#sub!reader..kinda

[livelaughlovesubs]

I had a super cute (?) Idea today I gotta share this

Imagine a vibrator that is connected to an app on your phone, but to make it move, you have to press a button. Not like an on/off button, but that it only moves when your finger’s on the button. So, if you don’t press it anymore, it stops vibrating.

That, and you convince your partner to wear it inside him under his clothes. Saying something like: “I’ll press it whenever I think of you ♡” before both of you go about your day.

Then throughout the day, you’d just randomly press the button every time you think of him, before letting go and going back to your usual routine. And he’s just shaking trying to hold back a moan at some place, yet feeling fuzzy at being ‘notified’ you just thought of him.

[niilue]

⎯ like that time you were teaching vi how to french kiss ⎯

cw: female reader, shy and inexperienced vi, french kiss, sweet reader, fluff with a lot of sexual tension. vi is so adorable, she can't help but say she loves you bc of the way you treat her <33333.

you look into her eyes, knowing that vi is a storm of nerves, and you smile softly, trying to calm her. “ready?” you whisper, and she nods, unable to articulate a single word. you slowly bring your face closer to hers, feeling her shaky breath against your lips. her eyes close just as your mouths meet, your tongues accidentally touching. the surprise overtakes her, and she pulls back a step.

“there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, vi,” you say tenderly. “we’ll try again, but this time at your pace, okay?”

vi nods with her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining with a mix of fear and excitement. you pull her gently by the waist, bringing her closer to you, and her lips part slightly. her breathing becomes uneven, and you can feel her heart racing wildly. your tongues move timidly, testing, exploring, and every movement is clumsy and adorable at the same time. she lets out a soft moan, and you suppress a laugh, knowing that the sweetness of the moment is what’s making her even more nervous.

“shh, relax pretty,” you whisper, and your lips move with more confidence, your tongues dancing in a gentle melody of discovery.

sensing her inexperience, you softly take the lead, guiding her lips and tongue with yours. vi begins to relax, following your movements with growing confidence. her breathing becomes labored, and her arms tighten around your waist. her mouth opens slightly more, allowing you to deepen the kiss, which evolves into an exchange of saliva and soft sounds that escape from her lips. her tongue entangles with yours in a clumsy dance, every caress and lick confessing her nervousness. her eyes open for a brief moment, revealing the innocence behind her masked aggression, and you pause, captivated by the tenderness of the desire in her gaze.

her face reddens even more, and you feel warmth spreading through your chest, knowing that you’re affecting her in exactly the way you want. “see?” you whisper. “it’s not so bad, right?” she nods, and you kiss her again, this time with the intention of making her feel safe and cherished. her lips are soft and warm, and each kiss you give her brings her closer to comfort. as the kiss deepens, her breathing intertwines with yours, and vi’s hands move to your back, caressing you tenderly. she lets out a small moan that melts into the tension-filled air, and you hold her even tighter, savoring the taste of her innocence and the passion awakening in every caress.

vi clings to you more intensely, her lips moving with yours, every lick you give her mouth igniting her further. her teeth clash awkwardly against yours as she tries to imitate your caresses, and the saliva begins to flow between you, creating a sticky sound that fills the silence of the room. her eyes open and close to the rhythm of the kiss, the moonlight filtering through the window illuminating her flushed face.

“is this what a kiss with… with…” she whispers, unable to finish her sentence as every attempt to speak turns into a gasp.

“yes, my love, with the tongue,” you reply with a mischievous smile, never stopping the kiss.

she processes your response and continues, now with a gleam of excitement in her eyes. she starts to respond with her own tongue, sliding it into your mouth, licking your lips and teeth with the clumsiness of someone discovering a new taste and texture. her movements are erratic, full of unrestrained passion, and with each lick she gives you, you feel her handing over another piece of her vulnerability.

“vi, slow down,” you whisper, gently guiding her face, showing her the softness she’s capable of.

she calms down for a moment, her eyes opening, revealing the confusion and fear of not being what you want, of not knowing what you’re looking for. you look at her tenderly, caressing her cheek with the tip of your finger, making her understand that there’s nothing to fear, that you’re guiding her on this path of discovery.

the kiss turns wild again, the tension rises, and the room fills with the sound of her moans and your whispered reassurances. your mouth explores hers, your tongues intertwining, separating, and meeting again in a sensual and sinuous dance that seems endless. the training room becomes a refuge of passion and discovery, and in every moment, vi’s hardness fades, revealing the sweetness hidden beneath her tough exterior.

her breathing turns into gasps, her hands move urgently across your back, and the sensation of her fingers caressing your skin is exquisite. the kiss has become a storm she can’t control, an explosion of desire that overwhelms her, embarrassing her and, at the same time, filling her with a pleasure she never imagined.

in an experienced gesture, you take her chin, pausing the storm of kisses for a moment, and look into her eyes. in that instant, you see the life behind the tough facade she shows the world. “relax, you’re perfect,” you whisper, and she, with her gaze clouded by excitement, smiles shyly at you, letting you know that despite the clumsiness, what she feels is real, pure, and that she doesn’t want the kiss to end.

with your hearts beating in unison, you continue the lesson, guiding vi through this uncharted territory. every deep kiss and every caress of your tongues becomes a promise of what you could be. her nails lightly press into your skin, an instinctive response to the pleasure overwhelming her. her eyes widen, and in them, you see a mixture of wonder, desire, and a little bit of fear. you caress her gently, letting her know that everything is in her hands, that she’s the one in control, the one deciding the pace.

catching her breath, vi begins to take the lead, kissing you with the intensity she feels, returning the passion you’ve taken the time to awaken in her. her mouth opens, and her saliva mingles with yours in a clumsy and beautiful union. her moans grow louder, and the sexual tension that has built up in the room is palpable. your breathing quickens, your hands move down her back, pulling her hips closer to yours, and the sensation of her curves against you is deliciously overwhelming.

your lips part, panting in unison, saliva glistening at the corners of your mouths. her eyes open, full of disbelief and excitement. “that… that was…” vi stammers, her hands clutching your shirt.

you smile, caressing her cheek. “that was a kiss. a real kiss.”

she looks at your mouth, temptation glowing in her eyes. “can we try again?”

“of course,” you reply, your lips moving toward hers again.

your lips meet in a kiss even more passionate than the last, your tongues tangling, testing, learning. her nails dig into your back, pushing your mouth against hers, and the sound of crumpled fabric joins your gasps.

“ah…” vi moans, and the sound pierces your chest.

“do you like it?” you whisper against her lower lip.

she nods, and her mouth opens, inviting you to deepen it further. she begins to move her tongue, mimicking your caresses, and every movement is a step forward in trust and comfort.

“yes… more…” she whispers, and you can’t help but smile at the plea in her tone.

the kiss intensifies, the training room turning into a whirlwind of passion, and the night stretches out before you, full of possibilities and discoveries.

“i… i love you,” vi murmurs, her hot breath brushing against your neck.

your hands freeze, your eyes snapping open in shock. “what?”

she pulls away, covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes filled with panic. “i… i’m sorry, i shouldn’t… i didn’t mean…”

you grab her shoulders, stopping her torrent of apologies. “vi, don’t worry. that wasn’t bad. i love you too, i always have..."

she looks at you, insecurity battling with emotion. “really?”

you nod, smiling sincerely. “really.”

with a sigh of relief, vi hugs you, and your mouths find each other again, her confession still lingering in the air. the kiss softens, now filled with an affection that wasn’t obvious in the earlier clumsiness and overwhelming desire.

“vi, if you want, there are many more lessons i can teach you,” you whisper in her ear, prompting her to bite your earlobe in affirmation of her desire.

“tell me what else you want us to do?” she asks, eager to learn.

you smile, savoring the excitement of the night ahead. “let the magic take its course,” you say, kissing her again, guiding her in the dance of desire, letting her feel every step she takes on this entirely new journey for her.

[thbbie]

༄ sub!satoru x gn!reader

"mhmhmn, please, please please. i.." a lewd high-pitched moan ripes from his throat, "i ohhh~ hah.. i can't 'nymore baby, please."

satoru's big hands grip your hips tight, not manhandling you. just gripping you tight. grounding himself. "have mercy on me sweets, i uhh-" once again, he interrupts himself with a unique cross between a moan and a whimper.

"then do you want me to stop satoru. hmm? does the strongest need a break from having his cock ridden so well?"

pretty blue eyes shoot open in panic, "no!nono, god. ouh, oh, oh god, please. please don't stop. not now i-im ..nghh ahh~ god, you're so good. you're so mmmhnm p-pretty"

oh?

you couldn't have thought of that one on your own.

"god? hm, i've never thought of myself as one." the exhaustion and strain in your thighs is catching up to you, it's evident in your voice, "but if the the honoured one himself claims it, then it must be true hmm. isn't that right sa-to-ruu♡~" singsonging each of the syllables of his name. he nods his head dumbly in response; anything to keep you from stopping now.

your poor man, always so hard working. always so strong and so eager for you. oh doesn't he deserve a break? doesn't he deserve to break without punishment? the sweet thing pliant and twitching and teary beneath you. his face is flushed so deep it is comparable to a beautifully ripe cherry tomato. cheeks and ears and neck and chest and shoulders and all of him flushed and glistening, all for you.

oh how you love him.

pushing far past your own exhumation, you won't halt your movements until you know he's had enough. (your spoiling him, oh doesn't your boy deserve it."

"theree you go satoru, doing so well for me. so prettyy. sh sh, relax" you take his wrists in your own pulling the away from your hips, pressing them into the bed while leaning down to pepper his face in sweet loving kisses. licking away the tears he sheds so delicately one could have guessed you have pearldust at resting the tip of your tongue.

he's so powerful, a god amongst men. a weapon of the greatest power and no freedom. infinity of space in his control but you can see the hollowness in his eyes when he comes back home done nights.

"relax for me,"

it's all you ever want

"let god take care of you, my love. "

and oh, you do it so well.

satoru is in the best of hands when he unravels completely; his body, his heart, his mind, his mind, his soul, overtaken entirely by the white hot pleasure god affords him.

[thatwhisperer]

— – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – -

In the Lab…

Fic type-> NSFW + Drabble

Tags-> Sub Jayce, bottom jayce, degrading kink, kinda exhibitionism? both parties get off on getting caught, gn reader but they have smth to fuck him with whatever that might be lol, choking

Word count-> 705, about two pages of a book

AN-> I’m alive it’s a miracle! Anyways there’s not enough sub or bottom jayce fics just saying 🤷‍♀️. And as always, requests open!

Second Part! | AO3 | Masterlist

— – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – -

It was Jayce’s idea. Not yours.

Honestly, blowing his back out in the lab wasn’t really what you had in mind when you said you wanted to try something new. It’s not like you hadn’t done it before- just this time it was in his lab, over his workbench, scarily close to the door. It didn’t help that Jayce didn’t know how to shut up during sex.

“Yes, yes- fuck!”

You apply more pressure against his wrists held behind his back, pressing him further into metal workbench- a silent warning.

“Jayce.” A hushed tone compared to his strained cries.

“‘m sorry, jus’ too good…”

You tug his trousers further down his ass since his loose belt buckle was clinking against the bench with every thrust.

You glance towards the door.

“Gah- god-“

You watch as his face distorts into one of pleasure as you’d just adjusted the angle of your movements.

“If you don’t know how to shut up-“

“Make me.”

His comment surprised you, he didn’t sound bratty when he said it. And no, he’s too good to disobey you. He sounded desperate for it. Like he needed you to keep him under control, even if he was perfectly capable of keeping quiet himself.

So you lean in, and let your breath caress his tanned shoulder blades.

“Oh, is that what this is all about then huh? Riling me up, teasing me?”

He hesitates before he answers,

“…no, please that’s… it’s not-“

You hook your hand over his mouth, only muffling his moans to your disappointment. He felt a jolt of electricity shoot down to his dick, smearing more pre against the underside of the workbench.

“This is what you wanted isn’t it? Getting me to slut you out in the lab in hopes of, what- getting caught?”

He could only moan into your hand as you pull him up so his head rests on your shoulder, his hair splaying out across it.

“You’re such a whore, who are you imagining walking through that door right now huh?”

You turn your head towards his ear letting your breath hit it, eyes flitting up briefly. You only grin.

“Is it Mel? Or perhaps Viktor?”

You let go of his mouth and instead opting for his neck to hold onto for leverage.

“Both-“

“Both? And what would they do if they saw you like this? Man Of Progress against his own workbench, taking dick like a bitch huh?”

Jayce can’t help but groan at the idea, someone so close to him walking in on such a scene.

“Come on, what would they do…”

You grip his hip harshly to re-adjust your position slightly, his mouth drops open and his now free hands flailing to try to bring you ever closer to him. You know you hit the spot with each thrust too when he stammers before he replies.

“I-I don’t know-“

“I think they’d like it, someone finally having the guts to fuck all that arrogance out of you.”

As you talk you sneak in kisses along his jawline and neck, even leaving one dark mark along the side of his neck.

He whimpers and squeezes his eyes shut, imagining Mel’s and Viktor’s sneering faces. Perhaps they’d be muttering between each other as they stare at him like he’s a common whore.

“Just- fuck- I’m gonna cum.”

“You gonna cum ‘round my cock and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Please, please let me cum- I’ll be-“

“Good? You gonna be good if I let you cum?”

“Mmhmmm…”

“Well… go on, be a good boy and cum for me.”

Like the flick of a switch he arches his back into you and cums across the underside of his workbench, your final few thrusts making it smear all along his dick afterwards.

You feel him go fairly pliant against you as his heavy breathing gets gradually slower, his eyelids slip closed.

You simply smile as you hold his jaw and tilt it away from you. He lets it loll to the side like you want as he pries his eyes open.

Of course Mel and Viktor are standing in the doorway, and of course they both look rather flustered.

— – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – - – — – -

Part 2

[buckyseternaldoll]

hey! just read your sub!Bucky pieces and went absolutely FERAL for them. was just wondering if you had plans to do any more, maybe even one where Bucky slips into subspace? just a thought lol no pressure but I really really do love your writing it's AMAZING <3

Hi love! Let's just say I was working on this, which I felt it's giving the similar wavelength (not sure if this was the plot you're looking for) but I hope you'll enjoy this one too! 💜 This was already 2k words in before I saw this ✨

𝓌𝓇𝒶𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ᢉ𐭩

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’s Bucky’s birthday, and for once, there’s no mission, no alarms, no need to be the strong one. Just a quiet morning in your shared bed at the Watchtower—where you worship every inch of him, show him how deeply he’s loved, and let him drift into the softest subspace under your touch.

Disclaimer: 18+ (mdni!), explicit smut content, sub!Bucky, praise kink, emotional subspace, riding (f on m), blowjob, soft dom!reader, birthday sex, aftercare, gentle smut, romantic smut, post-mission softness, cuddling, emotional vulnerability, sleep kink (non-fetishized)

Word Count: 3.8k

It was just another quiet weekday in the Watchtower. No missions. No briefings. Not even a sparring session. The corridors were still and silent, bathed in late morning sun, untouched by urgency or tension for once. Peace like that was rare—but today, it felt deserved.

Especially because it was his birthday.

The two of you stayed in bed longer than usual, tangled beneath soft cotton sheets, both of you naked under the covers. Your body pressed close to his, skin on skin, warm and unhurried. Bucky’s head rested against your chest, his stubble grazing the swell of your breast as he breathed you in—like the sound of your heartbeat was the only thing tethering him to this quiet moment.

His flesh hand had found its way to your breast sometime after waking. Not with lust. Not to tease. He simply held you there, fingers splayed across your soft skin, thumb stroking lazy circles over your nipple. It grounded him. Anchored him. It made him feel safe.

You let him stay there, one arm curled around his shoulders, the other slowly carding through his messy, dark hair. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His body told you everything—the way he sighed softly when you touched him, how his thumb slowed, how his entire weight pressed into your side like he trusted the bed wouldn’t hold him but you would.

And maybe it was the quiet. Or the sunlight. Or just the fact that today was his. But something about the moment made you want to give him everything.

You kissed the top of his head first. Then his temple. The soft corner of his brow. Your lips moved slowly, reverently, down the side of his face until you reached his jaw—and you felt him exhale, deep and warm, like he was already letting go.

There was no urgency. No fire. Just love.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you whispered into his hair. “Let me take care of you today. Let me show you how much I love you.”

You felt him nod, so faintly it was almost imperceptible—and that was all the permission you needed.

—

You shifted gently, guiding him with slow, coaxing hands until he lay flat on the bed beneath you. The sheets rustled beneath his body, catching little patches of morning sun that filtered through the curtains. His hair splayed out on the pillow like a halo, and when you leaned over him—hovering, bare skin brushing against his—Bucky didn’t resist. He just looked up at you with those steel-blue eyes, soft and stormless.

You began at his forehead. A single kiss. Barely a press of your lips. Then another—this one firmer, lingering. You trailed them down the center, between his brows. Then to the left, then the right, your mouth ghosting every inch of skin like it deserved worship.

You kissed the bridge of his nose, let your lips curl there, smiling gently when he scrunched it in response. His cheeks, flushed already, warmed further under your attention. You mouthed over his cheekbones, slow and fluttery—kisses like soft feathers.

Then, his eyelids—and he closed his eyes for you, without being asked. Trusting. Vulnerable. You kissed each one with quiet reverence, your thumbs brushing just beneath them.

His ears next—one, then the other—the shell, the lobe, the sensitive curve just behind it. You whispered there, voice velvet-soft:

“You don’t even know how beautiful you are, do you?”

He shivered under you.

You moved down to his chin, traced your lips beneath it, then finally met his mouth. A kiss, then another. Plush, slow, deep. Not hungry. Just… full. He sighed into you, his hands twitching slightly on the sheets like he didn’t know whether to pull you in or surrender entirely.

You chose for him.

You kissed down his throat next, dragging your lips over the strong line of his neck. One side, then the other. You kissed every inch—the sharp line under his jaw, the hollow of his throat, the side where his pulse fluttered quick under skin. You nuzzled there, inhaling deeply like he was your favorite scent.

Then came his collarbones. You traced them with your tongue, kissed over the dips, and left little open-mouthed presses over the stretch of chest between them.

His chest.

God, his chest.

You slowed there, sitting back on your knees for a moment to just look. His skin was lightly freckled, chest rising and falling steadily, pecs soft but sculpted with strength. His nipples were already pebbled from your touch, from the air, from the sheer intimacy of being looked at like this.

You leaned down again, mouthing at his left nipple. A soft suck. A slow swirl of your tongue. He let out the faintest breath—not a moan, but something deeper, like surprise. You repeated it on the right, just as lovingly.

“I don’t say this enough,” you murmured against his skin, “but I love your chest. Every inch of it. The way it fits against me when we sleep. How solid you feel when I hold you. How soft your skin is right here…”

You kissed the space between his pecs. Let your nose brush down the ridge of his sternum.

Then, you took both of his hands.

First, his flesh hand—calloused but warm, fingertips twitching with the desire to touch. You brought it up to your face and pressed it against your cheek, nuzzling in. Then his vibranium one—cooler, but just as familiar. You mirrored the movement, setting his palm against your other cheek, letting the contrast of heat and metal ground you both.

You kissed the knuckles of one, then the other. Not up to his shoulders—just enough to make him feel cherished, honored.

Then your lips began their descent.

You pressed slow kisses down the flat of his stomach, dragging your tongue briefly over the cut ridges of his abs. His stomach twitched beneath you—his muscles contracting, not from restraint, but from feeling. Each kiss came with breathy praise:

“So strong for me, baby...”

“Look at you, you’re unreal…”

“I could kiss you here all day…”

You moved lower, past the lines of his hips, brushing the edge of where his body was already beginning to stiffen with arousal. But you didn’t go there. Not yet.

Instead, you lingered. Paused. Looked.

Your eyes lifted, meeting his—half-lidded, soft with awe.

“You still surprise me, you know?” you said quietly, voice touched with wonder. “No matter how many times I’ve gone down on you, no matter how many times you’ve been inside me…”

Your gaze flicked down again.

“You’re still so damn perfect. Thick… long… veiny in all the right places… curved just right to ruin me.”

Bucky let out a low moan—barely there, like he was trying to hold it in.

You leaned forward, lips brushing the base of his shaft in a slow, wet kiss. Then another. You mouthed up his length, lips parting slightly to taste the warmth of him. Your tongue flicked just beneath the ridge, teasing gently.

He groaned this time—not loud, but from his chest. His hands fisted in the sheets.

You glanced up, lips still near the tip.

“You don’t have to hold it in today, baby,” you whispered. “It’s your day. You can moan as loud as you want.”

—

You kissed the tip of his cock once more, lips plush and wet, before taking him into your mouth—slow, steady, no theatrics. Just love.

He was warm and heavy on your tongue, the weight of him familiar, comforting even. You wrapped one hand around the base as you sucked, your other resting gently over his thigh, grounding him there. Your tongue moved in slow, tender motions—tracing along the underside, flicking softly under the head, then swirling around the crown like you were savoring the taste of him.

He moaned low—not because he was trying to, but because the sound slipped from him naturally. Bucky didn’t try to take control. Didn’t buck his hips. Didn’t reach for your head.

He just let you love him.

He surrendered to it. Fully.

You adjusted your pace now and then, never too fast—never trying to bring him over the edge, only to bring him peace. Your hand began to stroke slowly in tandem with your mouth, coaxing soft pulses from his cock as you pulled back and slid forward again, humming lightly around him. Every so often, you paused to mouth around the head, giving it gentle, fluttery kisses before sinking again.

His breaths were shallow now. Chest rising and falling with rhythm, hands fisting gently into the sheets beside him—not out of desperation, but of feeling too much and still wanting more.

And you gave it to him. Every drop.

After a while, you pulled back with a soft pop, one hand still stroking his length, slick and slow. You moved back up his body, hovering over him once again, your thighs straddling his hips now. His lips were parted, cheeks flushed, his eyes glassy when they met yours.

And then you kissed him.

A kiss so deep it made your chest ache. Tender, gentle, plush—just lips and warmth and love pouring into him like water into something parched. He moaned into your mouth, and you drank it down, your hand still stroking him between your bodies.

You broke the kiss barely an inch from his lips, whispering against him:

“I love you, Bucky. I love you so much it hurts. Nothing I do will ever be enough to show it. Nothing.”

You kissed him again, and he melted into it.

Still stroking him, you lifted your hips just enough to guide the tip of his cock toward your slick folds—already soaked, your body aching to take him in. You ran him through your wetness, coating him slowly, letting him feel the heat of you.

And then, you began to lower yourself.

Inch by inch, you took him into you—your breath catching, your moans soft and open. His hands remained beside him, his brows pulled slightly in a dazed, vulnerable expression as your warmth enveloped him.

“You’re perfect,” you whispered as he stretched you open, “So perfect for me… strong, kind, mine…”

Another inch.

“I love your mind… your body… your heart… every broken piece, every scar—I want them. I want you.”

You bottomed out, hips flush against his, his cock deep inside you—and his moan this time trembled. His chest rose sharply, his eyes shut tight. You felt him start to come apart.

He didn��t say a word—but the way his body softened beneath you, how his hands stopped clutching the sheets, how his breath started coming in slow, heavy waves—you could feel it.

He was letting go.

Slipping under.

Not because of pressure.

But because of love.

—

You leaned back, lifting your chest away from his, placing your hands on either side of his hips as you settled into a rhythm. Your body curved like sculpture as you began to ride him slowly—hips rolling with purpose, with grace, with love. Every movement was deliberate. Every descent a declaration.

He filled you so perfectly, thick and pulsing, stretching you just right. The familiar pressure made your head tilt back for a moment, a soft moan slipping past your lips as your walls clenched around him instinctively.

“God… Bucky—,” you breathed, eyes finding his again. “You feel so good inside me…”

His gaze was already on you—wide and heavy-lidded, ethereal in their pale blue softness. His hair was fanned across the pillow, chest rising with each breath, muscles loose beneath you.

But you could still see it—the flicker of something in his expression. That quiet tension he never fully let go of.

He still thought he had to be the strong one. The one who kept everything together. The protector. The man.

It was written in the furrow of his brow, the way his jaw flexed like he was trying to hold himself still, even while being loved.

But you weren’t having it.

You leaned into the movement, riding him with a little more rhythm now—still slow, still soft, but enough to make him feel. Your hands trailed down your own body, touching your breasts, your thighs, showing him how deeply he affected you. Your moans came easier, sweeter now.

“You don’t have to be anything right now,” you whispered. “Just let go, baby. Let me love you.”

He exhaled shakily. His hands stayed on the sheets, fingers twitching. His muscles were no longer holding tension—they were melting. You could feel it happening under you.

Your hips rolled deeper, and a fresh wave of slickness coated him, helping him glide within you with even less resistance. You moved with love—like he was your rhythm, your anchor, your purpose. And all the while, you kept your eyes on him.

“You’re so perfect like this… letting me take care of you…”

A little faster now.

Your moans turned breathier, your voice lilting every time his cock hit that perfect spot inside you—the gentle curve brushing your most sensitive places like a promise.

“You’re everything to me,” you whispered, and it cracked slightly on the edge of a moan. “Everything, Bucky. I love you—God, I love you so much, I don’t know what to do with it…”

He was trembling beneath you now—not from exertion, but from feeling too much. You knew his orgasm was close. Just like yours.

You rode him with more urgency now, but still soft. Still loving. The pace was steady, grounding—enough to build your pleasure to its peak without shaking the serenity of the moment. Just when you started to lose rhythm—your thighs tightening, your breath catching—your orgasm bloomed through you, warm and slow and full-bodied.

“Bucky,” you moaned, not loud, but with every ounce of devotion. “Bucky—I love you…”

That was all it took.

His eyes fluttered shut. His hands clenched the sheets. And then he came.

Hot pulses spilled inside you, his body jerking slightly beneath yours as he let go, all at once. You kept grinding down on him, slow and indulgent, milking every drop, wanting him to feel it—the depth of what you were giving him. The love you poured into every movement.

When the last wave passed, you slowly sank down, chest hovering over his again as you rested lightly on him, his cock still buried inside. You were panting, your skin dewy with sweat and satisfaction. He wasn’t—damn super soldier stamina—but he looked like a man completely undone.

And he was smiling.

Soft. Wide. So genuine it made your heart ache.

“God,” he murmured, voice rough with awe, “I love this… love how you cherished me.”

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him—tender and slow. A kiss that told him you heard him. That you always would.

You whispered against his lips:

“Happy birthday, baby.”

Another kiss, this one to the corner of his mouth. Then his cheek.

“Never too old to be the love of my life.”

—

Later—after your bodies had cooled and your breathing had steadied—you straddled him again.

But this time, you reached for him gently. Pulled him up with slow hands, guiding him to sit upright. His body followed yours instinctively, pliant and warm, his chest flush against yours as he came to rest in the middle of the bed with you wrapped around his lap.

You cupped his cheeks, kissed him—just once, deeply—and then reached beneath, guided him back inside you.

A soft gasp left both your lips.

You rolled your hips again, slow and steady. He was already hard again—of course he was, supersoldier resilience and all—and the way he filled you from this angle made you moan softly into the space between you.

Your face found his neck. You buried yourself there, lips brushing his pulse point, arms wrapped behind his shoulders as you moved up and down with slow rhythm. There was no urgency. Just this.

Your breath caught as you whispered:

“Bucky…”

A thrust.

“James—”

Another.

“God, Buck… I love you. I love you with every part of me…”

You kept moving, hips gliding down over his again and again, the wet sounds of your bodies joined mixing with the occasional sigh he let slip.

His arms had found your waist—not to control, but to hold. Lightly. Just to feel you close. His forehead rested against your shoulder now, breath warming your skin. His lips parted, but no words came. He didn’t need them.

You could feel the way he was slipping—further into you, further away from his thoughts. Every time your hips rolled, every time your voice cracked from how much you loved him, you felt the tension bleed out of his muscles.

His eyes stayed closed.

He was quiet. Floaty. Gone.

And you kept going. Riding him slow, murmuring his name like a lullaby, whispering your love into the curve of his neck.

“I love you, baby. I love you so much, I don’t even have the words…”

“You’re so good for me, Bucky… always so good…”

“Just stay here with me… you don’t have to carry anything else right now…”

And then it built again—soft pressure mounting inside you, your thighs starting to tremble, your moans breaking into breathy stutters. You held him tighter, and you felt it in him too—the little twitch of his cock, the sharp inhale against your skin.

“Come with me,” you whispered, “please, baby… just let go with me…”

And he did.

You came together, soft cries tangled into each other’s skin. Your body clung to his, every part of you melting, soaking in his heat as his release spilled deep inside you again. His arms wrapped tighter around your back, face buried in your shoulder, lips ghosting your collarbone in a dazed smile.

His voice cracked with emotion as he finally spoke:

“Baby… I never felt a love this strong. Not ever.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face—flushed, soft, dazed—and you smiled, cupping his cheeks.

“You deserve it, Buck. Every bit of it.”

You kissed him once, slow and warm. Then another.

With a soft sigh, you eased your hips back and slowly slid off of him, his cock slipping free with a wet sound that left you both breathless. You watched him blink—floaty, flushed, still gone—and reached for the small towel you’d tucked by the bedside earlier. You knew he’d need help now. You wanted to take care of him.

—

He was still seated, still inside that soft, slow daze, his chest rising and falling in the rhythm of someone who felt held in every way.

You kissed his temple, voice soft in his ear:

“It’s your birthday, baby… So just lay down for me, yeah? Be the king you are today. Let me show you how much I love you.”

He didn’t answer—just nodded, dazed, letting you guide him gently back down onto the bed. He settled flat, arms relaxed at his sides, body loose like he didn’t have to carry anything anymore. You straddled beside him, reached for the towel, and began cleaning him.

First, his softened cock—still twitching slightly, sensitive, slick with your combined release. You were slow, so slow. Wiping him gently, careful not to rush or overstimulate. You murmured as you worked, each word like honey:

“You did so well for me, baby.”

“You let go so beautifully…”

“I’m so proud of you… so proud to be yours…”

You finished and kissed his hip softly, then leaned back to clean yourself. He watched through half-lidded eyes, not quite there, but present enough to follow your movements—like watching you anchored him to the world.

Once you were done, you tossed the towel aside and curled beside him, pulling the blankets up just enough to cover his lower half. You guided his head gently to your chest, his cheek resting over your bare skin. You felt the heat of his breath against you, the slow lull of his heartbeat syncing with yours.

And you threaded your fingers into his hair.

Soft, rhythmic motions. Over and over. Stroking behind his ear. Tracing circles over his scalp. Holding him.

He looked blissed, completely. His eyes were half-closed, lips parted, lashes fluttering like he was floating somewhere between sleep and peace.

Then, in a voice barely audible—more breath than sound—he mumbled:

“…love you so much…”

You smiled. Because you understood. You always would.

“I love you too,” you whispered. “So much.”

You kept petting him, holding him like he was something sacred, something worth all the time and care in the world. Minutes passed like that—maybe more—until eventually, you felt him stir a little.

He blinked, slower than usual. His eyes finally met yours—and there was clarity there now. The fog had lifted, just a little.

“Wow,” he said, voice rough and raw. “That was… new.”

He paused, searching for words.

“It felt like… I don’t know. Like being wrapped up. Like being hugged from the inside out. Everything was warm. And soft. Like I didn’t have to think anymore—”

Your smile deepened, thumb stroking his cheek.

“That’s love, baby Bucks,” you said softly. “That’s what it feels like. And I’m not gonna stop showing it to you.”

He closed his eyes again. Letting that sink in. Letting you sink in.

And with his arms slowly wrapping around your waist, pulling you close—you knew he believed you.

—

Bucky didn’t say anything else after that. He didn’t need to.

His head stayed tucked into your chest, arms loosely wrapped around your waist like he was holding onto the warmth that had brought him back from someplace far and quiet. You kept your fingers in his hair, slow and soothing, dragging your nails lightly over his scalp in slow patterns. You could feel his body softening more with every breath—his chest rising deeper, slower. The kind of breathing that only came when someone felt completely, utterly safe.

Your other hand traced gentle circles across the curve of his shoulder, then down the line of his back. You weren’t drawing any pattern, just touching to let him feel that you were still there.

Present.

Loving him, even in stillness.

He didn’t speak again. Didn’t shift. His breathing evened out—no sharp inhales, no tense exhale. His whole body went heavy against yours. No loud thoughts. No guilt. No duty pulling him from your arms.

He was asleep.

Just like that.

It had never been that easy before. Not for Bucky.

You smiled, still drawing lazy shapes on his skin, still playing with his hair. You didn’t rush your own sleep. Just let the warmth of him—his weight, his scent, the soft rhythm of his breathing—pull you in too.

Outside the window, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, stretching golden light across the floorboards of your shared unit in the Watchtower. There were no sirens. No mission briefings. No alarms.

Just calm.

Just love.

Just the two of you.

You let your eyes drift shut. Your arm curled tighter around him. And together, you both sank into the quiet peace of a late morning nap—wrapped in warmth, in safety, in everything you had given each other.

[faggotbeloved]

Failed Experiments | Scientist!Albert Wesker x M!Reader ~2-3k

Cw: porn with plot, obsessive wesker, sex pollen, dubcon (see sex pollen PLUS reader is threatened w a gun but is into it regardless), sub/brat wesker?, wesker is in love with reader, reader is not in love with wesker, nsfw, gun play if you squint, rushed prep, anal fingering, anal sex, belly bulge, creampie that reader didn't particularly want to give, aftercare included, angst at the end (?)

This work contains smut and is 18+. AN at the end.

└───────────────────────┘

Day after day, your boss has been cagier and cagier. You'd run him his coffee (a Ph.D required for the application, and you still have to remember how he likes his coffee?), get an assignment, then get shooed out of his lab to work while leaving him alone. He started intercepting you before you could enter his lab, so you hadn't even seen inside it for a week now. When you remembered you'd forgotten the spare key to your locker in there last month, you decided to go in, grab it, and get out. Damn you for losing all your keys.

You're not sure why you thought it would be so easy.

Wesker was hunched over at his desk, piles of paper almost forming a wall beside him, muttering something about testing. You would have told him of your presence, but he hated being interrupted and you didn't want to face his wrath for crashing his train of thought. When you got to the counter where you distinctly recall putting the key, you found it missing. Suddenly, Wesker growled your name more clearly than his previous string of sentences and you spun around to face him, but you were surprised to see that his back was still turned and his muttering was continuing.

"No, damnit, oxytocin, not norepinephrine. You think I just want a quick fuck?" You heard Wesker hiss as he typed angrily on his keyboard. "Haven't talked to him in nine days, and all I've got to show for it is a glorified aphrodisiac. Need more subjects."

Since when had Wesker meddled with hormones? Virology was his strong suit, but endocrinology? You were more used to mutative viruses than SSRIs when working with Wesker. You crept closer behind him and found the key hanging on his lanyard, which was most certainly not a normal place for your locker's key to be. However, you decided against any form of stealing it, since the noise would alert Wesker of your presence and you didn't want to deal with that. As you made your way to the door, a loud chirp came from your belt, meaning you were being paged by Wesker.

Wesker flinched at the sound, spinning around in his chair to see you. He looked unusual; his sunglasses were replaced with blue-light glasses, his hair gel had weakened from his constant running his fingers through his hair and a few strands fell on his face, and his eyes were as intense as usual but held a hint of instability.

"You're not supposed to be in here unless I ask you to," Wesker snarled, standing up and striding to you with powerful steps. "What are you doing?" He asked as he grabbed the collar of your lab coat. He seemed to remember he was wearing glasses, and tore them off to appear more intimidating.

"Alright—Doctor Wesker, I was just trying to find the key to my locker I left in here," you replied, prying his hand off. Wesker had lost his cool with you many a time, and it gets less scary every time he chickens out on killing or firing you. "Have you seen it?"

"Why would I care about a locker key? I'm working on things of actual importance," Wesker deflected, but you knew damn well he knew where the key was.

You strolled away from him and approached his desk. "What were you paging me for? More rats?" You questioned as you observed the work on his computer.

"Get away from that!" Wesker snapped, grabbing your wrist and tossing you from his desk. "Yes. Find me more subjects, I need to tweak this formula," he huffed after a moment.

"We don't have any more Norwegian browns. You've been using them all," you retorted. "Looks like the rats you have there are fucking. Wait three or so weeks, you'll get a whole bunch of them."

You were used to his coldness since you'd worked closely with him for ages, but the tenseness in your boss's back was mildly alarming. Maybe he would actually kill you this time, you joked to yourself. He seemed on edge by your mention of his experiments, but curiosity really was eating away at you. "So what's your formula aiming to do? I'm not bad at endocrinology, and this seems harmless enough so I'm happy to participate."

"How would you know it has to do with hormones?" Wesker glared as he sat back down in his chair. "Separate those rats. Just wait for the gas to—" Wesker sat straight up in alarm as you just opened the door, exposing yourself to lungfuls of his yet-imperfect serum. "Are you incapable of listening to directions?" He shouted, storming over to close the tank before anything too bad happened. Unfortunately for you, a sickly sweet smell invaded your nose while Wesker, who'd inhaled accidentally, tasted it in his mouth.

──────────────────────

You felt your brain grow fuzzy and barely remembered to put the rats away before Wesker uttered a weak "fuck" and opened the tank yet again. "This," he murmured between breaths, "this is my gift to you. More to me. It's not finished—fuck," he wheezed, staggering away. Did it affect him more than you? "I used my DNA as a placeholder until I could get yours. It's targeting me."

Wesker slumped down into his chair, shucking off his lab coat as a sheen of sweat broke out across his face. He panted and looked at the ceiling pathetically, his throat bobbing as he tried to swallow the saliva that had come up at the sight of you. "Come here. Come here, damnit!"

Your head in a trance, you hurried to his side and he enveloped you in a hug. "Don't you dare mention this after we're done," he hissed before burying his nose into your armpit and inhaling as deeply as he could. A keening whimper left his throat as your scent was all he could smell and taste and he moved his nose to your neck to smell there but then returned to your armpit where your musk was more potent.

"Wesker, what—fuck, what is that we breathed in?" You asked, snaking your fingers in his hair and enjoying the whine that escaped him as you tugged like he'd dreamed you would.

Wesker pressed a feverish kiss to your shoulder, then the crook of your neck, then your neck, throat, and repeated on the other side. "It's for you. You need to feel how I feel, to understand... it's not ready, but you already were exposed, darling, we can't waste it," he rambled. "It was supposed to be simple. Something to boost dopamine and serotonin and oxytocin when we were working together. Stimulate your brain, make it think you loved me and soon you really would."

"Wesker—" you tried to say, but he was too busy talking about his experiments to listen. "Wesker—" you tried again, but he still couldn't process it. It wasn't until a sharp pull on his hair that he looked back up at you, his pupils blown wide and nearly overtaking his debauched orange irises. "Wesker. Shut up and let me fuck you."

Wesker stopped dead in his tracks, his lip trembling as he processed your words. Did you love him? No. But that serum, whatever it was, made you unbelievably horny and Wesker was undoubtedly a good-looking guy. He'd take it for now, you were sure, but you'd have to deal with his feelings for you sooner or later. You chose later.

──────────────────────

Why did Wesker have lube in his desk? You weren't sure. But when he held a gun to your head demanding you finger him right there on the paperwork, with his legs over your shoulders and his tight hole right in plain sight, you couldn't resist. "Just two fingers. I want it to burn," Wesker groaned as he leaned back against the surface of the desk. His cock was an angry, twitching red and sticky with a mess of precum. He was sinfully pretty, but you resolved not to touch his dick until you were inside him, no matter how much that serum made you want to swallow him whole.

As your first finger swirled his entrance he choked out a gasp and his hips jutted forward. "Hurry!" He whined angrily as you took your sweet time in opening him up. His gun hand shook as you breached the rim, gasping once he felt a cold, lubed finger inside him. "There we go. Come on, halfway there, I want your cock," he babbled brainlessly.

When you didn't thrust the second in immediately afterwards, he growled and pressed the gun into your forehead. "Faster. I have things to—oh, fuck! Ha-ah, yes, thank you," he actually whimpered as you curled your finger right into his prostate.

"Still need to rush prep, or will you let me do this right?" You murmured in his ear while thrusting your finger, to which he moaned at the mixture of stimulation and your low timbre. "Put the gun down, Wesker. I'm fucking you either way, you don't need to threaten me."

Wesker nodded shakily, forgetting he had the gun in the first place, and leaned back while you slipped the second in, grinning sadistically as you watched a spurt of precum leak from his cock. Your head was buzzing with the lust that you were barely holding back just out of want to watch Wesker come undone. You sped up your fingers, hitting his prostate every time, until he was about to cum. Then, you abruptly removed your fingers and he growled.

"The hell are you doing?" He snapped as you drizzled lube your own cock. Once he realized what was happening, he propped himself up on his elbows to watch, grateful that he was superhuman and could flex without any resistance.

Once the head of your dick breached his hole, Wesker gripped his desk so hard he heard splinters. But you were slow, so painfully slow and he was already trying desperately to keep from orgasming. He tackled you, still spearing himself onto you, and landed you on the floor with your head cushioned carefully by his hand.

"Mmh, you're so much bigger than—ah!—than I thought," he murmured as he sank down on you. He'd already marveled at its look, and you had to push him off to fuck him instead of let him try to suck you off for the next fifteen minutes, but now that it was inside him...

When he encountered resistance halfway down your cock, he let out a pathetic sob-slash-moan and weakly tried to get to the base, but you gripped his hips. "Come on, you have more than enough in. Get up so I can—" you tried to say, then gasped as Wesker forced himself the rest of the way down. "Fuck, Wesker, you're so tight," you groaned as you helped him slowly develop a rhythm. He, however, ignored your help and began at a brutal pace, making the both of you arch and let out a string of moans and curses that mingled in the air. Damn his stupid superpowers.

"Ha-ah—christ, Wesker, slow down! Does that even feel good?" You gasped as he threw his head back and let out a manic laugh.

"Shut up—oh, god, I've wanted you like this for so long, ngh, we've got to do this again," he babbled with an uncharacteristic grin splitting his face. A grunt escaped his throat every time he slammed back down onto your pelvis, which was every second to half a second, what with his increased agility.

You grew annoyed with Wesker's impatience and flipped him over, starting at the same brutal speed but targeting his sweet spot. As you pistoned harshly, all he could do was moan your name and scrabble at the floor. All you cared about was your own release, but you pushed down on his stomach to feel your cock scrape his walls. "Feel that?" You panted. If he didn't have enhanced healing, he'd sure as shit have been bruised in the morning.

"Wesker, gonna cum," you warned. As you began to pull out, he clenched tight around you and wrapped his legs around your waist, forcing you to cum deep inside him. At the feeling of being filled, Wesker screamed (though if anyone heard, he'd kill them) out your name and spurted a heavy load of cum on your chest, dripping and pooling at his own pelvis.

You felt your head clear after you came and slowly moved to lie on the floor next to Wesker, still nestled inside him. "I'll clean up in just a bit," you promised hoarsely, "give me a minute."

──────────────────────

Wesker was more than happy to lie uselessly on the lab bed while you wiped down the scene. You thought you saw him stuffing your cum back into his dripping asshole, but you decided against calling him out. Soon, your mixed fluids from the floor were discarded in the trash and a warm wet towel dragged across Wesker's bare body. You gently dressed him as he murmured things you could hardly hear. "Wait, was—was I good?" He asked in a dazed voice.

You looked at him softly and noticed the aftereffects hit him hard; his hair gel had deteriorated completely, his eyes were low and adoring, and a weak frown stuck on his face. "Yeah. You were really good. Best I've had," you promised as you set his sunglasses and reading glasses beside him.

"Will you kiss me?" Wesker asked, avoiding eye contact. "Just once. You can pretend nothing happened tomorrow," he added. "I—I was doing the damn experiment so you would..."

You decided to kiss him; you're not sure why. He was your boss, he clearly had serious feelings for you, those feelings manifested negatively and obsessively, and you didn't reciprocate: all these were true. It was also true that he was hot, he was begging you so sweetly, and some part of you kinda liked the idea of stringing him along to see just how pathetic the proud head scientist could get in his affections before you decided to see where it could go.

Wesker let out a breathy, weak giggle into your mouth, grabbing your head to pull you closer. His smile could be felt, contagious through the kiss, yet when you pulled away, it faltered back into a bitter scowl.

Wesker pushed you away and stood up, brushing past you as he put his sunglasses on. Wesker swallowed before he spoke again, his voice colder than before. "You know, I really don't understand you. I'm a stellar sexual partner, I have wealth and power and strength you couldn't even dream of, and I'm set to start a new world order with me at its helm. Yet you still. won't. look at me. Metaphorically speaking," he mused aloud. "Clean yourself up and take the rest of the day off. Until further notice, you'll be serving as the lab rat for the..." he faltered as he couldn't think of what to call it.

"The love potion?" You guessed. Wesker shot a glare at your juvenile description but hummed out an affirmative. So your new job was to get hit with an aphrodisiac every day until someday it worked and you were chemically in love with Wesker. Oh, well. At least you weren't going to be doing grunt work. You could probably catch up on a book while you were at it.

"So, the sniffing from earlier—"

"Don't."

"I'm not! But I can't help but wondering..."

"Stop. Now."

"Was that why my locker key was on your lanyard? That's where I put gym clothes."

"I'm not talking about this."

┌───────────────────────┐

I write on mobile on tumblr so I'm not sure how many words I'm at. Anyways watching Aether's cinematic RE playthroughs and it's all I can think about right now 💔

Apologies if the mood and stuff is all over the place, i don't care to put much into something when the target audience is like 5 ants and a single dude in iowa LMAO. Wesker's probably not too in character but hey yk i really don't give a damn

Read my other Wesker works?

[kermitgardel17]

Nyx is the cutest, he’s my favourite ngl (he’s just my perfect little angel)

The "perfect little angel" in question:

Also

[entirelytoooobsessed]

cw: porn link-handjob

no okay, but this, the little shut ups and the hand holding, the moans and whimpers😍 i can't even, this is too adorable for porn.

i'm just imagining the breathless little hiccups and the dazed smile despite the pleasure you're bringing them. the little crinkle between their brows as your fingers play with the head of their cock.

"c'mon pretty boy~", "just let me hear how good you feel,"

"a-ah, f-fuck you, hnngh~", "j-just s-shut up!"

squirming beneath your touch, your fingers laced through theirs as they buck up into your hand.

--

can't even pick who to imagine this with

[tra1nchi]

woke up in the middle of the night with a cold sweat for this horny thought

dumb himbo reader who keeps getting slangs like 'skibidi' (good lord) wrong and oc being so annoyed he fucks him so hard himbo reader cant even think or speak without mewling (consensually, but dub-con is fine too)

rbo the dreams are not the same when you take more than 5 melatonin gummies

MINORS DNI!! bttm male reader,,Himbo reader,,Cringe humour,, Rough sex,,Mindbreaking,,jokes

He was sick of it,,He couldn't handle how many times you would say the dumbest things to reasons that didn't deserve it

Running out of milk? That's not very skibidi,,Him being too tired to work,,all he would get from you instead of encouragement was a short and quiet,,you're not a sigma male then..

He knew you were using it to seem cool,,he knew your pretty little mind didnt seem to understand how truly annoying it was,,His eight year old cousin had the same humour as his own boyfriend

He had a rough day at his work and coming home to your humour was not something he could handle,,he just needed you under him,,moaning over his cock and not laughing at something that wasn't funny at all,,

"Just be quiet for me yeah?" His voice was stern as he leans over you,,his cock pressing against your back as you trembled underneath him,,You had said something that hadsettled your fate for the rest of the night,,being so fucked out of your mind that you wouldn't be even able to use the stupid words!!

"That's right, all your mind can think about is my cock." He says with an amused laugh,, pounding into you roughly,,his hand moving up to move your head up from the pillow letting your moans sing into the night,, not a mutter of a word that could make him sick,,just sweet mewls

As a reward his hand wandered down to your neglected cock,,jerking it off,,making your eyes roll so far into your head thay your mind goes blank!! Who needs to think about dumb things when your boyfriend is so deep inside??

He would go all night,,your tummy covered in your cum from the amount of times you orgasmed just from the feeling of him hitting your prostate so perfectly!! <3 "that's a good fucking boy, taking me so well" Your boyfriends voice was breathless,,his forehead damp with sweat but he kept fucking you!! He won't stop until he makes sure you're throughly fucked

[meganegatari]

currently thinking about edging sub!ellie...so...whoops

"hnnn- fuckfuckfuck baby, please." she'd whine into your ear, clawing wherever she could reach on you, scratching up your shoulder blades, digging into your waist. as soon as you feel the familiar flutters of her pussy around your skillful fingers, you'd pull away with a smirk, watching her gleefully.

you slow your movements until there's only a stationary pad of your finger resting on her pulsing clit. you stare down at her as she's gasping and bordering on tearing up, face all red and hair disheveled. auburn strands a stark contrast from the white pillow she's laid upon.

she'd try to squirm around to make you continue touching her, but you don't comply. frustrated huffs and grunts fall from her lips as her bare chest heaves up and down with desperation.

"hmmm?" you'd coo at her, voice sweet on the surface, but laced with a patronizing taunt.

she'd sigh, muster up her remaining energy and throw a deathly glare at you, sharp enough to kill a man painlessly. unfortunately for her it only amuses you further, and you bite back a sneer.

eyebrows scrunched together with her gaze not leaving yours, she sputters through a clenched jaw, "i'm gonna kill you." you can't help but chuckle at the threat. you know she doesn't mean it, it was always funny when she got feisty.

"oh you don't wanna do that, no one fucks you as good as i do, baby." you finish your rebuttal by re-inserting two fingers into her weeping pussy once more, curling skyward until you hit the spot that breaks her.

within moments her back is arching into you and eyes squeezing shut, a symphony of melodic moans and whimpers flooding the room.

"yeah, that's what you wanted?" you tease, but it's ignored. you'll allow it this time. pumping in and out of her, you can tell she's getting close again, and the thought to rip it away from her yet again crosses your mind, but you've lost count at this point.

she's gripping onto your other arm as if her life depended on it, holding on so hard you swear you'll lose feeling in it.

never letting up your pace her whines increase in volume and frequency, her pussy swallowing up your digits with ease.

you're entranced by her, she's done so well you'll let her cum, finally. she's earned it.

"pleaseplease, yes, ah-" incoherent strings of pleas and delicious begs escape her, you watch as her toned abs flex and cave in as the feeling begins to build for her.

"that's it, c'mon." you mumble a praise, which acts as the gateway for her to let go and succumb to the release enveloping her.

steadily working her through it, thumb rolling over her clit and fingers milking the orgasm out of her until it becomes too much.

she's breathing deeply once it's passed and seems finally at peace after so long, so much denial. you lay on top of her, peppering open-mouthed kisses against the side of her neck, running your hands over her waist.

"you're so mean." she mumbles, her voice taken on a drowsy aura from the exertion.

"i know. but you love it."

"i do."

um HELLO the fuck idk what came over me needed to get this outta my system ig LMAO literally typed this in like 10 minutes in the app bye

[heizouz]

nsfw sub!lyney + implied amab!reader, no pronouns used but reader has a dick, rlly messy and needy, lyney is called a whore twice

i saw this in a vision and just started writing and didn't stop.. it's kinda long.. havent proof read idk if i even want to reread it. a bit crazier than my usual stuff (it's not) + the ending fuckin sucks bc i had no ideas. n e way love u guys and cockwhore lyney

there's something about stupidly needy, stupidly flirty lyney that drives me absolutely crazy.

lyney getting ready for a performance, most of his outfit put together other than his cape that's usually draped around his shoulder still hanging up behind the door. his hair is perfectly done, braid tight and the light pink streaks freshly dyed to accent his outfit colours. his hat is somewhere, but you can't see it from where you're standing by the door.

lyney’s bent over the vanity table, elbows resting on the wood while he holds his eyeliner up to his eyes, drawing a little dark wing on his right eye to match his left. from where you are, you've got a perfect view of how he perfects his makeup through the mirror, how he tilts his head to the side to make sure it's symmetrical to the other side, how he arches his back slightly to get closer to the mirror, how he pushes his ass out and sways his hips when he knows your eyes are raking over his entire body. he's teasing you without words, ever so slightly casting his eyes over to you through the mirror when he presses his chest against the vanity desk and lets out a quiet moan which could be passed off as him stretching but you know from the way the edges of his lips tilt upwards that he's doing it entirely on purpose.

you cross your arms, body weight leaning against the door frame of the wide open door to his dressing room and just watch as he continues to show himself off to you with flirty little smiles and obscenely stupid moans every time he presents his ass out in his stupidly tight shorts. anyone walking past the dressing room could look in and suspect nothing but the magician applying his makeup for his upcoming performance yet there was something so explicit in the way lyney moved his hips in front of you that anyone peeking in would think it was a pornographic display.

lyney squeezes his thighs together when he meets your eyes in the mirror and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth in a cheeky grin, going back to still trying to perfect his eyeliner. he doesn't pay any attention to you now, focused on getting his makeup’s angle right and flaunting his pretty body to you to.

so he doesn't notice when you pull yourself off the door, quietly closing it behind you and crossing through the room to where he's entirely bent over the desk. when he sees you through the mirror though, his eyes seem to light up and he immediately pushes his ass back to meet your hips when you stop to stand behind him.

you raise an eyebrow slightly, but your hands drop to his hips, fingers pressing into the material of his clothes and you lean over his back a little, forcing him to stay pressed against the vanity.

“you enjoying yourself?” you ask, voice deep as you push your hips hard against his ass, watching the way lyney struggles to hold the eyeliner against his skin when he moans quietly and immediately sway his hips back to seek the feeling he's been needing.

the magician hums, eyes fluttering closed, pulling his eyeliner away from his face so he doesn't fuck up his makeup as your hands press his hips down against the wood of his desk, moving to kneeding his ass despite the shorts that hardly cover anything anyway. “i am now.” lyney breathlessly says, hand curling into a fist at the friction of his clothes and the desk against his aching cock. you can't help but smirk a little, pressing your lips across his shoulder and whispering a small “yeah?” in his ear that he nods so obediently to.

“you're gonna be late to your performance if you keep this up.” you mumble, moaning under your breath when lyney forces his hips back against you harshly. the magician smiles at you, blinking at you through the mirror even though you're focused on the way he's moving his ass against you so needily.

“not if we're quick.”

it’s your turn to hum now and you grab the eyeliner from his hand - lyney whines in response, eyes glaring at you through the mirror - and put it somewhere on the desk before grabbing lyney's hips and spinning him around. the boy gasps, hands gripping the edge of the vanity for support until you force him to the floor. lyney just accepts it, bracing himself on his knees in front of you, almost hitting his head on the desk from the speed.

your fingers hit the bottom of his chin, tilting his head up to look at you and he does, eyes big and needy, that stupid flirty grin tugging at his lips. “don't wanna ruin your outfit, baby,” you faux pout, fingers dancing across his jaw and cheek before your thumb lands on his bottom lip, “so put your pretty mouth to good use, yeah?”

lyney is almost immediate with his ministrations. his hands go to your belt, tugging at the buckle as you press your fingers against his lips for him to open. he does, parting his lips for you to slip your fingers in and he moans around them, eyes glancing up all pretty with his performance makeup on. he takes your fingers in his mouth so nicely, wetting them for no reason other than to please you until he gets your pants down and his lips around your cock.

he presses desperate kisses along your cock once he's freed it, working his way up to the tip and wrapping his pretty lips around you while his hands curl around the rest. you moan quietly, so badly wanting to grab his hair and force his head down to take all of you but you're wary that he has to be out on stage soon and you can't risk explaining to the hair and makeup department what happened. so you settle with brushing your thumb over his cheek as lyney giggles and whines as he kisses the tip of your cock again.

“such a pretty eager whore today.” you sigh, grabbing lyney's jaw to urge him to take your cock, which he does with ease, lips parting to take you almost fully and you can feel the whimper he let out at the name around your cock. “bet you'd take anyone's cock if they'd walked in on you bent over like that, wouldn't you?”

you're teasing, trying to rile him up fully knowing he's not anything but your baby. it works though, and lyney whines around your cock, the vibrations punching a groan from your throat and he pulls off to glare up at you. “wouldn't.” he says, stroking the length of your cock as his lips press against the underside where he knows you're sensitive. you grin a little, moaning through a smile and lyney drags his tongue up the length of your cock, eyes blinking prettily up at you to flirt despite your cock in his mouth. he looks so perfect like this, on his knees in front of you, makeup glittery and pink, eyes bright and glassy, lips parted around you, so eager to please even though he's on timetable.

he takes you so well, one hand stroking whatever he can't fit in his mouth and the other grabbing your shirt to ground himself. he's being careful though, not showing off and you narrow your eyes a little. your hand finds the back of his head, careful not to mess with his hair and you press him forward to take your cock further. lyney whimpers, both hands grabbing the backs of your thighs and eyes widely looking up at you. he takes it though, letting his lips stretch around the length of your cock until he can't anymore and his pretty violet eyes start to glass over with tears.

“that's it, good boy.” you groan, head falling back slightly at the warmth of his mouth. lyney tries to blink back his tears, not wanting to smudge his eyeliner but he's so needy and your cock is filling his mouth so well that it's making it difficult. you finally let go though, and lyney pulls off of you with a gasp, instantly whining and going to stroke your cock like a good boy. the magician rubs his thighs together, pressing his lips needily over your cock and when you glance back down at him he immediately goes to take you again.

you moan, catching the way the boy is pressing his thighs together so desperate for friction. so you gently part his legs with your foot and lightly press your shoe against his aching cock over his shorts. lyney cries around your cock, immediately bucking against your shoe and fingers curling into the material of your shirt. his eyes fill with tears once again from the pleasure he needed, making sure to eagerly bob his head along your cock as a thank you.

he knew you wouldn't let him cum since he had to be on stage in probably ten minutes from now, but he was grateful nonetheless for some sort of relief. lyney closes his eyes to force back his tears when your shoe presses against the tip of his cock through his shorts, loud moans bleeding from around your cock. you're close now, and you let lyney know with a hand on the back of his head and cursing out.

“f-fuck, gonna cum baby,” you're breathless, eyes dropping to see lyney crack his eyes open to watch you, “as much as i want to see your pretty face covered, can’t today.”

lyney's eyes plead, small whine ripping from his throat with a frown, pulling off to suck the head of your cock and you jolt a little, stomach coiling. “g-god, baby open your mouth.” you grab your cock once lyney rips himself off, obeying and lips parting at your command. he sits like a good boy when you stroke yourself to release, eyes glimmering with need as you cum on his tongue, lips closing around you gently to help you through. you let out a mantra of moans as you come down, letting lyney lick and mouth up your length, making a mess all over your cock, not caring about the cum and saliva dripping from your cock and his pretty lips.

you pull him off of you, thumb going to clean the mess off his face and press into his mouth which lyney just takes with need, moaning around your thumb.

“pretty whore.”

lyney giggles, pressing a kiss against your cock to tease when you drop your thumb from his mouth. if it weren't for the growing noise of people from the hallway outside, you're sure lyney would've skipped his performance to stay on his knees all night for you.

[cmkren]

— do you yield?

; gregory house x gn! Reader

Unsurprisingly, a night out between House and Wilson doesn’t end up uneventful. Tensions were strung in a-- stranger way, now with Amber in the picture. One of House's grand schemes goes sideways when the person he provokes ends up punching him right in the face. In an attempt to get Wilson in trouble (due to the whole curfew agreement), House got ahead of himself and now Wilson dumps him onto someone else rather than face the wrath of his girlfriend.

And of course, no one’s ever happy to see House on their doorstep.

a/n; sorta just ! Self-indulgent!! This fic leans towards sub bottom house roles, no sex just sloppily making out. Written in 3rd person, they/them for reader! Honestly not too proud of this, but I wanted to get this out 😓

tws!! Suggestive, minor blood play (like incredibly minor), and house bein house — 4.5k words

The plan had been going smoothly. Drinks were going down quickly for Wilson, lord only knows how stressed he had been to be downing alcohol like it was water, and thankfully for House he recalled scoring over God a couple years ago. Meaning he knew what had been haunting Wilson's always-ready-to-please mind.

The connection that Amber had been so similar to House had already been scrounged up, and even House would be lying if that made him think just a little too. Oh, nothing crazy maybe just the fact that if he'd been a woman, Wilson might have been all over him. Her?

The details didn't matter.

What did matter though, was his loss of control over the situation. House didn't know what he had been thinking. No one had been paying them much attention, and his goal was to just get Wilson drunk. Only Wilson. He supposed that he thought he needed to convince his friend to keep drinking? Maybe that's why House started drinking too. And maybe that's why he started picking fights with strangers.

It started off as passing remarks he made to Wilson, the infamous smug smirk that showed how he thought himself omniscient in a sense. That he was so sure he could read people like a book. To a certain degree, that was true. How else was he capable of coming up with schemes that would puppet the parties involved for his own benefit?

Eventually though, passing remarks would eventually turn into what seemed like heckling. No wonder he ended up getting socked right square in the face by a patron. House was always self-sabotaging, but sabotaging his own plans to sabotage Wilson's relationship with Amber? Now that was a little ridiculous.

Didn't change the fact that it happened though.

"Oh-- come on House, I can't bring you back to my place and you know it." Wilson's voice had some strain in it, one of his arms hooked around his friend's (questionable title given to the likes of House) waist as he led him to his car. "Especially not since you started this... this meaningless war." He muttered, the hesitance in his voice to say meaningless suggested that maybe he didn't think it was entirely meaningless. Perhaps a hint to the fact that he did find amusement in it. Hell, maybe even enjoyed it for a bit.

House was disoriented. Not by liquor, but by the fact that he had blood gushing out of his nose and perhaps even a bit of a broken nose at that. "She's got you on a leash, Wilson." He swallowed, wetting his dried mouth. "If I say I'm sorry for leaving you at the pound and give you a treat, will you come running back to me?" He spoke with a certain monotonous that always indicated that he was just being a dick. Everyone's heard it enough to recognize it.

On the other hand Wilson decided to ignore that remark and start tapping away on his phone. Scrolling through contacts in an attempt to make some sort of solution for this mess. “I’m handing you off to someone else House. Whether you like it or not—” he swung open the car door to the passenger seat, muttering a few ‘careful’s as he lowered the man into the seat. Impaired judgement kept him from stopping the bloody nose first, and instead opting to do it when he got into the driver’s seat first.

”Are you dialling Thirteen?” House tilted his head forwards, just letting his head hang before Wilson shoved a bundle of tissues against his face. In turn he winced and complained ‘oww!’ dramatically. “Better be Thirteen.” His voice all muffled by the tissues.

Little did he know, it was the nurse that worked under a couple of his former ducklings.

House usually didn’t care for the other staff around the hospital, but he cared when he thought he could squeeze out some information out of some. That’s what he’d done to them. But not only did they refuse to sell out their fellow coworkers, they had also exacted revenge on him not too long ago. They didn’t necessarily win but they also didn’t lose.

What they were capable of doing, was bruising his ego.

After that, the two just kept interacting. The rivalry the two shared was almost akin to a friendship, but neither of them would admit to such a thing. After all, they hated each other’s guts.

There was a mutual respect there though, hidden somewhere. Wilson liked to think that at least. He would mention it or make a comment about it to House but of course he was always met with a response like—

“Tomato, To-mah-to. Only respect they ever receive from me is purely superficial. Happy to see them go, even happier when they turn around and I get to watch them leave.”

Wilson had rolled his eyes then, taking it as another one of those jerky comments House made to be a dick for the fun of it. The longer he had let it marinate though, and the tone shift at the time, perhaps it had an underlying meaning to it. Or he could just be giving him the benefit of the doubt. Again.

The car engine roared to life when Wilson inserted his car key, his other hand pressing his phone to his ear as he gave his friend one singular glance to make sure he wasn’t doing something stupid. He wasn’t. Just popping some more pills.

”Wilson it’s—” a voice picked up. They paused, as if looking off to the side.

”It’s 10 pm. This is well after office hours.” They spoke with a certain exhaustion in their tone. Expected, to be fair. They were all employees of a hospital, hard to keep up a good amount of energy when you’re running around the place all the time. Especially a nurse.

”Listen, I know this is a big request but,” he put his hand on the steering wheel, grunting when House would knock the butt of his cane against his forearm, “House— you’re going to cause us to crash!”

“House? He’s with you?” They sounded surprised at first before it all melted away, “Oh, who am I kidding, of course he’s with you.” The tone of their voice simply went from quizzical to bemused really quick. “I’m not doing anything for that bastard— this is too big a favour to ask of me Wilson.” Their indignation to aiding him in whatever he was about to ask didn’t keep Wilson from having his foot on the gas pedal though. He was convinced he was going to have them agreeing by the time they get there. If they don’t agree well… too bad they were going to show up to their house anyways.

As the conversation continued out on the phone, it didn’t take long for House himself to realize who had been called to their rescue. It made him scoff in amusement, “oh yeah smart move Wilson. Get stick-up-their-ass to keep me from bleeding out at their place that’ll work out!” He raised his voice loud enough that he knew he’d be audible through the phone.

Wilson furrowed his brows, his mouth agape for a second as he struggled to formulate a sentence but they cut him off before he could.

”Bleeding out? What the hell were you guys doing?” The concern was real but they eventually sputtered and tried to backpedal, “you know we’re not close enough for me to be covering whatever illegal activities you guys are doing!” Which was reasonable reaction, honestly.

“No— no— nothing illegal!” Wilson opposed, having to fight the urge to just knock his head against his steering wheel. God, it was like having two children in each ear yelling at him. House was talking about something but so were they. It just became a garbled mess. Not to mention the fact that he was still driving.

”I warned you. We’re on our way.” In the end, Wilson stood his ground. Pocketing his phone, he would keep his eyes straightforward on the road.

__________________________________________

“You’re lucky to have a friend like Wilson.” They murmured, lips pulled taut as they dabbed a cotton swab around the other’s nasal area. It was reddened with blood, bits of it dark from it already coagulating and drying out. House remained still, for the most part. Pale blue eyes staring right at them, not necessarily happy about this situation either. He wasn’t even tipsy anymore, just sober and in pain.

To be fair though, that was kind of regular day to day for him.

House’s eyes looked down briefly, flexing his fingers. “Yeah? Well friends like Wilson end up dumping you to get butchered up on a chopping block.” Then he wiggled, “or I suppose on a kitchen counter.” Not even an amused noise from them. Just the knitting of brows as they were wary of his squirming to make his point.

They were firm with him, as many would have to be with House. A hand holding his face steady, thumb and index holding his chin so they could tilt his head if needed. House was surprisingly cooperative.

”Well good for you,” they paused their actions, giving him an obvious look over, “nobody actually likes old meat. Too tough, too chewy.” They scoffed, before going back to dabbing the bloody areas of his face. Unfortunately, he’d also gotten a busted lip. It wasn’t drastic but it was most definitely going to take more than just a couple weeks to fully recover from it.

House had his neck craned up, brows furrowed a little as he stared up at the ceiling. His eyes would shift downwards, looking to his begrudging caretaker. They had their lips pursed, their eyes a bit sunken from a long day.

He took the time to look at them though. Oversized band shirt over a pair of shorts. If he craned his head to the side just a bit, he could see that their shirt had hiked up just a little. Resting right above the small of their back, making it so that the front draped down but their ass visible.

His obnoxious ogling was cut short when he felt a dull pain, hissing as he felt just a little too much pressure being applied on his wound.

“I’m doing this for free already. If you want more, you’re gonna have to pay.” They muttered, voice thick with sarcasm.

House let sucked in a breath, “is this about the hookers? Just because I support sex work doesn’t mean I’ll let you drain me dry of my money! You’re not even a hooker.” He winced again, but not because they pressed too hard again. It was more a culmination of his leg and the busted up face situation.

For a brief moment, their eyes softened. They paused for a moment, pulling away and putting down the cotton pad they had held in their hand.

”Your Vicodin?” They questioned, as if expecting him to already be reaching for any sort of pill bottle. House gave a frown, not even really trying to feel himself to find said pill bottle.

He clicked his tongue, “must have dropped it back at the bar. Maybe Prince Charming will find it and return it to me and we’ll live happily ever after.” Actually, he was pretty sure if he ever came face to face with the guy again, he was going to end up with a black eye next.

They rolled their eyes. “I’ll get you something. Hold this.” They then passes him a bag of frozen… strawberries. Huh. Then they left the room, going to fetch something.

”Don’t even bother,” he held the frozen strawberries, and instead of using it as intended he opens the bag and pops one in his mouth, “it’s not going to even work.” His face contorted when the frozen fruit touched his tongue.

He supposed that was effective too. Brainfreeze. Maybe once or twice.

”I’ll just go on and skedaddle as soon as I can. Say, where are your car keys? A question of curiosity.” He called out, already turning his head to look about. When they popped their head back into the room they held what seemed to be clothes and a bottle of pills.

”You’re not getting my keys House.” They huffed, before walking back to him. The grown man sitting on their kitchen island with his legs dangling off the side, shirt bloodied and smelling of a rank bar.

This exchange caused him to raise a brow.

Not necessarily because they wouldn’t give him their car keys. But the fact that they held a change of clothes for him. Either they were just feeling generous, pitied him, or… they had actually planned for him to stay the night.

”Are you trying to get into my pants? You know, there’s different ways to do that—”

”Yes I want to have sex with you.”

The two stared at each other. His mouth agape as if he was going to speak, but they cut him off.

”No, House,” they gave an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose. “I’m not trying to have sex with you.” They dropped the clothes right next to him, “you just smell like dog food and shit.”

Then they showed him the bottle they brought with them.

”Ibuprofen? That shit doesn’t do anything!” House reached out for it, though his tone spoke of a child who had maybe received fish sticks instead of his preferred mozzarella sticks.

At his complaint, they clenched their jaw. “Either take some or I’m going to shove them down your throat.” That made him give a faux look of offence, “and you work at the hospital! I’m surprised Cuddy hasn’t canned you yet.” Though the look they gave him made him finally unscrew the cap.

They took a moment to watch him take a couple, before walking aside. “Go take that shower. I’m not taking you anywhere, but honestly,” they turned to give him a look, “I wouldn’t stop you from wandering out.”

House recognized that their first instinct might have actually been to care. Hence the actual attempt at cleaning up his mess. Even giving him clothes and letting him take a shower. But he also knew that their history wouldn’t allow them to just will themselves to be happy around his presence.

That’s why, as a fuck you towards them and Wilson, he was going to stay. Prove Wilson wrong by pissing them off they just have to go yell at Wilson tomorrow morning.

__________________________________________

The bright light of the TV flickered, colours danced along the surface of his gruff face as he sat on the couch. He made himself comfortable in their home, meaning he made a mess of the living room. It was almost midnight now. They told him off earlier, but after him not budging the slightest, they just slinked away into their room.

He knew they were still awake though.

It was that stupid pirate cartoon. Only played at night! When else was he supposed to watch it?

“House.”

He looked over, a clueless expression on his face as he then looked to his wristwatch, “is it early morning already? Wait, nope. Go back to sleep.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if shoo’ing them away. From their own living room.

The look on their face wasn’t even exasperation or frustration. They just looked done. They walked over, stepping in front of the television screen with their arms crossed. “Turn it off, you need rest.”

He tried to look around them at first, but it was all but futile! He groaned, “get out of the way. You really going to stand there the entire time?” The irritation in his voice didn’t necessarily match the glint in his eye. Amusement, perhaps even a hint of a challenge in them.

They squinted their eyes at him.

It was always that. The look in his eyes that presented a challenge that was supposed to push people away. Yet for people as stupid as those who willingly stuck around House, it did the opposite. Before their own experiences, they always thought it strange for Wilson or hell, even Cuddy to entertain him. Because for a lack of a better word, that was exactly what they do.

Now that they’ve been in a similar position, they understand why.

“Does it turn you on to be such a dick? Surely you’re getting some sort of sick gratification from what you do.” They sneered, approaching him and his smug son of a bitch face. He stared, like he always did, before turning his head and sticking out his lip a little ‘in thought’.

Then he gave a shake of his head, his expression dumb as he said, “my body says no but my mouth says yes.” Then taking a moment before furrowing his brow, “actually, pretty sure I mixed that up.” Just another one of his snarky remarks that made the recipient’s anger burn hotter. It wasn’t even good, the things he said sometimes. Not objectively.

Sometimes they were so stupid that it provided the same effect. The same results. And that was all House ever wanted— results.

Before they could get in another word though, House graciously interrupted them. “I’m not kidding. Step away.” He nudged his hand again, trying to wave them aside. His other? Rested on his thigh. Running along the problem site, up and down as if trying to soothe. Not that it ever worked.

“You didn’t take the ibuprofen.”

That seemed to strike a nerve. “No— I did. Would my incompetent nurse like to see me try again? It’ll only keep proving that I’m right.” He inhaled sharply, wincing. “It. Doesn’t. Work.”

At that, they finally took one step to the side. Allowing for the light of the TV to light him up again. He was sweating, just a little bit, on his head. If he was in so much pain wouldn’t he get up and go? Or was there something else he was trying to prove? Surely he didn’t hate them enough to endure his own pain to inflict pain upon them. Then again, that would be a House thing to do.

Silently, they sat beside him.

House scrunched up his nose, turning his head as he shifted, leaning further back against the plush of the couch. "That’s it?” He let out a shallow breath, turning ever-so-briefly to look at them. They didn’t return the gesture, just staring straight forward.

”That’s it.”

There was a quiet lull between the two, only the over exaggerated voices of the pirate and the princess audible in their space. Quiet wasn’t really House’s thing, though. He turned to them again, arm raised to rest against the back of the couch, “you’re just giving up? Just like that?”

Giving up?

They snorted. “I’m not giving up anything. You were the one with expectations.” Then they finally turned to meet his eyes, “I’m not in the mood for games, House. If you aren’t going to listen, then you aren’t going to listen.”

For some reason, he looked confused. “You don’t just give up. It’s the one thing that actually makes you interesting.” He spoke as if he was the one getting offended. Even if he wasn’t planning on it now, they couldn’t help but feel some anger bubbling up again. What did he want?

”Then you should fucking leave, shouldn’t you, Greg?” They hissed under their breath, trying to turn back to the meaningless cartoon.

Out of all the petty things they’ve argued about, this felt the most genuine. Over an… animated cartoon?

”No. I shouldn’t. You’re supposed to— to…” he paused, biting his tongue. As if the Gregory House was hesitating. When there was virtually no reaction from his uncharacteristic doubt, he grunted. “You’re supposed to fight back. Keep me here.”

A look of surprise crept up to their face. “What?” They blurted out, turning back around to see the man with his head down, eyes flickering up to get one glance at their face. To see what reaction he had received. There were so many things that could be said. So many things they probably should have said. One of them being ‘get out’ which so gingerly danced upon the tip of their tongue.

His head swayed to the side, mouth opening once but then pressed together in a thin line.

This was probably the withdrawals talking. The pain talking. It wasn’t anything he could really stop from spilling out, either way. “Come on. You’re not stupid now, too.” He clenched his fist, then unclenched, nervously fidgeting. “You might be boring but you’re not an idiot.”

”Stop speaking in fucking riddles and spit it out.”

House scoffed, maybe out of amusement. He made eye contact again and straightened out his back just a little. “You hate me. I like pissing you off.” They raised an eyebrow at this, opening their mouth to speak but House shut them up by just putting his whole hand over their mouth.

”Shut up. I know, stating the obvious.” He mumbled, watching them carefully before slowly lowering his hand again once he deemed that it was ‘safe’. “But you haven’t made any real effort into pushing me out. And I…” he furrowed his brows, pinching the bridge of his nose.

”I don’t know.” It all came to an abrupt end. House looked at them as if he expected them to understand what he was saying. What all this stumbling over words meant. There was a certain look in his eyes though, one that had replaced his smug piece-of-shit look from before. The one they were used to.

Too many silences. There’d been too many between them in such a short period of time. But whose fault was that, huh?

”You’re saying… that I… need you? Or what? That I like you?” Shock was still riddled all over their face— a mixture of shock and anger that is. Every time they calmed down he always managed to rile them up again. That has got to be a skill.

A sort of relief seemed to wash over him as he leaned back again. He made a gesture with his hand, giving them another look. The ever familiar House stare.

He was still playing a game. Whether or not his intentions were to simply screw around with them no longer mattered. Because even if he was being genuine the bastard didn’t know how to express himself without hopping through loops. His reaction to them finishing his thought spoke louder than any sort of response he could have followed up with. Even if they said that it was completely untrue it was too late, he made up his mind.

His reaction also meant that the thought of them needing him wasn’t a thought he disproved of.

They relaxed, eyes downcast for a second before they met his eyes again, “you’re a piece of shit.” They muttered, eyes then shifting to his hand that was closest to them. His other was still on his thigh. It had been the entire time. Right now though, it slowed down its ministrations. His attention was on them.

”I should be proving you wrong.” They were slow, grazing their hand over his before interlocking their fingers with his. Warm. Stiff but not dismissive of the touch.

”But you’d see through me, right? Because you always do. You know so much.” He didn’t lean in, but they did. It was like the air had gone still, nothing held either of them back. Not sure House wanted to be held back in any way. Especially considering the way he looked to their lips, ever slightly parted for him.

He was quiet. Waiting. Wasn’t this what he expected? Or— something adjacent?

They tilted their head, lightly lifting themselves off the couch to reach him, leaning over him just a little. “You’re not stopping me.” They mumbled, taking a brief pause. Their eyes stared at his face, appraising him. What did he look like? Hazy. Supposedly, they should back off now.

They got their answer. Didn’t they?

“You’re such a piece of shit.” They breathed out before kissing him. When did the mood change? Perhaps the very moment they decided to entertain his childish game of feelings.

House didn’t waste any time to reciprocate. His hand moved off his thigh, hiking around their waist and pulling them close, so they didn’t have to hover as much. Mouths moving in tandem, both of them warming up as hands travelled up and down and groped. He tried to advance, but they pushed back.

”Don’t you even think it House.” They whispered against his lips, one of their hands on his other thigh and another against his chest. Kissing him again, he chased after them as they pulled back again to give him a smug smile, “under my roof, my rules.”

”Taking my credit? For this? Didn’t think you a thief.” He spoke, but his eyes were trained back on their lips.

“You think I want the credit for initiating?” They muttered, their hand trailing up from his chest to his face. “No. I want the credit for this.” They leaned back down, inching their bodies closer as they kissed again. As feverish as they were, the heat of the moment wasn’t enough to cover the sudden sharp pain he felt on his lip.

His shoulders tensed, what was akin to a whimper slipping past his lips. His eyes fluttered open, and he saw them above him. A gleaming of something besides saliva on her own lips.

House’s hand goes up, pressing it gently against his lip, “you bit me.” There was blood, not too much, but enough. It was the busted lip they’d nurtured, now it was bleeding again. Yet he didn’t find it at all insulting. Instead, he almost looked pleasantly surprised.

”Want me to kiss it all better?” They mused, chest heaving still, and giving him time to either accept or decline. Maybe they should have asked first—

“You’d be sleeping on the couch if you didn’t.” He hardly finished his sentence before he reached for them again, the two clawing at each other desperately as saliva and blood was smeared against their faces. They were kind enough to not do much more to fuck up his lip more, instead going to plant kisses against the side of his neck and down to his chest.

A few red imprints left in their wake, which looked like red lipstick at the time but would most certainly just look like dried blood in the morning. And most certainly not look like kisses.

The hickeys though— that was most certainly going to be a conversation topic between House and Wilson in the morning.

”Admit it House,” they murmured against his skin, their hands quickly working to unbutton his shirt, “you’re the one who needs me.” They kissed and gently nipped at his skin, their hands moving to his belt when his upper body was exposed for them.

He tilted his head back, hissing out a breath as he tried to muster up some words without giving them too much gratification. Looking back, he eyed their close proximity to where he needed them most. “Says the one with their hands practically down my pants.”

“Fine. I’ll take them out.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Guess they were both going to be sleeping on the couch that night.

[imrllytootiredforthis]

imagine humping beomgyus pussy omg,,, scissoring with him and hearing all his pretty noises 😵

beomgyu x reader

warning: literally just what the ask says

a/n: holy shit, holy shit, holy shit... (this was supposed to be a rlly short as in a few paragraphs but wtv, still really short tho)

also wrote this in literally five minutes and it's not proofread so 😗✌️

maybe it's after you've made him cum a few times already. with your fingers and your mouth until he's left panting and shaking, sweat glistening over his skin in a thin sheen.

his head fallen back, mouth open and hair all tousled. his legs spread wide open, his cunt all pretty for you. from you.

wet and pink, a small stain of his arousal as evidence of everything you've done to him on the sheets beneath him.

"baby, can you go one more for me?"

he's so sensitive. so overstimulated already, short sobs leaving his lips-all puffy and bitten from your own.

"c-can't, can't do it." he whines yet his hips grind down against nothing as if to say otherwise. as if to invite you back in.

you lean over him, pushing his chin up to see his watery eyes.

so pretty~

"you have your safeword if you need it pretty~"

his eyes widen as your legs hitch over his, slotting against him. his mouth opens as your hands guide his jaw, tilting his head back and slotting your lips against his.

any protests melt into a whine when your warm, wet tongues prods into his mouth, sucking on his in turn. he thinks you moan, or perhaps he does, or-or, he doesn't fucking know anymore.

he feels as if he's falling, as if he's floating in ecstasy and pain and overwhelming, excruciating pleasure.

and then something damp and hot grinds into his clit, ripping a keen from his throat that's eagerly swallowed your mouth.

your own clit rubs against his.

slow at first, tentative.

until he whines.

until you groan and kiss him harder.

until your vein electrify with the feeling, filling you up with so much fucking warmth you think it'll drive you insane.

somewhere through the fog in beomgyu's head he gasps. a hand-his own, he thinks from faraway, desperately wraps around your thigh; fingers dig into your skin, hard enough to leave bruises and probably even break the skin.

his touch encourages you, pushing you up to hike your thigh over his hips with needy, wanton movements. you slot them sideways, and suddenly your cunts are pressed together, grinding sloppily against each other.

you press against him harder, lewd noises of where the two of you connect filling the room.

you smile against his lips and he can only whimper at it all. the sounds and the smells and the feeling and you. "thought you were too sensitive gyu?" you paint, teasing as your hands brace on his shoulders.

“s-shut up,” he whimpers. “just fuck me harder.”

[oceisastar]

Skott x male reader with belly bulge? Imagine a reader that is much taller than him and larger in size, I want to see how Skott accepts the reader while he lightly presses on the resulting bulge 🤤

MDNI (male!reader x skott; skott is an IPC employee & reader is his superior, skott is drunk and mouthy, petplay, spanking, minor belly bulge, mention of breeding, very brief feminization ("cunt"), brief moment where skott says "no" but not seriously, they have a safe move and he does not use it)

do not repost / translate / re-use my work in any shape or form. this is strictly for entertainment purposes/fiction and is not intended to support or endorse these power dynamics irl!

*** Skott is quite the pain in your ass. Insolent, two-timing, and a whiny brat at that.

Still, he has his redeeming perks. you first noticed him when Caelus made him get on his knees and bark in front of everyone at Aurum Alley.

That certainly caught your attention. He’s rather cute, even though he makes your life a living headache. His loyalty to the IPC is never in question, though his methods are often crass.

You remember having to bail him out when he got caught with a bunch of IPC mechs at the Xianzhou Luofu docks. He was making all sorts of fuss at first—until you helped him get out of being thrown in prison for suspicious cargo counts.

He tried to explain, stutter and justify until finally he mumbled out a, “Thank you,” bright red with embarrassment.

It was nice, to see him so obedient. like a dog.

One night, Skott approaches you, obviously drunk. “You… hey! Yeah, you!”

You incline your head. This is certainly not the way an IPC employee speaks to his superior.

“You think you’re so much better than the rest of us, ‘cause you’re so big and smart and hot and… hot!” He jabs a finger in your direction.

You catch his wrist, lifting his arm up.

“I would watch your tone, Skott. Someone else might misconstrue this as you trying to come onto me. And that would be an HR violation, wouldn’t it?”

Skott’s cheeks go bright red. “You’re insane! You have no idea what you’re talking about! I’m just pointing out how unfair it is that you’re getting preferential treatment.”

“Am I?" You tower over him, your shadow looming over him. "I would call it observant. I see how you look at me, Skott.”

His eyes go wide. "What are you talking about?"

“I even caught you sniffing one of my jackets the other day. But I let it go, because I’m a kind man who cares about my subordinates.”

Skott looks like he wants to melt into the earth.

“I know what you get up to, Skott.” You press your lips to the shell of his ear. “Nothing you do gets by me.”

He shudders, letting out a broken whine in response.

“I—that wasn’t me. It was a-someone else.”

“Was it?" Your fingers skirt his collarbone, tugging at the chain around his neck. "I distinctly remember seeing your dog tag when I was walking away.”

To your surprise, Skott shifts, trying to hide the growing bulge in his pants. You smile licentiously.

“Skott… don’t you know it’s bad to lie to your superiors?”

Your hand slides down to grab at his waist. It’s so small, fitting perfectly against the curve of your palm.

“N-now, wait a minute! What do you think you’re—”

“I think you deserve to be punished.” Your hand slides down to knead at his ass. He jolts forward, chest pressing up against the broad planes of your chest.

"P-punished?! Now you're just talking nons--ah!" he moans unintentionally, turning bright red as he squirms.

"You stole my jacket. That's IPC property. And we don't take lightly to theft."

“It... just happened. I—I didn’t mean to.” He says miserably, looking into your eyes. His eyes are watery, wide and repentant.

“I know you didn’t. You just need someone to teach you better. To show you how to take it like a good boy. Or should I say, a good dog?” You smile at him.

His cock strains against his pants, now unmistakably visible.

“What do you say, Skott? Are you in the mood for some training?”

There’s a long silence before he swallows, cheeks blushing.

“Yes… sir. Please punish me.”

________________________________

Skott is on all fours, ass up in the air as he yelps, your hand coming down swiftly to smack him over and over.

“T-thirty one… thirty… ah!”

“Ah, ah, Skott. You lost count. Such a bad boy.”

“D-don’t make me do it again, please! This is the… third time!” He hiccups. He’s nearly soiled his pants through with how aroused he is, glasses slipping down his nose.

“I would make you go again, but since it’s our first time, I can grant a little reprieve. That poor cock of yours needs a little mercy, hm?”

Your hand slips unapologetically below his boxers and cups his aching cock.

“Ah—oh! Sir!” He calls out, jolting forward. You begin to jerk him off, shoving off his pants until he’s about to burst.

“W-why’d you stop?” He says pathetically.

“Because I’m going to fuck you.”

________________________________

After painstakingly stretching him, his cock dripping all over the floor, his nipples hard from all the attention, you slowly press your cock against his, sliding between his thighs.

“Tell me how badly you want it.”

“I… huh… g-give it to me.”

“That’s no way to ask. I’ll give you one more chance. Try again.”

“I, mmhm, want your c-cock, sir. Please put it in my fat hole.”

“Show me.”

Skott is burning up inside, his hands coming to spread his cheeks for you, showing off the pretty pink treat inside.

“Very good.”

Without another word, you slide inside. Skott wails, clenching endlessly around you.

“You’re so, hrgh, fucking tight.” You grit out, rolling your hips as you try to get used to him.

“Oh god!” Skott claws at the floor, back arching inadvertently as your weight presses down onto him.

“Haven’t been fucked by a cock this big?” You ask, slowly grinding into him.

“N-no,” he sniffles, “you’re the b-biggest, sir.”

“What were you really doing with my jacket, Skott?”

“I…”

You stop moving. He clenches relentlessly, crying out at your stillness.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop—”

“Answer my question.” Your hand pushes down on his back, forcing him to bow further.

“I masturbated to it, okay! I used it and I—I got off with it. But I took it for dry cleaning right after and I—ah!”

You already knew the answer—the strange stain when it came back. Dry cleaning is good, but not for that.

“Ruining a perfectly good jacket for your base fantasies.” Your hand smacks across his ass, watching his cheeks jiggle from the movement.

“Oh, fuck!” Skott cries out, tightening around you, squeezing your length.

You fuck him harder, pressing your full body weight onto him so he melts into the floor.

“Tell me, have you thought about this before? Me fucking you, taking your tight ass?”

“Yes..! Yes!” He slobbers all over the floor, drunk on your heated touch.

“Such a needy dog.” You growl.

Skott cries out, shuddering and shaking. You press your hips all the way, as deep as possible, and he cries out.

Your hand traces the thin lines of his stomach, feeling the bulge of your hardness pressing through.

“S-Sir…” he lets out a broken moan. You press harder, and Skott cries out. “Please! I—I can feel you so deep...”

“Just what I expected from someone like you. You live to take cock, don’t you?”

Skott sobs an incoherent answer. You press him down harder, pressing your balls up against his ass.

“Need a big strong man to breed you, huh?”

Skott claws at the floor, arching his back as you fuck him deeper.

“N-no, sir, too deep!”

Despite his words, there’s no taps on your arm, signaling he’s fine.

“Shut up. You’ll take it.”

You thrust harder, more aggressively, animalistically, taking everything you want from Skott laid bare at your feet.

“Such a good cunt. Made for me.”

Skott weeps, cumming all over himself as he feels you fill him over and over.

“And I’m going to show you how we reward good employees.”

[cyberbark]

sub jing yuan x dom reader content.

character-centric, no real action yet :3 wc: 500+, thru jing yuan’s pov (tried to study his character through depravity trust). sprinkle of lore, jealousy and superiority complex for jy. gender neutral reader but mentioned cock (can be interpreted as strap)!

cw: jing yuan’s oral fixation

thinking about jing yuan and how he looks like someone who has an oral fixation..

jing yuan’s someone who takes sips of his tea to delay answering questions, someone who keeps the paper straw long after he’s finished with the drink and the paper gets soggy.

it’s no secret he likes warmer food. the soft burn of the wine, steeped tea, boiled milk, and so on, makes him feel comforted after a day of work— and that just covers the liquids.

which is why he dreams of you, another cloud knight on the never-ending list of people. it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate your efforts, he does. but anybody else could do the same work as you. they really could and jing yuan will still find ways to get himself off on the thought of you.

so eager to help, so quick to run into action, how could a good general like him let it go unnoticed? he observes everyone equally, thank you very much (even as he finds himself unconvinced of his own lies).

can you blame him? he hardly gets any breaks, there’s someone or the other nagging after him to do his fair share of the piled paperwork. then he once saw you outside of your usual uniform, enjoying your day off by sampling street food on the luofu with someone else. probably close to you.

and he— he’s also a guy with needs!

sure he might not seem like it, being well put together and composed, if not lazy.

but he wants it. badly. wants to know what sounds you’ll make if he were to kiss your neck, suck on your throat or if you’d push him down between your legs to keep his smart mouth occupied.

it’s fitting, he thinks, how much he’d like to repay you for the kindness. it’s also selfish.

jing yuan wants to suck your cock. kiss the tip. lick the shaft slowly. throat your entire length in one go.

you can keep him there for hours for your pleasure. and he’d take it because his mouth is stuffed full, his dick neglected but he’s praised until his head gets dizzy from it. he has thought all about it at night with his fist on his cock while biting his pillow, not with the intentions of muffling his sounds because he wants you to know he moans prettily. he’s just naturally better than the person you were with, and better than everyone else. he knows what is good for you (his company) and who is good for you (him).

he has to pretend he’s composed the next day and the day after that whenever you’re nearby or he might just say that he’s been thinking of your cock while having his own fingers pressing his tongue to occupy the empty space. because it’s not enough.

he has inappropriate questions to ask you, such as: what do you taste like? would you please make him choke on your cock if he’s not able to take it? would you let him cum untouched (it is embarrassing but he definitely can)? use him by pushing his head forward, tug his hair, be mean about it or all three? and would that person who was with you do it better than him? obviously not. he’s not a general for nothing. he’s served a fleet for over seven centuries, a person is no big deal.

he knows he’d look pretty, drooling on your cock with his eyes tearing up and lips glossy with spit and precum.

but for now, flimsy straws and teacup rims will keep him busy.

jing yuan’s still waiting for the right time to take advantage of the admiration in your eyes for him. the same eyes he wants on him when you find out he’s been this depraved for you. the same eyes he wants on him when he’s taking your cock.

it’s pathetic, really. exactly what jing yuan gets off on in the privacy of his bedroom.

[tra1nchi]

Day three:Medical

MINORS DNI!! Bttm male reader

Extra⚠️: Doctor x patient,,Needles(bl00d test),,bl00d

It was meant to just be a normal check up, you knew that. All you had was a simple fever so you decided to visit your usual doctor, you were always a bit unnerved by him but it was better to be checked then to risk anything serious

When you finally arrived at the hospital he worked at. He greeted you warmly but his smile seemed too strained, looking down at you indifference which would be a good trait for a doctor who has patients with their lives at stake but his expression was just...off putting.

He guided you to his office in a far corner of the sterile hospital, he walked with confidence in himself. Allowing you to sit down infrknt of his desk, putting on a fresh set of tight blue gloves and readying his medical equipment.

He checked you over but noticed how fast your heart was pounding and sighed."I'll do a blood test, just to be safe." He smirks patting your arm as a subtle signal to roll it up your arm, moving over to take a needle into his hand, flicking at the tip of the sharp object before turning back to you

"Relax, I promise I'll be gentle." His hand grabbed your wrist pulling it close to himself as he trailed the sharp point up and down your skin. Almost like he was getting a dick pleasure out of it being so close to piercing skin.

You didn't know if you imagined it or not but you swear you could hear him groan as he finally found a suitable vein, finally penetrating your skin as he watched your blood slowly leave your body, it was so exhilarating to him

You didn't know how you both ended up like this but his lips met yours the second the needle left your skin, his thumb pressing down harshly on your wound, subtly spreading the blood across his thumb.

"Such a well behaved boy aren't you? Not a squeak left your pretty lips." He moaned when he pulled away from your swollen lips from how harsh he kissed you, his hands moving to quickly remove his white coat.

He soon had your pressed down against his medical table, the cold metal off it pressing against your bare back, but soon his warmth covered your front, his mouth pressed against your neck biting down into it as he jumped you desperately.

"Fuck..you make me so fucking horny." His voice drawled out, his cock leaking precum as it rubs against your thighs begging to be sheathed inside off you just like his needle was just moment ago