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pinkaditty · 1 day ago

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Starstruck Coral (Romeo Lucci x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

okay so uh. i don’t really know how to explain this one. like truly i don’t. i feel like it came 2 me in a vision from a higher power or something bc this doesn’t feel like it was my own idea, much less self-indulgent, but regardless??? i actually like it!!!!

a/n: what i can say is that this was directly inspired by me buying this lip plumper tint called "Starstruck Coral" and how literally everyone around me once i put it on was like "ITS SO PRETTY!!" so yea. that's what this is. also. yea. been writing a lot of porn-free fics lately. don’t worry, im not uninspired. rather, i just wanna focus on budding feelings 4 a little while. then it’ll be back 2 porn i promise. im too insane 2 be kept from porn 4 very long i fear.

maybe part 2? maybe? idk yet i dunno. i might. i might not. we’ll see what my brain says…

summary: romeo cannot stand your visage so he styles it to his liking. why are you suddenly the belle of the ball? (leo, rui, haru, ed, and lyca make guest appearances here lol)

cw: some sexual comments. minors dni as per usual. no smut i fear!

“...Why are we doing this, again?”

“Shut up.” Romeo’s voice is practically seething with barely restrained anger as you interrupt his focus for the umpteenth time. He holds up one finger in the air towards you, not even turning to look at you. He slowly puts his finger down, and his hands twitch, clearly resisting the urge to ball into fists. “Just shut up. Let me handle this.”

Romeo continues perusing the available colors. Pearlescent White, Modest Matte Mauve, Cherry Pop Red, Hot Tease Pink, Starstruck Coral, and Raven’s Wing Black. He narrows his eyes and whips his head around to your face, studying your features intensely. His eyes pause on your lips, and he frowns as you roll them between your teeth nervously.

“Would you stop-! Urgh, nevermind.” He starts before abruptly stopping, turning fully towards you and grabbing your face, directing it in different angles in the light. He pays strong attention to your lips, noting the thickness, color, and shape of them. He grumbles to himself, looking back at the colors on the shelf. Only one seems to be a perfect match.

Starstruck Coral. That’s the one.

He plucks it off the shelf and places it in the basket before stalking off to the cash register. He knows you know to follow him, and you do, meekly following his steps, still unsure of the purpose of this outing. You shift idly from one foot to the other as he pays at the cash register, listening to the general ambiance of the store. People chattering, items being scanned, wheels of carts rolling along the tile floor. You’re idly reading the label of a pop culture magazine when Romeo appears at your side, sour expression etched into his face. It makes you jump, and he looks at you with an even sourer expression. “Let’s go,” is all he says, his voice loud and demanding, leaving little room for argument. He walks off again, casting a look over his shoulder to ensure you’re following him, which you are, confused expression still stuck on your face.

The two of you return to the Darkwick train station through a door labeled “Employees Only”, careful not to get caught. Once you board the train, Romeo unceremoniously tosses the bag of products towards you and sits across from you. His expression is enough to broadcast that he’s more than over this, despite having spent hours meticulously scanning the available products to find the ones that best matched your skin. He studies you again as you take your seat and the train begins to move. His eyes rove over your face again, as though picking apart your appearance in search of flaws. He hardly flinches when you look up and catch his gaze, though when you nervously turn away, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Go on. Ask what you want to ask.” His voice comes out exactly as exasperated as he’d meant it to be. He would hope this would discourage you from asking any questions, but he knew better than that.

He watches you shift nervously before speaking up, looking down at your fingers fidgeting with the bag instead of making eye contact with him. “...What is all of this for?”

He exhales, already sick of answering your questions even though he hadn’t answered any. “That anomalous cloak does not do your makeup for you.” Part of him assumes this would be enough explanation, but at your still confused expression, he rolls his eyes and continues explaining. “I am tired of going on missions with someone as basic and unappealing as you. If you are going to be a constant, I insist you at least know how to do your makeup to fit in when we go on high-class missions.” He doesn’t bother sugarcoating anything. Instead, he leans back in his seat again, deciding this was a job well done. He hears the crinkling of the bag and pops one eye open, watching you as you study the products in the bag. You pull out the Starstruck Coral lip tint and suddenly you have his full attention. He opens both eyes and tries to discreetly lean forward, watching as you turn the box around in your hands. He was awful proud of that choice. It was the perfect ombre blend of coral and pink, not too warm and not too cool. It would match your undertone perfectly and it even had a shimmering quality to it. So long as you wore it right, he was sure it’d refine your appearance an exceptional amount.

After finishing praising himself for his genius internally, he leans his head back onto his seat, content to just get this over with. As long as you didn’t look as constantly unappealing as you usually did on missions, it would be fine. He couldn’t get why, but it irritated him. Granted, your skin was okay at best. There were some acne scars here and there, blackheads all over your nose, and slightly puffy undereye, which he suspected was from not getting enough sleep on this accursed campus. Other than those faults, your skin was okay. No visible outbreaks or dryness. He had to applaud you for at least taking his advice to heart and moisturizing a little bit. It had done noticeable wonders, at least to him.

He hears the unmistakable sound of plastic wrap being torn, and he perks up again, noticing you unwrapping the Starstruck Coral lip tint. He leans forward again, curiosity suddenly bubbling within him. “Put it on.” He says before he can think about it, his eyes focused on the small unwrapped box in your hands.

“...Huh?” You give him a puzzled look, tilting your head. His eyes flick towards you in annoyance and he gestures towards the box, his eyebrows furrowing in irritation.

“Don’t be dense, put it on!”

You nod hurriedly, and he can tell from the way your eyes glimmer that you’d wanted to try it. He has to resist the urge to smile, your subtle but affirming reaction filling him with pride. He watches as you open the box and pull out the lip tint, turning it over in your hands before unscrewing it open. Romeo can already feel himself growing impatient, idly tapping his foot as he waits for you to start. “It may be a little messy because I don’t have a mirror, but I’ll do my best.” You warn him, finally unscrewing the tint, admiring the pretty ombre color. He sits up when you speak, and unbeknownst to you, a scowl crosses his face momentarily. You hear his footsteps before you see him, crossing the short distance across the train in record speed and snatching the tint away from you before you could apply it with shaky hands.

When you look up at him questioningly, he shakes his head, holding the tint and applicator brush in his hand. “Just hold still.”

With that, he leans over you, placing the thin tube of tint in your hands and firmly holding your chin, his eyes seemingly glued to your lips. “Open.” When you do as he says, he gently applies the tint to your bottom lip, pursing his own lightly glossed lips as he focuses. He exhales, and fails to notice the way you shiver, his breath fanning over your neck. His knuckles gently press into the soft skin of your cheek and chin as he carefully follows the border of your lips, watching as the plush skin yields to the pressure before plumping up again. Somewhat caught between a haze of his intense focus applying the tint and unexpected fascination with the buoyancy of your lips, Romeo accidentally smudges some of the tint. Despite his bubbling annoyance at his own blunder, for a moment, it’s an almost charming imperfection. The lip tint glitters against your skin, smudged just off the corner of your parted lips. If he were any more brazen, he would have given in to the odd temptation unfurling in his stomach to simply kiss it away. Fortunately for him and his own reputation, he’s far more proper than that. With a pointed glare at the corner of your lips, he wipes away the smudge with his gloved thumb. He glances at the sparkling residue left on his glove before wiping it away onto your top lip. When you flinch in response, he has to suppress a shiver down his spine. This action was inexplicably intimate, yet he didn’t understand where his flusteredness was coming from. There was no reason to act nor feel like this.

He applies the tint to your top lip in a more rushed fashion, suddenly wanting to replace the earlier distance between you two. He frowns when he finishes, nitpicking any slight smudges or missed spots, before stepping away, admiring his work. “There.” He plucks the tint from your grasp, screwing the applicator back on and tossing it into the bag. “...This might be good enough,” he says, feigning confidence, but he can hear the way his voice wavers with uncertainty, a part of him itching to do more. His gaze flickers upwards to meet yours and an idea pops into his head. He could do your lashes. They were long by itself, but some of the mascara he’d bought couldn’t hurt. Despite himself, he finds himself sitting back down in front of you, reaching for and holding your chin firmly again. He turns your head every which way, determining what else he could do to refine your appearance some. Unfortunately, he’s aware this train ride ends soon, and he feels himself getting nauseous at the idea of spending more time with you than he has to, despite the anticipation crawling up his spine. He reaches for the bag again, pulling out the mascara he’d bought earlier. When you reach out your hand to apply it yourself, he gently swats your hand away. “No. Hold still.”

He doesn’t give you much choice, still holding your chin and pulling your face closer to his. He purses his lips again, telling you not to blink as he applies your mascara. He finds himself staring at your eye color, noting the color of the mascara in comparison. Perhaps next time he ought to choose something that made your eyes stand out more, or maybe that’d be easier done with some eyeshadow in the correct shade. He decides to halt his thoughts there, scowling. He had to focus, and he was damn well sure there wouldn’t be a ‘next time’. He internally recoils at the thought of having to peruse the shelves with you over his shoulder again, constantly shifting your expressions, making it harder for him to focus. The slight furrow in your brow even now was distracting, and all he could think about was how he wanted to remind you that frowning causes wrinkles, and you would be especially susceptible to them if you didn’t keep up your skincare regime. Instead, he lets go of your chin and flicks you between your brows, frowning at you himself. When you get the message and relax your expression, he nods appreciatively and continues his task, moving to your other eye.

Finally, the task was complete. His eyes flick back and forth between your eyes, watching as you blink at him dubiously. When satisfied, he pulls away, screwing the applicator back into the mascara and observing your face. Your eyes seemed wider and brighter, and the added mascara helped your lashes appear longer. Your lips were bright and shimmering, still covered in that Starstruck Coral color. Romeo smiles to himself, proud with how he managed to turn around your appearance with so little. He reaches for your face again, holding your cheeks with considerable tenderness, as though scared one wrong move would smudge and ruin the perfect portrait of you. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath as he gazes at you, checking your entire face for imperfections, glazing over the negligible or unnoticeable imperfections that couldn’t be immediately cleared. He exhales, feeling himself gleam with pride as a reluctant smile digs into his cheeks yet again. He sits down beside you, still holding your face. “Non c'è male…” He mutters to himself, finding his gaze lingering again on the pretty ombre mesh of pink and orange and red on your lips. Truly, Starstruck Coral had been the right choice.

He’s basking in his pride more when he hears the shutter click of a camera, and a whistle in a familiar voice. “Now this will do numbers on WickHive.” The same familiar voice cackles and Romeo already knows he hadn’t moved away quickly enough to avoid the picture. One glance up and there he is, Leo, staring down smugly at his phone, where the incriminating image is probably being held. Surprisingly, hunched over Leo’s shoulder is Rui, inspecting the picture with a crease in his brow. Romeo cannot believe his lack of luck.

Romeo catches it when Rui makes eye contact with you, and it doesn’t escape him how Rui’s eyes flicker with an emboldened interest. Stepping past Leo, Rui heads to you with an extra skip in his step, wide smile already spreading across his face. His voice is higher than usual, and Romeo wonders if mere makeup was enough to trip up the ladykiller himself. “Woooow, MC!” He stops a short distance away from you, his eyes flickering across your face as he takes in your makeup. “You look cuter than usual today. What’s brought this on, huh?” Rui’s tone is filled with mirth as he pokes your nose playfully. Romeo stiffens and has to bite back the urge to swat his hand away from your face.

Romeo carefully watches your reaction, and is almost relieved when you don’t smile immediately. “You like it? I haven’t seen how it looks yet.” You reply to Rui, a little hesitant but clearly glad for the praise.

Rui sticks his bottom lip out in a mock pout. “Awww, you should! You look so cute!” His face breaks out into a wide smile again, and it’s almost crushingly obvious that Rui’s a flirtier version of Kaito at this point. “I’m assuming we have you to thank for this, hm?” Romeo looks up to notice Rui’s gaze on him as Rui vaguely gestures in your direction.

Romeo doesn’t resist the urge to puff his chest out a bit, folding his arms indignantly. “Indeed.” His terse answer doesn’t hide his swelling pride, he’s aware, but brevity is the soul of wit, which he likes to claim to possess.

“He picked out some makeup items for me.” You chime in, holding up the bag with a relaxed smile. It seems you’ve finally taken to Rui’s compliments.

Rui shakes his head with a complicated look in his eyes, clearly picking up on the message behind the gift, but happy for you nonetheless. “Well, leave it to Romeo to pick out such a pretty color. It suits you.” Rui winks at you before finally finding a seat on the train, just across from you, taking Romeo’s former seat.

Leo, who’s clearly been either editing the picture or waiting his turn to soak up all the attention, saunters up to you, smug smile still on his face. Romeo doesn’t miss how your earlier smile seems to fade all at once. He would laugh, but it’s not that funny.

“Gotta say, I agree with Rui. Who knew…” Leo trails off, his fingers reaching for your chin and holding it with uncharacteristic tenderness, tilting your face upwards towards him. Romeo notices how you stiffen at the contact. “...That the honor student could be—” Leo suddenly snaps his lips shut, and Romeo can tell from the way his lips purse despite being in a smug smirk that he had to bite back a compliment. Leo only falters slightly, brow creasing minutely before quickly straightening again, lips quirking back up into a teasing smile, more words as demeaning as they were saccharine sweet on the tip of his tongue. “Well, it suits you. You might even be unrecognizable enough to pass as a beauty in this picture.” Leo smirks, waving his phone in his hand.

Romeo finds himself intervening before he can really think about it. He swats Leo’s hand away from your chin. “Stop that. You’ll smudge her foundation.” A blatant lie, but it would be sound enough to get him to back off, Romeo hopes. Something about this was fraying at his nerves.

Leo raises a crooked brow at Romeo, a slow, shit-eating grin spreading across his face. “I don’t know, Romeo. The blackheads on her nose account for a lack of any foundation at all. Nice try, though.” Romeo should be thankful Leo lets it go, but all he can do is turn away indignantly, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. He hears a chuckle before light footsteps padding away, and gently exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. By god, of all people to board the train at that moment…

Rui walks at a much faster pace than you and Romeo, strained expression on his face. He’d left Lyca and Ed in charge of the bar while he was off on a short mission, as he explained earlier, and could only hope that they hadn’t mistakenly set the bar on fire.

Romeo was headed to the bar for drinks, and as far as he was concerned, you were coming with him. The earlier incident with Leo convinced him he cannot let you out of his sight for today. Leo had cited some excuse for not coming to the bar, but Romeo could tell from the grin Leo flashed his way that he can expect that picture to be all over WickHive by evening. A drink to forget it, even temporarily, would be enough for Romeo.

Rui heaves a sigh of relief as he steps into the bar, glad to find nothing on fire nor destroyed, but Lyca doing the work while Ed sits perched at the bar. A red shock of hair buried in a white sleeve also denotes another guest. Romeo has to grit his teeth, remembering how Haru went on and on about you after first meeting you. He can only imagine the endless waterfall of praise he’ll surely come up with on the spot seeing you even remotely dolled up. He makes a mental note to bring painkillers for the inevitable headaches he gets when he comes here and Haru happens to arrive.

Clearly, Romeo needs to be more forthright about how he’s trying to protect his ears, because when you plop yourself down in the seat right next to Haru, all he feels is dread. He quickly slips into the seat on your other side, despite there being no remaining danger.

Rui, finally behind the bar, gently nudges Haru. He immediately raises his head, and Romeo can’t tell if he woke up that quickly or was already awake and out of it so soon. The faint blush on his face indicates the latter. As Haru reorients himself, Romeo notices Lyca peering at you oddly. He’d never so much as heard this boy speak, but something tells him he’s going to be as much as, if not more of, a headache than Haru.

“Oh, hi MC-! …Wait. Something’s different about you.” Haru’s voice had its classic drawl it always had when he’s getting close to being hammered. Romeo’s sure it’s loud enough to be heard from Obscuary’s entrance. He watches, jaw clenched tight as Haru inspects you. Boldly, and probably not realizing how drunk he is, Haru reaches out, his gloved fingers lightly tracing the skin above your eyebrows. Romeo notices you don’t recoil at this touch, but he doesn’t know if it’s because you know he’s drunk or if you happen to not dislike Haru. Both options are less than ideal.

Puzzled expression still stuck on his face, Haru traces his fingers downwards, caressing your cheek. “Yea…” He mutters to himself, his eyes tracing the path of his fingers. “Something’s…” his fingers reach the corner of your lips, “...Different…Oh!” His eyes widen like it’s finally occurred to him, and his gaze remains transfixed on your lips, shimmering coral color still bright and undisturbed on them. “You’re wearing makeup!”

“Is that what that is?” Lyca cuts in, suddenly appearing behind you, craning his neck to get a good look at your face. He narrows his eyes, scrutinizing your appearance before leaning away, satisfied. He crosses his arms, a light blush dusting his face as he tries to ignore the staring he just did. “Hmph. It’s pretty.” His compliment is short and terse, but Romeo can tell from your relieved sigh that you’re happy to receive it nonetheless. However, said compliment is quickly followed up by: “...You reek of the damn blond gigolo, though.”

Rui stiffens behind the bar, cleaning a glass. “Come on, my cologne isn’t that potent.” He looks up from his task to find all five of you avoiding his gaze.

Ignoring Rui’s distressed cry of shock, Haru turns to you again. “Lyca’s right. It is pretty. Though…” Haru leans towards you, his chin propped up in his hands, “I always thought you were quite the looker, you know.” His smile is disarmingly handsome, even to Romeo. His flushed cheeks and lovestruck gaze probably only add to it. Romeo suppresses a gag, turning away.

Rui, having partially recovered from the prior shock, also leans towards you, resting his cheek in his palm, partially hiding a cheeky smile. He hums in agreement with Haru, nodding. “Can’t disagree with that. You’re an attractive gal.”

Romeo shivers, ready to pull you away from Haru and Rui’s gazes. When Lyca cranes his neck to gaze at you again, Romeo snaps.

“Will you horny dogs keep your dicks in your pants and your lascivious gazes off of her?!” He knows he’s one to talk considering the way your lips simply shimmering was enough to disarm him on the train, but still. This was ridiculous.

“Really, now…” A soft, low, velvety voice echoes through the silence following Romeo’s outburst. Ed appears behind you, gently placing his hands over your ears. He mockingly frowns disapprovingly at Romeo. “Using such vulgar language in front of a lady…” He shakes his head and tuts a few times, a smile crawling onto his face. “Surely you know your manners?”

Rui chimes in, teasing grin all over his face. “He may need a refresher on them.”

With that, Haru, Rui, and Ed dissolve into snickers, just as Romeo bursts into a blush. Lyca, off to the side, looks a little confused.

“I don’t get it. Why not use words like that in front of her?”

Romeo’s walking you home. He insisted on it. He wasn’t about to let a repeat of him being humiliated yet again by your side, nor was he going to let some other ghoul or normal human lay his eyes on you, at that. Maybe this makeup was a bad idea. But then, he turns to sneak a quick glance at you. Your expression appears quite pleased, and your shimmering lips are curled into a small smile.

Well. Maybe it wasn’t that bad of an idea.

“Thank you.” Romeo’s surprised to hear you pipe up, and turns towards you questioningly.

“For what?”

“For the makeup.” You gaze at him kindly, giving him a small smile. He’s taken aback by it. “Can’t say you were kind about it, but I appreciate it regardless.”

Romeo hardly stiffens at the comment. He knows he wasn’t particularly kind about it, but that’s the point. How else is someone who can hardly remove their blackheads going to take proper care of their skin? He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, letting his thoughts run around his head. Part of him wondered if he had another reason for buying you makeup in the first place, and why this entire gift felt like it was only going to bite him in the ass later. Maybe it already was, what with how you’d managed to catch the attention of every single ghoul they’d encountered today. But that didn’t make sense. Why would you gaining attention bite him in the ass? He shakes his head, a blush forming on his face as though he already knows the answer.

“Shut up. Just use it on missions.” Romeo’s response is as terse as ever, quick and to the point. He watches as you roll your eyes, and something in him twinges, partially wishing he could’ve given a nicer comment.

When you arrive at the chapel, he watches you bound up the steps, sticking around despite himself. He musters up an obligatory “Good Night,” right before you close the door on him, and he watches as your shimmering Starstruck Coral lips pull into a grin.

“Goodnight, Romeo.”

He turns away as you close the door, ready to fill the rest of his walk back to Sinostra with more pondering. His phone buzzing in his pocket interrupts his peace, however, and he turns it on only to find an innumerable amount of notifications from WickHive.

“Kurosagi…” He curses his name under his breath. “When I get you…”

a/n: yippee!!!!!!! im surprised i managed to finish this. i honestly like it a lot, i think it's really cute and i like the way i wrote it. i genuinely hope you guys like it too!!!!!

shameless note that, as usual, i love likes, comments, tagged reblogs, and asks!! please feel free to let me know in any way you like just how much you loved my writing! it's what keeps me going!

until next time!!!

EDIT BC I SOMEHOW FORGOT?: a few hc's im adding 4 relevance's sake:

rui wears strong cologne and douses himself in it

haru has grey eyes

that's all yippee!!

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sammywr1tes · 13 hours ago

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picking the lighter option

和ー you give your best friend a makeover. he falls in love with you a little more.

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字 bsf!idol!han と crush!gn!reader 《w.c・0.6k》

DRABBLE, humour, fluff, makeovers, 3rd person perspective. ft. hyunjin and felix

sammy note ★彡 - my best friend suggested i write a random hair dying crack fic, but in true me style it ended up involving pining too. good times. also i’m trying out a new layout thing!! kinda exciting. as usual, requests are always welcome and if you’d like to be added to my taglist then please send in an ask/comment. for more fics, check out my masterlist, and for commissions take a look at my ko-fi :)

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“y/n, i don’t think this is a good idea” jisung says, watching your reflection in the mirror. you’re standing over him, wielding a dye brush between your gloved fingers. your other hand holds a normal hairbrush, combing through the knots in his hair. “the stylists will hate me if you screw this up. ”

“trust me, sung, i know how to do this.” you give him a grin through the mirror that only amplifies the fight-or-flight response his brain provides. he shivers a little as you spread the cold dye over his hair, feeling it sticking to his scalp. your steady hand guides the dye down to the ends of his hair, making sure the colour coats the locks thoroughly.

jisung watches the mirror as you work. your hand that isn’t holding the brush moves his hair to paint the layers closer to his scalp. he’s easily distracted by your fingers smoothing his hair out, running through his hair to check for knots, and the sound of the brush’s rough hairs sweeping against his own soft locks.

the mirror lures him away with a reflection of your concentrated expression, pink lower lip tucked between your teeth. your eyes are focused on the movement of the brush, making sure to not miss a strand.

after a short while, you finally put the brush down with a soft sigh.

“okay, you have to keep it in for half an hour before you wash it out. “

he nods, taking in his own reflection in the mirror. the dye sticks his hair to his scalp, making him look like an alien. he chuckles a little, picking up his phone for a silly mirror selfie. the two of you pass half an hour debating if you can dye body hair a different colour with hair dye or not.

afterwards, jisung shoos you out of the bathroom to wash the dye out, then lets you blow-dry his hair. “you should run a salon. you’re very good at hairdressing” he comments offhandedly, feeling the hot gusts of the blow-dryer over his face, warming his skin. you laugh at his words. the soft sound warms the mush under his skin.

when jisung’s hair isn’t damp anymore, you comb through it, leaning over him, close enough that he can feel the warmth of your skin beckoning him towards it. finally, you let him see your self-proclaimed masterpiece, pushing him to sit in front of the mirror.

at first, he can’t find words to say. he stares at his reflection, taking in the sea-foam coloured strands framing his face. you suck your lower lip between your teeth, watching his expression nervously.

“do you not like it?”

“i love it.” he whispers, a hand slowly rising to run through the locks.

you grin. “you look like an underwater deity.”

he chuckles softly, giving you a smile through the mirror, reaching back to take your hand gently. “thank you for making me into one,” he jokes, catching your eye in the mirror. for a moment, neither of you look away, but you break eye contact when you hear the excited knocks of felix and hyunjin on the other side of the door.

“is it done? does it look good?” “can we see, jisungie?”

you roll your eyes and move to open the door for them. jisung’s eyes follow you, then glance towards the mirror again, taking in his appearance once more. he looks completely different to his usual self, but he can’t help but like it, thinking about how you complimented him. his heart warms.

maybe the underwater deity in the mirror will have the confidence to ask you out, sooner than later.

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fluffyllamas-23 · 1 year ago

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I will never get over how incensed my cat gets when I don’t let him bite me 😂

#like tbf to him it’s never a HARD bite #it’s usually more of a gentle nom #he’s a very good boy and not typically very aggressive #but also do not put your teeth on my skin?????#he was sniffing me so intently the way he does when he’s about to bite and I pulled away and yelled NO #and the LOOK I got lmao #ears very slicked back #sorry I guess????

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iftitah · 1 year ago

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i think im getting better at living in the moment

#maybe it's because i don't instantly have to think about future #but also like from past experiences #i feel truly present at something while connecting dots from past things learnt without plucking up a triggering memory #and when i feel i need to do something for whats approaching i can strategize out quickly and get on to. it #without overthinking about it or making too many theories #logical rational practical were so foreign terms for me #but i recently got a wow youre still able to think this logically from a friend who's supposed to be the most rational person around me #doesn't mean i don't start getting overwhelmed like always the emotions start to put their claws #and teeth on my skin #but ime learning to move past them before they sink in deeper #so. i get a bit of the male population experience that when they're not thinking their head is really that empty #its so calming??#this is my favorite part of me that happened this year #out of all the growth stuff i felt #im proud of myself okay #tho i do know its mainly because the workload is less without any pressure #but if i can familiarize with this concept ill be alright when it gets tough #at least i hope so

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stunie · 6 months ago

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ok so i hit 30 tags pretty early so i wanted to add extra thoughts under here i am SOOO SORRY OMFG ITS SO MUCH 😭😭 GOD

attempt 1 at reading - thoughts:

i love how you wrote the nervousness and hesitation of both reader and atsumu ): this relationship feels so genuine and realistic, like every thought is so real and complex and it all just plays out soooo vividly in my head. i can literally feel every single thing in MY SOUL. it got me holding my breath, my heart racing, my stomach churning

the kiss . the first kiss where mr suna interrupted . when i tell you i read it like this >//////< EXCEPT MY HAND WAS CLASPED SO TIGHTLY OVER MY MIUTH. oh my god the reaction i had. it really felt like a first kiss all over again, i was genuinely WARM and all blushy

attempt 2 at reading - thoughts:

i loved how u wrote out the tension again .. and your characterization for all of them ?? kita being all observant? osamu being all curious ?

the emotional rollercoaster i am on in this chapter is crazy. i took my first break after suna interrupted (the kiss killed me), and im taking my second break right after atsumu confesssd (i was killed a second time). i was irritated during the cafe bc WHY r u avoiding me, and then the next second i’m like squealing 😭 the way that u write yue !! the way that u write . i am such a mess right now give me another moment

attempt 3 at reading - thoughts:

holy shit this scene . the kissing ? THE AAY YOU DESCDIBED IT from the first kiss ?? this one made my stomach FLIP omfg .

oh god the neck kisses . the .. the everything . my left leg has goosebumps idk why it’s only my left leg am i okay yue ? am i okay what’s wrong with me

i have a little ways to go i’m almost done but i need yet another break holy shit i have been reduced to a dizzy lil mess what have i become

attempt 4 at reading - thoughts:

oh my god ): oh my god ): what am i even supposed to say here. i love how u wrote the smut part ?? it feels like actual love ? he is so sweet pls

osamu interrupting had me jolting upright BECAUSE SUNA FIRST NOW OSAMU ? is kita the next victim ?? poor baby

AGHHH THE ENDING IS SO CUTE i fr feel like im in an anime ): i feel so pretty and so lovely THIS WAS SO LOVELYYY TYSMMM YUE FOR WRITING THIS

v. MISUNDERSTANDINGS

miya atsumu x f!reader

── next: vi. Epilogue: Sakura sweetness | series masterlist

synopsis: A drunken conversation with Atsumu leads to a cascade of events that has your mind practically exploding with endless questions, and with the way Atsumu has been acting, you want clear answers, and you’ll get them one way or another—even if it meant arguing in the twins’ shared apartment on a late Thursday afternoon.

chapter content warning: college au, mentions of alcohol use, intoxicated characters, cockblocker suna (rip), angst, hurt/comfort, awkward tension, atsumu & reader are dumbasses, arguing, light smut (mdni; nothing too explicit), nsfw, implied unprotected s*x, fluff towards the end yay, kita graduates from uni!, mutual pining, slow burn, requited unrequited love, friends to lovers, not beta read.

word count: 6.1k

notes: AAACKKKK last chapter!! also happy 1 month to this series !! i’m surprised i got to finish this in less than 2 months lmao considering how slow i am w writing :< divider: cafekitsune.

Light. Everything felt light—your head, body, voice, heart.

It felt like all the weight of your shoulders had been lifted, and you could be as carefree as a bird soaring through cerulean skies to be one with the wind. Because right this very moment, nothing mattered at all, not even the fact that you stood before the person you’ve been trying to avoid since the new year rolled around.

Tucked neatly at the back of your mind like a silent reminder, you knew you shouldn’t trust your intoxicated self right now—whether it be your thoughts or feelings but the urge to stop wasn’t there, and you felt extremely optimistic about this—all thanks to the burning alcohol that clouded every bit of your judgement.

Everything felt right.

As you met his caramel gaze, your vision tunnelled, everyone, and everything that surrounded both of you slowly turned into nothing but a mix of hazy hues, upbeat music that spilled from the speakers fading into the distance as you, and Atsumu entered your own world—even the orange-haired male with the bright, doe eyes melted away from your view.

Just you, and Atsumu, exactly how it was supposed to be.

With a bated breath, Atsumu wordlessly nodded, and awaited your next move, as if shackled in a hazy trance. He was fully aware of the thundering heartbeat that rang in his ears, the way his slender fingers ever so slightly dug into the scarlet plastic cup in his hand, cheeks burning with unexplainable emotions.

“Let’s talk somewhere else.”

It took all the effort for Atsumu to ignore the feeling of your bare skin against his, the searing touch of your fingers around his wrist as you hurriedly whisked him away into the intimate space of their kitchen, as if to shield you both from everyone else’s prying eyes. Despite a stained judgement, the blonde was sure no one gave a single damn if you were to talk it out in the living room, everyone was in their own buzz anyway.

Nonetheless, Atsumu let you take the lead, whatever you wanted, he obliged. As though he was floating on cloud nine, his body became lighter with each step taken, head lightly spinning, warmth that radiated from your palm seeped into his flushed skin, prickly, miniature kisses engulfing his body.

“I’m okay now.” Resting your lower back against the ivory granite countertops, you stare up at Atsumu through your lashes, not noticing your lingering fingers curled around his wrist. For a brief moment, your breath hitched, stomach churning at the sight before you. The lighting behind Atsumu made him look like absolute heaven, flaxen strands glowing like the first rays beneath the warm illuminant, casting an ethereal halo at the back of his head. It didn’t help how he stared down as if your eyes held the cosmos in them, completely awestruck.

Whatever, you chalked it up to his intoxicated state. What else could it have been?

For a brief moment, Atsumu wracked his brain for context behind your words, and as the invisible lightbulb atop his head switched on, he was reminded of the situation at hand. It definitely pulled his consciousness into sobriety. Just a tad bit.

“A-are y’sure?” A breathless, almost dainty whisper slipped past his rosy lips. He took note of the way your gaze shifted ever so slightly downwards, eyes crudely lingering on the plush of his bottom lip as his tongue briefly swiped against it.

Atsumu’s Adam’s apple bobbed at your not-so-subtle stare, stomach churning with want. He knew this feeling all too well—it visited him whenever he was alone in his room, mind wandering over to thoughts of you which filled every corner of his mind; sometimes the feeling was too strong, other times he could bear it. Tonight, though, Atsumu wasn’t sure if he was immune to this feeling, let alone erase any impulsive thoughts from his intoxicated mind.

What pulled you into this decision was something you’d never figure out; maybe it was the fact that your yearning heart grew tired of the icy distance between the two of you or maybe you’ve truly come to terms with his unreciprocated feelings—you didn’t know. All you knew was that nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations, especially when it involved feelings. But this could be an exception, right?

“So . . Does that mean we can be friends again?”

It was weird. Atsumu’s voice brimmed with a sense of hope—as if he’s been waiting for this very moment for the past two weeks—but the strange glint in his caramel eyes betrayed the blonde entirely.

Despite your better judgement, you chalked it up to the warm light that casted a soft shadow upon his features; maybe you were too dizzy to see things clearly, or maybe you were looking too deep into Atsumu’s expression—hoping to find some sort of sadness upon hearing your decision to move on, and accept his rejection.

Atsumu watched as your eyes traced his features, closely observing them as if to find some kind of answer; as selfish as it seemed, the intensity in your eyes gave him a tinge of hope that perhaps you could let yourself pine over him just a little longer because he wasn’t sure what he’d do with the knowledge that your heart would no longer yearn for him.

The situation was a double-edged sword, really.

You let out a puff of breath, “Yeah, of course. We’re friends again.” Friends. That word should have given you more relief than sorrow but could you really blame yourself? It felt like a bitter reminder of cold rejection which resembled salt pressed against an unhealed wound, a searing itch that left your skin feverish.

Even if it meant selling yourself short.

Avoiding his eye contact, you swiftly unwound your fingers from his wrist, mentally cursing yourself for not noticing any sooner. A cold embrace engulfed Atsumu’s wrist, where your fingers were mere seconds ago, he tried his best to ignore how his body yearned for your warmth. He gave a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

For a moment, you stood in each other’s silence like two predators sizing up one another, eagerly waiting for one’s move before pouncing, the silent hum of the fridge making up for the lack of conversation between one another.

How strange, this agreement should have cleared the unsettled air between you, and Atsumu but why did it feel like the complete opposite? As if the air turned into something more uncertain. You both knew you could feel the uncanny tension rising up, up, up but not one dared to address it.

Swiftly burying it under the rug, Atsumu spoke, thinly slicing through your trance, “You’ll find someone better.”

God, he must’ve really matured this new year because he didn’t know how he was able to say that straight to your face. Being one to wear his heart on his sleeve, this was completely foreign for Atsumu—or maybe he just got better at masking his true emotions.

You closed your eyes upon hearing his response, as if doing so would help you brave the weight of his words. It didn’t. That was the last thing you wanted Atsumu to say to you, ‘someone better’, it was brazen of him to think so poorly of himself, as though he wasn’t that certain someone. It was entirely unfair on your end because who was Atsumu to determine which person was for you?

Even just thinking about it had you fuming, rejection was one thing but completely disregarding the reason behind your feelings for him was another because in your eyes, Miya Atsumu was that ‘someone better’; he was the one who understood you the most, the one who always looked out for you, the one you fucking wanted.

And despite your mind telling you to nod along, and suck it up, the alcohol in your body was stronger; so, you opened your eyes, and furrowed your brows at him,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“But I don’t want anyone better, Tsumu. I want you.”

Atsumu’s eyes widened, the desperation in your voice was something he hadn't heard before, it definitely pulled at his heart, guilt gnawing at his skin for being the sole reason for your drunken actions. He may be drunk but he wasn’t stupid, Atsumu knew you should’ve kept that one to yourself, he could practically see you brimming with temerity but he’d be lying to himself if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat or two.

I want you, too. God, he wanted to say it back badly. The words were lodged in his throat, unable to slip past his lips despite the best efforts to do so.

It dawned on him—right then, and there—the severity of your feelings for him, the immense weight of it. Now, guilt really ate him away; he could only imagine how the past two weeks were for you. Did you cry while thinking about him?

That was the last thing Atsumu wanted.

Though, amidst the guilt, something else blossomed in his chest, it made him feel like he stood upon the highest pedestal. Atsumu didn’t know whether it was pride or greed; as fucked up as it was, he couldn’t bring himself to push the impulsiveness away as though you’ve infected him with your own. His heart hammered at a thought that formed in his mind, even just thinking about it stirred his chest.

Despite Atsumu’s better judgement, he held onto the feeling with a tight grip, and opened his mouth, tongue nervously swiping at the bottom lip,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“Is . . Is it bad that I really want to kiss you right now?”

You sucked in a breath, heart pounding at Atsumu’s sudden confession. If you were sober, you’d have a million thoughts racing through your mind right now, questioning the feelings he really had for you but unfortunately, only one thing was on your mind—how badly you wanted to kiss Atsumu too.

Dragging yourself further down, down, down the void of uncertainty, you shook your head in a daze,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“What if I say I want to kiss you, too?”

Barely audible but Atsumu heard it just fine over the pounding of his heart, over the incoherent conversations beyond this kitchen, over the muted bass music because as long as it's you, he’d always listen, even if it meant drowning out the entire world.

Then, there was a heartbeat, a passing second, a dip of a finger to test undisturbed waters; the funny thing was that even a minute disturbance could cause a ripple effect for miles, and miles, awakening the dormant creatures that lay beyond the azure surface.

It was swift, as though Atsumu had been waiting for this very moment to happen—one second you were locked in a trance, the next his lips were pressed against your own, a shared warmth of intimacy searing both bodies in an eternal blaze like a blue flame that dangerously destroyed everything in its path.

Shy. Warm. Soft. Rosy. Like it was meant to be. The list could go on, and on but it was as though your thoughts came quickly before your mind could register them, leaving you in a white, empty haze. With the plastic cups long forgotten on the counter behind, you closed your eyes as Atsumu’s body eagerly pressed against yours, strong arms coming up to rest on the granite countertop behind you, fingers digging into the material to ground himself.

For a moment, everything was still, lips unmoving against each other, a time to bask in this newfound intimacy—the foreignness of one another’s body. The earth felt like it spun on its axis way faster than usual, as if day, and night merged to become one; hues of late dusk, and early dawn intertwined like your bodies.

Bitterness from Atsumu’s rosy lips lingered on your own; you never liked the taste of beer but oddly enough, you didn’t mind it at all.

Your hands cupped Atsumu’s jaw, fingers gently digging onto his soft skin, eager for more as your lips moulded together. Slowly moving his mouth against your own, you followed suit to match the sensual pace he had set, falling deeper, and deeper between the hazy boundaries of friendship, and something a little more. Low whimpers slipped past between each feverish kiss as a drunken greed gradually controlled your bodies.

The initial softness of the kiss dissipated as each second passed, slowly turning into something more carnal, and passionate—breaths becoming heavier, and faces eagerly pressed against one another, angled in a way to grant more access.

Was this what cloud nine felt like? Exhilarating? Euphoric? As though there was no one else—

“Oh!—Holy shit. Did I interrupt?”

A familiar voice violently pulled you, and Atsumu back into reality, swiftly jumping away from each other’s hold, and looking over to the owner of the voice. Suna. The brunette stared at both of you—looking like a deer caught in headlights, chests heaving—his expression was unreadable, almost like a mix of shock, and amusement. You, and Atsumu kissing in the kitchen was absolutely not in his new year bingo card.

Well, this encounter certainly was enough to strip you into sobriety.

Your head spun a little, lungs severely deprived of oxygen. Shame, and realisation settled deep in your bones—shame because Suna just caught you, and Atsumu almost sucking the soul out of each other, and realisation because everything about this whole situation was so wrong; a million questions formulated in your mind as each awkward second passed.

On the other hand, Atsumu was equally as horrified, albeit annoyed that he didn’t have the chance to kiss you longer. The thrumming of his heart pounded in his ears, his mind trying to come up with anything to say just to stop the thoughts formulating in Suna’s mind—oh, he knows that look on his friend’s face very well.

Your view became obstructed by the expanse of Atsumu’s back, a subtle attempt to block you from the brunette’s gaze.

“W-what the hell, Suna?! Don’t jus’ barge into the kitchen, ya scrub!” Atsumu tried his best to act tough but miserably failed with the shakiness in his voice betraying him.

As if to make matters worse, Suna didn’t back down, a smug look painted on his flushed face as the blonde shamelessly blamed him,

“Well, how was I supposed to know that you two were sucking each other’s faces in the kitchen?!”

Did he have to word it like that?

Atsumu opened, and closed his mouth, trying to think of ways to deny Suna’s accusations but his mind went blank, even with just the brunette mentioning your kiss had him blushing like a mad man. Silence yet again occupied the kitchen, low bass music spilled from the speakers, and incoherent chatters from beyond the space making up for the lack of conversation.

Before the situation could get even more awkward, you spoke up, “I . . think I’m just going to go . . ” This gained both their attention, carefully watching as you navigated past Atsumu, and out the kitchen.

The blonde watched as you staggered past him, and Suna; he wanted to go after you, and talk about what just happened but the soles of his feet stayed rooted on the ground, too heavy to lift, even the words he wanted to say were lodged in his throat.

So, Atsumu decided it was best to let you go.

Monday.

Everyone’s enemy but also a day to gather around the campus coffee shop with friends, and be productive for a while. The calming aroma of coffee engulfed your senses; low chatter from other customers, faint jazz music, and the occasional hum of the coffee machine filled the table from the lack of conversation. Despite the café’s light ambience, it didn’t do much to hide the growing tension that surrounded the group, specifically you, Atsumu, and Suna.

Kita was the first to notice the subtle shift of aura that emanated from you three, especially after catching a glimpse of Suna’s narrow eyes trailing from you to Atsumu over his laptop screen; though, he had much more things to worry about than to indulge himself in whatever tomfoolery this was. He’d ask questions later.

On the other hand, Osamu was more than curious, especially after his older twin started acting out of character—Atsumu wasn’t one to engulf himself in thoughts to the point where he’d be staring at an inanimate object, in a complete daze but lately, Osamu has seen him behave as such.

The latter could practically feel the weight of awkwardness pressing against his skin as he subtly watched the three of you. Of course, he did his best to pry off information from the blonde only to no avail; Osamu didn’t know why Suna was even caught up in this but he suspected it was from the party a few days ago.

He remembered seeing you stumble out of the kitchen when he was on his way to grab more drinks from their fridge, the younger twin thought nothing of it until he was met with Suna, and Atsumu awkwardly standing in the kitchen. Normally, Osamu would’ve asked questions that night but the alcohol in him couldn’t care less about the situation.

Staring at the untouched document pulled up on your laptop, you ducked behind your screen to avoid Suna’s wandering gaze, and Osamu’s not-so-subtle curiosity. This was hell. You didn’t even know why you decided to turn up today after that shit show at the party—maybe because you thought you could shove down that memory especially after telling Atsumu that you were fine or maybe you craved the closeness you two once had, and now you were here to rebuild that.

As easy as it sounded, you feared it might not be so with the way Atsumu has been avoiding you like the plague. First, it started when you walked into the café at the same time as the twins, Osamu greeted you at the door before heading inside leaving you, and Atsumu outside. Now, that would’ve been fine if the latter didn’t make a show of taking a couple of steps back to let you go first as though you carried some kind of incurable disease.

The second time was when Atsumu realised the only vacant seat was next to your own, thus, asking to swap with Osamu just so he could sit farthest away from you. And the third was when you had asked him if he was alright while waiting in line to order only to be met with a mindless nod before returning to his phone in his hand.

You tried your very best to ignore the blooming pain in your chest; sure, being sad about Atsumu possibly avoiding you was reasonable but then again, you were the one who told him you were okay now—how Atsumu decided to act after the party was beyond your control.

God but it pissed you off. Swallowing one’s pride, and making effort to rekindle a cold friendship was not an easy feat when the other doesn’t do the same. It shouldn’t work you up this much but it did, and now you were second guessing yourself that maybe it was an irrational decision to abruptly tell Atsumu that you’ve come to terms with moving on.

That night at the party, were you lying to yourself just so you could be around him again?

Whatever. It was too late to take it back anyway.

The days ahead were monotonous, and boring; you, and Atsumu remained orbiting around one another, careful not to get into each other’s path of trajectory but it was tiring. Not only did it feel like navigating through eggshells while he was around but the constant questions from your friends tested your limits. Though, it wasn’t their fault for simply being curious, and getting left in the dark about the whole situation but the prying felt like endless jabs of sharp needles along your skin.

From their point of view, you, and Atsumu were stubborn about the whole situation. None dared to speak up about it, acting as though everything was fine, so your friends were left with very little to work with.

It felt like a game of cat, and mouse where you were the feline chasing Atsumu around. The longer the days dragged on, the more thoughts formulated in your mind, and they all involved the blonde in some way or another. And just like everyone else, you had your limits too; you were tired of Atsumu acting like a stubborn idiot.

When you confessed to Atsumu, sure, you expected an awkward phase but this was even worse. There wasn’t just distance between the two of you, it felt like you were strangers.

He was known for brashly saying the sharp truth, so why couldn’t he be straightforward with you? Was he disgusted by the kiss, and deeply regretted it? Did he think you were weird? You didn’t know, but you were bound to find out even if it meant knocking at the twin’s apartment door at 5:45 PM on a cold, rainy Thursday.

With the sun hidden behind the looming grey clouds, the late winter afternoon was even darker; the roads were packed with vehicles while the sidewalks occupied students, and company workers alike trying their best to shield themselves from the heavy downpour. Despite the streets being illuminated with a tinge of warm yellow from cars, and streetlights, it did nothing to brighten up the gloomy day.

Funny, it was as though the universe knew how you felt today.

“If yer lookin’ for ‘Samu, he won’t be back until 8 PM.” Greeted with Atsumu’s shocked face as the ivory door to their apartment opened, you couldn’t help but visibly roll your eyes at his stubbornness. Yeah, like you’d be here at their apartment looking for Osamu—you knew each of their timetables like the back of your hand.

Flaxen strands that sat atop his head were unruly, a sign that he must’ve been taking a nap sometime ago. Atsumu donned a light blue hoodie paired with black sweats; you tried your best not to ogle the man, after all, you were here for a sensible talk.

“I’m here for you, Miya.”

Atsumu gripped the metal handle a little tighter, the coolness of it seeping into the warmth of his skin. He tried not to flinch at the sudden formality of the conversation. Nonetheless, the blonde pulled the door wider, a wordless invite to their humble space. Giving him a small smile before walking inside, you tried not to think about the last time you were here, and how you found yourself drunkenly kissing Atsumu in their kitchen.

The sound of the door closing shut behind Atsumu reverberated throughout the walls of their apartment, followed by a deafening silence. Met with his honeyed stare, you awkwardly coughed, and played with the hem of your jacket, “I’m not going to take up too much of your time . . but I do just have one question.”

There was a momentary silence as Atsumu waited for you to proceed; he had so many questions running through his mind right now, and it took all his willpower to hold them back, and let you speak instead. It was getting harder, and harder to focus as each second passed with the pounding of his heart—Atsumu didn’t know what to expect.

“Did you—Did you regret that kiss . . ?”

Your skin burned as the question lingered in the air, a beat or two before Atsumu finally spoke up, “. . N-no, why’d ya ask?”

Sighing, impatience prickled your feverish skin. ‘Why’d you ask?’ What the hell does he mean by why would I ask? We made out for fuck sake, that’s something friends don’t do! Why is he acting so casual about it?

“God, this just made it a lot worse. I have so many fucking questions that my mind wants to explode right now,” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you slowly paced back, and forth, the floors beneath silently creaking with each step. So, Atsumu didn’t regret the kiss but he’s acting like you’re strangers—fucking hell, why did he even kiss you in the first place?!

Your mind was a complete mess.

Trying to calm yourself down with slow, deep breaths, you decided to address the elephant in the room first, “Then why have you been avoiding me, Atsumu?—I’m sorry but I’m the one who got rejected, I cannot think of any reason why you should be avoiding me like this.” Atsumu hated that look on your face—the desperation, the sadness, the frustration. He never thought that he’d be the one making you feel all these negative emotions, and it pained him as much as it pained you.

Atsumu let out a sigh, carefully formulating the right words into a coherent sentence, “I’m just . . trying to be careful, okay?” His stomach dropped as your face contorted with more confusion.

Did he say something wrong?

“Careful about what, Atsumu?! You—ugh! It’s so hard to talk to you when you’re giving me all these stupidly vague answers! I’ve already told you I was fine. I don’t care anymore that you don’t like me back. I just want us to be back to normal again.”

Now, it was Atsumu’s turn to be upset. He couldn’t bear the thought of you moving on so quickly, and that’s why he’s been acting distant lately; it annoyed him how easy it was for you to talk to him like nothing happened but Atsumu knew he couldn’t tell you the reason—why couldn’t you just try, and understand his situation? Rejecting wasn’t an easy task to do, especially if it was the person he had been hopelessly pining for.

“Well—maybe things aren’t meant ta back ta normal!”

What?

You stared at him for a second, brows furrowed as you tried to comprehend his words that lingered in the cold air of their apartment. Silence engulfed the two of you, the distant sounds of Hyōgo’s late afternoon rain seeping through the slightly opened window.

“Do you feel uncomfortable around me after knowing the fact that I have feelings for you? Is that it?” “God, no—I could never feel that way.”

It took all of Atsumu’s patience not to wrap his arms around you—he wanted to hold you against him badly; that defeated look on your face broke his heart but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Maybe Atsumu was the coward after all.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, ‘Tsumu!”

“It’s hard f’me as well, y’know?!” “What is?”

Atsumu closed his eyes, the words he’s been wanting to scream at the top of his lungs lodged in his throat, threatening to slip out. A wave of adrenaline rush coursed through his veins, heart pounding like crazy with this newfound high, it made him feel as though he was invincible—as if he could say anything, and everything without a care for its consequences.

Fuck it.

“Fuck—It’s because I like ya back, okay?! I always have! And rejectin’ ya was so goddamn hard f’me because I’m still not over ya. God, I think about ya every single second, and it pains me so much because yer already movin’ on, and ‘m still stuck here.”

What?

Flabbergasted, you stared at Atsumu all wide-eyed, the thrumming of your heart becoming increasingly loud against your ears as each slow second passed. Did he just say he liked you back? As though mother nature was watching, the rain outside poured harder; sounds of droplets of heavy water against the roof filled the silent apartment, pulling you back into reality.

“Then why—If you feel the same way then why did you reject me?”

When you knocked on the door to the twins’ apartment, you expected a sincere conversation with Atsumu, not him confessing his feelings out of the blue. You were absolutely speechless—you didn’t know whether to jump for joy because he actually does like you back or whether to massage your temples from pure confusion.

“Back then during the trip, ya told me ya weren’t ready for a relationship yet, and that ya only wanted ta confess ta get rejected n’ move on. I wanted ta respect yer decision, so . .”

Flashbacks of said conversation from the trip quickly came into mind, and how you told Atsumu about not being ready for a relationship yet.

Oh.

The weight of frustration from your shoulders slowly dissipated, the pent up annoyance you held in your heart was gone too. Suddenly, you weren’t so frustrated anymore after learning about the whole truth behind the situation. You were able to breathe better with the bad air finally cleared between you, and Atsumu.

Looking at it now, you felt absolutely silly. The whole situation turned out to be one big misunderstanding, it was almost laughable—now, you truly understood the essence of communication is key.

You let out a humourless laugh, “You’re so stupid, you know that?” Taking a few steps toward the blonde, you leaned your forehead against his chest, a hand coming up to curl into a fist to lightly hit it; a faint scent of his musky cologne lingered on the fabric of his hoodie, effectively invading your senses. Atsumu didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your torso, pulling your body flush against his before resting his chin on the crown of your head.

For a beat or two, you, and Atsumu remained in each other’s hold, basking in the cosy atmosphere.

“Would I be more stupid if I tell ya I want ta pick up where we left off at the party?”

Before you knew it your lips were sealed in a searing kiss—this time, it felt raw, all things passionate, and eager. Hands impatiently roaming each other’s unexplored bodies, sounds of wet kisses slowly filling up the apartment. The atmosphere shifted from cosy to something more sensual, light groans, and moans slipping in between each kiss.

Your hands rested on Atsumu’s golden strands, fingers gently tugging at it as he worked his lips down the column of your neck, teeth lightly nipping at the feverish skin. Atsumu focused on a certain spot just below your ear, nipping, and sucking at it which pulled a dainty whine from your lips.

“‘T-Tsumu—Ah!” You gasped, his tongue leaving trails of goosebumps beneath its sinful licks against your skin. He cursed under his breath, the dizzying tone of your voice awakening the slumbering carnal beast that resided in his core. With each dulcet moan that slipped past your swollen lips, Atsumu became greedier, he wasn’t going to settle for mere kisses on your skin—he needed to hear more.

Pulling away from your intoxicating scent, Atsumu looked down at you with parted lips, and hooded eyes, caramel gaze clouded with nothing but pure desire. “I think we should take this ta my room.” He panted.

Nodding at his proposal, hurried footsteps padded over to his room as though each second wasted was crucial. As soon as the door behind Atsumu slammed shut, his lips were on yours once again, strong hands deftly working on the layers of clothing you wore, slowly slipping them off of you one by one; Atsumu could practically feel himself shaking with nervousness, and excitement.

Discarding your top on the wooden floor beneath, Atsumu stared wide-eyed at your torso, both hands coming up to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra, earning a low moan from you. The air of the room felt cold against your skin but Atsumu’s touch was enough to ignite you.

“So beautiful . .” He absent-mindedly gasped, a lovestruck look in his honeyed eyes.

Hands eagerly tugging at the hem of his hoodie, Atsumu swiftly pulled the fabric off his torso in one movement, golden strands tousled from the action. Goosebumps formed upon his sun kissed skin, bare torso met with the cold winter air; your eyes raked Atsumu’s physique up, and down, shamelessly ogling his muscled chest in all its naked glory. God, you used to just fantasise about this, and now it was served right in front of you on a silver platter.

You decorated each other’s skin with endless love bites, sinful hues of dark red, and purple peppered along your chest, and neck. Atsumu took his sweet time to savour every bit of you—your taste, your scent, your sounds, everything. He made sure to bask in your serene beauty, the gentle glow of your bare figure before utterly devouring you like a starved animal, ravaging your purity with carnal desire.

Atsumu let himself go at the raw intimacy of your bodies, the feeling of your sweet warmth brought tears of pleasure in his eyes as he pushed, and pushed towards the newfound ecstasy you both shared. The chant of his name slipped past your lips like a sinful melody, mere fuel to the relentless drive of his hips. But Atsumu held you dearly against his naked body through it all, fingers intertwined with your own as he keenly chased both your pleasures, choked out moans of your name whispered hotly against your sensitive skin.

And as you both tipped over the edge, Atsumu didn’t fail to tell you how much he loved you in between each pathetic moan as he painted your insides white, the dizzying pleasure contorting his handsome face in pure ecstasy. You held him in your arms, nails digging crescent-shaped marks on his skin, whispering saccharine praises to him as you let go, and emptied the words of your heart.

As the gentle aftermath of the passionate exchange rolled around, Atsumu held you in his arms, hearts beating as one, and lulling you both to sleep. The last thing you heard was a faint ‘I love you’ before passing out from exhaustion.

“‘Tsumu, what did ya want for—Oh my god! What the fuck?!”

A familiar voice abruptly pulled you, and Atsumu out of your sleep, followed by the loud bang of his door slamming shut. Muffled expletives from outside the room could be heard as you both stirred beneath the ivory sheets. “‘Tsumu, what the hell?! Ya should’ve warned me before I went into yer room!” Osamu yelled from the other side of the door.

Atsumu groaned, rubbing his face before turning to the door, “Shut yer trap! Ya should’ve knocked!” At his twin’s silence, he let out a sigh, and slung a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his naked body before closing his eyes once again.

You let out a soft chuckle, “We really need to stop getting caught. First, Suna, and now Osamu.” Atsumu hummed in response, too sleepy to even think or form a coherent sentence. Snuggling closer to him, you closed your eyes, and went back to sleep as well.

Oh, you could get used to this.

Winter slowly turned into spring as March rolled around—the end of the academic year.

Trees that were once bare slowly blossomed with flowers, hues of yellows, and browns were replaced with endless greenery, and frigid air became more welcoming like a warm embrace. Most importantly, the cold distance between you, and Atsumu no longer existed, instead, it was replaced by fluttering heartbeats, and fluffy moments that hinted at a sweet forevermore.

“There he is! How does it feel to be a fresh graduate!” Suna whistled as Kita walked over to the group, clad in a black academic gown with a matching trencher propped neatly on his head, the golden tassel on the cap swayed with every step taken; he donned a warm smile, one hand holding his well-deserved degree.

The buzz of excitement outside the venue was high, the graduation ceremony having finished just a few minutes ago. You were all surrounded by graduands, all with heartfelt smiles on their faces as they conversed with family, and friends alike.

As your friends fell into a merry conversation, a warm hand interlaced with your own, giving your hand a comfortable squeeze. Atsumu. Looking up at your boyfriend, he cheekily leaned into your ear, whispering an ‘I love you’ before slowly blinking at you, mirroring a cat’s action. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at his antics.

“Are you two lovebirds done, now?” Suna coughed, pulling you back into reality.

Met with amused expressions plastered on your friends’ faces, you, and Atsumu returned a sheepish smile before joining in their conversation. “Anyway, we were talkin’ about how we should celebrate Kita’s graduation. It can also serve as a treat for us for makin’ it through another academic year.” Osamu explained, earning a hum of approval from you, and Atsumu.

“How about a spring trip to Kyoto?” —

taglist (open)

tags: @ushijimaschubbs @tsumudoll @startlitsawamura @littlemiyastars @h3art-ablaz3 @eggyrocks @integers @rrosiitas @food8me @schelamski @honeytwo @nyaaa-cat @cherribxio @aloesstuff @bontensh0e @willshebloved @yogurtkags @hyori2 @hibernatinghamster @theepitomeofswag @yawnjjunz @animesimpingismyjob @acowboykisser @rntrsuna @rjreins @prodhyuka @loonalockley @cheesypuffkins87 @kos-misch @iluvaquaphor @stunie @cathyket @empress-pug-pug @plutoxxxworld @sunawhore @jaegerfiles

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum !

#.recs #s.haikyuu #this is going to be a LONG set of tags bc i know ima have sm to say. i did reread the last ch to put myself in tears again to fit the mood #vision tunneling when atsumu is there is so cute btw ): everything becoming background noise when he’s there ? also u write so pretty.#‘it took all the effort for atsumu to ignore the feeling of ur bare skin against his’ THAT ENTIRE SENTENCE FUUCK pretty ))):#‘so .. does that mean we can be friends again?’ no. date me . DATe. MEEEEEE. PLEASEEEEE #‘a searing itch that left your skin feverish’ yes i remember being in tears last chapter i remember it so vividly . my heart was shattered #ok the small smile after we move our fingers from his actually made me physically react idk why i pictured that 1 so clearly in my head but #‘i want you.’ ‘did you cry thinking about him?’ YEAH. YEAH I WAS CRYING IM TEARING UP RN JUST THINKING ABIUT CRYING PLS DATE ME PLS 😭😭😭😭😭PL #THE WAY I JJST GOT SHIVERS AG THE KISS. OH HOW IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT. IM ACTUALLY LIKE D: W A HORRENDOUS BLUSH RN OMG IM So WARM #god FUCKING DAMMIT SUNA FUUUUUCKKKKK YOUUUUUUUUUUUU #ok atsumu shielding us makes me feel some kinda way but also suna u asshole ‘how was i supposed to know u two were sucking each other’s fac #kita ? tomfoolery?? that’s so silly that made me giggle hehe 😭 he’s such a mood btw i love him #ATSUMU. u want to sit the FURTHEST AWAY FROM ME ? what do u think i have cooties ???? i kissed YOU so that means u have cooties too u GOOF #the gloomy rainy day. tying that in to how we feel. god yue you know to make my head explode (compliment)#‘if you’re looking for samu’ ???? did i hear you correctly ?? did i ??????? i don’t think so. u are testing me mr atsumu #‘miya.’ YEAH TELL HIM WHATS UP !!! (i am also ogling . sweats .. messy hair …. geez….)#atsumu you. YOU. you didn’t regret it !? so why r we not kissing rn . why am i calling you miya rn if u didn’t regret it. U TEL #YOU TELL ME. omg he did tell me. oh my eyes r in fact widening oh i am in fact blushing oh this is really something omg omg omg :’)#LIGHT GROANS AND MOANS SLIPPING? This is .. THIS IS … YUE … IM SO !!!! IM #THE TEETH NIPPING AT THE NECKKK GOD I AM ACTUALKY FEVERISH IM ACTUALKY TURNING ON MY FAN RN WTFFFF WTF WTF WTFMSMS #MOANING HIS NAME AND TYHEN HIM CURSING HNDER HIS BREATH PLS I JJST GOT ANITHER SHIVER DOWN MY SPINE #OGLING HIS MUSCLED CHEST YES I AM WHHHWEWWWWWWWW GOD #a faint i love you before falling asleep pls this is so soft. also this scene killed me i am a mess now i have no words #OSAMU ? THe door Slamming SHUT LMAO? OMFGGG WE KEEO GETTING CAUGHT FR #replaced by fluttering heartbeats ): oh no more tears for me yay!!! i can finally experience happiness now #YAYY CONGRATS KITA. omfg the last sentence yue this was fr so perfect i love you so much how am i reading this for free #oh i am so in love with this series oh my god ?? every chapter was so beautifully written im just in awe #the pacing the everything was so perfect . it all felt #i literally love them all. i love every part of this sm i mean it :’( this was such an awesome read fuck what do i do now (i hit 30 tags☹️)

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temptresstitania · 6 months ago

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if it doesn't sound fetishistic to say you're attracted to people with long hair or freckles or wide hips or dark brown eyes that look almost black, then it shouldn't sound fetishistic to say you're attracted to fat people. If it's not inherently a fetish to say you like people with sculpted backs or toned arms or six packs or small breasts or a coke bottle figure, then why would it be fetishistic to like a soft face with a double chin, or a round stomach, or big legs rippling with cellulite or stretch marks on rolls. you can find a fat person attractive. you can love the way their cheeks press up to meet the corners of their eyes, or the way their arms look, or the way their love handles spill out of their clothes. you can just. like fat people. you can say you like fat people. do you ever think how strange it is? how someone may think you're some sort of "perverse" weirdo for just...liking a body? how strange it is to put these precursory disclaimers of "not to be weird, but", "I don't mean it in that way, but", "I'm not a chubby chaser, but", or "I know it's kind of problematic, but..." could you imagine if it was any other body?

"not to sound like a muscle gain fetishist, but I love women with athletic bodies. It might sound weird, but I love short kings. I don't mean it in a weird way, but I love girls with hip dips."

It would seem strange. unnecessary. one may even assume there is some sort of guilt or fear you're hiding because it's normal to have things you like. it's normal to find certain things cute, hot, sexy.

you can sexually desire fat people and enjoy that they are fat. you can do that.

also, if you genuinely have a fetish (or deep sexual attraction if u for whatever reason are uncomfortable with the word fetish) for something that is found on larger bodies (bellies, fupas, thighs, underarms with fat/breast tissue in them, sagging breasts, big arms with skin that wobbles, cankles), or for a bigger body in and of itself (because I know some of y'all still want to sever yourselves from this), there is nothing wrong with that. people have fetishes for hands and teeth and earlobes and kneecaps and butts and shoulders and calves. what makes their thing any more acceptable than yours? there is nothing wrong with being aroused by bigger bodies.

please do not add tags and reblog this with "except when such and such is involved". I am not bringing those situations up for a reason. do not attempt to pivot this post into a thinkpiece on the objectification and/or abuse of fat bodies, ESPECIALLY if you yourself are not fat.

this is coming from the perspective of a Black person. Namely, a Black Nigerian-American person. Where I come from, there is a cultural, pre-colonial practice of gaining weight (and yes, particularly getting fat) to accentuate beauty. my body was handed down to me lovingly by my ancestors. i love my fat.

and if you love it too, that's okay. ♡

#ok to reblog #like honestly please reblog #from the temple #dyke nsft #fat positive

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plutotheplum · 1 month ago

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I Only Bleed For Him

dragon!sylus x fem!reader

summary: amidst the blooming flowers in tarus city, the dragon claims his beloved.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, a smidge of fluff, angst, kissing, loss of virginity, oral sex, p in v, possessive sex, blood, claiming bites, mating, knotting, soulmates, canon compliant death

wc: 4.5k

a/n: the way the myth cards just keep getting depressing :( there will be another chapter after this fic, but it'll be in the actual timeline! also not very confident in my angst writing abilities, but hopefully y'all enjoy!! <3

also on ao3!

“You know, Tarus City can have flowers bloom everywhere, as far as the eye can see. But only for one person.”

Sylus’ voice is a soft murmur, his hands caressing your waist as he holds you tighter against him. Your heart lurches uncomfortably, fingers brushing across his cheek and the hard, black scale that lays fused to his skin.

“What if we stayed here?” you whisper, peering into his crimson eyes.

“Would you be able to sate yourself?” Sylus asks in return, his claws brushing through your hair gently.

You avert your gaze, cheek pressing against his chest as you stare at the swaying carmine flowers in the soft breeze. Sylus’ heart is steady, the soothing sound of thrumming coupled with the motions of his claws nearly enough to lull you to sleep.

His question holds value. Revenge threatens to pull you apart at the seams, the desire for chaos rearing its ugly head. You want more, you always want more and Sylus gives it to you willingly. Your selfish desires will be the downfall of the Fiend, you think, hands tightening into fists.

Yet, there is so much more to do. So much to take from those that had taken from you. Resentment makes you tremble, the Sacred Judicator’s words ringing clear in your mind.

The Sorceress has been judged.

You could laugh at the thought if you weren’t so angry. Some sorceress you were, powerless and yet put before the Court of Justitia as a traitor for trying to protect the statue of a dragon.

Angry tears prick at your eyes, teeth gritting together only to be drawn out of your wrathful thoughts by the press of Sylus’ lips against your clenched fists, his claws unfurling your clenched fingers.

“Just like the day we met,” Sylus murmurs, his gaze trained on you, “such hatred and defiance.”

You swallow the lump in your throat when he kisses your palms.

“Beauty,” he whispers against your skin, “and resentment, little sorceress. They make you my precious, most finest treasure.”

“I don’t want to think about the Legion,” you reply, voice trembling, “I want them gone, Sylus.”

“Pluck them out one by one,” Sylus says, his hand caressing your cheek, “but another will replace those gone. Their roots run deep, weeds that refuse to die, marring the world around them.”

You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you lean into the warmth of his hand, the rough scales scratching your skin gently.

“I shall burn Justitia to the ground,” you grit out, eyes burning with determination, “I will make them all regret and spite them into contrition, bring them to their knees and- and-”

Sylus laughs, his expression soft as he peers up at you. “You speak sharply, little sorceress. Your fire and spirit matches my own.”

“Because I am your other half,” you mumble, pouting slightly as you feel your anger subside the more Sylus caresses you.

“You are,” Sylus affirms, “bearer of my soul, my other half. Only you could be worthy enough.”

A light flush covers your cheeks before you hide again, nosing into his cheek. You can feel the warmth of his soul inside of you as your eyes shut, lungs expanding as you suck in a deep breath, the scent of the dragon clouding your senses.

Burnt embers and a soft sweetness make you whine, body squirming as you try and press yourself closer to him, your fingers caressing his horns.

“Careful,” Sylus grunts, his claws tightening around your waist when he feels the brush of your fingers against the base of his horns.

You can feel the slight jump of his hips, your gaze lifting to find his brows drawn together, eyes squeezed shut.

“Does it hurt?” you ask worriedly, fingers pausing.

“Hardly,” he replies, his eyes opening again, “I am simply… sensitive.”

You hum, head tilting to kiss his cheek as your fingers resume their stroking and caressing. Sylus makes a small noise and you relish in it, peppering kisses here and there, across his cheeks and over the large scales.

A delighted sound escapes you when you hear what you think is something akin to a purr. Sylus’ cheeks tint with a light pink and you smile against his cheek, ears straining to listen again when he rumbles gently, his head tilting as he pushes up into the caress of your hand.

“Like a mountain cat,” you tease, tracing the slope of his nose when he purrs again, feeling his claws twitch against your hips.

“Do not use my gifts against me,” Sylus grouses, despite the pleased rumble of his chest.

“I enjoyed them,” you reply, fingers running through his hair leisurely, “if only we could go back.”

“We will,” Sylus promises, his eyes flickering open, “I shall make sure of it.”

You smile wistfully. Going back to the cavern held more challenges than worth risking. Bitterness makes your smile waver, but you brush the thought away, content to at least be given this moment of reprieve.

“We will,” you repeat after him.

Neither of you mention the emptiness of the promise. The damp coldness of the chapel latches onto you and Sylus is the only one able to make it dissipate, his claws tracing over the curve of your cheek.

You cling to him, nose brushing against his gently.

“I love you.”

Sylus’ chest rumbles in response, his head tilting as he presses his lips to yours. The curl of his tail around you holds you to him, his hands kneading at your hips as you kiss him. It’s slow and syrupy, both of your souls intertwining and interlocking in the sweet musk of the flower fields.

You can feel the pull of your soul towards him, how your body yearns for more of him, the tendrils of your very being try to claw through gaps of your ribs and pierce his chest. You’d let him hold you in the glowing stone embedded in his chest if it were possible.

“So this is what it means to love,” Sylus murmurs, his lips brushing over yours with every word he speaks, “perhaps mortals are wiser than I thought.”

You laugh, arms wrapping around his neck when he rolls you both over, your back pressing into the soft grass.

“Only some mortals,” you correct, smiling when his teeth bite onto the tips of your gloves, pulling them free from your hands, rings and all.

Sylus’ skin is warm when you touch him again, truly for the first time. His eyes flutter shut, savouring the sensation of your skin against his before he lowers his head, kissing you again.

“I wish to claim you, my beloved,” he breathes out, trailing hot kisses down your neck, “will you let me?”

“Yes,” you sigh, your own eyes slipping shut, “yes, Sylus.”

Sylus’ tail sways behind him, the pointed tip brushing across the skin of your leg before his claws join the midst, dragging down your thighs gently. You gasp, the unfamiliar sensation making you squirm as he begins to undo your dress.

You help him, sitting up as he pulls it over your head, his claws ripping through the delicate fabric despite his tentativeness. You don’t pay it any mind, cupping his cheeks to pull him down into a slow kiss, feeling his body hover over you, his tail wrapping around your waist.

The sharp spikes dig into your skin, making your body seize with discomfort until the repeated brush of Sylus’ lips over yours soothes away the nervousness.

Your panties are ripped away too, the fabric laying in tatters in Sylus’ palm. He frowns when he stares at his claws, and you reach for his hand, lips pressing against his knuckles gently.

“It doesn’t bother me,” you whisper.

“It should,” Sylus murmurs, his gaze dipping as he stares at you laying bare before him.

He can see the mark of his fangs in your neck, the subtle scent of your blood setting his senses alight. You belong here, Sylus thinks, his eyes darkening as he sees the rise and fall of your chest, the pebbling of your nipples in the cooling breeze.

An undying flame blooming amidst a field of lesser flowers.

If only he could keep you here.

The flicker of emotion in Sylus’ eyes makes you uncomfortable and you kiss his knuckles again, lips pressing against the hard scales firmly. He sighs, his hand flexing in your grip, his tail drawing you closer as he kisses your forehead.

You can hear his breath hitch when you fumble with his trousers, undoing the various buckles to have him bare before you as you are before him.

“Greedy mortal,” he murmurs, gripping your chin to plant a kiss to your lips.

“You already knew that,” you smile faintly, nipping his lower lip playfully.

Sylus rumbles, his body shifting to remove his clothing. You swallow when you see the heavy hang of his thick cock. The tip glistens and you squeeze your thighs shut, trying to quell the dull ache that has settled inside of you.

“It- it is different from mortal men,” you mumble, head tilting curiously as you stare at the base of his cock.

“I am a dragon,” Sylus supplies drily, his hand wrapping around his cock.

You watch, mesmerised as he pumps his cock with his clawed hand, brows furrowing when you see the slight swell at the base of his cock, above his heavy balls.

“A knot,” he explains, moving his cock to show you the swell of it a little better, a low hiss leaving him when you reach out to touch it hesitantly. “It- hah- it is useful for mating.”

It gives a little under your prodding, wetness pooling between your thighs at the sight of it. You try to wrap your fingers around it, but the tips of your fingers hardly touch, Sylus letting out a growl at the sight.

“I want it,” you whisper, blinking up at him, “I- I want you to mate me, and- and I want that.” You point to his knot.

Sylus lets out a hoarse laugh, his clawed hand coming up to caress your cheek.

“And you shall have it when I claim you. Although…” he pauses for a moment, his expression becoming slightly flustered, “I have never claimed anyone before.”

“Oh,” you flush with him, averting your gaze. “I have never been claimed before.”

Sylus sucks in a sharp breath, his nose nudging against yours gently as he plants a soft kiss to your lips. “My first and my last.”

You have to blink away the tears that begin to brim in your eyes, your arms wrapping around his neck tightly. Sylus kisses the side of your head, his body descending further down your body.

Soft noises leave you as he places reverent kisses along the length of your body, his tongue flicking at your nipple experimentally, carmine eyes peering up to watch your reaction carefully. When you gasp, Sylus hums, his mouth opening wider to envelop your breast with his mouth.

Your fingers delve into his soft hair, back arching as you push your breast further into his mouth, his hot saliva making your skin shine. The flowers around you sway, unbothered by the act of intimacy, Sylus’ clawed fingers pinching at your nipple lightly.

He groans when you jerk under him, mouthing at the sides of your breast, pressing wet kisses here and there, tongue swirling over your areolas before granting each nipple a soft kiss.

“You respond well, beloved,” Sylus whispers, beginning to lave over one of your areolas again, seemingly taken with the way you twitch whenever his teeth graze your nipples.

“It- it feels good,” you whine, your thighs sticky with slick.

“Then perhaps I ought to do the same here,” he murmurs thoughtfully, pulling back to pry apart your thighs.

Translucent strings of slick cling to your thighs and the folds of your pussy, Sylus’ head lowering to get a better look.

“So delicate, little sorceress,” he whispers, his claws pulling apart your puffy folds to find your glistening pussy. “A bud,” Sylus continues, the flat of his scaled finger brushing your swollen clit tentatively, “like a flower.”

A needy whimper escapes you, hips bucking up under his exploratory touch. It’s nothing like when you used to touch yourself in the privacy of your small room within the walls of Justitia. Sylus’ touch is rough, textured, heightening the feeling that makes your clit pulse with want.

“Please,” you beg breathily, fingers reaching out to grasp his horns, “please, I- I need more.”

“But I am not yet done,” Sylus replies, peering up at you to watch the expression on your face when he rubs your clit more firmly.

“Sylus!” you whine, “the ache is too much!”

The dragon between your thighs huffs out an amused breath, the hot air making you shiver.

“So demanding,” he sighs, leaning forward to kiss your clit. “Although I do enjoy seeing you so… uninhibited, beloved.”

You push his head towards your cunt, growing impatient, although being careful not to jostle his horns too much. Sylus groans when he tastes you for the first time, his rough tongue gliding through your wet folds.

A gasp leaves you when he flicks his tongue against your clit, a tremor settling through your bones as you writhe atop the grass. Sylus holds you in place, a pleased purr sounding as he nuzzles deeper into the wetness of your cunt, his tongue lapping and laving over the velvety flesh of your pussy.

“Oh,” you breathe out, eyes squeezing shut when you feel the dig of his claws into your flesh, coupled with his mouth on your pussy, “S- Sylus, oh yes.”

Sylus hums into your cunt, his tongue swirling around your clit, collecting your slick into his mouth, drinking it down as if it were the very essence of your soul.

“You taste sweet, my little love,” Sylus rasps, his claws pulling apart your folds so he can prod at your aching hole, feeling the needy clench of it around his tongue when he presses it in. “Sweeter than any wine I have ever tasted.”

“You- nghh- you exaggerate,” you mewl, tugging at his hair gently, your fingers stroking the base of his horns.

Sylus shudders, his head tipping forward into your touch. “I do not,” he growls, nipping at your thigh in a show of disagreement. “I would keep you on my mouth every night if you allowed me and drive you mad with pleasure.”

You smile hazily when you hear his words, hips rolling up to meet his mouth when he sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue stroking across the swollen bud lazily.

“Are we not already mad?”

“Perhaps we are,” Sylus responds, his hips grinding into the clothes beneath him. “But I should be glad to be mad with you.”

A soft, content sigh leaves you as you lose yourself in the sensation of his tongue. It swirls through your folds, presses into your cunt every so often whenever Sylus loses interest in your clit for a brief moment.

He never strays far however, his chest rumbling with his own contentedness as he buries his face deeper into your cunt, breathing in your scent. Sylus sucks at your clit with renewed fervor when he feels the tensing of your thighs against his claws.

“I can feel you, little love,” Sylus rasps, his voice low and rumbling. “Come undone on my tongue.” He presses an affectionate kiss to your clit before latching his mouth onto it more firmly.

“Sy- Sylus,” you whimper, legs beginning to jerk as the pleasure grows.

He growls into your pussy, his mouth working faster, tongue swirling and slurping until you have no choice but to cum. You cry out, his name leaving you in disjointed syllables, heavy pants breaking your cries.

Your thighs squeeze around his head, until his tail wraps around one of your legs, pulling you open so he can drink from you until sated. Overstimulation makes you sensitive, whimpers and whines leaving you as you pull at his horns.

“It is too much,” you mewl, “I- I cannot-”

“You can,” Sylus murmurs, spreading you open wider, exposing you completely, “you will for me.”

The dragon devours you again, his fangs sinking deep into the flesh of your thigh. Your blood and slick mixes together and Sylus feels as though he is being torn apart from within, your taste heating his own blood until he can no longer hold back.

You cum again on his tongue, back arching before you writhe violently, fingers grasping for anything and everything, uprooting the flowers nearby as you attempt to gain some semblance of stability.

Sylus gives you some reprieve, his tongue lapping over your puffy pussy gently, his lips pressing against your clit and the mark his teeth have left on your inner thigh.

He rises up to find you limp, unable to stop the shudders that jerk through your body from the immense pleasure.

“Little love?” he murmurs, a claw tapping against your cheek.

A pout makes your lips jut out when you blink up at him blearily, brows furrowing into a glare. Sylus smiles, his head dipping to brush a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“You are beautiful,” Sylus says, his hand stroking over your hair soothingly, claws running through your hair.

“I want to do the same,” you whisper, your hand reaching down between your bodies to find his cock. “I want you in my mouth.”

It’s harder than before, pre-cum smeared across the tip, warm globs dripping onto your stomach. You wrap your hand around him, squirming around in an attempt to get onto your knees.

“Another time,” Sylus murmurs, stopping you from getting closer to his cock, his tongue licking into your mouth.

“Now,” you demand, blinking up at him, still a little dazed. “Now, Sylus.”

“Another time,” Sylus repeats firmly, his lips descending upon yours again.

“There- there will be no other time!” you protest, peering up at him desperately, your lower lip trembling.

You only speak the truth, and it angers you. The cruelty of fate has begun to wrap its remorseless fingers around your heart, squeezing and squeezing until you feel your heart give, clenching painfully.

“Never say that!” Sylus snaps suddenly, his hands cupping your cheeks. He presses himself against you, forehead touching yours. “There will-” there’s a tremor in his voice, “there will be another time. Always.”

How many more lies will you both tell yourselves?

You bite back the sob building in your throat, crushing the sense of helplessness by pulling Sylus closer and pressing your lips against his feverishly.

The dragon grips you harder, his tail winding around you tightly, holding you to him as he returns your kisses.

“Take me,” you beg when he lays you down again, “Sylus, claim me, please.”

“I will,” he hushes your cries with a kiss, “I will, little love. You will be by my side till the end of time.”

Sylus grasps his cock, breathing heavily, your panting breaths mixing together. He notches his cock against your drenched cunt, pushing in slowly. You both share a moan, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. The scales dig into your skin, his claws digging into your hips deeper, pain flaring across your skin.

It’s enough to distract you from the rampant thoughts of loss however, your mind clouding with every inch of Sylus’ cock that sinks into you.

“So- so tight,” he grunts out, his hips moving slowly.

You can feel his knot, slipping in and out of you, tugging on the edges of your cunt every now and again with how swollen it’s become. His cock splits you open, your soft moans sounding into the vast flower field as you reach up, hugging him to you.

Sylus thinks you sound as sweet as the scent of the blooming flowers.

He lowers his body, his weight almost crushing you but you need this, need him as close as possible to convince yourself that this is happening.

“More,” you whimper, pressing sloppy kisses to his jaw, “ruin me, take me apart.”

“You- hah-” Sylus’ eyes squeeze shut when he feels the tight clench of your cunt around his cock, “you mustn’t say such things.”

“And yet,” you whimper, dazed eyes finding his, “and yet, oh- I desire- ngh- it desperately.”

“If that is what you wish,” he whispers, kissing your forehead gently.

You moan loudly, the wanton sounds mixing with his low groans and growls when he swirls his hips, cock pressing into you deeper. His heavy balls slap against your ass, both of you uncaring of the lewd sounds as he thrusts his hips in and out of you, cock driving in deep.

Sylus’ knot sinks into place with each deep, rolling thrust he gives you, popping out whenever he draws his hips back. You’re slurring, hardly able to see him properly, clinging to him, legs wrapping around his waist.

He grunts, shifting your legs higher, away from the sharp, spiked scales that line his tails.

They say the dragon is dangerous, the epitome of sin and yet he cares for you dearly, his lips trailing across your skin with such reverence that makes your body ache.

“You are mine,” Sylus growls, his carmine eyes glowing as he peers down at you. “Every inch of you, half of your soul, it is all mine.”

“Yours!” you hiccup, the pleasure making you feel numb, “always yours!”

Sylus moans deeply, and your hazy eyes catch the frantic sway of his tail behind him, his hips snapping harder and faster, your pussy struggling to accommodate and keep up with the ever-swelling knot at the base of his cock.

The sheer feral nature that seems to take over your dragon has you whining, a sharp scream leaving you when you feel his fangs bite into the still healing wound on your neck.

Blood flows freely from the bite and Sylus growls at the taste, losing his grip before tightening again. His claws prick at your thighs and hips, drawing more blood until it’s smeared across your skin. Your skin is just as red as the flowers in the field.

Your nails rake down his back, feeling driven wild by pain and ecstasy. Your own teeth sink into his shoulder, a soft whimper escaping you.

“Bite,” Sylus rasps, his hand on the back of your head, urging your teeth to sink in deeper, “harder, little love, harder.”

And you do bite. You mewl as you sink your teeth into the flesh of his shoulder, his blood wetting your tongue and lips and the taste is intoxicating. Your mind swirls as you feel the harsh thrust of his cock bullying inside of you over and over again, tongue lapping at the marks your teeth have left on his shoulder.

You can taste his blood and you can feel the searing pain and you- this- this is real.

This is real. This is real. This is real.

Your mind chants the affirmation as you tell it to yourself firmly, biting harder into him as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“Take it, beloved,” Sylus whispers hoarsely, pressing his face back into the crook of your neck, “take my cock and my knot. Let me claim you.”

“W- wait,” you begin to gasp, eyes widening with panic when Sylus manages to bully his cock into your pussy enough, the knot catching finally.

You squeak, unable to comprehend the feeling of being plugged up so full. It’s entirely too swollen to pop free, your poor pussy fluttering around the thickness of it. Sylus isn’t faring much better, his hips jerking and halting when he feels the clench of your cunt, and how his knot has practically held you both in place.

“Yes,” he snarls, low and throaty, his hips swaying a little to grind his cock into you. “Mine, finally mine, little love.”

The press of his scaled claw against your clit has you screaming again, his name leaving you hoarsely as you cum on his knot. Your orgasm is violent, the tight coil in your lower stomach snapping sharply as you come apart, thighs twitching and body shaking.

Sylus sinks his fangs into your neck again and you cry out, softer this time, holding him to your neck and letting him lap at your blood.

He shudders, the taste of your blood coupled with the feel of your fluttering walls around his knot making his cock jerk and balls clench. Sylus cums with a throaty roar, his claws landing on either side of you as he hunches over.

Pleasure racks through his body whilst hot, thick cum floods your pussy unable to leak out and instead held in place by his throbbing knot. You whimper, mind feeling syrupy when Sylus rumbles and purrs, nuzzling into your breasts and then your cheeks, another hot load of cum spilling into you when his cock kicks at the squeeze of your cunt.

You kiss him clumsily, motions clouded by the haze of intimacy. Sylus sighs into your mouth, stroking your hair gently. You both lay there, surrounded by flowers, panting and unwinding.

His knot deflates after several minutes, softening cock pulling free. His cum spills out of you and Sylus watches with a frown, wishing his cum would stay stuffed inside of you.

Sylus rolls off of you when you tap his shoulder, his tail curling around you to bring to lay atop him. You don’t say anything, face pressing into the crook of his neck.

“Your desires are cruel,” you whisper, feeling his arms tighten around you.

“As are yours, little love,” Sylus says softly.

You sniffle, pressing a kiss to the steady beat of his pulse just under his jaw before shifting to kiss the glowing stone embedded in his chest.

Sylus shudders, his claws flexing around your skin. You kiss the stone again, beginning to cry when the stone’s glow begins to dim.

There’s a strange chill that makes your skin crawl, the familiar scent of the chapel invading your lungs.

“No,” you sob, peering up at Sylus, “not yet, please, please!”

Sylus smiles down at you, his expression forlorn. “I love you,” he says quietly, brushing a kiss to your forehead, sitting up to pull you onto his lap.

“I need more time,” you whisper, kissing him despite the growing coldness in the air. “We need more time.”

Hope had made you both fools. Sylus had claimed you in a withering graveyard.

You’re weeping when you ask him the question.

“Will you make the flowers bloom for me, Sylus?”

Your dragon kisses you fiercely.

“Always.”

Sylus’ emboldened oath is the only memory your fingers can latch onto when the dank atmosphere of the chapel awakens you.

The bell of the chapel rings loudly and you sob, scrabbling at his shoulders, trying to pull Sylus closer. You scream when the Sacred Judicator tears you from Sylus, the pull of his soul tugging violently at your chest.

A week later, the dragon’s curse rings true.

You no longer feel the warmth of his soul, for your beloved is dead.

#sylus smut #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #love and deespace sylus #lnd sylus #lnd smut #sylus qin #sylus angst

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imaginedisish · 5 months ago

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I'm Not In Love (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: Okay, so this if my first fic in over a year, and it's also my first Wolverine fic...so please be kind. I'm just getting back into the groove. Expect it to possibly be a little rough. This is big time inspired by "I'm Not In Love" by 10cc. This fic is also thanks to a request I got from an anonymous user! Thanks for the idea, anon! Hope it's okay! Enjoy guys.

Summary: After harboring a crush on Logan for months, things finally come to a head while on an overnight mission.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. There's like no plot here just smut, Unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up), Oral (f!receiving), AFAB reader, Sizekink!(this was a specific size kink request, and so the reader is therefore described as being smaller than Logan/his shirt being big on her), cursing, praise kink, OOC!Logan (just putting this out there because I haven't seen the X-Men movies/read X-Men comics in forever and I'm probably giving him terms he doesn't use/having him act in ways he might not typically), feelings, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, one bed muahaha, probably grammar errors, think that's it?

Word Count: 3,162 I got carried away

He was driving you absolutely crazy. Logan. Logan fucking Howlett, with his cocksure attitude and self-satisfied smile. Maybe it’s the way he thinks he’s always right. Maybe it’s that stupid stubbornness, that prowl he does when he walks across a room to meet you. To mock you. His whole being towering over you—his musky, pine-scented cologne filling your lungs. He’s everywhere—and not just metaphorically—literally and physically. His giant frame shadows yours, and you can’t help but admit that there’s something about it…something about him.

You want him. Bad. And although you won’t admit it, you’ve wanted him for months. And so, as of lately, he’s not so much a nuisance as much as he’s a distraction.

You just had to be sent on this mission with Logan—this ridiculous two-day stake-out that you could have done on your own. You’re certainly strong enough; your telekinetic powers and regenerative abilities are enough to handle any situation. And yet, here you are, walking up to a motel with Logan fucking Howlett.

His frame practically consumes yours as he stands behind you on the sidewalk. You swear you can feel the ghost of his fingertips against your waist, impatient and ready to guide you forward. You silently wish he would—wish he would grab your hips and take you down that alleyway and—

“You okay, darlin’?” His voice is gruff against the shell of your ear. “You seem awfully distracted.”

You swallow your embarrassment and hope he won’t pick up on how fast your heart is beating. “I’m fine, just tired,” you mutter, lying straight through your teeth. You can feel his smirk against the side of your head. He has to know what he’s doing. He has to know how much you want him.

He chuckles and his chest vibrates against your back. “Too tired for the mission, bub? We’re almost at the motel, don’t worry.” The condescension in his voice is palpable. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. You’re putty in his hands.

He steps out from behind you, and before you can mourn the loss of the contact, he grabs your hand and leads the way through the doors of the motel. “This okay?” He whispers in your ear, his massive hand giving your smaller one a squeeze. All you can manage is a nod as you approach the front desk. You know it’s just to support your cover—you and Logan are posing as a married couple—but you can’t help but hope it means more. You need it to mean more.

God, you are so fucked.

You’re so distracted thinking about how close Logan is to you that you almost miss the moment when the worker at the front desk says the only room left has just one bed.

You crane your head to look up at Logan, who you find is already looking down at you.

“That’s perfect,” he says, his eyes still on you. His stare doesn’t budge as the man behind the front desk slides the key towards the two of you. Logan grabs the keys and finally breaks the moment. His hand is still holding yours as he navigates the two of you toward your motel room.

The room is…small. There’s one queen bed in the center, a bathroom on the other side of the room, and an old box television resting on an even older-looking oak dresser. On the bright side, the place appears to be clean.

“I should freshen up,” you say, taking off your shoes. Your hand slips out of Logan’s as you pad over to the bathroom with your bag.

The bathroom isn’t horrible either. Dated, but clean. You brush your teeth and wash your face before undressing and searching for your pajamas in your bag—which, naturally, you forgot to pack.

“Ah fuck,” You mutter louder than you meant to.

You hear Logan stirring in the other room, his footsteps quickly approaching the door. “You okay?” You can sense the concern in his voice, and you can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, just forgot to pack something to wear to bed.” There’s more shuffling on the other side of the door. You hear Logan’s bag zip.

“You want my shirt?” He asks, standing just outside the door now.

“I’d feel bad, then you—” Your protests are ignored as he opens the door just enough to toss his Calgary Flames t-shirt onto the bathroom sink, closing it tightly once the shirt lands. You smirk as you walk over to the shirt and put it on. The hem lands at the middle of your thighs. Logan really is massive, you think to yourself.

You take a deep breath, slowly twist the knob of the bathroom door, and head outside. Logan is lounging on the chair next to the dresser, his eyes on you as you place your bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“Th-thanks for the…” You stutter, trailing off as you nod down to the shirt.

Logan smirks as he pushes himself out of the chair and makes his way toward you. You think you see him take you in, look you up and down, but that can’t possibly be.

He shakes his head as he stops at your side. You swear you hear him mutter a low fuck under his breath. “You look good.” But he doesn’t stop for long. He pushes forward and into the bathroom. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he mumbles as he shuts the door behind him.

“Let’s just share the bed,” you shout back, unsure of where the confidence to say that came from. But there’s no response, just the running of water from the sink.

You sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for what feels like forever, but Logan doesn’t take long at all. After a few minutes, you hear the sink shut off and the door creek open.

You shake your head as you stand from the bed to face him. “By the way, you’re not sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridic—” You’re too stunned to say another word. You’ve seen Logan shirtless before, sure, but not like this. Not in just his boxers. Not in a room with him, alone, for an entire night. You need to relax, to calm down, but there’s nowhere else to go, and nothing else to look at. You know he can your heart beating out of your chest now.

He steps toward you, engulfing you with his presence. You stare up at him. “Am I really that scary?” He closes the distance between the two of you.

You try to play dumb. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Every time I get close to you, that little heart of yours practically explodes.”

You swallow roughly. “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan.” But your shaky voice gives it away. You know exactly what he means.

His arms snake around your waist, resting on your lower back. “Yeah, you do, darlin’,” he says. “You afraid of me or something?” God he is so fucking cocky, you think to yourself.

“’M’not afraid of you,” you whisper. “Could never be afraid of you.”

He smiles and walks you to the edge of the bed, your knees threatening to buckle under the pressure. “What is it then, hm? You like how big I am? That it?” Your eyes frantically search his face for some sort of excuse, some sort of denial. But he can read you like a book. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” He’s towering over you, caging you in.

“It’s more than that,” you admit.

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh yeah? What?” He won’t let that be enough—you know he won’t. He’ll tease it out of you. His presence is dizzying and distracting. You’re not even sure you can form another complete sentence.

“I-it’s just you,” you finally choke out.

But it’s not enough for him. “What about me?”

Everything, you want to say. You want to tell him how you feel. “Logan, I…” But you can’t. I’m not in love, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself of for months.

“Go on, say it. What’s got you going?” He tightens his grip around your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently along your back. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. He’s everything and he’s everywhere. He’s in your head and in your hands. You can smell the musk and the pine and a hint of mint and that extra thing that is just distinctly him. He’s warm and his breath ever-so-lightly tickles your ear as his forehead rests against yours.

And then finally, it comes out.

“I want you, Lo.”

You open your eyes and immediately notice the change in his expression. That cocky grin is gone. He isn’t teasing anymore. This is something else. Want. No, stronger than that. Desire. Adoration. Longing. Like those four words undid something in him. Untangled some knot that had been there for far too long. Almost like he thought you maybe wouldn’t want this. That maybe someone wouldn’t want him.

So, you say it again. “I want you, Logan.”

He shuts his eyes. “Fuck.”

And then he’s pushing you down onto the mattress. His lips find their way to yours, crashing like the world is about to end. You can feel his hunger, his desperation. He rests one hand next to your head for balance and slips his free hand underneath the shirt he lent you. He’s exploring the curves of your body, the dips and turns, eventually pulling the shirt up and over your head.

He comes up for air as his fingers play with the clasp of your bra. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “This okay?” He asks, waiting for your approval. You nod and the hooks are immediately undone. You arch your back so he can slip the bra off. “Fuck, pretty girl,” he mumbles. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

His hands find their way to your chest, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing you, pinching lightly.

“Lo, please. Need you,” is all you can say.

He trails a line of kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, the center of your chest, his mouth traveling achingly slowly until finally landing on one of your tits. He kisses your nipple before taking it into his mouth, biting lightly and licking the hurt away.

“Please,” you beg again.

He comes up for a moment. “Please what?” He asks before moving on to the other side.

“Need you so bad,” You whimper. But he doesn’t stop. “N-need you to touch me.”

He pauses again. “Think I’m already doing that, darlin’. Gonna have to be more specific.”

“Fuck me, please.”

He shakes his head. “Wanna make you feel good first, pretty girl.”

You sit up a bit, ready to protest. “But you are. You’re making me feel so—” You’re cut off by the sight of him staring up at you as he trails kisses down your stomach, stopping at the top of your panties. He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the center of the bed. His fingers slip under the hem of your panties, waiting for your approval. You nod, and he practically tears them right off you.

Logan kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly charting a path toward your core, his thumb tracing circles on the other thigh. You’re already squirming under his touch. “Lo,” You whimper. “Please—Fuck!” Without warning, his tongue licks a long stripe up your folds to your clit. His lips lock around it, sucking softly, his fingers suddenly teasing your entrance before slipping a finger inside.

“So tight darlin’. Gonna feel so good,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his deep voice sending a jolt up your spine.

He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. His tongue laps at your cunt, licking slow circles as his finger pumps in and out. You need more.

“Lo,” You call out, your back arching in pleasure. But he doesn’t answer. He keeps going as if he’s gotten lost in you, as if there’s nothing that can possibly be said to bring him back. “Lo, please,” you moan again.

He chuckles against your core. “Please what, pretty girl?” He mumbles. You can feel his smirk against you.

“M-more,” you beg. You can feel his smirk grow wider as his motions stall. “No don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

He looks up at you, his finger buried deep inside your cunt, his lips just inches from your clit. “Wanna take my time with you, darlin’.”

“Y-you c-can,” You stutter. “W-whatever you want. Just need more.”

“More?” He repeats, arrogantly tilting his head. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight.

“Yes, please.” But you know by the look in his eyes that you’re getting more than you bargained for.

He adds another finger, pumping in and out faster than before. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking roughly. It’s overwhelming, and you know he isn’t going to let up. His tongue draws circles around your core, flicking harshly before ruthlessly sucking again. You can feel a third finger prodding your entrance before slipping in and stretching you out.

“This what you wanted?” He teases.

“Lo, I—” It’s too much, you can’t speak.

“I’ve got you darlin’. I’m right here. You’re doing so good for me.” His words by themselves practically send you over the edge.

“’M’so close Logan,” You whimper, spurring him on. His pace quickens; his circles become harder. You can feel your walls tightening around his fingers.

“I know, pretty girl. Wanna feel you come on my fingers. Can you do that for me?”

You can’t even speak anymore. All you can manage is a hum that passes for an affirmative. He pumps in and out of you, still alternating between sucking your clit and circling it with his tongue.

“Look so beautiful like this darlin’. So fucking beautiful,” He husks. And that’s all it takes to make that liquid heat, that tension building in the bottom of your stomach, cut like a knife, pouring out of you. Your vision blurs as you let yourself go. You chant his name like it’s a prayer, a spell, something otherworldly. He finally slows down, letting you ride out your orgasm.

He pulls out and away from you, crawling up your body so that he’s on top of you. He’s absolutely huge; his arms rest next to your head, caging you in. “You alright sweetheart?” He asks, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses a chaste kiss against your forehead.

“Hm,” You hum. “Like you like this.”

There’s that cocky smirk again. “Like what?”

“O-on top of me,” You admit freely now. Your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, but he quickly pins them above your head.

He smiles widely, his forehead coming down to rest on yours. You can feel his erection press against your core through his boxers. And—fuck—he’s big. “Gonna fuck you like this then, okay pretty girl?”

“P-please,” you stutter.

He sits up, pulling his boxers down, revealing just how big he is. You swallow harshly, sitting up and watching as he casts his boxers to the side. He doesn’t let you watch for long. He pins you down again, one hand keeping your hands above your head and supporting his weight, while the other guides his cock to your entrance. His slides against your folds before slowly sinking inside you. You can’t help but arch your back to meet his chest.

Everything is slow. He’s taking his time again, letting himself feel every inch of you, giving you the chance to adjust to the size of him. His free hand reaches in between your bodies and finds your clit, drawing slow, gentle circles.

His forehead rests against yours as he thrusts into you. “Wanted this for so long,” he confesses, his thrusts growing faster. “Always wanted you, darlin’.” You can feel your heart burst in your chest as his lips meet yours. You can feel his hunger, his desire.

“Wanted you too,” You whisper against his lips between kisses.

His cock rubs against your walls, hitting that sweet spot every single time. He’s massive, stretching you out with each pump. He builds speed, his thrusts growing rougher as his fingers circle your clit faster.

He whispers praises in your ear. “You feel so good, pretty girl. So fucking tight. Need you, darlin’. Always.”

Always.

It’s all too much. The words, the vulnerability, the feeling of him rutting into you with no end in sight. The promise of something else, something more.

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, your walls tightening around him. It’s all so overwhelming. But if you’re being honest, you never want it to end. This. This feeling. Him inside you. Him around you.

He curses under his breath, his thrusts becoming sloppier and faster as he chases his orgasm. “I know darlin’. Wanna feel you come on my cock.” He keeps his fingers steady on your clit, circling roughly, chasing your orgasm too.

“Lo,” You mumble. “It’s so good. Y-you’re so good, so b-beautiful.” You’re a bumbling mess, but you want him to feel good too, to know what he’s doing to you, to know that he deserves this. Deserves to be wanted.

You feel wetness on his cheeks as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “Always wanted you,” he whispers again against the shell of your ear. “Always gonna want you.”

The tension snaps, and you feel blaring white heat ripple through your body. Logan somehow buries himself deeper inside you as you come, your walls squeezing him tighter.

“F-fuck,” he groans. “Where do you want—”

You cut him off this time. “Inside, please,” you pant. “Safe.” He curses under his breath and calls out your name as he fills you up.

“So perfect,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect.”

His thrusts slow down as he finishes, and he slowly pulls out of you. But he doesn’t pull away. He keeps you close, moving you both towards the headboard. It takes a minute, but he manages to keep you close to his chest as he undoes the covers and gets you both inside them.

Logan holds you tightly, peppering kisses against your temples every now and then.

He’s the first to speak. “When I said always…” He trails off. You brace yourself for the worst. It was just the heat of the moment, bub. ‘M’sorry I said it. This shouldn’t happen again. It was a one-time thing and I—

“I meant it.”

You look up at him, eyes wide. He smiles. But it’s not that cocky smile, not that self-satisfied shit-eating grin. It’s that other thing again. Longing.

“I meant it, too.”

tags: @cypherpt5fttaehyung

#logan howlett x reader #James Logan howlett x reader #Logan howlett smut #Logan howlett x reader smut #Logan howlett x you #Logan howlett x you smut #James Logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader smut #wolverine smut #Logan howlett x reader one bed #wolverine x reader one bed

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matchamiko · 9 months ago

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₊˚⊹ ᰔ Lucky Undies

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Warnings: oral sex ( f -> receiving) m.masturbation, mentions height difference (reader implied shorter than Aizawa), reader implied big belly, thighs + ass (ie. not skinny), prev. established relationship, sooooo self-indulgent don’t look at me

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Note: disgusted with myself honestly.

“What are those?”

You stop in your tracks, toothbrush lodged in your cheek and foam threatening to drip down your chin.

Aizawa stands behind you in the bathroom doorway, eyes trained dark on the tug of your sleep shirt over your ass. Spitting into the skin, bending lower and offering more of a view, you finish washing your mouth with heat all over your face,

“I didn’t have anything else clean, s’all I got,” you explain yourself, eyes connecting with his in the mirror,

“And they’re your last resort because?” Arms folded over his broad chest sprayed with dark hair, Aizawa cocks his hip against the doorway, eyes never leaving the peak of your asscheek from beneath the t-shirt. It’s his and it’s soft and he offered it to you on your first sleepover years ago, a little tighter round the middle now but still long enough to pass as a nightie.

“They don’t fit!” You resort with embarrassment, “they pinch my hips and they go up my butt ‘nd roll down my belly if I bend down or even move,” you feel as though there’s steam hissing from your ears, suddenly regretting even putting on the offending underwear. You’d miscounted your laundry days and found yourself wearing either silky lingerie or old high legged cheeky style undies that were a very adorable baby pink and sported a little red rose at the front. Usually you wore comfortable high rise with a trusty band and often times sensible colours so to not show through your chosen trousers or skirts of the day. Maybe you’d wear a thong if you felt adventurous but comfort was key in your relationship with underwear, and being with Aizawa for so long helped you not only explore that a little bit but also enabled you to stay comfortable without judgement or ridicule.

And Aizawa liked your plain underwear, didn’t care much for it really because all he often wanted was them off or not even on in the first place. Complaining about his partners choice in underwear was beneath him; he’s a man, he’s mature and he’d much rather eat your pussy than muse over what’s covering it.

But these? He’s not seen these before.

“Cute,” he says with a gravelly voice, stalking forwards slowly, “you look cute,”

Biting your lip, you shake your head,

“I’ll just put some gym shorts on and do a quick wash, s’stupid to even try to do anything in these,” you grumble dejectedly, turning and even in your limited movements, the seam tugs over your cheek and makes you cringe.

But Aizawa is as sturdy as he is stubborn, a wall preventing you from leaving and a large hand sits heavy and inviting on your hip.

“I said you look cute,” he says pointedly, “not just the underwear, but you in general, seeing your skin makes me - desperate,”

That hand smoothes under your sleep shirt, fingering the thin, stretchy band of the panties with a heavy breath in his chest. The harder he pulls the band, the higher up your hip they go and the further up your -

“They’re just panties Shouta,” you blink up at him, leaning closer to ease his fondling, “stupid uncomfable panties that is,”

“Shh,” Aizawa kisses you quiet, a peck to keep you satisfied while his other hand drifts over to your ass, fisting the fat and spreading you meanly, “just - lemme look for a sec,”

His eyes catch the flash of your asshole in the mirror, panties caught taught and high over your ass and he groans low and deep from his belly. You clear your throat and whimper when he buries his face into your neck, teeth scraping the delicate skin there. Then - his hand rounds to your stomach, fiddling with the little silky rose before tickling the exposed skin of your belly from where the panties had dislodged and folded down.

He doesn’t often explore you this selfishly, having listened to your qualms and insecurities over your body, doing it to prove that no weight could distance him from desiring your body. But he touches you with a filthy selfish agenda and filthier moans.

Thick fingers tease you over the fabric, slippery with your arousal, sliding between your folds and circling your clit with loud little click. It’s shameful how turned on you are at his exploration of your underwear, but he’s no better; hard and heavy and leaking against your hip. ‘Nd when you look down, mewling at the thick forearm jammed between your cushiony thighs, you can see the flushed tip of his cock peaking from the sagging waistband of his underwear, black and tight and baring a hole just above the seam on his thigh.

And suddenly you understand exactly how Aizawa feels with you in underwear he’s never seen before. Because those are boxers you bought him three christmases ago and are also a result of not doing laundry often enough. And when you look up at him with your hand squeezing him through the thin fabric; your shameful desperation is reflected in his eyes.

All too suddenly, Aizawa is on his knees and your lower back is cradled uncomfortably against the bathroom counter, and he’s all up between your thighs with devastating groans and grunts.

“Taste’s fuckin’ divine,” his tongue is hot and so wet against the gusset of your underwear, pulled tight over your cunt and practically frothing with how aroused you are. One hand cups your ass and spreads you, the other is crude and sharply tugging on his cock. At the taste of you. At the smell of you. Nipping your clit through the fabric and sucking hard enough to send you shuddering and shaking right down to your toes.

“Shouta ! S’too much !” You grip the top of his head, hair tangled from sleep but the tugging of the knots seem to encourage him, groaning into your cunt and huffing deep agonising breaths against your pubis. You’re on your tiptoes, one leg lifting a little even to give him space and Aizawa shuffles closer on his knees, haphazardly throwing your leg over his broad, sinewy shoulder.

It’s almost like the sensations are muted, dulled through the thin fabric of your panties. But they’re still there and you fumble with your shirt for a moment before lifting it and tucking the hem beneath your chin so you can look down, down at your boyfriend so eagerly and so messily slurping at your pussy.

He’s feral like this, eyes fluttering and nose pressed hard into your clit, tongue trying to rip through into you but failing miserably. Or not, as it seems that wasn’t his goal, simply content with tasting you through the panties that had entrapped him so suddenly. You couldn’t even feel confused and weird at his random bout of arousal over your too-small panties, too thrummed with pleasure and the shivers of an orgasm to really deep dive it.

It rears its head slowly, but with a strength you’d yet to experience before. All suction and desperate licks, moans and grunts vibrating you just enough to send you jerking into his mouth. Hips moving on their own, tits falling from the grasp of your shirt and shuddering with your movements. Your underwear slips and tugs harshly as you grind through your orgasm, pulled taught only by Aizawa’s insistent tongue and fingers. He seemed to have given up on his own pleasure, or got enough from watching and tasting you, both hands clutching your thighs around his head.

“Let up, oh my god, give me a sec Shouta,” you’re still panting hard, limbs boneless and belly throbbing with every aftershock, cunt fluttering against the sodden and stained panties, “you’re such a - now I really don’t have anything to wear today,”

Your words die from a telling off to a small sigh at the sight of him, drunk on the sight and taste of you. His eyes are heavy, mouth open and shining with your spend, cheeks flushed and chest heaving,

“Good news for me then,” he stands with a grunt, coming in close enough for you to smell the remnants of your orgasm on his lower face - but he doesn’t kiss you. Instead massaging your hips and the tangled band of your underwear, “I’m having you on my face next, ‘nd keep these on,”

He’s a pervert really, snapping the band and making you tut in disapproval. But as you follow him into the bedroom with a sheepish grin and nervous lust building in your chest; you realise you are too, for letting him indulge in this and letting him.

#I lied I wrote this sorry I got weird about my undies earlier #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta smut #aizawa x reader #Aizawa smut #bnha smut #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha smut #miko.writes #this is so bad I’m so sorry

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tojirights · 11 months ago

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bro i’m going absolutely INSANE over alastor 😻😻

so, how about when lucifer comes by the hotel, he subtly flirts w alastors girl. alastor is on the verge of going apeshit and almost leaves charlie fatherless.

instead of murdering anyone, he decides to take his frustrations out on his darling, leaving bite marks and hickies on spots just visible enough for lucifer to notice next time he comes by..

a/n: im OBSESSED 😍😍

alastor immediately recognized lucifer as competition on multiple fronts. obviously, the king of hell was a threat in terms of power level, and alastor hated that. but alastor also quickly hated how charming the devil was.

upon meeting you, lucifer takes your hand and bows, placing a kiss on your hand as well. alastor's eye twitches, watching someone else put their dirty little hands and mouth on what is his. "my, what a pleasure. you're helping charlie? that's lovely! means i'll get to be seeing you around more, huh? she didn't mention such a pretty little thing was her hotel manager." lucifer speaks to you, a cool smirk on his face. he's clearly interested in you, and while alastor can't blame the man, he's seething with rage. clearing his throat, alastor takes a step towards you and reaches a hand out to lucifer in an attempt to shift his attention.

"alastor." he speaks, barely containing the anger in his voice. "it truly is an honor to be meeting you, sir." you raise a brow at the tense interaction going on in front of you but pay it no mind. lucifer gives alastor a tight lipped smile and shakes his hand. "ah, you as well. charlie has talked about you." you notice the way alastor glares at lucifer, yet keeps a smile on his face the entire time. lucifer turns back to you, putting a gloved hand on the small of your back. "now how's about a tour, hm?" he leans into your ear to whisper, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

behind you, alastor's horns grow and eyes redden, ready to risk it all in a fight with the devil and take out this whole god damned hotel if it meant lucifer never touched you again. "o-oh um, that's typically done by-" you start, but suddenly, charlie is running down the stairs with a panicked look on her face.

"heeyy dad! let's go this way, towards your room! it's late, you should rest." her smile is clearly fake, and you see her eyes dart from you to alastor and back to you. luckily, alastor reeled in his rage when the princess showed up and was back to his normal self on the surface. you can feel the energy coming from your partner, malicious intent painted all over his aura and you gulp. "al, c'mon... charlie's right."

alastor doesn't speak, but he follows you to your room for the night. the door is barely shut before alastor is lifting your legs and tossing you onto the bed. "care to explain why the fuck that little slimy king of hell was all over you?" he doesn't give you another moment to process before he's tugging your shirt over your head. "it's just harmless, al. you know i don't want anyone but you." you assure him, but alastor's teeth find your neck.

"i may trust you, darling, but i do not trust lucifer." his voice has a low growl to it that ignites your core. "but-" you gasp when alastor's mouth closes on the skin behind your ear, nipping it with sharp teeth. "no, because he and everyone in this place will know who you belong to." you shudder underneath of him, slight tinges of pain shooting down your spine at every nip and pull of your skin. alastor moves down your neck, leaving a trail of angry red and purple spots in his wake.

his tongue circles every bruise in an attempt to soothe your inflamed skin, but the marks just darken by the second. you hands dive into his hair, holding onto the silky strands. you feel alastor's body shudder as you circle the tufts of hair by his ears, making him press his hips to yours. "everyone in hell, my dear, is going to know that you're mine. not a single soul will ever try to touch you again." his breathing hitches, grinding his quickly hardening cock against your leg. you whimper when his teeth latch onto your collarbone, sucking hard and adding another welt to your skin.

"i want him to hear you." he hisses as he tugs your pants down over your ankles. its hasty, the way alastor frees his cock and pushes into your pussy, but you were more than ready for the intrusion. you cry out, suddenly being so, so full and alastor groans. "yes darling, just like that." your legs wrap around his waist, forcing every thrust just a little further until he's pounding at your cervix.

"d-don't stop sir." you gasp, eyes rolling into the back of your head while alastor's mouth latches onto the other side of your neck this time. "who do you being to?" he asks, hot breath fanning your skin. "y-you, alastor!" you whine, flexing your hips up to his in an attempt to build friction. "please, make me cum. only you feel so good." alastor peppers you in soft kisses now, ever grateful that you're willing to entertain the idea of letting lucifer know just who makes you feel like this.

alastor sneaks a hand between your bodies to rub skillful circles around your clit until your legs start shaking. "good, good girl. scream for me." he smirks when your tone shifts and he can tell by how tight you squeeze around his cock. "a-alastor fuck!" your body spasms, waves of pleasure rolling over you as you cum. alastor's orgasm follows shortly after, his teeth finding your skin once more as he spills deep inside of your pussy.

you have a brief moment of embarrassment when you think about just how loud you just were, your hand flying up to your mouth. alastor just laughs, placing a kiss on your forehead. "don't panic, my sweet. i think this little display will prove quite effective in keeping lucifers grubby little hands off of you." alastor pulls out slowly and carries you to a nice warm shower before tucking you in for the night.

---

"jesus christ, did you get into a fuckin' fight with a bear?" angel laughs when you walk into the kitchen the next morning. you were covered in hickeys all the way down your neck, and you were barely walking straight. lucifer refuses to make eye contact with you, especially after alastor walks into the room shortly after. "good morning everyone!" alastor chirps, smirking at lucifer who rolls his eyes and sips his coffee.

"well, there's the bear..." husk mutters, earning a cackle from angel.

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x you #alastor x reader smut #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #alastor smut #alastor imagines #alastor x you smut #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel lucifer #alastor hazbin hotel smut #alastor x reader imagines #hazbin hotel alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor x reader

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shy-writer-999 · 3 months ago

Text

Summary: Luffy gets into an alluring tin of mysterious cookies. One thing leads to another, and he ends up in your room, disoriented and distressed. What will it take to help him feel better? ~5k words.

CW: Smut with a bit of plot. Afab reader, gendered language (“princess”), overstimulation, dry humping, begging, aphrodisiacs, penetrative sex.

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Luffy stumbles into your cabin late at night. The door is wide open and it seems like no one else on the Sunny is awake. You’re messing around on your phone, doom scrolling to pass the time and entertain yourself. You wish that you could fall sleep, but it won’t come any time soon. It’s a restless sort of night.

He almost trips over his feet as he crashes onto the chair by your desk.

“Luffy, what’s up? It’s late.”

A closer look at him reveals that he’s sweating and bright red. His eyes look off and he looks sick.

“Are you okay?” You’re worried—he looks seriously unwell.

“I feel funny. I think I ate something bad, my tummy hurts.” Luffy’s brows are bent in the middle and he’s grimacing.

You’ve seen Luffy when he has food poisoning before. He literally turns green and complains non-stop. It’s his own fault, he’s like a racoon. He’ll eat anything, regardless of how questionable it is. Old leftovers wherever he can find them, almost-rotting fruit, poisonous fish, none of it matters for Luffy. If it looks edible, he’s taking it to the neck. He frequently suffers the consequences.

But right now, he’s not green, like he usually is when he’s eaten something spoiled. He looks different.

You get up and walk over to him, placing your hand on his forehead. When your skin touches his, he lets out what initially sounds like some sort of moan, but you shrug it off—that must have been a wail of pain, right? He’s concerningly feverish and sweating bullets.

Does he have the flu? Should you wake up Chopper?

“Luffy, you’re burning up. Like, you have a really bad fever. I’m going to get Chopper.”

“Wait, I feel—I feel weird inside,” Luffy’s voice strains and he sounds like he’s in pain He’s visibly shivering. “It’s like my stomach is on fire, but I feel cold.” He continues almost babbling, so obviously in distress and discomfort, feverish nonsense falling from his lips impulsively.

You don’t realize it yet, but his hand wanders to his crotch and starts to fidget.

“Your stomach is on fire but you’re freezing cold? Did you eat something that went bad again? What did you eat?” You raise an eyebrow at him, vaguely annoyed. He sure doesn’t look like he has food poisoning. Also, there isn’t usually much spoiled food on the ship. Sanji keeps the fridge nice, tidy, and clean.

Why did Luffy come to you, instead of Chopper? He’s distracted, eyes zoning out somewhere and his face wrinkled up. He must not have heard you.

“I said, what did you eat? Luffy!”

“I ate—fuck,” Luffy’s brows furrow and he closes his eyes in anguish. “Ate Sanji’s cookies.”

“You did what? Sanji’s cookies? The ones with the huge note that says ‘do not eat’ on the tin?”

Luffy lets out another wail of pain and shifts in his seat. His fingers squeeze his crotch again. He’s hard, rubbing his massive erection, sliding his fingers over it, squeezing it and playing with himself.

“Luffy, what are you doing?!” You’re incredulous when you realize he’s touching himself. You’ve never seen anything like this before. He’s your captain, for fuck’s sake. What was he doing touching himself in your room, with a raging fever and chattering teeth?

Putting the pieces together, you remember that Sanji had devilish smirk as he brought his special souvenir onto the ship. It was a pretty box, made of metal, covered in some sort of light blue paint, filigreed with gold accents and illustrations of pretty pink ribbons. The chef put an obnoxious “DO NOT EAT SANJI’S COOKIES” sign on the box and slid them to the top shelf of the pantry, almost out of reach. It was, admittedly, extremely naïve of Sanji to expect Luffy to pay any heed to that sign.

You put two and two together. The cookies must have had something in them.

As a response to your indignance, Luffy squeezes his erection harder and gasps quietly. Sweat drips from his temples and down his cheeks. His mouth hangs open, and his pupils are huge. He’s a fucking mess, and you have no clue what to do in this situation.

“’m so cold,” he whines and shakes. “Too c-c-cold.”

This is wildly inappropriate, but… you are kind of turned on, just because he’s touching himself. You have some sort of repressed crush on your captain—how could you not? You usually push it to the back of your mind, though. Pining over him is a waste of time when nothing would ever come of it.

“Fuck,” Luffy’s voice is gravelly and his hand moves of its own accord. “Feels like it’s helping. Feels warm.”

Your heart does a flip. Luffy is palming his cock in front of you, panting with arousal, head thrown back. He can’t help but touch himself. It’s the only thing that’s relieving his discomfort, evidently. You feel awkward, but it’s almost starting to get you going. You’re blushing up your neck and frozen still.

Luffy’s eyes wander to your chest—he’s staring at your breasts, drinking in the shape of them and the outline of your nipples though your shirt. You start to turn red, matching his color rapidly.

“Luffy, what the fuck? Stop! You’re a wreck.” You divert the awkwardness for a second. “No wonder the sign says do not eat! I’m going to get Chopper. You need to rest. Go do that in your room.”

Luffy grinds his palm down his erection and a stifled sound of pleasure gets caught in his throat. You pause, against your better judgment. That sound—the sound of Luffy in pleasure—makes you feel some sort of way. You start to warm up between the legs.

“I want you to do it.” Luffy’s voice gets lower each time he talks. He’s still shaking, freezing, sweating, and unwell. But he’s touching himself, and you had imagined this before. It’s hard to look away.

“What?” You respond reflexively, caught completely off guard. Did you hear him right?

“Want you to touch me,” he whines and continues to rub himself. The friction feels electric. “I think it’ll h-help.”

Luffy’s eyes are half open and glossy, still riveted on your tits. His pupils are really dilated. His fingers grasp and stroke his hard cock through his shorts, and each sound that leaves his mouth goes straight between your thighs.

“You want me to touch you? Are you… Are you sure, Luffy?”

“Need it,” he scrunches his face up. “’m going crazy.”

You bite your lip and pause for a second. If your captain was asking you for help, you might as well assist him… Also, this didn’t feel like that crazy of a request for help, considering the fact that he’d literally die for you (and has gotten close to that on multiple occasions). And you could tell he wasn’t being malicious or predatory about his request—he was just being Luffy, asking plainly for something. If you said no, he would be fine. He may whine a bit, but he’d never genuinely pressure you to do something you were uncomfortable with.

But fuck, was he in his right mind? You shake your head. You want to touch him. But you are genuinely worried about him. It must be 2:00AM, so you need to wake up Chopper. You might want to touch Luffy, but you have to do your due diligence. You care about Luffy. If he’s sick or in danger, you have to make sure he’s okay.

“Luffy, no. I’m going to get Chopper. Just wait here.”

You speed-walk down the hallway, heart racing. What a bizarre turn of events. You didn’t expect that to happen when Luffy initially walked in your room. When you reach the door to Chopper’s cabin, you knock.

No answer. He’s obviously asleep.

You knock again. “Chopper? It’s me. Please get up. Luffy’s sick.”

Another knock. Rustling blankets. You can hear Chopper hobble to the door. He opens it and pokes his little head out, squinting. He’s wearing one of those sleeping gowns and a cute hat. “Mhm? What’s wrong with him?”

“Uh... He has a fever. He’s burning up and he’s shaking. He’s sweating a lot, too.” You figured you’d save the ‘and he’s masturbating’ part for later. Maybe you didn’t have to say it at all?

“Does he have food poisoning? Did he eat anything out of the ordinary?”

“Well, I don’t think he has food poisoning... But he ate some of Sanji’s cookies.”

“What’s in the cookies?” Chopper is shading his eyes from the dim hallway light. He’s half asleep and you feel bad for waking him up.

“I-I don’t know. Maybe there was something weird in them?”

Chopper yawns. Fuck. He looks like he’s falling asleep again. You can’t blame him, really, it’s way past his bedtime.

“Chopper, can you please come look at him?”

He yawns again. “I’m sleepy. Can you ask Sanji what’s in the cookies and get back to me? I just want to go to bed a little bit longer.”

You huff and frown as Chopper shuts his door. So now you were supposed to play telephone? If it was anyone else you would have chewed them out, but you couldn’t do that to Chopper.

Extremely aggravated, you storm down the hallway to Sanji’s cabin and knock on the door, loudly. It’s an angry knock. A fuck-you knock.

“Sanji. Get up.” Silence for a moment while the blonde jolts awake. “I said get up.”

His door opens just a tad until he realizes it’s you. Then he opens it wider. His hair is all rustled up and he’s shirtless, in boxers. If he wasn’t half-asleep, he’d be blushing and acting ridiculous because you’re seeing him half-naked.

“Oh, hello beautiful.” His voice is scratchy and he’s blinking. “How may I help you? Are you finally going to crawl into bed with me?” He flashes a cheeky grin and you almost slap him.

“No, Sanji. Luffy ate your cookies. He’s a mess.”

The cook’s half-asleep composure immediately drops. “He did what?”

You can tell he’s fully awake now.

“I said, he ate your fucking cookies, Sanji. What is in those things!?”

“FUCK. How many did he eat?”

“How many? How should I know?! He’s in my room with a fever right now. It’s Luffy, we can assume he probably ate the whole box.”

Sanji smirks and laughs out loud. “Well, there’s only one way to fix that. Good night, princess.” He winks and shuts the door in your face.

“Sanji, what the fuck!?”

You knock on his door again, but you can hear him get back in bed. You’re beyond pissed. You’re ready to kick the door down and wring his neck. But… you have a sinking feeling that you know what the cook is getting at. Fuck. The cookies have some sort of aphrodisiac in them.

You trudge back to your room, flabbergasted and defeated. Luffy is still in your chair, letting out wails of “pain” which you are now realizing are just fucking moans. Not to say that he isn’t in pain but… if the placement of his hand is any evidence right now, he’s feeling pretty good.

“Y-you’re back,” Luffy gasps as he grinds his palm on his erection for what is probably the 50th time.

“Fuck, Luffy. What did you get yourself into tonight? You can be such a bonehead. Goddamn.” Your hands are on your hips and you’re looking at him, weighing your options. You could kick him back to his room and tell him to masturbate.

He looks downright pathetic. His face is twisted up in agony and his hand is putting in work. “T-touch me,” he whines. “P-please.”

“Luffy, are you sure?” You walk over to him and place a hand on his cheek in pity.

He opens his eyes and weakly croaks out, “Not there. Lower.”

You tut and frown. “Ohhh Luffy. What am I going to do with you?”

He tries to give you puppy dog eyes and fails. Another erotic sound escapes his lips as his palm grinds on his cock particularly hard. He whispers, one last beg before he’ll do all the work himself. “Please.”

You cautiously reach your hand down and place it on his erection. Luffy throws his head back, hissing in air through his teeth, and fidgets under you.

“Fuck, that feels weird. Feels tingly, like—like it’s on fire,” he whines.

He grasps your wrist and makes you rub his cock harder, widening his thighs. His grip is so tight that it hurts. He’s forcing your palm down on his cock so hard that you can’t believe it isn’t hurting him.

Luffy’s eyes are closed and he’s actually drooling. He’s still shivering, and his cheeks are crimson. Sweat plasters his hair down on his forehead and temples.

The obscene sounds leaving his lips make you hotter between your legs—you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to mitigate the rising heat, but Luffy’s desperation is making it worse. He’s starting to rut his cock up into your hand.

“Ah, that feels—feels so hot and—fuck—feels funny, like it, it feels good.” You can feel his cock twitching under your fingers. He’s writhing around and whimpering, and fuck, he looks good. “Need more.”

“Y-you need more?” You ask hesitantly.

“C’mere.” Luffy grabs you by your waist and effortlessly lifts you up, guiding you to straddle his lap. You freeze up. There’s no way this is really happening.

“Mmmmmm, fuck.” He murmurs in your ear and his hips buck up, cock craving friction through the layer of his pants and yours.

“W-want you to rub on me,” his voice is wretched and depraved. “Feels good.” When you lock eyes, you can see animalistic desire plainly. You’ve never seen him look like this—it’s like he’s a different person; lust is completely driving his movements. It’s like primal instincts took over the second the aphrodisiac cookies went to his stomach.

Luffy dry humps you and it’s starting to feel good. His hands are gripping your hips and he’s doing all the work, dragging you over his cock, pushing you down on it and making your hips roll while needy noises trickle from his parted lips.

As friction builds on your clit, you stifle a moan that threatens to jump out of your mouth. Luffy’s so aroused that he’s panting and slobbering down his chin.

It’s like he’s in heat, the way he humps and grinds on you. Seeing him like this is making you wetter. Your panties must be saturated by now—the friction is already making you buzz, and he hasn’t done much other than rub you on his cock a bit.

“It’s helping,” the words fall carelessly from Luffy’s mouth. He has no clue what’s going on. He’s on autopilot right now, lost in lust and barely cognizant. “Wanna be warmer, ‘m still so—so cold.” His teeth are chattering amidst his moans. Considering how hot his cheek was, he must really be freezing.

Luffy’s hands wander to grip your chest through your tank top so hard you let out a yelp. He pulls it down and starts to greedily squeeze and knead your breasts. Your breath hitches when his fingerpads move back and forth on your already stiff and sensitive nipples.

When he leans forward and wraps his lips around one, you let out a gasp. His tongue swirls around your bundle of nerves and he starts to suck on it hungrily. Luffy is making you wet beyond belief—the suction on your nipple is feeling dangerously good. You’re on the verge of losing it, totally giving in to the nagging animalistic voice in your head that’s telling you to fuck him like crazy.

His erection is huge and hard as it grinds on your core. It feels good—no, he feels good. The noises he’s letting out add to the effect. Your core is throbbing and sopping wet.

“L-luffy,” you moan, finally, as he grazes your clit and sucks your nipple particularly hard. He lets out a muffled hum in response, vibrating your nipple. “Luffy, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.”

He goes faster. He thinks that if he sees your face contort in bliss and hears you moan some more, it’ll fix him. He’s starting to feel better already with each hump. Maybe if he sees you cum, he’ll stop pulsing and his body will stop screaming at him. Maybe if you cum from his dry humps, he’ll be satiated. Maybe his fever will go away.

Luffy can hardly form cognizant, coherent thoughts like this, though. His mind can only focus on two things. First: you. Your pleasure. Your cunt. Your tits. Your smell. He wants to devour you. Second: he’s freezing cold. He needs warmth—twenty blankets, a cup of hot tea, a heating pad, something. He feels like he’s in a vat of ice water.

“Can’t stop,” he chokes his words out with effort, somehow picking up the pace of his cock humping your cunt through your pants. “Need more.”

He grinds your clit just right and it sends you over the edge of orgasm. As you spasm over his clothed cock and soak your panties in ecstasy, he never once lets up the pace. He pushes you back and forth on his erection and doesn’t pay attention to your whimpers from overstimulation.

You collapse forward into him, resting your head in the crook of his neck while he uses his grip on your hips for leverage to rut harder into you.

“Wanna put it in,” Luffy groans and his voice is deeper than usual. “L-lemme put it in. Wanna feel you. Need it. N-need you to—to help me feel better.”

You whisper a hum of affirmation in his ear and he picks you up. Fuck it. He already made you cum. He’s begging for it. You decide to let him ravage you.

Luffy basically throws you on the bed and rips your clothes off. You realize that the door to your cabin is wide open—anyone could walk by and see this. You don’t have the willpower to care right now.

You’re lying on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. Luffy grabs your wrists and holds them over your head with one hand, pinning you down on the bed. His other hand steadies his cock flat on your inflamed, wet folds. He starts to thrust forward a bit, rubbing himself on your cunt, teasing himself before he finally fucks away the ice-cold blood in his veins and stokes that roaring heat his belly.

His cock gliding over your clit feels too good. If he keeps it up, you’ll cum a second time. “Luffy, fuck,” your whimper makes his heart pound. Reality fogs up more and he can’t think straight. He rubs his cock flat on your lips until you’re arching your back, then lines his tip up with your weeping entrance.

When Luffy pushes his cock into your slit slowly, he groans the whole time. “So fuckin’ tight, ‘s like you’re swallowing me whole, fuck. Y-you’re so warm, feels good.”

He’s shaking and shivering still. After a moment of being bottomed out, he starts to fuck you at a measured pace. He’s entranced by the way your tits bounce. He’s still drooling shamelessly, his pupils are blown with lust and he’s sweating. His free hand gropes up for your tits and plays with your nipples. Every time you moan his name, he feels like he’s an animal.

“Nnnnggghhhh, fuck, fuck, you’re—you feel so slippery,” Luffy feverishly grinds his hips into yours, hitting your deep and sensitive spots just right. “Feels weird and hot in my stomach, like s-something’s gonna happen.”

“Luffy, it feels too good,” you keen his name and squirm. “’m gonna cum soon.”

“W-wanna see,” he chokes out an answer between breathless thrusts.

He brushes your hot and soft spot, and you once again are drowning in pleasure, toe-curling and delicious. You cum, squeezing his shaft and milking out as much precum as possible.

He sounds like he’s hyperventilating. He’s truly going crazy. He keeps fucking you through your orgasm and you start to squirm. The sight goads him on.

“More,” he groans. “Please, more.”

Luffy rocks his pelvis into yours. His abs and arms are muscly and defined, his hair is sweaty, his eyes are totally dilated, and he’s looking at you like he’s going to fuck you for hours.

When he feels your walls clench down on him, he starts to cum. He seizes up and his cock plunges into your cunt. “F-fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—I’m cumming, it—feels too good, feels so good, fuck.”

His thrusts are erratic while he pumps ropes of cum into you. He pauses and looks down at your cock-crazed face, closed eyes, and slack jaw. His cum is currently seeping out of your slit, coating the base of his shaft.

But even though he just came, his cock is already starting to pulse again. That one orgasm? It isn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

He feels better than he did before, but still not back to normal. The fire and ice in his veins still runs strong, he feels like he's buzzing, like he’s an animal looking for a mate.

You think that he’s had his fill until he starts thrusting again, just as hard as before. After a minute, he shifts you. Luffy pulls out and picks you up again, maneuvering you so you’re laying on your bed with your stomach touching the covers. He gets on top of you and—fuck, he’s heavy. And his skin is boiling hot. You can feel the sheen of sweat on his chest when it presses on your back.

He has you in prone bone now, spreading your thighs wide with one of his hands. When he finally presses his cock into you, your back arches. It feels much deeper than before—is he using his devil fruit powers, or is his cock just this big?

“Fuck,” he’s rasping in your ear. His husky voice goes straight to your throbbing core—god, he sounds hot right now. You can feel his hot breath. One of his hands is braced next to your head as his cock rolls into you. He’s hitting the perfect spot and it’s starting to feel so good that you’re seeing stars. “Your pussy—feels so, so warm and good, I think it’s working.”

You lose track of time while his cock caresses your sweet spots. Before you know it, you’re cumming again. You hardly have the energy to let him know what’s happening. Is it the aphrodisiacs making his performance this good, or does Luffy just know how to fuck? How is he this good in bed?

When you squirm and cream on Luffy’s cock for the second time, he reaches a hand under you and thumbs your clit. He draws circles on it and presses it like a button. It feels like an electric shock—he has neglected it until now but still managed to coax three orgasms out of you. And while you are mildly overstimulated, when his fingers start dancing over your clit it turns up the notch of pleasure inside of you.

“Luffy, fuck that feels good,” a sort of guttural moan escapes your lips and you can’t help but buck your hips up and back onto his cock. “Don’t stop. Fuck.”

You’re keening through the waves of pleasure that he’s pulling out from you while he rams you with his cock. His heavy grunts are like music in your ears—feral, low, and ravenous. Your captain is absolutely railing you right now, and you like it. He more than likes it.

“So tight and, ah, so warm inside, like—aaghhhh fuck—like you’re made for me.” He groans and his thighs shudder. Is he cumming again? How many times is this? Second? Third?

Your mind is in a haze. He’s devouring you like a rabid animal. How many orgasms will it take to fend off his fever? How many hours until the aphrodisiac cookies wear off?

In your haze, filth starts to slip out of your mouth.

“F-fuck me harder, captain—please,” you mewl, and you can feel just the slightest pause in Luffy’s thrusts, barely noticeable. “Your cock feels so fucking good.”

After his pause, he starts pressing his weight harder on top of you, moving his hips at an angle so his cock is literally ramming into your cervix. The sensation is overwhelming, to say the least—painful but so, so good. You’re gasping for air and it’s hard to breathe because he’s on top of you. He’s literally fucking you like he’s in heat.

“Say that again,” he grunts and thrusts with each word but he’s struggling to get them out because he’s barely breathing. “Say it.”

“Captain, fuck, y-your cock feels so good. Fuck, captain.”

He’s somehow going faster, bringing you to another cliff, another ledge of euphoria from which to free fall. His cock bullies your bundles of nerves and your cunt squelches with each pass.

“C-captain, Luffy, please, fuck.” You’re spasming under him again, cumming on his cock for, what was that, the fourth time? Maybe it was the fifth. You’ve lost count. You didn’t know it was possible to cum this many times. You’ve also lost track of what words are coming out of your mouth. “Cumming, I’m cumming, y-your cock ‘s too good, captain, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He’s right after you, jerking his hips deep into yours and cumming inside again. There’s so much cum leaking out of you that Luffy’s shaft is obscured by milky white goop. There’s a sizable puddle of it underneath of you. It’s going to leave an unfortunate-colored stain on your bedsheets. You’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

His hips are still bucking though. His cum just keeps… coming. It’s a visceral orgasm. It’s the final orgasm (for a brief refractory period). When he’s done shooting seed into you, he collapses on top of you.

It’s like you’re under a weighted blanket except its Luffy, he’s heavy as fuck, and his cock is in you. And damn, he’s sweaty.

But somehow this is the best sex you’ve ever had. And you have a sneaking suspicion that the night isn’t over yet.

When you protest and Luffy rolls off your back, you use all your strength to open your eyes and check on him. His chest rises and falls at a rapid pace, his eyes are closed, he’s still drooling but he looks decidedly better.

You bring a hand to touch his forehead again and he lets out another quiet whimper. He must be so sensitive still. Poor thing. But his fever is considerably better.

Sanji must have been right when he said there’s only one way to fix this aphrodisiac frenzy. You wonder what Sanji was saving those cookies for. The day you finally crawled into bed with him?

Pfffft. No, thank you. After round six or seven with Luffy, you’ll never look back. You truly didn’t expect your captain to fuck like this. Or to like being called captain when his cock is in you.

“Luffy, are you doing ok?”

He hums in response.

“Use your words. Luffy, are you doing okay?”

“Yeah. Feels a lot better.”

When his chest slows, he starts to sleep. You’re left on your bed with a puddle of cum under (and inside) of you, and your captain sound asleep like a rock next to you. And fuck, the door is still open.

Hopefully no one heard that. Even if they had heard, oh well. Too late now to stress over it.

You close the door and turn off the light. Then, you get cleaned up and put your pajamas back on.

Luffy may be sound asleep, but you shove him around so he’s at a decent angle. You fall asleep together on your bed, cuddling, and sticky with sweat (and cum).

Of course, no more than two hours later, Luffy is awake and his cock is throbbing again. He tries to touch himself and make the heat go away but it isn’t working. So… he wakes you up. And that’s how rounds eight, nine, and ten go.

When his fever finally goes away, he’s left with a long-lasting craving that he can only satiate one way: you.

It should go without saying, but the next day you literally cannot walk. You hobble around, trying to play it off like you slept weird or something. Sanji rubs the whole thing in your face.

“How was last night, angel?” His smirk is sly and smug, teasing and suggestive.

“Sanji. Please. Not right now.”

“Do you want me to get more of those cookies sometime? Maybe we can eat them next?” He winks and you blush.

“Fuck off, Sanji.”

The chef chuckles and saunters away. He’s never going to let you live that down.

thank you for reading!!! ive been feeling a certain way about luffy recently. its just his fucking muscles in wano that have me in a chokehold. muscle make brain go brrrrrrrrr.

here's my masterlist and my posting schedule for october!

i'm posting every day from now until halloween!

finally, trick or treat? (tumblr links)

#z’s kinktober #one piece smut #op smut #one piece x reader #op x reader #monkey d luffy smut #monkey d luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x you #luffy smut #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy x y/n #luffy x reader smut #monkey d luffy x y/n

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nereidprinc3ss · 8 months ago

Note

early seasons spencer and bau reader undercover at a club and it’s just like. he is so flustered but also weirdly confident and do with this what you will

in which spencer reid and BAU fem!reader have to pose as a couple at a club. she's more than a little flirty. the conversation actually gets quite suggestive. he's cute when he gets flustered.

warnings/tags: discussions of sex, reader wears a tight dress and makeup and heels, discussions of blushing but r's skin color is not implied to be light, i just needed a reason to talk about sex flush LOL, if u don't visibly blush this will still read fine

a/n: I LOVE EARLY SEASONS SPENCER X FLIRTY READER OH MY GODDD thank you for this request angel from heaven I hope you all like this as much as I do teehee

The bass buzzes through the floor and vibrates your teeth. House music has never really been your thing. Neither have tight dresses and high heels while on the job—but you’re willing to objectify yourself just a little if it will lure yet another loser who likes to chop up young couples into the awaiting arms of the American correctional system.

Or to the wrong end of Emily's Glock. Whatever comes first.

You scan the club—it’s not your usual scene, and you can only imagine how Dr. Reid is faring. As far as you can tell this is essentially his nightmare. It’s sensory overload central even for you.

Your eyes catch on him at the bar, tucked away from the writhing crowd. He’s standing near the end, one arm resting on the surface while the other hand is jammed in his pocket. He seems completely unaware of the several women circling closer and closer. The whole earnest and dorky but still handsome thing seems to work well for him. Or, it would, if he had any interest in utilizing it. He’s dressed a little sharper than usual—no doubt styled by Morgan and Prentiss. Hell, the earnest dorkiness and the well fitted dark suit is working for you if nobody else.

Sometimes he just looks… edible.

And self-discipline doesn't always come naturally to you.

“Doctor,” you purr in greeting, grazing the forearm propped up on the bar with white-tipped nails as you insert yourself in front of him. His fingers twitch under your light touch.

Spencer doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes sink down your frame, sticking to every highlighted curve like you’re dripping honey. Or maybe he just doesn’t realize that you can see that’s what he’s doing.

“Hi. You look nice.”

“Aw,” you smile, dulling the salacious edge to your voice, “you didn’t have to say that. Someone’s improvising.”

“I meant it. That dress looks nice on you,” he says, simply, and you hate his specific brand of charm because it’s not intentional. It’s not something he puts on. It comes out of nowhere and always knocks you on your ass when it hits—even in the smallest doses. His eyes narrow and he leans closer. You can feel the energy rippling around him like a force field as he examines you. “You’re wearing more makeup than you normally do.”

“Do you like it? Penelope ordered the wrong shade of blush and gave it to me. Supposedly it’s meant to make me look like I just had an orgasm. I don’t know if I believe it.”

Much to your disappointment, Spencer leans back, scanning the crowd for your target and speaking as if he’s only half-interested.

“That’s not what you would look like. Sex flush deepens the color of your entire face and chest, not just your cheeks.”

Your brows knit as you contend with unwelcome butterflies.

“Buy me a drink before you start telling me what I’ll look like after I orgasm.”

That catches his attention, and his suddenly wide eyes snap to you. If he had a drink, he’d be choking on it.

“I wasn’t—it was a general you, I’d never—that would be inappropriate. It was. It was inappropriate. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You lean with your back to the bar, elbows propped on black granite, and swing your hair over your shoulder. Spencer’s eyes dart back down to your décolletage and then up to the ceiling like he regrets being born. You smile wickedly. Much better. This is the way God intended for you to interact with Spencer Reid.

“I’ll consider forgiving you. And I don’t blush. Not when I orgasm, not ever.”

Admittedly, you just want to milk the whole talking about you orgasming thing to see how pink you can make him. It’s not often you’re gifted with an opportunity to be so candid about your sexuality or flirt this unabashedly. But you are supposed to be posing as a couple. Maybe you’re just feeling extra in character.

Instead of stumbling over his words some more, Spencer smiles with a degree of bemusement like he’s caught you in a white lie.

His smile is so nice. His teeth are perfect, and his lips—

“Yes you do.”

Always so convinced he’s right, this one.

It’s annoying. And kind of hot.

“Uh, I promise you I do not.”

“Everyone blushes. It's a sympathetic nervous system activation response wherein blood rushes to your face. Your blood vessels dilate when you get flustered or anxious. Your face gets hot and your undertone changes.”

You raise your brows. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was challenging you.

“Yeah? Wanna bet?”

“Actually, no,” he mutters, losing any bravado and casting his eyes downward subserviently. “You have a habit of proving me wrong.”

“That’s right,” you gloat, smiling wide. Someone bumps into you, and you turn around, highly unprofessional insult locked and loaded—but it’s just a drunk girl who apologizes and stumbles off. The encounter does, however, remind you that you’re supposed to be finding a killer. “Do you think this is the best positioning? He might not be able to find us way over here.”

“You think we should move?”

You look back at him and nod, holding your hand out. He looks at it uncertainly. You waggle your fingers and infuse your words with sugar.

“Oh, come on. I don’t want to lose you. And we’re supposed to look like a couple, remember?”

Gingerly he accepts your hand. His is bigger than you’d have thought. Not nearly as freezing as your own perpetually are. It occurs to you as you grab his hand that his bone structure really is bigger than yours. He’s… tall. He is, at the end of the day, a real life adult man. His presence is palpable behind you and you enjoy the weight of his hand in yours as you tug him through the crowd, perhaps not taking the most direct route through the throng just so you can savor being able to touch him like this for a little longer.

Miraculously you spot an empty booth and slide into it. It’s a deep alcove, shadowy and secluded at the back. That’s where you settle, against black vinyl, and where you wave at Spencer to join you.

He lingers at the edge of the table, glancing around at the groups of dancing and drinking young adults.

“I don’t know. Can you even see the dance floor from back there?”

“Part of it. But I’m sure he’ll be looking in the booths for couples. He’ll come to us.”

Spencer faces you again and sighs ruefully, a begrudging smirk playing at his lips as he slides into the booth and joins you against the back wall. His side is warm against yours. He smells nice. Clean. Almost herbal, like patchouli or vetiver.

“What? You really hate sitting next to me that much?”

Spencer’s lips part wryly before he speaks, like he almost thought better of it but decided to anyway.

“I think you just wanted a reason to get me alone and secluded so you can finally accost me.”

Your knees bump. You lean into it.

“Accost you? That seems harsh,” you pout, leaning toward him clandestinely to undo his top button.

“I don’t see how. You are literally trying to take my clothing off as we speak.”

“I’m just increasing your sex appeal. It’ll be good, trust me. Maybe you’ll even end up taking one of those girls from the bar home. Or—back to the hotel, I should say.”

Spencer covers your fussy hands with his own sweetly, like he can sense the true jealousy simmering underneath the sarcasm, and places them in your lap. The touch lingers.

“Are you always like this?” He murmurs, voice lower than you can recall ever hearing it and twisted into the shape of a smile.

“Only with you, Dr. Reid. Speaking of, how about you? Do you flirt with many other FBI agents on official business?”

“Just the one. She’s kind of a full-time job.”

“Shut up. I’m basically your babysitter. If anything, I should be paid extra for dealing with you.”

“Attempting to seduce your charge seems like a bad business model. There are definitely some ethical issues there.”

His hands still rest on yours. You lace your fingers with his and speak sweetly, meeting his eyes best you can in the dark.

“I wasn’t aware I was seducing you. Do you feel seduced?”

He’s the first to look away after a few seconds pass—pulls your hands apart gently, politely arranging them back on your lap.

“I think you’re incorrigible and a terrible influence. In all honesty, you terrify me and more often than not I walk away from our interactions a little confused.”

You clap a hand to your heart, the bare skin revealed by your low cut dress warm under your fingers.

“Spencer… that kind of turned me on.”

He just looks at you for a moment, a hint of a smile on his pretty face, long enough to make you feel a bit nervous.

Then he’s leaning forward, and unconsciously so are you, almost forgetting to breath when you’re practically pressed against him in this booth and he’s whispering so low and sweet into your ear.

“He’s watching us. Right across the floor, next to the girl in the blue dress. White button up and a leather jacket.” His hand slides over yours, fingers skimming your collarbone in the process as he interlocks your grasp once more. “Keep your hand right here and lean closer. We need to maintain his interest.”

“I don’t think I can lean any closer,” you breathe, hoping it doesn’t register as nervous as it really is. You’re supposed to be the confident one who teases him. “But if you want me to sit on your lap, just ask. I won’t say no.”

He chuckles, too loud to be amorous. It’s clearly genuine. It sounds like the way his reddened cheeks always look. It almost does more for you than the bedroom voice.

“You… you are beyond help. I don’t think you could be appropriate if your life depended on it.”

Slowly you pull back so you can look into his eyes—much closer than you normally have an excuse to. They dart wildly over your face, partially obscured by the dark which cuts shadows deep into the dramatic hollows of his bone structure. He really is so pretty.

You glance toward the man, who’s pretending not to watch you. When you focus your attention back on Spencer, sliding your hand up the curve of his jaw, you find yourself making a dangerous wish. You find yourself wishing that you didn’t have an audience. That this wasn’t all for show. That neither of you had earpieces in.

His pulse hammers under your little finger, and his lips part slightly as he doesn’t have the wherewithal to not glance at yours. He’s so unaware of how obvious he’s being. It’s cute.

You run the tips of your fingers through the hair in front of his ear, the one sans bluetooth, pushing it back, before leaning in close once more to whisper.

“Good thing we’re not going for appropriate. Actually—your hands could stand to wander a little more, Dr. Reid. Let me know if you need me to tell you where to put them.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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sometimesanalice · 6 months ago

Text

That’s My Girl

Summary: Bradley has been looking after you for longer than he can remember. You’ve always been his favorite person. So when some guy makes an unwelcomed move on you, that last thing he’s going to do is just sit back and watch it happen.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.7K

Warning: language, male chauvinism, allusions to smut, some angst with a happy ending

(author's note: this is a fic is set in the 'Like I Can' universe, however it can be read on it's own!

In hindsight, Bradley should have known how rowdy the crowd at the Hard Deck was going to be tonight.

Sailors fresh off a several months long deployment were always a boisterous bunch. But Sailors fresh from a deployment during San Diego Fleet Week were a different thing entirely.

The bar is packed and humid, even with the doors and windows opened for the Pacific breeze. Penny’s old air conditioning unit might be on its last legs because Bradley’s shirt is sticking to the skin of his back. He’d nearly lost his mind when he’d seen that bead of sweat work its way down your neck and between your breasts when you’d pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him you were getting a refill and asked if he wanted anything.

Bradley really hoped you’d be up for leaving soon. He wouldn’t mind taking a dip in the pool at your apartment. Or better yet, getting you to join him for a cool shower.

It wasn’t the just the deep v of your tank top- or those sweet little embroidered flowers along the edges of it- that hand his fingers twitching to touch you. Although he liked those too.

It was that damn bow.

When Bradley had picked you up from your apartment earlier this evening and seen you wearing that, he’d given you a wolf whistle so loud it had caused your neighbor’s dog to start barking.

He’d taken advantage of your surprised laugh to back you up against your front door to get his mouth along the column of your neck. He’s always been a big picture kind of guy. And he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was tugging open that bow between your breasts with his teeth.

You’d all but sighed his name as your fingers tangled in his hair.

Bradley.

And just as he’d reached your collarbone, you’d pulled him back up to your mouth like you were going to kiss him and murmured Later against his lips before slipping past him, like the menace that you are, leaving him to chase after the trail of your perfume.

You knew what you were doing, that was for damn sure. He’s always been a sucker for a bow. And for you.

Bradley had more than appreciated the extra sway you’d put in your hips just for him as you walked down your hallway towards the elevator. He’d grinned to himself as he set off after you, because at the end of the night, his girlfriend would be coming home with him.

Earlier in the evening, Coyote had been fast to claim the cluster of tables that some Butterbars had left to close out their tabs, most likely onto their way to the next stop of many for the night. It was lucky timing, because there’d been a nonstop steady stream of people making their way into the unofficial designated Naval watering hole for Fleet Week. There was a mix of civilians, Naval regulars who are stationed at North Island, and the visiting Sailors dressed in their uniforms on liberty. Bradley wasn’t sure how many more bodies could be packed in until some of the worn wooden shingles of the bar started popping off.

The lively and loud atmosphere of Fleet Week was something that Bradley had typically enjoyed in the past. He liked seeing people cut loose and laugh as they swapped stories with their friends and families. And he’d been happy to do his part to add to the good times, having been pulled to the piano twice already.

Over the years he’d built up a curated collection crowd-pleasers for occasions just like this. Part peacocking, part coping. While he’s never been the type to shy away from being the center of attention, he’d also found it was easier to breathe in the spotlight. Because with everyone’s eyes on him, it was impossible to feel alone.

So much has changed for him since getting permanently stationed in San Diego. And all for the better. That loneliness was a thing of the past, because now when he played, he was surrounded by all of his favorite people

But Bradley still ends his impromptu sets the same way he always has, with Jerry Lee Lewis. Only now he gets to sing it directly to the girl who’d given him the sheet music to the song in the first place.

The same one, he’s realized, who hasn’t returned back from getting her refill yet.

Bradley takes a quick glance around the corner of the bar they’d laid claim too. Bob, Fanboy, and Payback were lounging against the side of the pool table chatting up some of the visiting Sailors, since there wasn’t enough room to actually play a round without taking someone out with one of the cues. Coyote was leaning over the jukebox flipping through the albums with a pretty civilian who was out with her friends that he’d met and was clearly trying to impress. And Jake and Nat were seated with him at one of the tall round tables taking about the new Top Gun students, where your chair next to him was still empty.

Everyone was accounted for, except you.

There are so many people packed around the edges of the bar that it takes him a moment to find you. He thought maybe you’d been held up by Penny or Jimmy or some other familiar face, but he doesn’t recognize the man who standing way too close to you. But the firm press of your lips tells him everything he needs to know.

He sees the next moment playout as if it’s in slow motion. Watching as you attempt to take a step back, only for the guy to wrap his hand around your wrist to keep you from moving away. Bradley sees you glance down at that hand on you, and back up at the stranger. He knows that look in your eyes as you shake out of his grip. You aren’t just annoyed, you’re pissed.

Bradley slams his beer down and shoves his stool back.

He hears Jake curse behind him, “Oh, shit.”

Chair legs screech against the wooden floor as his friends hustle to follow after him, but he doesn’t wait for them to catch up.

There’s a trail of spilled cocktails and beers in his wake as he unapologetically weaves through the tightly crammed bodies that separate him from you. If anyone has an issue with him later, they can put a refill on his tab. But right now, his only goal is getting to you.

He doesn’t slow for a second. He just struts right up and steps in between you and the other man.

“Do we have an issue here?” he rasps, folding his arms over his chest.

Bradley takes the guy in with a hard glower. The name tape on his uniform reads Wilson. A LTJG, based on his shoulder boards, from one of the visiting ships. The man is big, but Bradley is bigger. And he outranks him. The guy might not know it yet, but it was just another thing he was planning on making crystal clear.

You put a hand on his tense shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

“It sure as shit doesn’t seem fine.” He doesn’t take his glare off of Wilson. “I think it’s time for you to go now.” He jerks his chin towards the front door.

“We’re just having a friendly conversation,” the other man drawls, sending him a wink. The implied innuendo makes Bradley’s jaw clench. There wasn’t anything “friendly” about the way he’d been using his size to keep you trapped at the bar.

The guy is trashed. There’s a blankness behind his eyes that Bradley doesn’t like the look of. He must have pre-gamed before going out because Penny and Jimmy weren’t ones to overserve.

“No, what you’re doing is paying your tab and leaving this bar.” It’s an order.

“Bradley.” You say his name like a warning. “I’m handling it.”

You pull on his shoulder, but he shrugs you off.

“No, kid, I’m handling it for you.” This asshole was Bradley’s problem to deal with now. He’d tapped in the moment he’d seen the man touch you.

“I see.” Wilson’s gaze bounces back and forth between the two of you, an oily grin appears on his face. “You’ve already got someone for tonight lined up. Damn, you didn’t waste any time did you, sweet thing?”

Anger flares hot and bright in his stomach.

“You better watch your mouth,” Bradley spits, pointing a threatening finger.

The bar around him blurs around the edges, but the man in front of him only gets sharper in focus.

You step around him and tug on his arm. From the corner of his eye, he can see you shaking your head at him. “Bradley, stop. I told you, I’ve got it.” Your voice is clipped, tight. “Let me take care of it.”

He knows you want for him to let it go. To back off. And he’s about to- for you- because you want him to. But then he sees the guy’s eyes drop down to the exposed skin of your chest- to that bow between your breasts- and smirks.

It’s a look so filthy that even Bradley feels dirty. He operates out of instinct. Stretching his arm in front of you, he purposefully pushes you back behind him to where he knows Seresin is standing close by, trusting that his friend will move you out of the way.

“A barrack bunny like you must know her way around. I don’t mind another man’s sloppy-”

For a moment, Bradley isn’t at the Hard Deck anymore. He’s standing in Jason Cameron’s kitchen, where the smell of weed and cheap alcohol and Axe hung heavy in the air.

Bradley’s fist flies on its own.

He barely registers the moment his knuckles connect with the other man’s jaw. He doesn’t see the man stumble backwards into the table behind him. He doesn’t hear the surprised gasps or the sound of glass breaking or the thud as the man hits the floor. There’s only the color red and the sound of his own ragged breathing.

When he shakes off the memory and returns back to his body, he’s almost surprised to see the broken bottles on the floor and not shards from a sliding glass door.

The next few minutes are a flurry of chaos as Wilson’s friends come and scoop him off the floor to make their exit. From the looks of irritation on their faces, it seems like this might be an all too frequent occurrence. He makes a mental note to try and look up the man’s supervising officer. And if he can’t find them on his own, he’ll ask Mav to help.

He can feel dozens of eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Bradley takes a moment to apologize to Penny. He avoids looking directly in her eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment he’s sure is there. The adrenaline is still coursing and sparking through his body. He needs a moment to work off his anger and get his head back on straight before he comes to check on you. But he knows you’re in good hands with his friends.

Without being asked, he rights the table and stools on his way to the supply closet to grab a broom and dustpan. He takes his time meticulously picking up the bits of broken glass off the ground before he sweeps the rest of it up as he waits for his heartrate to settle back down.

When he’s done, he spots Nat and Jake sitting at the bar top and heads towards them. But for the second time tonight, you’re not where you should be.

“That was some left hook, Bradshaw,” Nat says, pinning him with a flat look over the top of her drink.

He ignores the comment. “Have either of you seen my girlfriend?”

Jake lifts his hand up at about your height. “About this tall? Great smile? Dating a man that’s clearly punching?” He chuckles to himself. “No pun intended.” Those dimples of his are more grating than usual.

Bradley’s hand flexes in irritation. His quick fuse is on its way to being lit again.

“Seresin,” he barks, low on patience, “Where’d she go?”

The other man lets out a low whistle and shares a look with Nat. “She left out the side patio door like ten minutes ago. Looked like she was about to spit nails too.”

“Goddammit,” he mumbles under his breath. He turns to Phoenix. “Did she really look that pissed?”

She shrugs. “I’m surprised she didn’t punch you, I probably would have.”

Bradley’s mouth drops open. “For what? For defending her?”

All he did tonight was stand up for you when someone crossed a line and tried to get physical with you. He wasn’t ashamed for doing it, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“But did she want you to do that?” she asks, deliberately.

He doesn’t understand why Nat is giving him a hard time about this.

“That’s my girl and that guy wasn’t listening.”

Nat lifts a pointed eyebrow at him, “Sounds familiar.”

Bradley forces out a breath. “That was different and you know it.”

“All I’m saying is I think she was making herself pretty clear, but you chose not to hear her and did what you wanted anyways.” His teeth clench together as a rock lands hard in his stomach. “And from the sound of it, she wanted to handle it her own way.”

“Yeah, but…” You’re his, he wants to say, but holds back at the risk of sounding like the jealous boyfriend Nat thinks he’s being. Except he wasn’t being jealous, he just wanted to protect you.

“No buts, Rooster. You fucked up.”

Nat has always been a straightshooter. It was one of the things he’s always appreciated most about her, that and her keen ability to read people. He trusted her judgement. And if she feels this way, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with it, then the chances are very high that you do too.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, ‘shit’. Now go fix it.” She pats his shoulder once, and then gives him a shove to the side door they’d seen you leave from.

It’s cooler outside.

The ocean breeze feels good on his hot, sticky skin. Bradley feels like he can breathe a little easier without all those people milling around him.

You’re not hard to spot. To anyone else you’d a solidary figure facing the ocean, but he’d know the shape of you anywhere.

From what Seresin said, Bradley had figured you’d be half way down the beach. He’d been planning just to follow the trail of steam to find you. But you’re still as a statue with your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out at the inky waves.

The noise from the bar is muffled inside the walls of the Hard Deck, but still slips out from the windows that are cracked open and follows him as he walks towards you. The sand shifts beneath his shoes with every step he takes. The tunes from Penny’s jukebox get carried away on the wind and are replaced with the gentle roar of the waves as he approaches you.

The days are getting longer and dusk is rolling in. The sun is hanging low in the sky. Not quite set, but well on its way. He’d love nothing more than to pull you into his lap in one of the Adirondack chairs to watch the last glimmering moments of golden hour with you in his arms. But knows that’s probably not in the cards for tonight.

The two of you have had fights before. Usually over stupid, inconsequential things. Arguing with you feels different now than when it did when you were just friends. Now that you’re his girlfriend, it feels like there’s more at stake. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he fumbled the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Bradley wants to skip over this part to where the two of you are back on the same page. He wants to skip to the part where he gets to see your dimples and hear you laugh.

He stops just a few feet behind you. He knows you know he’s there, in that uncanny way you’ve always been able to sense him. The minutes tick by as he stands there and waits for you to acknowledge him. Or to turn around and shoot him that withering glare of yours. He’d take anything other than your silence.

But you don’t.

You give him nothing, which is almost worse.

It feels like a standoff.

He folds first.

“Sweet girl,” Bradley says, with a resigned sigh.

He doesn’t miss the way your whole body tenses at the sound of his voice.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Rooster.”

The way you say his callsign lands like a punch in the gut.

You’re only standing a few feet away from him, but it feels like the two of you are miles apart.

“C’mon, kid, that asshole is gone now. Come back inside.”

“Seriously?” you laugh bitterly, still refusing to look at him. “You’re seriously going to ignore me right now too? I said I don’t want to talk right now.”

He feels his jaw tick. “Look, I’m sorry,” he starts, still not feeling sorry in the least, “But-”

You put a hand up and whirl on him, shaking your head in disbelief. The thunderous look on your face would have a lesser man taking a step back, instead Bradley steels his spine and digs his feet into the sand.

“I really don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad at you,” you fume. “Not even in high school when you got in that stupid fucking fight at that Homecoming party when I had to take you to the hospital.”

He presses his lips together firmly. There was a time and place for a conversation about that night, the one where he’d earned the scars on his face, but it wasn’t here and now. It was a secret he’d kept to himself for nearly two decades, the only other person who’d known the full story was his mom. But telling you about it now would only make things worse.

You continue, like a freight train without brakes, “And you’d been drunk then. Not that that excuses anything. But you’ve had, what? Two beers tonight?” When you lift your eyebrows at him expectantly, he nods curtly in confirmation. “So tell me what the hell just happened in there?”

He swears that sharp flash of your eyes could cut glass. A lick of heat bursts behind his sternum. Hot and fierce.

“He wasn’t backing off,” Bradley grits out, trying to summon the patience he doesn’t have. “What was I supposed to do? Give him a pat on the back and let him keep hitting on my girlfriend?” You scoff and he feels his pulse kick up in his throat. “I have always had your back, and I will always have your back.”

Bradley doesn’t understand why you don’t seem to understand that he’d do anything for you. He’s been looking out for you since your bike handlebars had iridescent tassels streaming from them, and if he has his way he’ll be looking out for you until his number is up.

“But that’s the thing, Rooster! You didn’t have my back in there,” you argue, stepping forward so you’re toe to toe with him. Your use of his callsign again chafes against his ears like sandpaper. “All you did was manhandle me out of the way to get at him and throw fists. I mean, Mav and Hondo would have let it slide if they’d been there to see that. But what about Cyclone? Would he? Why would you put your career at risk like that? What were you even thinking?”

You’re looking at him like you don’t know him, and he hates it. Because you’re the person who knows him best.

He runs a hand through his hair in agitation. He’s been trying to tame his temper, that caged animal that paced within the confines of the ribs in his chest. But his anger and frustration has been feeding off of yours, meeting it measure for measure.

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking,” Bradley explodes, flinging his arms out to the side. “I’m not going to stop and make a damn pros and cons list while I watch some asshole being disrespectful and getting physical with you. It’s not going to happen, kid.”

“And I told you that I had it handled!” you exclaim.

The sound of the waves gets lost in the way both of your voices are raising with each and every parry in the verbal fencing match you’ve found yourselves in. This has escalated quicker than he ever could have expected, and all he wants is to find himself back on the same page with you.

“How am I the bad guy in all of this right now?”

“Don’t you get it? I’m not mad about you wanting you to be there for me, I’m mad about how you went about it. You literally pushed me out of the way and passed off to Jake, like my voice and feelings in that moment didn’t matter to you. Like you didn’t care about what I wanted. You have never treated me like that before.”

Guilt makes his stomach churn.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” he replies. It’s an uncomfortable truth.

That dark period after his mom died and how he’d treated you still haunted him sometimes. When he’d try to set fire to all the bridges around him, including his friendship with you. He hadn’t been worth knowing back then, but you’d never given up on him. He remembers it like it was yesterday, he’s never forgotten it. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, it was one of the many things that played out behind his eyelids like a highlight reel of all his worst moments.

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. He sees the moment it clicks for you because the fire that had been blazing behind those eyes he knows so well transforms into something softer. Something sadder.

“Bradley, I’m not going to hold onto something from when you were eighteen and hurting and heartbroken.” Your voice catches with emotion. “But tonight? Tonight, you made me feel small. And you’re the very last person I thought who’d ever make me feel that way.”

He can’t even enjoy hearing you say his name again, because you look so disappointed in him. The two of you stand there staring at each other, searching each other’s eyes as the waves rolling in along the shore fill the silence.

The way your lower lip wobbles steals the fight right out of him. All that righteous indignation that had been whirling in his chest is gone quicker than it came over him at the sight of the tears welling up along your lower lash line.

He’d let you down back then. And he’d let you down tonight too. He feels like he’s broken a promise to you, one he’d made with himself a longtime ago. Bradley wants to be the man whose shoulders you could lean on, the one you trusted to bet there to support you. He never thought he’d be the guy who makes you cry.

Bradley says your name tenderly. Every single letter of it is precious to him because you’re the most important person in the world to him.

The single tear that escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your face cracks his chest wide open.

He holds out his hand for you, but you half-heartedly bat it away.

“No, I’m still mad at you,” you say, feebly. It’s unconvincing at best.

“You can be mad at me, kid,” Bradley murmurs, “But just let me hold you.”

He needs to know that you’ll still let him. That you still want him.

Bradley reaches out for you again and this time you let him pull you into his chest. And when you thread your arms around his torso and hold him just as tight that knot in his stomach loosens. He rests his chin on your head and releases a sigh. With you in his arms, he feels like his feet are finally back on solid ground.

He knows he owes you an apology, a real one this time. He knows that he’s fucked up, he understands where he went wrong. But he can’t shake the feeling that he feels like he’s missing something, that there’s another reason playing into why you’re so upset.

Every one of your quiet sniffles twists the knife that’s lodged itself between his ribs just a bit more each time.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there wrapped up in each other, as he runs his hand up and down your back. There’s more to discuss, but he doesn’t rush you. He’ll hold you for as long as you need him to.

When you pull away, only far enough to look up at him, he takes the opportunity to gently cup your face in his hands. His thumb skims along the line of your jaw, your eyes are still watery.

“Sweet girl, why are you crying? I know you. Why does it feel like there’s more to this than just me being an idiot?” he asks, quietly. It still feels so fragile between the two of you.

“Because I l-like you so much. And I know you meant well, but I hated what happened tonight.” You wipe angrily at the fresh tears that streak down your face, like you’re irritated at them for them falling without your permission. “My ex used to pull that kind of bullshit all the time and I always hated the way it made me feel.”

His hands fall from your face.

Your confession surprises him. “Jack?” Bradley asks, his eyebrows pulling together. You nod. “I thought you said he was fine? That the break up was mutual because things got stale between the two of you.”

It’s times like this where he’s reminded of just how much distance there between the two of you over the last decade before you moved to San Diego. Of how much of you he’s missed out on. All the little moments that made up someone’s life. There was only so much an email, or a text, or a call could do.

You sigh, heavily. “I’m realizing now that there were a lot of things I put up with Jack because I didn’t want to rock the boat.”

Bradley’s fingers flex involuntarily where his hands are resting your hips. He doesn’t know what to make of that admission.

“You got to give me more than that to work with, kid. Help me to understand.”

You run you hand along his forearm soothingly, like you can sense his unease. He slides his thumbs through the loops of your jeans, fixing himself to you.

“Jack was really good about wanting to show everyone that he was a good boyfriend. And he was- for a while.” You pause, pressing your lips together. “But there were a few times where we’d go out and he’d make a scene, like what happened tonight. Except instead of someone being an actual asshole, it’d be someone who’d started up some polite small talk with me as we waited in line. And it always became a bigger thing than it needed to be. Then afterwards, he’d make it seem like he was defending my honor or something, even though he knew I didn’t like the kind of attention and all the looks that came with it afterwards. But Jack was always about Jack, and he liked the hero edit his friends would give him.”

You look away from him towards the ocean, the sunset paints you golden. Bradley knows you’re collecting your thoughts, so he waits. When you’re ready, you turn back towards him. There’s a different kind of hurt reflected in your eyes, one that tells him tonight has opened up old wounds for you.

“He’d say all the right things around other people, but when it was just the two of us alone, I never got that side of him. At the time I believed he was saying them because he meant them, but I can see now that he never really showed me that he meant them. I took his words at face value and settled for them.”

You give him a self-conscious shrug. Like you’re embarrassed. But your big heart was one of the things he loved most about you, and he hated the idea that someone had been careless with it before it made it into his safekeeping.

Bradley swallows hard. That tonight reminded you of the low points in your past relationship is hard for him to hear. And knowing why, makes it even worse.

“I think, more than anything,” you continue, your voice much quieter now, “I’m just mad that I let myself get lost in that for so long. Like I knew I needed more and that I wanted more, but I kept putting him ahead of myself when he wasn’t doing that for me.”

You thread your fingers between his and squeeze them lightly. He squeezes yours back.

“But you, Bradley, say the right things and mean them. You show me how important I am to you, with or without an audience. No one has ever made me feel as special as you do. Like, you don’t buy me red roses because you think you should-”

“Wait,” he doesn’t mean to cut you off, but his mind has snagged on a critical detail, “I thought your favorite flowers were tulips?”

A soft smile coasts over your pretty face. “They are.” He loves the warm way you’re looking at him right now, tender and fond. “And that’s what I’m talking about. You show me all the ways you know me because you care about me and want to make me happy. You don’t treat me like I’m an accessory in your life. I mean, I didn’t feel like I could even hang art on the walls of the apartment I paid half the rent for without Jack having an opinion on it. And here you are letting me bring over kitchen towels and plants for you, and we don’t even live together yet.”

Yet. Such a small word, but it means so much to know that you’re envisioning the same future with him that he sees with you.

“I like that you do that. I want you to do that. I appreciate the way you show me you’re thinking about me too.” Bradley runs his thumbs over the back of your hands. “Although, I’d rather be the one buying them,” he says, only partly teasing.

You made his house feel like a home. He hadn’t had that in so long. He wanted you to have things there in his condo that you also liked and made you happy because he wanted you to stay. He couldn’t wait for the day the two of you shared one address instead of two.

“Does that mean I should return the throw pillows I found for you?” He spots a wink of your dimples. “They’re soft, but firm enough that you won’t hurt your neck when you inevitably fall asleep on the couch even though you claim you’re just ‘resting your eyes’.” He never wants you to stop teasing him.

“No,” Bradley chuckles. “They sound perfect, but you’re going to let me Venmo you for them.”

“Ok, fine,” you agree. Almost reluctantly.

God, he loves you.

He leans in to kiss you. Once. Twice. Soft, sweet.

Bradley lets go of one of your hands to settle on your lower back and press you closer to him, until there’s no space between your two bodies. And brings the other one, with your fingers still tangled with his up against his chest. Before resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like that tonight.”

“Thank you, I forgive you.” You set the hand not entwined with his on the side of his face, your thumb sweeps across his cheek. “But I need you to hear me when I say that I can hold my own just fine, Bradley. I know you want to have my back and look out for me, but please, just not like that. Even if your heart is in the right place, ok?”

He nods. “I hear you, sweet girl. It’s not going to happen again. I promise.” He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm. And then lifts the one still in his up to his lips, and drops a kiss to the back it.

“Plus, you taught me how to throw a punch, remember? I’m pretty sure I broke a guy’s nose one time,” you grin.

“Atta girl,” he says with pride. It’s so much lighter between the two of you now. He takes a couple step back, letting go of you and giving you a not-so-subtle onceover. “Ok, hot shot, show me what you got.” Beckoning you over with both hands.

“I’m not going to punch you, Bradley.”

“C’mon, kid, show me how it’s done.”

You shake your head at him in amused disbelief. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No ma’am.” He taps his finger on his abs. “Let’s see it.”

You roll your eyes at him fondly. Then you hook your thumb over the top of your fist, just like he showed you all those years ago. And you ever so slowly, ever so gently press your perfectly aligned fist into his stomach. It could hardly even be considered a graze.

He doubles over with an overexaggerated oof and then tilts his head up at you and winks with a smile.

“You’re ridiculous.” The sound of your laugh fills his lungs.

It’s the same sound when he’d toss you into the pool when you were twelve. It’s the same sound when he’d spin you on the big tire swing when you were fourteen. It’s the same sound when he twirled you around the dance floor when you were nineteen at your mom’s second wedding.

There’s not just a glimmer of your dimples anymore, the full force of them hits him right in the chest.

“Speaking of punching,” Bradley says, straightening back up. “Hangman thinks I’m punching up.”

“Oh, does he? Interesting,” you hum. Your eyes shine in amusement.

He grins. “He’s not wrong. You’re way out of my league.”

You softly shake your head at him. “I’m just right for you. And you’re just right for me.”

He couldn’t agree more, but you don’t give him the chance too because you’re threading your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to yours. With you in his arms and his lips on yours, he feels whole. You weren’t just right for him, you were perfect for him. And he’d never stop trying to be the perfectly right man for you.

No one’s ever had him, not like the way you do.

You’d always had a special place in his heart, but now the whole thing belonged to you. It was yours for the taking. He knew it would be in good hands with you, and he wasn’t going to stop proving to you that he was the one to be trusted with yours.

“Do you want me to take you home or do you want to go back inside?” He asks against your lips.

You kiss him again. “Let’s go back,” you say, wrapping your arm around his waist. “You owe me a dance, you know.”

He drops an arm over your shoulder. “I do?”

“You do.”

“Well then, lead the way, sweet girl.”

After he twirls you around on the crowded makeshift dancefloor of the Hard Deck, you let him take you home. Where he apologizes to you again, but this time on his knees with your thigh thrown over his shoulder. And twice more in your bed for good measure.

But not before he got his teeth on that little bow of yours.

He never stood a chance against it.

𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Bradley is about to line up his next shot at the pool table when Jake saddles up and nudges his shoulder.

“Looks like your girl has an admirer.” Hangman points with his beer bottle, directing Bradley’s gaze to the bar where someone is chatting you up.

He recognizes him from the most recent batch of Top Gun students. To call him overconfident would be an understatement. The guy is clearly as full of himself on the ground as he is in the sky, based on his body language as he monologues to you, all puffed up chest and cocky smiles.

If the guy had any common sense, he’d see that you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. It’s written all over your face.

“So it seems,” Bradley agrees, rests a hip against the table.

He’d noticed the guy checking you out. But it was pretty ballsy of the aviator to be leaning into you the way that he is, considering the two of you had arrived together and that Bradley had been the one tasked with doing some demonstration trainings with them earlier in the week.

The man makes some big gestures with his hands, he’s clearly reached the part of his story that’s meant to impress you. Bradley chuckles to himself when he sees the less than subtle roll of your eyes.

“Are you going to go all Rocky Balboa on his ass?” Jake asks with a knowing smirk.

You must feel their eyes on you, because you glance over in their direction.

He knows you can handle yourself, but he’ll be there if you want him to be.

Bradley lifts his eyebrow in a silent question. You give him a slight shake of your head and he nods.

“Nah, she’s got it.”

He sees the moment the guy fucks up and oversteps, because your eyebrows shoot up. You’re his sweet girl, but he knows the other guy is in for it when look that promises the best kind of trouble settles over your face.

His favorite menace.

Bradley watches on as you lean over the counter and ring the bell with enthusiasm.

A cheer goes up throughout the bar. He brings his fingers up to his lips and lets out a loud whistle.

You look rightfully smug as Penny points out the wooden sigh strung up between the beer taps to the confused Top Gun student whose bank account will be hurting in the morning.

“Damn. I forgot the kid is a straight hustler,” Jake says, clearly impressed.

“She sure is,” Bradley grins, still looking at you, “It’s a good thing she likes you or you’d be screwed.” He pats Jake’s shoulder reassuringly, before pressing the cue into his hands.

You return a few minutes later, with a tray of frothy, freshly poured beers for everyone wearing an all-to-pleased grin that lights up the whole bar.

He waits until the beers are safely on the table before threading a finger through your beltloop and tugging him to you.

“That’s my girl.”

Bradley tilts your face up for a kiss. It’s not his best work, you’re making it difficult for him since you’re too busy smiling.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Disclaimer: my writing playlist included Cassandra, The Prophecy, and Castles Crumbling. So legally I cannot be held accountable for any angst hangovers.

Thank you for reading!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

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veltana · 4 months ago

Text

Breaking point

✦ Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~2,5k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Dub-con (proceed with caution if this might trigger you), pwp, smut and a bit of fluff at the end, possessive/protective!bucky, degredation (slut, fuck doll, cum-bucket), grinding, choking, spitting, pussy slapping, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, pet name (sweetheart).

✦ Summary: Bucky is done with you going out with losers.

✦ Note: This used to be called I will kill them if they touch you but I never liked that title so I renamed it! Also, you guys didn't know what you were voting for, but it was the banner for this story! Please reblog and comment! Asks are always welcome 💚

Masterlist | AO3

"Please don't scare this one away as you did last time," you beg and look at Bucky's reflection in the bathroom mirror. He makes a face where he's leaning against the door frame behind you and then sighs when you give him a look. "He wasn't worth shit if he didn't wanna fight for you," he points out.

Now it's your turn to sigh and you cross your arms, glaring at him. "He isn't supposed to fight for me on a first date. We're supposed to have a good time and hopefully fuck." Bucky's mouth hardens, and he looks away. He doesn’t like that, at all.

Ever since you became roommates he's been very protective of you, helping you with the smallest things, driving you everywhere you need to go, even if you can drive yourself. Sometimes it's overbearing but most of the time it's nice to have someone care for you like that.

Unfortunately, recently he's picked up a habit of intimidating the people you go on dates with. He stands behind you when they come to pick you up, and his large frame and cold stare make many of them cower. A few have turned around right away, others have asked if that's your boyfriend or something, thinking it was some type of open relationship/cuckold situation.

"Don't say shit like that," Bucky says through gritted teeth. "I don't wanna think about you fucking other people." You can't help the teasing smile that cracks your face. "Makes you jealous?" With a huff, Bucky pushes off and leaves you to continue.

Two hours later your makeup is done and your hair fixed to perfection. You sit on the couch in shorts and a t-shirt, with a glass of wine, waiting until the last minute to put on the skin-tight dress. While scrolling on your phone, Bucky sits beside you with a beer. "So where's the loser taking you?" "Don't care,” you shrug. “Honestly, my priority tonight is to get laid. The previous ones were a little too… bland. But he seems promising." "What do you mean, bland?"

Putting your phone down you look at him, "You don't wanna hear this anyway, you'll just get mad," you point out. "I don't get mad," he defends. "Pfff, you're such a liar, I can see it in your eyes whenever I mention another guy." "Because you deserve the best and all I've seen is trash."

Irritated, you put your glass down too. "Why don't you pick for me then? Who would James Bucky Barnes deem worthy of fucking me?"

The grip on his beer is so hard his knuckles whiten and his lips are a thin line. When he doesn't answer you lean back and start to count people off.

"Well, Steve seems a bit too sweet for my taste but I mean I would not mind trying a slice of that all-American beefcake," you muse. "Sam is so charming and funny! That quick tongue would probably work wonders, if you know what I mean," you wink and watch as Bucky's eye twitch, his jaw clenched hard.

"Tony," you continue. "Well, he seems a little self-absorbed but maybe he's a really selfless lover. Won't hurt to check!" "Loki is so handsome," you bite your lip. "I would surrender my body to him in a heartbeat! But I've heard that he leaves people high and dry and that would be awful."

Tilting your head, you say, "Do you think Thor and Jane would be up for a threesome? I can just imagine eating her out while he fucks me from behind and then we could-"

With a slam he puts the bottle on the table and grabs your face with his hand forcefully, silencing your tirade of words and squeezing your cheeks so that your lips pucker.

The grip is close to bruising and it's an instant pull in your lower stomach. His eyes are black with anger, something you've never seen directed at you before. "No one," he hisses. "Not one of them is fucking you, I will kill them if they touch you."

His hand releases you and grabs your neck instead. You're shocked, and instantly so horny it hurts. Opening your mouth to speak he squeezes harder, making a wheezing sound come out.

"I'll give you a chance to stop this. Tell me right now you don't want this and we'll act as if nothing happened. Otherwise, I'm fucking you into this couch until you can't remember your goddamn name." When he finishes his grip lightens. The rush of blood makes you euphoric and boneless. You want to give yourself to him, let him do whatever he wants. "Fuck me," you whisper.

The kiss is more teeth than lips and the hold around your throat hardens again. You try to keep up with him but it's impossible as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, claiming every inch, making you lightheaded with the lack of oxygen. You gasp for air as he pulls away, releasing you. His gaze is brimming with lust and want now, all signs of anger gone. Then he pushes you down onto the couch.

"You're a kinky little slut, aren't you sweetheart?" he mocks and leans in over you, spreading your legs with his. All you can do is nod and try to wiggle close so you can press your center against his clothed cock. It's clearly outlined in his sweatpants and you hope it's as big as it seems. "If I put my hand down your pants, are you gonna be wet for me?" "Yes Bucky," you whine.

The throbbing is almost unbearable and his smirk is downright sinful. "Come on, rub yourself on me, show me how much you want it." With another whine, you brace yourself against the couch and lift your hips. He doesn't move a muscle to help as you struggle to find the right position.

"That's disappointing," Bucky smacks his lips and frowns. "Thought you wanted this." "I do Bucky, I do, please I'm trying," you tell him desperately. With effort, you get into a good enough position to grind your cunt on his cock through the layers of clothing. It's not nearly enough to curb the ache.

"Useless," Bucky sighs and grabs your legs. "Do I have to do everything?" He pushes your knees up towards your chest, folding you in half and pushing his cock right into your core.

"Sorry," you moan. His mean words have only made you needier and you move yourself against him with abandon. Bucky is motionless above you, not making a sound or saying a word, just staring at you chasing your high. Your movements turn unsteady when you start to come close.

If you were of sound mind you would notice the glint in his eyes but instead, you’re barreling towards your climax. Until he suddenly moves away.

Gawking you stare at him and he just smiles wickedly in return. "Take off your clothes, spread your legs" he instructs and you quickly pull your pants off and discard your t-shirt and underwear, spreading your legs as best you can on the couch. Bucky takes in your bare body, moving his hands slowly down your thighs until his palms frame your pussy.

"Fucking shaved for him too,” he notes with a snarl. You're not sure why that upset him. "Sorry!" you say, just to be safe.

"I don't need your hair curled, your make-up done or your whole body shaved. I will fuck you anyway, sweetheart, no matter what you look like because you belong to me," he growls before he spits on your cunt, sending a rush through you, making you moan and spread your legs even more.

For the first time, he touches you properly, letting his fingers spread the spit all over your pussy before shoving two of them into your soaked core. He pistons them in and out, putting his thumb against your clit and making colors burst before you.

"You want to come on my fingers, you fucking slut?" When you nod frantically he instructs, "Open your mouth, stick out your tongue." A second after you do spit lands on your tongue and droplets on your face. It nearly tips you over.

"Swallow it," he orders and watches you as you do, some form of approval shining in his eyes for the first time. "Who do you belong to?"

The question is too complicated to understand, you can't focus on what he wants. "I don't…" is all that comes out.

"Wrong answer," he says and removes his fingers, making you shout in disappointment. Sharp slaps land on your wet cunt and you instinctively try to move away from it, but he grabs your legs, pulling you back. "Don't you fucking run from me."

"I'm sorry," you cry, looking pleadingly at him. "I'm- I'm yours James, yours to do what you want with. Please, please, please let me come!"

With a huff he pushes his fingers back in, pressing the tips into your g-spot and getting his thumb back on your clit. His unbothered state makes you feel so small and insignificant, heightening the pleasure coursing through you.

As it climbs, your body shakes, your legs trembling from being held open. "I'm- I'm- don't stop!" you beg. Closing your eyes you focus on the feeling of him, his other hand still gripping your thigh hard. You hope it bruises.

"I can feel you, slut!" Bucky's voice is the cherry on top of everything. "Come on my fingers, do it, come for me!" he commands and of course, you do as he wants. With a scream you convulse, almost pushing him out with the sensation flooding you. Bucky is talking above you but you're not sure what he's saying because all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears.

A hard tap against your cheek makes you open your eyes. "Don't pass out on me, I'm not done with you yet." "Wouldn't dream of it," you smile dumbly, and it earns you a smile in return. But it quickly passes as he pulls off his tank top and pushes down his pants. The cock is just as big as you hoped.

He rubs the head against your soaked center, sending overwhelming sparks through you, making you twitch. When he notches the head of his dick at your opening your blood freezes. "C-condom?" you stutter.

Cocking his head he asks. "Do you really want that? Doesn't a slut like you want to be filled up with cum?" "Y-yes, but, Bucky…" you gnaw your lip.

"I want to fuck my little cum-bucket raw, make sure you feel me running out of you for days," he gives a light thrust, almost pushing inside, giving you a taste of heaven. For a second you look at each other and Bucky presses in just a little bit more. It decides it for you. "Please fill me with your cum Bucky, I need it so bad!" you whine and he chuckles before shoving his fat cock into you without mercy.

Quickly you wrap your legs around his hips, meeting his hard thrusts that are sending your body into overdrive. "Feel so fucking good sweetheart, your cunt was made for me, wasn't it?" he groans. "Yes it was," you answer breathlessly.

He grabs your face. "Those other losers are never going to satisfy you." "No, Bucky, only you!" "That's right, you're my fuckdoll now, sweetheart," he says before he leans down to kiss you. It's much sweeter this time and you grab his head, carding your fingers through his hair, feeling your chest fill with another type of warmth.

When he pulls back he says, "Beg me not to come in you." Your cunt clenches and your second orgasm is suddenly a lot closer. "Bucky, please don't… I can't get pregnant," you make your voice small and frail.

In response his laugh is cruel. "Yes you will, your purpose in life is to be bred. I'm going to cum in you every day til it sticks and then everyone will know who you belong to." "Please, pull out," you beg and reach down to rub your clit, feeling the climax shimmering underneath your skin.

"Such a bad liar, sweetheart," he chuckles. "Are you going to come on my cock? Are you gonna claim me just as I claim you?" "Yes! I just need- harder!" you pant. "Fucking hell," Bucky grunts and does as you demand.

The climax rips through you with little regard for your sanity. The sound leaving your throat makes it raw and a second later Bucky moans your name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. It's almost good enough to feel him finish inside you that you come again, but you’re too spent to do more than shudder.

Then he kisses you again, sweetly, caringly, and pushes his arms in under your body to hug you close to him. "So perfect," he whispers against your mouth. The cums start to trickle out onto the couch but neither of you care, too caught up in each other's lips.

"How are you doing sweetheart?" he asks when he comes up for a breath. "I feel a little high," you confess. "Haven't been fucked that good in a long time."

There is something in his gaze that shifts and he leans his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry. I just… I couldn't take it anymore… I like you so much." "Lucky for you I get off on that stuff," you smile. "And if I had said stop I trust you would have."

He hugs you so hard you can hardly breathe. "Of course, I fucking would." "You can make it up to me by going tender the next time," you smile. "Next time?" "As many times as you’ll have me." He laughs into your skin. "I don't think you're ready for that!"

Suddenly the sound of the doorbell jerks the two of you apart. You stare at Bucky with wide eyes. "My date," you whisper, horrified.

With a smirk, he raises himself on his arms. "I should make you go on that date with my cum running out of you, maybe even let him get as far as spreading your legs just to see that you’re already claimed."

With a groan, you cover your face with your hands. "Don't tempt me," you tell him before wiggling out from under him, finding your clothes, and hastily pulling them on.

Opening the door just a crack, you understand you look a mess by the way your date eyes you. "Sorry," your voice is small. "I wasn't feeling great and then I fell asleep on the couch." "Yeah, you look terrible," the guy notes before handing you one of the ugliest bouquets you've ever seen. Quickly stepping away he says, "I'll call you." but you know he won't. "Great, I'll see you around," you respond before closing the door.

Bucky takes the flowers from you and shoves them in the trash before grabbing you around the waist and kissing you again. "Didn't you say he was promising?" "I have no clue what you're talking about," you answer with a completely straight face but then start to giggle as he swoops you up and carries you to his bedroom.

#veltana writes #bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #posessive!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #possessive!bucky #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fanfic

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mieluscious · 1 year ago

Text

baby, warm me up. zayne

ෆ pairings : zayne x female reader

ෆ genre : fluff, smut

ෆ word count : 3k6

ෆ warnings : mdni. husband!zayne, bratty wife!reader, fluff, small argument, teasing, fingering, biting, a lot of kisses, unprotected sex, breeding kink, handjob, hand kink, rough sex, semi-public sex, risk of getting caught, medical office sex, zayne is really cold (you know him..) but really reallyyy soft at the same time, they are both so in love . . . ໑ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

"what are you doing here." zayne's office door closed behind you as you excitedly threw your shopping bags on the sofa in front of his desk.

"i went shopping and thought : why not say hello to my hubby?" you clapped your hands, smiling at zayne's cold expression. "are you not excited to see me ?" you pouted and placed your hands on your hips. "look at my new dress, isn't it cute ?" zayne pushed his glasses up his nose and turned his attention back to the documents spread out on his desk.

"i have work to do y/n. go back home." he grabbed a pen and resumed his work without giving you another glance. you sighed and threw yourself onto the sofa.

"my husband is so meannnn." you raised your arms and looked at your hands. "i even had my nails done for him. but he doesn't care about me i'm so sad." you whined loudly but zayne was totally indifferent and it was slowly beginning to frustrate you. you suddenly got up and reached into one of your bags, pulling out a cute little top you bought at the mall. "since you don't mind, i'll show you everything i've bought." zayne squeezed his pencil lightly between his fingers at your words. you took off your shoes and unbuttoned your dress, which fell to your feet, leaving you in your underwear in front of his desk. he slowly raised his eyes to you and his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of you half-naked in his workplace.

"what are you doing." it didn't sound like a question, zayne's tone was cold as usual, but this time you could hear the annoyance in his voice, which made you smile slightly. he tapped his pencil repeatedly on the wood of his desk, looking you up and down behind the lenses of his glasses.

"i told you. i'm doing a haul just for you." you winked at him. he pressed his back against his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. you put on your top and zayne's eyes fell on your breasts, a little too visible for his taste because of the little fabric covering your skin. you put your hands on your hips and gave him a few poses to show off your top, you spun around and smiled with all your teeth. you chuckled. "so ? what do you think baby." his cold gaze slid down on the skin of your bare thighs to your hips, before falling back into your eyes.

"i think you should go home, like i said." you sighed and crossed your arms over your chest, and zayne almost broke his pencil at the sight of your breasts sticking out generously.

"i don't want to go back home without you. it's saturday and i want us to have fun tonight." you bent down and reached into your bag to pull out a skirt and scarf. "look i even bought a cute outfit for you." zayne sighed and a discreet, almost invisible smile played across his lips. he rose from his chair and you pressed your clothes to your chest as the tall man approached you.

"look at me." you didn't even realize you'd lowered your gaze to your feet. you looked up at him and your teeth caught your lower lip at his serious expression. "i have a lot of work to do, and you're a distraction." you clenched your fists, you were offended and zayne could see it in your eyes. you threw your clothes against his chest which he caught before they fell to the ground.

"ok, i get it. i'm gonna go have some fun on my own then." you took off your top under zayne's piercing eyes and his fists clenched on your clothes as you also removed your bra.

"y/n. don't push me please." your eyes never left his when you wrapped your arm around your breasts, forbidding him to look. you knew what you were doing was wrong but you couldn't help feeling that childish feeling of jealousy. zayne was always busy with work and having time to spend with him was becoming more and more complicated as the days went by. you crouched down and pulled a silk dress from another bag.

"you see." you straightened up and slipped inside the dress, which gilded deliciously over the curves of your body under your husband's cold gaze. "i was supposed to wear this dress tonight at the restaurant i booked for us. but instead, i'm going to wear it now and go by myself. maybe a man will join me and give me some time ?" you grabbed your purse from the sofa. you brought your hand to your mouth and tilted your head to the side, looking at him again. "maybe rafayel? i don't think he would have forgotten our wedding anniversary." you caught your heels in your hands, wanting to put them in your car, you couldn't stand his silence any longer and you wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. you grabbed the door's wrist to open it when a hand slammed down on the wood to close it again. you turned around and leaned your back against the door, zayne's face down on you. the strands of his hair fell over his dark eyes behind his glasses, making him far too attractive. a knock was heard from the other side of the door.

"doctor zayne ? your patient is here for his appointment." his gaze wandered slowly over every pretty feature of your face before falling back into your beautiful eyes.

"make them wait in the corridor." his other hand wrapped a lock of your hair around its finger. "i'll be there soon, unfortunately, i still have something to take care of." his hand went up to your chin, which he raised towards him. zayne was much more taller than you, sometimes, to look at him you had to stand on tiptoe to keep your balance. he slipped his arm, which was against the door, around your waist, pulling you closer to him. you squealed softly as you felt his face come close to your ear, his lips gently brushing against it. "and you, you come with me." you mewled and grabbed his shirt between your hands as he lifted you by the hips, making you wrap your legs around his waist.

"i hate you." you pouted, wrapping your arms around his neck. he smiled tenderly and placed a small kiss on your cheek, making you blush. he walked to his desk and sat you down on it. his two hands settled on either side of you as he stood between your thighs.

"look at me, princess." his teeth gently caught your ear, making you flinch. "please." you sighed lightly as you removed your arms from around his neck, giving him a chance to see your rosy cheeks. you closed your eyes and his nose touched yours. "i didn't forget our wedding anniversary." he slipped a hand on the small of your back and kissed your jaw before blindly reaching behind you for a small box on his desk. you slowly opened your eyes on a beautiful diamond ring and gasped.

"w-what is this.." you grabbed the box between your trembling fingers and raised your face to zayne's, who rested his forehead against yours, smiling softly.

"i told you to leave so that you could take the time to make yourself even more beautiful than you are now." he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear before gently kissing the corner of your lips. "i have a lot of work to do and i wanted to get everything done so i could get back to you as soon as possible." he grabbed your hips with both hands and pulled you closer to him, making you blush even more under his cold eyes.

"i feel so stupid." you caught your face in your hands. "i'm so sorry zayne." he caught one of your fingers between his teeth, nibbling gently.

"don't be sad, my love." your hands slowly fell from your face. "i was a bit stressed and i know i can be cold sometimes." you immediately looked up and saw him smiling.

"sometimes huh ?" he chuckled softly and your heart began to race.

"yes i know. but you're not afraid of the ice, are you ?" his cold fingers slid over the bare skin of your thighs, pulling up your dress. you grabbed his shirt again, moaning softly under his piercing eyes.

"i'm not." he lightly pinched the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, making you flinch. zayne's face pressed against your neck and he took the opportunity to lick the sensitive spot under your ear, a whimper escaped from between your lips as your legs suddenly wrapped around his waist.

"so why don't you try to warm me up ?" this time you couldn't resist anymore, you needed him. one of your hands grabbed his white lab coat, bringing him closer to you causing him to catch himself with one hand on the desk behind you. your lips met the skin of his neck and a silent moan escaped from his mouth. "eager aren't we ?" your teeth sank into his flesh and his head tilted back slightly when he felt your small hands grab his belt. your hand slipped into his pants to catch his length, you bit your lip painfully, trembling. a soft moan escaped from between zayne's lips. "your hands are so warm." he lowered his head and your eyes met again, he opened his mouth slightly as you began to slowly move your hand over his cock, jerking him off as you analyzed every pretty feature of his face.

"i love you." you sighed softly and he smiled lightly between two moans. he placed his hands on either side of you, his forehead pressed to yours, making you tremble even more at this new proximity.

"why are you shaking my darling ?" a chuckle escaped him. "i'm the one who's getting touched." his eyes fell on your hand, which was gently caressing him. "by such a pretty hand." he raised his eyes back to yours and your gaze almost made him cum in your hand. you were so pretty, your cheeks were as rosy as flowers and your eyes were glassy. every time you touched zayne he had this feeling that you were taking more pleasure than he was, and seeing you like this made you even more adorable in his eyes.

your thumb slipped over his tip and zayne let out a growl that you swallowed in a tender kiss. your glossy lips caressed his gently as his tongue slipped into your mouth to meet yours. you sucked his lower lip shyly as you felt his hands grab your dress. he tried to escape your lips to talk but your grip on his cock tightened, making him moan against your mouth. you pressed your mouth harder against his and your tongue slid against his teeth, making him smile during the kiss. his breathing quickened as your hand slid up and down his length faster. a knocking sounded at his office door, but zayne paid it no mind. he moved one of his hands up to your jaw and his fingers slipped over your hairline as he deepened the kiss, making you moan inside his mouth.

"doctor zayne ? your patient is waiting." his tongue wrapped around yours before sucking on it gently. your other hand went up his muscular back, and you pulled his lab coat off his shoulders. he immediately understood what you wanted and pulled his hands away from you to remove it completely from him. your mouth never left his it was as if you needed it to breathe or you could die just under him. you pressed his cock against his stomach and rubbed it harder against your palm, making him grip the edge of the desk firmly. he was now panting against your mouth and your tongue couldn't resist licking his lips. everything was so delicious, the minty taste of his mouth was addictive.

"ah- stop. im gonna cum." he suddenly grabbed your thigh and lifted it. "i don't want to ruin the pretty dress you bought for me." your lips slipped from his mouth to his jaw, which you nibbled softly. "please. take it off." his other hand slipped under your butt to pull the fabric of your dress through. you removed your hand from his cock and grabbed the edges of your dress which you pulled over your head before bringing back your mouth to the skin of his neck.

"i missed you so much, zayne. a-ah-" you moaned prettily as you felt him tug roughly at your lace panties before tossing them behind him. you wrapped your arms around his neck as he slid his hands under your knees, positioning your feet on the edge of his desk, opening you up to him as much as possible.

"i know baby, i know. i'm sorry, i'm here now." you nodded and threw your head back, feeling the tip of his cock slide between your walls. you removed your arms from around his neck and grasped his shirt firmly in your hands, moaning loudly. zayne removed one of his hands from under your knee and slid his fingers against your lips. his piercing gaze met your glassy eyes. "shhh-" he pushed his cock further into you and he could see in your eyes that you were on the verge of climax. "you have to be quiet" you nodded, a tear fell down your cheek and zayne bit down on his bottom lip to keep himself from grunting at the sight of you in such despair. you squealed against his fingers as he placed his lips on your eye, kissing you softly. "it's gonna be fine. you want to feel good, hm ?" you nodded again and your chest heaved as he thrust his full length inside you. you pulled so hard on his shirt that buttons popped off and spread across the floor, revealing his muscular chest. you were now panting against his mouth and zayne frowned while looking deep into your teary eyes, trying to calm himself down.

"z-zayne..ahhh..." you grabbed the hair on the back of his head as he started thrusting inside you slowly, letting you get used to him. he slid both of his hands on your hips and you threw your head back as his gaze fell on your juicy, erotic lips. he wanted to eat them so bad, but he didn't want to miss your little moans under his thrusts. another tear rolled down your cheek and zayne immediately licked it off. he opened his mouth to let out small moans when he felt your legs wrap around his waist, making him thrust his cock even deeper until he reached your g-spot. you almost fell backwards when you felt his tip strike against the most sensitive spot of your body, zayne caught you by the small of your back.

"how does it feel ? good ?" you nodded and opened your mouth to speak, but a cry escaped you as he thrust a bit faster inside you, making you arch against his hand on your back . you grabbed his fingers still against your lips and slipped them into your mouth to stop you from being too loud. his cold gaze returned back to yours and you couldn't help biting his fingers, making him flinch slightly. an almost non-existent smile spread across his lips as he watched you try to apologize between your uncontrollable moans. he laid you flat on the desk and let out a deep groan when he looked down on your pussy gushing and clenching on his cock. he grabbed the back of your knees with one hand and pressed them against your chest, this new position made you turn your eyes to the back of your skull. his erection was impossibly hard and the thick veins on the underside of his cock were consistently dragging over your silken flesh.

"z-zayne....ahh....ahh....ahh...hmph!-" zayne put his knee on the desk, fucking you even more deeply as he looked straight into your eyes, his mouth hang opened and silent moans escaped from between the reddened lips you'd kissed passionately earlier. "it's.... ahhh-.. too m-much-" you tried to grab everything you could around you, the edges of his desk and the document holders lying around, everything.

"take it, please. look at you. you look so pretty with your face all red." you were now a crying and moaning mess under his powerful thrusts. zayne didn't care about you being noisy anymore, the whole hospital could hear you and probably the patient who'd been waiting for him in the corridor for thirty minutes. but all he wanted was fucking you good, fucking you the way you always deserved it. "so pretty. please, let’s make a baby." you nodded and you squirted a little against his pelvis at his words. with his free hand he was about to pull his shirt off his shoulders when you grabbed the fabric of his sleeve, letting him know that you wanted him to give it to you. zayne dropped the back of your knees and straightened up to take off his shirt, which he then handed to you.

you pressed his shirt against your face, savoring the scent of your husband as he removed his cock from your cunt and turned you over so that you were lying on your side. you bit down gently on the fabric of his shirt when you met his cold eyes again. he positioned himself back on his two legs on the floor and bent down to gently kiss the skin of your hip before straightening up again, making you whimper. he grabbed your leg and put it on his shoulder before sinking back inside and immediately start fucking you deep. "ahh.. yes princess, you like it like that ?-" he moaned and a streams of yes’s escaped from your glossy lips as lewd squelching and skin slapping against skin noises were bouncing off the office walls. he pulled your leg towards him to bring you closer, making you bounce on his cock harder with each thrust and you couldn't help but scream as you felt his tip hit your g-spot with full force. you pressed your nose deeper into his shirt and your eyes rolled back into the back of your skull as you smelled the musky scent of his cologne. zayne pressed his pelvis against your clit and the opportunity was too good for you not to rub up against him. "look at me." you looked up into his beautiful green eyes and immediately opened your mouth wide, mewling loudly as you saw zayne blush, with his glasses almost falling off his nose. one of his hand caught your sensitive ear and he pressed it between his two digits, making you arch your back. "you like my scent mh ?" you nodded, biting your lower lip under his watchful gaze. "when i'm at work, do you use my shirts to touch yourself with them ?" you squealed and pulled the fabric of his shirt up over your nose, revealing only your eyes.

"y-yes.." zayne suddenly grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your stomach, he fucked you so hard that the desk rocked back and forth. he pressed his chest against your back and you gripped the edges of the desk firmly as you felt his hand slide under your belly to massage your clit. zayne slipped his tongue into your ear and you couldn't help yourself from screaming even louder as you felt your orgasm building inside you. "z-zayne...ahhhh....ahhhhh...i-m... cuming-" he removed himself from your cunt and turned you over onto your back again, he lifted your ass before thrusting roughly into you, his balls slapping against your cheeks loudly.

"look at me, princess." he was panting against your lips and his forehead was pressed against yours as his nails dug into your skin, a sign that he was close to cumming too. you looked up into his beautiful eyes and a smile played on his lips between two moans. "are you ready to be a mom, y/n ?" you nodded repeatedly and begged him against his lips to let you cum. “then take it all.”

“y-yes…yes!-” you shouted, arching your back and pressing your breasts harder against his chest as you squirted against him. he moaned loudly as he came at the same time as you, you shook your hips in pure satisfaction, allowing zayne’s swollen cock to enjoy the pleasure of your tight, tender passageway walls as they sucked it in over and over again, prolonging your orgasm. the sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoed throughout the room and you were certain that the nurse on the other side of the door knew what you were doing. zayne slowed the pace of his hips and you squealed against his lips when he slid his hands over your breasts, pressing them together. he panted against your mouth trying to recover from his orgasm as you felt his semen flowing between your legs. “baby.. it’s leaking..” zayne kissed your cheek and slipped one of his hands between your legs, he removed his cock from your pussy and slipped two fingers between your walls pushing his cum deep inside. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head, giggling.

“happy wedding anniversary, zaynie.”

#love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #love & deepspace #zayne x reader #love and deep space #love and deep space x you #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace x reader #anime smut #zayne x you #zayne #one shot #smut #zayne x y/n #love and deepspace x y/n #xavier love and deep space #rafayel love and deepspace

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