#THE WAY HEs NOT AFRAID TO WEAR MORE ‘fem’ CLOTHING ! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

last-words-ofashootingstar · 12 days ago

Text

Wild

➾In Which: Your plane goes down in uncharted wilderness — but you don't have to be afraid. He will take care of you.

RATED X. MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY.

❥Song Mingi x fem reader

Star's Fairytale July

♡'･ᴗ･'♡genre: dark ¿romance?, smut

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: briefly proof read, a spin on "Tarzan", unspecified historical au, light gore, reader loses feeling in one of her legs from the crash + slowly recovers, slight communication barrier: mingi understands everything but has trouble speaking a lot, lowkey feral but soft mingi, size difference, implied chubby reader: has squishy thighs and boobs (we cheered !!), touch starved ming (i want to bite him-), is it stockholm syndrome if he didn't reallyyyy kidnap you, semi-forced cuddling, cleaning and eating animals (rip thumper), mingi has a heart of gold but grew up in the wilderness so is... strange ಠ_ಠ1 non-con scene: dry humping, groping, reader 'lets it' happen because she's afraid he'll make her leave, short scene (reader blacks it out). 1 consensual scene: outdoor, unprotected (they don't have any choice but boooo), teaching him how to kiss, him using what he learned on readers pussy (jjsjshdjan), spit as lube, soft to rough, overstim, titty fixation !!, virgin mingi goes FERAL, like actually feral like biting, growling, manhandling to get deeper, cumming multiple times, moaning like a bitch, trying to breed like his life depends on it feral, mingi only knows three words during sex "more, love, mine"

➯non-con disclaimer: non-con is NOT okay in real life. this is ONLY EVER acceptable in FICTIONAL settings (and even then it's fucked up)

˚⊱like a fairytale⊰˚@m00njinnie @tinyteezer @boxofhyunebuns @ninjakitty15 @binniesbabe @cocostar1117 @raicecakes-and-buldak @scheepsmans @cherrytaesan @motheraiya55 @cotton-candyclouds @tunafishyfishylike @daemyratwst ₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy @kyomiingi @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes @klllerwaifu @seonghwasslytherin @yoonglesbae

➯a/n: i luv me some feral-ness, and i luvvvvv me some minki <3

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

18+, MINORS WILL BE ABANDONED IN THE JUNGLE.

The smoke makes it hard for him to see.

Perched on a large branch a good bit above the ground, he watches. Observing, carefully.

The plane is stuck on the shore. Half in the shallow water, half not. The pilot must have took a chance at trying to land it on the uneven beach.

He doesn't hear anything besides the creaking metal, the lapping waves. Perhaps whoever was inside perished.

He likes that possibility the best. He doesn't like people — not that he has much experience with them. Those little ones he has had were less than pleasant.

They always treated him... different than the way they treated each other. And then, they tried to drag him back onto their boats.

They left him alone quickly when he started biting.

The wilderness has been his home ever since he was a boy. He'd never leave, and he'd never let anyone else take his home from him.

His head perks up as the door opens. A survivor? Great... He thinks how much trouble it will bring him when —

Out comes you. Sobbing as you fall to the sand. A piece of glass lodged in the side of your thigh and staining your dress with blood.

His interest caught, he climbs down.

You look much different than the other people he's had the misfortune of meeting.

Bare feet on the sand, he makes his way to the fallen plane.

You sound different, too. You're shaped differently. Wearing odd clothes.

He walks right up to you as you cry into your arms; not even noticing his presence until he grips your scalp and pulls your head up.

You scream in shock, grabbing his wrist as he tilts your head from side to side — inspecting you.

You stare at the man dumbfounded. Shock in every fiber of your being. First, your plane had a malfunction and was forced to crash land. Then, you awoke without feeling in one of your legs; looking around to find a piece of glass stuck in it and all of the men you were traveling with dead.

Now, a terrifyingly large and silent man is grabbing your head and looking at you with his eyebrows pressing together — confused.

He thinks you might be another species entirely until he remembers, very distantly, "woman?" His voice is deep and broken, like he doesn't use it a lot.

Frightened and beyond puzzled, you nod in his grasp.

He bites his lip, thinking for a moment. When you go to flinch away, he holds you tighter as he lifts his other hand to your face.

His touch is careful. But it's rough with callouses and awkward as he touches your cheek in a state somewhere between awe and bafflement.

He drops you without care, nodding; to himself you think, because he walks away before you can say anything. You fall back to the sand weakly as he climbs inside the plane — leaving you there with wide and teary eyes.

He comes back out a few minutes later, finding you just where he left you and just as in shock. He has a bag from inside the plane in his hands. He gathered what he wanted and left the rest to collect dust before high tide sweeps the plane further into the water.

"Hold." He says simply, shoving it into your stunned arms.

"W-" You have so many questions. But he doesn't give you the chance to ask any of them before he lifts you up like you weigh almost nothing, slinging you over his broad shoulder.

You groan as your stomach meets his body, clinging to the bag tightly and watching the plane grow further away as he walks away with you.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Eventually, you gave up on asking all of your questions when all you got was silence, one word answers, or grunts in response.

He keeps one arm over the back of your thighs, holding you tightly.

You're so soft compared to anything he's touched before.

He's thankful when you stop talking. He likes the sound of your voice, but he's not used to hearing anything that much. He can finally think.

His body reacted before he had the chance to think this over. Something deep in his brain told him to bring you back with him and he just did it. He wants to figure out why; but it's hard.

Your skin was really soft when he touched your face. It was warm. He liked it. He likes the warmth and the weight of your body as he carries you through the dense trees.

He squeezes your thigh curiously, a hum low in his throat.

Yes, he likes that.

He lowers you with more gentleness than he picked you up with, steadying you with a hand on your hip as your leg buckles under your weight; the other completely useless.

"Stay." He leans you against a tree, turning around and climbing up another with efficiency that makes your jaw drop a bit.

It drops even more as you follow his form, looking up to see what looks like a literal house in the tree.

It's clear he's been here a long time.

A rope ladder drops from the opening, and the strange man follows; climbing down it with something clutched in his teeth.

You, obviously, have a million more questions to ask. But you stay quiet. He seemed to have liked that better — and he's your only chance at survival.

He points to the ground, then to you. 'Sit', you assume. You slide against the rough bark until you sit with your legs sprawled in front of you. Watching him closely as he takes the blade and the large scrap of fabric from his mouth.

"I fix," he says while gesturing to your leg, the small piece of glass still lodged in it.

You swallow thickly before nodding. Theres no way in hell you can fix it yourself. Even though you can't feel it, you know you don't have the guts to pull the glass out yourself.

He slides your skirts up your claves, straddling the injured leg. He opens his mouth to say something before he changes him mind, only tutting his tongue. He wants to ask your name, what you are called. But he forgets the words for that and it makes him a bit frustrated. He doesn't want to keep calling you 'woman' when he thinks of you.

You want to tell him to be careful as he lifts the fabric over the glass to get it out of the way — but you decide against it. You don't even know how much he speaks, how much he knows. It seems like a good bit.

You finally drop the bag next to you and bundle up your skirts, holding them out of the way. Avoiding looking at the mess, you look at him instead while he examines the wound.

His shorts were once pants, cut at the thigh — for less restriction, you assume. His shirt is missing quite a few buttons and you suppose that's why he doesn't button it up. One of his wrists has homemade rope bracelets stacked on it. He has scars all over his body.

A long and rough one across his torso. One short and smooth across the front of his forearm. A little one below his eyebrow.

"What is your name?" You ask softly, and it gives him pause. "Do you have one?"

You talk to him like he understands — and he loves it. Because he does understand. That's what the others didn't get, where they went wrong. They assumed he didn't comprehend full sentences because he didn't use them.

It sounds foreign on his own tongue as he shares, for the first time in many, many years; his own name.

"Mingi."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The inside of Mingi's tree house is strangely put together, for being in the middle of literally nowhere on an uninhabited island.

He has a bed of moss covered with a military issued brown blanket. You kind of want to ask where he got that, but it seems obvious. From someone else who crash landed or came across the island.

He's quiet as he slowly lays you down on it; having carried you up the ladder as you clung to his neck. Your thigh is wrapped up tightly with the strip of fabric, your skirt cut to just above it. He throws the ripped and bloody bottom half of it into a corner, thinking he can clean it and use it for something else.

You're starting to get cold. Blood loss is catching up to you as your adrenaline levels lower because you start feeling safer and safer with the strange man. You know you shouldn't. He seems... well, you don't know.

He's unlike any man you've ever met. His silence unnerves you. His gaze is much too intense. He has zero sense of personal space.

But he's gentle, now at least. And he doesn't look at you like you're beneath him; as many men in society do.

He touches your cheek again as he hovers over you, crouching by the makeshift bed. Fingertips grazing your skin slowly. "Soft." He says lowly.

"Th-thank you?" You whisper, a bit frightened.

He nods, "I like." And he stands up like that isn't a strange thing to say, probably because he doesn't think it is, turning to some fruit hanging by one of the window-like openings.

You push yourself up on your elbows, watching him. "How long have you lived here?"

He has to take a second to think of the word, "ever."

"How?" You ask, astonished, and only get a shrug in response as he comes back to you.

He really is not much of talker, you've found out quickly.

Sitting next to you on the blanket, he pulls off a piece of dried fruit and offers it to you. When you only look at it, slightly suspicious, he shoves it into your hand. "Eat."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

When the sun sets, you've barely been holding your eyes open for the past few hours.

He hasn't shown any intention of hurting you, but your mind still yells to stay alert because he's a stranger — an incredibly strange and strong stranger, at that.

"Mingi."

He looks over to you quickly from his place on the floor; where he braids some plant material together into a rope. Almost like he forgot you were there, but he didn't. He's just so very unused to hearing someone speak; let alone hearing his name.

"Do you sleep at night? When it's dark?" It seems like a stupid question, but you genuinely don't know. He doesn't seem tired at all. Obviously, he has to sleep. He's human. But when is a different question.

He nods, tilts his head.

"Soon?" You stifle a yawn, but he catches it. If he sleeps while you do, maybe it's less chance he can hurt you. That's what your logic tells you.

"No," he turns back to the rope and keeps braiding. Sleeping while someone new is around is practically asking for trouble, that's what his logic tells him. He'll wait until you fall asleep.

You let out a sigh as you rest your head on your arm, rolling onto your side to face him. Your leg is starting to tingle, which you suppose is good news. At least you're feeling something.

"Thank you," you whisper, "for saving me." He grunts softly in response.

No matter how hard you try to keep your eyes open, they start falling shut for longer and longer until sleep eventually takes you.

When he hears your even, quiet breathing, he looks over his shoulder. Dropping the rope he was working on, he quickly slides off his open shirt and climbs over you. He should sleep in a branch, on the floor at the very least — but he likes his little warm corner.

And you've made it even warmer.

He likes it.

He likes you.

Scooting closer, laying behind you on his side, mirroring you; he follows his instincts and slowly slides his arm under your head, replacing yours. A gentle sigh leaves you in your sleep as you nuzzle against the warmth of his arm.

Yes. He's definitely decided. He likes you.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

A week goes by.

You learn very little about the man who's taking care of you.

You know he is intelligent, maybe not socially aware; but he knows how to tend to wounds using the Earth. In fact — he knows how to do a lot with the Earth. How to make tools, rope, traps, how to fish and hunt, he even uses agriculture to his advantage; has a small garden you can see from one of the openings in the suspended hut.

That's where you are now. Sitting on the ledge with your legs dangling, kicking them slowly to get some sort of exercise, watching Mingi tend to his plants.

You still can't hold all of your weight on your bad leg. The feeling in it comes and goes. You weren't shocked when he all but banned you from leaving the small tree house — only shaking his head and saying "no" whenever you asked about helping him below. You suppose it's fair. You'd probably be more trouble than you'd be help.

He does let you do some things. After you said you felt guilty for being so reliant on him. You're allowed to scrub and hang both of your clothes with the buckets of water he brings up.

You learned, or rather; he taught you, how to skin a few different animals. The gutting of them still makes you uneasy, so he takes over with that. You're waiting for him to do so now so you can help him cook it over the scavenged pot he lights a fire in almost every day. You rinsed your hands clean of the rabbits blood and limped your way over to the window.

Leaning your head against the wood, you sigh.

You don't think you'll ever go home. You're starting to come to terms, realizing the fact that this is most likely your home now.

It's not all so bad.

Mingi is strange. He's a bit scary at times, when he comes up the ladder breathing heavily with blood dripping down his arms. He still acts like he has no clue what personal space is — even though you've explained it a fair few times. And you know he understands everything you say.

At night, starting the second one, he asks; or rather tells you softly to, "tell me things."

You told him of your home, your hobby's, your family, and friends. About technology and some agriculture things he might be able to make use of.

He hums, or simply breathes differently in response most of the time. If you really peek his interest, he asks, "more." It's usually when you talk about yourself or about things he can make use of.

"(Y/n)." He speaks from below you, snapping you from your thoughts. "Bucket." He says while tapping the rope that leads up to the opening you're seated on.

"Oh, yes," you nod, "sorry." Leaning back with a groan, you get the two wooden buckets, carefully setting the one with the dirtied water in your lap and tying the knot he showed you onto the handle. "Coming down." You lower it with the pulley system, sill in awe of his ingenuity with such limited resources.

He takes them everyday and dumps them away from his area, so as not to attract predators to the smell of blood — at least, that's what you assume. Because getting that detailed information out of him would be near impossible with the way he speaks.

He takes whatever animal as well and leaves the guts he decides not to use in one way or another.

"Be back soon," you call out as he starts walking away, getting a small look over his shoulder as an answer.

You make life a little bit better. He enjoys having you here with him, even if most of the time is spent in silence — he doesn't mind, that's what he likes anyway. But he's found that he likes sharing it with you.

He's also grown fond of physical touch. Not you touching him, not just yet. That still makes him flinch if you move too fast.

But him touching you? He can't get enough. Over the past week, he's grown more brave with it. At first, the first day after he pulled you from the wreckage, it was only to change the makeshift bandage on your wound. That night, he put his hand on your waist as he laid down behind you. He liked squeezing it.

The morning after, he helped you stand and try to walk. You didn't get very far — but he kept his hands on your hips as you braced yourself on the wall. That night, he drug you to lay with your back to his chest.

He's gotten braver and bolder. It makes you a bit uncomfortable, like he might try to take advantage of your weakened state; but you don't even know if he knows what sex is.

He does. Well — not really. But he's woken up with hard-ons before and he knows how to take care of them.

You do have him thinking, though. What it might feel like to put himself between your cushiony thighs or put his face in your chest.

He decides he'll try tonight as he climbs up the ladder and finds you changing into the large shirt he's given you to wear at night. He swallows, his throat suddenly dry. Something warm and needy flicking to life in his gut.

He clears his throat, setting the bucket with the rabbit in it down.

"Thank you." You say that a lot, he's realized. You don't want him to throw you to the wilderness if he suddenly deems you too much trouble; you make your gratitude very clear. That's another thing he likes about you.

Even injured and in an environment so different from what you're used to, you try to pull your weight and make yourself as useful as you can.

He only nods, headed to the line of clothes you hung up earlier that day and getting the softer pair of shorts he has to his name. He doesn't bother with modesty; so you turn around as he strips himself and stretches his arms above his head. Busying yourself with skewering the meat.

The night continues like the last seven had. He lights the small bundle of firewood in the metal pot and sits across from you, cooking some for you and handing it over before he does the same for himself. He helps you stand and walk from wall to wall until your leg gives out and he carries you to the moss bed.

Now is usually the part where he asks for you to tell him things until you're too tired to continue.

But that's not what happens tonight.

He usually helps you to lay on your side and gets behind you.

Not tonight.

Tonight, he lays you on your back and straddles your hips. He touches your cheek. With just his fingertips, at first. Then he cradles your face in his palm and hums contentedly as your warmth seeps into him.

"What are you doing?" You ask shakily as he lowers himself a bit, still holding your cheek as he presses his face to your chest.

"Soft." He mumbles, cuddling his face closer. He likes them — he likes them a lot. His cock is twitching in his shorts.

You stay completely still underneath him. Not scared of him, exactly. But scared of what he might do if you deny him the affection- the intimacy he craves.

You'd never survive a day without him.

So you bite your lip as humiliation creeps up while he gives an experimental roll of his hips. And he moans. Low and quiet; just over the insects chirping outside.

He slides his hand lower, tracing your neck softly before it reaches your breast and he gives it a squeeze. He moans louder, moves harsher against you.

You let out a shaky breath as you close your eyes tightly, trying to disappear from your own skin as your savior gropes you.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Another week goes by.

If Mingi notices you're more uncomfortable with his touches the first three days, he doesn't say anything. He keeps them the same as before that night. Like it never even happened — but he had clearly enjoyed himself. Once or twice, you've caught him staring at your chest.

Day four is when you start getting more relaxed around him again. He brings you flowers that day. Yellow petals and bright green stems. Awkwardly holds them out to you, points between you and them, and says, "you." They remind him of you.

Five and six, or rather; twelve and thirteen, pass without incident.

It's on day seven of the second week he picks you up and says, "with me." He helps you wrap your legs around him and you hold on tightly as he climbs down the ladder. You know better than to question him.

You just enjoy the change of scenery, hugging onto his back until he stops.

Your jaw drops as you look at the large waterhole. It's crystal clear, you can see all of the rocks at the bottom, the little tassels of water grass and the small fish swimming through it.

"Swim?" He looks over his shoulder, something like a smile on his lips as he sees the joy in your eyes.

"Yeah- yes! Yes!" You hug onto him tighter, smiling as well. "Thank you for bringing me here, Mingi."

His name still sounds odd to hear out loud, but he thinks he likes the way you say it.

He slowly lowers you from his back, steadying you as your leg trembles a bit. "Water-" He groans, tilting his head as he unwraps your healing wound, "good."

"I think so too," you nod. He definitely likes that about you. You still don't shorten your sentences or talk to him like he can't understand. "It will be good to move it around without pressure on it."

Exactly what he was thinking, although he could never express it as elegantly as you. His lips do that thing they've been doing lately — turning up in the corners.

You decide against going fully nude, but he has no qualms about stripping bare before diving into the water.

In just your underwear, you slowly lower yourself to sit on the edge before pushing off and submerging yourself.

It feels wonderful. Beyond wonderful — it feels magical. You and Mingi both freshened up each day with clean water and fabric scraps, but this is entirely different. Like your soul is being cleansed and lightened of its burdens as the water surrounds you.

You push your hair out of your face as you come back up, laughing happily.

Mingi hasn't heard that sound from you before, but he enjoys it nonetheless. It makes him feel warm.

"Happy?" He hums curiously as he swims, going back and forth the length of the water slowly.

"Very." You reply quickly, moving to copy his movements.

He definitely has more stamina than you, but he slows himself down a bit to match your pace as you try to keep up.

And you're both content to swim back and forth in silence for a while, it must be at least thirty minutes later when you finally give in to your muscles begging for mercy. You haven't moved this much since before your plane crashed.

You fold your arms over one another on the edge of the water, breathing a bit heavily as you catch your breath.

Mingi comes up beside you, no worse for wear; and looks at you for a moment before copying your pose. He rests his chin on his arms and looks out into the wilderness with you. "Happy." He says lowly.

You turn your head, resting it on your arms as you peer over at him. "You are?" You search for clarification, kicking your legs slowly.

He nods, moving again to mirror you. "Was... lonely. But, people before; no good." He reaches over and touches your cheek, "you good."

You only smile in response. It's the most words you've ever heard him say in one day it feels like, let alone one 'sentence'.

Pushing yourself a bit closer, you slowly lift your hand. And he doesn't flinch like he normally might. He leans into your touch as you cradle his cheek, sighing softly. "Like you."

"I like you too," you move carefully, until your hip brushes against his side under the water. "Do you know... what a kiss is?"

"Kiss?" He repeats you with a small raise of his eyebrows.

"Yeah, kiss," you lean forward. His eyes are locked on yours, watching you intently as you lift yourself up a bit to be level with his face. "For affection, when you like something," you press your lips to his cheek softly, "you do that."

He cranes his neck, delicately placing his lips against your cheek for a moment longer than you did to him. He has a soft blush across his tanned cheeks when he pulls back.

"Nice, right?" You say with a bit of a giggle, seeing the man who literally climbs trees and hunts in the woods with bare feet get flustered at something as simple as a cheek kiss.

"Nice," he mimics you with a smile; one undeniable. He has a nice smile, you realize. Warm like the sunshine that beams down on the cool water you're in.

"It feels nice," you readjusted yourself, fidgeting a bit shyly yourself, "to kiss in other ways too."

He leans closer, "show." Show him. Effective immediately, you have to show him.

"Oh, I don't know-" You're getting cold feet. You want to kiss him for real, but what if that changes things? You know it realistically shouldn't, he doesn't know how intimate kissing on the lips can be. He doesn't know the implications of it.

"Please?"

He catches you off guard with that. He never asks for things. Always tells or gestures. But now, his eyes are soft and asking.

"O-okay," you nod before lifting yourself up to sit on the ledge. He watches maybe too closely as the water runs down your chest. "Close your eyes."

He hesitates, only for a moment, before he does so.

He flinches when you cup his jaw, but he quickly relaxes into your touch as you pull him forward. And he absolutely melts when he feels your lips against his own — the touch feathery light.

It's like a flip switches in his brain, something instinctual. And all he ever does is listen to his instincts; so he follows his bodies lead and presses his lips to yours harder as he moves to slot himself between your knees.

Holding himself up with his hands on either side of your thighs, he follows your slow movements. His heart starts racing. His skin feels like it's tingling under your touch.

"Open your mouth," you whisper heavily against his lips; having him practically chasing your mouth as you pull back to do so.

And if he thought he liked kissing before — he has no doubt about it now, as you slip your tongue into his mouth.

He just about loses what's left of his mind when you press it against his.

He has to pull away, panting heavily and blushing deeply. "Like that." Comes out a moan. His cock twitches as he runs his eyes over your body slowly, watching the rise and fall of your chest.

"You do?" His answer to your question is to jump out of the water and yank you to your feet.

He has to bend down to kiss you again, copying your actions and cupping your cheeks as he moves against you.

He definitely does like it.

His tongue is a lot more adventurous than yours was. More wild. Licking the roof of your mouth and tracing your teeth and touching every single inch he can possibly reach. You would never think this was his second kiss.

To think he's practically devouring your mouth and you only taught him what a kiss is a few minutes ago.

His hands slide down your neck as he leans back, resting over your chest while he looks at you closely; taking in every part of you he can. "W-" He stutters, for the first time ever. For the first time ever — he's rendered completely speechless.

"You're really good at that," your panted words make him twitch again. When you stumble, he grabs your hip to steady you.

One hand on your hip, the other engulfing your breast; he helps you lower onto the ground, eyes never leaving yours. He goes even further than helping you sit, and pushes you to lay back. Hovering over you, "more than like. Word?"

"More than like?" You shiver under his intense gaze, your heart about to burst with the ferocity with which it beats. "Love, maybe?"

"Love," he nods quickly, straddling your thighs.

"You love me?" You question with butterflies blossoming in your stomach.

He nods, shakes his head, then nods again, then he groans frustratedly and slams his mouth against yours more passionately as he slides his hands all over your body. He goes as far to nip your bottom lip before he pulls back.

"You are love." His clarification makes little sense, but it makes all the sense in the world at the same time.

He doesn't remember what love feels like. The memories of everyone he knew faded with time. But something about you — your softness, your gratitude, the color of your eyes in the sunlight, your willingness to learn how to help, the determination when you hold yourself up on your injured leg to try and push yourself — he can't help but feel... warmth.

Blooming in his chest whenever he looks at you, when he thinks of you. He doesn't love you, he thinks. It's more than that. You are love because you're the only thing he can think of and start smiling, the only thing that feels so gentle and sweet.

You feel like something he never wants to let go of.

If a rescue party ever did come for you, he'd fight them off tooth and nail. Because you make his life better somehow. He isn't just surviving anymore. He's living. And he won't go back.

"You," he points to your heart, then to his, "here."

He does love you. He wants you to stay with him. He welcomes you into his home, his wilderness. Nobody else. Only you — and only ever you; because he is not willing to risk any other humans coming near you.

"Thank you, Mingi," you smile, shyly, at his affectionate gesture. "I feel the same way."

He leans back over you and presses his forehead to yours, his eyes asking silently; 'really?'

"Yes," you nod, slowly wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You give him a softer kiss, barely grazing his lips and it drives him crazy. He likes — he loves how soft you are.

He squeezes your breasts in his palms, leading you to let out a soft moan against his lips. At the sound; he finds that he's officially hard. His member leaking against your leg.

He crawls down, pushing you back down by your shoulders when you go to sit up. "No." Is all he says before he starts leaving sloppy and heated kisses all over your chest.

"Oh-" You gasp quietly, melting between him and the Earth.

He's so unabashed about what he wants. Always, but especially now; you come to realize. He does whatever his brain tells him to do to get a taste of oxytocin. It's primal. The way he grabs and squishes your body like he's playing with it, like he's exploring how it feels — because he is. The way he pauses at your hardened nipple before giving it an experimental kitten lick.

And when you moan a bit louder, arching into him; he decides that definitely gives him what he's looking for. You give him what he's looking for.

He wraps a hand around his length, groaning lowly as he gives your other nipple a lick. Then he nuzzles his face between them while moving his fist along his cock. "Soft..."

When his free hand slides down your waist and meets the fabric of your panties, he realized there's one part of you he's never even seen. Putting two and two together — how you've been so protective and shy about it, and how it's between your legs like his cock is between his; he smiles. It must be your center of pleasure.

He's pulling your underwear down before you know what's what. "Mingi-" You squeal in shock, going to put your hands over your soaked cunt when he grabs your wrists and pouts as you press your thighs together. An honest to goodness pout.

He wants to say a lot of things right now. Like please let him touch you. Please let him feel how soft you are in comparison to him. Show him how to make you feel good. But he's blanking on his words, only grunting as he puts your hands back on the ground.

"It's..." You feel heat burning your face, all the way down your neck, "sensitive."

He doesn't say anything, but the look in his eyes says he'll be gentle as he touches; as he explores. You look away as you spread your legs, breathing a bit heavily.

And he wastes no time, sitting on his knees between your legs and bringing his fingertips to graze your cunt. So gentle it makes you twitch. He traces down your lips, watching closely. When he notices your wet slit, that's where his fingers go.

Earning himself another timid moan from you urges him on. He lets out one of his own as he feels just how warm and wet you are, his eyebrows pinching together as he touches you carefully. He, again, quickly decides he likes it.

If he likes it — he should give it a kiss. That's what his brain tells him.

You're a bit confused, a little disappointed as his touch leaves you. But by the time you're looking at him, he's already bent down and giving your cunt a soft kiss.

"Mmf-" You muffle yourself with a hand over your mouth, hips twitching.

He looks up, smiling. That must feel good, you like kissing; and you must really like it down here.

So he wastes no time diving in and kissing your wetness. Just as messy and raw with primal intent as he had explored your mouth; he does the same between your legs. Licking up and down and feeling everything he can. The noises you're making tell him he must be doing a great job, because even with your hand over your mouth embarrassedly; your moans sound out loud enough for him to hear them and drink them up like he's dying of thirst.

His tongue goes a little bit lower and he finds your hole, slipping inside curiously and making you cry out. He pulls back with wide eyes, his cock twitching for attention.

It was even hotter than the rest of you, even softer...

He lays back over you quickly, his chest crushing you to the ground as he looks deep into your eyes. "In."

"W-what?" You stutter, dizzy from his intense make out session with your cunt. Grabbing onto his biceps, you try to make sense of what he says.

"Want... inside you."

Now your eyes widen. He's a big guy, and that doesn't stop at his cock. You doubt he'd understand if you told him you needed to be stretched first. And by the look in his eyes, he probably wouldn't be able to be patient enough to do so anyway.

"You have to be gentle with me," you say slowly, squeezing his arms, "okay? Put- you can put it in, but you have to go slow."

He nods fast, looking down and gripping the base of his length while holding himself up above you; just enough to have room for you both to look down between your bodies and watch as he lines himself up with you.

He gulps as he slides his tip along your slit, pressing forward as he meets your entrance. You bit your lip, breathing slowly as he pushes forward. You almost cry when his cockhead finally slips all the way in, telling him in a wobbly voice, "wait! Wait a second!"

He groans, fisting his shaft while you clench around his tip. He wants to go all the way in. He needs to. He needs to. He needs to feel your snug heat all around him or he'll cry.

Willing yourself to relax, you let out a shaky breath and look up at the sky as he continues to look down at the way your pussy lips are stretched around just the very tip of his cock. "Slow, please, Mingi."

His name leaving your tongue makes him shudder, a tingle running along his spine. He starts inching forward immediately. Grabbing onto your shoulder tightly to ground himself so he doesn't just slam into you, he watches as you slowly encase his entire length.

He all but collapses on top of you when he bottoms out, pinning you to the ground. You bury your face in his shoulder, panting moans raising goosebumps on his skin. Your walls flutter and twitch as they try to mold around him. Both of you are clinging to each other tightly; his hands gripping your shoulders and your arms wrapped back around him.

"Love," he whines as you clench around him, his fingers twitching to hold you tighter.

"You feel so good..." You whimper back as you rub down his back tenderly. "Do you... you want to move?"

His response is immediate, grinding his hips into yours and moaning loudly; louder than you. He bites his lip, letting go of your shoulders and placing his hands by either side of your head to hold himself up.

His eyes flick from your face to your cunt wildly, and he looks like he's going to ask something — but he gets to annoyed trying to think of any words at all as your gummy walls cling to him. He only growls, pulling his hips back an inch before thrusting back into you with a testing, delicate pace.

And when you moan as he bottoms out again — all hell breaks loose onto your cunt.

"Fuck!" You scream as he starts pounding into you, your back arching from the sudden onslaught. He's hitting every spot inside of you that makes you see dots of white when you squeeze your eyes shut; tickling your brain with the flood of pleasure.

He leans down, his face in your neck; nuzzling you softly in a stark contrast to how he slams his hips against yours. "L-love." He says again.

You can't tell if he's saying he loves how it feels, or if he's calling you 'Love'. It seems like the latter as he moans it yet again, his eyes rolling back into his head as his hips stutter.

He pauses, very briefly, panting heavily into your neck. Before you can even fully register that he's came — his hot release making you shiver with ecstasy as it pools inside of you — he groans, "more."

And his pace returns, harsher than before. More animalistic. Downright brutal as he fucks himself into your cum-slick pussy.

Lowering himself onto his forearms, he latches onto your parted mouth as you moan and gasp uncontrollably; doing just the same as he pounds you into the ground.

Your moans mix together, spit as well as he flicks his tongue against yours lewdly — showing just how much he likes you.

Your cunt feels like heaven on Earth as he buries himself into it repeatedly. He never wants to leave. He never wants you to leave.

As he takes you on the ground like an animal, your moans filling his ears and your eyes dizzy as he pulls away from your lips to look at you — a word comes to mind.

"Mine." He moans it deeply, gripping you tightly and having his eyes nearly roll back again as he squeezes your soft sides.

And your eyes do roll back, yelling out and grabbing his arms tightly as your orgasm suddenly washes over you. Feeling like the pure ecstasy is going to snap you in half somehow as you tremble.

Already messy with his cum, his cock nearly slips out with your wave of arousal and your intense clenching. When he realizes, he growls with frustration — no way in hell is he about to let that happen. He slams all the way into you and holds you still by your hips as you twitch below him; not allowing you to go anywhere.

His cock rests right against your g-spot. It drives you to tears in your post orgasmic sensitivity, makes you dig your nails into his arms for a sense of stability.

"More," he whines as he leans down and nuzzles your chest, mouthing at it more gently as he hears your sniffling. He forces himself to stay still within you and placates himself by wrapping his lips around your nipple. Having no idea that it's making your jaw drop as he twirls his tongue around it.

"Oh, Mingi~"

At the sound of your saccharine voice, dripping with lust, his hips gain a mind of their own again; making you both moan. Your overstimulated cunt clenching around him only makes him go harder. Makes him try to get deeper, groaning when he can't.

His body acts before he knows it, before you know it — and he's pulling up your legs and crushing them to your chest as you whimper at the sudden stretch in your muscles before he knocks away any and all thoughts when he slams his hips into you again. He touches deeper than anything ever has.

He pins your legs to your body as he lays over them, your calves over his shoulders. The sight of it — of him makes you cum all over again. And he's right behind you; spilling his cum even deeper than the first time and satisfying something deep in his soul.

He grinds against you, refusing to stay still but refusing to pull out even a fraction of an inch out while he fills you up. A growl gets stuck low in his throat, and he licks his lips before leaning his head down quickly and biting you.

Like an actual fucking animal, he buries his teeth into your shoulder as he keeps you trapped below him; moaning as you squeal and grab at him. Your hips try fruitlessly to move away, confused by the sudden rush of pain mixing with the body wracking pleasure.

He licks the fresh bite, making you shiver. He didn't break skin — just barely sparred you from it. The deep indentations of his teeth on your skin makes him grin.

Kissing it softly, his pace returns once more; making you wail. "Fuck, Mingi!" And maybe you should learn that saying his name only makes him more excited. But how can you take in any sort of information when he's pounding so deep inside of you that he's practically in your guts?

He rests his head in the crook of your neck, his jaw agape and moans spilling out each time he bullies his cock into you. "Love," he gasps, "more."

How in the world it's even possible for someone to have this much stamina, you can't wrap your head around it. He was a virgin not fifteen minutes ago — and now he's ready to cum for a third time inside of you.

"More," you mimic him with a heavy breath, struggling to get enough air as he keeps you folded up with almost all of his weight on top of you.

He lets out a particularly loud moan as you reach and wrap your hands in his hair gently; holding his head to your neck. Your nails scrape against his scalp, albeit very lightly, and he chokes on his own breath as he slams into his peak.

His hands go everywhere, unsure of what he wants to grab onto as his brain starts feeling the effects of all of his previous orgasms. They land on your breasts and he almost whimpers, squeezing and kneading them in his palms to distract himself from the ache in his cock. "Mine," he stutters as he finally stills above you.

He only moves enough to let your legs fall back down, trembling and heavy. He lays on top of you while he pants; his breaths coming as hot puffs against your skin as he keeps his head buried in your neck. His hands between you as he continues to play with your chest while you both float back down to Earth.

You groan softly, wrapping your arms around his head and hugging him close. "Mine."

· · ─ ·WILD· ─ · ·

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m1dn1ght-r0t · 7 months ago

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Eyes Wrapped in Wool

Yandere! (ex) husband x amnesiac! fem reader

TW: manipulation, toxic/abusive behavior, mentions of (potential) forced imprisonment, coercion A/N: pretty sure amnesia doesn't work this way (i'm no medical professional) but pls suspend disbelief for the sake of the plot ahahah

Your husband never expected things to turn out this way. But by some stroke of luck—or perhaps divine intervention—you ended up bed-ridden in the ICU, suffering from multiple bone fractures and a terrible, oh-so-terrible, traumatic brain injury. Just last week you were talking his ear off about how you've had enough. How you were done with him controlling what you could wear or who you could see, his suffocating clinginess that devolved into explosive rages when you spent time focusing on work or with friends instead of with him, the negging, the snooping, the smashed plates... Jesus Christ. You just never knew when to shut the fuck up, did you? At some point he had stopped listening. Chalked off your dramatic tirade as nothing more than you acting up because of your period—merely white noise. How many times have you guys had this same broken record conversation? Yeah, he knew this marriage wasn't smooth-sailing. If it were, you'd be less opinionated, less bitchy, more pliant, more dutiful. But what relationship was ever perfect? So, he waited for you to run out of steam, as you inevitably do, before adding salt to the wound:

“You know baby, if you weren’t parading around in those slutty clothes of yours and acted your grown age for once, I wouldn’t be behaving that way.”

The scrunch of disbelief mixed with disgust on your face only spurred him to double down. “And maybe if you actually committed to this marriage like a devoted wife would, rather than prioritize your career and practically everyone over me—your husband, need I remind you—then we wouldn’t be having these issues. Ever considered that, hm?” He purposely dragged out his words, a patronizing lilt to his tone, in hopes of reminding that thick, dumb skull of yours that he always knew best.

It wasn't until you had thrusted the divorce papers in his face that he grew silent, the severity of the situation beginning to creep in. ...What? You couldn't actually be serious... right? This was just some lover's spat. A temporary blip that'd be smoothed over with a few intentionally placed saccharine words and hot make-up sex. Like always. So why the fucking theatrics? Are you really gonna be a bitch about this and d— When you slammed the front door shut with your packed bags in tow, leaving him to stew in your parting words—that you deserved better, so much better than him, and that if he didn't sign the papers, he'd be hearing from your lawyer—did the gravity of it all finally sink in. By the end of the week, your voicemail was battered by his countless furious messages. Are you done being a flighty little piece of shit, huh? What the fuck do you think you're doing? I swear to god, baby, I'm gonna drag your ass back here. And if I have to lock you in some basement and chain your hands and legs so you'd never think to leave me again, then so fucking be it. Divorce? Yeah right. Over my dead fucking body. Then came an unknown call. It was like whiplash, really, to first hear that you had been involved in a major car crash, and then, upon rushing to the hospital at neck-breaking speed— "I'm afraid she has retrograde amnesia", the doctor solemnly informed him. He could cry. Oh, he could fucking cry.

On the outside, anyone could see how distraught he was, his hands trembling as he processed the diagnosis, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Poor husband that he was, having almost lost his beloved wife in a freak accident, he now had to deal with the news that she didn't remember who he was. Inside, however, raged a war he couldn't reconcile: what was harder? Holding back the tears, or pretending those very tears were out of sadness rather than pure, unbridled joy? Because what this neatly packaged situation had presented him with was a do-over, a chance to mend the broken marriage teetering on the cusp of divorce. And like hell he's about to let you throw away a three-year connection like some ungrateful cunt when he loves you so, very much.

"Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?"

As he walks up beside your hospital bed, he can't help but revel at how vulnerable you look. The slight furrow in your brows hinting at your confusion, the way you curl in on yourself as if to protect yourself from who is no doubt a complete stranger in your eyes, and your meek "Who are you?"—a far cry from the usual feisty, snarky attitude you used to dish out.

But perhaps most rewarding of all is the tentative gaze you offer him, eyes filled with a sort of curious glimmer, free from the hostility, disappointment, and hurt you'd flashed his way. You didn't look at him with hate. You simply want to know who he is.

Oh, aren't you precious? He'll gladly feed you his carefully spun narrative until you're full of nothing but adoring love for him—the embers of your thoughts about divorce and leaving him snuffed out for good.

"I know how confusing all of this must be for you. Take all the time you need. I'll be right here with you, as your husband, helping you fill the gaps, okay baby?" He delivers this with as much patience as he can muster, softening the edges of his words to avoid spooking you. But you're not soothed. If anything, you're more overwhelmed than ever. "M-my husband?" You echo, tasting the foreign word, sticky like warm toffee on your tongue.

"And...and my family? Where are they?" Your disorientation is a sight for sore eyes; how badly he wants to devour you right now. “Dead,” he intones, a script he’d been desperate to act out ever since you said your vows. The jarring news pulls a barely audible whimper from you, your eyes widening a fraction.

Shit. Too cold. Too careless.

His expression softens, the corners of his mouth tugging downward in a facsimile of sorrow as he injects a note of pity into his voice. “They died when you were very young, you see. I’m sorry.” He’s really not.

"What…? How could that be? So my p-parents, they're both—" Your breath hitches, tears welling at the corner of your eyes.

At that, he gently grabs your bandaged arm, wanting to comfort you. But when you flinch slightly, he has to resist the urge to snap at you—Oh, cry me a river. Who the fuck cares?? I'm right here, aren't I? I'm right here, damnnit, so look at me!

Instead, he tempers the resentment that's still fresh in his heart after the divorce stunt you'd pulled by reminding himself that he's supposed to be your kind and gentle partner.

So he settles for cradling your hand in both of his like it's fine china, grazing his lips over your fingertips. "But you have me, sweetheart. And I'm not going anywhere."

He half expects you to question his story—it wasn’t very convincing, even to his own ears—prepared to be barraged by your endless streams of “No, you’re wrong!”, “I don’t believe you!” or some other similar outburst.

But when all you do is gaze up at him with cinched brows, seeking reassurance, blinking at him so sweetly with your hand still snugly warmed in his, he pauses. That’s it? No suspicion, no skepticism, no outburst? Hah! He has to physically restrain himself from snorting because how fucking easy can this get?

Maybe the collision had completely scrambled your brains, rewired you to be more stupid, a little slower—exactly how he likes you.

"You trust me, right?"

And when he feels that subtle twitch of your fingers—what he gathers is your attempt at squeezing his hand back for confirmation—accompanied by the sight of your small, almost shy nod, he breaks out into a giddy smile at how utterly adorable you’re being.

Fuck, it’s hard not to already feel high off these micro-doses of innocence and receptiveness from you. Emboldened by your intoxicatingly sweet naivety, he dares to be a little greedier, creeping to perch on the edge of your bed, his hand now moving to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how worried sick I was when I got the call. I thought you had…” He trails off, his implication clear. His face is mere inches from yours now, breaths as featherlight as his fingertips mapping every divot on your face.

“I love you.” He drags his thumb across your bottom lip, the act agonizingly slow. “So, so, so much.” Each whisper spills out heavier than the last, mirroring the increasing pressure of his thumb—your lip almost bruising from how hard he’s pinching them.

How long has it been? He can’t remember the last time he felt the warmth of your touch, your skin… eons too long without your pillowy lips pressed against his has left him completely starved.

“You can’t leave me…” A murmur too quiet to pick up. His gaze, now half-lidded, drifts downward in a drunken daze. “My wife. My good little wife. You love me too, right?”

Without warning, he leans in to close the minuscule gap.

And it’s all too fast and soon because you can feel the suffocating heat of his proximity, the chilling shared breath floating between the tight space. It’s all too much. So, in the last second, you hesitate, pulled from your stupor as you turn your head away.

But he’s not having it. Not when you’re already in the palm of his hand and he’s so fucking close. When he can already taste the opportunity to finally take out the trash and parasites leeching off you, to call up that godforsaken shithole you call a stable, steady-paying job and quit on your behalf, to have you all to himself—a blank slate to knock up with several kids and mold into the perfect little housewife he's always wanted you to be. God, he's already hard at the thought.

Grabbing your jaw firmly, he jerks your face back towards him, thumb roughly wedging between your lips and prying your mouth open.

“Baby.” The endearment spills out, sharp and cold, stripped of any warmth it might've once held.

His gentle veneer cracks ever so slightly, and for the briefest moment, you see something else. A flicker beneath the mask—raw, ugly, messy. It gnaws at the edges of your mind, dredging up something you can’t quite grasp. A memory?

“Gimme a small kiss, hmm?” Despite the smile on his face, there is no kindness to it. Just a twisted caricature warning you that you shouldn’t push further.

All of a sudden you feel like you can’t breathe, weighed down by the unsettling intensity of his stare. The man in front of you—the one claiming he's your husband and calling you “baby,” the one touching you—feels wrong. He’s a stranger, you remind yourself. An almost involuntary shiver runs down your spine, like your body remembers something your mind refuses to.

At this point, your husband has caught on to your rather obvious spiralling. He’s not an idiot—he can see your doubt giving way to panic. He contemplates smoothing things over by playing nice, but the selfish part of him ultimately wins.

He squeezes your jaw, nails biting into your skin.

“Kiss me.”

It isn’t a request this time.

#male yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere writing #yandere oc #yandere male #male yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yancore #yanderecore #tw yandere #yandere imagine #yandere husband

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veltana · 1 year ago

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Unleashed - Avengers!Bucky/Fem!Reader

✦ Pairing: Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~4,2k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Sex pollen adjacent kinda, smut, a bit fluffy, one shot, possessive!Bucky, co-workers/friends to lovers, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praise, creampie, pet names (doll).

✦ Summary: During a mission, Bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you.

✦ Note: Previously posted on AO3 since I have basically no time or energy to write new stuff. It was titled You’re what I need before but I always hated that title so I decided to re-name it. Bucky is kind of an asshole in this, but it's just because he wants you! As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️

Masterlist | AO3

The worst part about watching from afar as a mission goes to shit is that you feel useless. Even as you dispatch medics for the team all you can do is tell them, "Help is on the way."

Captain America shouts orders that you hear through the comms. The wait feels endless until the crew of the quinjet declares that they have spotted the team and there's not much else for you to do but look at your monitors and wait for an update. When you get the call back that the team is secure you breathe a sigh of relief, but then the next message is to prepare the medical staff to receive multiple injuries and chemical exposure. You ask the crew to clarify, but they are too busy, so when you notify the medical center, they prepare a quarantine room.

Sometimes you wish you had a superpower and could be there with them instead of staring at your monitors and doing endless calculations on whatever the team needs. But then when they return they always compliment your work and tell you they don’t know how they managed without you. You try to remind yourself of those moments at times like this.

Once the quinjet is docked and everyone has been accounted for you push away from your desk and remove your headset, taking deep breaths and trying to calm your heart. A moment later a message pops up on your screen, probably because they couldn’t reach you through your comms. [Bucky wants you to come down here]

Your heart does a little flip in your chest, making you scowl. He is your friend and probably injured, you have no idea why he would be asking for you, but it’s not because he feels the same way you do. You grab your tablet and head to the MedBay.

When you get down you take stock of the situation. Nat and Steve have some scratches, Sam's arm is broken and Wanda has a few cracked ribs. Tony is bruised, his suit had taken most of the damage. You look around for Bucky but don’t see him anywhere and quickly deduce that he must be the person currently in quarantine.

When you get to the wing, you’re almost too scared to go in, afraid to see what could have happened to him. Inside, you find a team of medical personnel discussing Bucky's condition with him through a glass wall. His hair looks damp and he's wearing standard-issue quarantine clothing, soft black pants, and a black sweatshirt. When he sees you standing patiently at the side he says. "You can come back later. I need to talk to her more than I need to talk to you. Go away." His voice comes from speakers in the ceiling.

You're shocked by his behavior but smile apologetically as the white coats pass you on their way out. When you get up to the glass you hiss. "Bucky, what is wrong with you, don't be rude.” "You make it sound like I'm never rude otherwise," he laughs. "You're not rude to healthcare professionals, you know better." You glare at him as you wake your tablet. “Now what did you need me for?”

"Do you like me?" he asks. Your mouth falls open and your heart starts to beat faster. You’re happy your vitals aren’t monitored as you quickly collect yourself and try to deflect his question. "Of course I like you Bucky, you're my friend." But now it feels weird to look at him and you find a spot on the wall far behind him to focus on.

"What if I want more than friends?" is his next question and despite your best efforts, hope warms your chest. This is not happening. Of course you toyed with the idea of you and Bucky, he is always sweet to you, and if he has the chance he brings you gifts from the missions. But you’ve told yourself repeatedly that he needs someone stronger, who can keep up with him in the field and you’re not that person.

"Can we have this conversation when you are not high on some HYDRA drug?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from betraying you. They are monitoring everything in the room. And there is a sheet of unbreakable glass in between you both. If you're going to confess your feelings, it won't be like this.

"I'm not high," he huffs. "My mind has never been clearer." "I still think we should have this conversation later." "Doll, look at me." The command in his voice is so strong you don’t think, you snap your eyes to his and they are so blue and soft.

"I will feel the same tomorrow, and the day after, whenever this drug wears off but now is the only time I can't hold my tongue," he explains. You place your hand on the glass and he does the same on the other side. "It will be fine Bucky, I promise," you say just as the door opens and Steve walks in, making you pull your hand back to your side. He's showered, in a fresh pair of clothes and he swings his arm over your shoulder.

"Stop hogging her time Bucky, I know for a fact that she also needs to debrief," he smiles but Bucky looks as if he's seeing red. Through gritted teeth he presses out, "Get your fucking arm off her, punk. She's mine."

You and Steve burst into laughter because it has to be a joke, but then Bucky punches the barrier with his vibranium arm. The glass doesn't crack but both you and Steve stop short and step away in shock. Steve removes his arm and says, "I'll meet you upstairs." Before quickly heading out.

You turn to Bucky and point at him, anger rising in your chest. "What is wrong with you? Steve is your friend!" "That is what it’s like in here every day,” he points to his head. You're taken aback by his statement and his wide feral eyes. Clearly, whatever he was exposed to had messed with his head and he's not himself. “Bucky I need to go,” you tell him, and before he can protest you continue. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile feebly at him and are out the door before he can say anything else.

After debriefing and having dinner you go to bed early. Your head is spinning with the day and most of all, Bucky.

It's way past midnight when you wake to the soft closing of your door. Since you always sleep with a night light the soft warm glow reflects off his left arm and leaves no doubt about who has entered your room. You blink at him but before you can ask a question he rasps out, pleading. "I need you. So bad. Please doll, help me." He moves closer to your bed.

You quickly remove your covers and get up, glad the giant t-shirt covers you to your thighs, ready to spring into action. "Anything Bucky, what do you need?" You stop an arm's length from him, but all he does is reach his hand out to cup your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheek. There is a wild look in his eyes but you keep calm. "I can't get you what you need if you don't tell me," you whisper, meeting his eyes and watching as his brow furrows.

"I need you. Right now. If I don't get to touch and taste every inch of your body I'm going to lose my mind," he confesses in a low voice. His words shock you and you hitch a breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. You have this great friendship. If things were different you would not have minded taking it to another level, but with the day in mind and the fact that he somehow got out of his containment room you say, "Bucky, you’re not yourself, you need to get back to-”

"Doll,” he interrupts with a hard voice. “For once, I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. The only thing the drug did, I think, was remove my inhibitions. For once I feel free. My mind isn't controlled by HYDRA or by fear that you'll reject me. All I know is that I crave you and I can't be quiet about it anymore.”

"Bucky… I…" your whole body is flushed with warmth from his words and you're not sure how to respond. "I dreamt about you and couldn't stop myself from going over here. I don't want to hurt you, doll, but I'm not sure this drug will let me leave. All I wanna do is move closer to you.” You swallow hard as he continues, thumb still stroking your cheek. “Ask FRIDAY to get Steve, or the Hulk if you want me to leave."

Instead, you step into him, making up your mind in an instant and resting your hands on his chest. "Stay, I'll be glad to help you with anything you need," you whisper honestly and by the way his eyes widen there was still some doubt in his mind that you would reject him.

Instead of saying anything his vibranium hand grasps your waist and pulls you closer. There is no escaping the smell and size of him and his hands on you got your pussy throbbing for him already.

"I hope you understand what you've agreed to," he whispers, leaning closer. "Once I have you I won't stop, you'll never be rid of me. I'll claim you against every surface of this fucking compound if I need to." That makes you whimper and press harder against him. "Fuck you'd like that huh? Are you a kinky little thing? Like getting fucked where people can see you and hear you moan, do you want people to see my hard dick spread you open?" "Fuck Bucky!" You exclaim and lean your forehead against his chest. Maybe that idea excites you or maybe it is just that the word ‘claim’ sounds so primal.

"You're going to tell me all your little secrets later, doll. But now, I'm going to take what's mine." And with that, he crushes his lips to yours. He backs you towards the bed, kissing you the whole time, letting his hands explore you. When you land on your back, he stands over you with eyes like a predator about to devour its prey.

You shuffle up until your head rests on the pillows, spreading your legs for him. Without taking off any clothes he crawls after you, settling on his knees between your legs and placing his hands on the headboard, crowding you with his large frame. "Mine," he whispers and it makes a shudder pass through you. He ruts his clothed cock against your core, slicking your underwear even more and making you whine, gripping the sheets under you.

"Yes," he almost hisses as the length of his dick presses on your clit and forces a mewl out of you. It's been a long time since you've gotten laid. "Bucky," you plead. "No doll, I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of claiming you, from the outside in. Did you think this would be hard and fast and that I would be gone before you knew what happened?"

He lets go of the headboard to put his elbows beside your head instead, his weight on you, pressing you down into the mattress. "When I leave you will long for me, spend every waking second wishing I was still inside you. I want your cunt to be permanently drenched so I can fuck you whenever I please." He kisses you forcefully and any coherent thought that was left in your head flees. "And when you're too sore to take more of my dick in your pussy I'm going to do the same thing to your mouth and ass."

He rids you off your t-shirt and instead of having to move from between your legs to pull off your underwear, he rips them apart. "Ah!" you exclaim when the force of his movements jolts you but he takes no notice, he just stares at you, letting his hands roam up and down your sides, up to your tits, cupping them and caressing your nipples with his thumbs.

Whimpers are coming from you with every pass of this touch. Then he moves down and lays on his stomach, not saying a word as he sweeps his tongue over your pussy before he starts devouring you with a throaty moan.

It doesn’t take long for the first orgasm to take you, his movements are precise and his words and actions have made you hornier than you’ve ever experienced. Or maybe it's because he is the hottest person you’ve ever laid eyes on and he only wants you.

When you’re finished and sensitive he dips his tongue into your hole to taste you and groans loudly, lapping up the wetness from your orgasm. "Better than I've dreamed of," he says when he pulls away. Now you’re the one that must be high because you can't help but giggle. "You seriously dream of me?" "All the time, doll. Every night when I go to bed I wish you were with me and then you plague my sleep with your soft curves and radiant smile."

You're about to tell him how his laugh makes you warm and fuzzy on the inside but at that moment he sucks your clit into his mouth, cutting out every thought in your brain. He's gentle but not hesitant, it's as if he's feeling you out and when you make a particularly loud sound he continues the same movement, making your whole body go hot.

The second orgasm is intense enough to send aftershocks through for a long while afterward. Bucky lays his head on your thigh as you tremble, caressing your skin and letting the fingers of his right hand skim over your opening.

Despite what he's already given you, you still crave more. His fingertips never come close to where you need them and when you whine at the back of your throat Bucky smiles up at you. "Don't worry, I'm not even close to done with you, but I don't want you to pass out on me.” One of his fingers glides inside, making you take a sharp breath just because it feels so good. Once again he is careful, moving slowly, listening to your breath and your body.

"Please Bucky, I need more.” "No need to beg, I'll give you everything you want… in time," he breathes and kisses the skin on the inside of your thigh. Slowly he moves his finger in and out. You're sure it's a form of torture. The sweetest kind there is. Your breathing is labored and when he finally adds a second, you start to quiver.

He nips at your skin and then kisses it before speaking. "You look like a goddess, doll, eyes filled with lust, your skin is gleaming. I'm going to worship you until you're tired of me.” "Never gonna happen," you whimper. Then his thumb lands on your clit, making you cry out. Everything is so sensitive and overstimulated.

"I don't- Bucky, I don't think I can again," you tell him even though his touches are causing your insides to melt. "Yes, you will," his voice is soft but the command is clear. So instead of trying to speak again, you sink further into the madness that is him playing with you. The third one takes its sweet time but you never feel rushed or stressed that it's taking too long. Bucky isn’t in a hurry.

Then it’s suddenly there, crashing through you. "Fuck Bucky, fuck you're gonna make me come." "So good for me, let me feel you come on my fingers," he urges. "I'm going to lick them clean afterward so make sure you get them nice and wet for me. I want as much as you'll give me." The climax reaches its peak and you come with a cry of his name, body convulsing and your hand shooting down to tangle in his hair.

"Just like that doll," he smiles up at you and holds your gaze when he pulls out his fingers and sucks them clean, moaning while he does. It's a filthy sound, but it turns you on as if he didn't just make you come for the third time. Then he dives in between your legs again, licking at your skin and your soaked hole. Letting go of his hair all you can do is just lie there, writhing, as he somehow coaxes a fourth orgasm out of you.

“Fuck me,” you plead when he pulls back. “I need you inside me Bucky.” This time he takes pity on you and moves away to take off his clothes. When he’s naked he kneels between your legs again and you spread them as wide as you can. "Want me, doll?" he asks with a smirk. He swipes his cock through your mess and then uses his hand to coat himself with you. "Yes," is all you can say. Both you and Bucky stare as he pushes his dick into you, filling you up completely. Of course, he takes it torturously slow this time too.

"This feels better than any dream I've ever had," he whispers almost in awe. You grip his biceps and arch into him, pushing him deeper, faster. That makes him tsk but smiles at the same time as he pushes the rest of the way, finally seating himself. Without giving you a chance to relax he starts fucking you, his cock pushes perfectly against your insides, pulling sounds from you that you haven't made in years.

He sits back on his heels lifting your ass effortlessly until your weight is resting on your shoulders and neck. It's like he is in a trance, pulling you onto his cock over and over again. Your body is his, your mind has fled, and all you see and feel is just him all around you. His eyes keep changing between his dick filling your cunt, your bouncing tits, and your half-lit eyes as if he is not sure where to look. "Mine," he rasps and thrusts hard to empathize the word. "All mine. Say it."

It takes some time for your brain to connect to your mouth and form the words but his gaze never leaves you. "Yours," you whimper. "I'm yours, Bucky." There is a familiar heat low in your belly that's steadily spreading through your limbs. It makes you wiggle and move because it's overwhelming. He is overwhelming in the best sense. Whining you reach down to rub yourself but he slaps your hand away. "I thought I told you, it's mine. I own this cunt. If you wanna touch yourself you have to ask permission." It's as close to a growl as is humanly possible and you don't understand how he can be so cognizant right now, because your brain is like putty. "Can I please rub my clit Bucky, I wanna come on your cock so bad," you cry.

"Good girl," he praises, and when he calls you that, your mouth falls open with a keening sound, gripping the sheets even harder, pulling at them because you want to come so bad. "Do it, show me how you get off when you're alone in bed without me." Everything is slippery and sensitive when you start with your fingers and you immediately know it's going to go fast. With his previous words in mind, you ask. "Can I come?" He meets your eyes with a wicked smile. "Fast learner. Yeah, you can come… when I tell you."

You rip your hand away, afraid you might fall over the edge at any second. The sound out of your throat is almost a sob. "Don't be like that, doll, I thought you said you couldn't do it more times?" "I can-I can! As many times as you want just please let me come." "Fuck, I like it when you beg with my cock in you." But he doesn't say anything else, just continues fucking you. He's not even winded while you're straining your entire body. Your hand wants to move back, anything to relieve the pressure inside you but Bucky was very clear and you don’t want to disobey him.

Then he pulls out and drops you onto the bed, but you don't get to relax because he flips you onto your stomach and pushes one of your knees up to the side before he presses in. His dick hits your G-spot dead on and you scream into the pillow under you. Bucky chuckles right by your ear. "Guess I found it." He's merciless, his hips hit your ass hard and if it weren't for his weight pressing you down you would soon hit the headboard.

"Bucky!" you wail because it's too much. You're losing the last pieces of your mind to the sheer force of the pleasure and you're scared you're never going to be able to come back to yourself. Then his hand presses in between you and the mattress. "Rub yourself on my fingers, make yourself cum. Fuck my cock and come all over me doll." You brace yourself as best you can and move your hips as he keeps almost completely still, just shallow thrusts in stark comparison to what he was doing to you just moments ago.

His fingers slide along your clit, his cock brushing your G-spot over and over again. You're breathless, sweat breaking out along your skin, but the climax you're chasing will be well worth it. You just know it.

"I can't fill you up until I’ve felt you come around me," he grunts, his voice tight with holding back. You whimper, the feeling of fire flushing your whole body, and building up to an eruption like no other. "Yes, yes, yes," he chants low in your ear. "That's it, come for me, make me proud. Fuck it feels so good." And he starts moving again "I'm going to fill you fucking full of my cum. That's it!"

The heat in you breaks and you come with a shout of his name, shaking under him. It gets even more intense when Bucky finishes right behind you, groaning your name. He collapses on top of you but his hips are still moving, slowly, as if he doesn’t want it to ever end. Neither would you but your body is wrecked.

When he finally rolls off, you're so close to falling asleep, but he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. "Pee." He points and you want to tell him that you know the drill, this isn't your first time, but all that comes out is a grumble before he closes the door behind him and you sit down on the toilet.

When you're done, you stumble out and have a moment of panic, thinking he left. But then the door opens and Bucky returns with two bottles of water, handing you one before leading you to the bed and sitting you down on the edge. Gratefully you drink and lean against his shoulder before asking. "How do you feel?" "Better than I have in a long time," he answers, kissing your forehead. You chuckle. "Yeah I have a magical pussy, it can cure anything," you joke and it makes him laugh. "You should get back to quarantine," you comment. "Before anyone notices." He shakes his head. "No I'm staying here, I'm never leaving you again." He takes the bottle from your hand and places it on the bedside table together with his own. Then he crawls beneath the sheets and you go after him, letting him envelop you in a tight embrace before you fall asleep.

Alarms blare and you wake with a start. "FRIDAY what's going on?" you ask out into the room. “Sergeant Barnes has escaped his confinement.” The voice echoes through the room. You sigh and glare at Bucky grumbling beside you, like the loud signal is just a regular alarm clock. "FRIDAY please inform the team that Bucky is here and everything is fine."

A second later the sound dies and with a sigh you get up to pull on yesterday's discarded t-shirt and find a pair of pants. Right when you're done there is a knock on the door and Steve asks, "Everything okay in there?" You open the door enough to show yourself. "We're fine, he broke out during the night and came here." "Oh," Steve says and there is a hint of blush on his cheeks.

Then you feel a presence behind you and Bucky’s arm goes around your waist. "Mine," he says and you can't see him but he's probably glaring daggers at Steve who backs away. "We'll be okay, I'll alert FRIDAY if I need help," you tell Steve. When you close the door Bucky turns you before pushing you up against it and kissing you hard. "Mine," he mumbles against your lips. "Fucking caveman," you tell him. He grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder. "I'll show you caveman," he says and carries you to the bed

#veltana writes #bucky barnes #avengers!bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #posessive!bucky barnes #possessive!bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #possessive!bucky #posessive!bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fanfic

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seonghwaddict · 1 year ago

Text

to taint your soul — choi san

in which apparently even the daughter of an exorcist is not safe from the corruption of an incubus.

incubus!choi san x exorcist’s daughter!fem!reader. genre. smut, angst, southern gothic vibes. warnings. barely any plot, religious themes, religious guilt, swearing, explicit sexual content mdni, corruption, loss of virginity, masturbation (f.), referenced dacryphilia, fingering, referenced oral (f.), manhandling?, multiple orgasms, rough and gentle, big dick!san, creampie, marking, nicknames (angel, pretty girl, sweet girl, sweetheart). wc. 7.3k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. i should do more mythological characters!ateez cuz i enjoyed writing this and the lamb and the wolf. the demonology book/text here is partially from The Encylopedia of Demons and Demonology by Rosemary Ellen Guiley, but i made up some parts for the sake of the story. THIS FIC DOES NOT REPRESENT ANY OF MY OPINIONS AND I DO NOT INTEND TO OFFEND ANYONE.

listening to. burning desire, lana del rey // gibson girl, ethel cain // lilies, ethel cain & mercy necromancy // ptolemaea, ethel cain // heaven, taemin

masterlist.

you were cursed from the moment you were born.

the idea of being cursed or haunted by anything isn’t one you think about often, considering yourself protected by your father’s profession. at least one dusty bible on every bookshelf in the colonial monstrosity that is your home and crucifixes hung all around, it seems to be common sense that an exorcist’s home would be the safest place to hide from the dark.

unaware of it all, you used to let yourself be tucked into your lace-trimmed bedsheets as he pulled you to sleep with stories. tales of fallen angels and possessed souls became the lullabies of your childhood. admittedly, you were quite terrified of it all, but as you grew older and wiser, you realised there was no way they could get to you. but really, it was wishful thinking.

you weren’t aware of who your father used to be, nor were you aware of the debt he owed to a particular demon.

the dreams started the night after your twentieth birthday, vivid and unsettling. a man haunted them, equally as terrifying as he was handsome. tall and clad in dark silks, his whispered words and hungry eyes intrigued you. his touch, though a figment of your imagination, sent shivers down your spine, foreign yet infinitely alluring. you’d wake up with a jolt, panting, flushed cheeks and tingling skin as the dream stuck to you like cobwebs. your father passed the repeated dreams off as nightmares and you failed to notice the flash of fear cross his features.

one night, however, you were changing in your room. dimly illuminated by multiple candles you set around since you didn’t like how bright the large chandelier was, you held a dress in each of your hands, standing in front of the mirror as you held the clothing to your body in an attempt to figure out what to wear. you didn’t notice at first, but a figure lurked in the shadows of the bedroom. you didn’t notice the shift in the atmosphere or the flicker of the candles.

but soon, a soft sigh sounded through the room, so soft it could’ve been mistake for a whistling breeze outside your window. goosebumps prickled at your skin as you tensed, refusing to move at the oddly human sound. staring at yourself in the mirror intently, you caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the reflection of your mirror. your breath hitched as you fixed your eyes on him, afraid that if you blinked, he’d disappear.

you watched him. watched him take slow steps towards you as he smirked at the sight of your wide, fearful yet infinitely pure and innocent eyes. you convinced yourself you were hallucinating, the disturbingly realistic sounds of his footsteps as much of a figment of imagination as his being. but as he stood right behind you, a coldness swept over your skin and you flinched as his breath fanned against your bare shoulder. whipping around in surprise, you yelped softly at the sensation. but he was gone, and you were alone. breath erratic and eyes stinging, you scrambled to move a wooden cross stand from the top of your dresser to your bedside table.

after that you grew paranoid, always looking over your shoulder, sleeping with at least two safe and reliable candles lit. each time you walked through the hallways of your own home, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to look at the portraits lining the dark walls as you thought they were watching you. the tiniest of sounds made you flinch and break a sweat, squeezing your eyes shut and muttering prayers, only to find out the sound came from either of your parents.

the constant state of fear and anxiety left you tired, deciding if your father wasn’t going to do anything about it, you would. on quiet feet, you crept through the halls at noon (you were too scared to go to that room at night), a rosary wrapped around your hand with a dainty little cross hanging from your clenched palm.

you father really was a well-known exorcist, often to go on trips within and beyond the country to treat what doctors couldn’t; demonic possessions. as a symbol of his successes and a means to prevent others from coming in contact with whatever a demon may have attached itself to, he brought home trophies and locked them in a little storage room in the basement. of course, he took many precautions—crucifixes all over the inside and outside, sprinkles of holy water here and there, he’d have your local priest come over and bless the area himself. despite all this, you never once stepped in, partially because your father advised you not to, mostly because you were completely and utterly terrified.

as you descended the creaking wooden stairs, a chill ran through you, the hairs at your nape standing in alert. maybe you were scaring yourself more than the room scared you. the dust tickled your nostrils, making you force down a sneeze as you cleared your throat. the wooden floorboards extended into a narrow hallway, lined by cobblestone walls. you rarely came down, in fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you were there, the surroundings seeming so foreign. there were only two doors, one leading to a storage closet and the other to a slightly scarier storage closet.

you stared up at the ominous door, standing tall and intimidating, a golden cross embossed right in the centra, doorknob dark and rusted. with shaky hands, you fished a copper from the hidden pocket of your plaid gown. it half-hearted a few sloppy attempts until you got the key in, squeezing your eyes shut as you force yourself to finally turn it.

another chill ran through your body as you push the door open weakly, cracking an eye open to look inside. had you come at night, you wouldn’t have been able to see anything, the only source of light being an elongated shirt window lining the top of the right wall, an inch below the ceiling. three shelves. one on the right, one of the left, and one down the middle of the room. the middle and left one were lined with various objects. you walked between them, looking but not daring to touch. the objects were quite diverse, you realised. dolls, clocks, little statues.

you took your time to get to the shelf you needed. along with these objects, you father also locked away any books he had that were related to demons in any way. most of them were confiscated from cults, some of their were from his personal collection. he claimed they were to protect you, and you didn’t completely disbelieve him. taking a deep breath before letting it out in a sigh, looking at all the titles. your fingertips ran over their leather bound spines, feeling the wrinkles and grooves. you knew there would be a lot, but as you looked upon the entire shelf, you estimated a good hundred-fifty books.

he organised them by categories. summoning, excommunication, identifying. identifying. that’s what you needed. you took a closer look at the section, nervousness fading briefly to be replaced by a faint taste of hope.

the encyclopaedia of demons and demonology.

deciding there had to be something in there, you pulled it out. the book itself was simple, bound in black leather. the cover was nothing special, just the title and author. by the looks of it, you’d be here for a while, seemingly at least three hundred pages long. you looked around the dark room, a small wooden desk was tucked into the corner though not a chair in sight. with a soft sigh, you walked over on weak knees, apprehensive about what you’d find in the book.

despite your father’s profession and all the bedtime stories, you never came in contact with demons or the spirit world. setting the book on the desk, you opened it to the index, having to squint to make out the text. but the next time you lifted your eyes off the page, a brass candle holder was tucked into the corner of the table.

you blinked. there was no way that was there before, but maybe you had just missed it. the pale yellow candle stood half melted, the hardened wax forming veins that ran down the sides and pooled in the brass bowl.

you held your breath momentarily before beginning to read through the a to z list of demons and other dark entities and their descriptions. you only skimmed, lingering on any that mentioned appearing in nightmares only to dismiss them when the rest of their descriptions didn’t match with your experience. surprised by just how much there was to read, you felt just a little curious, occasionally stopping to read extracts that had piqued your interest. it wasn’t until you got all the way to section i where something actually seemed to be helpful.

‘incubus—a lewd male demon who pursues women for sex. the incubus and his female counterpart, the succubus, visit women and men in their sleep, lie and press heavily upon them, and seduce them.’

you nearly missed it, continuing your skimming until the description registered, scrambling to turn back the page and reread it.

“oh.” you breathed at the realisation. that seemed to be the most accurate thus far, your finger tracing over the name as you furrowed your eyebrows and continued reading. the next paragraphs detailed how they’re conjured and where the name came from. you read some more.

‘incubi are especially attracted to women with beautiful hair, young virgins, chaste widows, and all “devout” females. nuns are among the most vulnerable and could be molested in the confessional as well as in bed. while the majority of women are forced into sex by the incubi, some of them submit willingly and even enjoy the act. it once was a common belief that women were more likely than men to be the sexual victims of demons, because women were inferior to men and less able to resist temptation.

incubi have enormous phalluses that—’

slamming the book shut, your eyes widened and a deep blush settled over your features, just staring at the cover for a moment as you collected yourself from the sudden vulgarity of the writing. after a moment, you cleared your throat and reopened the page, strategically skipping over the next paragraphs that detailed accounts of intercourse with such a demon.

‘an incubus may form attachments to those whose minds are occupied with dark and inherently sexual desires, those that are impure. one also can be summoned for coital gratifications, or a deal in which one’s first born is ommonly offered to repay their sevices (see: dealing with the demons, page 218).’

but that couldn’t be right. you always made sure to be a good girl, always helped at home. you volunteered to read to children at a local orphanage, always helped with charities and donations, always assisted people where you knew you could, stayed soft spoken and always began your requests with please and ended them with thank you. you kept to yourself most of the time, would never dare to raise your voice at anyone, never had any romantic interest, let alone sexual ones.

admittedly, the dreams involving the man— the demon had you waking up with an uncomfortable stickiness between your thighs. but before that, you never indulged. after that, you never indulged either, instead jumping from your bed and taking an ice could bath to calm yourself from the strange feeling. the temptations were always there and were always strong, but your want to be immaculate was stronger. to be free of sin.

a deal in which one’s first born is offered.

it seemed impossible, almost. you knew your father was a righteous man and your mother a pure woman. but where your mother happily shared stories of her childhood as heart-warming anecdotes, your father only dropped tidbits of his memories despite considering you two to be extremely close. you always chalked it up to him being a little boring or generally not very open. but maybe there was more to it…

“there you go, sweetheart.”

you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice, pushing the book away from you as you turned around a little too quickly, your knee knocking against the edge of the table.

there he stood, barely illuminated by the singular window as he took slow steps towards you much like the other day.

“so, you’ve finally figured it out, huh?”

each time he took a step, his muscles visible through the loose black silk, you inched away until the top of your thigh hit the wooden table, your hands bracing themselves on it to keep you from collapsing in fear. the closer he got, the more you realised just how attractive he was. broad-shouldered and radiating confidence, his feline eyes roamed over your figure. depite wearing a white gown that reached all the way down to your ankles, you felt so exposed.

tongue swiping along his bottom lip, drawing your attention to the action. he towered over you, making you feel weak and small as he trapped you against the table. your heart pounded against your ribcage and you feared it would break free and fall into his hands, unsure if the warmth on your cheeks and ump in your throat came from how utterly petrified you were or the way his breath fanned over your face like a whisper.

“your dearest father isn’t who he says he is,” he pouted mockingly, coming to a stop inches in front of you, letting his gaze settle on your quivering lips for a moment, “and me? well, you know what i am. and you also know we can have lots of fun if you allow it.”

your lips parted to speak but no words came out, instead opting to press them into a thin line and squeezing your eyes shut as you shook your head. you weren’t completely sure why you wer shaking your head, but if it would stop the incubus from tainting you, it was worth a try.

“don’t kid yourself, princess. i can smell how wet you are.” as if to emphasise his point, he inhaled deeply, leaning forward to ghost his nose over the slope of your neck without touching you.

it wasn’t until he said it that you notice you had been squeezing your thighs together, feeling warm all over and you stomach twisted in knots at the sound of his deep voice. something ached in your lower regions, but you tried your hardest to resist the thoughts.

but a little voice in the back of your head urged you to tilt your head back, to give him permission, to let his hands explore your untouched body. maybe just this once you could allow yourself to give in, to let your knees go weak and worry about begging for forgiveness later.

“all you have to do is drop the rosary.”

you gripped it tighter at the reminder of the protective object tangled between your fingers, fighting to keep your sanity intact. your breath hitched as you felt one of his fingers run along the beads, not daring to come close to the little silver cross or your skin.

“c’mon, pretty girl. drop it,” you heard the smirk in his voice, “let it go and i’ll take good care of you, i can make you feel things you’ve never thought of… i can make you feel alive, wouldn’t you love that? don’t you want to feel the desire? taste the lust?”

“n-no,” you gasped finally, finding your words, “it’s not right.“

he laughed, a low rumble from his chest, “i promise you’ll love being ruined by me,” he said, withdrawing his hand from yours, “i swear to all your precious little holy symbols, i know i can get you to want me.”

he moved closer and for a maddening moment you thought he was going to kiss you. faintly, you wanted him to. to feel the push of his lips against yours, to let his hands snake around your waist or grip your hips to pull you closer. there’s a ring on his index finger, you noticed, silvery and sharp, a symbol you didn’t recognise yet imagine him pressing it against your throat, branding your neck anew until it’s red and faithful. and maybe you crave for him to undo all the things in you that are holy.

“just drop it, pretty,” his breath teased your lips and you almost leaned forward in curiosity, wanting to see how just one kiss would feel, “i know you’re a good girl.”

those words. they’re almost enough for you to give in. how did he know those would strike a nerve, hit you where he knew it would work? not only did all your efforts ultimately lead to the same goal—purity, goodness—but you couldn’t deny the satisfaction you felt from reassurance. if you were an animal, you’d strive to be the priest’s favourite sacrificial lamb. to hold so very still and to bleed so prettily when the knife final comes down, to be reborn and be chosen all over again.

“don’t you get it?” he whispered, “i live inside you the same way you’re bound to live inside me. we’re a moebius strip, a never ending cycle of a snake eating it’s own tail. maybe it will end in destruction, but that’s your dear father’s doing. mutually assured destruction, maybe; you say yes, i’ll ruin you for everyone else, blacken the wool of your fur coat. you say no to me, i will suffer the consequences of not fulfilling a deal. you wouldn’t want someone to suffer because of you, hm?”

your grip on the rosary loosened and let your eyes finally flutter open. from this proximity, you could see every detail of his face and the image seared into your mind.

something in his eyes darkened as his lips curled, a playful smile, a predatory grin. the way he looked at you made you want to combust into flames, to fall to your knees, you skin rubbed raw on the ground as you beg him to make you feel.

“you don’t look so innocent anymore, you know? you’re docile and sweet, yes, but you’re not as pure as you think you are, there’s a little dirt in your pristine heart, a little lustful stain you can’t erase.”

“y-you’re wrong!” you protested, trying to convince yourself he was lying, “i’m good and i’ve always been good and i always will be good and i will not for the devil’s influence.”

“oh, but i’m not,” he pouted mockingly, moving his head back just an inch, looking down at you, “you’re practically shaking, so close to giving in… you’re the most pious girl here, yet you’re so close to sin, so close to me.”

you opened your mouth to continue your protests but flinched as you heard familiar heavy footsteps, looking up at the little window to see the familiar boots of your father about to enter the house after a long day of work. he was out, casting out malicious spirits and demons, and here you were, about to let one deflower you. the realisation seemingly made you come back to your senses, clenching the roary in your hand once more and looking for a way past him.

but… what would you even do afterwards? confront your father, the town’s devout exorcist, for making deals with the incubus in front of you? would he call you crazy, deny everything and treat you like just another one of his clients?

the footsteps were now above you, you could faintly hear him saying something to your mother though you couldn’t quite make out what it was. you’d never been as afraid of anything as you were of your own father, standing right above you, acting like he hadn’t damned you from the day you were conceived.

as if he could read your thoughts, could sense your panic that was completely unrelated to him, the incubus stepped back. his face was unreadable as his glazed over eyes fixated on you.

“don’t worry, sweet girl, i can wait. the longer you resist, the better it’ll feel when you finally surrender,” he gave you a small smile, different from the previous grins and smirks, as he nodded towards the window, “go.”

you could’ve run away the moment he stepped back, yet you didn’t move until he gave you the permission. you didn’t dwell on that fact as you slipped past him and reached up, shaky hands undoing the latch and opening outwards. you attempted to climb up, your arms burning as you tried lifting yourself, only to give up, panting softly from the effort.

“let me help you.” his voice offered, prompting you to look back at him. the seductive glint in his eyes was no longer there, taking a small step forward. “just… put it down, i promise i’ll help you and leave.”

you stared at him for a long moment. there was something so different in the way he looked at you now, suddenly soft and with good intentions. the voice of your father calling your name snapped you out of your stupor, nodding hurridely as you placed the rosary on the grass outside carefully before turning to look at him.

he gestured for you to turn away, your hands finding your hips as you did. the contact made you breath hitched, despite your layers of clothing between your curves and his hands, your stomach tickled with swarming butterflies as he lifted you up. the heat of his body behind yours distracted you for a moment, taken aback at how real he felt, how human he felt, even as he lifted you with ease.

you braced your forearms on the ground, pulling yourself up the rest of the way as he spoke.

“whisper my name three times, and i’ll be summoned wherever you are, ready to fulfill your needs.”

you stayed quiet for a moment, just sitting on the ground as you looked down at him, now able to see his full face clearning from his proximity to the window. “what’s your name?”

“san,” he smiled, “choi san.”

you loked away, up at your house as your father’s concerned voice called out your name again. “i should get going, but–,” you looked down to thank him, only to find an empty room and a sealed window. your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, voiced trailing off, “thank you…”

the first time you touched yourself, it was san you were thinking about.

late at night, your parents fast asleep, a storm ragin outside, but all you could do was think about him. you tried, you really did. you tried to go back in the house and pretend everything was fine, that you had just been on a walk and your flushed face was from the excercise. secretely, all you could think about was him. how you wanted him to show up again—wanted him to make your breath hitch and your heart jump. wanted him to soothe whatever it was that ached inside you; the burn in the pit of your stomach, the spot where your waist met your hips, but most of all between your legs, were it had never ached like this before.

you excused yourself from dinner earlier, went to bed, and tried so desperately to fall asleep. whether it was to forget about it all, or to meet him in your dreams again, you couldn’t tell. you really tried, but haunting thoughts of how his hands held onto you rolled into your mind with images of all the things he could do to you. the raspy lilt of his voice, sometimes soft, sometimes commanding in a way that made your limbs feel like jello at the mere thought of it. his sharp eyes and sharp jaw and such tempting lips. he could have a kind face if he wanted to, yet his toned body, visible and obvious despite trying to hide behind his clothing, screamed sex appeal.

flashes from your previous dreams raced through your mind too. fragments of images where you could feel his hands all over you, his dark hair sticking to his sweat forehead, eyes rolled back from the pleasure he gave himself while you were forced to watch. you never quite gave in in the dreams either.

you tossed and turned in your bed, thighs pressed together so tight you worried you’d have long bruises down your inner thighs the next morning. the new feeling felt much too large for your fragile mind, overwhelming you, making your loose clothes feel suffocating. it wouldn’t leave you alone, wouldn’t let you sleep. mostly because you didn’t want to give the feeling a name, you refused to speak its name, even in your mind, even if it could identify this feeling.

pent-up and strained, coiled into yourself in a foetal position, you could only roll onto your back and let your hand trail down your body, hiking up the long skirt of your nightgown before letting your fingers dip between your thighs, spread at the knees. you let out a shaky gasp as you felt the wetness pooled beneath your undergarments, clamping your other hand over your lips. after feeling around experimentally, your fingers found a quick pace, rubbing over your clit, more desperate than they had ever been. your hand muffled your gasped out moans and whimpers, tears pricking at your eyes—partly from the guilt, mostly from the pleasure. you felt your heart beat all over your body, most of all right below your moistened fingertips.

shaky breaths and muffled needy cries were covered by both your hand and the storm outside your window. if hurts a little, your clit swelling as more and more slick coats it and the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. but you don’t mind the pain, you think you deserve it, because after all, it’s forbidden and it’s not supposed to feel good. san is not supposed to make you feel so good. a demon was the one thing that wasn’t supposed to be on your mind, especially not in this way.

the thought of him made your hand move faster and suddenly your breath was stuttering and your core pulse as you finish quickly, biting down on your lip, hard enough to cut through the skin, to muffle your cries. when you came down from your high, you lay there for a few moments longer, heart racing as you glance at the door to make sure it was still closed. and when you realised what you had just done, shame clouded your lungs as you slipped your fingers out of your panties and raised them to your face.

your hands came away sticky. transparents webs of your pleasure linking your index and middle fingers together as you stared in horror before finally collecting yourself and jumping from your bed to scrub the sin from your hands in your bathroom.

you scrubbed until your fingers turned red and your palms raw, losing sensation from the ice cold water, the guilt sinking deeper and deeper the longer you took to cleanse your body. you hadn’t noticed the tears running down your cheeks until you stared at yourself in the mirror, sniffling and glossy-eyed. your body might be clean, but were you? if you wanted to be immaculate, how could you let yourself do such a thing?

it was his fault, really. him and his midnight eyes and electric touches and words that would drive you to madness, damnation.

you changed your panties and nightgown, burying them in your laundry basket as if you were burying the evidence of a crime. once done, you wanted nothing more than to sink into your bed and fall asleep. but as you stared at what you once thought was comforting, you could only think about your soft whimpers and shaking thighs. so you stripped your bed naked to decorate it anew with clean sheets and blankets and pillows, shoving the previous ones under your bed before finally falling into a deep sleep.

shame followed you like a pest for the next days, unable to properly smile because all you could think about was what you had done. and what you wanted to do. a heavy melancholy washed over you in these days, confining yourself to your room when ou didn’t have to come down for meals. if your parents picked up on it, they didn’t say anything. maybe they knew. what if they know?

maybe they didn’t say anything because they knew about san. perhaps they thought it was fate, that you would give in sooner or later. despite cracking a bit, you stood by your conviction that you wouldn’t, no matter what, summon him.

but… was he really so bad? had you not seen a moment of softness when he helped you? demons were, after all, fallen angels. could it really be so impossible he still had a sprinkle of previous angeilc qualities? silently, you were thankful he hadn’t showed up on his own again. if he did, you were afraid you’d throw away all sense of faith and throw yourself into his arms, let him kiss you and lick you and suck you and bite you and everything in between.

despite all this, despite not wanting to summon him, you couldn’t deny the unsettling feeling weighing you down with each step. it had been there before—before whatever happened in the basement—dragging your seemingly heavy limbs through vacant hallways. but when he touched you, when his fingertips brushed against yours as he touched the shiny black beads of your rosary even though he didn’t mean to, when his hands lifted you into the air and helped you escape, the way he talked to you, his words and tone, that unsettling feeling had been lifted off your shoulders.

you noticed, for a brief moment, when you spent that short amount of time with him, you had no desire to think of god or rules or expectations. even if it was for a split second, it happened, and perhaps that what terrified you the most. just wanted to be, something you hadn’t been allowed for so long.

so when your parents said they’d be out late for some dinner you had no interest in attending, you paced around your room, deep in thought as your typical long nightgown tickled your ankles. millions of thoughts raced through your kind but, at the core, they were all the same. san, san, san. you felt like he had attached himself to your very soul, and you’re not quite sure how it happened.

without thinking, you stopped your pacing, glancing at the crucifix on your bedside table, a reminder. you couldn’t take it anymore, reaching out to take the wooden symbol and hide it in your closet. was it really wrong if it was still there, only trapped behind the wooden double doors, nestled between your skirts and shirts and gowns and gowns? out of sight, you felt less bad about what you were going to do.

your eyes squeezed shut and you did as he told you to, lips parting to whisper his name thrice. almost instantly, a gust of wind blew through your room and you knew there was someone else there with you. your eyes remained shut until you heard footsteps stalking towards you, his familiar voice filling the eerie silence of the room.

“hello, angel,” he grinned, borderline menacing, as he backed you up against your dresser. much like before, you were trapped, the back of your thighs pressed against the wood. only this time, you weren’t afraid, “i knew you’d give in sooner rather than later.”

you didn’t reply, didn’t know how to reply, only breathing shallowly, fingers curling into the edge of your dresser as you glanced from his eyes to his lips repeatedly.

“you need to give me permission, you know,” he chuckled, tilting his head to the side, “there are rules for deals such as these.”

“please.” you breathed, somewhere between a whisper and a needy whine as your round eyes looked up at him so desperately.

as soon as the word left you, his lips were on yours. hungry, devouring you, sucking on your bottom lip like it’s a candy as you can’t help but melt and whimper against him. his hand found your cheek, the touch surprisingly soft compared to the madness of his kisses. your heart rattled against your ribcage like a bird wanting to escape its confines. his saccharine saliva seeped into your mouth as his tongue broke past your lips, running over your teeth and the roof of your mouth as you let him do whatever he wanted.

his hands are all over you and yours are all over him, grabbing at each other because there was no way to get any closer like this. your thoughts, unlike before, are completely quiet, head empty and drunk on the sloppy kisses, mouthfuls of teeth clashing against each other. he was supposed to be gentle, he wanted to be gentle, yet now you’re pressed against the dresser and he’s kissing you hard.

it was wrong, but it felt too good. that was clear from the moment your kisses turn open-mouthed, lips clinging and tongues dancing. you shivered as both his hands held you by your hips once more, lifting you to sit on the edge of the oak furniture, caressing your hips bones through the thin fabric of your dress.

your hands rug at his shirt lightly, a silent plea for him to remove it, wanting to see and feel every inch of his divine body. he complies, separating his lips from your to reach over his shoulder and grip the silky shirt from the back, pulling it over his head, tossing it aside. your hands explore his naked torso, fingernails scratching along his skin as he loses himself in the taste of your kisses.

his hands dragged the long skirt of your gown up your legs, fingers ghosting over the supple skin of your calves and thighs before letting the cloth bunch up at your hips, winding your legs around his waist before lifting you off the dresser. you cling to him the way the thought of him cling to you for so long before this as he carries you. he lays you down gently, your head spinning as he kneeled on the edge of your bed and leaned over you, moving his lips from yours to mouth at your neck.

his hot breaths dance along your skin, across your collarbone, neck, pressing wet kisses down to the fabric covering your chest. you gasped softly as he brushed his teeth against your skin, a reminded that he could really break you if he wanted, but the feel of his lips against the curve of your neck, testing out the waters of your shoulder, made the intimidating thought vanish.

he teases the skin just above your neckline with nibbles that have you throwing your head back with soft whimpers, only encouraging him as his left hand kept one of your legs hitched up against his hips and his right undid the ribbons at the back of your dress. the fabric loosens and slips around, one sleeve falling over your shoulder slightly as he sat you up a little and pulled the dress over your head, discarding it and leaving you in your white ruffled bra and panties.

you’re dizzy, delirious with thirst—for his touch, his kisses, for everything his sharp lips could give you, for him to relieve the ache between your legs. you shiver as you’re left bare, nipples peaking through your bra, undergarments barely hiding your most precious parts. you try covering yourself with shaking arms, despite the little fabric still be there, but his hands move them aside, pulling them to rest on his bare chest. his eyelids flutter for a moment at the contact, your hands so much colder than his.

he leans back to look at your, hand at your back winding around to massage a handful of one breast, watching your breath hitch. “such a pretty girl, and all for me.”

“san…” you whimper aimlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“such an angel,” he teases again, thumb circling over your clothed nipple lightly, grinning at how helpless you looked, “supposedly protected by your father, by god, yet here you are, practically begging for a demon to fuck you.”

he presses himself closer and you can feel the thick and heavy weight of his cock smudge against your core, gasping softly as you eyes roll back, his tip prodding against the fabric covering your sensitive clit. his name falls from your lips once again, like a softly uttered prayer as you back arches. he takes the opportunity to undo the clasp of your bra, slipping the item off you before continuing to tease your perked nipples, leaning down to lick and suck at them as his hips grind against yours. you weren’t sure when he took off his pants, but you didn’t quite care, not when his impressive girth covered your core so well. sometimes the tip would dip into your entrance before leaving just as quickly, your toes curling as it stretched you and your panties.

he moans into your neck, grinding against you at just the right pace, his precum smearing all over you already-drenched panties. the feeling of his tip prodding at you clit so continuously makes you come quickly, and much harder than the other night when you touched yourself. you writhe beneath him, shaking and crying out his name as your back arches from the bed.

“hm, you’re so much prettier like this, angel, succumbing and throwing away any desire of virtue,” he mutters against your jaw, having sucked dark marks onto the skin right below it, his deep melodic voice.

angel. the way he calls you that makes you shiver. how could he do that? call you an angel while plucking out the feathers of the wings you’d once had?

when he enters you, it’s slow and deliberate, leaning down to whisper into your ear as he presses your hands into the white mattress—”heaven itself could not make you feel like this.”

“i’ve never… you know…” you had admitted shyly once you came down from the first orgasm he coaxed out of you.

he only chuckled, caressing your cheek. “i know. virgins always smell the sweetest.”

you pleaded for him to be gentle, and how could he say no when you were begging so prettily? now his length is barely halfway inside you and you’re already shaking, drenched and deprived pussy squeezing him tightly as he swallows down your broken moans, holding back him own. you feel abnormally good to him, unable to remember the last time he fucked such a perfect pussy.

as he reaches previously untouched parts of you, his tip brushes against a spongey little area that has you clenching, your breath hitching followed by a gasped moan as you come again. stars flood your vision, feeling like your body was on fire as your hands tightened under his. his tongue licks up every one of your sounds, smothering you as he pulled back a bit to press against the spot some more.

your moans soon turn into soft whines, twitching from overstimulation before he fially continues to enter you. it’s a tight fit, but he bottoms out eventually.

“fuck- you take me so well, you’re so perfect.” he groans, looking down at where he can see his tip bulging through your stomach.

you never imagined just how full you would feel, the stretch burning yet somehow still pleasurable as you squirm beneath him. he doesn’t wait, retracting and fucking into you slowly, letting you feel every curve and vein of his perfect cock.

he loses track, but he thinks he’s made you finish 4 times already. he’s not surprised, virginity leaves most people sensitive, and the fact he’s been teasing you in and out of your dreams for months likely didn’t help. san revels in it though, basks in the sounds you try to hold back so desperately. he isn’t lying when he says you’re pretty, hypnotised by your face contorted in pleasure and your body, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. they somehow still have an innocent glint in them, even as he manoeuvres you into different positions before finally easing you into your back once more.

you arousal is smeared all over yourself and him and the bedsheets. clear and sticky, glistening in the candlelight. at some point he slipped out of you to lean down and have a taste, groaning as you mewed above him. when his teeth grazed your abuser clit, you finish once again and a moment later he’s back inside you.

eventually, his hips stutter and a newfound pace takes over. “shit, angel, i’m gonna fill you up so good. would you like that?”

you can only nod frantically, brain turned to mush, jaw dropped to let out your lazy whimpers. you’ve lost track of everything but him; his touch, his voice, his influence. if you parents walked in or he disappeared, you’d only be able to lay there, completely helpless.

he never really stops, taking his time to worship your tight hole, knowing he’ll only be able to stop when he comes. though, by the looks of it, it’ll be sooner rather than later.

his groans and moans sound blissful in your ears, holding your name between his teeth with a low whimper. he spills his tick warm cum into you, the new sensation making you shake and squirm as you feel your insides being filled. another orgasm washed over you, though a little weaker, drunk on his scent and his saliva and him him him.

he kisses you, bruisingly, slipping out of yoh and letting you feel his seed seep out of your hole and run down your thighs, pussy coated in milky white. he slumps against you, detaching his lips from yours to gaze down at your barely open eyes.

it’s tiring, you can’t deny that, but it just feels so good. all your disgusting, fucked up thoughts were because of him. and now your most intimate parts will always be tainted by his hands. he calls you ‘good girl,’ yet you know you’ll never be good again.

choi san: voice like silk, touch like satin, incubus, demon. you’d think demons kill people, but your purity was his only homicide. he murdered your virginity. murderer.

but you do wish for him to kiss you again.

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet @atzhouse

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#cromernet #wonderlandnet #cultofdionysusnet #pirateeznet #atzhouse #ateez #ateez x reader #choi san smut #san x reader #san reactions #san imagines #san smut #san fluff #san angst #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez fluff #ateez smut

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hellfirebarnes · 1 month ago

Text

Slow-Burns - Part 1

PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5

I split this up in several, shorter parts because I know the feeling when you want to read a fic but don't have the time or energy to get through a 10k+ words one. Also if you hate my writing you can just read part 1 and then leave it. Win-win I guess?

Anyway, this is set after Thunderbolts so if you haven't seen it - spoilers I guess? It absolutely does not follow canon, but yeah better to be safe than sorry.

Summary: Bucky has fallen. Hopelessly. And the only thing more hopeless is his team trying to help him get to the end of this slow-burn.

Bucky x fem!SHIELD!reader

2.5K Words.

Fluff, ''normal'' violence and descriptions of injuries. For sure out of character stuff, but I am who I am. Your appearence is barely desribed what I can remember, I think your hair and a couple types what clothes you're wearing?

You're referred to as ''Agent'' and ''Sunshine'' in a desperate attempt from me to not use Y/N.

Let me know if there's anything else I should warn about.

Otherwise, enjoy :)

There was a quiet kind of chaos that followed you wherever you went. Not the destructive kind—no, that was more John Walker’s flavor—but the kind that stirred a room like a gust of wind through curtains.

You weren’t even officially a Thunderbolt, just a freelance S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who showed up whenever the mission required you. But if you asked anyone in the Tower, they’d say the team didn’t really feel like a team until you were in the room.

Well, everyone except Bucky Barnes, who would say nothing at all. Not out loud, anyway.

He was perched at the edge of the strategy room table now, arms crossed, jaw tight. Watching.

You were laughing at something Bob had said - again. He had practically glued himself to your side the moment you walked in, his frame hunching just slightly to hear you better. And you let him. You laughed, touched his arm, asked him questions.

Bucky didn’t blame Bob, not really. Who wouldn’t want your attention?

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Yelena muttered under her breath from beside him.

Bucky blinked at her. “I talk to her.”

“You grunt at her. Sometimes nod. It’s tragic.”

“She’s always with someone else. I’m not interrupting that.”

“Oh no,” Yelena deadpanned. “Not the scary emotion man afraid of social interaction. How shocking.”

“Shut up.”

Across the room, you dodged John Walker’s attempt to toss a protein bar at your head and shot him a look.

“Really?” You said, “Are you twelve?”

“Just testing your reflexes, Agent,” John grinned. “That’s what we call combat preparedness.”

“Then maybe prepare not to get your ass handed to you next time I see you in the field.”

“Ouch. That one had some spice.”

“It’s called accuracy.”

Alexei’s voice boomed from the hallway as he entered mid-conversation. “Bah! All this fighting. You know what you need? A good man. Someone strong. Tall. Lots of biceps.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile lingered on your lips. “Not the matchmaking again.”

“I’m telling you! You are too stunning to be walking around without boyfriend. You need love! You need someone worthy.”

“And you’re offering who? Yourself?”

Alexei blinked. “Do not be ridiculous. I’m too old. Too broken. No, you need someone special. Maybe someone on this team…” He turned slowly—too slowly—toward Bucky.

Bucky froze like a deer in the middle of a sniper’s scope.

Your brows arched in amusement, and you looked Bucky’s way. Your eyes met and his heart did that thing again. The skipping, the stalling, the full-body malfunction. And you smiled. He looked away first.

“Don’t make it weird,” you said casually to Alexei, still grinning. “We’re all just coworkers here.”

“Some coworkers are good for kissing,” Alexei replied like it was obvious. “Is science.”

You snorted and shook your head, walking past Bob, who promptly shadowed you like a happy satellite.

“I’m stealing him for a strategy session,” you called over your shoulder.

“Strategy?” Bob asked excitedly, bounding after you.

“Yup. You’re going to help me map out weak points in that compound wall, remember?”

Bucky watched you go, still unmoving. Every second you were around, he felt like he was holding his breath. Not because he was afraid you’d say something cruel - no, you were never cruel. It was worse. You were kind. Inclusive. Thoughtful.

You invited him into conversations he didn’t know how to join. Remembered tiny things he’d said offhand and brought them up weeks later. You saw him - more than the metal arm or the haunted past or the thousand-yard stare. And Bucky Barnes didn’t know what the hell to do with that.

“She’s not gonna bite, Barnes,” John said beside him, cracking open a bottle of water. “Unless you want her to.”

Bucky glared at him.

“I’m just saying. You’ve been crushing for, what, three missions now? Ask her out before Bob proposes.”

“I’m not crushing,” Bucky muttered.

John snorted. “Yeah, okay. You keep brooding from the corner. That’ll win her over.”

Later that night, you were the last to leave the strategy room, lingering over the holographic map display. The others had filtered out, but you hadn’t seemed to notice - or maybe you had.

“You always stay late?” Bucky’s voice was rough behind you.

You turned, surprised. He rarely sought you out on his own. “Only when the company’s good.”

He hesitated at the door, then walked in.

“You okay?” You asked softly, tilting your head. “You’ve been quiet. Well, quieter than usual.”

He wanted to tell you everything. That he couldn’t sleep half the time because his mind wouldn’t stop replaying the way you laughed. That when you touched his arm in the field to steady him, his whole body went static. That you made him feel like he could still be someone worth a damn.

But instead, all he said was, “I’m fine.”

You gave him a look that said you didn’t buy it, but you didn’t push. “Well, if you ever want to talk… I’m around.”

He nodded. Said nothing more.

But you smiled anyway. Small, warm, real. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

“’ Night.”

He stayed behind long after you were gone, staring at the space you’d just occupied. And for the first time in a long time, he found himself hoping. Quietly, stubbornly, impossibly hoping.

The Thunderbolts rarely got downtime. So when Val booked them a mandatory “team-building weekend” at a secure retreat site somewhere in the Catskills and invited you along, everyone assumed it was a joke. It wasn’t.

“We don’t do bonding,” Yelena had said flatly while stuffing clothes into her duffel.

“Speak for yourself,” Alexei had grinned, holding up a board game called Russian Conquest: Family Edition.

Now, 24 hours into their wilderness exile, things had somehow developed into a campfire, bad chili, worse storytelling, and Bob draping himself across your lap like an oversized golden retriever in flannel.

“Bob, you are crushing my legs,” you groaned, trying to shift out from under him.

“But you’re warm,” he said dreamily, eyes half-closed. “And your energy is calm. Like a star. Or one of those… lava lamps.”

Across the fire, Bucky sat stiffly on a log, watching with a barely concealed scowl as Bob grinned at you with that infuriating, sunbeam-level adoration. You just laughed and gently pushed his head off your thigh.

John passed you a beer from the cooler. “That makes five people on this team who’d die for her. Six, if you count the way Barnes stares like she’s the last donut on Earth.”

Bucky kicked him under the log.

“Ow. You’re just mad I said it out loud.”

You glanced over, catching only the tail end of that exchange. “What are you whispering about, Walker? Trying to plan your next tactical failure?”

“I was thinking of asking Bob to move so I could rest my head on your lap next.”

“Try it and you lose your teeth.”

Alexei cackled from where he was roasting a suspicious-looking sausage over the fire. “She is fierce! I told you all, she needs a man who can handle her. Someone who doesn’t crumble when she glares.”

Yelena pointed a stick at him. “She doesn’t need a man, Dad. She has us. We are superior to all men. Especially you.”

You laughed again, easily, genuinely.

Bucky’s heart did the now-familiar stutter-step. It was unbearable, this thing you did. The way you effortlessly slipped into every space, made it lighter, warmer. Home-like. And still, he couldn’t say more than five coherent words to you unless he rehearsed them mentally first.

But tonight, it felt different.

It was the soft kind of night - one where the stars showed up, and the fire crackled like an old lullaby. And maybe it was the low-pressure setting. Or maybe it was the beer. Or maybe it was the fact that everyone else was slowly crashing for the night, and you had stayed behind at the firepit, legs tucked under you, hoodie sleeves bunched at your wrists.

Bucky walked over before he could talk himself out of it. “Mind if I sit?”

You looked up, surprised - but pleasantly so. “Course not.”

He sat, a little too upright, elbows on his knees. There was a beat of quiet. Not awkward. Just full.

You nudged his arm lightly with your shoulder. “You’ve been kind of quiet today.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“Yeah, but today you’re, like… extra cryptid.”

He huffed out a laugh before he could stop it. “Cryptid, huh?”

“You absolutely lurk like one.”

Another pause. Your shoulder bumped his again.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” you added softly. “But I like it when you do.”

That stopped him cold. You didn’t say it like it was a big deal. But it was. To him, it was everything.

He swallowed. “I don’t always know what to say.”

“You don’t have to impress anyone, Bucky.”

“I’m not trying to impress anyone,” he said quietly.

You tilted your head. “Good. ‘Cause if you were, you’d be failing spectacularly.”

He blinked, and then your grin slipped out. Playful. Warm. He shook his head, a small, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

There it was. The moment again. That impossible, bone-deep hope.

Before he could speak again, a voice echoed from behind you.

“Are we sleeping outside now?” Bob called from the cabin porch, where he stood wrapped in a blanket like a burrito. “Because I want in.”

“Go back to bed, Bob!” You yelled without turning.

“But I miss your gravity!”

Bucky gave a bewildered side look. “Do you always attract this much chaos?” he asked, smiling despite himself.

You shrugged. “Maybe. But it keeps things interesting.”

You stood then, stretching your arms overhead. The firelight kissed your face in amber tones.

“I’m heading in. Try not to brood so hard you fall into the fire.”

He watched you go, silent again.

But you paused at the cabin door, looked back, and gave him a smile that made the whole damn night bend inward. “Night, Bucky.” He didn’t respond fast enough, so you added one more thing before disappearing inside: “Next time I call you a cryptid, I expect a better comeback.”

He chuckled under his breath, alone now, fire crackling at his feet.

He was going to need help. Or a script. Or both.

You stood in the middle of the kitchen wearing a “Property of S.H.I.E.L.D.” T-shirt, sweatpants, and the kind of look that only appeared when one walked into a room and discovered exactly too much happening.

“What,” you said slowly, “is going on.”

Yelena was on the counter, holding a ladle like a weapon.

John was standing on a chair, aggressively flipping a pancake with a spatula in his non-dominant hand.

Alexei was arguing with the toaster.

And Bob—dear, wonderful Bob—was shirtless and wearing a pastel apron that said ‘Hot Stuff Coming Thru’, holding a blender overhead like it was Mjölnir.

“Breakfast battle royale,” Yelena said brightly - like that explained anything.

“What?” You repeated.

John jumped in. “We’re determining who gets cooking privileges for the rest of the month.”

“I voted for mortal combat,” Alexei growled, “but Walker insists on waffles.”

“Because waffles are democracy.”

“I made you a smoothie,” Bob interrupted, bounding over to you with a grin the size of Nebraska. “It has banana, peanut butter, and exactly 11 grams of love.”

You blinked at the pink plastic cup he handed you. “…Thanks, Bob.”

“You’re welcome. Please hydrate.”

Across the kitchen, Bucky hovered by the cabinets like a glitch in the Matrix. He wore a black hoodie and a wariness that only intensified as you laughed—again—at something Bob said about the molecular density of pancake batter.

You glanced his way. “Bucky, save me. I came in for coffee and now there’s smoothies and an apron situation.”

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Nodded.

“Helpful,” you said with a grin, brushing past him to open the cabinet.

He nearly dropped the mug in his hand when your arm accidentally touched his.

It was unfair how effortlessly you undid him.

Bob leaned closer to Bucky and stage-whispered: “You should offer to make her toast.”

Bucky side-eyed him. “You think toast is gonna fix everything?”

“No. But it’s the start of a breakfast-based romance. Like in the movies.”

“…You watch romance movies?”

“All the time. I cry every time the dog comes back.”

Bucky didn’t respond. Mostly because you were laughing again - this time at Alexei accidentally flinging a waffle at John.

“You were in the army!” John yelled. “How do you have the reflexes of a brick?”

“I was trained for war, not toaster physics!”

Yelena caught the flying waffle midair with the ladle. “I win.”

You raised your smoothie. “To chaos. And carbohydrates.”

Yelena smirked. “To the only person on this team who’s not legally insane.”

“Jury’s still out,” John said. “She did willingly come back after the last mission.”

“I came back for the drama,” you said.

Everyone laughed. Except Bucky. He just watched you. And this time you looked right at him, mid-laugh, and the smile softened into something gentler. Less amused. More… curious. Like you saw him watching. And didn’t mind. He looked down at his coffee before he could combust.

“Someone save me from feelings,” he muttered.

“I can punch you,” Yelena offered sweetly.

“Appreciate it.”

Later that day, you sat on the floor of the rec room with Yelena and Ava, all three of you surrounded by mismatched nail polish bottles, junk food, and one confused Russian man who’d never witnessed a girls’ night and looked like he was trying to understand a new language.

“You paint your nails before mission?” Alexei asked, genuinely baffled. “What if the enemy sees glitter?”

“They’ll be blinded by the fabulous,” you said, wiggling your toes.

Yelena reached over and added a stripe of blue polish to your middle finger. “This is for when you inevitably flip someone off.”

Ava smirked. “Perfect aim.”

Alexei shook his head in wonder. “You women are terrifying. I love it.”

John walked by, raised a brow, and muttered, “Is this a cult?”

“No,” you said. “But you can’t sit with us.”

Bob appeared from nowhere and sat crisscrossed in the middle of the polish like a devoted disciple. “Paint mine next?”

You held up a glittery gold bottle. “Only if you promise to stop drinking three energy drinks before noon.”

“No promises,” he said, holding out his hands.

From the hallway, Bucky paused at the door, watching again.

Yelena noticed him, rolled her eyes, and lobbed a pack of sour gummy worms at his head. “Stop creeping and come join the estrogen.”

He caught it reflexively, but didn’t step forward.

You looked up then. “C’mon, Barnes. You can be our official taste tester. I think this one’s radioactive.” You held up a neon green nail polish.

His heart did that collapsing thing again. But he stepped into the room.

Just a few feet. Sat down near the wall, close enough to see the curve of your smile as you joked with Ava and Yelena, as Bob dramatically gasped when you gave him a sparkly gold thumbnail.

And as the laughter rolled on, something about the moment didn’t feel like watching from the outside anymore. It felt… almost like being part of it.

Even if his heart still beat too fast every time you looked at him.

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #james barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #james bucky buchanan barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes

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wtfaniii · 6 months ago

Text

Sweet But Psycho

Summary: You are only nineteen years old but life has made you intelligent, life and your father.

Warning: slight smut, innuendo, blood and a somewhat toxic relationship, I haven't checked this yet so sorry for any spelling mistakes

The salesman x fem reader ¡!front man's daughter

A sigh escaped your lips as the handsome black-haired man in a suit pushed you onto the bed and positioned himself on top of you.

—You don't know how much I've been waiting for this —You said with a wide smile taking the man's face to pull him towards you and kiss him with need.

—I know —he replied arrogantly as he caressed your body torturously slow.

From the first time you saw this man at a meeting he had with your father, you knew you had to at least kiss him.

There was something about his personality that made him so attractive besides his physique, maybe it was that arrogant and mocking smile that he sometimes formed or that contemptuous look that he gave to everyone.

A gasp escaped your lips as he managed to strip of your clothes, however, you didn't want him to have all the power.

Being who you were, you didn't like to give up control, you were above him and you made that clear when skillfully turned around on the bed to make him lie beneath you.

—Well well... someone is having a hard time adapting to other roles —He mocked, tightening his hands on your hips, sure to leave a mark.

—I prefer to be on top and keep the pace —You said flirtatious.

You lowered your hands to him pants but just as your fingers reached for him belt buckle the door to room suddenly opened.

Your heart raced, and not in the way you would have wanted, when you saw your father open the door and make an expression of annoyance and embarrassment at the scene before him.

—Hi... —The two greeted at the same time, you with a nervous smile and he with a mocking expression.

Sure, your dear boyfriend was more than proud to fuck his boss's daughter.

—Both have five minutes to get dressed and get out of here, or I'll have to find a new recruiter for this afternoon —The front man warned and then closed the door again with a thud.

The man below you would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid of your father, the front man was far above him and although it fed his ego the idea of having you in the palm of his hand he still wasn't willing to risk having a bullet in his head embedded by him.

—You heard him, sweetie —He sighed, gently pushing you away from him to get out of bed.

—Coward —You told him mockingly as you stood up.

You liked to provoke him, to make him angry so that the tension between you would be even greater, but in this case it wasn't like that, he wasn't ready to die.

—What I want to do to you will take me more than five minutes, love —He justified himself while adjusting his tie.

You sighed and both of got dressed again, when you saw yourself presentable you opened the door and right there was In-ho, with a look that would freeze anyone.

In-ho was against this relationship, the salesman was almost twenty-five years older than you, and he knew the kind of man he was, he didn't want him with you but seeing you so enthusiastic about him made him silence all his complaints.

He haven't seen you this happy since your mother died.

Life had treated you badly, your mother fell ill and died, your father was fired and left you with your grandmother for five months until he came back for you and brought you to this island.

At first you didn't want to be a part of this but you didn't want to leave your father alone in this duel either, you were also having a bad time and before you knew it you were already wearing a pink suit, a gun and a black mask with a quadrate printed on the front.

Before long you became addicted to this new life, In-ho almost instantly regretted having taken you there with him because he didn't take into account your vulnerable state of mind you were in, you became a completely different person and he regretted it every day.

—You have to get back to work —he said to the man in the suit, who nodded, bowed slightly, and left almost instantly —And you-

You quickly interrupted him with a wide smile.

—¿Can I go with him?

—No.

—¡Oh come on! I've been on this fucking island since I was twelve! —Your irritated screams didn't bother him at all, he was already used to it —I need to see ¡civilization! —You yelled at him furiously one last time as he walked calmly to the control room.

Even if he didn't let you go, you would run away anyway, he knew it, he had no way to control you without causing you harm because he would also easily tell all his guards to subdue you so couldn't leave here but he didn't want to go to those extremes with you, he still loved you with all his soul, you were the only bit of humanity and of his old life that he had left.

So he just grabbed his cell phone and called your sadistic boyfriend.

"She will go with you to the city, take care of her, if something happens to her you will return for your farewell"

The man at the phone cursed mentally, he knew that being fired was also synonymous with certain death, but he refrained from contradicting the frontman.

—Understood, sir.

He hung up the phone and leaned back in the boat seat where after a few minutes he saw you arrive with your characteristic smile and shiny teeth.

—¿Would you like this to be a casual date? —You asked, sitting next to him.

—I'd rather not, for now it's just business.

He didn't want to mix work with his private life but he didn't refuse every time you stole a kiss from him.

You alone accompanied him to every part of the city he went to recruit more trash to entertain your guests, you found it fun and even helped him with some objectives, however you always made sure that no one who had met you before saw you.

Although deep down you wanted to go to your grandmother's house, see your uncle Jun-ho and give them a hug but your father was very specific about those ideas, you don't have to do that, for them you no longer existed.

—¿Are you okay? —Your boyfriend asked cautiously.

He found it curious to see you pensive, silent and even depressed in a period of only ten minutes. He knew you to be quite extroverted and even impulsive, seeing this side of you sparked his interest.

—Yeah... we just have to recruit this last one and that's it, ¿right?

He raised an eyebrow but decided to ignore it for now and both continued walking through the train station.

—Yes, this is a famous ex-youtuber who lost and owes a lot of money, it will be the last one and we will go buy some things.

You nodded silently and when they found the target you stood a few steps away watching them play Ddakji, a malicious smile appeared on your lips every time he slapped the young man.

When he finally gave he the card you grabbed his arm and pulled him towards you to give a kiss on the cheek.

—¿What did I tell you about public displays of affection? —He said pretending to be upset but he just couldn't, sometimes you were hateful and annoying but it didn't matter, he could get used to that.

—If you complain I will do it more often —You threatened him playfully as you continued walking.

But you felt some glances on the two of you, on some occasions you looked surreptitiously and could confirm that two men were following you.

—Dissimulate, after shopping we will take the gentlemen to a more private place —He whispered in your ear and you nodded silently.

You thought that would be more fun than making homeless people choose between bread and a scratch card, you thought it was funny and a joke how people could be ambitious, they could have eaten that day but they preferred to gamble with luck.

—Idiots —You whispered rolling your eyes.

After done him little social experiment, you and the salesman hopped in a cab and headed away from civilization hoping those two men would still be following you.

They were very predictable and once got the chance you let your boyfriend beat those two until they were unconscious and badly injured.

—Nice way to release tension

He winked at you and straightened his jacket and tie.

[...]

—That's the man who's been looking for us for the last three years —He said as he looked indifferently at the man who was searching around in anguish.

You and him were on the roof of an abandoned building, still in the same alley where you kidnapped the other two who apparently worked for this man.

—A headache for your father —He said seriously.

—¿Should I shoot him? —When he turned to look at you, you already had the gun ready and pointing it at the head of the man who was still floors below you.

He shook his head and put his hand on your arm to get you to lower the gun.

—Not yet, I want to know what he wants, for now... ¿Would you like to go on a date with me and the two gentlemen we have tied up down there?

You smiled again and gave a small bow as he took your hand.

You were cruel, and he loved that about you, so he could share moments like this with you.

The poor screams and stifled pleas of these two men brought smiles to your boyfriend and to you, the adrenaline of the moment and the power over the lives of others made your body tingle, made you nauseous and at the same time made your heart race like crazy.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors, Minus one" was music to your ears and you couldn't help but jump slightly every time the man next to you pulled the trigger.

You loved every part of this man, yes, he was a sadist but he looked so attractive every time he acted this way that it made you wet.

—¿Can I play? —You asked with a fake pout as you rested your chin on him shoulder.

—Your father won't like that.

—¿And? ¿You're his dog to do whatever he says?

He tightened his lips and the attention of the two gagged and bound men fell on you with their eyes wide at what you had just said.

You liked to tease him but this time you did it at a less appropriate time.

—Repeat what you said —He said in a low, threatening voice.

—Awww... ¿did I hit a nerve? ¿You don't like people calling you... ¿dog?

In the blink of an eye he grabbed you by the neck and lifted you a few inches off the ground, the tips of your feet barely touching the surface.

—The frontman forbade me to kill you but... now I can say that one of these two men killed you inadvertently.

You gasped as the air began to catch in your neck, him firm grip excited you as much as it terrified you.

—Go ahead... —You spoke with little air —Prove that you are not his dog

He wanted so much to fuck you like that and kill you right now, you were desperate but also beautiful and he wasn't going to deny it, you had taken over his head and part of his heart.

He let go of you and you barely managed to stay standing, you gasped for air and when you looked up you saw the tip of the gun pointed directly at the face.

You laughed amusedly.

—Ouh... Looks like I really got on your nerves this time.

—Just apologize —He said seriously and with a sly smile —Come on, do it so we can finish this.

—And if not, ¿what? —You took a step forward to let the cold metal of the weapon touch your lips.

—Just do it, I don't want to break that pretty face of yours.

Once again you smiled and opened your mouth to allow the tip of the gun to enter.

With your eyes you asked him to pull the trigger.

He could have shot, he could have still told your father that one of those two killed you and gotten away with it, but he didn't.

Even with that cold, carefree look you kept on your face, he knew you were still a girl who had lost everything and hated her life, a poor girl who had formed that personality to pretend.

He knew it because you were just like him.

And he wasn't wrong, you really would have liked him to kill you right then and there but he took the gun from your mouth and shot one of the two men in the side of the head causing the other to gasp.

—Coward —You told him sternly and disappointed.

After that tense moment you remained silent until night fell, he asked you to return to the island but you didn't, you decided to follow him because you knew he would go see that man who caused so many problems, you deduced why he let one of those two strangers live to interrogate him.

You kept an appropriate distance, luckily for you the motel where him went to see that man was full of windows so you were like a sniper from the roof of another nearby building.

This time you accepted that you weren't doing it out of curiosity or personal benefit, you were doing it because cared about him.

You saw them talking and playing Russian roulette, it was him favorite game but this time it made you goosebumps on end for some strange reason.

You counted each empty shot and when you saw that there was only one left and it was your boyfriend's turn, your heart skipped a beat.

—If you do this, I'll kill you —you warned the air while keeping your hand on the gun, you were definitely going to intervene.

You saw that the man said something to your boyfriend, something that caused him to point the gun at himself to shoot himself one last time, but before doing so, you shot him hand.

The salesman groaned in pain and screamed, dropping the gun when he saw the hole in his hand.

—¡Damn bitch! —He shouted, turning his head towards the window where he saw you in the other building waving at him with a hand and a smile —¡¡¡You're seriously a fucking bitch!!!

You mouthed "I know" and blew him a kiss before running off to get him.

—¡¿What was that?! —Gi-hun said, taking the gun with the remaining bullet from the ground and looking towards the window, now there was no one.

—My fucking girlfriend —He muttered, looking at his bloody hand.

The door to the room suddenly opened and Jun-ho appeared with his gun raised so Gi-hun raised his gun as well.

—Police, ¡put hands up! —He demanded, looking at them randomly an the two raised their hands instinctively.

—Hi... ¿am I interrupting something? —You said entering the room with biggest gun that brought with you.

Until your gaze fell on the policeman, you cursed at the sight of your uncle.

He was just as surprised as you, he knew In-ho was behind all this but he didn't expect you to be too.

—It seems I have the advantage here so why don't you guys put down your weapons and we can talk like civilized people ¿does that sound okay? —You said with a closed-lip smile but your eyes remained fixed on Jun-ho.

—¡I just want him to take me to his owner! —Gi-hun demanded, pointing at your man in the seat, who was bandaging his hand with a handkerchief.

—I am him owner —You said arrogantly —I'm sorry, honey —apologized to him without lowering your gun or your defensive stance.

—Liar, you enjoyed doing it —He said through clenched teeth and annoying.

You winked and turned your attention back to your uncle but before could say another word you felt a strong blow to the head that knocked you unconscious.

—¡That bitch is crazy! —shouted the man they had previously tortured, still tied by the ankles and half naked, he had hit you with a fire extinguisher —¡She and his deranged boyfriend killed my friend! —He added, pointing at the black-haired man in a suit.

—¿Boyfriend? —Jun-ho asked quietly as he approached you to make sure you still had a pulse.

—I'm dead —the salesman murmured as he watched you lying unconscious on the floor.

If they didn't kill him, your father would.

#the salesman x reader #the salesman #the salesman x you #squidgame x reader #squid game #squidgame x you #in ho x reader #hwang inho x reader #in ho squidgame #player001 x you #the salesman squid game #gong yoo #hwang in ho #squid game x reader #squid game fic #frontman x reader #jun ho x you #hwang jun ho x reader #young-il x reader

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absolutelyb4tty · 7 days ago

Text

Unmasking Desire || Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader Category: Smut 18+ Summary: Reader meets a hot “stranger” at a masquerade and things get a little out of hand in the privacy of the bathroom. Word Count: 5.1k

CW: Spencer Reid/ fem!bau!reader, porn with plot, masquerade, anonymous (kinda) sex, reader wears a dress and heels, protected p in v, drunk sex, dry humping, masochism if you squint, soft dom Spencer (I’m still not sorry, I am merely a sub), biting, praise, little bit of size kink, Spencer is a whiny bitch but like in a cool way, oral (m/f receiving), degradation, dirty talk, hickies, awkward social situation, alcohol, ooc Spencer A/N: Kinda sticking with middle seasons Spencer but feel free to imagine any version of him, it doesn’t matter as much in this one. This is hella out of character for him but like…actually nah. In my universe Spencer's a whiny little slut that isn’t afraid to dom someone and I like it that way. Please just ignore how easily they'd recognize each other lol Btw thank you for all the attention on my last fic, I’m excited to keep posting.

Masterlist Previous Fic

Your friends had been bugging you, trying to get you to go out with them for weeks when you finally got a break from work where you weren’t tired enough to sleep through the day you had off. One of the local clubs did theme nights that you used to go to when you had time but hadn’t been to in what felt like forever. Tonight’s theme was ‘masquerade’ and you couldn’t be more excited. You’d already picked an outfit and found a mask to match and were practically buzzing with anticipation at work all day. Once you were home you flung off your shoes and work clothes and zipped yourself into the beautiful dress awaiting on your bed. The dress was burgundy velvet, the back fell to about your knee while the front was pulled up to your mid thigh with two ribbons. The top was almost a sweetheart neckline and you layered it with a mesh shrug that matched the thighhigh stockings you planned to wear. Once you were dressed you pinned one side of your hair back with barrettes decorated with small silver daggers. You put on the jewelry you planned to wear and slid into your heels. The finishing touch was the mask and your deep red lipstick. The mask was covered in a matching wine colored velvet with delicate black lace layered over it. Once dressed you grabbed your bag and headed out the door to the club.

Spencer Reid was not a party person. He’d never been super interested in the drunken festivities of the other people his age and even if he was, he was usually too nervous to go alone. That’s why this event was perfect. An event where no one would know who he was so even if he embarrassed himself he would just be remembered as ‘that guy in the blue mask’ and he could live with that. Spencer wore black dress pants with a deep blue velvet dress shirt, figuring it was different enough from his normal attire that even if someone could recognize him with the mask they’d be less likely to with how unlike him the outfit was. Spencer styled his hair slightly, just so it would stay out of his face, and put his mask in his bag before leaving. Spencer had heard about the masquerade from a poster he saw at the local theater the last time he went with the team and decided he should change things up a bit.

The club was shrouded in the emittance of a fog machine. The lights were turned low, the dimness supplemented with colored lights slowly spinning around the room. There was club music bumping through you as you passed the bouncer to head inside. You and Spencer had both placed your masks on before leaving your cars and making your way inside. You met up with your friends, hyped up each other's outfits, and then went to the bar to get your first round of drinks.

Spencer wandered in and looked around, in awe of everything on display, before ending up at the bar. He peers around, taking in all the cool outfits and masks. As he does, his eyes land on a particular group on the other side of the bar from him. More specifically, his eyes land on a woman in that particular group. He sees the way the lights dance on her hair and the interesting mesh covering her smooth arms and he can’t help but stare as her lips wrap around the straw in her brightly colored drink. Her group starts leaving the bar to find a table to sit at and his eyes follow her until she is lost in the crowd. Spencer goes back to his drink. He isn’t much for random hookups but he figures it’s been awhile and he wouldn’t mind if he got his chance with her.

Your group sits at a high table to catch up before hitting the dance floor. While chatting you finish your drink and head to get another for yourself and your friends. Approaching the bar you lay eyes on a tall, intriguing stranger. He’s leaning against the bar, dressed in blue and he seems to be watching you. You can’t quite tell because of the mask but it definitely seems like his eyes are on you. As the bartender presents your drinks you smile at the stranger, turning and disappearing back into the crowd before he can react. Once your second round of drinks is finished you make your way to the dance floor. You and your friends sway and bounce with the music, occasionally twirling each other and giggling. You get lost in the music, it flows through you and rumbles deep in your bones.

Spencer finishes his third drink and decides he’s stalled for long enough. He skirts through the crowd onto the dance floor and begins swaying slightly to the music. He isn’t really sure of his dancing skills but the music and the alcohol hitting him makes that fact matter less in his mind. As he sways and shimmies he hears a loud giggle, it catches his attention as he searches for the source of the delightful sound. He sees the same woman from the bar dancing around with her friends, head thrown back in laughter as two of her friends spin around together. Spencer swallows his doubt and starts to make his way over to the woman.

You move your body to the music when you feel a presence behind you. You turn and find yourself face to face with the stranger from the bar. He’s moving softly to the music and smiling at you. “Hi,” you say over the music. “Hi,” he replies softly, barely audible over the sounds surrounding you. “Want to dance,” you smile at him. He nods and starts to match your movements. You reach up and grab his hands, setting them on your waist as you move. His grip is soft at first but he holds you tighter as you smile wide at him. His hands on you are warm and you feel yourself wanting more of his touch. You lean into the feeling as you rock your hips to the music. The man watches you from behind the mask with attentive eyes.

Spencer moves in sync with her to the music. His eyes trailing down her form as he takes in the view. The dress is soft under his palms, grounding him in the moment. He’s doing a good job of masking it but he’s nervous as could be. One of the woman’s friends leans over to whisper something to her and she nods in response. Leaning forward she asks, “do you want a drink?” Her voice is sweet and melodic, but quiet enough under the music that he can’t hear well enough to recognize her. “Sure,” he nods. She doesn’t ask what he wants, just shoots her friend a thumbs up over her shoulder.

When the drinks arrive you both down yours quickly only realizing after it was too late that that might be a mistake. The alcohol burns its way down your throat as you stifle a cough. You hand your empty cups back to your friend and continue dancing. There’s some sort of magnetic pull between you and the stranger. You feel like you need to be closer to him and have him all to yourself. The portion of his cheeks that you can see peeking from under the mask are flushed from the alcohol and you wonder how often he comes to the bar, maybe you’ve seen him before. His amber eyes burn into you from behind the mask, the darkness of it only highlighting how beautiful they are.

As you dance you feel the alcohol make its way into your system. There’s a sort of lightness to it, like nothing you do matters too much and you feel less constrained by your own thoughts. It seems like the stranger is feeling the same thing as his hands suddenly slide down to your hips, pressing into them gently as you move. You glance up at him, looking for any indication that you’re thinking the same thing, and his grip on you tightens. Desire creeps into you as his eyes jump from your eyes to your lips and back again. You tilt your head up slightly, hoping he gets the hint, and slow your dancing.

His left hand leaves your hip, his index finger lands under your chin while his thumb rests atop it, tilting your head up more. You wrap your arms around his waist and immediately he’s on you. The kiss is warm and fierce, you taste the liquor on his lips and smell his cologne. Momentarily your senses are overwhelmed by him and the music. The world melts away as you kiss him, it’s as if nothing matters but you two in this moment.

Spencer pulls the woman closer to him, getting lost in the kiss. He swipes his tongue lightly against her lips, asking for permission, and she lets him in immediately. Their tongues dance together as he rubs gentle circles into the woman’s hip. Breaking from the kiss, the woman’s hands slide upwards until their chests are as pressed together as they can be, she starts kissing along his jaw and down his neck. She pulls his collar open slightly and Spencer lets out a whimper as she nips at his now exposed collarbone. She freezes for a second before backing away a bit. “Bathroom,” she whispers, less of a question and more of a statement. With their chests still pressed together and her backed away from his face, Spencer can’t help but let his eyes trail down to her cleavage. “Bathroom,” he whispers back.

You grab the man’s hand and pull him off the dance floor towards the bathrooms. The bathrooms are tucked around a corner, out of view from the other bar patrons, it makes sneaking the stranger into the ladies room with you much easier. “Thank god it’s empty,” you giggle as you pull him into the bathroom and into a large stall at the end of the row.

Once in the stall you pull the man against you by his lapels, his hands land on either side of your head. In the light of the bathroom you get a better look at him. He’s tall and lanky and kind of beautiful. You also notice that he’s wearing the blue version of your mask. He seems to notice it at the same time as you. He nods his head in gesture at your mask, “nice mask,” he chuckles. “You too,” you giggle, “great minds, huh?” “Y’know, the full saying is actually ‘great minds think alike, though fools seldom differ’ so really that’s not the best thing.” He continues rambling and you can’t help but think that he reminds you of someone but the alcohol coursing through you is too strong for you to figure it out. Before you can focus on the familiarity of him too much you place your index finger on his lips, causing him to pause and look at you. “Shut up and kiss me,” you whisper. He leans in and kisses you, deep and long and fierce. He pushes your back up against the wall harder as he leans into the kiss. His hands wrap around your waist as he pulls your hips closer to him. You deepen the kiss as one of his hands snakes between your legs to separate your thighs so he can slide his between them. You grind down on his thigh, a whimper escaping your lips as you do. Your noise seems to flip a switch in the strangers head, his hips bucking against you, he nips at your bottom lip.

“Need you,” Spencer mutters against the woman’s lips. He feels like he must sound pathetic right now but he can’t properly articulate with this stranger riding his thigh like she is. She gives a soft laugh, “yeah? Show me.”

Spencer makes a noise that’s supposed to be a groan but comes out as more of a growl. He drinks in the sudden shift in the woman before him, it’s intoxicating and contagious.

One of his hands starts sliding down your side, reaching the hem of your dress he inches up your thigh. Your chest is filled with a bubbling giddiness as he gets closer to where you want him. He groans when he makes contact with the outside of your underwear. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispers. “You usually like this or am I just special,” he chuckles as you rock forward against his hand slightly. “What would you do if I said you’re just special,” you pant. “I might just never let you go if you tell me that,” he laughs and presses against your clothed clit. You moan loudly at the unexpected contact and he slaps his other hand over your mouth. Leaning forward, inches from your face, he stares into your eyes hungrily. “If we get caught then I can’t fuck you, baby,” he whispers, “keep it down.” Your face is already flushed but you feel it somehow get warmer and redder, your brain shuts down for a second as you process how hot that was.

His dexterous fingers slide your soaked panties to the side and rub through your folds. You chase the friction of his fingers, grinding your hips down on him. Lacking patience, he slips one finger inside you. You moan under his palm, the sound muffled. He gently pumps his finger in and out of you, testing your readiness, before speeding up. You stare at each other intently, his deep eyes burning into you. When he thinks you’re ready he adds a second finger. His palm presses down on your clit, sending bolts of pleasure shooting through you. You grind down on him harder as his fingers thrust into you. “Greedy girl,” he growls lowly.

The pressure is growing in your core. You feel your climax building, starting deep in your gut, the feeling rises up and up, engulfing you. Your walls clench around him as you get closer to the edge. Your eyes burn into him as you watch his reaction. With his hand over your mouth you can smell the cologne on his wrist. Something about it is undeniably familiar, sending you back to a time you were undercover to lure an unsub out. Your brain is fuzzy, between the fingers filling your cunt, the pressure on your clit, and the heavily poured alcohol, you can’t remember why you recognize the cologne. Your pleasure is a heavy weight in your core, threatening to tear through you at the next bit of stimulation. The stranger leans forward and nips at your collarbone. He continues his ministrations, kissing, licking, biting, and sucking at your neck and jaw. You squirm under all the attention he’s giving you, almost overwhelmed by how much he fills your senses.

“Can I taste you,” he pants between kisses. “Oh- I um,” you get out, biting back your moans, “I would need to freshen up, I’ve been dancing so I’m all sweaty and-“ He interrupts you with a hard kiss on the lips. “Don’t care, I just want you on my tongue,” he whispers as he begins lowering himself towards the floor. He reaches behind his head to untie his mask, but you stop him. “Leave it on for me,” you whisper. He nods in response.

You’re a little embarrassed to be where you are, in a club bathroom with a stranger's head under your dress, but once he licks that first pass across your folds the embarrassment leaves your body. “O-oh fuck,” you gasp, grasping his hair harder than you intend to. His tongue explores you, finding your clit as his fingers continue moving inside you. The pressure builds in you, spilling over the edge as you hit your peak. You bite into your bottom lip hard to keep from revealing what you’re doing in the stall. He wraps one arm around the back of your thigh to steady your shaking legs while he slides his fingers out of you with his other hand. His glistening face appears from under your skirt with a proud grin, “you good?” “Y-yeah, just gimme a sec,” you pant, waving off his concern.

Spencer stands up to his full height. He takes his fingers into his mouth, one by one, savoring the woman’s taste left on him. He takes great pride in your reaction, a mix of confusion and arousal washing over your face. He reaches down to adjust the bulge in his pants and sees the woman’s eyes dart down and back up to his gaze. “Do you want to head back,” he asks, jutting his thumb behind him towards the stall door. A mischievous smile spread across her face, “no.”

You reach for the man’s belt, drunk hands trying to rip it off as fast as possible. “Woah, hey,” he says, putting his hands on yours, “we don’t need to. I’m happy just making you happy.” “This will make me happy,” you smile.

Sinking to your knees, you undo his pants and slide them and his briefs down. His cock springs free, nearly smacking you in the face as you let out a nervous giggle. The stranger is bigger than you expected and you’re wondering how much you’ll be able to fit in your mouth. One hand rests on his thigh with the other wraps around his shaft. The contact makes him let out a satisfied gasp. You look up at him through your lashes as you lean forward and lick a stripe up the bottom of his cock. He tries to maintain eye contact, briefly squeezing his eyes shut when you reach the tip and swirl your tongue around the crown. You slide your mouth down him, as far as you can, pumping the section you can’t reach without gagging. You slide your hand and mouth along his length in tandem, occasionally swirling your tongue when you reach the tip. He bites down on his knuckles as you look up at him, muting the pathetic moans and whimpers leaving him. He’s warm and heavy in your mouth as you allow him in deeper until he reaches the back of your throat. Very aware of how much you’ve drank and not interested in puking on a stranger in the bathroom, you decide not to show off all your dick sucking skills tonight and avoid deepthroating him. The stranger doesn’t seem to mind much though, as his hips begin bucking to meet your mouth. The one hand on his thigh slides to his hip, leaving nail marks as you press in to stop his movements.

“S-sorry,” he whimpers, “feels so good.” You speed up your movements, feeling him throb in your mouth, sensing he’s close. Your tongue traces gently over veins and muscle as you move your head up and down him. With a sudden guttural moan, only muffled by his own hand over his mouth, the stranger shoots ropes of warm cum into your mouth. You continue the gentle suction as you accept his offering down your throat. Pulling off him with a satisfying pop, you swallow what’s left in your mouth. He stares down at you, eyelids heavy with lust, hand still over his mouth despite you no longer stimulating him. “I’m sorry, that was really fast, you’re just very talented and you were looking at me, and I-“ You rise to your feet, wiping your mouth, “it’s actually really hot that I made you cum so fast.” “Oh,” he giggles, sliding his hand down his face to reach out and gently cup your jaw, “in that case, hike your skirt up and I’ll show you how quick I can be.”

You both laugh as you slowly inch back together. His lips find yours again and despite you both having cum once and seemingly sobered up a bit, he still kisses you hungrily. You pull him against you by his still open pants and his kisses become frenzied. He kisses down your cheek to your jaw and neck, attacking you with kisses and nips. He bites down harder than you’re expecting, causing you to yelp, but this time he doesn’t stop to ask if you’re okay.

He simply shoves you back against the wall, making sure to cushion your head with one hand, and licks over the spot he just bit. His hands explore your body, one sliding up the back of your thighs, the other down from your hair to your jaw and to your breasts, lifting one leg over his hip to press your pelvises together, and anywhere he can reach, it seems. It’s like he’s starving for you again.

He breaks away from you for a second to breathe, his breath cooling all the wet spots his lips and tongue left behind on your neck and chest. “You good for round two,” he whispers. You nod fervently, excited to see what round two brings. He pulls your skirt up and you feel the head of his cock brush against your folds. “Oh wait,” you whisper, “I have condoms.” You reach for your bag, fishing out a foil wrapped condom. “Condoms,” the stranger asks, emphasizing the plurality of the word. “Hey don’t judge,” you shoot back, “you never know what kind of night you might have.” You unwrap it and make sure it’s facing the right way. The stranger laughs. You giggle as you slide the condom down his shaft, “you should be grateful I’m so prepared.” “T-true,” he gasps, the new contact from you distracting him.

Once situated again, the stranger rubs his cock against your entrance. You attach yourself to his neck, kissing and sucking and nipping, hoping it’ll keep you from making too much noise. He gently slides into you, struggling a little to fit, hissing as he goes. “Ho-holy shit,” he moans quietly. You gasp around his length, unprepared for how much he fills you. You continue to busy yourself with attacking his skin as he starts to slowly slide in and out of you. His head slumps to your shoulder, “we gotta be quiet,” he whispers. You don’t have time to respond before he bites into your exposed shoulder.

“Ah! Fuck, you think that’ll keep me quiet,” you whisper-shout at him. “No but it’ll keep me quiet,” he responds, muffled from his teeth sinking into your skin. It’s not enough to hurt too bad, but it’ll leave little crescents for you to see later, you bet. You can practically feel the smirk on his face against your skin. You bite him back, eliciting a muffled whine from the stranger, as he fucks into you. You can already feel the pressure building. A tightening of your core forces more whines and grunts out of him. He fucks you deep and hard against the wall while you leave marks all over his neck and chest. You hope to yourself that he owns a turtleneck but you don’t have the impulse control to stop marking him. You figure, with tomorrow being Sunday, that he should have a day or so to figure it out anyways.

Spencer’s cock slides in and out of the woman, tantalizing ridges and grooves threatening to send him over the edge sooner than he wants. He holds onto her hips for dear life. When the leg propped on his hip begins to slide he slips one hand under her stocking covered knee. He lifts her leg, pressing it against her torso. This new angle allowing him to hit even deeper inside her. “Oh fuck” he moans out, lost in the bliss of her warmth.

Your head lolls back against the wall, shameless moans slipping past your lips. The stranger's head snaps up to look at you but he doesn't stop thrusting. His right hand comes up to cover your mouth and he leans forward, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I love the sounds you make, and I want to hear them, but what we’re doing isn’t something I need people knowing about,” he whispers deliciously low. “Mmf,” you nod, his hands hiding any words you want to say in response.

The only sounds escaping this scene in the bathroom are quiet pants and the soft sound of skin against skin. You praise whatever entities let you get away without any filthy sounds from your wet cunt filling the small space you’re crammed into.

The stranger's thrusts begin to lose their precision as he drives into you. You can feel your body tensing as you near the end.

“D-do your friends know what you’re up to,” he breathes against your ear, “hm? Do they know you’re spending your night getting filled in the bathroom?” His tone is almost cruel, a sudden darkness you hadn’t expected from the whimpering man in front of you. “Mmf,” you try to respond, hoping your voice will travel through the hand covering your mouth. “Hm? What’s that baby? I can’t hear you,” he chuckles cruelly. He’s smirking, the curve of his face raising his mask just enough to see his cheekbones. “MMF,” you reply with more urgency. “Aw you’re being so good for me baby, so nice and quiet,” he picks up the pace of just thrusts. You clench around him, feeling yourself on the precipice of your climax. “Ah fuck- you’re so fucking perfect,” he growls into your ear.

The praise is enough to send you over the edge, his dangerously low and gravely tone sending you into an orgasm so intense you don’t realize you’ve caused the stranger to cum as well. You pulse around him, the pressure finally snapping in you both. It hits you like a wave, sudden and hard, dragging you deep into a fuzzy warmth despite the cold bathroom surrounding you. He lets out a deep moan, muffled by your neck. His thrusting slows as you come back to earth, your whole cunt throbbing and your head spinning from pleasure. Your body tenses and releases, overstimulation creeping in.

He slowly lets your leg down, careful not to drop it, as he slides out of you. “Oh my god,” he pants, “that was-wow!” He has the dorkiest smile on his face and you can’t help but think how cute it is. “Yeah, that was crazy,” you smile back.

Suddenly a little more sober, you’re hit with the realization of where you are and what just happened. A feeling of anxiety and embarrassment washes over you and you feel the sudden urge to put distance between yourself and this stranger. You aren’t typically one for this kind of behavior and you aren’t sure how to face the side of yourself that comes out with a little too much alcohol.

“Um, I’ll leave you to get cleaned up,” you say awkwardly. The stranger was already in the process of cleaning himself up but he seems to notice the awkwardness and goes with it. “Oh yeah, cool, I’ll see you out there,” he smiles softly over his shoulder at you.

You feel guilty trying to bail immediately after cumming but you also don’t want to face the consequences and try to make pleasantries with this man. You grab your friends, quickly explain the situation, and leave once you get everyone gathered.

Your trip home was filled with ribbing from your friends, teasing you for your behavior. “We wanted you to let loose but getting fucked in the bathroom wasn’t what we meant.” “Maybe you’ll see your stall stud at the next event.” “Next time, share, I could use some bathroom time myself.” It was all in good fun but the guilt of leaving was eating at you.

The man seemed nice enough and from what you saw of him he was definitely your type. He made you feel good, he was fun to dance with, he was funny, he was cute, but you just didn’t have time for this kind of drama in your life. Your job was too demanding and most regular people weren’t understanding of a BAU agent's life. Once in your apartment, you flopped onto your bed, not even bothering to change or clean yourself off before falling into a deep sleep.

You’re awoken a few hours later by a phone call. As if Hotch had sensed your earlier ruminations on your job making dating impossible, he needs you for a case.

You quickly change, not even glancing in a mirror before leaving the house, and head to work. On the way there you wipe off some of the leftover makeup on your face in the car's small flip down mirror. You hadn’t forgotten last night but it seems that parts had slipped your mind as you realize your neck and chest is covered in hickies and other marks. You button your shirt up to the top and dot bits of concealer over your neck in a sad attempt to hide it. You know either way you’d have to pick up something better before conducting interviews or facing others outside your team.

“Goddamit,” you sigh as you pull your car into the spot next to Derek’s.

Walking into the briefing room, your eyes sweep around the room offering your coworkers a welcoming smile, hoping to distract them from the still obvious blotches on your neck. You feel Emily and Derek’s eyes drift to the exposed skin, their eyes no doubt lighting up at the possibility to tease you. “Looks like you and pretty boy both had a good night off,” Derek chuckles.

Your eyes find Spencer’s across the room, his darting between your eyes and your neck. You glance down at his exposed neck to find marks, similar to your own, spread across his skin. As you take in the sight of him, a realization washes over you. His hair was fluffed up like someone had been playing with it, he had a distinct red stain smeared to one side of his mouth, there were specks of glitter dotted in his hair. The cologne, the rambling off random language facts, even just how he’d looked made sense now. Spencer was the stranger in the bathroom.

“Yeah,” you chuckle awkwardly, “you know I have to meet up with my girls when I have time off. They let me get a bit too crazy I guess. What’d you get up to Spencer?” You stare at Spencer intently, trying to gauge if he knows or not. He looks at you, seemingly nervous. “Oh, uh, it’s not important honestly.” He suddenly looks away as Derek ribs him, trying to get information. You’re lost in thought as Spencer spins a story about a date gone hectic. He definitely knows and you definitely know. What are you going to do now? This is definitely some kind of work policy violation or something, and how would your friendship suffer? Was this a happy accident or a recipe for disaster?

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saerotonins · 6 months ago

Text

NOBODY KNOWS

ft. sylus x fem!reader

— when there’s danger in secrecy, Sylus is always ready to challenge it.

word count: 6.1k

content warnings: smut, angst if you squint, quick xavier cameo, jealous and possessive Sylus, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (f! receiving), mirror sex, creampie, use of nicknames (doll, sweetheart, darling), reader is a bit mean to Sylus, very slight spoilers/implications from his myth card (it’s not even that obvious), i suck at endings

note: this is my first ever full-blown smut fic, and hopefully more to come as i improve along the way <3

song inspo: nobody knows by kiss of life

—

The mask on your face feels hot and annoying. Out of all the themes the Hunters Association would go after for the annual party, they chose the one that could be a bit of a hassle for everyone else. It would not make any sense since the association is fairly small and most of you knew what each other would look like. Nonetheless, everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.

Well, you were, too.

You felt utterly stunning, donning an off-shoulder burgundy red dress that hugged your curves just right, gloriously exposing your figure despite the chill air hitting against your neck and the exposed part of your legs courtesy of the slits on the side of your clothing, combined with accessories that you could only wear once in a while.

You felt great.

Not until you see a very familiar figure amongst the crowd.

There is no denying it. That tall figure, those broad shoulders, the annoying smirk seemingly permanently etched across his lips, and those red, dark, and fiery eyes.

Sylus.

Your mood instantly becomes sour, and more importantly, you feel your hands get clammy, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you see him take steps in your direction.

Is he crazy?!

“Fancy seeing you here, doll. Looking gorgeous, aren’t we?” You did not even notice him get closer to you until you felt his hot breath against your ears. His voice purred against your skin, undoubtedly full of yearning. After all, it has been a while since he has last seen you.

“Are you nuts? What are you even doing here?” Ignoring his compliment, you gritted your teeth as you seethed with annoyance.

You knew he was always thick-skinned, but risking his identity being discovered and your occupation is a different kind of stupid.

“Can’t the owner of their business visit their place from time to time?” He slyly replied.

Your eyes immediately widen, “you own this place?” but all you get as a reply is an annoyed tut as he sips on his wine glass. Sighing at his response, or lack thereof, you rolled your eyes out of annoyance. It should not be a surprise, a man of his caliber would no doubt own any possible business or land there is.

“Whatever, you certainly can’t attend here without any invitation, especially when you’re not even a part of the association-'' your sentence was cut short when you felt Sylus’ hand wrap around your waist.

You feel your breath hitch, though your dress was an unfortunate barrier between your skin and his palm, you feel electricity dance against your spine.

“For the record, I am invited. Your gracious captain wanted to thank the owner for giving them a huge discount and gave the invitation through the manager.” Sylus fixes his posture, standing proud as another smug smile spreads across his lips.

As you were about to retort, you heard Xavier call for your name. Panic reaches your system and you hurriedly take Sylus’ hand away from you. Scowling, you look at him one last time before leaving, but not without a warning, “better behave and pretend you do not know me,” you say as you turn your back on him, walking towards Xavier’s direction.

“Who was that?” Sylus hears Xavier ask you once you reach him. Despite the mask covering half of your face, your body speaks volumes. You are nervous, afraid that people might find out that you are sensuously involved with the one person your association is after.

“That was nothing,” he hears you lie. A lame answer if he says so himself but it was enough for Xavier to not ask any more questions.

You could make a better excuse than that, doll, he thinks.

Throughout the whole event, Sylus finds himself observing you. Every interaction you had, every sip of champagne, and every laugh that you managed to let out, he sees it all.

However, one thing that bothers him the most is how close you and Xavier were the whole time. Sylus is not a jealous man himself, he is confident in everything he does and how he expresses himself to you.

But the way he can see Xavier’s hands linger against your back, the look in his eyes, he knows what all that was about.

He knows about it because he himself has done it.

Sylus lets out an annoyed tut, his eyebrows furrowing tightly, barely concealing the fact that he is beyond displeased and irritated. He is a rational man by all means, especially when it comes to you, but when someone tries to get ahold of something that is his, a fire ignites within him.

Begrudgingly, Sylus quickly swipes up a champagne glass by a passing waiter. Clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, he walks with hurried steps towards your direction, each step becoming even faster as his annoyance catches up on him.

“I can stop by your unit for tomorrow and bake you egg tarts- what the fuck!” your scream echoes around the area as you hold your now champagne-soaked dress. Looking up, you see Sylus and his shit-eating grin.

Bastard, he’s done this on purpose. What is wrong with him?

Trying to maintain your composure, you breathe in your vexation to avoid any trouble that you already are facing.

“My apologies, my lady. My hand must’ve slipped, it was my fault for being clumsy.” To the untrained eye, Sylus’ apology might have sounded genuine but you know he is putting on an act. The undertone present in his voice is nothing but evident, the slight upward of the corner of his mouth did not go unnoticed either.

Through gritted teeth, you reply, “It’s no problem at all. Sorry, Xav, but I need to clean up,” you did not wait for his response as you hurriedly went to the nearest comfort room, trying your best not to stomp your feet too much as to hide the anger bubbling up in your chest.

Your body feels sticky and disgusting, with each step, you feel the remnants of the champagne trickling down the exposed part of your thighs and down to the rest of your leg, its slits on the side of your dress making it vulnerable to any spill, thanks to a special someone.

Once you reach the comfort room, you huff as you push the door, eager to wash off the mess all over your body. But even before you could close it, a large hand stops it.

Sylus and his annoying ass again.

Rolling your eyes, you did your best to force it close, but to no avail, Sylus managed to open the door before you and lock it the moment he barged in.

Not having any will to hold on any longer, you let your anger get the best of you.

“Are you a fucking lunatic? Do you know how dangerous this shit is?!” You scream, all rationality leaving your body as you explode at the man before you.

“Calm down, sweetheart—”

“You don’t get to tell me to calm down when all you do whenever we meet in public is jeopardize my job!” Your eyes begin to sting as frustration fills up your body, and your hands begin to have a mind of their own, trying to push Sylus away.

Before he can even try and console you again, your sobs slowly fill up the space and your feeble attempt on pushing him grows more and more weak as you go. You feel your tears fall down your face as you decide to clutch onto his dress shirt.

“You never take me seriously, Sylus, it’s frustrating,” your words become more incoherent as you force yourself to push him away, your efforts have gone in vain as he catches hold of your wrists.

His hold, however, feels light and comforting. Contrary to his demeanor earlier, he seems gentle, treating you as if you were a fragile China doll that is going to break anytime soon if he is not careful enough.

“It wasn’t anything like that, sweetheart.” Sylus’ low and raspy voice vibrates through your entire being, it is tender and calm, yet laced with regrets and guilt as he caresses your arms.

“It was stupid and irrational,” his voice trails off as his body feels the shame for the first time.

Sylus knew he was acting brash and immature for someone like him who is usually calm, his being wrapped with unshakeable confidence as he walked through the crowd. But when it comes to you, his resolve easily crumbles-

He becomes human.

A concept that was foreign to him until you entered his dark and mysterious life filled with risks and countless dangers, enemies, and threats.

“What was that about then?” You try and push for an answer, “Please, Sylus, talk to me—”

“I was jealous,” he says.

Your eyebrows immediately furrow as confusion wraps around your brain.

“You mean Xavier? Baby, he’s just a friend—”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” Sylus closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh, “I was the same. I trust you, sweetheart, but seeing another man have his eyes on you like that just…”

“—I just want to be yours, I want you to use me, and only me.”

You knew this was Sylus’ way of declaring his love to you. But the way he bares his feelings to you, letting himself be vulnerable this way, feels endearing. Though he was nothing but shy about his emotions towards you, seeing him jealous like this made you feel somewhat giddy.

Sniffling through the last of your tears, you cradle his face with gentle hands, “Has anyone told you you’re kind of stupid sometimes?”

Sylus lets out a sound of disapproval, the corner of his mouth lifting up. “No,” he says as he slouches and snuggles himself deep into your hands, feeling your palms against his skin bringing some kind of solace in him.

“Well, now you do— because you are being stupid.” your pointer and middle finger reach out to his forehead, playfully pushing him away. With his physique, however, he hardly even budged.

“Well, god forbid a man gets jealous sometimes. Right, sweetheart?”

Disappointment became evident on his face when you removed your hand to put it on your waist, “I didn’t like how you acted. It was dangerous, Sylus, you know this.”

Despite the firmness and the stern tone on your voice, the worry swirling through your stomach shows through your eyes.

He looks away, the glint of mischief in his eyes seems to disappear, “I’m sorry, darling, that wasn’t very nice of me, was it?” he sighs as he possessively wraps an arm around your waist as his free hand finds its way on your face. It might be the alcohol’s doing but you sense a bit of playfulness in his voice, but nonetheless, his sincerity is shown.

Sylus’ rough and calloused hands touched your face, dancing across your eyelids, cheeks, and eventually, the bottom of your lips. Devotion is apparent to the windows of his soul when he sees your disappointment gradually dissipate, replaced with love and longing for not seeing him for so long.

How long has it been since you last saw him anyway?

And then, it all clicked.

Bombarded by constant tasks sent and given by the association left you busy for the past few weeks and made you have barely enough time for yourself, let alone for your lover. The realization made you sick to your stomach, your heart, wrenching at the thought of neglecting Sylus for that long, albeit accidentally.

You remember all the times he had reached out, only for you to reply with a rejection caused by your hectic schedule, and not being able to attend his invitation to dates or galas due to exhaustion. You feel your stomach drop as you realize that you have been brushing off his attempts to spend some time with you.

However, you commend his patience and understanding towards you. Knowing how demanding your job is as a hunter, he knows where and when to put distance and understands why you haven’t been spending your time with him.

It made you feel like a terrible partner.

“Sylus, did you miss me?” You quip, but you know well that it was laced with sincerity enough for Sylus to notice the honesty of your question.

His eyes widened, caught off guard by you. Suddenly, the corners of his lips quivered as he let out a quiet snicker, “You could say that, yeah.” His eyes dilated as you felt his arms hold onto your waist tighter.

“I missed you… so much,” you felt his hot breath leaning in, his lips slowly brushing against yours, the little restraint that he has in his desires for you disappearing into thin air.

Your breath hitched as the distance between the two of you grew closer, “wanna show me how much?” you challenged him.

Not even a second passed and his lips met yours. You could taste the remnants of his favorite red wine on his lips, tasting sweeter than usual. Feeling his tongue moving languidly against your lower lip, you open your mouth for him. Sylus’ grip tightens around you, the feeling of you against him makes him dizzy, all thoughts out of the window as he ravishes you like it was the last time.

Dazed and hypnotized by the feeling against his lips, it barely fazed you when you felt him lifting you up by your thighs and wrapping them around his waist. You feel his tent growing against your core as your wanton moans occupy the room. “Sylus, more, please— ngh, hah, n-need you so bad,” you beg, wanting him to claim you sooner.

“Patience, sweetie, I’ll give you what you want, yeah? Won’t you be a good girl for me?” His breathy plea manages to reach your ear as you feel your senses dulling, every fiber of your being wanting to be occupied by him.

Your protests are caught in your throat when you feel the cold marble of the bathroom sink against the back of your thighs. Sylus’ hands busied themselves by grabbing your thighs, pulling them close to him, desperate for some kind of friction against his growing cock as his needy mouth explores yours. Moans, dangerously growing loud as he slowly devours you.

His lips then find their way to your neck and chest, leaving marks that will undoubtedly bloom dark once the morning comes. His hands come precariously lower to your thighs, opening the slits that cover little of it?/them?, deliciously displayed in plain sight.

Sylus feels himself drool in his mouth, eyes blown wide when he sees a pleasant surprise before him.

A pretty little pair of black laced stockings that stops on your upper thigh, fat spilling against the tight garter that hugs around them, and if he goes further, he can see the peek of the black laced panties that he gifted to you as a set.

He feels himself grow hotter by the thought of you wearing his pretty gift in secret, hidden beneath your red dress just for him to see and consume with every fiber of his soul.

You feel both of his hands slide your dress wide open, your thighs on full display as he traces every detail of your lacy surprise.

His lips meet your upper thigh as he tastes the remainder of the wasted champagne that was thrown (by him) on your dress earlier.

A happy accident if he says so himself.

“Never thought champagne would taste better against your skin, sweetie,” Sylus says as he laps on your exposed skin, slowly pulling on your stockings, the feeling of his tongue sliding against your thigh bringing shivers down your spine. The view beneath you is sinful, but if heaven even was real, you would like to think this was a blessing given to you on a silver platter.

Sylus, the big bad Onychinus leader is on his knees before you. It surely is a sight to see.

Once both of your stockings and heels are thrown elsewhere in the room, Sylus holds up your feet and starts putting back the Louboutins that he gifted you on your anniversary.

Confused and panting and with a mind clouded with lust, you question him, “Why are you putting them back?” He can clearly hear the whining of your voice, eagerly waiting for him to take you whole. But he holds back, he knows how frustrating it is to be waiting for this long. He knows that feeling too well, especially for the past few weeks.

So, who is he to deprive his lover of their needs?

He kisses your ankles once he puts your heels back on, “just thought you would look better in them,” he does not wait for your reply as you immediately felt the cold air hitting in between your thighs he pushes your dress wide open, making your clothed pussy put on full display before him.

Sylus feels himself drool once again, the vision before him absolutely makes him want to ravish you. Your panties ruined by the wetness pooling in between your thighs makes his mind go crazy, the tiny and intricate details of every lace ignored because he knows what's underneath them is what makes it even better.

And it’s who wears them that makes them enticing.

He feels himself gravitating towards you and you feel his breath against your core. Your thigh instinctively pushes close but Sylus’ large hands stop them before you do. His eyebrows raised, “you wouldn't want to deprive your lover of such a gift, would you, sweetie?”

You shake your head vigorously, mind hazy with thoughts of him, as if to eagerly tell him, “Do whatever you want, I’m yours.”

He kisses your cunt before pulling your panties to the side, you feel him closer against you as he whispers, “This is my way of apologizing,” his lips touch your slit before lapping on your labia, the tip of his tongue brushing against your clit, the sensation shooting electricity through your body.

Fuck, it has been a while.

Like a man starved, deprived of any food for days, Sylus’ mouth works its wonders, burrowing his tongue in your depths as he flicks your clit. He ravishes you like you were his last meal, like it was his last day on earth.

His ears were red, he could feel his pants tightening even more every second that he busied himself in between your thighs. The sinful sounds of him slurping the wetness of your core along with your breathy moans ringing through the bathroom walls.

It was all perfect until he realized that you were holding back your moans, being careful as to who might hear the sin that was going on behind the closed doors. With a last gentle kiss to your cunt, he looks up at you, eyes fogged with lust, lips glistening as clear liquid drips from his chin.

“Why’d you stop?” you whine at the empty feeling underneath you, impatiently urging Sylus to continue. You’d wince at how desperate you sound right now but you know he’s just the same.

“I want to hear you loud and clear, darling, can you do that for me?” Shame starts to fill you immediately, but thinking further, you feel yourself wanting the thrill of getting caught, the thought of people seeing you and your lover vulnerable whilst he gives you the pleasure you absolutely deserve.

You nod as you feel your voice caught in your throat, “y-yes.”

“Atta girl,” he praises before ravaging your pussy once again, nipping at your clit as he immediately finds it, your nerves sparking with pleasure as he slithers his tongue underneath you, “always such a good girl just for me, aren’t you?”

His voice, muffled by the pleasure that you’re getting, but you nod anyway in a desperate attempt to answer him. You feel your senses getting foggy as you feel his hands roaming on your thighs as his mouth plays with your wetness, tongue skillfully sucking on your clit, making you see stars upon the dark sky.

Your breathy moans along with the ungodly sounds that Sylus makes under you harmonizing along the room, making a music only the both of you can find pleasure in. You then feel yourself bite back a groan as you feel the length of his finger entering your cunt, the delicious stretch it already gives you makes you wetter.

Heat rises on your face, the embarrassment of making such sounds coming from you almost covers up the gratification he gives you at the moment, “all of this just for me, kitten? I must show you my gratitude for giving me this generously,” Sylus hums against your pussy, the vibration reaching to your core making you let out a loud cry of desire.

“That’s it, let me hear you out loud, sweetie,” he says as he gets back into eating you out.

You feel him add another finger, and then another, preparing you for what’s about to come.

You don’t have it in you to hold back anymore, shame be damned, you let yourself go and release every sound of pleasure that you felt every second his tongue gilded against your folds, together with his fingers thrusting inside you.

“Sylus, hngh…close, p-please, hah,” you pant, every syllable comes out with a struggle, battling against the moans that come out of your mouth.

“Hmmm…Can you hold it out for a lil’ while f’me, sweetheart?” your heart almost dropped when his honeyed voice asked for such a favor, but for him, you would.

You at least owe it to him.

“O-okay,” combined with your frantic nods, Sylus understood your consent.

You whine when you feel your cunt suddenly devoid of his digits, the empty feeling makes you sigh in frustration.

“Was that a complaint I’m hearing?” you can hear the smile against his lips, one would think it would be out of teasing but both of you know he’s delighted that you want him as much as he wants you the moment.

Your labored breaths make it hard for you to bite back, a pathetic whimper escapes on your lips instead.

He tuts, “good things come to those who wait, angel, be patient,” Sylus coaxes you to relax as he stands up and starts to unbuckle his belt.

As he’s about to remove his trousers that seemingly have a wet patch around the crotch, he feels your hands against his.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” his breathy voice fans against your forehead, curious as to what you are up to.

You look up to meet his eyes, his orbs swimming in desire as he awaits for your response.

“I want to make you feel good, too,” the words came out of your mouth almost like a plea.

He has been making you feel good for a while now, you wanted to bring back the favor to him, make him feel the pleasure he gave you moments ago. Sylus has been very patient and very understanding, he was you beck and call, always around the corner to help you to whatever concerns you have. Surely, he deserves this little treat before the real thing, doesn’t he?

“I appreciate the thought, darling, really, but…” Sylus closes the space between you and you feel his hot breath beside your ear.

“If I don’t get to take you right now, I’m gonna go crazy, hah—” he did not even get to finish his sentence completely as you feel him grinding the tent on his pants against your thighs, hopelessly trying to feel the little friction he craves.

“At least let me feel you first, please?” You make sure to elongate the last word, bringing your charm to the table, something Sylus could not deny even if he tried.

“Ngh— fine, you’re lucky you’re very adorable,” suppressing his desires and trying to give himself a little bit of patience, he rests his head on your shoulders, the rise and fall of his chest ragged as he waits for you.

You ran through your hands delicately against his trousers, gliding along the evident dick print as his cock aches to be let out. “Well, for someone who preaches patience, aren’t you excited?” you tease, feeling his dick twitch against your touch the moment he hears your sultry voice.

A husky laugh escapes from his throat, “only you have that privilege.”

“Oh, do I?”

Before Sylus could even reply, he feels your hand squeeze his hard on, making him lose his balance and hold onto the bathroom tiles behind you. “Fuck, baby, be careful,” he can hardly retain his breathy moans as he feels your fingers dance against his leaking tip, staining his trousers even more.

“Fuck, all of this just for me?” You parrot his statement earlier, indulging and taking advantage of the smidgen of control he has given you.

Sylus lets out a groan and almost loses himself in the process, mind dizzy with the effect you had on him just by touching his clothed dick. “Shit, sweetheart, easy there, hah— I need you,” he nuzzles his head on your nape, feeling him place longing kisses along your neck and shoulders.

Taking advantage of the distance, you bit on his ears and put a firm squeeze on his dick.

“That’s it,” Sylus lost all control, devouring your lips against his all over again, each bite soothed with a lick, his tongue exploring the wet cavern of your mouth as his moans got muffled against yours.

He feels your hands on his belt, taking it off as he hears the clinking of the metal thud against the tiled floor, falling together with his trousers. His boxers seemingly fell more victim in his precum by the second. With a beat, you take the last and the only clothing acting as a barrier between the both of you.

You hear Sylus hiss when he feels the cold air hitting his cock that has sprung against his abdomen. His tip glistened, evident of his arousal.

Sylus breaks the kiss, a bridge of saliva forming between your “missed you so much.”

Letting out a playful scoff, you look at his hard on and back to him, “yeah, I can tell.”

Placing a chaste kiss on your lips, he looks into your eyes with concern, “you sure you can take me alreadyr? It’s been a while after all.”

Oh sweet, considerate Sylus, always putting your needs before his.

“Yes, I am, Sylus, enough talking and just fuck me already.” You say with a light humor in your voice.

“Always a demanding and greedy kitten, huh? Fuck— always had the right to anyway,” placing a kiss on your cheek, Sylus lets himself go and lines his cock against your entrance, slapping his tip against your clit before finally entering you.

His cock stretched you out deliciously, the dull ache mixed with pleasure brings ecstasy to your brain, fogging up any logical thinking.

“Ngh— Sylus, fuck, ‘s too big,” a whine leaves your lips as you let yourself adjust to his girth, filling you up.

You realized how much you missed this, him. How he always puts your needs before him, making sure you’re well enough to take him fully.

“I know, baby,” Sylus coos, his hands running through your hair comforting you as he slowly lets his dick in inch by inch. “But you can do it, can you? You’ve taken me so well, haven’t you?”

Dizzy in lust, you find yourself lost in words as you settle on a nod instead. “That’s my girl, s’good just for me, yeah?”

His praise does things to you, you feel your stomach flutter with butterflies, “Fuck, baby stop clenching on me or I can’t go all the way,” Sylus struggles as he feels you clench on him, the pressure on his cock making it harder to control himself. “Just relax for me, darling… that’s it, uh huh, good girl.”

Sylus finally succeeds on slipping his cock in with the help of your wetness, ragged breaths leaving both of your lips, “You okay there, sweetheart?”

“Sylus,” your voice stern as you say his name.

“Yeah?”

“Just move and fuck me already,” you spat, eager to feel all of him.

“Hah— such a feisty little kitten,” a smirk formed on the corner of his lips, one you want to smack out of him.

“Fuck of– AH!” your fury has been cut short as you feel Sylus slam his cock into you.

“Hah— ah! Mngh— s-so good…” you feel your eyes go to the back of your head as Sylus thrashes himself into you at a delicious pace, not too fast, not too slow but enough to hit the spot that you’ve been aching to satisfy.

His dick brushes against your cervix delectably, your screams bouncing off the bathroom walls, rationality no longer present in your bones as you feel him go deeper inside of you.

“You feel so great, darling, always been, hah—” groans flow through his lips like music, harmonizing with the sounds that escape yours.

Your thighs slapping against each other fill out the room, Sylus never misses a beat as he continuously rams himself, “missed you so fucking much, baby,” you feel his hands squeeze your thighs, one that would surely bloom bruises by the next day.

“Been waiting to feel you for days, mngh— you have no idea how much I’ve been holding back,” his hand traveled to clasp onto your neck, lightly squeezing the sides of it. The slight pressure intensing the pleasure he’s giving you.

“Then don’t— take me as you want, Sylus,” the confirmation from your lips is enough for him to go crazy.

His rhythm hits your thighs, burning in delight as he makes his pace faster but never failing to hit your sweet spots.

Sylus feels your nails rake against his shoulders. You hear him hiss, the sharp pain combines with his heightened desires to make you feel good.

“Sylus, ‘m so close, ngh— please,” you whine in between your moans, the knot on your core desperately wanting to be unleashed.

“I know, baby, shh, I know, but hold it f’me one more time,” Sylus tries to calm you down, his hands rubbing your thighs as he coaxes you.

Despite your pleas, you oblige anyway. You feel Sylus urge you to move and guide you in front of the mirror above the sink.

You see the fucked out state of your face but Sylus can tell that you’re glowing. The mascara smudged around your eyes, your red lipstick fading and smeared all around your mouth, the tear stains result from the pleasure he’s been giving, despite all of that, Sylus still finds you the prettiest when you’re like this.

“Look at you, darling,” Sylus gives your neck some attention, feeling his teeth lighty dig onto your skin and giving it some gentle lick. “You look good and taste good.”

You feel the zipper of your dress get undone, the top part loosening, “now that’s better,” you swear you hear Sylus purr when he sees your tits slightly bounce as he completely lowers down the top of your dress. You feel his warm and large hands hold onto your right breast, squeezing it ever so lightly.

“My pretty girl,” Sylus sighs against your ears as you feel him resume his previous movements.

Slowly, you see your tits bounce on the mirror as Sylus fucks you with even more fervor, his hands gripping against your waist and the other placed delicately on your next.

Your mouth hangs open as his thighs meet against your ass, the continuous slapping becoming louder with each thrust as he goes. You arch your back as your head tilts up with the intense pleasure, “mngh— more, p-please,” you whimper, eyes rolled back to your head once again as you feel him full inside of you.

You feel Sylus’ hot breath beside you, words incoherent in his mouth as he tends to your needs. His teeth clench as he rams inside of you.

He’s close.

“Hah— baby, ‘m close please mngh—” you wail as you feel your release coming.

“Fuck! I’m close as well, darling, come with me, yeah?” His words are met with desperate whines and a frantic nod.

He was almost about to let himself go when he heard you.

“Cum inside of me, please, hah—” you plead, desperate to feel him fill you up.

Sylus feels himself getting more heated, delighted to hear you wanting to take his seed.

“What my lady wants, my lady gets,” he says as he slams inside your puffy pussy for the last time, “make sure to take each drop, yeah, sweetheart?”

You feel his cock twitch inside you, pumping you full of his seed. You squeal against as you reach your own high, breaths unsteady as he fucks the remains of his release inside of you, while both of your essence drip on your thighs.

“You take me so well, darling,” he says once he eases with his breathing, placing a sweet kiss on your cheeks. “I love you,” he declares as he snuggles his head on your nape with a sigh of relief as he slips his cock out.

You delicately hold his chin up to your face and give his lips a peck, “I love you, too,” your eyes shine as a smile etched to your lips.

“But next time you miss me, do it in private,” you jest.

Sylus pretends to ponder and shrugs, “not promising anything, though,” you smack his arm as he lets out a boyish laugh, “let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

Sylus helps you clean up, tissues thrown onto the trash as helps you with your dress.

Zipping you up, he hears you yawn, “‘m sleepy,” you say as he sees your eyes drooping, fighting off the drowsiness.

Not missing a beat, Sylus carries you bridal style before opening the bathroom door. “Close your eyes, I’ll wake you up once we’re finally home,” without a protest, you drift into slumber, your head snuggling against his chest as you let out quiet snores.

Sylus looks at you with stars in his eyes, his lips forming into a smile before kissing your forehead and stepping out.

Not even ten steps in, Sylus is met by one of his bodyguards, face red. Obviously aware of the activities the both of you have engaged in a while ago.

“Sir,” his bodyguard bows, “anything you need?” he asks, clearing his throat.

“Keys,” one word is enough for the guard to understand him.

Handing out his car keys, the bodyguard bows as Sylus strides towards the parking lot.

The ride back home was quiet, your snores acting like white noise as he drove back to the base. It was mundane, driving you both home to enjoy yourselves and rest under the roof of his luxurious home, but it was one of the things that he enjoys indulging with you.

His life was nothing but rough: constantly dealing with enemies, and the danger that comes when you live in the N109 zone, but when he met you, when you came back to his life once again, you were that one constant that keeps lighting up his world.

You were the only comfort he knew, building a home in a place full of violence, one he never fathoms having when he’s used to being ferocious, bringing fear along his presence to his enemies’ system and making them crumble to their knees.

You were the only source of solemnity that he knew and he would not dare to imagine you being ripped apart from him.

Placing you on his king-sized bed and changing you into the pajamas that you left in his place, he placed a longing kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering there as he inhales your scent.

One day, maybe he would be able to proudly boast to the world how happy he is to have you back in his life without repercussions.

But now is not the time, not when your life is in constant jeopardy, not when he’s technically a fugitive on the run. For now, he’s content in indulging you in the privacy of your shared home (or sometimes in public).

Sylus would make the world a safe place for you first, come hell or high water, he would ruin each obstacle that comes to your relationship and finally, finally, he could be as loud as he wants.

He’s never letting you go again.

—

dividers from @/cafekitsune

#sylus x reader #sylus smut #sylus love and deepspace #sylus lnds #love and deepspace smut #lnds #lnds smut #love and deepspace x reader #sylus qin #lads #lads smut #lads sylus #lads x reader

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whrfchnn · 6 months ago

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에이티즈 ! ୨ KEEP IT JUICY JUICY, EAT THAT LUNCH .ᐟ

⭑ Ateez with a chubby girlfriend .ᐟ

Ateez x chubby!fem!reader (individually)

Warnings ! Not edited :( I fear I went a little overboard with the drabbles in seonghwa’s part + lil suggestive in hongjoong’s at the end also some ethel cain vibes with yunho but we love that. I’ve got a sweet drabble for each members which will be posted soon :3

Mona’s notes ! Something soft for my darlings, I hope you enjoy. 3462k words…whoops. Feedback is welcomed! I’m always looking to improve my writing so don’t be afraid to be straightforward. Reblogs are appreciated! You might like; losing my innocence in the backseat.

✦. ── kim hongjoong .ᐟ 김홍중

𖤐 Joong would 100% design clothing for you all on his own, he knows some brands are blind when it comes to size inclusivity and he hates seeing you go from super excited to self conscious when you finally get the chance to shop for clothes.

𖤐 He’ll spend hours sketching out ideas, finding the right fabrics knowing you’re sensitive to certain materials. Plus this way, he gets to include small meaningful things into his designs that only you two know about, like his initials.

𖤐 He’d constantly remind you that society’s standards are a scam, joong will make it his life mission to make you feel like the most beautiful gorgeous person in the room not only with his designs but with his actions and words of affirmations.

𖤐 I feel like his favourite feature of you would be your waist. When he brings you to a fashion event or anything, he loves wrapping his arms around you so he could slowly and gently rub the side of your tummy.

𖤐 I also feel like if you’re taller than him, he’d be so smitten.

𖤐 Literal stars in his eyes when he looks at you, adoring that soft smile on his face like, “wow…she’s really my girlfriend”.

𖤐 LIKE He loves looking up at you with that cheeky grin, resting his chin on your shoulder he be like, “And what about it?” to anyone who comments on the height difference, “She’s my goddess, of course she’s taller.”

𖤐 If you’re ever feeling down, he will pull out his camera and convince you to model for him. “Trust me, babe, you’re stunning,” he’ll say, positioning you under the best light and capturing candid moments of you laughing or simply existing. Later, he’ll compile all the photos into a little book, labeling it My Favorite Masterpiece.

𖤐 ALSO OMFG

𖤐 Istg he’d wear your initials, either on a charm bracelet, rings, or necklace. He’s wear your full name with zero hesitation or shame but you insisted on the initials for now because of his job sigh.

𖤐 Lil suggestive BUT have you seen those videos of woman doing self portraits with their body? Like sitting on the canvas butt naked with paint on them and going over it to enhance it?

𖤐 YEAH SO imagine gifting him something like that, the outline of your sweet ass and hints of your camel toe drove him up the wall. He hugged the canvas to his body when San tried to see just what was on it that sent joong into a frenzy.

✦. ── park seonghwa .ᐟ 박성화

𖤐 My love, when Seonghwa first saw you it was as if you picked him up by his neck and claimed him as yours.

𖤐 On day one my man was hooked and wanted nothing more than to show you what devotion is.

𖤐 He’s a foodie so he will ensure you eat your meals and snacks daily. I feel like he’d prepare you an over the top dish and write cute notes with it if he’s out and can’t eat with you.

𖤐 Expect self care nights, he loves to take care of you both and pamper you ranging from bubble baths and skincare routines. I’ve got a small drabble for both;

𖤐 Bubble baths !

⤷ The warm water lapped at the sides of the tub as you leaned back against Seonghwa, bubbles piling high around you. It was peaceful, the scent of lavender and vanilla filling the air. Your eyes were half-closed when you felt the subtle shift of his arm behind you.

“What are you doing?” you asked, voice lazy with relaxation.

“Nothing,” he replied, though the playful lilt in his voice betrayed him.

A moment later, you felt it—bubbles being stacked atop your head, the slick slide of foam as he carefully shaped something.

“Seriously?” you laughed, sitting up slightly to catch his grin.

“Hold still,” he teased, leaning closer to perfect his work. His brows knit together in faux concentration, lips quirked up in amusement. “I’m almost done.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but let him continue, feeling the unmistakable shape of a shark fin forming. When he finally sat back to admire his creation, the pride on his face was impossible to ignore.

“There. Perfect,” he announced with a triumphant chuckle. “My very own bubble shark.”

You turned to face him, water sloshing gently as you scooped up a handful of foam. With a quick swipe, you smeared it across his nose and cheeks, earning a gasp of mock outrage.

“Now you’re next,” you said with a smirk.

𖤐 Skincare routine !

⤷ Seonghwa’s lap was warm beneath you, your knees resting on either side of his hips as you faced him. The faint glow of candlelight flickered across the room, casting a golden hue over the array of skincare products spread out on the table beside you. The soft cotton of the Light Fury headband around your head kept your hair neatly away from your face, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Seonghwa’s matching Toothless one.

“One second Princess,” he murmured, voice low and soothing as he smoothed the face mask over your cheeks with gentle fingers. His brow furrowed in concentration, tongue peeking out slightly as he carefully applied the cool, creamy mixture.

“You take this way too seriously,” you teased, though the fondness in your voice betrayed you.

“And you don’t take it seriously enough,” he countered, his lips quirking into a soft grin as he leaned back to admire his work. “There. Perfect.”

You smiled softly and but couldn’t hide the warmth in your chest as he reached for a towel to clean his hands. Before you could shift or move, his hands found their way to your waist, sliding slowly down to rest on your stomach.

The touch was light at first, his palms gliding up and down your sides, the warmth of his fingers seeping through your oversized shirt. Then he gave your tummy a soft, affectionate squeeze, his thumbs brushing over the gentle curves there.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice softer now, almost shy.

“Appreciating you,” he said simply, his gaze meeting yours with an honesty that made your breath catch. His hands continued their slow, loving exploration, his thumbs drawing lazy patterns as he squeezed you again, this time with a little more intention. “You’re so beautiful.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, trying to hide the way his words flustered you. “We’re supposed to be waiting for these masks to dry, not… whatever this is.”

“Waiting is boring,” he said with a sly smile, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your nose. “This is better.”

You sighed, feigning exasperation, but melted into his touch as his hands stayed firm and comforting on your body, grounding you in the moment. The quiet hum of music in the background mixed with the sound of your breathing, and for a while, the world outside didn’t exist.

✦. ── jeong yunho .ᐟ 정윤호

𖤐 Just carve out his heart and eat it please. Let him become one with you.

𖤐 He’s the kind of man who views his love as sacred, almost religious. To him, loving you feels like fulfilling a divine purpose. You are his universe, his North Star, and he orbits around you willingly.

𖤐 He adores your softness—physically, emotionally, spiritually.

𖤐 He’s constantly touching you, whether it’s tracing circles on your thighs, resting his head against your stomach while lying on the couch, or pressing kisses to your arms while you cook.

𖤐 I’m telling you right now, yunho isn’t shy about expressing his love. He tells you daily, in ways that range from poetic declarations—“You feel like the home I’ve been searching for my whole life”—to soft-spoken affirmations, whispered against your ear when you wake up.

𖤐 He loves seeing you confident, but he thrives on the quiet moments when you’re vulnerable, trusting him enough to show the parts of yourself you usually hide. To Yunho, those moments are where your beauty shines brightest.

𖤐 To me, he’s more so protective than possessive on occasions, always prioritizing your comfort and well-being.

𖤐 Anyone who even tries to make a comment about your body in a negative way will be met with that cold, cutting stare. Yum.

𖤐 He wants to become one with you—not just physically but spiritually. He dreams of the day he can say, “This is the life we’ve built together.”

✦. ── kang yeosang .ᐟ 강여상

𖤐 Yeo-yeo is more of a subtle admirer, he is quiet about his affection but his actions speak volumes.

𖤐 He’d casually drape his jacket over your shoulder, pull you closer with an arm secure around your waist, and compliment you in ways that make your heart flutter.

𖤐 His eyes OMFG, he talks with his eyes. If you were out with friends having dinner or something and see him looking at you, you can easily interpret what he’s saying, “You look beautiful” or “Come here, I want to hold you.”

𖤐 He’s your personal photographer, and not those who stand in one place and take a picture no, he will do whatever to get the perfect shot. If he has to get on his knees or raise his arms while already standing on an elevated platform, he will.

𖤐 He loves capturing candid pictures of you. Whether it’s your soft smile, your laughter, or just the way you look at him, he treasures every photo. And when you criticize yourself in photos, he’ll firmly say, “What are you talking about? You look incredible, don’t you ever disrespect my girlfriend like that.”

𖤐 Also 🥹

𖤐 Yeosang remembers everything you tell him, no matter how insignificant you think it is. Months later, he’ll bring up that obscure snack you mentioned liking as a kid or a book you said you wanted to read, often surprising you with it. “You said you wanted this, right?” he’ll say casually, like it’s no big deal, even though you’re stunned he remembered.

𖤐 If you have a unique fashion sense, he doesn’t just hype it up, he matches your energy. He’ll subtly coordinate his outfits with yours, ensuring you both look like you stepped out of a fashion editorial without stealing your thunder TEHE.

𖤐 This made me cry but

𖤐 If you ever feel down or insecure, Yeosang’s words are like a balm. He’ll remind you of your strengths and beauty without hesitation, often framing his encouragement as a matter of fact. “You’re incredible. Anyone who doesn’t see that doesn’t deserve to know you.”

𖤐 While he’s fine with going out, his ideal date is staying in, curled up with you under a blanket while you watch a movie or talk for hours. He loves the intimacy of those quiet moments where it feels like the world is just the two of you.

✦. ── choi san .ᐟ 최산

𖤐 AGH I LOVE THIS MAN.

𖤐 He will NEVER miss an opportunity to tell you how beautiful you are. He’s the type to bombard you with compliments like, “You’re so cute” or “You’re so sexy,” often in the same breath.

𖤐 SAURRR MUCH PDA

𖤐 And he’s unapologetic about being affectionate in public. Whether it’s holding your hand, a thumb stroking your knuckles, full-on bear hugs, wrapping his arm around your waist, or outright kissing you in front of others, San LOVES showing the world how proud he is to have you.

𖤐 He loves wrapping his big arms around you from behind and holding your tummy in his hands, he’d sway you side to side just chilling on you like a koala. If you try to move, he’ll groan and pull you closer, mumbling with a pout, “nope, you’re stuck with me now.”

𖤐 I feel like he’d definitely tease you, he’ll poke your cheeks or pinch your sides and call you adorable, but he never crosses the line.

𖤐 How to keep it playful and always follows up with a sincere, “I love every part of you.”

𖤐 I also feel like if he ever found out he made you cry after teasing you, he’ll dig his own grave. he’d do everything in his power to make it up to you, but he’ll never be able to forgive himself or get rid of that ache in his heart :((

𖤐 If you jokingly ask him something like “can you even lift my weight?” he’ll bench you right there and then, no need to go to the gym to show you.

𖤐 He’s your biggest fan in everything you do. Whether it’s a hobby, work, or even just picking out an outfit, he’ll hype you up like you’re the greatest in the world. “That’s my girl!” he’ll shout playfully, clapping dramatically, making you laugh and blush at the same time.

𖤐 Yk despite his playful nature, San has a deeply emotional and nurturing side. On tough days, he’ll hold you close, stroking your hair and whispering affirmations. “You’re everything to me, you know that? I’m so lucky to have you.” His voice is calm and steady, grounding you in the warmth of his love.

𖤐 If you jokingly ask him something like “can you even lift my weight?” he’ll bench you right there and then, no need to go to the gym to show you.

⤷ “San, I don’t think you can lift me,” you teased, a mischievous grin playing on your lips.

His head snapped toward you, eyes wide with mock offense. “Oh, really? Is that a challenge?”

Before you could respond, he was on his feet, grabbing your hands and pulling you up with him. “San, no!” you squealed, laughing as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Too late,” he said with a playful smirk, easily hoisting you up bridal-style. “See? Light as a feather.”

You couldn’t stop laughing, your arms looping around his neck as he spun you around. “Okay, okay, I believe you!”

He set you down gently but didn’t let go, his arms still secure around your waist. Leaning in, he kissed your forehead softly. “Never doubt me again,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, but his eyes were filled with nothing but love.

𖤐 He’s so serious about you I can’t even type I’m blushing so hard bye.

✦. ── song mingi .ᐟ 송민기

𖤐 GIVE HIM A CHUBBY BADDIE AND HE WON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO HE’S THAT WHIPPED.

𖤐 Like he’s already smitten, but if you dress up or put in any effort, Mingi is left absolutely speechless, stammering out compliments like, “You… you’re literally the hottest person alive.”

𖤐 He LOVES cuddles and is all about physical affection. He’ll wrap himself around you like a blanket and tell you how soft and cozy you are, he loves pressing his cheek against yours and resting his hands on either your lower back or love handles, being close to you is his happy place, and he’ll never pass up a chance to cuddle.

𖤐 NUMBER ONE HYPE KING.

𖤐 He’ll randomly yell things like, “THAT’S MY BABY!” if you’re walking by him or just doing anything that makes you look confident.

𖤐 He loves boosting your self-esteem in the loudest, most Mingi way possible.

𖤐 I feel like you guys would have this little playful thing where he pretends he doesn’t know you and when walking past you he double takes, turning his body around to check out the bunda with them elevator eyes. He’d jog up to you and ask if you’ve got a boyfriend, also throwing in ‘mami’ mhm idc I said what I said.

𖤐 OOO he’d definitely bling you out so you’re matching. If he’s wearing a chain, you’re wearing a chain. If he got them rings on, so do you.

✦. ── jung wooyoung .ᐟ 정우영

𖤐 Woo is all about showing you off yessirrr.

𖤐 He’ll post pictures of you together on his social media with captions like, “My Queen 🤗” making sure everyone knows he’s proud of you. He’ll talk about you to his friends, constantly raving about how lucky he is. “Have you met her? She’s amazing,” he’ll brag to anyone who will listen — actually that doesn’t matter, he will make them listen.

𖤐 He loves cooking for you, especially if it means seeing you enjoy food without guilt or self-consciousness. “Food is meant to be enjoyed, babe,” he’ll say, feeding you bites of whatever he’s made. He’s adamant on making sure to remind you that there’s no need to feel guilty for indulging.

𖤐 OML ON THAT NOTE he’ll definitely spoon feed you, making sure it's not too hot by blowing on it and checking the temperature with his lips before feeding you (yk where this came from mhm)

𖤐 He’s always got your back and will defend you no matter what, wooyoung has zero tolerance for body shaming. If anyone makes a rude comment, he’ll roast them into oblivion and then reassure you and make sure their stupid comments don't get to you.

𖤐 Wooyoung is extremely protective of you, especially when it comes to anything that could affect your confidence or self-image.

𖤐 If anyone dares to make rude or body-shaming comments, he won’t hesitate to speak up. He’ll roast them in oblivion and make sure they know exactly where they stand. Afterward, he’ll be there for you, reassuring you and reminding you how beautiful you are, inside and out. “They don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re perfect, babe, and I love you

𖤐 He’s the type to always want to be physically close to you. Whether it’s holding your hand, resting his head on your shoulder, or wrapping his arm around you while watching a movie, he just loves being near you.

𖤐 He’ll even sneak up behind you for surprise hugs or kisses, just to make sure you know you’re loved. “I just want to hold you,” he’ll say, snuggling up to you on the couch or in bed.

✦. ── choi jongho .ᐟ 최종호

𖤐 Baby bear 🥹

𖤐 Jongho’s love isn’t loud or showy, but it’s steady and unwavering. He’s the type to show his devotion through actions rather than words.

𖤐 Whether it’s making sure you’re comfortable or going out of his way to do something thoughtful for you, he always lets you know that you’re a priority in his life without needing to shout it from the rooftops.

𖤐 Jongii is so incredible observant when it comes to you. He’ll remember your favorite foods, the things that make you laugh, and the small gestures that bring you joy.

𖤐 If you’re feeling a little off, he’ll notice it before you even mention it and do something to make you feel better, whether it’s bringing you a hot drink or quietly holding your hand. “I noticed you were quiet today,” he’ll say, his voice soft but concerned. “Is everything okay?”

𖤐 Jongho loves showing off his strength, but he’s soft with you. feeling down about your body, he’ll remind you of all the ways you’re amazing, saying things like, “Your body is strong and beautiful, just like you.”

𖤐 Jongho is a quiet romantic, and nothing says “I love you” to him more than sharing his music with you. He’ll often hum or sing softly when you’re together, his voice like a lullaby that wraps around you.

𖤐 Sometimes, he’ll even make up little songs just for you, serenading you in the most tender way. “You make me feel so lucky,” he might sing, smiling at you as you relax by his side. His voice is comforting, and hearing him sing just for you feels like a gentle, loving embrace.

𖤐 Jongho doesn’t need grand displays of affection to show you he cares; it’s in the little things. He’s the type to send you thoughtful texts during the day, reminding you to take care of yourself. If you’re feeling tired, he’ll offer to take on a chore for you, or if you’re out together, he’ll carry your bags without a second thought. His gestures might be small, but they’re full of meaning, and they’re his way of saying, “I love you and I’m here for you.”

𖤐 Honestly? When Jongho loves you, he loves you deeply. He’s not the type to fall in love lightly, and once he’s in, he’s all in. You’ll find him sharing little details about his life, his hopes, and dreams, trusting you with the parts of him he usually keeps hidden. “I’ve never been able to open up like this before,” he’ll admit, his voice sincere. “But with you… it feels easy.”

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holdmytesseract · 1 month ago

Text

Guardian Angel

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When Pamela Milton makes the big mistake to threaten Daryl and his family, the archer isn't afraid of protecting what's his - at all costs.

Warnings: usual TWD stuff, violence, blood, choking, injuries, threatening a baby, attempted murder & murder, mentions of birthing a baby, protective dad!Daryl, fluff & babies!

Set in Season 11!

Word Count: 3,4k

a/n: I wrote this for @dixonsstinkysock , 'cause she was so excited about dad!Daryl, hehe. Thank you for the inspiration! I LOVED writing this! Hope you like it, too.

Disclaimer: Some words of the interaction between Carol and Daryl aren't mine. I just used them to fit the plot.

EoH Masterlist °☆• LITRM Masterlist °☆• Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

A father... He got blessed with becoming a father. Never ever - not even in his wildest dreams would've Daryl thought that the end of the world was going to bring this his way. Never. And yet here he was. It was incredible and borderline unbelievable. The archer would've scoffed and laughed into everybody's face who told him that in the beginning of this shit show.

Daryl buttoned up the fresh black grayish shirt he was just forced to slip into. Kudos to the tiny bundle of joy who had gotten to see the light of the world only a mere week ago and decided to 'burp' milk all over his shoulder. Daryl forgot to use a burp cloth; still adjusting to this whole new situation.

He couldn't help but smile to himself, as deft fingers worked the buttons.

The archer's heart was close to exploding with all the love he felt for you and his baby girl.

"What got you smiling so cute?"

Your sudden remark catapulted Daryl out of his thoughts. He finished the last button on the shirt, then lifted his head properly. His eyes met your frame; standing in the doorway - and it was probably the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. You were wearing one of his sweaters, sweatpants and fluffy socks. Clothes who did not tick many boxes besides being absolutely comfortable. Comfort was all you cared about at the moment - understandably. Besides the easy access to your daughter's food source, of course. Speaking of her... She was neatly tucked against your body to provide body warmth; hands cradling her bum and head. Eyes closed and most likely sleeping; milk drunk and satisfied.

He merely shook his head; still smiling. "Nothin'. Jus'..." Daryl crossed the short distance between you and him. One hand gripped your hip gently, the other cupped your cheek. "...this. You. Our daughter." His oceanic blues gazed into your Y/E/C ones. "Ain't never been happier in my life, I think." Daryl's words caused you to smile as well. Turning your head slightly, you kissed his palm. "Me too. Even more now since we go back home." He nodded in agreement, "Yeah. 'S gon be perfect." and pressed a tender, lingering kiss against your forehead. His goatee tickling your skin.

"I love you, Dar."

Although he heard you say it about a million times by now, his heart never failed to skip a beat. "I love ya, too, sunshine." His eyes flickered to the newborn in your arms. "Both 'a ya." You smiled; eyes speaking the language of pure, unbridled love.

"'M gonna go check if the others are ready. 'N I gotta get my bike, too," the archer said; thumbs caressing your soft, delicate skin. You nodded. "Sure, go. I'll get everything ready here. Could you send Jude and RJ over? They have to check their room again and make sure they got everything." "'M gonna send the kids over, yeah, but you, darlin', ain't gonna do anythin' besides movin' yer cute ass over to the sofa 'n lay down."

A last loving look was exchanged before he grabbed his angel-winged vest, slipped inside the signature piece of clothing and left.

You wanted to open your mouth and say something in protest but Daryl was quick to leapfrog you. "Nah. No buts. Yer gonna rest. Yer body is still recoverin' 'n we got a long way home." You sighed, but nodded; knowing that arguing wouldn't get you further. Plus, you couldn't deny that your partner was actually right.

"Okay, yeah. I'm gonna lay down." Daryl smiled, "Good girl." and dipped his head to bestow a soft kiss on your lips before he let go of you. His thumb brushed over one tiny foot of his daughter; safely confined by the romper she was wearing. "I won't be long," he promised; marveling at the baby's smallness. You watched Daryl with yet another smile. How his eyes stuck on the tiny girl. His gentle touch. "Yeah, I know."

He had managed to make it a one on one; killing one of the men. The clearly weaker fighter. The other one was stronger and harder to defeat. One moment of negligence was enough to get into a predicament. That was the moment the guy became a problem. He gained the upper hand and had the archer now pinned to the concrete floor; choking him. Daryl tried hard to fight it. He couldn't and wouldn't die. He had a family to look after now. To protect. To provide for. You and his newborn daughter.

Little did the archer know that he was going to fight for his life only a few minutes later...

He had reached the meeting point; carriage completely abandoned and messy. Wooden boxes laid on the ground with their content mostly destroyed and distributed on the ground. No Maggie. No Hershel. No Jude or RJ. Nobody. Daryl frowned, kicked down the pedestal of his bike to park it and immediately started to analyze the scene; quite confused. The traces led him into the warehouse behind the scene, but he didn't have the time to 'investigate' any further. Two men sneaked up on him - the perfect ambush. Before Daryl could even blink, he found himself in a fight again. Two against one - not even remotely fair, but not really a problem for the experienced fighter. Yet.

"They got the kids, Maggie," Daryl panted and breathed hard to get air back into his lungs. His eyes met the ones of his best friend; showing his gratitude. "They got everyone," Carol stated. Daryl's eyes widened to the size of plates as the meaning of his friend's words hit him like a truck. If Pamela's men tried to abduct everyone of the group, it meant... "Y/N..." Daryl gasped. "Fuck. I gotta go. I gotta check on 'em." Carol nodded in understanding. "Go, but be careful, yeah? Don't act headless. I know you." Daryl merely nodded; already halfway disappearing around the corner. Carol looked after him with a worried look. She wasn't sure if it was a good idea to split up.

No, he wasn't going to die. Not today. Not here. Not now. And certainly not because of this asshole.

Help was just around the corner, though. Carol, who apparently had the same thought as him, appeared behind the men and used a slat to hit the prick on the head who was currently choking her best friend. Daryl got quickly up and grabbed his knife - just in time to watch the man he killed take a bite out of his former colleague. It was an easy task to get rid of the threat then; driving his weapon through both men's skulls.

Daryl more or less ran back to the house in which he shared an apartment with you. He hurried up the steps as fast as his legs carried him - only to find the door slightly ajar. His heart thumped hard against his ribcage; almost bursting at the sight. He already feared the worst, but then the signature cries of his baby urged to his ears. Without hesitation, he stormed inside.

The scene he walked into made his blood boil. The apartment was messy; signaling the archer that you had clearly been involved in a fight as well. His eyes frantically searched for you. It didn't take him long to do so... A man had pinned you to the wall beside the sofa and crib. One hand firmly around your throat, the other trying to reach for the tiny girl in the grip; attempting to cover her mouth to keep her cries muffled. Wheezing breaths left your lips as you tried to stay conscious. Your hands wrapped around the man's wrist as he choked you; scratching and pulling. Your legs kicked repeatedly against the shins of the man, but all of it wasn't quite helping. Usually, you had no problem to fight a man - or more. Daryl had taught you very well, but right now you didn't stand a chance. Not after birthing a baby only a few days ago. Your body was still recovering and not strong enough for a fight.

Daryl balled his hands to fists; jaw clenching. The primitive urge to protect his woman and child stronger than ever before. He was about to absolutely lose it and run over to fight the man who hurt his family - but then your eyes flickered up and landed coincidentally on your partner. Out of instinct, your eyes widened and you started to wriggle even more against your opponent's death grip - a mistake. Your understandable but obvious behavior blew Daryl's cover; took him the advantage of going unnoticed away.

The intruder noticed, of course and looked over his shoulder to witness the archer on the verge of storming over. Unfortunately wasn't the man stupid. He let quickly go of you; carelessly, and took a step to the left - towards the crib with his hands hovering about the crying infant inside. "One step closer and the baby dies!" The man yelled, causing Daryl to literally freeze in his movements. The archer threw him a death glare; heart racing in his chest. Fear and anger pumped adrenaline through his whole system.

"Touch 'er 'n I kill ya," Daryl growled through gritted teeth. "Try me," spat the man in return. The tension was thick; cuttable with a knife.

You sat on the floor; body slumped against the wall. Your strength was running so low that you weren't even able to keep yourself on your feet. Especially not after being halfway choked to death. You barely registered the conversation and stare contest between your attacker and partner since your body was too occupied in getting air back inside your lungs. You coughed; breathing hard and unsteady. It broke Daryl's heart to see you like that... In pain and suffering. He wanted to hurry over to you. Help you. Make sure you were okay, but he couldn't risk it. He'd never forgive himself if this innocent, tiny life got hurt because of him.

Your body may have been weak, but your motherly instincts strong. The cries of your baby - cries of helplessness and discomfort sent you into a frenzy. "P-Please, don't, please..." You stammered out; tears gathering in your eyes. "T-That's my baby, p-please!" You were begging the man, while trying to heave your exhausted body closer to the crib. But he didn't have any of it. "Stay where you are! Nobody moves, or...!" He put his hands dangerously close to the tiny girl's neck. Both, you and Daryl knew that it wouldn't take much. She was barely a week old; still so tiny and fragile.

He had unlocked the animal inside of the archer with threatening his baby and its mother, and was now paying the price. With his life.

Daryl's brain worked feverishly to find a way to get both his girls safely out of the situation, while you kept whispering 'Please' over and over again like prayer.

"Whaddaya want?! Where did ya take the others?!" The archer started to indulge the man in a conversation; hoping to distract him enough to get his knife out of its sheath unnoticed. "Freeing the Commonwealth of a plague," the man hissed. Daryl shook his head; hand working subtle and precisely. "Ya didn't answer my question, ya prick. Where are the others?" "I don't know, scum! And I frankly don't ca- Ahhh!" A painful yelp slipped past the man's lips as he was forced to cut off his own sentence. Daryl's plan had been a success. He had freed his knife, took the risk - he had to, and threw said knife which was now plunged in the man's shoulder. It caused him to stumble a few steps back - away from the crib and the newborn inside. That was Daryl's start signal. He lunged forward to literally tackle the intruder to the ground. From that moment on, everything happened so fast. Fists colliding with skin and bones, until they were bloody and went to wrap around the throat. The man underneath Daryl was struggling and desperately trying to shove him off and away from him, but it was no use. Daryl was too strong; too dominant.

His heart clenched.

"Told ya I was gonna kill ya, prick," Daryl growled, pulled his knife out of the man's shoulder to pierce his skull with it instead, before he crawled off of the lifeless body. He quickly wiped his bloodied knuckles on his shirt and lifted himself off the ground to tend to his still crying baby. His fatherly instincts kicking into overdrive.

Daryl approached the crib; hovering over the wooden furniture. The tiny girl inside was wriggling around in her warm confines like crazy. Cheeks stained with tears and red from all the crying.

"Hey, lil' angel, dun cry," he whispered hoarsely yet gently and reached carefully inside to cradle the miniature human in his big hands. "Sh, sh, sh, 's all good. Daddy got ya, sweetpea." He lifted her up to lay her into the crook of his arm to provide some body contact and warmth in an attempt to calm her down. His pointer finger softly traced her cheeks and the small hands which were closed to fists with the even smaller fingers attached.

Once your breathing got even and regular again, one hand reached out to cover Daryl's - which was cupping the newborn's bottom to keep her safely tucked in his arm. You looked up; eyes meeting your partner's - and he knew. He saw the longing in your eyes. The urge. The need to hold your daughter. So, without a word, the archer maneuvered the baby girl cautiously in your arms. She protested at the short loss of warmth with a whine, but once she felt that her mama was close, the world was perfectly alright again. You buried your nose in the baby's tufts of chestnut brown hair; deeply inhaling her scent and pressing your lips repeatedly against the utter softness.

At her father's words, touch and comfort, the little girl calmed down. Her cries got quieter and quieter, until they faded into soft coos.

"S-She okay?" Your broken, shaky voice urged to his ears and he instantly looked up to face you. You were still sitting on the floor; wiping away some stray tears and trying to get a grip and grasp what just happened. Daryl hadn't forgotten about you. Of course not! He just thought it would be best to tend to his crying infant first. He nodded; eyes thoroughly scanning the baby's body again. "All good. She's fine, sunshine." A relieved breath you didn't even know you were holding left your lips.

The archer stepped over and sat down on the floor beside you; back propped against the wall. He opened his arm for you. "C'mere. Gotta make sure my woman is a'right as well." You didn't let yourself tell that twice. You slid closer - into Daryl's awaiting arm and cuddled against his side. His closeness (and your baby) being all you needed right now. He instantly tightened his grip around you; chapped but gentle lips peppering your forehead repeatedly with kisses. "'S okay. 'M here. I got ya," your partner whispered as he tried to offer as much comfort and love as possible. "Ain't lettin' anythin' happen to my family." You were still in a state of shock, so you said nothing at all and just held on to Daryl. Closing your eyes, you relished in his touch and inhaled his natural scent. Leather, smoke, something earthy and musky, and a touch of blood and sweat.

She was okay and safely back in your arms.

Daryl adjusted his position; was now seated behind you. His back against the wall, your back against his chest as you sat between his open legs. Strong arms pulled you protectively closer; tucking you neatly against his front.

"Ya okay, darlin'?" He muttered softly, as his thumbs started to rub soothing circles into the clothed skin of your sides. You nodded. Merely, but you nodded. The shock was the worst - besides the still lingering pain around your neck and throat. Daryl's eyes flickered over every visible body part of yours; making sure. They got stuck on your neck, of course, and saw the bruises forming already. He swallowed. Another wave of rage crushes into him. He was angry. Angry of Pamela for breaking the deal and kidnapping his friends and family. Angry of himself for not being here to help earlier. For letting this happen.

The archer's head dropped to your neck, where he peppered the bruised and hurting skin with gentle kisses. "'M sorry," he whispered. "'M so sorry. Shoulda been 'ere earlier. Then this wouldn't have happened. Fuck, should've never even left from the start..." His voice broke at the end; close to shedding tears.

You had listened to his every word. Your eyes watered as well. You shook your head and freed one hand from the now sleeping newborn in your arms to reach behind and cup Daryl's head; fingers buried in his curls. "It's not your fault, Dar. You couldn't know that this was going to happen..." "Dun care. Shoulda been here. 'S my job to protect the both 'a ya, 'n I failed. I dun even wanna know what would've happened if I didn't..." He trailed off and swallowed hard; unable to finish the sentence. It hurt too much. "Daryl..." You whispered his name and angled your head; lips brushing his stubbly cheek, then his lips. "Stop, baby. What happened happened. You can't change it. But we're alright, okay? We're here. We're alive - and whatever Pamela throws at us... We're gonna make it. We're gonna find the others and make it. Together. Like we always do."

Your heart sunk.

Daryl swallowed once more. You were right. He couldn't change the past, but the future. He swore to himself to protect you even better. And together you were going to make this. Like you always did. Starting over.

His lips searched and found yours; entangling them in a linger kiss filled with love and the promise to keep you and his baby safe - until the very last breath he was going to take on this godforsaken planet. You melted into the kiss. It gave you the strength and confidence you needed. It always did. Daryl was the bright and shining light in this dark world. Always was, and he always would be.

Once you ended the kiss, Daryl started to shift then; gently squeezing your sides to urge you on to stand up as well. "C'mon, sunshine. We should go, 'n find Carol." You nodded and started to move as well; Daryl helping you stand up. After all, you had a cute, tiny creature tucked in your arms... "Carol managed to flee? Thank god..." The archer nodded and grabbed the most necessary backpack you had packed - filled with baby stuff. Diapers, bottles, fresh clothes, blankets and such things. "Yeah, 'm glad too, but I think nobody else beside us made it to escape."

"W-We gotta find them. Help them." Daryl threw the backpack over his shoulder and took the tiny girl from your arms in his so that you were able to slip in your 'outdoor' clothes with your weapons attached. "And we will, sunshine," he promised you and lastly helped you slip inside the baby carrier with one hand. "We'll find each other again. 'S what we do. 'S what we always did. Ain't nothin' in this world is gonna keep us apart for long." Daryl maneuvered the little girl into the carrier. You made sure that she was safely and securely strapped inside; luckily still sleeping. "We're gonna safe 'em and Alexandria."

A surge of hope and confidence swept over you at his words. You took your partner's hand; intertwining your fingers and gave his big hand a squeeze. You nodded, "Let's go." and smiled. Daryl dipped his head to bestow another kiss on your forehead then gave you a small smile in return, before he started to guide you out of the apartment. You had to find Carol, find out where the others had been taken and then get the hell out of this place.

One thing was certain... The archer was done playing games.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @dixonsdarkelf @dixons-sunshine @negansbestie @bigbaldheadname @ellasdixon @loz-3 @imadisneyprincessiswear @mayday2007 @huntedmusicgardenn @belitoxx @marvelcasey05 @stitchintimefan @whore4romance @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @km-ffluv @cakesandtom @sweetz1919

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nyxiswrites1200 · 2 years ago

Text

🩵𝑺𝒂𝒎'𝒔 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍🩵

Sam Winchester x Fem!reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, Crushing, friends to lovers, pet names, Sexual tension, Mellow sexual thoughts, Size kink, p in v, nipple play, multiple rounds, oral sex, praise kink, aftercare

Mentions: She/her reader pronouns, Reader wears a skirt, Reader is implied to be shorter than Sam, Imagining early seasons Sam, Dean is present

"In a world of boys, he's a gentleman"

AN: uhh I know I died for like a month but supernatural brain rot is incoming. Sam girl for life <3 anyhow, happy holidays loves. This is so self-indulging, sorry babes.

----

Sam Winchester is an awkward man. He's so respectful he doesn't know what to do with himself sometimes. But don't mistake his sweet attitude for a lack of attraction.

When you bend over to pick his book up off the floor for him, he notices your skirt sliding up your thighs. He quickly looks away as he runs a hand through the back of his messy brown hair.

Sam always opens the door of the Impala for you when you join him and Dean on road trips. He notices the way you let your hand brush over his arm as you help yourself into the car. Dean just lets out a small laugh as he climbs into the driver's seat.

Sam watches you saunter around the motel room in his shirt. Under the claim that 'it's just more comfortable'. He loves the way your figure is swallowed up by his larger clothes.

Sometimes it was almost degrading how respectful he was. In truth, you were trying to get his attention. To catch him peaking under your skirt, getting hard from seeing you in his shirt, or him finally being pushed over the edge by your 'discreet' affectionate touches. You swore you were gonna have to climb in his lap and say "fuck me" for him to actually do it.

In truth, Sam wasn't oblivious to what you wanted. Rather he was too kind to give it to you. He thought you were so precious that he needed to deny you. Sleeping with you would be too personal, too intimate and he wouldn't be able to let go of you after.

Dean let out a small laugh, Sam and him were alone in the hotel room while you went to go get dinner for the three. "What, Dean?" Sam asked in his partially sassy attitude as he read through his book. "Nothing nothing...it's just funny watching her pawn for you. Think you might be hurtin' her feelings." Dean smirked as he looked over at his little brother. Sam sighed in response, knowing he could only be talking about you. "I'm not that stupid, I know what she wants...I just..." he ran a hand through his hair "I don't think I should". "Sammy" Dean inquires "Look, she knows what we do. She hasn't gone running yet and she's perfectly human, there's nothing dangerous about that girl" he chuckles. "I know you're afraid because of what happened but...I think this might be something worth risking".

Sam let Dean's words simmer in his thoughts all night. For once he might actually agree with his older brother.

The next night you and Sam were alone. You finally spilled, being brutally honest. Sam watched with a bit of shock as you admitted how you'd be pawning for him. All your actions had a purpose and how bad you wanted to be his girlfriend. You almost wanted to cry with how emotionally overwhelmed this made you trying to explain yourself.

"Lovely, I'm sorry..." Sam stands as he cups your cheek and tilts your head up to meet his gaze. "I know you want me but I was being selfish because I know if I...indulge myself in you, I won't be able to let you go ever again." he explained, his voice was so gentle and his eyes reminded you of a puppy with the way he looked at you. "Maybe...I'm a little selfish too" you chime in "I just...I wanna be yours so bad that I don't really care what happens".

Those words alone tumbled the tension between both of you over the edge. Sam's kisses were soft then heated and needy. He had you pushed against the motel wall while both of you discarded your clothes. His larger figure covered you as he kissed you desperately. His hands engulfed your hips as he gripped them.

Once you two were on the bed, his hands fondled your breasts, teasing your nipples between his fingers. His chest pressed into your back as he kissed along your neck. You reached back to tangle a hand into his hair.

Sam was so sweet but he was a fucking god in bed. He knew exactly where to kiss, fondle, and tease. Nothing but deeply slurred words of "How does that feel?", "You okay?", "Taking me so well, lovely", and "Good girl...". You went three rounds with him...

He rubbed your clit and toyed with your nipples, leaving kisses and sucking up your neck. You came on his fingers, feeling him stretch you open. You wanted to watch his strong hands fuck into you so bad.

He nestled himself between your thighs. His tongue lapping up your first orgasm. You watched as you tugged on his hair, noticing the dominant look in his eyes. His hands gripping your thighs to keep them spread as you squirmed beneath him. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked on it until he fucked his tongue inside you while you came again.

Then finally he fills you with his cock, only after making sure you were okay. He had you stuffed to the brim, grunts and moans leaving him with each thrust. He pressed his forehead against yours as he kissed your cervix with the tip of his dick.

When you came for a third time, he let you ride your high until he pulled out and finished on your stomach. A gentleman as always, not stuffing you with his cum on the first night. Even if you wouldn't have minded.

Sam carefully cleaned you up in the bath. Warm water envelops you both. He placed a soft kiss on your shoulder and gently rubbed your side as he cleaned you up. His actions are no longer lustful, this was just affectionate. "Did you enjoy yourself? Wasn't too much?" he asked softly, his expression back to looking like a puppy. "I'm fine, Sammy. It was perfect..." You smiled and kissed him softly.

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imbaebi · 25 days ago

Text

Sunset, Sundress and Sandals

ִֶָ࣪☾. 방찬 —

paring: idol!chan x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none?

wc / cc : 1.2k / 6.8k

skz summer masterlist

synopsis —---

chan asks you to go watch the sunset at the beach with him but with the condition that you must wear a sundress. very odd condition but you agree

—-- ⪩⪨⪩⪨

You went through your closet, throwing clothes out onto the ground.

“Where is it...?” you mutter as your search went on.

You were looking for something in specific. It was like it vanished— oh wait silly you, your light blue sundress had fallen off the hanger and into your belt basket. You thought you were going crazy but it was just in your closet. You mentally face palm.

Your friend Chan, yes the Bangchan of stray kids asked you to go for a walk on the beach with him today. You agreed because who in their right mind would turn down, Chan? You may have had a crush on him for a couple months now... I mean come on, it's the Christopher Chan—who wouldn't have a crush on him. Though of course you were stuck in the friendzone. He was clearly too busy to date and well he was most certainly not interested in you. But being his friend was enough. That's what you told yourself.

You two had a mutual friend, Changbin and that's how you met Chan and the rest of the kids. Lately though, you noticed that Chan had been texting you more often and hanging out when he had time, just the two of you, alone. He said he liked your company, that comment had made your stomach erupt into a million butterflies but you had to be nonchalant, you learned the best from Minho and Seungmin.

Anyways, back to the date—I mean the hangout with Chan. You couldn't let your delulus take over you, not today. He had specifically asked you to wear a sundress, he knew of your huge collection since those were your favorite things to wear. Who were you to deny him?

You begin to get ready at around 5:40. He asked to meet at 7 to watch the sunset together. That would have been the most romantic thing ever if it wasn't for the cough barrier called friendship cough.

You took an everything shower. You felt refreshed and a bit tired but it was worth it. You got ready, doing your hair and makeup, and putting your clothes on. You spray some perfume before you deeming yourself ready. You put on your sandals and grab your bag. You look great, that you couldn't deny. You sure hope Chan thought so too. Time to head to the beach.

⪩⪨

You arrive at the beach, and find Chan already there. He was leaning against his car on his phone, his eyebrows furrow at whatever it was on the screen. He looks annoyed.

“Hi, Chan.” He looks up at you, whatever annoyance that was on his face melts as soon as he looks at you

“Y/N! You're here. Wow I really love your dress.” He compliments. Your heart literally stops.

“Ah—Thank you! I like your outfit too.” He looks like a whole meal in his white button down shirt that were short sleeved. He has three buttons unbuttoned which gave a nice view of the top his chest. And his forehead was exposed, what a deadly combo.

“Shall we get going?”

You two head onto the beach, you walk for a bit chatting and laughing like old friends. The sun was near setting now. You had both ditched your sandals to go stand in the shallow tide. The water was cool as it rushed to your feet before pulling back in hushed whispers. The sun reflected onto the water giving the world a warmish glow. It was a couple hours after golden hour yet this moment still felt golden in your treasured memories.

Chan suddenly takes your hands into his, he stares into your eyes making you feel nervous. The sunset breeze was cool compared to earlier's humid air. The golden colors of the sunset reflect on your eyes making you 10x prettier in his eyes.

“Y/N. Let me get to the point... I brought you here for a reason.” you tilt your head slightly. Your eyes on him, steady because you're afraid if you let yourself you would have collapsed from the way he was making eye contact with you. “I spent all day trying to figure out how to tell you, practiced a speech in front of the mirror and everything. But I guess I got too nervous as I was driving here so I forgot everything I rehersed. I know, that was very dumb. So I'll just freestyle this from the bottom of my heart.

“Y/N everytime I look at you, you make me feel nervous but in a good way. You make time stop each time you look at me with those pretty eyes of yours, my heart starts to race and I can't help it. Truthfully I like you. I like you a lot to the point of loving. Fuck I love you, Y/N. You mean so much to me. I can't live without you, your smile, your laugh, the way you bite your lip when youre nervous and how your nose scrunches up when you smile. I love every single part of you but it hurts to think that you aren't mine, hurts to know that someone else out there could come and snatch you up at any given moment. So I was hoping, really hoping you'd give me the chance to be your boyfriend. I'll make sure you won't regret it.” He quickly rushes out out of pure nerves, just speaking whatever that comes from the bottom of his heart. You were speechless, surprised that your friend was really confessing to you right now. Your heart flutters at his sweet words. When he notices you haven't said a word yet, he starts to panic, “Ah of course you don't have to say yes or anything. You could reject me right now, I'll be able to take it even if it hurts a little or a lo-”

You shut him up by kissing him, now it was his turn to be surprised. He relaxes from whatever panic he was feeling and kisses your soft lips gently, his hand going to the back of your head.

You both finally part for air, faces flushed pink in the salty air. “I'd love for you to be my boyfriend, Channie.”

You smile that smile he loves as you take his hand.

“I didn't know I'd be one of the lucky ones to see your romantic sides. I've only heard about it.” You giggle.

“Yeah? Well now you'll be the only one to see my romantic side.” He says.

“I like that but I don't know how STAYs would feel about that. You know your babygirls love their rizz daddy.” You tease. He groans loudly, the tips of his ears turning red. “I guess I'm one lucky STAY.”

You smile up at him. The ocean rushes, hugging your ankles again with it's last calm whisper of gold before the sun sunk down. Leaving the sky dark with tints of pink and purple. You hadn't really thought on the troubles dating a kpop idol would bring because of their fandoms but you were too happy, too in the moment to even care. You could worry about that stuff later. Right now, you have Chan right in front of you as your boyfriend. Somewhere between the silent gazing of you both, the gap between you had become significantly smaller. You take this chance and close the gap. His lips are soft, he tasted fainty of strawberries.

The sandals were long forgotten just like the sun that had disappeared when it had set. The calm ocean hugs your ankles once more as a congrats to the new couple. This blue sundress had become your favorite just because of the sole memory of how you two got together.

skz summer masterlist

taglist — comment under the masterlist to be added ;

@lezleeferguson-120, @swagblazemilkshake,

#⋆. 𐙚 baebi writes !#🌊baebi's summer masterlists #bangchan #bangchan x reader #bangchan x you #skz bang chan #stray kids bang chan #bang chan fluff #bangchan imagines #bang chan fanfic #bang chris #stray kids #skz #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan #kpop

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multi-fandom-imagine · 15 days ago

Text

𝗜𝗿𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲 || 𝗕𝗶𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗲 ||

A/n: Long over do, this one, did not realize how long it got so part four will have the car fucking

Warnings: first time ( billy takes the reader's virginity), cream pie, oral ( Fem! receiving ).

Tag List: @fernishscribbles | @your-nightmaredoll | @satata | @the-freak-cassie-313 | @kitkat1690

Part 1 || Part 2

You hadn’t expected him to ask.

Billy Hargrove wasn’t exactly known for dates. Hookups in the back of his Camaro? Sure. Parties, fights, reckless flirting? Absolutely. But a date—an actual, real, planned thing?

That wasn’t his scene.

Which made it all the more disarming when he leaned against your locker one afternoon, arms crossed, lips curled into that slow, dangerous smirk.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You blinked up at him, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose. “H-Hi.”

Billy looked you over—really looked. He always did. The way your sweater sleeves swallowed your hands, the way your curves hugged the soft cotton of your clothes. How her your curled a little at the edges after gym. The hint of your perfume—vanilla and something warm—lingering just enough to make his head spin.

“What’re you doin’ Friday?”

You blinked again. “Um… studying? Probably.”

“Not anymore.” He reached out, casually tugging one of your sleeves down so he could brush his thumb along your wrist. “You’re coming with me.”

Your heart practically slammed against your ribs. “C-Coming with you....where?”

Billy leaned in, his voice dropping low and rough like smoke in your ear.

“A date, sweetheart. Me. You. Friday night. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

You stared at him, stunned, mouth parting in soft disbelief. A small little sound leaving your lips as you felt warmth creep up your neck.

He winked. “Wear something cute.”

And then he was gone—strutting down the hall, denim jacket slung over one shoulder like he hadn’t just flipped your entire world upside down.

Friday came faster than you were ready for.

You stood in front of your mirror, smoothing the fabric of your dress—a soft, flowy thing that cinched at the waist and made you feel… pretty. Your hair was done, makeup light but careful. You'd stared at yourself for twenty minutes before deciding not to change.

Your dad had answered the door when Billy arrived.And Billy, to his credit, had actually shook his hand.

Polite. Charming. That grin turned down just enough to be respectful, but still cocky. He complimented your dress when you stepped out—“Damn, sweetheart, you clean up nice,”—and held the car door open like some sort of rebel-gentleman hybrid.

He took you to the drive-in.

But not for the movie.

They parked in the back, far from the other cars. Billy brought snacks—actual snacks, not just a flask or a cigarette. He’d even gotten your favorite candy, an act that had your pulse racing.

You both talked through most of the movie. He asked questions no one else ever had—what books you liked, why you were always in the library, if you'd always been this shy.

“Guys like you don’t usually ask girls like me that,” you said quietly.

Billy tilted his head. “Guys like me?”

“You know… cool. Hot. Dangerous.”

He grinned, leaning in close, his arm draped over the seat behind you. “Sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and serious, “Guys like me lose their goddamn minds over girls like you.”

Your throat felt dry.

Billy’s hand brushed your thigh under the blanket. Gentle. Testing.

“Is this okay?” he asked, eyes flicking to your. When you nodded, his hand stayed there, warm and grounding.

The rest of the night blurred.

He didn’t try to sleep with you.

He kissed you—slow, firm, with one hand cradling your face and the other gripping your hip like he was afraid you'd slip away. He tasted like cinnamon gum and a hint of cigarette smoke.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

“You’re not like anyone else,” he murmured. “And that’s the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

He drove you home while you sat in a daze the whole time.

Billy didn’t just take you on a date.

He made sure you knew—you were the one he wanted.

Not the good kind that fades. The kind that lingers in your skin—like his kiss was still pressed to your mouth, like his hand still rested on your thigh under that shared blanket.

The next day at school felt like a dream.

You weren't used to this feeling.

The glances. The attention. The butterflies.

And definitely not the way people stared when you stepped into the hallway Monday morning and Billy Hargrove was already there—leaning against the lockers with his sunglasses hanging from his shirt collar and that familiar, cocky glint in his eye.

Your friends whispered behind you.

“Oh my God, is he waiting for you?”

“What the hell is going on?!”

Billy didn’t say a word at first.

He just smirked when he saw you, pushing off the lockers with that lazy swagger that made everyone move out of the way. His eyes swept over your outfit—modest as always, cardigan hanging loose around your arms—and he still looked at you like you were the sexiest thing alive.

He stopped in front of you and reached out without hesitation, tucking a loose curl behind your ear.

“Morning, gorgeous.”

Your breath hitched. “Hi…”

He leaned in, kissed your cheek. Right there in front of everyone. His lips warm, lingering just long enough to make your knees tremble.

“You sleep okay?” he asked, low, like it was just the two of them in that hallway.

You nodded mutely, heart fluttering.

“Good.” He brushed his knuckles against your hip like he knew what it would do to you. “’Cause I didn’t. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Gasps rippled from behind you.

Billy didn’t care.

He shot a smug look over your shoulder, right at Jason Carver, who stood frozen by the vending machines watching it all go down like he’d seen a ghost. Billy’s smirk widened as he slipped his arm casually around your waist, tugging you a little closer.

Jason scowled.

Billy’s grin turned sharper.

Mine, it said.

Later that day, you found a note tucked into your locker. Billy’s handwriting—bold and jagged.

“You taste better than that cherry candy. Meet me behind the bleachers after last period. I need another fix.”

You pressed the note to your chest, heart pounding.

It wasn’t just a date.

It was the beginning of something else entirely.

Something dangerous.

Something real.

Something undeniably Billy.

It started with a kiss.

Slow, deep, and drugging. The kind of kiss that made you forget where you were, forget your name, forget that your legs were trembling just from the way Billy had looked at you all evening like you were dessert and he hadn’t eaten in days.

They were in his room—door locked, music low, the faint scent of cologne and cigarettes clinging to the air. You sat on the edge of his bed, thighs pressed together under the hem of your dress, heart hammering in her chest as Billy knelt between your legs like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Been thinkin’ about this for days,” he muttered, rough voice thick with hunger as he pushed your knees apart. “Since the pool. Since that little black swimsuit.”

Your face burned. “Billy—”

“Shh,” he said, kissing your inner thigh. “I’m starvin’, sweetheart. Lemme eat.”

You breath caught as he kissed higher. His hands gripped her thighs, firm but reverent, spreading you wide until you were completely open to him. The cool air hit the dampness between your legs ad you let out a whine, trying to close them instinctively, but he held you still.

“No hiding.” His lips brushed against your soaked panties, tongue flicking teasingly over the fabric. “Fuck—look at you. So wet for me already.”

He hooked a finger in the waistband and pulled them down, dragging his nose along your skin as he did. When he looked up at you, his pupils were blown wide, eyes dark with something ravenous.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty down here,” he groaned. “Can’t wait to ruin you.”

Then his mouth was on you.

Hot. Wet. Devouring.

He started slow—broad strokes of his tongue, taking his time like he wanted to savor every second. You gasped, fingers flying to grip the sheets, legs twitching around his shoulders as he buried his face deeper.

Billy moaned into her like he was the one getting off.

He licked you like he meant it. Like he was trying to memorize every sound you made. The way you whimpered when he circled your clit. The way you cried out when he sucked just a little harder.

“Billy—fuck—oh my god—” you choked out, voice shaking, hands tangling in his hair as your hips bucked against his mouth.

He didn’t stop. Not even when your thighs clenched. Not even when your legs trembled.

He just held you tighter. Groaned against you like he was losing his goddamn mind.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” he rasped against your, breath hot and slick. “You gonna soak my fuckin’ face?”

“Y-Yes—Billy—I—”

That’s all he needed.

He latched onto your clit, relentless and hungry, one hand slipping up to press against your belly, grounding you as he worked you with his mouth.

You shattered.

A scream tore from your lips as your back arched off the bed, thighs squeezing his head as waves of pleasure crashed through you like a storm. You'd never come like that—so fast, so hard, so completely undone.

Billy stayed there until the last tremor faded, then finally pulled back, lips and chin glistening.

He looked up at you like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted.

And with that wicked smirk, he dragged the back of his hand across his mouth and whispered,

“Sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted.”

You were still trembling, your dress was bunched around your hips, your chest rising and falling in shaky breaths, skin flushed and glowing. Your thighs quivered, slick and spread, and your fingers were still tangled in the sheets like you couldn’t quite come back down.

Billy didn’t give you the chance.

He kissed the inside of your thigh—soft this time. Almost reverent. Then again, a little higher, tongue darting out to taste what was left of you. You let out a weak whimper, your hips twitching from the overstimulation, but he held you there, grounding you with a hand splayed over your lower belly.

“Sensitive?” he rasped, voice thick, rough, and smug.

You nodded, dazed.His grin widened.

“Good.”

He kissed his way up your body slowly—lazy, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world to taste you again. And again. His lips trailed over your soft belly, up your chest, over the swell of your breast through your dress. He nipped at the neckline until you gasped, then finally dragged himself up over you, bracing his forearms on either side of your head.

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed and wrecked, and it nearly broke him in half.

“Fuck, sweetheart…” he muttered, dipping to kiss the corner of your mouth. “You have no idea what you just did to me.”

You caught the bulge in his jeans pressing hot and heavy between your thighs, and your breath caught again—this time from a different kind of need.

He saw the flicker in your eyes.

His grin turned darker.

“You want more?” he asked low, lips brushing yours. “You want me to fuck you, baby?”

You hesitated—just for a second—and he softened, pressing his forehead to yours, slowing everything down.

“No rush,” he murmured. “I’ll wait. I’ll take my time with you. You say the word and I’ll stop.”

Your fingers trailed up his chest, trembling but certain.“I don’t want you to stop.”

Billy froze—just for a beat—like those words hit him harder than anything else you could’ve said.

Then he kissed you.

Deep. Possessive. Gentle and hungry all at once.

As if he’d waited his whole life to finally taste something real.

And tonight?

He was going to worship every single inch of you becausecBilly had never taken his time like this.

Not with anyone.

But you weren't just anyone.

You were his and now seeing you here, spread out beneath him, soft and flushed, still trembling from the way he’d eaten you out like a man starved. God you looked good. Your lips were kiss-swollen, eyes wide and glassy, your thighs gently cradling his hips. And when you'd whispered “I don’t want you to stop,” with that shy, breathy voice of yours—

He’d nearly lost it.

But he didn’t rush. Couldn’t.

Not with you.

“Tell me if anything hurts,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone. “I mean it. You say stop, I stop.”

You nodded, lips parting, vulnerable but sure. “Okay.”

Billy leaned down to kiss you—slow and soft this time. His mouth moved against yours like a secret, like a promise. One hand gently slid down to your hip, the other braced beside your head as he shifted, grinding his cock against your slick folds.

You gasped, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “Billy—”

“Shh, I got you,” he whispered, voice rough with restraint. “You’re so wet for me, sweetheart. Gonna make this easy.”

He lined himself up, thick and hard and aching, then paused.

“You ready?”

You bit her lip, nodding quickly. “Y-Yeah.”

He pushed in slowly—inch by inch.

Your walls stretched around him, tight and hot and so fucking perfect that Billy had to grit his teeth to keep from slamming in all at once. He could feel you tense, hear the way your breath caught in your throat, so he stilled the second he felt resistance.

“Just a little more,” he whispered, kissing your neck. “Almost there. You’re doing so good for me, baby.”

You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut.

He rocked his hips, small shallow motions, letting you adjust to the size of him. Your thighs trembled against his sides, and your hands clutched at his back like you needed to anchor yourself.

It was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever felt.

When he bottomed out, fully seated inside of you, he stayed there—panting, forehead pressed to yours

“Holy fuck…” he muttered. “You feel like heaven, baby.”

Your voice came out in a breathy moan. “It’s so much.”

“I know,” he soothed. “But you’re takin’ it like a goddamn angel.”

He started to move—slow, careful thrusts that dragged his cock along your walls just right. Every pull had you clenching tighter, every push had you gasping his name like a prayer.

“Billy…”

“That’s it,” he groaned. “Say my name. Let me hear that sweet mouth.”

Their bodies rocked together in quiet rhythm, slick skin against skin, the sound of breathless moans and soft gasps filling the room. He kissed her everywhere—your jaw, your neck, your chest—telling you how good you felt, how beautiful you were, how perfect your pussy was for him.

Your nails dug into his arms as your hips began to move with his, meeting his thrusts, your eyes fluttering open to look at him.

And fuck, the way you looked at him…Like he was everything.

“Come for me,” he murmured, hips grinding a little deeper. “Come on my cock, baby. Let go for me.”

You cried out, body arching into his, and he felt you clamp down around him, fluttering and tight and so damn sweet that he couldn’t hold back.

He groaned against your skin as he came—deep inside, spilling into you with a shudder and a low growl of your name. His hips stuttered, breath ragged, as he held you close through every last pulse.

They stayed like that for a long moment—wrapped in each other, trembling, flushed, and breathless.

Billy gently pulled back, kissing your nose, your cheeks, your temple.

“You okay?” he whispered, thumb brushing your lower lip.

You nodded, cheeks warm, eyes wet but smiling.

“I’ve never felt anything like that.”

Billy smiled against your skin, voice rough and quiet.

“Yeah… me either.”

#one shot #oneshot #oneshots #one shots #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove smut #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n

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illicitland · 10 days ago

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the act

Damien Haas x Fem!Reader / Theodore "Todd" Hull x Fem!Character

Summary: In an attempt to commit to the bit you found yourself questioning your feelings for your co-star

A/N: WAKE UP DAMIEN GIRLIES. Please other authors write about him too, I need more of this guy.

You are sweating balls. If that's even a saying.

For an episode of Bit City you are to play a character—a woman that's put together, a good career, and conventionally beautiful to put it lightly.

However, she is dating a straight guy so full of himself. Flirting with every woman he sees, and unemployed. Pretty much a retired frat boy. Todd.

The main issue wasn't even the fact that your boyfriend is pure trash. It's his friend, Eric, whom he listens to more than his own girlfriend.

When the cast list was released you knew nothing could ever prepare you for what's to come. Damien was cast for the character Todd, aka your boyfriend. While Shayne is Eric.

Their duo was perfectly cast and at the same time a pure nightmare. The two of them are comedic geniuses who are not afraid of going low even if it will be bad for their digital footprint.

Not to add, Damien is one of the most unpredictable people you know. His mind is also unnaturally quick with coming up with witty responses that there are moments that he catches you off guard.

During the meeting you have established key points about the characters, but the entirety would have to be improvised. The nerves you got did not vanish even on the shoot day.

You are dressed in a very put together manner. Hair neat. Clothes pressed. Sitting beside you is Damien, wearing a red polyester jersey, hair intentionally unkept.

"Good luck out there, Sweets." He said as he reached out for you noticeably tense shoulders, that relaxed under his touch.

Erin soon signaled that the cameras are about roll. You took one long and heavy breath, preparing yourself from what's about to come.

Angela started the intro for Bit City then he asked the two of you to introduce yourselves Damien went first. "Theodore Richard Hull, but you can call me anytime." He sent a wink towards Angela. To which the two of you reacted.

"Baby, what the hell?" You said, frustration laced heavily on your voice.

He reached out to pat your hair, "I'm joshin', Baby. I'm joshin'. Call me Todd. I love when you're so protective of me."

"I love it when you do things that you know will piss me off." You sat farther from the couch with your arms crossed in front of you.

"Why are you with this loser?" Angela asked. "Is that why you're here? Don't tell me you're dating this guy willingly." Her eyes judging your decision.

“What do you mean? He's perfect. It's his friend.” You said, clinging to his arm. You then went on about how he has been listening to what his friend is saying rather than you, his own girlfriend.

“I see. Let's call for Todd's best friend, Eric!” Angela declared.

On queue, Shayne went out to the center stage wearing the same jersey Damien is wearing. “Bro!” Shayne said pointing at Damien's similar top. A few exchanges of bros later they finally settled.

The show went on with everyone on the couch adding chaos, forcing your brain to process everything at an unnatural pace. You were barely holding it together. Barely keeping up with the exchange of banter.

You tried looking at people on the other side of the camera to find support, but no. Most if not all of them are cracking up with the gravity of the situation.

You're on your own, it seems.

“You know what, I am done. I don't want this environment for me and my baby.” You then stood up from the couch.

Your revelation received gasps from everyone in the room.

“That's right, I am pregnant.” Your hands made their way on top of your flat appearing stomach.

“You're telling me we're having Theodore Richard 'Todd' Hull Junior?” He stood facing you, kneading his barely grown facial hair. “Baby, I am so happy I can kiss you right now.”

Due to the spur of the moment, you dared him. “Do it then. If you really love me and Theodore Richard 'Todd' Hull Junior, kiss me. Kiss me in front of the whole world.”

By this time, jaws are on the floor. Shayne and Angela visibly shocked and pumped for what's about to happen.

Their reactions are a blur to you. Your eyes are fixated on Damien's. No more words were uttered, or maybe noise was blocked by your ears.

One thing you are certain of. Damien is leaning in, closer than he has ever been before. Your mind memorized the moles on his lower left cheek sitting just above his neatly buzzed beard.

His breath reeks of something familiar. You did not care enough about what as your mind could only think of what it would feel.

You prepared yourself. Closing your eyes and puckering your lips.

“Actually, as much as everyone in the studio would like to see it happen, according to our producers we must keep it appropriate for our impressionable audience and monetizable, of course.” Angela said, waking you up from your delusion.

Just as you snapped back from reality you also went back to your character.

“That's all the time we have, so I advise that you guys resolve this privately, like what you should have done in the first place.” Angela then did the outro and soon enough Erin declared cut.

You were greeted with "good job" greetings from everyone. Your heartbeat was still inhumanly beating fast.

Once you were in the dressing room, carefully removing hair clips that are keeping the wig on your head. You struggled with detaching it due to a clip you can't seem to locate.

As Damien entered, he saw you struggle. His instant reply was to help you. His gentle hand pulled the pin out. He lifted the wig slowly, like he was afraid to break you.

He also took the initiative to place it back in its bag. “Thank you.” You said offering him a smile through the mirror of the vanity.

“No worries!” He exclaimed with his sweet enthusiasm as he made his way behind the changing divider. “Good job earlier by the way. People are gonna love that episode.”

“That's really sweet, Dames. You did really well too. I love how committed you get when we do acts like these. I was so worried I wouldn't be able to keep up with you and Shayne.” He left the divider changed into his normal dark clothing.

"What do you mean, you always do a good job." He placed his hand on your shoulder as he reached for his glasses that happened to be in front of you.

It was only a few second, but the warmth of his hand sent chills all over your body. "I was worrying because of unpredictable you guys are. You're really good at this, Mr. Disney Star."

"Oh please, you were so good. You're too committed to the bit, we almost kissed." He looked you in the eye through his clear lenses.

You don't know how he was able to say that to you eye to eye, and with his genuine smile. For a second you did not know what to say. His reaction was hard for you to read. Is he trying to hint something in between.

“Yeah,” Was all you could come up with.

You sat there, eyes lifted to meet his with a mix of curiosity and longing—like you were silently asking for something, anything from him.

There was a quiet plea written across your face. In that moment, you looked achingly beautiful.

You could have sworn he felt it too—you hoped he did. The softness of his gaze as he examined your face.

“You should probably change so we can catch up to lunch.” He traveled his eyes on you, not maliciously but out of control. “Wearing a blazer that thick can't be comfortable.”

You asked for him to wait for you and he promised to comply.

You went behind the wall to change. You hadn't realized that you've gotten goosebumps.

You told yourself to snap out of it. You quickened your pace knowing he is behind the wall waiting for you.

There is the assured part of your mind that knew he'd be there waiting. Yet somehow, you feared that he'd leave.

Damien is not that kind of man. He'd wait for you to be ready, even if it takes over his entire shift.

You are right.

The two of you were not really the closest before. But after that film day something changed. Like, the beanstalk that sprouted reaching up the sky over night. You were seeing things about him that you would not have paid attention to before.

On day offs, the two of you would be on constant contact, checking up on one another.

Your talks with him were something you looked forward to. Even the work related once.

But what you are most fond of is when he talks about his hobbies, although there are times when you don't get what he was talking about he'd explain it to you in grave details. You love seeing the sparkle in his eyes when he talks about things he is most passionate about.

Furthermore, he is an awesome listener. You felt seen and validated when you are ranting to him. Damien listens with an open mind, no judgement. Someone you can discuss anything with.

One day, he checked on what you did during the weekend. You were lost for words because you can't tell him that you were replaying Tiktok ship edits of the two of you or how you were rewatching Youtube clip compilations of him while enjoying bags of chips. "Nothing, just binged watch reruns of Modern Family." was the safest answer you could come up with.

What caught you off-guard was when he asked for plans for the next weekend. The week was just starting. Where is this conversation going? Could he be...

"What about movie at my house?" He asked, casually.

Your assumption was right. "Can't wait to finally meet your cute kitties." You could have sworn your voice cracked.

The remainder of the week came and went excruciatingly slow. That night was all you could think about. This being your first exclusive hang out.

When the day of came you stood too long in front of his door. With a non-alcoholic red wine on your hand. In your mind you are trying to come up with the best greeting. While lost in thought his door flung open.

This caught the two of you off guard.

"How long have you been standing there?" He expressed his concern due to the hot weather.

"I was just about to knock, how did know I was out there?" You made your way into his warm home.

"Just a hunch. Or maybe we're just telepathically intertwined like that." He humored. You handed him a bottle you brought.

"It's non-alcoholic because you don't do alcohol. I listen, you see." leaving a chuckle as you bat your lashes to him.

Damien knew that for him there was no need for a movie. He could simply just watch you and be entertained by the way the words leave your mouth or when your eyes do the talking for you.

But, as promised there will be a movie night. He wasn't sure he would be able to focus with you by his side.

He led you to his living room. There are blankets set up like those in slumber parties with bowls of chips and popcorn. Once you were near enough you saw his cats Zelda and Freyja contributing to the fluff of the blankets.

The cats snuggled up to you as though they knew you. This caught you by surprise since he mentioned how his cats are not fond of new people, like their dad.

Like Damien, they found your presence comforting and warm.

Came the time when the two of you have abandoned the movie to engage in personal conversation, it was more fun that way anyways, thought the both of you.

You two spent the whole night talking. Nothing specific, but somehow it meant everything to you.

It was a known knowledge that Damien is one of the sweetest souls out there. But this night brought you a deeper understanding of what kind of man he really is. His entire being reeks of genuineness.

The way ge acts, speaks, and thinks wowed you. If you had taken the time to get to know him before you would have found out sooner that he is all you have been looking for.

This gave you all the courage to lean in. Mid talk, unprovoken, took both of you by surprise.

He held your face and closed the remaining gap between the two of you. His gentle caresses are on your neck and jaw.

Neither of you expected it. It just felt right.

All real. No act.

A/N: Thank you for reading! This was heavily inspired by these gifs made by @haasmaxxing

#damien haas #damien haas x reader #damien haas x you #damien haas fanfiction #smosh #smosh games #smosh cast #smosh cast x reader #smosh pit #smosh fanfiction #smoshblr #smosh x reader

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