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almostempty · 11 days ago

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he knows (lucien x f!reader)

(lucien x f!reader) | wc: 3.2k | other fics | pic from here

UH HEY! I’m just gonna drop this here and scurry away to finish the other lucien one shot that i also started today, ….and then i’ll return to finishing divorced dad rock joel, and responding to all of the lovely people on here–but, like, i really just need this guy in the most emotionally unavailable and fuckable way, i hope one of y'all gets me

tags/warnings/thots: 18+/explicit, smut, toxic ex/fuckboy lucien, sex instead of communicating or processing emotions, angst but we fuckin’ and that’s the whole plot, we hit raw in my fics bc of my imaginary latex aversion or something, crying, biting, dom lucien vibes (? i never know when that’s the right tag), big dash of pls sexy man fuck the feelings away, tell me if there’s something i should add

– no editing, no thinking, wrote this in a fever dream while staring at one of the new gifs all afternoon, idk his character! I haven’t watched anything! i just saw the chains and the face and let the horny devil in charge of my sole brain cell take the lead, aka he's my barbie, i was trying to challenge myself to just do something short like 1k- but, uhhhh it’s only 3!

seeking feedback though (as always) so i can improve!! tell me all ur thots pls!

“I know,” Lucien argues, “but I never meant to hurt you.”

“I don’t care anymore.” You speak plainly. Small and quiet. Without conviction. Apathetic. Honest.

“Anymore?”

“Baby, please.” He looks at you with those stupid round eyes. He’s effortlessly put together like the wrinkles in his silk shirt were approved by a team of stylists to give him a hint of carelessness. Your incessant attraction to an emotionally unavailable man, it pulls you toward him like a bitter fate. Your therapist, Angie, says you need to learn how to find healthy attachment attractive, but if you shudder with disgust at the thought then what’s the point?

“Just listen to me,” he continues, talking in circles. Apologizing without taking accountability. Explaining away everything. His behaviors, words, decisions. Apparently, he floats through life at the whim of others. Like one of those ugly deep sea creatures, he tempts you like a glowing lure in the dark. Your eyes glaze over, everything shifting out of focus as you dissociate in your living room. No matter how numb you are, he calls to you.

You aren’t listening to the words. They don’t matter. It doesn’t matter if his tone is sincere or if it’s thick with flattery and empty promises. It’s more basic than that. Simple. The timbre of his voice. Unique to him. Imprinted in the chambers of your heart. A sharp ache spears through you, and something cracks. A fat, hot, tear escapes. With your shoulders drooping, staring at the ground, the tear falls, splashing on the floor.

When you look up, meeting his eyes, it’s over. Lucien pulls you close, wrapping his heavy arms around your frame, bracing for the crescendo, keeping you steady. Tears stream endlessly, flooding down your cheeks, sticking to your face and his neck as you bury your face into his warm skin. He’s still trying to placate you, speaking nonsense, thinking he can comfort you. Thinking he knows why you’re upset. Thinking he understands you.

When your therapist asked you to define love you had described it as being understood. Being seen. Being known. Being considered and prioritized.

Lucien thinks he knows you. Thinks he understands you. Does he think he loves you?

Following this line of thought hurts. Splitting you open, a raw beating heart, glistening, thumping, full of life, or a meal fresh and hot for a carnivore to tear into with its sharp fangs. Plump muscle, rich and dark, bleeding out, helpless. Snapping back into reality you shake, a violent sob racking your diaphragm as the pads of his fingers massage the back of your neck. Soothing. Coaxing.

You want it sharper. Rough. Violent. Distracting. Painful. Anything. With wet lashes, swollen eyes, and ragged breath you become fixated. Licking the salty tears from the dip where his neck meets his shoulder, you can feel his muscles and tendons beneath the flesh. So human and alive. He strokes his hand down your spine, attempting to pacify you, but it sparks something lurid and ravenous, instead.

You graze your teeth along his neck. “What are you doing?” he mutters the question over the top of your head. Maybe he does know you. “What do you need?” He growls, lowly, the hand he traces your spine with trails lower this time. He’s gluttonous and torrid. A hair-trigger to shift from his concern for your pain and the hole in your heart to a sordid desire to mollify you with his fingers and his cock.

Maybe it’s a perversion, the tangled experience of despair and desire, the duet of anger and arousal, the sick escape using sex to skip over the emotional suffering. But it’s exactly what you want. It’s the root of the fucked up toxicity. Of everything wrong between you. He does know. He does understand. The same heat that flickers in your core sparks in his.

Voracious and brash. You bite down, sinking your teeth into his neck, igniting a wildfire. An untamable beast. Again and again and again. Biting, sucking, kissing. His skin tender and raw, your lips wet and swollen. You run a hand along the back of his neck, tugging into his hair, anchoring your grip, and pulling a husky groan from his throat.

“What do you need?” Lucien repeats, this time with a sharper edge. He detaches you from the safety of the crook of his neck. His two hands. Unnecessarily large, warm, and steady brace either side of your jaw, his fingers wrapping behind your neck. He holds you in front of his face. Vulnerable. Messy. Heat radiates from your cheeks. You release a shaky breath.

“Don’t make me say it.” It’s a whisper. Pleading and demanding at the same time.

The cocky smirk that spreads on his face is sickening. It makes you want to slap him, to hear the crack of your palm against his cheek. It makes you want to surrender. Soft and pliable, ready to please and earn praise. It makes you want to scream. To bite him so hard you draw blood. To fuck him until he can’t talk.

You tell him all of it. Exactly what you need, what you want, what you refuse to say. You tell him all through your kiss. The hunger in your lips as you press them to his, the violence on your tongue, the desperate and vulnerable need to be cared for in the soft moans that rise from your chest, from your heart, from the blood in your veins. He chases all of it. The punishment and pleasure.

He backs you into the kitchen, caging you against the counter like a scene from a movie. Impervious to whatever protest you make as he clears space, blindly sweeping his arm over the counter before lifting you onto it. The edge of the counter digs into your soft thighs, but it doesn’t matter. You’re ready to drown in the vanilla musk and bourbon-spiced scent of him. The bass in his voice that makes your eyes fall shut and your head tip back against the cupboard behind you. The bruising pressure of his grip that he knows you crave.

“Baby,” he croons. His words are soft and gentle. As if he propped you on the counter to tend to your wounds. But his hands show no mercy. Roughly ridding you of your clothes. Dropping them into a pile on the floor. He’s ruthless with you. In ways you can’t be with yourself. In ways other lovers could never master. Harsh without being cruel. Deliberate without a plan.

He lets you tug his shirt over his head. Skin to skin the intensity is primal. “Fuck,” is all you can manage to say. The heat is overwhelming, prickling your nerves and sharpening every sensation. Lucien toys with you like it’s his favorite game. Alternating.

First, palming reverently at the flesh, sweeping his tongue over your hard nipples, and teasing the wet skin with his hot breath.

You let him make the decisions. Take the lead. You’re done arguing, done thinking, done with the guilt of letting him in the door, done with acting like you’re any better than him. You brace yourself, one palm flat on the counter, the other resting on his shoulder. Taking whatever he gives.

He switches up. Everything becomes pointed and precise. He sucks marks into your skin on the underside of your breasts. He pinches and flicks the pert bud of your straining nipples. The contact of his fingers, tongue, and teeth sends white-hot jolts of electricity straight to your cunt. He bites down hard enough to make you choke on a moan. Your whine fills the room, twisted with pain and pleasure.

“You poor thing,” he purrs. Your face is still wet from your tears. But now they’re tears of frustration. “Just a mess.” You reach for his belt, impatient, but he stops you. He’s not done looking. He lifts one of your legs, propping your foot onto the counter and posing you obscenely in front of him. His gaze makes your pussy throb.

He’s torn.

Studying your face. Everything unsaid in your eyes. The anguish and rage. The acerbic disdain. The nearly imperceptible longing.

Admiring your sex, spread open for him. Shining with your arousal. Swollen, slick lips so sensitive for him. Your core, fluttering with anticipation, achingly empty without him.

He holds your chin between his thumb and curled forefinger. His eyes swirl with lust and something you can’t quite place. “You have no idea,” he rasps. “No idea how much it fucking kills me to see you like this. And knowing I’m the reason why.”

You don’t know if he means it breaks his heart to see the way you suffer or if he means the sight of you dripping on the counter has him so hard it hurts. You don’t know which you’d believe anyway. He’s not hard up to find someone else to torment or to fuck. That thought makes your throat dry.

“I can’t stay away from you,” he traces his fingers down your soft inner thigh, closer and closer to where you need him. “How could I?” You tip your head to the side, your limbs and head feel heavy, drunk on a cocktail of everything you love and hate about him all at once.

“Then don’t.”

Your reply makes him smile again. He’s so handsome when he smiles it’s infuriating. “You could scream at me, kick me out, hate me–but you still let me touch you, you need me to touch you. Why do I love that so much?”

“You like feeling important.” You let your snarky comment out without thinking. His question was definitely rhetorical. A few emotions flicker across his face before, a dark little smirk curls the corner of his mouth.

He feeds off of your challenge. “There she is.”

“I never left,” you snap, frustration spilling over. He laughs, loose and easy.

“Listen to me,” Lucien says, low and velvety. Subduing you with the tension and proximity. “I know. You want me to use you. Like you’re my toy. Until you can’t keep those beautiful eyes open.”

“Yes.”

“I know.” He echoes. Then he closes the gap, kissing you with affection. Holding himself back, but you aren’t reserved. You’re greedy; you want it harder. He just said he’d ruin you, why is he being so gentle? He pulls back with something sincere in his eyes. A whimper falls from your lips, pouty and baffled.

“Gonna fuck you like I’m trying to ruin you, baby.”

You narrow your eyes at him. Sometime soon, hopefully? You don’t snap again, answering with another yes.

He leans in, breath fanning hot over your ear. “But, we both know that tonight you’re the one using me. Ruining me. I’m your toy.”

Your breath hitches at that. You mouth I know in response, not even able to whisper it. He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He nips your ear lobe and you loose a surprised cry before gasping out his name.

He’s swift now. Purposeful. Undoing his belt, shoving his pants down and revealing his cock. Reflexively your hips tense and shift. Just looking makes you salivate. He runs his thumb over the bead of precome, drawing it along his length.

He knows how you want it. His fingers can coax you to an orgasm in no time, but you don’t want that. You want the resistance, the stretch, the dull ache, and intensity as your muscles work to let him in deeper. Nobody makes you feel the way he does. Full. Complete. Mindless.

It could be pornographic, vulgar, raunchy. The way he pushes your inner thigh further open with one hand while he uses the other to languidly stroke himself. The way he grips himself so tightly like he’s punishing himself. The way his jaw hangs slack and he mutters under his breath about how badly you need him.

To you, however, it’s a profound admission. A candid confession. The more he goads you the more it solidifies that he’s the one that needs you. That it flows so easily from him because he’s really talking about himself.

“You say you don’t care anymore, but look at you now, baby.” He shifts closer, at counter height you’re aligned perfectly. He glides the head of his cock up and down the folds of your soaked cunt. You shudder and moan, mesmerized by the sight.

“It’s almost sad how much you need me, like you can’t breathe without this,” he keeps talking.

He demands that you watch, as if there was a chance you could stop, as he lines up and sinks into you. You groan in unison. You’re so tight, he draws back out. Repeating the same motion, feeding his cock into you deeper and deeper each time. Your hot, plush walls pulse around him, adjusting. When he finally meets the end of you, he hums, pleased. “You feel that?”

You bob your head, nodding, agreeing. “Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “Perfect.” You grind against him as if you could take him any deeper, begging him to move with your needy display. It’s wholly overwhelming as is, every nerve within you alight as his cock kicks within you, tensing with the same craving to move.

He takes your hand in his, nestling your fingers around him. Somehow he feels even larger than he looks, like he shouldn’t be able to fit inside of you, but here you are feeling it and seeing it for yourself. Slowly, Lucien tilts his hips, almost pulling out of you completely before plunging in with force. He keeps up the tantalizing pace, guiding you to touch yourself. He watches your fingers with rapt attention, bracing a hand on your hip to keep you in place as he drives into you with another snap of his hips that edges you closer.

He gradually speeds up, a master at tempering his desire. Your hip flexor aches as you hold yourself in place but it doesn’t matter. You find your rhythm as he holds steady at a pace that has him landing brutal thrusts that force the words out of your lungs. Soft oh’s and fuck’s pour out of you, under your breath, adding fuel to the fire blazing between you.

Lucien savors your chanting and the image of you fixed in place, taking him eagerly. Your fingers move with urgency, chasing the release that looms closer and closer. Your mind is blissfully blank, reduced to something animalistic, removed from the burden of your history. “Don’t stop,” you plead, “I’m so close.”

He doesn’t stop. He fucks you at the same pace, all the way through it. As you contract around him, when everything pulls taut and snaps within you, crying out his name, when it’s too sensitive and you whip your hand away, and as you shudder and breathe deeper and deeper. As the ache in your legs from being spread wide open returns and your ass feels numb where the edge of the counter digs into your flesh. Another tear spills from the corner of your eye, but you can’t say what it’s from anymore.

When you fidget, he stops moving, letting you readjust. A sheen of sweat glistens all over your chest and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how loud the slick noises between you are. How easy it is to get lost in Lucien's hot and heavy magnetism. You know you were falling apart before he propped you up on the counter, but you’re sure you’re a complete wreck now.

Lucien pulls out but then leans against you, pinning the length of his cock between you, hot, slick, and messy against your sweat-damp skin. He floods your senses, all you can see, hear, and smell. Caging you in his hand find a possessive hold on you, one wrapped around the back of your neck, one wrapped tight around your thigh as you hitch it around his hip.

“You feel good?” he asks. You hum in agreement. You do feel good. You know he’s not done yet, and smile wide, still hungry for more. “How good?” he asks and you know there’s something coming next.

“So good.” You trail a hand between you, drawing a line down his chest and back up to cradle his cheek in your palm. Something about the prickle of his facial hair along your palm feels so natural, domestic, and sweet. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek, nuzzle against his ear, and ask him to take you to bed. But you can’t. You’ll never have that. Instead, you bait him. “I think you’re holding back though, I know you can fuck me harder than that.”

He scoffs, unamused, blowing a hot puff of air between you. His fingers dig deeper into your thigh, applying the kind of pressure that stirs arousal low in your belly.

The dark glint in his eye gives you butterflies. “I will, Baby,” his rumbling voice is innately sensual, but the condescension in his tone makes you tingly. You’re so close to him that you can feel his heart beating in his chest, you can feel the same pulse thrumming in his cock, still flush against you as he slants his lower half along yours. He’s all things heavy and firm, strong and sculpted, yet fitting so naturally against you. You need more, wriggling and squirming against him, you can’t contain the restlessness.

“You know,” he says slowly, drawing your eyes back to his. “You can keep trying to move on, but no one else will ever know you like this. No one else will ever ruin you the way I do. You can tell me you don’t care anymore, but you’ll never let anyone else in the way you let me. They won’t touch that part of you, the one that’s mine—because it’ll always be mine.”

It trickles through you slowly until your blood feels like it’s boiling. They’re tears of anger now. It’s like a sick double entendre.

“I know,” your words are steeped in every emotion cascading through you.

You don’t know if it’s worse that he’s right. That there’s a Lucien-shaped mark imprinted on your heart that will never fade. Or if it’s worse that he doesn’t even know it applies to him just the same. That he always comes back because he’s trying to fill the same void.

Maybe he does know. Maybe he does know and this is all he can do to make it up to you.

Maybe that’s why he leads you to your bedroom and lives up to his word.

Why he fucks you so hard you see stars. Why he doesn’t stop even after he comes deep inside of you with a possessive always gonna be mine. Why he litters your skin with more false promises and confessions. Why he gives you so many orgasms you lose track.

Maybe that’s why he’s still there when the sun starts to peek through your window. Why he fucks you slowly when you’re too tender and exhausted to take him any harder until you’re floating in limbo between a dream and reality. Why he stays there, just cradling your back into his chest and listening to the rhythm of your breath.

Maybe he does know.

PLEASE COME YELL WITH ME ABOUT THIS FICTIONAL GUY BC I NEED HIM IN A SUPER NORMAL WAY or tell me if my writing was incoherent or if you can't relate to the toxic ex that is still the best fuck of your life (cruel and twisted fr)

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

tags for the babes that let me annoy them with my thots <3

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin

#lucien de leon x f!reader #pedro pascal character smut #lucien de leon x reader #lucien de leon x you #pedro pascal #ppcu fanfic #pwp fic #the uninvited #lucien flores #but not #lucien x f!reader

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dira333 · 3 months ago

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The best hugger in town - Aomine Daiki x Reader

for @shoulmate

“Tetsu-kun gives the best hugs,” Satsuki points out.

“I disagree,” you tell her calmly, not looking up from your book.

“But-!”

“Uhuh,” you shake your head, not losing your spot. “You’re just saying that because you’re into him. But as someone who’s not biased, I give him a five out of ten. He’s straight middle field.”

On your right, Daiki snorts under his breath. You lose your spot, furrowing your brows as you try to find it again. What sentence were you reading again?

“But-” Satsuki’s looking for the right words. “Wait, wait… what about the others then? I bet he’s better at hugging as the rest. Right?”

“He’s better than Midorima,” you agree, your brows relaxing. “He’s way too stiff.”

“When did you hug Midorima?” Daiki asks, turning. His left foot knocks against yours, throwing you off your spot in the page yet again. With a huff, you close your book. It’s no use, it seems.

“A few months ago,” you recall. “Appartenly Oha Asa called for it.”

“Bullshit,” Daiki spits out, sitting up straighter. “I bet he just wanted to know how it feels like and he’s too afraid of Satsuki to ask her.”

“Maybe.” You shrug. “But I give him a three out of ten.”

“See,” Satsuki nods. “Tetsu-kun’s hugs are better than-”

“Sorry,” you interrupt her again, your whole focus on her now. “But don’t forget about Kise. And Murasakibara. Or Akashi.”

Daiki’s glaring holes into your head as Satsuki’s face falls.

“Don’t tell me,” she starts, cutting herself off as you nod.

“Kise gets a seven out of ten. He’s too eager and too careless at the same time. He hit my chin with his shoulder. I almost lost a tooth to it.”

“And Mursakibara?”

“Eight.” You nod solemnly. “I would have bumped it up if not for the fact that he left crumbs in my hair. He’s really warm. And tall.”

Daiki’s turned rigid. Satsuki must have noticed, but she keeps on asking.

“And Akashi?”

“It’s Akashi,” you tell her simply. “He’s perfect.”

“A ten?” Daiki asks, his voice doing something weird.

“Oh, no. He’s a nine.” You shake your head, biting your tongue. “I am into taller guys, you know.”

Satsuki huffs and leans back, missing the way Daiki’s eyes widen. But you don’t miss it. You’ve been looking for it.

His shoe knocks against yours. You knock back.

“Doesn’t matter,” Satsuki declares, oblivious to what’s going on around her. “Tetsu-kun’s the best hugger to me.”

“You should tell him that,” you offer and she nods, getting up.

“You’re totally right. I’m going to tell him right now.”

Maybe you should have pointed out that she still needed to pay her drink, but you don’t really mind her leaving early. After all, a warm hand has grabbed yours under the table, rubbing anxious circles into your skin.

Daiki’s not saying it. So you don’t mention it either.

Eventually he pays, pulls you up by your hand and stuffs your book into his bag, knowing full well your purse can’t contain the monstrosity of a book you’ve decided to read this week.

You’re halfway down the road when he speaks up again.

“So…”

“So?”

“What’s my rating?”

“Do I really have to tell you that?” You ask, “Mr. No one can beat me but me?”

“Heh,” he grins, his confidence shining through. “Don’t tell me I’m a ten out of ten.”

“I don’t think I could possibly rate you,” you admit. “I’m pretty biased, after all.”

Daiki pouts. “Come on. You can’t just rate everyone and not me. Also, how did you get to hug so many of us?”

“I just asked. Most people don’t mind a hug.”

“You… You asked? You asked Akashi if you could hug him?”

“Well, Akashi was a little different. I told him I was in love with you. He hugged me as a kind of consolation. I think he wanted me to do better.”

Daiki’s face is frozen in a mix of bewilderment and indignation as you laugh.

“What do you mean, do better? How could you do better than me?”

You snort. “Oh, Daiki, you’re so full of yourself.”

“Deserved.”

“You lost to Tetsu! Again. And Kagami, cause, you know, they’re both on the same team.”

“No way in hell is Kagami better for you than I am! Does he even read?”

You swing your joined hands up and kiss the back of his, reveling in the way his eyes widen. Even though he doesn’t blush, the signs are always there, you just have to look for them.

“Easy there, tiger. I already love you.”

“You better.” He grumbles, before looking both ways and pulling you down a beaten path into a park, past swingsets, and a Basketball court.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere private,” he tells you over his shoulder, turning left and stopping just short of a group of trees, falling into a slower walk.

“Are you going to murder me now?” You joke. “For hugging Akashi?”

“I should, shouldn’t I? Hugging him before you hugged me.”

“You could have hugged me whenever,” you tell him, “All you needed to do was ask.”

“What? Like, can I hug you?”

“Sure,” you step closer and wrap your arms around him.

For a second, he’s tense, as if you caught him by surprise.

But then, just like always, he softens.

For someone so tall and so full of raw power, Daiki can melt into your embrace in seconds, sinking into your hold while keeping you safe at the same time.

If you would have to describe it, you wouldn’t have words.

He’s incredibly warm, his heat present even through the jacket he’s wearing.

His head sinks against your shoulder, his nose sniffing at your neck.

“What are you doing?” You giggle, curling your fingertips into his shoulders.

“You smell really good,” he drawls out, as if he’s not the one who buys expensive Cologne, who’s probably the best smelling out of all his friends - well, except Akashi maybe, but his Cologne isn’t really your type.

“Next time, when Satsuki asks,” he points out, voice low and gravely, “tell her I’m the best hugger.”

“She won’t believe me.”

“Don’t care.” His lips brush against your skin and you shiver. “I need to hear you say it.”

“You’re so cocky.”

He pulls on a strand of your hair, swaying you from left to right.

You’re not getting out of here anytime soon.

Not that you’re complaining.

“Ah, come here.” Kagami leans down for a hug, pulling you in before you have time to complain. He’s tall and broad, but just like Kise, he doesn’t account for the difference in size, knocking your head back with his shoulder.

“Ouch,” you say, sensing Daiki’s laughter before you hear it.

“Not a ten out of ten,” he jokes, pulling you to his side. Quieter, he whispers “No one can beat me but you.”

#my writing #aomine daiki x reader #aomine daiki #aomine x reader #aomine daiki fluff #aomine fluff #knb x reader #knb fluff #kuroko no basket #gom

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hysteria-things · 9 months ago

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OMG OMG I HAVE ANOTHER IDEA !!

So like what if the reader is one of the ghosts that lived in the hotel and they take an interest in matt(im convinced that all of the ghosts there were matt girls) and the ghost liked how he talks and they show themselves to him and like y'kkow y'knownsmut and thid and that

so like reader reveals ehat she looks like to him and they get all freaky

GHOST (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: soft dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮��𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt runs into a girl at the driskill hotel. he can’t explain it, but he feels immediately attracted to her somehow.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, making out, p in v

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 943

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i changed it up a smidge!

for @skadltmf :)

the long-awaited sam and colby x sturniolo triplets collab is in full swing at the driskill hotel in austin, texas.

the five of them were in the vault for a while and then walked around, but now they’re on a break from filming for an hour or two because they wanted to get something to eat.

“shit, i’m so sorry!” you apologize when you run into a boy who’s throwing something out.

he smiles down at you, shaking his head. “it’s all good.”

matt furrows his eyebrows when he sees you. he can’t explain it, but it feels like he’s being pushed toward you somehow. like a gravitational pull, despite never seeing you before.

“what’re you doing at the haunted driskill hotel?” you ask, wanting to spark up a conversation. you must admit, he’s a cutie, and you love the way he talks.

he crosses his arms. “i should ask you the same thing.”

you sigh. “touché. i’ve heard a lot about this place and wanted to see it with my own eyes. research, if you will.”

“ah.” he nods, still smiling. “i’m a youtuber. doing a collab right now.” he points behind him where the others are.

matt’s still freaked out. he’s just so attracted to you. there’s something about your presence that has him not wanting to leave your side.

he feels sympathetic to you. he feels like he wants to keep you safe at all times. he’s never one to start talking to a stranger, but for some reason, he has no problem mingling with you.

“what’s your name?”

“y/n l/n.” you bite your lip, caressing his shoulder flirtatiously. “you’re handsome, you know that?”

bold. he thinks.

“i-i’m matt.” he stammers, cheeks flushing at each movement you make.

your hand trails up to his hair right above his ear, and you play with it while looking deep into his eyes. he leans into your hand. “there’s a janitor’s closet over there.” you tilt your head. “will i see you in there?”

you wink, walking off in the opposite direction. he glances at you and then the group, taking out his phone to text chris.

i forgot something in the room, i’ll be back in a few.

waiting patiently in the small closet, the door opens minutes later. you smile widely, admiring the boy in front of you.

“for some reason, i need to kiss you.” he says abruptly out of breath. “can i kiss you?”

you exhale, snaking your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss that soon turns into a make-out.

his hands roam your body, lastly going to your pants before he pulls away. “um… is this okay?”

“more than okay,” you say, pulling him in so his lips are on yours again.

matt pulls down your pants, lips still intact as he lifts you.

he removes his pants as well, pushing your panties to the side. you both know there’s not much time, so you guys must be quick.

pecking your shoulder, you moan when he slowly fills you.

his thrusts start soft, but he notices your discomfort. he can’t tell if it’s because you’re trying to adjust or if you’re not enjoying it. “you okay?”

your face turns red from embarrassment. “i haven’t done this in a really long time, and um… it’s hard for me to feel pleasurable unless you rub my… y’know.”

“you mean like this?” he smirks, thrusting faster and deeper while his thumb rubs circles on your clit.

you throw your head back and nod. “mhm! fuck.”

whenever he thrusts in, he applies more pressure with his finger and it sends you into a state of bliss. “you f-feel so good, matt.” you whine, squirming in his grip.

it makes it hard for him to move by how tight you’re squeezing around him, but you’re close.

he grunts, closing his eyes to take it all in. in his opinion, this is the best he’s ever had. he wants to keep in mind that he doesn’t even know you, but you’re so much different.

“i’m gonna cum.” you whisper, jolting slightly when he rubs your clit harder.

“cum all over me, baby,” he replies, making sure you cum first.

your release oozes around his dick, and that’s his queue to pull out to finish on your stomach.

the two of you stay there, engulfing each other to catch your breath. “how come i feel so connected to you somehow?” he says lowly, resting his forehead on yours.

you shrug. “you’ll find out soon.”

he’s a little confused by what you mean but doesn’t ask about it. instead, he holds you close until his cellphone ringing disrupts you.

sam, colby, and the triplets walk down a hallway, passing some portraits of the ghosts along the way. you had to take your separate ways when nick called matt complaining that he was taking too long.

“isn’t that the freaky one?” colby asks smugly, pointing to a specific picture.

“that is the freaky one!” sam exclaims, the triplets giggling along with them.

“who’s the freaky one?” chris asks, squinting to get a better look.

“she was nineteen when she died.” colby starts. “she was known to seduce men with her ‘looks of manipulation’, some might say.”

matt scoots in front of the group to have a look, and he could’ve sworn his blood ran cold. a girl is pictured sitting on a stool with a gorgeous smile and old victorian clothes.

the girl in question is you, and he has to blink multiple times to make sure he’s seeing right.

the gold plaque underneath confirms who he’s looking at:

y/n l/n.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @saturncanyon @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

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shy-writer-999 · 2 months ago

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Summary: You’ve got to go, but Zoro doesn’t seem to care. ~650 words. This is, all things considered, a very tame take on the watersports kink imho! Enjoy~ (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

CW: Afab reader, watersports (piss), P in V.

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

“Wait, Zoro, seriously, I have to go.”

You straddled Zoro and you were both sitting up. Your legs were wrapped around him and your bare chests pressed together. You were complaining but you weren’t doing anything about it.

He was holding onto your hips with a vice grip, fucking you so deep you were worried you’d piss on him if he fucked you any harder. You told Zoro that you needed to go to the bathroom right before you started having sex. You figured it would be a quickie and that you’d be able to run off to the bathroom after you were done, but he just wasn’t listening to you… and that was 30 minutes ago.

Your initial reaction to Zoro’s watersports kink had been one of abhorrence, but he explained why it turned him on so much and you had pondered on it. You later told him you’d be down for it (if he did all the cleanup, of course), but you didn’t expect it to be today.

“Zoro, please. I have to go.”

“Not yet, baby. Just a little bit more. Feels too good to pull out right now.” He rasped in your ear, and it sent goosebumps down your spine. His rough hands and toned arms pulled you off his cock and sunk you back down on it. He was pressing you down rougher than he knew he should, but it just felt so good. He was hoping you’d let him live out the watersports fantasy he told you about weeks ago. Of course, you had a safeword that you were more than comfortable using—but Zoro did have a point. It felt too good to stop.

“Zoro, ’m too full.” You whined as his tip dragged on your g-spot, applying force deep inside and pressing on your bladder again. It was about to be one press too many.

“Just let it out, baby. It’ll feel good.”

You groaned and bit your lip. You didn’t think that you’d be able to hold it much longer, but when his cock was this deep it was hard to think straight.

“I’ve got an idea,” he paused and you gasped with relief. “C’mere babe. Let’s get you in a different position. A better one.”

You whimpered as Zoro manhandled you, pulling you around so you were in doggystyle. You tried to squeeze your thighs together to ward off the impending release, but all they could do was shake.

He pushed his cock into you slowly, and then bent over you, pressing his chest to your back. “This better?”

As he started fucking you again, you let out a desperate moan. The different angle was pressing on your bladder more than before, so when you thought you were going to get a reprieve, you were sorely mistaken. He fucked down and into you, deep and grinding as his hips rolled against yours.

Zoro's earrings jingled in your ears, a rhythmic and metallic music that you could listen to for hours.

“Zoro, fuck, it’s too much” you keened his name, almost crying, and it spurred him on. You were getting dangerously close to relieving yourself and cumming at the same time. He was ravenous for it.

“Get yourself all dirty for me, sweetheart. Let it out.”

“I—fuck—I c-can’t hold it anymore, Zoro.”

“Then don’t."

His fingers crept down to rub circles around your clit, something he hoped would send you over the edge. A loud, guttural moan escaped your lips when he pressed down on your clit like it was a button. At the same, he thrusted into you especially hard, and your body released against your own will. His fingers danced around your clit, goading out as much liquid and pleasure as they could.

“Zoro—fuck, fuck, Zoro,” you spasmed and squirmed around his cock, dribbling and squirting messiness all over while cumming at the same time. You practically screamed his name. Your walls clenched around him harder than he had ever felt, and he groaned in your ear.

“Mmmmm. I told you it would feel good, didn’t I?”

Your convulsions and rolling eyes were more than enough evidence that he was right.

that's all for this one (ᵔ◡ᵔ) i honestly had fun writing this and i think i'm won over by this kink. shoutout to the two anons who asked for this! sorry if it wasn't freaky enough :o but i hope u liked it <3

here's my masterlist and my october posting schedule!

finally, trick or treat? (tumblr links!)

#z's kinktober #one piece smut #op smut #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro smut #zoro smut #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #op zoro smut #one piece zoro smut

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imfinereallyy · 2 years ago

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Eddie’s on the couch shirtless, and Steve is having a full-on crisis.

Eddie’s bare chest is on full display on Robin and Steve’s couch, and Steve is having a full-blown, how did this not click til now, crisis.

Steve knows he’s staring. Knows he needs to stop staring. Eddie is going on a rant to them, something about society or something metal (he got distracted when Eddie whipped his shirt off), and Steve should really pay attention because he knows Eddie is going to quiz him after.

For someone who hates school so much, Eddie sure likes to test Steve.

Robin comes up behind Steve, slurping her slushy. “Oh no. I know that face. It finally caught up to you, didn’t it?”

Steve breaks his state to give Robin a wide-eyed look. “What—how—I—“ Steve’s shoulders sag; there is no point in hiding from Robin. “How’d you know?”

“Please, babe, I’ve been waiting. Glad to know you actually sped-run this. Was thinking you were going to pull a me and wait til Jenny Rodriguez asks to practice the stage kiss with you before you realized.”

“I have so many questions.”

“Don’t bother; nothing happened except me falling off the stage at rehearsal.”

Steve laughs but then chokes when he glances back at Eddie. “I think my brain just exploded, Robs. What do I do?”

Robin pats his back sympathetically, “There, there. Nothing you can do, bud. Just got to ride the gay thoughts wave.”

Steve makes a distressed noise. Robin rubs circles on his back.

Eddie interrupts their moment (clueless to the evident lesbian bisexual solidarity happening), “So what do you guys think? Should I get the sword here?” Eddie drags his hand slowly down his sternum.

“I need you to take it back.” Steve whips his head torwards Robin.

“Take it back?”

“The crisis, take it back.” Steve all but begs Robin.

“Sorry, there is a no refund policy. You can use it or push it to the side; it’s up to you. But either way, that baby is yours.” Robin uses her straw to emphasize her point.

Eddie tilts his head confused, “Uuuh guys? The tattoo?”

Steve waits a moment before responding. “Good.”

“I’m going to need more than that Stevie.”

“Good. Will look good on you. Anything looks good on you.” Steve has to resist shoving his face into his hands. He can feel the rush of heat up to his cheeks.

Eddie’s face breaks into a brilliant, and a little smug, smile. “Awe, thanks, sweetheart. Glad to know I got the Harrington approval.”

“You don’t need my approval to look good.” Steve was going to throw himself off the roof of their apartment. That didn’t even make any sense.

Eddie snorts, “Okay big boy. Whatever you say.”

It comes off flirtier than Steve thought a sarcastic comment could be. This time instead of responding, Steve just caves into the embarrassment, turns around, and starts lightly thumping his head into the wall.

“Eddie, c’mon, you broke him! Now I’m going to have to reboot him…again.”

Steve doesn’t see his face but doesn’t have to look to know that Eddie’s face is downright giddy. “Sorry.”

Steve doesn’t think he’s very sorry at all.

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swordsandholly · 6 months ago

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Fancy

Ch 3: The Wheels of Fate Started to Turn

Previous | Next | Ao3

MDNI

Vampire!Poly 141 x Fem!Plus Size!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

You feel sick when you wake. Muscles weak and body shaky. It takes more effort than you would like to peel your eyes open. You haven’t sat under a UV lamp in a while and it’s starting to show. The cocoon of sheets feels so good you don’t want to get up, to peel yourself away from them.

You realize Johnny and Kyle are gone as you sit up, all alone in the center of the massive bed. The room feels darker without them, somehow. Emptier. You roll over to climb off the bed, interrupted by the sound of paper crinkling under you. You feel around the mattress only to find a thick envelope with ‘Fancy’ neatly written across the front. As you open it, your breath catches in your throat at the contents. It’s nearly double what they said they’d pay. More than you could have ever hoped for. It makes your hands shake to hold that much money all at once. Once the shock wears off, a folded up piece of paper catches your eye.

Hey lovie,

Sorry to take off without saying goodbye. Had some business to attend to. Figured we should let you sleep. Hope you won’t be too mad ;)

We left a little extra for spending the night. Nothing like cuddling up next to a soft, warm lady.

Let’s do it again soon.

Kyle + Johnny

The handwriting changes to a messy scrawl that you have to squint to make out.

P.S. You look bonnie in my shirt. Gonnae be thinking about that all day. Feel free to take it with you.

P.S.S. I want it back unwashed.

You can’t help but snicker to yourself. Damn dirty dog.

You have no reason to deny him, though. So you slip the t-shirt on over your dress as you get ready to leave. The dress feels far too constrictive for the early morning. This is why you don’t do nights - walking out looking like a mess in the itchy day old clothes. You give up looking for your panties which seem to have evaporated, not too keen on putting them back on anyway.

Before you can tip-toe your way out to the front door, you find yourself pausing. The kitchen light is on, illuminating a figure working over the stove. Curiosity gets the better of you and you circle around the counter to see John sorting ingredients in nothing but a loose pair of sweatpants. Strong, nicely hairy chest on full display.

And they call you and slut.

“Good morning.” He flashes you a bright smile. Of course he noticed you. He probably smelled you before he even heard you leave the bedroom.

“Sorry… I, uh, didn’t mean to intrude.” You mumble awkwardly.

“No, no. I was hoping you’d stop f’me. My boys treat you alright?” He eyes your shirt.

Being asked that a second time throws you off. Why the hell do they care so much? “They did.”

“Good. Good.” He smiles warmly. “I’ll make you some breakfast.”

You scoff. “You? No offense but I’d rather take my chances with the nearest dumpster.”

“Contrary to popular belief, some of us remember how to cook.”

You glance at the half-dozen cart of eggs and perfectly fresh vegetables neatly arranged across the counter. “And you just happened to have human food on hand?”

He pauses. “…I may have had some delivered.”

John turns back to the stove, muttering something under his breath about ‘too smart for her own damn good.’

You pad over beside him to look down at the food, staring at the spread. You point at some red thing you don’t recognize. “What is that?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “The tomato?”

“Tomatoes are purple.” You poke it. “And more squishy.”

You meet his eye and for a brief moment, you think you see pity. Something sad swirling in the blue of his irises. He schools his face back to neutral before you can be sure you saw anything at all.

“Well, hopefully you trust an old codger like me to make you a half-decent omelette.”

You snort, leaning back on the kitchen island. “I’ve got nothing to lose.”

You both lapse into silence. He does seem to know what he’s doing - carefully chopping the vegetables and carefully folding the omelette in the pan. Maybe he had a human wife at some point or something. Most likely. That’s not uncommon, especially back in the 21st century. Practically a trend. You tilt your head as you watch him move, brow furrowed. He’s so weird.

What could you have said to them to make them treat you like this? You’re almost afraid to know - that block of time so buried in the recesses of your mind there’s no hope of ever recovering it. That doesn’t mean you haven’t tried since that day, but you know we’ll enough that it never works. You don’t have a single guess as to what it could have been.

Maybe you didn’t say anything. Maybe they’re just weirdly tunnel visioned. Vamps do that often enough - hone in on a target of affection. For any reason from looking like a dead loved one or they just have an enticing scent. Except they’re not usually this… nice. Normally they’d just drain the object of their affection and be done with it. Not ask them to sleep over for the night and cook them breakfast in the morning.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when a plate is set in front of you. It looks… perfect. At least you assume that’s what a good omelette looks like. Nicely golden. It looks alien. Food from another world - another time. You glance up at John as he watches you expectantly. It won’t hurt to entertain him, you suppose. Even if it does end up being shit. You cut a small bite, tentatively bringing it to you your lips. You brace for something awful.

Except it’s incredible. Perfectly cooked and seasoned. You can’t help but let out a content little hum before practically scarfing it down. You haven’t had food like this in… ever, actually. Neither this fresh or well made.

“So you like it?” John smiles.

You nod happily with a mouth full of food before remembering where you are. Steeling yourself and slowing down, returning to the more reserved persona. “It’s good.”

John huffs out a laugh, turning his back to you to clean up. “I’ll drive you home when you’re finished.”

You pause mid bite. “Oh, no, I can take the train-“

“Do you really want t’walk all the way to the depot in those heels?” John cocks an brow, blue eyes dragging from your face, over your body and down your legs. There’s a slow burning intensity in the movement that sends a shiver down your spine.

You stare at him for a moment, uncertain of what to do. The last thing you need is to owe a vampire for anything. They’ll take your debts to the grave. It happened with your neighbor once - you learned early on to be wary of any offer made by one of them. Never make a deal with one of the devils.

“You won’t be indebted for it.” John chuckles as if he can read your damn mind. Maybe he can.

You chew your lip. It’s at least an hour walk to the metro station from here. You don’t want him to see where you live, though. It will ruin the illusion. Images flash through your mind of the craggily walls of your apartment building. The syringes that line the sidewalk. There’s that massive blood stain on the front steps they still haven’t cleaned up after five years.

But then you meet his eyes. They’re so sincere. So bright. Whatever that tug is in your chest that keeps giving into them pulls again. It’s unraveling you, making you insane. Surely that’s it, you’re finally going insane.

“Okay.” It comes out weaker than you’d like.

John grins a though you gave him the greatest gift in history. It makes your face hot - leaves you shifting awkwardly. You’re not used to that much emotion carved into their marble features. This coven is too expressive. It’s putting you on edge, leaving you with your guard up. Against what, though? What’s the point? Shouldn’t you be happy and play into their more excitable nature?

It’s too unfamiliar. Too otherworldly to see human emotion on their god like features.

A cool finger hooks under your chin, lifting your face to meet John’s gaze. “You think too much.”

You scoff and tear your face away from his hand. Thinking keeps you alive. The girls that don’t think don’t survive past their teens. You have to be smart to stay alive here. To even have a hope of keeping up with creatures who contain centuries of knowledge and experience. Who are so far ahead in the race the best you can do is limp along in the dust.

A valet pulls the car around. John changed into jeans and half zip sweater. You would die before admitting to the small bit of disappointment at him donning a shirt. You expect the black SUV from the night before to pull up. Instead, you’re met with a basic sedan. It’s still nice - obviously new. The seats are a soft, well cared for leather.

“So is this what you do? Invite prostitutes over for omlettes and tea and then drive them home?” You blurt as John starts the car. That itch to dissect their thought processes continues to plague the back of your mind.

“Tea?” He repeats, a brow raised.

“Simon made me tea last night.”

John laughs. “Kyle really did fuck your throat raw, then?”

You whirl on him, eyes wide.

“Don’t act so surprised. Johnny can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. Said you took it beautifully.” John sighs. “Bit jealous I didn’t get to watch the show. A good cigar and whiskey in hand? The perfect night, I think. Might have to recreate it…”

That last bit sounds more for him than for you.

You shouldn’t blush. You’ve been doing this long enough that there’s no reason to blush anymore. You have no right to be flustered over something as simple as sex. It’s the way he says it, you think. The way desire drips from every syllable as though he’s never said anything more true in his immortal life.

You just hide behind a huff and look out the window. “You’re all very weird, you know that?”

“Are we, now?” John rests his elbow on the door and his head on his hand. He weaves through the chaotic city roads expertly.

“You’re too…” You wrinkle your nose, pausing. The word gets lost on your tongue.

“Human?”

“If you say so.”

John chuckles. “You’re just as weird, you know that?”

“I am not weird!” You snap indignantly.

“If you say so.”

You have to do a double take when he pulls up to your apartment. Is it really that fast by car? What was that, ten minutes? The train is a nearly twenty minute ride with two fifteen minute walks. The walk is nearly three hours - two if you take the back way.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks, voice dropping to a low drawl. You shake your head to clear it, pulling your respirator out of your coat.

“Don’t you need a-“ You stop when you meet John’s deadpan expression. “Oh, right.”

“Appreciate the concern, love.” He chuckles. It’s a surprisingly warm sound.

You reach for the door, respirator in hand and at the ready. You pause when John lays a hand lightly on your shoulder. Turning back, your eyes meeting his. There’s that storm again. The one he looked at you with before. Something roiling underneath the surface.

“Fancy?”

“Yes?”

“Before you go.” John leans forward. “C’mere.”

You assume he wants a kiss. It wouldn’t surprise you - a little thank you for the ride. Frankly, you should have thought of it first. Instead, he ducks his head to the side at the last moment. His hand tangles gently but firmly in your hair to pull your head to the side, leaving your neck craned and exposed. You freeze. Fear takes over - your heart rate immediately spiking. Your hands fist his coat, pushing as hard as you can against the unmoving mountain that is his body.

“John-“ Your voice cracks. “Please don’t-“

“Need t’ make sure you’re safe…” He mumbles.

A fang catches your skin. You freeze.

It drags across your neck, down the arch of your artery. You suck in a hear breath, the skin not quite breaking under the touch. Before you can speak or begin pushing again or even try to get out of the car, he bites down. A yelp escapes you as his teeth slowly sink in - only through the top most layer of skin. Not enough to puncture the artery or even for his other teeth to bite into your skin.

Your whole body shakes. “What’re you-“

John shushes you as he pulls away, eyes locked on the cut he made on your neck. You can feel the wet blood beginning to drip down your neck. His hand stays in your hair, holding you in place. The blue of his irises seems somehow brighter, pupils so narrowed they don’t look to be more than pinpricks. After a few beats he seems satisfied, letting your hair go and sitting back in his seat.

“Just a precaution, love.”The vampire looks you over, eyes suddenly painfully soft again. “Take care of yourself.”

Your eyes flick between his. A cold, rushing fear pumps through your veins. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish before you finally come to your senses, taking the chance to dash out of the car and toward your apartment. Fight or flight pushing away any ability to ask what the fuck that was. By the time you turn around to check behind you, John is far down the street.

You rush to your bathroom mirror, tossing your respirator to the ground as soon as you’re in your front door. It’s not deep. He didn’t even lick up after himself - a thin trail of blood pooling around your clavicle before continuing down. It wasn’t about drinking. You hiss as your fingers lightly test the tender skin.

What the fuck?

He’s a vampire. At the end of the day that’s all he is. No facial expressions or ability to cook will undo that he’s a different creature entirely. Was that what this is about? Reminding you what they are? The power they have? You wouldn’t put it past one of them, the sick fucks. What kind of fool were you to think they’re at all different.

After a shower and finally changing into some pajamas (minus a certain vampire’s tshirt that he will not be getting back) you go to grab your lamp. It doesn’t take long to set up the UV light, just dragging it out of storage and setting up the shade above it so that the rays concentrate downward onto your skin. You slowly sink to the ground. Exhaustion clings to your bones. They feel brittle and heavy simultaneously.

You sigh, curling up under the warm light like a cat. You have to be smart about how long you stay under it - the damn thing runs up the electricity bill like nothing else. Plus, too long under it can cause serious skin damage. As much as you’d rather go without, you’ve seen what happens to those that do.

You half heartedly re-count out the envelope of money, still feeling overwhelmed at the sheer amount of it. At the whole situation at hand. You realize quickly enough that despite having the money to do almost anything you don’t actually… know what to do. Despite the plan being to save up and get out of the slums you never really planned for what to do once you were out of the slums.

The realization that you never truly believed you could do it, even unconsciously, is a little heartbreaking.

Do you keep working at the club? Hope that these clients like you enough to keep up with your new lifestyle? Pray that they enjoy fucking you for long enough to save up? Do you even want to see them after what John just did? Do you look for another job? There isn’t much you can get when the whole of your resume is stamped with WHORE in bright red letters.

With a low groan you slump back on the floor and throw your arm over your eyes. Everything is so fucked. You’re lost in it and it’s all fucked.

Normally, you would avoid information about the people that come in and out of your club. They’re looking for discretion, after all. A place to hide away from the dealings of life. A fantasy. If you were smart, you’d stick with that habit. Especially when it comes to the ones that literally compel you to forget their business.

John just lost the right to any discretion after that stunt in the car.

You open up your shitty laptop that requires five hail mary’s to start. It greets you with the top headlines of the day, all just as enjoyable as you’d expect.

UNKNOWN SUBSTANCE FOUND IN FOUR MORE JANE DOES

NEW DRUG CYTH TAKING THE UNDERGROUND MARKETS BY STORM

CORPSE FOUND WITH BLOOD LEAKING FROM PORES

You close them out, for your own sanity, and type John’s name into the search bar. A few things come up - some company called One-Four-One with the most nothing description about what kind of company they are. They “develop products and services” - aka they’re a shell for shady bullshit. They’re listed as the benefactor for some lower city charities and given responsibility for several mergers and buy-outs in the upper city. All the things you’d expect from a corporation.

It’s too clean, though. You’ve been living in the underbelly long enough to know what a front looks like. Not that you’re surprised. Every vampire corporation is a cover for a million other little inner workings you will never be privy to.

The only pictures of John are a few from press reports. His imposing figure standing behind some ugly podium with a logo hastily plastered across the front. He has a commanding air about him behind all those microphones - like a preacher or a politician. Fitting.

Johnny and Kyle have a far more risqué library. Images with models and other beautiful women. The kinds of things you’d expect from young, playboy vampires stretching over the past century at least, according to the archive dates. The boys aren’t the focus of the images - it’s all paparazzi for the women - but they’re in them nonetheless. How the hell did Johnny manage to squeeze into a pair of leather pants like that?

Simon doesn’t even seem to exist. A total ghost. No matter how deep you go you can’t find a trace of him. You manage to get all the way back to the 1990s in the archive and still come up with jack shit.

You’re left with more questions than answers and a distinct understanding that you shouldn’t ask any of them. You knew that already, though, and you have no plans to let John Price close enough to speak to you anytime soon.

You didn’t realize you fell asleep up until you wake, alarm blaring in your ear that it’s time to get up and go to work. It never ends. You still feel so fucking tired, body heavy and eyes stinging. A haze settles over your mind as you fall into your constant routine. Makeup, hair, dress, respirator on, walk, train, respirator off, walk.

Your locker in the back room fights you, forcing you to practically break it open. Just another thing to leave you feeling angry and useless.

“I heard they got Red.” The girl beside you whispers. She’s mousy, new. A gossiper. She even tried to talk to you, at least before she found out that you apparently steal clients.

The girl she’s speaking to side eyes her. “What do you mean got ‘er?”

“With that new drug - Cyth or whatever.”

“Cyth isn’t real. It’s just people making up shit to cover up what the vamps are doing. As if we don’t already know.”

“But what about-“ You don’t hear the rest of what she says, her voice drowning out as you leave the back room.

Time seems to crawl by at the club without the men. You hate it. Not just the slowness of the day but the fact that they’ve had that effect on you. That these creatures you barley know have invaded your thoughts. Wormed themselves into the nooks and crannies of your psyche. Marked you - however temporarily that may be.

The patrons avoid your eyes. You serve their drinks, and where they would normally make a salacious remark or grab onto you they just offer a huffy thanks and ignore you. The tips are garbage, even the other serving girls notice and begin to basically steal your tables. It has to be the bite.

Why, though? Plenty of serving girls have fresh bite marks and they aren’t getting reactions like that. You can count four on the main floor right now.

At least once the day is over, it’s over. You can go home and hide away. Be angry in peace. Maybe make a plan for what to do. Maybe you can leave the city you and your friends talked about as teens. Except they’re all dead now and you’re pretty sure there isn’t anything outside of the dome anymore. At least not anything you could get to.

The other girls don’t walk with you to the metro anymore. The streets are never truly empty in the main city. There’s no real day or night. It’s only the places humans inhabit that become abandoned during the “night.” As you exit the lower city station, the streets empty out. It’s just you, footsteps echoing off buildings. The smog in the air only makes it darker - even harder to navigate.

Until a second pair of footsteps appears, fast and growing louder by the second. Before you can even begin to run or check behind you a force slams into you, sending you tumbling down onto harsh concrete and into an alley.

You’re cornered. There’s nowhere to go. Before you can grapple for your garlic spray the vampire has your wrists in his hand, pulling you up to dangle in front of him. The backs of your hands and arms scrape against the rough brick of the building he’s pinned you too. It hurts, cutting deep into your skin under the pressure of his strength.

The thing hisses, ripping off the neck guard attached to your respirator. The whole thing goes clattering to the ground. You choke on the poison air, lungs immediately rejecting it.

You tip your eyes to the obstructed sky. Of course it would end this way. It’s the end for you all, isn’t it? Just another body in an alley. Another free apartment for people to fight over. Another headline for people to frown at on the train. You wonder if they would use your name or just leave you as another Jane Doe.

What do the real stars look like, anyway?

He takes a long inhale and freezes in place. You can barely make out wide, frenzied eyes. A hood blocks any of his other features. His breath hastens, chest heaving against yours. What the hell is he waiting for?

Suddenly he reels backward, hissing and spitting. Muttering words you don’t understand. It drops you so suddenly that you collapse to the ground. Unable to gain any footing, still coughing and choking.

“What-“ You’re not even sure why you want to ask it a question. Before you can at all the thing runs away down the alley. Your hand travels up to your neck.

The bite.

A coughing fit sends you doubling over and you blearing grope around the ground for your respirator. At least it didn’t get smashed, you sigh in relief - clipping it back around your face and neck.

Your hands shake and you turn, staring up at that massive skyscraper hanging above the city. It’s taunting you. You feel like you can almost see John staring down at you, toying with you. An anger flares in your body so hot you almost feel as thought you’ve caught fire. He wants to fuck with you? To make you feel weak? To try to lay some sort of claim?

Fine. You can play ball.

A/N: John “you don’t need to know what’s going on, love, just do what I say” Price and Miss “don’t fuck with my independence” Fancy

I don’t love this chapter but I gotta get plot moving and grooving.

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futbolfatale · 5 months ago

Text

Our Omega

Pairing: Select Lionesses x reader

Tags: Omegaverse, Sight Kidnapping, Fast burn, Love at first Smell.

Summary: large packs are normal but you never expected to be in a pack with players from the England lionesses. I hate this but I needed to expel my demons.

WordCount: 2.6K

You weren't ever really interested in Fútbol well in the women yes but not so much in the logistics and rules. So one time when your new Alpha coworker Amber offered to bring you to an England lionesses game you were really just interested in seeing pretty girls. Which is how you are here is a sweaty crowded stadium watching England play France. The weather was almost as hot as the players, meaning you were sweating out your eyeballs. But it's worth it for the front row view you are getting. “ Do you think they are going to win?” Amber asks, leaning slightly into your space. You've only worked with her a couple of times and she definitely likes you more than you like her.

She seems to be confident in herself as if everyone owes her something. “They're going to win”.You don't move your eyes off of the pitch. The whole game she has been asking you technical questions you don't know the answer to. She doesn’t understand that just enjoying the view she has to know everything. It is more than a little frustrating.

You by some grace of god manage to zone out for the remainder of the match only nodding and humming as she talks beside you. Once the match is over the wind picks up rather drastically blowing from behind you and across the pitch meaning anyone standing close can smell the sweat on your skin.”You smell good “ Amber whispers her voice deeper than usual. You really should have told her you weren’t interested. “Thanks” you try to gather your bag and wrestle your coat back onto your body. You're so focused on getting everything together so you can get out of this crowded place that you don't notice someone jogging up to the barrier.

”Hey you” A alpha voice growls from below you. You whip around in surprise. Millie Bright is standing on the other side of the barrier pointing directly at you. You point to yourself with a curious look surely she couldn't mean you. “Yes you come here” she curls her finger and it is like some part of your omega brain is triggered as you shuffle to be right against the barrier. “Smell me” You do a double take because there is no way in hell she is insinuating what you think she is. Mates can recognize each other by scent and she seems to think you are fated. Who are you to deny this beautiful woman's claims? So Of course you lean over the barrier smelling the junction of her neck and should deeply. She smells strongly of bergamot and vanilla; it's almost intoxicating. You pull back slightly dizzying from the overpowering smell. “I knew it was you. Did you come here with anyone.” Millie questions your head still spinning, you only point to Amber. “Who is that?” Her growl is only low enough you can hear it but it is still terrifying. “A coworker, I think she was trying to get me to go out with her.” You mumble leaning in for more of Millie's scent. “That's not happening “You yelp as you are pulled over the barrier. “Hey that's my date you can’t just go off stealing her”Amber shouts but Millie doesn't even offer her a glance back.

Millie shifts you to rest comfortably on her back. You can’t seem to bring yourself to care about the full stadium of people around you watching or videoing you. “Who is that? '' You recognize Lucy bronze in her accent alone. Her voice is just as intoxicating as Millie's scent. “Smell her” Mllie prompts as Lucy circles around her to get a better look at you.you can't help the giggle that escapes you when she nuzzles her face into your neck. “I am jealous of Your nose mill Never would have smelled her from over here.”Lucy has appreciation clear in her voice. “‘I think I should go home” Your mind starts to clear and suddenly all of this is hitting you really hard. “baby you're going to be alright Mills And I will take great care of you and just wait till Leah Hears about you she will be ecstatic.”Lucy's hand rubs over your back as Millie's purr fills the air around you again pulling you back into a manipulatable state.

When you mind finally returns to you you are in the back of a car tucked into someones lap.”Hello love” Its leah fucking williamson holding tucked to her chest like her favorite teddy bear. “Love you need to calm down or I will start Purring” Leah runs her hand over your back in soft circles. “You are safe we are going to get you home and get you fed. How does that sound.” Leah asks, wiggling her eyebrows for added effect. ”I was thinking Ham sandwiches,” Leah offers with a smile on her face. Now that she says it you are hungry. “She doesn’t want a ham sandwich Lee” You peek up from Leah to see Mary Earps navigate the car through traffic. “She seemed to think a ham Sandwich sounded pretty good, didn't you love it?” She asks softly, nuzzling at you. “A ham sandwich is okay. Whatever is easy, I don't want to be a bother.” You smile at Mary in the rearview. “You're never a bother, love your omega . We will do anything we can to take care of you.” Mary's tone is softer than you've ever heard in any interview ever. “Thank you”

“You don’t have to thank us. Love , we want to take care of you and do nice things for you.'' Leah smiles, pulling you close into her.``Were Here” Mary sings songs pulling into a gravel driveway. “Is that her?” You hear someone call as Mary opens the door and walks around to help Leah out. Mary opens the door and reaches out for you”You can walk if you want but you might still be drowsy and the gravel is sharp if you fall.” Mary explains as you let her lift you out of the car. ”Hi Im Ella that's Less over there with the blonde hair. She is a little nervous” Ella laughs as Less sheepishly jogs to catch up with Mary. “Mary kicks the door open and slips her shoes off. “Less Tooney Why don't you two go get the bags from the car” Mary is more telling then asking and the girls complain but still surender and go back to the car.

“Georgia Go straighten up the nest please” Mary asks the girl resting on the sofa. “It's really her” Georgia’s voice. “You can Gawk over her later go get the nest sorted” Mary ushers her up stairs and sets you down in the spot Georgia vacated. “Stay Here Mills is in the kitchen. I want to make sure she is making you something other than a ham sandwich. “Mary says with a roll of her eyes. She clicks the tv on to a random channel and walks off leaving you alone and questioning everything going on around you. Surely this has to be some kind of weird dream. There is no way Some of the most famous football players in the world are mated to you.

“What are you so stressed about? I can Smell you from all the way across the house” Lucy Collapses into the sofa next to you. “It's just a little Sudden I go from no mates to I don't even know” You run hand through your sweaty hair. “Seven. you have Seven Mates.” Lucy sets her Head down in your lap and you can't help the wave of calmness that overtakes your body simply from having your Alpha This close. “Ten is so many” You groan slouching back into the arm of the sofa. “Ten makes for a healthy pack. You have your alpha prime, that's Mills. Then you Alphas Leah, Mary, and Me. Then Your Delta Rachel You have your betas. Ella Alessia and Georgia.Then you are a beautiful sweet image.`` ''You guys don't even know me” you run a hand through Lucy's impossible soft hair. “Not yet but The girls will remedy that at dinner always a million and one questions.” You can practically hear Luce's eye roll.

“Dinner is ready” Marys sings songs from what you can assume is the kitchen. “We should get you some food before there isn't any left.” Lucy's stands and pulls you up behind her. You tail after her and she doesn't let go of your hands. The table is set and the room is empty save for Mary. “ Mills wanted to get changed, just sit and I'll get dinner dished out” Mary gestures to the table before retreating back into the kitchen. “Sit here” Lucy pushes you into a chair and pushes you flush with the table not leaving any room for argument. “I'm going to help Mary stay here” Luce presses a kiss to the top of your head before evicting the room. You're barely alone a second before Rachel comes barrelling into the room. “Ahh there you are. Those girls have been hiding you away from me” She slides in “Hey” It feels so surreal to be talking to these women as if they are everyday people and not super famous. “I'm Rachel but you probably knew that considering you were at our game” She has a slight teasing tone to her voice that you find yourself really enjoying. ”how do you feel? I know the girls can be a little too much when they are all together” Her voice has such genuine concern in it that your heart hurts. ”I feel A little overwhelmed. It's just so sudden one moment I am watching a football game and the next minute freaking millie bright is pulling me over the barricade and telling me I am her mate. I just don’t know how we move forward from this.” It feels nice to tell someone about the thoughts that have been racing around your head for the past couple of Hours. ”First we decide if you want to keep your job. Then if you want to move in with us which I think is best but you can do whatever you think is best for now. That's all the decisions that need to be made right now.” Rach sounds like she has done this a time or too before. “And Mating bonds' ' That was the real problem here. You wanted to mate them to have them inside of you with their teeth on your skin but how could you even know what they expect. “If you want to do it today we will or the girls will wait. They might not be ecstatic about it but they will get over it.” Rachels hand finds itself wrapped around the back of your chair, her hand resting on your shoulder. “I think I would like to at least start tonight. I might not want to go all the way through but I want to try. I want to be mated to you guys. All I have ever wanted was to have a pack of my own. ''You let out a shriek as the door bursts open and ella and less fall into a pile on the floor.

“Girls you know how rude it is to eavesdrop.”Rache looks mock aghast as the girls scramble to make themselves presentable. “Who has been eavesdropping” Millie comes in behind less and ella and they at least have the heart to look embarrassed.” I was trying to have a healthy conversation about the emotions our omega was going through but these two decided to drop in.” Rachel Eplains as millie finds her spot at the head of the table. “You two know better than to eavesdrop you're on dishes” Mille scolds her alpha voice coming through slightly due to her frustration. “But we were on dishes last night,” Ella complains, sinking into her seat. “And the night before” Less adds with a pout. “Sounds Like you two are in a whole lot of trouble” You can't help the words as they escape your mouth. “How dare you we are the sweetest nicest girls you could ever be graced with the presence of” Ella argues making direct eye contact with you as if daring you to challenge her claim. “You can’t be in here lying to our omega she doesn't know any better yet” Mary enters the room with a large glass pan full of lasagna cradled in her arms. Luce enters behind her a salad and dresses in her arms. “Where did Georgia and Leah run Off too.”Millie questions cutting into the lasagna. “I think they were making sure the nest is clean for her” Luce starts putting salad on people's plates. “I can get my own food Luce” You are trying to pull away your plate. “Do you see any of these girls making their plates?” Luce raises an eyebrow as you look down into your lap. “No” You mumble not bringing yourself to look her in the eyes. “Let Me make your plate for you” Luce prys the plate out of your hand and sets it back on the table in front of you after there is an adequate amount of food on it. Georgia and Leah come running into the room just as all of the plates are dished up. “Georgia, would you mind grabbing the pop?” Georgia rolls her eyes but hurries down the hall in search of the pop.

Once dinner and all two hundred and one questions are done a bath is a welcome relaxation. Until you realize Georgia is intent on joining you in said bath. “ Just get in, I'll go you in a minute” Georgia leaves before you have the chance to say anything. Leaving you to strip and sink into the seamting bath all by yourself.You almost find yourself falling asleep as the comforting smells of the bath oils georgia used fill your nose. “I have snacks' ' Georgia hurries into the bathroom startling you out for your thoughts. “I have ice cream and pop” Georgia sets the ice cream and a red beverage that must be the pop down next to the bath before stripping off her clothes. “Lean forward so I can Get Behind ya” Georgia barley utters the words before you're moving to comply. She slips into the bath behind you and pulls you to her chest as soon as she is settled. “Here luv” Georgia presses the ice cream into your hands and sets about washing your hair. You would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it. Plus that ice cream is good cherry Garcia is truly the way to a girl's heart. I mean who could deny such a sweet woman.

By the time you're done with your bath all you want to do is curl up in your nest well. If they even have a nest I mean what pack wouldn’t have a nest. Georgia wraps you in a fluffy towel and carries you into a bedroom. There is a large circle bed built into the floor while their nest building skills could you word it was habitable at least for the night. “Here Baby” Alessia handed you a shirt and a soft pair of boxers. You change into them and crawl into the net, your body sinking into the plush material. Soon after you lay down the rest join and a blanket is tossed over you. You can't help yourself as you drift off to sleep surrounded by your soon to be mates.

#woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #woso one shot #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #woso #millie bright x reader #mary earps x reader #mary earps imagine #ella toone #alessia russo #rachel daly

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revelboo · 1 month ago

Note

I smile like a madman everytime I see you post. Your writing is phenomenal and tysm for feeding starscream enthusiasts with a full course meal

Thank you for the kind words!

Everything is Alright Pt 29

Starscream x Reader-weird human things

• Throughout the day, he replays that sleepy little mumble over and over, obsessing over that tired whine of protest at being separated from him. That unsettled feeling in his spark is growing, that consuming need to have you with him. To be able to touch you and reassure himself you’re there. And maybe you feel that way, too. Why else had you sounded like that? It’s not only your voice that lingers, he keeps thinking of how soft you’d been against him when he’d been mass displaced. How you’d fit against him, that rogue thought circling again and again. Taboo and dangerous.

• Your excitement somewhat falters as you finally look up from your treasure. “You guys destroyed a Bath and Body Works, didn’t you?” You ask, popping the top on one to smell it and wondering if you should at least feel guilty about being so happy for the soap if there’s a building on fire in town. Possibly mass casualties.

• “We destroyed a truck delivering Bath and Body Works,” Rumble says with a shrug. “Those trucks burn really good,” Frenzy pipes up, grinning like a little psycho as your face pales and you make a mental note to keep anything flammable away from him. “The driver escaped into the woods after soiling himself,” Ravage adds, rolling onto his back to stretch his paws over his head and you inhale. Because the Cybertronian, death cat has little toe beans on the pads of his metal paws. You have to bite into the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something, because it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. And you’re sure it’d just make Ravage furious if you start baby talking him like you would a kitten, but toe beans.

• It doesn’t take much to convince them to escort you to the wash racks or for them to agree to stand guard at the door so you’re not discovered. Frenzy all too happily pointing out just how bad you stink as if you’re not very aware of it. Your annoyance falls away when you realize that tucked in a corner is a cassette sized space that you can reach the controls for by standing up on tiptoe. You use almost an entire bottle of soap scrubbing your skin and hair clean and just enjoying the heat of the water. It’s only the sound of Rumble banging a fist on the door that makes you reluctantly leave that warmth. Only to realize you didn’t think about a way to dry off after, you’d been too excited to be clean. Groaning, you pull on your ugly, floral dress, hating the way it clings to your wet skin.

• Rumble makes a sound remarkably like a snort when he sees you. Muttering to Frenzy that wet humans just look sad. And you probably do look like a drowned rat, so you can’t even muster the energy to be offended. Exhaling, you wrap your arms around yourself and follow them back to Starscream’s quarters. Freezing and dripping the whole way. The cassettes don’t linger, as soon as you’re back inside, they’re gone and you’re oddly disappointed at being left alone on the floor.

• Wings sagging tiredly, Starscream lets himself into his quarters and his optics slide to where the human should be. And isn’t. Soundwave again? Anger and fear beginning to thrum through him, the sound of your voice calling out to him gives him pause. There you are. “Why are you down there?” He growls, bending to curl his servos around you and shifting you to cradle in his palm. “You’re wet.” He touches a servo to your damp hair, venting as you shiver. Wet and cold, and annoyance lifts his wings. “For Primus’s sake.”

• Swallowing, you stare at your hands in your lap as you sit in his hand, because you can’t look at him. Your mind keeps circling back to that dream and wondering about alien anatomy. Surely he doesn’t have those parts. Why would he? But then why does he have what he calls a glossa, a tongue, that’s currently sliding over his denta to linger on the sharp points where his canines would be if he’d been human as he frowns down at you? And that too human face of his is all sharp, strong lines. Your own face heats as you drop your stare to his canopy since that’s safer than gawking at him. Rumbling softly, he uses the tip of a servo to force your chin up to meet his optics. Oh, you’re definitely in trouble. Your stupid, treacherous brain pointing out that, alien or not, he’s handsome. “I got soap,” you manage weakly, because you have to say something.

• “I see that,” he grumbles, keeping your chin up with that servo. Why won’t you look him in the optics? He runs a second servo over your cheek, watching you become even more flustered at the touch. Another weird human thing? Giving up for the time being, he carries you to the berth and reclines, gently depositing you on his chassis since he knows you like to soak in his heat. When he slides a servo down your spine, you just press your face against him with a frustrated noise that sounds suspiciously like a groan. Definitely a weird human thing, he vents softly.

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#starscream x reader #idw starscream #transformers x reader

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peachtarto · 9 months ago

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Now or Never

Pairing : Luke Castellan x reader

Word Count :

Summary : Luke missed his chance to ask you an important question, and is painfully unaware of it.

Warnings: mostly fluff! nothing crazy- Luke is dumb, Clarisse is an overprotective bestie, talk of self-doubt etc.

Masterlist here!

A/N : thinking of making this a little series of moments in your relationship- let me know if that’s something you guys would like!

‘Don’t you think it’s a little much?’ You questioned, eyeing your own reflection with what some might call a generous amount of scrutiny.

Silena gave no indication that she’d heard and continued talking, ‘there’ll be such good food, and wine of course, lots and lot of wine..’

The pins in your hair were already beginning to ache, and you tried not to wince as she added yet another one to the elegant braid she was painstakingly creating.

‘- imagine if we made this much fuss for our birthdays,’ she continued, ‘like, I get that he’s the god of festivity but I’ve got to question why he wants to party with a load of hormonal teenagers. Not that I’m complaining, we could all use a good party.’

Silena was already dressed: a deep purple gown of silk accented with golden cuffs, and little combs fashioned like gilded laurel leaves swept her hair away from her face. She looked beautiful, and there was not a doubt in your mind that she was the daughter of Aphrodite.

She’d picked out your dress which had been a relief, a soft chiffon that seemed to float when you moved. It was simple but elegant, she’d insisted- perfect for a daughter of Athena. She’d also said that the hair should match, but it’d been half an hour since she’d started and it was starting to feel everything but simple.

‘And can you believe we’re allowed to switch tables tonight? I can’t wait! Charles said we’d sit together obviously and I’m sure the Hermes boys will join as and..’

Her smile faltered when she saw the look on your face and she quickly halted her movements, ‘oh, don’t you like it?’

‘No no, it’s beautiful!’ You stammered quickly; she’d curled and brainded your hair back in a thick, loose plait with little gold pins shimmering throughout. Even in cabin 10, her skills were unrivalled. ‘I just- do you think it’s too much?’ You questioned again.

‘Too much?’ She scoffed, and then her full lips parted in a dazzling smile, ‘of course it’s too much, that’s the point! We want every boy in this camp on their knees! Figuratively of course.’

You tried to hide the smile that tugged on your lips, ‘You’ve already got Charles drooling after you non-stop, leave some for the rest of us.’

‘Some?’ She said and grinned rather fiendishly, ‘or do you want me to leave just a certain son of Hermes for you?’

You rolled your eyes and gave her a smooth, and rather horrible gesture as she went back to toying with your hair, giggling to herself.

Silena had been the one to introduce you to Luke two years prior. She’d gracefully swept you into her circle the moment you’d arrived in camp, convinced you would be claimed by her mother too. Had Luke not intervened and taken you to cabin 11 she probably would’ve had you sleeping top to toe in her bunk; she’d reluctantly handed you over, but not before she’d seen the look that had passed between the two of you. Love at first sight she’d insisted, and maybe she’d been mistaken on his end, but she hadn’t on yours.

‘You know, he really does like you. I can tell, and you should believe me because it’s literally my thing.’ She sighed, stepping back to admire her handiwork. She pulled and prodded at a few loose hairs until she seemed satisfied, then dragged you over to the long mirror at the back of the cabin.

You didn’t know how she’d managed it, but for once you didn’t cringe at the reflection you saw and a part of you couldn’t quite believe what stared back. There was no denying she was a master at her craft.

‘You look so beautiful!’ Silena squealed, her hands clasped together in pride. Then, without warning she pulled you into a bone-crushing hug that had the air leaving your lungs. ‘Tonight’s the night, for both of us, I can feel it!’

You hoped she was right as you followed her out of the cabin, towards the glittering lights in the pavilion.

Luke stood with Charles and Chris at the edge of the party, sipping slowly on the glass of wine in his hand. He supposed Mr D had been granted a night of reprieve.

‘Seriously man, chill out,’ he whispered over Beckendorf’s shoulder, ‘she’ll be here. Keep frowning like that and you’ll pop a blood vessel.’

He could sense Charles shifting in his feet nervously and his mouth twitched slightly, he knew the feeling all too well. He’d been on edge all day too. Chris was smirking too, but his was all smugness; he’d asked Clarisse outright to attend the party with him and much to everyone’s surprise, she’d said yes immediately, which was lucky for him because the alternative would almost certainly have been the loss of a limb.

‘How can it possibly take this long to get ready?’ Charles said, turning to face Luke. It was odd to see the son of Hephaestus so flustered when he was normally immune to the whims of teenage hormones; apparently he was not at all immune to the power Silena Beauregard seemed to hold over him. ‘Maybe she’s not coming man, we should just go before- oh..’ he trailed off. His eyes went starry and Luke whipped his head around to see what had entranced his friend.

There was Silena in her finery, tossing her hair over a shoulder as she swept into the pavilion. She threw a dangerously beautiful grin at Charles who was beginning to look a little like he might faint.

‘Hi Charles,’ she offered as she sauntered over. Anyone else might’ve missed the shake in her voice, but Luke caught the slightly nervous wobble of her tone and smiled. Good for Beckendorf.

‘You look great Silena,’ he managed to cough out. He quickly eyed Luke who gave an tiny nod of approval as if to say ‘keep going buddy!’

‘I know,’ she sighed dreamily, giving a little twirl of her dress before looping her arm through Charles’ who was now definitely holding his breath. Silena giggled and patted his chest sweetly before throwing a mischievous glare at Luke, ‘Just wait till you see her, I think you’ll get a little breathless too Castellan. Now come on Charlie, let’s get a drink.’

Luke watched her lead his friend away to where Chris stood with an arm slung around Clarisse’s waist; she’d opted for a gown of stormy grey adorned with tiny silver chains, as close to armour as she could get he guessed. She looked slightly terrifying, until Chris whispered something in her ear that had a blushing like crazy and stepping even closer into his side.

‘They make a great couple, don’t you think?’

Luke spun around quickly at the sound of your voice and cursed silently, Silena had been right. All the air left his lungs in a great breath and he was instantly lightheaded at the sight of you.

Devastating was the only word that came to his mind. Truly devastating. You could’ve walked into Olympus then and there and they probably would’ve pronounced you a goddess in an instant. He was struck dumb, and silent. He wanted to say something about how beautiful you looked, or how he’d been wrapped around your delicate finger the day you’d walked into camp; instead his frantic brain settled on, ‘nice dress, did you borrow it from Silena?’

You flinched. ‘No. We were sent a trunk to pick from from her mother.’

‘Oh.’ Was all he could reply as his gaze raked over you again. ‘That’s awfully nice of her.’

‘Very.’ You said through gritted teeth, trying to stop the scarlet blush you could feel rising to your cheeks. What was his problem? It wasn’t unusual for Luke to be blunt, he always struggled to keep his opinions to himself and it had gotten you both in hot water a hundred times before; but it was unusual for him to be blunt with you.

He’d been distant all week, he’d managed to miss three sparring sessions with you and counsellor duties on several occasions. The first few times Chris had been polite enough to make excuses for him, but when the two of you walked into the arena one morning to find Luke and Travis swinging swords at eachother, he’d stayed silent. He didn’t have to tell you what was already painfully obvious. Luke wasn’t ill, and hadn’t ’slept in late’, he’d just been avoiding spending any amount of time with you. You hadn’t had any idea why; and now, standing in the pavilion with the air thinning in between you both, you were even more confused.

He ran his eyes over your dress yet another time and something seemed to snap in your chest. ‘If you’re going to keep judging my outfit,’ you managed to spit out, ‘do it at the dinner table, I’m starving and don’t have the energy to defend myself. Let’s go sit with the others.’

You span away from him so quickly you missed him opening and closing his mouth as he tried to explain himself. As you stalked towards the table your friends had gathered around you must’ve been wearing a murderous expression, because Silena quirked her eyebrow at him with a face that said ‘what did you say?’ He responded with a small shrug before slipping into the seat opposite you.

Luke tried, and failed, to catch your eye throughout dinner. Food came and went, and glasses of a sweet amber wine refilled themselves as soon as the last drop hit the drinker’s lips. Silena had made her way through at least five glasses by his count, and was whispering something in Charles’ ear that had the man choking on his strawberry tart. You’d barely touched yours, and had politely declined his offer to get you something else to drink. You’d barely touched your dinner either, pushing things around your plate with your fork until Connor had unceremoniously dumped the contents of it onto his own. He felt he should apologise for his brother’s behaviour, but when he’d tried, you’d turned to watch the campers dancing by the fire.

The soft light from the flames flickered over the planes of your face and he knew he shouldn’t stare, but after starving himself of you for almost a week, he was finding it hard to look away. If he was honest with himself, it had been almost impossible to endure. You’d spent almost every day together for two years; a week apart had him feeling like he was missing a limb.

But a week apart was better than a week of watching male campers saunter up to you in a flurry of proposals. He’d managed to stick around long enough to see two Ares boys crash and burn and that was more than enough. If the failures were that bad, seeing you agree to attend the party with someone would probably have finished him off. He wondered which insufferable git you’d given in to, which one you’d been stood up by.

Curious, he leaned forward and asked loud enough to get your attention- ‘where’s your date?’

You slid your eyes away from the dancers and faced Luke. He was toying with the stem of his glass. Your throat tightened, and your face warmed uncomfortably. ‘I don’t have one.’

‘What?’ He asked incredulously.

‘Loads of people came alone Luke.’ You said replied quietly, keenly aware of the sudden silence of the conversations between everyone else at the table. ‘It’s not a big deal.’

‘I know, I just thought you would’ve put someone out of their misery. Every guy at camp must’ve asked you.’

‘Almost every guy.’ Chris whispered into his drink, rolling his eyes.

‘A few asked, yes.’ You murmured.

‘And you came alone anyway?’

You could’ve sworn Chris was wincing now, and Clarisse had the good sense to find the lights strung above the tables incredibly interesting all of a sudden. Silena however, looked like she was about to explode. You didn’t even know where to begin, your cheeks weren’t warm anymore, they were burning.

‘Yes.’ You ground out, hoping he’d take the hint and keep his mouth shut for once.

Luke went to speak, but Charles cut in before he could begin. ‘We should go dance!’ He declared, slapping his knees over-enthusiastically and standing so quickly he nearly toppled over his chair. The others rose with murmurs of agreement, eager to get away from what was becoming an increasingly awkward conversation.

‘You guys go ahead,’ you said, rising from your chair ‘I’m going to get some fresh air.’

You hoped no one would mention that you were already outside, surrounded by fresh air, and thankfully no one did. Silena gave you an apologetic look but you shook it off. The lights suddenly seemed much too bright, and the table of your friends was starting to feel like an audience to your embarrassment. As they all walked towards the fire you began in the opposite direction, lifting your dress slightly to allow your feet to travel quickly towards the cabins.

Luke felt Silena’s hand meet the back of his head in a swift slap before he could reach out to stop it.

‘You are as dense as old bread Castellan!’ She hissed as he cradled his neck. The boys were looking at him disapprovingly, but Clarisse was just glaring at him like she was sizing him up for a fight.

‘Chris where’s my knife?’ She asked coldly, holding her hand out in her boyfriend’s direction.

‘Woah- what did I do?’ Luke exclaimed, which earned him a hard flick right in the centre of his forehead. Whoever said Aphrodite’s children weren’t vicious fighters was beginning to sound like a goddam liar, he thought.

‘Do you know how many guys she turned down for tonight?’ Silena continued, ‘almost every guy at camp! And do you know why Captain No Clue?’

Luke just stared blankly until she let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Because she was waiting for you to ask her! I was hoping you’d pull your finger out by the end of the week but you didn’t, and you let her come alone.’

He flinched. Silena’s face tightened and her dark eyes flicked to Charles. Something unsaid flashed between them before she turned her gaze back on Luke; her anger was gone, replaced with something strangely close to pity.

‘You wanted to ask her, didn’t you?’ She asked- carefully. Her eyes were beginning to crinkle like she was about to burst into tears. She dashed forward and forced him down into a tight hug. ‘Oh Luke, I’m so stupid!’

Clarisse rolled her eyes. ‘Daughter of the goddess of love and you didn’t see this one coming? Even Chris figured this one out!’ She chided, then added sweetly in his direction, ‘no offence babe.’

He thought of every moment he’d spent with you; the hours of sparring sessions under the heat of the summer sun, the picnics out in the strawberry fields, sneaking between your cabins in the middle of the night to swap stories of your lives before all of this. He’d known the risks of falling for you, and he’d done it anyway. He’d thought about telling you a hundred times. He had thought about telling you that he didn’t want or expect anything from you in return, that he just needed you to know how he felt because it was torture to suffer it in silence. Over the months he’d managed to convince himself that you didn’t feel anything close to what he felt for you, and had resigned himself to living in the wake of your existence.

Luke’s heart stumbled, taking all the confusion and doubt with it, he blurted, ‘I should go after her,’ and started after you, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Even at a fast-paced jog, he only managed to catch up with you when you were rushing up the stairs to your cabin, the skirts of your dress billowing out behind you.

‘Wait up!’ he shouted through heavy breaths.

You didn’t let him continue and just increased your pace, rushing to get to the door. If you could make it inside and shut him out, perhaps he wouldn’t see the tears that had begun fall. A small part of you ached to stop and turn to him, but you knew what was coming. Silena would have tried to intervene once you’d left, and he was probably coming after you to let you down gently. You weren’t sure you could survive that.

‘Gods will you slow down!’ Luke yelled, ‘I want to talk to you!’

‘Don’t bother,’ you said bluntly, ‘I know what you’re going to say.’

‘Oh yeah? What am I going to say?’

He’d taken the Athena cabin steps two at a time and was right behind you now. You could hear his ragged breathing, had he ran here? He must really want to get it over with, you thought bitterly. ‘Does it matter? Just go back to the party Luke, they’ll be missing you.’

‘It matters to me. I don’t want to be there if you’re not.’ He said softly and reached out to grab your hand. His fingers grazed your own, warm and steadfast- patiently waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t, you couldn’t bare it.

As you turned to face him fully you realised you were close enough to share breath. In other circumstances you might’ve stared up at him with longing; now all there seemed to be was the awful sinking feeling that you were about to lose him.

You opted to not meet his eyesight, and instead studied the scuffed wood of the cabin porch beneath your feet.

‘Then why didn’t you ask me to go with you?’ You managed to ask. You could feel his eyes on you, burning into your skin like a brand. ‘I thought we were friends Luke, I thought that would be enough to get you to tolerate me for one evening so neither of us had to go alone.’

‘That’s not..’ he took a deep breath before he continued. Now or never, he thought, and opted for now.

‘I didn’t ask you because I didn’t want to go as your friend. I wanted to go as your date. I knew you’d say no, because every guy here was chalking up how to ask you themselves and I couldn’t- I couldn’t stand it. I’d prepared myself to see you with someone else tonight and it caught me off guard to see you alone. I had all these things I wanted to say to you, about how beautiful you looked, but I panicked and said some really stupid stuff back there. And i’m sorry, for all of it.’

It was your turn to take a deep breath, and without thinking your fingers tightened around his own. The air was too tight, humming between your bodies, between your joined hands.

‘Ask me now then.’ You dared.

He was silent for long enough that you dared to look up and meet his eyes. You were sure your expression was mirrored on his own: shock, longing, and then something like amusement.

He was smiling like a kid on Christmas at your offer, broad and unrestrained. ‘You want me to ask you to go to the party with me? Now? After I’ve just poured my heart out?’

‘If you don’t want to that fine.’ You teased, a small smile returning to your face. ‘What was it you said about every guy at camp?’

Luke let out a laugh and took a step closer, ‘I don’t care about the party. Go on a date with me. Tomorrow, today, hell let’s go now. I don’t care. Just go out with me. I’m not waiting another two years for this chance.’

‘Of course I’ll go out with you Castellan.’ You replied softly. You didn’t even have to think about your answer, you’d been preparing it for months.

‘Really?’

‘Yes really.’ You laughed and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

With a sudden burst of confidence, Luke leaned down to brush his mouth against your blushing cheek. You thought you might burst then and there as he pulled you into his chest to whisper in your ear, ‘you look beautiful. You are beautiful. Always. Even covered in sweat during sparring practice, or windswept from the chariot races. I can never look away from you.’

He was blushing too when he pulled away, leaving you staring up at him, breathless again. His smile was nervous as he said, ‘I want to do this properly, I’ll plan something great I promise. But for now, I would be honoured if you’d come back to the party with me, as my date.’

You quirked an eyebrow. ‘Will you dance with me?’

‘Of course I’ll dance with you,’ Luke said, wrapping an arm around your waist, ‘I plan to show you off in fact. I’m pretty sure I’ve just achieved the impossible as far as the guys here are aware. I reserve bragging rights.’

#luke castellan x reader #imagine #imagines #percy jackson #luke castellan #fic #annabeth chase #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #percy jackon and the olympians #disney #clarisse la rue #silena beauregard #charles beckendorf #chris rodriguez #camp half blood #percy pjo #percy and annabeth #charlie bushnell

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buckets-and-trees · 1 month ago

Text

Chosen, Part 9: Transformation

Characters/Pairings: James Buchanan Barnes/Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 7k Summary: Bound to the fallen angel, he sweeps you away for one more ritual on this full moon.

Content Warnings: skin marking/branding by cutting/use of dagger; explicit smut: oral (female receiving), vaginal intercourse; supernatural binding; human transformation to supernatural being; terato/monster fucking

Notes: FINAL CHAPTER! Lots of smut and lots of information! Given the length, I could have split this chapter in two, and there was a spot I could have broken it off at, but this really felt more cohesive to me and I wanted to give it to you as one final installment of this long and winding tale. Additional Notes: To anyone who has not read from the beginning, I have determined that one could reasonably start with Part 7: Offering and read only the final third of the saga. Think Doctor Who when there's a new Doctor and/or companion and it's built to be a sufficient entry point for anyone new to the story. You'll miss copious backstory, but should be able to drop in and follow without any real problem.

Previous: Binding | Series List

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

James' powerful wings beat steadily as he carries you through the night sky. The cool night air rushes past, a stark contrast to the heat of his body pressed against yours. You cling to him tightly, your mind reeling from everything that has transpired, heart pounding with a mix of exhilaration and lingering pleasure.

As you soar higher, the clearing and the assembled crowd fade into the distance below. The full moon bathes everything in its ethereal glow, casting long shadows across the landscape. You've never seen the world from this vantage point before, and it takes your breath away.

"Where are we going?" you manage to ask, your voice barely audible over the rush of wind.

James looks down at you, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. "To a place where we can complete your transformation in private," he replies. "What comes next is sacred, meant only for us."

You nod, nestling closer to his chest.

After what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, James begins to descend, and you turn your head to see the towering walls of the estate. With a graceful landing, he alights on a terrace teeming with ivy, jasmine, and more of the Luna’s Tears. As he steps through a set of grand French doors, you’re enveloped in the soft and warm lighting of a luxurious room. From plush rugs to the rich velvet curtains billowing in the gentle breeze from outside to the mahogany furnishings, it’s designed for comfort. But another word comes to mind as well as he gently sets you down and you look around - sanctuary. This is his sanctuary, a place where he can escape the chaos of the world and find peace in its lavish surroundings.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, pulling you into his arms so you’re standing face to face. His eyes are earnestly studying your expression, and his arms circle around your lower back. Your hands come to rest instinctively on his chest.

You take a moment to assess yourself, still marveling at the changes you feel coursing through your body. "I feel different," you say softly. "More alive than I've ever been." Your skin tingles where it touches his, as if an electric current is passing between you. "But also... incomplete? Like there's something more waiting to happen."

James nods, a small smile playing at his lips. "That's to be expected. The binding ritual in the clearing was just the beginning of your transformation. There's still more you could become, and I think the essence of Luna’s Tears in your blood is calling for it."

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip. The simple touch sends a jolt of pleasure through you, igniting the embers of desire that still smolder in your core.

“What do you feel through this?” you ask tentatively. “Anything?”

James' eyes darken as he gazes at you intently. "I feel everything," he says, his voice low and husky. "Your essence, intertwining with mine. The potential for what you could become. The hunger in your body, calling out to be fulfilled."

His hand slides from your cheek down your neck, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake. "But more than that, I feel a connection to you that goes beyond the physical. A bond that transcends mere mortal understanding."

You shiver at his touch and his words, feeling that same connection humming between you. "What happens now?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

James leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. "Now, we complete your transformation. If you're willing."

You nod without hesitation, surprising yourself with how eager you are to continue this journey.

“Come with me,” he says, and takes your hand.

He leads you into the bathroom, as spacious and exquisite as his chambers. The moonlight streams in through a large skylight, casting an otherworldly glow on the tiled floor. He turns on the faucet, and water gushes out, filling a deep clawfoot tub with steamy warmth. You raise an eyebrow, and he explains, “Bathing in the light of the full moon is one of the elements for the transformation ritual.”

He reaches for a simple glass bottle, removes a cork from its seal, and begins to pour the liquid into the bath. You’re met with a strong and fresh scent of a smell that’s growing not only familiar but recognizable to you - Luna’s Tears. It’s been faintly surrounding you due to the flower crown that’s still on your head, but the essence being added to the bath is more potent.

A small wave of nerves threatens to wash over you. “Do I have to be unconscious for the next part? Won’t the essence of Luna’s Tears put me to sleep?”

James' eyes soften as he hears the concern in your voice. He reaches out, gently cupping your face in his hands. "No, my dear," he says softly, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. "You won't be put to sleep by this."

He guides you closer to the tub, the steam rising from the water carrying the intoxicating scent of Luna's Tears. "What you experienced earlier - the deep sleep - was caused by a different concoction. A blend of herbs and other elements designed to prepare your body and mind for the initial stages of the ritual."

James' wings rustle softly behind him. He reaches out and gently removes the flower crown from your head as he continues, "For you, the essence of Luna's Tears will now provide strength and healing. It will fortify your body and spirit for the transformation." He places the crown on a nearby shelf, then takes your hand to help you step into the tub.

The warm water envelops you as you sink into the tub, and you feel the essence of Luna's Tears immediately seeping into your skin. It's invigorating, awakening every nerve ending in your body.

James kneels beside the tub, folding his wings neatly behind him. His eyes never leave you as he begins to gently wash your body with a soft cloth. His touch is reverent, almost worshipful, as he cleanses away the remnants of the earlier ritual, blood and earth and sweat.

You shiver despite the warmth of the water, both from his touch and the implications of what he’s said.

As his hand moves with the cloth over every part of your body, it’s an intimate study for him, memorizing you inch by inch. You still feel somewhat exposed, but also treasured, and still slightly overwhelmed by all of this. But as his hands move over you, with no way to hide the soft, round parts of your body that you typically dread, he shows nothing but unabashed wonder and appreciation. It’s something you’ve rarely felt with any previous partner.

Seeking distraction from thinking only of his touch and what it means, you decide to test the waters of what he will tell you. “How exactly do you see this working? You’ve bound me to you through ritual and through contract, but am I to you?”

James pauses his ministrations, his hand stilling on your shoulder. His eyes meet yours, intense and searching. "You are my elim," he says, his voice low and reverent. "It's a sacred bond, one that goes beyond mere mortal understanding."

He resumes washing you, his touch gentle yet purposeful. "Your essence is intertwined with mine, your very being attuned to me in ways that transcend the physical realm."

James' hand moves lower, skimming over your collarbone and down to your breast. You inhale sharply at the contact, feeling a spark of desire ignite within you. "In the most basic sense, it means you are mine. But it's so much more than simple possession."

He resumes washing you, his touch gentle yet purposeful. "You are my chosen one, selected to stand by my side. You will be my partner, my confidante, my source of strength and renewal."

James' hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "In time, as your transformation completes, you will gain abilities beyond those of mortals. Longevity to match my own lifespan, enhanced strength and healing, a deeper connection to the natural world."

His eyes search yours, gauging your reaction. "In addition to that, you will be integral to my mission.”

Your mind reels at the implications of James' words. Enhanced abilities, longevity, a deeper connection to nature - it all sounds like something out of a fantasy novel. And yet, after everything you've witnessed tonight, you find yourself believing him.

"Your mission?" you ask, curiosity piqued. "What exactly is it that you're trying to accomplish?"

James' hand continues its gentle ministrations, moving down your arm as he speaks. “That,” he says, “is a discussion for another time.”

You make an impatient sound and bat his hand away. “I’m tired of information being withheld from me! I want answers, and I deserve them!”

He reaches out and firmly takes your hand. “I will tell you everything, I swear it on our bond, but not now. There is more to the transformation ritual, and I want your mind and body to be completely rested and refreshed, and there are charts and maps and books I will want to show you in the archives.”

“Oh,” is your simple reply.

“Soon, just not now.”

“Okay,” you agree. You believe he’s being sincere. You feel it, actually, and not just in the metaphorical sense, you realize you feel some kind of resonance between the two of you.

He resumes washing you.

Your eyes roam over him. He’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, body sculpted as if by the gods, and you’d almost believe it, given that he’s an angel. He’s still naked as well, but now that you have time and feel comfortable enough to simply look at him, you notice he’s wearing a gold pinky ring and a pendant on a chain around his neck.

“What’s that symbol on the pendant around your neck?”

“It’s for protection,” he answers simply.

You cock your head. “Protection? But you’re an angel.”

“That’s part of the soon-not-now story you will eventually learn.”

You sigh, and he laughs softly. “Your keen mind will not be wasted, elim. Your desire to know is something I look forward to in a partner.”

Your chest swells a little at this admission. But it spurs another thought - one you think he should be able to answer.

“With all of the ritual, the destiny,” you start, “why bother with an employment contract? Why go through the ruse of it all?”

He chuckles. “It’s not a ruse. Everyone has a place and a purpose here, and if you’re going to work, you should be compensated. Nat was insistent that whether or not I bound myself to you, I needed some kind of assistant working with me on my projects.”

You almost laugh, but his face tells you he’s serious.

“Wait, so the foundation is… it’s real?”

He tilts his head, scrutinizing you. “You saw it all today. You met with so many of my people. Did you think it was all an act?”

“I,” you start, then stop. “I guess not, it’s just a lot to take in. I suppose now that I know what and who you truly are, I’ll be able to have a lot more of the questions answered today that I got denied full transparency on?”

He nods. “I imagine so.”

“Hmm,” you hum. After another moment, you ask, “What do I call you? You’re an angel, but bound to me, and also my boss?”

He chuckles. “Bucky. You can call me Bucky.”

“Bucky?”

“Supernatural beings are either assigned or choose a sacred name for their transformed state, but only certain designations are allowed to use the name,” he explains. “An elim can use the name.”

“And Bucky?”

“It’s what most people called me when I was still human. I wanted a moniker to remind me of my humanity - who I wanted to serve and protect.”

Bucky's revelation that he’d once been human sparks a flurry of questions in your mind, but before you can voice any of them, he places a finger gently on your lips.

"I know you have many more questions," he says softly. "And I promise, we will have time for all of them. But for now, we need to focus on completing your transformation."

You nod, realizing he's right. There's still an unfamiliar energy thrumming through your body, an anticipation for something more.

The water around you has cooled slightly, and you notice the moon's position has shifted in the skylight above. Bucky helps you stand and step out of the tub, wrapping you in a plush towel. As he dries your skin, you notice the way his touch lingers, sending little sparks of pleasure through you. The bond between you pulses with energy, and you find yourself leaning into his caresses.

“Is it always like this for an offering? For elim being selected, the binding, and this transformation? Do they all feel like this?”

He brings his head back to look at you. “Oh, my elim,” he says, voice dropping low, and smoother than any words he’s spoken to you up to this point. “I can not say. I’ve taken many offerings for the moonlight ritual, but I’ve never bound someone to me as elim. I invoked a transformation in Steve and Natasha, but not the transformation I have intended for you.”

He cups your face in both of his hands. “You are the first. The only.”

His words send a shiver through you, both thrilling and terrifying. You're entering uncharted territory, blazing a trail no one else has walked before. The weight of this revelation settles over you, but instead of feeling burdened, you feel empowered.

"The next ritual will be more intense than the binding," he explains, his voice low and intimate. "It will require complete trust in me.”

Bucky's hands slide down from your face, tracing the curves of your body. His touch reignites a fire within you, desire coursing through your veins. The bond between you pulses with energy, amplifying every sensation.

"Are you ready?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

Bucky leads you back out onto the terrace fully bathed in the moonlight. On a table near the edge of the terrace, there’s a wooden chest and a clear pitcher of water - though you would guess it’s more than mere water. He opens a the case as you reach it. It’s velvet inside, and there’s an empty spot, but you instantly know what’s missing, because next to it is a dagger that looks exactly like the one that he’d used in the clearing to initiate the blood bond. They’re clearly a pair.

Bucky takes the dagger from the case, its silver blade gleaming in the moonlight. He turns to you, his eyes intense and filled with an otherworldly light, and his wings unfurl behind him. "This is the first part of what will complete your transformation from elim in name to elim in being."

You nod, unable to form words as anticipation builds within you.

He guides you to the edge of the balcony. “Place your hands here,” he says, motioning to the stone parapet. “You’ll need to brace yourself.”

You feel the coolness of the smooth stone beneath your palms as you look out over the grounds. You must be on the fourth level of the mansion, standing naked in the moonlight. Bucky moves in behind you, standing so close you can feel the heat radiating from his equally naked body.

“I’m going to carve a sigil into your body,” he murmurs next to your ear. Your body tenses up, and he runs his hand down your back. “It will be painful, but should be less so given the transition your body is already making, the essence of Luna’s Tears in your system, as well as the oils from the bath, and the sustaining energy you’ll pull from the full moon.”

“Bucky…” your voice is hesitant.

Bucky's hand traces back up your spine, coming to rest on your left shoulder blade. "The sigil will be here," he says softly. "It will mark you as mine, and as a being transformed. The placement of a sigil is instrumental in the transfiguration, and an elim receives their mark here because it’s so close to the heart."

Bucky presses a kiss to your shoulder, his lips warm against your skin. "Are you ready?" he asks softly.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Yes," you whisper.

You feel the weight of his hand come to rest again on your lower back, warm and reassuring. "Remember, I'm here with you. Our bond will help you through this."

You nod, closing your eyes and focusing on the connection between you. You can feel it thrumming with energy, and you try to ground yourself in it.

You feel the cool touch of the blade against your skin, and then a sharp, burning pain as Bucky begins to carve the sigil. You grit your teeth, your fingers gripping the stone parapet tightly. The pain is intense, but not unbearable. As Bucky promised, there's an underlying current of energy flowing through you, dulling the worst of it.

As he works, Bucky murmurs words in a language you don't understand. The air around you seems to thicken, charged with an otherworldly power. You can feel the bond between you pulsing, growing stronger with each stroke of the blade.

As Bucky continues carving the sigil, you feel a strange tingling sensation spreading from the point of the blade. It's as if tendrils of energy are snaking through your body, igniting every nerve ending. The pain is still there, but it's overshadowed by a growing sense of power and connection.

You gasp as a particularly intricate part of the sigil is carved, your body arching involuntarily. Bucky's free hand moves to your hip, steadying you. "Almost done," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear.

With a final, decisive stroke, Bucky completes the sigil, then places his palm flat against the marking and murmurs a few more words. The moment he's finished, a surge of energy courses through you, so intense it nearly brings you to your knees. Bucky's strong arms wrap around you, holding you upright as wave after wave of sensation washes over you.

You're dimly aware of what’s going on as he sweeps you into his arms. He carries you back into the bedroom and places you softly on the large four-poster bed. The sheets are soft and cool against your skin as you lie down. Bucky stands next to the bed, his wings unfurling to their full span, but he rustles them in clear agitation.

"The ritual of the sigil is complete," Bucky explains, “and now your body will undergo transfiguration over the next few hours.”

There’s a sudden spasm that shoots down your right side, and you wince.

He puts a hand on your torso, and it radiates out a calming energy that allows you to breathe easy again. You put your hand over his, holding it there.

"You’ve seen that I have some power, but the strongest energy - to generate, to transfer, and to consume - is sexual energy.”

A strained laugh erupts from your lips. “Of course it is.”

Despite the lingering pain from the sigil, you feel a surge of arousal at his words. The bond between you pulses with anticipation.

"Are you willing?" Bucky asks softly, his hand still resting on your torso.

You nod, unable to form words as another wave of sensation washes over you. Bucky leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. The moment your lips meet, energy courses between you, amplifying every touch, every sensation.

Bucky's hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You arch into his touch, craving more. Your own hands explore the planes of his muscular chest and back, marveling at the softness of his skin contrasted with the hardness of his body. When your fingers brush the base of his wings, he lets out a low groan that sends shivers down your spine.

His lips leave yours to trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. Each touch sends jolts of pleasure through you, amplified by the bond between you. You can feel his desire, his need, as if it were your own.

Bucky's hand slides down your body, coming to rest between your plush thighs. You gasp as he strokes you, your hips bucking involuntarily. "So wet for me," he murmurs against your skin.

You whine and spread your legs.

“It’s good that you’re so eager now, my elim, because I’ve wanted to taste your nectar from the source since the instant I smelled you in the clearing tonight.”

Bucky's words send a shiver of anticipation through you. He moves down your body, trailing kisses along your skin. When he reaches your thighs, he spreads them wider, settling his broad shoulders between them.

"Bucky, please," you gasp, your hands tangling in his hair.

His breath ghosts over your sensitive flesh, making you squirm. "Be good for me," he murmurs, placing a hand on your hip to steady you.

The first swipe of his tongue has you arching off the bed, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips. Bucky holds your hips down as he continues his ministrations, alternating between long, slow licks and quick flicks of his tongue.

The mounting pleasure distracts from the pain, but you’re feeling other sensations throughout your body that you can’t ignore. At one point you’re aware of your bones, heating up, then resonating for a moment, and then those sensations subside. Most of the other changes in your body, though, fall into the background against the canvas of what Bucky’s doing to your sex with his mouth.

Bucky's skilled tongue works you into a frenzy, building your pleasure higher and higher. The bond between you pulses with energy, amplifying every sensation. You can feel his desire, his hunger for you, as if it were your own.

Your hands tangle in his hair, holding him close as your hips buck against his face. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, blurring the lines between pain and ecstasy as your body continues its transformation.

"Bucky," you gasp, feeling yourself teetering on the edge. "I'm close!"

He redoubles his efforts, sucking your sensitive bud between his lips as he slides two fingers inside you. The dual stimulation is your undoing. You cry out as your orgasm washes over you, waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

As you come down from your high, you feel the air literally moving through your lungs, hyperaware of every sensation in your body.

But Bucky is only idle for a moment. He pushes up to kneel above you, tracing his fingers down your thighs, causing you to shiver with pleasure. Then he grips your hips and flips you over and maneuvers you onto your hands and knees.

Bucky's strong hands grip your hips as he positions himself behind you. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his desire palpable in the air between you. The bond pulses with anticipation, your bodies already in tune with each other's needs.

"Are you ready for me, my elim?" Bucky's voice is low and husky, sending goosebumps over your skin.

You nod, words failing you as another wave of sensation washes through your body. The transformation is still ongoing, every nerve ending hypersensitive.

Bucky slowly pushes into you, stretching and filling you in the most delicious way. You gasp at the intensity of it, the pleasure almost overwhelming. He pauses once he's fully seated, giving you time to adjust.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs, leaning over to press a kiss between your shoulder blades, then right over your sigil. There’s a pulse of energy that radiates through it, and you feel like it’s healing.

Bucky begins to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm that has you gasping with each thrust. The pleasure is intense, amplified by the bond between you and the ongoing changes in your body. You can feel every inch of him as he slides in and out, your bodies moving together in perfect synchronicity.

His hands roam your body, caressing your curves and sending shivers of delight through you. When he reaches around to cup your breasts, you arch into his touch, craving more.

"That's it," Bucky murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Let go for me, my elim. Let me feel your pleasure."

His words spur you on, and you begin to move your hips back to meet his thrusts. The new angle has him hitting a spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. You cry out, your fingers clutching the sheets as the waves of pleasure and pain begin to mount higher.

As your climax approaches, you feel a surge of energy coursing through your body. It's different from before - wilder, more primal. Your spine tingles with an otherworldly power, and for a moment, it’s like you can’t breathe.

"Bucky," you gasp, your voice strained. "Something's happening..."

"Let it happen," he says, his voice low and commanding. "Don't fight it."

He repositions himself behind you, planting one foot on the bed to give him more leverage to thrust into your cunt. He forces your chest down, pushing your face into the soft sheets, hand planted between your shoulder blades, and he redoubles his efforts, slamming his thick cock into your weeping pussy. You moan and keen, and it mixes with his own groans and grunts of desperate pleasure.

the bond between you heightening everything, you climax at the same time, accompanied by another blinding burst of light as happened before on the altar. But in the next moment, there’s a searing pain that rips through your ecstasy. Your back feels like it’s exploding, and there’s a cacophony of sounds - ripping, ruffling, rustling, and your own anguished scream.

The pain is overwhelming, and you feel like your body is being ripped apart from the inside out. You crawl away from Bucky, desperately trying to escape the searing agony.

But as you move, you realize that something is off. Your body feels foreign, and when you reach back to touch your back, you feel something there that shouldn't be - a pair of wings.

As you turn to face Bucky, he holds a cautious stance, but his face is full of wonder and awe. You, on the other hand, can only stare at him in mute horror as you try to understand what has just happened.

You were so focused on fulfilling the bonding ritual that you didn't consider the consequences. And now it seems as though those consequences have caught up with you.

Tears stream down your face as panic sets in. You don't know what to do or how to control this new form that has taken over your body. You never thought the transformation would lead all the way to this - to your own set of wings.

Bucky speaks your name softly, moving slowly toward you.

You’re trembling, and your chest heaves with sobs. You didn’t even realize your tears had turned to crying.

Bucky approaches you cautiously, his hands outstretched in a calming gesture. "It's alright," he says softly, his voice soothing. "I know this is overwhelming, but you're safe. I'm here with you."

You try to speak, but only a choked sob comes out. Your new wings flutter involuntarily, causing you to flinch.

"Breathe," Bucky instructs gently. "Focus on my voice. In and out, slowly."

You follow his guidance, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. As your panic subsides, you become more aware of the wings on your back. They feel strange, yet somehow natural, as if they've always been a part of you.

"That's it," Bucky encourages. "You're doing wonderfully." He moves closer, reaching out to touch your arm. "May I?"

You nod.

Bucky's touch is gentle as he runs his hand down your arm, grounding you. The sensation helps calm your racing heart.

"Your wings are beautiful," he says softly.

You take a shaky breath, trying to process his words. "I... I didn't expect this," you manage to say.

Bucky nods understandingly. "I know. The full extent of an elim's transformation isn't always predictable. But this... this is extraordinary."

Slowly, carefully, he guides you to turn around so he can examine your wings. You feel his fingers gently tracing along the new appendages, sending shivers down your spine.

You take another shaky breath. "What... what am I now?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky turns you back around and cups your face in his hands, his eyes meeting yours. "You're still you," he says firmly. "But now you're also something more. You're an elim, my elim, one of the pantheon of angelic creatures."

His thumbs wipe away your tears as he continues, "Your wings are a physical manifestation of the power you now possess. They're a gift, not a curse."

You nod slowly, trying to process his words. The initial shock is less overwhelming, but not gone. “And I’ll have these wings forever?” you ask, thinking suddenly of how you never saw this man before the midnight ritual, which makes sense as there’s no way to hide his large wings. Your heart constricts thinking of all the people you will never see again.

"Yes, but you’ll be able to retract and conceal them most of the time.”

“I-” your voice breaks, “I will?”

“Yes,” he says emphatically, and you know he must feel your enormous worry through the bond, “it’s only the day before and the day after a full moon when an angel can not conceal their true nature.”

Relief washes over you, and you sink forward against his chest, and his arms wrap around your lower back beneath your wings.

“I suppose that’s not the worst,” you say, already starting to see how you could build your life around that. Work will certainly never be a problem, as you won’t have to explain to your boss since he’s the one who triggered your transformation. You imagine it won’t be strange for you to go about as normal here on the estate, either. “I’ll just have to stay out of the public eye for two days a month.”

Bucky chuckles. “‘Not the worst?’ Oh, my elim, you won’t want to be anywhere but here those two days. I’m certain we’ll always have good sex,” he says, trailing moving one of his hands up your spine, and causing you to shiver, “but the unbelievable heights of sensation we’ve felt tonight? That intensity will only accompany the full moon.”

Your eyes widen at Bucky's words, a mix of anticipation and nervousness fluttering in your stomach. The memory of the intense pleasure you just experienced is still fresh in your mind, and the thought of experiencing it again and again, amplified by the full moon, is both thrilling and slightly overwhelming.

"So, this happens every month?" you ask, your voice a mix of curiosity and awe.

Bucky nods, a small smile playing on his lips. "The full moon amplifies our powers and our connection. It's a sacred time for our kind."

You take a deep breath, trying to process all this new information. Your wings flutter slightly behind you, and you realize you can feel the air moving through them, a strange but not unpleasant sensation.

"How do I... how do I control them?" you ask, gesturing vaguely behind you.

Bucky's smile widens. “It will come. You’ll develop mastery over your wings as you have the rest of your body. It will take concentration at first, and then it will be like breathing.”

Bucky guides you to stand up, his hands steadying you as you wobble slightly, still adjusting to your new center of gravity.

Bucky leads you over to stand in front of a full-length mirror. For the first time, you see your transformed self - your body still familiar, but now adorned with a pair of magnificent wings. They're smaller than Bucky's, but no less beautiful, with feathers that shimmer in shades of pearl and pale gold. You note that the coloring is not that different from Bucky’s lighter wing.

"Let's start with something simple," he says. "Try to stretch them out fully."

You take a deep breath, focusing on the new appendages. At first, nothing happens, and you feel a flicker of frustration. But then, slowly, you feel the muscles in your back engage, and your wings begin to unfurl.

The sensation is strange but exhilarating. As your wings extend to their full span, you gasp in awe. They're larger than you expected, easily reaching several feet on either side of you.

"Beautiful," Bucky murmurs, his eyes filled with pride and admiration. "Now, try to fold them back in."

This proves to be a bit more challenging, but with Bucky's gentle guidance and encouragement, you manage to tuck them nicely behind you - though not as tightly as you remember Bucky had initially in the clearing. You furl them back out a little, in what feels like a more natural position - at least for now.

"That's it," Bucky says, pride evident in his voice. "You're a natural."

You stare at your reflection, mesmerized by the sight. It's far too surreal, yet somehow feels right. Bucky steps closer and strokes along the bone of your wing from base to tip, and you fight between a whimper and a sigh escaping your lips, the feeling exquisite as he touches your wing.

"Sensitive, aren't they?" Bucky says with a knowing smile. "Wings are one of the most erogenous zones for our kind."

You nod, unable to form words as he continues to stroke your wing. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever felt before, pleasure radiating from the point of contact throughout your entire body.

Bucky's hand moves to the juncture where your wing meets your back, massaging gently. You lean into his touch, an unrestrained moan escaping your lips. The bond between you pulses with renewed energy, and you can feel Bucky's desire rising to match your own.

"There's so much more for you to learn," Bucky murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "About your new body, your new abilities, the world you're now a part of.

Bucky's hands move to your shoulders, turning you to face him. His eyes are dark with desire as he looks at you. “So many new sensations to explore."

His wings unfurl behind him, and you're struck again by their beauty and power. He takes your hand and guides it to the base of his wing. "Touch me," he encourages.

Hesitantly, you run your fingers along the strong bone structure of his wing, marveling at the softness of the feathers. Bucky's eyes flutter closed, a low groan escaping his lips. Encouraged by his reaction, you grow bolder, stroking and exploring the expanse of his wing.

As you caress him, you feel an echo of the pleasure through your bond. It's as if you can sense what he's feeling, amplifying your own arousal. Your other hand moves to his chest, tracing the defined muscles there.

Bucky's hands aren't idle either. They roam your body, learning your curves and newly sensitive areas. When he reaches the base of your wings, mirroring your actions on his own, you gasp at the intensity of the sensation. It's pleasure unlike anything you've ever experienced before, radiating from your wings throughout your entire body.

His wings twitch and flutter under your ministrations, and you can feel his arousal building through your bond - and pressing against your stomach.

Suddenly, Bucky's eyes snap open, dark with need. In one fluid motion, he lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrap around him, and he carries you back to the bed. He tosses you into the middle of the mattress, joining you immediately. He lays back and pulls you on top of him.

“Ride me, elim,” he says, his eyes hungry for you.

You straddle Bucky's hips, your new wings fluttering slightly as you position yourself above him. The bond between you pulses with anticipation and desire. As you slowly lower yourself onto his hard length, you both groan in unison at the exquisite sensation.

Bucky's hands grip your wide hips, guiding your movements as you begin to rock against him. The angle allows him to hit deep inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your wings seem to have a mind of their own, stretching and folding with each roll of your hips.

"That's it," Bucky encourages, his voice low and husky. "Let yourself feel everything."

You lean forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you increase your pace. The new position causes your wings to spread wide, and you feel a rush of cool air against the sensitive feathers. The sensation sends shots of pleasure straight to your core.

Bucky’s hands move from your hips up your back questing for your wings again.

As Bucky's fingers caress the sensitive juncture where the feathers meet your back, you cry out in ecstasy. The dual stimulation of his touch on your wings and his cock deep inside you is overwhelming. Your movements become more frantic as you chase your pleasure.

Bucky's own wings unfurl beneath him, the feathers rustling against the sheets. The sight of him, powerful and angelic beneath you, only fuels your desire further.

"You're so beautiful like this," Bucky murmurs, his eyes locked on yours. "My perfect elim."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel your climax building rapidly. Your wings flutter and stretch with each roll of your hips, seeming to respond to your mounting pleasure.

Bucky's wings curl forward to touch your wings, and a jolt of intense pleasure courses through you. You cry out, your movements faltering for a moment as you adjust to the new sensation. Bucky uses the opportunity to thrust up into you, setting a faster pace.

You can only moan, words escaping you as waves of pleasure wash over you. As you ride him, you become aware of a building energy between you. It's similar to what you felt during the ritual, but more intense, more focused.

The energy between you and Bucky builds to a crescendo, pulsing in time with your movements. Your wings are fully extended now, quivering with each thrust. One of Bucky's hands moves to cup your face, his eyes locked on yours.

"Let go," Bucky commands, his voice rough with need. "Come for me, my elim."

His words, combined with a particularly deep thrust, send you over the edge. You cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, more intense than anything you've ever experienced. Your wings beat powerfully, sending gusts of air through the room as pleasure courses through every fiber of your being.

Bucky follows you moments later, his own wings unfurling fully as he reaches his climax. You feel his seed filling you up, and it fills you with an added element of satisfaction.

You collapse against his chest, and his arms draw around you tightly. You rest your forehead against his, and then he kisses you. Slow but passionate - not with a drive for more sex, but more of an earnest need to connect with you on a deeper level.

As your breathing slowly returns to normal, you become aware of a warmth spreading through your body. It's different from the heat of arousal - this feels more like a gentle, comforting glow emanating from within. Your wings, now relaxed, drape over you both like a feathered blanket.

Bucky's hand strokes gently along your spine, his touch soothing and grounding. "How do you feel?" he asks softly, his voice filled with tenderness.

You take a moment to assess yourself. The initial shock and fear of your transformation have faded, replaced by a sense of wonder and, surprisingly, contentment.

"Different," you reply honestly. "But... good different. Like I've finally become who I was always meant to be.”

Bucky smiles, his eyes shining with pride and affection. "That's exactly it," he says, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "We’ve awakened your true nature, what was buried beneath the surface."

You shift slightly, marveling at how natural your wings already feel. "There's still so much I don't understand," you admit. "So much to learn."

"And we have all the time in the world for that," Bucky assures you. His hand moves to caress your wing, sending a pleasant shiver through you. "I'll be here to guide you every step of the way."

You nod, feeling a surge of gratitude and affection for him. The bond between you pulses warmly, a constant reminder of your connection.

"What happens now?" you ask, curious about what this new life holds for you.

Bucky's hand moves back to its soothing motion along your spine. "Now, we rest. Your body has undergone a significant change, and you need time to recover and adjust."

He shifts slightly, adjusting your position so you're lying more comfortably against his chest. Your wings naturally fold around you both, creating a cocoon of soft feathers.

"In the coming days, I'll teach you more about your new abilities," Bucky continues. "How to control your wings, how to harness the energy that now flows through you, and,” he presses his hand meaningfully to the small of your back at the same time he presses a kiss to your forehead, “answer all of your questions.”

“All of them?” you ask.

“All of them,” he promises.

THIRTY-FOUR THOUSAND WORDS TOTAL! Can you believe it?!

If you've come with me this far... I literally can't thank you enough for reading this. It really pushed my creativity as it's an AU area I'd never explored before. I hope it was full of delicious details, tantalizing mysteries, and I know I still didn't answer all of the burning questions... 🤭 Maybe if anyone is really dying to know, then someday we'll learn more?

But THIS is the end of this story at least. A nice, smutty end. 😏

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x yn #female reader #curvy reader #aspen wrote something #chosen au #tw: cults #terato #monster smut

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kurtwagnerfurr · 2 months ago

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Pairing: Kurt Wagner x AFAB!Reader

(But no pronouns used for reader)

Warnings: 18+ ,Nsfw,unprotected P in V, masturbation,Kurt likes watching for just a moment.

Summary: Kurt comes back to your shared apartment after a 3 days mission and catches you touching yourself, moaning his name.

Word count:5.1K~

Please be kind! English is not my first language!

It was almost 9 pm,Kurt should be back soon after 3 days of absence.

These past 3 days had been hell for you,with all the worrying about his safety mixed with the longing for him you were excited to see him again.

Very *excited*.

I mean 3 days is not a lot to be without your boyfriend but the thing is Kurt had gotten you used to being close to him 24/7, either cuddling or fucking.

Now you were thinking a lot about the second option.

You were on the couch, watching some trashy reality TV show,but your mind couldn't stop wandering to Kurt and the feeling of anticipation for his arrival.

Your thoughts went to his face the first time you two had fucked,his beautiful lips parted and eyes half lidded.

Then it went to the rough kisses you had shared.

Then to his naked form as he finished taking a shower.

And before you knew it a familiar wetness had formed in your panties.

9 pm. Kurt was probably going to be late at this point.

You slowly push your hands under your clothes, rubbing circles over your clit.You moan softly, closing your eyes,Kurt's name escaping your lips.

You were so focused on giving yourself some relief that you didn't smell the familiar scent of brimstone.

Kurt,now standing in the living room,watched you from behind.

With your eyes closed you continued giving yourself pleasure.Kurt's name escaped your lips again in a soft moan.

That was enough for him.

With a 'bamf' he teleports in front of you, standing in front of the TV.

"Liebling,are we touching ourselves without permission now?" Kurt said,voice low

You quickly open your eyes, startled,at the sound of the voice, thinking maybe you had just imagined it,but there he was, standing right in front of you,a grin on his face.

"Shit" you murmed "you scared the crap out of me" your voice was full of embarrassment and a blush went to your cheeks.You quickly take away your hand from you panties and close your legs.

"Thinking of me uh? I heard you say my name,Schatz" Kurt said with a grin, leaning down a bit from his position.

"I missed you" you replied softly

"I missed you too" he said,voice low

Then Kurt takes a nearby chair and sits down on it,a grin on his face "Please continue" he started "I want to see you touching yourself" he added firmly, gesturing for you to continue

You blush even more if possible but you do as he said.

Slowly you reach into your panties,going for the usual motion and spreading you legs.You lean back into the couch as a moan escapes your lips.

"Liebe" Kurt said "you look so beautiful right now" his accent thicker than usual

You looked Kurt in the eyes while doing the sinful action of pleasuring yourself, until something else caught your attention.

You lowered your eyes to his growing erection in his pants,at the sight you let out a shaky moan

"Kurt..." You said "... please"

"Please what? Liebling,tell me what you need" Kurt said with a fake curious look,he knew exactly what you needed he just wanted to hear it from you.

"You...need you to touch me" you managed to say between moans

"God if you could see yourself right now" the German said

"Please" your voice low and needy

Without a word Kurt gets up from the chair and walked up to the couch,he swiftly grabbed you waist and lifted you up, flipping you from you sitting position,so you were now straddling his lap.

You wasted no time and met him with a rough kiss,full of need. Your lips parted to give him access and he immediately slipped in his tongue.

You moaned into the kiss,the feeling of his tongue being too much and not enough at the same time.

When you both pulled away to get some air he started kissing your neck, going for the usual spots that made you shiver.

"Kurt..." You said,voice shaky

Kurt doesn't stop kissing you all over, instead he also put his hands on your waist and moved you forward,pulling you impossibly closer to him.

You moaned at the motion,taking it as an invitation to grind on his thigh.Your leg stroked his dick through his pants.

"Mein Gott..." He let out a shaky moan and cursed under his breath.

Suddenly you felt yourself being lifted and next thing you knew you were laying down on the couch,with Kurt over you, steadying himself with his arms on either side of your head.

"Pretty" he just let out as he began kissing you again on your neck

You almost didn't feel a pull at your panties, Kurt's tail pushing them down and throwing them on the floor.

"Fuck, Kurt, please I need your hands" you moaned loudly.

Kurt took one of his hands down your waist, pulling you closer under him.

"If you beg so good..." He said,taking his hand down to your aching cunt, making circles on your clit.

Then he pushed one of his big fingers slowly in your opening.

You couldn't bite back a moan

Kurt continued, searching for the right spot that made you see stars.

As soon as he found it your head leaned back into the pillows a long moan escaping your lips,a familiar heat forms into your lower tummy

Kurt smirked at the sound,but he retracted his finger from inside of you.

Before you could protest he lined up himself to your entrance and pushed in the tip of his dick

"Kurt" you moaned

"That's it, liebling,let me hear you say my name" the German said, pushing in deeper with his hips.

"Fuck Kurt..." You moaned again "...you feel so good..." Your voice is low and needy

"You have no idea what you do to me Schatz..." Kurt said in response

His hands came to grip your waist,while his tail suddenly started to rub circles on your clit.

It was almost too much and you thought you would come right there.

When Kurt's trusts became more erratic you knew he was close too. The slapping sounds of skin filled the room.

"Liebe... I'm going to..." He said softly

"Please come into me, please" you said firmly, wanting nothing but to feel his seed inside your pussy.

"God... you'll be the death of me..." Kurt lowly chuckled as his trusts became faster and more uncoordinated.

You could see starts,the feeling of him being inside of you being enough to leave you a shaking mess.

Your legs trembled and your hips made no effort to meet his trusts anymore,you knew you were close.

As you climax came you tightened around Kurt's dick,and you let out a series of moans.

The sight of you all fucked up and moaning loudly was enough for Kurt,who finished shortly after into you.

Kurt fell down almost immediately after he came,body pressing onto yours as you both layed on the couch.

You both tried to catch your breaths,the intensity of the act still lingering on you.

"Shower?" Kurt said as soon as he regained his breath

"Shower." You confirmed.

#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner x you #nightcrawler xmen #nightcrawler x reader #x men 97 #x men #smut #kurt wagner smut

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polarspaz · 10 months ago

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Carrion AU Updated Tidbits

So here's a HUGE info dump for the AU, and some minor adjustments to the lore.

-When Tim was a child, he was severely neglected by his parents. They had no interest in him and let the nannies do all of the care taking, and sadly, Tim was fine with that, until he started getting sick.

The nannies that took care of him were suddenly gone, and his parents became obsessed with him eating all of his food, especially dinner, but the more he ate, the worst he got, and Tim wasn't an idiot.

He knew the food was the real reason he was becoming so ill, so when his parents left the house, he studied. He researched poisons, searched through the house for information and clues, and finally found the truth.

The insurance plan filed under his name, the threatening letters from the mob, and even the bottle of poison his parents were using to coat his meals, all pointed to one single truth. His parents were going to kill him. They needed money from the insurance company to pay off the mob and his death would give them just that.

A few night's later, Tim secretly watched his mother make dinner and saw her pour a deadly amount of poison into his meal. Tim's tiny heart hammered against his chest, and one resounding thought echoed in his 7 year old mind, I don't want to die.

So he crept past his mother and towards the wine glasses, pulled out a small vile and dumped it's contents into both drinks. He then went to the dinning table and sat down quietly, his hands shaking the entire time.

Five minutes later and he was still there, trembling. Both his of parents were dead on the floor.

-----

Gotham is divided into two parts, The Gilded Square, and the Chaos Circle. The Gilded Square is the upper center part of Gotham, where Batman and the police force have complete control. This is were the majority of citizens live and where Wayne Tower and Manor are located.

The Chaos Circle covers the entire area outside the Gilded Square and encompasses most of Gotham. Here, there is no law, criminals run wild and their numbers are immense. The worst felons from all over the country are sent here, and psychopaths like the Joker rule the streets.

-Batman does not like killing, but he will do it if he has to. The sheer amount of chaos he has to fight against has brought him to this point. Still, it's a last resort option, and he still won't use guns.

-The rest of the Batfamily try to follow this rule but there are times when it's broken. Jason likes to use guns and has no problem with offing more people than necessary. Dick gets extremely violent when he finds hurt kids. Damian meanwhile thinks torture should be implemented into their cause. Stephanie likes shoving fireworks into unethical places, like eyeballs, and then there's Tim.

-Tim, who likes to make drugs that cause people to claw into their skin so they can dig out the spiders hiding inside their veins. To say Bruce has his hands full in this AU, is an understatement.

#carrionau #dc comics #tidbits

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star-girl69 · 5 months ago

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Guilty Pleasure

Caroline (KK) Harvey x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: after weeks full of stress and homework, all you want to do is have a nice evening with your girlfriend. but it’s hard to let yourself do that when she’s working herself to death to prepare for hockey championships.

a/n: wow i’m a genius… based off of this ask!! i hope you all enjoy!! STREAM TOUGH BY LANA AND QUAVO‼️‼️‼️

a few notes:

shoutout to my wonderful sister wife @lovinpelova read her kk fic it’s amazing ILY AND OUR WIFE 🫶

and rip to laila’s ability to go live 💔💔

Guilty Pleasure - Chappell Roan

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, i don’t know anything about college please spare me, college scares me, i’m scared, anyways, texting if that triggers y’all, the tiniest bit of angst, y/n is kinda like insecure and all self deprecating LOL, umm a little bit of kissing, hurt/comfort!!!!!!!! kinda!!!!, swearing, ending sucks so bad, this sucks, whatever, i think that’s all let me know if i missed anything!!

—-

“Y/N,” your roommate groans into the stillness of your room. Besides for the natural humming of the building, it’s midnight, a school night, and the dorms are mostly silent. “Y/N, please. Turn off the lights and go to bed. You can’t keep studying, babe.”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, standing up from your desk and flicking the light switch on the wall. You hear your roommate, Jackie, let out a sigh of relief.

Immediately, you sit back down, flipping the desk lamp on.

“Ugh, no, babe. That’s not what I meant- you need to sleep.”

“I have to study.”

Jackie had it so easy- you’ve never seen her study for any test, ever, yet she always comes back with 90’s on whatever assignment it is. Not you. No, you work your ass off and get an 80- if you’re lucky.

“You’ve been studying all weekend,” she groans. “You can’t do anything about it now, trust me. Whatever happens, happens. All you can do now is sleep.”

You’re silent, trying to cram just a few more vocab words into your head.

“Y/N, please!”

A pillow hits your head.

“Bitch!” You yell, glaring at her. Maybe you did really think she would be smiling at you, but she’s not. She’s looking at you with real concern in her eyes.

“Babe. I can see the dark circles under your eyes from here.”

And if you’re honest, the words on the pages are starting to blur, you can’t process anything- you know she’s right. You’re not helping yourself at this point, but you’re too scared to just give up and go to bed. What if you stay up for one more minute and it completely saves your ass tomorrow?

“Maybe you should call KK?” Jackie says, tentatively, but you’re not even looking at her anymore. “I won’t even complain that you’re whispering.”

“She’s probably asleep,” you mutter. “She texted me today, they had a really hard practice.”

“Yeah, but she’ll answer if you call. We both know she will.”

“No, I’m not bothering her. I’ll go to bed, okay?”

You meet Jackie’s eyes, and she looks you up and down.

“Okay.”

But she doesn’t settle, not when you’ve flicked the light off. You can see her when your eyes adjust, she doesn’t lay down until she sees you in bed, covers pulled up to your chin.

It’s only when you finally firmly squeeze your eyes shut that you hear the rustling of her settling into bed.

“Goodnight,” she murmurs, concern in her voice.

“Goodnight,” you say back.

She’s right. She’s completely right about everything.

She’s close with KK and the rest of the team you’ve come to known like family just like you. KK would answer you. She always has notifications turned on for you and you for her.

And there’s nothing else you can do about this test tomorrow, you’re confident you’ll at least pass it, but since you’re not doing any sports like almost everyone else at this school, you feel like you should at least have better grades. But you just… don’t.

As you wrap your arms around yourself in the darkness, hoping Jackie’s eyes are closed and she can’t see you, all you can do is think about Caroline.

—-

hockey queen: r u still coming over??

you: yes ofc do u hate me and want me to die????

hockey queen: no ily ❤️

you: ilyt i’m getting food tn btw

hockey queen: ok babe wtvr u want 😍

After days of turning down every invitation to go out, after forcing yourself to stay home and feeling Jackie’s disapproving eyes on you every time you stayed up late- your last class of the week had finished.

It was Friday afternoon, the sky starting to turn a pretty grey that let you know rain was coming. This entire week had felt like a battle in the long war that was college, and you desperately needed a night in with a movie and some takeout to replenish yourself for the next week-long battle.

And you needed that night to be with Caroline. Desperately. Even though you knew she was working herself just as hard, with your workload and her busy hockey schedule these Friday nights were sacred, and weekly.

No one ever skipped a Friday night.

Even when you were under the weather with the most horrible headache you’ve ever been plagued with, Caroline still came over and rubbed you temples, talked to you to distract you in a soft voice and let you drool on her when you finally did fall asleep.

Even when Caroline was so exhausted from a hard practice, and all she had the strength to do was brush her teeth and change into sweats, you let her pass out on top of you and stayed put the rest of the night, rubbing her back, just to make sure she got her rest.

With championships coming up, you’re sure tonight will be another night in which KK is barely functioning, but as long as she’s just there, tangible, you’ll be fine.

That’s what you tell yourself, even as you walk across campus, letting your mind guiltily wander to you just finally stopping for one second, slowing down and confiding in her how fucking exhausted you were.

The rational part of you knew she would understand. But the insecure, childish part of you that was scared you’ll be seen as too needy, too much, overpowered everything else.

You needed whatever bit of Caroline she would give you.

You sighed, kicking a stick on the concrete path away at a particularly vivid fantasy of you absolutely sobbing in her arms. And it’s not like you haven’t cried in front of her before- what scared you about this guilty fantasy was how good it felt, even in this daydream, to let her in.

She works so hard. You can’t dump yourself onto her either.

—-

jacked 💪: do i have the dorm to myself tn??

you: yes 🤗

jacked 💪: inviting sexy boy from econ over

you: use protection ily

jacked 💪: BITCH ilyt

KK and Laila had the cutest apartment that wasn’t too far away, with a really pretty view out onto a street with lots of lights that almost made it feel like new york city.

Unfortunately, the rest of the apartment really did feel like the apartment of two college girls. There was perpetually dishes in the sink, the weirdest posters and inside jokes plastered onto the walls- you didn’t even try to understand them.

Laila likes to joke that she knows when it’s time to clean based on how bad your reaction is when you walk in. She decides they can go a few more days without cleaning. You roll your eyes, eating your takeout at the counter while you wait for your girlfriend to get out of the shower.

When she finally does emerge from her room, her slightly curly hair in its prettiest slightly wet form, dressed in comfy clothes- something immediately squeezes inside of your chest.

Maybe it’s your heart. Or maybe it’s a physical manifesting of nerves and guilt in that’s made its home in your chest. Whatever.

You can see the tiredness on her face when she walks over to where you sit, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your cheek.

You ignore Lalia’s exaggerated gag.

“Come with me,” KK murmurs into your ear, and you don’t need to be told twice, stuffing your keys into your pocket and following her.

“Don’t be too loud!” Laila shouts after you, looking into the fridge to find a snack- you all know that fridge is in desperate need of a restock and a deep clean- “There are other people in this apartment, okay?”

“Shut up!” KK responds, holding onto your arm tightly and shutting the door behind you.

—-

After putting on some random movie from Netflix in the background, you were all too happy to throw yourself onto KK’s comfy bed, smiling when she let out an exaggerated groan, collapsing face down next to you.

“Aw, hard practice?” You fake cooed, and she nodded into her pillows. You played with a damp curl, twisting it between your fingers.

“So many bag skates,” she moaned. “I lost count. I swear I almost died. I saw the gates of Heaven.”

“Poor baby.”

“Yes,” she muttered in agreement, grabbing your hand playing with her hair and pressing it up against her face so she could trap you between her face and the pillow. “Everything hurts.”

The only light came from the flickering movie, and you could barely even hear it as you stared at her face. You press a kiss to her cheek and she smiles, and you sit up even as your own exhausted body screams at you.

She frowns when you take your hand away from her face, but doesn’t seem as bothered anymore when you straddle her legs and softly start to massage her shoulders.

“I love you,” she whispers, eyes falling shut. “Oh, my God, you could become a masseuse.”

You laugh, relishing in how intimate this moment feels, holding onto the feeling in your chest that erupted when she said “I love you” it’s not possible to feel guilt in this moment, shrouded in a haze that might be because of your droopy eyes but you tell yourself it’s because you love this girl so much.

“I haven’t seen you all week,” Caroline says after a second.

“I know,” you say after a long moment. Thinking of those long nights when you wanted to be selfish so bad. When you wanted her all to yourself. “Sorry. I’ve had, like, a lot of homework lately and stuff.”

“But the worst is over now?”

You heart squeezes at the hopeful edge to her tone.

It’s hard to find times when your schedules match. It hurts you, you know it hurts her, and sometimes these Fridays are the only thing that can keep you sane. You might actually end up in a mental hospital.

“Oh, um… I dunno. Hopefully, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she says, biting back a yawn. “I jus’ miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you say, so quietly it’s almost like a confession. “Okay, I’m sorry, I’m about to fall asleep,” you groan, slipping off of her and back onto the bed.

Laying on your side so you’re facing her, you watch as she opens her eyes and smiles at you in that sweet, slightly goofy way you fell in love with.

She reaches out and softly touches your under eyes, where you know there’s noticeable dark circles. She frowns, ever-so-slightly, and the unspoken question is thick in the air.

“Jackie keeps getting all pissed off at me,” you say, breaking the silence, making sure she doesn’t ask that question: “have you been sleeping?” You’re fine. You’re fine. “She thinks I’m studying too much but no matter how many times I tell her I’m studying a pretty normal amount- she won’t let it go.”

“Are you studying a normal amount?”

There’s a slight teasing smile on her face, so you roll your eyes.

“Yes. I stay up a little late, like, once and it’s like it’s the end of the world.”

It’s not just once, and it’s not just a little late, but KK is so tired, you can see it on her face.

She laughs. “Jackie jus’ loves you,” she says after a yawn.

“Too much, maybe.”

She puts her arm around you, tugging you closer to her. “You deserve all the love in the world, baby.”

You smile like a cheesy schoolgirl. “Okay,” you say, pressing a short kiss to her lips. “Go to bed, please. You can barely keep your eyes open and it’s actually kinda scary.”

“Come here,” she groans, pulling you even closer until you’re pressed up right against her.

And before you can even think about what you’re doing, you let out a sigh and press your face into her neck. This might be your favorite place- where you can feel her heartbeat and the way her arm is wrapped around you.

Your chest squeezes when everything fades out for a second, tiredness you didn’t feel until you were in her arms suddenly coming out in the form of a yawn.

“Damn, you’re tired,” she whispers, and you can hear the smile in her voice. You try to mumble “so are you” but it comes out as an incoherent mumble that she chuckles at.

Just as you faintly realize that comforting sensation is her hand in your hair, scratching your head, guilt consumes you. She’s been working so hard at practice- and here she is comforting you? You’re not going to national championships like her. You’re not doing anything important- you’re just tired from getting mediocre grades.

Sluggish, you moan and try to move out of her comfort, something inside of you screaming that you don’t deserve it, but she only mistakes it as you shifting in your sleep and softly shushes you.

And just as you push off sleep enough to try and get out, her breathing evens out. So, you fall asleep press tightly into her arms, feeling so guilty you think it might actually destroy you.

—-

hockey queen: hi baby practice finished early can i come over?

…

hockey queen: are u studying

hockey queen: babe pls i’m bored

hockey queen: ok i’m coming over deal w it

You set your pen down, staring at the scribbles in the margins of your assignment- the actual questions still blank. You sigh, feeling pressure behind your eyes that you try not to let spill.

“Fuck,” you whisper, putting your head into your hands and allowing yourself one guilty moment to wallow in self-pity before you finish this fucking assignment.

It’s still early, but you know you should have done this simple one page of work before tackling the endless pages of review for another test you have tomorrow- now you’re so tired you can barely see, and your hand is cramping.

You softly scrunch your dominant hand into a fist before spreading it out flat, almost wincing at how sore it is. Is it even possible for your hand to be this sore? Covered in smudged ink, you debate going to the bathroom and washing your hands. Maybe you need to walk around, then you can get this one page done.

But all you can think about is that stupid test tomorrow, and maybe you should stay up late again, screw Jackie’s concern, study more-

The first tear that drops onto your paper shocks you a bit. And you feel so stupid for crying in the first place that you start crying more.

Pressing your face into your hands, you’re too tired to try and stop the tears, just letting them fall. Your mind races with thoughts of that stupid test, this stupid assignment- and some rational part of you knows that this is unhealthy- but it’s college, and it kinda feels like everything you do is a precursor for your adult life.

If you can’t juggle tests and homework- how are you going to juggle bills and work? Simple housework?

Someone knocks on the door.

You freeze for a moment, feeling your makeup run streaky down your face, eyes still full of tears and mascara messy-

“Y/N?”

Oh, fuck. Fuck. You know that voice, you know KK’s voice, you can hear her perfectly through the door.

And you’re just stupidly, completely frozen.

Maybe because part of you wants to just run into her arms.

And before you can make up some lie or do anything to get her to go away, she just opens the door, and you quickly turn away.

“Oh. Y/N,” she says, obviously very confused. “I figured you weren’t in here. Did you see my texts?”

“Uh,” you start, and you know immediately that she can hear the sadness in your voice. “No, sorry. I’ve been studying.”

“What happened?” She asks, and you would laugh at the way she looks around the room, almost as if someone is going to jump out. “You’re crying.”

“No,” you fake laugh, standing up. “Give me a second, there’s something in my eye-”

She grabs your wrist.

“Please don’t lie to me.”

The sincerity and love in her voice makes you cry more.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine. I’m just a little overwhelmed with school, I’ve had some late nights, it’s stupid that I’m crying over this. Seriously, babe, thank you- but it’s not that big of a deal.”

She’s got this kinda heartbroken look on her face, and you love her so much- you feel even more guilty for making her feel like this, for being the cause of the frown on her face, and you just want to go back in time and stop all of this from happening.

“…It is a big deal if it’s making you cry.”

You can’t say anything.

She wipes a few tears from your face. “You look exhausted, baby. I didn’t want to say anything because I know you’ve had a lot going on with school, but I know you, I know you’re tired and I think maybe-”

“I’ve had a few late nights, okay?” You finally meet her eyes, trying to convince her that you’re okay, because you feel so stupid and vulnerable and you can’t stand it when she has that concerned look in her eyes for you. “Like, not even that late. 2 A.M. isn’t even that bad. I mean, it’s not like it pays off, because my grades are still shit- but, whatever. It’s fine. I’m fine, okay? I’m sorry, I’m just not thinking straight, and- it’s fine. It’s fine.”

“You’re not fuckin’ fine, Y/N. Stop saying that, why are you pushing me away? You can tell me anything, I love you.”

She’s dropped her bag by now, her entire attention focused on you, one arm wrapped around your waist as if you might run away from her and the other softly brushing away the tears that continue to fall.

“I try so hard,” you say after a second. “I study so much. And I… I just can’t get good grades. And I just… I feel so guilty all the time, because I just want to spend time with you and I love you so much but you work so hard and I just don’t want to be another thing for you to deal with.”

And once it’s finally out, not curled up in your chest like a second heart leeching on the very essence of your being, the tears dry up.

Caroline softly smiles.

“What?” You ask, sniffling a bit, one step away from crying again.

“It’s just- how could you ever think that you would be something for me to “deal” with?”

“I dunno,” you say, slightly pouty as she helps you sit down next to her.

“You’re my favorite person in the entire world. I love you more than anything- even hockey, which is saying a lot. You’re never something for me to deal with, and I don’t do anything but smile anytime someone says your name, or you text me, or I get to see you- I’m sorry that it really sucks right now, with my schedule, and that you were feeling like this and I had no idea- but I really fucking love you.”

You smile softly. “You’re sweet,” you murmur, legs intertwining with hers. “I fucking love you too.”

She places her hand on the side of her face and kisses your nose.

“Don’t ever feel guilty for wanting to spend time with me. I’m never too tired for you. Besides, do you know what I think about during practice?”

“What’s right in front of you face?” You quip.

“Well, that, but also you. And, also, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about with your grades. Don’t you have like an 89 in each class?”

“It’s not a 90,” you groan.

“Still better than me, I’m like all 85’s. And, you’re literally the only reason I’m passing that one class that I hate who’s name I don’t speak.”

You smile, angling yourself to face her, finding that you can’t think of anything poetic to say to tell her how much she means to you, so you just kiss her. Long and slow, trying to pour as much appreciation and emotion into it as possible.

“Okay, game plan, I help you finish whatever work you have, then have you eaten? I’ll get us food. Then, you’re going to go to sleep early, okay?”

“It’s a plan,” you say, standing up and crossing the room to that one piece of paper, tear stain dried on it.

Her face spurs adorably just at the sight of the homework from her least favorite class. “Oh, you’re gonna love me. Don’t worry, I got the answers from the really smart girl I sit next to.” She takes out her own sheet of homework from her bag on the floor, smoothing out the wrinkles on her thigh before proudly handing it to you.

“Hm, I do love you. Just a bit.”

“I’m pretending I didn’t hear that.”

And later that night, with your homework finally done, takeout boxes in the trash bin, and your head on Caroline’s chest- heartbeat in your ears, her lips on the top of you head- it feels impossible to feel guilty about loving her.

—-

Jackie walks in late, groaning to herself about the stupid kid in her study group who asks the most common sense questions- she quickly shuts up when she realizes you’re asleep in your bed.

“Thank God,” she breaths, grateful that she didn’t find you hunched over at the desk again.

She squints into the darkness, quickly realizing there’s two figures on her bed, and the other one is very familiar-

“What did I say?” Jackie mutters to herself. “Insufferably in love with each other.”

Then, she quickly snaps a picture before getting ready for bed herself.

—-

#caroline harvey #caroline harvey x reader #kk harvey #kk harvey x reader #ncaa hockey x reader

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