockey formal, an event you hadn't known existed a couple of months ago.

the past week had been blissful, but frustrating - you both were so busy, you with schoolwork and tutoring, him with the team. so much so that you could barely see each other outside of your scheduled tutoring session.

needless to say, you were very much looking forward to a weekend away with him. a whole night, just for the two of you.

and the whole night was wonderful. you were introduced to his teammates, saw a new side of him, heard his laugh so many times it made your head spin.

it was all just so easy. even the mess ups, the uncertainty, the silences, those were easy too, because they were with him.

when he stuttered over telling you how beautiful you looked - easy.

when you didn't know how to introduce yourself to his friends, so you just said you were "quinn's..." and then faded out, unsure - that was easy, because you weren't even really lying. your laugh was instinctual, and everyone else's was, too.

when he asked you to dance, reaching his hand out to you, there had never been an easier yes.

you danced with all the beautiful awkwardness of two people who weren't quite sure what they were yet - weren't quite sure how far they could go. there was not a question of how you both felt, but how slow were you taking this?

how slow could you bear?

every touch felt electric, like a gentle flame ignited whereever his hands had been. you felt a shiver erupt when his hand grasped your waist as you both moved together to a simple rhythm.

so up close and personal, you could smell his worn cologne, feel the warmth from his chest.

he gave you a sly smile, something close to a smirk. "okay, doll?"

you bit your lip, peered up at him through your lashes. "you just look so lovely, quinn," you told him, squeezed his hand, gave him a flushed smile. "it's distracting."

he pulled you a little closer, so that your chests were almost touching as you moved across the floor. "yeah?" he asked, his smile lazy, almost shy. "love a suit, do you?"

you tilted your head, met his gaze entirely and absolutely. oh, how much, how deeply you wanted. hadn't your want seemed to fray the fibers of the universe before?

babe, they seemed to remind you, we never cared.

then who was i praying to? you could have asked.

and they would have only shared a look, laughed like two girls at a sleepover.

well, who answered? they would have responded.

what you did do is give a slight shake of your head. "not the suit," you said. "you're distracting."

you watched his eyes become hooded, felt the underlying heat ignite between you. his grip on your waist tightened. "careful, doll," he breathed out, a warning, a plea.

"don't wanna be," you replied. there was a moment of understanding, a pause of anticipation.

"how slow do you want to take this?" almost drowsy with desire, his voice was slow, rough, only for you. "you know i'd go so slow for you, right, doll?"

you nodded. "i know," you assured him, "but i don't want you to."

you thought you heard him mutter a fuck before he was pulling you from the floor, out of the elaborate event room, upstairs to your room at the hotel. everything was a blur as his hand clasped around yours. a desperate escape, fleeing from everything, everyone except him.

and then the door was shutting and he was pushing you up against it, a hand on your hip and the other on your jaw as his lips met yours in a heated kiss that was every bit as desperate, as longing, and terrible and horrible and shameful as the first one.

you were both too far gone to hold back any longer.

you tangled your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, felt the curls between your fingers.

he tasted like mint and salt and something earthy.

kissing him felt like barbed wire made of gold, flowery rust, somehow the most violent act you had ever committed, yet also the most gentle.

like removing your heart with a cookie cutter, offering it to him on a painted porcelain plate.

you moaned into his mouth, he hissed just a bit as you pulled at his hair.

he pushed his hips up against yours, hiked your leg up around his thigh, making you gasp at the hardness you found across his front.

"more," you murmured against his lips, felt his sly smirk grow against yours.

he moved his hand from your hip to slide up your dress, glide his fingertips along your inner thigh, just barely skirt across your folds. "like this, doll? so wet for me already," he asked, his voice gravelly. "this must be enough then, yeah?"

you shook your head, moved your hips to try to get some friction.

"no?" he said, obviously teasing, "greedy girl, hm? wants even more?" he brought his other hand to your mouth, pressed his thumb against your bottom lip, smirked when you closed your lips around him without a second thought. "what do you say?"

"please," you whined around his hand, in a voice you barely recognized. "please, quinn."

he answered you by dragging his fingers through your folds once before pushing two into you, slow and deep, making you arch your back up off of the door.

"fuck, so tight," he rasped.

you whimpered against his thumb, closed your eyes as you felt his hand move from your mouth to your throat.

"open up, doll," he demanded. "look at me."

you obliged with effort, wrapped an arm around his neck for support, another one bracing the door as he increased his pace, pushing his fingers in and out of you, grazing your clit each time.

your nails dug into his neck as you lost yourself in the sensation, barely registering the way he groaned at the delicious shot of pain.

"this enough, doll?" he cooed, annoyingly smug at how audibly wet you were.

you vigorously shook your head, so desperate to get him to keep going. "no," you pleaded, "fuck, please, quinn, don't stop."

he tightened his hand around your throat just a little, only barely squeezing as he flattened his other palm against your clit, making you moan loudly. "must be ready for me then, yeah?"

you fisted his dress shirt in your hand, pushed yourself off of the door and pulled him onto the bed. "please, need more of you," you begged, nothing more than a prayer, "fuck, want you so bad."

something lovely flooded his gaze as he moved his clothes aside, pulled himself out as you further hiked up your dress.

he spat into his hand, pumped himself up and down in a way that made your mouth water.

you were practically pouting. "please, fuck me, quinn," you said, pathetic and just so fine with it, "'s all i've been thinking about."

and you knew you had said something magical when he groaned and tugged you towards him by the undersides of your thighs, his grip hot and rough, a working man's grip.

"shit," he hissed as he ran his cock up and down your folds once, twice, collecting your wetness there, "'d never say no to you."

you whined when he first pushed into you, so, so deep that you swore you could feel him in the palms of your hands, feel him rattling around in your teeth, behind your eyes.

he moaned like a sinner, clutched at the flesh of your hips so tightly you knew his fingerprints would be left behind later.

as he began to thrust in and out of you, his rhythm hard and even, both of you could barely form words, so lost in the feeling of each other, finally as physically close as you could be.

"fuck," he bit out eventually, his rhythm picking up speed, "so tight, doll. so wet for me, hm?"

you nodded, clenched around him, reached one of your hands forward to rub at your clit, increasing the pressure quickly building inside of you.

he choked out a grunt at the sight of you touching yourself, only making you squeeze him harder. "feels so good, quinn," you whined, "so deep inside me."

he moved one hand up to your calf, hoisted one of your legs up to change his angle, thrusted down into you in a way that hit a dizzying spot inside of you. he kept going, bringing you both closer every minute.

"shit, feel so perfect," he bit out at some point. "made for me, hm?" he asked as you rubbed your clit faster. "squeezing me so perfect, yeah?"

you hummed something like affirmation, your breathing becoming ragged as he hit that spot over and over, his chest rising and falling, his thrusts becoming broken and messy.

"fuck, quinn," you moaned, "fuck, 'm so close."

he groaned. "gonna cum for me, doll?" he asked, letting your calf rest on his shoulder as his hand travelled down to apply only the slightest pressure to your lower stomach.

the sensation, that unique pressure making you feel him impossibly deeper, sent you soaring right to the edge.

"feel you squeezing me," he breathed out, his own voice tight and rough, his chest and stomach flexing as he fought off his own orgasm. "cum for me, doll, yeah? wanna feel you cum on my cock." he squinted with effort. "be good for me, hm?"

and his words sent you spiraling, a wave of pleasure finally crashing, clenching and spasming around him in a way that triggered his own high.

he moaned as he came, his breathing labored as you both collapsed back onto the hotel bed.

effort and satisfaction glowed on your faces, realized desire settling along his cheekbones and on the cupid's bow of your mouth.

there were several moments of easy silence in the warm air, his hand throw lazily around your middle, one of yours resting on his chest.

"can i ask you for something?" you said eventually, looking up at him with tired eyes full of possibility.

"anything, doll," he said, and you remembered back to that first day, in the garage. how easy it was, now, to remember it fondly.

"can i have a kiss, please?" you asked, almost shy, more so gentle.

a smile already played across his mouth. "especially that," he said, eager to comply with your request.

he leaned down to press a fluttering, beautiful kiss to your lips.

well i definitely didn't see this coming, chance stage-whispered to logical reason behind her hand.

i don't really deal with this lovey-dovey kind of stuff, logical reason said, not my thing.

all the divine powers and the fibers of the universe and such, they were silent. perhaps they always had been. perhaps this was much too far out of their jurisdiction.

perhaps it was just none of their business.

fin.

#hockey #nhl #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey smut #nhl smut #jack hughes #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes smut #vancouver canucks

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ha-rinrin · 2 days ago

Text

The Metal Touch

summary: What begins as intrigue and banter with Jinx quickly turns into something deeper—a mix of fire and vulnerability as her metal touch becomes both comfort and thrill.

Pairing: Jinx x Fem!reader

Wordcount: 6.5k

Authors note: I don't I really feel like I gave her finger justice but oh well, I tried. more fics are on the way guys I just cant stop writing with the new amazing content of season two 😭 also I didn't proof read 3 times, thats what I usually do, so if its bad thats why.

masterlist

The dimly lit workshop buzzed quietly with the sound of metal grinding against metal. Jinx tinkered with her mechanical finger, her expression an intense blend of fascination and frustration. Every so often, she muttered something under her breath, adjusting a bolt or tightening a screw, her usual bravado toned down by the meticulousness of her task.

“Almost got it,” she mumbled, her fingers moving with surprising finesse over the intricate mechanisms. Sparks flickered, and you instinctively reached out to brush them away from her, grinning when she looked up with a smirk.

“Afraid I’ll break, toots?” she teased, her eyes glinting with that familiar, playful gleam.

“Not afraid—just making sure my girlfriend stays in one piece,” you reply, nudging her shoulder. “Besides, not everyone has a cybernetic finger to work with.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. “Come on, where’s your faith?” she quipped, giving her finger one last twist and holding it up for a test. She flexed it, and to your relief, it worked without a hitch. “See? Perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, for now,” you teased, reaching out to take her hand in yours, feeling the cool metal of her finger against your skin. She didn’t pull away, her gaze softening as you laced your fingers together, careful of the mechanics but not the least bit shy.

She grinned, standing up from her chair and tugging you closer by the hand until your faces were inches apart. “Guess I should thank my pretty assistant, then,” she murmured, her voice low, as her free hand reached up to cup your face.

Your cheeks warmed under her touch, and before you could come up with a clever reply, she closed the gap, kissing you softly yet confidently, Her lips curled into a smile against yours. Your hands found their way to her waist, holding her close

“You make this stuff look easy, you know?” you whispered when you pulled back, catching your breath.

Jinx shrugged, as if it was nothing, but the way she held onto you said otherwise. "I don’t know, you make it easier.”

She kissed you again, and as the machines hummed around you, it felt like, for a moment, the whole world was just the two of you, tucked away in the quiet workshop, right where you belonged.

The workshop seemed to shrink, leaving just the two of you in the dim light and soft whirring of machines. Jinx’s lips brushed yours again, but this time, there was a fierceness that hadn’t been there before—a sense of urgency you felt all the way down to your toes. Her hand, warm and steady, slid to the small of your back, drawing you in closer as the kiss deepened. It was full of all the unsaid words she rarely let show.

You felt her smirk against your lips, her metal finger tracing along your jawline as her other hand tugged you even closer, leaving no space between you. Your heart pounded, and every nerve seemed to come alive under her touch. She broke the kiss only long enough to catch her breath, her gaze dark and heated as she looked at you, her purple eyes blazing in the dim light.

“See? I’m not all that dangerous,” she murmured, her voice low and breathy as her lips found your neck, leaving a trail of heat with every kiss. Her mechanical finger traced up your side, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and you couldn’t help but tilt your head, giving her more access as her lips and teeth made quick work of your senses.

You tightened your grip around her, pulling her impossibly closer, losing yourself in the warmth and intensity of her embrace. Her breath was warm against your skin as her hands roamed with an expertise that had you forgetting everything else, her laughter soft and thrilling as she felt your heart racing against hers.

Jinx’s kisses intensified, her lips pressing hungrily against your skin, making your pulse skyrocket. Her metal finger traced down your spine, the coolness a sharp contrast to her warmth, igniting shivers along your skin. Every graze of her mechanic middle finger was electrifying, a reminder of both her strength and the tenderness she only shared with you.

She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her breathing heavy, her gaze intense. “You don’t mind a little metal, do you?” she teased, a wicked grin flashing across her lips as she lifted her metal finger to gently hold your chin, her thumb brushing over your lips.

You barely had a moment to shake your head before she kissed you again, deeper this time, her mechanical finger trailing up and down your side, their cool touch making you tremble.

It was as if she knew exactly how much pressure to apply, a calculated intensity that left you breathless. Her hand moved from your chin to your shoulder, holding you firmly in place as her other hand slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt, exploring with a confidence that made your knees weak.

“Feels different, doesn’t it?” she murmured against your lips, her metal finger pressing into your skin, creating a contrast that drove you wild. She leaned in, her mouth brushing your ear as she whispered, “Bet no one else could make you feel like this.”

You couldn’t form a coherent response, too caught up in the heat of her touch and the rhythm of her breathing. She chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as she pressed you back against the workbench, her metal hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, keeping you firmly in place as she kissed you again, her lips urgent and unapologetic.

“See?” she whispered, her voice a low growl. “Told you I wasn’t dangerous… unless you like it that way.”

Her words sent a thrill down your spine, and you gripped her tighter, pulling her close as your lips met hers again in a kiss that was as wild and intense, just as she was, both of you losing yourselves to the heady mix of passion and abandon in the quiet of the workshop, with only the flicker of lights and hum of machinery as witness to the fire between you.

The intensity between you built, filling the workshop with a charged silence that only quickened breaths and the hum of machinery could break. Jinx’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, her touch both familiar and thrilling, and she paused, her eyes meeting yours with a spark of mischief.

“Mind if I make things a little… warmer?” she asked, her lips curving into that wicked smile she wore so well. Her hands, both warm flesh and cool metal, gripped the fabric and, without waiting for your answer, began lifting it. You raised your arms as a sign of permission, letting her pull it off in one smooth motion, and she tossed it aside, her gaze sweeping over you with an unmistakable glint of admiration.

She bit her lip as her fingers trailed over your bare skin, her metal fingertip cold but thrilling as it traced along your collarbone. “Didn’t think I’d get this lucky in the middle of a tune-up,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving you as her other hand went to her own shirt, tugging it over her head with practiced ease. You felt your cheeks heat up, unable to hide your appreciation as her shirt joined yours in a messy pile on the floor.

Before you could catch your breath, she pressed against you, her bare skin warm and firm against yours, her lips finding yours again with a hunger that made your pulse race. Her metal finger found your waist, the sensation sharp and grounding, while her other hand cupped your face, guiding you deeper into the kiss, her mouth capturing yours with a fierceness that felt like it was made for you alone.

You slipped your arms along her sides, savoring her closeness as her breaths mingled with yours, her laughter soft and thrilling. Jinx’s lips moved to your neck, pressing heated kisses along your skin as her fingers traced patterns down your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Still sure you’re up for this?” she teased against your ear, her voice barely more than a whisper, filled with both daring and tenderness, her hands roaming, claiming every inch of skin as if she could never get enough.

“Absolutely,” you whispered back, pulling her in closer as the world outside faded to nothing but the heat between you. And in that moment, there was only the two of you, tangled together in the dim light, lost in each other’s touch and the thrill of being exactly where you wanted to be—right there, in her arms.

Jinx’s fingers explored every inch of your skin with a blend of precision and intensity that sent a shiver through you. Her metal hand rested at your waist, the coolness making each touch more vivid, a thrilling contrast against her warmth. Her other hand traced a line up your spine, pulling you closer until you could feel her heartbeat, fast and strong, mirroring your own.

She leaned in, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to fuck you with my new upgrade.” Her lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of soft, heated kisses that made you melt under her touch. Her metal hand tightened on your waist, steadying you as your knees went weak, her gaze holding you captive as she grinned, clearly enjoying the effect she had on you.

You slipped your arms around her, fingers tracing the lines of her back, her muscles tensing under your touch. Her mouth returned to yours, this time fiercer, more urgent, as if she was pouring everything she felt into that one kiss. You matched her intensity, letting her press you back against the workbench, your bodies moving together in a perfect rhythm.

Jinx’s metal hand slid up to your side, the cold touch sending a thrill through you, grounding you in the moment even as her other hand moved with care and confidence exploring your breasts. She deepened the kiss, her lips hot against yours, her fingers now tangling in your hair as she held you close. Every touch, every brush of her skin with yours left you breathless and wanting more.

“Guess you’re not so afraid of a little metal after all,” she murmured with a grin, her eyes dark with something deeper, her voice thick with desire.

“Not when it’s you,” you replied, barely able to keep your voice steady, drawing her back to you as the two of you lost yourselves in the electric pull between you.

Jinx’s hands, both flesh and metal, continued their exploration, her fingers tracing patterns that left your skin tingling. Her smile held a daring glint as her hands dipped to your hips, fingers hooking onto the waistband of your jeans. She met your gaze, a mischievous question in her eyes, and when you nodded, she didn’t hesitate.

Slowly, she slid your jeans down, her hands gliding over your thighs as she dropped the fabric to the floor, leaving you exposed to her smoldering gaze. The intensity in her eyes made your pulse race, your breath hitching as she took in every inch of you with a quiet reverence that sent a thrill through you. She stepped back only long enough to tug off her own pants, and when she pressed close again, the feel of her bare skin against yours was intoxicating.

You couldn’t help but pull her closer, wrapping your arms around her as her hands settled on your waist, her metal fingers cool against the heat of your skin, grounding you in the moment. She grinned, her usual playful confidence softened by something deeper as she leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss that left you breathless. Her hands roamed with practiced ease, each touch sending a shiver through you as her mouth moved from your lips to your neck, then lower, to your collarbone, pressing heated kisses along your skin.

The moment you pulled her even closer, the air between you thickened with anticipation. You could feel the heat of her body pressing against yours, the thrum of her heartbeat matching the pulse in your veins.

Her fingers skimmed your waist, sending sparks of sensation wherever they touched. She didn’t rush, taking her time, savoring every second as if she were memorizing the way you felt. Her breath was warm on your neck, sending a delicious tremor through your body.

“God, you’re perfect,” she murmured, voice low and rough, sending an ache through you as her lips found yours again, soft but charged. When you kissed her back, there was a hunger in it—a craving for something deeper. Her tongue met yours, slowly at first, tasting, exploring, before it deepened, pulling you closer as if she couldn’t get enough.

Jinx’s hands glided down your body, her fingertips tracing the curves of your hips before slipping lower to your thighs, igniting a thrill that left you breathless. She paused, her lips hovering as she looked at you, her eyes dark with need, but there was something else there too—something tender, something dangerous in the way she gazed at you.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” she whispered, her voice a heady mix of lust and something raw that made your heart race even faster.

You swallowed, your breath coming faster as she leaned in, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I think I’m starting to get it,” you replied, your voice trembling just slightly, betraying the heat building between you two.

Jinx chuckled, a soft, sultry sound that made you shiver. Her hands moved lower in her gaze that was soft, almost vulnerable, like she was savoring this moment as much as you were. The mix of tenderness and hunger in her eyes made your heart race even more than before, if that’s even possible. She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, "You sure you're ready for this?"

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you replied, "More than ever." The words hung in the air between you, a promise you were both eager to fulfill.

Without another word, Jinx’s hands slid lower, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, sending a wave of heat through your body. She paused again, looking up at you, her gaze seeking permission. You met her eyes, steady and sure, and without hesitation, she leaned in to kiss you again, her lips pressing against yours with a desperation that spoke louder than words.

Her fingers, both warm and cool, massaged your bundle of nerves, her touch a perfect blend of confidence and care, even when she pushed them in you, allowing a loud moan to escape your mouth. As she explored you, your senses heightened, each soft caress sending ripples of pleasure through you. You gripped her waist, pulling her closer as the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you locked in this moment of raw, unfiltered connection.

Every movement, every touch, felt like a dance, a rhythm you both knew instinctively. Jinx’s lips trailed down your neck, her kisses slow and deliberate, each one sending a wave of heat straight to your core, your hips bucking and sweet nosies leaving your mouth.

She smiled against your skin, a wicked grin that made your pulse spike with anticipation. "I love it when you lose control," she murmured, her lips brushing your ear. "Makes me want to take it even further."

You gasped, your body instinctively arching toward hers, urging her on. Her name slipped from your lips in a breathless moan, and that was all the encouragement she needed. her fingers exploring deeper, hitting all the right spots, the mix of warm and cold from her metallic finger inside you made your legs feel like jelly.

Her fingers pushed deeper, and a soft gasp escaped your lips. The combination of her warmth and the sensation of her touch sent a wave of pleasure coursing through you, making your pulse race. Jinx didn’t stop, her movements steady and confident as she sought to draw you even closer to the edge. Her lips parted from your neck, her breath warm and uneven against your skin as she whispered, “You feel incredible.”

The connection between you both electric. She took her time, making sure every moment was felt, every touch adding to the growing intensity between you. Her name escaped your lips once more, barely a breath, and it seemed to spur her on.

Jinx’s eyes met yours, a dark spark of something mischievous in them. “You’re mine,” she murmured, her voice low, sending another shiver down your spine. Her fingers moved with purpose, hitting places you hadn’t even known you craved.

You couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh, caught somewhere between pleasure and disbelief. “Always,” you managed, your voice thick with need.

The world outside the bubble you shared faded completely, leaving only the two of you, entwined in each other’s presence, moving together in perfect synchrony.

Jinx paused for a moment, her breath ragged as she took in the intensity of the moment, her gaze never leaving yours. Without a word, she lifted you up, her hands gently helping you to sit on top of the workbench.

You felt the cold metal against your ass as she sat you on it, pushing your legs apart so you were perfectly positioned, one of her hands steady as she helped you get comfortable while the other one continues its thrusting, sending a shiver through your body.

Jinx bent a little so that her mouth was right besides your ear, her breath fanning over your skin as she leaned in, her lips brushing your earlobe. "This feels like the perfect spot," she whispered, her voice low and teasing as she pressed herself against you. Her tits meeting yours, the heat of her body undeniable as she took her place between your legs.

"Perfect," she repeated, her lips brushing against your ear as she nipped at the lobe, her fingers working at your hole, sending jolts of electricity through you. "I’ve got you exactly where I want you," she murmured, the palm of her hand massaging your clit.

You could barely catch your breath, every movement of hers driving you crazy with desire. You wanted more—wanted all of her. And Jinx was more than ready to give it to you.

Her lips twitched into a grin as she saw the look on your face, her fingers still dancing against you, pressing you deeper into the moment. “Can’t get enough, huh?” she teased, her voice a low murmur, full of playful arrogance. She shifted her weight slightly, the motion making your body heat up in ways you didn’t know were possible.

The air between you thickened with anticipation, each passing second feeling like an eternity. Jinx’s mechanical hand moved with a fluidity you couldn’t ignore. She paused, giving you a look that was equal parts teasing and uncertain, before slowly pressing her palm against your clit with her fingers still deep inside you.

Everything went still, a moment suspended in silence. Then you felt it—a faint hum, a vibration that seemed to travel from her finger, right into your core. It wasn't just a mechanical shift; it felt like the world’s pulse, steady, and in sync with the beat of your own racing heart.

She smirked, watching your reaction. “How’s that feel?” Her voice was low, filled with something dangerous and playful as her gaze flicked from your face to where her hand lingered.

the vibration echoed through your body, intensifying with each slight movement of her hand, a sensation so intense it sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t hold back a soft gasp, your breath hitching as the sensation became more than just a touch—it felt almost electric, like it was pulling at every nerve in your body.

Jinx’s smirk deepened at your reaction, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Like it?” she asked, her voice dropping lower, almost a growl as she leaned closer, her lips brushing against your ear once again.

You nodded, your body trembling as it arched toward her, a silent plea for more. The vibrations surged again, sending a wave of heat coursing through you, pooling in your lower stomach, igniting something wild inside you. Your fingers curled into the edge of the workbench, your knuckles white as you gripped it, trying to steady yourself.

“It’s... it’s amazing,” you breathed out, your voice trembling with the intensity of it. You met her gaze, eyes wide with desire, your lips parted, whimpers coming out of your throat as the hum of her hand against your skin grew more pronounced, each pulse pressing deeper into you.

Jinx’s grin deepened, her eyes glinting as she reveled in the effect her touch had on you. “I thought you'd like that,” she murmured, her breath hot against your skin. She moved her palm slightly, adjusting her touch, allowing the vibrations to increase in speed, pushing you further into the moment.

The feeling was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. It wasn’t just physical—it was sensory, every inch of your skin acutely aware of the vibrations, the heat of her body pressed against yours. You were lost in it, every pulse, every movement of her mechanical finger drawing you closer to the edge, both mentally and physically.

Her lips were close now, just a whisper away from your neck as she whispered, “Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”

“Please,I want the more- FUCK!” you couldn't even finish your sentence before her ministrations became more frantic, the vibration growing harder and faster.

You couldn’t help the way your body reacted as the vibrations became more intense, the hum of her mechanical hand resonating deep within you. It was as if she’d tuned into something inside you, something raw and primal that made it hard to think, let alone speak. Your breath hitched again as the sensation surged, sending a rush of heat coursing through you, you let out laud moans to escape your throat.

Jinx’s eyes never left yours, her smirk widening with satisfaction. She could feel your body respond, could see the way you shifted beneath her, wanting more, needing more.

"Is that what you wanted?" she whispered, her voice low, teasing, yet filled with that dangerous edge. "Tell me, what exactly do you need?" Her mechanical fingers tightened slightly, pressing deeper, as if testing your limits.

At first, you couldn’t speak—your chest heaving with every shaky moan, your body caught between pleasure and need. But eventually, you managed to get the words out, your voice trembling, raw with desire.

"More," you gasped, barely able to keep your voice steady. "Please, Jinx... more."

Her eyes flickered with something mischievous, a spark of delight that only made the tension in the room thicker. With a swift, fluid motion, she leaned in closer, whispered again, her breath hot on your skin.

“Desperate, huh? I like that,” she murmured, voice low and playful, words sending a shiver down your spine. She paused, letting the moment hang in the air, her hand still pressing against you, the vibrations now steady but undeniable.

She could tell you were on the edge, and she reveled in it, enjoying the control she had over the situation, over you. But, with a shift in her posture, she moved slightly away from you, breaking the connection just enough to allow you to catch your breath.

"Now," Jinx purred, her eyes glinting with mischief as she leaned back, giving you that signature, dangerous grin. "Tell me again. What do you want?"

You struggled to steady your breathing, her words lingering in the air, making your heart race even faster. The weight of her gaze felt like it was pulling you in, making your skin burn, every nerve alive with anticipation. She was waiting, holding you at the edge, giving you no choice but to beg for more.

"I... I need you," you whispered, your voice barely audible, shaky with the intensity of it all. "Please, Jinx, I can’t take it anymore. I need you... every part of you,” you breathed, the words barely leaving your lips, heavy with desire

Her eyes glinted, a predatory smile creeping onto her lips as she leaned in again, close enough that you could feel the heat of her breath against your face. “That’s what I like to hear,” she murmured, her voice low and silky, the words wrapped in the promise of something dangerous.

Her mechanical hand shifted again, pressing deeper, the hum intensifying as it surged through you, each pulse igniting every nerve in your body, like it was seeping into your very bones. The pressure of her hand against your skin felt almost unbearable, but you didn’t want her to stop. You needed more.

"You’re mine now, you’ve always been mine" Jinx whispered in your ear, her voice thick with both satisfaction and something darker, something that made your pulse quicken even further. She pulled back just slightly, enough to watch you, her eyes dark and full of mischief. “Tell me what you want me to do next,” she purred, her fingers still sending jolts of electricity through your body.

Your body was already aching, the need for her so overwhelming that it was all you could think about. Every part of you screamed for release, for connection. But Jinx wasn’t giving you any space to breathe, and you didn’t want it any other way.

“More,” you gasped again, your voice thick with need. “I need you... right now.”

A low, throaty laugh escaped her lips, and she leaned back in with a smile that made your heart race. "You’ll get what you need... but on my terms."

Jinx’s smirk widened, her eyes sparkling with something dangerously playful as she hovered above you. She could feel the way your body trembled beneath her touch, the way your breath quickened with each passing second. It was as if she had you exactly where she wanted—teetering on the edge, desperate for more.

“You’re so eager,” she murmured, her lips brushing lightly against yours before pulling away just enough to look into your eyes. Her thumb grazed over you clit, sending another rush of heat coursing through every nerve. “I like it.”

Her fingers shifted, the vibrations quickening, more insistent, yet her thumb stayed still. You gasped, your back arching involuntarily, as the heat inside you grew even more unbearable.

“Jinx, please,” you breathed, your voice a mixture of frustration and need. You couldn’t think of anything else anymore, the world reduced to the feeling of her hand, the pulse of her touch, and the hunger for more of her.

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispered, “Patience, toots. You’ll get it... but first, I want to hear you beg for it.”

A shiver ran through you at the sound of her voice, dark and velvety, as though each word she spoke sent a spark straight to your core. You were trembling now, every muscle tight with anticipation.

“Please,” you repeated, your voice shaking, unable to form anything coherent beyond that desperate plea. You didn’t care anymore—this was all you wanted, and you’d do anything to make her give it to you.

Jinx’s breath hitched at your surrender, and she pulled back just enough to get a good look at you—face flushed, eyes wide with desire, lips parted in need. “You’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” she purred, her voice dripping with both affection and something much darker. “But you still haven’t told me exactly what you want.”

There was a brief, agonizing moment of stillness as her hand paused, the hum dying down just slightly, making you ache for more.

“I want you, Jinx,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I need you to make me feel... everything.”

Jinx’s eyes flashed with triumph, and she leaned down to kiss you deeply, her lips demanding, as if she was finally giving what you both needed. As she deepened the kiss, her thumb started to move slowly, moving your clitoris in circles, sending waves of electricity through your body once again.

The moment Jinx’s lips met yours, the world outside seemed to fade away. Everything was consumed by the intensity of her touch, the warmth of her body pressing against you. It was like a spark igniting a wildfire, every nerve in your body lighting up with the need for more.

Her lips were fierce and demanding, claiming you with a hunger that matched your own. The kiss was messy, full of urgency—her teeth grazing your lower lip as she pulled you closer, her body flush against yours.

But even as she deepened the kiss, she kept her hand where it was, the hum of the vibration slowly building, and her thumb brushing over your clit sending ripples of heat throughout your entire body. It was maddening how much you wanted her, how she had you wound so tight, barely holding it together.

Her breath came in quick, uneven gasps as she pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. She studied you with that dangerous, teasing grin, her lips swollen from the kiss, her chest rising and falling with every breath.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her gaze on you, the heat from her touch radiating through your body. But you needed more.

“Don’t tease me, Jinx,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all. “I want you... now.”

Her smirk only grew wider at your words, and she leaned in again, her lips brushing your lips as she whispered, “You’ve got me. Just remember, you asked for this.”

And with that, she moved her hand again, the vibrations increasing, sending an intense pulse through you that made your breath catch, her thumb moving faster and harder. You gasped, your hands finding purchase on her hips, gripping her desperately as your body arched towards her.

“You’re so responsive,” she murmured, her voice teasing as her lips traced down your neck, leaving a trail of heat. “I could make you beg for more, but I think you’re ready, aren’t you?”

Your fingers gripped her tightly, the vibrations becoming nearly unbearable, tightening the anticipation in your chest. Every nerve in your body was alive, begging for release. The desire in your eyes mirrored the hunger in hers as you nodded, breathless, unable to form anything else.

“I’m ready,” you whispered.

And just like that, Jinx moved again, every single movement intensified, pushing you toward the edge, both of you lost in the moment, in the desire that was palpable between you.

Her rhythm quickened, every movement sending you spiraling closer until, with a shuddering breath, the pleasure crested, overwhelming you. A cry escaped as your body tightened, lost in wave after wave, pulse racing as Jinx’s touch lingered, grounding you even as the world blurred around.

Your body trembled, small aftershocks rippling through you as you struggled to catch your breath. Jinx’s hand remained steady, grounding you in the haze, her thumb tracing gentle circles that sent tiny jolts of lingering pleasure through you. She watched you, a satisfied grin on her lips, clearly enjoying the way your body reacted to every subtle touch. Even as the intensity faded, your skin remained sensitive, every brush of her fingers drawing out little shivers, keeping you tethered to the sensation long after the peak had passed.

The world slowly came back into focus as Jinx pulled away slowly, her eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. Her touch lingered, leaving a hum in your body, each breath feeling heavier. Her fingers stayed still, a faint, steady pulse mirroring the beat of your heart.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence hanging thick and warm between you. Jinx’s breath was slow, almost unsteady, and you could feel the faint tremble in her fingertips as she picked them out, leaving you breathless and still wanting more. She slipped her fingers into her mouth, slowly drawing them out to trace light patterns across your skin. It was as if she was waiting for you to catch your breath, or perhaps for the moment to settle—either way, you could feel the weight of everything unspoken, the lingering heat of the connection you’d shared.

Her eyes softened, the usual mischief replaced with something quieter, more vulnerable. “You okay?” she asked, her voice quieter now, softer than before. It was a rare moment of care from someone who often lived in the chaos.

You nodded, the intensity of the moment still settling in your chest, and you took a slow, deep breath. The touch of her hand felt grounding, like an anchor that kept you from floating too far away. “Yeah, just... catching up,” you whispered, unable to fully explain the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest.

Jinx gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile, the kind that only she could pull off—teasing, but also a little fond, a little more tender. She didn’t move away, her body still close to yours, her fingers lingering on your skin as if she wasn’t ready to break the connection entirely.

She leaned in, her forehead resting against yours for a brief moment, just enough for you to feel the warmth of her skin, the steady rise and fall of her chest against yours. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing you like this,” she murmured, her lips grazing your ear. There was no arrogance in her tone, only a quiet truth.

You smiled softly, your fingers lightly brushing the edge of her jaw. “I think I could say the same.”

And for a while, there was nothing else but the quiet, the two of you wrapped up in each other’s presence. No rush, no urgency—just the softness of the aftermath. The kind of peace that only followed something that felt as real and raw as what you’d just shared.

The air between you both was thick with a new kind of tension, one that felt softer but still undeniably electric. Jinx’s fingers lazily traced patterns on your skin, her touch light but knowing. She could sense the undercurrent of desire that still simmered beneath the calm. The intensity had faded, but that connection was still there, like an unspoken promise.

Her lips brushed against your ear again, this time with a lightness that made your skin tingle. "You sure you’re okay?" she asked, her voice low, almost playful, but there was something deeper in her gaze. “I mean... I’m pretty good at this.”

You could hear the teasing note in her voice, but there was something more to it—a quiet challenge in her words that made your heart race, just like it had when this whole thing started. She shifted slightly, her body pressing closer to yours again, her breath warm against your skin.

“I’m more than okay,” you whispered back, your lips curling into a smile as you met her gaze, knowing exactly where this was heading. “But... I think I’m ready for round two, if you are.”

Jinx’s eyes darkened slightly, that familiar glint returning with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. Her lips parted in a grin, the mischievous spark reigniting, but it was softer now, more controlled. “Round two, huh?” she murmured, her fingers tracing a line down your arm before resting at your waist. “You’re sure you’re not just saying that because I know exactly what you want?”

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your chest, your body reacting to her presence, her words, the closeness. “I want you,” you said, your voice low and steady, a hint of challenge in it now too.

Her grin widened, her eyes tracing your face with a predatory curiosity, as if studying every part of you. "Well then..." She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against yours, her hand sliding down to your waist, pulling you in as she deepened the kiss, slow and deliberate this time. The warmth of her body pressed against yours once more, the vibrations from her hand a steady hum beneath your skin, just enough to tease and tempt.

But this time, it wasn’t just about urgency. There was something more in her touch—a slow burn, a promise of more to come. She pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, her expression both confident and a little softer than usual. “You’ve got me. And if you think you’re ready for more... I’m more than happy to oblige.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication, as her hand rested lightly on your hip, her thumb gently stroking the sensitive skin there. The fire was reigniting, but now it was a steady, controlled burn that left you wanting more.

“Let’s see how much you can handle,” she whispered, her voice a hushed promise, as she pressed her lips to your neck, and you both dove right back into it—closer, deeper, with that undeniable chemistry still crackling between you

The room was quiet now, save for the sound of your breathing, slow and steady. Jinx’s fingers trailed over your skin, her touch almost reverent, as if savoring the moment. Her lips brushed the edge of your ear, soft but with an underlying tension that you could feel deep in your chest.

"Didn't think you'd be this responsive," she murmured, voice low, a touch of surprise in her tone.

You turned your head, meeting her gaze, your fingers lightly grazing her wrist, urging her to stay close. "I told you," you whispered, "I want more."

Her smile was small but knowing, a glint of mischief dancing in her eyes. She leaned down to kiss you again, not as frantic as before, but deeper, lingering. Her hand moved from your side, slowly threading into your hair, holding you gently as she deepened the kiss, as if testing the waters for what came next.

When she pulled back, just enough to look at you, the look in her eyes was different. There was no teasing now, just something raw, almost protective. "You’re not gonna get away so easily," she said softly, her voice carrying that same dangerous edge, but there was a tenderness to it now.

You felt the heat rise between you both again, and even though you both needed a breath, you could sense that the hunger wasn’t quite finished—it was only changing shape. Her fingers traced the curve of your jaw, her lips pressing against your forehead in a sweet, gentle kiss.

For a moment, it felt like everything had calmed, but it wasn’t over. The space between you still buzzed with energy, something unspoken lingering there.

"I’m not going anywhere," you said, your voice steady but thick with desire. "And I don’t think you are, either."

Jinx gave a soft laugh, but it was full of promise. "You know me too well," she replied, her smile now a slow, deliberate curve. “Get comfortable, toots... this isn’t over.”

#jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #arcane jinx #jinx/you #jinx x fem!reader #jinx posting #jinx league of legends

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ittybittyfanblog · 1 day ago

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Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol. Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Chapter 1

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night.

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that.

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break.

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?”

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around.

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five.

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much.

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding.

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd.

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal.

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time.

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia?

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend–

Ping!

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts – and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart.

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address?

Ah, just like clockwork.

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals – for more than you’d care to admit – to boot up.

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give – pay – for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress.

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion.

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain.

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?”

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man – what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character.

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man itself– or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some.

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic – the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life.

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well.

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin.

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness.

What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.”

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue.

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means.

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!”

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game, you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different.

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.”

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night.

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face.

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker— then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.”

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%.......

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez— Huh?”

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary.

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever.

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock.

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?”

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face.

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter.

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.”

Helplessly, you open your inventory next.

Your jaw drops.

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This– this can’t be real.”

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this– this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada.

Holy shit.

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes.

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?”

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative.

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks.

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose.

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut.

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie.

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk.

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC.

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning – or until your battery dies, whichever comes first – you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.”

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

#love and deepspace #lads #lnds #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #lads x you #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic

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biteofcherry · 2 days ago

Text

Forage and grind

orc!Curtis Everett x female reader

summary: You always felt like you belonged there. Naively, you even felt safe. But when his silent observation snaps into action and you learn why you caught his interest, belonging starts to hold more terror than longing.

warnings: orc!Curtis; dark!Curtis; heavy dub-con; captivity; thigh riding; rope bondage/shibari; suspension; oral (f receiving); fingering; unprotected sex; heavy breeding kink; size kink; hints of degradation;

word count: 5k

Author's Note: I'm a bit late with this installment in the Scaretale universe, but life happens and you gotta deal with it 😜 Some parts of this story I'm happy about, some not so much. You judge for yourself.

Shards of light bounced off the golden coin, sending flickering butterflies of yellow around. The club was a glowing, warm space, but you always appreciated the additional reflection or spark, especially those tossed your way.

You grinned, catching the coin mid air. You slipped it into the little pouch hung by the belt around your waist, where it softly clinked as it met a few other shiny tips you’ve been given that evening.

Scaretale had the reputation of a place of mystery and horror, which you never understood. Granted, being filled with a variety of creatures (some of which were barely contained beasts) made it somewhat scary, but you never felt that shiver of wariness that so many of your friends, or people in general, experienced.

As you moved around the club’s floor you felt warmth and a particular, restrained camaraderie. Not safety, exactly, but something akin to familiarity.

The interior was elegant, fancy even, combining human modern design with the lush mystery of dark magic born in the heart of ancient woods and meadows. It was not only aesthetically pleasing to the eye, but called to your heart with a reflection of something hearty from the old times before you were born.

It was that obsession with medieval stuff, as your friend called it, rolling her eyes. And she claimed that you applying for a job at Scaretale was taking that obsession way too far. Especially since, in her eyes, the creepy haunted-mansion-like club had nothing in common with medieval, or even renfaire vibe. You wondered if her eyesight was skewed.

You felt drawn to the Scaretale, as you were to the monsters’ realms themselves. Not fascinated, but simply drawn, as if you knew you belonged there.

Which is why you were stubborn and pushy when you approached Ransom with your brilliant offer to work there as a waitress.

Something he was clearly disinterested with.

At first, at least. Because as you listed your experience from human establishments you worked when in college, Ransom’s eyes twinkled with sudden recognition. That shifted into a dark sort of excitement, which for a split of a second made you wary.

You may have found Scaretale as a place where you felt comfortable, but its owner wasn’t someone you’d ever let your guard down around.

All that mattered was that he agreed and you found yourself hired as the only human in a monster club. With monsters’ silver and gold coins, it turned out to be a quite well paid job, too.

Though you felt in your element when moving between booths and nooks, your instincts still reacted to some of the creatures with more fear and caution. You learned who was more approachable and open to conversation, or teasing (like the satyrs who always flirted and regularly tried to talk you into joining an orgy), and who was better served quickly and subserviently (a growly werewolf, for example).

Some monsters came only once, snatching their match and leaving. Some were regulars, seeking fun and new bodies to debauch.

There were also regulars whose agenda you never figured out. And you tried not to be too curious about it.

A group of enormous, beefy orcs visited every two weeks, or so. Though they were restrained in the way they talked, when they walked through the club everyone seemed to tense in fear.

Orcs were the most known warriors. Bloodied, ruthless, ripping worlds to shreds. As a human your knowledge was limited, but from snippets heard here and there you learned that their race raided many kingdoms and realms in the past millennia. Nowadays they were more like mercenaries.

With the occasional brutal raid for their own benefit.

They came to the Scaretale cleaned up, but you still could easily imagine their bodies splattered with the enemy's blood. Not to mention the glint of weapons always present at their side, which made your skin crawl with trepidation.

Your instincts often whispered caution when you waited for some of the creatures visiting, but when it came to these orcs the alarms were ringing loud.

It wasn’t just prey sensing a predator prone to snap its teeth, but a sense ingrained into your blood like voices of the generations passed.

It always skyrocketed when you felt the burning gaze of the biggest orc following your every move.

He appeared to be the leader; it was clear in the way their group lined when cutting through the club, as well in the way they sat around the table. Not to mention that one time when you picked their orders from the bar and the bartender pointed at one of the beer mugs saying that one was for the war chieftain.

His mug was bigger than the rest and the foam floating on top sprinkled with crushed juniper berries. An unusual combination of flavor, you thought, but didn’t pay it much attention.

Or rather, you tried your best to not pay it attention.

Which was hard to do when you felt his eyes following your every move and when you had a full body shiver reaction upon seeing that monstrous figure whenever you served the orcs’ table. His biceps alone were the size of your whole head. You were sure that he could crush your skull with just one of his big hands.

The other orcs were large and intimidating, but their war chieftain surpassed the scary level.

Still, you schooled your features and played a polite waitress role. You even encouraged yourself with a little inward game of pretending to be a medieval inn beer-maid. After all, the setting was perfect with the Scaretale’s vibe and a group of sword-and-ax wielding warriors as your customers.

That night, however, as you were about to bounce from one served table to theirs to take their never changing order of limitless beer, you found that four of the orcs had already left. Or disappeared for the moment. But there was still one left at the table.

Their leader.

The one scaring you the most. Always intently observing you with those piercing blue eyes.

His pale, green-tinted skin made those inhuman irises stand out even more. There were some faint, green markings along his cheeks, but you didn’t know if it was a part of his natural pigmentation, or some sort of a deeply ingrained tattoo.

Orcs were said to be unkempt beasts, but his beard was groomed. Thick and dark, bearing flecks of gray. His lips were a shade of pale pink, wide and plump, and spreading where two white lower canines grew out into sharp, tusk-like features. Unlike his companions, who had their hair braided, or cut into mohawks, he had his hair buzzed close to the scalp.

He had one of his elbows resting on the table, thick fingers rapping slowly against the wood. His other arm was thrown across the backrest of the seat. Though in rest, his muscles were bulging; evoking a flicker of terror at the thought of him actually flexing and using those massive arms as he fought.

Compared to him, you were small and fragile.

Despite certain aspects of the size difference turning you on, you’d rather not test those urges with someone as dangerous and brutal as the orc.

Hair on the back of your neck raised in alert as you neared the table. His gaze was on you for a while now, but it felt scorching hot the closer you came. Mustering an easy smile, you asked him if he wanted the usual (always that damn beer with juniper berries).

“No.” His gruff voice rolled over you like a lick of thunder. “I’m done with poor substitutes.”

A frown marred your face. You didn’t understand what he was referring to. The Scaretale’s beer came from the best breweries and was spiced with some extra fae herbs. No customer has ever complained.

Also, you didn’t think this orc would quietly stand for something he didn’t like the slightest bit, and he was regularly drinking that beer.

Suddenly, a large hand wrapped around your wrist and you were yanked forward.

With a gasp, you landed on his thigh. Your legs parted as your center settled atop a thick, leather-covered thigh. He held your wrist in one hand, while settling the other on your waist. You weren’t a tiny creature by any means, but his huge palm seemed to span your entire side.

“Do you know that orcs are most known for raiding elven kingdoms?” He asked in a hushed tone, as if he was sharing a secret with you. You shook your head in response.

As you learned of different monsters, when it came to the orcs you often stumbled upon art depicting huge beastly warriors doing explicit things to elven maidens, but you thought it only to be a kink many humans liked to think of, disregarding actual history and nuance. Especially, since you never met or heard of an actual elf existing.

Honestly, you suspected it was also humans’ fault - twisting the information on fae folk and coming up with new names for the subspecies.

“For riches and land, like with any other realm, but-” his fingers dug a little deeper into your skin and he pulled you along his thigh, making you gasp. “The main reason was to capture elven maidens.”

“There was something about the elven women that was irresistible to us. How fragile they were compared to orcs in size. How sweet and wild they smelled. How tight their holes were around orcs’ massive cocks.”

He grunted out the last part, once again drawing your body forth on his thigh. With your legs spread and layers of your skirt too thin to provide cover, hard muscle of his thigh and the rough edge of leather pants he was wearing grazed your sensitive clit.

“It’s still believed that elven cunts are the ripest for orc seed. Taking it so well and bearing many healthy babes.”

There have been some encounters with a few openly lustful visitors in the Scaretale, but none breached the boundary with you. No one grabbed you and put you into his lap, and made you grind against their thigh while they revealed obscene details behind their species’ primal behavior.

This orc acted as if he had the right to move your much weaker body anyway he pleased. If he merely toyed with you, perhaps you could twirl away with the excuse of your duties awaiting. However, there was something about the way he treated you that rang a different kind of alarm.

“Chieftain-” you placed your hands against his wide chest, trying to squirm away.

“Curtis.” He gripped you tighter and bounced his leg, making you moan as the meat of his thigh crushed your clit. “My name’s Curtis.”

While you would welcome any customer telling you their name with a cheeky smile, this orc wanting you to know it and use it when you addressed him was like sealing your fate.

You froze as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, taking a whiff of your scent and sweat. He groaned in delight and the sound of it vibrated down your chest, puckering your nipples into stiff points.

“And you hold the unmistakable fragrance of juniper berries bathed in dew, my little elfling.”

His words rolled over your body, trailing fear in their wake. It was no random sentence to make about you. Not after the brief recap of filthy history he treated you to minutes ago.

His intense obsession made sense now. A terrifying sense. Impossible, too.

“I’m human!” You protested, fighting with all your might against the fate he laid out for you, before you even knew it would concern you directly.

“You are,” Curtis didn’t deny it, “but somewhere in your lineage an elf mixed their blood with your human ancestors. That gene sparks intensely in your body.”

There was never any tale, not even a secret family anecdote that regarded a relationship with a magical creature. If it was a scandalous romance, it was hidden well, too. You could call bullshit. Claim it was a lie that Curtis used to grope you and have his way. But with how intensely he was always observing you, how he acted now, despite previously shown restraint, you had a feeling he wasn’t tricking you.

Then the memory of Ransom near cackling with glee after studying you for a longer moment resurfaced. He didn’t want to hire a human, he had no interest in it. But if he sensed you were part elf and he knew orcs were his regular customers…

Yeah, Ransom wouldn’t pass that opportunity for mayhem and his own gain.

“Please?” You looked up at Curtis. “Let me go? I- I have work to do. And-”

Your words turned into a muffled moan when plush lips suddenly crushed into yours. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. The way Curtis’ mouth took yours was barbarous; a shard of that savage pillaging he boasted about.

You felt the pressure of his tusks against your face, but surprisingly neither even nicked your skin. His tongue plunged between your lips in a savage thrust - as disgusting as it was, something about it made your body shake to its core.

Was it your weakness for primal wildness that responded so eagerly?

When Curtis pulled away, your mouth was tingling and wet. Your panties felt sticky, too.

“You’re an addictive sweet little berry, Juniper.” He hummed, rubbing his big thumb along the seam of your inner thigh. “And I’m going to grind you hard, until I bathe whole in your fragrant juices.”

Heat flooded you as an image of brutality with which he’d take your body flashed in your mind.

There wouldn’t be anything smooth, or delicate about the way the orc treated you. Not because you thought him to be incapable of finesse, but you sensed he was excited about ruining you.

A squeak ripped out of your throat when Curtis suddenly got up. He hoisted you over his broad shoulder, gripping your struggling body with ease. None of your screams to be let go were respected. And none of your yells for help were answered by anyone from the club.

Lights of Scaretale, welcoming and homey until now, blurred as you were being carried away. Until darkness of one of the mysterious corridors swallowed you. You had no idea where the orc was taking you. Your knowledge of the corridors was very limited, knowing only that some of the monsters took their partners that way.

He didn’t slap you when you wiggled, but his large hand spread over your ass and gave a hard squeeze. Probably to remind you of the size and strength of him that surpassed yours a thousand times.

It didn’t stop you from trying to bolt when he eased you down on your feet. Your surroundings were completely different from the familiar layout of the Scaretale, yet so innocently domestic it gave you a whiplash.

It appeared you were in some cottage, not very modern judging by the interior. Wooden furniture and wrought-iron details. The bed standing in the middle was an enormous feature, as was a round wooden bathtub in the corner. A type where you had to boil your own water to fill it with.

If you were looking for a medieval experience, that was the fucking peak of it.

Curtis’ big hand snatched the back of your shirt as you tried to run away, yanking you back to him with ease. The fabric tore as he gripped it and the orc simply ripped it fully off of you. Then your skirts.

“No!” You struggled between the urge to cover your naked body and scratching the monster towering over you.

“You’re spirited and strong, that’s good.” He praised, easily capturing your wrists in one of his hands. “You’ll fit the war chieftain’s wife role. Bear healthy babies, too.”

“No worries-” he interrupted your next splutter of protests with a calm, almost mocking tone. “Orcs have mastered the ways of breaking an elven maiden into an obedient, dripping wife.”

In a swift move he had you plastered to his chest, one arm securing both of your hands at your sides as he reached for something with his free hand. Then something abrasive brushed your skin.

The first loop of the rope around your middle and arms surprised you so much you only gasped. But then Curtis weaved it up and around, creating intricate patterns on your torso as he tied knots and interlooped thick strings of rope. He crossed it around and between your breasts, squeezing them as he tightened it.

He forced two strings of rope between your lips, creating a makeshift gag.

With your upper body completely bound, Curtis gripped your hips and tossed you onto the bed. Before you managed to kick at him, he had your ankles tied. He circled the rope around your legs a few more times, pleating pretty knots, until you were completely immobile.

“Soon,” he propped your bound ankles on his shoulder as he looked down at your helpless form, “you’ll grow to love my ropes on you.”

You glared at him, but your objection was muffled by the strings across your mouth.

The sound of your moan was stifled, as well, but resounded much louder when Curtis bent you in half, bringing your legs closer to your chest as he buried his face in your exposed pussy.

Your folds were slightly puffed and tingling already, roused from the way he had you riding his thigh in the Scaretale and responding to the graze of harsh rope against your sensitive skin. They were begging for a tantalizing tease to continue, to draw your pleasure to a maddening sharp edge.

But the onslaught of a hungry mouth conquering your wet softness short circuited your brain.

It was so savage, yet something about it being unapologetically brutal and ruthless scorched your body in a blaze.

Moan turned into a choked cry as Curtis’ fat tongue licked between your folds and entered your dripping hole. Your breast swelled, the bite of rope heightening as your chest arched within the bonds. Your fingers curled helplessly at your sides, unable to grip anything.

The sounds Curtis made as he feasted on you were obscene - uncultured, beastly growls and slurps. When he sucked on your clit, your own voice gurgled against the makeshift gag.

“That’s it, Juniper,” he grunted against your pussy, drinking up your juices. “You’re gonna cum on the orc's tongue. Gonna be my good slut. My own breeding stock.”

You writhed against the bonds. Against the growing pleasure that was rapidly nearing the precipice. But it was inevitable. His wide, plump lips devoured you, munching on your folds like on the juiciest fruit, before ripping the seam with a tongue brutal like an axe and squishing your clit with rough licks.

You came with a scream. Within your bonds, the orgasm seemed to be relentless, rattling in each limb like a caged animal.

When Curtis lifted his face to stare down at you, a dark triumph of conquest glinted in his eyes. He counted your body giving in as a battle victory. And you knew he wasn’t done raiding that field.

Your slick shone on his face and beard, his tusks were sticky with it. He made no move to clean it off, bearing that wetness like a proud mark of his triumph.

He kept looking at you, bracing one of his heavy arms across your legs to pin them to your chest, as his hand moved up the curve of your ass. A single digit swiped between your swollen folds, stealing your breath anew. An orc’s one finger was like two of yours, maybe even thicker.

Curtis didn’t coo at you when you mewled at the intrusion as he pushed that finger into your still fluttering pussy. He snarled in hunger, pushing it against the resistance of your tightness.

“Breathe through it,” he instructed harshly. “Save your cries for when I split you on my cock.”

You preferred not to think of that part, but it was hard to block it when Curtis started thrusting his digit in and out of you, mimicking what he was going to do using his cock. His inhuman, monstrous, orc dick.

A shiver rocked your whole body, clenching your walls around his finger.

“Oh yes, my sweet little berry,” Curtis grinned, lewdly flicking his tongue to lick his bottom lip and the side of his tusk. “I’m going to force my cock into your snug pussy. Stretch it so good and deep.”

“Hear how wet you are for me already?” He teased, thrusting his finger rougher and raising the embarrassing sound of squelching. “Your cunt’s weeping for my cock and my seed.”

You shook your head, but all movement ceased and your eyes rolled to the back of your head when Curtis pushed a second finger along with his index one. His groan of pleasure was louder than the echo of sloshing wetness trickling around his digits.

“What a good, hot, wet hole.” He moaned, slowly dipping in and out of your channel; delighting in the feel of your velvet walls gripping his fingers.

“Bet the other one is just as good.”

You didn’t have time to process his words when he eased one of his fingers out of your pussy and firmly pressed it against your rim.

Despite your gurgled, weak protests, his finger was slick enough with your wetness that he breached your hole with ease. Well, to him it may have felt easy, but to you it was a struggle depriving you of air.

“Never had your tight ass penetrated, my wild Juniper?” He looked at you, gloating. “I swear, conquering your body tastes better than any bloodbath and battle victory.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a lewd moan leaving his lips as your walls cinched around his fingers. Then his eyes snapped open again and he was staring down at you, greedily catching every grimace and flicker of pleasure on your face as he fucked both of your holes with his fingers. Faster and faster.

His grin was near terrifying when your body tensed and you cried out an intense release.

Curtis pushed his fingers as deep as he could, wiggling them slightly as your walls pulsed around them. When your high subsided in slow waves, he withdrew his fingers and smeared your own cream all over your ass and thighs.

When he let your legs drop onto the mattress and untied the rope around them with a single tug on one of the knots, you prayed reprieve was coming your way. But then he was flipping you onto your belly and yanking you down across the mattress.

Your legs hung over the edge of the bed, toes barely reaching the floor. Only for a moment.

Because Curtis bound them into a new position, spreading your legs wide apart. Another rope was weaved and knotted between some of the existing loops. Then he tugged. Harshly.

And your body lifted off the bed.

You squeaked, confused. Your body swayed in air, yanked higher as Curtis tugged on the rope again. Focused on the sensations he ripped from your body and his presence cutting off anything else, you didn’t notice the iron hooks drilled into the ceiling. Through which Curtis weaved some of the ropes, lifting your helpless body to a preferred height.

“You’ll rely only on me, Juniper.” Curtis growled, rubbing your parted thighs. “On the bonds keeping my elven slut in place. And on my cock ripping your tight pussy.”

Your tongue moved against the rope between your lips, failing to sound the pleads for mercy. A tremor rocked your body as you felt the orc’s large body pressing itself between your spread thighs.

The leaking head of his cock brushed against your abdomen and when you felt Curtis’ hips settle against your butcheeks the whole length of him pressed against your belly. When he held it like that the tip of his dick reached your belly button.

There was no further preparation graciously given as he gripped his cock and guided it up between your parted folds. Then again, perhaps you should consider him thoughtful, given the two earlier orgasms he wrung out of you to have you creamy and loose.

Still, when the bulbous head of his dick pressed against your cunt, your entire body tensed.

It was too big. His entire body was too big. And you had no choice, but to take-

Not a scream, but a moan so high pitched and strangled ripped out of your throat that you were sure it could be heard loud and clear to anyone outside the cottage.

Curtis speared into you in one, firm stroke, not bothering with the slow and gentle. His cock stretched you wider than two of his fingers had. It sunk deeper, too. To the point of near discomfort as the tip nudged your cervix.

“Fuuuuck!” Curtis moaned shamelessly, digging his meaty fingers into your hips and holding your swaying body in place.

“What a snug, delectable cunt.” He rolled his hips in a circle, eliciting new sensations that had you mewling. He chuckled in response.

“I’m gonna be riding and filling that pussy so often, Juniper. Until you swell with my seed. Then I’ll sate its pathetic need as your belly rounds and your breasts leak milk. Then plow it again to plant another babe. And another.”

Your walls fluttered around him. Heat filled every inch of your body, even as fear and shame mixed at the prospect of enduring all that he promised.

A gasp soaked into the rope gagging your mouth as Curtis used your bonds to move your body. He wasn’t fucking you, he was swinging your suspended body back and forth, using you.

Quite slowly at first, relishing in the way your tight channel was clinging to him as his cock eased out. Then the way you stretched around the veiny girth as he plunged back in. It was after one of the easy strokes, when your cream gushed out as his hips met your asscheeks, that Curtis snarled impatiently.

And started really fucking you.

Not only swaying your body, but meeting it with rough thrusts of his own. Battling any remaining resistance and conquering your body.

Your breasts bounced with each move, your nipples tightened painfully. Saliva was pooling around the rope gag in your mouth, wetting the hemp and dribbling down your chin. The slight bite of the rope against your skin evoked a tiny prickle of pain that shifted into a burning kind of caress. Monstrous cock filling your pussy provided unparalleled friction and pressure that your clit pulsed without being directly stimulated.

It messed with your mind and overloaded it with how many sensations could be experienced by your body, even though it was fully immobilised.

You came in a rush, crying out and clenching your eyes shut as white, hot pleasure bursted through you. Curtis welcomed it with a grunt, snapping his hips faster and harder.

“Your body’s eager to receive my seed, my spicy berry.” He growled in pleasure. “Creaming and opening up to serve its purpose. I’d be a bad husband, if I didn’t spoil you with what you crave.”

One of his hands moved across your back to grab a fistful of your hair and yank your head up.

“I’d be a poor slut owner, if I didn’t breed you full.”

His increasing moans combined with the sound of slapping skin and squelching wetness; your tiny whimpers getting lost in the wilderness of it all.

There was a splutter of low, angry barks of That’s it and Take it all as Curtis fucked you brutally. When he bellowed his release it carried outside like a battle cry.

Your body seized in an unexpected, small orgasm as you felt his thick cock throbbing inside of you and hot spurts of cum filled you. There was so much of it you felt a pressure grow low in your abdomen.

Curtis held you in place, breathing heavily and kneading your muscles as he filled your body with the last drop of his cum. When he withdrew, you felt a heavy dollop dripping out and splashing somewhere below.

A tug on the rope had your body plummeting down, but only your upper half lowered. Your cheek rested against the sheets, while your ass still hung higher in the air.

“Better to hold all my seed in.” Curtis hummed, patting your wet pussy. “Until I’m ready to fill you again.”

You groaned, seeing his hand palming his softened cock and beginning to stroke it back to attention.

Curtis fucked you four more times that night. Three times having you suspended in the air, though in different positions and angles. For the last, he had you fully on the bed, too exhausted and spent to really fight him, so no ropes were needed. He plowed into you from behind, crushing your body with his weight.

Though it provided a warm kind of comfort later when he held your curled, sleepy form to his massive body.

When you woke up late the next morning, the bright near-noon sun was filtering through the wide open windows. Through one of them you saw Curtis. Wearing only his warrior leathers and chopping wood. As you stretched, you felt ache awakening in places you never considered could feel sore.

You still felt the imprint of his cock inside you.

And the sticky remainder of his cum, that had to drip out of you during the night.

There was so much of it when he filled you over and over again, you wouldn’t be surprised if the orc managed to obtain his obsessive goal to breed you.

Your fingers traced across your belly, but before you spiralled into thoughts and images of swelling with the monster’s baby another sensation drew your attention. On your ankle, you felt a soft, insistent caress.

When you glanced at it, you saw a wide leather cuff. A small padlock was clasped on the buckle, making it impossible to take off the cuff without a key. A thin, but sturdy chain was attached to the cuff, the length of it laid in shiny coils on the floor.

“You’re not yet broken enough to keep you unrestrained,” came Curtis’ calm, deep voice.

He stepped inside, the axe in his hand catching the light and glinting dangerously. He put it aside, then splashed his hands with water from a tin bowl placed by the entrance. Thick fingers started undoing his breeches as he slowly approached the bed.

“Spread your legs, Juniper.” He coaxed. “I want to fill your ripe pussy before we make a meal.”

#scaretale universe #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x female reader #orc!curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett imagine #curtis everett smut #chris evans smut #forage and grind

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sparklespiff · 1 day ago

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About that last scene in 8x06.

You know that thing in a sitcom, where one character walks in on another character brushing their teeth or something else utterly mundane, and maybe they're in an oversized t-shirt or stupid pajamas or wearing glasses when they normally wear contacts, or maybe they've just been dancing around their room like an idiot, and you know oh shit, they're gonna fall in love if they aren't already?

Or you know how in a romcom, one of the characters gets their heart broken by the person who wasn't right for them so they show up at their best friend's door and usually it's raining or at night and the best friend opens the door and inside it's cozy and the lighting is warm and you know that the person outside in the cold belongs there? With their best friend?

Or how in a procedural, you see the will-they-won't-they pair on a couch together and they're not even talking, just sitting there together in silent comfort? And you go, okay, that's their person, and start wondering when they're going to see that?

There's more stuff too, subtler stuff that other people have pointed out, but these are three separate extremely common things that all tell the audience the exact same fact: these two are meant to be together.

And they were ALL used in this ONE scene.

It's happening. It's really happening.

#911 abc #buddie #they're bonking us over the head with it #hooray!

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alexanderwales · 3 days ago

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I finished rewatching Death Note. I always forget how short anime is, with episodes that aren't much more than 20 minutes when you skip the intro/outro.

I hadn't remembered how much of a sniveling wreck LIght was at the end of the show. There's something about the ending that makes it feel like it was written and directed by a different person, not that Light wasn't always a little weird and pathetic, and not that the show didn't consistently go out of its way to let us know what a piece of shit he was (particularly his absolute lack of loyalty or empathy to anyone, even aside from the megalomania). But he takes the loss like a loser, snot dripping from his nose, voice cracking, begging, and it's so pathetic that I almost felt a little sorry for him.

I've always found the Death Note to be a very interesting prompt, one of those hooks that's so good I'd want to watch it even if it was bad. But in writing something like Death Note, the author has to make decisions about what to show and what not to show, and also make decisions about how they're going to portray the public at large.

There are two big things that stand out for me.

One is that we never get someone arguing against Kira. We get people who are actively trying to hunt him down, but they're mostly not stopping to say "this is why what he's doing is wrong" except a few lines about how he has a childish sense of justice, which is never expounded upon. Kira, on the other hand, we hear a lot from, not just the megalomaniac stuff, but the notion that criminals must be punished, that this is what people desire in their hearts. I get the strong sense that L does not actually care and just views this as an interesting puzzle for him to solve, but for everyone else it's largely left as an exercise to the viewer, and even then, there are moments when some of our task force members come dangerously close to endorsement.

To the extent the show has an answer, it's that (to quote Kanye West) no one man should have all that power, or that Kira has crossed a lot of lines, but no one argues in favor of rehabilitation or clemency or just fundamental humanity. Kira seems to largely be killing prisoners, who have already been sentenced, and are wards of the state, and he says "this is what people want deep down, they will give you the politically correct answer but they actually want the criminal class to be obliterate", which ... there's no character who actually voices any opposition to through the whole series. And I find that weird, because yes, the show has its own answers in terms of how it plays out, but in a show filled with people possessed of immense conviction, most of the people in opposition to Kira are just intellectuals who don't actually give a shit about the ideological question.

(The one big moment when it comes to a head, IMO, is when Soichiro Yagami refuses to write Mello's name entirely because of his principled objection to killing someone. I thought this was great, and I wish the show had more of it.)

The other big thing is that we don't really get a viewpoint of the criminals, with a few exceptions. One is the is Yotsuba group, who are killing people with the Death Note, and the second is the (somehow still functional) mafia that Mello hangs out with. There's also one other scene somewhere after L's death where we see a criminal begging with the police not to have his name written down, and that's about it.

The naive view here is that the show really does believe in Criminals as being a part The Other, a different sort of human being who walk among us. The criminal class are described as rotten and evil, they're shown as grotesque and with exaggerated features or bestial characteristics, and they're generally leering and impulsive. There is no consideration of their humanity.

There's a more nuanced take here, which is that we have a criminal as one of our main cast, Light Yagami, along with everyone else who takes on the Kira mantle. So what is the show saying about criminality through how it portrays them? And here ... I don't know. I kind of don't think that it views them as criminals in the same way? When we look at the ways that Light kills, I genuinely do think that the show thinks that this is different from the way that a capital-C Criminals kill. It's reactionary rather than criminal in and of itself, a response to the injustices of the world rather than being in the same class as those injustices. Light is narratively exempted, and Misa is to. Which isn't to say that I think the show thinks highly of Light, it clearly doesn't, especially in its ending, but I almost think that in the end it Others him too (and also has Teru Mikami drawn in particularly 'evil' style, like a creepy deviant gremlin).

So I enjoyed the rewatch, but there are things that sit a little oddly with me as far as the central themes go. There's probably some discourse I should read that's come out since I first watched it in ... 2010 or whenever, but I think I'll give that a skip.

#death note

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revelboo · 2 days ago

Note

I love your writing and I love that you’re having fun with it even more! It baffles me how good you are with coming up with different dynamics for each of your storylines and they all work so well. My favorite has to be tfp megs. Maybe it’s a guilty pleasure but something about the fake hating or the taboo codependency really scratches a specific itch on my brain.

I know it’s a very satisfying dynamic to write. This one is a bit earlier than I’d planned, but I wanted to get it down while it was in my head.

And you guys crack me up sometimes. I’ve seen one of y’all call Optimus ‘Pee Paw’ in reblog tags and now TFP Megs is ‘Space Crack Grandpa.’

Broken Arrow Pt 9

TFP Megatron x Reader

• You’re frozen against him, body arching into his where his denta are gripping you. He’s shocked you so badly you don’t know how to respond apparently. There’s a faint unease at your stillness, that maybe he finally pushed a bit too hard. It’s only when he bites just a tiny bit harder that you snap out of it and smack a palm against the side of his helm. “Get off, you jerk. Who bites someone?” And there’s the anger he enjoys so much. Laughing again as you try to shove his head away and he lets you, aware of your soft, warm hands gripping his helm, your face red and furious.

• And he’s laughing again, so messed up he finds your frustration hilarious as you keep your grip on his helm to keep him from trying to bite you again. That bare prick of his denta on you had broken through the shock of the not entirely unpleasant feel of that bite. “You shouldn’t do that crap,” you mutter, trying to maintain that frustrated anger, but worry creeping in to your tone. “At this rate, the Autobots won’t have to do anything. You’re so messed up, you’ll probably fall out of the ship and do it for them.”

• Those hands are unbelievably soft on him, fingers gripping his helm to try and keep his face out of biting range as you scowl up at him. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about me,” he asks, grinning as he catches one of your wrists and feels you immediately try to tug loose as he considers nipping those little fingers. Wanting to just because he can, just to feel you shudder against him again.

• Trying to get your hand back, you plant the other one in the center of his chest. “Don’t flatter yourself,”you mutter. “I’d shove you myself if I could.” He’s not letting go, but there’s a new, calculating gleam in his optics that makes your skin prickle all over. Because on that stuff? There’s no telling where his processor just went or what he might do. Like rasp the claws of his other hand down his chest, those armor panels shifting to reveal something pulsing with light, something alive that pulls at you and you realize it’s his bare spark. ‘That’s how you end a Cybertronian,’ his words come back to you and you suddenly want loose. Want him to close those panels up, because seeing this is uncomfortably intimate. “Cut it out.”

• “Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart, pet?” Servos tightening on your wrist to force your hand closer to his spark, you suck in a sharp breath and try to lean away, eyes widening in alarm. “Don’t you still want to end me?” Knows he should stop, let go. Because you’re not playing along, there’s something very much like real panic in your eyes as you struggle against him, then shudder violently when his spark reacts. Reaching out a tendril of energy to meet your shaking fingers and now he’s frozen.

• Warmth spins through you at that contact, you can feel him as those tendrils of spark energy curl about your fingers. And you’re not fighting to get away anymore, you’re surrendering to that feeling of falling into him like plunging into deep, still waters that are churning violently just under the surface. Fractured sensations and memories spin you about, too chaotic and alive for you make any sense of. Just knowing that this is him, all of him. Drowning in him, feeling your heart struggling, missing beats. Hurting.

• That contact runs electric through him until he’s jerking you closer to strengthen it without even thinking. He’d only meant to make you angry, to provoke you, but as awareness washes over him in a warm fall like summer rain, he’s suddenly painfully sober. You’re only a human, but he can sense something there that’s not a spark, but close. Something even more achingly fragile than you are as your head falls forward against his shoulder and he can’t move even though he needs to break that contact, shove you away to save himself. You’re just a sparkless organic. And what he feels isn’t a spark, but something that might as well be one entangling with him, slipping soft as a sigh through him as his servos tighten against you. Realizing just how bad a mistake he’d just made.

#transformers x reader #tfp megatron #megatron x reader

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lavender-butterfly-cookie · 3 days ago

Note

I would love to see a second part of Forgotten Friends

One where the beast eventually realized that they blew stuff out of proportion and, because of that, their friend was basically forced to betray them, but they have no one to blame but themselves

And by the time they realized and are out of their prison

Reader cookie can varely remember them, they do remember they used to be friends, but all their evil deed have replaces most happy memories and Reader has a hard time being able to trust or even be near them

Patience is a strong thing, but time is more

The SoulJam of Patience has follow their tittle, now it's Their turn to use it

I like your style dear butterfly.

Forsaken, Forgotten, Un-Forgiven

previous part

Where does one even begin to express how much patience you've lost? How does one even begin to accept your friends have become nothing more but shells of their former selves? How does one learn to forgive them for forcing you to betray them? As hard as it is to believe, it starts with an apology.

After sealing your friends away all those years ago, it took you immense amounts of patience before you could face the world again. It took you so much patience to adjust and make new friends. So much patience to finally feel free about revealing who you really are. Patience to accept that they were gone and they weren't coming back. It took a long time, but you endured it. And it was worth it.

But it wasn't.

You found yourself face to face with five shards of tinted glass, all representing a shard from what was broken long ago. You barely remembered any of them, but that doesn't mean you forgot them and their evil deeds completely

The blue shard, who had once been your source of knowledge and guidance, now full of cracks that mimicked the web of deceit it was entangled in. You remember how the threads of that web were used to puppet and control the lives of the innocent, forcing them to fight for his own twisted little show.

The white shard, who had one been the holder of the virtue known as volition, now flavorless and apathetic soul devoid of any meaning. You remember how easily she turned everything to flour with just a simple motion of her hand. And you knew she did it because she saw little to no value in living a life with the inevitable end known as death

The red shard, who was once the herald of change in itself, now a destructive and merciless monster who sees no point in creation when it's bout to wither away eventually. You remember how he had destroyed countless homes and lives, all because he was bored.

The pink shard, who was once the most loving and joyful person you had ever met, now a lazy sloth who didn't even bother doing anything anymore. You remember vividly how she wiped away so many cookies just because they woke her up from her nap.

Then there was the Purple shard, once a noble knight of solitude, now a dark knight of silence. You remember all to well how had mercilessly crumbled several cookies in a single strike. How he's never uttered a word since he became corrupted.

These shards of glass are none other than your fallen friends, freed from but under different circumstances. They weren't causing havoc, they weren't attacking- heck, they weren't even angry at you after you lead them into a trap. What baffled you more was how the ancients were present but stood to the side. It took some time before the realization hit you.

"They want to talk."

You heard a voice say. It sounded like you, but much more mature. You felt your heart drop. They wish to talk? Couldn't they have thought about that years- no, CENTURIES ago?! But you're not about to argue with the light of patience when you clearly have better things to focus on.

The first thing you noticed about your fallen friends is their demeanor. They're not angry... they actually look guilty and nervous. Next was their souljams... which they didn't have for some reason. The ancients probably have it, which is good. They can't cause much damage. Shadow milk cookie stepped forward and you were ready for anything....

"Y/N cookie..."

Anything at all.

"We're sorry..."

Except that. Your eyes widened and you froze solid, the words unable to register in your head. They were apologizing?... But- no that can't be right... this is a trick... It's a trick and you won't fall for it again... You look at the ancients. They aren't intervening or protesting against this false apology.

...

They can't seriously believe this, right? They're not falling for this, RIGHT?! You step back a bit and shake your head slightly. This was a trick. Why do they want to redeem themselves NOW? Had they not realized the gravity of what they did before sooner? This had to be some kind of lie. And you weren't gonna fall for it. You made that very clear to them before walking.

It was only later on where pure vanilla cookie explained that they were attempting a redemption arc to fix the bond between you. The ancients really did believe them... Why did they believe them?! They had been nothing but pure evil as far as you can remember. Their evil deeds outweighed whatever happy memories you had with them... almost as though you didn't have happy memories.

The beasts tried again and again to at least get you to cast a glance at them but it was fruitless. You walked away from the library when Shadow milk cookie tried talking to you. You completely ignored Eternal sugar cookie trying to enter your room and talk to you. You turned your back on Burning spice cookie when he attempted reaching out for you. You refused to acknowledge Mystic flour cookies attempt of interaction with you. And the silence between You and Silent salt cookie had grown into a deadly kind of quiet, as if none of you had even been together.

They just didn't get it, did they? They betrayed your trust once, what if they do it again? You had to be BEYOND patient with yourself in order to recover and yet they've returned? No, they shouldn't have. They had no idea how many sleepless nights you endured to finally accept they're absence. How much you had to learn to adjust and be patient with yourself to be able to move on. And all that hard work, all that patience, it was gonna crumble because of them.

No, you can't let that happen. You can't just forgive them just like that. Not after everything they've done, to innocent cookies, everything they've done to you. If they really wanted your forgiveness, they'd have to be as patient with you as you were with them when they weren't corrupted. They have to earn your forgiveness, and that was going to take a long time.

You were patient with them, now they must be patient with you. How long they'd have to be patient was unknown, and how long they'd actually remain patient was just as mysterious.

#crk #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cr kingdom #Beast cookies #Ancient cookies #Pure Vanilla cookie #Dark Cacao cookie #Golden cheese cookie #Hollyberry cookie #White lily cookie #Silent salt cookie #Eternal sugar cookie #Burning spice cookie #Mystic flour cookie #Shadow milk cookie

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obsessive-reylin · 2 days ago

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TW: heart disease, operation, forced operation, hospital and doctors

The yandere content that I’m writing is absolutely in no way me promoting this type of behaviour. I do not romanticise it; this is just a way for me to explore the more darker side of my writing. If you do relate to these characters or think that it’s romantic, please seek help.

You are welcome to send asks/requests about my existing characters or others. Just make sure to read my rules.

A couple of months ago, it felt like your world fell into shambles. You didn't really understand what kind of sickness your sister had, but it was explained by the doctors that she needed her heart replaced. You visited her every single day, talking to her and supporting her, and then crying your heart out on your way to work. It felt wrong to be giving up on her sister, but then again, what kind of monster you would be, wishing for someone else's death to die, for her to survive ?

In the end, you didn't have to do that for her, since one of the doctors that were treating her found a legitimate donor. You were overjoyed by the news, even as far as hugging the doctor in question and crying into his shoulder. But it seemed as though he didn't mind, dare say even enjoyed it. Either way, you didn't pay attention to that, nor the joyous stare that he was giving you.

After your sister's operation, everything seemed to go back to how it was, that was until the doctor, Liam as he presented himself to you, asked you out on a date. At first, you weren't really into the idea, it felt like he thought since he saved your stater, you owned him something. But your sister convinced you that it probably wasn't anything of the sort, telling you that you should just give him a chance. Worst case scenario, it doesn't click between the two of you during the date, and you just part ways.

You had to admit, it was a good argument on her part, since you asked around and his female coworkers never once uttered a displeased comment about him. And also the fact that you were pretty desperate for someone to be your other half, so you finally decided to accept his offer.

Soon enough, you and Liam officially started dating. You were never too interested in that aspect, but with Liam it felt ecstatic. For you, he was the picture-perfect boyfriend. Scratch that, the embodiment of romance, that's what he was to you. He would always make sure that you were taken care of in every way possible. He asked for your consent to everything, listening intently to everything that came out of your mouth, taking you out on dates, and buying you everything you wanted and more.

Meaningless to say, it didn't take long for him to convince you to move in with him. And it might have been his worst mistake, because soon after, something in you just clicked. Everything just felt too perfect, for your licking, something was definitely not right. You knew that you had a bad habit of becoming paranoid and tried to brush it off, but at the back of your mind, you couldn't just ignore this inner feeling of uneasiness. That's why you decided to rummage through the house, since you figured Liam wouldn't have a problem with it.

Not even ten minutes in, you find yourself standing in front of the door heading towards the basement.

“I didn't know we had a basement…” You thought to yourself as you opened the door and headed downstairs, bracing yourself for what you were about to find inside. At first, everything seemed normal, everything was tidy, like Liam usually liked. That is until you went further and discovered MRI machines, CT scanners, sedatives, opioids, and a bunch of other stuff that you were pretty sure were not legal to keep at home, even for a doctor.

You didn't really know what to do. On one hand, you wanted to call the police, but it felt a little too extreme, you were dating the guy after all. So you decided the next day to go to the hospital and ask one of his close colleagues, so that one of them could shed some light into the situation without taking any legal actions.

But just as you were about to do that, you felt a familiar hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you find Liam smiling down at you. But this didn't feel like his usual smile, for some reason it felt creepy and unsettling.

“Honey, are you alright ? What are you doing at the hospital ?”

“Yeah… I brought you lunch, that's all.”

You quickly handed him his lunch that you thankfully prepared in case you would run into him, hands slightly trembling as you did so. You started to regret not calling the police. Looking at him now, knowing what he hid in the basement, you felt really uneasy being around him, knowing that he could be doing literary anything with that equipment.

“Oh honey, how sweet of you…” You could practically feel the sarcasm dripping from his voice, and it made you ten times more anxious, making you question if he knew that you entered the basement.

Not long after, he insisted on taking you home, since he would finish his shift soon enough. Through the entire car ride, you couldn't help but anxiously fidget, waiting for what would happen once you're home. Liam didn't show any signs of anger or anything of the sort, but that didn't stop you from feeling like the day wasn't going to end on a happy note. As soon as you step into the house, you are hit on the back of your head with something hard, and you feel your body collapse on the floor.

The next time you woke up, your head was throbbing, and you couldn't focus on anything, or remember what had happened, until Liam came into the room, a wide smile on his face.

“Darling ! You finally woke up, that's good.”

“What happened ?”

“Well you see darling, I haven't used the basement for quite a while, so imagine my surprise when I noticed yesterday that the door handle wasn't dusty.”

He sat beside you on the bed and took your hand in his. He had the same smile that he always showed you, and yet you couldn't help but be afraid of him, afraid of what he might do to you.

“By the way, your phone has a tracking app, so I knew you wanted to snitch on me to my colleagues. And you know what they say, snitches get stitches, so that's what I did !”

You were utterly confused by his words, until he started lifting your shirt up and to your horror, you discovered actual stitches. Your body completely froze at the sight. You finally understood what this monster of a man was doing down in the basement with all of that medical equipment.

“I took your liver out. I remember you telling me that wanted to donate your organs, so consider this a start.”

He then grabbed your chin, and made you look at him. His grip was so tight you almost started crying, or maybe it was because you didn't want to be close to him. Either way, you were hurt, inside and out.

“Now listen darling. You have two options. One, you forget everything that happened. Two, you make me upset like you did yesterday, and you're going to be a frequent visitor of the basement.”

And with simple threat, he gently kissed your cheek. Never once you thought you would go from craving his touch to despising it.

Thank you so much for reading ! Why don't you spend some more time on my blog and look through my navigation ?

#tw yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere doctor #yandere x y/n #yandere blog #yandere boy #yandere male #yandere original character #yandere oc #male yandere #male yandere x reader #male yandere oc #male yandere x you #male yandere x y/n #yandere imagines

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anonymous-dentist · 2 days ago

Text

Bleeding Heart Part Six

Part One | Previous Part

Almost two months after his first altercation with Hombre Misterioso, Cellbit hears a knock at his door as he's editing the last of Roier's photos.

Yawning, Cellbit leans his chair back and runs a hand through his hair. He cracks his neck and blearily checks the time in the bottom corner of his computer screen: three in the afternoon. He started editing almost nine hours ago. He's been out of coffee for two and a half hours at least.

So he gets up, groans as his spine protests at the sudden weight, winces as his bones all pop in quick succession. Picks up his coffee mug, ignores the knocking at the door, goes to start a fresh pot of coffee.

His mug was painted by Richarlyson at one of those do-your-own-pottery places. It's a bright, ugly yellow with a red heart and the words, 'World's Okayest Dad' painted on it in black.

The knocking continues.

Cellbit checks his hair in his reflection in the microwave. Pulls at one of the bags under his eyes. Sticks his tongue out. Grimaces at how stupid and old and tired he looks. (Bagi is 26, he thinks, so he should be, too. But, wow, he looks older. Much older.)

More knocking.

With one last forlorn look at his bubbling, brewing, beautiful coffee, Cellbit finally goes to answer the door. He's in his pajamas (sweats and one of Felps' old shirts), and he probably looks like a walking corpse, but, like. Whatever, anyone stupid enough to actually come to his apartment knows that he works from home. They should know what to expect when bothering him.

But:

"Hi!" Bluebird cheerfully says as soon as Cellbit's door is open.

Cellbit looks at her. He blinks, rubs his eyes with one hand, and moves to close the door in her face.

But he's stopped by Bluebird sticking her foot in the door and weaseling past him and into the apartment. She apologizes as she does so, but Cellbit knows that she doesn't mean it; she's a hero.

"Nice place," she comments, walking to the couch and plopping herself down like she's right at home.

"Um," awkwardly says Cellbit. "Get out of my house?"

"Who, me?"

Bluebird actually, really, legitimately looks around the room dramatically, head and hair whipping back and forth as she tries to find whoever it is that Cellbit is actually talking to.

Cellbit balls his hands into fists by his sides. Fucking. Heroes.

Bluebird's costume is basic: black undersuit, light blue vest and darker blue pants, white ski goggles. Her hair is halfway tied back in a ponytail. Her weapon of choice, her now-famous scythe, is on her back and digging into Cellbit's couch cushions. The Federation's logo is right on her chest, and all her sponsors' logos run down her sleeves and the legs of her pants.

Cellbit hates her. She isn't even making an attempt to hide her identity- the goggles aren't doing shit. Heroes don't have to hide themselves. Their faces are on cereal boxes. Bluebird is no exception, especially now that her popularity is skyrocketing.

Bluebird, of course, is assigned to find and defeat Hombre Misterioso. The public thinks that her job is to capture them so they can be tried and imprisoned in the Federation's special underwater prison facility. But Cellbit knows that she's going to kill Hombre Misterioso, and it'll be framed as an accident, and she'll get 'suspended' for a month or so as punishment but, really, it'll actually be a vacation reward for a job well done.

"What do you want," Cellbit flatly asks.

Sighing, he nudges the door shut behind him and leans against it, arms crossed.

Bluebird stares at him for a moment.

(Bare arms crossed, scars and all.)

And then she lets out a breath and crosses her legs, fold her hands neatly on top of her knees and tries to smile. Tries, because Cellbit can tell that her heart isn't in it.

"Hey," she hesitantly says, "so I'm supposed to be asking you about Hombre Misterioso and stuff, but, real quick, I just wanna say that I'm really sorry if Cucurucho's been bothering you."

"You're wasting your time," Cellbit tells her. "Get out of here before I call the cops for trespassing."

Bagi would love to arrest a Fed, even if the charge wouldn't stick longer than an hour after arrest.

Bluebird winces. "O-kaaaay, sensing some hostility here. But, listen, we all just want this guy caught, right?"

"Sure. It's a real shame what's happening to all your heroes."

"It is! And you almost ended up like them, but! But you didn't."

"Yeah." Cellbit nods. "Because I'm not one of you. You're talking to the wrong guy."

He smells coffee.

Ignoring Bluebird for the moment, he walks through the main room and past the couch and the hero on it so he can squeeze into the kitchen. His apartment isn't small, but the kitchen table takes up a solid ninety-percent of the kitchen's floorspace. It even dips into the main room, making it real hard to get around at night when the lights are off.

He grabs his mug and the coffee pot and pours himself a fresh cup. He can feel the warmth radiating out from them both, and he shivers involuntarily. (He usually wears a hoodie when he's working, but he spilled coffee on it earlier in the afternoon and hasn't gotten around to getting a fresh one out of the closet.)

Bluebird, of course, follows him. She hovers in the doorway near the end of the table; her scythe is tall enough to almost scrape the top of the doorway.

Cellbit raises his mug to his lips.

"You might not realize this, but you were probably targeted," Bluebird says, actually almost sounding serious. "Your parents might be dead, but you and your sister aren't."

Cellbit jerks so hard in response that he spills his fresh, hot, boiling coffee all down his front. But he can barely feel it through the sudden rush of hatred in his body.

"My parents had nothing to do with the Federation," he snaps. He pulls his wet shirt out in front of him and wrinkles his nose. "Excuse me."

He puts his cup down on the counter and pushes past a surprised Bluebird to go to his room. He actually manages to close this door behind him as he pulls his shirt off and starts searching for a new one.

As he's digging through his shirt drawer, he hears a tap-tap-tap at the window behind his desk.

Dread filling his veins, Cellbit turns around and sees a familiar gas mask poking out over the top of his computer monitor.

Hombre Misterioso waves.

Cellbit, suddenly, feels rather faint.

"No, sorry!" Bluebird calls through the closed door. "That was my bad! I meant your, uh, the parents you and your sister share? Not your actual parents."

Cellbit points aggressively at the window and mouths, 'Get the hell out of here!'

Hombre Misterioso just waves some more. They're absolutely smiling under their mask.

It's the afternoon. They haven't been seen once in the day, only at night. Sometimes in the evening. Rarely at dawn. Not when the sun is out; it's theorized that their powers relate to the darkness like the Demon's.

"I have nothing to do with those people," Cellbit huffs. He turns back around and grabs a random shirt out of the drawer and starts pulling it on. "Cucurucho probably made you read my file, right? So you should know that."

"It... briefly mentions the Webbers, but that's not what's important!" Bluebid protests. "The Federation is really worried about your safety here, dude! My partner, Lavagirl, is currently talking with your sister about this exact same thing."

"You'll have better luck with her. She's actually on your payroll."

"Yeah, so her time with the Junior Heroes actually makes her a bigger target than you, probably, but, listen-"

Somehow, Cellbit's window starts to squeak open behind him.

He whips around and glares at Hombre Misterioso, who freezes in place with their fingers on the glass. Are those... suction cups on their fingertips? What, are they a thief now? A Spider-Man wannabe?

"No!" Cellbit shouts.

Hombre Misterioso flips him off with a palpable roll of the eyes.

Bluebird repeats, "'No'? Aren't you listening to me right now? Hombre Misterioso is trying to kill you!"

Cellbit laughs dryly. "Yeah, no."

He angrily drives his finger downwards: 'Get down.'

Hombre Misterioso shakes their head.

Cellbit rolls his eyes and points at his bedroom door: 'Someone's here!'

Hombre Misterioso shrugs and starts moving his window again.

Cellbit bites back a groan and rushes to slam his window shut, having to reach around his computer to do it. It slams, and then it's immediately being raised again by the goddamn menace on the fire escape outside.

"Are you okay in there?" Bluebird worriedly asks. "You didn't get burned or anything, right?"

"Mmm, yeah, no, I'm burned as shit," Cellbit lies.

He hisses, eyes narrowed, "Fuck off! There is literally a superhero in my living room right now!"

Hombre Misterioso responds by pulling their cape aside and revealing the hilt of their sword.

"No!"

"Do I need to call an ambulance or something?" Bluebird asks.

"No, I'm fine!" Cellbit replies. "I'm putting on some burn cream now!"

"...You keep that stuff in your bedroom?"

"My computer is old as shit and I have to run Photoshop on it. I burn myself daily. Just... get out of here!"

Cellbit, only vaguely panicked, suddenly grabs an exacto knife from his supplies drawer and drags it across his palm.

Hombre Misterioso lets out an alarmed-sounding electronic gasp, but Cellbit just grits his teeth through the pain and forces a string of his blood out of his hand and around the window's latch and then around the leg of the desk. It ties itself off with a neat knot; Cellbit forces his bleeding to stop and starts willing his platelets to kick into action.

"No, wait, I'm a hero!" Bluebird argues. "I'm trained in first aid! Let me help!"

"I'm literally shirtless!" Cellbit, wearing a shirt, shouts. "Get the fuck out of my apartment!"

"Not until I know you're okay! Do you know how much trouble I'll get in if they find out I let a civilian get hurt?"

Oh, Cellbit knows.

The window rattles and strains as the string of blood keeps it shut. (Blood is made of iron, after all.)

With his palm already scabbing, Cellbit storms towards the door and slams it open, blocking his desk and window from view with his body.

Bluebird looks up at him, determined.

Cellbit wants to stab her.

Instead, he says, "Look, I'm not the guy you want to talk to about this. Your partner is already talking to Bagi, but you both have forgotten about the guy who chased Hombre Misterioso away from me that time."

(The window goes silent.)

For whatever reason, Bluebird sucks in a sharp breath before attempting a smile.

"Oh, Roier?" she asks. "We don't need to talk to him."

Cellbit cocks his head. "Really? Because I was unconscious. I can't tell you anything about what Hombre Misterioso was doing. But Roier saw it all."

"And he talked to the police."

"But Hombre Misterioso has to be pissed at him for ruining their kill, right?" Cellbit asks. "Serial killers always end up escalating outside of their pattern, everybody who's studied them knows this. They lose control. The pattern now is Federation workers, but maybe it'll expand to people protecting Federation workers."

Bluebird pales.

Cellbit rolls his eyes. "Come on, have you really not thought of that? Aren't you guys supposed to be, like, crime experts?"

"Hey! I'm new!"

"Yeah, and you're letting a civilian stay in danger because you're too focused on protecting a failed lab experiment," Cellbit scoffs. "Trust me, if this guy knows as much about me as you think they do, then they know that I'm not the guy they want to kill. They're looking for people who like the Federation, not people who hate it."

Bluebird narrows her eyes. "That's a dangerous thing to say to a superhero, you know."

Cellbit shrugs. "Sue me. You read my file, you know that I'm more likely to be a suspect here than a victim."

She nods. "...Yeah, but you don't have powers. And they do."

He smiles bitterly. "Right."

He looks at Bluebird.

Bluebird looks at him.

"Well?" he asks. "It's a couple of hours until the sun sets, and Roier's going to be leaving work soon. In that area of town? It's only a matter of time until Hombre Misterioso catches him."

There's a quiet laugh from the window.

Cellbit quickly covers it up with a cough and a faux-pained wheeze. He grips at his chest, wincing.

Bluebird's eyes widen. "Oh, shit! Right! Your burn!"

He waves her off. "Don't worry about it, I texted my friend. He's a doctor, he's on his way."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Pac from Chume Labs? He probably helped develop your training program."

"Oh, shit, you're friends with him?" she gasps.

"What can I say? Us Brazilians gotta stick together."

"Huh. Fair. Well..."

She looks uncertain, but she nods, acquiescing. "Fine. If he's coming. But, listen, call the hotline if you see Hombre Misterioso around, okay? You might not have the... best history with us, but the Federation is good people."

Cellbit smiles. "Get out of my apartment."

Once she's gone, Cellbit lets out a scream into his hands and turns to go and yell at Hombre Misterioso some. What the fuck!

He storms to the window and drops the string. It falls apart, blood splashing onto the desk and the carpet.

He wrenches the window open and finds himself nose-to-nose with Hombre Misterioso.

Well.

Nose to gas mask.

"What do you want?" Cellbit growls.

"Who was that?" Hombre Misterioso replies.

"Bluebird. You know, the hero literally assigned to kill you?"

Hombre Misterioso's shoulders tense minutely. "Oh."

Cellbit rolls his eyes. "Yeah. Now. What do you want? The sun is out. And I hate you."

"Ouch."

"Don't act surprised. You're literally stalking me."

"I'm not. But I am here for a good reason."

"You are literally at my apartment." Cellbit blinks. He flushes red in both anger and embarrassment. "You saw me shirtless!"

"And it was very nice, but I'm here to tell you that I am going to kill Iron Boy tonight at midnight."

Iron Boy... former Junior Hero, graduated a few years ago into the mainline hero program, no known powers but an affinity for technology. Otherwise known as Tubbo, one of Pac's coworkers at the lab, and one of Cellbit's biggest haters for no good reason.

Tubbo isn't that old. He's a mentor hero for the Junior Heroes. He doesn't do much actual hero-ing outside of escorting the juniors on crime fighting field trips and testing out weapons for the lab.

Cellbit shakes his head. "Not him."

"Yes, him."

"Do someone else. Without him, the lab is understaffed until Mike gets back from his honeymoon, and we don't know when that's going to be. Kill him when Mike's back."

"Ugh, fine," Hombre Misterioso groans. They slump against the windowsill and rest their chin on their arms. "Who should I kill, then?"

"Why are you asking me?" Cellbit asks. "I'm not a villain, in case you haven't noticed. I'm retired."

"Whatever you say, enigmito." They drum their fingers against the inside of Cellbit's wall. "Maybe I should find Sharkboy."

"Fuck Sharkboy," Cellbit immediately declares. "If you can find him, kill his ass. But he's also retired. Nobody from the Order has been able to track him down."

"Maybe I should find one of those French heroes," Hombre Misterioso muses. "What do you think?"

"I think that I should give you Crow Man's phone number so you can ask him about this and not me."

Suddenly, Hombre Misterioso sits up and snaps their fingers.

"I know!" they excitedly say. "Man-Bear!"

Man-Bear... must be one of the newer heroes that Cellbit doesn't know about. Richarlyson might have heard of him, but. Yeah, no, Cellbit isn't going to ask him. He doesn't want to risk a repeat of the aquarium.

"Fine, Man-Bear," Cellbit sighs. He gives Hombre Misterioso a tired look. "Is that all? Can you go now? And never come back? And leave me alone?"

"I mean, you can come with me toni-" Hombre Misterioso starts.

They freeze.

Cellbit watches their still body until they come back to themselves in the middle of a different sentence and in a different pose: gesturing grandly with their hands and audibly smiling.

"-a team!"

"Yeah, no," Cellbit immediately says. "I can get you the Demon, if you want? But he's kind of on a murder break right now..."

(Fatherhood really has mellowed Bad out, hasn't it?)

Hombre Misterioso audibly grimaces. "I fucking hate that guy. Look, I'll call you with the details tonight when it's about to happen. You can show up if you want. If you don't, it's no big deal, you can just come to the next one."

"Please don't do that."

"Don't worry, I still have your number."

"I'm literally going to go change it as soon as you're gone."

"You won't." They tilt their head tauntingly. "You want to keep an eye on me. If you don't, how will you keep me away from your son?"

The hair on the back of Cellbit's neck stands on end.

"You haven't changed your number since I first called you," they say. "You won't do it now."

They laugh, slow and deliberate and absolutely just grating on Cellbit's ears.

"I'll see you tonight," they say.

Cellbit slams the window shut and backs away from it.

Hombre Misterioso wiggles their fingers in a farewell, and then they hop over the edge of the fire escape and drop out of view.

...Maybe. Maybe, Cellbit should call Bagi.

A/N: Let me know what you think in the tags or in my inbox! I want to hear your theories, thoughts, opinions, everything!

#a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#enigma misterioso au

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ghostgirl-22 · 2 days ago

Note

Your new fic about art is making me think about brat dom art squeezing patricks throat to get what he wants

Ay! My darling<3

—-

It goes something like…

When Patrick’s back to acting like a brat, flirting with other boys during Art’s Burberry photoshoot in London. Thinking Art can’t (won’t) do anything about it because his persona is supposed to be professional, calm, collected and so well rehearsed in public. But when Patrick makes a show of sneaking off to the bathroom to fuck another male model, Art just loses all decorum. He follows them to the bathroom, yanks Patrick by the arm and pushes him up against the door of the nearest stall just after it slams shut behind them.

“Hi,” Art says gently, but it feels dangerous.

“Did I break you?” Patrick asks, trying to play it off like he doesn’t care but his brain is already short circuiting because of the way Art manhandled him.

Art smiles and cups his fingers around Patrick’s throat. Gentle, but firm. Patrick swallows, his heart suddenly racing. Art must be able to feel it going crazy against his fingertips.

“I thought we agreed you were gonna stop fucking random people.” Art says softly, his lips so close to Patrick’s that Patrick can’t help sticking out his tongue eager for just a taste.

“I was just… I wasn’t really gonna do anything.” Patrick says, letting out a breath as he gets one lick before Art presses him harder up against the wall.

“I know you aren’t,” Art sighs, resting the side of his head against the stall and pressing his lips to Patrick’s cheek, hand still on Patrick’s throat he squeezes just a little tighter. “I know you’re impatient.” He says in Patrick’s ear. “I know you’re doing all of this because you want to fuck me. God. It must be so fucking embarrassing that you can’t fucking control yourself but that’s okay. I promise it’s okay.” He moves to look at Patrick head on again, pretty blue eyes darting back and forth.

“Mm, I just… ‘m sorry,” Patrick says carefully, his heads all scrambled. “I just— you’re wearing all that make up and clothing and stuff and you look so pretty I need to—”

“You don’t need to do anything, Patrick.” Art interrupts. “You just really, really want to.” There’s that same gentle tone with the dangerous edge.

“Yeah,” Patrick says, his mouth feels so wet he has to swallow to keep from drooling. “Fuck it, you’re right. I just want to fuck you in your pretty clothes, can I please?”

“Look at you…using your words,” Art smirks. To Patricks surprise Art kisses him, lets Patrick settle on the toilet seat and fuck him. It’s especially delicious because he’s still wet from what they did in the backseat of the car at lunchtime. Art’s fingers find their way back to Patrick’s throat, while he’s riding, while they’re kissing. Art’s squeezing a little tighter and a little tighter and just a little bit tighter till Patrick’s light headed and dizzy and Art’s moaning and coming, spurts of it getting all over Patrick’s t-shirt and face and chin. And while Art’s losing it he just grips Patrick even tighter.

Patrick nearly passes out with one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever experienced in his life. He wants to scream but he can barely make a sound, his heart’s pounding in his ears. His body is thrumming all over with wave after wave of pleasure and he can’t breathe. Art just kisses him, doesn’t even let up. Patrick tastes Arts soft lips and feels the edges of his vision start to go black. He just knows he’s gonna black out or just die and if this is how he dies it’s so fucking worth it and that’s when Art finally lets go.

Patrick gasps for air, coughing at the same time. “Fuck,” he says when he can finally formulate a sentence. He’s still feeling the aftershocks of it all. Probably spilled more inside Art than he ever has in anyone.

“Oopsie I didn’t squeeze too tight did I?” Art asks with mock innocence.

Patrick smiles, breathless. “You’re so fucking good at that.”

Art smiles back at him and gets up, letting Patrick slide out. “Can you behave now?”

“Mmhm,” Patrick nods, but he can’t help but ease his fingers inside just a second to feel the mess he’s made in him before Art can get his briefs and fancy expensive pants back on.

“Don’t touch,” Art says smacking his fingers away. Patrick smirks and bites down on the one finger he managed to get inside.

”You like the make up right?” Art asks, when he’s half dressed and zipping up his pants.

“Oh god yes,” Patrick says idly brushing his fingers along his spent cock.

“Good, once you clean up lets see if they can cover those marks on your neck so we can meet Tashi for drinks like normal people after this.”

Patrick laughs. “Yeah. Right. Like normal people.”

—

I’m not all that confident with writing the D/s elements but I did my (unproofread) best lol. Thanks for your idea nonnie!

#challengers #challengers 2024 #patrick zweig #art donaldson #challengers smut #challengers fic #art x patrick #artrick #anon ask #d/s dynamic

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ooftale · 2 days ago

Text

This game, god I love this game

ok so Im copying and pasting the rant for the game from my Insta under the cut + the alt vers, PLEASE Im just expressing my love for the game in it but it's too late for me to rewrite the whole thing

I wish Tumblr would let me post with music like Insta,,, this is a zillion times better with the "Niko and the World Machine" song gah

God this game is a masterpiece though, OK if u wanna read more do it under here:

OKAY here's the rant!!

oh my god i fucking LOVE THIS GAME SO MUCH. I SWEAR. I CANNOT FUCKING EXPRESS. MY LOVE. FOR THIS GAME. Almost a year has passed since my first One Shot Post (doesn't apply to Tumblr, last One Shot post here is more recent) and almost a year has passed since my first playthrough

It wasn't really a blind playthrough, iirc i already knew lots of stuff about the story, ending and even the solstice run itself, too, it was already part of my interests to an extent, but I didn't know or remembered the details, and experiencing it myself still felt like a fully blind Playthrough (gotta again thank my shitty memory too), and was it freaking beautiful,,, plus, i finished it around xmas time, which is like my fave period of the year, so!! I still remember i got a photo of the TV while I was playing, there were gorgeous purple lights, both from LEDs and both from the game, since it was becoming dark outside, with little xmas lights around,, gah this game holds such a special place in my heart, I don't think any other game captured my love as much as this one, SURE, Im a big lover of many MANY games, and this one isn't even the first indie rpg i ever got into (hello Undertale and deltarune), and while those are very special to me as they're some of my first interests, OneShot is just a whole another type of special, a special special if you will

And recently I've seen my friend play it blind for the first time, and as I was (Awesomely) backseating, I got to basically relive it, in a way, and I always get a little phase for it after reseeing content of it, so here I am, drawing one of my personal favorite portions of the game! Sorry for the unusual type of rant I did this time, but I just. Argh. This game, dammit

Also fun fact, so many things about this game, from the 2014 version, to songs, to imagery, to scenes, freak me so much out or make me feel so weird I feel like I need to puke

Gotta love it

#art #artists on tumblr #fanart #my art #digital art #niko oneshot #oneshot #oneshot game #niko fanart #one shot #oneshot fanart #the author #the entity oneshot #oneshot art #oneshot niko

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daniiiboo · 6 hours ago

Text

love story- jh86

summery- love story by taylor swift, jack hughes version

dani's thoughts - yay another fic out!!!

warnings- nothing just pure fluff

We were both young when I first saw you

It was the first day of high school and Jack Hughes couldn't believe his eyes when he saw you. You were the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on. You had a dazzling smile that could light up the entire room. Jack felt his heart skip a beat as he watched you from across the hallway. As he walked past you, your guy's eyes met for a brief moment and Jack felt a strange connection to you.

After that, Jack found himself making excuses to walk past your locker in hopes of catching another glimpse of you. Eventually, fate stepped in and you and Jack were paired up for a group project in English class. As the two of you worked on the project together, Jack found himself growing closer to you.

“Maybe we can do this instead?” You asked Jack, wondering how to fix the mistake the two of you made. Instead of being worried about the project, Jack was too busy looking at you, the way your hair frames your face, how your face lightly scrunched up as you thought. “Jack?” you questioned, waving your hand in front of his face.

“Oh- urhm, yeah that's good!” Jack stuttered out, his face turning a beautiful shade of red.

“Ohh kay” you responded, going back to writing.

You were Romeo, you were throwin’ pebbles and my daddy said “Stay away from Juliet”

The sound of a hockey puck hitting the boards echoed through the empty rink as you watched from the bleachers. It was a late practice, and most of the team had already left. But your boyfriend, Jack wasn’t quite done yet. He was the last to skate, always pushing himself a little longer than the rest, always a bit more determined to be the best.

You sat with your knees pulled up to your chest, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone, though your eyes kept flicking up to watch Jack. The way he moved on the ice, the confidence in every stride, every shot.

“Stay away from him, (Y/N). He’s trouble.”

You’d heard those words so many times that they had started to feel like a broken record in your head. But despite your father’s warnings, you couldn’t help the way your heart raced whenever you saw Jack, or how he made you feel when he smiled at you. Finally, as he finished up his last lap around the rink, he skated over to the bench where you were sitting. He pulled off his helmet, his damp hair sticking to his forehead, and threw a towel over his shoulder.

“Hey, what are you doing here so late?” he asked, his voice warm, though there was an edge to it.

You shrugged, trying to act casual.

“Just needed some air. You know, thinking about… stuff.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. He leaned against the bench, crossing his arms, looking at you with that trademark smirk of his.

“Stuff, huh? You’re not gonna tell me what kind of ‘stuff’ you’re thinking about?”

You bit your lip. You knew he was trying to get a rise out of you. Jack had a way of doing that—making you feel like you were the only one in the room, even if there were a hundred people around.

You hesitated.

“I was thinking about… us.”

He stopped mid-smirk, his gaze softening.

“Us?”

You nodded, your heart thudding in your chest.

“Yeah. My dad. He doesn’t want me to be around you. He thinks you're bad news.”

“I mean I’m not a saint” Jack let out a laugh, but there was no humor to it.

“I just want you to know, even if my dad doesn’t like you, I do, and thats what matters. My dad doesn’t see you when you get me flowers, or when you do little things for me. He only sees how you act on the ice as how you act in public. I see every part of you, and I love you.” you explain, looking up at him, both of you having tears in your eyes.

“Cmon lets get out of here before I cry on the ice” Jack said softly

Later, as you and Jack wandered through the streets under the cover of darkness, the world felt like it belonged to just the two of you. You forgot about everything else,about your dad’s warnings. All that mattered was the feeling of Jack’s hand in yours, the sound of his laughter in the air, and the way he made you feel like nothing could go wrong.

So close your eyes Escape this town for a little while, oh oh

The evening air was warm but fading, the last remnants of daylight slipping away like the final notes of a song you didn’t want to end. You leaned against the hood of your car, watching the orange glow of the setting sun bleed into the horizon. It had been a long day. A long month, really. The constant pressure, the expectations, the routine—it all felt so heavy sometimes. You needed a break, needed to get away, even if it was just for a little while.

That’s when you saw the headlights coming down the road.

You smiled to yourself. Of course, it was Jack. He always knew when you needed a little escape.

The engine of his truck rumbled softly as he pulled up beside you. The moment the car stopped, he was already getting out, his familiar grin lighting up his face. You couldn't help but smile back, even though the weight of everything still tugged at you.

"Hey," he said, walking over to you with that relaxed, confident stride. "You ready to go?"

"Go?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Go where?"

Jack's grin only widened.

"I don’t know. Somewhere better than here. Somewhere we can just... forget about everything. You in?"

You hesitated for only a moment. You knew what he was asking. You could already feel the excitement buzzing beneath your skin. Jack had this way of making things seem like they were going to be exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t know what you needed yourself.

"Yeah," you said, pushing yourself off the hood of the car. "Let’s go."

The two of you didn’t have a set destination. You never really did when it came to Jack. He wasn’t about planning, and somehow, that made everything feel a little more thrilling. He pulled out of your quiet suburban neighborhood, the low hum of the tires on the road accompanying the soft music playing from the radio.

"Think we’ll be back by sunrise?" you asked, your voice light with amusement, but also that quiet, giddy thrill that came with running away from everything.

Jack shrugged, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"Who says we have to go back at all?"

You laughed softly, but the idea lingered in the back of your mind. Maybe Jack didn’t feel the pressure the way you did. Maybe he didn’t have the same worries about responsibilities and future decisions hanging over his head. You envied that about him sometimes. But there was also something freeing about being with him, about leaving it all behind, even if just for a few hours.

The town faded away, the bright lights replaced by the soft glow of moonlight as you drove down empty back roads, the windows rolled down, the air cooling your skin.

"So, what’s the plan?" you asked, turning your head toward him as he navigated the winding road. "What are we running away from this time?"

Jack gave you a sideways glance, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. "Not running away," he said softly. "Just... escaping. For a little while."

You were quiet for a moment, letting his words settle in. There was something about the way he said it—so simply, so effortlessly—that made everything feel like it would be okay. Like the world outside this little bubble of time you were creating didn’t matter.

"So close your eyes," Jack added, almost like he was reading your mind. "We’ll escape this town for a little while. No one can stop us."

You didn’t hesitate. You closed your eyes, just for a second, and let the rhythm of the truck’s engine, the cool breeze, and Jack’s presence wash over you. It wasn’t about where you were going—it was about being with him, leaving the small things behind, even if just for the moment.

Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone

The night was still young, but it was already the kind of evening where the world seemed to quiet down. The sound of cicadas hummed lazily in the background, and the cool, crisp air of late summer hung around like a promise of change. You were sitting on the porch of your apartment, your feet tucked up underneath you as you leaned against the railing, watching the stars blink lazily in the dark sky above.

It had been one of those week, busy, hectic, filled with things that you had to do rather than the things you wanted to do. Work, friends, family, social obligations. Sometimes it felt like there wasn’t a moment for yourself, let alone a moment with Jack.

But tonight was different.

You glanced at your phone, checking the time for what felt like the hundredth time. Jack had texted you earlier, promising he’d be over soon. And now, as the minutes stretched on, your anticipation only grew.

Just as you were about to head inside, your phone buzzed with a new message.

Jack: "I’m here, just pulled up."

You smiled to yourself, already feeling that familiar excitement bubble up inside you. Jack was the kind of guy who always knew how to make things feel effortless. Even when life got chaotic, when schedules collided and time seemed to slip through your fingers, he always found a way to make sure you had your moments.

You grabbed your jacket from the chair beside you, stepping off the porch just as Jack’s truck rolled up to the curb. He parked, cut the engine, and hopped out with that same easy confidence that never failed to make your heart race.

“Hey,” you said softly as he approached, feeling the soft night breeze tug at your hair. Jack was wearing a hoodie and jeans, looking effortlessly casual yet impossibly cute.

“Hey,” Jack grinned, his eyes lighting up when he saw you. He immediately stepped forward, pulling you into a hug that felt like a quiet reassurance. His arms wrapped around you as if to say, I’m here, and everything else can wait. You breathed him in, his scent, the warmth of his skin, the feeling of home.

After a beat, he pulled away slightly, cupping your face in his hands.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice low and tender, as if the rush of the world had quieted just for the two of you.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw, the connection between you both undeniable.

Jack’s gaze softened as he looked down at you, his lips curling into a smile.

“I was thinking,” he started, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “What if we got away? Just the two of us. Somewhere we can be alone.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat. You didn’t need him to say much else; you knew exactly what he meant. He was always so thoughtful, so aware of the small moments where you both could just step outside the chaos and into something that was just about the two of you.

You grinned, stepping back slightly to look him in the eyes. “

Somewhere we can be alone?” you repeated, a playful edge in your voice. “You really think you can get me to leave the city and have an adventure with you?”

Jack chuckled, his fingers brushing against yours.

“You know I can,” he teased, his voice light. “All you have to do is say yes.”

You didn’t need much more convincing.

“Alright, Romeo. Take me somewhere we can be alone.”

Jack’s smile widened, and without another word, he took your hand, leading you toward his truck. You could feel the weight of the world lifting as he opened the door for you, his hands gentle, as if everything in this moment was somehow sacred.

The ride was easy, the kind of drive that made you feel like the world was behind you and everything ahead was a little more exciting. The radio played quietly in the background, a mix of old songs and new tunes, the soft glow of the streetlights fading as Jack drove you both toward the outskirts of town.

You didn’t ask where you were going. It didn’t matter. With Jack, there was something freeing about letting go of control, about letting him lead you to a place where you could forget everything else.

You’ll never have to be alone, I love you and that's all I really know

It was one of those rare, quiet afternoons where time seemed to stretch, where the usual noise of the world quieted down, and all you could hear was the steady rhythm of your own heartbeat. You were curled up on the couch in Jack’s apartment, a soft blanket draped over your legs, while the faint sounds of an old playlist you both loved filled the room.

Jack was sitting beside you, his arm around your shoulders, a half-empty coffee cup in his hand. He hadn’t said much, but the comfort of his presence was enough. Sometimes, there was no need for words.

The week had been hectic, meetings, practices, and everything in between. Jack had a big game coming up, and you could see the exhaustion written on his face. But in these quiet moments, when the world outside was on pause, everything felt like it could wait. All that mattered was now.

You shifted slightly, your head finding its way to his chest, the steady beat of his heart lulling you into a peaceful calm. His hand rested gently on your waist, fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your skin.

"You know," Jack murmured after a while, his voice soft and warm, "sometimes I forget how much I love these quiet moments. Just us."

You smiled against his shirt, the weight of the words making your heart swell. You had always loved how easy it was to be with him, how, even in the rush of his busy life, he always found time for you.

"You say that now," you teased, glancing up at him with a playful smirk, "but wait until the next practice or game. You'll be back to your crazy, high-energy self."

Jack laughed, the sound of it filling your chest with warmth.

"I guess you're right." He paused, then added, his tone shifting into something more sincere, "But even when everything’s moving fast, you're the one thing I know I can count on. I love you. And that's all I really know."

Your breath caught in your throat, his words landing like a soft touch against your soul. You lifted your head slightly to look at him, his brown eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

"You never have to be alone, you know that, right?" he added, his voice gentle but unwavering. "Not as long as I’m here."

There was something in the way he said it—like he meant every word, like he was offering you a promise. And in that moment, you knew with certainty that no matter what happened, no matter where life took you both, Jack would always be there.

You reached up to cup his face in your hands, studying the curve of his jaw, the warmth of his skin, the way his lips turned up ever so slightly when he looked at you.

"I know," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I feel it every day. I love you, Jack."

He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart flutter in your chest. "I’m never going anywhere," he murmured, pulling you closer until his forehead was resting against yours.

"You’ll never have to be alone."

The world outside continued to move, people rushing through their busy lives, their own challenges and struggles. But here, in this little bubble of calm, time seemed to stop. It was just the two of you, and that was enough.

"You’re my person, (Y/N)," Jack said, his words so quiet, so intimate. "And I’m yours."

You nodded, a slow smile forming as you wrapped your arms around him, letting yourself melt into the comfort of his embrace.

"I know," you repeated softly, the words sinking deep into your heart. "And that’s all I really need."

For a long while, neither of you said anything more. You didn’t need to. The quiet moments, the stillness between you, were enough to convey everything that words couldn’t. And in the stillness of those moments, you knew that you were home.

As Jack gently kissed the top of your head, you realized that love didn’t have to be complicated. It didn’t have to be grand gestures or sweeping declarations. Sometimes, love was found in the quiet, in the little things, in the promise that no matter what, you’d always have each other.

And with Jack, you knew you would never have to be alone.

word count - 2911

#dani writes ᡣ𐭩 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #new jersey devils x reader

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