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sundrop-writes · 3 months ago

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BRAINWASHED

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Everything’s clean - except for my thoughts. (Thinking about me getting you off.)

Can’t stop thinking you got me B R A I N W A S H E D .

Summary:

Stiles likes you. He really, really, really likes you. It's bordering on obsession, but he likes to believe that he has it under control.

So when you accidentally leave a pair of your panties in his presence, ripe for the taking, and they're in his backpack faster than he can blink - he realizes that he might not have it as under control as he would like to think. But he can't find it to be too much of a problem when he has those panties wrapped around his cock.

Virgin!Stiles Stilinski x Best Friend!Fem!Reader. Pining!Stiles/One Sided Fantasies. Panty Stealing. Smut/PWP.

Word Count: 8,000

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns and is described as having a vagina; Stiles and the reader have been best friends since childhood and they are in high school now (they are both the same age) (for argument's sake, they are both 18, but the horny parts were motivated by the hotness of a 20-something actor so idc what age you interpret the characters as); the reader's looks are mostly undescribed and left neutral in terms of race, hair texture/colour, height, etc. however the reader is implied to be fat/plus sized; mentions of the reader wearing dresses and tights (things that the other characters on the show would typically wear); mentions of the reader having a cat - I did not give the cat a name so you can imagine it's the same as your cat's name/what you would want your cat to be called if you had one; use of Y/N and L/N (as in Last Name); brief mention that the reader would like wearing bikinis; the reader calls Stiles 'good boy' in non-sexual contexts and it turns him on; mentions of Stiles looking up the reader's skirt when she doesn't know it; some slight dubious consent because Stiles steals the reader's underwear without her consent and uses them in a sexual act (his masturbation); masturbation (Stiles touching himself); this is a one-sided/pining fic - all the sexual acts take place inside Stiles's mind as sexual fantasies while he masturbates; the reader character is described in these sexual acts as they play out in his mind, so that's why she is included heavily in the warnings; Stiles is submissive (even in his own fantasies) and he fantasies about the reader being dominant toward him; Stiles becoming aroused by the idea of the reader not shaving her pussy; technically there is edging - because Stiles edges himself to make his fantasies last longer; panty sniffing (though the panties Stiles took are freshly launder and not used ones); scent kink/sweat kink - Stiles likes the way you smell, including your sweat; kinks and sexual acts mentioned only in Stiles's fantasies (taking place only in his mind in this fic): car sex (in the back of the Jeep (typical, I know)), fingering (reader receiving), degradation kink (Stiles receiving - he likes the idea of the reader insulting him and being mean to him); pussy eating (Stiles fantasizes in depth about this); Reader makes a joke about spanking Stiles and Stiles has a small fantasy about being spanked by her; I think that's finally it.

A/N: Title for the fic comes from the song Brainwashed by Waterparks. Warning - Stiles might be a bit OOC in this because I wrote it before I started re-watching Teen Wolf again (and before I started watching Season 1 for the first time, because previously I had only seen 3B and beyond). In this, I have said that he's flunking classes and he's not really great with studying, while in the show, he's really smart and bookish and really well studied - but it could just be chalked up to the fact that he has a huge crush on the Reader that is distracting him from studying. So, interpret it how you want. I hope that you enjoy it, and please read through to my end notes to find out about a potential sequel to the fic!!

...

Stiles was hopeless.

That was the only way to describe his current state of being. Completely, utterly hopeless.

He was a complete and total loser, hopelessly in love with his best friend. And he was getting more stupidly caught up in that crush every single day. And of course, he didn’t even have the courage to admit his feelings for you so that it could be awkwardly out in the open. So that the two of you could get the rejection part over with, at least.

Basically - his feelings for you were slowly ruining his life.

Stiles had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. Well, maybe not that long.

See, you, him, and Scott had all been friends since the beginning of kindergarten, and naturally, Stiles always liked you as a person. He always thought of you as a good friend, even if he gravitated toward Scott more.

But he distinctly remembered the first moment when he had started to develop a crush on you. It was a very special memory to him - the day when you shifted in his eyes from annoying, slightly nagging friend to a beautiful, fierce woman.

It was the day when the three of you were out on Halloween night during the third grade - and that was around the time people started whispering about crushes in school, when people would have playground girlfriends and boyfriends that they broke up with every other week. That night, a group of eighth grade bullies began chasing the three of you, trying to take your candy.

Without hesitation, you picked up the largest rock in sight and threw it at one of them, causing a large cut across his forehead - and you loudly told them to ‘fuck off’ (the first time Stiles had ever heard such a word when it wasn’t coming from his dad). They had run away, somehow terrified of a girl a foot shorter than them.

That night, you had become his hero.

And since then, you had been the only object of his affections.

Of course, over the years, Stiles had plenty of opportunities to tell you about his feelings for you. He just… always felt too cowardly to do so.

In seventh grade, he had come very close to asking you out to the winter dance - only to have Scott beat him to the punch. When he pulled Scott aside to ask him about it, Scott confessed to him that he also had a crush on you. This resulted in their first ever fistfight. The first ever true rift in their otherwise close, brotherly friendship.

The boys didn’t speak to each other for days. Which, naturally, annoyed the hell out of you. Especially because, of course, neither of them told you why they were fighting, not wanting you to know that you were the source of the rift in their friendship. And to you, this only made the fight seem more stupid and immature.

So finally, when you demanded it, they called a truce. They agreed that they didn’t want to lose their friendship or lose you. They didn’t want to make you choose between them when it wouldn’t make any of you happy.

So Stiles proposed that the three of you should go to the dance as friends, which you loved, and they both got you a corsage, one for each wrist - and the three of you still laughed at the pictures of you holding each of their arms.

Eventually, Scott grew out of his crush on you and moved onto other girls, and he loved that he got to keep you as a close best friend, someone he could go to for dating advice if needed. Scott kept trying to convince Stiles to simply ‘man up’ and tell you about his feelings, but Stiles kept that same sentiment they had concluded upon years ago. Telling you about his feelings would only ruin the friendship. Not just between you, but between the entire group - it would fuck up the pack.

Though it felt like the more he tried to ignore his feelings for you, the more they festered like a tumor. While Scott was able to mature past his crush on you, Stiles only grew more intense, and more insane when it came to his ‘crush’ on you.

Over the years, his crush on you had grown from something sweet and childish into something much more. When puberty truly took over and lust was added into the mix, he now had to deal with the fact that you had grown into a gorgeous woman. He could barely control his arousal when looking at you, hearing your voice, smelling you, talking to you, thinking about you - even simply being in your presence made something in his mind melt. And it was growing much worse with each passing day. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t wake up with a raging boner fueled by sexual dreams of you.

And naturally, he would say that not telling you about his feelings for you was ultimately the best thing for him. He would steadfastly refuse to admit that him being distracted by all these fantasies of you was slowly eroding your friendship from the inside out. Slowly, bit by bit, his worst fears were coming true - your friendship was being ruined by his crush anyway.

But he tried to ignore that. Even if you were the most gorgeous, perfect being ever put on the planet, he tried his hardest to simply enjoy the platonic version of you. He tried to act like he wasn’t stupidly, head over heels in love with you.

He tried not to act like it.

But on nights like this, it was just so hard.

Tonight, the two of you were studying for an upcoming English mid-term that would be worth a decent portion of your final grade.

Logically, Stiles knew that he should have locked himself in his room and forced himself to study independently. Or he should have taken up Scott on his offer to study with him and Allison.

But no, he just had to ask you for your ‘help’.

And you pitied him and said yes, because he was doing poorly in the class. The only reason for that being because it was one of the classes that he shared with you, and he spent all of his damn time staring at you across the room during it. He had tried to tell himself that he really would study tonight, that he would really take advantage of your intelligence here and now to get his shit together in order to up his grade.

But no. That was just one of many daily lies that he told himself. Since the moment he had set foot in your bedroom that afternoon (and it was dark out now, well into the evening) - he hadn’t been able to focus on anything but you.

Sure, sometimes that worked to his benefit. Hearing you recite Shakespeare, the words coming off your sweet lips - it did force him to focus on the material at hand for at least a short period of time. But it wasn’t like he was actually retaining any of it. He was just thinking about how gorgeous your voice sounded and how amazing you would be in an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet. One where he played Romeo, of course - and he would get to use someone else’s well-crafted words to romance you, finally getting to kiss you for the first time.

Again - he was hopeless.

Currently, Stiles was laying diagonally on your bed, sitting among a mess of books - the English textbooks, the assigned novels, the published copies of the play, along with binders of your notes and other notebooks, stray papers. He couldn’t pay attention to the notes he was supposed to be writing, not for a moment, not if his life depended on it. Not when you looked this stunningly beautiful while busy writing your own notes.

With the soft lighting from your bedside lamp brushing across your skin, making that skin look even softer, you were a goddess-like vision sitting on the bed across from him. You were wearing the simple dress that you had worn to school earlier that day, your modest tights since shed off in the name of ‘comfort’ (and so that your cat wouldn’t rip holes in them while crawling across your lap, you had remarked to Stiles). When you had stood at your hamper and peeled them off your legs, Stiles had a hard time not letting the drool spill out across his chin.

Your thighs were gorgeous. Thick, wide, spread out like a buffet for his eyes to feast on every single time you sat down. From his angle, laying down the way he was, he was up close and personal with the dimpling cellulite and stretchmarks you had there. The hem of your dress had ridden up when you had adjusted your position to get comfortable, and he felt absolutely spoiled by how much more of your thighs were revealed to him.

A few times throughout the evening, he had to physically clench his fingers, tight, to remind himself not to reach out and touch. To remind himself that he wasn’t allowed to touch. The last thing he wanted to do was to creep you out by randomly reaching out and touching your thigh. But he wanted so badly to touch.

How many times had he imagined what those thighs would look like bouncing and jiggling while you rode his cock? How many times had he imagined those thighs clamped around his head while he licked your pussy? (Far too many times for the good of his own sanity.)

Not to mention the concentration spread across your face - you were so fucking hot when you showed off your intelligence. Hell everything about you was hot - your sweetness, your laughter, your sarcasm, even your bitchy side. But your bookish side had to be one of Stiles’s favorites.

The way you would nibble your own lip when thinking, the way your brows furrowed slightly in thought. Everything about you - from the bra strap sticking out of the neckline of your dress to the chipped edge of your nail polish where you had chewed on it - you were a fucking vision. And Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off you, no matter how hard he tried.

It was a wonder that you didn’t notice Stiles staring at you - not as often as he did it.

Stiles felt strangely caught when you put down your pen and looked up from your notebook, then. He quickly scrambled to grab his own pencil and start writing something, to look busy. But of course, he just looked like more of an idiot when the eraser end began scraping across the page in nonsense patterns.

“Stiles,” You scolded him with a sigh, a way he was used to hearing his name come off your lips. “Have you gotten anything done? I told you to copy down at least half my notes-”

Of course. You pegged his blank page as simple laziness, rather than his brain slowly melting out through his ears due to his inability to think about anything but you (especially when he was in the same room as you). At least he hadn’t been caught staring at you in that creepy way yet.

You snatched up his notebook to check his work, and his heart dropped - if you looked too carefully, then he would be caught. In the back of that notebook, there were about three pages of his name and yours in hearts, and a few times he had practiced writing his signature as ‘Mr Stiles L/N’. (He was a feminist, and he liked the idea of starting a new tradition.) There was even a drawing he had made designing your theoretical wedding cake, including a cake topper where he was Superman and you were riding on his back while he was flying.

“Y/N, uh-”

He quickly snatched the notebook back, causing a glare from you while he sighed in defeat.

“Fine.” He shrugged, knowing that he had to admit to a smaller crime in order to cover up the larger one. It was something that he did with his father all too often. “I didn’t get anything done. I was slacking off. You caught me.”

“Stiles!” You scolded him again, reaching out to gently smack his shoulder. “If you keep this shit up, you’re never gonna graduate!”

Sadly, you were probably right. His crush on you was absolutely going to ruin him.

“Well, you could just let me copy off you,” He replied, giving you a wide grin that let you know he was mostly kidding.

You rolled your eyes in reply, and soon your gaze caught sight of the clock on your nightstand.

“Well, it seems like you have wasted enough of my time for tonight.” You scoffed sarcastically.

Stiles knew that you had intended this to be a joke - but he couldn’t help the twinge of pain the words caused in his gut. The idea that he was truly just a waste of time in your life. He pressed his lips tightly together to suppress a frown and didn’t say anything more, and then you continued.

“It’s almost your curfew anyway.” You pointed out, gesturing toward the clock. You were right. Stiles hadn’t even noticed how late it was getting - too busy enjoying his time with you. “We’ll pack it up for the night - but you should meet me at the library tomorrow morning, early, so we can go over everything again before the exam.”

Of course, you were still invested in the idea of him getting a good grade, even if that seemed unlikely to happen.

“You’re gonna make me get up early?” He whined, hating the idea of missing out on even ten extra minutes of sleep.

“Yes.” You stressed. “I want you there at seven o’clock. Sharp.”

Your ultra serious voice ordering him around was undeniably a turn-on for him. No matter what sexual fantasies Stiles cooked up about you in his mind, he could never picture himself having full control over you. In fact, most of the time, he found himself covered in cum at the idea of you having complete control over him. And it was likely because this was how most of your friendship went - you told him what to do, and he did it. And that was a huge part of why he fell for you in the first place.

When he didn’t verbally confirm the time, too caught up in his infatuation yet again, you let out a gentle growl of frustration.

“Stiles!” You called out his name. “You have to be there at seven. So you can’t get out of bed at seven - you have to set your alarm for like six-thirty, got it? Don’t make me come over there and get your ass out of bed like last time.”

This thought caused Stiles’s stomach to clench.

The last time you had come to his house to wake him up for school (because he had agreed to help you with some bakesale project and you were pissed off that he wasn’t there early to help you set up tables and whatnot) - you had charged into his house in a fury. You had your own key, of course, and his dad wasn’t there to busy you with conversation or pleasantries.

And you charged right up the stairs and nearly caught him with a hand around his cock, jerking off to a picture of you in a bikini from the summer before. And he had rushed to shove the picture in his nightstand and cocoon himself in the comforter to hide his body just as you made it to the top of the stairs, shouting at him for being late. Luckily, he had gotten away with the lie that he had slept in, rather than revealing the truth that he had been distracted because he had woken up with morning wood after having a heated dream about you.

When Stiles didn’t respond yet again, you grabbed a smaller decorative pillow from behind you and lightly hit him with it for emphasis, causing him to burst into laughter.

“Promise me you’ll be on time!” You said, smacking him with the pillow again.

“Yes, yes! I promise!” He finally agreed, his face becoming pink from laughter.

You dropped the pillow then, and leaned down, causing his eyes to inadvertently go straight to your cleavage while you gave him a gentle, friendly kiss on the forehead.

“Good boy.” You responded, praising him for agreeing to your terms. Obviously, it was another joke.

But these praising words combined with your lips even slightly brushing against his skin, along with your tits dangling so close to his face, had his cock swelling to hardness nearly instantly. He grabbed the pillow then, trying to look subtle as he put it over his crotch, desperately trying to hide the very obvious bulge that had popped up at the front of his jeans within seconds.

He was lucky when you shifted your attention away from him, now busy with cleaning off the bed, gathering your textbooks in a pile and moving to put them on your desk in the corner. You being distracted gave him a few moments to try and mentally will his dick down, which worked slightly. Only slightly.

“You could help me, you know.” You mocked him lightly - distracting him from his thoughts of baseball, trying to will the blood out of his cock.

He looked up and saw you standing there with his backpack, putting away his textbooks and notebooks now. He had been so dumbly distracted by his own dick that he hadn’t noticed you taking the kind initiative to clean up his things for him too.

“Right, sorry.” He jumped into action and did so, taking things from your hands and shoving them into his bag with haste.

“You don’t have to rush out, I just need the bed cleared off so I can pick out my clothes for tomorrow.” You told him.

“Wait - you actually pick out your clothes in advance?” He asked, thinking that this was entirely adorable, and explained why you were always so well dressed.

(And it explained why you were always so punctual in the mornings while Stiles was usually a mess - running around his house still half-asleep, shoving his head into a shirt that he had sniffed to see if it was clean, shoving things frantically into his bag in order to get out the door five minutes late.)

“Well you know not all of us are okay with just throwing on last week’s mustard stained tee shirt,” You said, playfully pointing to a mustard stain that he had on his shirt from lunch.

He rolled his eyes in return, trying to ignore the slight twist of embarrassment that wanted to swell up inside of him at the comment.

There had been a point where he used to make a very pointed effort to impress you. Back when his crush on you had first gotten serious - likely around the beginning of high school. He used to get up early every single morning, spending a lot of time being intensely picky about the clothes he wore. He drowned himself in cologne (until you had complained about it), he wore certain colors just because you mentioned liking them. But none of it seemed to garner any more of your attention than usual.

And so, he resigned himself to be the loser best friend who would always just float at the corners of your life, drowning in his secret affection for you until some better, hotter guy came along and swept you off your feet one day.

He was just glad that day hadn’t come yet.

Stiles was hesitant to leave - he wasn’t done being around you for the day yet, too emotionally attached. But he guessed that he would need to get some decent sleep before waking up at the asscrack of dawn in order to see more of you the next morning. (Even if it would include the horrors of studying at the library.)

“So - I’ll see you tomorrow morning?” He posed, ready to take his leave as he swung his backpack over his shoulder.

“Ooh, wait one second.” You said, eagerness twinging through your voice.

His heart pounded hard in his chest for a moment, wondering if this could be the moment he had been waiting so long for - would you stop him there, grab him by the shoulders and kiss him hard, and then tell him that you had been feeling the exact same way as he had for all these years?

“Which one?” You asked, spinning around from your closet to face him, holding up two dresses on hangers.

Oh. You were asking for his opinion about what you should wear to school the next day.

“The blue one.” Stiles said, motioning towards it. “That shade of blue looks beautiful on you - it compliments your skin tone well, and it makes you shine. But ya know, you look gorgeous in everything. You could wear a paper bag to school and everyone would still be jealous of how amazing you look.”

He rambled on for a moment too long, and realized that his genuine fondness for you - something straying too far into romantic territory - was slipping out.

“But - uh, yeah. I’ll see you later.” He quickly added on, now eager to leave before you could make any further comments.

Then he dashed out of your room and down the stairs, getting out the front door so fast that he practically left a poof of cartoon dust behind him.

He got into the Jeep and tossed his bag into the passenger’s seat - which, he hadn’t realized was not even zipped up. (A habit you often scolded him for - going around with his bag unzipped.) Papers and books spilled across the seat and underneath it, and he let out a loud growl of frustration.

“Idiot!” He screamed, scolding himself as he leaned down, trying to clean everything up. “Idiot, idiot, idiot!”

Partially, he was feeling so idiotic because he had just been so vulnerable with you and you probably thought he was weird for it. Actually, that was mostly why.

As he was picking up his things, he realized that - yup, he was missing his English textbook. He had forgotten it in your room. He heaved out a sigh and collapsed back against his seat. He could leave without it - but then he would get an earful from you in the morning about how he was ‘forgetful’ and ‘irresponsible’. Ugh.

He got out of the Jeep again and shuffled his way back into your house - your mom was working late, so there was nobody there to question him running out of the house at top speed and then appearing back so soon. All he got was a curious chirp and a head tilt from your cat, who was sitting on the top of the stairs.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Stiles remarked to the animal, stopping for a moment to pet him. “I’m pathetic. But you can’t rat me out, okay? I know she thinks highly of your opinion and I need you to put in a good word for me. Got it?”

The cat purred and pushed his face into Stiles’s hand, so he assumed that was a positive affirmation that he would root for Stiles - or at the very least, keep his secret.

Stiles linger for a moment to scratch the cat’s furry cheek, and then he stepped over the cat and made his way back toward your room. He passed the closed bathroom door and heard the shower running, and he almost cheered. If you were in the shower, then you wouldn’t notice him slipping back in to grab his book, so you couldn’t scold him for being a forgetful idiot.

He went into your room, and the second he made it through the mouth of your open bedroom, his eyes locked onto your bed like a hot target. Your clothes for the following day were spread out so neatly, and right there, on top of the blue dress he had suggested - there was a pair of lacy purple panties that were something right out of one of his fantasies.

Stiles had thought about your underwear before - many times. Too many times to count.

He had even caught small, passing glimpses of your underwear before - when you had worn dresses without tights and bent over in front of him. But he had only seen enough of it to determine the color, not to know if it was lacy or silk or cotton. And even that was enough to send him into a tailspin that had him rushing to the bathroom to relieve his aching cock.

In the back of his mind - or truly, the forefront of his mind whenever he jerked off to thoughts of you - he always wondered what kind of underwear you wore. What kind of decorative wrapping your pretty pussy would come in if he ever got the other-worldly privilege of getting his hands up your skirt.

Would they be simple, practical cotton underwear? Would they be cute? Would they be sinfully sexy? Would they be those underwear with the days of the week written across the front?

But seeing this now - seeing the tangible evidence in front of him that you actually planned to wear purple lacy lingerie to school - it was something that had all sense draining from his mind as blood rushed to his cock once again. He barely had time to think about it - and he didn’t think about it. Because then, they were in his hands, in his pocket, and he was back in the Jeep, hiding his stolen goods in his bag and hastily zipping it up so he could slam his foot on the gas and race home.

He didn’t even have a chance to think about the fact that he left without the textbook that he had gone back into your room looking for. He didn’t have the attention span to notice that said textbook was in a stack along with your own - almost as if purposefully kept there like an excuse to lure him back into your room, rather than clumsily forgotten by him.

…

When Stiles got into his room, he slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, now entirely frantic, and thankful that his father was working a late shift again. He sat down on the edge of his bed, his hands shaking with anticipation as he unzipped his bag and pulled out the thing he had so hastily snagged.

His mind was warring with so many sensations. Guilt for taking the panties, paranoia that he would get caught, shame that he even had the urge to take them in the first place - but all of that was easily toppled over and forgotten in the name of lust. Overwhelming lust and arousal that he felt for you. Greed and joy at knowing that he had something so private of yours in his hands now - something so secret that he shouldn’t have. A perfect little piece of you.

His little secret piece of you.

He still couldn’t believe that this was the kind of underwear you wore on a daily basis.

Just imagining that this was what you wore to school - thinking about the fact that this was what you were wearing under your clothes during your everyday interactions with him: it drove him wild.

He easily pictured this pretty lace sticking to your cunt when you were wet, the lavender colored material getting slick and slightly darker, soaked through and visibly sticky when you spread your legs for him to see. He wondered if your pussy would be shaved or not - but you didn’t have a boyfriend, so currently, you didn’t have anybody to shave for.

He remembered a conversation from a few weeks ago where Scott had wondered if he should shave his pubes for Allison and you had remarked that ‘putting a razor near your junk’ was ‘ill-advised and stupid’ - so you probably didn’t even like shaving your pussy on principle.

This immediately put a picture in his mind of your pussy being covered in soft hair that matched the shade on your head - maybe a bit darker. It would clump together with your juices and become soaked when you got wet. The little hairs would probably stick out cutely from the sides of the bikini cut underwear, peeking at him.

Your pussy would be the prettiest thing he had ever seen, he knew that for certain.

Stiles imagined getting you in the backseat of the Jeep one night after a game.

He would still be covered in sweat from his efforts, worn out from trying his best. Sure, he wasn’t the best player, but you wanted to ‘reward’ him for his efforts on the winning side, even if he hadn’t directly contributed to the win.

So as soon as the game was over, before he even had time to change out of his pads or shower, you hauled him to the parking lot and shoved him into the car. His gear was only half-off, ditched hastily by your feet, and you were in his lap - a perfect prize after all the hard work he had done, sitting astride his already sore thigh muscles while you kissed him - hard. Your mouth greedily sucked the oxygen out of his lungs while you shoved your tongue past his lips, painting his tongue with your sweet spit - and fuck, it felt like he was made for this.

He got sucked so deep into the fantasy - it felt so damn real.

He imagined having his hands splayed out against your beautiful, plump ass, gripping you tightly, noting wanting you to separate from him for even a section. While you held on tightly to his face, sealing him into the kiss until his lips were sore. And you would only pull back to look into his eyes with glossy desperation and utter out:

“Please, Stiles. I need you. I need you to touch my pussy.”

And what else could he do but obey?

So he would lift up your skirt - a particularly short skirt that you had worn with nothing else but a pair of knee-high socks. Something that you knew he loved to see you cheer for him on the sidelines while wearing. Even though it was a chilly night, you couldn’t feel too cold when you saw him glancing at you every single chance he got. Of course, those distracted stares had gotten him screamed at by Coach more than once. But he loved the way your skirt would flutter up in the nighttime breeze, teasing him. The way the fucking beautiful thick fat of your thighs would jiggle whenever you would jump around in order to cheer him on.

He was a man of simple, divine tastes.

So - he would lift up that perfect skirt to find those purple lacy panties underneath; to find the perfection of your wet cunt waiting for him, growing slicker by the second, more needy for him. You were humping yourself against his athletic cup, which his hard cock was practically dying inside of, bursting to get out of the hard shell of plastic to touch you. But he ignored his own needs for a few minutes longer in favor of yours. Reaching forward, sliding his fingers along the wet spot at the front of your panties, absolutely indulging in the beautiful gasp you let out when his touch grazed across your swollen clit through the fabric.

“Stiles, please.”

He could almost hear it - it was so fucking clear inside his mind. The way your voice would be so pitched with desperation, so perfectly needy curled around his name. He wanted so badly to hear it in real life.

And he would push those panties to the side, pushing his fingers inside of your hot, wet cunt-

Back in the real world, Stiles’s cock gave a needy pulse, leaking into his boxers.

He heaved out a sigh, his cock practically vibrating with blood. He had driven home the whole time trying to ignore that boner, but he simply couldn’t do that anymore. He just had to give in.

He hesitantly put your panties aside - already feeling a strange sense of attachment to them - and reached to his nightstand, grabbing the bottle of lube that he had in the drawer. Shamefully, it was already half empty, mostly due to the fantasies that he had about you. He undid his pants and had them around his ankles in record time, and whipped off his shirt for good measure, knowing that he was quite a ‘splasher’ and not wanting to get cum on it to pair with that ugly mustard stain.

He lubed up his cock more than a healthy amount, knowing that it would contribute to the fantasy of you being so wet around him. It was a distant fantasy that he would never actually get to achieve, but hell - a man can dream. Then he began to slowly pump his cock in hand, wanting to milk it and truly enjoy it, and he let his mind get back to work.

He thought back to your place. A place he was comfortable, spent a lot of time at hanging out with you.

He imagined that early that night when he had forgotten his book, rather than you being in the shower, he went back to your room and found that you had been getting ready for bed. You were rubbing sweet-smelling lotion on your arms, pulling back the covers, wearing nothing but a pair of cute little socks, a tiny camisole - where he could very visibly see that you weren’t wearing a bra, with the natural teardrop shape of your breasts bared to the eye, your nipples poking through the fabric - and those purple lace panties.

When he would appear in the doorway, you would gawk at him and ask:

“Stiles? What are you doing? Did you… forget something?”

But you would be positioned half leaning over the bed, taking back the covers so it would be comfortable for you to sleep - and your ass would be unintentionally on full display. Your sweet pussy lips peeking at him from behind, the roundness of your ass so fucking inviting, daring him to leave bite marks across the beautifully fat flesh.

And after a few moments of him staring so brazenly, saying nothing, simply drinking in the gorgeous sight of your body bent over, wearing so little clothing, wearing those perfect little lace panties-

(Stiles sped up his hand on his cock, the lube sounding downright sloppy in the silence of the room.)

You would stand up to your full height, come to him in the doorway, put your face so close to his and say:

“If you’re gonna spend so much time staring at me like a gaping idiot, then you should do something about it.”

Stiles had to stop the swift movements of his hand and clutch his grip tightly around the base of his cock, making his entire dick throb hard as he edged off his own orgasm.

He still wasn’t sure why the idea of you calling him an ‘idiot’ in such a brazen tone made him want to cum so hard - but he didn’t have time to unpack all that now.

He grabbed up the panties again with his non-lubed hand. Something in the back of his mind thought that it would be a crime for him to get them dirty. Another part argued that he would absolutely love to get them covered in his cum, not clean them, and then return them to you. That it would be fucking thrilling to have you wear them in that dirtied state.

Though he knew that would never fucking happen.

If he returned the panties to you covered in his cum, then you would slap him, call him a pervert, and likely have Scott beat the shit out of him with his newly harnessed werewolf strength. Stiles pushed this thought to the back of his mind, though.

Out of curiosity, he lifted the fabric to his nose and took a whiff. They smelled like fresh laundry - a nice lemony detergent. Of course they weren’t ones you had previously worn - they were a pair you had been planning on wearing tomorrow.

He distantly wondered if that meant you would not be wearing underwear tomorrow, because he had taken your intended pair. And that could have led his mind down a whole different filthy track, but instead - he began to wonder what a pair of your dirty underwear might smell like.

You should take a pair of used ones. A voice in his mind told him. Snatch them right out of the hamper. Come on, you’re over at her place all the time. She won’t even notice them gone.

Terrible idea. Terrible rabbit hole.

But what would they smell like?

He wasn’t deluded enough to think that pussy smelled like roses. He had never been close enough to one - a real pussy - before to actually know. Yes, he was a virgin. He could have said that he was waiting, ‘saving it’ for you - but every other girl, including you, was smart enough to look past him. There were plenty of other guys who were better looking and more charming than him, and probably better in bed than him, that girls had chosen instead of him.

He wondered if your pussy smelled like that perfect bit of sweat that you gathered at the end of a long day. Sometimes when he went to hug you before the two of you parted ways, he would catch a whiff of the tiniest undertone of musk, a good amount of sweat paired with the berry scented body spray you had put on that morning, and orange tic-tacs you had popped after lunch. It was a delectable combination.

He imagined that your cunt would smell like that bit of sweat, combined with the blueberry body wash you used - the one he knew about and loved because of the time you had insisted he use your shower while stinking up a study session because he had skipped the showers after lacrosse practice when he was late to be with you.

He imagined getting hints of that blueberry body wash smell coming off your thighs when his head was buried between them. What would your cunt taste like? That was a mystery he wanted to solve live.

He could always imagine the other aspects so well.

He could imagine the feeling of the heat under his tongue, the perfect feeling of your wetness mixing with his spit. He imagined getting to bounce your swollen clit against his tongue and while feeling your moans and cries of his name vibrate through your body as he pleasured you so well - the feeling of your pubes brushing against his cheeks as his entire face became soaked with your wetness.

But the taste - that was something he could never conjure up in his mind, no matter how hard he tried.

He knew that eating your pussy would be perfect. Not just because he would be giving you pleasure, serving you. But he so often dreamed of having his head smothered by your thighs, having you grab his head and shove him tighter into your cunt, you purposeful and demanding. You having that beautiful control over him while he drowned in your wetness.

He knew that he would likely cum in his pants from eating you out if he ever got the privilege of doing so, and even if you laughed at him - stupidly, he would find that hot too.

Stiles picked up the pace again, pumping his cock in hand evenly and firmly - even reaching down with the other hand to cradle his balls, gently rolling the flesh in his hand as he got lost in another fantasy of you.

He imagined the two of you in his bed - textbooks forgotten and pushed off onto the floor, your dress hiked up around your hips, and again, those fucking purple lace panties. He was on top of you, hovering on his knees so that his hard cock wouldn’t brush against you (even through his jeans) while the two of you sloppily made-out.

It wasn’t long before you pulled away from his kiss-swollen lips.

“Stiles,” You purred into his ear, kissing along his neck. “You know, you’re so pathetic.”

These words had his cock jumping, spurting out precum - in his fantasy, it made his underwear messy as you undid his fly.

In the real world, it made his hand messy as he continued to rhythmically jerk his cock.

“I’m not gonna let you fuck me.” You told him, contrasting these words with your intentions as you put your hands inside his waistband and shoved his pants and underwear down over his hips - down to his knees until his hard, throbbing cock was exposed. “Not until you prove yourself.”

Before Stiles could ask the question, the beautiful, fantastic you that he had made up inside his mind gave him the perfect answer.

“Get yourself off by rubbing your pathetic dick against my panties. And then - I might let you fuck me.”

In the real world, Stiles let out a throttled moan - a choked sound that surely would have had his father knocking on the door to ask if he was okay if he was at home. And then he rushed to grab the panties again, and without even thinking, he used his sticky lubed up hand to position the fabric around his dick. It was a coarse roughness compared to the slick smoothness he had previously been feeling, but it did wonders to complete his fantasy as he delved back to the you inside of his mind.

He started rubbing the slightly lube-sticky rough fabric up and down his dick at a very slow pace as he imagined it:

Being perched between your thighs, with the fabric of the panties stuck to your wet cunt, his cock hard and leaking as he tucked himself right up against you and began to rub his dick against you in order to get off. Just like you wanted, just like you had ordered him to do.

“Please.” Stiles chanted, the words leaking out of his lips, chanted into his empty bedroom as he pleaded to the imaginary you that would always have a hold over him - just as tight of a hold as the real you had. “Please, please - oh fuck.”

He moved the fabric over his cock faster as he moved his hips faster in the fantasy, imagining how hot your pussy would feel against him, imagining your nails digging into his hips as you looked up at him with mocking and adoration in your eyes. He imagined you forcing his hips faster, trapping him in place with your knees bracketed around his thighs, showing him absolutely no mercy.

“Please, please, please.” He chanted, knowing with a distant part of his mind that he must have sounded utterly delirious. “Please, Y/N, lemme cum-”

“Cum for me, Stiles.”

Confirmed by that fantasy version of you and truly unable to hold it any longer, Stiles arched up off the bed, cumming all over his own fist. Just as he had predicted, it was an utter, uncontrollable mess. He shot cum all over his stomach, and absolutely soaked the fabric of the panties - making a horrible mess of them. Which, the lube had definitely already done. He laid there for a single moment catching his breath before it truly hit him.

Fuck. He had fucked up.

You would definitely notice the underwear missing after a while and he certainly couldn’t return them to you in this condition.

…

Stiles spent the next hour in the bathroom, absolutely panicking over how to get them clean. Luckily, he wasn’t a total idiot and he looked up the washing instructions online - and after hand-washing them in warm water with a ‘gentle’ detergent (handsoap was the best that he could do), they came out perfectly clean.

The only problem?

Hang to dry.

He set his alarm for early, earlier than you suggested, and prayed that he wouldn’t sleep through it. In fact, he set three more alarms just to make sure. He couldn’t have you or his father barging into his room to wake him up when he had a pair of your stolen panties pinned to his corkboard in order to properly dry them so that he could sneak them back to you in good condition.

…

The next day, he departed for school by 6:45 with the stolen goods hidden away in his bag, ready to sneak them back into your room later that afternoon. He made it to the library ten whole minutes before seven, and you seemed shocked that he was not only on time - but early.

“Wow.” You said, having just gotten there yourself, spreading out your items at a table - including a tray with some coffees. “You know, Stiles, I am impressed.”

“You don’t have to act so - so shocked.” He replied, partially interrupted by a yawn.

You leaned over to get a pen from your bag, and Stiles’s eyes immediately went to your ass, unconsciously trying to spot panty lines through your dress and tights - wondering if you were even wearing underwear because he had stolen the ones you had intended for today.

Focus, Stiles. Focus.

“Well, if you weren’t here by seven sharp like I told you, I was gonna pour this in the garbage.” You told him, taking his coffee out of the paper tray and sliding it toward him.

“You don’t have to be so mean.” He chuckled, airy and light - very secretly annoyed with the way your ‘mean’ streak affected him sometimes. Why did he have to be turned on by you scolding him and punishing him? Why?

“Hey, if I’m not mean then you never get anything done.” You told him truthfully. “And you know how it works by now. Good boys get rewards and bad boys get spanked.” You told him, letting out a bright laugh - indicating that it was clearly meant to be a joke.

But instantly, it shook his mind with imagery of you bending him over the table, ripping his pants down and spanking him until he came untouched and cried for mercy, forcing him to agree that he would behave and listen to you. He became downright dizzy at the thought.

You meant it as a joke - he had to sharply remind himself. But the way you so casually called him a ‘good boy’, said that he was deserving of a ‘reward’ - it sent chills down his spine and already had his cock waking up. Too early. Bad rabbit hole.

If he was any sort of brave, he would have pushed it more and asked you what kind of ‘reward’ you had in mind. But he wasn’t, and he was too tired to analyze the potential consequences.

“Oh!” You said, as though suddenly remembering something. You moved to grab your bag again and Stiles closed his eyes to forcefully keep himself from staring at your ass. “You left this at my place last night.” You told him, sliding his English textbook across the table toward him.

He was too busy trying to calm his own lust that he missed the smirk on your face - the mischief lingering in your eyes, the intention in your tone. He was too caught up, drowning in his own affections for you that he never would have pieced together that you had taken in and hidden it on purpose as a ploy to get him to come back. That you had put out some other bait for him to find.

“Thanks.” He said quietly. “So - what do we need to go over before the test?”

“Everything.”

Stiles groaned.

...

Edit to my notes as of Oct. 9th, 2024:

It is now my biggest regret announcing that there is a sequel to this fic in my drafts, but there is one that is fully written and just needs to be edited (but that is something that takes time and effort - neither of which I am going to put into the fic right now). However, it will not be posted anytime soon, and it is delayed infinitely. It will be posted when it is posted (and currently I don't know when that will be), and I would appreciate people not chasing me down and not asking about it.

Originally, my point of having a comment and reblog goal on this fic was so that a certain percentage of the people who read and liked the preview for this fic would have to reblog it, but the ratio on this fic is still absolutely horrendous, and it's clear to me that once people saw that goal was met, they didn't care to reblog this fic or comment on it if they enjoyed it - they only care to nag me and chase me down for the sequel while this fic sits at over 600 likes and less than 100 reblogs and comments (including my replies to people's comments).

If you are reading this fic after the edit, I hope you enjoyed it. I hope you do stick around on my blog while I work on and post other things. But the sequel to this fic will not be coming out anytime soon because I am a person with shifting interests, not a robot. Those shifting interests (and me chasing them organically) is the reason that I can produce 200k of fanfiction in a year and post all of it for free for people to enjoy.

And as always - if you enjoyed this fic, please comment about the body of work that has been written. And perhaps, consider reblogging it to show your appreciation. Please do not comment about the sequel.

If you want to be tagged in the next part, you can ask to be put on my Teen Wolf taglist by interacting with this post, but please know that if you don't follow my taglist rules, you will be removed from the taglist promptly. If that happens, you are still welcome to read and enjoy future fics, you just won't be included in my taglists ever again.

Happy reading, and I hope you enjoyed the fic!!

#sundrop writes #stiles stilinski x reader #dylan o'brian x reader #dylan o'brien smut #stiles stilinksi smut #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf smut

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demetriusyeet · 2 years ago

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Guys I found it

My funniest dream journal entry

#lmao #dreams #dream journal #diary entry #I forgot about this until I was scrolling through my notes #I’m so glad I wrote this down #pretty sure there’s a longer version on paper somewhere in the depths of my closet #I was gonna get out my Jung books and read my dream journal #but after seeing this one I don’t know where id even start lollll #Carl Jung is quaking #I did however find a weird entry #where I’m pretty sure I did like 5 seconds of Active Imagination #and boy if I’d remembered about that while I was studying Jung in college #I may have been a little less dubious

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buckets-and-trees · 7 months ago

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I'm Your Man Collection

a short series featuring Andy Barber as a soft dark mafia boss who set his sights on you and never plans to let you go

While Andy Barber was well-known in Boston, there are whispers of a darker side, but few know the depths of his darker side. He's successful, he's charming, he's generous, and you're about to find out just how dangerous he can be.

Content Warnings: [check individual parts for their respective warnings] DUBIOUS CONSENT, extortion, explicit smut: oral (female and male receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal intercourse, spitting, dom/sub undertones, breeding kink, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, somnophilia, financial spoiling

COLLECTION:

I'm Your Man [3k]

Morning Radiance [750]

Prepare for Takeoff [1.5k]

Don't Look Too Far [6.4k]

Burned Off the Haze [4.5k]

ask: a moment on your honeymoon [350]

Make Her Glow [1k]

EXTRAS: ↠ will Andy let the reader work? ↠ what if Andy were forced into marriage with the reader? ↠ what if sweetheart tried to get rid of her engagement ring?

#chris evans characters #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber smut #female reader #i'm your man collection #setlist of stories #aspen wrote something

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ilsanslut · 1 year ago

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TREAT YOU BETTER! [2]

♰ featuring: itoshi sae + itoshi rin [blue lock]

♰ note: do i even need to mention how anticipated this part was? i will mention though, that it did take me quite some time to write this and i tried to proofread it to the best of my ability, but i do apologize if there are some minor errors. lastly, sorry for putting it off for so long due to my hiatus, i hope you all enjoy!

sypnosis: the itoshi brothers punish you for your 'infidelity'. wc: 6.5k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. fem/fem-bodied reader. POST BLUE LOCK. rin is 19. sae is 21. sibling rivalry. implied thick/chubby!reader. EXTRA MEAN!RIN. possessive!rin. cocky!sae. bully!itoshi brothers. they are both assholes in this fic. PRIOR MENTIONS OF CHEATING. degradation. unprotected sex. fingering. squirting. rough sex. DUBIOUS CONTENT. spanking. dacryphilia. slut-shaming. groping. double-penetration. implied size kink. skull/throat-fucking. choking/borderline asphyxiation. minor angst. hair pulling. manhandling. breeding. excessive mentions of drool/spit + rin's focused mode. IMPACT PLAY (face slapping, tit slapping, cock/pussy slapping). basically, they really fuck you up but they swear it’s out of love. aftercare! ꒷꒦

view part one of TREAT YOU BETTER here: part one.

If purgatory was real, you were most certainly in it now. Penalized for your past life's sins and transgressions, you were chained and perched atop a platform before your accusers, between the heavens and the depths of hell. Except now, that platform was Rin’s bed, and the only eyes upon you were his and Sae’s—the latter of which continued to bore into your own as the rhythmic slapping of his hips against your ass refused to cease. And even now, there was that sickening twinkle in his eyes, full of sinister joy as he basked in the warped satisfaction of your psychological suffering. How lovely he found you, those plump tears streaming down your ruined cheeks—if he could, he would frame that photo for his foyer. How your plump brims continued to babble out pleas for him to stop, for him to slow down, to please let you catch your breath so that you could process the situation you found yourself in, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Not until you creamed around his cock in front of your pretty lil’ boyfriend, that is.

While you, on the other hand, were currently battling the inner turmoil the two demonic brothers were putting you through. In your head, Rin’s word’s played on a loop like a broken record, plagued to repeat that same damned phrase over and over again. ‘You told me you would wait, Nii-chan.’

They plotted against you, laid out the trap, and like the oblivious bunny you are, you stumbled right into the wolf’s den.

“Y’see this, Rinnie~?” Sae drawled breathlessly, using his free hand that wasn’t holding your hair to cup your jaw, manipulating your head in his sibling’s direction while he placed his chin atop your shoulder. Forced to once again meet the eyes of your lover, you would immediately notice the contemptuous and repulsed glare he used to stab into you like a searing, hot iron blade straight into your heart. But you could never miss the desire beneath his teal eyes—desire that almost turned his current enmity for you into lust. Should you venture to cast your eyes any lower, you would also observe the brewing tent inside his sweatpants, pushing the fabric to its absolute limit.

“What d’you think is making poor Y/N cry like this, hm? The fact that she’s been caught in her infidelity or this fat cock pummeling her tight cunt?” You could feel Sae’s wolfish grin against your flesh as he spoke, dragging sharp canines across the skin of your shoulder as his own teal oculars met his brother’s.

“Both.” Rin stated bluntly before his expression would twist sourly, his upper lip curling into a sneer while his eyes narrowed on you with malicious intent. “Though if I were to guess, I bet it’s your cock since she’s a little cockslut who can’t be satisfied with just one man’s dick.” He spat as he reached his hand up to undo the zipper on his windbreaker, pulling it down slowly to reveal his equally, if not more, built form than Sae’s.

“Oh~” Sae jeered much to your chagrin, slowing the pace of his hips so he could press himself flush against your ass and languidly hump his cock into you. Unfortunately, you were unable to keep your delighted mewls from slipping past your brims as his thick cock caressed your fluttering walls. “Y’hear that, princess? Even your boyfriend thinks that you’re a cock-addicted whore.” He used his grip on your hair and chin to mockingly shake your head back and forth, feigning pity in his tone to add more fuel to your smoldering fire.

He leaned into your ear, soft lips pressing right against your lobe as his teeth captured the soft flesh between his teeth, snarling lowly. “How d’you think he’d feel knowing that you were about to make a mess on my cock, huh?”

Amidst your whimpers and pleasured mewls, you frantically shook your head, trying your hardest to deny the accusation as Rin’s fixed glare on you only grew more scrutinizing. “M’not, m’not gonna—!” On the contrary, your body would deny your vehement retorts made prevalent by your quivering thighs, heightened moans, and the sinful way your walls clung to Sae's cock.

“Don’t fucking lie to me” Sae hissed in your ear, releasing his grip on your chin to quickly swat the fattened flesh of your breast, drawing a squeal from your lips. “Y’don’t think I can’t feel this greedy cunt sucking me in? Trying to milk me of everything I have, huh?”

“N-No! Ngh~! Sae, I-I can’t—”

Your cries were silenced when an opposing hand would soon grip your chin, forcing your gaze to meet the second set of teal eyes belonging to none other than Rin. He glowered down at you, his blunt nails digging into the soft flesh of your cheeks. Even with your strong reluctance to acknowledge it, Rin's intense gaze was enough to make you clamp harder around Sae.

“Cum on his cock, Y/N.” He ordered, his voice barely above a twisted growl. “It’s the only thing pretty sluts like you are good at, right?” His grip loosened for naught but a second to drag the pad of his thumb across your drooling and babbling brims. “Unless, you’re not . . . care to try and prove me wrong?”

You tried—you really, really tried—to hold back your orgasm, to prove Rin wrong, but the tantalizing way Sae pounded his length into you was intoxicating—tainting your mind with one need and one need only—your release. Your fists pounded against Sae's thighs behind you, trying to get midfeilder off of you, or at the very least to slow down—but it was futile. Your back rumbled from the vibrations in Sae's chest as he chuckled, his forearm caging itself around your neck and the crease of his other forearm pulling back his balled fist to effectively lock you in an unforgiving headlock, depriving your brain of precious oxygen. With your resolve all but diminished, you finally came undone before both your boyfriend and his elder brother.

All you could see was white as your vision blurred and your body seized as the coil in your tummy snapped, allowing your juices to flow out of you, fruitfully drenching both your and Sae's lower halves as well as the sheets beneath you. Your cries and pleas of euphoria filled the room, drowning out the lewd and now wet smacking sounds of Sae's pelvis against your ass, as well as he and his brother's mocking jeers. Without both of their grips on your body, you would have collapsed from the sheer intensity of it all, your body going limp as the ferocity of your orgasm nearly knocked you unconscious.

“Fuck yeah,” Sae groaned into your ear, though you were barely able to register it as he fucked you through your orgasm. “That’s it; that’s the stuff. Ngh, fuck. M’gonna cum too, gonna fill your pretty pussy to the brim.” He grunted as his thrusts grew sloppy from his impending orgasm.

But it never came. At least, not in the way you expected it.

At the last second before Sae finally came inside of you, your body cruelly hit the sheets as you were no longer supported by the strength of both men. On top of that, you suddenly felt horribly empty as the midfielder’s cock was wrenched out of you, leaving you to clench around nothing—though you were hardly in any state to utter a rebuttal.

In your daze, you heard the sounds of a struggle and Sae's enraged shout as you writhed between the sheets and something hot shot against your ass cheeks and lower back. Groggily, you mustered enough strength to push yourself up onto your elbows to glance over your shoulder, only to see a fucked-out and infuriated Sae forced back onto his haunches as Rin held his light auburn locks in a vice grip, equally, if not more, irate than his elder.

“What the fuck, Nii-chan.” Rin snarled, tugging Sae by his locks as if to enunciate his anger. “I thought we agreed that you weren’t allowed to cum inside of her, so what the fuck was that, huh?”

At first, Sae remained silent and merely opted to match Rin's glower with a quiet one of his own. Your weary eyes slid down, taking in his semi-hard cock that rested against his toned thighs, strings of yours and his arousal clinging to his girth, the thick lifts and falls of his chest, and the sweat trickling down his abs. Then your eyes shifted to Rin, where you noted the hardness of his angrily-clenched jaw, the furious downward pull of his thick brows over his captivating teal eyes, blazing with anger and betrayal, and the undeniable bulge that tugged at the material of his sweatpants.

The way your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight was unavoidable.

They were both too fucking hot for your own good.

“It’s not my fault that her greedy fuckhole wouldn’t let me go.” Sae snapped, smacking Rin’s fist from his locks. “And besides. . .” Something sinister arose on his features, tainting his expression with the need to torment the forward. “You heard her, didn’t you? She likes the way my cock fucks her more than yours anyway.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed after Sae’s bombshell of a statement. As you lay there, your heart raced, and a sense of unease washed over you, causing a pit of guilt to form in the pits of your tummy. Rin said nothing in response, staggering back from his brother with an incredulous and infuriated look before his face twisted into a maddened snarl, which Sae countered with a smug look. Had you looked even further, you could see the aura of their monstrous egos swirling around them, threatening to rip one another limb from limb.

“You motherfucker.” He growled, fists clenching with pure unadulterated rage as he lunged for his sibling yet again, only this time, you stepped in.

“Rin, stop!” You shouted, lunging forward to grab your boyfriend’s wrist before he could get his hands on Sae once more.

Rin's focus finally shifted to you, his eyes wide as clarity dawned on him for a moment, before the disdain and anger he felt for you at the time zeroed in on your form, immobilizing you where you kneeled. His fury was like a searing wave. It washed over you in that instant, and it was so intense that it made your knees weaken and your heart race. You’d seen him look at others like this before, but never directed at you before. His opponents, Isagi Yoichi, Shidou Ryusei, and even Sae on occasions, sure, but you? Never before in your life.

“You.” His tone was gutteral and animalistic, unlike anything you’d ever heard from Rin before.

Sae took advantage of the situation at that precise moment to slide off the mattress and out of dodge, but not before giving you a knowing wink and a sly look. Rin didn’t even seem to react to this. In fact, now that Sae was out of the picture, his arm dropped to his side, and you became the new target of his wrath.

It was as though you were peering into the eyes of a savage beast—of a starving lion who had finally cornered a gazelle who continuously fled and eluded the beast from her fate. Before you could react, Rin’s hands were on you, a strong hand wrapped around your neck to lift you from your haunches and into a proper kneeling position so that he could glower at you at eye level.

“Don’t you think for a second, Y/N, that you’re innocent in all of this.” He was seething, hissing through clenched teeth as you could feel his breath wafting over your frightened visage. “You know, the only reason that I returned home early from my jog was because Nii-chan told me that he had just arrived home? Do you know that it only took me ten minutes to come back after that?” You could feel his grip trembling in your veins, like he was holding himself back from lashing out at you further. "You mean to tell me that it only took him 600 seconds to strip you down and fuck you stupid on his cock in the mere minutes that he was here, huh? For you to forget your loyalty and love for me in only 10 minutes, Y/N?"

Tears that you hadn’t even realized had begun to spill streamed down your cheeks. Your heart ached with the knowledge that your actions had shattered trust and betrayed the trust of someone who had placed faith in you. In the midst of your tears, you struggled to find the right words to express the depths of your remorse. You wanted to take back your choices and undo the damage you had done, but you knew that you couldn't erase the past. It was far too late for that.

“But you know what,” Rin continued, his grip on your throat as well as his expression softening. “I’m not mad.” He whispered, his voice suddenly sincere. His hand left your neck entirely in favor of stroking your hair lovingly with his other caressing your cheek, a stark contrast to the unbridled wrath he had displayed toward you only moments before.

You blinked, dumbfounded. But you could not help but lean into his tenderness and crave his affection after such a strenuous situation, especially when he offered such gentle touches and words.

“Y-You’re not?” You whispered, your voice hopeful, as tears welded up in your eyes for a different reason now—out of joy.

Rin shook his head with the faintest of smiles on his face. “I’m not . . .” His tone remained soft, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead that you found yourself falling into. Almost immediately, you were melting into him, graceful for your boyfriend’s compassion.

“I’m furious.”

In an instant, a switch had flipped, and once again, Rin turned the tables on you. Before you could respond, his fist became unbearably tight at the crown of your hair, pulling mercilessly at the roots before he tugged your gaze to meet his, ablaze with fury. Now, it was your turn to look betrayed as your pretty eyes widened with both incredulity and fear as you gaped at your lover and the sinister look in his eye.

“But don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll feel much, much better after I blow some steam off by using your pretty body.”

You could barely manage a squeal as you were soon manhandled atop Rin's bed until you were lying on your back with your head hanging over the edge. Your vision turned upside down, and you craned your neck to look up at Rin, who was busy ridding himself of his sweatpants and boxers until he was finally able to tug free his painfully hard cock right above your face. Your mouth watered at the sight of your lover’s well-endowed length at its full mast, thick, hot, and sweltering with a vein bulging along its otherwise smooth underside. His blushed tip drooled with pre, which he used to lube his hand as he pumped himself above you, unable to keep his gaze from wandering over your lewd, plump, and womanly body.

“Fuck,” He swore as he tossed his head back, allowing you to watch as his balls clenched and length twitched from the wave of pleasure that overcame him.

You noticed movement in the space between Rin's muscular thighs as you watched Sae sit in Rin's desk chair behind him, one arm resting on the arm rest while the other languidly stroked his semi-hard cock and one leg resting atop the other at the ankle. When he caught your gaze, he shot you a wolfish smirk, using your slick to roll his thumb around his reddened tip.

“Don’t look at me, princess. Look at your pretty boyfriend.”

At his command, your gaze rose, only to see Rin using his thumb to spread your lips and guide his cock into the warmth of your mouth. As you took inch by inch into your throat, you could hear your lover groaning above you, swearing something about you swallowing him down like it was nothing. Though it really wouldn’t be a punishment if he made things easy for you, would it?

Soon, he reached the hilt of your throat, and his balls were firmly nestled against your nose, allowing you to inhale his salty yet pleasant musk. Both of his large palms reached down to grab the sides of your head before his hips began to thrust himself in and out of your tight cavern, gradually picking up his pace until he was pistoning in and out of you without mercy. You spluttered and gagged, your eyes squeezing shut as you focused on breathing through your nose when you could as his balls pummeled relentlessly into your nose, making sure to smother you with his heavy orbs each time.

“Hngh, shit, Y/N!” Rin swore, his eyes torn between fixating on the sinful bounce of your large breasts from his unrelenting thrusts or the way his girth bulged your throat every time he bottomed out inside of you. “Taking this dick like it’s nothing, huh?” Rin hissed through clenched teeth as he grabbed both of your breasts in his palms and delivered merciless squeezes. “This is what sluts like you were made for, hm? Swallowing down cocks with no efforts, draining them of every last drop?” He paused, tossing his head back to groan as his balls churned beneath him. He had been pent up for so long that he knew he wouldn’t last any longer. “Never content with just one man’s dick inside of you, always craving more . . Fuck~!"

As 'effortlessly' as he described you accepting his length and brutish treatment, you still needed to breathe, which was proving to be an impossible task as his thrusts became more animalistic and sloppy. The harsh sounds of his tip bullying the end of your throat resonated off of the room, the wet “glrk, glrk, glrks” filling your ears and making your cheeks burn at the vulgarity of it all. Your hands reached up to his muscular thighs, seeking purchase from his lethal thrusts, only to have both of your wrists seized in one large hand and pinned atop your breasts. His other hand went to your nose and tightly pinched it, effectively stopping your only source of life—breathing—and adding to his savagery. The distinct pleasure moans he once emitted had devolved into almost feral snarls and grunts, as if you were being ravaged by a beast rather than your typically stoic boyfriend.

“Take it, fuckin’ take it.” He spat as his hips stuttered. Then, without warning, he pressed himself against your face, the base of his cock hilting at your lips as his balls smushed flush against your nose, further deepening your struggle to breathe. You soon found yourself preoccupied with not choking as Rin's hot, steaming cum shot down your throat, forcing you to swallow it all down. That did not stop you from flailing beneath Rin, though, and he effortlessly wrangled you down and made you take rope after rope of his seed into your spasming throat.

You whined aloud, attempting to yell out to him that if he didn’t let up, you were about to pass out, but it was clear that he didn’t give a damn if you remained conscious or not. That is, until a few more agonizing seconds passed and black spots started to obscure your vision when Rin freed himself from your throat, his semi-hard shaft hanging over your face with strings of your saliva and his seed still clinging to his length.

You gasped for air, greedily gulping down sweet, sweet breaths of pure oxygen, and your lungs were more than thankful for the reprieve. Despite your blood pumping furiously in your ears, you could still make out the sound of a chuckle from behind Rin, belonging to none other than Sae.

“Damn, Rinnie. I thought you were going to kill her.” He snickered, still lazily stroking at his dick, which twitched in his palm when your eyes met yet again.

But there was no use concentrating on him, because Rin retreated a few steps and blocked your view once more. Looking up at him with your thoroughly ruined visage, you nearly gasped at the untamed lust swimming within his eyes. It was the same expression he would have when his ego took over on the field—hungry and damn near starving.

“Not yet.”

You felt rough hands grabbing at your body again, tossing you about as though you were a ragdoll, until you found yourself in an all-too-familiar position on your hands and knees. Those same hands seized at your plump hips and snatched you back until your ankles hung off of the bed, forcing a squeal to rip from your lips. Your hips jumped as Rin's blunt cock tip touched your clit, and your toes curled as he gave you several sharp smacks of his cock to your cunt.

“R-Rinnie.” You whimpered, casting a sidelong glance at him, your mouth slightly open in defiance of his actions, pleading for a break, if only to catch your breath before he pummeled you until you couldn’t see straight. However, your voice was cut short when you felt his hands seize a handful of your hair and tug at your head until your back was hard against his chest.

“Sluts don’t talk, Y/N.” He spat against your cheek. “They moan, get their pussies used, their throats fucked, and only say, 'Yes, sir, give me more.’ Do you understand me?”

You nodded silently, knowing that trying to talk sense into his head when he was acting this way was a fruitless endeavor.

“Good girl.” His lips brushed against your cheek in a fleeting kiss. “I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth unless it’s begging me for me, understood?”

With the knowledge that answering out loud would be foolish, you nodded once more, suppressing a startled cry as he quickly brought you back down into his sheets, pressing your back into an almost painful arch with his hand planted firmly on your head. Rin seized his cock and sank it inch by inch into your tight cunt, evoking deep, guttural keens from you both without saying another word. He gave you a breathy, arousing laugh that curled your toes. He couldn’t believe that after all of this, your pretty pussy still proceeded to greedily suckle his cock as though it just couldn’t get enough.

He gave you no time to respond before he launched into his ferocious pace, pouring all of his anger, contempt, and hatred toward you into your abused hole in a way that left you feeling nothing but pure euphoria. Shouts and high-pitched cries of pleasure tore from your throat against your better judgment, partially muffled by the sheets he forced your head into. Your head was spinning, and your thoughts were focused only on how deliciously Rin pounded into you. His cock's mouth-watering curve made your thighs tremble and your knees weaken beneath you as he relentlessly pounded into your sweet spot. Observing your shaking limbs, Rin steadied your hips with both of his hands, using his improved grip to thrust more deliberately into your cunt, his thick girth bottoming out inside of you each time.

“Look a’that” Rin drawled breathlessly amidst the rhythmic clapping of his pelvis against your ass, the vulgar bouncing off of the walls. “My dick is so good you just can’t shut the fuck up, huh?”

“Ah, yes, yes, God, yes, Rin~!” You babbled, unable to stop the tears of ecstasy that squeezed from your pretty eyes.

“—But you love Nii-chan’s dick more than mine, right?”

Suddenly his ferocious pace turned into lackadaisical humps, ruining what immense pleasure had been building up within you and corrupting your mind with the need for more. You whined, one partially in desperation and the other in frustration. You moved your hips, trying to fuck yourself on Rin's cock, while craning your neck to get a better look at your boyfriend. Rin was no idiot, though. Having already sensed your intentions, his grip steeled on your hips, preventing you from moving further, much to your vexation.

“Ah, ah, Y/N.” Rin chided, the faintest hint of a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his lips with his eyes narrowed in amusement. He firmly pressed your ass against his hips, circling his length inside of you with agonizingly slow hip rotations that taunted you with just enough stimulation that it left you mewling for more. “Answer me first, you needy bitch.” A gleam of sadism twinkled in his eye, making your heart lurch in his chest at how closely he resembled his brother.

“N-No, God, Rin.” You whispered breathlessly, shaking your head in an attempt to think clearly amidst your cockdrunk haze. However, each subtle rotation of his hips against your ass stirred your thoughts in a way that only muddied them further. “I love your cock more, I-I swear—”

“—So you’re a cheater, a whore, and a dirty little liar, Y/N?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, pushing yourself up from the mattress to now see Sae standing in front of you, glowering down at you with the same, if not more, sadistic gleam in his eye. Not daring to break your gaze from his own, you watched through your peripheral vision as his fists pumped his hard shaft only mere inches away from your face.

“Here I was, thinking you had more shame than this.” Sae huffed, clicking his tongue as his thumb stroked over your swollen bottom lip. “Yet here you are, so desperate for yet another cock in your drooling fuckhole that you’d do anything—even lie—just to relive the feeling of having what’s left of your pretty lil’ brains fucked out, right?”

“I—I . . .”

Resonably, you were at a loss for words, but there was no need to worry as Rin spoke up for you, “And you can’t even answer him? Pathetic. I bet if we let all of those lukewarm fuckfaces from Blue Lock run a train on you, you’d love every second of it, huh, princess?” He further accentuated his point with a hard, trained thrust deep into your womb. You swear he even grazed your cervix.

“No, no! I-I only want you, Rin. I only want you, I love you!”

You squeezed your eyes shut, and, although you were oblivious to it, the brothers shared a look with one another. Their silence was deafening, and even Rin’s hips had stilled within you. However, before you were able to voice your confusion, you would feel sharp, phallic taps against your cheek. You didn’t even have to open your eyes to know what it was.

“Good girl.” Sae cooed condescendingly as though he were talking to a mutt worthy of praise.

“Probably the most truthful statement you said all night,” Rin followed, albeit far quieter than his sibling as his thrusts once again resumed, drawing tantalizing moans from your lips. “Then tell me after this, which one of us fucks you better, yeah? And don’t you dare.” He paused, using his large hand to rain down a set of smacks on both of your pillowy ass cheeks forcing a cry to rip from your lips. “Dream of lying to me.”

You nodded as best you could against the force of Sae pressing his cock against your face, using his thumb to hold his length taut as he literally fucked your face with it. Immediately, Rin’s brutal pace resumed again. Using his newly acquired leverage and his bruising grip on your hips, he pressed his foot against the mattress next to your knee and proceeded to fuck himself deeper into you. It felt like he was trying to pry you open with each thrust. Had it not been for Sae taking the opportunity to shove his cock into your mouth the moment you opened it to muffle your cry of ecstasy, you were certain that the neighbors would’ve thought you were being murdered.

In a way, though, it was almost like you were.

It was like you were being sandwiched between two killers, only instead of making you feel agony, they were both hellbent on delivering the most utmost pleasure to you—Rin rearranging your guts from behind and Sae feeding you inch after inch of his thick cock, neither one of them stopping until they were satisfied with having your belly pumped full of their cum.

My, the Itoshi brothers were truly the devil, weren’t they?

“Hngh, fuck. F-Fuck!” Rin snarled from behind you, his once quiet moans now morphing into beastly grunts and animalistic growls. You were certain that the blunt tips of his nails were now slicing into you from his strength, one of his hands dragging down your lower back to leave reddened marks in their wake until they marked your rippling ass, which was soon pelted with a few more furious swats.

“Stupid cumslut, grippin’ me so fuckin’ tight.” His voice grew raspy as his head tossed back in euphoria, carnal pants and heaves ripping from his throat so frequently that it almost did feel like you were being ravaged by a beast.

It was to the point where Sae's cock was slipping out of your mouth in favor of his palms holding your cheeks, and turning your head to look over your shoulder at your lover. Though still as eager for his release as Rin was, he continued to thrust his cock lazily against your face and pillowy brims.

“My god, princess. Look at what you’re turning him into.”

It was a sight to behold—one that you had only witnessed for yourself once before at the Blue Lock vs. U-20 game. Rin’s brows were raised, and his teal oculars were wide, swirling with untamable lust and desire as though he were being consumed by it. His lips were parted, his jaw dropped partially as his tongue dangled out of his mouth, and globs of crystalline drool pooled over his pink muscle, oozing down his chin and onto your abused cheeks below. He wasn’t looking at you. (You don’t know if you would be able to handle it if he did.) Instead, his gaze engrossed itself in the way your ass plapped against his pelvis, the sticky lines of your juices, and his drool connecting the two of you in a way that was beyond intimate. He was intoxicated, thoroughly pussy-drunk as the only thought in his mind was, ‘Get pregnant, get pregnant, get Y/N fucking pregnant.’

The sight alone was so arousing that you couldn’t help the way your pussy clenched around his cock, strangling it further to the point where a near feral snarl ripped through his now clenched teeth, bared at you in ferocity.

“Don’t fucking do that, fucking bitch.” He snapped, delivering another smack to your ass as his gaze finally raised to meet your own, promising lethality.

“M’sorry! I-I’m sorry, Rinnie!” You wailed against Sae’s cock as Rin’s hips slammed into you with such malice that you felt your legs going numb from the overwhelming pleasure.

“No th’fuck you’re not.” He slurred, just as drunk on the stimulation as you were. “This is what the fuck you’ve wanted this entire time, isn’t it? Wanted me to fuck you up? Make you scream from my ngh! From my cock ruining your pretty little pussy, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yes! God, yes, yes, Rin, please fuck me up more!”

“Yeah? Y’want me to put a pretty baby in you? Want me to make you a mommy, Y/N? Make that gorgeous tummy swollen with my kids, yeah?”

“Y-Yes, please! Please, please, make me a mommy! M-make me yours!”

“Silly, girl.” He snarled, delivering another quick swat to your ruined ass. “You were always mine.”

The idea of filling you to the brim with his seed and claiming you in a way that no man could ever claim—as the mother of his children—caused his erratic pace to falter and grow sloppier by the minute.

“Mine.” He growled. “Mine, mine, all fucking mine!”

Then, almost in perfect unison—pristine synchronization—you came together. Hips smothered firmly against your ass, he pumped rope after rope of his hot, thick cum inside of you, aiming deep into your womb with every intention of impregnating you. While you, on the otherhand, were unable to hold yourself up any longer, collapsing on the mattress as your orgasm washed over you. A barrage of your sweet juices fired over Rin’s cock, pelvis, thighs, and the poor sheets beneath you. Before you had any time to regain your bearings, you felt another tap on your cheek of the same phallic length from earlier.

“You forgot about me, pretty? C’mon, open that mouth for me one more time, yeah?”

Exhausted, you did as he asked without resistance, allowing your jaw to fall slack just enough for Sae to slip his cock into it. In a few pumps with his fist, the midfilder gladly fed you thick ropes of his seed, painting your mouth with his sticky release, which you wearily sucked down.

Then, unceremoniously, the two brothers collapsed beside you atop the ruined sheets.

The three of you lay there, completely depleted of all that you possessed. You were unquestionably the worst of the three, with deep teeth marks, scratches from blunt nails, bruises from fingerprints, and splotches of darkening hickies all over your body. Had anyone known any better, you appeared as though you had been mauled by savages—those very same savages who lay exhausted beside you.

After several much needed beats of deep silence, you felt the stirring of both of them pushing themselves up from the bed, and hands that were once so rough and unforgiving on your body were now handling you with the utmost care as though you were a porcelain doll made of the finest glass. As you walked the thin line bordering consciousness and unconsciousness, you felt warm, moist towels caressing your thighs, chest, and forehead, ridding you of any filth that tainted your once-supple skin. The sheets that had become beyond soiled from all of your fluids were gently lifted from beneath you and replaced with warm ones that had just come out of the dryer that had been running before Sae arrived. Just as you were about to fall asleep, your body was manipulated once more, this time into another equally warm one, causing your heavy lids to flutter open to focus on none other than your boyfriend—Rin's teal oculars.

“You still with me?” He inquired, his previously harsh tone softening to gentle and tender, as if speaking any louder would shatter your fragility.

You nodded weakly, seeking solace in his warmth and soft body, snuggling your petite frame into his. Rin quietly returned the favor, running his fingers through your hair and giving you occasional massages in the spots where he and Sae got too rough with you.

Speaking of, you heard Rin's door open and saw Sae standing in front of you, adorning a pair of black designer boxers.

“Here.” The midfeilder said plainly, passing a miniature carton of strawberry milk your way with a straw poked through the center.

Clearly in no position to receive such generosity, Rin accepted it for you, gently maneuvering you into a position where you could comfortably sip the much needed liquid into your dehydrated body. As you did so, Rin’s head rested atop your own, but not before he placed a tender, sweet kiss on your forehead full of love, unlike the one from earlier that was meant to lure you into a false sense of security. This is exactly what you needed after such arduous affairs, being held in your lover’s strong arms while enjoying the best strawberry milk you’ve ever had.

What should’ve been a cute moment was interrupted by Sae, who, with a look of disgust on his features, stated, “You two are disgusting.”

“Fuck you too, Nii-chan.” Rin shot over his shoulder, not missing the way Sae gave him the finger on his way out as he slammed his room door shut, leaving you and Rin in what should have been a comfortable silence.

But it was hampered by the sense of ambiguity that pervaded your relationship. The weight of past transgressions and tribulations weighed upon you both so heavily that it was nearly suffocating, threatening to take you both alive if it wasn’t for—

“I’m sorry.” The two of you stated in unison before, rather comically, whipping your heads to stare at one another, bewildered.

“Y/N.” Rin sighed heavily, shaking his head in denial. “You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. I should be. I made it seem like everything was all your fault when it was really Sae and I’s.” Another sigh drew from his lips as the realization dawned on him of the agreement he had made with his older brother to allow them to share you, one, without your prior consent, and two, without your knowledge. Not to mention, pinning the entire thing on you as though you were the infidelious one here.

“Y-Y/N.” His voice quivered. His gaze, too ashamed to look at you any further, drew to the ceiling. In the bright lights of his room, you watched as his eyes glazed over, tears that he refused to let fall clearly stinging at his irises. His face was etched with anguish; the weight of his actions had hit him like a sledgehammer, and his distress was palpable. “I-I’m sorry.” He whispered, daring himself to glance in your direction.

“Rinnie.” You uttered softly, biting back a wince as your sore arm rose to gently cup his cheek, the pad of your thumb swiping at his waterline to catch a straying tear. He wasn’t too good with words of sincerity, and you knew that—you wouldn’t press him for more. “I forgive you, so please don’t cry.” As you leaned in to give him a soft peck on the jaw, you noticed that you also felt the familiar sting of tears pricking your eyes. “You’re going to make me cry too, baby.”

Both of you were unable to control the gentle and quiet laughter that jostled your beings. And there it was—the moment of reprieve where the pressure of the unknown was lifted, replaced by a profound sense of reconciliation and renewal. Your eyes met with an intensity that conveyed unspoken apologies, forgiveness, and the promise of a fresh beginning. You two felt more intimate and connected to one another at that precise moment than you had ever experienced.

After you had finally finished the last of your drink, Rin took the empty carton from you and set it on his nightstand. You then proceed to curl into his chest, to which he ensared you in his grasp, entwining your limbs in his. With your head nestled against his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart soothed you and eased your mind or any lingering parasites. That is when you sensed it: the tranquil siren's song of sleep drawing you deeper and deeper into its pacifying depths.

However, before you could finally embrace slumber’s sweet call, Rin’s soft voice called out to you once more.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“. . . I love you too, Rinnie.”

#blue lock #blue lock smut #bllk smut #rin itoshi #sae itoshi #bllk imagines #blue lock headcanons #bllk headcanons #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock hcs #rin itoshi smut #sae itoshi smut #vampiiebitez #rin itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x reader

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year ago

Text

Day 7: Somnophilia - Winter Soldier

Summary: He had been instructed to find you after he had completed his mission for a debrief, but he has needs to be taken care of first.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dubious content!!!, consensual somnophilia, kinda freeuse, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, rough sex, obsessive behaviour, multiple orgasms

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The Winter Soldier had only been to your home once more, the location of which wasn’t even included in any Hydra files, but he knew. He always seemed to know where you were, seeking to find you in the darkness. He had been your patient and priority for years. Not only were you his Doctor but carer, the person to give him his missions and report back to; you fed him, helped even to wash him on occasions, you had been ordered to look after the Soldier’s every need, by whatever was necessary.

You’d instructed him two days before report to you following the completion of his mission, and tomorrow, in the early hours of the morning, you were to go to the Hydra base and wait for him to arrive. This was why you were shocked, to say the least when he turned up at your home clearly; whatever had occurred during the mission had riled him up, making him desperate for release.

You should have anticipated this with the Winter Soldier, and to be truthful, you, too, needed some sort of a release from how on edge you’d been over the last 36 hours of watching his heartbeat on a monitor to make sure that he was surviving through the mission. Only after he had confirmed the kill and was on his journey back you finally collapsed face-first onto the bed.

Even though he was your patient, the relationship was significantly blurred as of late as human instinct and the need to find satisfaction through touch had escalated. You weren’t sure when or where, but as he became more unsettled and riled up, his trust in you increased, and he made advances of the sexual kind.

You’d used the excuse that it was to get his frustrations out, which is why you’d allowed it to continue, but in truth, you were just as lonely and in need of human contact, too. The bond the two of you had formed over the years meant that, in an odd way that was inexplainable, you trusted the assassin. There had been enough circumstances that he had lost control and on the warpath, and the only person who would never come to any harm would be you; even after his memory was wiped, he would automatically answer to you and no one else.

Therefore, now, the Soldier was more unpredictable, needing the warmth of your body but also being fascinated by how you reacted to the point that he’d become obsessed. This was how you got to the situation you were currently in.

You’d been in a deep-sated sleep that was desperately needed, but because of that, you were incredibly disorientated. The bed felt softer than usual; the thump of your heart fluttered against your eardrums, covering up the sounds produced further down the bed.

Your entire body was floating like the bed had disappeared, and you’d somehow landed on a fluffy cloud. Everywhere was warm, comfortable and yet vulnerable; you felt exposed at first but soon realised that the bed sheet must have slipped from your body, exposing your nudity.

The more that time ticked on, the more your surroundings began to unblur. You realised that the warmth of your body was actually a burning in your muscles being held in a specific position by a heavy weight pushing on it.

Taking a slow, deep breath, filling your lungs with cool air, you soon came to the realisation that you were moaning deep from the back of your throat. Drowsy, dry moans that continued in a steady flow as you reacted to something even in the depths of sleep.

With a whole body shiver, you attempted to move, to understand why your core was pulsing with pleasure; however, when you tried to stretch your legs, thick leather gloved-covered hands held your thighs back so that your knees were grazing your chest.

“Wha-What’s going on?” you asked, but your throat was so dry and sleep still evident so that your voice was croaky and deeper than usual. Your only answer came in a long hard lick of a tongue from your hole to your clit.

Your back arched with an automatic response, hands moving down to deel whoever was there and was greeted with a clammy forehead and hair that felt long, unwashed and draped over your mound.

A powerful suck to your throbbing bundle of nerves forced your eyes to bolt open; back still arched, but now, you were pushing up on your elbows to half sit up and look at the man you already knew who was there, eating you out like a man wholly starved, like it was his first meal in days. You supposed he probably was hungry, besides from the fact that he’d been travelling for hours, as his high metabolism meant he usually was hungrier quicker than others.

The Winter Soldier was lying on the bed, stomach down against the mattress, his tactical gear still on and only his mask was missing. He was still coated in grim dirt from the mission, even on the gloves that held your thighs in place, but he didn’t care, and neither did you as he helped himself to your pussy. For a moment, you contemplated his night; he must have travelled non-stop to get here and then dropped to his knees and started licking your cunt, probably too hyper-fixated on your nakedness even to bother to wake you.

The moans in the back of your throat increased in volume, the tips of your fingers moving further into his hair to hold him in that position right as his tongue curled deep inside your hole just as you liked it.

The Asset's eyes were closed. However, they always were when he pleasured you, as if he was so in the zone, only wanting to listen to your sweet melodies of moans and taste your unique sweet taste like it was the best and only thing that mattered to him.

“Soldier”, you gasped with a rush of air escaping your mouth as you collapsed back onto the mattress, feet tilting and resting onto his shoulders to help keep him in that same position.

The grip on your thighs tightened almost to the point of leaving bruises as he responded to his title, and your walls were beginning to clamp down with more urgency to suck his tongue deeper. Just a little more, a particular flick of his tongue, and you were orgasming, squishing his face by grinding your hips and holding his hair firmly in place as your cunt contracted against his tongue.

The Winter Soldier didn’t stop fucking you with his tongue until your muscles loosened and fingers relaxed, and then dropped back onto the mattress as you stared up at the ceiling in the after-orgasmic bliss.

One minute, you’re grinning like an idiot, blowing out a long, steady breath, and the next, you’re face down on the bed as the Asset twisted your hips, turning you over and rising on the bed himself.

This was usually how it happened, so you had anticipated it, especially to be moved into this position. It was his favourite position to do it from behind, whether it was bending over a desk, countertop, bed or on your knees like you were now, face down and ass up. The conclusion you’d come to that he preferred it this was it wasn’t as personal as face to face, which had happened once, and he’d gone into a complete meltdown to the point that he had needed to be frozen again and Pierce had been beyond fuming after he’d found out what had happened. It was most likely because he’d seen the euphoria on your face during sex and bought back some human emotion for him that the Soldier couldn’t understand.

So now, the fucking was exclusively from behind, but you didn’t mind, especially as it was wild, as he always fucked you so deep from this angle. The Asset only unzipped himself, not bothering to undress any further, finding it unnecessary even to remove his shoes as he wiped his cock up and down your folds to later his tip in your juices.

This was your only warning before he began to fuck you. One sharp thrust in, 5 seconds to adjust and then it was a free-for-all.

Hard, deep, fast thrusts. Your bed bounced against the wall, smacking noises of both the impact of the bed and your hips being slapped against his as he held tightly onto the flesh, using the momentum to push and pull your body against his.

The Winter Solider’s balls smacked your tender clit, swollen from his mouth. Your fingers fisted into the pillow beneath your face, teeth also having to bite the material so that your poor neighbours didn’t complain about the screaming at whatever late hour that it was.

He was rough, but the Asset needed to be. He needed to feel hard sparking touches as anything else would have been too overstimulating in the sense that he wasn’t used to soft touches, only from you, but when he was in control, he craved it to be like this. The mushroomed tip of his thick cock was fucking repeatedly into your cervix, almost making you see stars with how good and intense it felt. Your juices were making squelching noises with each thrust of his member, and it was so loud and obscene that it covered the sound of your muffled moans.

Not a single noise came from the Asset; he was always silent for the most of it. Only his heavy breathing could be heard, but at least this time, he wasn’t wearing his mask like usual.

However, he decided to mix it up slightly, doing something he hadn’t attempted before as his grip on your hip released so he could take hold of your shoulder, pulling on it until you were entirely on your knees, naked back flush against his tactical gear-clothed chest. The arm on your shoulder then scooped around your front, resting between your breasts and fingers around your neck to ensure you didn’t fall forward. You knew the metal arm was holding you up due to the firm feeling beneath the leather clothes.

His parted lips hovered next to your ear like he would whisper something to you, but no noises or words came. The rolling of his hips slowed, but the thrusts were still just as deep and methodical, the buckles of his belt digging into your bare flesh until you were clawing at his wrist to all of the stimulation.

It felt so good, so god damn good that you were already clinging to him and wanting to scream that you were about to orgasm again. Still, he already knew from how your pussy clutched to him like a lifeline, attempting to milk his cock with his hard it was squeezing his length in flutters. The Soldier continued, not phased or slowing as you shivered and then came, warm wet juices soaking down your thighs as your cunt pulsed around his cock.

Nothing could ever prepare you for his libido, though. He could stay hard for hours due to his super serum, and with how needy and lonely you were, you’d fucked him enough time to get used to the long sessions, knowing by the end, you’d be overstimulated and thoroughly satisfied.

Two more orgasms later, you were a trembling mess, having moved to lie on your side as he spooned close behind, hair drenched from how warm he was, still completely dressed. You were curled around your pillow, pussy sensitive and flooded from all of your orgasms, and he finally made a noise, releasing a deep groan as his seed spilt into your pussy, coating your walls and then leaking out and dripping onto the bed.

You were already half asleep again as he pulled out, standing to clean himself. With half-lidded, heavy eyes, you forced yourself to turn onto your back to follow his movements. It was sometimes hard to remember what your job role was, that it wasn’t some kind of a fling or one-night stand, so with great difficulty, you asked, “Mission report?”

#winter soldier #bucky barnes #bucky #winter soldier x reader #winter solder smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #marvel smut #marvel #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #mine*

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thehistoriangirl · 7 days ago

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If You Hadn't Left (Me) [Chapter 2]

I live!!!

Viktor x Fem! Reader-----2.1K----SFW

// M A S T E R L I S T

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Synopsis:Viktor was never supposed to see you again, just like you had promised that evening when you both ended up heartbroken and bitter toward destiny and all its twisted ways. So twisted as to put you back into his life not only as a temporal working partner to cover Jayce’s absences, but also as the maid of honor in the wedding where he’ll be the best man. Hypothetically, it doesn’t have to be that difficult to find a way around the river of memories flowing between you both. Though, of course, hypotheses are flawed. Just like that part of him that still craves another ending to this story.

Chapter Summary: People say things look better under a new light. But once you step inside Viktor's lab, Viktor discovers that the view isn't just striking, but also very troublesome.

Taglist: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @syren201 @slycazzz @jourlinemaktan @seraceres @m1dnight-artisan

Viktor was no stranger to sleepless nights.

Most of them could be excused by incessant workload lined up on his desk in the form of blueprints and pages filled with scribbles of ink where equations hadn’t resolved in a positive way.

It wasn’t about rushing thoughts of the future looming over his shoulder either; the time when his conscience whispered that he couldn’t be good enough. That he’d never be, as progress is a fleeting, moody thing.

What an unbreakable riddle were you. Your words haunted him; your kiss… soared his heart. Guiltily so; flown at the past he promised couldn’t revisit. And not only because digging out the tender flesh already buried would mean expose the wound again, risking of bleeding out.

I want to be the Interior Design’ Teacher at the Architecture Faculty.

He laid in his bed, covers barely thrown open, his mind filled with the million possibilities about the future, once hopeful and bright with all the new inventions he could create with Hextech, to the one where he had to walk carefully across campus to not take a glimpse of you passing by.

Get over it, get over it.

He wished it’d be so easy. Guilt gnawed at him, now already broken free from the depths of the drawer where he kept your photo. The ring he never gave you, that he’d been fool enough not to return. A treacherous mind he had, repeating old routines as his personal condemn.

Sighing, he incorporated at the edge of the bed. Pitch darkness looked back from every corner of the quiet room. His fingers grabbed the handle of his crutch, the familiar leather creaked under his unrelenting grasp once he hauled himself up.

He should have left right away, as he did when the strain in his muscles didn’t allow him any rest. But something stopped him.

His reflection in the mirror showed what he most tried to hide. Deep eyebags, messy hair, wrinkly clothes.

Viktor didn’t wish to give you reasons as to think he was so unkept because of you. Because he wasn’t—it was only a bad night sleep. Not the first and either the last.

Groaning, he took the dubious decision to bathe in the middle of the night. Seeking the refuge of the cold water to calm the cascade of thoughts sieging him. It was like any other day back at the Academy, when he was Heimerdinger’s assistant. Time had gone backwards.

Replaced rolled up dress-shirt’s sleeves with proper cufflinks. His creamy vest now gray with ash and oil stains replaced by a clean one, just as his pants. Untamed hair controlled with luck.

The way back to the lab was calmer at night, with only the cold hitting his face during his journey up the hill. Empty boulevards whose metallic details shone silver against a crescent moon in a clear, starry sky.

He wondered, for a moment where his mind forgot to close the floodgate, if the sky looked the same in the place you had being for the last decade. That—if the tawdriness of those novelists wasn’t tricking him—the moon had watched you built who you were now.

He couldn’t stop the stab of jealousy that coursed through his bones.

The walk cut short after that, dipping his face to the ground until the had to look up toward the guards appointed at the entrance of the research building. A simple nod. At least he didn’t have to break in again, though he thanked those days where lies had flown out his tongue so easily.

Viktor presaged he would need the practice.

*~*~*~*~*~*

At first, he heard the echo of your heels against the desolate hallway.

The familiar whirring mechanism of the door that both Jayce and him had forgotten to oil up.

Then, he must fill the uncomfortable feeling that the lab was shrunk up.

“You’re late.” As an answer, you put a cup of steaming coffee at his left, right where there weren’t any papers that could be stained. “…thank you.”

Finally, he saw you.

A loose, airy blouse and a fancy skirt that hugged your legs up your knees. Perfect for a space this enclosed where the heat of the machine motors warmed it up by noon.

“You can’t wear that,” he stated, meeting your frown with his own. “Where’s your safety equipment?”

“Where’s yours?” you said back, crossing your arms in signal of victory when Viktor got out of excuses.

“I have deep understanding of safety measures in a space such as this, whereas you do not.”

“What? Do you think I’m going to lay on the desk while you tinker with a machine?” You huffed. “Have more faith in me, Viktor.”

You shouldn’t say his name so nonchalantly, especially when Viktor could never mask his reactions to your keen eyes.

“I’m going to attempt to fix this faulty prototype, so you’ll have to wear at least a lab coat if you want to enter the lab.”

“Really now?”

Grunting, Viktor stood up toward the closet at the far left of the room, grabbing two of his coats—because you wouldn’t let him alone if he didn’t abide by his own rules. “Take this one,” he said, throwing you one with his free hand, plopping in the stool back again.

“Don’t you have a smaller one?” He saw you, with the grey clothes almost serving as a robe. One of the sleeves was burned, with a hole the size of the Hexclaw’s laser.

“It’s the only one we have here,” Viktor lied. Well, only a half-truth. Jayce’s clothes wouldn’t fit you, and Sky kept them locked inside her workstation in the annex room.

“Something more I need to wear? Or can you signal me Jayce’s drawing table?” You said instead, leaving your bag at one corner of the hexagonal forge in the middle of the room. Right next to Viktor’s bag where he had shoved the jacket he wore to come here at the dead of night.

“It’s the only one next to the chalkboard.” They shared worktable for all the times Jayce was pondering about designs while Viktor looked at the sketches to make modifications. He had all night to clean it, stacking the papers in Jayce’s desk that wouldn’t be used in a while so you didn’t have another reason to criticize him. “You can use the chalkboard if you want.”

“It’s alright. I’m only drafting planes with the sizes they provided.” You voice sounded absent, muffled once you crouched to lift your map case, getting out your usual tools of mediation, escalimeter, and set squares. The gigantic T ruler, slid smoothly over the worn-out wood. Every movement seemed so easy to emulate, the way your fingers flew across the surface to set the plan in front of you, getting out all kind of pencils that for Viktor looked all the same.

“Do you need something?” Your voice tore him away whatever place his mind was wandering.

“What?”

“You’re staring.”

He blinked, using his left leg to turn the stool around. “Of course I wasn’t,” he snapped, followed by the sound of your unamused hum.

After all, you promised to maintain peace, and so you did during the excruciatingly long morning.

Viktor had his back sore from being hunched down toward a pile of scribbles that made no sense; unconclusive theories and half-done equations. Yet he didn’t dare to look away the paper in front of him, no matter how much his eyes blurred and his muscles ached. He could hear the friction of the pencil against paper, the eraser’s circular motions and the soft blow coming from your lips.

Years ago, all you had was the familiar table at the third story of the library. Next a window so you both tracked the time by the change of light. He still remembered the hues over your hair, like a kaleidoscope. By the time darkness had arrived, he was tugging at your hand over the table to wake you up.

Since when reminiscences sieged him? It was so usual for Piltover to always look toward the future that attempt to look back would endanger one into tripping and being left behind. This felt wrong, stuck in a past that no longer mattered.

You were only classmates, after all.

“This is the design.” Over his numb hands, the paper of your plan was sturdy and rough to stop the abrasion of the eraser from making a hole in it. He was thankful for the hiding spot once he felt his right hand twitch by instinct, just awoken by the familiar, now fancier, milk and lavender scent of your hair.

His eyes swept over the drawing; thin, delicate lines showed a slick tower mirroring that of the Hexgates, curved and unbalanced in an amorph geometrical pattern. Behind it was the complement, so at the distance it would look like one.

He observed you. Dangerously close. You had changed, blooming even prettier with age. Contemplative eyes used to take every detail in, new marks of wrinkles of your smiles and beams. Yet the same lips and cheeks he loved to caress.

You arched your eyebrows. “So?”

You’re precious. “I don’t favor any of these design in particular.” He shrugged, trying to get off the weight of your attention. “They’re not my taste.”

“Then you have terrible taste.”

Oh, truly? You wanted to pick a fight? He had some time to spare, then.

“Alright. Do you want an honest opinion?” Viktor sighed, as if he were exhausted by this conversation and not having his heart working overtime. “They’re ugly.”

You smiled at him; an ironic grin but a smile after all. “Thank you. I won first place in the contest with this one.”

Viktor extended a hand toward you, fingers pointing in an accusing manner. “Now you see? You can’t handle constructive criticism—”

“What constructive criticism?“ you hissed, but he ignored it. Taking a deep breath, you plastered a kind smile on your face that almost made him chuckle. “Why are they ugly?”

Viktor hummed. “Severe. Pretentious.”

“You don’t really recognize who the clients are, do you?”

“I know who are the clients, which is why I’m saying it.” He reclined in his seat. “This aren’t how your designs usually are.” It wasn’t a question, as shameful as it may feel, with his cheeks burning and eyes averting, he remembered the vision you once shared.

You retreated one step, a futile attempt at building a fort.

“You don’t know my designs,” you said, your tone cutting like a knife’s. “Not anymore.” You were already walking toward your bag, and Viktor cursed in a hushed breath. This wasn’t what peace supposed to be.

You loved curves and simpler facades, towers with gigantic windows so the residents inside could feel they touched the sky, small houses to hide a precious treasure in the form of a cozy living room to cuddle in a cold winter.

“Wait—” he called your name, and it sounded so wrong. Tasted bitterly when once had been the sweetest.

“What?!” you snapped. “Just give it to Jayce so he can show it to the Council. Roll it if you don’t want to see it.”

Viktor stood up. “You’re trying to pick a fight.” And he understood. You left without the chance to free all that built up inside of you the moment you got apart, and time had only harvested that sadness into pure wraith.

You huffed. “I don’t even know why I bother to ask your opinion.” You signaled the whole lab. “Do you want to know why you never won any Inventor’s Contest in your time as student? Because your designs were ugly.”

Viktor frowned. “Now who’s bringing the past? My prototypes worked perfectly—more of what I can say to the many winners whose inventions never saw the light of day outside the award.”

“Functionality and aesthetics must be interwoven, Viktor.” You felt as if teaching a stubborn child. “This is what I’m referring to when I say you have bad taste.”

“I would love to differ,” he said, his mind clouded by irritation, nervousness, and the ever-present reminders of another life. “How would you accuse me of having horrid taste when I dated you once?”

The silence hung heavy and charged between the two. You looked as if he had hit you with his cane, and he didn’t feel any better.

What have you just done?

“You’re impossible,” you just said with a tired sigh. Turning your back toward him and almost running out the door.

#viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor x you #viktor fanfic #arcane fanfic #arcane x you #arcane x female reader #arcane x reader

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