#but not really in a bad way??? if that’s hardly possible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meowdei · 24 days ago

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(temporary) birthday blues — ft. sylus

tara doesn’t mean any harm when she tries to set you up on a blind date—she doesn’t know it’s sylus’s birthday, or that he’s yours. but the thought of you sitting across from someone you’re actually allowed to be seen with hits him harder than he wants to admit

word count. ❤︎ 6.6k words — at least it’s an even number

before you read. ❤︎ female reader ; takes place after sylus bday card but you don’t need it to understand ; reader is a hunter and is implied to have his myth’s lore ; jealous and slightly insecure sylus ; hurt/comfort ; praise (lots actually. almost corny amounts) ; reader wears lingerie ; he picks reader up ; cunnilingus ; hand jobs ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie ; painfully soft sex ; not proof read

commentary. ❤︎ happy birthday to my angel boy ever. but more importantly — I MADE IT IN TIME LETS GOOOOO

You and Sylus return home from his birthday date just a couple of hours after the sun sets.

By Sylus-standards, the day has hardly begun—he still has roughly a little under half the day left before it’s his (ridiculously late) bedtime. By your standards, since it’s your boyfriend’s birthday, you have to spend his entire day with him, even if his clock works a little differently than yours.

Will you be staying up until six in the morning? Yes. But you planned accordingly. You took an entire extra day off just to sleep in with him tomorrow and spend as much time together as possible. It’s your first birthday with Sylus. You’re the only one who knows it’s his birthday at all. Work is important, sure, but sometimes you have to reevaluate your priorities a little.

Boyfriends are a pretty important priority—well, only if they’re Sylus. He’s the only boyfriend that matters. The rest of the boyfriends in the world are not quite so impressive, so they don’t deserve the same privileges as your uniquely, one-of-a-kind special one.

“Did you have a good day today?” you ask softly, curling your arms around his neck as soon as you both enter his bedroom. (Your bedroom—you practically share it like it’s co-owned. The only thing that fully stops you from moving in with Sylus is that it would make your work commute a very tiresome one. Other than that, you’re here every chance you get.)

He hums, hands planting themselves on your hips and giving them a gentle squeeze, pulling you close and flush against his chest as he pecks the corner of your mouth. “I did,” he murmurs, “although I don’t think having a bad day is possible with you—unless you’re being moody. That’s another story.”

“I would get moody with you just for saying that, but I am a firm believer in being nice to birthday boys. Wait until I get my hands on you once today is over.”

“Oh?” he grins, chuckling as he kisses along your jaw, “I should prepare myself for the claws of a feisty little kitten, then?”

“You should prepare yourself for some groveling to get on my good side again,” you huff. “And maybe some expensive gifts.”

He laughs—not that low, deep, rumbling sound that sounds like light amusement. It’s that loud, booming laugh that sounds like joy and warmth and falling in love over and over again every day. Feeling it start to bubble and fizz as the sun rises, and watching it overflow from the top by the time the moon is out. You grin at the sound, pulling him into a kiss where you giggle in between the presses of your mouth to his, and he laughs because your joy is too infectious not to fall victim to.

“I have to shower,” you whisper between his hungry bites on your lips. He hums in protest.

“Is that really a necessity right now?”

“Yes, I rolled in the grass with you.”

“Fine, we can—”

“No, no,” you push his mouth away with a palm, feeling his lips practically pout against your skin as you do, “we are not going in there together. That will take way too long because you never behave, and I still have plans we have to get through.”

“What sort of plans,” he grumbles, “surely they can’t be that different from what the shower would bring.”

“You are shameless, Sylus,” you scold, slapping his shoulder with hardly any bite at all, “you don’t get to know until it’s time. Now be good while you wait—and charge my phone while you’re at it. It’s about to die.”

With that, you leave him sulking alone in his room, watching your figure as it retreats into the bathroom without him. Grumbling to himself, he grabs your phone to charge it like you asked—he knows better than to make you hiss at him when he wants things. (He wants a lot of things tonight. Quite a lot of things that require your good side, and he intends to milk this nice, spoiled treatment out of you with that innocent birthday boy charm, so staying in your good graces is his wisest option at the moment.)

He grabs your phone and plugs it in…and then he wishes he didn’t. As soon as he does, and the screen lights up, he thinks his birthday is ruined for the next decade with how bitter a taste the messages on your screen leave in his mouth.

Tara💗: don’t be mad. i set u up on a blind date

Tara💗: well not exactly a blind date. a double date with me and that guy i met when we were out the other day. he has a friend

Tara💗: u can’t say no he’s cute and he has a cat. you’ll like him i promise

It’s official. Sylus does not like this Tara girl anymore.

He’s met her briefly before, and vaguely, he’s introduced himself, too. She doesn’t know he’s your boyfriend because Sylus is at the top of your job’s wanted list. Telling a girl who is, arguably at this point, your closest friend that you have a boyfriend while having to keep that boyfriend hidden to a certain degree is not a plausible set of wishes. Tara will naturally want to know more. She’ll ask to see pictures of your dates, perhaps. She’ll invite him for drinks, and activities, and parties, and after-work events because she’s the kind of person who cares about the people her friends care about. And Sylus? Well…again, he’s at the top of your job’s wanted list. You can’t let Tara, who is your coworker first and foremost, get to know your boyfriend’s voice and face too closely unless you’re asking—practically pleading—for trouble.

So she doesn’t know you have a boyfriend.

It’s a lie that is for the betterment of everything all around. Instead, she meets him once fleetingly, and she thinks he’s your friend who sells fruit and makes a pretty penny off his business that’s taken off. That’s about all she knows.

At first glimpse, she seemed like a nice girl. A friend whom Sylus was grateful you had and could count on if things got heavy in your line of work. She seemed kind. Dependable. Trustworthy. Maybe not the strongest physically, but certainly a good friend to ease his mind that you have good people in your circle. (Although, he does hate your stupid partner—but at least that loathsome sleepy bastard who rots in bed for half the day is strong. If worst comes to worst, Sylus can at least bet that the boy would sooner let his own head get ripped off than let anything happen to yours. He’s at least grateful for that.)

But he hates this Tara girl deeply now, and hatred for someone he hardly knows is not a common feeling for Sylus. That’s irrational, and he’s hardly irrational. In fact, it’s because he is so rational that he’s so level-headed when he deals with threats. He hardly hates his “enemies.” Most of the people who make an enemy out of him amuse him—they don’t particularly pose a threat to him, and he has quite a bit of fun making an example out of them for the next bothersome bunch that wants to try something with him. Being enemies with Sylus is usually a one-sided thing—he may be someone else’s enemy, but they’ll always just be a fool to him. A regular sorry little idiot who got a bit too cocky and decided to try their luck against him.

He barely has enemies. The few people he does hate are people who deserve it. Terrible, evil, sinister people who go beyond an ethical code that even Sylus will not cross.

He barely has enemies. He’s a businessman. A leader. A good fighter. A good boyfriend, too, if he gives himself a little bit of extra (but honest) credit. All of which require a good head on his shoulders, a calm demeanor, and a very, very adequate sense of rationality. Sylus is rarely ever irrationally emotional—unless it has to do with you, of course. And this time, it does.

So he hates this Tara girl. He hates her deeply. She’s landed herself on his enemy list.

Just as he sets your phone down, you step out of the shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel as your skin glistens from the fancy little lotions and body care items he has lying around in his bathroom that you help yourself to. Any other day, he’d tease you about it. About using him for his fancy, lavish lifestyle. About that skimpy little towel that you choose to step out in when half of his loungewear is in that bathroom for you to also help yourself to. About how cute you look when you walk out looking like a small, wet kitten.

But none of those things happen—red flag number one. Red flag number two is that when you go to poke at his side and give it a pinch, he doesn’t stop you right away before you can.

Something’s on his mind. You know that as soon as you see him.

“Hey,” you cup his cheeks, “miss me that bad for fifteen minutes? You look like you’ve aged ten years instead of one with that expression.”

“Very funny, sweetie,” he hums, clearly still distracted, “I thought you made it a point to be nice to the birthday boy.”

“I am being nice to the birthday boy,” you say to him, cheekily leaning up and kissing his jaw, “this is a very nice view to give to a birthday boy.”

He smiles. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Something is wrong—something so, so painfully obvious happened while you were in that fifteen-minute shower. As far as showers go, it might not be the shortest amount of time, but it’s certainly not a long one. What could have possibly happened in fifteen whole minutes to make his eyes clouded with that look? A look that looks so stormy and upset and irritated.

Something’s on his mind. You know it by simply looking at him.

“Hey,” you pull him closer by the hands on his face, pressing his forehead to yours, “Sylus, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, sweetie,” he breathes, hands squeezing your hips as he pulls you close. “Just distracted by what a pretty little kitten I have.”

And then he kisses you. It’s…a kiss unlike any you’ve ever had with him. Not bad, of course, but different. Sylus is a confident guy. A terribly cocky, self-assured, and secure guy. He knows he’s handsome by most people’s standards (and definitely by yours), he knows he’s smart and intelligent, he knows he’s strong and capable, and he knows he’s stable in his lifestyle. He’s a confident guy, and you’ve always known him to be.

But he’s kissing you pretty desperately. Not the kind of desperation when he’s just plain needy, or when he’s been worried about you, and rescues you just in time, or when you’ve been away for too long.

No.

This kind of desperation feels like he has something to prove. Like he needs to kiss you so well, you never want to kiss anything else. It’s a sort of desperation that almost feels…scared.

“You’re not yourself,” you breathe in between presses of his mouth, gasping when he leans down to nip at your collarbone. “Hey—”

“You’re overthinking it,” he mumbles, “just let me have you to myself, sweetheart—”

“Sylus,” you say firmly. He pauses. “No.”

He lets go as soon as you say the word, letting his hands drop while you gently take them off your hips. He looks unhappy about it—maybe even a little rejected, but he doesn’t protest. He never does. Not if it’s something you say. Some boundary you set. Some line you draw.

“What happened?” you ask gently, hands returning to his cheeks and gently rubbing the skin tenderly with your thumb, “this is supposed to be your day. I…I didn’t mean to upset you if I did. I’m sorry. I just…I just wanted it to be special—”

“It is,” he interrupts, planting his hands on top of yours and keeping them in place, “it’s been great. It always is with you—I promise.”

“Then what changed?” you frown, “and don’t say it’s nothing. Don’t give me that unbothered, nonchalant attitude and pretend to shrug it off—I know you. I know you better than anyone else does, so don’t even think about lying to me like I won’t see right through it.”

He’s silent. For a second, you think he’s not going to say a word. That he’s not going to open up and share and trust you like you wish he would when things are clearly sitting heavily on his mind. Sometimes he gets a look—one that feels like he’s lived a life you don’t even know about. Like it haunts him and curses him and weighs down on his chest. He never shares. Not about his burdens—not with you. You don’t think it’s because he doesn’t trust you, but because he thinks he shouldn’t have to. That he shouldn’t trouble you with things about him because he lives for you.

You wish he didn’t do that. You wish he’d change that habit. You wish he’d live for himself and let you live for him, too.

But then, he quietly asks, “Do you ever wish you could tell your friends about…us?”

“Huh?” you frown.

“We go back and forth between the outskirts of Linkon and the N-109 zone, and we don’t ever get to do things that involve the people you care about—doesn’t that bother you?”

“...No?” you say in confusion, “does it…does it bother you?”

“Of course not,” he says instantly. He throws on that smug, carefree face again, even though you see right through it. Some people just don’t like putting their defenses down when they’re cornered, no matter how safe they are. Sylus is one of them. “Now, why would I want to share my little kitten? Not everyone can handle her sharp claws.”

“Sy,” you let out a breath, “you know I can see right through you. Just talk to me—telling me how you feel is something you’re usually good at. It’s what I like most about you…why’s it so different this time?”

Telling you how he feels about you is easy. It comes naturally like breathing. It’s as simple as using his evol to move something through the air, manipulating energy to surround you and show you the depths of his feelings. Telling you he loves you and cares for you is a vulnerability that he takes as a privilege. Telling you that the thought of you being with someone more practical, more fitting than him…it’s not as easy. It’s too vulnerable in a way that makes him pathetic, not devoted. You chose him, after all, didn’t you? Isn’t it questioning your own devotion and your own loyalty to him to tell you: I hate the idea of someone deserving you more than I?

That’s what he’d be doing, wouldn’t he? Wouldn’t it be to question you, to doubt you and your love and your choice, all on the same day that you went out of your way to make him feel special?

Telling you this is not so simple. Not to him. Not when you love him, and he knows it, and yet, for some reason, he can’t help but feel like you’re making a mistake by loving him. Him. The top wanted criminal on your organization’s list. Most targeted person in the N-109 zone with the most “enemies” after his back. A guy that, against every principle that tells you: no, you choose to be with.

He should just be grateful that you say yes. And he is. But also, he can’t help but wonder if you’d be happier if you didn’t.

“Don’t you trust me?” you whisper.

He breathes—slow, shaky. “I do,” he mumbles, closing his eyes. “I trust you the most. You know that.”

“Then tell me. Please? I just…I worry about you.”

You shouldn’t. But you also should. You were always meant to, right?—even if it wasn’t always supposed to be that way. You did. Once upon a time, you only worried about him. And you do. And you will. And he wants it. Needs it. Craves it. Craves you and your attention and your care and your concern. He should be the one you’re concerned about—but maybe concern is all he ever brings over.

It’s silent for a moment longer before you gently kiss the tip of his nose and say sweetly, “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I love you, so if you ever want to share something, I will always—”

“Your friend Tara seems to be tired of your stagnant love life, sweetheart,” he interrupts. He doesn’t really mean to blurt it out like that—Sylus is usually rational about what he says and when he says it. But…well, the idea of you sitting across from some normal guy with a normal life alongside your normal friend on a normal date has him acting very abnormal. “She’s…well, you go ahead and see for yourself.”

Your phone is pressed to your hands. You look at him in confusion, but his eyes all but beg for you to just look at the screen and end his pure misery by not making him say the words out loud. So you look. The first things you see are her messages on your screen, sitting there as unopened notifications.

Oh, you think as you read them. Oh.

“Oh, Sy,” you say softly, setting your phone down. “You know I’d turn that date down in a heartbeat for you—”

“It’s not about that,” he grumbles, swallowing thickly. This is a type of vulnerability he hates. The type of vulnerability he doesn’t ever have to feel. The type of vulnerability where he feels less than—not deeply devoted and open, but just…not enough, despite his devotion. He isn’t used to ever being not enough. At least not when it’s with you.

“Then what’s it about?”

“Your friend is a meddler.”

“She doesn’t know about us,” you defend Tara gently, “you know she’d never if she did.”

“Well, sweetie,” he drawls with a tight, bitter smile, “I suppose she never will, so I might have to get used to worrying that you’ll need to save a few dresses for some other blind dates here and there, don’t I?”

“I’d never go on a date with someone else,” you reason, “you know that, right?”

“How long are you going to pretend to be single?” he points out blandly.

“Forever,” you say confidently. He wavers, eyeing you in weariness. You cup his cheeks and squeeze them together as you murmur, “I would pretend to be single for the rest of my life for you if that’s what it takes. As long as you’re mine, as long as you stay mine, I don’t care what I have to tell everyone else.”

“That’s not very practical,” he grunts.

“I don’t think we’re a very practical couple, but I don’t think that’s ever been bad,” you chuckle, “I think we’re good. Really good. As good as things ever get.”

“But not great?” he teases, cracking a small, taunting little smile. You know him well enough to soothe him with another kiss to his nose.

“Perfect,” you hum, fingers toying with the small hairs at the nape of his neck, touching him so casually, so absent-mindedly, it’s almost like it’s ingrained in your nature. In your DNA. In your biology to be his and to want him. “You’re perfect. To me. For me. With me. You’re perfect and I love you. I love us. We are perfect, and it doesn’t matter if other people see that or know about it. As long as you know, then I’m good.”

“I don’t like your friend Tara,” he breathes, burying his head into your neck, “she seems like trouble.”

“She’s harmless, you big baby,” you tease. Because that’s what he needs—to be teased into knowing he’s not so fragile. Too much of it makes him turn around and retreat, like an animal that’s shown its belly for too long and is at risk of its fragile, precious organs being torn apart from limb to limb.

You give him a teasing little nibble on his nose, and he cracks a small smile that pulls him out of that weird space in his head. Because that’s you and that’s him. That teasing banter that folds love and devotion in between every taunting remark and every smart little retort. Every second you spend getting under the other’s skin is spent making home there—nestling under that layer of each other, and crawling into the parts that no one else has ever seen. No one else has ever been in. No one else has ever been allowed in.

“Oh?” he murmurs, “you’d side with your friend over your boyfriend on his birthday? Your priorities are intriguing, sweetheart.”

You’d say something equally as playful back, but instead, you say: “I love you.” You remind him with an awed smile as you take him in. Him and his brute strength and his carefully built empire and untouchable self. Him and his gentleness and all that love he holds in his large hands that no one can take away before he slips it into yours. You remind him. You don’t want him to ever forget.

“I love you, too,” he chuckles, closing his eyes as you press soft, open-mouthed kisses to his jaw. Your hands grab his own from your waist, pulling them up to the top of your chest where the towel wraps around you.

“You have one more present for tonight, you know—if you’re up for opening it.”

“Is that right?” he grins, “I’d never turn something down from my sweet little kitten. I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

“You’ll like this one,” you beam, “I picked it out just for you.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” he eyes the small, peeking bit of red lace as his hands slowly unwrap the towel, pupils dilating as he slowly exposes you from its coverings. “You always do know me so well, don’t you?”

A red lace set that hugs your curves perfectly. The stockings are just tight enough around the middle of your thigh that the skin bulges just a bit at the top, spilling over it with pillowy flesh that he wants to spend hours digging his fingers into as he holds you close. Here. With him, right where you belong. Where, whether anyone knows it or not, you are happiest and safest and tailor-made to belong. You always belonged with him—alongside him, where you can be his and he can be yours, and the world would have to stop spinning on its axis before he was convinced that it was wrong.

“Well,” you pout playfully, “you’re not saying anything—do you like it? There’s still a return period, I think I could make an exchange if—”

“Don’t always be such a tease, sweetheart,” he breathes, leaning down to pull you into a slow, meticulous kiss. Unlike that last one, this one is desperate to know you exist. To be slow and take his sweet time and know that you’re here and you exist in the same timeline as him, and you’re not going anywhere. To rush it would be to waste the seconds he was given to savor.

Sylus is a man who savors things he likes. Good wine. Good music. Good company—he savors every little part of you like it’s a luxury he shouldn’t take for granted.

“Happy birthday, my birthday boy,” you whisper, “I’m all yours tonight. Every night. All yours, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” he groans, nipping at your collarbone. “All mine—aren’t I just lucky?”

Suddenly, you’re picked up with one strong, muscled arm, the bicep curling around your thighs and hoisting you up faster than you can process as the world is suddenly lower than you remember it. Two seconds later, and your world shifts some more as you’re suddenly eye to eye with the ceiling, and there are soft, satin sheets under your back with a soft mattress to curve around your spine.

Sylus is hovering over you, hungry and excited, and his eyes lit up like a kid ready to blow out candles. You giggle, holding his face and bringing him close, pressing a kiss to his nose, to both of his cheeks, to the corners of his mouth before the center of his lips, to his forehead until he’s laughing that sweet, happy little laugh that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I love you,” you confess, so quietly, it’s like you don’t want anyone but him to know because it’s only for him. Only for him to hear those words because no one else should know what your love feels like, what it sounds like. “Love you so much, Sy. My perfect boy.”

“If I told you my birthday was actually tomorrow, would you be this sweet to me all over again?” he grins in amusement. You huff, and he chuckles, leaning down to kiss the purse of your lips before he mumbles against them, “I love you, too. No one will love you as pure as I do, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, “I know.”

That’s all it takes for him to finally snap into Sylus. Your Sylus. Cocky, self-assured, confident Sylus. Sylus, who takes what he wants because he knows nothing can stop him from having it. He wants you—and you’ll never tell him no.

He’s moved to bury himself between your legs in a split second, so that you hardly have time to process that he’s moved in the first place at all. By the time you attempt to argue that it’s his birthday, and it’s about him, he’s already huffed something about getting the final say as the birthday boy, and this is what he wants.

And…well, who are you to deny him?

“Fuck, sweetie,” he groans, pressing his nose against your clit through the fabric. He plants a gentle kiss on the delicate bundle of nerves, smiling when you twitch and whimper at the sensitivity. “All this for me? I’m a spoiled man, aren’t I?”

“S-Sylus—”

“You smell good,” he breathes, inhaling the sweet, rich scent of you, “bet you taste even better.”

With that, he gently peels the lace panties down your legs, little by little, inch by inch, discarding them from you before carefully tossing them to the ground as your bare cunt is exposed to him. He runs a large hand up and down your thigh, squeezing the plush skin just where it collects at the top of the stockings.

“Mine,” he breathes, “just for me, huh?”

“Only for you,” you pant, impatiently bucking up into the air and waiting for his touch.

He chuckles, but doesn’t have the heart to tease anymore. With a quick motion, he’s throwing your legs over his shoulders, hands cupping your thighs and holding them in place as he buries himself into your core. You’re dripping—the sweet slick pooling and coating your inner legs that he licks off before licking a stripe between your folds.

“Fuck, Sy,” you gasp, “o-oh—”

He’s good with his tongue. Expert at devouring you the way you need to be devoured and going between fucking his tongue into you and lapping away, and flicking it over your clit and teasing it with his wet, warm muscle. You squeeze your legs around his head, and he groans in approval at the pressure to his skull like it’s a gift to be crushed between your thighs. (It is. To him, anything you give him when you’re pleased is a gift. He likes gifts from you—he takes them readily.)

“You’re sweet, you know,” he sings against your heat, “taste good—we should skip the cake next year. I just want this, yeah? I’ll lick you clean.”

“Stop,” you whine, “you’re being filthy!”

He laughs, the low, deep rumble of his voice vibrating against you and making you shudder. “Yeah? If you don’t like that, then why are you pulling me closer?”

He’s right—you are. Your hands are tangled into his hair and you’re pulling him impossibly closer to your pussy, grinding against his face so his nose bumps against your clit as his tongue fucks into you and explores your folds and licks them from the dripping essence of your arousal.

“S-Sylus, ‘m…‘m s-so close—”

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he groans, “that’s exactly what I need. Can you do that for me? Let go? Let me taste you, yeah?”

Those words against your cunt, spoken through warm breath that lingers over your sensitive heat makes the steadily building pressure in the pit of your belly snap, a soft, delicious ache spreading through your walls as they quiver, through your lower belly as it flutters, through your spine and every nerve as your back arches off the mattress and you whine into your mouth and chant his name.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—’s so good, make me feel so good, Sy. Hah—”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” he moans, licking the last drops of your release and pressing a kiss to your fluttering cunt before the waves of your high finally retreat.

Your ears are ringing, and your eyes are blurry, but you can still hear the praise and make out his contented, dazed expression as he rests his cheek against your thigh and looks up at you. Your fingers card through his hair, smoothing through the soft locks as you ground yourself with the feeling of them while you catch your breath.

“Hi,” you breathe, staring at him in awe.

He grins, lazy, smug, and bright. “Hi. Back down to Earth with us?”

“Don’t be so arrogant,” you huff. And then, with a gentle tug to his locks, you signal him to crawl up, face to face and eye to eye with you as his body hovers over yours.

You reach over, rubbing over his clothed erection and feeling him shiver as his eyes flutter closed and he lets out a soft, breathy moan. He’s so pretty like that—when pleasure is easy to see on his face, and he feels good, and he lets you see it. You love it when you get to see him. All of him.

It’s a slow, intimate thing, removing his clothes. You bring his shirt up over his abs, gently pulling the fabric over his shoulders, before he helps you tug his arms through the sleeves and expose that chiseled, slightly tanned skin (despite never being in the sun) to you. He’s pretty. Gorgeous. You hum in appreciation as your hands run along the planes of his muscles, raking your nails along his abs and rubbing up and down his sides while he breathes heavily over you. It’s slow—there’s no rush despite the lingering, building ache between both of your legs. You want to admire him, and he wants to let you.

You want to feel him, and he wants to bask in the feeling of being wanted.

“You’re perfect,” you murmur, “happy birthday. I’m glad it’s me, you know? That gets to say that. And be here.”

“It was never going to be anyone else,” he pants, groaning as your hand finds the tent in his pants and gives a soft squeeze.

Unbuckling his belt and taking his pants and boxers off is less of a slower ordeal than his shirt—he’s a little more quick to get rid of them and let his hard, leaking cock finally be free of its confinements. He hisses when the cool air hits the warmth of his length, but you’re quick to bring the warmth right back as your hand wraps around him, smearing his pre cum along the tip and shaft, stroking slowly as he shudders over you and moans.

“Feel good?” you kiss his nose.

“Mmh,” he nods, swallowing thickly as you run your thumb through the slit and feel him twitch in your hand. “Y-yeah. Good.”

“Good,” you smile, “it’s about you tonight. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grunts in time with a squeeze of your fist around him.

He lets you stroke him like that for a bit, just the feeling of you touching him. Just the feeling of you surrounding him and undoing him slowly, gradually, just the way you know he likes. You know him so well, and he likes being reminded. Know what makes it feel good for him and what doesn’t—know that he likes when you speed up and focus around the tip for a bit before switching to long, languid strokes along the entirety of his length before giving his base a small squeeze.

“Ngh,” he pants, shuddering over you as his face twists into a pretty little scrunch of pleasure, “I…I think that’s—that’s enough, sweetheart. I want you now—the real thing.”

He’s close when he says it. You can tell because there’s a small twitch in your hand of his heavy cock that lets you know the build-up is about to hit the crest of good and fall over the edge and into better. You stop, looking at him fondly as he shivers at the feeling of it all coming to a halt before you press a kiss between his furrowed brows to soothe him as he holds onto his composure.

“Then take me, my birthday boy,” you coo.

“You want it, sweetheart?” he asks softly, just to be sure. “Tell me now before I lose my mind.”

“I want you,” you plead, “want you so bad—give it to me. Please.”

He does. As soon as you say it, it’s like a switch is flipped and he can finally do as he pleases—so he grabs your hips and leans in to kiss you deeply, a hot, open-mouthed clash of lips and teeth and tongue as his fat tip presses against your entrance. He’s pressing into you and splitting your folds open—one inch, then two, then three, and slowly, he’s fully filling you to the brim. His tip presses delicately against that soft, spongy part of your walls that’s especially sensitive, and you mewl at the feeling while he groans at the tight fit.

“Fuck,” he pants, “fuck, you’re so tight—take me so well. Fit me like I was made for you. I was, wasn’t I? Tell me I was—that we were made for each other.”

“We were,” you whine, nodding as your fingers dig into his shoulders and leave small crescent indents into his skin, “we were—we were made for each other. You’re mine, Sy.”

“I am,” he inhales sharply, “all yours. Always.”

The first snap of his hips is slow. He pulls out almost fully, until just barely the tip is still buried into you, before he slides back in with a firm, swift thrust of his hips. It leaves you lightheaded, wind knocked from your lungs by how good it feels to be split open by him and feel every ridge of his cock drag along your walls. You feel like you’re floating—suspended somewhere between pleasure and bliss as nothing but his body cages you into the mattress, and nothing but him invades your senses.

Then the second snap of his hips comes in, hard and fast and rougher than the initial, and he starts to set a pace that’s not as gentle. You don’t want it to be—you want to feel him raw and hard and fast.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimper, “like that…just like that—hah.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles breathlessly, “already so fucked out? You feel that, don’t you? How good you take my cock? You’re taking it so well—that’s a good girl. My good girl.”

“S-so deep, Sy,” you sob, “more. Please, more—more!”

“More?” he raises a brow, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply as you clamp down on him at a particularly rough thrust. He groans, the sound tapering off into a shaky little exhale. “You want more, huh?”

“Yes,” you stare up at him with plump, pouty lips and wet, teary lashes. It’s enough to make him snap and lose the last bits of his composure.

Sylus has always needed you.

He was born into this world to find you, and he needs you before he can leave this world, too. He needs you if he wants to find something worth living for. He needs you if his heart wants to find some form of peace and rest. He’s just half of a soul tethered to this planet with longing and no purpose without you. He’s always needed you—body, mind, soul, heart, everything. When you’re gone, he hears the echoes of your laughter in his empty halls. When you’re here, he feels human only when you smile and press your skin to his. It feels like his flesh is not rotten or tainted, only when it has the privilege of touching the soft, precious silk of yours.

Sylus has always needed you. His purpose in this world is to love you. To be loved by you. To do it right because that’s what you both deserve. He’s nothing if not an empty body with a broken soul taking up the space of him without you.

Shakily, he whispers, “I love you. You’re all that I love—I…I love you.”

Distantly, he hears you repeat the words back to him. Soft hands are roaming his skin, gliding along the curves and dips and contours of his body, and mapping every detail to memory through your warm palms. Gentle pressure coaxes his head into your neck, letting him take sanctuary in that spot that lets him hide away and be free of whatever clings to his back like a second, haunting skin.

“I love you,” you both whisper in breathless, heated exchanges. Because there is nothing left in your brains—no other coherent thought besides the fact that there is love and that’s it. You love and he loves, and that’s all that holds you together.

It’s enough. This time, in this life, it’s enough.

You come undone first—when his thumb finds your clit and rubs a few quick circles, you fall apart while whining with your head pressing back into the pillow. Your legs wrap around his hips and pull him forward, further and deeper into you as his thick, blunt tip drills into your sweet spot and pulls yet another orgasm out of you. This one is more devastating—this one makes your body still, quivering under him with a force that almost makes it hard to breathe.

The pressure of your walls spasming around him pulls him into his own release, a low, deep groan that draws out as the first few twitches of his cock start to fill you with thick, hot ropes of his cum. He pants, rolling his hips in messy, rhythmless motions as he desperately tries to work you both through the highs of your pleasure.

“S-so perfect,” his voice comes out strained, “you…you feel so perfect—ngh.”

“S-Sylus—oh.”

He paints your walls white with more of his seed, spilled into you and fucked deep into the back of your cunt with every sharp slam of his hips until finally, with a shaky little breath, he finishes and rides out the last earth-shattering waves of his orgasm.

He slumps over you. You welcome his weight with open arms, rubbing over his back with shaky fingertips.

“I love you,” you remind him again—because really, you can never remind him enough. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he mumbles, kissing your shoulder blade, nestled close and deep where only he fits.

Next year, he’ll fit just as well—maybe even better.

FOR ONCE I POST A BDAY FIC ACTUALLY ON THE BDAY HAHAHAHAHA I WIN

#meowdei.writing #meowdei.longfics #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #sylus smut #lads x reader #lads x you #lads smut #lads x y/n #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds x reader #love and deepspace x reader

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msunitedstatesjames · 6 months ago

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I've touched on this in a couple of other semi-related posts before, but I find it hilarious and I appreciate how much Johanna Hezenkoss thinks Emmrich is the protagonist of Veilguard. Like, this woman could not give less of a fuck about Rook. She almost always refers to Rook only by their relationship to Emmrich. She refers to Rook as "one of Volkarin's hangers-on," "that impudent whelp following [Emmrich] around," "Volkarin's companion," and as Emmrich's "paramour." None of these imply that she thinks Rook has much agency. Instead, she acts like Rook is just helplessly following Emmrich around like a puppy, helping him complete tasks (which I guess is partly true).

If Rook romances Emmrich, Hezenkoss assumes that Emmrich seduced Rook and not the other way around, even though Emmrich is noticeably older than Rook and has hardly left the Necropolis in years. She's seemingly amazed by it, and yet it never once crosses her mind that Rook might have initiated the relationship (which is actually the case).

She also refers to Emmrich as the one who destroyed her construct, which is technically true, but she ignores the major assistance he had from Rook, another companion, and most notably Manfred. He couldn't have pulled it off without their help, and had in fact given up, but Hezenkoss acts like Emmrich was her sole opponent in that battle.

I've said before that part of the reason for this is that Hezenkoss seems to think of herself as the main villain of the story, so Emmrich must be the main hero. Hezenkoss says that some of the other big bads of Dragon Age, the Venatori, were nothing more to her than slightly useful and genuinely annoying. She clearly thinks herself above an entire organization of some of the most powerful mages in the world. And she sees Emmrich as pretty close to her in terms of raw power, since she almost invited him to her Vengeance Party but ultimately decided he was too much of a danger to her plans. She also states that she tried to get him to join her in the past, which I don't think she would do for anyone she considered to be less than her equal. Emmrich is genuinely the only person in the game she shows any respect for. Though she mocks his age and finds him to be too sentimental, too moral, and too fearful, she shows signs of agreeing with him on some topics, and she obviously respects his abilities if nothing else. No one else in the game acknowledges his frankly ridiculous knowledge and skill level (except Solas in the end) as much as Hezenkoss does.

And really, Emmrich does have main character energy. Though he does have some age and mortality related fears, dude is overflowing with confidence. When you first meet him, looking for a Fade expert, he has absolutely no problem telling you he's the best possible person for the job. Though he apparently hasn't left the Necropolis in years, he's totally down to join the team and go anywhere you want him to go. If you romance him, he is initially surprised, but he quickly turns into the smoothest dude around, and throughout the game you can hear him comment on some of his many relationships through the years. He's well-dressed, well-spoken, charismatic, highly educated, unfailingly kind, extremely powerful, and he's done so well for himself that Harding mistakes the son of a butcher and a cook for a member of the Nevarran nobility. No wonder Hezenkoss thinks he's the protagonist. The real protagonist is just out here winging it on guts and good luck alone.

#dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #johanna hezenkoss #Spoilers #Dragon age the veilguard spoilers #emmrich my beloved #Hezenkoss my beloved #Video games #Bioware #Rpgs #Mine #video game romances

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kilojulietsierra · 30 days ago

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"Oh Sweet Irony "- Dr Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: You hate doctors, and will do just about anything to avoid seeing one even if you're sick. A fact that your boyfriend Dr. Jack Abbot sometimes finds very annoying. This time though, you're miserable and you cave to his request, "Let me take care of you."

TW: most of my content is considered 18+ content, sick fic, comfort fic, medical inaccuracies, fluff, inappropriate workplace behavior but the PG kind, I wrote this sick and I think Dr. Abbot would def make me feel better just saying...

(Special thank you to the gif creator for the above because DAMN)

~~~~~~

Jack maneuvered his way through the packed waiting room and had to fight to hear you over the phone, "Well, hon, if you feel as bad as you sound you need more than NyQuil." He sidestepped a stoller, "No, it's not helping. I can tell." He made the corner and hugged the wall on his way to the doors, "Just come in and we can get you something that will actually do some good." He waved to the girls behind the glass and mouthed a thanks as he heard the security doors buzz and the lock disengage, "I know… I know… No, I'm not going to let you sit in the waiting room." He gives Bridget and exapserated look as he approaches the hub, "Hon, please, just come down. I'll tell the girls up front you're coming and they'll let you right in." He dropped his bag in his chair and swiped his badge to clock in, "Ok, well… it's either that or stay home tomorrow and I'll come over when I get off work." He nods, "That's what I thought. I'll see you when you get here. Love you."

~~~~

You felt like shit. All week you had been fighting off some sort of bug, the worst of it Monday after you got home from work. You thought that would be the end of it. The stuffy nose, cough, sore throat was really no big deal. NyQuil and DayQuil became your best friends. A week later and that cough just wouldn't quit, your stomach hurt from the constant coughing and chest spasms, you could hardly breathe, barely sleep more than a couple hours now without waking up to a coughing fit so violent you thought you might throw up.

Jack had been busy all week, his schedule and yours just couldn't line up and he'd been stuck late most mornings. You had told him, vaguely, that you didn't feel great but didn't want him to worry. Then he had called you on his way home, and you had not been able to hold back the coughing fit.

So, he had told you to call him after work and let him know how you were feeling, because he knew you wouldn't skip work. Now, here you were sneaking your away around the edge or the PTMC Emergency waiting room fighting back your anxiety and another coughing fit.

You hesitated a little the closer you got to the doors but one of the women at the admissions desk behind the glass saw you and waved. You chewed your lip and stepped a little closer with a careful smile. She waved you on through and you heard the buzz and clunk of the security doors. You can feel the burn of the glares and the muttering behind you as you pulled the heavy door open and stepped through.

Bridget saw you almost immediately and meets you halfway for a hug, "Hey sweetie."

You gave her a smile and a half step back, "Oh, don't hug me, I'm gross."

"Oh please, come here." She gave you a hug and then looked you over, "We just got a call for a code coming in, so he might be a minute okay."

"You guys are busy, I should just go."

"Not a chance." She tugged you towards the hub, "You just sit right here and I'll get you some water."

You sit in one of the office chairs and slouch back into it trying to take up as little space as possible. Bridget came backi a moment later with a bottle of water and a North Face jacket you recognized as one of Jacks. The ED was always chilly and you were grateful for the warmth and familiar scent as you shrugged into the slightly too big jacket.

Outside you hear the sirens as the ambulance arrives and Jack appears out of nowhere in full work mode.

You hated doctors, but this one you think, this one you certainly didn't mind.

From your chair behind the counter you watched as he quick stepped down the hall and as terrible as felt and as much as you didn't want to be here, it was kind of fun to see that side of him. The confident, collected and in charge Dr. Jack Abbot was the exception.

Jack sees you on his way by and even in the midst of chaos while calling our orders he takes half a second to catch your eye and give you just a hint of a smile without missing a beat.

~~~~~~

"Hey sweetheart," Jack says softly as he approaches and squats down in front of you, "C'mere." He pulls the chair closer so he can take a good look at you. He hasn't seen you all week and he feels like shit because you look miserable. He gives your leg a squeeze as he stands, ignoring the way his knees catch and pop, "Bridget, can you get a,"

"Six is all set up for you."

Jack gives her smile and a nod as he takes your elbow to help you stand up. While one hand never leaves your elbow he grabs a tablet with the other and guides you into the room.

"Don't forget to leave that door open Dr. Abbot!" Bridget teases from behin.

You turn to give her a look and then Jack, "Is there an HR complaint or something I should know about?"

Bridget snorts behind you as Jack just gives you both a side eye. He pinches your side and nudges you to keep walking, "Policy. No male doctors alone in rooms with female patients."

"Lame, next you're going to tell me we're not allowed to sneak off to have a quickie int the on call room like on Greys Anatomy."

Bridget laughs louder behind you and Jack just gives you a look.

You give him a wink and a little smile but the urge to laugh triggers another coughing fit and reminds you that you're not just here to say hi.

~~~~~~

In the exam room he helps you out of your jacket and up to sit on the bed. "I didn't check in or anything."

Abbot leaned against the counter, "Had Bridget sign you in." He gave you a soft smile as he watched you try not to fidget. He pulled up your patient file and had to bite the inside of his cheek because there was something about putting his own name in as your emergency contact that still got him. More and more he also found himself thinking about seeing his last name there instead of yours. He also couldn't wait to get you on his TRICARE because your employers health insurance fucking sucks. "You okay if I do everything myself?"

When you nod he can see that you're still anxious.

He puts in your info. He knows your personal information, height and weight, your medical history, he knows your anxiety meds dosage and all. "Your period started last Sunday right?" He smirks at you when you still blush but nod. He checks the box next to sexually active, he entertained the thought of asking you just to see you blush a little more, then types in 'partner vasectomy' in the line by birth control method.

Once everything was filled in he set the tablet down and washes his hands in the sink. He forgoes the gloves because it's you. Part of him wants to be able to feel you, part of him knows his touch will feel better for you than the latex.

He feels a little weird taking your temperature and bp because holy shit it has been a long time since he hasn't had a nurse to do the initial work up. Jack rests the back of his fingers against your forehead while he waits for a temp. "Little high." He says softly, long before the thermometer gave him a read out and showed he was correct. Your temperature is a little high. "Okay so far?" He asks as he puts the machine away and catches your eye. His fingers stroking up and down your forearm.

You nod, "You'd make a good nurse." You tease and then cover your mouth as another chest racking cough takes over.

The quip makes him crack a grin as he rubs your back through the coughing fit. "I'm going to listen to your lungs okay?" He waits for your nod before he pulls his stethoscope down and catches the way your eyes track the routine action and the way his forearms flex with the movement. "Ok, sit up straight for me and take a couple deep breaths." He goes through the motions, front and back, listening to your lungs and frowing. He rubs your back while he's still standing close and whispers, "Good girl." He drapes his stethoscope around his neck again as you cough and fight through a shuddery breath. "You take anything in the last few hours?"

"No," You shake your head, "Had a feeling you were going to make me come in."

"I won't make you do anything hon, you know that."

"You know what I mean." You're so tired that the urge to lean into him.

He sees it and nods, give you another smile, "I'm going to take a look at your throat okay?" When he grabs the scope and a tongue depressor he steps up in front of you and pauses. The two of you lock eyes for a second and he shakes his head, "Don't make me say it."

You bite your lip and try not to laugh because you know it'll just make you cough. "Make you say what Dr. Abbot?" You know Jack is unflappable, often stoic wilth a killer poker face, and your dislike for doctors aside, you enjoy that you can make this one blush just that little bit.

Jack never does say it, but the look he gives you says plenty. So does the way he smooths the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip when he's done. He sets the tools down on the tray, "Head up for me, just going to feel right here." The way he holds your neck, feels for swelling, is so clinical and second nature that he wouldn't think anything of it if he hadn't seen the way your eyes flickered. So, sue him if his touch lingered a little, or if he traced the line of your throat with his thumb just to see those pretty eyes flutter one more time.

He know he shouldn't be standing between your legs like he is, and he sure as hell shouldn't set his hand on your thigh when he says, "I'm going to call for a chest x-ray."

"What? Why?" Your panic rises, the anxiety back in full force.

The hand on your leg squeezes and then he slowly begins to stroke his knuckles over the top of your thigh in a soothing, repetitive motion. "You're okay, just want to be safe. Your lungs sound like trash and I just want to rule out pneumonia." He appreciates the ability to be straighforward and say things more bluntly than normal. He also appreciates that you trust him enough to calm down quickly. "I'll set you up with a nebulizer while you wait, going to help you breathe a little easier. I'm going to pull some labs too." He reiterates, "Just to be safe."

You try not to fidget while he preps the needle and the blood tubes.

"You're okay hon, it's just one poke. I'm good at this promise." He gives you and wink. "You want me to hold your hand?"

You scoff which turns into a cough, "Don't you need both hands?"

Jack shrugs, looks you in the eye, "I can do it with one."

"Please don't."

With another wink he sets your arm where he needs it, "Quick and easy I promise." Each touch is long and slow, smooth and lingering. He uses every ounce of practice and skill he possesses to make it as painless as possible for you. "There you go." He strokes the sting of the needle away with his thumb until you finally look his way again.

Brdget knocks and pokes her head in, "Respiratory is here."

Jack nods and looks back to you, "Big, deep breaths on that until radiology comes down with the portable, okay?" He tips your chin up for a kiss, but you hesitated.

"I'm gross."

"Don't give a shit." He gives you a quick kiss and strokes his thumb over your brow. "I'll be back to check on you soon as I can." One more kiss, to your forehead this time and then he's on his way out of the room. As he passes he gives Bridget a look.

"What?" She plays along, tries not to smirk, "I didn't see anything."

Once Jack is out of the room Bridget helped you get comfy on the bed with a blanket fresh out of the warmer.

"You know, I don't understand why the patient satisfaction is so low around here."

"Sweetie, the only satisfaction that man gives two shits about, is yours."

After a beat you both break into a laugh which triggers another coughing fit. Taking that as their cue RT came in to set you up on the nebulizer. Then all you could do was wait.

After that Jack got busy again and you tried to tamp down the anxiety as the minutes dragged on,as you finished the nebulizer treatment, as radiology came and went. There was little worse in your opinion than laying alone in a hospital bed, but Jack had been right the nebulizer had helped your breathing and you were coughing less.

The longer you were in there the more you actually began to wonder about those terrible patient satisfaction scores everyone was always complaining about because every single person you had come into contact with that night had seemed to go above and beyond. The rad tech, the respiratory tech, every single nurse that stopped in to check on you. You were beginning to wonder if there wasn't some sort of big, red alert by your name that said; "ABBOT"S GIRLFRIEND DON'T FUCK IT UP".

A soft knock at the door startled you out of your thoughts and you sit up a little more as Jack comes in.

"How ya feelin'?"

"Ready to go home."

"I know hon." He props a him on the edge of your bed and rubs your leg through the blanket, "Rads and your bloodwork came back. Bronchitis. Just a little infection in your bronchial tubes, right here," He gestures to the general area on his own chest, "Usually takes care of itself if you take it easy."

You nod, "Which… I did not do."

He gives your calf a squeeze and his lips tick up in a smirk, "No, you did not. Which is why I'm sending you home with a goodie bag full of meds which you will take until they're gone. And, when I say home, I mean my house. Ellis is writing you up a doctors order right now to send to your boss."

"Jack…"

Completely unphased he continues, "While you're at my place for the next few days you will do as little as possible. Am I clear?"

You looked up at him, "Is this the part where I'm supposed to say yes sir and salute?"

Jack relaxes as soon as the words are out of your mouth. He shakes his head slightly and smooths his hand over your leg again, "Sorry." He meets your gaze and softens his expression, "Just promise me you'll take it easy. Let me take care of you."

With a slight cough you reached out for his hand, and smiled as he took it, stroked his thumb over the back of your knuckles. "I'm willing to bet you're not the greatest patient either, so you can't give me that much shit."

That gets him to smile, "Ready to go home?"

"Yes please."

Jack helps you sit up and slide out of the hospital bed, then helps you back into his jacket. "Ok, go home, my place," he emphasizes, "Take a good hot shower, take your meds and go to bed." He goes to guide you out of the room, but you tug him to a stop. "What's wrong?"

You bit your lip, "Thank you." Your voice was soft and a little apologetic.

For just a minute there was no hint of Dr. Abbot, he was just your boyfriend Jack. "C'mere." He pulled you in close and wrapped you in a hug, pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He chuckled, pressed another kiss to your temple and whispered, "See, coming to the doctor isn't so bad is it?"

You smile besides yourself and lean into him, "Depends on the doctor."

He walked you out to the hub and one of the nurses caught him right away, "We have a shooting victim eight minutes out."

Just like that Dr Abbot was back. "Ok set up trauma one, someone call OR give them a heads up." He turned back to you and softened, "I'll see you at home." Even in the middle of his ED, trauma en route, Jack gave you a smile and a quick kiss. "Go get some rest."

You nodded and watched as he turned to get back to work. Then with a smile of your own you turned to Bridget, "So, when do I get to fill out that patient satisfaction survey?"

~~~~

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfic #dr jack abbot #dr jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x you #dr jack abbott #dr jack abbott x reader

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imawreck · 6 months ago

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His

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky broke up a few months ago against your wishes, and you’d been trying to move on. When Bucky sees you flirting with another member of the team, he leaves for the next mission to avoid getting in your way. Unfortunately, the mission goes bad, and Bucky isn’t himself when he comes back. He also has a lot to say…

Author’s Note: I realize that in most of my fics Thor is the other romantic interest/situationship, but you CANT tell me that man wouldn’t flirt up a storm with a beautiful woman any chance he got. Also, this is my first smutty fic so feedback and comments would be much appreciated! This is on the more explicit side, so please read with caution.

Warnings: Cursing, mentions self loathing/guilt (it’s Bucky, kinda normal), choking kink, Possessive!Winter Soldier, flashbacks, hair pulling, fingering, metal arm kink, dominant!winter soldier, probably some more but those are the big ones.

Word Count: 4,850

Breakups are ugly most of the time, and almost always one sided.

You and Bucky had been apart for at least three months. You’d stopped counting, wanting to forget it and focus on anything else. It was easier that way, to ignore the heartbreak and clutter up your life with other things to do.

Unfortunately, you still lived in the same tower on the same floor, right across from one another. He was constantly around, and no mattered how hard you tried, you just couldn’t avoid him.

It was hell.

And it was only hell because Bucky hardly gave you a good reason for the break up. Sure, you had your arguments. Mostly about his past and how much better he thought you deserved, to which you’d list all the reasons he was wrong. In reality, those weren’t really arguments. It was just Bucky having a low point, which you were more than willing to help him work through. Outside of those moments, you had felt that your relationship with Bucky was near perfect.

So when he had come back from a mission and broke up with you, his only reason being ‘I can’t be with you,’ it’d been a slap to the face. Like someone had shoved a knife in your heart and twisted.

The worst part was that he wouldn’t even allow you the chance to talk to him afterwards. Every time you were in the same room together alone, he’d find every reason not to speak with you.

So, you’d taken the hint and were now trying to figure out a way to move on.

That was made a little easier when a certain God of Thunder made his interest known to you. Thor was sweet, charming, and a little goofy. Not to mention handsome, with his blonde hair and sky blue eyes.

He’d made an effort to woo you not long after you’d parted from Bucky, and you’d informed him that the breakup was hard for you and that you couldn’t really do something new right now. Thor had been surprisingly understanding, and even took to just being friends quite well. Granted, he was still flirty, but he knew where you both stood and was always happy to lend an ear when you needed one.

He turned out to be just the friend you needed.

From the outside looking in, none of the others thought it was ‘just friends,’ especially when Thor would openly show his interest in you. Especially to a certain Super Soldier.

Bucky was painfully aware of what was going on between you and Thor even though he desperately tried not to be.

His super hearing picked up on the soft laughter you and the god would share, on the hushed whispers you’d exchange late over a mug of coffee when you thought everyone was asleep. His every fiber was attuned to you, and he couldn’t help but fixate on your presence.

You were like gravity to him, and he always found himself near you when he knew he should be as far as humanly possible. He saw the little looks you shared when Thor would compliment you, noticed your shy smile when the god would enter the room. He could tell that Thor was winning you over slowly but surely.

He couldn’t fucking stand it.

So it wasn’t a big surprise when he shipped off on the next mission possible.

You worried, your heart still set on loving him, but you tried to pay it little mind. And after a few days, it actually helped. You felt better, found yourself smiling more. You were beginning to move forward.

That was, until the jet was reported missing. Then Bucky was all anyone could talk about in the tower.

Thor tried his best to keep you in the dark about most of what was going on, and it wasn’t hard seeing as you were just a rather good strategist and not a serious Avenger. You were only really included in skimming over preplanned attacks and making sure they hadn’t missed anything critical.

But word still spread, and worry was ever present.

Needless to say, it was very strange when Mr. Stark called you into a private meeting with himself and two other of the elite team.

“Y/N,” He spoke softly in the kind of tone that lets you know that whatever he says next is going to ruin your whole week. “There’s a situation with Barnes.”

You frowned, eyebrows scrunching at him from where you sat at the rather empty end of the long black table. “I’m confused. Bucky and I broke up months ago. Why are you talking to me about it?”

Steve, who you’d befriended while dating his best pal, looked at you with poorly concealed pity from his seat next to Stark. “Because we know he still means a lot to you and that you’re our best hope in this situation.”

That didn’t make you feel better about whatever was going on at all. “What do you mean ‘this situation?’” You eyed them both, before dragging your eyes over to Doctor Banner who hadn’t done much more than stare at you with a concerned expression bordering on panic.

Stark pressed his fingers to his forehead, “Barnes got triggered on his mission and has infiltrated the tower. We have reason to believe he’s after you.”

You gaped at him. That didn’t make any sense. You weren’t important, at least not as important as one of The Avengers. “Me? Why me?”

“We’ve silently shut the building down and we’re working on evacuating the floors without anyone freaking out.” Tony went on, ignoring your questions, “He doesn’t know that we’re aware he’s here, and we’re trying to keep it that way.” Tony motioned towards a monitor, and the image of Bucky popped up on the screen.

Only he was in your room, and he was dragging his fingers over the picture of the two of you that was perched on the nightstand. They way his fingers smoothed over the glass, the slight pinch in his brows as if calculating instead of recalling. It was like he’d never seen it before in his life. Like he had no connection to the image of himself.

It was a picture he had taken, his arm extended and a smile on his face with your lips pressed to his cheek. You had meant to take it down and stuff it in the box under your bed with all the other memories you had hid from sight, but it was just too painful. You needed something to hold onto.

You watched through the screen as he moved around your room, taking note of certain things and taking careful precautions to ensure that anything he moved was set right back in place. It was eerie to watch a man who was once so comfortable in your space tread with so much hesitance. Like it was the first time he’d been in the space all over again.

“Y/N.” It was Steve’s gentle timbre that brought your attention away from the screen this time. He tried to smile, though it was clearly forced. “We need you to lure him down towards the lower levels. We have to get him to a room where we can better contain him. If he finds out we know he’s back and not… him, then he could snap.”

“You want to use me as bait? For the Winter Soldier?” You stared at them both with wide eyes, panic blooming in your chest. “This is insane!”

Steve sighed, “Y/N… Bucky told me about the incident that happened in the beginning of your relationship.”

Your attention zeroed in on the blonde’s words, your breath hitching.

“He told me what could’ve happened… and what didn’t.”

You walked down the corridor of the Stark tower office floor heading back towards your desk from a late night research meeting with a few of your coworkers. You had decided to stay later than the others so that you could collect and organize the information you needed for the meeting with Mr. Stark the following morning. It was very late, and you were tired, the heels you wore had begun to irritate the soles of your feet hours before.

You clutched the files you collected in your arms, heels clicking on the glossy floors and echoing into the dimly lit corridor. So dim that you didn't see the silhouette of the man standing just feet from you until it was too late.

You only saw a flash of silver before the door beside you was torn open and you were roughly shoved inside. Cleaning supplies clattered onto the floor, spilling liquids over your feet as you cried out. A hand clamped over your mouth, and your head hit the wall with a thunk.

Stormy blue eyes stared at you, cold and unfeeling. Eyes you had seen just days before smiling at you and filled with life.

Your lips moved to say his name against the cool metal of his hand, but his grip on your face was nearly bruising. You could only stare back in fear and attempt to press your body further from him.

He didn't speak, only stared at you and kicked the door to the closet shut.

Fear was a living thing in your stomach, writhing as his eyes snaked down to your red heels and back up again. His head tilted to the side, as if he was trying to remember something. But his eyes remained cold and unrelentingly empty. His flesh hand came up to press a finger threateningly to his lips.

‘Quiet.’

You weren't stupid enough to scream, not with the way he was looking at you, with how close he was. When he removed his hand, you did exactly as he wanted. Silence hung in the small closet, suffocating you. Would he kill you? What did he want? Why hadn't he killed you already?

The cool metal of his palm slipped further down, wrapping around your throat and pressing against your thundering pulse. Your head pounded along with it, and a foggy feeling settled over your mind.

But your lungs still filled with air, and you remained aware. The pressure of his hand was ever present, but it was light enough not to cause real damage... Almost like he didn't want to hurt you.

His tongue darted out to lick his lips, the movement catching your eyes. His body leaned forward, his nose pressing into your neck and his warm breath hitting your skin. Goosebumps rose in its wake, and that lick of fear heightened again. He was acting so strangely, and the longer it went on the more unsettling it was.

When he pulled away, there was a heat in his eyes that wasn’t there before. A hunger, and… and recognition.

“Hello, Beloved.”

“We know that he didn’t hurt you, and that he displayed… certain feelings towards you.” Steve’s voice brought you out of the memory, dragging you back to the reality at hand.

The one where he wants you to put yourself smack dab in the path of the Winter Soldier.

“You’re serious about this?” You blink up at him, trying to gauge if he was joking or not. Level headed as Steve was, you trusted him with your life. But this? This was terrifying and completely unexpected. Ridiculously dangerous.

“It’s the only nonviolent way we can think of. And we’re almost certain there’s no high risk for you.” Steve tried to give you a reassuring smile, tried to hide the hint of unease that shone in his tense shoulders.

“You’ve all lost your mind.” You laugh, sighing and raising your chin. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Apparently, so had you.

You stared at the metal doors of the elevator, your heart pounding with each toll of the floors passing. This was probably—no, was— the riskiest thing you’d ever done in your life. You trusted Steve and Mr. Stark, but your brain was trained to find the flaws in plans like this. And so many things could go wrong.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” Steve said calmly into your ear, startling you. You’d forgotten they’d given you the earpiece. “I’ll be here the entire time. I’ll guide you through the compound and make sure you stay out of danger.”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if they could see you.

“Bucky is leaving your room. We’re going to drop you off in the commons area of your floor. All you have to do is make some noise and then head for the stairwell. Just listen to me, and I’ll get you through this.” Steve sounded so confident in your ear, but it did little to soothe the nerves.

The elevator leveled out, and the doors quietly opened. The large living room opened up before you, unnervingly bright and welcoming despite the danger you knew lurked just down the hall. You stepped out onto the carpet, walking towards the kitchen. Your palms sweat, heart pounding, as you made your way up to the cabinets.

You just had to make some noise. Easy, right?

But your body wouldn’t move.

“Y/N.” Steve’s voice called in your ear again, gently coaxing you from where he watched the cameras. “Make some noise, and then head for the stairs.”

You swallowed, nodding again, and reached with shaky hands towards the cabinet. You grabbed a bowl, and hesitantly set it down on the granite counter. The echoing pok of the ceramic felt too loud in your ears, like a gunshot.

“Good, now move quickly. He’s just down the hall headed your way.”

The words sent a chill down your spine… and something else followed. Something you’d never felt before.

You headed towards the stairs, but your feet felt like lead weights. Like you couldn’t move fast enough even though you knew you were going as fast as you could.

But you could hear the faintest scuff of boots coming behind you and the sound sent your heart into a frenzy.

You raced down the stairs, tripping a few times before righting yourself and continuing your decent down towards the lower levels. Your floor was four levels up from ground level, which meant you had six floors in total to descend before you could get to the containment floor.

Six flights of stairs being chased by The Winter Soldier. A superhuman man who was definitely faster than you, and probably wanted to do something terrible to you. Like a wolf hunting a sheep.

Oh God.

The thought only served to spur the panic rising in you. You kicked up your speed when the door slammed behind you, footsteps pounding after you as the dark silhouette of Bucky Barnes rounded the stairs two flights above.

He took the stairs four at a time, his long legs swallowing up the distance between you. The panic clawed its way up your throat in a strangled cry, and the sound just seemed to quicken his pace.

“I’m not fast enough!” You tried to keep your voice even, tried to keep it quiet in the echoing stairwell so that the soldier behind you would hear.

“You’re almost there, Y/N. Just keep up the pace. Two flights left and—“ but he didn’t get to finish his sentence.

You watched in shocked horror as Bucky’s figure leapt over the railing and plummeted towards the ground. He dropped several flights before his arm snapped out and wrapped around the railing. The sound of metal hitting metal rang out around you as the railing dipped under the crushing pressure.

He hauled himself back onto the stairs just before you. Those cold eyes found yours, dark hair framing sharp features, painting him into something primal. Something wild.

That feeling pounded through you again, skittering along your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck. You still couldn’t place it, not with him stepping towards you with a look that promised violence.

You heard Steve’s voice ordering something over the earpiece, but it was distant. It became clearer a moment later. “We’ve got a team heading in. Just… just hang in there.”

You swallowed, but your throat had gone dry in the presence of the assassin before you. His eyes held you in place as his towering form finally stopped a stair below you, leveling with you face to face. So close you could count the stitches in the Kevlar of his suit.

You felt your body shaking, heard your heart thundering in your ears as your chest rose and fell with each short breath you managed to drag into your lungs.

And he watched every move you made.

His head titled to the side exactly like it’d done the first time you’d been trapped with him. His gaze never left you, eyes wandering over your face and heaving chest before that faint look of recognition settled into those hollow eyes.

And then that heat you’d seen before consumed them.

He stepped forward, and you answered with a step back. For each one he took, you pedaled backwards until your body was plastered against the wall. When you tried to flee back up the stairs, his metal hand planted itself against the wall inches from your head.

You were utterly trapped.

Rough Russian left his lips in the softest whisper. The sound was the same as you’d heart him say before, though you didn’t understand it.

Not until now, as the earpiece Steve had given you translated his words as he spoke them.

“Hello again, Beloved.”

Those blue eyes bored into yours, as his other hand came up to brush your cheek with a gentleness you didn’t think he was capable of.

“He’s kept me from you for so long.” Bucky’s body leaned forward, caging you against the wall. His metal hand remained pressed against the wall beside you, and the other dragged across the skin of your neck and shoulder in an almost reverent manner.

Bucky’s— no, this wasn’t Bucky. This was the part of Bucky he kept farthest from you. This was a man known for cruel, unimaginable violence. An assassin known by reputation around the world by both hero and criminal alike and feared by all. This was the Winter Soldier.

Winters lips brushed your jaw, stubble tickling the column of your throat as his voice rumbled against your skin. “Kept you to himself. Never let me touch you. Worried I’d damage you, Beloved. Couldn’t see you needed me.”

His teeth nipped at your skin, and a shiver rolled down your spine in answer. That feeling tugged at your mind again, spurred by his words. But still, you couldn’t place it. Not with your mind consumed by his statements and barely contained yearning.

When his head lifted to find your eyes again, the fingers of his right hand tangled themselves in your hair and pulled hard enough to have your scalp stinging. His next words were guttural and biting, “And then he let you go.”

Winters grip loosened a bit, but his hold on your hair remained. “He pushed you away, and then that god tries to take you from me?” His eyes held you, demanding your utter attention as his head shook slowly, “You don’t belong to him.”

Tugging your lip between your teeth, you clenched your eyes shut. God, you wished Bucky would say that to you. Having Winter here saying these words with Bucky’s voice, Bucky’s face. Touching you with familiar hands…

Heat had begun to pool low in your belly.

The words were spoken in English. “Open your eyes.”

There was no room for objection in his voice, so you did as he said. With his jaw was set in an angry line, and those blue eyes boring into your soul, he leaned in closer. “He thinks that being with you is too dangerous, that you aren’t safe with… with us.”

“What?” Your heart hammered in your chest at his words. It was the first real reason as to why Bucky had broken up with you.

Those silvery blue eyes zeroed on your lips as he spoke again. “He thinks we can’t protect you, that I’ll hurt you. That somehow being further from you keeps you safe from what comes with being what we are.” His metal hand left the wall in favor of brushing over your lower lip and trailing the cool tips of his fingers down to the dip of your breasts and back up to the column of your throat. “I’d never hurt you, not the way he has. Not if you didn’t want it.”

“W-what do you mean?” You just knew he was picking up on how your heart beat harder as his fingers trailed over your skin. Or the way you kept shifting on your feet to stave off the heat thrumming in your veins with an all too familiar want blooming and begging for his hands to explore more.

The faintest hint of a smile graced his face as he gave your hair another gentle tug, then loosened his grip once more. “You like this. I’ve seen how you react with him. How you quietly treasure the marks he leaves on your skin even when he feels nothing but guilt.” That metal hand slipped over your throat again and pressed on your neck exactly as he’d done the first time you’d seen Winter. Your head spun at the pressure, but you could breathe easily under the cool press of his palm as he leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered. “I see how badly you wish he’d touch you with this hand,” he squeezed your neck and loosened it quickly, “How badly you want those marks. How badly you need me.”

You had no words. Nothing to say as he wrung out the truth you’d thought was hidden from him— from Bucky.

Bucky was notorious for avoiding any situation that would make him use the metal arm. He would much rather let it hang there, or act as if he didn’t have it at all. That included when the two of you would get intimate. He never dared to bring it anywhere near you no matter how many times you’d reminded him it was fine, that you weren’t afraid of it. He outright refused to allow it to touch your delicate skin, to let such a catalyst for agony so close to something as precious as you.

Winter knew that you’d secretly craved to feel the cold metal in contrast to his warm skin when he held you. He knew that you would always find it more satisfying when Bucky would lose himself and get rough with you when things got heated. How his flesh hand would leave bruises on your thighs or hips to keep you steady as he thrust himself deeper.

Just the thought had you aching, and here was Bucky’s darker half offering you everything you’d ever wanted.

You were losing your fucking mind.

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, but the words were flimsy and meaningless. He knew the truth, but that didn’t mean you had to say it aloud.

His metal fingers dug into your jaw, his grip near bruising as he tilted your head up to level your eyes with his. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Dollface.” His lips were a hairs-width away, his warm breath fanning over your face.

The scent of him was intoxicating, muddling your mind even further with heady leather and metal invading your nose. The hint of that aftershave you’d missed so much since Bucky broke your heart.

Winter was tearing you apart at the seams.

“Please,” you whispered. Please what? You didn’t know. You could hardly think straight. That feeling was so strong, thrumming along with your pulse and the ache for something. Anything.

“Tell me I’m right.” He mumbled against your skin. Soft lips, a vast contrast to his rough demeanor, to the calloused hand that remained tangled in your hair, trailed down your cheek. “Tell me that you want me. Not the pathetic excuse for a god, or him. That you want me.”

His metal hand released your face, drifting over your neck and dragging over the left side of your chest. He circled once, thumbing over your nipple with a knowing look filled with every sinful promise known to man.

And then he went lower and lower…

His fingers caught the waistband of your leggings, the chill of his fingers raised goosebumps across your stomach, only serving to worsen that burning need.

“Doll,” a command and a question wrapped in one word.

All you had to do was admit your darkest most guarded secret. Confess, and he would give you what you wanted most. What Bucky was too afraid to do.

You opened your mouth, the words tumbling out as he gave your hair another tug.

“I want you.”

That smirk grew just a fraction more, his fingers slipping past your waistband and toying with the hem of your panties.

Fuck, did you wish you’d gone commando today.

“Who am I?” He asked, teeth nipping down your neck hard enough to know they’d leave marks. “I want you to say it, Y/N.”

Those fingers slipped further, rolling over your aching clit in a teasing stroke before he pulled them away again.

If he wasn’t a literal assassin, you’d consider strangling him.

“For fucks sake,” you gripped his arm, your voice unfamiliar in your own ears, ragged and broken. “Winter, please.”

He didn’t waste time, deft, cool fingers dipping into your core with confidence. Soothing that aching heat.

Fuck.

His thumb circled slow as he pumped his fingers, his mouth leaving wet kisses along your jaw up to your lips where he paused long enough to catch a glimpse of your face. You knew you looked like an utter mess, but those blue eyes showed nothing but twisted delight. He leaned forward and tugged your bottom lip between his teeth, bitting hard enough to make you groan.

Winter’s answering grunt of approval urged you further towards the edge of oblivion those perfect metal fingers were working you towards.

God you were so close. Each movement, every touch and bruise he left on your skin pushing you closer and closer. Just a bit more, a fraction more and you’d—

His fingers wrenched away, gone in an instant.

Your eyes, closed from the pleasure just moments ago, snapped open just before the doors to the stairway above and below you burst open. Floods of agents filed through the doors, and a gun fired.

The sharp sound echoed in the confined space making you flinch. Winters back pressed you against the wall, a solid shield of muscle keeping you out of harms way.

Then the weight was too heavy. His body crushing you as he slumped toward the floor. You screamed, immediately thinking the worse as your eyes searched his form in a panic.

But you found no blood, thank God.

“He’s fine, Y/N.”

Steve’s hand on your shoulder had you flinching back, head snapping to his suit clad form. “The gun—“

“It’s just a tranq. I promise, Bucky will be fine.” His face was the picture of practiced reassurance.

A horde of agents rushed forward and cuffed Winters hands and dragged his unconscious body out of the stairwell and further towards the confinement room. Steve remained with you, his eyes flicking to your neck a few times and checking you over to make sure no serious damage had been done.

When you’d gotten yourself back to your room away from the prying eyes and the relentless questions, the reality of what had happened slammed into you.

You just let the Winter Soldier finger you in a fucking stairwell.

And you liked it.

Plunging your fingers into your hair, you took a shaky breath. What the fuck were you thinking? Had you lost your damn mind? Bucky broke up with you three months ago! You were done; over, moving on. He could remember this, for Christ sake! How would you explain it?

Panic writhed in your stomach, but so did the faint ache of need that reminded you of what had just happened mere minutes ago.

The feeling of his metal hand on your skin, the feeling of those fingers working you perfectly and the pressure of his bruising grip.

And that feeling that you couldn’t place.

But now you had a word for it.

From the thrum of your heart as he chased you down the stairs, the promise of violence and sinful pleasure in his eyes. The roughness of his actions…

It was the thrill.

You liked the chase. You liked how rough he was. The delicious blend of panic and pleasure.

And he’d been interrupted before you got the release you’d craved. That you needed.

Frustration boiled to the forefront of your mind, a dozen different strategies with it.

He’d made you confess your darkest secret only to leave you high and dry.

And damn him if he wasn’t going to finish what he started.

#winter soldier #drama #👀#bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #x reader #angst #smut

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kamitv · 3 months ago

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Secretly down bad!Naoya who walks around acting like he's a part of the whole "I hate my gf" trend when in reality, you drive him crazy in ways he couldn't possibly begin to explain or understand.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who gets hard whenever you yell at him. Something about that aggravation in your tone, the way you glare at him, and the overall frustration that takes over your body makes his cock twitch without second thought.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who can't handle arguments with you for that exact reason. Most of his past "lovers", if you can even call them that, would've left him after the first argument. But you? Oh, your tongues ten times sharper than his could ever be. He's tried insulting you in every way possible but somehow you always make him eat his words.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who's unintentionally become a gentleman around you. Following things like the "side-walk rule", referring to you as "ma'am", and doing things like holding the door open for you. All very simple things but all actions he's never done for anyone else. Ever.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who learned so much about himself ever since he got with you. You've suggested some wild things in the bedroom and although his initial response is usually no, he somehow ends up doing exactly as you've requested.

Secretly down bad!Naoya one time scowled at the mere idea of bondage, especially when you said he'd be the one restricted. And yet, there he was on that fated night with his hands tied behind his back as he watched you play with yourself right in front of him. He was so frustrated that night that he ended up cumming without you even touching him.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who still has a smart mouth, as expected, but he now only gets smart with you to provoke a reaction out of you. Sometimes you'll land a playful smack on his arm and all he can do is smile and ask you to do that again.

Which is roughly what opened his eyes to the fact that he quite enjoys a bit of pain from you. Choking him while you ride him to the point of throated grunts 'n groans catching at his throat? Telling him about himself in more ways than one and how he's such a shitty person?? Well, shit, he can't quite get enough.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who felt a shiver run down his spine when you once blocked him for something rather trivial. What really topped it all off was when you told him that the only thing that'd make you unblock him was if he sent an apology video, with tears.

And not just any kinda apology video either, no, of course not. The woman he's found himself with is far more demanding than that. Instead, you told him to send you a pathetic video of him getting off to you, still with tears, and a genuine apology.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who rolled his eyes at that rediculous request of yours. Never in a million years would he send some woman (the love of his life, btw--I know, surprising) a video of him not only jerking off, but also apologizing over something stupid he did? No way. Over his dead body-

Secretly down bad!Naoya who gives in after a total of three hours and sends you a lengthy video of his shaky hands wrapped around his cock as he pants out your name, whispering how sorry he is in a tone so unbelievably embarrassed that you can hardly believe it's him at first.

And if that wasn't enough, it's even more surprising to you how Secretly down bad!Naoya also has a pair of your panties pressed up to his nose and is ranting about how agonizing it's been not being able to text or call you for the past few hours.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who, at the end of the video, utters a bratty complaint about how much you get on his nerves. Which is so hilarious considering the mess he's made of himself, on video, all for you. And on top of this complaint of his? Seconds after, he's whining a plea for you to unblock him so he can get your attention again, even if said attention consists of you cursing him out again.

Secretly down bad!Naoya who gets unblocked about thirty minutes after he sent those videos of his and starts smiling to himself like an idiot. Somehow in that insane mind of his, he's managed to convince himself that he won whatever conflict was just between the two of you.

Even though he had to send you multiple videos of him jerking off and making an overall fool of himself...

Secretly down bad!Naoya who's not even 'secretly down bad', you're actually well aware of how pathetic your boyfriend is for you. He can't explain it too well but, you've always had him wrapped around your pretty lil' finger like no other.

#jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader smut #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #naoya zenin #naoya smut #naoya x reader #zenin naoya #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #naoya x you #jujutsu kaisen naoya #jujutsu naoya #naoya x f!reader #naoya

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softbabybelle · 5 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 c!w. reader has neglectful parents, bad habits, sick!reader, soft!rafe.

growing up, you'd always been weary of confrontation of any kind, whether it was good or bad.

you had your parents to thank for that. once you entered a room, you saw the way they'd look down, sighing heavily or uttering something about being busy. you didn't spend all that much time with them. and when you were around, they ushered words out of you quickly, making as little conversation as possible.

sometimes you wondered how cruel they were to decide to have kids at all.

last summer you'd met a boy named rafe cameron, though you'd always known of him. he was sort of infamous in outerbanks, known vividly all over figure eight.

he could be sort of loud, jumpy and had this angry scowl often etched to his face. and then there was you, shy and quiet, mumbling words that hardly reached his ears because of the short volume you used. but rafe didn't seem to mind, too enamoured by the way your lips moved or the way your cheeks would tinge pink.

it didn't take long for rafe to want you.

and what rafe wanted, rafe got.

you began dating the boy less than a month after knowing him. now, a couple months had passed and every day you were learning more about the boy.

his father, ward, had passed away leaving tannyhill to himself after rose took wheezie and abandoned him, sarah now living on the cut with her fiance, john b.

rafe was also learning more about you.

cracking your shell had been more dificult than he thought. nonetheless, you were slowly but surely opening up to rafe about little things.

on one occasion you'd been seated on the kitchen counter while rafe stirred some sauce in a pot, making dinner for you both. "oh, no i hate hospitals!" you'd uttered. it had something to do with your conversation, you were sure. but now, you couldn't really remember how.

"me too." he'd agreed. he'd moved so that he was stationed between your legs, hands running up and down your thighs in a soft, non-sexual, manner. "with how clumsy you are, 'm surprised you've never broken anything."

"i broke my leg before." you admitted, voice dropping low. you often got quieter when rafe got closer. it was almost as if you were scared raising your volume may annoy him.

his brows shot up to his forehead. "what? how come i never knew this?"

you shrugged your shoulders. "wasn't a big deal. i didn't have to go to the hospital or anything, jus' stayed in bed for a while." you reminisced on the few weeks you'd gotten off of school.

"sweetheart, 'm pretty sure your parents would've sent you to the hospital if you broke your leg."

"I didn't tell them."

and the four words made rafe's heart still. he knew this must have been a long time ago, you hadn't lived with your parents for a while now. but still, his heart ached dully at the thought of you, with a broken leg and nobody to turn to.

and most of all. how did they not notice?

rafe made up his mind about your parents very early on in your relationship.

you were still having a difficult time figuring out how you felt about them.

it was late now, moon looming over tannyhill while rafe scribbled down words onto a piece of paper in what used to be ward's office, which was now his.

rafe realised he hadn't heard anything from his sweet girl in the past while, noticing the eerie silence against the walls. however, as if you'd been listening in on his thoughts, his eyes snapped up to the sound of the floorboards creaking.

there you were, peeking in the doors of the office, biting your lip hesitantly.

almost like you were scared to speak.

"hey, baby." his soft words were enough to have your muscles suddenly loosening. he pushed his chair away from the desk, patting his thigh. "c'mere."

you hadn't seen much of rafe today for he was busy dealing with business. you didn't want to disturb him, in case he was too busy.

but nonetheless, you did as you were told.

you all but scurried across the office, finding every bone in your body go slack as you sat on his lap, where he wanted you. "y'okay?" he brushed a few strands of hair from your face. you looked flushed. you nodded, biting down on your bottom lip. "look like you wanna ask me somethin', princess."

"do you, uhm..." your fingers trailed against his shirt, taking in every texture and stitch. you didn't want to bother rafe by making him get up and go looking for things. "do you know where the painkillers are? can't find 'em anywhere."

"painkillers?" his jaw tensed and untensed, eyes softening at you. "for what?"

you felt your cheeks heat up. you hoped he wasn't angry with you for bothering him while he was oh so busy. "headache." is all you uttered, not wanting to 'inconvenience' him with your 'issues'.

"you've a headache?" his palm was suddenly against your forehead, gauging your temperature. low and behold, you were awfully warm. "how long you been feeling icky, huh, baby?"

"a while." you shrugged before swallowing thickly. "'m sorry."

"hey, hey." his thumb pushed your chin up, noticing your sudden shift in moods. "what're you sorry for?"

"you're working." you mumbled. "'n 'm complaining 'cause i feel sick 'n―"

"stop, stop, baby, look at me." his hands were cupping your face oh so gently making your stomach feel kind of funny. it was this unfamiliar feeling of being comforted, cared for. a feeling you'd spent your entire life searching for. "i wanna hear everything you have to say to me, alright? everything, all the time, until my ears fall off. sound good?"

a small giggle escaped your lips. "sounds good."

his fingers moved to your hip bones, gently caressing the skin. "how 'bout we go get some painkillers in you 'n then go watch a movie, hm?"

the idea made your heart flutter, you played with the loose thread of his shirt. "sure you're not too busy?" words so small. you were sure that you would blink and the moment would be over, that you'd be that same young girl, hiding your broken leg from your parents because 'all you ever did was complain'.

"never too busy for m'girl. c'mon." and he stood, with you still in his arms, legs tangling around his hips.

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clockwayswrites · 3 months ago

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A Bird's Wings - Part 30

masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

Danny’s first thought when he woke up in the morning was how rested he was.

It was almost shocking.

He’d been so exhausted for for the past few weeks that to feel rested was a relief that almost made him cry.

Danny’s second thought was about his wings, which he still seemed to have. That was a pretty quick revelation caused by the fact that he was asleep on his stomach. The wings pulled at the sheets as he stretched lazily. At least they hurt less than yesterday at least. He was careful as he sat up, a cumbersome affair with the wings. It basically resulted in Danny getting his legs off the side of the large bed and simply standing up backwards, but at least it did result in him standing.

Grateful for Alfred’s thoroughness, Danny brushed his teeth before taking an awkward shower. He kept to the shower wand only and tried to keep as much water off his wings as possible. Despite the care, he still felt (and looked) like a rain ruffled bird after he had dressed in the modified sweater and a pair of his normal pants. He did what he could to at least tame his hair, swallowed his morning medication, and left the sanctuary of his borrowed room.

“Master Danny, impeccable timing,” Alfred said when Danny came across him in what Danny thought was the foyer. “Breakfast will be served in half an hour in the kitchen. Would you like some coffee or tea to start your day?”

“Coffee would be great, if it’s not any trouble,” Danny said with a bashful smile. He still wasn’t quite sure how to handle Alfred’s uncanny ability to show up and offer his service.

“A standard request of coffee is hardly trouble,” Alfred said in such a way that Danny felt bad for trying to be polite.

He didn’t think that his Midwest manners were going to get him very far in this house. Manor.

Still trying to puzzle out how his life got him into things like this, Danny followed Alfred to the kitchen. Bruce was already there, looking still half a sleep as he sipped on his own mug of coffee. For the moment, the table was children free.

“Cream or sugar?” Alfred ask as he headed towards the counter.

“Cream please,” Danny said. He turned to Bruce and gave a little smile. “Morning, Bruce.”

“Good morning, Danny,” Bruce said, his voice a low, sleepy rumble. (Danny did his best to fight the blush that the tone caused.) “Would you like some help drying off your wings?”

So much for not blushing. “Ah, yeah. That would be really nice. I tried to do what I could, but…”

Bruce chuckled softly. “Completely understandable. It’s a very awkward angle to try and manage.” He set down his mug and stood. “Fortunately for you, Damian is quite the animal buff and I was sent some very extensive articles on caring for wings.”

“Oh gods,” Danny said. The words were muffled by the way he buried his burning face into his hands.

“Damian simply wants the best for you,” Bruce pointed out.

“Sure, but still,” Danny said. He rubbed at his face as he let himself lean his head back and stare up at the ceiling for a moment, “I’m not a pet.”

Danny saw Bruce come over out the corner of his eye, towel in hand, and rolled his head a little to glance at him. He thought it was progress that he didn’t flinch when Bruce reached out, clearly telegraphing his motion, to run a hand over Danny’s wing.

“No one thinks that you’re a pet, Danny,” Bruce said with so much sincerity in his eyes that Danny had to look away. “Knowing how to take care of your wings is the same as making sure that Damian has easy access to vegetarian meals or that the computers at the manor have a dyslexic friendly font installed for Dick or that Barbara can easily get around in her wheelchair. Your wings, even if only sometimes, are part of you. And for better or worse, my family and I seem rather intent to see you well.”

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck as he glanced back at Bruce. “Part of it may be that I’m not exactly used to that sort of attention. I mean, Lucius tries to make me take care of myself, as well as some coworkers, but in Gotham that sort of feels more like new rogue prevention,” Danny joked.

Luckily Bruce chuckled at that. “I am sorry that we’re so overwhelming.”

“No, don’t be. It’s… excuse the bird analogy, but it’s just a very full nest, isn’t it? It feels cozy. It’s just something different to try and wrap my head around,” Danny explained. “And I won’t pretend that I don’t still have issues, as much as it’s something that I’ve worked really hard on personally and in therapy, dying at fourteen leaves a person with some issues.”

Not to mention being a super hero, staying half dead, dying a second time, and all of the other things that went on during his high school years.

“Yes, I would imagine so,” Bruce said after a pause. His voice was soft and sad.

“Bruce—”

“Sorry,” Bruce said. “When Jason was fifteen, we thought he had died. He ended up out of reach and with extensive brain trauma and memory loss. I know how much it effected him. I’m sorry you had to go through something at that age also.”

Danny squeezed one of Bruce’s hands where it was clasped tightly around a towel. “He’s here now. He’s alive and he seems happy. He has a boyfriend and everything. I’m not saying it doesn’t still pull at him, but it hasn’t dragged him to the bottom. At least not anymore.”

Bruce smile was a somber, soft thing. “Thank you. And you’re here too.”

Danny blinked at that. Bruce wasn’t wrong. He didn’t know almost any of the story, but he wasn’t wrong. Wings and all, Danny was still alive. He smiled softly back. “Yeah, I am.”

#I might be flirting with a breakdown #but we're going to ignore that and write #dp x dc #danny/bruce #birdritch

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skelly-words · 1 year ago

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sneaking into a witch’s garden to steal something and her vines fertilize you 😩😩 (this sentence is crazy bruh)

wait til she finds you in the morning and fucks you with her huge dick

NSFW, Minors DNI (18+ obv)

TAGS: non-con monsterfucking, vines/plants, aphrodisiac, ovi, all holes, futanari, this is so cursed lol, also a period piece ig

WC- 1.1k

You're hungry. The kind of starving that makes you ask the grocers at the market for vegetable scraps, lift bread loaves out of unattended baskets, and hop the ten-foot cobblestone wall into your neighbor's garden.

You feel like an idiot as soon as you make it into the witch's yard. Nobody ever got away with stealing from her, yet here you were, shivering in the frigid winter twilight, inching across her frosted lawn to the brightly lit greenhouse.

The heavy glass doors barely creak and you're almost sucked in by the humid air. The empty gurgle in your gut makes you press on through the rows of plants, looking for something edible or incredible to make off with.

You search the entire greenhouse before making the mistake of sniffing at her rose bushes. They smell sweet, much less harsh and organic than a normal rose. You sniff deeply into the blossom as it pushed against your nose.

Your mind is gone after that first inhale. The careful brambles shred your clothes, letting the rags fall to the dirt while they carefully wrap around your body. The rosebuds drip with a sweet syrup. It leaks into the seam of your mouth, making you lick out to taste it, to suckle the nectar from the buds until you're drowning in it.

You've been completely pulled into the rose bushes now, so tangled in the tenacious little plant that you couldn't get out if you wanted to. You drink down whatever the bud gives you, even as the sticky liquid makes you gasp and choke. More of the buds press to the corner of your mouth, smearing the substance across your jaw and neck, some drop lower, opening their petals to suckle on your swollen nipples. You haven't noticed how heavy your breasts have gotten. The tight binding of the vines had to adjust so the hungry rosebuds could suck on your fat tits.

Milk spurts out of you as the vines squish and squeeze at your heaving chest. You can hardly breathe. Something is in the syrup, making your mind numb and skin tingle as it smears on your sensitive body. Globs of sticky nectar drip onto your clit so it twitches and throbs as a greedy bud latches onto it. Your hips buck, bumping into a bundle of slender stamen that prod at your entrance. They move with your hips to work your pussy open. The tendrils twist their way into your tight hole and slowly expand. The sucker on your clit helps your muscles relax, but the demanding stretch is too much.

You groan loudly, parting your lips to pant as the fibers pry your cunt apart. The blossom at your lips forces its way deeper, sliding over your tongue, dripping down your throat, snaking its way so deep you can't taste the sweetness of the syrup its pumping into you.

Suddenly, the stretch isn't so bad anymore and you moan, sounding more like a gurgle around the obstruction. You can feel them exploring your insides. The stamen probe at your cervix, getting as deep as possible before turning you into a proper seed bed. It slowly starts to pump you full of spawn, feeding eggs into your cunt with thick spurts of the rose nectar. Your eyes roll back as the band in your belly tightens. It snaps as the effects of the drugged plant take over. Your pussy tingles, walls clenching, squishing the eggs and juice in as you cum. Pathetic dribbles leak down your thighs as the mess sprays out of you.

Streams of milk lead from your nipples, pooling beneath each breast. You're leaking too fast for the rosebuds to suckle up. Time seems to move slow, or fast. You don't really know, counting the eggs being shoved into you instead of the minutes. At least your tummy is full now. You've been well fed by the vine lodged in your throat.

The witch finds you in the morning when she comes to garden. You're so tucked away in the vines, she would've missed you if not for the sound. You're squishing and sloshing from being so stuffed full by her naughty flora.

"Looks like my rosehips like you, they've made you into a perfect seedbed. It's kinda kismet because I've been meaning to propagate them." She grabs your hips, wrenching you halfway out of the bush to look at what the plant has done to you. "The rosehips only care about breeding, so it's left your cute little ass all empty."

Her finger swirls through your drooling folds before dipping lower and sinking into your butt. You're so tight, already squirming around one little finger. She palms her cock with her other hand as she fucks you open on her fingers. Slick drips down from your cunt to help lube up your hole. You watch her black skirt start to lift as she gets harder. Her dripping tip starts to poke from the beneath the hem as she grows. Thick semen runs from the blunt head of her horsecock. She lets it land in your cunt, left gaping by the twenty six eggs the rose has planted in you.

The witch only puts two fingers in your ass before forcing her dick in. She grunts and huffs, grip on your hips only growing tighter with each stunted thrust. You're strung out on the aphrodisiac being fed down your throat. You've been drinking it all night long, more full than you've been in months. The fat cockhead catches on your rim each time she pulls back, you clench and twitch around her, squeezing the life out of her dick.

You take it all, sucking all thirteen inches into your puckering hole. She rolls her hips against yours, mesmerized by how your your cunt twitches and tightens as she fucks you. She's so big and pent up, so it doesn’t take long for her to release, cumming deep in your guts as her balls pump her sticky spunk into you.

You hardly control your body anymore, murmuring weakly as you squirt on the witch's dick. She keeps a punishing pace and you love it. The rough drag of her throbbing cock makes your muscles tense and squeeze. She tugs the bud away from your left tit, leaning down to suck on your abused nipple.

"Your milk's sweet. Taste it." She suckles from you again and spits it between your lips, already left open by the vine, but you can taste the milk as it hits your tongue. It's so good, you're almost jealous she gets to drink it. She mouths at your breast, giving kitten licks to the liquid beading on your cute brown nubs.

You’re making such a mess of cum on her stomach as she leans over you. The overstimulation is hard to register from how hazy your mind’s become. Your clit pulses from being sucked on all night, spasming again whenever she has you at the fullest. She has your ass so stuffed it makes your eyes cross and the stamen are trying to push another egg in you. Every orgasm wrecks you, cresting tears over your cheeks as she keeps her lips pressed around your chest to nurse from you.

Not many people are stupid enough to steal from the witch anymore, and her cock gets so painfully hard when she doesn’t have a slut like you to take care of it. She takes out all of her frustration on your poor virgin ass. You’re so ruined now, only able to cum and spread your legs more because that’s all the aphrodisiac allows you to think about.

you’ve lost count of how many eggs are in your sticky cunt, always being given more and more as you adjust. Your butt is stretched so much by her swollen length that she’s trained you to take her whenever she wants. Your rim easily swallows up her fingers, tongue, or dick, sometimes dildos, whatever she felt like watching you squirt on.

The witch’s cock keeps you plugged up every morning. It's the only routine you can seem to keep track of these days. Oh well, who knows why you came here in the first place anyway?

A/n- i wrote this in one sitting (it’s noticeable)

new tentacle au idea, thoughts?

#skel writes tentacles #nsft tentacles #monster fucker #tentacles #tentacle smut #what's the plant tentacle tag?#tentacular #ovipositor

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ihangelic · 5 months ago

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KISS CULTURE ꒱ m.jaehyun

synopsis. after his xmas date doesn’t go to plan, you’re now taking care of a sick and clingy jaehyun that’s determined to get you under the mistletoe despite everything. (alternatively: jaehyun’s sick, horny, and very persuasive.)

pair. jaehyun x afab!reader

genre. smut but also lots of fluff, small attempts at humor

warnings. established relationship, jae’s endearingly annoying, no pronouns used for reader, petnames (baby, ‘princess’ used twice), switch vibes? (not sure but it’s hot), making out, reader wears knee-high socks & jae really likes them, kitchen sex, oral (reader receiving), hardly mentioned exhibitionism? (you fuck in front of a window but nobody can see), jae licks your thighs lol, creampie, aftercare

wc. 4.7k

note. #thighmanjaehyun (>u<) please consider reblogging if you like this! it helps spread an author’s work and gives us motivation to write more. <3

it’s 7:30 in the evening. by this time jaehyun thought he’d have your hand in his and your cup of hot coco in the other, walking while looking at the christmas lights and displays— probably stopping every so often when a cute little shop catches your eye. and then jaehyun would take the opportunity to ‘coolly’ pick up whatever you’re admiring right after you set it down, insisting on buying it for you.

well, he certainly isn’t looking very cool right now and neither does he feel it— because you have him lying down in your bed, wrapped in 3 layers of blankets despite him sincerely trying to tell you he’s not even cold.

“i knew there was a possibility we’d end up in bed together by the end of the night, but i didn’t think you’d be the one to make the first move.” jaehyun jokes, signature puppy smile and laugh suddenly disappearing when a cough distorts his features.

“oh my gosh, baby. just shut up and lay down.”

you nag like a worried mother as you try to make jaehyun lay against the angled pillows you’ve tentatively arranged— rather than sitting up on your headboard like he currently is.

“wow, so desperate. not even gonna do a little foreplay before you get in my pants?”

“jaehyun!”

he giggles, all maniacal and cute like usual, making it all the way through without coughing this time.

“see that!” your boyfriend points out the small triumph, sitting up again right after you finally got him to lay in the right position. you don’t withhold your sigh of disapproval.

“i don’t even feel that bad! it’s just a little migraine and drainage. i can still take you out, baby.”

“no. going outside will probably just make you worse. we’re staying in and i’m taking care of you.” you insist.

jaehyun pouts, looking up at you with boba eyes that beg for you to just let him take you on the date he came over to execute. his cute little face almost convinces you if it weren’t for his ‘shining’ eyes that eventually drip from how watery they are, realizing it’s from irritation.

“i’ll go get you some tissues.” you say with concern, standing up immediately as the first tear streaks down his cheek. jaehyun groans and his cheeks burn in embarrassment, cringing at his failed attempt to ‘woo’ you into having his way while rubbing at the moisture with his sleeve.

you return quickly with a box of tissues cradled against your body, a bottle of medicine and cup of water in either of your hands.

“nooooo!” jaehyun childishly whines, flopping his head against your pillows and splaying his arms for extra dramatics. you’re not sure if the reaction is because he’s anticipating the gross taste of the medicine or if he sees taking the liquid as admitting defeat; that yes, he is in fact sick— and that means taking you out for a date is totally out of the question.

“yunie, come on. be good and take your medicine.”

he responds with a sigh, but otherwise gives in without any fight, surprising even himself with a sudden wave of weakness. (and…okay, maybe he isn’t feeling at his best right now.) so he begrudgingly lets you play nurse, defiant wiggling against the sheets coming to a stop— but it isn’t without a grumpy pout on his face as he refuses to look at you.

(you can't help but find his avoidant eyes and immature act a little cute.)

“good boy.” you say without thinking, focusing on opening the childproof lid of the medicine bottle.

but your boyfriend definitely notices the little pet name, his heart jumping as his eyes flick to your face for just a second before he remembers he’s supposed to be pouting, looking back down to his hands resting over his blanket covered chest.

unbeknownst to your boyfriend's inner struggle, you pour the thick purple liquid inside the cap until it reaches the measuring line, sitting the bottle down and slowly bringing the medicine to jaehyun’s mouth. he responds exactly how you thought he would— which isn’t well.

jerking his head to the side to escape the cursed purple sludge that the bottle’s wrapper swears is flavored ‘bursting berry blast’ (whatever the fuck that means? jaehyun doesn’t want his berries to burst nor blast), he simultaneously grabs your wrist that holds the cap.

you’re not annoyed— honestly you’re still pretty endeared by your crybaby of a boyfriend. but you do actually want him to take the medicine. he needs it. so you try to put your foot down, sighing a little more roughly before speaking.

“baby, please don’t make this difficult. i think you’ll survive one swig.”

“i hate that stuff, y/n! it makes me gag!”

you poorly resist laughing at how ridiculous jaehyun looks as he desperately tries to puppy-dog eye his way out of the situation again, in the back of your mind wondering how often you’ve let him have his way for him to repeatedly try this trick on you.

“tough it out, princess.”

“God, you’re so mean to meeee!” he whines and squirms, abruptly stopping with a gasp as you can tell an idea has struck him.

“wait, i know!”

“what?” you ask suspiciously, having this funny feeling that his idea probably doesn’t involve him actually taking the medicine and has everything to do with distracting you.

jaehyun’s bright expression turns into a proud smirk as he lifts a brow while looking at you. “kiss me and then i’ll take the medicine.”

(…well, you were partially right— kinda.)

“take the medicine and then i’ll kiss you.”

and jaehyun (ever the beggar and evidently not the chooser of tonight) agrees. “fine. but pour it down my mouth quickly so i can take this nasty shit like a shot.”

you smile smugly at getting your difficult boyfriend to agree and jaehyun is forced to see your stupidly cocky (yet undeniably pretty) face as one of your hands grasps his tilted chin to make sure he stays in place. leaning closer until your chest to chest (which must excite jaehyun a little, because you swear you hear and feel his breathing pick up at the press of your breasts against his pecs, hand moving to rest on the small of your back), you raise the cap to his lips and he obediently opens them (thank God). doing as he asked, you pour the liquid quickly into his mouth. jaehyun swallows it with a grimace, gagging immediately after.

“quick, kiss me!” he cries as though your lips on his will take the bad taste away.

you pull yourself out of his hold before he can force one on you— jaehyun’s squeezed shut eyes opening wide while he watches with clear betrayal as you get up from the bed to put some extra distance between the two of you.

“you…lied to me?” the boy asks, and you’re shocked at how much guilt strikes your heart when he speaks in such a soft, surprisingly heartbroken sounding tone.

“i’ll still kiss you. i just didn’t say when i’d do it.”

despite trying to say it gently, jaehyun’s eyes still sadly sink to the floor, a pout yet again forming on his lips as he turns on his side and lays down against the pillows. you wait for him to whine and complain so you’ll know he’s back to normal and not legitimately sad— but he doesn’t.

walking forward to the side of the bed he’s occupying, you kneel down, his sad little squished face revealed to you. “baby..when you get better i promise to give you all the kisses you want. you wouldn’t want to get me sick too, would you? then i wouldn’t be able to take care of you.”

“i really don’t think i’m sick though. it just feels like bad allergies.” jaehyun softly rebuttals, shiny eyes looking at your soft gaze adorably. (and at that moment you really do wish you could kiss him.)

combing your nails through his hair as you speak, jaehyun’s eyes flutter shut at the soothing sensations before blinking them slowly open again.

“can’t risk it.” you whisper. “i’m sorry, baby.”

“it’s okay.” he reassures you, moved by your genuine apology. “i was just really looking forward to this evening. while we walked around looking at lights, i wanted to buy you hot coco and stuff from the shops. n’ after i wanted to take you to the pavilion at the square.”

you coo, heart fluttering at how romantic jaehyun can be. “aw, that’s a really good date idea, baby. i bet they have the pavilion decorated all pretty for the holidays.”

“yeah, they do. there’s even mistletoe hung on the ceiling. wanted to kiss you under it while surrounded by all the pretty lights…”

you pause, cheeks warming at his soft confession as giddiness fills your heart. goosebumps cover your arms despite feeling very warm.

you press a kiss against his forehead, unable to help it. jaehyun’s tiny frown turns into a soft smile instead.

“i love you. fuck, you’re the sweetest. don’t talk like we can’t do that anymore just because you’re sick right now. the moment you’re healthy again you better take me on that date.”

jaehyun giggles softly, even when a small cough interrupts it— there’s still a smile on his face.

“you got it, princess. i love you too.”

you wake up in the morning to the soft smell of eucalyptus, the scent left over from the vaporizer you turned on for the night in hopes it would help jaehyun’s drainage.

normally you’d feel the comforting weight of jaehyun’s arms around you, but you don’t. confused, you turn over to see the spot next to you empty. rising from the bed with the intention of finding your missing boyfriend, the moment your feet hit the cold hardwood floors you’re pausing the search to put some high socks on before immediately going back to your pursuit. (it doesn’t take long to find him, being that your apartment isn’t the biggest.) you somewhat groggily walk through the hallway and end up in the kitchen— where you see jaehyun standing over the stove, sizzling something in a pan.

“morning, beautiful!” he smiles, all chipper and completely awake. “do you want an egg over your rice?”

“…aren’t you still sick?” you ask, morning voice apparent— and jaehyun notices it, judging by the teasing little spark in his eyes, but he doesn’t act on it as he responds to you.

“nope, i feel great! all back to normal. i told you it was just allergies, baby.”

“well, i’m glad i was wrong.” you smile, walking closer to wrap your arms around his middle and rest your head on his back. “and yes, i’d like an egg with my rice please.”

“i gotchu, baby. while i finish our breakfast why don’t you go brush your teeth? i recall being promised ‘all the kisses i want’, but i can smell your morning breath from here.”

you gasp with offense and softly slap your hand on jaehyun’s back, the boy laughing as he looks down at your playfully annoyed expression.

“mean!” you whine, failing to conceal your smile.

“i’m just trying to get back at you for last night.” jaehyun defends, apologizes tacked on after to make sure you know he’s genuinely kidding— but regardless you do descend to the bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth, and rangle with your bed head— not bothering to change out of your cozy pajamas.

you and jaehyun eat his yummy breakfast at your small dining table, the room lit up by the light reflecting off the snow-covered ground outside, shining through your frost framed windows.

after tag teaming the dishes, you’re finishing washing the last plate when you realize jaehyun has left your side.

“jae?” you murmur, setting down the white porcelain and turning your head, only to see your boyfriend absolutely cheesing it up with a sprig of mistletoe between his fingers, holding it above his own head like an adorable idiot.

“oh my God,” you giggle, fondly shaking your head as you abandon the sink and fully turn to face him. “where did you even get that?”

“i may or may not have snuck out early this morning to buy it…” he admits in an almost sheepish tone before quickly covering it up with a ‘flirty’ (endearingly goofy) raise of his brow. “now kiss me! it’s going against culture to not!”

“what culture?” you ask in an incredulous yet obviously amused tone. despite acting difficult, you slowly inch closer and closer to jaehyun.

“chr- christmas culture? saint nick’s? fuck if i know, just kiss me!”

“are you sure you’re not still sick? you sound pretty delirious to me.”

“i’m not!” jaehyun whines dramatically.

you’re unable to control your teasing, even as your feet are about toe to toe with him. “really? i swear your eyes still look a little watery.”

“because, y/n! i’m about to cry if you don’t fucking ki—“

granting him sudden mercy, you wrap your arms around his neck and plant your lips on his.

kissing jaehyun is always amazing, but in this moment it really hits different. the air is warm with the thermostat set high, but your skin remains slightly chilled, creating a heat between the meeting of your mouths. it sends a pleasurable tingle throughout your whole body— and so do jaehyun’s hands, which must have dropped the mistletoe, because they’re roaming all across your back and squeezing appreciatively at your waist and hips.

you’re not sure who’s fault it is for the way things take a turn, the sweet kiss becoming desperate and hungry. maybe it’s the slight chill driving you to want more warmth— the way your nipples remain hard against the rough fabric of your button up pajama shirt, even as jaehyun’s warm hands slip beneath the material to cup your breasts.

all you’re sure of is that you really want to keep kissing jaehyun— but with less clothes.

he must have the same desire because he’s backing you up without breaking the kiss until your back meets the counter, lifting you up and setting you down on it. you wordlessly spread your legs so jaehyun can stand between them, the man humming appreciatively before he eagerly leans into your lips again. his hands work blindly to unbutton your shirt— and judging by the sudden brush of air against your chest bone, he’s doing a good job at it.

when jaehyun parts from your lips to trail his kisses across your jaw and down your neck, a string of spit connects you before shortly breaking. you moan as jaehyun sucks a mark onto the soft part of your neck; the area he knows is your weak spot; that gets you wet and desperate for him every time— while he gently pushes your opened shirt off and lets it slowly fall down your shoulders.

“mmm, jaehyunie. more.” you shudder, your boyfriend responding by grazing his teeth over the sensitive skin of your throat, causing your thighs to tremble with want as you whimper and fist your hands into the material of his shirt.

“look who’s whining now.” jaehyun smirks, his voice taking that deep tone that’s so different from the higher pitched voice he usually speaks with. it sparks a fire in your belly, and suddenly all you want is for him to keep kindling it.

“pleease, yunie. touch me more.”

“okay, baby.” he whispers, leaning down to give one of your nipples a quick peck, leaving it glistening.

jaehyun takes one step back to pull his own shirt over his head, your eyes immediately dropping down to his toned stomach— and then even lower, to his hardened length that’s tenting in the confines of his pants. you’re about to express disappointment that he hasn’t removed them yet, but the words die on your tongue when his hands go to your own waistband.

he takes his sweet time, teasing you by slowly pulling them down. when the peek of your white socks are revealed, starting just below your knees— jaehyun’s trek pauses, eyes zeroing in on the sliver of fabric showing.

“jaehyun?” you ask faintly, the words floating in the air like a snowflake that’s about to dissolve. still, it breaks jaehyun somewhat out of his reverie, previously slow pace gone as he impatiently tugs your pants completely off and drops them carelessly to the floor.

“what are these?” he questions breathlessly, both hands holding your calves tenderly.

“my..socks?” you answer, but your tone sounds like it’s a question— confused as to why your boyfriend seems to like the clothing item so much. they’re just plain, no little bow or detail to them at all. “my friend bought them for me.”

“i like them.” jaehyun confirms, one finger slipping beneath the band of one sock to pull it back and snap it against your skin. an airy gasp escapes your lips at the sensation, feeling your clit pulse between you legs.

“you look so sexy in them, baby.”

“y— yeah?”

“yeah.” he says, a little throaty as he bites his lip, eyes roaming from your calves; thighs; to your pantie covered core. he pulls you by the crook of your knees until you're at the edge of the counter, his hot breath puffing between your legs. “but i think they’d look even better framing my head while i eat you out.”

your heart thrums in surprise as jaehyun pulls your panties to the side and immediately attaches his mouth to your wet pussy, groaning at your taste that coats his tongue as he swipes it through your folds.

nudging at your thighs, you understand his signal as you move your legs to rest on his shoulders. you do think it looks sexy; your legs working as a frame— not because of you, but because of your boyfriend’s face stuffed in your pussy while his usually puppy-like eyes now stare up at you wolfish and hungry. you’re glued to his gaze, unable to look away as your mouth drops open with a moan, jaehyun flicking over your clit with his tongue. the action resounds with a wet sound that has your cheeks burning and toes curling with pleasure as you lean back against your hands.

“please, jaehyunie. please, please.” you beg, mind dwindling into too much of a mess for you to even decipher what it is you’re asking for. but of course your boy seems to understand, slipping a single digit into your wanting cunt.

jaehyun easily pushes in knuckle deep, your eager pussy practically sucking him in— so he adds a second finger and looks back up just in time to see your eyes roll back.

“ah, that’s what princess needed, isn’t it? pussy needs filled up?”

your brain short circuits for a moment before you nod your head, opening your previously squeezed shut eyes to look at him. the second you do, he rewards you with his mouth back on you again, licking and sucking at your clit and folds, moving his head up and down with his enthusiasm. his fingers pump and curl inside your cunt expertly, finding yourself losing control of your reactions and coming closer to release.

jaehyun feels your legs trembling before you’re suddenly hooking your ankles and clenching your thighs around his head, the man moaning in ecstasy as the squishy flesh of your thighs press against his cheeks and create a dizzying pressure on his skull.

his fingers plunge deeper inside of you as his lips stay wrapped around your clit, determined to have you gushing in his mouth— and you do, falling apart with only a wanton whine to warn him as your back arches and eyes close in pleasure.

jaehyun practically growls when he watches your lewd expression as you cum in his mouth; how your hips start to grind against his tongue and fingers as you ride out your high. your skin is now burning hot beneath his fingertips; hair unstyled and a sexy sort of mess as it got disheveled amongst your pleasure; the white light shining through your windows like a halo above your head. (jaehyun’s sure he’s never seen something so beautiful.)

you’re panting when you finally come down, chest heaving and eyes half-lidded as jaehyun licks at his lips, savoring your taste as he stands to his feet.

“still got it in you, baby?” he asks as he looks at you with dark eyes, hand groping himself over his pants.

your pussy yet again clenches with need at the dirty display.

“yes, yunie. want your cock in me.”

at your words, jaehyun pulls his drooling dick out, yanking his pants and underwear down just enough so his balls are free. you slip your panties and socks off (causing jaehyun to curse under his breath at the arousing sight) before getting down from the counter, instead turning around to bend over it. it’s only then that you notice how your windows have the blinds raised up, leaving the two of you completely exposed.

“shit, jae! you just ate me out with the blinds open!”

“yup. and now i’m about to fuck you with the blinds open.”

you lightly flinch when jaehyun slaps his cock against your cunt, smothering it in your juices despite how he’s already lubed up enough by his own slick. despite your muttered words of embarrassment for him to shut the blinds, your back arches as you present yourself to him, causing jaehyun to smirk from behind you.

“nasty little thing, talking like you don’t want to be seen when i can literally see you clenching for it.”

(realistically, you’re on a high floor and the windows are foggy from the temperature difference outside. no one should be able to see you two. but still, the idea excites you and has your pussy pulsing tightly as jaehyun slowly pushes inside.)

“fff— fuck, oh,”

“that’s it.” jaehyun hisses between his own clenched teeth as he looks down, watching how your cunt sucks him in so eagerly— how it molds perfectly around his cock. his sexy voice does nothing to help your quivering and sensitive insides; how your skin almost tingles with arousal. you only lose more control as jaehyun makes his first deep thrust, falling forward onto the counter as your breasts press against the cold marble.

“shit— please!” you choke, but there’s no need to beg as jaehyun sets the pace.

his fingers find home in the softness of your flesh at the bend of your thigh, holding you in place as his balls slap against you with momentum.

you’ve lost all shame, crying out in pleasure as his hard cock invades your insides, cupping your own tits with your hands to play with your peaked nipples. you can hear jaehyun’s pants behind you— which are turning more moaned and broken by the second.

turning your head to see your gorgeous boyfriend, your eyes lock, and it’s evidently your turn to see his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“fucking shit— fuck! baby, you..you look so g—“ he’s unable to even finish his sentence when you clench tighter around him, cutting himself off with a groan as you’re already reacting to his praise before he’s fully said it. “i— i’m..g— gonna cum if you keep doing that. oh my God.”

“do it, jae.” you croon breathlessly, but jaehyun swears it’s like a siren’s call, sinking him further into delirium. “be a good boy n’ cum in me.”

you watch and listen as your boyfriend lets out another string of expletives, fingers tightening around your hips as he snaps into you even deeper— harder. your mouth hangs open in a silent whine as one of your hands keep working at your bud, moving the other down to swirl around your clit. jaehyun’s cock pulses inside you and you feel the electricity in the air; a band of energy pulling so taught it has to snap.

“give it to me, yunie! please!”

and the band breaks— you and jaehyun’s throaty sounds echo in your apartment as he floods your pussy with his cum, your own release dripping down your thighs. your legs tremble yet you still push back against his cock, getting slower and slower until he has to pull out from sensitivity.

you stay in your bent over position, too tired to move but also appreciating the cold of the counter as you lean down and press your cheek against it. you can barely see jaehyun from the angle before he drops to his knees, slightly trembling hands holding onto your thighs. you lift your head, thinking his knees have given out and about to start asking if he’s alright when you feel a stripe being licked up the inner part of your leg.

“jae?”

“just lemme clean you up, baby.” his hot breath puffs against your skin.

you lightly gasp as you feel his hair and nose brushing between your thighs, tongue so close to your heat as he licks up your juices until it’s all gone— and all that remains is a light trail of his glistening saliva from his tentative care.

after tucking himself back inside his pants and grimacing at how dirty he feels, he helps you off the counter and into his arms as you lean against his chest, still finding your strength.

“we need to clean up.” jaehyun whispers reverently, his hand brushing little shapes and swirls into your spine, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“m’ too weak.” you hardly mutter, letting your eyes fall shut.

“baby…did you forget you’re butt-ass-naked in the kitchen right now?”

your eyes snap open. “oh shit.”

“yeah. but don’t worry about it.” jaehyun says, stopping you with a gentle hand when you try to reach down for your clothes that were previously dropped to the floor. “we’ll take a shower together, hm? i’ll help you.”

another tender kiss to your forehead, a little bit of coaxing— and then you give in, letting yourself be led in jaehyun’s arms to the bathroom.

after showering, more kisses, and getting dressed; your energy has returned— and so has jaehyun’s.

“can i take you on the date now!” he exclaims, practically bouncing off the walls in excitement.

“baby, it’s not evening yet. we won’t even be able to see the christmas lights when the sun’s out.” you reason, and luckily that doesn’t dampen jaehyun’s spirit.

“oh, right! well— then we should marathon some christmas movies while we wait!”

your smile is so big you have to bite your lip to try and contain it, as always finding jaehyun’s usual enthusiasm absolutely heart striking and infectious. you nod your head ‘yes’ and he’s already taking your hand to walk you out of the bedroom and into the living area, rambling on about snacking on popcorn; popping some cookies in the oven; and asking if you have eggnog.

but all his words come to a halt when you sneeze behind him, and it’s like you could hear a pin drop or a snowflake fall.

turning his head and looking at you with eyes so wide they look like they’re about to pop out of his skull, jaehyun’s voice shakes. “please, for saint nick’s fucking sake— please do not tell me you feel sick.”

you hold it in for as long as you can, trying to play the act well and appear as though you’re just as afraid and shocked as him— before you can’t do it anymore, bursting into a fit of laughter as you grab onto your boyfriend’s arm while doubling over.

“i’m just kidding, i’m kidding!”

“oooh, real funny, y/n.” jaehyun responds, rolling his eyes despite the fond smile on his lips. “keep going like this and you’re gonna be on my naughty list.”

“oh?” you smirk, giggles somewhat dying down as you raise a playful brow to your boyfriend. “and what happens if i get on the naughty list?”

“want me to show you?” he challenges, the spark in his eyes mirroring your own, promising mischief.

you never really know how a day’s going to go when you’re with jaehyun, he’s always full of surprises. but one thing you are rather sure of is that this boy is going to make all your christmas wishes come true.

taglist. @zynz0 <3

note. again, plz don’t just like but reblog! thanks for reading <3 i might write another ‘version’ of this fic about the date jaehyun describes wanting to take reader on! all fluff! but i might do a different member, not sure. if you have a preferred member lmk.

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