#but I can’t stop rotating him in my head

[almonddirge]

Thinking about how Xie Lian was like a shadow over Mu Qing’s life even after his ascension. Mu Qing couldn’t change the fact he only ever had a chance of becoming a god because of Xie Lian noticing him. He was so certain that everyone around him hated him for being a servant, hated him for his connection to the Laughingstock of the Three Realms.

He tried to appease everyone. He distanced himself from High Highness, but couldn’t fully stay away. Even when Mu Qing chose to help those 33 officials and chased away Xie Lian, he still tried to go back and help. He was never going to explain himself, but he was going to prove himself through his actions. It… didn’t work out for him.

Something I’ve brought up before and think about a lot is our introduction to Mu Qing, where Xie Lian said they last met 5-6 centuries ago. He’s very consistent otherwise; he ascended around 800 years ago, became ridiculed about 800 years ago, last saw Feng Xin 800 years ago. But he claimed he saw Mu Qing more recently than that.

There were all sorts of other things like his death at Lang Qianqiu’s hands that Xie Lian brought up for a line or two and never elaborated on, and I think this is the same. They’re usually unpleasant moments he’d rather forget. Makes you wonder.

I do think Mu Qing fucked up a lot. The aforementioned moment with the 33 officials, leaving Xie Lian, never giving Feng Xin the benefit of the doubt and assuming the worst of him. Even when Mu Qing had good intentions, I think what ended up happening was bad. But when moments of him being genuine shine through, I can’t help but be enraptured.

Mu Qing didn’t have to return with a bag of rice to help Xie Lian and Feng Xin. No one made him show up to Xie Lian’s palace and offer high quality medicine when the latter was injured. And, of course, my favorite scene of his: opening up about his feelings when he’s prepared to sacrifice himself.

I don’t really have a lot of complex analysis of him yet, I just like taking little looks at his actions. He’s so scared of being hated that he tries to play all sides, and instead of people all living him for it, he just causes them to all get frustrated instead. It’s a loop he’s caught in. But there are moments when he steps aside, shows what he’s really feeling, and I love him so much for it.

[quietwingsinthesky]

you ever just think about. “You are diseased, albeit a disease of our own making. No more.” you ever just. oh, they made him and they discarded him. it’s never going to be quiet again for him, and that’s just collateral. they let the sound rot through his whole life, his whole timeline. because that’s the kind of easy sacrifice you can make when you want to save yourself above everything else, one that doesn’t ask anything of you. you dig open a child’s mind and you bury your survival inside him and when he follows the noise back home, when he does exactly what you groomed him for, you call him ruined for it. that’s. you ever just think about that.

[chipjrwibignaturals]

THOUGHT ABT CHIP JRWI INCIDENT 40 DEAD 32 WOUNDED

[pathologicalreid]

could we get Spencer Reid with a hypersexual reader that uses sex as a bad coping mechanism? 💕💕

don't look in the mirror | S.R.

seeking comfort in those you hold close, except there's a right way and a wrong way to do it

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (i think?) w/ mature themes (18+ mdni) content warnings: seeking comfort in sex, avoidance, mental health issues, spencer has those info dumps on lock, shame, self deprecation, reader hates her job (me too), blood as a metaphor, crying word count: 1.85k a/n: this is such an important topic and i'm so thankful for you asking me to write this!!!! i know this is a premise i've seen before, so i tried to make mine different. (im actually really proud of how this one turned out)

“Baby,” Spencer whispered in your ear, turning his head to the side as you left small, slow kisses on the exposed skin of his neck.

You hummed but refused to detach your lips from his soft skin, tugging gently at his shirt so that you could make your way down to his collarbone. He smelled like sunshine and the jet, an admittedly odd combo that did nothing to stop your movements down the column of his throat. His neck vibrated with sound, but none of his words registered, it all went in one ear and out the other.

His hand gently settled on the small of your back and you took a deep breath before you began pulling at the knot of his tie, “Y/N,” he muttered in a warning.

Your head snapped up at his tone, disappointed that you didn’t find the same want in his eyes that you knew was blazing in your own irises. Synapses in your brain were firing at lightning speed, and your heart was beating so quickly that it was like it was trying to keep up. “I missed you,” you whispered to him, allowing your eyes to flitter across his face.

Spencer settled his hands on your hips, firmly grabbing them in exactly the way you wanted, but instead of pulling you closer to him, he stilled their rotation.

Your heart stuttered.

“What happened?” He asked you tentatively, using the pads of his thumbs to rub soothing circles on your hips, trying to keep you from moving while giving you comfort. Despite the way you were sitting in his lap, Spencer still felt worlds away from you – if he was on Earth, you were in a different galaxy. 

Hesitantly, your lips parted, and you took a deep breath before shutting your mouth again, deciding you had nothing to say. While he’d been away, nothing significant had happened, everything in your life had trudged on exactly the way it always did. You went to work at the same job you’ve had since you got out of college with a boss who most certainly had it out for you, and you came home to an empty apartment with your phone volume all the way up, waiting for your boyfriend to call you. You really were pathetic, but you didn’t voice those concerns, instead, you answered, “Nothing happened,” the half-truth easily slid from your mouth. “Can’t I just have missed my boyfriend and want to spend quality time with him?”

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head back as his hair moved with him, “Stop, Y/N,” he said.

Without even realizing it, your hands had drifted down to his chest, and your hands were absentmindedly fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, “I didn’t…” you started to say, but your words faltered when you noticed the way he was looking at you. You looked over your shoulder, making sure that the rest of the world was still there as you tried to climb off of Spencer’s lap. “Let me go,” you insisted, hating how small your voice sounded as you pushed against him to no avail.

“I can’t let you go, not right now,” he told you, steadying his resolve as he watched you. You were staring at your hands like they were covered in blood, red-covered palms as you watched, horrified at the idea of them developing a mind of their own. It wasn’t as if your hands had suddenly become sentient entities, your heart and your brain were working against each other, fighting a silent, internal war. “Pick a spot for your hands, and just leave them there,” he whispered to you.

Your hands tremored as you settled them on either one of Spencer’s shoulders, “You don’t find me attractive anymore,” you mumbled, struggling to find the strength to enunciate your thoughts.

Spencer sighed, “Why don’t we take a minute, okay?” Delicately, he moved one hand from its station on your hip and moved it to cup your cheek, holding your face as if it were made of fine china. “What happened while I was gone, honey?”

His hand was wet on your face, or rather, your face was wet from tears that had started to trickle from your tear ducts. You furrowed your brows in frustration, “Why do you assume that something happened? Nothing happened while you were gone, why can’t you just let that be the answer?”

“Because it’s not the answer,” he insisted, dropping his hand back to your hip, continuing to stop you from getting up and moving away from him.

You scoffed, “Is it not the answer, or is it just not the answer you’re looking for, Spencer?”

“It’s not the answer, and I’m looking for the answer. You can tell me anything,” he urged, resuming his soothing movements over your hip.

As you watched his expression morph into a slight panic, you realized he was beginning to think something happened to you. With what he did for work, it was always in the back of his mind, you being in danger of being hurt by other people but what he rarely considered was the idea of you being a danger to yourself. “Nothing happened, okay? Absolutely nothing happened to me while you were gone and everything in the world stayed exactly the fucking same. I went to work every day and I came home and sat around while I waited for you to call, I waited for you to come home and now you won’t even touch me.”

Your tears kept coming, leaving saline stains on his gray shirt as your head spun and his movements stopped. “Work was bad?” He asked softly, using his fingertips to wipe beneath your eyes. He knew about your issues at work, he had been encouraging you to leave the job for months, but you were convinced that a promotion was coming. “You shouldn't have to be miserable every time you go to work.”

“Not everyone gets to be hand-picked for a top job at twenty-one. Some people have to work shitty jobs to make ends meet,” you snapped at him, nostrils flaring angrily.

He didn’t answer right away, you became hyperaware of the pounding of your heart as you waited for his response. As you waited for him to kick you out. “I told you that I’d support you if you wanted to go back to school. I meant it, Y/N,” he told you, brown eyes flooded with concern. “You can leave your job and pursue your dream, that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you, baby.” Spencer leaned back against the couch cushions, “I can’t help you until you help yourself, love.”

Slouching your shoulders, you felt your eyes starting to line with tears again, “It feels so unfair to have you shoulder more responsibility so that I can go back to school.”

“No,” he said, “What’s not fair is you lying to me and then trying to avoid it with sex. I asked you how your week had been, and you either didn’t care to answer me or you have such bad tunnel vision that you didn’t even hear me.” He gently chided, giving you time to drown in the blatant concern in his eyes, “and what’s worse is you never told me it was this bad.”

You averted your eyes, focusing your gaze on the chessboard behind him as you thought about your next move. In one fell swoop, he could checkmate you, completely catch you off guard, and tell you everything that you didn’t want to hear. Alternatively, you could sacrifice yourself for his benefit, “I hate my job. My boss is making it impossible for me to make any positive stride, and that’s on top of him being a misogynistic douche.” You flexed your hands where they remained on Spencer’s shoulders and sighed, “And yes, I miss you when you’re gone. Yes, I lied to you about it, but what would you do about it? Leave your big important job because your girlfriend is lonely?”

He craned his head to the side, silently encouraging you to make eye contact with him, “I’d hope that you’d feel comfortable enough to tell me how you’re feeling so that we could work something out – we can talk through this. It’s a two-way street though, you have to talk to me. I can make an effort to call and text more if you promise me, you’ll make an effort to communicate with me.”

Slowly, you started to nod, “I… I can do that, but you hate texting,” you reminded him, raising your eyebrows curiously.

“I’ll get over it,” he reassured you, studying your features, “You’re worth it,” he added.

Finally, you pulled your arms back, hugging them around yourself protectively, “I’m sorry,” you murmured, “I don’t know why I am… the way that I am.”

Spencer took a deep breath before giving you a look that told you he had an inkling, “You’re unhappy, with me or the world, it doesn’t matter, but you think the solution to your displeasure comes in the form of an orgasm and that’s just not the answer, honey.”

You hiccupped and wrapped your arms tighter around yourself like you could make yourself smaller, “I still don’t know why though.”

“You’re seeking the rush, not necessarily the act of sex itself, you want the dopamine and oxytocin rush that comes with an orgasm. Your brain convinces yourself that it’s what you need because when you get unhappy like this, all you can focus on is how to feel better and fast,” he spoke to you gently – he knew this wasn’t what you wanted to hear, but it was what you needed to hear. “It’s brief, and it’s just for that moment, and your brain might even recall how your parasympathetic nervous system shuts down after you come, and your body gets tired. You get a rush of serotonin, and you relax enough to convince yourself that it'll be okay, but you need to find something more permanent. I’ll help you.”

Your arms fell limply at your sides, “Do you think I’m broken?”

The small smile he gave you was enough of an answer, “No, in fact, I know you’re not broken.” Tenderly, he reached out and unwound your arms from around your torso, “And since I know you won’t stop thinking about it, I do still find you attractive.” Spencer studied your face, “Where do you want to start?”

“Do you want to help me draft a letter of resignation?” You offered, giving Spencer a shy smile.

He hummed in response, “Yeah, in a bit.” Your boyfriend reached his hands out to you, now being the one who pulled you close, “Come here, darling.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder and sighing as he wrapped his arms around your torso, “I missed you,” you mumbled, entirely deflating your lungs as you let yourself relax.

Spencer reached up, ruffling your hair with one hand and keeping another on the small of your back as he sighed with you, “I missed you too.”

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 1 - Betrayal

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, betrayal, mean!Bucky,

Hi! This kinda came outta nowhere lmao. Apologies for the angst, I just needed to do an angsty/sad fic cos I'm in my feels. As always, I appreciate your comments and reblogs. This is a two part series (standalone, not linked to any of my other fics, not the same characters as in Sweet and Sour) second part coming soon...

Wordcount: 3.7k

💔

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me, Doll. After everything we’ve been through? Was it all a lie?”

“Don’t deny it! That’s your voice on the recording! Banner proved your phone was there, it pinged there – we’ve got the proof. Even now you’re lying, you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

You had read about people being too stunned to move or speak, but you always thought it was a little embellished for dramatic effect in books. Surely, you could just push through? Surely shock did not have such a profound effect on your body that it rendered you temporarily paralysed and mute?

But you had calmly walked down the stairs towards the lobby of the house twenty minutes ago and hadn’t moved since. You just stood there now, rigid and dumbfounded, trying to understand how your entire world had just collapsed around you mere minutes beforehand. Now, you got the ‘stunned’ thing. You understood.

The aftershocks of Bucky yelling at you echoed around your head. What had just happened? You’d been sleeping peacefully just before he stormed in your shared bedroom, roaring at you before your eyes had even opened. You’d never seen him like that before. This wasn’t your Bucky, this was work Bucky. The one he’d always worked so hard to keep you from.

Why wouldn’t he listen? What did he mean, the recording? The phone ping? Your skull ached as you tried to make sense of it all. You would never do a thing like that to him. You loved him. You’d die before you purposefully tried to hurt him. Why didn’t he understand that?

You briefly considered going back upstairs, finding him wherever he was in the labyrinth of this house and straightening this whole mess out. Telling him you loved him, and he had to listen. Taking him in your arms, kissing him softly.

But the memory of the look in his eyes, the sheer rage they contained, the hatred that lay there, stopped you.

There was nothing to go back for.

You managed to pull yourself from your paralysis and move towards the hall closet near the front door. Well, it was more like a small room than a closet. An overflow from the walk-in closet just off the master bedroom upstairs. A huge space packed with a selection of Bucky’s jackets and shoes. He liked keeping some of them downstairs, getting the staff to rotate them when he wanted a change. Some of your things sat in there too - a few high-end coats, beautiful shoes. 

Correction, past tense - they were yours. Not now. 

“You’re a liar! You lied to me…Bet you loved spending my money too, didn’t you? Laughing all the way to bank as you sucked me dry…”

You screwed up your face as the memory of his voice flooded you. He was just so angry…he just wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t believe you…

You pushed it all aside and opened the closet door, darting and shuffling through the combined thousands of dollars at your fingertips - the Dior, the Gucci, the Prada. You knew it was in here somewhere.

Then you spotted a flash of red behind one of the shoe racks in the far corner. There she was. 

You moved towards it, grabbing at the red fabric and tugging. It squeezed past the luxury shoes and revealed itself as you pulled it toward you - your faithful red backpack.

A relic of your former self.

No designer labels here, just a bag that had followed you throughout your life - high school, college before you’d dropped out, various apartment moves and vacations. The once-bright crimson colour had faded over time, but it was still sturdy and strong, still TARDIS-like in how much you could pack inside. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the closet against the glamour and opulence. 

You knew how that felt.

You unzipped it and dug through the contents. A pair of jeans, a sweater, a couple of T-shirts and your beaten-up old sneakers. Some pairs of underwear and bras. A few other simple garments. All polyblends and cheap textiles. No fancy labels to be found. No fine silks or luxe fabrics that Bucky had liked to spoil you with. 

This backpack was all you had to your name when you’d moved in here. Funny how life went in circles, because once again it was all you had now.

At the time Bucky had taken it from you and insisted you throw it away - you wouldn’t need it! He’d buy you a whole walk-in closet full of clothes! 

And he did. 

A dizzying amount. More than you could ever wear. A mix of designer labels and custom pieces that fit you perfectly. Fine tailoring and exquisite details. Dresses. Blouses. Pants. Jeans. Organic cotton t-shirts. Skirts of every length. Winter coats that had cost the same as two months of your rent in the city. Underwear sets so pretty and delicate that you were almost too nervous to wear them. 

And accessories, too. Handbags. Jewellery. Shoes. Oh, the shoes. Heels, flats, boots, sandals, sneakers and slippers. Shoes for fancy parties and shoes for hikes. Shoes for the grand vacations. Shoes for just lounging around the house. Shoes you only wore for sex.

All gone, in an instant.

It didn’t matter, anyway. You always told him you didn’t need any of it. And you weren’t lying. You’d never lied to him, despite what he believed now. You were always happiest in sweats and loungewear, you just liked being comfortable and yourself. You just liked being near him.

At the time you’d talked him round about letting you keeping the backpack - nostalgia, you know? You’d had it years, after all.

But he didn’t think you needed it. That was then, this was now. Why keep an old bag when you could get anything you’d ever want? He’d buy you a hundred backpacks, he said, he’d get your initials embroidered, he’d let you design your own, he’d have your favourite designer make you one - especially for you.

But that wouldn’t be your bag. The bag that had seen everything. Your constant companion. 

You persisted. What was one little backpack in a big old house like his? It would take up no space at all. He wouldn’t even know it was there.

He relented eventually, he’d always loved how down to earth and low-key you were. He was fond of your sentimentality. You’d never been interested in his money; you’d kept the love notes he wrote you - not the shopping receipts - but he still liked to spoil you. You deserved it. 

Or so he’d told you then. But it was a different story today. 

The bag had been hastily stashed here in the closet the first day you moved in and had been there ever since, languishing amongst the Italian tailoring. 

Until now.

Part of you wondered if deep down you had always known this day would come. Maybe your gut had sensed it was all too good to be true, and you knew you needed to store a parachute for the inevitable fall. 

You sniffed, wiping away the threat of more tears. There would be time for that later. 

You looked down at the slip you wore, the slinky, silly nightie thing he’d bought you that you’d worn to bed. Not very practical now you’d be out on the street. 

Your brain suddenly switched into survival mode, most likely in an attempt to stop yourself from falling apart, but you couldn’t think about it all now. You needed to find somewhere to stay. And you couldn’t do that in a silk nightdress. 

You quickly shrugged the gown off, leaving it in a tangled pool on the floor of the closet and mentally apologising to Martha who would have to pick it up tomorrow. You grabbed the backpack and pulled on the jeans, a bra, one of the tees and the sweater. You rolled the Dollar Tree socks onto your feet. Kicked on the sneakers. It was all a little musty from being folded up in the bag for so long. But it would do. 

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the closet mirror and gasped. Aside from the wild eyes and tear-stained face, you looked like a version of yourself you hadn’t seen in a long time. Another life.

Hello again.

Next: where to go. The obvious places were Wanda’s or Nat’s homes. And you’d go there. Either would work. Either would welcome you with open arms, being the true friends that they were. Bucky’s betrayal had made you question everything you knew about love, but not the faith in your friends to catch you when you fall. That was unshakeable. 

Maybe you could alternate who you stayed with until you got back on your feet, so you weren’t too much of a burden to either. You just couldn’t face either of them tonight, you needed to be alone. 

You frantically rummaged through the backpack again until you found what you were looking for at the very bottom. You let out a little yelp of relief.

The battered old wallet had seen better days, but it was hanging on. You opened it up and breathed a sigh of relief that you’d never transferred your driver’s license into the Gucci wallet Bucky had given you on that first day. Thanks, lazy past self. It wasn’t like you’d driven much anyway, not with his all drivers on the payroll and the Uber account he’d loaded onto your phone. 

The wallet also contained debit and credit cards you’d never cancelled but hadn’t touched since Bucky gave you your very own black card. It was funny how you used to obsessively count every penny and now you could charge whatever you wanted without a second thought.

Not now, then, you corrected. You needed to get used to your life with Bucky being referred to in the past tense.

“You were working with the feds this whole time, Doll? Is that it? You were all laughing at me? Laughing at how easy it was to let you in? The cute little waitress doing her ‘oh shucks!’ routine, catching me hook, line and sinker?? God I’m such a fucking idiot…”

You stifled a sob, but continued hunting through the wallet.

You thought about your purse sitting out on the side table by the front door. You could take that with you and charge a hotel room it. He probably wouldn’t even notice such a small charge amongst his wealth, and even if he did, he wouldn’t begrudge you a few bucks for a roof over your head for one night. Would he?

No. Enough. 

He had ended it. He had implied you were a leech. He didn’t listen, he didn’t trust you. He didn’t believe you. If he truly thought you’d done what he said…he couldn’t ever have loved you. Not really. 

No more spending his money, even though you never really felt comfortable doing so anyway. The showdown tonight had confirmed your biggest fears - he’d always resented you for spending his cash. You couldn’t live like that anymore. 

Besides, you didn’t want him to know where you were. Not that you thought he’d come after you…but still. 

Fortunately, the wallet had a ream of stale bills stuffed in one of the sections. You exclaimed in excitement; you remembered them now. It had been your last day at your waitress job. You’d quit right before you came over to this place to move in, and Lou had given you the rest of the week’s pay plus tips. You had fought him on it, insisting you didn’t need it - but Lou had asked you to take it. For his sake.

“I want you to be happy, hon’,” he’d told you kindly when you had shared your plans. “And I know you’re a smart girl. But you’re getting mixed up with…a different kinda world. A…different kind of guy. You never know when this might come in handy”.

You’d frowned at him at the time, not quite sure what he meant. But as you stood there in the closet clutching the cash, you sent him a silent thank-you for his foresight. God bless Lou. He was exactly right.

You shoved the money and the wallet back into the red bag and moved from the closet into the hallway. The house was completely silent. If Bucky knew you hadn’t left yet, he’d made no effort to stop you. You admitted that a tiny part of yourself had hoped he’d come after you and admit he’d made a terrible mistake.

But he wasn’t coming. 

You slung the backpack over your shoulder as you headed to the front door. As your hand curled around the handle, you turned and took one last look at what had been your first real home. What you’d hoped would be your last home. 

You looked over at your phone which you’d tossed onto the dresser next to the closet in your panic. You briefly pondered taking it, but it wasn’t yours anymore. You’d buy a burner in the morning and get a new cell plan once you were back on your feet. 

Wow. You were surprising yourself with this pragmatism. But you also knew you were hanging on by a thread.

But the fact was - you’d survived before Bucky, and you’d survive after him, too. You always kept going. You’d been dirt poor before, you could do it again. You’d been alone before, too. You’d been alone most of your life. 

You could do it again.

‘Tenacious’ - that’s what Nat had called you once. You weren’t sure if you agreed with her at the time, but now you wanted to prove her right. You wanted to be the person she believed you to be. 

You already knew it would be much harder now, as you’d had a taste of the other side. How the other half live, as they say. Before, you didn’t know any different - you didn’t know what you were missing. Now you absolutely did. Not just the money…the comfort…but being cared for, being loved. 

On some level, you’d always known this wasn’t going to be your happy ending. You knew deep down that the house of cards would eventually fall, because it always did. 

You just wished you weren’t always right. 

You opened the door and stepped out into the dark.

💔

You walked for thirty minutes towards the city. Bucky lived on the outskirts and most of the journey had been leaving his estate along the single, winding road that led up to his property. None of his men paid you any mind. Not the ones with guns pitched up along the perimeter. Not those waiting in cars half a mile from his house, keeping an eye out for any potential threats as they did every night. They all knew who you were, so word must’ve spread fast. Otherwise they would’ve been falling over themselves to check on you and find out why the boss’ girl was out walking by herself at this time. 

You wondered if Steve or Sam had put a message out on the comms. ‘They’re over. Don’t worry about her anymore’ or words to that effect. Something cold but concise. That’s how this operation worked. 

You’d developed friendships with some of these men. Chatted to them and even brought them coffee when they kept watch on cold nights. You would watch then from the windows and tell Bucky you were worried about how freezing it was out there, and he’d laugh it off and say it was part of their job and they were fine. But they were always grateful when you came out with a thermos, always told you how much it meant to them. 

All of it forgotten in an instant, you were disposable as anything else in Bucky’s empire. You understood that now. Just like when he wanted a new car or a new watch, he’d toss away the old model - then find himself something newer and shinier. 

You walked a little further as signs of civilisation starting to appear and Bucky’s acres of land disappeared behind you. A gas station. A boarded-up strip mall. You were a little frightened walking alone by yourself, but the sheer adrenaline your situation propelled you forward. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you eventually found a tired-looking Holiday Inn up ahead. A few of the lightbulbs on the neon sign were out, meaning it spelled out H LIDAY INN. A leaky drainpipe dripped a steady stream of water over the entrance. Oh dear. 

But it would do for now. 

You took a deep breath as you went inside and checked in at the front desk, paying for a basic room with your waitress cash. The disinterested receptionist gave you the key card and sighed with boredom, barely looking at you as she barked the directions to your room and resumed Candy Crush on her phone. She didn’t seem surprised to see a lone woman turning up in the middle of the night, arriving to a roadside hotel on foot, paying for two nights in crumpled bills. She didn’t even ask to see your ID. That all gave you a pretty clear idea of what the staff were used to here.

You passed an ancient-looking PC that guests could use, which surprisingly, as it looked like it was last updated for Windows 95, had WiFi. You made a mental note to log on tomorrow to message Wanda and Nat on social media and fill them in …and hopefully get one of them to come pick you up. 

You grabbed some chips and soda from the vending machines then walked towards the elevators. Not quite the glamorous dinner you’d become accustomed too, but it would do. For now.

You hit the button to call the elevator as you slumped against the wall, the exertion of your long walk and the evening finally catching up with you. The elevator creaked and spluttered but it finally got you to your floor. 

You scanned your keycard and swung the room door open, dumping your backpack and snacks onto the wood-veneer desk before flinging yourself onto the double bed. The no-frills basics were worlds away from the fancy hotels you were used to staying in with Bucky, but it was clean and comfortable. And most important of all, it was private. 

“Just get the fuck out. We’re done here so save your tears. Over. Finito. I don’t need some liar in my bed, being sweet to my face then sticking a knife in my back – then not even having the guts to admit to it when she’s caught red-handed”.

Finally alone, you allowed yourself to weep. To mourn the end of your relationship and the man you thought Bucky was, versus the man he turned out to really be. To grieve, to bid farewell to the life you thought you had (and would continue to have) with him, and the way you thought he saw you. It wasn’t just about losing him and tarnishing your memories, it was also grieving for a future and a life you thought you were going to have. 

“I don’t care. You’ll figure something out, sweetheart. You’re just lucky this is all I’m doing after everything you’ve pulled…”

Large, wracking sobs took over your body as you curled up on the hotel bedspread and allowed yourself to feel it all. You ate the chips and drank the soda, barely tasting either. You turned on the TV and let the black and white movie on the one working channel serve as background noise. Fatigue eventually swam over you, smothering you like a weighted blanket.

Soon there were no tears left and the well had finally run dry. Mercifully, sleep finally came for you, and you gave into it without a fight. 

And you slept. And slept. 

💔

Bucky was at his desk looking at paperwork when Steve came back into his home office. He was doing his best to ignore the nauseating rush in his gut, trying his hardest not to think about you and the way your face had crumpled as he confronted you. Most likely it was just your guilt, anyway.

“Barton said the shipment arrived right on schedule, everything accounted for,” Steve advised as he poured himself a shot of bourbon from the small bar setup in the corner of the office. “And Sam’s out at the shipyard, running through the plan with Rumlow”.

He was desperate to address the elephant of the room and ask Bucky how he was holding up, but Bucky had previously insisted nobody bring your name up. So he didn’t. 

“Good,” Bucky replied curtly. “And Stark?”

“All on board. Said we can iron out the details next week”.

“Perfect, thanks”.

Steve nodded, downing the last of his glass as he placed it on the ornate tray and headed to the door.

“Oh, and Steve?” Bucky called out to him.

“Yeah, Buck?” He turned to face his friend.

“Do you….you uh know…where she went? After…what happened?” He asked, the tiniest hint of hesitation in his otherwise firm tone. Most people wouldn’t have spotted it, but most people didn’t know Bucky like Steve did. 

Steve shook his head, “No, Buck. Some of the men saw her leaving on foot a little while ago”.

Bucky swallowed but his face betrayed no emotion, “On foot?”

“Yeah. I guess she didn’t have a lot of options…” Steve shrugged.

Bucky nodded, “Yeah…I guess I just assumed she’d book a cab…or call one of her friends…” he said wistfully as he looked back down at the papers across his desk.

“She left her phone. Scott found it by the front door, next to her purse. I’m not sure she took anything with her, actually,” Steve mused.

Bucky frowned, “No…phone? No…money?”

Steve shrugged, “I don’t think so. But that’s good, right? You said yourself she was probably just playing a long-con to get your money too…”

Bucky’s gaze dropped back to the desk, his grip on the fountain pen he was holding tightened, the nib shaking from the force of his strength.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asked tentatively as he watched the way the pen shook.

Any hint of vulnerability was immediately snuffed out as Bucky’s eyes snapped back to Steve. 

“Of course. Fine. Let me know what Sam says”.

Steve nodded, “Right. I’ll call him now”.

As Steve closed the door, the pen snapped in Bucky’s hand.

[monzamash]

valentine — lando norris

lando norris x you femreader | 1k rating – 18+ (sex, coarse language) inspired by this anon – you took me places and i'm so grateful.

lando screams messy to me, in everything he does – cooking, cleaning, kissing, fucking; he’s just one big mess of a man and although some of those things drove you up the wall, the positives easily compensated for the negatives. the way he had you riled up, purring and cursing under your breath within seconds of having his mouth attached to yours was unmatched; incomparable to anyone who came before him.

he shamelessly indulged in you – eyes glued to the way your delicious hips swayed to the music while the raw desire settled in the pit of his stomach. he had learned how to control it, how to redirect his attention but he was 4 shots of patron deep, mind filled with wicked thoughts, every last one rushing to his dick. so he held strong, until he couldn’t – nothing could stop him in his pursuit to have a taste of you once he let the devil in.

“stop it are you being serious right now?”

your pathetic protest was mumbled through tangled tongues, both desperate for more than a hasty kiss. god, he loved swallowing your whispered moans, each one whinier than the last as he licked into your mouth and across your warm cheek. you were the mess when he found that sweet spot just below your ear, tethering the first knot in your stomach to the blood rushing to your core, fingers needy for something to hold.

“why not?”

you could hear the smirk in lando’s retort as you tugged his head from your neck – pulling a guttural, almost pleasurable sound from the smiling assassin attached to the fistful of curls.

“because you can’t control yourself”

“who said anything about me?”

lando punctuated his question with a heavy hand gliding across the soddened silk shielding your cunt, his fingertips teasing every last nerve ending as he pressed his forehead to yours. he was a vision of sin when you dared to open your eyes, the sight stoking the perilous fire that burned for him. a roguish smile and a satisfied hum rumbled in his chest when he felt the reaction he’d caused.

“hmm, isn't that interesting. maybe i’m not the only one with self-control issues…”

“not nearly as bad as you.”

"but i know you love it when i'm bad."

you were foolish to think he believed a word you were droning, so pliantly at his mercy when he plunged out of sight, admiring his handy work. lando hiked up the hem of your short skirt and carelessly tugged down the cotton soaked thread that had him salivating like a feral dog. he left them loosely hanging around your knees, down just enough to let the brisk, london breeze blow over your exposed cunt and far enough for him to nestle his face between your thighs.

it was muscle memory the way your back arched off the brick wall and hips rotated towards lando’s warm mouth – legs spread, hands trying to leverage some ounce of control as he licked into you folds, sucking the sensitive bud of nerves nestled between into his soft lips. the sensation of his affection and your pleasure sliding down his throat and on inside of your thighs inspired a chorus of moans that echoed into the silent night – the only thing keeping the public from baring witness to your sinful act was the emergency exit door lando had lured you through only moments before.

the fear that anyone could find you like this vanished the moment lando spat messily into your cunt; the only thing connecting him to you were strings of spit dangling from his filthy mouth.

“fuuuu- yeah just like that,” your breathing was ragged and drawn from burning lungs as his middle finger teased your slick hole, edging your high with an evil grin.

“ride my fucking face, pretty girl… i need a taste.”

you were fucking losing it.

lando dove back in; raucous spluttering and choking groans coming from the man devouring you like a melting popsicle on a sweltering summers day, paired with how fucking good it felt having his tongue circling your clit, had you whining and writhing on his tongue like a woman possessed – flat, firm and served up on a silver platter. he had to watch as the knots he’d tangled in the pit of your stomach unravelled, showering you with muffled praise while the soft baby curls tickling the nape of his neck were savaged by your grabby hands.

the incoherent pleads of mercy sounded like a foreign prayer to lando as he held you firmly in his grasp, tongue lapping unrelentingly. cruelly – any longer you thought you may never reach it, unfairly denied until the restless pants and murmurs of blasphemy ascended into temporary bliss, blinded by the numbing pleasure as you dragged your languid hips over his taste buds, one, two three times – wringing out every last drop and then some.

lando was a mess of moans as he finished you off, curls and eyes wild beyond recognition when he finally rose from between your aching thighs – his dribble and your sweetness coated his stubbled chin, thick neck; even the blushed tip of his nose glowed under the streetlight above, lips raw and curved in a fucked out grin.

“you’re so baaaad baby” he teased, earning a soft smack to the chest before he brushed his warm hand over your cheek and leaned down for a kiss. tasting yourself on his lips and inhaling the smell of sex fused with his spiced aftershave was love personified. he was boyish and sloppy; fun and goofy and the only man who could make you come just by using his mouth. he was also unequivocally, heartbreakingly, head over heels in love with you.

“that’s why you love me.”

the sound of your laughter echoing through the otherwise abandoned laneway, wrapped up in one another, only reiterated that this was his best-worst idea ever.

[loserboysandlithium]

Best friend Eddie will always be one of my favorite things. He’s such a dick, teasing you constantly. Doing the dumbest shit to piss you off. You fight about everything. Who picks the station on the radio, where to eat, who’s better at this or that.

He’s always picking on you and talking shit about any guy you’re seeing. Going on and on about their hair or how they walk, the smallest things about them just pissing him off.

But it’s because he wants you. He always has. And then one day he can’t help himself. You’re in the middle of some dumb argument, shouting back and forth when he pulls over and slams his lips to yours. And then it was over.

18+ below hoes

You’re grinding on his cock in the front seat of his van, practically clawing at each other, not seeming to be able to get close enough. “H-Holy shit… fuck, baby.” Eddie groans as you spread your knees, allowing him as deep as possible.

The nickname makes your pussy even more wet as you slow down, rolling your hips with precision, feeling his thick cock stretch you out. “Why haven’t we done this before? Pretty stupid of us.” you laugh breathlessly, feeling so fucking full, fuller than ever before.

Eddie grins widely, his dimples popping, as he gives your ass a hard slap. “Mmm, fuck. I agree… stupid. That was stupid of us.” his little chuckle turns into a low moan as you begin to bounce.

“Shit.. just like that. Just like that, baby.” Eddie murmurs as his head falls back against the seat. His cheeks are flushed, sweat sticking to his forehead from the summer heat and the shitty air conditioning in his van.

You bring your hands to back of his neck, your nails digging into his skin as you rotate your hips, slow circles on his cock, your pussy being stretched in the most delicious way.

“You’re. So. Fucking. Hot..” Eddie stammers, his eyes falling lower, watching carefully as you lift up revealing his cock covered in your slick before you sink back down. “Perfect fuckin’ pussy, so fuckin wet..”

Praises continue to pour from his lips as you start riding him faster, slamming yourself onto him, feeling him deep inside your stomach. You couldn’t stop the filthy moans escaping as you came down harder and harder on his lap. The lewd sound of your soaked pussy ringing loud in the confined space.

“E-Eddie, I’m so close..” you whimper, your thighs shaking slightly as you struggle to focus on your movements.

His hands are quick to grab your hips, his ringed fingers digging into your skin roughly as he lifts his hips, thrusting up into you. “Yeah? Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum all over my cock?”

“Yes, fuck!” you almost shout as he drives into your pussy at an insane pace.

“Come on, sweet girl. Want it all. Give me all your cum, baby.” he encourages, bringing his thumb to your clit, rubbing rough circles on the sensitive bud. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his once more, his kiss swallowing your cry as your pussy spasms around his cock, your cum soaking him completely.

You can feel his thrusts becoming more and more uneven as he fucks into your drenched pussy, every thrust making your legs shake even more. “Cum inside me, Eddie. Please.” you beg against his lips, making his eyes roll. His hips buck up a few more times before his jaw falls slack and you feel his warm cum fill you up.

“Holy shit.” Eddie pants, resting his forehead against yours. You both sit there for a moment catching your breath.

“So does this mean I can pick the station?” you pout up at him, your chest still rising and falling rapidly.

“Fuck no.” he scoffs, shooting you a wink before reaching behind you to turn the volume back up, Ozzy blaring through the speakers.

[transformers-spike]

"Cybertronians reacting to getting kissed", in which kissing is not something cybertronians do as an act of affection, so they're completely new to the human concept of kissing to express romantic love. Talk me one Knock Out who is so versed in wooing but doesn't know two shits about human kissing, and finding himself kissed for the first time. Or Starscream who's gonna freak out. Or Megatron who doesn't even know why you're smashing your intake against his

This is such a good question, anon, I've been rotating it in my head for a while now

Knock Out is well-versed in the drag and frag technique. He’s probably one of the youngest members on the Nemesis, still old as balls by our standards, but some rebellious youngin’ by theirs. He’s all about sliding in with a smooth pickup line and buttering you up until he reaches the “let’s get down to business” level, where he starts flashing his biolights in a “come hither and frag me” display. When it comes to human kissing, he’s… improvising to say the least. He’s seen humans make out in a wide variety of drive-through horror movies (many with questionable acting), and while he doesn’t “get” why we do it, he does his best to lean into the act and find what makes it so pleasurable by our standards. When you do kiss him for the first time, he’s already been hyping himself up for months, and whatever smoothness he tries to apply immediately disintegrates because oh fuck, your lips are so small and he has so much to give. He’s absolutely suffering despite the confident front he’s putting up. After fumbling the bag, he’ll ask you how he did. “Mid,” you’re tempted to say. But the hopefulness behind those smug optics stops you in your tracks. Starscream must have had a very confusing interface life even by Cybertronian standards. But there’s no way he didn’t get frisky back when he was Air Commander of Vos, even if the workload was immense. Although that’s probably the most action he got in his entire life, and even then the closest equivalent to “kissing” by their standards is merging EM fields and hoping for the best, a careful manipulation of wavelengths to fall into perfect sync. We humans do not possess a hyper-developed EM field, which is enraging for Starscream because what do you mean you smash intakes??? Mass-displaced or not, the only fluids he accepts in his intake are energon and transfluid, thank you very much. Kissing is a bad idea, and you’ve learned it the hard way, so good job! Now you have to deal with his drama queen ass acting like you just spit in his mouth. Worst thing is, he is interested in trying it again, but with his stipulations (aka watching him fail to figure out how to kiss you). He doesn’t even fail in a funny way, he’s so bad it’s concerning, you’re half tempted to contact Knock Out and blackmail him into sending you Starscream’s medical file.

Megatron was… surprisingly abstinent back on Cybertron. Yes, he’s been around for a long time. Yes, he used to be a gladiator at some point. And yes, it had its perks, but he was always more of a “sensitive spark” than a typical casanova. He had more important things to focus on at the time (mainly surviving the pits of Kaon and, before that, not offlining in a freak mining accident). Honestly, who knows what he did as a politician, whatever freakiness he had going on while trying to depose the government is none of our business and I am totally not typing this with a fusion cannon to my head.

He’s been through so much; fought countless beasts and fellow gladiators, avoided assassination attempts and blood-thirsty mutinies while leading a millennia-long war. Nothing can surprise him anymore. Yes, you’re a weird little freak for smashing intakes with him, but you need not fear for your safety. He’s… intrigued by your display of affection. You can mumble excuses all you want, but you’ve smashed intakes with him and it can’t be undone. Watch out for those sharp teeth and prepare a tetanus shot just in case. You have to deal with the consequences of your actions whether you like it or not, especially when he’s got a claw under your shirt and another down your pants. Your lips are bleeding and you pray it’s an accident, if he gets a taste for human blood you’re done for.

[pellucid-constellations]

On the Ice

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Figure Skater! Reader

Summary: Sometimes, training gets intense. That's fine, though—Bucky'll be there to take care of his girl.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Reader is shorter than Bucky (but I'm imagining him like 6'7 in this 😉)

a/n:​​​ Happy one-bucky-fic-a-year to this blog <3 Seriously though this was fun to write!! I missed college athlete Bucky sm 🫶 Thank you for the suggestion @itsswritten :)

Masterlist

~~

Coming to a stop in the middle of the ice, you bent with a heaving chest and placed your hands on your thighs. The cold air of the rink was biting in your lungs but you greedily gulped the air down, anyway, light beaming you in the eye as it reflected off the carved ice beneath your skates. You fought the urge to collapse into the pools of fluorescence. 

Soft, melodic program music faded away until the only sound in the building was your labored breath. You’d been going at it for a few hours and only felt the repercussions now that you were stopped. The burning in your legs was an extra push towards sprawling out on the ice, and you were a moment away from giving in to that urge when the floor disappeared from beneath your blades.

You let out a startled scream, the sound traveling across the ice as your body was whipped around. You spun, making three rotations before the arms around your middle loosened and you felt breath at your ear. 

“Ice time’s over, sweetheart.” 

Bucky placed you back down but his arms never moved from around you. That was a good thing, in all honesty, because you weren’t sure if your shaking legs would hold you up. 

You spun in his arms, gripping his uniform jacket between your fingers as you stared up at him. “Bucky,” you greeted, a breathless smile lighting up your face. 

“Hi,” he grinned back, bringing a hand up to your cheek to steady you as he kissed your forehead. “How’s my girl?” 

“Good! Although, I might’ve overdone it.” 

Bucky shook his head fondly, eyes soft as he held your gaze. “I know you overdid it. You haven’t texted me in two hours. Figured you’d stay up until our practice, but not even a break? You know better than that, baby.”

You scoffed. “I don’t have time for a break. Championships are—”

“Coming up and I have to be at my best, Bucky,” your boyfriend mocked with a playful smile. He lifted you by your waist, your skates barely hovering above the ice, and started making his way to the rink's edge. “I’ve heard it a million times. Doesn’t mean you gotta kill yourself out here.” 

“I’m not going that hard. And I take breaks!” 

“Right, sure. You wanna tell me why your water is completely full then?” 

You stared up at Bucky, your head at his chin as he carried you. “Um, I just refilled it.”

“You suck at lying. You always bite your lip and you can’t even look me in the eye.” 

“Yeah? Well, you’re nosey and a weirdo for checking my water bottle.” 

Bucky only laughed, the material of his jacket rustling against the softness of your workout clothes. He made it to the edge and kept you in his hold, only releasing you once he reached the benches by the lockers. In a series of quick motions, he held your backpack in his hands and was kneeling at your feet. 

“Drink,” he commanded, holding out your water bottle. He patted the side of your calf before drying off your blades and covering them. “You get the axel?” Bucky asked as you obediently followed his command. 

You wiped the water from your lips before groaning. “Almost. I don’t know why I’m blocked right now. I fell on my knee too—that hurt.” 

Bucky tsked and started untying your laces. “The bad one?” 

“Unfortunately. I guess I actually did take a break because I had to lay on the ice for a little while after that one.” 

Bucky tugged your leggings from the confines of your skates and rolled the left leg up to reveal the dark bruise etched on your skin. It seemed to linger there at all times, getting darker or lighter depending on your week. It wasn’t broken, however, and that was considered a win. 

Bucky ran his fingers over the skin gently. It matched the fading bruise on his cheek, in a way, and you considered the ridiculousness of the sports your chose as your boyfriend kissed your knee and pulled your the leg of you pants back down to your ankle. 

“Y/n,” Bucky chastised, slipping the skates from your feet. He set them aside and pressed his side against yours as he sat on the bench. He took your chin between his thumb and finger. “This is why I don’t like you at the rink alone. I don’t want to show up to practice and find you passed out on the ice.”

You knocked your head to the side, a small smile seemingly permanent on your lips. Bucky was so pretty to look at. “That won’t happen, Buck. I’m a professional.”

“Professional pain in my ass,” he grumbled, but the sound was muffled at the end because you had your lips pressed against his. 

He met your touch with mirrored enthusiasm, sliding his hand from your chin to the back of your neck. You broke apart far too soon for Bucky’s liking, an accusatory glare in your eyes letting him know you had only kissed him to distract him while you formulate a response. 

“You’ve got some nerve, Barnes, you know that? What about when I watch you on the ice and you’re provoking people into smashing your face in, huh? Talk about a professional pain in the ass—you’re the poster boy of pain in the ass.” 

Bucky kept your face in his hand, brushing his thumb along your cheek as you went on your tirade. He was only retaining about half of the words that came out of your mouth, but that was your fault; you should know better than to kiss him into shutting up. 

“Last month you had a bloody nose that wouldn’t stop bleeding for an hour! I was next to the penalty box and I couldn’t even do anything. At least when I get hurt it’s possible for you to—are you even listening to me?” 

Bucky's smile lifted at the corner and he shook his head with a lovesick expression. 

You let out an affronted gasp. “You’re the one that started all of this and now you’re not even—” 

Your words were cut off by Bucky pulling your face forward and smashing his lips against yours. A strangled sound left the back of your throat, but you kissed him back just as quickly. A small smile was shared between lips, and you could feel a lingering sense of urgency in the pace he set; clearly, he was expecting the rest of his team to come in at any moment. 

You pulled back but he followed your lips as they attempted retreat. 

“Bucky,” you mumbled against him. “I was talking to you.” 

He hummed. “I know, baby.” He stayed close enough for you to still felt his words as he spoke them. “But you started it. You know I can’t help myself when it comes to kissing you.” 

You held his gaze, your playful glare matching the smile you struggled to hold back. You went to kiss him again, but the sound of the rink’s double doors smacking against the wall echoed in the space and your incoming kiss turned into you pushing away from Bucky and rising from the bench in one too-quick motion. 

Your knees (and the rest of you) weren’t entirely prepared for the movement. Your body shook and parts of you gave out as your feet began to soak up the chill from the concrete beside the rink. Bucky was there though—as he always was. He jolted up and mimicked his hold on the ice, his chest at your back as he wrapped his arms around your middle. 

“Whoa, y/n. Careful, baby. Saw your knee start to give out.” 

“Bucky, you can’t—” 

But it was too late. The sound of whistles and taunting jabs filtered past the locker room door, the rest of Bucky’s team entering with sly smiles and raised brows.

You knew the team and knew that their teasing was harmless, but you weren’t completely used to the way men showed each other affection just yet. Especially not when there was twenty of them all the size of small bears. 

“Hey, Miss Olympics,” Sam winked. “You and Buck look awfully comfortable over there. Don’t steal him for too long—we need him on the ice.”

You laughed but cringed internally, pushing against Bucky’s hold that refused to relent. 

“Shut up, Wilson,” Bucky called over your head. “I’ll get on the ice when I want.” 

A few other players greeted you with teasing smiles and you felt your face burn brighter with each passing moment that Bucky didn’t let up. You glanced over your shoulder, expecting him to look similarly mortified, but Bucky only looked back with a wide grin and pressed a loud kiss to the side of your temple. 

“What, you embarrassed of me, baby?” 

“What—no! But aren’t you sort of, I don’t know—aren’t you embarrassed? To be like this in front of the rest of the team? Other guys I’ve dated—” 

“I don’t know what other guys you’ve been with, sweetheart, but they’re a bunch of idiots. I’ll show you off whenever I get the chance.” He pressed you back down on the bench with a smile and brushed away the flyaways around your face. “And I talk about you enough to where it doesn’t really matter if they see us. They expect it.” 

“Barnes, get the hell on the ice!” came a call from the rink. 

Bucky hooked his chin over his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah! Got it!” He turned back to you and crouched before your seated position, gathering your face in his hands to plant a loud, dizzying kiss to lips. “You’ll get back to the dorms okay?” 

“Um, yeah,” you replied, disoriented by the onslaught of affection. 

“Perfect. See you later then.” 

“Barnes!” 

Bucky rolled his eyes and gave your face a soft pat before sliding onto the ice. “I was clearly busy.” 

[adelheidvonschicksal]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR3sKhum/

Just found out Zayne has a sensitive back….ideas are going wild…maybe a little Drabble of reader messing with Zayne back (kissing it, dragging their finger down his back…, etc)

Synopsis: You discover Zayne’s biggest weakness and have some demands. Or, the one where Zayne doesn't like having his back touched...unless it's you.

⋆｡°✩ Fluff, kissing, gender neutral reader

Zayne shudders when the slip of a fingernail traces the center of his spine from top to bottom, all the way to his lower back. Nearly dropping the paperwork in his hands, he reflexively holds a palm to his lower back to angrily stroke at the tingling sensation left behind.

“So, the rumors are true,” someone whispers. “You don’t like having your back touched.”

Zayne turns his head from the paperwork in his hand to find you standing behind him, with nothing but smiles and giggles. He didn’t even hear you come into his office this time; his back turned to the door as he stood in front of his desk. You use the position to your advantage to box him in as you playfully poke and tickle at the small of his back again.

Zayne tenses before swatting your hand away. “Yes. Now, that's enough.”

“Someone’s ticklish,” you sing out. Zayne is prepared for you to try to attack him again; but this time when you make contact, it’s with your hands spread over the width of his lower back.

Slowly, you climb your hands up his back to rest on his shoulder. It’s a gentle enough gesture that he doesn’t stop you immediately, choosing to let your actions play out for now. “This just in: it seems I have discovered Dr. Zayne’s greatest weakness.

“I suspect I won’t get a moment’s peace now that you acquired that knowledge.”

“You are correct, sir,” you tease. Then, there’s the softest sensation of your lips between his shoulder blades, kissing softly, as you tiptoe a set of fingers back down. You poke at his back as if holding him hostage. “Now that I have you at my mercy. I think I’ll make the orders around here, doctor.”

“What are your demands?”

“First! You’re going to leave work at a reasonable time, now would be good, and let me take you out to dinner,” you request firmly.

Zayne holds in a small smile, choosing to only shake his head at your antics as you continue.

“After dinner, I’ll have you get candied chestnuts with me.”

Your hands smooth out at his lower back again. Gently, you rotate your thumbs into the divot and layer kiss after kiss at the nape of his neck. This time the shudder he holds in is from the peace wrapping around him, forming a pleasant warmth in the center of his chest when your cheek finally presses against his back.

“Last but not least, my most dastardly of demands, you’re going to go home and get a full eight hours of sleep for once,” you mumble into his clothes.

“Is that all?” he replies, quickly finishing restacking his papers.

“Let me see..." You hum, gently circling a random spot with your fingertip. You never get to make another demand though as he quickly turns and grabs your hand.

Zayne presses you against the side of the desk, reversing your positions and causing you to lightly squeak as he corners you.

“I think there's one more thing between dinner and sleep,” he informs you, but you’re already too lost looking at the longing in his gaze to pay attention. You don’t regain focus until his hands move to lay flat on the desk and trap you between his arms. “You forget. I know a weakness of yours as well.”

Slowly, Zayne leans in closer. His breath is on your neck, teasing the fact that he’s so close to kissing you. It makes you shy and exhilarated at once: the idea that he might actually dare to kiss you in his office…

The idea you could get caught.

Just when you think he might actually do it, he pulls away, leaving you with eyes half-lidded and neck slightly tilted in preparation to receive him. Dumbfounded, you scrunch your face at him as he smirks at you. It may have been a little mean, but he can’t help it when you look this cute worked up. 

“You don’t play fair,” you whine.

“Life is repeatedly unfair I’m afraid,” he responds, lets you up from the desk, and goes to pull his jacket from the chair. “Now, I’d like it if you take me out to this amazing dinner you promised.”

Zayne doesn’t miss the way you pout at him before following him to the door. He holds it open and allows you to pass, but gives in to the sudden beat in his chest that tells him to reach out and hold your arm. You look at him with widened eyes, and it only takes one quick moment to connect the two of you with a kiss.

When he stops, your face is dazed and dizzy, as if you’re unsure why he did it.

“You don’t have to threaten me to get what you want,” he reminds you, wondering if you haven’t figured out just how easily he would offer everything he has to you, if only for you to keep being the person you are. “You're more than enough.”

[lomlhwa]

glory hole (v.c)

pairing: sex worker!reader x patron!vernon

preview: vernon's friends found a club that has secret glory holes. they know he's dying to get laid, so why not visit the glory holes?

tags/warnings: fem reader, reader is basically bent over a table and chained down, monster cock vernon, spanking, overstimulation, squirting, pet names (slut, whore, cumdump), degrading, reader calls vernon 'sir', unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampies

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.2k

song recs for this fic: gimmie more by britney spears

a/n: this one's a doozy

vernon anxiously nibbles on his fingernail as he waits for his friends to arrive. he’s standing outside a raunchy club, looking like a total creep. why did he agree to this? there’s no way he’s actually this desperate to get off. 

just as he’s about to walk away, his friends round the corner, laughing and carrying on. “yo vernon! you excited, buddy?” his friend, mingyu, asks. vernon shrugs. “i guess so.” mingyu throws his arm over vernon’s shoulder and guides him into the club.

they head straight for the back of the room, finding a small desk that looks like a reception desk. “hey, reservation for jeonghan?” his other friend walks up. reservations for glory holes is insane. “ah, welcome back sir. 4 of you today?” the receptionist asks and jeonghan nods. the receptionist smiles and types something into her computer.

“would any of you gentlemen like protection? we make sure our workers are all clean but if you’d like the extra precaution, let me know.” everyone shakes their heads so vernon follows suit. the woman smiles again. she hands all four of them waivers to sign. he reads it carefully before signing it and handing it back.

the receptionist rises from her chair and walks over to unlock the door beside the group of friends. “your rooms are numbers 5 through 8. remember, feel free to engage in any of your fantasies as long as you don’t seriously injure anyone. their chains are easy to rotate if you wanna change positions. enjoy your 2 hours with our lovely women.” with that, the door is shut. 

“alright boys, see you later,” mingyu shouts before running into a room and clicking it locked. all of the other disperse as well, leaving vernon alone. he wanders to the last one of their rooms available. room number 6. he can already hear the sounds of skin slapping coming from other rooms.

he opens the door hesitantly, finding you bent over, humming to yourself. when he clicks the door locked, you jump and stop humming. “welcome sir. feel free to use me as you please. i’m here for your pleasure,” you recite the standard welcome message to the new patron who has just walked in. you can only hope it’s not some gross middle aged man with a tiny cock again.

when you feel no contact for another 5 minutes, you get worried. “sorry, i don’t mean to not touch you, i got dragged here by my friends and i feel bad using you.” you can’t help but stifle a small giggle. a man feeling bad about using a glory hole? that’s a new one. “sir, this is my job. just fuck me already.” by now, you’re certain he’s an ugly, washed up man. 

finally, you hear his belt jingle and you know he’s sucking it up. you hear him take a deep breath before shoving into you. you gasp at the size, your walls stretching painfully around him. you grip your chains with such force that your knuckles turn white. 

“fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he mutters before beginning to move. he starts off slow, knowing that the stretch is painful. he grips your hips tightly, leaving finger indents in your soft skin. he snaps your hips against yours, driving his cock against your g-spot and prodding your cervix. it’s been so long since you actually enjoyed a patron, but this felt so good. you wished you could reach your arm back to hold his arm or something. 

“you’re such a good slut, aren’t you?” he says before landing a hard smack on your ass. clearly he has managed to get much more comfortable. you nod your head, agreeing with him. you can feel your release building up with every thrust. such a timid man fucking so well is unheard of. but you’re loving this. you grip your chains for dear life, gasping for air as your orgasm creeps up. “god, please sir i’m gonna cum,” you beg, barely fighting it off. 

“you can cum, but i’m not gonna stop fucking you. i’m not done yet. i’m gonna use your hole until i cum” vernon smacks your ass again and you fall over the edge. your legs shake violently. if it weren’t for the chains, you would be snapping your legs closed. he continues to jackhammer into your hole, pushing you past the edge and towards another orgasm. you notice that his thrusts are getting sloppy, signaling to you that he’s close. “please cum inside me, sir. i need it so bad,” you plead, your walls squeezing around him. he digs his nails into your sides as he cums, filling you to the brim. the sensation sends you into another orgasm, this time you squirt all over his legs and the floor.

“aw, the cumdump likes being filled so much that she couldn’t take it,” he snickers, running his fingers over your sensitive core. you shake and twitch at every small touch. “i’m gonna flip you over, i wanna see your pretty face.” he hooks his arms around your waist and rolls you over. being rolled over holds your arms down to your chest with the chains, still trapped. 

when you’re finally situated and you see his face, you’re astonished to see how beautiful this man is. you almost wish this wasn’t a business exchange, but you know better than to get attached to customers. “well aren’t you a pretty little thing. so pretty and such a whore,” he comments, stroking your face. he ducks down to situate your crossed legs around his waist. he reaches down between you to shove back into you.

“i have 15 minutes left, i’m gonna get another orgasm out of you.” 15 minutes? how has it already almost been 2 hours? he slides into you easier this time, your hole having yet to recover from his previous entry. your arms strain against your chains, wishing you could grab onto him to ground yourself. he pounds into you ruthlessly, his only focus being to drive you over the edge.

he reaches down to rub your clit and you throw your head back, your eyes crossing involuntarily. “oh my fucking god,” you croak, your voice getting caught in the back of your throat. you squeeze your legs around his waist, desperate for release. with 5 minutes left on the clock, you plead for your orgasm. “cum with me, slut. i’m gonna fill you up again,” he demands, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. 

as he feels you tighten for a final time, he leans down to kiss you. you hadn’t been kissed in so long so this surprised you. you kiss him back, cumming onto his cock as he simultaneously fills you up to the brim.

he pulls out of you and flips you back over into your original position just as his time strikes zero. “h-have a good day sir. feel f-free to return whenever you’d like,” you stutter the standard goodbye message. he slaps your ass one last time before pulling his pants back up and walking out. 

as the door closes behind him, he finds his friends coming out of their own rooms as well. “so? how was it?” jun asks him, patting him on the back. “so good, and she’s so hot,” he says, gesturing back to his room. 

“i will be coming back.”

© lomlhwa 2024

[helluvapoison]

Nice To Eat You

[ii]

The Vees x Cannibal!Reader

warnings: drugs, suggestive, rosie slander, dark themes, violence, security shenanigans and, hello, cannibalism

heads up: if you didn’t know, the people of cannibal town are hellborn; born in hell, never lived on earth, never sinned! their life spans are unknown(?) but seem to age as a human would, unlike other demons

Cannibal town has been off limits to The Vees, courtesy of Vox, ever since the incident with you know who. Meeting you was a suspicious surprise for them. You were kicked out of said town by Rosie for giving cannibals a bad name. Can you fucking believe the irony!?

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Suspicious might be an understatement

• For the longest time, Vox is unnerved by you for every other reason than your appetite. Anyone associated with Rosie is an adversary by proxy. If you take Alastor out of the picture, Rosie is still an Overlord and all Overlords will inevitably crumble to The Vees– even if they don’t know it yet

• There’s an expression for that though, isn’t there? Keep your enemies close. That’s exactly how Vox went about dealing with you

• Gives you a job as his security guard. Hell knows he needs one, what with the price of fame and all, those dirty fucking sinners that try and touch him wherever he goes

• It’s a slow development because neither of you initiate conversation

• Vox is beyond used to the rotating door of demons in and out of his life. He abandons the names of anyone that isn’t you, Velvette or Valentino (Angel Dust and Alastor he can’t forget against his will)

• Becoming attached to you while simultaneously waiting for the other shoe to drop is fucking awful. It feels it like a bug in his system, annoys him to the point his screen starts glitching one day

“Just what the fuck are you up to!? I know you’re with Rosie–”

You knew, on some level, Vox didn’t trust you all the way but it didn’t bother you because he hardly seems to trust anyone. So you cut him off with a mix of a snort and a scoff,

“Rosie? Rosie’s a cunt. She gave me the boot years ago, haven't seen her since.”

Involuntarily, he begins to smile, “Years, huh?”

• Trust is another slow endeavor. Now that Vox doubts your motives slightly less than before, he can silently appreciate the fact you do a damn good job of keeping demons away from him. Bonus: if you happen to take a chunk out of them for shits and giggles, blood never touches his pristine self

• “I believe I owe you an apology,”

“Am I going to get one?”

• In a way, sure, but you’ll be sorely disappointed if you thought it was with words. He invites you to dinner. From that moment until you arrive at the restaurant, he’s reveling in the constant state of shock you seem to be in

• Your eyebrows jump when the waiter nervously lifts the lid from your plate and reveals ribs. Real, demon ribs

“Surprised?” Vox asks rather smugly

“Somewhat,” You return his sly smirk, “Most can’t stomach my… indulgences.”

“I don’t have a stomach. I think I’ll be just fine.”

˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Vel doesn’t give two steaming shits about Rosie or her backwards, unflattering town so long as it doesn’t interfere with her enterprise. Vox’s grudges are his own. If The Vees got hellbent and demented over each other’s EOTD (Enemy Of The Day) nothing would get done!

• During a pathetic comment war on the her social, a few threats became too detailed for Vox’s liking

• A cannibal wasn’t his first choice– or second, or third– but you’d certainly scare off anyone trying to hurt his business partner!

• Velvette’s far from worried about being lunch when she meets you.

• “You’re my–? No. Absolutely not! I can’t be seen with this.” She gestures to all of you

“You’re not exactly making me drool either,” You mutter under your breath

• Judging by the looks of her partners’ faces, stunning Velvette to silence was impossible. Key word: was

• It didn’t last long and hasn’t stopped since

• She pulled out every trick in the book to get you to quit. She gave you a uniform to wear during your shifts, tossed fabrics at you until you turned into a living clothes rack, forced you to hold her phone during her live streams but criticized and berated the way you did

• For fucks sake, she even screamed at Vox to let her fire you!

• You didn’t need her to like you and that was as obvious as it was infuriating. She was Velvette! Everyone loved her! Having you around was like a black eye; literally bruising her ego and bad for business

• Or so she thought

• She made you stand in the shadows of her studio so you wouldn’t frighten anyone and ruin photoshoots with your “freaky face” she so eloquently put it.

• Velvette was mid fashion crisis, yelling at Joanne for the gazillionth time, when you approached from behind

“I’m taking my lunch.”

“Fucking fantastic! Here, have Joanne since she insists on being fucking useless!”

Playing along, you let a guttural growl rip from your throat, making Joanne jump high in the air.

She squeaked and shook her head vigorously, holding her hands in surrender, “I-I’ll be better, I swear!”

• Her candy cane eyes widened in delighted surprise. How had she been so blind to your potential usefulness!?

• Velvette could get high off the new game she created with you. It was like having a scary guard dog– only better dressed to aesthetics. Paparazzi didn’t dare touch her now, standing at a respectable distance that made her more unattainable and desirable than before

• Her attitude change makes her like-able to you too, she’s heaps more pleasant to be around now. You don’t mind doing the extra stuff that wasn’t in your contract like being a dress up doll, dealing with the pet names or escorting her to events. She knows and takes advantage of this instead of saying how she feels

• “You’re my arm candy now, dollface! You go where I go.”

“I hardly think I qualify as arm candy,” You mumble to her, overtly aware of how she holds you close to her

“If you’re fishing for compliments, fuck off to another pond. I don’t waste my free time with uggos,” She says seriously, abruptly smiling as a camera flashes in her direction, “Now get ready. Fans have been dying to get a picture with me lately and if anyone smudges this dress with their dirty fucking fingers, I want you to bite them off!”

“Anyone that touches you won’t have hands tomorrow,” You promise

• You swear she shivers upon hearing that

˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• The easiest by far to get along with. In a mortifying way

• Val is fairly accepting of all Hell’s creatures. It’s typically followed up by something sexual but, hey, you’re not in a position to complain, not when no one else in Hell would willingly sign up to work with a cannibal. Especially one outside the confines of Rosie’s civil town

• Rosie’s loss is his gain

• You would be lying if you said you weren’t expecting him to turn horror-struck but he barely blinks when you explain what you did to get exiled. Your savage methods intrigue him, a plethora of potentials just waiting to be explored. In fact, he goes a step further to praise you for being different

• “Hell would be deathly boring if everyone thought the same way, darling. That’s what makes you so… alluring.” He rolled his tongue with the last word, dragging it out and making it ring in your ears

• You’d been called many things in your afterlife, but never that

• You feel rather useless at the moth’s side. You were supposed to be protecting him but he could take care of himself just fine. Val was about the tallest in every room (if not the tallest) with guns hidden under his coat that he never used

• Later you’d understand he only reached for them as a last resort, when his head was unclouded by blood lust

• If you ever voiced your complaints, he’d be quick to reassure you that you make him look good. What powerful Overlord doesn’t have bodyguards? (Do. Not. Answer.)

• However the day does come when you prove your services have merit. On set of all places! A coked up Hellhound didn’t take kindly to Val’s directions, sending a demon wielding a boom mic flying towards him

• Valentino dodged the demon with ease, whipping around and aiming his pistol to put the dog down. Instead he saw you pushing the mutt’s face into the ground, his arm pinned at an angle. Your sharp teeth were bared at his throat, drool dampening his fur

• But you made no moves without Valentino’s say-so

• There’s a lot he could say about the scenario you provided him and how it made him feel– but he only calls your name, beckoning you back to his side

• Where you belong

• “You’re lucky I don’t like hair in my food,” You growl in the Hellhound’s ear before following after Val

• Valentino may be a mastermind of porn and sex but he knows the real way to a demon’s heart, it’s is the universal love language

• Unbothered by blood, he’ll sit pretty and poised on his loveseat while you tear into the meal he provided you. A thanks for a job well done

• “You’ll never go hungry now that you’re with me, monstruo,” The pet name is dripping with adoration, “I won’t waste you like that bitch did. Look at you, you’re already so special.”

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ i lost the request that went to this but i hope it reaches them. cannibal!reader got that rizz, huh?

[wooziorgans]

hey s2 soooo i was thinking about something and i know that you are the one to do this

woozi hasn't had the opportunity to eat you out yet, you've already done a lot but as you never mentioned it he thought you didn't want to or weren't comfortable yet, so one day when you're making out and he's starting to get horny he whispers "sit on my face" and now its up to you

k byeeee

— face sitting

good god. why do you always,,,,, do this. i love ur brain but also why god why me. also sorry this took me so long,,,, we r not gonna talk abt it.

you’ve been with jihoon for a few months, and in those few months, you’ve learned more about him than you did in the years of friendship. you know that he likes to eat, and he eats well, given the pure amount of muscle on him. you know that, while he says he’s not big on skin-ship, it’s a lie. one look from you, and he’s opening his arms to cuddle.

you know he loves his friends with his entire heart, and is willing to give them as much as he can in terms of support. you know he likes to go for walks late at night when he can’t sleep, or when he wants to simply enjoy some time outside with his thoughts.

what you’ve learned has been on the complete opposite of the spectrum. you know that jihoon likes to give, but this also extends to the bedroom. he’ll spend hours working you up, teasing you and then fucking you with his fingers before finally sinking his cock into you. he has this super human ability to make you cum, and he uses it to his advantage.

you’ve learned he likes getting head, but he’d much rather fuck you. you’ve learned that he’s a sensual kisser; he lets it linger before giving you anything solid to build off of. he makes you chase his lips, teasing you endlessly when you have the time.

you’ve also learned that his frustration with his job manifests itself sexually. he’ll perfectly service dom you through multiple orgasms as a way to relieve his stress. sometimes he’ll just pull you onto his lap and kiss you stupid until you’re grinding against his thigh, desperate for something more.

you love giving him head though, but he seems to be completely indifferent towards doing the same to you. it’s a little confusing, considering how much he seems to use his tongue in other ways with you. you know he’s skilled with his mouth, that much is evident from the way he kisses and sings.

today is just one of those days where jihoon wasn’t able to burn off enough steam at the gym. he’s frustrated over a moved deadline the company gave him, now having to work twice as hard to get things done. you finished work early, and jihoon invited you over to hang out.

you can tell from the lines on his face that you’ll be doing more than just ‘hanging out’, but it’s not like you mind. jihoon pulls you into his bed, the television in his room on. you’re cushioned in between his thick thighs, wrapped safely in his arms when he starts peppering soft kisses to your neck.

it makes you shiver, hands grabbing at his arms before you decide to rotate to straddle his thighs. jihoon rests his hands on your hips, pulling you close and in for a kiss. you return it eagerly, hands finding the sides of his face.

jihoon’s hands start wandering, pushing their way under your hoodie to graze the skin of your back. his tongue slips its way into your mouth, and you moan softly. this seems to do something to jihoon, and his hand slips down to grope your ass.

you make out for god knows how long, hips moving against each others as you kiss. jihoon seems to just drink in all of the small sounds you make, hands moving around to grab and squeeze whatever he can reach.

it all comes to fruition when you stop being able to kiss him, whining into his mouth as you grind on his thigh. “fuck, sit on my face.” jihoon whispers, pulling away for a second to just watch you take what you need from him. you stop immediately, pulling back further to look at him.

“sorry, what did you say?” you blink a few times at him, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“if you don’t want to, that’s okay. you’ve never really given me anything that suggested you’d be into that.” he back tracks immediately, face reddening as he realizes he said that out loud.

“no, repeat yourself. what did you say?” your hand brushes the side of his neck and he shivers, knowing he can’t get out of this.

“um, sit on my face?” it’s a question this time. his hesitancy makes you laugh softly as you brush his hair out of his face.

“god, jihoon,” you sigh softly, already dripping at the idea of him being tongue deep inside of you. “you’re sure?” you ask, fingers threading in his hair. he hums softly.

“yeah, fuck. wanna eat you out so bad, baby.” he coos, almost condescending as his hands grab at your sweatpants. you let him pull them down, underwear going with them. you shift off his lap to kick them off and jihoon takes the opportunity to slide down the bed so he’s lying down.

with your bottom half now exposed, you straddle his lap again, arousal seeping into his own sweats. he’s painfully hard in his sweats, cock straining against the fabric. he hisses when you sink down before his hands find you ass again.

he pulls you up, and you wiggle your way up the bed until you’re over his chest. “how do you want me?” you ask, unsure of if he wants you to face him or turn the other way.

“just like this is fine.” jihoon hums, pulling you closer to his face. he starts to tease your folds with two fingers, gathering your arousal with his fingers before he pushes them inside. you’re already wet enough for them to just slide in.

you moan at the intrusion, his other hand firm on your hips to keep you from moving. jihoon fucks them in and out of you slowly, watching the way you suck his digits in. he pulls them out after a few seconds, using both hands to pull you down onto his face.

jihoon sticks his tongue out, licking a long stripe over your folds. you react immediately at the warmth and wetness of his tongue, shivering as you let out a low moan. jihoon does it again, tongue gathering your arousal to pull it into his mouth. he moans softly, already completely in love with the way you taste.

jihoon’s nose brushes against your clit, and you jerk harshly, hands finding their spot in his hair. you smooth it out, moving it out of the way. he licks another stripe up your fold, this time stiffening his tongue to go deeper. his lips latch around your clit, suctioning to it and flicking his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

jihoon focuses his attention on your clit, alternating different kinds of suction and patterns with his tongue to figure out what works. he brings his hand back up to your ass, kneading the skin softly before he pushes two fingers back inside of you.

it’s too much, all at once. the small noises he makes as he eats you out, the lewd, wet noises coming from his mouth, and his fingers pressing into your spot send you over the edge. you tighten your grip in his hair, head leaning against the headboard as you gasp out a warning.

jihoon keeps his pace steady on your clit as you cum, before he pulls his fingers out and laps at your release. it drips down his chin, but he can’t stop, even after you start to squirm in overstimulation.

you lift your hips up off his face before shifting to lay down beside him. jihoon pulls you into a kiss, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. you whine into his mouth, hands grabbing at his cock through the fabric of his sweats.

jihoon pulls away, “give yourself a minute to breathe, love.” he coos. you nod, pushing your head against his chest. he strokes your hair softly, massaging your scalp. your hands still push their way under his sweats and into his boxers.

jihoon hisses softly. “you’re insatiable.” he moans, a breathy laugh falling from his lips.

“you started it.” you murmur, craning your head up to kiss his neck. maybe he did. either way, it’s gonna be a long night. especially with what you’ve just learned about your boyfriend.

[peachdues]

hope y’all are ready. The period sex in Compass 2 is going to be long and filthy.

Curled behind you as he is, Sanemi can’t quite tell whether you’ve finally succumbed to sleep. Your breathing is slow, and while you haven’t spoken in a while, you could just as easily be basking in the relaxed comfort of his arms, lingering somewhere in between sleep and consciousness.

It’s how he wishes he could be; at ease, half-heartedly fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. But no; Sanemi is wide the fuck awake, his body stiffer than a board.

He doesn’t think you’re doing it intentionally — in fact, he’s almost certain you aren’t. Despite your relative relaxedness, you squirm every so often as you try to get comfortable, struggling to find a position that will allow you the most relief from the throbbing ache in your lower stomach.

But if you don’t stop grinding your ass against him, Sanemi might just snap.

He’d already had to quietly fight off the pain in his groin after getting hot and heavy with you in the kitchen, before he’d realized he needed to take care of your grumbling stomach at the expense of his blue balls, no matter how much it hurt.

But here you are now, rotating your perfect ass right into his groin as he grows harder than a fucking diamond, and there’s no relief from the onslaught of your wiggling in sight.

It just feels cruel.

“Knock it off,” Sanemi finally grumbles into your ear, arms squeezing once around your waist in warning. “You tryin’ to make me cream my pants?”

“It’s not my fault,” you groan miserably. “I can’t get comfortable.”

“Don’t you take meds?”

“Already did.”

Sanemi fights the swear building on his tongue. He’s acutely aware that you’re truly not at fault for his traitorous body’s reaction to your movements, but he finds himself wavering dangerously close to losing control. Every bump of your ass against him increasingly painful hard-on is a tease that feels like an act of torture. The twisting movements of your backside are barely more than whispers of the contact he craves, and yet somehow, they’re just enough to make his cock throb for more.

It takes a great deal of self-restraint for Sanemi not to grab your hips and grind you back against him properly. But he manages to just cling onto that fraying thread until you swivel your ass right against the crotch of his pants, groaning in frustration.

Sanemi snaps.

With a disapproving click of his tongue, he flips you to your back and under him.

“You still got cramps?” He hovers close over you, nose nearly bumping yours.

Wide-eyed and blushing at his proximity, you nod.

“You took your meds already?”

Another nod.

“And they ain’t helping?”

This time, you slowly shake your head.

And then a smile, a wickedly devious smile, spreads across his lips. “I know what will.”

feral lil freaky deak of a man

[revelboo]

I blame you (respectfully) for falling back in love with Starscream… and finding my Transformers Armada Starscream figure after years of him hiding.

Haha he’s too fun to write! 18+ Mutual frustration 🌶️

Everything is Alright Pt 40

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• Every day it’s a little harder to ignore. You fall asleep against his chassis alongside his canopy, his servos sliding down your spine until your breathing evens out. And he just lays there staring at the ceiling wanting something he can’t have, aware of your warmth and softness, the feel of your breath on him, an intimacy that makes it even harder to not just give in. Every little touch of those hands on the back of his to get his attention, those little smiles for him alone, drive straight through him, stirring that hunger he shouldn’t even entertain. Those errant thoughts so common now as he watches you and wonders. And needs more now than just your voice and smile. More than he can ask for.

• Primus, help him as you shift against him, a leg sliding over his plating. Making a soft noise in your sleep and he vents as your scent changes. That subtle shift going straight to his spike as he drapes an arm over his face. Tempting him to just free himself and take care of it even though there’s no way to do that without waking you. Gritting his denta he runs a shaking servo along your spine, feeling you arch into the touch with a breathless little murmur. That temptation to just mass shift, roll you under him, and find out if you’re compatible once and for all almost crippling.

• A wicked mouth on your neck as big hands surf along your sides. Exploring slowly as that mouth gently bites then roams your skin in a trail of wet heat as Starscream moves over you. Legs parting for him, welcoming him inside. Needing this. Something bumps your head and the dream slips out of your fingers. Groaning, you lift your flushed face to find him watching you with an almost predatory intensity, the finger he nudged you with lingering against your hair as you come fully awake. That dream again. You don’t even know what is under his plating, but that hasn’t stopped your sex deprived brain from deciding that he not only had the necessary equipment, but that he should play the starring role in your needy little fantasies. And you can only hope you weren’t grinding on him, because you’re wet and already mortified enough about dreaming of sex with him while lying on top of him. Especially as he slowly vents and you wonder just how good his sense of smell is.

• Shuddering under your little frame, he drapes a servo against the back of your shoulders, rubbing gently. Trying to get himself under control when his spike is aching and it’s a struggle to remember why giving in is such a bad idea. Especially when you look up at him like that, your face flushed. Biting back a groan, he curls his servos around you and lifts you from his chassis so he can slide off his berth and carry you to the desk and your things. His touch lingering when you timidly reach to touch his servo. “I’ll see you later,” he growls, leaning down to vent in your scent, reluctant to leave for rotation. But he’ll have to deal with his current problem in the wash racks first.

• The way his voice dipped into that rasping growl does things to you. Completely inappropriate things as you sit on the edge of your bed and watch him go, wondering what exactly is wrong with you that just the sound of his voice can draw you tight with breathless anticipation for something you can’t have. Something impossible.

• Under the spray, he doesn’t even hesitate, freeing his spike and fisting himself as he remembers that little noise you’d made in your sleep. The way your lips had parted as you’d shifted restlessly against him. Pretends you were dreaming of him as he strokes himself, wings trembling. Optics shuttering so he can focus on that image. Pretend your soft little hands are sliding over him. Little head tipped up, lips parted. Would you let him in? What would you taste like against his glossa? Growling as he ruts against his hand, his helm bumps against the wall in front of him as his movements become more urgent. Would you be soft inside too? Hold onto him as he loses himself inside you? Groaning as he releases, his wings shudder and he tilts his face up into the spray. Knows something has to give and soon.

• Hips lifting as you sink your teeth into your bottom lip and stroke yourself, you try to chase that high. Need to take off the edge from the dream as you fuck yourself with your fingers and try to recall those lovely details. The shape of Starscream mass displaced but still so big over you, the warm brand of those hands on you. It’s not Star that comes to mind, though. Head thrown back, you whimper as you imagine big hands gripping your hips, tightening until you know there’ll be bruises instead of his usual gentleness. Seeing your own dazed eyes reflected in Soundwave’s visor as he buries himself inside you. Hips snapping against yours, because if this is all you can have, why not claim them both as yours. Why not indulge in harmless fantasies?

• Hand frozen an inch from the access panel, Soundwave vents roughly. Unable to move away or forward as your mind crashes into him from the other side of that door. Your need slipping through his defenses so easily, sinking into him. As he catches glimpses of your thoughts, just little fractured images, but enough to string him tight, because they’re so much more visceral than what he’d picked up from Starscream about you. That need and desperation chained to images of him, fantasies that slip into his own processor and take root. You’re his as much as Starscream’s and somehow you understand that as he presses a palm to his helm, overwhelmed with you. His own spark and spike responding, wanting to claim what’s his.

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[inkdrinkerworld]

Heyyy! could I request a dealer! Remus and autistic reader where r doesnt really how much of a catch she is and cant really pick up on the signals when someone else is flirting, and they are at a party where remus is selling and comes back to see r being flirted with and totally oblivious because she’s just being herself and remus intimidates the flirter? If not that’s totally okay!

You’re sitting pretty on your sofa, headphones around your neck as you speak to one of Remus’ customers.

You’re in the dispensary with Remus, needing the cool ac in the hot summer more than anything. Usually you’d sit in his office, but the place had been empty when you came out and you wanted to see him.

His friend had been waiting for Remus to finish weighing the ounces and bag edibles and while he’d been waiting he’d caught a glimpse of the book you were reading and started asking questions.

It’s your weakness. Being asked about your special interests, so you’d answered.

“It’s a book about the fae. The different types and where they’re linked to.”

You sit on your heels, looking up at the man as he nods. “So like brownies, changelings and all that?”

You nod, a grin splitting your face. “Well changelings aren’t actually fae,” you brush a strand of hair away from your face. Your pigtail braids coming undone.

The man feigned surprise. “They aren’t?” He watches your eyes light up, you shake your head. You tilt your head before you start speaking.

“They say people in Scotland called them changelings because the babies didn’t look like regular babies. Most likely because they had Down Syndrome and they people didn’t understand-“

The man stutters his next question out, he can’t stop looking at your eyes or the way you keep your head tilted as you go from looking at your book and then up at him.

Remus comes into the room before you can say more, handing the bags to the man with a small frown. He doesn’t know how you never notice his customers falling in love with you.

“Everything’s sorted.” Remus takes the money from the man and all but pushes him out of the dispensary as he says,

“It was nice talking with you, love.”

When Remus comes back to you he smiles as he sees you back to reading.

“He was flirting with you, y’know.”

You look up, confusion written all over your face. “No he wasn’t?” Your statement comes out like a question. Remus chuckles and lays beside you.

“He was, couldn’t stop looking at your lips. Plus he was stuttering like a fool because you were looking at him.” You roll your eyes, looking down at yourself.

“But I’m not even wearing anything cute.”

Remus snorts, “I hardly think that matters when you look good in everything, pretty girl. Glad I snatched you up when I did.”

You scrunch your nose, you’re in a yellow sweater that says, ‘mental health matters,’ a black skirt and stockings with your black Mary Janes - an outfit in your regular rotation.

“You think so?” You ask, fiddling with the sleeve cuff of your sweater. Remus twists, head raising so he can kiss the beauty mark under your jaw.

“Know so, dovey. Gonna have to keep you in the office if every one of my customers is gonna flirt with you.” Remus isn’t serious, but he likes making you flustered.

You giggle, cupping Remus’ jaw. You don’t have to say it, he’s never doubted you. You do it anyway.

Remus’ heart warms, “I’ll never flirt back, just want you.”