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loneworldgazer · 3 months ago

Text

"his mutt."

pairing: Harley Sawyer X toy!reader

cont: You, his assistant gave up your parts oh so willingly to him. Why are you surprised that you've been turned into a toy, did you think you were special?

a/n: this was crazy, I'll dissappear again for a year trust!!! Seriously tho, writing is fun but my lifestyle is so busy now brahhhh. Edit: closing my eyes as I post this cause I'm not sure if I went on a tangent writing all of this or it's actually good AHHHHH

tags: reader IS AN ADULT, nsfw, groping, degradation, sadism, delusion, fingering, no sex (unfortunately), no specific gentilia mentioned guys, first time writing slight smut??? Idk man Harley is not a good man obviiii, I also want to make it clear that THIS IS NOT BEASTILITY

๑ ~⁠♪

"L/N, would you give yourself up in the name of science?"

That snapped you out your daze from the whirring of the water faucet sanitizing the bloody scalpels. The blood turn to clouds and made your eye twitch back to Harley who had his hand on a VHS tape ready to record another log. That prompted you to reply quickly.

You straightened up, wanting to give a lengthy answer that would somehow impress the Doctor or at best, make him bat an eyelash at you. Experimenting was the reason why you decided to be a scientist, Playtime Co. was where it was home for a job like yours. Going into the unknown required some unethicality and pushing past morals, too much of it is too far that you don't even notice. In the long run, you had smeared blood that wasn't yours all over yourself without realising. Research was the hook, the line were your meticulous gloved hands on a body and the sinker was the Doctor acknowledging the labour that you do.

This place was a house that echoes off with tormented residents and you're simply one of the owners that bang at the walls so they can keep quiet, the smudged handprints had been painted over with a new coat. In this place where you sit at your appointed seat in the family couch, your eyes look around for him.

Would it be plain dreadful to admit that the praise one man could give had you licking and cleaning up the dirt of his sins until he told you it was enough? It was not said but his precense was a mantra that you obedientally chant.

He was a needy man, quite funny to describe someone assertive as him but he depended on you. Or should you be careful with a mind as dangerous as his; an intelligence that leaves you choked up for air. It's bad to dream that he treats you differently but his eyes would linger more on you before he tells you to pass the data.

The voices of everybody you talked to had been a blurry memory ever since you were holed up in this cold, pristine hell of machines and sanitizers. The exhaustion of pushing out the next new toy was the thrill you enjoyed from work, pain and anguish from failure that was simply a query to overtake. It was exhilaration to you. But that wasn't it either.

In conclusion, you had no answer. You couldn't outwit a man who shifted the system of a factory that was close to beggary not because this joyous, welcoming environment of a toy company kept people away but because of the risks that he so challenged. This sole place was pitiful, money was a topic that never left anybody's tongue; the people were reflected like the experiments, scurrying around like rats before the only light that reaches them is the glow of a scalpel.

Perking up, you blinked back the sleep that threatened to overcome you; fingers automatically popping open a bottle of melatonin.

"Yes, Dr. Sawyer. I'd do it in a heartbeat if you were to ask of me."

You didn't notice such a desperate, deprived answer came out of you before the pill dropped from your fingers. The clatter made you drop your head sharply at the ground before shakily putting down the bottle. You swallowed the bile in your throat, wanting to correct yourself, extinguish a bit of that idiocy that you just spouted but what comes next make you gingerly look at him.

It was a short chuckle at your statement, he never did turn his head while talking to you. It was unclear if it was a humourless chuckle or he found you amusing or slow-witted. From many words you could've picked out, why did it have to be those words? Your heart rate starts picking up that you gripped your chest. Maybe, there was an implication to what was uttered, a deeper meaning on how you truly felt for the Doctor.

---------------------------------------------------------

Harley Sawyer removed his gloves before he inspected what he had worked on alone. No scientist remained in the room with him, only you. He takes out a tape before he sits down next to the motionless experiment. He starts, his fingers tapping against the table.

"Experiment 1352, Pet Archetype. Responds to sound and light at best. Standard for experiments who are freshly experimented on"

He continues, his eyes flicking at the experiment.

"This experiment will be different, the style choice separate from actual toys in production. This one, will have a humanoid body. Though, it is far different from Miss Delight."

His fingers brush against the experiment's arm. He articulates his next words slowly.

"The idea is nothing short of obscene, a human with dog features. One that will sweep up this company's mess as it intends to do, it's a form of hybrid."

He nearly loses himself, this company was a pain in the ass; his humourless laugh turning almost insane. He could order the scared scientists under him to bow wow for him with a flick of his wrist since he had the ability to but he holds back, remembering what he planned to say. The bark of laughter he let out made the toy squirm, squirming to breathe, to move or even live. Its chest heaves so heavily and Harley stares down at it.

This log was becoming more and more unprofessional, it tickles him. This is why science was more suited for him since creative thinking led him to dig deep into his desires instead.

"It'll be a part of security alongside the other toys. If other results please me then I may move 1352 up a rank."

He writes on the report, his hand writing faster than the pen as this adrenaline he had in him, it was anticipation for this experiment to succeed. You haven't uttered a word ever since the start of the experiment but it was quite alright, he'll wait. Oh, he will definitely wait.

----------------------------------------------------------

He heard the certain germ quietly pattering to and fro in this sanctuary he deems his, his vessels moving in place for the finale.

Guess Yarnaby couldn't keep them away for that long, it was quite predictable. He must've met his end already, considering the fact that this employee was anything but normal. He almost run out of toys to set upon the intruder, letting his vessel rest beside the machinery where his brain was.

But there was one, one he kept away from the company for so long, clenched hands to let this keepsake stay hidden.

This toy, the one kneeling on the ground where wires were sprawled all over the floor. It kept their head down resting against the knee of his vessel. Their fluffy tail thumping against the ground, still with energy even if there wasn't much meat to chew on anymore. His eye creased in satisfaction at how this one was still alive only because they were under his rule.

His call on making a hybrid sated his hunger but only by the tip of the iceberg. They were hopelessly mopey at times, it was delightfully pathetic. He traced the tape, the final log he managed to do before he was made into this lamentable piece of metal and sparks. He puts it into a nearby television, watching the pup's ear perk up to his voice and crawl towards the table.

"Experiment 1352, Pet Archetype. In relation, this one's cognitive function had worked terrifically but it can't speak. It's quite ironic, seeing that it reflects the person whom I experimented on."

The clinking of the surgical instruments could be heard with the scribbling of paper. He rasps on lightly, he should call this mutt by a name; a special one. One he never said before followed by a dark chuckle.

"Isn't that right, Y/N? Best get farmiliar with that name, I've made an effort to remember your name and it'd be a shame if you forgot."

You yipped, scratching against the table with your ears flattened against your head as he scoffs. You were moved to Playcare like he intended to. He only thought of moving you to work alongside before he got turned into organs, it was a terrible fate considering he was close to the fun part.

He wasn't surprised when you survived the Hour of Joy, you were supposed to. Being his assistant and working aside such dilligence steered you to the right path, that big brain of yours still working in this different body. Even if you looked human, the plastic on your limbs didn't make you struggle; you scoped out this graveyard like a trained dog. It was surely a struggle to make you a human who just had dog features or one who had actual hind legs because either way,

You just look much better kneeling before him.

The other scientists would always be talking behind his back or give him weary looks to what he wanted next, not that he cared much. It was an observation that became a repetitive cycle that it bored him more than experiments that turn out to be failures but you, you stoked a dangerous flame of interest in his soul.

You come close, passing notes and scalpels and touching skin to skin. It was delectable having an assistant that was so predictable and an oddball that only stuck close to him like a pet.

When Yarnaby had found you, hiding up high in the vents; you accidentally peeked out at the wrong time. This mass of yarn was dragging you by the nape kicking and screaming. The lion growls, knowing it shouldn't harm you but your kicks were deathly. He throws you down infront of the Doctor's feet and you growled, ears flattened from aggression.

He kneels, extending a hand and your demeanour changes so quickly.

"Here, pup. Remember me? I'm sure you'd recognise me even if it's just my voice?"

You struggled up to your knees, your chest heaves like crazy to the realisation then bowed completely on the ground.

Incredible, such quick response like you've realised who you were supposed to worship. He stepped close before he pulls you up by the hair and you whined so prettily.

"You do remember what to do, respect me and I'll reward you. Isn't that exciting?"

Utterly demeaning were the words spoken to this pup who stared up at him like he hung the stars, it was like there was only one thing on its mind. That word, reward. Harley never gave away any strong praise or anything, it could be anything and you were bursting at the seams. It was like you never changed.

The vessel's head snapped at the television as the tape ends and the dog bow wowed for more. He was aware that his form now was nothing compared to when he was a human. He thought of something that made him come close to you. Did you ever fantasies about him?

He hardly thinks about these type of things but everything that comes to unnervingly stroke at somebody's weak spots were accounted for and he was quite intrigued at the thought that you were a little perv if you ever were.

Those quick glances, soft sighs to continue focusing on the projects and the furrow at your brows when you think about how you've started at him so much were all noticed by him. Do they go more than that? He didn't go beyond experiments so he doesn't know if somebody like you were to imagine him in such a scandalous manners.

He touches your thigh, rubbing it and you nearly short circuited. He ran his hand up and down teasingly, nearing your private regions that you flinch away from.

"Come now, mutt. Don't you want to feel me?"

He does it again but now holding you close to him. Metal was what you felt but that heartbeat of yours was audible against him. Harley didn't know that you were disappointed. You wanted to feel the real deal, the intimacy you both would have if you two were still... Human.

His hot breath would be aimed down your neck while his warm hands would make you grip the bedsheets, the eye contact with this man would leave you breathless. But you weren't opposed to the pleasure because he was still him, the Doctor you'll follow till the end of the road; till the ends of hell.

He rubs his palm down your chest then his thumbs press against your stomach down to your hips. You salivated, it was detestable and flattering. These desire of yours should've been a reward from the very start but he only thought to commend your actions, wrapping your head around his words. Nevertheless, this was rewarding for him anyways since this was a discovery he will enjoy from his sweet assistant that was so on edge.

His cold steel hands was felt, proding at the inner most deeper parts of you. His hands go even lower which makes you slightly jump but he tutted, smacking at your thigh though he wasn't completely turnt off by it. He let your sensations go haywire as his hand rubbed between your legs, cupping your nether regions and making you yip pathetically.

Harley held you in his lap, holding both your thighs apart while he stroked at his creation. Those late nights which he remembered where he drawn out the details of your genitals, envisioning how it look when he creates every bit of your new form. Those pencil strokes of pure perversion lingers in him when you drip on his hands, it was wonderful of how he planned out everything even the synthetic juices you'll spurt when you feel ecstacy.

He wished he could taste it, his vessel tapping at the glass where his mouth would be; it would fill him with such bliss to lick it all up. Just seeing you tremble from his fingers make him feel powerful, you were just so easy. He had you from the start.

He touched the juices, slipping it in your hole and feeling you react to his fingers and clench tightly. He tried fixing your vocal cords when your body was still in testing. Moments where he dared to cut open your throat and inspect again and again but to no avail. He marvels at the thought of you actually speaking in this form, pleading and calling out his name but he settled with putting his hand around your neck and feeding off the vibrations your throat does.

He hits deep, his fingers thrusting against your inner walls that he watched in awe and how you squirted all over his fingers, he chuckled and turned his head before you clumsily get it all over his TV face. He didn't stop there, caressing the tip of your senses and making you scuffle your feet at the floor like you're asking him to stop.

Overstimulation was a part of every experiment to push past boundaries, it was his way of knowing whether the experiment was made for pain and ready to handle forces against it and you did so well not to fall apart.

"Doctor!"

He nearly falls onto you in exhilaration, your voice so garbled and loud with pleasure and pumped deep into your G-spot. That's it, come again for him and he'll feel something else other than joy. All you needed was a push before these expectations of his were met. He felt you grab at his robe, clenching it in your hand. You swore you saw stars other than the headiness of the Doctor being so intimate with you, this body of yours might shatter at the all consuming ache if being bent to his will.

"Come for me once again, mutt."

A scream ripped apart from you that you do what he says, exhaling every bit of your desperation before falling faint. Limp body lay against his lap, head lolling out for air and consciousness as he steadies you and moved you to the floor. Your fluffy tail thumped tirelessly against the ground. With an inhale, the Nightmare Critters pop up to his whistle and they moved you to a more comfortable position and he moves for the final showdown.

He can't help but scoff, even if it came out empty. There was a dark smirk on his face and he smoothed down his robes, he mayhaps pushed your reward for too long.

He walks away from you and didn't look back, now he continues his long term mission. He'll be expecting bigger things from you now, much more.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime scenario #poppy playtime x reader #harley sawyer headcanons #harley sawyer hcs #harley sawyer x player #harley sawyer x reader #harley sawyer #the doctor x reader #the doctor scenario

777 notes · View notes

ruinix · 28 days ago

Note

Cock warming with Jack? Pls.

Hello, anon, lovely. Sorry for taking super long. Something took over my keyboard. I apologize if you don’t want a dom-sub dynamic, but I could NOT stop typing. Sorry, Jack got mean. Also, I am not used to writing this dynamic (a problem when my brain cells decided to brew this). We got another bonus here (you can skip it).

Caught

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Masturbation (usage of toy, then mutual), Dom-Sub dynamics (dom!Jack), Cockwarming as punishment, Degradation because Jack is angry -> slight Praise Kink, Unprotected sex (use protection, lovelies), a bit of Aftercare

Count: 3365 + 370 words | Masterlist

You must’ve not heard him. Jack is sure that you didn’t. If you had, you would’ve greeted him with a smile and a kiss while calling his name in such a melodic voice.

If you had, you wouldn’t still be fucking yourself with your head almost handing off one armrest of the couch, with your beautiful lips parted, your breathy moans escaping them, with your legs shaking at the pace you’re going.

If you had, you would just beg for his cock immediately.

If you had, he would just give it to you like he does with everything you possibly want. It wouldn’t matter if a game exhausted the fuck out of him or if he just arrived from a long flight after a road trip—which he did right now. He spoils you rotten.

You want a kiss? He will kiss every inch of your skin until you whine for him to bite.

You want his cock? He’ll let you feel every inch of him until he’s buried so deeply inside you.

You want his handprints on your ass? He’ll make your skin red and raw and bruised that you’ll feel him every time you sit down.

You want to be filled? He will spill every fucking drop inside your pussy until you are spilling around him. Too fucking full of his cum that you worry if he impregnated you.

You want to explore more kinks? He’ll fucking do it until you beg for more.

You touching yourself is fine. It’s hot. He likes it the best when he orders you to make yourself come. He likes the way your delicate fingers circle your clit, rubbing your folds, fucking your pussy. You’re always such a good girl. So you deserve everything including exploring and worshipping yourself—

Then he notices the dildo in your hand.

A dildo.

A fucking dildo. In. His. Pussy.

Worse thing about it, it’shis equipment—bespoke, molded from his cock. However, the dildo is secondary to the huge problem. The biggest bane of this encounter is the fact that you’ve entered the room. You’ve taken the dildo from there.

You are not allowed inside without him for reasons. He wants you safe. He doesn’t want you to use any of his equipment, because it’s not safe. What if you get stuck on the restraints, on the swing, on the inversion table? What if you used the wooden horse without prepping yourself? What if. What if.

He needs you to be safe.

You promised him that you wouldn’t go inside. You promised that you’ll wait for him. You promised. And you broke it. In turn, you’ve defied him and broken his trust.

Everything. He does every fucking thing for you. Simply because you were so obedient. You were his good girl. He was too trusting. Look what that got him. A fucking brat who doesn’t follow simple fucking instructions.

Right now, your image feels like a lie. A mirage that had successfully lured him in with a promise to quench his thirst, to satisfy his needs over his wants, to make him feel whole and alive. A mirage that killed him for its empty promise.

His heart hammers loudly in his chest, making his ears ring, as your leg falls over the couch, your foot immediately planting on the carpeted floor. His throat tightens the more you moan. His eyesight darkens as he notes his fucking dildo you are thrusting in his pussy again and again.

What the fuck is your problem?

He grips the wall, knuckles turning white. He is glaring daggers into your skin. Cursing your audacity, your idiocy, your mistake. Your betrayal.

People are sensitive that they’ll sense a glare on them. Not you. That irks him more.

His anger exponentially rises. His heated blood courses through his veins. His cock twitches, getting harder as your lewd sounds drive him further towards the edge.

“Jack,” you moan, still unaware of his presence, still digging yourself a deeper hole. “Jack, please. Oh, yes, yes.”

Fucking whore. That’s what you are. A bad whore.

It doesn’t matter if it’s his name that spills out of your lips. It doesn’t. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. You’re thinking about him. That clears his mind. You are so beautiful as you continue fucking yourself. It’s basically his cock in your pussy. He swears he can smell you—your arousal, your sweat, your delectable scent—in the air. His heart pumps in anger but also his ever-growing, everlasting love for you. He loves you. So much. Even more now.

However, he must correct this act of defiance. He doesn’t want this to happen again. So, he moves.

One, he grips your hair, tugging until you gasp, your pretty eyes opening so widely and full of fear of being caught. Your pleading voice sounds as he drags out the dildo, throwing it over his shoulder. Your arousal wets his hand which he uses to grab your throat, forcing you to look right into his eyes.

“Caught in the fucking act, baby girl.” His voice sounds deeper even in his ears.

Like the whore you are, he knows you like it. The blush burns over your cheeks. Your pupils threaten to engulf all of your irises. When he squeezes his hand—putting pressure on your arteries, limiting the blood flow to your pretty head, limiting your air—your eyes roll up as you let out a strangled moan.

“Just a fucking whore,” he lets go, letting you whine and chase after his touch.

“Jack, I was so close,” you plead, going to your knees on the couch.

Jack can’t stop his scoff nor his eyes rolling. Are you serious? On the couch? Oh, he truly spoiled you.

He grabs you by your arm and yanks. He forces you to the floor, swallowing the urge to coddle you when he hears the loud thud from your knees hitting the floor. He plops down the couch, dragging you between his thighs. He sees the tears running down your cheeks. He hears your apology then your complaints, so he grabs your jaw, leaning down so harsh that your forehead bumps against each other.

“Where’d you get the dildo?” he asks.

“Ja—” One squeeze to your jaw and you stop. You sniffle. “From the room.”

“Which room?” he challenges.

When your eyes stray to the left, he knows you’ll lie.

You say, “The bedroom…under your stuff…”

He sighs, pushing you away by your jaw. He’s seeing fucking red again. He leans back, closing his eyes, controlling his breaths to calm the fuck down, running his hand through his hair. Okay, maybe he’s more disappointed than angry.

“I’ll give you one last chance, baby girl,” he warns. “Where?”

“Just under your clothes—"

“We both know that it was not under my clothes, was it?” He growls, grabbing your shirt to force it off you. You sniffle, trying to hide his tits, so he slaps your hands away. He mocks, “Trying to hide now, hmm? When your cunt has been leaking and making a mess on our carpet? When you were fucking yourself with the curtains open for the whole world to see? You are such a fucking whore.”

“Jack, please,” you cry.

You are breaking and your eyes show it. Of course, you are. You’re not used to this. You’ve only ever experienced the joys of being his submissive. Only ever heard praises whispered in your ears. But he can see how much you want it. You are more curious than hurt. He knows. He understands you more than you do yourself.

Jack swears your pupils grow wider. Your lips—that are still so red from you biting it while you were masturbating—are parted as you pant. Your nipples are hard peaks, begging for him to touch for a smidge of relief, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t think you deserve anything right now.

“Did you enjoy it at least?” He motions with his forefinger and middle curling, commanding you to move forward. You follow, your hands daring to run up his thighs. He lets you.

“Yes,” you say so quietly that it’s a whisper. “But I didn’t come.”

He’s still not hearing an apology. Is it so hard to say ‘Sorry, Jack, I broke my promise’ or ‘Sorry, Jack, I needed you and the dildo was the only thing I have here’ or just ‘Sorry, Jack’? Is that hard? You’re a clever girl, but why are you so dumb right now?

“I didn’t ask.” He unbuckles his belt, undoes his pants, exposing his rock-hard cock, totally distracting you. You are so simple when it comes to sex. “If I spank you, you’ll just come. If I tug your hair, you might. You are such a whore that you’ll just come even if I just pinch nipples right now.”

The way your breath hitches, your anticipation is heightening. Too hungry for whatever punishment he’ll give you, because you know it is coming. Maybe that’s why you’re not apologizing. You are taunting him. Fine. You’ve got him.

“You don’t get to come anymore.”

“What—”

He grabs you by your nape, pulling you so close to his cock. When you try to lick him, he gives your hair a tug. “Ah, ah. You’re not going to suck or lick”—you whimper a protest but he slaps his leaking cock on your lips—“or tease. You’re not going to do anything because I know how much of a whore you are that anything would just make you come. You don’t deserve to come or my kisses or cock on your needy little pussy. You’re not my good girl right now. Just a bad, bad girl.”

More tears escape your eyes. More whine from your lips. He doesn’t let you say another word, guiding his cock inside your mouth. He can feel your sob, can feel your remorse, but he chooses to ignore it. He pushes every aching inch of his cock down your throat. You can take all of him, he knows. Fuck, you feel so good. When you gulp, he almost comes, but he holds himself back. You don’t deserve his come.

“This is a punishment, baby. We’re going to stay like this,” he murmurs, smoothening down your hair, sliding his foot between your legs to keep you from making any unnecessary friction. “While I watch the replay of my game, hmm?”

You sniffle. You look so adorable with his cock in your mouth. So cute with your little tears. So cute when you dig your nails into his pants-covered thighs.

“You have your word,” he reminds you.

With no forcing hold over your head, you can pull away and tell him your safe word. This can stop—punishment or not. Just one word. But you don’t step back, and no word escapes you. Jack’s heart beats with excitement about learning this new side of you, rather, a new layer of you.

When Jack’s sure that you won’t do or say anything, he turns on the TV with the remote conveniently on the couch. He starts the game. Although, he’s not really watching. He can’t just analyze the plays when you’re between his legs and his cock down your throat. He can’t. All his focus is aimed at you, despite his eyes are on the screen. All he hears is your soft breathing. All he feels is your tongue pressed on the underside of his cock, your chin putting the slightest pressure on his balls, your nails finally finding the skin of his thighs and digging into it. All he smells is your shampoo and conditioner—from when you are lying down on this couch—and your arousal. And in turn, all he tastes is your pussy just from the fucking smell. He’s losing it. It takes him everything to hold back and not fuck your throat.

Shamelessly, he prays for you to mutter your word. Maybe if you get overwhelmed, he can calm down while he eases you. What the fuck is he even saying? He doesn’t want you to say it. He wants you to want this as much as he does. He wants you to get used to a punishment, because he can’t just keep spoiling you.

You are such a delight to spoil.

Later.

Definitely later.

Still, he waits for you to pull away, but you never do. He swallows a groan. He can’t wait to spoil you after this. You’re taking this so well that his heart is aching from pride. He has forgiven you, even before the first period ends.

Who is he kidding?

He already forgave you the moment his name escaped your lips. Fine, not that. He was so pissed that you lied to him.

The moment you take in all of him, managing to breathe around him, controlling yourself not to such because he knows how thirsty you are for cum. That’s it.

From time to time, Jack pats your head once before he slides his hand down your hair. It’s almost like he’s petting you. Every time, you sigh through your nose, air hitting his pelvis, making him fucking shudder.

He can’t help it. You feel so incredible that he’s losing it. Your tiny gulps are enough stimulation. Fuck. Fuck! So fucking good.

Your drool—that you fail to gulp down—drips from your lips. You shift on your knees. He knows your eyes are begging him to give your pillow or a knee pad. He can feel them on him, takes all of him not to cave. It hurts him not to care. To ignore you. He hates this. He’ll find another punishment that doesn’t hurt your pretty knees. Find another punishment that doesn’t make him feel guilty.

He doesn’t fucking understand it. He can bruise you, tie you up, fuck you with a dildo on a machine. He can do all of that with no issue so why is he hurting? Perhaps, he’s not cut out for this? Nope. Not that. He loves dominating you. He just needs to get you kneepads when he decides to do this again. Good idea. Perfect.

‘Good job,’ he mentally congratulates himself. One simply needs to boost his ego. Nothing’s weird about this. At all.

The second period ends.

You are sagging against him. Your jaw probably hurt. Jack finally looks down and sees how tired you look, how blush still stains your cheeks, how sweat beads on your skin. He pets your head again but instead of running his hand down your hair, he caresses your cheek then your jaw.

You sigh, looking so happy and satisfied with his touch.

“Fuck. Such a good girl,” he says, failing to stop the words, the truth. “My good girl.” He praises, “My good little whore.”

You preen, your eyes shining with happiness and love. Any ache in Jack’s chest disappears. He didn’t lose you. Not one bit. He still has you. You still love him as he loves you. Fuck, he’s so lucky.

He's so weak. One look from you, he’s ready to pull you up and cuddle you. One look, and he has forgotten how he got angry in the first place. It feels so far away.

“I just don’t want you to be hurt if your curiosity gets the best of you,” he says. “I know you, baby girl.”

He can feel the shudder that wrecked your body. The slow blink you did shows your understanding. He grazes his knuckles over your cheekbones, swiping at the dried-up tear tracks, then over chin to smear your drool. Just a bit. Beautiful. How are you this beautiful?

The game ends with the Devils’ win.He needs to rewatch it again so he can truly analyze the plays. Not now though. Later.

Jack carefully slides his aching cock from your lips, hissing from the sensation, groaning at the sight of your saliva acts like a tether that connects him from your perfect mouth which only breaks when his pre-cum drips from his slit. He easily picks you up and settles you over his lap sideways. When you move to wipe away the mess on your chin, he stops you, kissing your pretty fingers. A slow and deliberate kiss on each of them. His eyes on yours. Then he grabs your nape, pulling you closer.

“Jack,” you whisper against his lips.

Not a whine. Just a gentle murmur of his name that sounds like a song that soothes his soul. Like an angel singing hymns of humanity. He loves it when you call him by his name.

He says your name in response, then he kisses you. Tongues feel and caress, tasting one another. He deepens the kiss to sooth any numbness that you may be feeling, yet he nips your lips here and there. He can’t help but trail kisses to your chin, licking away the mess, your saliva, your drool. It’s not much but he needs it.

He’s greedy for it.

He licks, licks, and licks, gulping in between.

Even your sweat that beads your skin.

His brain engraining your soft noises—your moans, sighs, and groans.

He needs everything of you.

He’ll die if he doesn’t.

“You did so well. I’m so proud,” he whispers again and again. He needs you to understand him. “My good girl.”

“Oh, Jack,” you breathe.

When his hand curls into your inner thigh, fingers feeling your wet pussy, teasing your folds and pressing on your clit with his thumb, you sob. When his two of his fingers dip into your pussy, your eyes roll up, hips grinding to seek more pleasure. He gives it to you. His other hand is on your hips, securing you to him, not letting you escape.

He curses when your hand wraps around his cock, giving him the same attention, matching his tempo. He rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily for every tug. Fuck. So good. So fucking good.

It feels like eternity. Just you and him, bringing each other closer and closer to your undoing. Jack wants to keep you forever. He will keep you forever. He’ll make it happen. No matter what the cost. He can’t live without you anymore.

Can’t.

He fucking can’t.

You let out a squeal, hiding your face into his neck, your pussy quivers, clenching his fingers, as your orgasm consumes you. Your legs tremble, trapping his hand in between as if you’re scared that he’ll just leave you hanging. Jack will never. He rides your orgasm, teasing your clit over and over again until you are shaking your head, biting into his neck to stop him. He won’t stop.

The pain you’ve inflicted only sends him over the edge. He comes with his eyesight darkening. He fucking blacks out for a second, shuddering as you keep tugging and squeezing him. Your other hand grips his wrist as he brings you to another peak as he finally stops spurting cum on your thigh, your hips, your tummy, your breast. He made such a mess. On your fucking skin that he almost instantly goes hard again.

Both of you are a mess of sweat and cum.

It’s fucking perfect.

“I love you, baby,” he says, pulling out his hand from between your thighs.

“I love you too,” you respond, smiling against his skin.

Then you start to lick his fucking throat. Fucking hell. Fuck. His. Life.

His sensitive cock is rock hard again.

“Say that I’m your good girl again, Jack,” you plead.

Shifting his head to the side so you can have more access on his skin, he nods, saying, “My good girl.”

Your satisfied moan seals your fate. He wraps his hand around your thigh and shifts you like you’re a weightless doll. He has your legs spread wide, your pussy leaking on his cock, dripping both arousal and your cum.

You pant as he pushes in the tip. Inch by inch. Until he’s seated inside you.

Until he starts fucking you while holding your hips to stop you from moving. Stop you from fucking him, when it’s his fucking time to do it to you.

You just need to take it.

˚｡⋆ ❀ ˖ Bonus: Your POV ˖ ❀ ⋆｡˚

You sigh, watching Jack settle on the floor beside the bed. He’s wearing nothing but sweatpants. He lays his head on your sweatpant-covered shin, pressing a kiss over the fabric. His hand carefully holds your foot before he starts massaging the underside of your foot. You relax even more. That feels good.

His hair is still wet from the shower—he took after your bath—while yours is already dried. He dried it. He did a lot. He gave you a whole-body massage, pressing kisses on your skin. He gave extra attention to your knees, clearly fussing over how long you’ve been on your knees without kneepads. They were sore before, but not too sore. The floor is carpeted for fuck’s sake, and he worried too much. Him fussing over you was cute, so you let him. Besides, he needs it. You saw how his worry ate at him, so you appeased him.

He may think that he’s the only one spoiling someone in this relationship. You are too. By letting him have his control. By letting him take and mark you. By letting him take care of you.

This is special for him.

And for you.

“Jack, come here,” you call, taking a towel you’ve prepared under the pillow. He peeks up at you, his blue eyes filled with satisfaction, before crawling up, wrapping himself over you. You start to dry his hair. “Sorry I went in the room.”

He sighs, nodding. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t do it again.”

“Yeah…maybe.” You smirk.

A spark burns in his eyes. “You won’t,” he growls, still surrendering to you drying his hair, head resting between your breasts now, taking a non-subtle inhale. He murmurs, “Smells so good.”

You ran a hand through his hair, nails grazing his scalp that has him humping your thighs. You taunt, “I’m not promising anything anymore.”

He’s so hard but he still glares at you for your non-promise.

“You can’t stop me—”

He cuts you off with a deep kiss. His kiss is rough and deep that he’s basically fucking your mouth. He’s telling you—without words, just the kiss—that you are walking on thin ice.

Fuck that.

He’ll just have to punish you again.

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letsbangts · 5 months ago

Text

umbrella || jjk

⤷ summary: when rain pours more into your life instead of washing things away

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 2k+

⟶ genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, established relationship au

⟶ content: boyfriend!jk, college au, kook is a flirty tease, mainly just a fluffy couple in love with a barely there argument because of a protective jk

⟶ warnings: explicit language

↬ a/n: so this is a very old piece I polished up a bit. it was inspired by a narration in a scene from the drama ‘goblin’, so that tells you how old it is haha. hope you enjoy & let me know what you think! angel xoxo

masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ join my taglist

on this rainy night, what is your umbrella?

You stood under the awning outside the building, which you were supposed to be far from as of 2 o’clock. Your other classmates were long gone, having made their way off campus through the rain by running to their cars with the protection of a coat or umbrella. None of the things you have because you continue not to be an adult and watch the news, missing the weather report that everyone else was aware of. Watching the heavy raindrops smack against the pavement, you contemplate how you’re getting home.

Should you make a run for it? A run for 30 minutes? Yeah, that’s not happening. You could call a taxi. But you’re not going to pay for that so no.

“Fuck, I’m such an idiot,” you say quietly to yourself, or so you thought.

“Jeez, that’s a little harsh don’t you think,” a beautiful deep voice says.

Startled you turn your head quickly to be met with what you could have sworn was a literal angel in disguise as a twenty-something-year-old boy. The tall boy looks away from the rain and towards you. He gives you a quick look over and sees your empty hands and smiles.

“Ah! You don’t have an umbrella. You didn’t watch the news?” he asks. You shake your head to answer him.

He smirks and nods his head while looking back out at the downpour.

“Maybe you are an idiot,” he says all too casually while shrugging, clearly teasing you.

“Hey!” you scoff out with a laugh, finally speaking.

“I mean, today is one of the worst days we are supposed to get this year! How can you not have an umbrella or at least a hood?” he laughs out loud, gesturing his hand at you from head to toe.

His laugh and your current predicament both cause you to join in. Once you both settle down the dark-haired boy looks at you with round eyes still slightly crinkled from laughter although nothing but kindness is present in them.

“How far do you live from here?” he asks with a melodic voice and an endearing head tilt to match it.

Upon first look, he may seem like someone with an edge to them; dark-coloured clothes, piercings and some tattoos. But it is ever present that there is an apparent softness to him, one that accompanied by his calm demeanour is pouring a level of comfort over you that you can not explain.

“30 minutes that way,” you point out the way to your home, “Pretty close to Bam's House Cafe.”

“Hmm, I’m headed the same way, so it looks like you're a lucky idiot,” he says shooting you a wink while opening his umbrella held in his tattooed hand.

“Gee thanks, but I’d feel more lucky if you’d stop rubbing my idiocy in my face,” you chuckle.

“I would call you by name if you told me it,” he says with a slight, dare you say flirtatious smirk that causes your breath to get stuck in your throat.

“It’s Y/N.”

“Well Y/N, I’m Jungkook. The handsome, well-prepared gentleman escorting you through this storm today,” he sends you a beaming smile that almost sends you to your grave.

He holds out the clear vinyl plastic for you to stand under it. You do just that and as you step close to him, arms brushing you’re hit with his clean fresh scent.

“Thank you again, Jungkook," you reply looking down to hide your sudden blush.

"Shall we get going?” he asks flicking his head out to the direction you earlier pointed out, and with a nod of your head, you both step out starting on the journey to your home. And so much more.

the voice that responds when you call.

The ringing in your ears finally stops when you hear the voice on the other end of the phone say, “Hello?”

But it is no surprise to you, knowing he would answer because Jungkook always did. You knew once he saw your name flash across his screen he would not hesitate to slide to answer.

“Hey,” your voice is small when you reply.

“What’s wrong?” he asks immediately concerned, because just like how Jungkook always answers, he always knows. He knows you.

“I just miss you, I wanted to hear your voice.”

“I know I miss you too. But I’ll be back in two days.”

“Ugh! That’s going to feel like forever,” a whiny sadness to your tone.

“Hey, I told you you could come with me. My mom is still upset I didn’t bring you,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, I know but taking a trip to Busan is not an option with work right now,” you sigh.

You hear him sigh as well and there is a long pause between you two.

“Then quit your job,” he states in an all too serious tone.

“What? Jungkook have you lost your mind? You know I can’t qu-“

“Sure you can! I’ll quit my own too! Then we can move out here and buy a house. We can live by the water and have a bunch of kids, it will be perfect,” his tone gets more excited as he hears your giggles pleased with your happiness.

“So what do you say, babe? Sounds good right?” he asks still joking.

“Sounds perfect,” you reply with a content smile.

And just like that you were no longer sad because Jungkook knew how to make you happy. Jungkook always knew.

the memories of seeing the same thing at the same time.

It was Monday, and although you were not as fond of it as any other person towards that day of the week, you had one thing to look forward to on Mondays. That was the one day of the week Jungkook would meet you at work and you would walk home together.

So here the two of you are walking through the park, which was a shortcut to your shared home. Your hand in his, fingers interlocked this being the beckon of light at the end of your work day. You feel him rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand and you glance at him to see him just looking off into the distance. Your usually chatty boyfriend is now just quietly at your side. You use your free hand and pull him by the elbow holding him close to your side, gaining his attention eyebrows raised in question.

“Rough day?” you ask looking up at him.

He breathes out an airy laugh through his nose.

“Yeah you know, just one of those days,” he glances back at you with a small shrug then continues.

“It was one of those days I wished I was just with you at home, just had you beside me,” he squeezes your hand, “Only me and you, the rest of the world blocked out.”

He looks down at you and softly smiles that eye smile you could never fall out of love with.

“I wish for that every day,” you reply returning the squeeze to his hand while smiling up at him.

While you share this moment you notice small white flakes landing on his raven-coloured hair. He must have taken notice too as you both look up.

You are met with flurries quickly floating down all around you two making their way to the ground.

“The first snowfall,” he states almost in a whisper.

“It's so pretty,” you say fascinated and fully entranced with the beauty of Mother Nature.

You feel his gaze on your face and turn to make eye contact. He has the most delicate look, eyes filled with adoration.

“I may not have had you by my side all day, but I’m glad I have you here right now,” he says lovingly.

And at that moment, witnessing the beginning of a new season with your love and sharing this memory, you could have sworn the rest of the world was blocked out and it was just you two.

the first time you matched each other’s pace.

Angry.

No, that’s not even the right word, enraged. Yes, enraged that is what you are feeling right now. And why were you so mad? Your boyfriend seemed to think that a guy having a friendly conversation with you, albeit a drunken one on his part but innocent, was the perfect reason to cause a huge scene in the middle of a party with all your friends and more to see.

So now here you are walking home furious with one another because you think he overreacted while he thinks you underreacted. Not only are you annoyed with him for how he acted but now you’re annoyed with yourself for wearing heels knowing you would have to walk home after a whole night in them.

Your pace starts to get slower because your feet start killing you and it suddenly feels like Jungkook is running a marathon instead of walking home. You glance up and see the distance between his back and you getting bigger and bigger. You focus on trying to ignore the pain soaring through your feet and as you continue walking with your head down staring at the shoes you have come to despise you suddenly bump into a shoulder.

You look up to your side and notice the man that was ahead of you seconds ago now right beside you.

“If you can’t keep up just say so,” he grumbles, the first words you hear from him since leaving the party.

You notice how he starts walking slower for you and does not move an inch further from your side. You continue your struggle to walk, feet pulsing more with every step.

“Ah fuck it,” you mumble to yourself as you take off your heels.

Jungkook halts and turns towards you once he notices you stopped walking. Once you start to continue you feel your heels being ripped out of your hands, as you’re about to ask what he’s doing he kneels in front of you, wordlessly telling me to get on his back.

“Kook, you don’t-“

“Get on,” he quietly demands.

You don’t argue because your feet yell at you not to. You get on his back, arms around his neck and he tucks his hands under your knees immediately standing up with ease and continues the journey home.

“I told you not to wear those damn shoes,” he says after a couple of minutes.

For some reason that comment brings a slight smile to you, as you realize that your anger has disappeared without you even being aware.

“Thank you,” you say into his neck as you tighten your arms and lock your ankles around his torso hugging him closer to you.

He adjusts his hands to your thighs as you pull your bodies closer together.

“For what?” he questions taking a peek at you.

“For trying to take care of me before and still taking care of me now,” you answer giving his neck a peck.

“You know I’ll always do that, it’s my job too. A little fight won’t stop that, taking care of you comes naturally to me now.”

“I mean it kind of has to look at our situation right now,” he continues with a breathy laugh as he squeezes your thighs to emphasize his statement.

You giggle at his response knowing the truth behind it. Jungkook has always taken care of you. You have always looked out for each other. You have always matched ourselves to each other.

did someone come to mind?

You hear the lock of the front door opening and the jingling of keys, followed by some rustling around, most likely the removal of outerwear. A few seconds later you see the handsome tattooed man you call your boyfriend walking into the living room. He smiles as he sits beside you on the couch wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. You look up at him head on his shoulder and begin to stare unconsciously as thoughts run around your mind.

“What?” he asks you with a confused chuckle.

You smile at him, “I love you.”

He gives you that butterfly-inducing eye smile and kisses you on the lips.

“I love you too.”

yes, that’s the person.

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that-house · 9 months ago

Text

“Tell me about magic,” I said to the god wearing my friend’s corpse.

It (I would not grant it the honor of using her name) smiled at me the way she used to smile. It looked like shit, by the way, streaked with mud and blood and slowly spinning new flesh from atmospheric carbon to patch up the bullet holes our latest acquaintances had left it.

“I know every word in your human languages and none of them suffice. How would you explain a black hole’s accretion disk to a fish?”

“I don’t know. Try.” I didn’t bother voicing the threat but it was implicit, as it was in all of our conversations: your kind has died only once before, but it was at the hands of mine.

It sighed with the weariness of a parent about to talk down to a kid, but it signed up for this when it trapped itself on this rock with me. “It’s a puzzle that’s almost been solved since forever began, a puzzle of infinite complexity worked on by the million sharpest minds to ever be, all themselves fractured into dizzying arrays of subminds in temporally upspun pocket universes, all striving to refine those secret arts of law and mastery. It’s cooperation and competition, vines of knowledge strangling each other as we reach ever upwards towards the sun, clawing at each other in our desperate want. It’s a science. It’s like breathing. It’s like love.”

“I distinctly recall you saying that love is an idiocy reserved for us mortals, and a more efficient chemically-induced blindness than sodium hydroxide too.”

“And I maintain that stance, but it gets the point across, does it not?” It huffed with exasperation, you know, the way that she had a thousand times when we were young. An affectation? Or a bit of humanity bleeding into the monster?

“Mhm. Sure.”

It side-eyed me but kept talking. “You don’t have the point of view it would take to truly understand magic. You never will. Even if you saw the world the way I did, you wouldn’t have the context or the time to decipher it. For you it can never be a science, only ever an art.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“In truth I envied you. With infinity at one’s proverbial fingertips, what else is there to do? The greatest possible workings have all been deduced, those most absolute and inviolable inflictions of the will upon the cosmos, and all that remains to study are the fleeting shadows of concepts beyond even us. But you humans, you tread on new ground that we’ve long since mastered, internalized, and then forgotten. The best you can manage without literally blowing your own minds is a little teleportation. You’re clueless and flawed and you fuck it all up whenever you get the chance. And I envied you.” For a creature enamored with paradox, the idea of a god envying a mortal sure pained it.

“So you cut it all free, cast off the godhead, and came down from on high to slum it with we mortals. I bet you’re regretting that now,” I said, sticking my finger in the last bullet hole and giving it an experimental wiggle. It winced, but the wound closed up like it had never been as I withdrew my finger. Pain is a just a signal, it was always fond of saying. But it still cried whenever it lost a limb.

“Not in the slightest,” said the once-god wearing my friend’s corpse. “This is the most alive I’ve felt in eons.”

#viscera star #kind of #this is a scene i wont ACTUALLY put to paper for like. Years #but i wanted to write something today and it was this #and fuck it i figured i might as well post it #lucy viscera star #katie viscera star

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kenslilove · 1 year ago

Text

᯽៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ Who’s Little Sister?!

preview. Draken swears he doesn’t only go for little sisters. But when you, Takemichi’s younger sister, walks into his shop….

ft. Ken “Draken” Ryuuguji x fem!reader

wc. 6.5k 🤡😅

W. NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI! bimbo reader, age gap (draken is late 20’s workin at the bike shop, you’re in early 20’s in collage) fem reader, corruption, dubcon (reader is intoxicated when they consent), virgin killer draken, oral (f!receiving), cream pie, a lil after care, praise and lots of it, drakens a scumbag but in a hot way🤪🤤 he comes around though, I promise 🤭

an. Hiiii pookies <33 this is a repost from my old account, but I’m reposting it here because I’m bringing this series back to life. This fic as well as part 2 hold such a special place in my heart, and now that my inspo is back and I’m ready to add to this little story, I hope you guys can join me on the ride hehe <33 I hope you enjoy! I love Kenny 💖 reblogs, comment, and constructive feedback are always welcome 🫶

“Draken, you have a thing for little sisters.”

“I do not.”

The look on everyone’s faces begs to differ.

First, it was Emma, and although the relationship didn’t work out between the two, she was still Mikey’s little sister.

“Can’t believe I ever let you near my sister, sister fucker.” Mikey mumbles into the lip of his beer, making the rest of the boys laugh out loud.

“Wait— who’s sister is he going for now?”

Takemichi’s comment had them all silencing instantly, eyes going to him as if he just asked the stupidest question on earth. Draken tried to use Takemichi’s idiocy to his advantage, waving away the conversation with a hand.

“No one—“

“Yours, obviously Takemichi.” Mitsuya blurted, much to Draken’s distaste, who dropped his forehead against the table with a groan.

“What?!”

Draken believed it wasn’t his fault, truly it couldn’t be. After the fallout with Emma, he swore to himself that the girls he went for would strictly be disconnected from his found family. Things were going well for him, so many beautiful girls passed by his shop, he even went on a date with a handful of them.

But he seemed to forget all of them when you walked into his shop.

There you were, bright-eyed, little miniskirt, lips pulled into the cutest pout he had ever seen. He was taken back when you finally met his gaze, pretty eyes widening a bit as you gasped.

“Ah! Found the right place! You’re Draken-Kun, right?”

The honorific had his heart racing, making him internally swear at himself from getting so excited just from something so simple.

“Uh yeah, that’s me.”

“Nii-chan said he’d be here, was supposed to meet him at ‘Draken-Kun’s shop’ buuuut—“ there was that cute pout again. “I don’t see him!”

He swallowed down a lump that seemed to block all his words. Why was his throat so dry? Why were you blinking up at him so perfectly?

“Uh— yeah, this is my shop but, who’s— who’s your brother?”

“Oh! Michi! Takemichi!” Your smile got even brighter when you said his name. Blinding almost.

Draken really hated the fact that it made his cock twitch.

“Fuck.” He murmured, bringing a hand up to rub the furrow from his brows. You tilted your head in confusion, reaching out and giving one of his biceps a squeeze.

“What was that, Draken-Kun?”

You sounded so concerned, so sorry for someone you didn’t even know. Draken quickly shook you off, before the simple touch of your soft palm made his cock harder than it already was. “No, nothing, it’s nothing. He’s— he’s upstairs.”

“Thank you~!” Sweet as sugar, you basically skipped towards the staircase, a hum in your voice when you called out to Takemichi.

And Draken watched until you disappeared. He watched the sway of your hips, watched your cute little heels clack up the stairs, and he certainly watched the way the swell of your ass became visible when you reached a certain step, along with an outline of lacy panties that were meant to stay hidden.

Fuuuuuuck—

Draken left the boys earlier than usual, hands buried deep in his pockets and a scowl on his face. Takemichi’s angry face was stuck in his head, along with his bitching that only made the boys tease him harder.

“You better not fuck my sister Draken! She’s too sweet for you bro!”

“Whatever—“ Draken mumbled to himself, his breath leaving him in a puff of air due to the cold that surrounded him. He was heading back to his apartment, wanting to slip into bed and hope that the boys would get so hammered tonight they’d forget everything discussed.

When his phone started to buzz he groaned again, ready to tell Mikey no he wasn’t coming back and to fuck off. What he wasn’t expecting to see was your contact name on his screen.

He really should have just let it go to voicemail, in fact, he should delete your number period. But, he picked it up on the very last ring, bringing the phone to his ear with hesitation.

“Hello?”

“D-Draken!!” You were whining— voice a bit slurred and muffled. Was there music in the background? Draken couldn’t really tell. He held his fingers to his other ear in an attempt to hear you better as you started to ramble.

“Can’t— I can’t hear you,” Draken said, trying his best to keep the annoyance from his tone as.. wait, were you crying?

“I-I’m at a stupid party dra! A-and Michi won’t answer his phone b-but I wanna go home! T-There’s this boy here a-and he won’t leave me alone and I-I’m too drunk—“

Draken felt himself tense up at the mention of some boy.

“Slow down…” He sounded calmer now, his apartment coming into view. “Send me your address, I’ll come to get you.”

“P-Please Draken, don’t wanna be here anymore, wanna go.”

It was the way you whined so desperately, so pretty. Draken knew this was bad, knew you didn’t even try to call him first.

But you still called him. Still trusted him enough.

“I’ll get you, sweetheart.” He was swearing at himself for the pet name that left his mouth without permission, but when you made the cutest little hum on the other end of the phone he quickly forgot his worries. “Send me the address right now while you’re on the phone. Do ya know how?”

He was already in the parking garage as your location pinged on his phone. He easily spotted his bike, hopping on as you continued to blubber into the phone.

“C-come now, promise you’ll come now dra—“

“I’m coming, promise. Stay where you are.”

He hung up and sped out of the garage before his right mind could catch up.

The address was some grungy trap house. The smell of cheap liquor and sex seemed to waft from the door as piles of drunk university kids spilled free. He waited until he saw you, finally, heels in hand and bare feet stepping into the damp grass to get to him.

He bit the inside of his cheek. You looked drunk, mascara already ran down your cheeks and little sniffles left you as you approached the bike. He tried to keep his eyes off the low cut of your tank top, but it was hard when you flung yourself at him, clinging to his waist with that pretty whine he loved hearing so much.

“D-Draaaaa~!” You carried the ‘A’, pressing your damp cheeks into the leather of his jacket, along with pressing your chest into his side. He brought his hand to your back, eyes rolling as he went to pat it.

Only to feel that you weren’t wearing a bra.

Keep it together, Ken.

“Get on, c'mon you’re gonna catch a cold.” He was quick to throw his jacket over you, slipping you in front of him cause honestly, he didn’t trust you to hold on tight enough to him in your drunk state.

So he had you sitting in front of him. He instructed you to put your hands on the handle bras, sensing your hesitation as you continued to sniffle and whimper. He pressed his chest into your back, lips close to your ear.

“It’s alright, I won’t let anything happen to you. Put 'em down.” He felt the way you shivered, and he hated the way it made him smirk. When you finally planted your hands down he placed his much larger hands over yours. They completely engulfed your palms, and he hoped that the little whine you let out now was because of that.

He reeved off quickly, trying to slow himself down but unable to control himself as he sped off towards his place with you in tow.

He ended up carrying you up the stairs to his apartment. He had originally tried to work your heels back on, but you were very much against that, sending him your best pout along with a little “nuh-uh! Don’t wanna!” And since he didn’t want you stepping on anything nasty he settled for picking you up instead.

You were on his back, arms slung over his shoulder as you babbled nonsense in his ear. Something about how you drank too much tequila and ‘but how can you say no to free shots?’ Draken just shook his head, gripping one of your thighs a bit tighter as he worked his apartment door open.

“Easy.” He spoke as he placed you on the ground. You giggled when your legs wobbled, quick to grip onto Draken’s arm yet again as you finally let your heels tumble to the ground.

“Takemichi would kill you if he knew you were this drunk,” Draken stated, trying to keep the amusement from his voice as you used the wall to help yourself towards the couch. You looked back at Draken and stuck your lip out in a pout, before sticking your tongue out.

“Michi isn’t my daddy, I do what I want~!”

Draken almost choked on his spit. Did you really have to talk like that— say that in the cutest little voice? He was grateful when you started your trek to the couch again, so he could fix the bulge that started to form in his joggers.

“Oh, yea? Well, you shouldn’t, you can barely stand. And who was this guy feeding you shots?” Just the thought of some loser college boy trying to get you drunk, preying on you, made his brows twitch, knuckles tensing as he made his way to meet you on the couch.

“Ugh, just some loser. Claims he’s in a gang dra, just like you and Michi used to— but he’s no bad boy, no no he’s a creep~!”

“Yea?” Draken just chuckled coldly, fetching you a water bottle from the fridge. “Must be a real classy group of delinquents if they’re targeting girls like that—“

His voice got caught again when he finally saw you on his couch.

You had worked his jacket off you, sprawled yourself out on the cushions without a care in the world. The little tube skirt you were wearing was hiked up dangerously high, leaving little to the imagination as you turned your face away from the cushions, looking up at Draken.

And you had the audacity to giggle, “You’re couch s’comfy dra~”

one of your legs threatened to topple right off the couch, but if that happened, well it would certainly make the wimpy material hike all the way up.

Draken caught your knee before it had the chance, only making you giggle more. His heart was pounding against his rib cage, blood pumping dangerously fast to his crotch as he shot you a disappointed look.

“Be careful.” He gritted out through clenched teeth, and when you looked at him, eyes wide and glossy…

Draken had to have more willpower than this, didn’t he?

“D-Don’t be mean t’me” You were whining again, rolling over and pressing your face into the couch. Your leg slipped from his touch, and he thought maybe he’d be in the clear now.

But when you curled up, the skirt he put too much faith in hiked up, letting the swell of your ass free. Draken wanted to turn away, or at least throw a pillow at you, but he couldn’t seem to rip his eyes away from your pretty, soft skin.

You were still mumbling, something about him bossing you around. But Draken finally shook himself from the dangerous trance he was in, clicking his tongue and grabbing at your shoulder.

“Up, cmon, you’re going to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.” You spoke, voice nothing bratty as you tried to slip from his grasp. Draken wasn’t having any of it, not when he was only seconds from snapping.

“Too bad. Get up. You need water and sleep.”

“Nooo~!” You looked back at him, perfect lips pouting and this cute sense of defiance in your gaze that still swam with unclarity.

Draken wasn’t sure what it was that finally made him snap. Maybe it was the way you looked at him, maybe it was the brattiness that he knew he could work outta you, maybe it was how your ass now pressed into his thighs.

But whatever it was, it didn't matter. He was pressing his lips to yours, swallowing the little shocked gasp you pushed against his lips. He only pulled away when his lips began to pulse, a shaking breath puffing out against your trembling lower lip.

He kept his eyes glued to yours as his thumb swiped at the drool that lingered on your lip, another click leaving his tongue.

“Messy…” he murmured, more to himself than to you as you batted your lashes up at him, leaned into his touch as if on instinct.

Draken shoulda stopped. This would be the perfect time to back off, let you sleep off the alcohol on his couch and call Takemichi in the morning. Hell, you’re so drunk you probably wouldn’t even remember this little kiss.

But then you spoke.

“D-Dra.. y-your lips are reaaaal soft.”

“Fuck.” He swore for real this time, ignoring any sense as he pressed his lips to yours once again. It was so cute how hesitant you were, fingers trembling softly as they ran through his black ponytail. He had no problem slipping his hands beneath you, easing you up and into his lap.

“Fuck.” He mumbled it into your open mouth this time, feeling your warm little cunt pressing into his crotch. The panties you wore did little to conceal your sex, and it didn’t help that you were squirming in his lap, hips twitching into him and nails digging along his shoulders.

He had to pull back again, his palms planted firmly on your hips to keep you still. “Can’t— fuck. You can’t squirm like that baby.” He hated how desperate he already sounded, voice going down an octave and raspier than usual.

You bit the tip of your nail, face heating up along with the rest of your body as you slowly raised your gaze to meet Draken’s. “C-Can’t help it, I’ve never—“

Draken brows shot up, panic flooding his system. He did not want to hear you say you’d never kiss a guy before.

“Never sat in someone’s lap like this…” The relief washed over him, making his shoulders slump again. There was this swelling feeling in his chest, one that he didn’t exactly love, but he couldn’t stop it from coming.

It was the same feeling he got when he took Emma’s virginity.

“Oh, yea…? What else haven’t you done?” He was curious now, big hands rubbing reassuring circles into your hips. The skirt you were wearing before was useless now, bunched up at your hips and showing off the cute panties you wore. He tried not to stare as you tried to stutter out your words.

But Draken knew now, he was much weaker than he originally thought.

“I-I’ve kissed a guy! Obviously!! B-But…” There you were, pouting again. But the more Draken massaged at your hips, the more your whines started to sound like meek little mewls. “I-I just— I haven’t really done anything other than like.. touching I guess..”

He really hoped that you didn’t feel his cock twitching right under you.

Draken hummed in acknowledgement, bringing his face close to yours as soon as you looked down into your lap. “Just touching, yea? Have you ever held a dick before, sweetheart?”

“N-no!” He shouldn’t be teasing you like this, but he couldn’t help himself. His question just made you squirm again, and he enjoyed the friction just a little longer than he should have before he was gripping your hips again, giving you a more stern glance.

“I said, no squirming…” The corner of his lip twitched as you whimpered at him, eyes getting glassy all over again.

“M’sorry…” you spoke back through pouting lips, still having trouble meeting his gaze as your fiddled with the collar of his shirt.

Draken knew what he was doing was wrong, could hear the voices of his buddies taunting and teasing, claiming just how right they were about him. But being this close to you, seeing just how badly you wanted to hump against him, even if you were drunk.

How the hell was he supposed to let this opportunity go?

“Well… I don’t wanna spook you, angel. If ya haven’t done anything, I’ll just put you to bed, alright—“

“N-no!” Hook, line, and sinker.

“No?” Draken mused, his hands finally pulling you just a bit closer, his fingertips teasing over the flesh of your ass. You shook your head, clinging onto him a bit tighter.

“N-No I— I want…” your words trailed off, your own nerves getting the better of you.

Cute. It was so cute how words could get you flustered when you were already sitting in his lap, skirt pulled up and nothing but a little pair of panties keeping you away from him.

“Cmon. Use your words baby, what do you want.” He spoke to you with that same level of authority, watching the way your eyes slowly made their back up to his own.

“I-I want you to.. to teach me.”

He was smirking now, smug as ever. But it didn’t matter.

He had you right where he wanted you.

His lips were back on yours before you could continue to stutter, but this time he was lifting you up. He gripped your ass, urging your legs to cling to his waist as he carried you towards the bedroom.

Draken placed you onto the mattress with ease, working himself between your thighs that already opened up to welcome him. He was pleased to see that when he pulled away from the kiss this time you were panting, lips a little swollen and chest heaving as you looked up at him.

Already so curious, so desperate for whatever he was willing to offer you.

“I’ll teach you, baby.” Draken was speaking into your skin, planting kisses along your cheeks, down the column of your neck. He felt your pulses with his lips, the steady beat only picking up in pace when he looked up at you through hooded eyes. “But, you have to listen, you’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

He already knew your answer, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“Y-Yes, I’ll be a good girl Dra…” you managed to whimper, voice slipping into a whine when his lips pushed over the flimsy strap of your tank top, dragging it down over your shoulder.

“Ken.” He laughed when you gave him this confused look. So naive, so very dumb.

But so very willing.

“Want you to call me Ken, can ya do that baby?”

When you realized what he was asking you let out a little “oh” and a nod, which pleased him to no end. His hand dragged your other strap down, leaving just a few inches left of coverage over your chest. It was the perfect place for him to pause, look you over just once more.

“Ask one more time for me baby, nice and pretty now.” This was his way of getting you to beg, and boy did you play into his hand so easily.

“P-Please Ken, please teach me, please—“

His will had broken long ago, the sweet sounds of your pleas, the tears that made your lashes clump. All of it had broken him down long before. His lips were back on your chest, one rough hand finally freeing your breasts from the confines of the little tank top you wore. He groaned as he squeezed each mound in his palms, the gasp you let put making his head feel light.

“Such pretty tits….” He murmured, his eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of your pretty nipples, which quickly peddled up as he smoothed his thumb over the bud. He poked his tongue out, curiosity getting the best of him as he swiped the wet muscle over your left nipple.

“O-Oh!--” Cute. He wanted to hear that little squeak on repeat, wrapping his lips around your nipple while he continued to massage the other. Your fingers quickly clung to his black hair, running through the soft locks before pulling him flush to your skin.

“F-Feels good Ken! Mhm! So good– I– want!!” Your words tumbled off your tongue mindlessly, mewls and whimpers getting pushed out as Draken released you with a pop. He licked his lips at your swollen bud, admiring the little indents his teeth had made before your tug on his hair snapped him back to reality.

“Watch it.” He warned, squeezing your breast hard enough to make you whimper. “Lemme take my time with you, Angel.”

“B-But–” You didn’t even know what you were pleading for, brain foggy as Drken moved on from your tits, large hands travelling to the hem of your skirt. The skirt was pulled from your legs with a few simple tugs, leaving you in nothing but a pair of dainty panties.

A pair that had a wet patch just waiting to be removed.

“You’re so cute…” Draken breathed out, his hands smoothing over your tummy, big enough to almost engulf your waist. Each touch of his fingertips on your skin left a tingling sensation, skin ablaze as you whimpered at him again, hips bucking off the mattress as he cupped your cunt.

“Please Ken…” You were gripping the sheets as he fiddled with the hem of your panties. Hooking his index finger under the material only to let it snap back against your sensitive skin. You could have cried from that, reaching for him.

Only for him to easily scoop up both wrists in one hand, pinning them back above your head. Although his eyes were nothing but stern, his lips were holding back a smirk, showing just how amused he was with how needy you became so quickly.

Although you didn’t notice, how could you when your only thought was him, his hands, his everything?

“Keep your hands up here, understood?” When he got a little whine and a nod he hummed in approval, pressing a feather-light kiss to your nipple. “Gunna teach ya how to feel good, but you can’t get in my way–”

“M’sorry, sorry Ken, won’t, please–” He let you babble on about apologize, easing your thighs open a little further. Once your fingers curled into the sheets above your head again he let go of your wrists, all focus drawn back to the little wet spot.

He was shameless as he pressed his nose into it, your scent instantly making him groan, pulling you closer to his face by the hips. He went as far as to nuzzle your covered pussy, pressing a kiss to where your clit was hiding under the fabric. You were trembling under his actions, each one making you whimper and whine for more.

“Smells sweet as candy, bet ya taste like it too, don’t ya?” There was a slur in his voice as his teeth took hold of the flimsy fabric, and rather than dragging it down your thigh he tore it off with one good tug.

You could have come right there, seeing the ruined pieces of your underwear dangling from his lips, the feral look in his eyes as he was finally met with the sight of your swollen pussy, covered in your own slick and making it glisten in the dim lighting.

He used two fingers to spread your lower lips apart, pupils only blowing out larger at the sight of your desperate little hole clenching at the air.

Beckoning him.

“First, you’re gonna come on my lips.” His voice was raspy, but it was enough to catch your attention, make you look at him with glossy eyes and a nod. “Gunna use my fingers too since I gotta work this pretty pussy open.”

“Kay ken, mhm… wanna feel you.” You muttered, the term pretty pussy making you flutter around nothing yet again. He just knew praise would make your brain turn off.

He licked one long stripe up your pussy, gathering the slick there. The action already had both of your groaning, a form hand on your hip keeping you pressed into the mattress as he let his tongue toy and flick at your pulsing clit.

“Oh! Yes–!” Every flick, every suck, every slurp of his tongue had you gasping, eyes squeezing out the pleasurable tears. It was like nothing you’d ever felt but you just needed more, needed to relieve that knot that was already so tight in your belly as Draken ate your pussy like it was his last meal.

You were just so sweet, just like he knew you would be, your arousal gushing onto his chin each time he kissed your clit. He knew you were wet enough by now, but he still spat a glob of saliva over your hole before slipping a finger into you.

Your mouth hung open in a little “o” as he pumped his thick finger in and out, and he couldn’t help but bite his lip at just how hard you squeezed his single finger.

Couldn’t help but think how tight you’d be when he finally bullied his cock into you.

“You’re so tight baby… gunna use another finger.” As much as he hated pulling his lips away from your pussy, he just had to see what your face looked like when he slid a second finger into you, and it did not disappoint.

You bit your already swollen lip, whimpering and attempting to buck away had it not been for the grasp on your hip. “S’too much, too much Ken–!”

“It’s just my fingers princess, you can take it…’ He was trying too hard to hold back his smirk, cooing praise as his fingers stretched out your gummy walls, in search of that one spot he knew would…

The tip of his index finally grazed the little lump, your eyes shooting open and your back arching from the sudden jolt of pleasure.

“There it is…” Draken hummed, massaging into the spot, making your body tremble. “This is your sweet spot, angel, feels so good, doesn't it?”

You nod, words lost to you as drool dribbles freely from your open mouth. It made him grin, adrenaline pumping through him as your pussy milked his fingers just like it would milk his cock… just as soon as he had a taste.

“C’mon baby girl, come f’me, yea? It’s gonna feel so good.” Draken’s words are a promise as he locks his lips back onto your clit. He’s suckling the precious bud, all the while his fingers massage your g-spot. He knows you’re overwhelmed, can tell by the way you jolt and cry.

But he needs to taste you.

You gasp as heat washes over you, the knot in your stomach snapping apart slowly. It’s the subtle graze of Draken’s teeth against your clit that sets you over, a cry of his name with a mix of slur’s spilling from your lips as you gush on his fingers.

Draken groans, you sounded so much better than he imagined coming undone. His fingers were pulled free quickly just so his lips could latch onto your cunt, lewdly slurping up your arousal even as your hips tried to desperately wiggle away.

“Fuckkkkk….” Draken groans as he finally lifts his lips from your swollen lower lips, the sight of his eyes narrowed and his chin covered in your arousal making your face heat up, embarrassment making you bring your hands over your face.

He chuckles, hovering back over you to press wet kisses along your arms. “Why are you hiding from me baby? Did so good f’me, felt good didn’t it?” His free hand petting your pussy, smearing your arousal over your skin and only further making a mess of your inner thighs.

You look at him through your fingers, slowly pulling your hands away when you catch sight of his handsome smile. You nod at him, hips bucking into his palm despite the way your clit tingles. “Mhm… felt good Ken, really good.”

“Good. Wanna feel better?” He asks, sitting up on his hunches. He grips the back of his shirt, easily pulling his shirt up and over his head, and the sight of his abs as you mewling for more. Your hands finally leave the sheets just to touch him, trembling fingertips smoothing over his abs with glossy eyes. He was so… so pretty? You had always thought so, but never acted on it, of course…

When his thumb smooths over your lip to collect the drool that leaks there you snap from your trance, his devious smirk making you whine. “You’re so cute.” He murmured, the dumb little look in your gaze only making his cock twitch harder.

So cute and so dumb, Draken was truly the luckiest man on earth tonight.

His cock was painfully hard when he finally pulled himself free, leaking a generous amount of pre that he used to slick up his length. His smirk grew when he caught you staring again, eyes wide and biting down so hard on your lower lip.

He held a hand out for you, helping you sit up a bit. He took your hand and placed your much smaller one on his cock, and the sight alone made him groan low in his throat.

Your fingers just looked so small as they wrapped around his length, your thumb rubbing along one of his veins with so much curiosity. You squeezed him and he hissed, instantly making your hand go slack around him.

“Not so tight angel.”

“M’sorry Ken…” You licked your lips, figuring out how much pressure to apply as you worked your palm up and down his shaft. Each time you almost reached the top his thick mushroom head would flush an even brighter pink, his pre dribbling from his tip and onto your fingers. Draken watches with wide eyes as you brought your hand to your lips, licking away his arousal with a pretty little sound.

Fuck.

He took hold of your hips again, lifting them so he could slide one of his pillows under your lower back. This angle had your hips sticking up a bit, your legs perched over his calves as he sat between your thighs. “Lay back” He instructed, and you didn’t pause with his instruction, laying back into his pillows while keeping your eyes glued to his cock.

“It’s gonna sting.” He warned, knowing that sting was probably an understatement as he laid his cock over your cunt, biting his lip to see that his tip almost reached your belly button.

“M’ready.” and you were, you wanted to be, your curiosity was getting the better of you, feeling his length rub over your cunt to get more slicked up, each time his tip caught your clit made you more impatient, reaching for his free hand and squeezing it tightly.

Draken positioned himself at your opening, greedy little hole sucking in his tip with minimal effort. It’s when the girth hit that you finally gasped, your rings of muscles attempting to make way for Draken’s cock. He shushed you with gentle coos squeezing your hand back and pressing warm kisses along your tear-stained face.

“Relax for me, little love…” He murmured against your skin, two fingers rubbing away at your clit. Draken was so tense and he held himself back, every muscle in his body rippling as he bullied his cock into your warm gummy walls.

“I-I–” You were stammering, chest shaking as you sucked in a breath. He had to be almost all the way in, right? When you saw only half of his cock had been pushed in you cried out a little, head shaking.

“S’not, not gonna fit~!” You sobbed, eyes watery as your legs trembled around him. He pressed a kiss to your lips this time, his finger never ceasing the slow circles on your bud to help break you open for him.

“It’ll fit sweetheart, promise, and it’s gonna feel so good… need ya to relax, can ya do that.” He looked at you,, expectantly, and who were you to say no? Not that you wanted to, considering your pussy was still milking away at what fit. You nodded, giving his hand another squeeze as reassurance.

Draken sucked in a breath of his own, and with one good jerk of his hips, his cock bullied itself all the way in, knocking up against your cervix and making you cry out for him. His fingers pinched your clit, the squeeze of your walls making his eyes roll back.

“Fuck– Jesus Christ, that’s it baby, my fucking god, you feel so good.” His own grunts drowned out your whines, which his delight soon turned to little moans as he kept working at your clit, your pussy holding him snuggly and almost refusing to let up.

It was the subtle bulge on your tummy, the outline of his cock sitting between your plush walls that really made him snap. He started thrusting, hips creating a steady pace that had his balls tapping up against your ass with each thrust. Your lips hung open in a silent cry, each pull and push of his hips making your walls squeeze even tighter. You were already too dumbed out to realize that Draken had placed the pillows beneath you because each time he was flush against you his cock head sat snuggly against your sweet spot, making your vision blur with each thrust.

“Fuck, baby, fuck. Got such a tight cunt.” He growled out through clenched teeth, the ring of arousal that already formed at the base of his cock making his own mouth water. You squeezed him like a vice, somehow tightening up even more each time he praised you, each time his fingers flicked your clit. Draken usually held pride at the fact that he could last in bed, holding out for the sake of his lovers.

But you? He just had to fill you up quick, had to see the dumb little look in your eyes when he pumped you full of cum.

Hit thrusts started to shake your whole body, breasts bouncing each time his hips smacked into your ass. His lips captured yours in a sloppy kiss, his tongue easily overpowering yours as your teeth clashed and drool fell down your chin. Your nails found purchase on his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped moons that had him groaning into your mouth.

“Milkin my cock like a good little girl, such a good girl.” He noticed your eyes rolling back, your body trembles ceasing only for a few moments as your high washes over you unexpectedly. Your vision went white when you came this time, the cry of his name making him hiss.

It was almost painful, the grip your pussy had on his cock as you gushed around him. The mess was beautiful, soaking your inner thighs and his pelvis, making a squelching sound each time he continued to pump into you.

“Fuckin came all over my cock?” he knew your answer but wanted to hear your sob out a pathetic little “yes” as he braces his arms on either side of your head. He knew better than this, knew that fucking into you this roughly, this sloppily could scare you off.

But your pussy was asking for it, leaving his cock drenched as he continued to knock up against your cervix, ground his hips so his dick massaged your g-spot. It didn’t take long for him to finish, his dick pulsing before spilling load after hot load into your walls.

You shivered at the feeling, body twitching and legs slowly loosening around him as his thrusts started to slow down. A bead of sweat fell from his brow and onto your face, making you whimper softly.

Draken was in a daze as he watched his cock slowly slip in and out of you. By the time he was all the way out, his length was covered in a shiny layer of arousal, milky and glistening. He sighed, a little flutter going off in his chest as your battered pussy clenched at nothing, pushing out a bead of his cum.

“K-Ken~” he knew he shouldn’t have pushed it back in with a finger, knew that was irresponsible and greedy of him, but the action was done before he could really think it over, his lips smoothing over yours to sooth your cries.

“M’right here babygirl. Did so good for me, m’so proud of you.” He rolled to his side, letting you cling and tremble against him as you came back down to earth. He had no problem petting your sweat-slicked hair, shushing you with little kisses. “You’re okay, such a good girl.”

If it meant you’d come back to him. And he was certain after this, you’d be crawling at his feet.

He didn’t bother leaving you, you were clinging onto him too tightly. So instead he just scooped you up, brought you to the bathroom. He was so gentle when he placed you on the toilet, and even though you were fussing about going in front of him, he was adamant about it as he washed his face.

“I can’t pee in front of you, Ken!”

“I’m not even paying attention, you need to try, it’s good for you, so you don’t get any infections.”

“What do you mean, an infection?!” He chuckled, of course, you knew nothing about that.

Once he had you calm again, face and legs clean from a washcloth he helped you slip into one of his old sweaters and a pair of boxers. You were basically sleepwalking back to his bed, mumbling something incoherent as you cuddled into his pillow.

“The bed’s all yours…” He spoke with a smirk, pressing a little kiss to your temple as he pulled the covers up to your shoulders. You were out in seconds, and Draken took your precious little snores as his cue to get up and stretch a bit, check his phone and grab water for you in case you woke up with a hangover.

It was 4 am, but what made his brows raise was the number of messages in the group chat. He clicked on it, ready for a good laugh. But instead, his stomach dropped.

Takemichi: Draken! Why is my sister at your place?!

Mitsuya: No fucking way…

Baji: Draken, you dog. 🐶

Chifuyu: How do you know she’s there?

Takemichi: I have her location! I was supposed to pick her up at some party but it says she is at Drakens !!

Takemichi: Draken I’ll beat your ass–

Baji: I’ll do it for ya buddy. 💪🏼

Mitsuya: ur done for dude

Mikey: dirty dirty kenchin ///:

Chifuyu: 💀💀

Kazutora: man strikes again 🫣

Pa-Chin: literally a sister fucker dawg

Mitsuya: ur never seeing my sisters again 🫡

Takemichi: they’re not fucking! DRAKEN YOU BETTER NOT BE FUCKING HER–

He was never gonna hear the end of it.

Property of Kenslilove ™️ do not copy, repost or bring onto any other platform!!

Member of: @enchantedforest-network @ghostqueue

#tokyo revengers fanfiction #tr fanfic #tr fanfiction #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x reader #ken ryuuguji #tr draken #ken ryuuguji x reader #ken ryuuguji smut #draken smut #draken x reader #draken x you #draken x y/n #ken ryuuguji x you #tokyo rev x you #tr smut

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mercif4l · 3 months ago

Text

/𝗶𝘁 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗲𝗿.

pairing: reader x choi 'buzzcut' vernon genre: angst, hurt no comfort wc: 1.2k summary: fingers off the unblock button or you're gonna regret it, girl content warning: angst bro. lovers to strangers, mentions of eating difficulties, rotting post-breakup, self-flagellating, i might wanna write an alt. ending to this bc what on earth is it so sad for.

it gets easier: they’re right about that, which pisses you off, frankly, but that’s just your pride talking.

first, you go no contact and it destroys you, and the rot makes your blood spill a darker, angry red, like cardinals on the cusp of their death.

then the rage is followed swiftly by embarrassment. at the circumstances, the context, your response, his response (or lack thereof), at being a human being with emotions beyond your control. it turns your teeth brittle and sore, and you can’t muster the courage to smile anymore, but at least you’re eating again.

the songs that dominate your breakup playlist fall into obscurity in the belly of your liked songs. savored, chewed up, swallowed, sizzling away in the same acid that digested ‘fireflies’ by owl city some 15 years ago.

now, they only startle you after their second chorus plays through the shitty sound system of some target eight months later.

then there’s that big, bulbous, obnoxious conclusion: acceptance.

maybe it’s the exposure therapy?

you see his face everywhere, not seeking it out, but not avoiding it either. you’re … you deserve to see that he has moved on. it’s good for you to see him and try to accept the feelings that linger (beyond bitterness and resentment).

because where that tunnel ends, you know he has made you happy. he persists in making you happy, still. the better memories are too plentiful to count or ignore, and his stupid grin always makes you grin right back, no matter the distance—even if it is watching some moment of fanatic hysteria explode on twitter.

so it does get easier. yes, even as you’re inundated with pictures of him performing to sold out arenas, or modeling brands whose names you know he's too scared to try and pronounce, or shuffling through an airport with a too-small baseball cap haphazardly hiding a new haircut. wait. a new haircut?

it's like something possesses you. one minute you're doomscrolling, the next you're neck deep in carat twitter's discourse over some fantaken photos.

while thousands of fans scream back and forth over something that will inevitably be confirmed in the next 24 hours, you realize-or remember-you're only privy to this news as a statistic. you're just another view in an algorithm. and that no one thinks (or cares) to ask you about hansol anymore, knowing you no longer have a place by his side.

oof. yeah, that still stings a bit. accepting you have no right to know, or otherwise being limited to investigative fangirling.

but you haven’t given yourself any room for mistake making so far, so why would you sully that clean streak? for the sake of haircut curiosity? what a stupid thing to suggest. idiotic, really. self-sabotaging idiocy.

to: +82 *** *** **** hey! new haircut looks cool. so sick the company finally let up. hope you’re doing good 👍

now, without the warm embrace of imessage’s delete option, you’ve kinda/sort of-fucked yourself.

“it gets easier my ass. yeah, yeah, gets easier to behave like a freak.” you berate yourself, sliding the phone across your table and vastly underestimating the distance it’d take to fall off. as you dive to catch it (and fail), that deafening ringtone only gives you reason to let it drop, to shatter the thing beyond recognizing its screen. but with this stupid heavy duty phone case hansol had bought a year back? no dice.

from: +82 *** *** **** haha thanks man ended up begging for forgiveness rather than waiting for permission :P from: +82 *** *** **** craaaazy how hard i tried to cover it up just to be clocked the second i stepped off the plane lol

you snicker at that. how ‘hard’ he tried?

to: +82 *** *** **** boy you wore a cap nothing was gonna cover that loooow taper fadeee 🎶 from: +82 *** *** **** brooo i was supposed to wear my hoodie but i got overstimulated from: +82 *** *** **** and i hope ur doing good too by the way from: +82 *** *** **** kinda geeked to hear from you haha

you have to put your phone down. this is dangerous, dangerous territory; like, walking through burning sand, sunburned and windlashed, toward a mirage. you have got to put your phone down.

to: +82 *** *** **** honestly just wanted to wish u well for the new year and lyk the buzzcut is super cool B)

these stupid keyboard emojis are a little secret you both keep. something silly you only use with each other that is so inconsequential, you can’t help but let your cheeks burn an angry red at their return.

why does it have to be so easy?

you are going to put the phone down, now.

to: +82 *** *** **** i’m sorry for blocking you—even though we said no contact it felt pretty immature. from: +82 *** *** **** glad u like the hair. was kinda bummed u weren’t the first to see it haha could only imagine the look on your face calling u after the cut or sending u a selfie :’) from: +82 *** *** **** nah i deserved it

he didn’t deserve it. sure, his whole being him shtick was what made the separation so excruciating in the first place, but you’d made the decision mutually. albeit a bit prematurely. in the way all confused adults do when they preempt disaster and jump ship at the first sign of smoke.

from: +82 *** *** **** that sounds crazy dramatic i just mean from: +82 *** *** **** it made sense? like it didn’t take long for me to get why you’d done it from: +82 *** *** **** i just figured pretty early on u knew what u were doing. you always did/do lol

your finger hovers over the call button. never before has it felt so offensive, so risqué to do such a thing, but you know that by ignoring the arbitrary rules of a breakup you’re tempting fate.

it doesn’t matter that before, you could do it as freely as you wished. that before, he would always pick up and never once avoided answering. before, you could send jibberish voicemails to litter his inbox, quadruple double triple text, or simply tell him to ‘ring’, and he’d oblige; because before you were in love. now, you’re an unnamed contact.

now, you stomp on the ashes like they’ll relight after a year being burned out.

from: +82 *** *** **** happy new year by the way!!!! from: +82 *** *** **** and belated happy holidays :) i pried and kwan let slip you got a billy joel record from him from: +82 *** *** **** i didn’t know you’d kept our player. why does that make me so happy?

you need to put the phone down. you have got to put the phone. you are going to put the phone down, now.

your stiff finger taps that blue icon before you can even think to stop it. it’s unfair, really, how this has to happen, but it was inevitable. because no amount of money in the world could buy you enough dignity to do this properly.

because when it comes to hansol, you’re nothing more than a fool.

caller id [+84 *** *** ****] > you will not receive phone calls, messages or facetime calls from people on the block list. confirm? caller blocked.

delete message history?

a/n: vaguely inspired by @xinganhao rockstar!reader and vernon breakup chapter.... like what if we all suffered more... because im a SICK MASOCHIST! and kae is my unknowing muse. also sorry for going afk and happy new year</3

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saladscream · 2 months ago

Text

Anatomy of a Manservant (final part)

Merlin’s arse is adequate.

One can only assume.

There is nothing inherently wrong with it, Arthur muses. Neither spectacularly hideous nor epically callipygian. It’s just an arse. A firm, slim, functional, male arse. Arthur has certainly never lost sleep over it. As it were.

No, the thing that makes Arthur slightly befuddled this evening as he walks into his chambers is: why is he getting such an unexpectedly closer view of said arse wriggling at eye-level? And by his bedside?

His blurted ‘Merlin, the HELL're you doing?!’ will never convey the magnitude of his dismay.

But the arse freezes guiltily, awkwardly suspended mid-air as Merlin, precariously balanced on the armrests of a seat, is interrupted in his suspicious endeavours to mess with the elaborate canopy atop Arthur’s bed. An eye and a cheekbone peer over Merlin’s shoulder and gaze self-consciously down on Arthur who is doing his best judgemental posture, hands on hips with the dose of affronted pout and frown.

The ensuing, not-so-enlightening exchange unfolds thusly:

“Merlin?” the prince prompts primly.

“I’m retrieving an apple.”

“An apple. Up there?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Of course it is.” Whereupon Arthur gives his manservant his most aggressively toothy, mock-sweet grin. “Get down.”

And Merlin does, only not in the way either of them expects as the seat topples sideways, sending Merlin’s booted feet one way while his wide-eyed noggin tumbles in the opposite direction. There’s a split instant where it looks like he is going to crack his head open on the bedside table, so Arthur just reacts on sheer instincts – and ends up with an armful of Merlin, princess-style.

What follows is an uncomfortable amount of breathing and blinking, from both participants. No one says anything, because from a silly bit of mundane acrobatics, things could have escalated to tragically stupid death right there in Arthur’s chambers and they both know it.

After surviving countless bandits’ ambushes, bloody battlefields, and terrifying encounters with magical beasts, Arthur isn’t sure he could have forgiven Merlin for accidentally dying on him falling from a fucking chair. Something tightens painfully in his chest at the dreadful thought, even as his fingers clench and dig into the infuriating man now more or less reclining in his arms.

Amid the icy churning fear at the unnervingly close call and the boiling, unthinking anger at the idiocy of the predicament, a criminally indulgent part of Arthur takes the time to idly wallow in the experience of carrying the dear, lanky bane of his existence. There is a soft, sweet, familiar commotion in his heart as he bears the full weight of him, feels the warmth of this body, counters the pull of those long, dangling limbs. One of Merlin’s hands is reflexively gripping the back of Arthur’s shoulder for support, and that too feels lovely in a completely irrelevant way. And so, Arthur remains rooted to the spot, a conflicted prey to a slew of contradictory emotions that he has no apt name for.

The breathy, confused, but not-quite-sheepish ‘thanks’ that Merlin murmurs damn near finishes him.

“Merlin, you idiot!” Arthur snarls through gritted teeth.

He should drop the man on his thoughtless, bony arse is what he should do. And probably give him a half-hearted kick in the thigh for added effect. How dare Merlin be so aggravatingly incautious, anyway? He could have died, the insufferable clod. He could have injured what serves as his stupid, careless brain. And where would that have left Arthur?

There’s a black, frightful chasm opening up in his soul just thinking about it. Because it’s not just that he somewhat fancies the braies off his manservant, is it. It’s not even about how appealing Merlin is or the temptation he represents to Arthur’s starved, unchaste instincts. It’s about so much more.

Merlin isn’t merely a sum of engaging physical attributes. Admittedly, he does have deep, beautiful eyes and perfect, luscious lips. He does have oddly sensual hands and troublingly suggestive forearms. His throat is as eminently lickable as his hair is strokable. And his cock, from all unreliable accounts, is enviably large. But no matter whether Arthur’s regal endurance wavers at the idea of becoming more intimately acquainted with Merlin’s hard chest, long legs and cute ears.

All these things have never been at the root of Arthur’s complicated feelings for Merlin. These things have never been more than the pesky, unsubtle trimmings adorning the core of inexpressible admiration, fragile longing and unmentionable love that have resided in Arthur’s fortress of a heart since the day the two men so inauspiciously met.

Because Merlin is not just physically attractive in his own right, he’s also the annoyingly loyal friend who follows Arthur wherever he goes, regardless of how dangerous it gets. Merlin is the argumentative prat who gives Arthur his opinion whether it is welcome or not. Merlin is the brave fool who think he’s discreet in his well-meaning, not-as-secret-as-he thinks use of magic, even though it could earn him the stake. Merlin is also the irredeemable ass who thinks it is absolutely fine to prank a crown prince. But most importantly, Merlin is the loving man who always wants to hug Arthur and makes the bad things go away. And no one has ever truly, freely wanted to be and do all of these things for Arthur before.

So it’s not mere frivolous infatuation that makes Arthur’s heart startle and stumble in his chest every so often. It is far more than that, actually.

And it is at this point in Arthur’s laborious epiphany, that Merlin’s quiet ‘Arthur, I think you can put me down now,’ brings him back to reality. He drops Merlin abruptly and watches him bounce and flop onto the bed. The slate blue eyes shine with humour and affection and also just a hint of concern.

To which Arthur can only mutter a tart ‘Why do I even put up with you?’

Merlin scowls and lobs back something about him being the only one willing to do the rotten job. And then he sits up and proceeds to remove his boots, much to Arthur’s suddenly febrile puzzlement.

Arthur’s brain has another one of those weird hiccoughs as a dark, debauched and extremely deluded part of it considers, for a very brief but very vivid interlude, that Merlin might be undressing so that they may let the simmering tension that has become a defining feature of their friendship lead them to its natural but unwise carnal conclusion.

But of course, Merlin is only taking off his filthy boots so that he doesn’t soil the opulent bedclothes as he stands on the bed to chase the damn forsaken apple. He thwaps the fruit out of the canopy from underneath and it bounces off of Arthur’s head, like a punchline straight out of Gwaine’s jokes.

Merlin snorts and grins unapologetically – until Arthur grabs him by the front of his tunic and drags him off the mattress.

All yanked-up close, Merlin’s eyes look huge and alert, but not worried. There’s a quiver of something flitting across his lips and a faint flush over his cheeks. He swallows and whispers a low ‘Sorry, that was not on purpose.’

Arthur is keenly aware of it. Keenly aware of everything that Merlin is or isn’t and does or doesn’t do. He always has been. Much like he’s always been aware of the half-looks and half-smiles that Merlin has always trained on him unobtrusively. All the unfinished gestures and untold truths. All the hidden attachment and concealed devotion. All the forbidden things Merlin has been and done for Arthur over the years.

“Do it again and suffer the consequences,” Arthur warns quietly.

“Is that a promise?” Merlin says, the words gently teasing.

At such close quarters and with Merlin standing on nothing but socked feet, they gaze into each other’s eyes in a way that feels unusually intimate, and perhaps that is why Arthur is able to see more than what he usually sees. For once, the inner workings of Merlin’s feelings seem a little bared, and they’re made of selflessness, patience, love and inevitability – all eased with a dash of dry humour and easy lust.

Arthur is many things, but a coward he is not. And though his heart threatens to hammer its way out of his ribcage, he tightens his hold on Merlin’ s tunic and leans in to finally express the depth and might of his gigantic lack of discernment the only way he knows how: with a breathless press of his lips to Merlin’s.

The rest of the scene is rather predictable and probably not worth the gentle reader's time. Let it be simply known that a lot of impatient, clumsy groping and ravenous, inelegant kissing ensues.

Fortunately for them, Merlin is amenable to taking it from there and giving Arthur the full, comprehensive tour of the anatomy of his manservant. It is a thorough, athletic affair that lasts until dawn, but by the end of it, Arthur is privy to all the soft ticklish nooks and dark sensitive crannies, all the sweet, earthy or briny tastes, all the rough, puckered or silky textures. And in return, Merlin learns that he is loved and treasured beyond the shadow of a doubt, and that Arthur is a noisy lover – vocal during intercourse and babbling after the deed.

As they fall asleep, Arthur’s hand amorously cups Merlin’s slightly sticky arse. An arse that is more than merely adequate, if truth be told.

Stupendous would be more like it. Just like the rest of Merlin.

*Fin*

[And that, folks, is the end of this mini-series!! I want to thank you all for liking ❤️, reblogging 🔁, commenting 💬, and generally cheering me on. 💖💖💖

I would never have written so many parts if I hadn't been encouraged to do so by your feedback and infectious enthusiasm. If anyone needs an example of how supporting and showing love to a writer can make a difference to the amount of fic they write, this is certainly it! 😅🥹❤️

I'm hoping I can post a properly edited (and illustrated??) full version of this series on AO3 in the not-too-distant future.]

Tagged: @miyriu @neptunesyellowsands @dollopole @shuukichan @merlininthedogpark @kintsugikid-moonysversion @toomanyfanficsbruh @blueliketheclues @solnishkomoon @evedaser @storigami @bertytravelsfar @graceless-angel @knightswaypoint @bivirtualtrash

The full story is now available on AO3 😊

Anatomy of a Manservant

1 - Merlin's eyes

2 - Merlin's lips

3 - Merlin's hands

4 - Merlin's throat

5 - Merlin's hair

6 - Merlin's ears

7 - Merlin's legs

8 - Merlin's forearms

9 - Merlin's chest

10 - Merlin's penis

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur #merlin x arthur #merthur ficlet #merthur fic #anatomy of a manservant #Merlin's arse #and also Arthur's feelings #a shitload of those in fact

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godhandler · 5 months ago

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yuuji x reader, idiots in love, 1300+, besties who have never had a kiss before <3

teenage midnights are for the delinquents, the up-to-no-good kids, the bad influences– namely, you and best friend!itadori yuuji. the stolen liquor bottles clink-clinked under your hoodies as you sneaked out the Jujutsu High kitchen, headed towards The Big Tree to execute the next part of your mission: try out alcoholism.

gojo-sensei would have your heads if he knew what you two were up to. “careful, up ye go!” yuuji hoists you on his back so that you can reach up to one of the thicker branches and pull yourself up there. “don’ ye drop the bottles on my head.”

he’s a long way from Sendai but the accent stuck like gum under a school desk. you watch him easily climb up The Tree and sit on the branch (which bends a little under his weight) with you. the thick foliage now veils you two from the outside world, which is great because yuuji’s already producing the bottles from under his hoodie. “soju, whiskey, white rum,” he reads out your loot, “do ye think iss enough?”

“how should i know, i’ve never drank either.” you reply, before a pressing concern hits you. “yuuji, what if we get too drunk and fall off the tree?”

he pauses his attempt to bite the cap off the whiskey before taking his yellow hoodie off. you let your eyes wander (why not? not like he’ll notice) across his collarbones, biceps, the outline of his abs barely visible through his tank top, the promise of facial hair under his jaw. he wraps his hoodie around your waists together, tying the sleeves into a knot, temple-like circle of protection around you two.

how could anyone not fall for yuuji? how could you not? but itadori yuuji is a teenage boy, and like all teenage boys, he’s never comprehended the idea that the pretty girl he has a crush on might like him back. he doesn’t see the way you look at him when he’s not looking, he doesn’t get that you enjoy his company a bit more than a friend would. he doesn’t know that he’s not the only one in love.

“don’ worry, i’ve gotcha. we won’ fall now.” “yuuji, we’re tied to each other, not the tree. now we’ll just fall off together.”

you stifle a shared giggle at his idiocy (everything is funnier when you’re breaking rules). “i don’ mind,” and even in the dark you can tell that his cheeks are as cherry-pink as his fluffy hair. “i’d fall with ye alright.”

as carefree as you can affect, you try to look elsewhere, at the glittery tokyo city skyline and the stars overhead because you’re blushing hard as well. how can you not when he says things like that?

you clear your throat: “aren’t you cold, yuuji? it’s december.”

he flexes his arms at that, “i’m strong, don’ worry.”

“lemme–” you scoot closer to him, almost nose-to-nose (or chest-to-boobs, in yuuji’s mind, who is desperately trying to not think of it), sharing body heat, so mammalian. the branch shakes when you move. the bottles, squeezed between the two of you, clink. “–warmer now?”

“ye-yeah,” he picks up the whisky, “wanna try?”

“damn, we didn’t bring glasses, yuuji!” “what are ya even talkin' about? just drink normal,” which is what he says, but as you give him the bottle back after your first sip (“yuckk, it’s disgusting, like hand sanitizer!”) he realises his grave mistake. you put your lips on the rim, you drank from it, your tongue licked off the drop at the end. it’s like an indirect kiss.

“i… i guess so, yuuji, but you don’t have to take it like that. you can… uh, you can wipe the rim before you drink? my mouth is clean, i brushed–and i floss too–”

fuck, i said it loud out? yuuji panics a little. “no, no i don’ mind, i didn’ mean it like that! yer clean! there’s no need to wipe the rim–”

“i really don’t mind, now that you say it, it is like an indirect kiss–”

“– i don’ wanna wipe the rim! i’d indirect kiss ye anytime!”

the world is never rawer than it is at fifteen.

yuuji backpedals as gracefully as a dying cockroach. “i’m drunk. ignore me.” he hasn’t even had a single sip. “that was sukuna speakin’.”

internally screaming at his own cringefail behaviour, the boy doesn’t realise that despite whatever throne he’s raised you to in his head, you’re just the same as him. the most pathetic creature of all humanity: a teen in love.

courage. have courage! i’m a strong independent woman and i speak my mind!

but it comes out as a whisper, “i don’t mind indirectly kissing you, yuuji.” and you immediately backtrack as well: “i’m sorry. i’m drunk too.” you had ONE fucking sip.

yuuji can feel your breath on his neck, your lashes fluttering against his skin. anymore of this and he’s going to melt into a puddle. he doesn’t even realise when his hand reaches under your hoodie to rest against the curve of your waist. but you do, you can’t help shivering at his touch– his rough palm, his fingers curled, nails slightly denting crescents onto your soft skin.

she’s warm, it occurs to him. “in movies people get drunk and indirectly kiss all the time, i’ve seen it. but they don’ do it indirectly… so-so we’re drunk now–and–”

“yuuji,” you tell him. “kiss me.”

he doesn’t need to be told twice.

heart jackhammering in his chest, he bends down over you, memorising your pretty face and your closed eyes and your cutely red cheeks and your little pout for a second. you miss the first time, your lips landing instead on his chin, and while you giggle he brings his other hand to cradle your ear and lead you to his mouth properly.

it’s soft. his lips are soft. you can’t help bringing your arms around him, brushing your fingers into his hair. “-ah!” his mouth gasps open when teasingly pull his locks, and you can feel his smile on your lips before he lightly nips your bottom lip. A hand strokes the side of your waist gently. it’s such a fragile dream he’s lucked into, he doesn’t want to wake up any time soon.

he’s the bolder one: his tongue presses through your mouth, shoulders visibly heaving as your tongues meet. your hands shake. his tighten onto you.

he licks up the length of your tongue, drinks your moans down, lets you suck on his tongue. there’s a tent in his pants that he hopes you haven’t noticed (of course you have, sitting as close as you are) but you’re both way too embarrassed to mention it. he doesn’t even dare to move his hands up towards your breasts– at best, he’s grazed the edges of your bra. that’s okay. all in good time. this is only the first time you’ve kissed. drunk on potent youth under the star-wide sky, it feels like the first of a lifetime-full of kisses to come.

“ye do taste like hand sanitizer”, a thought from his buzzed head that he mumbles out. “and yer so soft.”

“you have soft hair… lips too,” you reply.

“kiss me more,” he drops his forehead to yours, “or i’ll die, i’m tellin’ ya.”

you break apart only when the sky starts to lighten from pitch black to purple, dawn threatening on the horizon. he’s not done and neither are you. he kisses you one last time, a birdlike peck on your lips, the tip of your nose, a little pinch on your waist. there’s quite a few last kisses. every time he decides just one more and that’s it.

the untouched bottles clink-clink in your laps as you sigh into his neck. he rubs your back and arms, keeping you warm as the temperature starts dropping. his cheek rests on the top of your head and you can still feel him blushing through your scalp. there’s so much to say– wow, that was amazing or i think i have feelings for you or i want to do this again or keep touching me– that you end up saying nothing at all. nothing but–

“ hey, yuuji…” “mmm?” “i think your hoodie’s all stretched out now.”

a/n: gojo next day– aah yuuji-kun did you sleep well last night teehee

masterlist

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webslingingslasher · 9 months ago

Note

can you please give us something angsty between ethan and trouble? like how ethan texts her and she ignores the messages during the breakup. or when they run into each other in the cafeteria and trouble pretends he’s not there and walks away despite he’s calling out her name. the way trouble no longer crochets because that was her thing with ethan and it feels strange to pick up the needles and it makes her miss him.

*cleaning out my drafts!*

ethan is peter's best friend and by default, he owes you nothing.

you were a friend for the moment but once you and peter ended, so did the alliship. ethan didn't get that in the memo, but he's never made a friend through peter and lost her through him too. he keeps thinking everything is normal, like there isn't a giant peter shaped hole in the fence.

'hey, so i was thinking we could have a little study sesh at the library?'

'i'll rent out a room. and it would be just us.'

'obv.'

you miss him too sometimes. but he chose peter by default and you don't condemn him one bit for it, ally did the same with you. peter was ethan's friend first, so he should still be one when you walked away.

peter doesn't talk to ally anymore either. both friends became constant reminders of what you had and lost.

it might be a text message but you can hear ethan's voice in your head, he sounds defeated.

'i'm guessing that's a no.' you never open them but he knows you read them. it doesn't surprise ethan, you've ignored him since you dumped peter. he just never expected to be dumped too.

'i miss you.'

'i just wanna hang out with you again.'

'and if you don't want him around either that's fine with me.'

'i'll fly you somewhere in my private jet.'

'damn it. i was really hoping for a "you have a private jet???" response.'

'it's a yes btw. just because i know you're curious.'

'well, actually, it's my parents but you always say that's the same thing.'

you watch each notification appear and disappear. your teeth dig into your bottom lip to stop a smile, you can't go backwards. if you're around ethan it leads to peter and you can't do that.

ethan didn't realize there might be a reason why you haven't been texting him back, but he does now. what if you weren't replying because you weren't seeing them? he thought you were just ignoring him but it's been weeks of silence.

'did you block me too?'

he hopes not. he really, really hopes not. ethan knows why you pushed him away, he's just upset that he didn't get a say in it. ethan's never been able to tell you how sorry he is on behalf of his best friend and how he doesn't want to lose you over his idiocy.

you frown at the message, restraining your impulse to text him back, you hold your breath and wait for another message.

it comes two minutes later and your entire heart shatters.

'crochet buddy?'

you haven't been able to look at your basket of hooks and yarn, it feels wrong to finish your pig. you told ethan you kept messing up on the ears and he said he'd do them for you. he never got the chance. you wonder if he finished his lizard tail.

your thumbs move before your mind can stop you, not that it would. you had to tell him the truth, you can't have him wallow and sulk over you.

peter might deserve it but ethan doesn't.

'it would surprise me if you didn't have a private jet.'

'hey!!!!!!!!'

'don't leave yet pls.'

'let me take you out to lunch. we can go to the village or brooklyn.'

'i promise he won't find out.'

'please?'

'i miss my buddy.'

you think it's almost as painful as splitting from peter. ethan is peter's best friend and you can't get in the middle of that. it'll hurt peter just as bad and while part of you wants him to be hurt over you, you don't want to use ethan as the pawn to do it.

you back out of the conversation, lock your phone, set it down, and grab your unfinished pig before curling up with him for a nap.

---

ethan doesn't eat in kayte hall. you know he doesn't eat in kayte hall because you ate in cathedral hall with the sig nu frat.

used to.

you switched to kayte hall two weeks ago, it was an extra five minute walk but it was done with the purpose to avoid situations like this.

you try to move discreetly, it doesn't matter, he clocked you the second you sat down. you can't abandon ship, he's sliding in the seat across from you.

'you're avoiding me and i really hate it. you made me stoop so low i had to get a pledge to track you down for me.'

you're not going to give him the silent treatment, that would be plain rude.

'are you admitting to stalking me?'

'i'm admitting that i instructed someone to stalk you. are you flattered? you should be.'

'why aren't you at cathedral?'

'because you don't eat there anymore, duh. can i have a grape?' you hesitate before sliding your tray halfway up the table, he takes three.

you listen to the purple crush between his teeth, ethan looks a bit more serious after he swallows. you look at your cup, his stare makes you feel guilty.

'look, let me get this out of the way now so we don't have to talk about it again. i don't know all the details, park- peter hasn't really opened up to me about it.'

you swallow tightly, this is exactly what you didn't want to happen.

'from what i know- or pieced together, he disappointed me too. i'm sorry for whatever he did and i'm sorry it hurt you enough that i was caught in the crossfire, but between us, when i'm with you, he doesn't exist. this is the last time i'll ever talk about him, i'll offer you the same courtesy and we won't bring it up again.'

ethan's saying all the right things, you softly shrug. 'what's the courtesy?'

'you can ask me about him if you want to. it'll stay between us, i promise.'

the peter floodgates burst open, you'd done your best to push him from your mind but now you have the opportunity to indulge. you nibble at your bottom lip before looking up at him. ethan's smile is gentle, he's trying so hard for you.

'how is he doing?' from the little rumors you've heard it doesn't seem too good and the harsh bruise splattered across his jawline last week didn't do him any favors.

'um,' his smile tweaked, it's worse than you thought. you know it's bad because ethan's trying to find a way to be honest but not worry you. 'he's okay.'

'please be honest.' you know you ended it, you know it's real this time and you know part of you wants to hate him but if he's really down bad, you might have to give him a visit. ethan takes a deep breath and leans in closer to the table.

'yeah, he um, he kind of tanked. he's not himself right now. he's skipping chapter meetings, he's missing classes and if he's home, he's barricaded in his room or drinking.' your heart sinks, you're not hungry anymore.

'does he miss me?' you almost feel embarrassed to ask. ethan doesn't find the question pitiful, he's just glad you're talking to him. 'bad.'

it's brutal on your end too, but he sounds worse than you. at least you can get through the emotions of your day to day. you wish you could say you won the breakup but there's no winning.

'has he...'

you don't want to know the answer. you don't want to know the answer. you don't want to know the answer.

you still ask it. 'has he hooked up with anyone else?'

'no.' you believe him because he said it quick and with certainty. you nod slowly, it was the answer you wanted but it still didn't feel good.

'is he still going to the parties?' ethan shakes his head, 'i haven't seen him at any.'

'but he still has you, right?' if you didn't have a small support system you would've lost it ten times over by now. peter doesn't have a whole lot but one ethan overpowers ten mediocre friends.

'i asked if he wanted to talk about it, he said not really, i told him i was there for him and he said thanks. there really hasn't been much else, he's just been really quiet.'

ethan is all peter has, you can't rip that away from him. it would be evil to pollute the one thing he still had, you walked away from him and you shouldn't take his friend with you. plus... how could you move on if you have the peter encyclopedia at your fingertips?

'at least he's not crying.' you end it with a half laugh, half hum. it's sad all around and you're trying to lighten the mood, ethan avoids eye contact and your palms rest on the table.

'ethan.'

ethan's not sure if he is or not. he hasn't heard him but there are some days peter would shuffle out from his room for a water or snack and his eyes were a little red. there was evidence of crying but no tears, so he can't say with certainty but he knows.

'i don't know.'

it made up your mind. you can't do this to peter, you can't sneak around with his friend when he's still trying to mend what went down. you grieved the end of your relationship when you were with him, calling it quits was hard and it still is, but you were prepared. peter was caught off guard and he's still analyzing everything that went down, you know he is.

'so... are we cool?'

'of course we are, you were never a problem, ethan.' he looks relieved, releasing a sharp sigh he rests his hand over his heart and smiles brightly. 'oh thank god, i really missed you. so, are we done with the peter talk? are we ready to schedule our next crochet date?'

oh. he must've misunderstood you.

'no, we're not... we're not hanging out ethan, i just wanted you to know i didn't have any bad blood against you.'

ethan's not a mean person and you've never seen him mad at someone but he's hurt and his arms cross over his chest with a sneer.

'why am i being punished for what he did?'

'you're his best friend, ethan.' it's a statement and fact. it also has everything to do with you ghosting him. 'you were my friend too.' it's a raw confession, you can't look at him when he's this sad.

'i know i was. you were mine too, you still are. it's just different now and i'm not saying we can't be friends, but i think it would be better for everyone if we just took a break from each other right now.'

'it's not better for me. everything is weird right now, my best friend is a shell of the person he used to be and my other one pushed me so far away i was convinced she forgot about me.'

'it feels like i'm being iced out from all sides.' he's much sadder when he adds that on. you feel for him and you hate that you're part of the reason he feels excluded.

'i'm really sorry you feel like that, ethan. i promise it won't be forever, but i have my mind made up and no matter how many times you say please, it won't change.'

you're not sure if things between you became really quiet or if the dining hall doubled in sound. ethan's trying to come up with the right combination of words but nothing's good enough to make you come around on the idea.

If please doesn't work, he might have to force you.

'okay. i'll stop asking you to hang out with me.' he sounds fine with it, you're a little suspicious but he might've just wanted to talk to you, even if it was a formal goodbye.

'but i should go now.' ethan pushes against the edge of the table to slide out from his chair. his words are short but his tone is happy, you stare at him extra hard before nodding.

'i'll see you around?'

ethan sends a wink your way, 'see you later.'

---

the contents of your backpack are all over your bed, your phone nowhere to be found. you retrace your previous steps, you had it at lunch and you swore it was in your outer pocket at the library but after that it's blank.

it was either lost or stolen. your entire life was on it, you don't even have a way of telling everyone you lost it. you recheck your bag two more times even after holding it upside down, then fill it back up while giving yourself pity.

you wallow in it for ten minutes, not even a minute after that your roommate rushes in the door with her own phone held out. 'it's ethan.' you reach for it without thinking but pause before you can fully grab it, ally shakes it towards you. 'he said he has your phone?'

ally's unaware of what's happening and is being as helpful as she could but all you're thinking about is when and how he took it. you press her phone to your ear and ask him where your phone is, he plays dumb.

'i'm not fucking around, ethan. this isn't funny, i need my phone.'

'you left it behind at butler, it's a good thing my pledge found it for you.'

there was absolutely no chance of you leaving it, you clench your jaw and try to restrain yourself from throwing a million mean chirps. he sent someone to rob you.

'you stole my phone? why the fuck would you steal my phone?'

'oh, i didn't steal anything. you should be thankful one of our guys found it.'

'found it in my backpack?'

'did he? hm, interesting. but, hey! it's here and it's safe.'

'great, bring it to me.'

there's a pause on the other line, ethan sucks air in through his teeth. 'sorry, no can do, buddy. looks like you'll have to come get it.' your mouth parts in shock, that was the plan? forcing your hand to hang out with him?

'absolutely not. just meet me at kayte.'

'another no go, my friend. i'm stuck here and so is your phone.'

'you're not stuck anywhere, except in a house with my ex.'

'he's not here.'

'i don't believe you.'

you can picture ethan holding his phone into open air, he sounds far away when he calls out 'parker!' there's a solid ten second gap before he sounds crystal clear again. 'see? no threats.'

'ethan, please.'

'just come over, i promise it'll be fun.'

your eyebrows furrow, he thinks it's a game. 'no, nothing will be fun. this will be a business transaction and i'll be out of there in ten seconds.'

'so it's a yes? you're coming over?' if ethan had a tail, he would be wagging it. his plan worked and you're falling right into his hand. if it was anything else, you'd say fuck it and move on. but ethan took the one thing he can hold over your head and you both know it.

'i don't know how, but this is a rich asshole thing and you're being one.'

ethan ignores you. 'make sure to bring your crochet hooks!'

'i'm not doing that.'

'that's okay! i have a bunch of extras.'

'i mean it, ethan. i'm not hanging around!'

'what's that? sorry, you're breaking up on me. we should finish this conversation in person... okay, bye!'

the call disconnects suddenly. you stare at the black screen and take a deep breath to secure your thoughts before making a trek across campus.

---

'give me my phone.'

ethan ignores you and points to his bedside table, there's two waters and an entire box of grocery store cookies. 'here, come have a snack.' he drops his crochet tub on the edge of his bed. 'i got some new yarn, look at how soft it is.'

everything about it was a ruse.

'im serious, ethan. give me my phone.' he sighs and gestures to his desk, he keeps pulling out hooks. 'it's on my desk.' you search the surface, it's extremely tidy with no hiding place.

'no it's not. where is it?'

'hm... i must've misplaced it. i'll help you look in a second.'

if ethan wants to play dirty, you have no issue getting in the mud. you grab a small succulent from his windowsill and raise it next to your head.

'give me my phone, ethan.'

you're fighting fire with fire, ethan eyes his plant in your hold but keeps a straight face. 'i forgot where i put it.' if that's how he wants to act, you have no choice but to follow through on your actions.

you drop the mini cactus, the pot shatters into a dozen pieces and soil spatters around the floor. ethan falls to his knees and screams 'no!' at the plant guts covering the ground.

'she was a kid, you monster! she did nothing to you!'

you grab the matching pot that was next to it. 'give me my phone or the sister gets it.'

'i refuse to negotiate with a terrorist!' you're breaking him, you can see he's hesitant to refuse your compromise. 'i'm sorry you feel that way.'

the clay pot falls just as quick, it lies in a broken heap next to it's twin. ethan acts like he's been shot, a throaty yelp was produced while he delicately held the cacti in his hands.

the plants were fine, all you did was bust the pots. and while breaking personal property was a bar too low for you, you know he has at least a dozen more just like it in his closet.

you look up at his door to watch it crack open, it's a swift movement but it feels like everything is moving in slow motion. you try to back up as quick as you can but you're cemented to the floor and all you can do is stare at the face coming through the door.

'what the hell is... hey.'

you swallow hard, he looks how ethan said. just a shell of what he once was. all you can stare at is the purple bruise on his cheekbone, your heart pangs when it's reminded it's not your job to care about it anymore.

you point at ethan who suddenly is really quiet.

'he stole my phone.'

peter nods slowly before peering down at the mess around your shoes. 'did he give it back?' you shake your head, you feel like a tattle tail, especially when peter looks down at ethan and tells him to give your phone back.

ethan pulls it out of his pocket and hands it right over, your jaw drops and you frown heavily at him. 'you do it when he asks but not me?'

'he'll beat me up, you'll just unhouse my plants.'

'peter would never beat you up.' therefore, his excuse is pointless. ethan disagrees, his eyebrows almost hit his hairline with how confident you are. 'over you? he'd fucking kill me.'

you wait for peter to tag in, you know something is brewing in his mind. something like 'damn right i would,' and you'd follow up with something about how he's actually a big baby and he'd say something like 'only for you' and you'd... but that's not real life anymore and he stays silent.

he's probably confused and a little hurt you're hidden away in ethan's room, you feel the need to apologize even though you're not sure why you're sorry.

'i'm sorry, peter. i tried telling ethan that we should take a break on our friendship but he won't let it go.' you threw him under the bus in a second and you don't care, from the looks of it neither does ethan.

'you can be friends with ethan. you should be friends with ethan.' it's the first time actually talking with him since the break up and it feels weird, he's too formal. he's being kind and reserved, he's pliant and you need some bounce back to feel normal.

'you always said i needed to unfriend him when we were together.' you might've tossed a taunt at him, you wanted a reaction. you wanted your peter and throwing the break up in his face might do it.

it works, his eyebrows furrow while his stature hardens. 'i said a lot of shit i didn't mean when we were together, trouble.' you point at him, your tone ice cold. 'don't.' you refuse to acknowledge the small spread of warmth at the nickname.

'you like ethan, ethan likes you. you guys are good friends, why should i fuck that up? i ruined enough shit for you. the least i could do is give you ethan.'

ethan could speak up to make a joke about how it's like he's a child of divorce or that he's a person, not a piece of property but it feels like you're both having a moment that needs to happen. even if there was a weird energy he was picking up on.

your eyes narrow, he's doing this for reasons beyond being a good person. you know him well enough to know that he has something up his sleeve.

'i can think of something else i'd rather you give me.'

you can see the heat brewing behind his eyes, you got him right where you want him. peter uses his serious voice, the one he uses instead of raising his voice but still demands your attention.

'we're not talking about this here.'

those two sentences just told ethan that whatever you were insinuating was what ended the relationship and peter's very upset stance solidifies his opinion.

'oh, trust me. you're not talking about it at all.'

'we're not unpacking this in front of ethan. i'm on my way out anyway, hang out with your friend.' peter tries to step past you but you circle around to step up with him and block his exit, his chest brushes yours for a second and it takes everything in you not to wrap your arms around him and sink your face into the body you once found homely.

'liar.' he doesn't want you to hang around and he wasn't leaving. you're met with a heavy sigh. 'yeah, probably.' you can't stop yourself, you lightly poke his chest and peter's head drops so he can watch your hold stick longer than it should've.

'be honest.'

'you might be ready to cut the cord but i'm not.' he'd rather keep you in his life as a tie through ethan no matter how sore it was. if you had ethan you'd never fully lose him and that kind of promise is the only thing he wants right now.

'neither am i.'

peter stares at ethan, 'shut up.' he's shunned into silence. you're starting to understand why peter said he wasn't going to unpack anything here, you look down at your hands and play with a ring on your finger.

you think peter wants to talk about it civilly but you don't think either of you are ready to do it yet without hurting either person's feelings even more than they already are.

but having ethan around is a nice way to keep peter close without damaging your healing.

'okay.' you take a deep breath and glance at ethan, who's still pouting on the floor keeping his eye line from peter. 'i guess we can hang out.' he lights up in a second, looking between you and peter in case either one of you vetoes it.

neither of you do.

'sweet! i have to repot these but i have some new templets in my basket, so if you want to pick one out and start i'll just catch up later.' you nervously look towards peter and immediately dart away when you make eye contact.

turning your back on him slightly, you feel a little better. there's something about him that makes you feel jittery, like when you were the first couple times you met up with him alone.

'i don't think being here is a good idea, maybe we should just stick to my dorm?'

'why? parker said he was fine with us hanging out.'

'because maybe parker was being nice and doesn't actually want to see me here?'

peter can speak for himself, and he'll use the correct name. in case you forgot. 'peter, is just fine with you being here. the only sucky part is knowing you hate me.'

you think he might be baiting you now but you can't help but set the record straight. 'okay, hold on now.' you speak very clearly towards him, you're not about to let him twist your words.

'i am a hundred different emotions towards you right now but i don't hate you. i think you know that, parker.'

'okay,' it's full of sarcasm. 'you have a goodnight, trouble. i'll see you later.' you bite your tongue and let him leave, if you didn't, you'd be making subtle shots at each other all night.

'your best friend is a dick.' the second you're alone. ethan shrugs, 'you were into that at one point.'

'no, no. if we're going to be friends you only ever sympathize with me about him, you're not allowed to bring up anything i did in the relationship.'

ethan has a pile of soil and a pile of shattered clay, you feel obligated to help him clean up. 'and for clarification, i'm supposed to sympathize with your ex boy toy when i'm with him?'

'absolutely not. you're on team me at all times. shame him if you have to.' the broken pieces land in his desk trash can. 'is this where i have to remind you he'd kick my ass?'

oh, you missed and loathe this so much.

'you're so whiny, clean quieter.'

'is it too late for you to ghost me again?'

'that's it. clean up your own mess, i'm going to make a crochet snake and not because it's the easiest but because that's how you're acting.'

ethan snorts and nods towards his wicked wicker basket of yarn, you're already eyeing different greens. 'be sure to make one for my twin next door.'

you do.

you leave it outside peter's door and while ethan never confirmed it, he knows you're the one who made it.

and it sleeps on his nightstand next to him every night.

#frat!peter blurbs #uni extras

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bleedingichorhearts · 28 days ago

Text

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 & 𝐑𝐞𝐝

"Remake for this one is here. Make me cringe looking back on the old one lol." - Ichor

TW // Very Mild Violence.

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| - {Chapter I}

He didn’t expect a bond to be such an appetizing thing. He would have just thought it was some sort of myth once the Apothecary told him that it was some sort of thing he would feel with a baseline. It would feel like a daemon would be would be whispering in his ear, trying to lower his defense some of the Astartes explained to him. Others said it was something… beautiful like the Emperor grace setting upon them, and to him? He thought it was mockery. It was impossible that a baseline could even inspire such a feeling. They were below them, weak, nothing that should ever compare to the Emperors’ grace. He was sure some of the Black Templars would agree, but it seems that have been… tainted.

Seeing the… heresy around him. He moves solo on this “Ancient Tera.” All grumbly and growly that he simply cannot backhand the baselines that dare get too close for his comfort. Hissing and giving them warning growls to leave him be as he knows better than to innate anything physical. He has seen how some of the Salamanders at work; when their bonded get captured from some other, lowly baseline’s. They are more twitchy and dare he say more “on fire” than usual. Looking like they were ready to conquer the very lands they stand on. Which also was not something they did, but he absolutely judges them for their actions and their bonded. Is their bonded so weak they can’t even defend themselves? How pitiful…

Yet, he still considers the idea. These Astartes from other legions and successor chapters are so influenced with this bond connection that it seems to make them irrational to an extent. Gone away too long? They get irritated. Bonded get captured? Throw sense out the window. Challenged for bond? Consider a bloody war to happen. He was not Apothecary, but it was still strange and well, annoying. Godly annoying.

He been mostly working inside the bases that have been built specifically for Astartes with his fellow legionnaires, loyalists and reluctantly some traitors that behaved rather well, and the occasional baseline that he pretends they are a surf for pleasing himself of the thought that he wasn’t surrounded by idiots and fragility. That all hope wasn’t lost for any decency that he knows and approves of. Though, that can be hard to think of when there was a baseline law’s jobs linked to them: Police department, Fire Department, and even FBI. The little common things that he doesn’t really care for, but the paperwork to keep it in track gives him something to do instead of listening to a yapping Neophyte of either Space Wolf, Ultramarine or any legion for that matter. He was too stubborn to never become an Apothecary or a Captain, and he was okay with that. Gave him a bit of freedom to be himself.

With working, and seeing how the baseline law’s worked on this Ancient Tera. Differencing the many things between the Codex Astartes and this… weird baseline law’s like: Don’t push a moose from a airplane, don’t nap in a cheese factory, never advertisements in cemeteries, and even harassing bigfoot? He doesn’t even know what that was. He not ever sure he would want to, but there was just so many laws for such a baseline to remember that he’s pretty sure they don’t even care for them, and that's when he questions of why they have set certain laws in the first place. He doesn’t go too far down that Xeno hive as he gets a migraine of the idiocy in the few minutes, but he has seen these “Body Cams” of these police men and woman, and well… He starts to feel a bit bad for the baselines for the common sense these opposers do not have. It has him hooked, but the same time he’s dying inside of the baselines for them.

Including this body cam footage that has your name on it.

He likes watching your footage more specifically. He likes the way you sound. How you don’t stand down when someone is clearly playing victim and just prolonging the inevitable. How you seem like you are just boding verbal and physical abuse before telling them what is the right thing to do and slamming… what they call it? The cruiser door on them? Yeah, he likes when you do that. Hearing the muffled, lying screams of the rather healthy but intoxicated baselines saying “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!” It’s satisfying to him, and he can’t help but pry a little. He has the technology and files to help himself out. Why not do a little digging?

So, he goes on a bit of a… obsessive spree. Questioning you to himself as he gathers the information, which honestly? A bit of a struggle. Your information about you was not free to get, and it rises suspicion on his pauldrons when there have been reports, written by Alpha Legionnaires that multiple baselines have been killed just to get your information as well. It wasn’t regular killings as well. He can see the mauled bodies in front of him, on the screen. How… detailed and purposeful they look… It was… alerting to him. Well, at least he has jurisdiction-

Wait, alerting? This wasn’t him getting a bond, was it? Doesn’t he have to up close and personal to get one? He wasn’t getting soft for some baseline, was he? No, he can’t be… was he? He… was just having an interest, that. Is. All.

That is until he finds himself at the department of your work. Have gotten himself a position to be by your side, and who dares to say no to a growly marine like himself? (He used rank to get in…) Maybe some are hoping you would straighten this modified man out. Including the Chaplain?

You’re not sure yourself, but you’re not exactly happy about it, and neither are the shadows.

“@kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.”

“+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @marcela2000, @passionofthesith, @insanity6666.” - Tagged

#prologue #warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #second person pov #third person pov #adeptus astartes #adeptus astartes x reader

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zoro-chwaan · 1 year ago

Text

I’d like to say, this is my first time writing something like this. So if you don’t like it, then go ahead and skip! Also, this is a trans!m reader, so if you’re a ‘she/her’ or a fem! Identifying person. Please leave, this isn’t for you!

Word count: 1.2k

NSFW

═══ ⋆★⋆═══

Not-so sweet thinking…

Whenever you would test your scores aren’t that bad, they’re not beyond shocking ‘A’s’, but they’re decent. You would tend to get B’s or B+ on your test. Sure, there are times when you would get a few A’s. And other times when you would get a C or two, but that’s normally when you aren’t paying attention to the test and allow your mind to wonder.

Your professor would praise you for keeping and semi steady good score and he sometimes question how you do it. You would tell him that you study when that isn’t even the case. It’s been years since you last used notes to study for any test, you found it a waste of time so you stopped.

Now there’s another student in your class who keeps up the perfect straight A’s scores in every test in that class, but unlike you, he would rarely get any praises from the professor. He didn’t mind it at first since it’s doesn’t really bother him. What does bother him is when he found out that you not once have ever studied for any tests in that class. I mean, sure, you take notes in the class; you just don’t use it. It irritates him, so much that he hates the idea of you catching up to him.

No!! He’s worked too hard to be top of his classes, he isn’t going to let someone like you ruin that for him! He hates it! He hates you!! You, on the other hand, don’t pay attention to any of the other students in your class. Why would you? It’s not like you care for them, just the class. So of course you would be unaware of the unseen rivalry between you and the ‘Straight A’ student.

One day in one of his other classes, he had a project that he had to work with one other student. That student just so happens to be your dorm mate. Your dorm mate told him that they had something that they needed to do and gave him the keys to your dorm and told him that he’ll be there in a few hours or less. Of course he doesn’t know that you two are roommates! He sighed and walked up to the dorm and opened it. Once he was in he heard water falling, he thinks that his partner’s dorm mate is probably taking a shower.

He sat down on the couch and waited. While waiting he decided to get on his phone. The shower in the bathroom was turned off. You stepped out of the bathroom and went to your room to go change. Once you were done, you went to the kitchen to make yourself an instant ramen since you were tired and lazy to cook some food. When the ‘Straight A’ student heard the microwave go off he decided to look up to see who the dorm mate was.

To his surprise it was you!! The guy he hates the most!! His blood boiled in anger!! When you turned your head, you saw him and waved at him. He just continues to look at you with a cold stare. You tilt your head a bit and question if he was the project partner of your dorm mate. He doesn’t respond. Like how dare you try to question him! You decided to ask him what is name was.

“HUH?!” He stood up now fully enraged. This startled you a bit and asked him what’s wrong. “What’s wrong?? You mean to tell me you don’t remember who I am?!” He yelled out. You apologized and looked at him for a bit.. ahh no wonder he looked familiar. He’s that one guy that would give you snarky looks or remarks whenever you got a question wrong or whenever he got one right.

“Now you remember? Seriously! What’s with you?? First you don’t study and yet somehow you get decent grades, now you’re trying to act like you don’t even know who I am??” He sighs at your idiocy. That’s when an idea popped up in his head. “Well if you want to forget, all you could’ve done was asked..” He said as he made his way towards you. You questioned him was he was doing, but he doesn’t respond.

✧

“Fuuuuck- you’re so tight. You know that, right? Of course you do, fucking slut..” He says as he pounds into you boycunt roughly yet slowly. You moaned into your pillow as you tighten around him. Right now, he has you face down-ass up. Oh how cute you look under him ♡.

He grunts as he hears you pleading. “Awe.. does the little dumb boy want something? You’re gonna have to speak up, baby.” He smiles sadistically, when you didn’t speak up he stopped. “I can’t hear you, slut.” You babble incoherent words. You were trying to ask him to fuck you faster, but your brain turned into mush from the overstimulation of coming three times and him not even once!! How??

He grabs your chin and pulls you up, your back hitting his chest. “What do you want?” He asks as his hand slides down to your clit and starts rubbing it slowly. You whine and try to buckle your hip. Again, you ‘try to’. When he sees you do this, he tsk and slaps you boycunt, how mean :(! You moaned and squirt a bit at the action.

His eyes widen slightly as he laughs at the display. “Wow, I knew you were a slut, but squirting when I slapped your boycunt? That’s too cute!” He starts moving his hip once again as his hand moved from your chin to your neck. He angles himself to the point where his tip is kissing your cervix beautifully ♡. His lips end up on your neck, giving it kisses and marks that would last for a few days.

He pounds into you faster and harder as he lays your head down and grabs onto your hips. “Haah.. in or out?” He asks. It took you a minute for it to be processed fully. You managed to moan out ‘in’. He nods and after a few more rough thrust he cums in you, you cum along with him. After a few minutes, he pulls out and climbs off the bed.

You on the other hand lay flatly on your bed. A couple minutes passed and he came back with a wet rag and a glass of water. He starts cleaning you up and gives you the glass of water. You thank him and drank it all in one go. When you set the glass cup on top of your nightstand you look at him. Oh how sweetly he’s treating you after making you forget who you were ♡. Which reminded you.. wasn’t he supposed to work on a project with your roommate?

When he was done, you asked him. His face turned slightly red. He was about to speak up, when he heard a buzz. He went to check, and lo and behold. It was your roommate, telling him to just go to his dorm for today since they’re dealing with something. He sighs and looks at you. “Looks like I was embarrassed for nothing.” He turns his phone towards you.

You laughed and laid back down. Maybe getting on the bad side of the ‘Straight A’ student isn’t so bad after all. You get a good dick down, and a sweet aftercare ♡.

———

Also if you a request, feel free to put something in <333

#ftm reader #trans male reader #male reader #oc x reader #oc x male reader #thoughts #unholy thoughts #mlm thoughts

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aekatty · 11 months ago

Text

𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔢 ⭒✮⭒

yeah, you’re trouble for me…

a/n: his onigashima outfit…that’s all i have to say!

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

18+ !! MINORS DNI

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

cw: enemies to lovers, p in v sex, degradation, rough sex, creampie, kidd is a certified perv lol, reader manages a bikini bar;), no set arc - no spoilers, porn WITH plot, pet names: pretty girl, babe

tags ✮⋆˙ eustasskidd x bartender!reader, enemies to lovers, f!/afab!reader, smut

now playing: trouble for me - britney spears

————

“Another round of booze, and make it five glasses!”

“Uh, sir-”

“I SAID GET ME FIVE MORE”

He laughed as he watched the timid bartender run to the back with a horrid expression painted on their face.

“What’s with all the commotion?”

He looked up to see you, the manager of the bar, with an irritated look on your face. His demeanor changed as he was an awestruck at your attractiveness. A green halter bikini top with a black sarong that barely covered the skimpy bottom that rode up your ass. You had your hand on your hip as you waited for the chaotic red-head’s answer.

He finally snapped back to reality before shooting a flirtatious smirk, “Well, hello there beautiful~”

“I’m sorry what-”

“Name’s Kidd….Eustass ‘Captain’ Kidd,” he leaned on the edge of the bar table, his bar stool squeaking in the process.

“Um, ok.”

“So uhhh, nice bikini. Dark green suits ya,” his smirk widening before giving you a flirtatious wink.

“Thanks…it’s a bikini bar?”

He continued on with his failing flirting, “How ‘bout you join my crew, baby girl, cause you gotta nice punk style to ya.”

You felt your eye twitch, “I’m fine with my job, thank you very much.”

“…So, you got some nice curves-”

You gasped at his pervy comment before furiously slapping his face. How can such a man be this confident? While he’s not wrong, you know how to model a cute bikini, you just couldn’t believe the idiocy and confidence of the red-headed pirate.

He rubbed the part where you impacted his face, “OW, HEY!”

“Is that how you talk to women?!”

Before you could say anything else, a man with blonde hair and a mask lightly tapped your shoulder, “Apologies, miss, my captain is very stupid.”

“IM NOT STUPID-”

“He’s not used to making convo with pretty women like you so you have to excuse his poor manners.”

You felt your cheeks become warm hearing the compliment from the masked blonde, “Well, I guess you’re right...”

He laughed, “You see, Eustass? That’s how you talk to ladies. Now go apologize to her!”

The red-headed pirate poured, “ARGH, ok fine!”

————

After composing himself he nervously itched the back of his head, a flustered face to go alongwith his timidness, “Sorry, pretty girl. I didn’t mean to be a pervert…I think you’re very beautiful.”

You felt a bit relieved hearing his words, but that still doesn’t make up for the nuisance he’s been for your bartenders and customers. You let out a hiss through your teeth as you crossed your arms, “I guess I’ll forgive you…But i’m gonna have to refuse you service because you’re over-doing it with the booze!”

“AW COME O-”

The masked blonde coughed a lil ‘ahem.’

“I mean, I appreciate the thought of you looking after my wellbeing…” he grumbled.

The masked man patted his shoulder, whispering in the red-head’s ear, “Don’t mess this up…” You watched as the massacre soldier exited through the swinging doors.

“Anyways, can you hurry up already? I already dismissed all the other girls and I’m ready to close up shop,” you took a drag of your cigarette.

He grumbled at your snarky comment, “Fine, fine…but one more beer.”

“I ALREADY SAID NO.”

“JUST ONE MORE BOTTLE!”

“IM NOT BREAKING POLICY AND YOU’RE DRINKING UP ALL OUR SUPPLY!”

“PLEASE.”

“NO! NOW SHUT UP! YOU’RE CAUSING SO MUCH TROUBLE FOR ME, GOD!”

You both huffed and puffed after the dragged out argument you exchanged. Who does this idiot think he is? He was so annoying and loud, an arm made out metal, scars all over his toned body…You shook the thoughts out of your head, you could never find this oaf alluring at all.

He growled, “GRAHH, I take back the beautiful compliment! You’re a mean grumpy lady!”

“WHATCHA SAY TO ME?! I’M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS!” You grabbed the tufts of his red feather jacket.

“KICK MY ASS?! YOU’RE A PIPSQUEAK COMPARED TO ME!”

You scoffed, “You’re just mad that I’m cute and hot and you’re an ugly grease monkey.”

“WHATCHA CALL ME?!” He grabbed the straps of your bikini top with brute force.

“I CALLED YOU AN UGLY GREASE MONKEY, USE YOU THE THING IN YOUR FUCKING HEAD WILL YA!!” You felt a vein protruding from your forehead.

You both intensely glared at each other while still continuing your grip on each other’s collars. You never understood why your boss was so open to pirates in his bar; most of the ones you encountered are brutes, loud, and annoying drunks who don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves.

But there’s something about him that seems so…interesting. In your head, all you could think was how he looks like a brutish monkey; yet, another part of you feels like there’s something different about him. All you could do was just stare-

“Hey, pretty girl, my eyes up here.”

“I WAS ZONING OUT,” you bit hard on your cigarette.

“Staring at my rocking hard pecs, yea ok,” he smirked while softening his grip on your straps.

You scoffed, “You’re built like every other customer who comes over, what makes you think you’re so different?”

He laughed at your bluff, “Whether you like it or not, we’re both similar.”

You thought about it for a second, you didn’t want to admit it but the red-head pirate was right. You both were short-fuses (except, you think of yourself as the “smarter” one). But of course, you admitting this would equal to letting this big oaf win.

You still had a tight grip on his coat, “Even if we did have some type of similarity, you’re a pervert.”

His smirk widened, “Cheap coming from the girl who was literally staring at my toned abs just now. So, really we’re both in the wrong, baby.”

“I TOLD YOU I WAS ZONING OUT-”

“If you dislike me so much, how come you haven’t kicked me out the bar?” He leaned his head on his metal hand.

Oh goddamnit.

“Knowing you, your ass is glued to the fucking bar chair and won’t move,” you lied as you snuffed out your cigarette.

“Well if that the case, why ya still talking to me? You could’ve easily been silent the whole time, but here you are to me…” His red-stained lips forming a devious smile.

You grumbled in annoyance while a heavy blush peaked onto your cheeks, “Shut up.”

His face got closer to yours, the scent of beer tainting his breath which caused you to loosen your grip on him, “Make me.”

————

This is bad. So, so bad. You’re arguing with an annoying red-headed pirate who can’t seem to keep his mouth shut and next thing you’re doing is making out with said pirate while your legs wrapped around his wide waist. His body large stature loomed over you as he had you pinned on the bar countertop. Your lipgloss mixed with his red lipstick as he ravaged his tongue inside your heated mouth, intertwining his with yours.

His sunction on your tongue causing pleasure to build up inside you as you trailed your hands over the scar of his bare chest, his calloused hand squishing the fat of your ass as he teased his fingers under your swim bottoms.

You huffed, “You’re such a brute, y’know?”

“Hah…and you’re just an annoying brat who wants to police everything I do,” he violently smashes his lips back onto you, sucking on your tongue with desperation. Your lips swollen and red as he roughly made out with you — The taste of bitter alcohol lingered in your mouth.

The needy feeling of your clit causing you to buck your hips towards his clothed erection as you sought out for stimulation.

You could feel a smirk on face as he kissed your swollen lips. “Naughty girl humping my cock like a dog in heat.” His hand gives your thigh a tight squeeze.

You felt your cheeks glow with red at his dirty comment, you were so horny for this man it hurt. You continued rubbing your crotch on him, not caring about the consequences you were going to get from him. In fact, it turned you on thinking about the things he might do to you when you disobeyed him like an untrained dog.

Kidd groaned, “Oh, you fucking slut. You wanna be act like one, then fine.”

He backed away from you, causing you to become saddened at his far-proximity, “Show me how you touch yourself.” His eyes darkened as he looked down upon you, his gaze was practically piercing through the windows of your soul.

You widened your eyes at his request. Nonetheless, you followed his instruction as you removed your bikini bottom, revealing your glistening pussy opened your legs enough for him to give him a show. Your cheeks flushed from embarrassment as he watched you with hungry eyes.

You lowered your hand along your sopping wet cunt, a quiet whimper ripped out of you as you rubbed your digits along your erected pearl. You felt as if your legs were giving out as you circled your pearl in a speedy pace. You bit your lip as you held back a loud moan, not wanting to get teased by the red-head.

You lowered your hand as you dipped your middle and ring finger into your soaked opening, your slick coating them --- Slowly, you pumped your opening as you kept your gaze on Kidd. A smirk painted on his face, as his eyes roamed on your spread out figure.

“Fuck…go faster and I’ll give you a prize, babe,” His fingers pulling down on his metal zipper as he reached for his erection behind his white boxers. You simultaneously pumped your fingers faster as you watched him grab his hardened cock through the boxer’s crotch hole — his shaft was pale, bringing out the pink color of his tip; precum dripping onto the wooden floor as it twitched with need.

A hiss escaped through his teeth as he rubbed his thumb over the leaky slit, spreading his precum over the head. He toyed with his sensitive tip as he kept his eyes on your stuffed cunt. The sight of the short-fused captain masturbating along with you was quite a shock, but who were you to complain?

The more you increased the pace of your fingers, the more you felt your orgasm approaching. A part of you wanted to halt this process altogether, yet, you found a sort of pleasure in being controlled by Kidd. You couldn’t explain it.

You knew this was wrong. You knew this was gonna get you in trouble with your boss…But who fucking cares? It doesn’t hurt to break a rule or two!

“Stop.”

You paused your actions; the feeling of your stomach turning from anxiety as you awaited his next commands. He leaned towards your ear, his warm breath hitting along your lobe, “Thanks for making it wet for me, pretty girl~”

Your eyes slightly widened at his comment as you stared back at him with puppy eyes. He couldn’t help but coo at your expression before spreading your legs to make room for his wide torso. You nervously gulped as you felt the head of his cock align with your hole.

“You workin’ tomorrow?”

“No, I’m off. Why you asking?”

He chuckled before darkening his gaze, “‘Cause I’m gonna fuck ya hard.”

You squeaked as you felt him push the head of his cock further into your crying hole. A grunt slipping through his teeth as he felt your gummy walls clench around him, the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix.

“Just yell out ‘red’ if I’m being too rough,” he smirked.

You smirked back, “This ain’t my first time so you don’t gotta be gentle with me. If you break any glasses, I’ll clean em’ up.”

He swore he felt his cock twitch from your confidence before he pulled back his hips and thrusted into you. You gasped at the sudden intrusion before replacing it with a moan of pleasure.

The feeling of his cock bullying your sweet spot became overwhelming as you felt that familiar sensation of pleasure creep up in your pelvis. You instinctually held onto Kidd’s broad shoulders as he continued to thrusting into you, the feeling of his scars tickled your fingertips. Your leg accidentally kicked the empty mug off the countertop, the sound of glass shattering onto the floor not even distracting you from Kidd’s savage thrusts.

The emptiness of the bar was only filled with echoes of your grunts and moans, the sound of skin colliding as he roughly pounded into you. The way his hips followed a pattern as his movements became needier and sloppier. You were becoming drunk off the way he mercilessly used your pussy like a toy.

You felt a harsh slap on the side of your ass causing you to let out a quiet gasp, “what the hell, Kidd?!”

“What? You liked it, don’t lie,” he growled.

You retaliated by slapping his face, a deep grunt escaped from his smeared lips. His face becoming hot from anger and pleasure. “That was kind of hot,” was what he thought. A devilish smile appearing on your face as you watched him rub the impact from your slap.

He turned to you before smirking back at you, “You really like talking back, huh?”

“What? You like it, don’t ya,” a glint forming in your eye.

He chuckled while having a dark look on his face, “Then, turn that ass around, pretty girl.”

You shifted your body as you laid your chest on the bar counter, your feet arched onto your tippy toes as you faced your ass towards him.

You heard a curse slip out of him as he walked closer to your bent over figure, grabbing the plushness of your ass fat. He aligned himself with your hole before rutting his hips towards yours.

Your quiet moans and whimpers were enough to bring music to his ears as he watched his cream-coated cock disappear into your pussy. His eyes focused on the way your ass recoiled from the impact of his hips, it was so intoxicating he couldn’t help but giving it another smack.

You couldn’t help but arch your back as he continuously fucked you silly. It was getting pathetic…really. You for sure knew you were getting fired if your boss walked in on you getting pounded like a slut by a customer past closing hours. Yet, the thought sent your adrenaline running laps throughout your bloodstream.

Kidd panted as he lowered towards your ear, “You like getting fucked silly by a pirate, pretty girl?”

“N-no! T-this is just a one time thing,” you lied as you felt the sweat drip off your forehead.

He chuckled into your ear, “That’s not what your pussy says.”

He grabbed a fistful of your hair as his hips started to lose momentum from his impending orgasm. He let out a deep grunt as he slowed his pace, “How ‘bout I stuff my cum in ya? Bet ya look pretty with my cum dripping outta ya pussy.” You hummed a little sound of approval, “Fuck…I wanna cum on your cock so bad.” He laughed as he caressed your cheek with a painted finger, “So direct, babe…”

He hissed as he bucked his hips further into you as he chased his orgasm with yours. You held onto the counter for dear life as he drove his cock into your g-spot violently.

Suddenly, a wave of release washed over Kidd as he felt his seed escaped his balls, filling your swollen pussy. Your orgasm shortly approached after as your hole swallowed his cock, your legs gave out as you hung onto the counter. Both your faces sweaty and red from the intense heat of your intimacy you shared, clothes strewn across the floor, hair disheveled into a tangled mess while catching your breaths.

He watched in awe as his fluids mixed with yours as it dripped down your leg, leaving a tiny pool of white onto the wooden floors. His calloused finger stuffed the milky white liquid back into your abused hole, “Bad to waste food, manager.” You flipped him the bird in response as you continued gasping for oxygen.

After, the both of you guys washed yourselves up and mopping the evidence off your floors, you both sat down silently in-front of the bar. The silence was so deafening, a pin drop could be heard. The tension was thick, considering you guys fucked not too long ago. And you guys fucked hard…

“So, you gonna pay your tab?” You broke the silence.

His soft chuckle escaped the red-head’s lips, “That wasn’t enough?”

You scoffed while hitting his arm, “Sex doesn’t pay for cheap beer.”

He playfully shoots you puppy eyes before giving up, “Fine, you’re lucky that you’re hot.”

He slides the paper currency towards you, the smell of berries taking over your sense of smell like perfume (cause you a greedy bitch). “That’ll be going towards my paycheck,” you wink.

His booming laugher filled the empty bar, “Join my crew and you can get 10x more.”

You chuckled before grabbing a cigarette from your bikini top and lighting it, “Not the first time i’ve been told that.”

His demeanor switched from cheerful to confusion, “Say what?”

“Strawhat practically begged me,” you used your pointer finger to turn his head towards the wall on his left, a pinboard collection of bounties hanging by tacks.

The word ‘strawhat’ was like a trigger as his eyes landed on the words, Monkey D. Luffy, with a picture of the smirking rubber boy grinning playfully.

He dropped his head in his hands,

“Curse you, Strawhat.”

e/n: srry for the long wait, writers block a bitch + was busy!! (also srry for the shitty ending lmao)

#one piece #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #fanfic #oneshot #one piece smut #smut #eustass x reader #eustass kidd smut

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boolittlebean · 8 months ago

Text

POSER | blue lock v! x gn! reader

chapter 1: poser (pilot)

✎

Honestly, you really didn’t know why you were here. If you were to ask any of the other two hundred and ninety-nine boys in the same room as you, they could probably give you a pretty accurate answer of why they were there. You stared at the lanky man standing on the stage in front of you all, scrunching your nose in distaste.

His hair needs some work, was the conclusion you came up with as you observed his awful bowl cut. The man kept ranting about football things you really didn’t care about—something about becoming the best striker in the world and being the last man standing. Thinking back, you remembered how you got into this situation in the first place.

“Play for me, [name].” You stared blankly at your best friend of many years, wondering what on earth was going through his head. Your eyes drifted up and down his form, observing his body language for any sign he was joking around. He wasn’t.

“And why exactly would I do that?” You raised a brow at him. “You know I could care less about football.” You raised your hand to your head, scratching it in a spot that had been itching for a while now.

“Well, yeah, I know that… But, please hear me out, [name]!” [best friend] begged. Your eyes shifted to his expression, and you sighed, urging him to go on. “This… This is my dream! To become the best striker in the world, I’ve been working hard all my years of high school.” You couldn’t help but feel like he was being a bit overdramatic. “But…I can’t fulfill it anymore.” You knew why: just a day after he had gotten the letter, [best friend] had overworked himself and tore his ACL.

You gripped the letter in your hand. “Even if I agree to this, how am I supposed to get by as you?” You questioned your friend, and he grinned.

“Well, remember how people always believed me and you were twins?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Yeah…” [best friend] smirked at your response.

“Well, all you need is a few touch ups, and then you’ll be me!” You deadpanned, staring at him in disbelief. It’s not that easy, you groaned at his naiveness. You hesitated, taking a step back as [best friend] noticed your expression.

“Please, [name], this is my dream, and whether I accomplish it or not, I don’t want it to go to waste. Do it for me?” You gave in the moment you saw tears in his eyes.

You shook off the memory, glancing around at all the boys surrounding you. Your [e/c] eyes shifted, making contact with brown ones from across the room. The boy was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall with a video game console in his hands. You quickly shifted your eyes away, but you could still feel his stare on the back of your head.

You decided to tune back in to the bowl-cut man standing in front of the huge doors. Man, can’t we just move on already? My legs are cramping up from standing here.

Fortunately, your wishes were granted as the tall man—his name was Ego, how ironic—grinned at you all, announcing, “If you desire that rebellious egoism, then step through the gate!”

Finally, you cheered to yourself before you took a step forward, and then another, until you were bolting through the crowd of people. I hope there’s somewhere to lie down when I get inside, you hummed to yourself as people jumped out of your way. You turned your head to the side, making eye contact with bright blue eyes. You sped past him, and you could faintly register his footsteps behind you as he sprinted after you.

…

You were lost, you finally concluded, sighing at your own idiocy. After that pretty lady—what was her name again? —handed you your number, you completely zoned out, waddling around randomly. You huffed as you turned right at a corner, observing the corridor for any doors with your number labeled on them, brightening when you saw a glimpse of the letter you were looking for.

Once you had approached the door, you tried your best to open the door quietly, only for it to screech when you opened it wide enough to step inside the room.

Your eyes were met with a variety of different faces that all stared at you blankly. You stared back. “Well…” You glanced at the big screen with the giant egg headed man staring at you. “This is awkward.” You awkwardly shuffled to one of the lockers, opening one next to a tall boy with (emo looking) dark hair and bright green eyes. He side-eyed you for a second before stepping away.

Am I that unpleasant to be around? You questioned your own worth as you quickly finished changing. Once you were done, you turned around with an expressionless face, only for the screen to switch slides as Ego declared, “Now, let’s play tag.” Before you knew it, a football had dropped straight onto your head.

✎

#blue lock x gn reader #blue lock x male reader #blue lock x female reader #various x reader #blue lock #isagi yoichi #isagi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #bachira x reader #itoshi sae x reader #manga series #anime series #noel noa #michael kaiser x reader #alexis ness x reader #hiori yo x reader #ego jinpachi

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confused-simp-jpg · 11 months ago

Text

(boy)friend

Pairing: holland!Peter Parker / reader

(no pronouns used for reader as far as I know)

Warnings: brief mention of bullying (and a shitty ending cause I suck at writing those)

General Plot: You are on a quest to befriend your awkward schoolmate and find that you might become something a little more

Genre: fluff

Words: 1.2k

A/N: Honestly, I just wanted to try posting on here for the first time so I put together a little fanfic, so it might not be the most well written and thought out story, so please excuse all the plot holes and poor writing.

masterlist

A new schoolyear had begun and like every year you had devoted yourself to making a new friend. Having been the quiet kid with no friends you had decided to overcome your fear of talking to new people and after finding a great group of friends you started to look for new additions to said group every year.

At the end of last school year, you had noticed a small duo, a cute brunette and his best friend, you’d never see one without the other. But recently you had picked up on the near constant flow of bullying directed at the two by a kid named flash.

Truth be told you always were the kind of person to search for the good in someone even if they were being an asshole and it’s not like you thought Flash was the scum of the earth or something like that he just had the sort of personality most people perceived as arrogant, annoying and overall disgusting, their words not yours, although you had to agree. He was by no means an evil person per se he just seemed to lack basic human decency in its entirety.

So when you became aware of the two victims of Flash’s idiocy and their almost unbothered attitude towards him, you decided to get to know them a bit better in hopes of befriending them.

It was Monday where you had an irregular lunch break at a time no one else did, when you saw your opportunity.

“Hey… is this seat taken?”, you smiled down at the completely surprised brunette.

“Uh…yeah… I mean no… I mean you can sit…if you want obviously”, he stuttered out, stumbling over his words and trying his best to keep his voice from completely giving out.

You giggled and sat down:

“Thanks, I was worried I wouldn’t find a good seat anymore, I’m Y/N btw”

“I’m Peter”, a soft blush adorned his cheeks.

Peter looked around in the mostly empty cafeteria and his brows furrowed slightly:

“Uhm, you know there are like a lot of free tables. Not that I want you to leave but… you know?”, he hesitantly brought up.

You looked up at him a smile tugging at the corners of your lips and answered:

“Yeah, but it’s not a good lunch seat when you sit alone isn’t it?”

“…I guess…yeah”

There was a bit of comfortable silence between you before you spoke up again.

“You’re not usually alone here right? I think every time I’ve seen you he was right next to you”, you chuckled

He seemed a bit caught off guard by you breaking the silence but recovered fast.

“Yeah, Ned wasn’t feeling all too well today, so he stayed home and left me alone here.”, Peter said jokingly.

“Oh, tell him I hope he feels better soon then, he seems like a nice dude when he’s not abandoning you.”

Talking about his friend came easier to Peter than small talk and the conversation flowed seamlessly from how Ned had ‘abandoned’ him to what things they got up to recently.

In turn you shared some stories from you and your friends taking the opportunity to invite him and Ned to come along with you to the arcade at the end of the week.

Although hesitant at first, with a bit of convincing he agreed to meet the following Friday.

Your talk with Peter in the cafeteria had not been the last time the two of you had interacted and every conversation with him made you more excited for the next.

Peter really was such a sweet soul and hanging out with him always felt comfortable.

Friday rolled around and you were waiting on your friends and Peter in front of the arcade. It was a common occurrence for them to be late so when a out of breath Peter ran up to you and started to apologize profusely you just smiled and reassured him that he was fine.

You noticed Ned wasn’t with him and when asked about it, Peter explained that he still wasn’t feeling better.

Slowly but surely the rest of the group came by as well and soon enough everyone was present.

The entire afternoon went by in a haze filled with laughter, everyone enjoying themselves and even though Peter was a bit shy at first, he fit right in, and everyone welcomed him with open arms.

Even without really noticing or intending on it, you and Peter stayed close and stole innocent touches here and there along with soft looks.

Unbeknownst to you your friends had noticed the fact that you and Peter seemed joined at the hip and shared smiles about the clear interest both of you displayed for the other.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and were met with one of your closest friends MJ, who led you away from the group.

“Can you two go on a date without us? It’s getting a bit pathetic with the way he’s looking at you.”, she deadpanned, catching you off guard. Your mouth dropped open and blood rushed to your face.

“What?”, a confused chuckle escaped your throat.

“Come on Y/N, you two are clearly interested in each other. Everyone has noticed at this point. So just tell him and get on with it!”

MJ never was the kind of best friend who talked to you about relationships unprompted, you loved to tell her about crushes and troubles simply because of her objective and brutally honest advice and comments, but she never started these types of conversations so this was new.

“MJ, he’s sweet sure but I’ve only known him for a week and yeah of course I like him but calling it a crush would be a bit rushed don’t you think?”, you smiled at her.

“Obviously, but I’m just saying, you two have been smiling at each other so much even I felt giddy” MJ shuddered overdramatically

You laughed and hugged her. “Oh MJ, I love you so so much”

MJ scrunched up her face and awkwardly hugged you back, never having been much of a physical touch kind of person but tolerating it for you.

The two of you returned to the group and the afternoon continued without another hitch although you were more and more aware of the shy smiles shared between you and Peter.

At first the two of you were shy and awkward on dates but once you got more comfortable with eachother you shared inside jokes and and started teasing eaxhother playfully.

A few months after the arcade meet up which were filled with almost daily texts and constant talking, Peter awkwardly asked:

“ So… are we…are you…I mean, am I your…”

His stressed expression and the more and more panicked waving of his hands had you chuckling slightly once you realized what exactly he was trying to ask of you.

“I think we are and I am and you are. If you want to that is”, you answered with a soft smile, your hand ever so slightly reaching for his.

Relief washed over Peter and you thought to yourself, how bad he was at hiding his true feelings, it felt like you could read him like an open book, like he couldn’t possibly have secrets that you didn’t know about with how open he seemed.

“Thank god!”, Peter exclaimed and engulfed your hand in his, tugging you along to his home for the movie night you had planned.

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ficmashup · 1 year ago

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Out for Drinks

A/N: Hi again, a single person asked me to continue this and I'm an absolute sucker for anyone asking me for anything, so tada. ;) Still have no clue what I'm doing, but it's fun so who cares. I think I'll continue this a little further until the story has closure, even if it's open-ended, so yeah. Thanks to people interacting. Glad you like it. :)

Warnings: Once again, very vague SA or trauma references, some harsh language, nightmares, f!reader, I mean it's almost an OC, she just doesn't have a name really, idk what I'm doing :/ First person again.

Word Count: 3.7k

Feral Masterlist

I have mixed feelings returning to base. On one hand, it’s nice to not be looking around every corner for someone looking to shoot me. Not freezing my ass off is also refreshing. On the other hand, it means being around all the other soldiers and I realize that I’d relaxed a bit around the team. Enough that I feel my defenses going back up as I walk through base, alert and aware of all eyes that trail me. We’ve just gotten back and the others have dispersed. Hopefully to shower, like I plan to. Then I feel the weight of people’s gazes leave me right before a little shiver slides down my back. I turn around to find Price behind me, a little frown on his face as he looks around. But his expression smooths as he looks at me.

“Glad to know it wasn’t a mistake taking you on. Well done.” He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder, sending a shock of pride and pleasure through me.

I straighten up and nod. “It’s a pleasure to be with a team that lets me do my job, sir. Thank you.” There’s a small part of me that also wants to thank him for keeping me from freezing with his body heat, but I’m pretty sure I can’t mention that without blushing.

“Keep doing your job like that and you’ll leave us wondering what we ever did without you.” His hand lingers on my shoulder before dropping, his fingers skimming my arm. We begin walking towards the barracks, our pace leisurely as our boots squelch in the mud. He clears his throat slightly and my eyes snap up to his face in an instant. “Have fun with the boys tonight. If you decide to go.” He says, the corner of his mouth twitching. My brows furrow slightly. Right after we got to base, the others informed me of a post-mission ritual of going out for a drink. I hadn’t decided whether I’d go or not, despite desperately wanting to dissolve in a sweet drink.

“Will you go?” I ask as I tug my bag up my shoulder a bit.

Price nods. “I go for a drink or two. And to keep them out of trouble. Mostly.” His eyes sparkle a bit as he considers me and I get the impression he goes to watch the shit they get themselves into rather than prevent it. “Not sure whether you’d be more or less trouble.”

My lips part in surprise as I blink up at him, then I can’t help but give him a half-smile. “I do have self-control, Captain. I simply also have a low tolerance for idiocy and sometimes the only way to get people to see sense is to knock it into them. Literally.”

He chuckles and the warm sound hits me like a shot of whiskey, warming my stomach and getting me to relax just a touch more. “Well, you won’t hear me agree.” We stop in front of the barracks and it’s a pleasure to see the smile on his face, the ease in his posture. It’s been a while since I’ve just talked with somebody normally like this. Since I’ve let myself. “But you won’t hear me disagree either.” He finishes and my smile widens just a touch.

“I look forward to seeing you try to wrangle cats tonight then, sir.” I give him an easy salute before walking to my room, but my little smile lasts the whole way there.

* * *

The place they take me is an absolute shithole.

The floor is sticky as syrup, the bar chipped and scratched, and nearly every booth or barstool has stuffing coming out of the worn red leather cushions. But there’s top shelf whiskey behind the bar and that’s what they order as we file into the dump. It’s clearly a soldier’s bar and it’s busy tonight. My spine straightens as I see the amount of people shoved into the place and I make sure to pick a spot on the edge of our little group where I can see everything clearly. My gaze doesn’t leave the bartender’s hands as she pours our drinks and I don’t let the boys touch mine as I take it, my hand perched over the rim as I pull it close to me. They don’t comment, but I feel Ghost’s eyes on my hand as I cover my drink and his grip tightens on his own.

“To our Surgeon! Pray to God she doesn’t have to cut one of us open one of these days.” Soap holds up his glass and the others follow suit while I tilt mine towards them with a smile tugging on my lips.

“Don’t get shot, stabbed, or otherwise be idiots, and the likelihood of that goes down.” I remind them, feeling warm as they chuckle and I throw back my drink. My nose wrinkles at the bitter flavor as I slide the glass back to the bartender. “Mojito and a glass of water. Thanks.” She nods, giving an appreciative look to the men beside me while I shake my head slightly. When I look back to them, they’re looking at me judgement on their faces.

“A mojito, G?” Gaz starts, disappointment filling his eyes.

I lean forward in my seat, leveling them with a look. “All of you can choke on your bitter whiskey and beer, I want sugar.” Price reacts first, a barely noticeable smirk on his face as he makes a little noise that’s almost a laugh, then takes a little sip of his drink without saying a word. There’s amusement in his eyes, though.

Soap scoots towards me on his stool, clearly distraught. “It’s not just that. You disrespected a good whiskey throwing it back like that. You’ve got to savor it.”

My eyes roll. “I’m not savoring that piss-flavored swill, thanks. I appreciate the tradition and participated, but that’s all I can give you.” I respond with humor in my voice even as I watch the bartender prepare my mojito and hand me a bottled water. When she gives me my drink, I pointedly drag my lips over the sugar covered rim of my glass before taking a sip while daring the men to say something. The drink is delicious and I take a deep breath of the sweet smell edged with mint.

“Lucky you’re a good shot, G, or we’d have you thrown out on principle.” Gaz teases and I raise a brow at him as if daring him to try.

“Let G have her sweet tooth. We don’t need anyone else wearing down the stock of good whiskey in this place anyway.” Ghost, surprisingly, lets me get away with my preference before taking a sip of his drink. Soap and Gaz grumble a bit and I’m sure I’ll hear more shit about this later, but they let it go for now.

Soap rests his elbow on the bar and faces me, Gaz peeking around him. “Go on, then, lass. Tell us about yourself. Have anyone waiting for you back home?” The question is kind and genuine. Not leading.

I return the position and turn my body towards him, although my eyes are surveying the bar more often than not. “This your plan all along? Give me drinks and interrogate me?” It’s a light tease and Soap grins immediately.

“We want to get to know you.” Gaz offers and the other’s have eyes on me as well. “Despite your bad taste in drinks.” He adds in a quieter tone and I smirk. It’s only fair, I suppose. We’re a team, we’re trusting each other with everything, I can put up with some questions.

“No, nobody’s waiting for me at home. My parents died before I enlisted and I’ve been moving around ever since, so never got attached to anyone else. No partner to speak of. I get restless easily. That’s why I’m good at my job—I like the focus and having a goal to go after.” Soap blinks a little at me being so forthcoming with information, but Ghost nods. Seems he understands a little of what I’m saying. My eyes flick to Price at the other end of the bar, still nursing his drink, and his gaze is light as it rests on me. He’s listening just as much as the others. “What about you lot?” I return the question and happily sip on my drink while they tell me about themselves.

Soap and Gaz are, unsurprisingly, the most forthcoming. Gaz is more than pleased to lament his lack of partner, but proud to say that he leaves a string of broken hearts wherever he goes. It’s not too surprising. The man oozes warmth and dedication. Soap’s Scottish accent seems to get a touch deeper as he talks about his home and how he blames himself for the last loss of his favorite football team because he was on mission and couldn’t go to the game. Ghost says little about his home life. Just that he lives in London right now and there’s a little café nearby that serves a good cup of tea.

“Fuckin’ Brits.” Soap quips instantly and gets cuffed on the ear for his trouble. They descend into an argument full of sharp words and teases about who is more unbearable, Scots or Brits, and I’m so entertained that I nearly don’t register the man coming up behind me. I catch him in the reflection of the bottles behind the bar and turn around too late to send him a death glare telling him what a bad idea this is. His hand wraps around my bicep and my body is immediately stiff and my hands are clenched into fists. He’s not in uniform and he doesn’t strike me as military. Probably just some jack off that wandered in here and decided to go for one of the few women in this place. I’m in civilian clothes, jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt tucked in. Maybe not obviously military to someone who doesn’t think there are women in the military anyway. Idiot.

“What’s a pretty—"

“You have two seconds to get your hand off me before I kick you in the balls so hard that you deepthroat your own cock.” My words are sharp and there’s not an ounce of hesitation or doubt in my voice. His eyes widen and he blinks as if the words have to fight through the wall of ignorance in his head before he can understand them. Yet they must not get all the way through because he doesn’t let go and instead leans closer with a grin blooming on his face. His mouth opens and I’m already pulling my leg back for the kick when I see movement out of the corner of my eye and Price is suddenly there, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Step back.” The words are a command and the anger swirling in my gut calms a touch at the smooth authority in his tone. Of course, when a man says it, the other guy pulls his hand off me but doesn’t move away just yet.

“She yours?” He asks, looking Price over while rage boils my blood at being referenced as an object to be owned.

Price keeps close without touching me, his other arm stretched out behind me while his hand perches on the bar. “Mine to protect. Step back, son, before I let her keep her promise.” He releases the man’s shoulder with a light push to get him moving, then slides into his place and sits on the stool next to me with his back turned towards the man, effectively shutting him out. He seems flabbergasted, but eventually turns and dubiously returns to whatever corner he crawled out from.

“Sorry that I couldn’t let you take care of that yourself, G.” Price apologizes and his calm, smooth voice does wonders to soothe the anger still roiling in my chest. “It’s one thing to let you get into fights with soldiers that deserve it and should be able to handle themselves, but it’s another to let you decimate the civilian population.” His gaze holds mine, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

I take a deep breath to try and calm down. “Understood, Captain.”

“Just Price when we’re out like this.” He corrects and I hesitate a moment before nodding.

“Understood, Price. I wouldn’t want to get everyone kicked out, anyway.” I glance at the others who have busied themselves watching a football game on the tv, trusting their Captain to handle whatever the problem was. But I’m not foolish enough to think that they weren’t aware of every move that was just made and every word that was said. I finish my drink and set it aside in favor of my water. There’s a little satisfaction in hearing the soft click as the seal breaks and I take a small sip. “You didn’t chime in earlier when I asked about everyone’s homelife.” I offer, letting the question that isn’t a question linger so he can decide whether to answer or not.

He heaves a breath and shrugs a shoulder, accepting his glass as the bartender passes by. “Not much to say. I’ve got a flat in London and I’ll meet Ghost for tea every now and then when I’m desperate enough for company.” There’s a snort down the table from the man and Price smirks at the sound. “The job makes it hard to set down real roots, so I’ve no one waiting for me back home other than old friends that’ve survived this shitshow and are waiting for me to join them or kick the bucket.” He chuckles before taking a sip of his drink.

I consider him a moment, humming. “I hope both are far off.” It’s as close as I can get right now to admitting that I respect him. That I want him to stay on and to keep working with him. More than that, I actually like him. The others are growing on me, but there’s something a little easier with Price.

He returns my gaze and it feels nice to see his eyes soften a touch. “I can guarantee one is and with you behind the scope and holding the needle, I’m confident the other is as well.” I nod, accepting the compliment and responsibility that comes with it. We talk a little more as the night goes on and it’s clear that he’s usually the designated driver on nights like this. I offer to take over for him since I don’t want any more to drink, but he refuses, telling me he’d rather keep talking than drink more and look like an idiot like the others. He says it affectionately though, clearly not minding being the responsible one as long as he’s looking after the team.

Overall, it’s not a bad evening. The bad part comes later in the form of nightmares and sweat and waking up not remembering where I am for a moment. My hand clutches tight to my shirt over my heart, feeling it thunder in my chest as my mind comes back to me and I try to calm down. “Fucking hell.” I murmur, shaking my head and sliding out of bed. I change out of my sweaty clothes into shorts and a sports bra before wandering out into the hall.

I head to the training room and lose myself in the monotony of going at a punching bag. I passed my psych eval, I’m fit for work, but sometimes things creep up on me. It’s the nature of the things we do. Though these nightmares have nothing to do with missions I’ve been on. The dull sound of my fists hitting the punching bag echoes in the room and I eventually calm down enough to stop. I slowly unwrap my knuckles as I walk back towards my room, letting them flutter into one of the trashcans scattered around base. My steps slow as my mind whirls, then I change my course.

The mess hall won’t be open yet since dawn is still about an hour away, but Price has a coffee pot in his office. He’s offered to let the team use it as long as we only touch the pot and mugs alongside it. Time to see if that offer was genuine.

It feels a bit like an intrusion as I walk into his office without him there, but Price isn’t the kind of man to say something he doesn’t mean. I make an entire pot of coffee, knowing that he’ll be up at the crack of dawn and knowing the pot will keep it warm until then. The little sounds of the machine running and dripping dark ambrosia into the glass pot are soothing with their normalcy, especially as the nutty scent fills the room. It mixes well with the leftover smell from his signature cigars and while I don’t sit down once I have my cup, I do stay as I drink my coffee, breathing in the comforting scents.

I don’t realize how long I’ve been here until I hear boots coming down the hall. My hand freezes halfway to my mouth with my second cup of coffee. The gait is familiar and I have a brief moment of panic at feeling like I’m about to be caught doing something I shouldn’t. Instead, I take a breath and turn around to pour another cup of coffee before waiting by the door and offering it to Price as he steps in. Surprise flits through his eyes, not at finding someone here since he could probably smell the coffee from down the hall, but at finding me here.

“Thought you might’ve been Ghost. He’s the only one usually up at this time, but not usually after a night out.” He greets me and a little tingle slides down my spine at his gruff voice still rough from sleep. He takes the cup with a grateful nod while walking around his desk.

I linger by the door, still clinging to my coffee. “Woke up early today. Thanks for letting me use your coffee pot. I’ll be out in just a minute.” I tell him as he takes a sip of the coffee, shaking his head.

“You’re fine. Take your time.” He says the words easily, genuinely, and my shoulders lax before I realize how stiffly I’d been holding myself. His eyes remain on me and both of us remain standing. I’m not sure if he’s unconsciously copying me or if he’s retaining some idea of a gentleman not sitting before a woman. “How long have you been up?”

I shrug a shoulder, shifting my weight slowly from foot to foot to get rid of a bit of anxious energy. “An hour and a half? Maybe two? Needed to work out a little energy.” He hums, nodding and letting his eyes drop to his desk for a few moments. I hesitate as I think through what I’m about to say and I know he’s waiting, letting me decide without pressure. “The nightmares take me by surprise sometimes. Helps to do something physical until the memories fade.” It’s an olive branch, the words are the most vulnerable I’ve been since arrival. Nightmares aren’t abnormal around here and since Price is the only one who has read my file, I know he’ll understand what I mean.

His eyes raise to mine again and they’re gentle and nonjudgmental. “If you want to talk about it, you have my ear. If you want to sit and stay, my door is open. Sometimes the boys do the same.” It seems like such an easy offer for him to make. My fingers shift as I hold my coffee and I take a few steps closer to him, leaning my hip against one of the two chairs in front of his desk.

“And you, Captain?” I prod just a little, curious as to what he does when he has struggles.

He gives me a crooked grin. “I have good soldiers that come in and sit quietly in my office from time to time. They’re pretty good listeners.” I return his smile. It’s a trade then. Nightmare for nightmare. It’s a refreshing mindset and one that I haven’t often run into. More proof that Price is a good leader—a good man.

“Pretty fair price for a good cup of coffee.” I surprise myself by teasing and I’m rewarded by his smile widening as he takes a sip from his own cup.

“Mm. You’re welcome anytime. You make a better cup than the lot of them, anyway.” My lips press together to hide my smile at the compliment as I finish my coffee and set it aside.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.” I begin to drift towards the door, halting when he calls out for me.

“G.” I turn back to find him reaching into his desk and shuffling around a bit, then he walks over to me with a little box in his hands. “Sometimes it helps to remind yourself that you’re not there anymore. Find something to ground yourself afterward. Like this.” He taps the top of the box as I take it and my brows furrow at the sight of one of his cigar boxes. I open it to find it empty, but I understand what he means as the distinct scent drifts up to me. I can’t help thinking of how well I slept wrapped up in his arms, breathing in the scent of his cigars and him. My fingers quickly shut the box to keep more of the smell inside as I look up at Price with a hint of a blush in my cheeks.

“Thank you.” It’s for more than just this. It’s a thank you for being gentle with me, for being thoughtful, for doing more than a usual Captain would. His entire body seems to soften and he reaches up, lightly squeezing my shoulder with a heavy hand.

“Anytime.” He responds and it takes me a minute to pull away, his hand sliding off me as I go.

That night, I sleep holding the cigar box and breathing in the smell that’s just so…Price. I don’t have a single nightmare.

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