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lustlovehart · 1 month ago

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Soft Clipped Feathers

A/n: Really Self-Indulgent for Sundays realese today.

Pairing: Sunday x Reader

Summary: You’ve grown tired of staying in the hidden nest that is Sundays arms, yet you can’t bring yourself to really leave that comfort. So, you do the only thing that can alleviate this want, use Sundays infatuation for yourself. (1.3k words)

Warnings: [Yandere], Possesion, Manipulation, Implied NSFW & Suggestive, Reader lowkey plays with Sunday (And it backfires LMAO), Themes of codependency, Sunday and Reader get filthy? Very unholy you two, Tiny (Big) obsession from Sunday, Uhm they make out on the floor?? Idk if that needs a tag

There’s a certain petulance in the room you sit in. Stained windows filled with colorful sectors, unify into a beautiful image of a Dove… falling victim to the hunter who sang false truths in its flight of freedom.

“You’ve been staring at the window for quite some time.” The man who claims himself to be the representation of the holiest of days, speaks into the once-relaxing silence of the room. He displays himself as a savior, yet you know better than to trust hunters, they’ve always believed their prey to be the lone sustenance for their fortune. “It’s lovely isn’t it?”

“Not really. I just don’t feel like looking at a man flaunting his feathers.”

“You liked when that IPC worker did. Did you not?” Sunday takes a step closer, to the wooden bench you rest on, his gloved hand caressing your skin. He traces up your arm, thumb ghosting your lips, bestowing a gentle tap on your mouth. It’s akin to a kiss really, if you could count it.

It doesn’t matter though, you’ve kissed plenty of times, and it makes no difference whether you do it with or without clothes. Though, the remembrance makes you shudder. Fingers dancing on your skin, blankets surrounding your intertwined bodies. A romantic scene really, if it weren’t for the fact you imagined the cool cruel silver, to be a chilling night in penacony.

“No, that was just jealousy blinding you, Sunday.” The man pulls away, his wings fluttering ever so slightly.

“Jealousy is the trait of men with no virtues, inharmonious men.” He speaks the word inharmonious, like treason.

“Well, it seems this room is filled with impropriety then hm?” You lean further into the mahogany, hoping somehow, someway, the wood will take liquid form and drown you. Yet you know it won’t. A trio of buttons undo on your blouse from the action, Sunday watching with great intent.

A majority of your chest is now on full display, to Sunday and each piece of art in the room. The eyes in the stained glass, those sculpted pupils of those statues, yet the only gaze you feel is his. Halovian eyes dilate at the sight, he’s quick to look into your eyes when you notice his entrance.

The garment was far too tight on you, but you had no urge to change out of it. Perhaps an unconscious act of rebellion to Sundays put together attire, perfectly fitting his form.

“Your clothes are astray.” He points out the detail as if you didn’t know. You don’t have the chance to reply before you feel Sunday nudge his way into your spot on the bench, towering over you as gloved fingers quickly work to redo the buttons. “Still, it would be dishonorable, for you, if someone saw you this way.” He emphasizes the ‘for you’ as if you cared.

You clasp your hands around his, effectively pausing his movements. He inhales when you pull him down, wind rushing through his hair. This adrenaline is further ensued, when the only thing stopping him from touching bare skin, is the cloth he’s attempting to redo.

In truth, this is the only way you feel to have any control of your fate. His affections for you are wide, yet narrow too. Wide in a way you can feel yourself drown in this so-called adoration, but narrow to a point you could never fully move through it. The rare moments you have with him, where you have him in a cage, is when you entangle him in the love he sought from you so deeply.

Though, this cage will always be unlocked for a free bird like him. But for you, you’ll forever be doomed to roam on the floor, those soft feathers of yours, clipped to never breathe air again.

“If someone saw us like this, that would only solidify what you want.” Your voice is low, warm air blowing on Sunday's neck. His knee is placed between your legs, his elbow being the sole pillar from his ravish on your being. His eyes trail between your eyes and your lips, those golden optics widening when you suddenly lean up.

Now you’re truly testing a man of virtue. A dangerous endeavor indeed.

“What do you plan to do?” His question doesn’t match the look in his eyes, you should know, his eyes are centimeters from yours, and so are your lips. The wings from his head flutter down, gentle feathers caressing your skin; successfully covering the visage of your surroundings.

All that’s left to see is Sunday.

“Do you plan to do this, and go to sleep satisfied at testing my countenance?” You don’t answer him, yet again, he didn’t want a reply. “Or will you finally change your ways? As you’ve promised at confessional time and time again.”

Oh, he knew that was you?

“Sunday—” you’re cut short when a kiss is delegated on your temple, any retort dying immediately at his placating.

“It’s okay, I’ll forgive you,” His arm falls to brush your cheek, the leather from his glove squeaking at the movement. “As long as you listen.” he stops talking after the final sentence, only softly gazing into your eyes. It’s uncomfortable, and piercing. It’s a strikingly familiar gaze to that of a husband, which Sunday is anything but.

“You…” Your words are strained, it’s a pain to face the reality you willingly put yourself into with him. “Sunday…” You grit your teeth, roughly pushing Sunday to the marble floor, bodies falling in unison.

Once again, you’re left in the only position you feel comfortable, making Sunday fall victim to your charms. At this point. Your shirt has already fallen down your shoulder, and your back is on cold flooring.

You take a deep breath in, before enacting your act of rebellion to this so-called man of virtue. You shall strip this room of its purity. But, to be transparent…

There’s no purity left in this room, for it’s not a beautiful art gallery of glass and statues. It’s the home you’ve always lived in. It’s the cruelest joke of all, you have the freedom to go where you wish, but you don’t, you stay.

“This world isn’t kind,” Sunday kisses your palm as he lays his head on your chest, the soft beating of your heart turning his own. “Wait until I’ve made it so.” You’re not sure what he means, but you nod… at the time.

Maybe it’s because of his words, or maybe simply fear for the unkind world he speaks of. Sometimes, you wish for a reality where you step into this cruel world, only then do hatchlings grow strength in their wings.

Now though, wings that have been clipped, have no chance of regaining that opportunity.

In one motion, you take his handsome face into your palms, pulling him roughly to your lips, his own hands finding refuge on your waist, pulling you down into him. It’s filthy and self-indulgent, but all you can do.

When you disconnect to breathe, a trail of saliva connects your lips, a reminder of the everbinding hold he has on you. If you think positively, it could also refer to how deep this infatuation with you, has implemented itself into Sunday's core.

Maybe the simple sight of you, reminds Sunday what it is he strives to do in reality, create a sanctuary of peace. Not you though, he’s the only one allowed to feel your comfort.

You dive back in, ready to drown in the essence that is harmony, through his lips.

…

You wake up to the colorful sight of stained glass, the same sight of a Dove and a hunter invading your pupils. There’s something different though.

There’s a hole in place of the Dove's heart, the window shattered, but only in that sole spot.

The blanket draped over you slides off as you leave the marble platform, but you’re stopped when a firm forearm wraps around your waist, effectively pulling you back. You look back at the perpetrator with a glare.

“Sunday, you’re a man of manners, you’ll be late for… whatever you have going on today.” it’s a pathetic attempt to get him off. Of course it doesn’t work.

“You’re right, but I won’t be late.” you continue to stare at the image, only vaguely listening to Sunday's words.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?" Considering it’s only the morning after…. what you’ve done, your urge to be spiteful isn’t as strong as yesterdays. You wish that wasn’t so.

“You’re coming with me.” He says it so softly, it doesn’t register completely in your mind. But when it does, you wonder if the dove was attempting to warn you.

“You’re… Making me leave…?” You turn around, facing the man that continues to lay next to you.

“No, I’m making you stay, with me.”

…

It seems you’re no longer a bird with freedom to walk anywhere you want anymore either. You’re left flightless, and freedomless.

But…

“I see…” You don’t fight, not like he expected you to do. Not like… you expected to do so either. You lie back down, burying yourself into the blanket with him, burying yourself into Sunday. His arms surround you in a warm embrace.

Maybe it’s your own fault for flying into this hunters trap, with your own free will.

Hahaha, please come him with my 0 pity and 80 pulls Mr.Sunday :). Alsooo, I hope this is good, because, confession… I haven’t finished the penacony quest, only the first one 😬

#vesperwrites #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere sunday #sunday x reader #yandere sunday x reader #yan hsr

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rottenfyre · 19 days ago

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Do you think Bruce would introduce y/n to the justice league? I could totally see her simping over the flash (Or conner Kent 👀).

The first time you meet Conner, you’re immediately smitten. He’s tall, gorgeous, and has that perfect blend of confidence and awkward boy-next-door energy that you thrive on.

You don’t even bother introducing yourself properly. After the initial “Hey, pretty boy, wanna fuck?” incident, you lean into your new role as his unsolicited sugar mama.

Conner, tries to respond, but you’re already calculating how much of Bruce’s money you’ll need to spoil him.

During one mission, you dramatically announce, “Conner deserves everything! Clothes, gadgets, vacations—all on Daddy Bruce’s tab!”

Once, you bought him an entire motorcycle. When Bruce found out, he dragged you into the Batcave, his voice dangerously calm.

“Explain why my credit card statement says you purchased a $50,000 bike.”

“It’s for Conner. He deserves nice things.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Conner can fly. He doesn’t need a bike.”

You shrug. “But he looks so good on it, Bruce. Don’t be stingy.”

You’re constantly “borrowing” Bruce’s money for ridiculous things.

“Bruce, I need a million dollars.”

“For what?” he asks, already exhausted.

“To buy Conner a pony. He’s always wanted one.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not giving you a million dollars.”

“Fine,” you huff. “But don’t come crying to me when Conner’s sad and pony-less.”

You have a love-hate relationship with Diana. You’re in awe of her beauty, strength, and grace, but you’re also deeply insecure.

During one mission, you stop mid-battle to dramatically compare your boobs to hers, much to everyone’s horror.

“Diana,” you sniff, clutching your chest, “I’ll never be able to compete with perfection like yours. It’s not fair!”

Diana, ever graceful, reassures you, “You’re beautiful in your own right.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re perfect,” you reply, before glaring at Bruce. “He never says anything nice to me.”

Bruce, utterly done: “Because you don’t deserve it.”

During a training session, you randomly grab Diana’s hand and place it on your boobs.

“Feel that, Diana. Am I Amazon material yet?”

She humors you, nodding seriously. “You’re getting there.”

You: “If I bulk up, can I join Themyscira?”

Barry finds you hilarious. He loves how unfiltered you are, even when it gets way too inappropriate.

Once, during a mission, you casually said, “Barry, do you think you could vibrate fast enough to—”

Barry, cutting you off, flailing: “DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE.”

You just smirk. “I’m just saying. There’s potential.”

He starts speed-dodging your flirting, but you’re persistent. “One day, Speedy, you’ll come around.”

You have exactly one question for Hal when you meet him:

“So, hypothetically, could you make a functional dild—”

Hal, already holding up a hand: “Nope. Don’t even finish that thought.”

You pout. “Why do you even have the ring if you’re not going to use it creatively?”

Clark tries his best to remain polite and patient, but you test his limits.

“You must’ve been sculpted by the gods,” you tell him once, blatantly checking him out. “What’s it like being perfect, superdaddy?”

“I… um… thank you?” Clark stammers, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck while Bruce glares daggers at you.

You immediately give Arthur the nickname “Aquadaddy” and refuse to call him anything else.

“Look at those arms, Aquadaddy. What’s your bench press, a blue whale?”

Arthur smirks, clearly amused. “Something like that.”

You: “Bet you could throw me across the room.”

Arthur: “Why would I do that?”

You: “For fun. And because I’d enjoy it.”

You’re also obsessed with his tattoos.

“Did it hurt? Can I touch them? Are you planning on getting more? What if we got matching ones?!”

He indulges you for about five seconds before realizing you’re just trying to find an excuse to grope his arm.

“You’re worse than Barry,” he mutters.

During an underwater mission, you accidentally blurted out, “Do mermaids exist? Be honest.”

Arthur: “They’re… complicated.”

You: “Complicated? Are they, like, your exes?”

Arthur groans, swimming away while you cackle.

You’ve made it your life’s mission to torment Bruce.

When the League gathers for a meeting, you always find a way to embarrass him. One time, you slid into the room dramatically, pointed at him, and declared, “That man is the reason I’m not married yet!”

Bruce: “How is this my fault?”

You grin. “Because I’ll never find another man who looks as good in a suit. You’ve ruined my standards.”

You are Bruce’s biggest headache. Every time he turns around, you’re doing something wildly inappropriate.

During a League movie night, you plop yourself on the floor between his legs, resting your head on his thigh.

“Your thighs are so firm, Bruce. You ever think about becoming a leg model?”

Bruce just stares down at you, utterly done. “Go sit somewhere else.”

You grin up at him. “Nope. This is my spot now.”

As unhinged as you are, everyone in the League has a soft spot for you. You make them laugh, even if it’s at Bruce’s expense.

And while your antics are embarrassing for Bruce, they all know you’re a fierce fighter and incredibly loyal. When it matters, you’ve got their backs—and they wouldn’t trade you for anything.

Except Bruce. Bruce would absolutely trade you for five minutes of peace.

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jj-one · 10 months ago

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PRESS PLAY !

your boyfriend Jungkook convinces you to make a sextape with him, ultimately ending up with you getting wrecked on camera.

pairing: bf!Jungkook x gf!reader genre/tags: pwp (plot is barely there), smut, piv, unprotected sex, dom!jungkook/sub!reader, manhandling, daddy kink?, there is absolutely nothing holy about this fic… read at your own risk that’s all i’m gonna say tbh words: 3.0k

[note] if you remember seeing this before yes i’m the original author i didn’t plagiarize lol, i made a new blog and was formerly known as @milkychae but deleted a while ago. i’ll be reposting all my old deleted fics and using this as an archive !

Jungkook checks himself out in the mirror one last time, threading his fingers through his thick, silky hair before hitting the record button to start filming.

He had the camera set up on a tripod placed in front of the bed, flashing you a soft smile. You couldn’t stop ogling his divine features, he looked so damn good. His messy jet-black hair swept the sides of his face and was only in a pair of white Calvin Klein boxers. He just looks like pure heaven, unable to keep yourself contained as you sneak glances at his nicely toned, heavily tattooed body. You can literally stare at his beautiful sculpted abs all day, he was the true definition of perfection.

‘How’d I get so lucky to have the hottest boyfriend alive?’ You often thought to yourself.

“M’kay, ready babe?” Jungkook asks reassuringly, he knows you’re excited to do this just as much as he is.

You nod your head “mhm, was born ready!” He chuckles at your cuteness, pressing the little red ‘record’ button on his camera.

Once the camera begins rolling Jungkook wastes no time to spring into action, turning towards you to cup your face in his large hands. He kisses you hungrily, causing you to moan ever so slightly into him, without breaking the kiss you both land onto the bed— he’s hovering over your frame providing light touches to your thigh. You were enjoying every minute of this so far, never getting enough of the sweet taste of him. Pulling away for a second, he grabs ahold of your neck, keeping you in place while his free hand roam all over your upper body. He presses wet kisses to your jaw and chin, then comes back up to kiss your pretty lips once again, making the kiss grow sloppier and heavier. A string of Jungkook’s saliva forms when he momentarily detaches hisself from your lips, smiling down at you. It was more of a devilish smile though, a smile that looks like he was going to snatch the soul out of your body. You two play around on the bed for a bit, passionately kissing and enjoying each other’s presence.

“Come here baby,” Jungkook says, instructing you to get on top of him now, positioning himself behind one of the fluffy pillows on the bed. You do exactly as you’re told and get on his lap to straddle him, he grabs your face with his left hand to kiss you some more while rubbing your ass, harshly slapping it in the process. You wore the tiniest pink micro skirt with bows on the side, it was a mesh material and super see through. Jungkook loved the outfit you were wearing since it was a tiny two-piece crop top and skirt, adoring the curves and shape of your body in the least bit of clothing possible. Slowly lifting up your skirt now, he licks his lips when looking down at your bare pussy, teasing your entrance with his tatted fingers. You quietly gasp as he rubs your soaked folds in an up and down, slow motion, making you subconsciously twitch from sensitivity.

“My god.. you’re so fucking wet babygirl,” Jungkook groaned as he slid two fingers inside, “look how much you’re dripping already babe.” he whispers, staring in awe at his fingers disappearing into your sweet cunt. The room’s filled with only sounds of your wetness, combined with the soft moans you utter, all the juices dripping down your legs and his thumb brushing over your clit was having you see stars.

“You hear that? That’s what good pussy’s supposed to sound like,” Jungkook brags while looking over at the camera, he’s taking this very serious, as if you’re going to end up posting this on PornHub or something. You loved it though and you can tell how into this he is, which only makes you want to do a better job at pleasing him. You moaned louder for him as his fingers go deeper into you, reaching those spots that you never could. Rolling your eyes back as he fingers you harder, he was soaked in your juices, obsessed with the view behold him. You match the movements of his pace, grinding against his digits whilst he reaches a certain spongy spot— feeling so close to cumming already.

Then he abruptly took his fingers out of your dripping cunt, denying you of your orgasm. You whined loudly, clenching again just to feel something, wanting more of him filling you up at this very moment. You childishly pout and beg for more, but he just shushes you and flashes a smirk at your whininess. “Don’t worry sweet pea, m’gonna give you exactly what you need..” Jungkook rasps, still staring down at your cute pussy, but this time spreading your lips apart. He ran his finger down to your clit once again to gently rub in circles, making it even more puffy and swollen. Basking in all your beauty as you threw your head back from the intense pleasure.

“Wanna taste you,” Jungkook’s voice almost sounds desperate, not wanting to waste another second. “Come sit on my face babydoll,” he motions for you to temporarily get off of him, lying down on the bed, requesting that you still keep your skirt on. Placing yourself onto him and comfortably sit on his face, his mouth attaches to your pussy quicker than you can form a thought, already ferociously sucking on your clit. His hands went straight to your ass, slapping each cheek every chance he could, forming blatant red hand prints on your butt.

Jungkook was eating you out like his life was depending on it, uncontrollably moaning his name over and over again. You were in a frenzy as you grind on his face, grabbing the top of his head as if he was able to even go anywhere, his face was quite literally glued to your pussy. Jungkook kept at it for what felt like hours, your juices leaking all over his face without a care in the world. Then all of a sudden you felt this weird sensation, something you’ve never experienced before. It was the same slimy sensation that was all too familiar, but just in a different hole instead. Jungkook was licking your ass, his tongue kept flicking it at first, but now he’s fully immersed into it. He’s never done this to you before but it felt so amazing, it felt just as good as him eating you out but had a distinctly different feel to it.

“You like it baby?” He asks when pulling his tongue away, replacing it with his fingers. His fingers go so deep in your little hole making you squeal out loud.

“Mmm… yes daddy, I do!” A string of moans escape you, sounding so pretty that it’s like music to Jungkook’s ears. Smirking up at you while his digits continue going in and out of your ass, planting a quick kiss to your pussy.

“Fuck, I love you so much my love,” even during moments like these, Jungkook still reminded you how much he adores you, going back to licking your sensitive clit while still fingering your ass. You were in utopia, lost in the magical feeling of his tongue and fingers doing wonders on you. Jungkook could totally be a pornstar if he wanted to, he had the looks, the skill, and stamina.

“I love you so much kookie..” you mewl, closing your eyes from how intense all of this was. You can feel your release coming any minute and you only got louder for him, grabbing the strands of his hair, gripping it with everything you had. You were riding his face like a rodeo and he was more than here for it, his tongue never letting up on your clit. When he dragged a long stripe across your heat, that was all it took for you to cum all over his face. Slowing down your pace as you finally chase your high, smothering Jungkook with your creamy, juicy pussy.

“Goddamn babe, you made such a mess.” Jungkook grunts out when releasing you from his grasp, his face completely drenched with your juices. You come down from being on top and lower yourself to kiss his wet lips, getting a taste of you on his tongue.

Jungkook tells you to get up and stand directly in front of the camera, you immediately follow his orders. He makes his way over to you, ordering you again to get on your knees in a stern tone. Situating yourself down onto the floor, you pull his boxers down and his cock springs out freely from it’s barriers. Making steady eye contact with the camera while grabbing his thick, lengthy cock, the tip was so red and puffy, precum leaking out to make you even more hungry for him. You wasted zero time in filling your mouth with Jungkook’s cock, it felt so warm against your tongue, loving the prominent veins that would show when he was extra hard. You start taking in his length and getting a good rhythm going, bobbing your head up and down. Jungkook winces at the sensation, taking a fistful of your hair and slamming the entirety of his cock into your mouth. His length hits the back of your throat, coming into contact with your uvula, causing you to make a sudden gagging noise. The drool peeking out from the corners of your mouth becoming more apparent as he fucks your pretty mouth.

“You have the best lips for giving head babe,” Jungkook coos while sighing out and throwing his head back, “your mouth is so fucking good to me…” He couldn’t stop praising you, you were like an angel to him. An innocent angel that was only a freak for him. Jungkook starts to get a little rougher with you, forcefully pushing his cock even further down your throat, causing you to choke for real this time.

“Yeah just like that baby, choke on it,” he strokes your hair out the way to get a better look at you. He thrives off taking control of you, see how far he can push you, he knows you can handle it though, he does it out of pure love. “Like being stuffed with a mouthful of my cock, hm?”

“You’re such a dirty fucking slut, look at you,” Jungkook continues degrading you, “sucking my dick on camera like the filthy whore you are.”

You keep on sucking his cock as you look him in the eyes, the words he’s saying right now is all you need to hear for you to become even more of a dripping mess. Your wetness is only growing and it’s starting to spill onto the floor, oh how embarrassing…

Jungkook’s cock was buried deep inside your mouth, managing to fit all of him without gagging anymore. He’s trained you so well over the years it doesn’t take much warming up for all of him to settle in perfectly, it’s like it was made specifically for you. You stay like this for a while, feeling his fat cock throbbing in your mouth as you gaze up at his gorgeous face through your lashes, appreciating how much you admire him. You’d honestly do anything to make him happy. After awhile, you release him from your mouth and go straight to his balls, sucking them up like a vacuum. Jungkook moans out so violently that you think the neighbors could probably hear that one, your eyes grew wide as you didn’t expect him to be so vocal from that. Seeing the biggest smile etched on your boyfriend’s face.

“Shit.. you’re so good at that baby,” he compliments you again, holding the back of your head for dear life. You could suck him off for hours without ever getting tired of it.

He pulls you away from him, telling you to get back on the bed and to bend over with your ass facing up. You do so without hesitation and begin arching, ready for him to do whatever he wants. He proceeds to spread your pussy lips again, as if earlier wasn’t enough already, he dips his tongue back into your soaking wet heat. Your mouth goes agape, barely able to make a sound, only letting out a small moan as he continues, spitting a little on your slit and rubbing it in. He eats you out again while you look back at the camera, whimpering when he squeezes your left ass cheek and gives it a harsh slap. You whimper from all the stimulation, body vibrating as he chuckles at how adorable you are.

“Your pussy tastes so fucking good,” Jungkook is so obsessed with you, but it’s a mutual obsession amongst each other. He took a short break away from your wetness, “you don’t know what you do to me y/n.”

All you could do in that moment was moan like crazy, he was making you feel astronomically good. He licked a couple more languid stripes across your slit and gave it a little slap once he was done. Lifting his head up, he’s finally going to do what he’s been waiting for this entire time. He rubs your ass with one hand while stroking his cock for a little bit with the other, bringing the tip to the entrance of your slit and teasing your hole. His dick slipping in between your wet folds is driving you insane, making you want to just slide it in already.

“C’mon Koo, fuck me alreadyyy.” You were practically begging for him to stuff you at this point, wiggling your ass against him, wanting nothing more than to be filled up by him and only him.

“Alright babe damn, always so eager for me,” he groans as he starts pushing his cock inside of you now.

A broken moan escapes from your lips as you’re feeling him slowly opening you up, your tightness already adjusting to his girth. He began fucking you from behind at a rough pace, giving you exactly what you needed the most. Jungkook grabs your neck once again and brings your back towards his chest, saying all types of dirty, sinful things in your ear while he relentlessly fucks you, slamming his cock in and out of you making you go delirious. Practically shoving his hard length into you, you couldn’t help but scream out in pure ecstasy. His cock felt was the best thing on earth and the more he slammed into you the more you didn’t want it to ever be over.

He was so big you could feel his cock in your stomach, all your insides were being rearranged by him. Your ass was jiggling on his cock so nicely, giving him an absolutely stunning view. Firmly settling your face back into the pillows again, while looking down at your ass he grabs your waist firmly with one hand, the other being on your right butt cheek which was severely bruised from him spanking you earlier. You were so beyond soaking wet that the only noises filling up the room were the gushy sounds of your wetness and the ceaseless thrusts of Jungkook’s cock going deeper in you than ever before.

“Just wanna fill up your tight pussy with all my cum…” Jungkook coos, sounding so pussydrunk from all the pleasure he’s feeling right now. “Show me how desperately you want my cum inside you,” he keeps going, urging you to give him more of a reaction, probably since you’re both on camera.

“Mmm… yes daddy, need you to fill me up and make your cumslut pleasee,” you beg for him to continue fucking you, bouncing back on his cock and making him growl. You wanted him to feel like he was on top of the world, like you were a drug and the only cure for his addiction was your pussy. He keeps thrusting into you erratically, his strokes getting messier and sloppier as he soon reaches his climax.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh fuckk—“ Jungkook belts out a string of curses as he fucks your tight cunt, “m’gonna fucking cum babe… so close..” he grips onto your waist tighter, indefinitely picking up his pace as he starts to see flashes of white invade his vision. He was fucking into you so hard and fast that you couldn’t think or speak coherently anymore, just saying random words and babbling the entire time.

“Jungkook I love you, I love you so much..” was all you were able to say, to which he replies with “I love you more” and continues fucking you from behind like the rent is due. Your eyes were permanently at the back of your head as you were absorbed in the utmost pleasure. Jungkook’s hand reaches over to rub your clit as he proceeds to hit all the right spots inside you, his cock felt so good, everything just feels otherworldly to you right now.

“Ah! Cumming babe, gonna cum—“ Jungkook lets out the deepest groan as he shoots his load inside your warmth, “Oh my god, fuck yes…” he felt like he was on cloud nine, thrusting into you with slowed movements while coating your walls with his thick hot cum. You contract around him, soon reaching your climax right after him, both of your releases mixing together inside of you.

Once he pulls out, you were bodies intertwined with one another again, forgetting all about the camera that was still rolling. You aggressively kiss him, tongues mingling together as if you’re trying to swallow each other’s existence. You took a glance at the camera, checking the time on the screen to see that it’s been going on for almost an hour and thirty minutes now… Jungkook pulls away, noticing you looking at the camera, leaving for a quick second to finally turn it off. He faces back in your direction and presents you with the warmest smile, looking down at your thighs and eyeing the creamy mess that’s dripped down between your legs.

“Let’s get you all cleaned up huh darling?” Jungkook cutely offers, gently kissing your cheek. His big boba ball eyes were staring right into your soul with nothing but admiration and love for you. The duality of his actions were almost surreal, he just fucked you like the devil reincarnated but then acts like the sweetest angel once it’s all over. You’ve always adored that special quality about your boyfriend.

#jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook drabbles #jungkook x f reader

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gold-onthe-inside · 1 month ago

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wrong person...

who? spencer reid x blake!reader content warnings: reference to an open wound (as a metaphor), kissing, implied sex based on: req. @imagining-in-the-margins wrong recipient prompt (nsfw) - Character sends their friend a detailed review of their recent sexual encounter… and accidentally sends it to the person they’re reviewing - can be xOC word count: 1.5k a/n: it broke my heart having to make penelope the bad gal in this fic, but tbf, my girl can cross boundaries, even with the best intentions. reader is a psychologist and alex's goddaughter, set in s8 (maeve does not exist), after the fifth date. also, slightly tweaked the prompt so it's not necessarily a play-by-play review, but enough to sting. spencer's not the kind that kisses and tells in my book, and i don't feel comfortable writing reader!characters that do.

So, maybe it wasn't an entirely awful idea to let your godmother set you up with her colleague. He's definitely smarter than all your own colleagues combined, and easy to wind up too. In the beginning, it had all been to get Alex off your back, and then you hadn't been able to stop thinking about him all week. You had rules to navigate this stuff, you had refused to get attached until he texted or called you first, and there was a 5th date minimum to invite him in like this. Most days, your heart still felt like an open wound, too many men using you like a plaything, a stepping stone to someone else, but Spencer was different.

You leant on your elbow, always an early riser, the sun barely peeking through your curtains, as you took in his features - the slope of his nose, his perfect peach coloured lips that had been reverent to you all night, cleverly placed love bites behind his ear and chest. At 30, you were too old to be careless. He had freckles too, if you looked close enough, lightly dotting his nose. He's gorgeous and it felt ridiculous that he didn't know it with the way his jawline was sculpted by Michelangelo himself. You'd learnt a long time ago not to trust boys as pretty as he was, but Spencer was all heart, no matter what Alex said about his brain capacity. He was earnest in a way that modern men weren't, you could see why Alex was begging you to see him.

Slowly but surely, he started to stir, hazel eyes blinking up at you. "Hi, beautiful," he murmured, all hoarse from sleep and you couldn't help a smile.

"Morning, sunshine," you replied, and he's already leaning up to kiss you, his hand sliding into your hair, and you sink into his warmth, letting it dissolve you all over again, until his phone started to ring, and he had the decency to give you a sense of closure before pulling away entirely.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, slowly opening his golden green eyes.

"It's your job, don't apologise," you said, your voice mellow like honey, and he kissed your nose before shifting to take the call. You'd rather he kiss you like that and leave for work, than the guys who left before you could wake up - or worse, while you were in the shower. You sat up in bed, watching as he pinned his phone between his ear and shoulder, scrabbling to put on clothes and hopping into a pair of trousers, trying not to laugh - he was easily embarrassed, not that you minded. You liked reassuring him afterwards that you really did like him.

He doesn't blame you for speaking up before he hangs up, you were only trying to help, calling out his name to toss him his watch, which he caught in both hands (he's getting better at that), but it means Penelope hears her voice. And from there on, all hell breaks loose.

Penelope's relentless with this stuff, really the only thing that bothers him about her. He loved her with all his heart, but sometimes, she just didn't know where to draw the line. It's not the first time in history that an FBI agent had done something like this. Alex was kind enough not to say anything, which everyone took as a woman of her age being demure and respectful. But the rest of them…

It was his fault entirely, he should have had better control of his temper. But texting had always been a pet peeve of his, and every time his phone went off that day, it had been Penelope probing about the girl she'd heard over the phone. He'd done everything he could think of, even begged Morgan to call Penelope off the hunt, told him he'd do everyone's paperwork for the rest of the month, but even Morgan knew when a cause was lost. Penelope had tracked his card, found the restaurant the two of you had gone to (some niche Korean place he knew you'd like), and had gone to the extent of tracking you down and ID'ing you, and doing a full background check, and was updating him so often that he'd lost track of the case he was actually supposed to be working. Not being able to narrow the profile any further and the next phone vibration being the last straw, he'd texted back in a blind rage, not even reading the message that had actually been sent.

Spencer: stop texting me at work! i'm probably never gonna see her again anyway, so just STOP!

In his defence, not that he actually thought he had one after his mistake, Penelope had actually stopped texting him after the message had sent. He'd thought it was his text, but it had actually been because she'd tracked down their unsub. It wasn't until he called you with the intention of telling you that he was flying back that night (and was craving Thai food and her company) that he realised something was wrong, because you wouldn't answer. You always answered your cell. Not because of him personally, or so he was flattered to think until Alex corrected that, but because the virtue of your profession. Any call could be an emergency call so you always always picked up. You'd interrupted dates to answer calls - not that he minded, not with how his job sent him all over the country at a moment's notice. So, why wouldn't you answer his?

And then he realised. He had fucked up. Massively, massively fucked up. You had texted him around noon, wishing him luck with the case, that you had taken a lunch break in case he wanted to talk, and asking whether he'd eaten. To which he'd replied with a complete overreaction and now he was sorely tempted to jump out of the jet without a parachute.

He closed down any kind of small talk, sidelining Penelope's attempt to probe deeper, but even then, it was, what, an hour between Quantico and DC?

You were watching Roman Holiday on your couch, practically swallowed in blankets as you watched your comfort movie when the bell rang. Repeatedly. You didn't pause the movie - you had it memorised - as you left your cocoon to answer the door, looking through the peephole first. Spencer was panting, out of breath, almost bent over as you opened the door, mostly to make sure he didn't pass out. "What, were you chased by a hyena or something?"

"I'm… so… sorry," he panted, looking up at her. "I… I can explain all of it, I didn't mean it."

"I'm surprised you even came here, I thought you were never gonna see me again," you said dryly, knowing it was a low blow - he deserved a chance to explain - but you had been miserable for hours. He could live with a little of your sarcasm.

"I didn't mean to send it to you," he said and you tilted your head.

"I know that, you're too smart to mix up pronouns," you said.

"Penelope… heard your voice this morning… she was like a dog…. With a bone all day, just… constantly texting me and asking about you and I couldn't focus at work, I just texted it to her to shut her up for a bit, I didn't… actually mean in… Can I sit down?" he asked, pleading at you, and you really can't resist those eyes, so you stepped aside, letting him into your apartment.

He's too good at his job not to see how that one text had ruined your day - with your favourite movie and everything but the mattress from your bedroom hauled out to the couch, and he crashed into an armchair, his gaze on you as you poured him a glass of water and walked over, kneeling beside him to make him drink it. He let the cool liquid wash down his throat, then set the glass aside, leaning over and closer to you. "I really really didn't mean any of that. I mean, I did mean the stop texting part, and I meant it for Penelope, but not for you, I always want to hear from you, I mean, if I could, I'd shrink you down to Tinkerbell size and take you with me everywhere, but miniaturisation technology is too far away, we're barely getting 3D printing to work reliably--"

"I believe you," you said softly, pressing your hand to his wrist, feeling his thumping pulse.

"You do?" he asked, looking at you with those beautiful eyes.

"I do," you said. "To be fair, it did feel very uncharacteristic of you to say that to me, let alone get angry at me."

"It's just been a really long day," he said, tiredly, and you nod.

"I have the perfect cure for that," you said, smiling up at him.

"Yeah?"

"Roman Holiday and takeout," you replied and he smiled back down at you.

"Sounds perfect to me."

#criminal minds #spencer reid #penelope garcia #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x blake!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #my fics

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byuntrash101 · 11 months ago

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cheerleader

f!reader x yunho x mingi x san x seonghwa smut | mdni 1.6k the boys always like to celebrate victory with their biggest cheerleader after a game nsfw tags under the cut

#18: blowgang + bukkake (twt p☆rnlink) soccer players!ateez, blowbang (m rec.), facials and a lot of cum (bukkake), dom!ateez, sub!reader, gentle!yunho, mean!seonghwa, praising, degrading (whore, slut)

a/n: okkk so this is the first request for my 3k celebration! i hope you enjoy it! look forward to the other ones <3

3k celebration | ateez masterlist | navigation

You almost squeezed the hotdog out of the bun as Yunho scored the last winning goal. The crowd rose in unisson for the college team. The euphoria took over you when the tall team captain sent you a flying kiss for the goal celebration.

Him and the whole team knew they owed you a lot. Rare were the fans that were as devoted and cheered as loud as you. And you planned to show this devotion once again after the game. Like you always do: on your knees.

***

The floor of the locker room scraped your bare knees but you couldn't care less about the pain when nearly half the team was standing in front of you, fresh out of the shower, hair still wet, droplets of water trickling down their chests and torsos to reach the white towels tightly wrapped around their waists.

“You saw, baby?” Yunho said, wrapping his big warm hand around your neck to pull you closer. “I scored just for you.” He pressed his clothed half hard cock to your cheek and you bit your lip to repress a moan.

“Shut up, you scored one goal. I caught like five attempts.” Mingi, the goalkeeper, scoffed side eyeing his tall captain that didn't pay him any attention as he was guiding your hand over the outline of his cock. Mingi also approached you, ripping the towel off him.

“Here, love” Mingi said gently, wrapping his hand around your jaw to turn your head away from Yunho and to his direction. “Suck on my cock. I saved the game”

You started to lick your lips hurriedly as your mouth started to water at the sight of Mingi’s juicy length.

“Excuse me, what about us?” San interjected also coming into view with his rock hard cock in hand. Instantly your eyes traveled from the thick and veiny appendix to the sculpted V on his abdomen then to his pecs and board shoulders, his skin was still wet and glistening. “Seonghwa and I defended like our lives depended on it! I think I did a good job. I should get my dick sucked.” San said poking his cock into you other cheek.

“Come on, guys” Seonghwa finally said, also stepping to you. “There’ll be enough of our favorite cheerleader for all of us. Right, darling? You’ll be a good girl and suck all of our cocks?” The oldest said with a half smirk, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. You felt arousal pool between you thighs at the mere mention of having all these cocks into your mouth and nodded immediately.

“Yes. I’ll suck all of your cocks for as long as you want” you replied looking at the four men circling you.

“Good little slut.” Seonghwa said, stroking your cheek and guiding you on his length. You immediately opened your mouth to take him past your lips. The smooth tip glided on your tongue while you moaned and Seonghwa sighed in pleasure.

“Sorry boys, eldest privilege” Seonghwas said in a breath as the others were grunting in disapproval.

“Here babygirl use your hands” Yunho said as he wrapped your fingers around his huge and dripping cock.

“Me too baby” Mingi said, taking your other hand. And you started to jerk off the two men while you bobbed your head on Seonghwa length’s coating it with your spit as all kinds of beautiful sounds erupted from them.

“Fuck what about me?” San complained as he stroked his cock while looking at you being at your maximum capacity.

As soon as you heard him whine you popped Seonghwa out of your mouth to shove San’s cock into your mouth. His tip hit the back of your throat instantly making him groan and moan.

“Fuck baby, that feels… so g-good” San said throwing his head back, putting both hands on his nape.

“Fuck baby grip harder” Yunho said tightly wrapping his big hands around yours. Thrusting his fat cock into your ballad fist. “Yeaah like that” he sighed in bliss.

Seonghwa gathered your hair in one of his hands and pushed your face on San’s length while his other hand jerked himself off, his spit-coated cock making wet squelching noises in the process.

“Yeah that's it, baby. Suck his dick just like that. Show me what that pretty mouth can do” Seonghwa encouraged.

“Fuckk” San whimpered when your nose touched his pubic bone with the eldest's help and you repressed a gag before popping him out with a cough amd gasping for air.

Only seconds later Seonghwa was stuffing your mouth and throat with his cock again. You didn’t even have a second to breathe you were already being gagged on his length as he relentlessly fucked your throat.

Mingi whimpered and Yunho grunted as you balled your fists tighter in response. Both the men thrusting into your hands while tears bloomed into your eyes. Seonghwa looked down at you with a satisfied grin when two big tears rolled on your heated cheeks before he released you.

You coughed up again and let go of Mingi and Yunho.

“Come on baby, you’re not already tired are you?” Yunho said, lifting your face to look up at him. You shook your head unable to respond verbally due to the burning in your throat and earned another praise from the tall man.

You opened your mouth once again, wrapping your hand around Mingi’s length with one hand and around San’s with the other one. You started to slurp on Yunho's cock, bobbing your head a couple of times before popping him out and going to Mingi. The man threw his head back. You did the same thing before taking San back into your mouth. Then you were back to taking Seonghwa. You alternated like this for a while until San pulled on your hair to get your avid wet mouth off his cock. He shut his eyes tight and breathed in heavily, large beads of sweat rolling on his temple and hanging on his sharp jaw line.

“Fuck that was close, almost busted” San said in a short breath.

“Baby you’re so good with that pretty little mouth of yours you almost made San cum” Yunho cooed.

“Do that on me baby” Mingi requested and you immediately gave him your undivided attention. You wrapped both your hands around his base while you slipped his tip inside your mouth, licking the slit, your eyes fluttering close at the taste of his precum filling your mouth. Everytime you bobbed your head your hands followed your mouth, perfectly gliding on his length thanks to your spit.

“Oh fuckfuckfuck b-baby” Mingi hurriedly said. also pulling on your hair.

“Yeah she’s good” San said with a smirk while you let Mingi out and aimed his tip onto your face, making him spill his load right onto your cheeks and lips, your hands still jerking his twitching cock until you eventually milked him dry.

“Fuck baby” Mingi said shuddering and short of breathe, “that was amazing.”

“My turn” Yunho said, breaching your swollen lips. “God f-fuck” he groaned as he felt your throat tightening around him. He was also quite close after this much teasing. Your hand wrapped around San’s cock and you started jerking him off again.

“Fuck you look so pretty my cock shoved down your cock and covered in cum” Yunho groaned, his raspy voice getting strained.

“Just for you” you briefly said before taking him back into your mouth and bobbing your head even faster.

“Fuckkk… g-gonna cum. ” Yunho said. And you popped him out and immediately taking Hwa’s cock inside your wet hole, continuously jerking off San.

“Look at me baby while you suck on Seonghwa’s cock. Look at me while I cum for you.” Yunho’s raspy voice whispered as he was lifting your chin to him and he jerked himself off. As Seonghwa fucked your throat you turned her head slightly to receive Yunho's warm load on your face you moaned around Seonghwa as you felt the hot cum come in contact with your heated skin.

“Fuck I can't hold on anymore. Baby my turn” San said as you didn’t stop pulling and pushing on his cock with your balled fist. You aimed his cock to your face where he came immediately after Yunho the three big loads mixing and decorating your pretty face, becoming indistinguishable.

“Fuck what a fucking whore you are baby” Seonghwa said also getting out your mouth to stroke his cock over your face “open your mouth, slut.” You immediately executed the command.

“She’s so hungry for cum that’s crazy” San noted with a smirk that you could hear.

“Insatiable,” Yunho added.

“Want one more?” Seonghwa asked and you didn't even have the time to agree before beautiful thick ropes of cum spurted out of his slit to soak your face with yet another warm load. “Fuckkk” Seonghwa moaned while you hurriedly sucked on your lips and scraped the cum on your cheeks to your mouth, avidly sucking on your fingers, your brain officially switching off to focus solely on the taste of the four men in your mouth.

“Hmmm so good.” you moaned against your fingers. “More.” And Seonghwa chuckled.

“Let's call back the rest of the team to take care of you, baby” Seonghwa said pushing your hair out of your beautiful fucked out face.

“Four of us isn’t enough, right darling?” Yunho asked but you were way too far gone to answer anything.

“On it” Mingi said as he picked up his phone from his locker “Yeah, Joong, can you come back to the lockers? Yeah… y/n is here. Yeah we already started but we need back up.”

a/n: what. a. start!!!!! I'm super excited for this event! I hope you had as much fun reading as me writing. look forward to the other fics <3

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astoryofsiren · 29 days ago

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new world | chapter 1

Pairing: Ot8 Ateez x reader AU: fantasy AU | stranger -> mates Summary: A tragic accident left you unable to use your wings and, with that, claimed your father's life, leaving you in the care of your noble uncle. In Hala, a house of eight kingdoms, each boasting its own wonders, you never imagined that amidst the pain, you would also fall—this time, in love. Word Count: 4.2k | 18 minutes A/n: I wrote 2 draft for this and after a lot of contemplating i've decided on this one. i hope you enjoy it! Warning: blood/injury, violence (mentions of fighting), medical procedures. poisons, storm

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the field in muted hues of gold and green as a chill crept through the air. You knelt amidst the tall grass, your nimble fingers carefully plucking fragrant herbs from the earth.

The air, sharp and brisk, carried a chill that hinted at an approaching storm.

Humming softly to yourself, you tightened your coat around your shoulders and pulled your cape closer, shielding yourself from the biting wind. Your basket was half-filled with herbs you had carefully selected—lavender for calming teas, chamomile for soothing salves, and a few sprigs of arnica for your uncle’s pain medicine. The breeze carried the sweet scent of the harvest as it rustled the wildflowers around you, though now the wind's sharper edge made your hands move faster.

The day, though peaceful, had taken on a sense of urgency. You couldn’t help but notice the gentle rustling of the wind seemed louder now, almost ominous as the skies darkened in the distance.

Satisfied with your haul, you stood, brushing dirt from your hands and skirt. Hefting your now-overfilled basket, you began the familiar walk home. The chill made your steps quicken as you hummed a soft tune as the village rooftops coming into view through the gathering gloom.

You resided on the town's far outskirts, away from the bustling markets and vibrant city lights, and close to the east border of Caius. It was a short walk, no more than ten minutes, but the icy gusts and the scent of rain in the air made it feel longer. As the smell of distant cooking fires greeted you, a comforting reminder of the simple life you cherished, you cast a wary glance at the clouds above, quickening your pace to reach the safety of home before the storm arrived.

But as you neared your small cottage, something felt...off.

The front door was ajar, its hinges creaking slightly in the breeze.

You paused.

You knew you had closed it.

Heart pounding, you set your basket on the steps. Your finger closed around your herb knife to calm your anxiety as a mean of protection. From inside came the sound of something crashing to the floor, followed by a muffled grunt. Your heart raced as you pressed your hand against the doorframe, leaning just enough to peek inside.

The sight made you gasp.

A man was slumped against your kitchen table, his dark clothing torn and stained crimson with blood. His breathing was ragged, his face pale and slick with sweat. Broken pottery lay scattered on the floor near his feet, evidence of his struggle to stay upright.

Albeit the pain that contorted his face, he was undeniably beautiful, as though the gods themselves had sculpted him. Shaking off the fleeting daydream, you steadied yourself and pointed your knife toward the stranger, your grip firm despite the rapid beat of your heart.

“Who—who are you?” you demanded, stepping fully into the room.

The man's head snapped up at your voice, his sharp eyes narrowing despite the pale exhaustion pulling at his features. Pain was etched into every line of his face, but it did nothing to dull the rigid posture he held, a silent, almost haughty declaration that he refused to surrender to his circumstances.

“I—” He winced, his hand pressing firmly against the gash at his side, blood seeping between his fingers. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” His voice was low, steady despite the strain, with an edge of reluctant apology—one that came as though it pained him to admit he might need help.

“I’ll be gone as soon as I… catch my breath.”

Even now, weakened and injured, he carried himself with a quiet dignity, as though he were more offended by his situation than the injury itself. There was no demand for pity, no pleading in his tone—only the undeniable weight of a man who was unused to seeking aid and found the very act distasteful.

You hesitated, your grip on the knife tightening. There was something about him that felt dangerous—his strong, lean frame and the way he held himself, even in pain, spoke of someone used to commanding attention. But there was also vulnerability in his gaze, a desperation that softened your wariness.

“You’re hurt,” your voice firm but calm, setting the knife on the counter but keeping it within reach.

His jaw tightened, as though bracing himself against the sting of his pride. “I’ll manage,” he muttered, but the slight tremor in his stance betrayed him. The stubbornness in his tone didn’t match the pallor of his face or the faint, uneven breaths he tried to suppress.

You sighed, exasperated but unmoved. His stubbornness didn’t surprise you. It was written in his posture, in the hard line of his mouth, in the way he refused to meet your gaze.

“Well, you’re doing a poor job of it,” you shot back, sharper this time.

That caught his attention. His gaze snapped to you, dark and piercing, as though offended by your audacity. For a moment, silence stretched between you, but gaze flickered there, almost reluctant amusement. His lips pressed into a thin line as though trying to decide whether to fight you on this or accept the inevitable.

“I don’t… need your help,” he said stiffly, though his voice wavered just slightly as his strength faltered.

“And yet you’re bleeding all over my table,” you countered, your tone calm but firm. “Please, sit down. You’re only making it worse.”

His eyes warred visibly against your words, his hand tightening into a fist where it gripped the edge of the table. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, he muttered, “This is… unnecessary.”

“It’s necessary if you want to survive,” you replied, already moving to his side.

When you slid an arm under his, he stiffened, his body going rigid as though the very act of being supported grated against him.

“I can walk,” he grumbled.

“You can barely stand,” you replied dryly, guiding him carefully toward your bedroom. His weight pressed against you for only a moment before he forced himself to stand taller, his stubborn pride refusing to let him lean on you more than absolutely necessary.

Easing him down onto the edge of the bed. His shoulders stiffened as if being placed there was yet another blow to his pride, but he didn’t protest.

“I’m… sorry for the intrusion,” he said again, his tone quieter this time, as though apologizing was both foreign and uncomfortable. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“Apology accepted. You’ll be better off lying down,” you said, your voice steady despite the flurry of nerves coursing through you.

He exhaled sharply, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the mattress. “I don’t need—”

“Stop talking,” you cut in firmly, kneeling beside him. “You do need help, whether you like it or not.”

He glared at you for a moment, though the fire in his gaze was dimmed by exhaustion. “Stubborn woman,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no real malice in his tone.

“And you’re not exactly a model of reason yourself,” you replied.

Stepping back briefly, you crossed the room to close the windows, the glass panes rattling faintly from the wind outside. The storm was growing, the wind howling as it clawed at the shutters, and you latched them firmly to keep the cold at bay. The room immediately felt quieter, warmer, though the tension lingering between you and the man remained palpable.

You quickly gathered supplies: clean linen strips for bandages, a basin of water, and a flask of pain medicine from the nearby cupboard, you turned to him, your eyes scanning his pale, sweat-drenched face.

"I need to see the wound," you instructed gently. He hesitated, then nodded, removing his hand to reveal a deep gash.

Your breath hitched.

The gash was deep, inflamed, and stained with a purple sheen. You sighed softly, this is not an ordinary wound.

“This will hurt,” you warned, dipping a clean cloth into a mixture of strong wine and vinegar, the sharp tang filling the air. Carefully, you began to cleanse the wound. He winced, a sharp breath hissing through his teeth, but his silence held.

Once satisfied, you reached for the flask of pain medicine. “Here,” you said firmly, holding it out to him. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

He eyed it with suspicion, his pride flaring visibly as though the very idea of accepting medicine offended him. “What is it?”

“Something to keep you alive,” you said flatly, pushing the flask closer. “Stop questioning everything and drink.”

Reluctantly, he took a small sip, grimacing slightly as the bitter taste settled on his tongue. After another swallow, his shoulders eased, the tension in his posture slowly melting as the medicine began to dull the sharp edge of his pain.

Placing the flask next to the bed, you reached out instinctively, placing a hand over his to offer quiet comfort. It was a small, unthinking gesture—one you often did for your uncle’s patients.

But the moment your hand touched his, his eyes snapped open, and for the briefest moment, they glowed vivid blue. A faint luminescence bloomed across his forehead, like the trace of some ancient mark, and you gasped softly, your heart stuttering.

Startled, you glanced toward the window just as a flash of lightning lit the room, the storm raging outside. You told yourself it was the storm’s light playing tricks on your eyes. It had to be.

But when you looked back, his eyes had returned to their original goldish-brown hue, the glow vanished as though it had never been. He was staring at you now—his expression unreadable, though softer, almost hesitant.

“What… was that?” you whispered, withdrawing your hand quickly.

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. Whatever walls he had erected earlier now seemed to falter, as though something in that brief exchange had shifted. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.

“You’re kind,” he murmured, surprising you. “Far kinder than I deserve.”

The vulnerability in his tone startled you almost as much as the glow had, but you masked it, straightening in your seat. “You’re still a terrible patient,” you replied lightly, though your voice was gentler this time.

After washing your hands, you cleansed the wound with water, then applied a thin layer of honey before covering it with the linen bandages. "This should help prevent infection," you explained.

As you worked, you noticed his features more clearly—sharp jawline, dark hair sticking to his sweat-dampened forehead, and piercing eyes that watched you with a mix of caution and gratitude. He wasn’t a common traveler; his clothes, though damaged, were of fine make, and the insignia on his belt hinted at nobility.

“What happened to you?”

As you peeled back more of his torn shirt, the full extent of his injuries came into view—dark bruises blooming across his ribs and smaller cuts scattered like a map of violence. You furrowed your brows in concern, but your hands remained steady.

“Bandits,” he muttered. “On the road. They... didn’t expect me to fight back.”

You studied him closely, the flicker of doubt plain on your face. You didn’t press him, not yet, but you weren’t a fool. This far from the city, you've never heard of such bandits. The wound, telltale sheen of poison—this wasn’t the work of ordinary bandits.

Still, you asked, “You fought them off?”

He gave a weak, humorless chuckle. “Not well enough, apparently.”

You shook your head, setting to work cleaning the wound. “You’re lucky you made it here. Another hour, and this might have turned fatal.”

“I suppose I am,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on you, though the defiance from earlier had softened to something quieter. Something thoughtful.

For the first time, he seemed to regard you not as an inconvenience or an intrusion but as someone who had saved his life. His expression was still guarded, but the edges of it had shifted—less sharp, more yielding.

“Why were you traveling alone?”

He hesitated, as if debating how much to reveal. Finally, he said, “I was trying to avoid... attention.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Well, you’ve certainly gotten mine.”

For the first time, a small, tired smile tugged at his lips. “Lucky me.”

You huffed, securing the bandage with perhaps more force than necessary. “You’re far too stubborn for your own good,” you added, brushing your hands off and rising to fetch a fresh cloth.

His tired smile lingered faintly. “Takes one to know one.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder. “I wouldn’t call saving your life stubborn. Sensible, maybe.”

He exhaled a soft huff, something between amusement and exhaustion. “Sensible,” he repeated quietly, as though testing the word on his tongue.

As you laid a damp cloth on his fevered forehead, his gaze tracked your movements—sharp but softened, no longer the cold and aloof glint from earlier. There was something new there now, as if he were seeing you through fresh eyes.

“You’re skilled,” he remarked, his voice quieter, more measured.

“I’ve had practice,” you replied simply, brushing the damp cloth lightly over his brow.

As you observed him resting on the bed, your attention shifted to his tattered, bloodstained coat draped loosely over his shoulders. The fine wool and intricate stitching caught your eye—unmistakable signs of noble craftsmanship, the kind of attire far beyond the means of a mortal Aetherions.

“Your clothes are dirty,” you remarked, crossing the room to fetch clean garments. You hesitated for only a moment before offering them. “I have, um, clothes you can use.”

His cold gaze glanced at the garments, then back at you, his expression clouded with an emotion you couldn't quite identify.

"Your lover's or something?" he asked, his voice laced with something unreadable—disapproval, maybe, or curiosity.

"Or something," you replied, maintaining composure.

"I'll help you."

“I can manage on my own,” he muttered instinctively, pride flaring again like a reflex.

“You’ll tear open the bandage if you try,” you replied firmly, setting the clothes on the cot beside him.

For a moment, it looked as though he’d refuse outright, his pride warring with the exhaustion tugging at him. But then, as though resigning to his limits, he gave you a slow, reluctant nod.

“Fine,” he muttered.

You approached carefully, your hands steady as you helped him remove the soiled coat. Beneath the dirt and blood, the fabric was rich, its quality unmistakable—a silent confirmation of his noble status. You discarded it into the enchanted basin at the corner of the room, where water rippled and swirled, magic working to cleanse the garment, a convenient aid in your otherwise rustic setting.

The act of dressing him felt oddly intimate. You tried to remain professional, your movements efficient and practiced, yet you couldn’t ignore the way his skin, warm and solid beneath your fingertips, sent faint sparks fluttering through you.

The tension in the room seemed to shift, subtle but undeniable. It seems that the spark however, not only resolve to you but to the man in front of you. His breathing slowed, a low, almost imperceptible sound escaping him—a contented hum.

You glanced up just in time to catch the faint dilation of his pupils, his golden-brown eyes softening as they met yours-you surmised he felt the same feather-light sensations that danced across your skin.

He nodded slightly, feeling content, His eyes, already heavy with exhaustion, drifted closed.

"You'd better get some sleep, my lord. You need the rest," you advised, pulling the blanket up over him.

As you turned away, his hand shot out at the last moment, catching yours in a gentle grasp. his voice barely above a whisper.

"Stay."

His voice barely above a whisper but enough to root you in place. A shiver traced your spine, feather-light but persistent.

What is this?

Your breath caught. He was already half-asleep, his hold loose but firm enough to keep you there. Slowly, you sank to the floor beside the cot, your hand still cradled in his as his breathing deepened.

As the storm continued to rage outside, you sat in silence, watching him drift into a fitful sleep,. The quiet hum of his breath filled the room, a stark contrast to the battle-worn pride and defiance you had seen earlier. Now, in sleep, he seemed almost fragile—something you doubted he’d allow anyone else to witness.

A peculiar sensation washed over you as you sat there—an electric and feather-light touches across your skin. You glanced around, startled, blaming the chill in the air or perhaps lingering adrenaline from the unexpected encounter.

As the storm continued its relentless howl outside, you remained by his side, his hand still loosely curled around yours. The room was quiet now, save for the soft rhythm of his breathing and the distant patter of rain against the window.

You rested your head against the edge of the bed, the tension of the day finally catching up to you. The warmth of the room and the steady rise and fall of his chest seemed to lull you, exhaustion washing over you like a heavy tide.

Before you knew it, your eyes fluttered closed, and sleep claimed you.

The first light of morning crept through the shutters, rousing you from an unexpectedly deep sleep. Blinking groggily, you took in your surroundings— the familiar wood-paneled walls of your room—and realized you were in your own bed.

A heavy quilt had been draped over your shoulders, and as you slowly sat up, the events of last night came rushing back.

The stranger. The injury. His touch.

Where was he?

Heart skipping a beat, throwing the quilt aside you rose quickly, disoriented. The sound of soft clinking and faint movement drew your attention to the kitchen. Padding toward the sound, you rounded the corner and froze.

There he was, standing by the counter, sleeves rolled up, his tall frame at ease despite the faint signs of exhaustion still etched across his face. He moved with surprising ease preparing something—bread, it seemed, with slices of dried fruit laid out neatly beside it.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” you said, your voice cutting through the quiet. He turned, his expression calm but faintly amused.

“I’ve rested enough,” he replied, his tone steady.

You crossed your arms, arching an eyebrow. “Resting in my bed apparently wasn’t enough. How did you even manage to get me there?”

He smirked faintly, gesturing to his side. “ You’re not as heavy as you think.”

Rolling your eyes, you moved to rekindle the fire, the faint flicker of flames crackling to life. “You should have stayed put. You’ll tear your wound open again.”

“And leave you sleeping on the floor?” he countered smoothly. “That wouldn’t be very polite, would it?”

The wit in his tone caught you off guard, and despite yourself, a quiet chuckle escaped. “Well, you didn’t give me much choice last night. You’d have bled out on my floor.”

“Fair,” he admitted with a faint smile, leaning against the counter.

As the tea brewed, the fragrant aroma filling the air, you placed two cups on the table and motioned for him to sit. He hesitated momentarily, then complied, easing into the chair with a grace that seemed almost practiced.

As you poured the steaming liquid into a mug, you stepped closer to hand it to him. The motion brought you near enough to catch his scent, and it stopped you in your tracks.

Crisp and refreshing, it carried the essence of ice and snow with a subtle hint of salt. It was a scent unlike any you’d known—both ethereal and grounding at once.

For a moment, the room felt smaller, the space between you almost suffocating. He took the mug from your outstretched hand, his fingers brushing against yours briefly-another fluttering feeling surfaced in the base of your heart. His gaze, steady and unreadable, held yours for a beat longer than necessary before he broke the silence.

“I must apologize for imposing upon you," he said after a while, his gaze meeting yours. "I had little choice but to seek refuge here."

You shook your head, offering a small smile. “There’s no need for apologies. I’m glad I could help.”

“I never caught your name,” you said as you poured the tea.

“Yunho,” he replied, his tone casual but his gaze studying you carefully.

You nodded, tucking the name away in your thoughts. “Yunho,” you repeated softly. For a brief moment, his golden-brown eyes shimmered faintly—an almost imperceptible flash of vivid blue that made your breath hitch. You blinked, dismissing it as a trick of the light.

“I’m—”

“Y/N.” he interrupted, his lips curling into the faintest smirk.

You tilted your head, surprised. “I don’t remember telling you that.”

He glanced down at his cup, “I… read your name,” he admitted, his tone casual, but something about the way he said it felt carefully chosen. “You left your herb journals open.”

You arched an eyebrow but chose not to press further. “All right, Yunho,” you said after a moment. The two of you settled into a quiet, tranquil morning together.

As the morning light spilled across the room, Yunho finished the last sip of his tea and set the cup down gently. Without a word, he rose and walked toward the door, his steps composed and deliberate. You watched him silently, curiosity swirling within you as he paused, his hand resting on the wooden frame.

“Where are you going?” you asked cautiously, stepping forward.

He stood there for a moment, his gaze distant as though he could see far beyond the village. The faint morning breeze swept through the slightly open door, tousling his dark hair, which fell forward to cover his forehead.

“My lord-”

Before you could finish, a sudden shift filled the air, he shifted his shoulders, and in one fluid motion, his wings unfurled. Rich, indigo feathers stretched wide, filling the space with a quiet, breathtaking power that left you frozen where you stood. Morning light poured through the door, catching the hues of his feathers, making them shimmer like liquid twilight.

Your breath hitched as you stepped forward instinctively. “You’re leaving,” you said, your voice ragged.

Yunho’s expression softened slightly, though his voice carried a firm edge. “It seems I’ve overstayed my welcome. ”

His expression unreadable, “I have matters to attend to.”

“But it’s only been a few hours, my lord,” you protested, your tone pleading. “You should rest.”

He turned slightly, allowing you to glimpse his side where the wound that should still be open was now completely healed. Your breath caught as you stepped closer.

“That’s… impossible,” you whispered, reaching out instinctively, your fingers hovering just above where the bandage had been. “It should still be open.”

“I heal quickly,” he replied, his tone casual, though his posture suggested he was ready to depart. “I really should be leaving.”

You swallowed, the inexplicable weight of his departure sitting heavily in your chest. Acting on impulse, you picked up his robe from the table nearby and stepped closer, gently draping it over his shoulders.

“Wait,” you murmured, your hands lingering for a moment as you adjusted the fabric, your gaze meeting his with unspoken intensity.

The movement brought you closer, your eyes locking with his. The tension between you felt almost tangible, as though the very air crackled with energy.

You couldn’t lie to yourself—it felt good having someone around. Someone who wasn’t family.

It had been so long since you’d shared your space with anyone else, and the quiet presence Yunho brought, despite the questions surrounding him, filled an emptiness you hadn’t known was there.

“You... you don’t have to go yet,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure what had come over you—only that the thought of him leaving felt strangely unbearable.

His gaze softened, and for a moment, it seemed he might stay. He craned his neck down, his face close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. The soft rhythm of it sent a shiver down your spine, the quiet intimacy of the moment leaving you rooted in place, as though the air between you had become something tangible.

“May I come back, my lady?” he asked, his voice low, almost intimate.

The question sent a shiver through you, and for a heartbeat, you couldn’t find the words. Your grip on his robe tightened for a heartbeat before you let go. Without a word, you gave him a faint nod, a strange feeling settling over you.

His lips curved into the faintest smile as he stepped back, his wings spreading wide once more. The morning light caught the rich indigo of his feathers, casting a glow that made him seem otherworldly. The breeze stirred again, carrying with it the faint, crisp scent of snow and salt.

And then, with one last lingering glance, he was gone, leaving behind the faintest trace of snow in the air and a heart that raced long after he’d disappeared into the sky.

You stood there long after he was gone, the air still tingling with the remnants of his presence. A single indigo feather rested on the floor where he had stood, and as you picked it up, eyeing the indigo feather, you couldn’t help but smile, a quiet warmth settling in your chest.

and already, you found yourself counting the breaths until you would see him again.

Masterlist

Prologue | 2

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anika-ann · 4 months ago

Text

Restless Hearts - S.R.

Type: one-shot, established relationship, next-to-zero plot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 6,2k

Summary: Moving in together with Steve is the dream come true – or it should have been. You didn't exactly have the chance to benefit from that since he shipped off to a mission for days and is only now coming back.

You grow restless. And to make it worse, you only get to reunite with him on this stupid pompous party instead of your home. Well. Just few more hours of socializing to survive.

You could handle that, right?

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, semi-public sex if you squint, unprotected sex, language, Steve being a menace, two idiots in love who can't keep their hands off of each other

A/N: written for the Smutty September Fest hosted by @mercurial-chuckles . Thank you for hosting 💕 I have chosen multiple prompts - finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to f* and quickie where you don’t take any clothes off, just tug and pull and expose the essentials 🤭

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Sparkling lights. Sparkling drinks. Elegant gowns and sharp suits. Subtle polite laughter and conversation occasionally interrupted by a louder exclamation and a genuine burst of laughter from the groups forming around those who knew how to charm a crowd. A non-descript music, one song bleeding into another, a few couples trying to find space on the dancefloor that had mostly changed into an agora, a space for conversation rather than for moving in well-practiced sync.

The dress skirt brushing over your knees and ankles, a slight chill on the back of your neck as someone opened the balcony doors, letting in fresh April air of New York City. The light stink of alcohol and sweat amongst the hundreds of expensive perfumes and colognes. The rich aftertaste of the sting of bubbles, sweet and spicy on your tongue.

The golden lights shone bright but intimate, reflecting in your champagne glass and prompting you to finish your first – and likely one of the lasts – drink of the night.

You weren’t much of a drinker. You indulged every once in a while, more of curiosity about what fancy brand the host had chosen for the occasion and a thing of courtesy, using the glass like a required social prop.

Such was the case tonight too – a fancy evening for investors and associates of the Earth’s mightiest heroes. Politicians, diplomats, government officials, high-ranking military officials and filthy-rich entrepreneurs – mostly not your crowd, to speak plainly. There was a slightly better company too, even if scarce: former agents and other colleagues – well-vetted beforehand, of course – scientists, non-profit representatives, veterans. Several Avengers too, of course.

But your favourite – the one who had brought you deeper into the world of superheroes – was yet to be found.

Steve Rogers most definitely was your favourite; nearly flawless moral compass, loyal, protective of the less fortunate ones and his own. A fighter who had won and lost all too much; an artist, who saw beauty around him nevertheless. A kind soul with an enormous heart, perhaps a tad too big for his own body despite his impressive physique. Larger than life and yet somehow humble enough in his insistence that he was just a man, ordinary, like most; just lucky enough to had been given a chance to fight and to defend.

And to love.

Steve Rogers certainly was your favourite, as he should be; the goodness of the world distilled into one man, with a face and a body of worth of being sculpted by the masters of ancient arts, the warmest smile and a sparkle to his eye a testimony to his brilliant mind and wicked humour. All that at your fingertips; all that supposedly yours, as incredible as it seemed at most times.

He was yours.

Your boyfriend of four months and seventeen days.

Not that you had been counting; perhaps just a little. You were innocent in the matter, however; it was mostly your and Steve’s friends, teasing you about taking things slow. According to Bucky, had you been taking things at Steve’s desired pace, with how smitten he apparently was, he would have already had a ring on your finger.

You didn’t dare to judge, afraid of raising your hopes a little too much; however, there was something to be said about Steve Rogers in love. He made it clear; so painfully and blissfully clear, letting you feel his much-reciprocated adoration in hundreds if not thousands of little moments.

In his touch. In his words. In his actions.

Your demanding jobs perhaps did slow down your progress a bit, making even the settling on a day of your first date quite the feat; but it was one of those good things that made the waiting worth it.

If Steve was smitten, so were you; and while a proposal would feel rather rash, you certainly not at all thinking about how you’d probably say yes anyway, because you simply knew, you’d settle for moving in together.

You had moved in together, thirteen days ago.

And the move in that had left you with half-unpacked boxes, cold bed and an apartment lacking the true aura of a home, because the person you wished to build it with was godknowswhere in a middle of Siberia, having left after a passionate welcome-to-our-new-home and a message delivered at three damn forty a.m.

Steve had left the pleasant warmth of your bed at four, with a profound sleepy apology and a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Left for an off-grid no-contact mission. Lasting for days.

For all the faith you had in his skill and strength, the worry that came with him being away for so long without as much of a short text was eating at you; and then there was the matter of simply missing him, the empty feeling only accentuated by having expected to be nearer to him at last and getting this instead. You were an independent woman and you could live your life without a man just fine, but goddamn were you also a woman madly in love, missing your boyfriend.

And you were growing impatient.

You were still at your first drink, yes, but knowing Steve should appear at any moment did not help calm your nerves, the slightly uncomfortable but exciting swirl of anticipation of seeing him again – in a suit no less – as intense as the yearning for comfort of actually seeing for yourself that he was safe and sound.

He had texted you, at last, about four hours ago, that he was on his way, nothing but a couple of bruises already healing, looking forward to seeing you.

You had agreed to meet at the venue; he would be running last minute, or perhaps even fashionably late, grabbing a quick shower and a shave at his at-hand quarters at the Tower, just throwing on a suit he kept there for such occasions. You had offered to help – for the completely selfish reason of seeing him sooner and in private instead of in front of hundreds of watchful curious eyes – but he had sweetly refused, argumenting that at least one of you should be on time and promising he would find you first thing upon his arrival.

You would have grumbled if you hadn’t been soothed by the Love you, can’t wait to hold you again, he had texted after. He was a charming loveable bastard like that.

As the infamous murmur of excitement arose around you, bringing you back to the present, your eyes easily found the source of the commotion: Steve Rogers himself.

Your heart rate accelerating reminded you that not being able to meet Steve before the event might have been a blessing. Had you had the chance to get your hands on him, you two would probably end up being very much unfashionably late; a welcome home kiss would have simply not sufficed.

He was breathtaking.

The traditional black suit with navy blue glint was fitted for certain; tight where it should be, accentuating Steve’s absurdly broad shoulders and thin waist, pants no doubt hugging all the right places from behind somehow complimenting his long muscular legs too, pristine white shirt with a bowtie matching the suit; the soft blue reflection emphasized the colour of his eyes as they scanned the room without ever stopping his progress, his polite smile spreading wide when his gaze found yours, the blue of his irises turning warmer; the most beautiful feature to his face battling the magnificence of his sharply cut jaw.

The instant relief washing over you screamed of how anxious you had actually been before you had seen him alive and well; the warmth spreading through your veins whispered of comfort, a tidal wave of feeling at home after a long travel; the heat curling in your belly and sending sparkles through every nerve ending reminded you that your body had been missing him in all different ways.

Your gaze zeroed on his every step. He seemed to move too slow and too fast at once; and suddenly he was standing in front of you, one hand gently grasping yours, the other lightly laying on your waist, a chaste kiss to your temple lingering as your body naturally sought his and carefully leaned into his entirely publicly appropriate greeting. The familiar woodsy notes of his cologne and aftershave had your heartbeat pick up and instinctively move closer into his embrace and breathing in deeply, the scent going straight to your head; but following his lead, you didn’t get too close, letting the gentle timbre of his voice soothe your need for connection instead.

At last; he was home. He was here, with you, and his love, while contained in socially acceptable gestures, seemed to draw a protective circle around your pair, shining brighter and warmer than the lights and all the luxuries around combined.

“Hey sweetheart. It’s so good to see you,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek this time, his eyes lit alive as he retreated, a hint of a smile still playing in the corner of his lips. “And you are absolutely stunning. Almost tripped over my feet the moment I set my eyes on you.”

Resisting the urge to tenderly slap his side at the exaggeration, at making your face burn hot – and something inside you purr with satisfaction since you had chosen your outfit with care, much like your makeup and hairdo – you gathered your composure, straightening your posture and charming a smile for him in return.

In one of many late-night conversations, when he had revealed his artistic side to you, he had admitted he loved to feast his eyes on all kinds of art from the most ordinary ones to the rarest; you had understood then that while a fighter and just a man in his core, his soul was a thing seeking beauty and goodness everywhere. In both things and people. A doodle could make him smile and hum in delight as much as a painting or a sculpture, he had said shyly; a building, an arrangement of flowers, a beautiful dress too. The last one, however, he had appreciated most on a woman as bewitching as yourself, he had told you, a tender finger on your jaw, a glint of dark mischief in his eye, lips slanting over yours and stealing your breath in a matter of a second; proving he was appreciative of you just as much when you were wearing nothing at all.

This time, however, you liked to believe he enjoyed the sight of you in the dress indeed; the top was hugging your curves like a second skin, the dark crimson fabric bled into a breeze-light skirt, shorter at the front, longer at the back, offering a less-than-scandalous but still teasing peek of your legs and clear view of your matching heels.

“It’s really good to see you too, love. And you look quite handsome yourself… I nearly dropped my drink upon seeing you,” you reciprocated with a small smirk, pointedly finishing your drink at last, heat flaring in your core when you caught Steve’s gaze lingering on your lips as they barely touched the edge of the glass, not leaving an imprint despite the dangerously red colour of your lipstick.

As you set your glass on the nearest table, you took a satisfactory note of Steve’s gaze flickering even lower, and bit back a smile.

As high as the neckline of your dress was, actually reaching half-up your throat and barely but chastely covering your shoulders, the oval-shaped cut stretching from between your collarbones down over your sternum was a rather intentional trap.

And your Captain had fallen right into it, his Adam’s apple bobbing before his gaze snapped back to your face, pupils wider, irises having gained just a tad darker shade. The fresh surge of confidence was almost as intense as the swoop of desire in your lower belly, sending your thoughts spiralling far away from a behaviour socially acceptable at an event like this.

It made you want to abandon the event and let it sort itself even if Steve had just barely arrived.

Who cared anyway? Steve deserved a proper rest after a taxing mission; rest and more, whatever his heart desired. And maybe not only his heart; if you were honest with yourself, you were only a hot-blooded human being like the rest of the world and were looking forward to truly greeting Steve home in all the ways imaginable.

You could control yourself in the public, of course, and you genuinely understood the importance of networking. But you should bring up simply taking Steve home for his own good; and you could profit from it all the same. From his proximity, from the privacy of your home, from getting your hands on the insanely handsome man’s body.

Whether he sensed the sparkles in the air you weren’t sure; but he leaned towards your face, his voice dripping slow and rich like honey from his lips brushing your ear, sinful despite the words being perfectly innocent.

“It works well then, honey.” He offered you his elbow, straightening his posture as if he was so damn proud to show off what kind of a woman he had on his arm. “Let’s go fulfil our duty of mingling so we can excuse ourselves as soon as possible.”

With his last words carrying alluring notes of an intimate promise, you conceded.

Nodding, you arranged your face in a polite smile, crafted to nonchalant perfection.

“Let’s go mingle indeed.”

Indeed, let’s work so we can sneak away and go home as soon as possible.

Your plan had gone a little awry.

In the glow of delight at Steve’s arrival, you had underestimated the number of people who found it their crucial mission to meet and greet and catch up with Captain America.

You had kept up the pleasant façade through all the conversations, nodding and chuckling politely when the situation called for it; but you were growing weary and you could feel tension gradually building in Steve’s shoulders as well, the way you remained connected by at least an inch of a touch at all times permitting you to observe the change.

You had thought it would help when you subtly nodded towards the dance floor; his smile turned much more genuine as he asked you for a dance, earning your pair a breather and a moment of shared intimacy for a few songs.

But you had been wrong in your strategy; if it were possible, Steve’s jaw appeared locked even tighter than before once your reprieve was deemed to last too long and you agreed to return to socializing. His touch grew into a hold; at moments, it was but a grip, until you felt him forcefully relax and ease the pressure.

You didn’t blame him one bit.

He must have been exhausted; away from home for so long, physically and mentally drained after an intense, albeit successful mission, forced to put on a mask for everyone else’s benefit, because Steve Rogers, to a point, was a poster boy. As much as he was trying to change that, working on allowing himself to show and accept his humanity, he remained the embodiment of a hero who never gave up and raised others on his own shoulders despite scratching the bottom of the barrel of his own energy.

He remained cordial and polite and a gentleman; he offered to get you a drink as you excused yourself to the bathroom, returning only to find him – visibly annoyed, for once – trapped in a conversation with Tony. A conversation which was probably not at all important, but apparently couldn’t wait, at least in Tony’s mind.

“Such a charming woman, standing here all by herself. How is that even possible?” questioned a voice from your left just as you pondered rescuing your boyfriend, causing you to waver.

It was a very male voice. An unfamiliar voice.

And had it been Clint or Sam or Bucky, you’d laugh at the poor line, which would no doubt be told with a drop of teasing; or in Thor’s case, entirely genuine and fitting to Asgardian but not Midgardian ways. Hearing it from a stranger, though, that made you want to roll your eyes.

You were a strong soldier of God so to speak, however; you turned to the source of the voice with a smile with just a slightly sharp edge – one the tall lanky man was oblivious to, as it turned out – and greeted him with a measured Sir.

As he introduced himself, you learned that Mr. Doctor Bowers PhD. might have had two PhDs but none of them was in taking a goddamn hint. Because now you were sort-of trapped much like Steve was, the written and unwritten rules of courtesy not permitting you to make up an excuse of needing to go to the bathroom after you had clearly just come back.

You counted seconds, pondering how soon you could leave the man behind without appearing too rude. You got to a hundred when your patience truly was wearing thin.

He was still not taking any of the hints you had dropped. Worse, even. You weren’t presumptuous enough – unlike some people in the mostly one-sided conversation – to imagine the flirting. He was clearly attempting to flirt and was failing miserably. He was shameless about it too, even if a little condescending.

Ninety-four seconds later, you had enough of him and far too little of Steve; your skin seemed to be already burning where Steve had last touched you, yearning for the contact to return in a perhaps clingy, but entirely honest way.

And suddenly, as if some miracle provided by Asgardian magic, the touch was back.

Steve’s arm was curling around your waist, his side pressing to your hip, his lips making a gentle – and strangely electric – contact with your hairline.

“I’m sorry about the hold-up, sweetheart. Who’s your… friend?”

It was a little funny, really. The man matched Steve in height, but at the biting note in Steve’s voice, he shrank at least a foot and a half.

He introduced himself after clearing his throat, maintaining the remnants of his composure which all of sudden carried no hint of the wannabe seducer. You wanted to kiss Steve right on the lips right there for that alone.

Mr. Doctor PhD also probably regretted extending his hand for Steve to shake; because at Steve’s grip, no doubt stronger than necessary despite his entirely nonchalant mask of politeness, he actually winced.

You were no supporter of violence, much like Steve, which might seem ironic to some given his profession – but the lick of heat at seeing Steve put the guy into back into his place sent a shudder of undiluted want down your spine and straight into your core, your posture involuntarily shifting in response. Steve’s hold on you tightened.

“I have to talk to my girlfriend now, if you excuse us. See you around,” Steve said, already spinning you towards the exit to drive his point to the end.

You didn’t resist.

If anything, you couldn’t walk fast enough, regretting wearing heels and wishing for a pair of sneakers instead to sneak away from the party altogether at last.

Only when Steve led you further and further away from people, deeper into the complex, your heart began thundering in your chest; you noticed that the tension in his muscles you had worried about had grew tenfold and realized that his announcement about needing to talk to you might be more than an excuse.

“Steve, are you alright?”

“Fine,” he responded flatly, yet in a voice carrying hundred times more warmth than just a moment ago.

Right. And the Sun is blue, the pigs can fly and tachyons had always been proven particles of matter.

You swallowed the snarky response, glancing at him as you barely kept up with his long strides; still, you could tell he was holding back, having seen him march with much more hurry and relentlessness.

“Thanks for the rescue, by the way. Really,” you pipped up, one corner of your lips rising despite your stomach turning tight at the unreadable expression on Steve’s face. “Guy simply couldn’t take the hint that I only have eyes for my Captain.”

An uncomprehensible grumbly noise vibrated in Steve’s chest, his arm sliding from your waist in favour of taking your hand in his instead.

Apparently, your attempt at cheering him up failed; you should have known.

The corridor was now completely devoid of people; you had arrived to the part of the floor with three small conference rooms, one an each of them dark and empty – because everyone was at the party.

Your smile turned truly nervous at that point, your mind racing as much as your heart. Steve wouldn’t have led you here unless he wanted to urgently talk about something important. You were a little baffled as to why hadn’t he opted for the elevator and his former quarters instead; but you didn’t question it as he placed his palm on the scanner and practically threw one of the doors open and all but pulled you in, some of the lights automatically flickering to life.

That was all that your ordinary human brain had time to register.

Because then Steve’s hand found firm purchase of your neck, cupping your jaw, lips slanted over yours with ferocity and passion that had your mind snap blank and set your body on fire, your hands limply landing on his firm chest.

Oh. O-okay.

More than okay.

You were forced to walk backwards, Steve’s other hand pressing against your hip to lead your step and steady you at once; an anchor you desperately needed in the whirlwind of puzzlement and madly stirred desire. Your lips parted in invitation just before your ass hit the conference table, an unvoluntary whimper escaping you when Steve’s body aligned with yours, every single part of him bare his lips tight and wound up, his hardness brushing against your thigh.

At the small sound so willingly consumed by his demanding kiss, he squeezed your hip harder, tongue exploring hundred-times explored with delight, air stolen from your lungs, your hands scrambling to grab his suit jacket to pull him even closer.

Who needed breathing anyway?

You didn’t. And you didn’t care how you got here either, be it desire fuelled by impatience or jealousy or the endless time apart, your choice of a dress or your lipstick which you knew Steve liked so much. You didn’t give a damn.

He was the spoilsport, releasing your lips and pressing his forehead against yours, his quick breaths fanning your face, hand from your neck sliding lower, an almost inhuman sound pushing through his teeth when his fingertips found the exposed skin on your breastbone, petting the soft spot adoringly.

You had not known until that moment how much you craved his touch precisely at that spot and how weak in the knees it could make you.

“Please say y-“

“Yes,” you gasped, instantly rewarded by his mouth on yours again with a muttered but hearty-

“God, I missed you-“

-dextrous fingers sliding under your skirts and hiking the fabric up as they travelled up your thigh, Steve’s pelvis rocking against yours, creating delicious friction against your core.

“I missed you too.”

Your hands went to roam over his freshly shaven jaw, over his shoulders, pushing the jacket off just to make him growl in frustration when he had to stop touching you for two full seconds to get rid of it.

“Sorry, want to feel you,” you apologized nonsensically, every single moment of his touch going straight to your head like a strong sweet wine, intoxicating and addictive, much like his scent, his taste, consuming all of your senses.

“Need to have you-”

“You have me,” you said breathily, a plea and a promise at once, thoroughly appreciated by a squeeze to your ass, fingertips wandering towards where you needed him the most--

And then Steve halted in his progress, body turning into a statue as he came in contact with bare skin, lips stilling on yours.

You gulped, trying to judge his reaction despite your haze.

You had had… a little incident when dressing up to the nines. Your broken nail nicked your thigh-high, sending a run up your calf. Uncharacteristically unprepared, you had found out if was your only pair. And sure. You could have run to a store. You could have express-ordered; stores would trip over their feet to deliver to Ms. Captain America in need. You could have worn a pantyhose.

And yet, your mind had steered you towards the drawer where you had kept tights specifically bought for a wholly different occasion than a social outing.

Why not? Your dress was long enough. And having hoped Steve’s mission would bring him home victorious and excited, having missed all of him terribly, you thought you might at least save some time once you two would be home.

Except you weren’t at home now. But that wasn’t on you – you were completely innocent in that matter.

Except you weren’t and your tights were conveniently sewn with a large enough opening to have Steve fit his hand or other parts of his body through, leaving but a flimsy lace panties in his way.

“Sweetheart?” he rasped, licking his lips as if to tempt you further, to confess your sins born of love and lust. He pulled back just an inch, to meet your gaze, his own pupils blown so wide only a thin ring of your beloved blue remained.

You gulped; not ashamed, not truly, perhaps a little apprehensive of his judgement. You had worn what was pretty much an erotic prop to a high-class event and had you not been careful and had had an accident, anyone seeing or god forbid snapping a picture…

“I… wanted to greet you home… and feel you as soon as possible,” you admitted silently, heart thundering in your chest, in your ears, in your temples, in your fingertips fisting the collar of Steve’s shirt.

A beat of silence.

Several wild beats of your heart.

“Christ, I love you-“

You were hoisted up on the edge of the table in a lightning speed and a mouth-watering display of strength, lips devoured by Steve’s with enough force to bend you backwards, the line of your soaked panties pushed aside to not waste time indeed as Steve’s fingertips dipped into your slick with a mutual groan of pleasure.

“Steve-“

“That’s right, honey,” he whispered, lips teasing the soft skin of your throat now, “I’m here now, all yours.”

He teased your lower lips back and forth, once, twice, three times too many and then he finally entered you with two fingers, a dark chuckle coming deep from his throat at the gasp of his name, stepping closer between your spread thighs to press your legs further apart.

He pumped his fingers with ease, driving you towards the stars at a dizzying speed, pressing a soothing kiss to your sternum when you cried out at him curling his fingers just right.

“That’s it, honey… sing for me. Just for me,” he pleaded, contradicting his plea by claiming your lips again and pushing deeper, faster, wicked,your whimpers swallowed greedily, all his, just like you were, on the brink of ecstasy.

You were trembling; in pleasure, in anticipation of absolute bliss, with Steve’s hand firmly pressed to your lower back to hold you close and annihilate you in the most exquisite way known to man. His words, his touch, the husky notes of his voice, the sheer need radiating off him and still making sure you were to steal the first round of fireworks just for yourself.

It exploded through your body without warning.

You broke with a cry of his name, lips freed just so he could hear the delicious sound, so beautifully seconded by his harsh breaths and so filthily accompanied by the wet sound of your pleasure you had no capacity to be ashamed of but revelled in instead.

You knew he did too. Because he had done that to you, for you. It was his and yours and both was a privilege; and lust incarnate, as he brought you down from your high gently as it be, his hand disappearing from your back in favour of undoing his fly and zipper.

Feel as soon as possible; no time to waste. Pants shoved down only as little as necessary, boxers following, a peek of a mouthwatering – and always a little intimidating – sight was all you got.

A small startled sound escaped you when you were being pulled further towards the edge of the table without a moment of reprieve, a chuckle bubbling in your throat at Steve’s impatience – but with no malice. God knew you understood; the moment the head nudged your entrance, coating him in your slick, your orgasmic bliss was long gone, replaced by even more acute need.

You wanted him. Now. All of him. Wanted to feel him deep inside you, wanted him to fill you so completely as only he ever could, devoured by him, desired and loved.

And you wanted to make him feel as delirious with pleasure as he had made you a moment ago, wanted to make his world so hot it turned white for a moment, make his knees buckle with the force of his release.

Your gaze met his, eyes feasting at the beautiful panting mess he already was, all pristine in his suit and bowtie and ready to ruin and be ruined, lips crimson and kiss-swollen and parting with a groan as he slowly pushed into you.

“Look at me, Steve. Want you to see what you do to me,” you whispered, the little broken sound pushing past his lips the only warning you got before he snapped his hips forward with a curse on his lips and sheeted himself fully inside you at once. God, so fully and suddenly that all air got knocked from your lungs.

His hand grasped your jaw, tender but firm, a dangerous glint in his eye, thumb running over your painted lower lip.

“Oh I’m looking, honey.” His gaze flickered down as he retreated almost all the way out, shining with your arousal, and thrusted deeply again, causing your eyes to flutter shut. “And there’s nothing prettier than you falling apart for me, so let. Me. See you.”

He accentuated every word with a sharp snap of his hips, stroking and stretching your walls over and over, setting a rhythm, teasingly slow and punishingly quick, hand and lips roaming, grabbing and caressing, kisses all teeth and all soft, grip on your hips keeping you still to assure he could take you exactly as he liked and encouraging you to roll your hips at your pace as you balanced on the edge of the table all the same.

“Missed you.”

“Love you.

“Need you.”

“So good for me.”

“I’m so damn lucky.”

“Please.”

“Look at me.”

“Give it me, honey.”

Your head was spinning as you were consumed by bliss, spiralling towards your peak so fast you couldn’t tell anymore which words were yours and which were his, where you ended and he began, clinging to each other as you were carried higher and higher, your ears ringing and still allowing you to hear the clinks of the belt buckle and the sinful sound of your rapid love-making; like a lightning running through yours very being, you shattered with a high-pitched whimper of Steve’s name, an echo of a hoarse voice stringing curses and praise barely reaching your conscience.

You panted against Steve’s shoulder as he curled around you, minuscule movements of hips to ride out both of your highs, soft words spilling from his lips as he was barely caching breath himself.

You took a minute, maybe two or five, still, clinging to him all the same, the heady scent of sex and sweat weighing down the air, your tongue heavy and throat parched, fingers carding through Steve’s damp hair softly.

And still, you chuckled breathlessly as Steve kept running his warm hand up and down your back, the sound causing him to press a kiss to your lips that tasted of apology for some reason.

“Well…”

“I’m sorry for pouncing on you, sweetheart,” he muttered, a genuine note of regret nearly lost in the pleasure carried over to his voice.

Your smiled must have looked exhausted, you thought; but blissed out.

Oh, your sweetheart of a boyfriend. As if you hadn’t just both enjoyed this tremendously. Surely, he didn’t really mean it, did he?

“I’m sorry for sort-of setting a trap then…” you followed suit, the words feeling simply wrong on your tongue. “Except I’m not.”

At that, Steve lifted his head, meeting your gaze, his eyes sparkling with mischief and desire still.

“Me neither.”

You grinned, trying not to be acutely aware of his hardness still stretching you to your fullest.

Of course he wasn’t entirely satisfied. One round had barely even been enough.

“That’s what I thought. Good.”

He mirrored your expression, his grin a little boyish and devilish at once, his expression soft but somehow everything but innocent.

Yet, he caressed your face with his fingertips with tenderness, from your damp temple over your cheekbone to your jaw, gently pressing against your lips.

“I love you. And I missed you. So much. I swear I just wanted to go home – take you home, the moment I walked in,” he admitted, causing your smile to turn sympathetic.

You knew all about that; it was all you had been truly thinking about the whole evening.

“I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh…” you trailed off, sensations slowly returning to your body outside the all-consuming pleasure. You felt like you were burning; sweaty and fucked-out for the lack of a better term, most of your body tingling… You chuckled self-deprecatingly. “God, my legs shake so much… what did you do to me?”

Steve’s hands moved to your thighs as if he needed to feel it and steady the trembling, to help, teeth worrying over his lip, just a hint of guilt – and a whole lot more of something you didn’t dare to decode, because those were some dangerous waters.

You expected him to pull out and help you stand then, clean up; after all, he was a gentleman like that, always supporting you.

He did the former, tenderly so as not to hurt you; but not the latter. When he carefully left your body and you tried to stand, he halted your movements with tightening his hold on your thighs, his gaze roaming all over you as you glanced at him all with puzzlement.

“Steve?”

“Maybe you should lie down,” he suggested lowly, his gaze flickering from your still quaking legs to the opening of your dress on your chest and to your lips and then back.

You swallowed against your dry throat.

The dangerous waters you hadn’t dared to explore roared in the back of your head, a shudder of scalding heat running through your body.

He hadn’t cleaned up. He hadn’t tucked himself in. He was still… as always---he-

You licked your lips, your heart stumbling so hard in your chest it was almost painful.

Wordlessly but with his blown pupils observing you like a hawk, one of his hands moved to your shoulder, gently pushing, encouraging you to lie down on the desk indeed.

And who were you to protest? His gaze was once again pleading and challenging you.

Please, say yes.

Like a fallen angel coaxing you to sin; and you’d all but follow hm straight to hell, because you knew he’d show you heaven unparalleled.

The table was cold and unforgivingly hard against your back, but you didn’t care; all you cared about was Steve looking at you like that, like you were a goddess and a prize he had sworn to win, guiding your leg up to rest your ankle against his shoulder, his hot mouth pressing a kiss to your calf. His other hand pushed his pants and boxes down his legs this time, before he reached for your other leg and wrapped it around his waist, once again nudging your sensitive opening.

“Just one more, honey,” he coaxed you, as if you needed convincing, as if the tremble of your body hadn’t turned from blissful and exhausted to one of anticipation. “Just one more and then we’ll go home…”

He pressed another kiss to your calf and met your gaze as he slowly sank back in with ease, something devilish and painfully alluring flashing in his eyes as a shudder ran through your body, sensitive from your earlier activities.

“And when we’re there, I’ll take you once more… once for every day I would have made love to you, had I been in our home with you as I should have.”

In the haze of your mind, the math didn’t seem to math or even matter, even though you felt it should.

But for now, all you could focus on was Steve, finally with you, and soon coming to your shared home with you, at last.

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

The event's masterlist

*chuckles* I’m in danger🥹

I hope Steve makes sure she’s hydrated and eats something in between🤭 And maybe gets some sleep; not all of us are supersoldiers 🥹

ANYWAY. Thank you for reading! Drop feedback if you're willing and may September bring you many smutty cozy evenings and peace 💕

#smutty september fest 2024 #indulge with chuckles #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x you #captain america fanfiction #captain america fanfic #restless hearts #anika ann #anika writes

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strawberrystepmom · 8 months ago

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gojo x f!reader are married. he refers to readers breasts and makes a lewd joke. divider by cafekitsune my most beloved | wc 822

“That one looks like you.”

Squeezing Satoru’s bicep where your hand rests against it, arm looped through his, you giggle and shake your head. The statue in front of you is flesh made marble, a woman with thighs that maybe on a really good day resemble yours so painstakingly crafted that crowds gather to see her. She’s beautiful, a depiction of a goddess from fables you are both vaguely familiar with.

Is this really how he sees you? It makes those same butterflies he always manages to create stir in your belly and you wrinkle your nose, taking a peek up at him but looking away to admire the beauty depicted in front of you.

“You’ve already charmed me, Satoru. You don’t have to tell tall tales.” His gaze shifts from the sculpture to you, something you can feel rather than witness. He scoffs and tilts his head, shifting from standing beside you to in front of you, arms still linked together.

“You always say that when I compliment you. Why?”

Laughing, you reach to pinch his side with your freehand and he dodges just in the nick of time. It’s preventative, he always giggles and causes a scene when you touch the tender ticklish spot right at his hip bone, and a museum in another country on a trip the two of you had to bend your schedules to go on is not the place to have a tickle fight. He traps your hand in his and deposits it at your side with a smug half smile.

“Let’s not get into it right now. I’ll just say thank you for the compliment and we can move on.”

Never one to take being put off gracefully, he crowds against you until there is zero space between your bodies. You worry about the PDA being seen as offensive or too much and glance around the mostly empty on a weekday museum where everyone else is fairly ignorant of your existence. It’s just the two of you, as always and not just in your head this time. Smiling, you let him embrace you and rest his balled hands against the small of your back, your entire body leaning into his side.

“You know, I’d have a house full of sculptures and paintings of you just like that if you’d let me,” he mumbles under his breath to bait you. You laugh aloud, pressing your cheek to his arm. “What, nude?” He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and raises his eyebrows over the tops of his sunglasses. “Obviously. Or clothed or in a gown or in water or tangled in our bed sheets.”

Pausing to take a breath, he’s surprised to see you already looking up at him when he gazes down at you. He wishes he could capture this with more than just his eyes, his phone and heart. He has painted you before and would create a thousand more odes to his beauty if he had more time on his hands and you’d let him. You’re so eager to disbelieve your own beauty, you haven’t sat to be painted by him in years.

Satoru makes a mental note to rectify that as soon as the two of you get home but continues to speak now that he has your undivided attention, smirking, all dimples and mischief and the things you love the most about him, the tenderness in your glance a reflection of how you feel.

“I’m just saying. I’m sure I could find some sculptor to carve my pretty wife and would do those,” he glances down at your chest and you roll your eyes half-heartedly, still wearing the smile he put on your face with his casual comparison of your likeness to that of a goddess. “The artistic justice they deserve.”

Despite the tongue in cheek joking, he can be such a romantic when he wants to be. You kind of feel he’s laying it on a little thick because you’re on vacation but what’s the harm in having fun when it is luxuriously just the two of you, the rarity that it is?

Smiling up at him, you offer a better solution.

“Maybe they can sculpt both of us. We can see if they’ll do that,” you subtly reach down and pat just below his belt buckle before he can swat at your hand or turn on his Infinity to keep you away, pulling your hand away as quickly as you can. “Some justice too.”

Now that’s an idea he appears to like, his smirk sliding into a full smile. You pat his arm and separate yourself from him, only to be met with a whine. You reach behind you and grab his hand, fingers intertwining as naturally as they always do, pulling him along with you.

“Now let me show you which one reminds me of you,” you tease him, smiling over your shoulder.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #kendall writes #satoken

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lunajay33 · 6 months ago

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It’s You❤️‍🔥 Part.2

Summary: You went along with Bella to Italy to save Edward, but when you get there things go unexpectedly and you become mate to the strongest Volturi guard

Pairing: Felix x human female reader

Warning: Mention of blood, bit of angst

Part.1

•Masterlist•

It’s been a week since I’ve been living in the Volturi castle in Italy, for the first few days I stayed in my room that I shared with Felix, the bed was mainly mine since he doesn’t sleep but sometimes I craved for his touch at night to help calm me to sleep

It was late at night and I was ready for bed, Heidi was another vampire I grew close to, she was easy to talk too and made me feel at home, she even went out shopping and bought me a much of new clothes, including the silk deep red night dress I was wearing right now as I was cuddled alone in the bed I so desperately want Felix in but alas he had guard duty

Finishing my book I laid it aside when the doors open revealing the one vampire I was missing, I could feel my heart quicken and my smile brighten as he walked towards me

“You’re back! I missed you” I said jumping in his lap as he sat on the bed, his strong arms quick to tighten around my waist

“Oh how I missed you too amore, what a sexy dress and my favorite color too, such a tempterous” he said as his eyes roamed my body his hands squeezing my hips

“Heidi picked it out, I was hoping you’d like it” I said placing my hands on his hips

“Oh amore I don’t like it I adore it, I adore you” he said nuzzling his nose into my neck, he had admitted that he loved doing this because I was warm and he craved my scent

“I was wondering….i mean only if you want to of course….would you maybe stay with me in the bed tonight? I know you don’t sleep but I want to feel you next to me while I sleep” he raised his head and smiled gently

“I’d be honoured” in a flash he changed out of his daily work clothes into a pair of grey sweatpants and a slim fitted black long sleeve top, his form showing beautifully in this attire compared to the jacket he usually had on, only making me crave him more

Climbing into bed next to me I curled into his side flaring my legs over his lap as my head rested on his arm, his other hand come to rest on my hip, he was hard and cold but god did it feel right

“Sleep my little one, you need your rest”

“You’ll stay right?”

“All night, I’ll be here when you wake” and slowly I drifted off into the best sleep I’ve had since being here

I woke up finally feeling relaxed looking up to see Felix was still holding me with a book in his other hand

“Good morning handsome!” I smiled as I sat up rubbing my eyes

“Morning amore, sleep well? You were talking in your sleep a lot” he smirked

“Oh no what did I say?” Nervously fiddling with my fingers not remembering anything I might have dreamed about

“Nothing crazy just mumbling my name a lot, were you dreaming of my little one?” He asked as he grazed his hand over my exposed thigh

“Umm I don’t remember….oh god this is so embarrassing” I groaned trying to look anywhere but his piercing ruby eyes

“Don’t be I quite enjoyed it, even though I love being with you darling I have to get to the throne room for the day” he said as he stood up and walked over to our shared wardrobe and I watched as he stripped out of his clothes leaving him in a pair of black boxers, his back was muscular and strong, his legs like tree trunks and when he turned his abs had me weak

“Like what you see darling?” He laughed as he pulled on his work clothes

“Was your body sculpted by the gods wow” my mouth agape from awe

He finished getting ready then was kneeling infront of me at the side of the bed

“I’ll see you this evening, I have something special planned, wear something nice and meet me in the gardens amore” he smiled placing a gentle kiss to my hair line before he was gone

Times like this made me feel incredibly self conscious, he was beautiful not a single flaw and I was just a human, my hair had bust offs, my skin wasn’t spot less like marble as his was, my body wasn’t extremely toned like his, what did he see in me?

Grudgingly I dragged myself out of bed and pulled on a pair of casual leggings and hoodie for now, putting my hair into a ponytail and leaving the room in hopes to find Heidi

Thankfully it wasn’t hard finding her in the library as she was sat on a leather couch flipping through a fashion magazine, she quickly looked my way as I head towards her, plopping myself down on the couch beside her

“Y/n! Is everything okay you’re looking a bit down hun” she said as she placed her magazine to the side giving me her full attention

“I’ve just been insecure I guess, I may or may not have seen Felix’s body this morning and he’s just so perfect I mean how does he not have girls hanging off of him and he gets saddled with me, I know we’re mates but I feel like he’ll get bored of me and realize he can have so much better” I said as my face flushed and I could feel the tears well in my eyes

“Oh hun don’t think like that, trust me he adores you, you should hear the way he fawns over when he’s talking with Demetri, he thinks the world of you, he worships the ground you walk on just give it time everything will itself out”

“Thanks Heidi I appreciate it, hey Felix said he had something special planned tonight and said I had to dress nice, and seeing as you’re an expert in everything fashion wanna help me get ready” I asked hoping to cheer the mood and distract myself

“Omg I’ve been waiting for this day! Let’s go!”

Heidi did one last curl in my hair and we were finally done, she had me all dolled up like I was going to a ball

“How do you like it?!” She asked looking at me through the mirror

“I love it thank you so much! I feel like a princess” my dress was a deep grey covered in sparkles stopping at my mid thigh, a black lace cover over my shoulders, my makeup subtle but classy with sparkles on my eyes

“Because you are a princess, now it’s about time Felix will be getting off now go make his jaw drop” she smiled pushing me towards the door

I made my way through the long winding hallways, pushing open the back door finally feeling the fresh night air, the garden glowing with the little decorations the Volturi members each added, suddenly a gush of wind whipped by me, I smiled turning around hoping to see Felix but was faced with someone I wasn’t formally acquainted with, I’ve seen him around sometimes but he was usually lurking in the shadows giving me an unsettled feeling thankfully I was always with Felix but now that I’m alone I felt fear, complete fear as his eyes roamed every inch of me

“Why don’t you look exquisite, and here all alone what a treat” his smirk widening from ear to ear

“Felix is gonna be here any minute you better leave” I said anxiously as I stepped back

“Well I better hurry then” in an instant he was on me pushing my hard to the ground knocking the wind out of me, I tried to push him away but it was no use and I could feel my life flash before my eyes, this isn’t how I wanted to go I didn’t wanna go at all I only just found my soulmate, life was just starting and the only thing I could think of to hopefully save me was scream

“FELIX HELP ME” the scream i let out was desperate and blood curdling but i was too late as pain seared through my shoulder, his death dug deep into my flesh, i could feel my blood run down my back

Almost just as quickly as he latched on he was ripped away, by who I don’t know because the venomous pain coursing through my shoulder was distracting, excruciating, soon Felix was leaning over me panic written all over his face, Demetri on my other side

“FELIX IT BURNS MAKE IT STOP” I screamed again

“You can do it Felix, she’s not ready yet” Felix looked conflicted before he huffed a breathe he didn’t have and sunk his teeth into the previous wound sucking out the venom as soon as that scorching pain subsided I became weak as Felix clung to me

“Felix she’s clean, you’re taking too much” with a snap he was off me, my blood dripping down his face, scared, worried

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you mio amore, I should have been here” he said as he laid my head on his lap

“You saved me Felix, this wasn’t your fault…….I…I love you” I said weakly before I faded into unconsciousness

Waking up the light beaming through the window bothering my eyes, quickly shielding them as the bed dipped beside me

“Thank god you’re awake, I was so worried Angel” I turned seeing Felix, his skin paler than usual, eyes as black as coal which ive never seen before

I raised my hands tracing my fingers over his cool cheek

“Are you okay? You look sick if that’s possible”

“You’ve been out for 2 days I couldn’t leave your side, I haven’t been feeding I just needed to be with you” he smiled pushing my hair back

“I’m okay, a little sore but I’m fine because of you, you still need to take care of yourself too tho my love” he nuzzled into my hand which warmed by heart

“I wish the night went differently I had so much planned for us” he said as he climbed into the bed next to me so I could cuddle into him, everything felt right again

“I had a whole picnic for us, well you mostly, the moon was gonna be illuminating us and I know you love that, then I was gonna present you with a gift I have had with me since I found out about mates millennia ago” my heart pumped with excitement I sat up to look at him

“You have a gift for me!”

“Yes amore here I’ve held onto it long enough, now it’s with the one I got it for” he said reaching into his pocket and pulling out a long thin box

He opened it to reveal a gorgeous bracelet, one you’d never be able to find even in the last 100 years, a unique gold chain with added gold tiny flowers along the chain and at the center a ruby crystal surrounded by more flowers

“Felix it’s beautiful, I love it! Would you help me putting it on?” I asked as I gave him my wrist which he was quick to place the bracelet around

“It’s beautiful on you amore, it was made for you” he smiled as he placed a kiss to my hand like a gentleman

“I love you Felix”

“I love you more than you could ever know little one”

Taglist: @rosaliedepp @parabatai-winchester

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ladyempty · 9 months ago

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"It's a beautiful night, and you even more so, My Lady"

° | !English is not my first language! ° |pairing: Yan!Daemon Targaryen x Lady!Reader ° | This is a yandere work and may contain triggering behavior. I'm not in favor of that in real life.

Power was Daemon's greatest motivation for living. The growing desire for more, eager to have more power, more influence, the pulsing, anesthetic adrenaline that clouded his mind making him act recklessly. Always living by emotion, almost never by reason.

Consequently, the Iron Throne and her parental rights were at the top of her list. Above anyone. It just felt right, he had helped Viserys rise to power, partly because he loved his brother, and partly because he liked being so close to the throne as Viserys' unofficial heir.

Daemon thought for years that having the throne for himself would be the greatest happiness he could achieve.

His teenage niece was key to his personal achievement. Of course, he thought Rhaenyra was beautiful, witty, passionate and fun. In addition to the burning desire that they both had along with the passion.

But nothing prepared him for the overwhelming, knockout feeling that would hit him with the speed of an arrow when he met you.

The moment the bright purple eyes of malice and mockery landed on his majestic figure, At the banquet organized to celebrate his niece's wedding, a burning fire rose through his body, infiltrating his bowels until it settled in his heart.

Daemon was not religious, he just believed, without much faith, in the Valerian gods. But upon seeing you, he was sure that a higher being sculpted you for his attention and temptation. Made for your eyes to analyze and admire.

From one minute to the next, the throne was a distant thought and Rhaenyra was just a momentary feeling, even superficial compared to what he felt so quickly and overwhelmingly for you.

He wanted you. Now. This instant. And Daemon had never been so happy and relieved to have gotten rid of his first wife as at that moment.

Yes, the first, because you would be the second.

The rogue Prince didn't like the color green, he abhorred the color with a fervent hatred, largely because of Otto, But he found the soft green dress you were wearing at the moment very pleasant. But a blood red dress would be even better.

His cunning eyes were fixed on you without any shame or shame. So intense and fun that he seems to see through your dress, undressing you in his thoughts far beyond simple clothes, he wanted to see beyond your soul.

And when Daemon Targaryen wanted something. He conquered. And not even his father's half-closed gaze could stop him, it just made him open a feline, predatory smile on his thin lips, a glimpse of his white teeth.

That same night, at that same banquet, Daemon decided to start pulling strings. As soon as the bride and groom's dance ended and the lords and ladies were able to gather in the center of the room to dance, Daemon was fast, moving carefully through the crowd of people, his eyes fixed on you as his calloused hand quickly snaked around your waist, pulling you close, almost against his chest, and smiled mockingly at the other lord. Saving the image of his face for a little visit later.

"Sorry, but I spotted it first." Daemon quickly pulled you away from the man, and didn't pay attention to any protests you might have while helping your body to dance.

After that, it didn't take long for the man's invasive procession.

The prince's intimidating presence was constant, almost a cunning shadow moving carefully until he found you, attracted like a magnet, starting conversations that were always more intimate than they should be, always deeper and with jokes and manners that were far from gentlemanly. Of course he had already investigated everything he could about you, but he liked it when you told him. His sweet voice softly entering your ears.

After the initial step, they saw the gifts, countless gifts with the intention of gaining favor and marking a territory that was no longer public. The countless red and black dresses,Valyrian steel pendants with heavy ruby stones, earrings and bracelets. All to mark you as a dragon and no longer a sheep. Just tell him what you want and he will gladly give it to you. And you can't ignore or reject their gifts.

The third step was to try to instill a certain fascination in you with ancient valyria. He will ascend to the heavens together with you holding tightly to his breastplate the moment he presented Caraxes to you. He would spend long hours talking about his victories and the superintendent of the Targaryens, after all they were closer to men than to the Gods. And would definitely smile broadly if you showed any interest. If you didn't seem intrigued or even upset, well, that's funny... Do you think you have choices?

Daemon is beyond possessive and jealous. This man is completely insane and has no hesitation in seriously harming or killing anyone he deems a threat. You are his. Why doesn't this get into other people's heads?

He doesn't want to lose you. Not that Daemon Targaryen thinks he can be replaced, but you know, they tried to attract or divert you from your path. And he won't allow it.

He wants you to trust him. Depending on him. He wants you to give yourself body and soul just to him.

And the wedding didn't take long to arrive. Don't you want to marry him? This is a shame because you will be his wife, have his heirs and be touched and admired only by his hands.

You should have already learned. You have no choice.

#yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere x reader #yandere Daemon targaryen #Yandere Daemon Targaryen x Reader #Daemon targaryen #Daemon Targaryen x reader

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jlle-marie · 1 month ago

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content: levi ackerman x fem!reader, mirror sex, mdni!! (1.7k)

Today was one of those rare times when you woke up before Levi, who was still fast asleep beside you. To be honest, you weren’t used to waking up first, let alone having to wait alone.

He was sleeping peacefully, his features relaxed, and his little black locks messy. After spending a long time watching him, you started to feel bored lying in bed. Carefully, you untangled your body from his and got out of bed, heading to the bathroom to run a bath in the meantime.

The bathtub was filling slowly, the water trickling in softly. You undressed at the same leisurely pace, until all your clothes were off. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you looked at your reflection, enjoying the peacefulness of the morning.

Levi was awake in no time, noticing your side of the bed was empty as the sound of water coming from the bathroom reached his ears.

Still gazing at your body, you hear footsteps approaching followed by the familiar voice of your lover.

“Love, you’re already awake? Can I come in?” His voice is low and husky with sleep.

He doesn’t need to be told twice when you tell him to come in. You see him enter the bathroom, shirtless and still disheveled from sleep. His eyes widen slightly in surprise when he finds you standing completely bare in front of the sink mirror.

Levi watches you with a sleepy grin. “Well, good morning to you too.”

You laugh softly. “Good morning. I thought you’d still be asleep. For once you were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to disturb you…”

He looks absolutely handsome. His sculpted body enhanced by the warm morning light streaming through the bathroom window is enough to stir a longing in you.

His gaze travels over your curves, taking in every inch of your bare skin. Levi was in awe every time he saw you, there would never be a time where he thought you weren’t anything less than perfect. And he can already feel his body starting to heat up.

Levi steps up behind you and presses himself against your back. “You look distractingly beautiful,” he whispers as he wraps his arms around your waist.

He looks at your reflection in the mirror and leans his face forward to nuzzle your neck, kissing the sensitive skin while his hands roam over your body.

You tilt your head to the side, giving him better access to your neck. “And what if I was planning a solo bath time, hm?” You murmur, teasing him.

He lets out a low chuckle. “Well, I'm afraid you'll have to share this time. Can't let a beautiful woman like you have all the fun to herself.”

His hands slide up to cup your breasts and his thumbs grazes over your hardening nipples, eliciting a whimper from your lips.

He smiles and leans his face forward to whisper in your ear. “It’s not every day I wake up to find my girl naked in the bathroom first thing in the morning.” His eyes are fixed on where his hands are playing, with a hungry gaze.

“It feels so good Levi,” you moan as he keeps toying with your breasts. Looking forward, your gaze flickers between the satisfied expression on his face and his strong arms around you.

Hearing you moan drives him wild, he immediately brings a hand between your inner thighs to find your wet heat.

Levi finishes guiding you until you’re against the counter, just inches away from the mirror. He begins to stroke you in a slow and torturously amazing pace, enjoying seeing your face in the mirror and chasing his own needs.

Soft moans escape your lip as he rubs your clit, circling it. You move against his fingers, and arch your back, encouraging him to keep going.

When Levi sees your face in the mirror getting more and more filled with lust he starts to feel impatient, aching to be inside you. “You’re ready for me, love?” He asks as he presses two fingers at your entrance. Feeling them entering with incredible ease he grunts. “Oh fuck, yes you are.”

Levi withdraws his fingers from you, making you whimper at the loss. Pulling back from you, he slides his underwear down and tosses it aside.

You were so focused on your pleasure that you forgot about the bathtub you’d been filling before he joined you. When you catch Levi’s reflection in the mirror, undressing, you also notice in the background that the water level is dangerously close to overflowing.

“Levi, the water!” You gasp.

He immediately understands and turns off the tub faucet just in time.

Coming back behind you, a low, amused rumble escapes him, his chest vibrating softly against your back as he chuckles at the situation. His hard length now springs free behind you.

“Now where were we, love?” His voice drops into a more intimate register as he nuzzles and kisses your neck.

Your breath hitch as you feel him, hardened against your backside. You grind against him, drawing a low moan from both you and him.

Levi grabs his cock and slowly slides it between your thighs. He rubs the tip up and down your soaked folds, nudging against your entrance each time. You stand on tiptoe to try and get it in.

He chuckles in your neck at your demeanor and lifts up his head. His eyes meet yours in the mirror as he slowly enters you, his other hand holding your hip. “Is this what you need, my greedy girl?” He teases, his voice strained.

“Yes…” you exhale as you feel him pushing inside you, inch by inch. You brace your hands on the counter and your gaze locks with his, the heated intensity in his eyes makes your breath catch.

Levi groans and closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of being deeply enveloped by your warmth. He grips your hips, holding you steady as he fills you completely.

“It’s so deep…” you moan, feeling each of his thrusts stretch you a little more, your hands clutch the edges of the counter for support.

He sets up a gentle pace as he admires your reflection. Pulling out almost completely then thrusting back in with slow and deliberate movements. “So beautiful, so.. fucking.. beautiful,” he punctuates his words with deeper thrusts.

Levi’s eyes are locked onto yours in the mirror as he looks over your blissful expression, hearing your sounds only make him more aroused. “I never get tired of this,” he murmurs, his hot breath washing over your shoulder.

His lips are right against your ear so you could hear every sound he’s making, ragged breaths and sometimes low, tiny whimpers as he rolls his hips against you.

He moves one hand and gently turns your chin so you’re looking at yourself. “Don’t look at me, look at you my love. Look how pretty that body is, how lucky I am,” he pants in your neck, sucking on the skin there.

Then he lets his fingers trail down your chin and across your collarbone until they’re between your breasts, while he continues to make sure he’s leaving some marks on your neck.

Feeling a wave of embarrassment at the state you’re in, your gaze falters. Slowly, you drag your eyes away from him, tracing down to your trembling body before reluctantly meeting your own face.

“Good girl,” he breathes out when you look at your reflection. “Hand on the mirror, love... brace yourself,” Levi orders, his voice thick with need.

Without hesitation, you place a hand on the mirror, the motion causing you to lean slightly closer to it. Your flushed face and glossy eyes stare back at you. But your inhibitions fly out the window as the pleasure spikes.

As you obey, Levi starts to pick up the pace, thrusting into you harder. You feel him hit a special spot deep inside you, causing your eyes to roll back and your mouth to fall open with a silent cry.

He grunts, watching your lips fall open only makes him want to taste them even more but he also really wants to keep looking at your pleasured expression. “Keep looking, watch us…” his voice muffled against the skin of your neck.

The slapping noises that fill the room mingle with your soft moans and heavy breathing. You feel your knees start to buckle and your eyes struggle to stay open. You are losing control and Levi notices it. He wraps an arm around your waist, holding you up as your knees tremble. “I've got you, love…”

Levi couldn’t stop himself from moaning at how hot he thinks your expression looks in the mirror, how much you are a mess for him.

The sounds become wetter as Levi’s movements take on a sloppy pace. He leans forward to place open-mouthed kisses on your jaw and cheek as he hit a particular spot repeatedly. Your orgasm crashes over you first, your tight walls convulse around him as you cry out Levi’s name. Your head throws back against his shoulder, your voice echoing off the bathroom walls.

“Oh fuck I’m—” He trails off, seeing you ride out your orgasm through the mirror triggers his own release. With a strained grunt he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spills his release. He holds you in place as you both ride out your orgasm.

He holds you close, his heart pounding in his chest, he stays buried inside you a moment, savoring the warmth of your body and the feeling of being satisfied.

Eventually, Levi pulls out slowly and spins you around to face him. He presses his lips to yours, kissing you slowly, as if it’s something he’s been longing to do all morning. “I love you.. I love you,” he murmurs against your lips.

Breaking the kiss, he leaves you breathless before pressing his forehead softly against yours. “I’m sorry my love, your bath might be a little cold now…” he says, but his smug expression shows no regret.

You laugh softly. “Yes, I'm very upset with you, Levi…” you whisper, cupping his face as you kiss him again. Pulling back, you meet his gaze with a soft expression.

“Upset, hmm?” He grins, backing your giggling body toward the waiting bathtub. His voice is low and teasing as he adds, “Come and show me how angry you are… in the bath."

#i love himmmm #levi ackerman #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi smut #levi x you #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan x female reader #aot #snk #divider by thecutestgrotto

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