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fangswbenefits · 1 year ago

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The Arrangement (3) - Inconvenience

Chapter summary: It is poetic irony that sharing a prison cell with Astarion is what eventually gets the two of you attempting to have a much needed conversation...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Poison sucking. Blood. Angst.

Word count: 3.5k

Previous chapter . Series Masterlist . Ao3

"You're bleeding."

"I know."

"It's distracting."

"Then look away."

He scoffed. "I can smell it."

It really wasn't a desirable occurrence to end up in one of Baldur's Gate's prisons. The last time you had the displeasure of descending into one was to liberate Gortash's victims from the Iron Throne Prison.

You had rarely been on the side that needed rescuing.

But fate worked in strange ways and had you thrown into a cold and rusty cell, trying to figure out how you ended up in this situation to begin with.

The torches scattered along the pillars of stone outside the cell provided little to no sufficient light, and it only added to the looming sense of dread.

Ripping a scrap of cloth from your clothing, you wrapped it firmly around the bleeding slash across your wrist.

Astarion sat across from you, eyeing your every move with a faint smile on his lips.

"You could have just run away, you know," you began, bringing your knees up to your chin with a sigh. "You are immune to Sleep spells."

He scoffed again with an eye-roll. "Please. I allowed myself to get caught. Gods know you could use the help."

The throb in your head intensified and you winced as discomfort tore through your body, as his words hit you.

"What help? We're both trapped inside," you ground out in annoyance.

He lifted a finger. "That, my dear, is merely an inconvenience. I am quite sure I'd be able to lockpick our way out of this."

The damp-scented mattress underneath you squeaked as you leaned against the ragged wall. "Using what? Your fangs?"

Astarion clicked his tongue. "Creative, but no. I just need to find anything to help me get through that lock." He rose to his feet and moved to inspect the sturdy door with attentive eyes.

As promising as it sounded, you knew deep down that it wouldn't be an easy feat. The guards had stripped both of you down to only your shirts and trousers, and removed anything deemed too creative.

Besides, this whole ordeal had to be a misunderstanding of sorts. It would be wise to, at least, get some enlightenment.

"Maybe we should just wait for Wyll."

He turned to you, a touch of disbelief crossing his face. "His guards put us here, in case you need a reminder."

"We did nothing wrong," you said, clutching on to reason. "We are not criminals. It's all a misunderstanding, I'm sure."

Whether it was a case of you trying to believe your own words, or because there was truth to them, remained to be seen.

As a sorcerer, it would be rather easy to blast through the cell door and be done with it, but you would only entertain that option as a last resort.

"Well, I suppose it could be worse," he said in resignation, curious fingers still prodding the lock. "At least, they didn't shove us in a cell with windows."

The lack of any opening to the outside had made it hard for you to keep track of time, but given the silence and snores from the inhabitants in the adjacent cells, you reckoned the sun had yet to rise.

Astarion would be safe from its scorching rays, for the time being.

You felt something trickling down your wrist, and upon closer inspection, you realised the cloth around it was soaked with your blood.

Odd.

Astarion was still very much entertained with the hinges and structure of the cell door to take notice of your finding.

You quickly brought another rag torn from your cloak and wrapped even tighter over the existing one, applying as much pressure as you could withstand through the pain.

Very odd.

He was now squatting down, taking a closer look at the lock, fingers tugging and rattling the device.

A true rogue at heart.

"Or, I could be sharing this cell with someone far less entertaining – like Gale," he continued. "I'd just beg the guards for a stake to rid myself of my misery."

He finished off with a dramatic laugh, but you found yourself scowling deeply.

"Can you give Gale some credit where it's due? He's helping you out."

His narrowed crimson eyes met yours. "By 'helping' you mean what, exactly? Cooking abhorrent meals and reading books that would put a screeching babe to sleep? Hardly helpful, darling."

You decided to fully ignore his taunt as patience slipped from your tired mind.

"He's going to Waterdeep in a fortnight to speak with someone willing to help out with the Wish spell," you informed as calmly as possible. "I was on my way to tell you that a couple of hours ago before… well, this happened."

His features eased and he rose to his full height, his undivided attention on you.

"Truly? That sounds promising, I suppose," he said, folding his arms. "And here I thought you were simply longing for my company. My apologies, darling."

He wasn't entirely wrong, but you would never let him know.

Suddenly, the sound of metal shrieking echoed throughout the room, and a jab of pain drummed steadily in your head.

"Wake up, you loiter-sacks!" One of the guards yelled.

Pandemonium ensued.

A wave of groggy protests were heard all around. The insults and taunts came immediately after, and your eyes widened at the vulgarity of all of it, while Astarion held the most amused smile you had ever seen on him in a long while.

He truly thrived in all things chaotic.

Another voice was heard. "Shut it, will ya?! Or no food!"

It effectively subsided most of the protests, though an occasional whispered 'fucker!' slipped through the mouths of some prisoners.

Squeaking wheels of a cart came to a halt just outside your cell, and you bolted out of the mattresses, gripping the vertical metal bars.

"Can you please call for Wyll. We need to talk to him."

The grumpy man frowned. "Am just delivering food, sweetheart. Now, have yours and get back."

He shoved a bowl of what looked like powdered wood shavings. The smell was positively nauseating , and your stomach twist and turn in revulsion.

You placed your meal on the floor, not daring to take a single bite.

A laugh burst from him before he attempted doing the same to Astarion, who visibly shuddered as he dodged the man's hand.

"Ugh. I'll pass."

He snorted, grinning maliciously. "Food strikes ain't going to get you out o' here, pretty boy."

Astarion's face twisted into an outraged look, but before he could voice out a snarky remark, the same man as before was heard.

"That one's the vampire spawn."

The guard came into view, and the atmosphere in the prison cell shifted considerably. Silence took over, only broken by some vague whispers.

"Give him pig's blood."

A few gasps erupted.

"I prefer fresh blood, thank you very much," Astarion scoffed, visibly offended. "I am not feeding on scraps."

"Astarion…" you warned him lowly, not wanting things to spiral out of control.

The delivery man shrugged to the guard and pushed the food cart out of the way so he could attend to the other prisoners.

Another guard joined in, removing his helmet to take a closer look.

"Then you'll have nothing. You are in no position to make demands, spawn."

Astarion tensed by your side but merely pressed his lips as a reply.

"Thought so," the guard chuckled.

You gripped the bars tighter, earning their attention. "Tell us what we are charged with, then."

They both exchanged looks and the first one bared his teeth. "Playing dumb, are we?"

"We didn't do anything that would warrant an arrest!" You nearly yelled in frustration. "Call for Wyll, please!"

The older man leaned in with a snarl. "The Grand Duke is absent. He might return later today."

Your heart dropped.

"Might?"

He nodded in indifference. "His duties don't bend to the will of his friends."

"We didn't do anything wrong," you said in a shaky retort, pressing your forehead against the bars. "We didn't…"

"Look, not to sound ungrateful given our luxurious abode," Astarion interjected light-heartedly, gripping your shoulders to have you take a few steps away from them. "But you do know who we are, don't you?"

"We do, and you are not above the law."

"And which law did we break, if you don't mind clarifying, of course."

The older guard was clearly running out of patience. "Killing a civilian."

Your eyes shot up immediately, and your mouth dropped in shock.

Astarion spoke before you could, his voice bearing confusion. "What? We didn't kill anyone."

"We found the body in the alleyway."

You gripped the bars again. "No! I used a Sleep spell – and he wasn't a civilian! He attacked me!"

He was now dangerously close to your face. "Listen here, princess. You are both in a sticky situation, and I advise you to watch your words."

Astarion pushed you back with his arm once again. "Lay a finger on her, and you might just turn into a vampire meal."

Tension increased tenfold all of a sudden, and you could only glare at Astarion who remained unmoved and determined to hold his menacing gaze.

"Maybe you'd prefer an overground cell, hm?" The guard spat in amusement. "Having the sun to keep you company. I'm certain we'd be sweeping your ashes from the floor before midday."

An intense wave of anger burst through you, and you reached through the bars, nearly gripping one of them. "Fuck you!"

They both laughed hysterically at your failed attempt.

One of them reached for a pouch and threw a vial at you. "A healing potion. Drink it, princess. You're bleeding out."

"Unless you are to be his vampire meal."

The other guard cleared his throat. "Oh, and be on your best behaviour, and don't even think of escaping. This place is riddled with traps."

"And we have our own mages," the other glared at you.

They laughed obnoxiously loud again before turning on their feet and walking out.

You glanced at the vial in your hand, its crimson content undulating faintly.

Blood kept on seeping through the makeshift bandages around your wrist. The blood flow hadn't decreased, and a couple of droplets were dripping on the floor.

"Drink it," Astarion urged you, pulling his eyes away from the sanguine mess.

You could tell he was extremely tense all of a sudden, slowly pacing away from where you stood.

The compulsion to drink blood could be blinding at times, and you couldn't blame him for wanting to keep a distance given the current circumstances.

You quickly popped the lid off the container and downed the sweetened liquid, immediately feeling a rush of warmth coursing through your body with each pump of your heart.

Unwrapping the soaked pieces of cloth, you noticed the slash had barely healed at all, and that the blood kept pouring out.

Astarion had definitely noticed your confusion, gripping your forearm.

"Poison," he finally said upon inspecting the wound.

You stared at him wide-eyed, as the realisation hit you hard.

They had poisoned you?

"No wonder the flow didn't decrease with the potion."

Panic spread quickly. "Why would they poison me?"

"It was most likely unintentional," he concluded, smearing his thumb across the layer of blood near your wound. "They must have coated their weapons with it and slashed you by mistake."

"We need to call them for an antidote."

He shook his head. "I doubt they have one at hand – one that actually works. These idiots aren't well-versed in poisons to begin with."

Unlike him.

"What now?"

His eyes met yours. "Do you trust me?"

You stiffened, alarm bells going off in your head. He would never ask this unless… "You're about to do something questionable, aren't you?"

"Questionable, but potentially life-saving. How do you fancy your odds?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "What do you have in mind?"

"I will suck the poison out."

Instinctively, you tried to yank your arm from his grip. "No."

He simply glared at you. "This is your best option, darling."

You eased slightly, knowing fully well he was far more experienced in poisons than you were, and between 'bleeding out to death' and 'trusting your vampire friend who also happens to know a lot about this subject', you were far more inclined to pick the latter.

But then…

"What about you? It can be dangerous."

He chuckled in amusement. "I'm undead. Besides, I won't swallow this blood. I am vehemently against wasting yours, but exceptions must be made."

"Just… be careful."

He nodded, and you watched in awe as he brought your wrist to his lips, enclosing them around the wound. As he started off with gentle suckles, you saw the first droplets of blood dribble down from the corner of his mouth.

His touch was cold as ice, and you felt his fangs lightly press against your skin, but not hard enough to break the barrier. After all, your open wound – even if not that deep or wide – was enough to draw blood.

Somewhere along the line, his eyes fluttered shut as he held you in place, and your heart skipped a few beats.

Oddly intimate.

He parted from you not long after, all bloodied, and spitting the remainder of the warm liquid on the floor.

"What a terrible way to taint your blood," he said with a wince. "It tasted… rotten."

He then grabbed a hold of your cloak – or what was left of it – and wiped his lips and chin clean.

"Just horrid."

Under different circumstances, you would have reprimanded him for it, but it was a fair exchange.

The flow of blood had already begun to waver, and you heaved a sigh of relief.

"Are you well?"

He nodded dismissively with a shudder. "The things I do for you, honestly."

Surprisingly, that did bring a faint smile to your lips.

Even if only for a fleeting moment, you were reminded of the many perils you had faced alongside each other.

He had your back, and you had his.

No matter what.

However, It still felt grim that it took an erroneous arrest and being shoved into a prison cell to catch a glimpse of the trusting bond you once shared.

One that wasn't built on a mere transaction.

He silently eyed you for a moment, with an expression that was hard to decipher.

Then, he cleared his throat and walked over to his own mattress, placing his cloak along the length of it as a way to keep the damp at bay, before taking a seat.

Classic Astarion.

"Do you reckon I can now blame Gale for us ending up in this situation?"

You arched an eyebrow, wrapping yet another piece of cloth over your closing wound. "If anything, I should be blaming you, no? We're all doing this for you."

He shrugged with a side-smile. "Fair enough."

"I didn't kill that man… I don't get it…"

"I know you didn't, but it's not me you need to convince."

You sat down in defeat, rubbing your temple. "None of this makes sense…"

"No point in dwelling on it now," he said with a click of his tongue, inspecting his nails. "Get some rest."

You blinked. "I cannot rest in a place like this."

His eyes lifted briefly. "Darling, we've had worse."

"... and better." You mumbled.

"I'll give you the 'better' once we get out of here, then. Happy now?"

You winced at his words.

"Why do you do this?" You asked, unable to contain yourself.

He dropped his hand to the side, brows furrowed. "Do what?"

"This! This constant push and pull," you said, feeling the impulsiveness take control. "I try to have a proper conversation with you, and you just… push me away."

Astarion scoffed dramatically. "This is hardly the time or the place to be having this conversation."

"I tried to have you come stay with us… even when you're feeling more… vulnerable… you never let me in," you said in exasperation, words stinging in your throat. "You just…"

The words died in your mouth at the look he gave you.

It wasn't a look of anger or annoyance or outrage.

Just… nothing.

Like he wasn't even listening to you.

"Astarion?"

As if you had just snapped him out of his thoughts, he shook his head briefly, but didn't look in your direction.

"Go get some rest."

Had you pushed too far? He didn't sound upset, but then again, he was a master in deception whenever the situation called for it.

"Astarion…"

He was gazing out of the cell door, as if something far more interesting was worthy of his attention.

"I wasn't the one who pushed you away."

You sat up straighter, heart hammering fast against your ribcag. "Then who?"

"You did."

"What?"

He turned his head to you this time. "Don't pin this on me. You had all of me, and you chose to walk away."

A growing feeling of discomfort began to rise within you, competing with the confusion that had taken root.

And then…

Moonrise Towers.

That night.

"You didn't need a lover."

He sneered. "What about what I wanted?"

"Astarion, you–"

He immediately cut you off. "Don't. I wanted to be with you. I yearned for you like I never did for anyone else, and you chose the easy way out."

You were at a loss for words.

The conversation with Gale the day before immediately came to mind.

"Easy way out? You actually think I didn't have feelings for you back then?"

"Gods, then you should have fought for me – with me!"

He was being unreasonable. The pain of rejection had certainly seeped deeply into him, and it was now resurfacing brutally.

"And I did that! By giving you time and space. Besides, we had more pressing matters back then that required our undivided attention."

He looked back at you coolly. "How many nights did we spend thinking it would be our last?"

That caught you off guard.

"How many nights did you cry yourself to sleep, not knowing if we'd live to see another day?"

You fell silent, unsure of what to say.

"Yet you preferred having that emptiness and despair for company instead of being with me," he went on, his words were as knives that cut through you ruthlessly. "So do not lecture me about pushing others away, when you so clearly excel at that."

It took you a moment to find your voice again amidst the concoction of emotions that swirled in your head.

His accusations were unfounded. You knew this. But realising that that was how he really felt about the entire situation made you feel sadness beyond comparison.

That he mistook your altruism for selfishness.

"I did what was best for you… and for us."

You wouldn't cry.

You couldn't cry.

"And was that what you wanted?"

"What you needed mattered more than what I wanted. That's how much I cared for you," you said, voice wavering. "And I still do. Even through all your deception and lies and manipulation… you still came first."

That seemed to have taken him by surprise, and his face softened.

"You constantly mistake what you want with what you need, not even caring about the possible consequences," you went on with newfound vigour.

He scowled yet again. "I constantly cast aside what I want in favour of others."

You scoffed in disbelief. "You're not the epitome of selflessness you think you are, Astarion."

"What I want still matters!"

"If you'd done what you wanted, you would have sacrificed the souls of seven thousand spawn!" You exploded in a fit of rage.

You were met with silence.

Deafening silence.

"You would have become the Vampire Ascendant and lost yourself in the process."

After glaring at you for a while, he then had the nerve to laugh. "Maybe that would have been the better option."

A sudden wave of nausea settled in the pit of your stomach. "You don't mean that."

"Stop speaking for me," he said through gritted teeth, words dripping with poison. "I had enough of it for two hundred years under his command – stop it!"

Your mouth had dropped open, and you were left speechless.

"Oi! Lovebirds, quit the chit-chat." One of the nearby guards rattled on the metal bars with a mace. "I'm afraid marriage counselling is postponed until further notice."

The other prisoners laughed and whistled teasingly as he walked away.

Decided you were done with this conversation, you leaned back and rolled down to your side, facing the wall and fighting back the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks.

You just couldn't stand looking at him.

Or even being near him.

You could only hope that Wyll would come back sooner rather than later, so you could finally get away from Astarion.

For good.

Disclaimer: sucking the poison from one's wound (in case of a snake bite, for example) has been discredited many decades ago. It's not really effective, and can do more harm than good, especially to the person doing the sucking. But for the purposes of this story, it works because fiction and magic and all that! Let's suspend our disbelief for a moment 😌

I don't keep taglists, so please consider adding this story to your alerts on Ao3 🩷

Next chapter: Solution

Series Masterlist . Masterlist

#astarion x female tav #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion angst #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion x mc

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megalony · 3 months ago

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Exploding Emotions- Part 2

After getting a lovely request and so much feedback, I managed to do a follow up for this Evan Buckley imagine, I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: While out on a call, an accident gives (Y/n) flashbacks to the night her husband got trapped beneath the fire truck and what happened to her while he was stuck.

Enjoy.

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"Mr Buckley, please-"

"Off! Off, get off!"

When a blunder of 'fuck off' and 'leave me the fuck alone' spluttered past Evan's bloodied lips, everyone in the room was surprised. He had been stuttering through the simplest of words since they got him in the ambulance, but now he was riled up he wasn't quieting down. And his expletives had been loud and clear.

His arms thrashed at his sides and he fought off the hands trying to push him back down on the gurney.

All the team looked at one another, unsure what to do. They needed him off the gurney and onto the bed, but Evan wasn't making any of this easy. The more Evan thrashed around, the harder he would make it on his leg and the more pain he was going to give himself. Not to mention moving and disrupting his leg could cause damage to the split blood vessels and torn muscles and the bone that was splintered in multiple places.

"Let us get him on the bed." Bobby waved his hand towards Hen and Eddie while Chimney stood in the doorway with Maddie clinging to his arm.

It was going to be easier if the team transferred him onto the bed in the middle of the room. They weren't leaving until Evan was safely in an operating room and right now, he was in the trauma unit in the ER. He was getting a portable X-ray, his leg would be assessed and they would see what kind of surgery he needed and get him on monitors and most importantly, medication.

Hen and Eddie busied themselves carefully twisting Evan onto his right side so they could place a slip sheet beneath him but once he was rolled onto his back again, his hands were moving. He smacked Eddie in the shoulder with a surprising amount of force before he fisted Bobby's shirt in his hands.

"(Y/n). (Y/n)."

"Okay, let's sort you out first, kid, okay?" Bobby held his arms while Eddie and Hen pulled the sheet on the count of three.

Evan screamed. His voice crumbled and the sound pierced through the air when he was jostled onto the trauma bed and the gurney was shunned out of the way.

"I m-missed it." Evan's words came out as a whisper that no one else seemed to hear. His eyes rolled from left to right and briefly tilted to look at the back of his head. He couldn't get his thoughts in order, he could barely see and he felt like he was on a boat, rocking over tumulous waves in the ocean. Everything fizzled out for a few seconds.

All he knew was he had missed one of the most important moments of his life.

His girl was already here. She was already in the world and Evan hadn't set his sights on her yet. He hadn't held her in his arms, he hadn't kissed her or introduced himself. He hadn't promised her the world and told her how much he loved her and everything he would do for her to give her the best life and make sure she was loved every day of her life.

He didn't hold her when she was born, he didn't cut the cord or hear her first little cry. He wasn't one of the first things she saw when she opened her eyes. His daughter had probably been held by ten other people by now, all of them except for him. Nurses, midwives, (Y/n), Maddie. His sister had seen his daughter before him.

How was this right? How was any of this fair?

His senses came back to him in one big hit like the truck had collapsed on him all over again when someone tried to touch his leg. His left leg, the one that wasn't currently split open, automatically jerked and twitched from the pain that radiated throughout his whole nervous system that had been shot to pieces by now.

He did his best to sit up. He didn't want to be laid down because it was making him feel woozy and sick.

He felt a bit better when someone angled the bed up so he was at an angle. He was barely sitting upright and still felt mostly laid down, but it was better than nothing.

His upper lip curled and he huffed when someone started undoing the buttons on his shirt. What were they doing? Why were they stripping him down? His trouser leg had already been cut off near the bottom of his boxers to expose the full extent of his injuries. He gruffed and groaned when he was leant forward and his shirt was pulled off him completely.

But when cold stickers attached to his chest and wires clipped in place, he started to get uncomfy. The ECG machine beeped to life, showing his erratic heartbeat that was far too fast for his own good. And when a blood pressure cuff was slid onto his arm, Evan reeled his arms to his chest and closed his eyes.

The numbers were too high. He was getting more and more unsettled and he was going to crash if this carried on.

He barely felt the lady tapping the back of his hand and inserting a cannula into his vein.

"(Y/n)! I want- I want-" Evan paused for a moment when someone held his arm. Their touch was gentle, their hands soft and their presence so close that his pleading came to an abrupt stop.

He twisted to the left to see who it was, to see if it was his wife like he was been praying for.

It wasn't.

"…blood thinners now, and get a dose of morphine ready. Get the leg in place for a quick X-ray, and I want the anaesthesiologist in here now."

Most of the doctor's words reached Evan's ears, but he was more focused on dragging his arm away from the nurse at his side. He didn't want her help. He wanted (Y/n). He wanted his wife. He needed his daughter. He hadn't seen her yet, were they going to be cruel enough to make Evan wait to see his daughter? Was nine months not long enough?

A bubbling scream erupted from his lips and his body writhed when his right leg was moved. Their touch was tender and slow but Evan felt like his leg was hanging on by a single thread that was about to snap. He didn't like the foam blocks placed on either side of his leg to get a clear X-ray. He didn't like them moving the wires and straps around his fragmented skin to make the shot clearer.

And he hated the small, portable X-ray that was wheeled over his leg and felt like half of his body was stuck in a tanning machine.

All the surrounding bodies stepped back so pictures could be taken and every time his leg was adjusted, his split knuckles bashed into the bedframe and he screamed.

Maybe it would be better if they just chopped the leg off. He wouldn't be in agony if they simply knocked him out and took it off. He wouldn't have this pain, this suffering, this agonising wait.

All he cared about was seeing his girls, his leg be damned.

"I want my wife!" Blood and spit foamed past his lips and acidic tears stained his already bloodshot cheeks as his chest started to shudder up and down against the bed.

He moved his trembling hands to the ECG wires that felt like they had been superglued to his chest. He ripped them off without a second thought and tried to throw them away. He snagged the cannula from his wrist, not caring that even more blood was leaving his body and was going to drain him dry. He had to find his girls, wherever they were. They were too far away from him.

"Mr Buckley calm down. You need to let us help you."

"Buck no don't do that. Stop it!" There was an odd sense of authority in Hen's voice but it fell upon deaf ears.

"I want m-my wife!" His words screamed through the air and had everyone wincing and jerking away from him.

But when one of the doctors grabbed Evan's wrist and shoulder and tried to pin him to the bed, all Hell broke loose. A deafening roar left Evan's lips, his body jerked up from the bed and he thrust his arm up as harsh as he could until his elbow smashed into the doctor's nose.

The doctor stumbled back, knocking into the ECG machine before Eddie grabbed him, saving him from a harsh landing on the floor. Both his hands moved to cradle his nose that was splurting out blood and had officially been broken.

He ripped himself out of Eddie's steadying hands and stumbled to the back of the room. He couldn't help anymore. He coughed into his hands, anger and resentment in his eyes before he looked around the room.

"Someone get his damn wife in here before he kills the anaesthesiologist." With a shake of his head, the doctor headed out the room to get himself cleaned up and assessed by a colleague.

If Evan was going to start breaking bones until he had his wife in the room, then someone had to go and fetch her. They couldn't have him lunging for the anaesthesiologist who they would need to put him under ready for an operating room.

Bobby dragged his hand through his hair and twisted to look at the doorway while Hen and Eddie moved over to Evan. Hen busied herself holding Evan's hips down to the bed while Eddie grabbed his wrists, bracing one knee on the side of the bed so he could lean over Evan and pin him down as he struggled.

A round of "No!" and "Fuck off!" was spat at them, but neither of them listened.

"This is for your own good, if you want that leg then stop fighting us."

"Maddie, is (Y/n) in recovery now?" The pain in Bobby's eyes was evident. He didn't want his daughter to witness her husband in this state, it wouldn't be fair. She had been through an ordeal herself and she had only just had her baby. She would be exhausted and in pain and maybe on meds herself, she didn't need to be moving about she should be resting.

But Bobby knew his daughter. He knew she would be worrying, if not crying and screaming about not knowing the state of her husband. She would want to see Evan and right now, they needed her help.

When Maddie nodded, Bobby brushed the few tears out of his eyes. "Go bring her down here as fast as you can. She's the only one he'll listen to."

Maddie set off into a sprint, Chimney following one step behind her. They would comandeer a wheelchair and snatch (Y/n) from her hospital bed. She would willingly come down to the trauma unit with them once they hurriedly explained what was going on. They needed (Y/n) to calm Evan down because they would end up hurting him to sedate him if he continued to fight.

The remaining doctor and nurses looked at the X-ray images, conferring together in the corner of the room about the damage to the bone. They were all in agreement. They could save the leg if the blood vessels could be repaired and the nerves were in tact, and judging by the way his leg jerked and reacted to stimulant, he had a chance.

"Give me your hand for the IV." Hen turned around with a huff and pinned the right side of her chest and hip down into Evan's abdomen to try and keep him still and in place.

She tried to take his hand when Eddie let go of his wrist, but she couldn't get a good grasp when Evan started throwing his arm out at her. He wasn't opposed to elbowing, hitting and punching his colleagues if they were going to continue pinning him to the bed like this.

"Alright kid." Leaning over while Eddie had Evan's shoulders and left hand and Hen was practically laying on his waist, Bobby grabbed Evan's chin. It stopped him from trying to sit up and prevented him from writhing back and forth so much. "My daughter isn't coming in here with you lashing out at your own team and bleeding all over the place. So get that IV back in and stay put."

As much as Bobby wanted to be understanding, caring, compassionate, and be the father Evan had seemed to make him when they became family, he just couldn't. He couldn't give in to those feelings because they were making Bobby cry and giving in to Evan's lashing out wasn't going to help.

Bobby wouldn't let (Y/n) in here if Evan was lashing out because what if he hurt her by mistake? What if seeing him in a state like this pushed (Y/n) over the edge and sent her into shock? What if it upset her too much and she broke down?

If he wanted to see his wife, he had to calm down just a little and let them help him. (Y/n) wouldn't let Evan fight everyone in the room if she was here and they all knew it.

They were lucky he hadn't been restrained to the bed already for breaking a doctor's nose. Bobby was going to have to have a few conversations and do some pleading to make sure the doctor didn't sue or try and cause problems for Evan after this. But the doctor hadn't seemed vengeful, he seemed to understand that Evan was acting out of trauma and the worst agony of his life. This wasn't how he usually would be.

(Y/n) could hear evan before she set her sights on him.

Her hands were trembling, curled as tightly as possible around the arms of the wheelchair until her knuckles were close to popping through her skin.

The discomfort she felt and the agonising pain she had just been through with their daughter was nothing compared to the symphony her heart was creating from being apart from Evan. The agony she was in from not knowing if Evan was okay, from knowing he was in immense agony and there was nothing she could do about it.

Maybe now she could do something. She wanted to be there when he had been trapped. She had so desperately wanted to hold his hand and kiss his tears away and hold his hand through the mess. But she couldn't. Maybe now, she could calm him through the storm and then be there on the other side when he was out of surgery.

The sound of her husband's screams and tormented, gasping sobs called out to (Y/n) before they were down the hall in the trauma unit.

She pushed up onto trembling, heavy legs that felt like they were made of cement. Her knees tensed and tightened but hersocks glided against the floor as she shuffled towards Evan's room, using the wall as leverage to push herself faster. The dull cramps in her abdomen livened up as she moved, but she didn't care.

The sounds in trauma room three died down when (Y/n) appeared in the doorway. One arm secured around her waist, the other clinging to the doorframe. Hair askew and falling out the bun at the back of her head, eyes heavy, knees trembling and tears drenching her face once again.

Bobby's lips rolled together into a thin line that stopped him from bursting into tears then and there. He kept hold of Evan's shoulders but his eyes stayed focused on his daughter as she hurried into the room.

Both Hen and Eddie let go of Evan and backed away until they were stood at the far side of the room, allowing the doctor and two nurses to take their place so they could continue to assess him and get him ready. And Bobby finally let go of Evan and stepped back, resting one hand on his daughter's back as he leaned over to peck her temple.

As soon as Evan's sights set on (Y/n), a river of tears poured down his face and the ache in his heart overtook the throbbing trauma splitting apart in his leg.

Trembling set in all over his body and he finally stopped writhing against the bed as if all the worry, the tension and the pain had left his body. He didn't realise the nurse had confiscated his left hand so she could inject blood thinners and the morphine into his cannula.

Instead, Evan reached his right hand out towards (Y/n) as his lower lip wobbled and he started to sob.

A shudder ran down (Y/n)'s spine when she dared to look down at Evan's legs and her hand moved to cover her mouth. But it didn't stop a broken "Oh God," from leaving her lips.

It was worse than she expected. Seeing him being dragged free from that truck, he looked better than this. He looked like his leg was still attached and useable and able to be fixed. But seeing him right now, with the muscle split apart, the bone shattered into tiny fragments and all the blood soaked down his leg, (Y/n) felt sick.

Was his leg going to be saved? What would happen if Evan woke up with nothing below the knee? How would be cope? What would they do?

Shock had (Y/n) shaking and spasming, but she forced herself to look away from the tattered mess that was her husband's leg. Her hands reached out and she stood as close to the bed as possible, with her dad stood behind her, close by in case he had to step in.

Reaching her left hand out, (Y/n) shakily dragged her fingers through Evan's hair that was damp with smoke, sweat and surprisingly, blood. She raked her nails through the matted knots and leaned as close as possible while her right hand deadlocked around his left hand that was held out towards her.

"Oh baby," It hurt to crease forward but she didn't care, (Y/n) leaned over and smothered her lips against his temple. She could feel how flushed he was and he smelt of smoke and dirt and burnt rubber.

She inhaled all the different scents until all she could focus on was the scent of her strawberry shampoo that she bought multitudes of because she knew her husband used it every time he washed his hair. Her lips moved against his temple, whispering sweet nothings against his skin while he clenched her hand so tightly she wondered if he was going to break her hand.

Evan had gone oddly still on the bed, the only movement being the trembling that wouldn't stop, even with the high dose of morphine they gave him a few moments ago. After a few broken cries and hitched breaths, Evan turned his head to the right and burrowed his face into (Y/n)'s lower chest. He tried to take deep breaths, breathing into the shirt she wore which he recognised as one of his own along with his pair of joggers.

So that was what she had packed into the maternity bag she made in advance for when she went into labour.

"I- I'm so, s-so sorry-" He couldn't speak clearly for hiccupping and he let go of her hand in favour of binding his arm around her waist. He didn't want to hurt her, but he reeled her closer and smothered his face against her lower chest. His cries got worse when he nudged his nose against her stomach that now felt different.

Empty.

"The only thing you need to be sorry for, is hurting that doctor. You're gonna be okay, baby. It's okay."

She had been told why they were dragging her down to the trauma unit, although the moment Maddie said Evan needed her, (Y/n) was already up out of bed. She would have run all the way down here if her sister in law hadn't of practically heaved her into the wheelchair Chimney confiscated on the way up. They told her Evan was lashing out and he'd accidentally whacked one of his doctors.

They explained they were worried how they would sedate him in this state. No one had seen him so riled up and infuriated and broken before.

"I wasn't t-there… you had… had her alone." The more Evan thought about it, the worse he felt. He wanted to change time. He wanted to go back and put the universe back into place. He wanted to make everything better, have no mangled leg and have his daughter in his arms and the memory of her birth in his mind.

He knew for as long as he lived, he was never going to get over this. The ADHD part of his brain was going to hold this over him for the rest of his life. He was going to be infuriated for as long as he lived that the universe had broken him on the very night that he was supposed to welcome his first child into the world.

He tried to open his eyes, but looking at (Y/n)'s misshapen stomach only made him howl. And nuzzling his nose and lips against her soft bump where there was no longer a baby moving and kicking him made him hold her tighter.

He bound his arm around her back until he was beginning to hurt her and he buried his face into her abdomen until (Y/n) had to tilt her head back and take a deep breath to control her reaction. She didn't want him to know it hurt to hold her tight and she didn't want Evan to feel any worse. If holding her was going to calm a tiny part of him down then that was okay, (Y/n) would bear the uncomfortableness. She had been through much worse tonight, and the night was far from over.

"It's okay, shh." Tilting her head back down, (Y/n) kissed Evan's curls and moved her free hand to brush her thumb across his cheek. She glided her fingers around the side of his neck and slowly moved her thumb up and down his cheek and across his jaw while she pressed sloppy kisses to the top of his head.

"Is she o-okay?"

The tender tone in Evan's voice made (Y/n)'s heart soar, break and melt all at the same time.

She pulled back just a tiny bit so she could bend her knees and move down to Evan's height. Her fingers continued to card through his hair which seemed to be calming him down and keeping him in a soothed state. Her other hand cupped the side of his face and she pressed a chaste kiss to his wet, bloodied lips.

"She's perfect, a-and she's waiting for you." (Y/n) took a deep breath when she heard the door open and felt her dad's hand on her shoulder.

"They need to sedate him now and take him for surgery." Bobby kissed the top of (Y/n)'s head as he squeezed her shoulder. They had given Evan morphine, they had done an X-ray and they had managed to see his nerve endings and his blood vessels were somewhat in tact and could be saved.

He needed to go straight to an operating room so they could start patching him up. With Evan being so enraptured with (Y/n), the nurse had already managed to give him some more medicine through his IV to settle his heartbeat. And she was now prepping something to bring down his blood pressure so he would be stable for surgery.

"Baby, someone's here to prep you now."

A tiny, croaked whimper left Evan's lips and he tried to bury his face in her stomach again, but (Y/n) kept hold of his cheek and nudged her nose against his.

"It's okay, because you're gonna get that leg fixed, and when you wake up, I'll be right here holding your hand. And you can see your little girl, okay baby?"

(Y/n) figured the noise Evan let out was him agreeing with her. His eyes closed and his trembling simmered down for a moment when (Y/n) kissed his chapped lips, tasting the blood on her tongue when they parted. She leaned back up to her full height again which made her stomach feel a bit better. But having Evan tucking himself into her stomach like he was filling the void their daughter had left made her feel queasy.

He stayed compliant, left arm now wrapped around (Y/n) while his right hand was held in the nurse's frail grip so she could give him the medicines to settle his heartbeat and blood pressure.

The anaesthesiologist checked Evan's chart while the ECG clips were reattached to his chest, his leg was shifted and kept in place and the bed was lowered so he was flat on his back again.

"Okay Mr Buckley, once this is in your system, we'll get this mask on you and I'll need you to start counting for me. Don't worry, when you wake up, your lovely lady will still be right here with you." The newest doctor seemed calm and attentive with a charming smile that Evan couldn't see as he was still tucked up against his wife.

He must deal with troublesome patients a lot.

He fiddled with the medicine trolley and once a large dose was in Evan's system to work with the anaesthesia, he found the mask and got the tank turned on.

Evan whimpered again, trying his best to tuck himself into his wife, but no one was having it. He was compliant now, they could move him with ease without fearing a broken bone in retaliation.

"S'alright baby, I'll be here when you wake up." (Y/n) kissed his temple while Eddie gently rolled his shoulders back so he was laid on his back.

She began dragging her fingers through his hair in a soft, rhythmic motion and went back to holding Evan's hand so it wasn't bruising her waist anymore. She could feel tears drenching her face when Evan shuddered at the mask going over his lips. He didn't count like he had been asked, but he tried to mutter something which was as good as counting.

The shaking started to subside the more anaesthesia he inhaled until he was loosening his grip on (Y/n)'s hand. Softly drifting into a calm state of sleep, with the last thing he could make out being (Y/n)'s voice as she murmured "I love you." In his ear.

***

Opening her tired eyes, (Y/n) cast them about the room and soon felt herself waking up immediately when she heard Evan started to mumble.

It took some effort to push herself up from the small cot bed that had been laid out in the right corner of the room and (Y/n) felt her stomach crease and twinge when she pushed up to her feet. All she wanted to do was lay down and go to sleep, but she hadn't slept for over two days now.

As soon as Evan went into the operating theatre, (Y/n) thought that maybe she would get an hour or two of sleep, but her body decided against her. She couldn't sleep, her mind was too wired with the sound of Evan's cries and the mangled formation of his leg burned into her eyelids.

She hadn't been able to settle for fear of seeing Evan come out of that operation with only one leg. She wouldn't be able to piece her husband back together if he lost his leg. And (Y/n) didn't know what she would do if the operation didn't go well.

She had spent the hours cradling her daughter and crying while her parents tried in vain to comfort her and reassure her that everything would be okay.

When Evan's operation was finally over and they got him onto a ward in the recovery unit, (Y/n) made a small request. She was going to be discharged in the morning as long as her baby was feeding properly and all the checks were okay. (Y/n) asked if she could stay in Evan's room until she was discharged. She didn't care if that meant sleeping in a chair, just as long as she and their daughter could be in the same room as Evan so when he woke up, their family would be together.

Bobby and Athena had finally gone home for a few hours of sleep and would be back in the morning. Maddie had been in to see Evan, but he had been ninety percent asleep and high on morphine so he hadn't spoken a word. But she had been reassured her brother was okay and would be on the mend, so she and the team had all gone home with the promise that tomorrow afternoon, they would be back to see him.

Now though, now Evan seemed that he was finally coming out of the anaesthetic and (Y/n) was hoping he would finally wake up and be conscious enough to talk.

Shuffling across from the little cot bed, (Y/n) slowly heaved herself up to sit on the side of Evan's bed. She took his left hand in hers and entwined their fingers together while her right hand gently brushed across the side of his temple. She carded her fingers through his hair and peppered a few kisses to his cheek as he began to groan and twist his head from left to right.

It took a few minutes for him to properly come around. His fingers twitched in her grasp, his eyelids fluttered and little murmurs and noises left his chapped lips before he finally started to wake up.

"Evan, baby, are you with me?" Her fingers tangled through his hair when he opened his eyes and managed to focus his sights on her.

She leaned back to be out the way when Evan moved his free hand and shakily clutched the oxygen mask strapped over his mouth and nose. With one swift yank, he ripped it off his face and tossed it to the side.

"(Y/n)? I- did I…" He pressed his head back into the pillow and arched his chest up off the bed as he tried to draw in a deep breath.

Oh God, why did his mind feel like it had been beaten with a whisk? Why did his body feel like he was floating but with the absolution that any moment now someone was going to yank his chains and have him falling through the air to a harsh landing.

When his eyes opened again, Evan moved his right hand until his fingers were tracing over his thigh, but he couldn't find the will to move them any further past his knee.

Did he still have both his legs?

He could feel tears welling up in his eyes that were aching from the headache forming in his throbbing temple. But when he looked over at his wife, he found comfort in the tepid smile on her lips and the feel of her lips pressing against his cheek.

"Your leg's still there, baby, just with a few bolts and pins to keep the bone in place. You'll be up and walking in no time."

The relief was evident in Evan's features and he allowed a tear or two to slip down his features while he squeezed her hand. He tried to take a few deep breaths. He still had both legs. He would be able to walk soon. It might take some time, but he wasn't going to be learning how to walk with a prosthetic or crutches. He would be walking about soon. He would still be able to do his job.

"Talk to me baby, do you feel okay?"

"I feel high."

A quiet laugh rumbled past (Y/n)'s lips and she leaned down to kiss him, feeling elated when he squeezed her hand and leaned into her touch.

Feeling high was preferable to the pain he had been in last night. It was much more preferable than being in agony or feeling

uncomfortable or sick or drowsy or like he was having a bad reaction to the medication. If the morphine was making him feel high then it was doing its job and making sure he was comfortable and that's what they wanted.

"Good." Her lips formed a smile, but there was something hiding in her eyes that made Evan uneasy. He leaned into her touch, nuzzling his cheek into her palm, but when he saw the tears in her eyes, he felt his heart rate picking up. "Evan, I'm sorry baby. I'm so sorry I wasn't there, I tried-"

"You? Sweetheart it's me that should have been there."

He tried to sit up, but he didn't have the willpower or the core strength and he flopped back into the pillow with a groan. Until (Y/n) let go of his face to press the button beside the bed, tilting the bed up at an angle so he was sitting up rather than lying down.

Sorrow filled his eyes as his right hand moved out to skim his fingers across her stomach. Only a few days ago he had done that and felt kicking against his palm. He had kissed her stomach and told their baby that he couldn't wait to meet and hold them and kiss them.

Now it was all over and he hadn't been there for any of it. He had let (Y/n)) go through something so traumatic without him and he was never going to be able to rectify that.

"You needed me, you needed help, and I- I couldn't help you-"

(Y/n) wondered how things would have gone if she hadn't of been in labour last night. Would she have been able to go to the scene if she wasn't in labour? Would her mum have taken her down there and let her hold Evan's hand while the team got him out? Could she have calmed him down while he was stuck beneath that truck? Could she have calmed him and travelled in the ambulance with him and made some sort of difference when he arrived?

She wanted someone to have been holding his hand through that ordeal. None of the team had told him he would be okay, they didn't hold his hand or kneel beside him to let him know he wasn't alone. Bomber or not, they shouldn't have left Evan alone. (Y/n) was never going to let go of that and she would never forgive herself for being in the hospital when Evan needed her the most.

"I broke every promise I made you. I wasn't with you… you gave birth alone, I- I wanted to be there, to hold your hand, a-and hold her…" When tears started to fall down Evan's face, (Y/n) let go of his hand in favour of cupping his face and pressing a tender, wet kiss to his lips.

"Maddie kindly took your place," Her thumbs swiped beneath his eyes to dry away his tears. "We can't change what happened, baby, but you're gonna be there for so much more. Her first word, her first steps, when she falls and cries and laughs, you'll see it all."

No matter how badly they wanted to change what had happened, they couldn't. All they could do was make sure that nothing like this happened again, and they could move forward.

(Y/n) didn't dare broach the subject just yet about Evan's recovery. The doctor was going to have to explain that he would need another operation to remove the pins, and maybe a third if the bone needed setting again or if any complications arose. Physio was going to take some time and he wouldn't be at work for at least five months, maybe more.

But that would give Evan ample time to be with their daughter. He could hold her and cuddle her to his heart's content. He would be there for her first smile, her giggles, her moving and interacting with them. And in the years to come, he would see her first words and her first steps, he would be there for everything that was important. Missing the birth wasn't much in comparison to what he was going to witness in the future.

"She won't remember or hold it against you that you weren't there, you know. I'd rather you miss the birth and be there for the first word or her first day at school. You'll be there when it counts, that's what she will remember."

Tilting her head forward, (Y/n) pressed her temple down into Evan's chest, smiling against his skin when she felt him kiss the top of her head and weave his arm around to cup the back of her neck. She felt his fingers tangle into her hair and they stayed like that for a few moments until (Y/n) finally tilted her head to look up at him.

"Are you ready to meet her?"

The light that lit up Evan's eyes was one that made (Y/n)'s stomach flip and she felt him bristle against her as he looked around the room. He hadn't thought she would be here or anywhere nearby, but Evan's eyes locked on the small plastic cot he hadn't noticed before at the far side of the room.

His baby was here. His baby girl was sleeping soundly across the room, so close that he should have felt her presence already.

He had waited long enough.

He didn't realise he was shaking until (Y/n) glided her hand up and down his chest and pressed a soft, fluttering kiss against his cheek. She patted his chest and slowly stood up to move across to the cot, feeling Evan's eyes on her with every step she took.

(Y/n) brushed her cheek against her shoulder to try and stop herself from crying when she turned around and slowly perched back down on the side of the bed. Evan was still shaking and he didn't look certain that he would be able to hold their daughter without dropping her, but that wasn't going to stop him.

His arms moved out before he could think about any of it and his teeth sank into his bottom lip as he trembled, desperate for that little weight to be rested in his arms.

A quiet gasp left his lips when the newborn was placed in the crook of his left arm and the movement seemed to wake her up. He didn't mean to wake her when she had clearly been sound asleep, but he was mesmerised by those bright, wide eyes that stared up at him when she came around. Her hands had little mittens covering them so she didn't scratch her nose in her sleep and Evan reached out to remove one of them.

He wanted to see the difference in the size of their hands. All of her tiny fingers could barely curl around his thumb and when he brushed his index finger against her chubby cheek, she actually leaned into the touch.

"She's beautiful." He couldn't help the tears he shed when he looked down at his little girl in his arms.

It took Evan a moment to remove his finger from her tiny hand, but when he did, he carefully shifted his hand around so he was holding her sides, allowing him to lift her up. He held her close to kiss her cheek that felt warm and cosy against his skin, and he tugged the itchy, uncomfortable hospital gown out the way so he could lean his daughter against his chest.

He loved the feeling when she instantly nuzzled herself into his bare chest as if the warmth was reeling her in. He curled his large hand around the back of her head and glided his thumb over the small streaks of hair that felt as soft as silk against the rough pad of his thumb.

The way she smacked her lips against his chest felt like she was trying to give him a kiss and Evan reciprocated the touch by attaching his lips to the top of her warm head.

"We need a name, up to now the nurses are calling her baby Buckley." (Y/n) dragged the back of her hand gently across their daughter's head, nudging Evan's hand before she moved to rest her hand on his arm instead.

Their eyes locked for a few seconds while Evan remembered the little agreement they'd had. They had a list of four names they had agreed on, depending on whether they had a girl or a boy and whoever guessed the gender right got to pick the name. Evan guessed a girl.

"Do you think Lilah suits her?" He mused, not breaking his lips away from her head since his girl was nicely snugged into his chest.

For a brief moment, Evan let his eyes drag away from both his girls and he looked down at his right leg. He had a cast from his foot all the way up to the middle of his thigh. Great. For the next month, he wouldn't be walking without a struggle. It sent shivers up his spine, but he warded away the bad thoughts with the knowledge that he still had a leg and he could learn to walk properly again and he could build up his strength.

He wasn't starting from the beginning with a prosthetic and crutches, waiting to adapt.

"Lilah Buckley it is." (Y/n) murmured softly, leaning across so she could kiss Evan's neck while her hand moved to rest on his good thigh.

She watched him for a few more moments as he got Lilah comfortable on his chest and slowly reclined into the pillows, easing her back on his chest. He still hadn't stopped kissing her temple and the way he was leaning from left to right was slow and almost unnoticable, but it made her smile. She dragged her free hand up and down his arm, gliding her nail across his skin to cause goosebumps in her wake as her head tilted to one side and she grinned.

"You're not gonna put her down, are you?" (Y/n) had a feeling that for however long Evan was going to be in hospital, their daughter was going to remain in his arms.

If he couldn't get up and walk about or carry her, he would be sitting here. Evan would want to feed her, he would want to wind her and cuddle her and get her to sleep on his chest so he never had to put her down. It was going to be hard for anyone else to try and hold her when Evan seemed to want to attach her to his person twenty-four seven.

The way he grinned against their daughter's head confirmed (Y/n) was right, but she didn't mind. She could see the serenity in Evan's eyes and the calmness that was washing over his face. He wasn't bothered about the state of his legs, the pins attached to his bone that was covered in a cast. He couldn't be bothered to think about the nuisance this cast was going to be for the next few weeks.

Evan couldn't even work up the nerve to think about the struggle he had ahead of him. All he could think about was the sense of peace he had now that his daughter was in his arms.

"Never."

#imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #pregnant! reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #bobby nash #eddie diaz #exploding emotions

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simpforrooster · 1 year ago

Text

someone like me.

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x f!reader

summary: rooster gets jealous at the attention the bartender keeps giving you.

t/w: mentions of alcohol

“Can I get you another?” the bartender asks you.

You’re seated next to your best friend, Bradley Bradshaw. Callsign, Rooster. Jake talked the squad into heading to the town over for line dancing.

The bartender in question was definitely easy on the eyes, and had been meeting your gaze all evening. You answered his smirks with a few of yours, before returning your attention back to Bradley.

You raise a brow at Bradley, silently asking him if you aught to continue drinking. He answers with a quick shrug of his shoulder.

“Why not,” you tell the man.

A few moments later, he places an appletini in front of you. “On the house,” he smiles.

Your cheeks redden. As he walks away, Bradley chuckles.

“Got somethin’ to say, Bradshaw?” You turn in your seat towards your friend.

“Oh come on, y/n. You and I both know what he’s doing.” If you didn’t know better, you’d think Rooster was a little jealous.

But you do know better. You and Roos are nothing but friends. Something you’re still coming to terms with.

Of course you felt an immediate attraction to him the first time you met. He peered over his Ray Bans at you and gave you the most delicious smirk you’d ever seen. It was like something out of a romance novel.

But he’s never made a move.

“Are you jealous, Rooster?” you ask. Rooster quickly diverts his eyes.

“Of course not,” he says to the counter. The hand holding his beer tightens around the neck causing the veins in his biceps to appear.

Before your mind can go to places fit for a smutty romance, Rooster speaks. “I just don’t think he’s your type is all.”

“I’m sorry?”

Rooster shrugs a broad shoulder. Mischief sparkles in his eyes underneath the neon. He brings his beer up to his mouth, taking a long swig. Some residual beer hangs back on those lips, and it takes everything in you to not reach out and trace your thumb along the line.

“Well, you can’t leave me hanging. What’s my type? My love life certainly isn’t booming.”

Rooster’s hand falls onto the stool, in between your legs. Never taking his eyes from yours, he pulls your stool until it hits yours. The heat from his hand radiates. His legs have you trapped in, his broad thighs on the outside of yours. He still hasn’t moved his hand from your stool.

Your breath hitches at how he’s pinned you in. He hears it and answers with a smirk. A smirk identical to the one he gave you that first day.

A thoughtful look falls on his handsome face. He casually shrugs, feigning casualness.

“I just thought you’d always fall for someone like me,” he says. As the words leave his mouth, that false confidence is replaced with the look of boy afraid of being rejected.

You slide forward on your stool, almost into Rooster’s lap. One hand finds purchase in his sandy hair, and the other grips the wrist of the hand that was on the stool. Not giving it a second thought, you bring your mouth to his.

Pulling back slightly, you whisper, “Looks like you thought right.”

Rooster smiles against your lips and pulls you in for another kiss. Pulling back, you begin to place kisses along his neck. Rooster flags the bartender down.

“I need to close our tabs please,” he tells him. You don’t stop your kisses to see the look on his face, but you know Rooster is relishing in it. Rooster tosses a hundred onto the bar. “Keep the change, pal.”

Rooster gives the bartender a wink, and grabs your hand, pulling you out the bar and toward his Bronco.

masterlist.

a/n: i’m baaaackkkkkk. thanks for hanging with me through all my hiatuses! i hope yall like this quick little fic!

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun maverick fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradleybradshaw #rooster x oc #rooster imagine #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster top gun #rooster x you #hangman imagine

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perfectlyoongi · 23 days ago

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SUGAR-DADDY!NAMJOON who offers you flowers whenever he sees you. whenever you had a planned outing, whether it was a simple trip to the shops or dinner at a restaurant somewhere in the city, the truth is that before you left the house, you would place a bouquet with the most beautiful and colorful flowers there were. you could call Namjoon a gentleman, an old-fashioned one indeed, but that didn’t stop him from carrying out his ritual. it’s just that, secretly, Namjoon counted the time away from you through the withered petals of the flowers he offered you. without you knowing, he bought the same bouquet for himself, placing it on his kitchen counter and consulting it whenever he got home. sometimes the flowers would fade overnight and Namjoon didn’t have any plans for you – but that didn’t stop Namjoon from staying away from you. after all, you didn’t need to leave those four walls to have a good time. “i know it’s short notice, but do you want to go out to eat? we can go to that museum opening before we go home.”

SUGAR-DADDY!NAMJOON who likes to have long conversations with you all night long. talking to you was like listening to odes from the most talented poets in this world. it was incredible how your perspective on the universe was able to captivate Namjoon. you could be talking about your day, complaining about little things that made you tired of living; you could be discussing an artistic vision of the same book you were reading; you could talk about all the probabilities that existed in the stars – it didn’t matter. with you, the words flowed like the freest rivers in the world, falling in a waterfall of enthusiasm, forming a small lake of fascination in Namjoon. having you there, with you lying next to him, your head resting on his torso, your hands spraying Namjoon’s skin with the tranquility that only you could provide – there, in that moment, Namjoon swore that both of you were one poem. “tell me about your day. tell me everything you liked and tell me what you want to repeat. talk to me and tell me how your day was and how it only started to make sense when we met.”

SUGAR-DADDY!NAMJOON who has a personal chef cooking breakfast when you slept in his house. when you spent the night at Namjoon’s house, he wanted to enjoy every minute of it. as much as he enjoyed falling asleep with you in his arms, he had to confess that he felt better when the first rays of sunlight peeked through the window and welcomed you to a new day. it was at that exact moment, before the day really began and everyone went their separate ways, Namjoon truly enjoyed your company. rubbing his face against your skin, wanting some of your essence to stay trapped in him, Namjoon pressed you closer to him. for some reason, it was in you that he found the strength to get through the day. as such, every minute was precious and he would enjoy every second of it – even if he needed to hire someone to make you breakfast. “just five more minutes and i promise i’ll let you go. let me enjoy just five more minutes. that’s all i need. you are all i need.”

SUGAR-DADDY!NAMJOON who gifts you your favorite artwork. visiting museums and galleries had been a norm in your relationship. going to as many openings as you could, scouring the country and world in search of new pieces of art, you and Namjoon enjoyed each other’s presence as tornadoes of emotions and messages surrounded each smile of yours. in the vibrant colors of each painting, you and Namjoon discovered new feelings; in the forced curves of each sculpture, you and Namjoon discovered new beauties; in the tenderness of each word exchanged, you and Namjoon shared eternal moments that would forever be blessed by the most ethereal gods. and to immortalize what was already glorious, Namjoon made a point of thanking your company by offering you the paintings and sculptures that had caught your attention. “what do you mean you don’t have space in your room? i know you want to turn down the painting, but all i’m hearing is that you need a new house with more space. tuesday we can start looking at some houses.”

SUGAR-DADDY!NAMJOON who loves to give you designer clothes. sometimes, the parcels that appeared at your house were so rare that you had to turn to the internet to decode that shirt or belt. often, the parcels that appeared at your house were from a collection so recent that you felt invincible when you wore them. every time, the parcels that appeared at your house had a note written by Namjoon to remind you that, even if you didn’t ask, even if you didn’t even know, he would always take care of you. you just needed to accept it and Namjoon would give you the world. “see it as an early birthday present. you don’t have to thank or reciprocate. this coat is for you. use it when we go to lunch on saturday.”

SUGAR-DADDY!NAMJOON who makes a point of giving you a kiss when others are looking at you. Namjoon enjoyed your company, it was obvious. as such, Namjoon liked to take you to work parties or friend gatherings or really anywhere where you could show off the new outfit he had gifted you. wherever there was an event that called Namjoon, he was quick to hold your hand and take you with him without any prior notice. these nights of get-togethers seemed divine in Namjoon’s company; there was something about his laugh that tied you to the moment; the way he spoke to his acquaintances made you curious to know more about all subjects, even though he had already told that story to you; the way he looked at you, eyes bright and bathed in tenderness, erased everything that was happening around you; and the way he kissed you, slowly, softly, right on the corner of your mouth, teasing you just a little, made you wish the day would end. “patience. we haven’t greeted the birthday boy yet. i promise just one more hour and then we can go home.”

SUGAR-DADDY!NAMJOON who introduces you to everyone as his ‘special person’. e v er y s y l l a b l e of these two words was marinated with the most intense pride in the universe; ea-ch--tim-bre of these two words was intoned with the greatest fascination of the cosmos; those two words were Namjoon’s favorite words. ‘special person’. yes, he could have said that you were his partner or even a friendship that had been going on for years; of course, but all those words were empty. and you were special. you were special to Namjoon and he wanted everyone to know that. and that’s why he introduced you with pride – how lucky he was to find someone as amazing as you; that’s why he named you with fascination – how lucky the universe is to have someone as divine as you; that was why ‘special person’ sounded so good when uttered by him – how lucky you were to be the only one blessed by the gods. “if you don’t feel comfortable, i can call you something else. but, honestly, i don’t think anything i would call you would equal the importance you have in my life.”

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cheesiedomino · 10 months ago

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Reasons ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: though he’s afraid to admit it, chan has an undeniably huge crush on you. in attempt to get his point somewhat across, he drops a few hints leading all the way up until the Valentine’s Day office party, but will that mean he finally confesses his true feelings?

genre: bang chan x fem!reader | coworkers to lovers wc: 3.1k tags/warnings: fluff, office romance, mild cursing, mentions of alcohol usage, kissing, reader is kinda obsessed w/ chan’s body but who tf isn’t ??

now playing 🎧: dream girl by crisaunt

[this is the first installment of my new valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding the themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

If there’s one thing Chan could never refuse to resist no matter how hard he tries, it’s you — nothing else came near as close. You were his Kryptonite, Achille’s heel, whatever you want to call it. Chan was willing to do just about anything for you, ask him to jump and he’ll promptly answer “how high?” You had him wrapped around your little finger with a pristine, glittery bow. Some could say it was quite uncanny how he’d avidly jump at your every need and request. Whether it be from a small but adoring comment about the way you looked in your outfits or whenever he sees you struggling with something, he drops any amount of work he was doing to go help you instead. There’s no way he was doing all this just out of the kindness of his heart, everyone saw right through those tactics. Clearly there was an underlying ulterior motive in the back of his mind, and most people with a brain knew of this as fact not fiction.

Everyone that is, except you.

The minute someone brings Chan’s name up you get super defensive. You often feel the need to because of how almost every person in the office ships you two together. One of the main instigators— Mirae, your cubicle neighbor and karaoke buddy, had a habit of doing this constantly. She’s the first ever friend you made here and is a total ray of sunshine to work with, but also has the biggest mouth. She’d go around telling people that Chan has a crush on you all because he does so many selfless gestures to “impress” you. Once that got around , rumors began spreading like wildfire and suddenly it turned into you and Chan were dating.

As soon as you heard all of that you immediately shut the suspicions down, explaining that you two were simply just friends and how he’s a sweet, gentle soul. Which he most certainly is but his friendliness didn’t only stop at you, it extended to all the other employees as well. He’s the type of person who would make sure everyone else has food and a warm shelter before worrying about himself in the freezing cold. There aren’t many out there with a noble personality like Chan’s, he’s like an elderly man trapped in a young person’s body, always giving the most wise and stark advice. His way of thinking may be a little old fashioned but that didn’t make him boring by any means, he was quite fun when he wasn’t so immersed in his work.

You’ve tried to get him to let loose a bit more, even invited him out for drinks after work with your other coworkers but he declined each time. It never felt like rejection to you though, he’d be smiling the whole time he’s saying “no” but it didn’t seem disingenuous. The only reason he never took up any of your offers were either one of 3 things:

A). He’s far too nervous to get drinks with you

B). He’s too buried in his work

C). The gym is his second home

You and Chan are two vastly different people. He’s definitely the more laidback type who likes to stay at home while you love to going out and enjoy a fun night on the town with friends. Despite him knowing this, he’s never been one to judge your choices or care about what you decide to do outside of work. He even brings you hangover medicine when you come back on Monday looking like you’ve had way too many last weekend — a literal angel in human form. You wonder who the lucky lady will be that gets to marry him someday, it’s evident he’ll be a family man and would most certainly be the best dad any child could ask for. He truly possessed every lovely quality there is all in one person, a rarity that’s more hard to come by each passing day. You don’t know what you could’ve done in your past life to deserve to know someone like Chan, but you don’t regret it one bit.

This morning went like any other typical morning, you’d come to work slightly exhausted from being out later than expected. Usually, Chan would go up to your cubicle and flash a doting smile at you as he places a fresh cup of coffee on your desk. It’s always the little things that made you most content, a handsome guy delivering you your favorite cappuccino — sounds like the ideal life. However, things were slightly different on this particular morning.

Awaiting you at your desk was a large bouquet of flowers displayed in a decorative ceramic vase, accompanied by your warm beverage. You also notice something peeking out from the petals, a small white envelope without a name on it. Curiosity gets the best of you, rushing to open it and read what follows:

‘happy Valentine’s Day ___, these flowers will never be as gorgeous as you but I hope they bring you joy or at least make you half as happy as you make me everyday that I’m with you.

- CB.’

Well, you definitely weren’t expecting that note to be so… sweet ? Though it was a bit short, the message was clear, whoever wrote that really wants you to know exactly how they feel. You had to admit, reading that did make your heart skip a little— maybe even had you blushing and twirling a couple strands of hair. What caught you most off guard were the initials, ‘CB’, those letters seemed awfully familiar. Then you realize there’s only one person whose initials you personally knew that could match those; your coworker Chan. Your throat goes dry as you nervously attempt to swallow, unable to form any stable or coherent thoughts. Nothing, and you mean absolutely nothing, could’ve prepared you for this kind of revelation.

Scoping out the area to see if Chan was around, you couldn’t seem to find him anywhere. You consider the idea of texting him but ultimately you decide not to as you think it’d be weird to assume he even did this. They’re just similar initials that’s it, you’re probably reading too much into it. Maybe you really are going crazy or something.

“Oh my god, someone sent you those?!” A chirpy voice startles you, instantly recognizing it as Mirae who’s now behind you.

“Uh, yeah I guess so..” you acknowledge nonchalantly. Parting your lips just a tad as you take a sip of delicious espresso.

“Ah. I wonder who could’ve done it?” She fake pauses to take a gander at the possibilities, “It’s definitely not the guy with the Aussie accent and name rhymes with Pan!”

You almost spit out your drink. “Shut up!”

“Oh you know I’ll never do that sweetie.” She giggles at you being all flustered, “plus I’m right you just don’t wanna admit it.”

This is like an everyday conversation you have with her, it’s nothing new. “No, I’m a logical person and I know that me and Chan are just friends. That’s all we’ll ever be and nothing more!”

It’s exhausting having to keep defending yourself from the same rhetoric all your coworkers spew daily, and even more ridiculous how fast word gets out around here. Those rumors of you and Chan dating are still being told today, even after it’s been a good year and a half since it all started.

“Friends can also develop feelings for each other overtime y’know?” Mirae lazily rests her arm on your desk as she continues her speech, “I mean I’ve never fallen for a friend so I wouldn’t know.. but this is different! Do you not pay any attention at all to the way he treats you? He’s such a simp for you it drives me insane.”

Confused more than ever, you blankly stare back at her, “huh?” You just took every favor Chan has done as being a nice, thoughtful coworker.

“Okay I’ll give you an example, remember when everyone at lunch had that whole ‘Vernon is gay or bi debate’ and Chan agreed with every single thing you said even if it didn’t make sense? If that doesn’t scream simp behavior then I don’t know what does!”

Your doubt still doesn’t waver, “I just have a very compelling way of getting people to side with me!”

Mirae rolls her eyes so hard they could go to the back of her skull. “For the love of God ___, stop acting so dense at the obvious. It’s pretty much known in this entire office that Chan’s always been totally, 100% into you.”

“It is?” You blink rapidly.

“Yes! I can’t believe you’re even still shocked about this, the guy’s constantly making cartoon heart eyes whenever he sees you!” She states, voice laced with a dash of envy as she pouts, “I wish I had someone who looked at me like that.”

Her sadness is short lived when her face animates again, as if a light bulb just went off in her brain. “Wait I have the perfect idea, you should get him to ask you out at the Valentine’s party!”

“Um.. I don’t think he’ll go, he’s not a party kinda guy remember?” You sigh in reluctance, unsure of what to think at this point.

That doesn’t seem to bring Mirae’s mood down, she only reassures you with more positivity. “Trust me, he’ll be changing a completely different tune once he finds out you’re going.”

Work events are always somewhat a bit of a drag. You didn’t particularly care for them, but you do like socializing with most of your coworkers and other fellow staff on the team. The free alcohol is also another great selling point for you to go. Gina makes the best Jell-O shots and whenever there’s a work function going on she goes all out to prepare them. This time she made some strawberry daiquiri flavored ones, topped with a dollop of whipped cream and pink heart sprinkles to fit the theme.

You grabbed one immediately from the table, looking everywhere to see if you can spot Chan but still no luck. The fact this is making you slightly upset is beyond you, but you’ve never been one to fully understand your emotions. Maybe you were right after all for thinking he wouldn’t show up. Sometimes Mirae can try a bit too hard at getting your hopes up, but you had to figure out if he was the one who actually sent the flowers or not. ‘Who the fuck else could be CB?’ You thought, it had to be him, if not you’ll be blaming Mirae for years of mental damage and distress.

This job wasn’t the first thing you had in mind by any means, but it seemed like a friendly and open work environment when you came in for an interview. You ran into Chan that same day and he started talking to you in the lobby as you waited for your turn. He had the most illuminating, pearly white smile and his accent made the most mundane words sound a thousand times hotter. You secretly hoped you’d get this job just so you can talk to Chan all day. Fast forward to almost a year and a half later you’re now closer than ever and it feels like a privilege to work with someone as amazing as him.

As you finish your Jell-O shot, you try finding the nearest trash can but end up bumping into Gina. “Hey ___! Did you like the strawberry daiquiris I made?” She kindly surveys for feedback, flashing a cute puppy dog look at you.

“Duh, of course! I love everything you make Gigi, I might have to grab another one before they’re all gone!” You praise her kindly, “by the way have you seen Chan at all?” It was a bit a random of you to ask but you couldn’t just stand around and wait for him to magically show up.

Gina thinks for a moment and finally replies, “Nah I haven’t! Why’d you ask though?”

“Oh no reason really! Was just wondering I guess-” you awkwardly shrug off, taking a step back as you walk out the break room to go into the main hallway. Heading over to the water dispenser you grab a small paper cup and bring it under the cold water option, before pressing the button a deep voice causes you to freeze in place. Recognizing that raspy voice from anywhere, it was Chan calling out after you.

“Hey, ___!” You hear him shout from a distance, jogging towards you with an ambiguous look on his face. “Could I talk to you for a moment?” He asks once he gets closer, chest slowly rising up through his white collared shirt as he’s catching his breath.

You never really took note how chiseled his body looked, maybe it was the form-fitting material of the shirt but the outline of his pecs went perfectly in sync with the way his toned arms clung to the fabric. It was clear as day Chan takes working out very seriously, mesmerized by the sheer dedication it must’ve took to even achieve a dreamlike physique such as this. Realizing you still haven’t answered yet and have just been staring at this man’s chest for what seemed like centuries, you finally croak out a response.

“Uh, yeah- sure!”

He clears his throat in preparation, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.. for a while now actually.”

Chan doesn’t seem like his usual keen self, he’s acting much more quiet and reserved, as if he’s got loads of worries on his mind. It makes you wonder…

Your heart began to race at a faster pace, not knowing what the outcome will be, you indulge in him anyway. “Hm? What is it? Don’t just leave me hanging, spill!”

Again he goes quiet, like there’s a force holding him back from saying what he truly wants. He’s usually a lot more confident and well spoken when he talks to you but this was a new side of Chan you haven’t seen before. You find it a bit endearing to be honest, it makes him more down to earth. What’s there not to like about him truthfully?

“Well uh.. you see I-”

“___! Where the heck were you we’re about to take another sho-” Mirae catches you two of you off guard, unknowingly walking in what seemed like a deep conversation. “Ohh, oopsies did I interrupt something? I didn’t mean to, s-sorry!” You noticed some of her words slurring a bit and couldn’t contain a tiny giggle, it didn’t take much alcohol for her to get tipsy.

The minute she’s gone and the two of you are alone once again, the energy shifts dramatically. You gaze up at Chan to see his brows slanted into a train of thought. He wasn’t saying anything, just staring right back at you with a cryptic look. Unable to gauge the direction of this situation, you think of what to possibly say to make it less cumbersome. Before you could utter a single word, he finally speaks up.

“Let’s get outta here,” He quickly suggests, yanking your hand as he roughly takes it in his palm to lead the way. His movements are swift and eager, knowing exactly where he’s going as you’re left with even more questions and zero answers.

“Where’re we going?” You sheepishly inquire, bewildered by his sudden unpredictable action.

He doesn’t answer you. Instead he’s continuing the journey, remaining in focus all the way until he reaches the back entrance. Opening the door in a hurry to make it outside, a rush of cool air hits the back of your skin from a tiny bit of flesh being exposed. Chan brings his hands up to your arms, pinning them to your sides as he pushes you back against the brick wall of the building. His hooded eyes were fixated on you like an animal looking at its prey. It almost felt intimidating, as if he was the whole universe and you were but a mere spectacle compared to him.

“Wait what’re you do-” you’re impatiently cut off as he leans in, pupils widening when you’re abruptly met with a pair of lips pressed against your own. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, rendered still from the shock of this suddenly happening. An array of goosebumps scatter your suspended body, words can’t describe the way you feel in this moment— it’s pure bliss.

Eventually you do kiss him back once the shock wears off, parting your lips more to let him gain further access into your world. It was the most mind numbingly passionate, messy kiss you’ve ever experienced in a lifetime, wanting but Chan’s lips on yours forever and ever.

As you both pull away it’s quiet again, but not in an unpleasant manner as before. Now you’re silent because you’re admiring each other. Resisting the urge to grab his face and kiss him again, you watch intently at him biting on his bottom lip, giving you a sheer look of adoration and hunger. Your mind was in the highest state of euphoria, feeling like you’re on cloud nine. That kiss left you speechless, breathless, weightless, and all other adjectives in between.

“I can sit here and list off every reason why I’m in love with you, but I thought about it and figured this should be good enough to get my point across.” Chan suddenly expresses his true feelings while holding your hand tightly in his grasp. It feels like he can breathe again, as if a heavy weights been lifted off his broad shoulders. “Did you like the flowers I sent?”

You owe Mirae a huge apology the next time you see her.

“So it was you?!” A gasp escapes your lips, finally comprehending the fact that he’s genuinely liked you for this long. It still felt surreal to you that you even kissed.

“You didn’t realize it right away? I mean my initials were right there..” he nervously spoke once more. The effect you have on him is so dangerously good.

It’s hard to believe you were so oblivious to how Chan felt when it was all hidden in plain sight. You should’ve known something was up when he started learning how to cook the first week you met. During lunch you expressed that men who could cook were the ideal type of husband and since then he’s been on a mission to perfect his cooking and make you a proud wife someday.

Moral of the story? Life works in mysterious ways when finding your soulmate. The external forces come together to align themselves perfectly in harmony, bringing two beautiful souls to connect as one.

[End <3].

#skz fluff #skz x reader #bang chan skz #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan fluff #skz au #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #skz imagines #bang chan x female reader #skz x female reader #stray kids scenarios #skz drabbles #stray kids drabbles

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janiehellion · 5 months ago

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Close Quarters

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Trapped overnight by a horde of walkers during a supply run, you and Daryl Dixon find yourselves in close quarters with nothing but time on your hands. But can you keep your hands to yourself?

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / LANGUAGE / ORAL SEX / BELLY KINK

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.664

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: This oneshot is inspired by a post from & dedicated to @ophelialaufey on Tumblr.

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

"Keep ya eyes open," Daryl grunted and kept walking. His crossbow hung over his shoulder as his eyes looked left and right in search of any danger. He wasn't much for words, more action than unnecessary chit-chat, but you didn't complain.

Today's task had been simple: Scavenge for as many supplies as you could until night began to fall, and then get back to the safety of the group. And that's exactly what you did, with your supply run partner being once again: Daryl Dixon.

You only nodded, holding your own weapon tightly. For all his rough exterior, you trusted him with your life. Over the last months, you've seen Daryl in action a lot of times already; to your eyes, he seemed to be one of the best survivors among the group. But tonight felt a bit off. It didn't feel like any other supply run; you were uncomfortable, and you just couldn't shake the feeling that something was likely to go wrong.

As the last rays of daylight finally vanished, sudden growls came from out of nowhere. You and Daryl immediately stopped dead in your tracks, your hearts racing in your chest as you realized that a small horde of walkers approached. Still, there were too many to take on, and running was definitely out of line. You had to find shelter, and fast.

"This way," Daryl whispered, tugging at your arm to lead you toward a building. He pushed open the door, and both of you slipped inside, shutting it as quietly as you could behind you. The room was dark and full of dust and the familiar smell of decay.

"Looks like we're in here for the time," Daryl said, walking over to a window and looking out through a gap. "They ain't goin' anywhere anytime soon."

You sighed, trying to steady your breathing. The reality of the situation was hitting you. Being stuck in this tiny, dark room with Daryl Dixon—with a horde of the undead outside—was just what you needed.

Daryl, meanwhile, turned away from the window and explored the room further, but then he suddenly stopped and faced you. "Gonna need to check for scratches," he said, leaving very little room in his tone for argument. "Help me with my shirt."

"Okay, I guess..." You stepped closer, your hands shaking slightly as you reached for the hem of his shirt before you lifted it slowly to reveal his stomach. His skin was rough and scarred from the years of survival, but to you, it was mesmerizing.

"See anythin' on my back?" He asked, his eyes boring into yours.

You shook your head, trying to focus. "No, you're... definitely clear."

"Thanks," he said gruffly, pulling his shirt back down. His fingers brushed against your hand as he did, and for a brief moment, you both froze, but the sudden sound of a distant groan made Daryl’s eyes snap back to the window. "Damn it," he mumbled, annoyed. "We should make sure this place is safe."

You followed him as he began to inspect the room, moving from one corner to another. "You need any help?" You asked, trying to keep the stutter out of your voice.

He glanced over at you, his eyes not giving away anything. "Just stay outta the damn way."

You took a step back, feeling a bit disappointed. There was something almost painful about the way he kept you at arm’s length, like a barrier you could never cross. Yet, it only intensified your need to break through his walls.

He still hadn't found anything, so you turned your attention to an old armchair in the corner of the room. You walk over to it, brushing off some of the dust, thinking it might be a good place to take a seat and wait out the night. But in your approach, you had knocked over a few empty glass bottles, which shattered on the floor.

"Be careful, woman," he snapped at you. "Ya wanna attract more of 'em and get us killed?"

You immediately apologized and bent over to pick up the pieces, your face blushing with embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to."

Soon enough, he was done checking out the room, and he sat down in the armchair that you cleaned off. "Looks like we're stuck here for the night," he said, though not to you in particular.

Meanwhile, you sat down on the floor across from him, trying to get comfortable. Daryl's eyes looked at you, though he didn't really manage to hide behind his usual stoic expression. "Ya cold or somethin'?"

You shook your head. "No, I'm okay. Don't worry."

He nodded, and for a moment, you thought the conversation might end there. But then he shifted around in the chair, as if uncomfortable with the silence. "Ya’ve been quiet," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Usually ya've got somethin' to say."

You hesitated, unsure of how to respond. "Just… thinking, I guess."

"Thinkin' 'bout what?" He asked, still looking at you.

You shrugged, trying to seem casual. "Everything. How things have changed since all of this started."

Daryl grunted, his eyes returning to the window. "Yeah, things've changed alright. Ain't much left in the world."

You didn't reply; instead, you watched him, noticing the way his muscles moved under his shirt and the way his eyes darted around, constantly on alert. It was almost hypnotic—this man who lived on the edge of survival, so strong yet so guarded.

As the minutes ticked by, you couldn’t help but glance at Daryl’s stomach, where his shirt had risen slightly when he sat down. Your eyes were drawn to the trail of hair that led from his belly button downwards, something you couldn’t ignore, and the more you tried to focus on something else, the more your gaze kept drifting back to him.

Daryl shifted again, his eyes catching yours. "Got a problem or somethin'?"

You looked away quickly, feeling your heart race. "Nope."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, ya can't just sit there starin' at me like that."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

He sighed, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "Alright. What is it ya wanna say?"

You fidgeted around, trying to find the right words. "I just… I guess I'm curious about you. About who you are when you’re not out fighting walkers or scavenging for supplies."

Daryl stared at you, his eyes darkening slightly. "And maybe I don't see the point in talkin' 'bout that."

You shifted on the floor, your movements restless. "Maybe we could make this night less pointless."

Daryl’s eyes narrowed. "What're ya talkin' 'bout?"

You hesitated, then took a deep breath. "I mean, we could talk about something else. Anything, really."

He studied you for a long moment, his expression guarded. Then, unexpectedly, he broke the silence. "Alright, fine. What do ya wanna know?"

You nodded. "What about before all this? What did you do?"

He seemed to ponder the question before answering. "Didn’t do much beyond huntin'."

You smiled faintly, lost in thought. "Sounds like a simpler life."

"Simple don't mean easy," he answered back quickly, looking away again.

Without even thinking, you closed the distance between the two of you, your heart racing in your chest and your hands shaking just a little bit as you held them out to him. Why? You didn't really know it yourself. You just did.

"What're ya playin' at?" He growled and narrowed his eyes.

You didn't respond. You went down to your knees in front of him, your eyes locked on his and your fingers brushing against the skin of his stomach. His muscles tensed under your touch, but he didn't push you away. Instead, he watched you with curiosity.

"You like this?" You asked, your whisper barely audible over the far-off moans of the walkers outside.

Daryl's jaw clenched, his eyes darkening. "What're ya tryin' to prove?"

You ignored his question, pressing your lips to his stomach in a matter of seconds. His skin was warm and slightly wet with salty sweat.

"Stop," he growled, but without conviction.

But you couldn't. You did not stop and continued to kiss and lick his stomach while your hands searched for every inch of his body. It was in the way his muscles twitched at your touch, the way his breath hitched—that really turned you on.

"You want this," you whispered, more a statement than a question.

Daryl's eyes blinked fast—part need, part hesitation. He was already at the edge, his breathing ragged, his eyes on you as if he willed himself to fight but failed.

"Yeah," he mumbled, his voice shaking. "Goddamn it… I want it."

That was all the motivation you needed. You reached out and placed your hand on Daryl's thigh, feeling him tense up slightly, but he still didn't pull away.

"I want to suck your cock," you whispered, your hand sliding up his thigh, closer to the bulge in his pants. As you reached for his belt, your fingers fumbling with the buckle, he helped you with shaking hands.

You smiled up at him, your fingers soon enough wrapped around the base of his cock, and slowly you leaned forward and pressed your lips to slide over the tip.

You teased him with soft, slow kisses, using just the very tip of your tongue to outline his head. His moans were very low and almost barely audible, but they fueled your lust all the same when you licked off the pre-cum.

"Fuck!" Daryl gasped, his hands gripping the sides of the chair. "Just get on with it."

Your mouth opened wide, and you took him in almost immediately, starting with just the head and letting it slide slowly past your lips. It was almost too much, that feeling of his cock in your mouth, and so you pulled back a bit, swirling your tongue around the head before trying to take him in further.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Daryl mumbled, his eyes closed, as he fought to hold on to some sort of control.

Your hand didn't stop stroking the part of his shaft that wasn't in your mouth, moving in rhythm with your lips and your tongue's movements.

Daryl's hips bucked involuntarily with short thrusts, and every time he pushed forward, you took him deeper, feeling your throat expand around him.

"Ya keep makin' me harder," he said, his voice breaking.

"Good. I want you to be," you grinned around him, and without hesitation, you dove back down on him, taking him in as deep as you could.

"Fuck, keep goin'," he urged. "Ya gonna make me lose it."

You were more than happy to obey, and you quickened the pace of your movements, your mouth sliding up and down his cock. His hands were gripping your hair now, guiding you and pushing you to take him even deeper. His groans were getting louder, sounding more desperate, and you could tell he was close already.

"Jesus, I'm gonna cum," he moaned, his voice trembling. "Gonna blow my load."

You smirked around his cock, but you certainly didn't mean to let him come just yet. Drawing back a bit, you let your tongue slide along the underside of his cock before swirling around the sensitive skin just below its head.

Daryl groaned loudly, his body arching due to the ruined orgasm. "Fuck, don't stop," he pleaded, his hands gripping your hair tighter. "I'm so fuckin' close."

At those words, your lips parted slightly, teasingly, allowing a strand of spit to connect you to his cock before you leaned forward again, but not taking him fully into your mouth.

"Goddamn it," Daryl groaned, his hips bucking reflexively. "Don't play 'round."

But you continued teasing him, your tongue playing with the pre-cum, letting it gather in your mouth before you let it drip back onto his cock.

"Tease me like this," he gasped, "and I'm gonna go fuckin' crazy."

"You want more?" you asked. "You want me to make you come?"

Daryl nodded desperately, his eyes half-closed. "Yes, fuck yes."

Instead of giving him what he wanted, you pulled away once again and began to kiss and lick his cock from the base up, sliding your tongue around his shaft and softly nibbling on it as you moved slowly back up, paying careful attention to every inch of his throbbing cock.

"Shit," Daryl moaned, his hands gripping your hair harder. "Fuck, stop teasin' me."

His moans grew louder as you finally gave in to him, your tongue swirling around his cock like a snake, leaving nothing untouched. Daryl gripped your hair tighter, and his thrusts grew more insistent, pushing you further on his cock as you gagged on him, and you took him deeper still while you could feel his balls tightening and the base of his shaft tensing.

"I'm gonna come," he warns, but you don't stop. You want to taste him and feel him explode in your mouth. "Oh, fuck," he cried out again, his grip on your hair tightening as he cursed. "I'm gonna fuckin' come!"

You sucked hard and long, your tongue twisting around the ridge of his cock, teasing the sensitive spot beneath. With every suck, you could feel the pulsating veins in his shaft, and finally, Daryl came. His cock throbbed and pulsed in your mouth as he shot thick ropes of cum, filling your mouth with the salty, bitter taste of it.

You pulled off of him with a smirk, having swallowed the last of Daryl's cum, your lips glistening with the remaining drops before you wiped it off with the back of your hand.

"You okay?" You asked as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his stomach.

Daryl looked at you, a half-smile on his face as he met your gaze. "Yeah, I'm good."

You leaned in closer, letting your fingers explore the warm, sweaty skin of his belly. "So," you said, your voice playful, "since we're still trapped here, do you want to know what got us into this mess?"

Daryl's eyebrow arched upward in confusion. "What do ya mean?"

You pressed your lips lightly against his belly. "I was just thinking about how all this started. It was your belly that got me going in the first place."

Daryl's eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh, so that's why ya were starin', huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Your belly's kind of a big deal to me, but I can't really explain," you grinned up at him.

He smirked back in amusement. "Fine, if ya don't wanna."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "No need to explain. Only appreciating the view."

"Well, don't get too distracted. We've still got loads of shit to do," he answered, getting up from the chair to prepare to take a quick look outside the window to see how many walkers are still outside and roaming around.

Brushing the dust off your clothes when you got up as well, you turned to Daryl with a little bit of a spark in your eyes. "By the way, Daryl, I hope this check-up was thorough enough for you."

He looked back at you with a confused expression on his face. "This check-up? What are ya talkin' about?" He asked, taking a step back from the window.

You smirked as you got closer again, both your hands running over his belly one more time. "Well, considering how things went down, I think we both should consider this our routine maintenance from now on, don't you think?"

Daryl's eyes widened for a second before he suddenly let out a small laugh. "A routine maintenance, huh? Alright. But next time, maybe we'll save the check-ups for a safer time. Now, get ya ass up and follow me."

"Deal. But I gotta say, I'm looking forward to the next routine check-up already," you laughed, following him to the door and closing it slowly behind you.

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azsazz · 1 year ago

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Might Bite Back

Vampire!Azriel x Human!Reader

Summary: Anon Reqs: "how do you think vamp az would react it he lost control of his blood thirst and accidentally hurt reader?" and "OMG a fic where Vamp!Az loses control and accidentally hurts reader and then he realises what hes done!! I LIVE for those fics, we need more vamp az!!!!!!!"

Warnings: Biting, blood, vampire things.

Word Count: 2,544

Notes: This belongs on the vampire Azriel timeline.

_________________________________________

Something startles you awake.

It isn’t a noise, it’s the lack thereof that startles you awake.

There’s an eerie silence to the black consuming the room. You curse yourself for falling asleep when you’ve been so desperately aware of the fact that he lurks at night, watching, waiting.

Your body is rigid, heart stuttering loudly in your chest, and the only part of you that moves is your eyelids as you blink wearily, sleep still clinging to your body, your mind searching through a hundred scenarios, trying to pinpoint what is going on.

This is different from the silence you’ve slowly become accustomed to, when you were taken in the dead of night by the undead. His fangs had gleamed in the moonlight and you’d screamed so loudly that the trees surrounding the secluded home shook. Crows cawed in warning, flocking from trees and night creatures startled from the woods. Your blood wooshed in your ears like the wind pulling your hair from your nape, carrying your sickly sweet scent to his parted, hungry lips.

Your heart pounds in your chest exactly like that night. When you had felt like nothing more than prey.

Turning your head slowly, as if the slightest movement might make the darkness snap, you look towards the door. The chair you’d stuffed beneath the knob is still in place, and though you know the flimsy construction of wood would not withstand an ounce of his force, it serves as a piece to make noise should it shift, in case you’ve fallen asleep, much like you had tonight.

You force your rampant heart to calm, ears straining over the waves of blood rushing through them as you listen for the silent entity sharing the home with you. You’ve picked up on the noises that you could, trained your ear to hear the signs of the vampire that has locked you in this gothic tower. The whisper of fabric on cold skin, since his silent steps are impossible to pick up. The shifting of the air in the rooms as he moves, growing colder with his menacing presence. The rustle of his wings when he stretches them in frustration. The shivers crawling up your spine whenever he’s near.

But right now, there’s nothing.

“Azriel?” you ask into the darkness, and you sound nothing more than a terrified child. There are no monsters lying beneath your bed, waiting to snatch you up by your ankles. No, this monster roams the large home freely, sharp teeth on display so that you know exactly what he can do. The only time you’re even a smidge safe is when the sun blinds through curtains you force open daily, but even the sweltering rays are not here to help you now. You are petrified beyond all belief, despite the softer instances you’ve seen of the slightly unhinged vampire who’s trapped you in what you know will be your grave.

There is no answer to your call, but you don’t expect one. He’s a predator first and foremost, and he thrives off of the quickening pace of your heart, the sound of your blood rushing through your body, the shuddering of your bones as you tremble. You catch him sometimes, when you quiver before him, how he licks his lips, fangs pressing into the soft skin of his unfairly luscious lips.

Your mind is screaming at you not to move, not to get up and find out what’s awoken you and has you feeling this unease. Surely, Azriel cannot be in danger. He is the danger.

No one has tried to breach your room, the chair hooked up against the door, and you wince at the scrape it makes when you pull it away and turn the knob.

The door gives easily, almost swooping in on a phantom wind. It’s not him. Your body is too accustomed to his presence by now. And the lack thereof a darkness that rattles you so deeply it makes your thighs clench, you know he is not near.

The hall is long and dark, freezing cold. So much so that you can see your breath puffing before your face. Azriel doesn’t understand that you need heat to survive in your inferior human body, and you won’t tell him. Maybe it will become so cold at night that you’ll fall into a peaceful slumber, each shallow breath icing over until your heart freezes in your chest. Then, you won’t be trapped anymore.

But there’s a part of you that’s driven down the hall, seeking him out. A part of you that you shove away when you wonder if he’s alright. A part of you that likes knowing that he’s there, watching you when you’re doing the most mundane things to keep yourself from getting bored to death in this hell. When you read in front of the window, or cook yourself something in the kitchen. When you put on a particularly expensive dress for what? For…for him.

Your footsteps are silent against the carpets but to him you know you sound as if you’re stomping around the corridor, making as much noise as possible. It’s normally your tactic during the days, wanting him to know your displeasure for this place. The thought of him being able to hear your soft steps, your hardly there breaths makes you quake in both fear and excitement, knowing how he always knows your location, and can seek you out no matter where you run.

“Azriel?” you call again, softly. It’s hardly a whisper at all, and there is no response.

Your fingers tremble where they’re pressed to the wall, following the darkened corridor. They brush over the frames of artwork curling at the edges, paint dusty and faded with time. You caress the wooden railing, following it down the staircase, ignoring the nagging in your mind that’s telling you to run.

A fire crackles in the hearth and you pause, confused. All this time Azriel has never kept a fire going, not even per your request with chattering teeth and bluish fingers. He doesn’t like them, and you don’t ask why. You don’t care why. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

You don’t know what possesses you to move closer to it when the popping of logs is a clear warning sign.

Pausing on the last step, foot hovering before the floor, the hair at the nape of your neck prickles. It winds down your spine like an icy rope, settling into the very marrow of your bones. It doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right.

Before you can whirl around, race back up the staircase to your room, a voice sounds softly in your ear. “You smell impeccable, crow.”

You whirl, a scream tearing from your lips as you tumble from the stair. You catch yourself on frozen toes, staring up at Azriel with wide eyes, who is shrouded in shadow. He’s standing with preternatural stillness, spine tall. His wings are tucked tightly behind his back, and the talons stick high above his head like horns.

“Azriel?” you ask, taking a step back. Two.

He doesn’t answer, he follows. Azriel takes one step forward for every one you move away, towards the sitting room with the fire. Orange light bathes him, and you can feel it roaring hot at your back.

As the firelight washes over his stoic face, your stomach roils in horror. This is not the Azriel who had stolen you away, who had given you dresses and your own space, who tried to make you feel less like you were robbed of your former life and more like this had been a choice.

But none of it has been a choice. And you are reminded just what he is capable of at the sight of red-rimmed eyes, the lack of color, the baring of sharp fangs that call your name.

Bloodlust.

His pupils have swallowed the stroke of hazel completely. You watch as his fingers curl and his nostrils flare when your heart triples in pace. His unfocused gaze sharpens on the column of your throat where your pulse pushes through your skin.

“Please,” you beg, but he doesn’t seem to hear you. Azriel is no longer there, instead, the very beast that lurks inside of him has taken control and is thirsty for blood.

Azriel lunges and you scream, pivoting on your heel. If you can make it to the iron poker by the fire you may be able to slow him down, stun him as you claw at the front door to try and get away. It’s no ashwood, which would kill the vampire who is much too fast for you to even take a step, grabbing you and pulling you back into his chest.

You thrash, screaming, but your efforts are futile. No one can hear you in the depths of these woods. Your strength is no match for him.

Azriel must be in there somewhere, as he is not crushing your body into dust. No, he wants you otherwise unharmed except for holes in your neck. That, he doesn’t mind seeing, tasting. It’s exactly what he’s taken you for, isn’t it? Just when you’d begun thinking that he might not be as bad as the stories you were told when you were young, tales of bloodthirsty creatures who would tear your throat out to taste your pretty blood.

Now is your time.

His grip is strong around your wrists. You kick back with your leg but can hardly reach him. He is immune to your weak hits. You can feel him leaning over you, closer and closer until his fangs are a whisper against your skin, a tease pinpricking right over your thrumming pulse.

“Devine,” he whispers, and the sensuality of it rips through your body like a lance. As you part your lips to exhale another beg, he bites. You scream.

You tremble in his iron hold. His fingers feel like icepicks as they dig into your flesh. Your scream melts into something long as heat courses through your body, the adrenaline and sting of his teeth burning you to your core. It feels…good.

It feels like you’re walking on flames, yet they aren’t burning you. They’re caressing you in the best way, holding you, cradling you like a babe. For the first time since you’ve arrived at this horrible place, you feel warm. Like Azriel is embracing you, and he is, because you’ve stopped fighting. His hands are around your waist, holding you tightly, and yours are buried in his thick hair. Heat courses through your bones, pooling between your thighs. Your mind whirls with pleasure as he suckles, the hot press of his tongue lapping your skin, mirrored in the pulse of your throbbing clit.

You relish in the feeling. His body pressed tightly to yours, the strain of his cock through the thin fabric of your nightgown. You can feel the way his muscles loosen the longer he leeches from your neck.

And you enjoy it until you become woozy, when the euphoria seeps from your blood back into his mouth. When his grip feels like each individual finger is imprinted on your bones. Your neck throbs painfully, and your vision is blackening with shadows in the corners. Your head lolls a little, unable to keep it up.

“Azriel,” you choke, but it’s hard to get your lips to form the words. It’s difficult to do anything except lean into him, to let him take his fill. But you have to try, because this is not how you want it all to end. “You’re…” you huff a painful exhale, “You’re hurting me.”

He goes still, bones popping with the effort. His hold on your falters and you sway, and as badly as he wants to pull away, to run and hide in a whisper of darkness, he catches you, because he’s harmed you and the bloodlust has been wiped away by your words alone. Words he swore he’d never pull from you. Words that will haunt him for centuries.

You’re hurting me.

His vision clears, goes sharp, staring right at the two holes in your neck, thick, red blood still dribbling from the punctures. The beast in him rages to lean down and lick you, keep sucking at the marks until your already slowing heart stops completely. He wants to feel the last beat of your heart beneath his hands, his lips, but he forces himself to do the one thing he hadn’t been able to do tonight: focus.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers in horror, when his mind catches up to what he’s looking at. You, looking so broken and fragile in his arms, pale. Your head rests against his chest, eyes fluttering with the strain to keep them open. Your mouth parts but no words come out.

Azriel wants so badly to drop you, to get away from you, because he’s so stupidly allowed his bloodlust to consume him. He selfishly thought that he would be okay for a few more days, that he wouldn’t have to hunt in the aftermath of a brutal storm because all of the animals would be hidden away. He’s been stupid to think that, and the worst has happened.

He shoves the couch closer to the fire with a shove of his boot. The logs pop and he winces, hating the sound. He’d started the fire as a way to lure you down, the warmth calling to you. It was as much of a present for you as it was a distraction for him. A warning he was giving himself, not to enter the room with the fire roaring in the hearth. He hates the way the flames taunt him. You hadn’t made it to the room before your scent had stuck in his throat and his beast caught a whiff.

Your body looks frail when he sits you down. Your eyes have closed and your lips have lost color. Azriel knows that if his heart was capable of pulsing, it would be a pounding drum in his chest, beating with worry. He races to your rooms, ripping your blankets from your mattress and is back by your side in a matter of seconds. He tucks you in tight, worrying over you as if you are a sick babe. But you’re not, you’re a pretty little thing that he’d taken in the dead of night for his own selfish reasons. For company, for your heart. But never for your blood.

This is not how any of this was supposed to go.

Azriel’s mind races with thought. The wounds on your neck have stopped leaking, and they’ll close up quicker if he just licks over it one more time but he can’t force himself, not when he’d violated you like this, hurt you. He needs to leave. He needs to get as far away from you as he can.

The lethargic beating of your heart tells him that you’re going to be okay. You will be wobbly for a few days, throat in pain, but you’ll live. He didn’t go too far tonight. He didn’t drink you dry.

So Azriel does the only thing that he can. The only thing that he’s ever been good at.

He leaves.

#vampire!azriel #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #vampire!az #vampire au

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glassica · 4 months ago

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Surprise boyfriend

Notes: M!yan x F!reader, non-con, sexual language, cursing, pregnancy trapping, blackmailing threats

"Hey Y/N, heard you go out with Ray right?"

You spat out the remaining cold brew. You? Go out with whom???

People must've assumed you were into him after seeing your exchanges at the party. But you swear that wasn't that serious at all! You were just fooling around to kill time!

- No. Who told you that?

- Ray posted about you all over his insta. Yeah right you don't use that app... But what do you mean you two aren't dating!?

You took one look at your friend's phone. Lo and behold, countless pictures of you and him holding hands and acting all lovey-dovey like a real couple. Your brain juggled through the hazy memories to see when the selfies were taken but oh dear, you were so drunk off the mind on that night to recall everything.

- Ray, excuse me. Do you have a moment?

- Sweetie I always have time for you. What do baby want from me now? ~

His cheesy line brought shattering earthquakes to your brain. God this man had zero shame, or you had been cursed to carry the embarrassment baggage on his behalf. "If we were alone I'd rip his ass off right instant." - you thought. "And I'll never have time for your goofy ass."

- I believe you misunderstood our relationship. I must've said something deceitful to you during at the party and I'll take responsibility for that. I don't plan to date you or anyone, Ray. I'm so sorry for misleading you.

You spoke in a remorseful tone. Though not able to recollect what nonsense the mouth had blabbered, you felt like owning him an apology regardless. Kids this was why you should never let peer pressure get to you and drink over limits, you never knew if one day you accidentally being entangled with some jackass.

Surprisingly Ray's expression didn't seem to fazed for a bit. On the contrary, the grin on his face got even more ominous and deranged, alerted your sixth sense that nothing coming out from this man was any good: It was a grave mistake involving him in your life.

"My baby wanna break up with me? Oh sweetheart how could you abandon me like that? Have you forgot your little promises to me about love and loyalty? Didn't you say I was your type, that your greatest wish was to be wrapped in my arms every night and showered your body with plenty of kisses?"

Freak. Weirdo. Creep.

How could anyone breath in the same direction of this guy and not get their skin crawled for a second? You were both amused and pissed off witnessing this whole circus show, wondering how out mind you were last Friday to be attracted to this walking joke of a man.

Get this over quickly, or you would end up committing some atrocities on that stupid face.

"I wasn't sober at the time. I must've been spewing rubbish. I'm really sorry for lying to you Ray, but can you please take down those pictures?"

"Why should I? I need to show off everyone my Sweetie's already taken, so that no one could touch you. Besides," - Ray tucked his head over your shoulder, the eerily off-putting grin grew even wider as he whispered softly to your ears, "those pics aren't the only proof of our unshakable bond."

He trailed off, calmly put a hand on your belly.

Your mind went blank.

"BITCH! YOU FUCKING RAPED ME!?"

"Now now. You hurt my heart, Sweetie. How could you accuse me of such heinous crime when all I did so much to give you such good time on bed? And don't lie, your pussy was cumming hard for my crotch. I still can recall those pretty little buds-"

Just then, Ray felt a burning heat on his left cheek. You were done. Completely dropped off manners. Eyes flaming with disgust and resentment while both hands clenching fist furiously, you became a wild animal determined to chew off its prey to the bone. You didn't care about anything else, any consequences after, your absolute goal at the moment was to tear this asshole to shreds.

But Ray was infuritatingly nonchalant, cocky even. He wasn't bothered for a bit when facing your wrath. Rubbing hand on the reddish cheek, he continued:

"Don't you believe you can brush your hand away from me, love. I don't like anyone seeing my angel in her purest form, but I have no problem releasing those clips."

A sadistic chuckle let out of his mouth observing the bloodthirst drained out from your face. If you didn't want him as your prince, then he wouldn't hesitate becoming the big bad villain tainting your life forever.

Ray caught your lifeless body in a loving embrace, just like that Friday night, and many more nights in the future.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere oc #male yandere fic #yandere fic #male yandere x female reader #tw sa #tw cursing #tw pregnancy trapping #tw noncon #yancore

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sweetsugartop · 9 months ago

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please notice that this is my first work but i hope you enjoy it and please tell me what you think, i love you all.

summary: its finally summer and you are at campus but feel like laying in bed all morning.

the opened window let the warm breeze of june air flow in. it carried the smell of green plants and salty water. the sound of distant music could be heard from somewhere outside the apollo cabin, it made the early morning feel like a movie scene.

the sun had just risen and was shining in on one of the walls in the bedroom. a single ray was placed across the boy with blond locks as he softly breathed in and out. his mouth was opened just slightly and his face pressed into the white pillow with his eyes closed.

the owner of the pillow had her head propped up in her hand, just a small distance away. she was locked in his arms and once every five minutes, she felt him tighten his grip in a squeeze. just like he wanted to make sure she was still there, even in his sleep. her hand gently grazing over his defined cheekbone and her eyes trailing over her boyfriends peaceful expression. he had always been an peaceful sleeper with her. she was like his magic shield to protect from every nightmare.

the light from the sun warmed his skin and the only word that could be used for her to describe him was, perfect. her perfect boy. the sheets were almost swallowing them and the couple had no plans on getting out of bed early this saturday morning.

she let her fingers trail up to his hair and started to play gently with a curl. a bird could be heard from outside. it was almost like a sign that summer was really here. and that was the most beautiful thing. they had the whole summer before them.

her fingers was now against his scalp, rubbing carefully. percy hummed and closed his mouth. he didn’t mind waking up like this at all. he’d rather this than just sleeping til midday. he gently pulled her even closer and groaned when he felt the sun against his closed eyes. she smiled at him and leaned forward to give him a kiss on his forehead. percy just squeezed his eyes shut tighter and hid his face against her, letting it rest against her neck.

”hey, can tell you something?” she whispers softly in the boy’s ear.

“mhm?” he just hums in response and presses a tired kiss against her collarbone with little effort. yet, she still feel the butterflies swarm up in her and an uncontrollable smile grows in her face. she breathes in the cozy morning for another moment before continuing.

“i love you.” the three words that the couple have told each other countless times before, and each time with as much emotion behind them. and still, the newly awoken boy lifts his head abruptly, just to offer his girl a grin. his eyes are still droopy but so so deep of love. and he just looks at her like she just told him she put the stars in the sky for him only.

“yeah?” his tired voice sounds weak and slightly raspy when he responds and her smile is still on display as she leans forward to give him a small kiss in the corner of his lips.

“yeah.” she lets out a breathy laugh at his sudden awareness. he just loved that sound. her laugh was life the ocean meeting the sand. he couldn’t even think of any sound more perfect than her voice, her laugh and any sigh that she’d mutter out on a long day. he adored her more than the moon needed the sun to shine.

he didn’t respond to her but tackled her with kisses all over her face. he engulfed her in his arms making her trapped under him.

“oh my god, percy!” their laughs filled the morning air in the bedroom that was silent just seconds ago.

@suger-cube-odair-4

#fluff #percy blurb #blurb #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #walker scobell #percy series #percy pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson show #percy and annabeth #pjo

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bandgie · 1 month ago

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Cat-Fight | Ep. 5

MASTERLIST | Kink: Tiddies

🗝 Now there's no doubt in your mind that this Other World is very much real. You're desperate to make your roommates see the truth, but the neighborhood black cat is set on keeping his mouth shut. Yours too.

5.1k words

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, argument w/ chan, reader has a tiny meltdown in the beginning, fuckin' on the bug couch 😭, PIV, no protection, boobs...lot's of it, nipple sucking/pinching/flicking/etc, seungmin is manipulative if you catch it, cumming inside

notes! little bit of angst in the beginning, but it's okay, bin is there to save the day. there wasn't even supposed to be fight scene with chan (it was supposed to be Seung), but I was angry when I wrote it and I just kinda spewed it out. I think it worked out in the end tho

Jeongin is gone when you wake. There’s not a sign of him in either doll or human form. With your head spinning, last night wants to blur into a dream.

But you know better now.

Rays of the waking sun barely touch your window. The sky is a light blue and the horizon is subtly yellow in the early morning. You’re tempted to close your eyes again, but you will yourself to sit up.

A part of you wishes you never accepted Jisung’s gift. You could’ve brushed off the interaction with Seungmin’s warning as a nightmare, but now you’re cursed with the truth.

There’s no way you can pretend nothing happened. You can’t ignore the little door and the Others trapped behind it. Even if your skin breaks out in goosebumps from the overwhelming thought of everything, doing nothing is not an option.

The clatter downstairs makes you jolt. It takes a moment for your brain to remember Chan’s message.

They’re finally home.

You throw the covers and swing your legs off the bed. It feels so relieving to hear them come home, even if loudly. From the top of the stairs, you can listen to Chan quietly scolding Changbin about making noise. The reprimands turn hushed when your bare feet pad down the hall.

“You woke her up, man.” “I didn’t mean to! Everything is still in boxes. I can’t just- ack!”

You tackle Changbin into a hug. He topples over, thudding into Chan who catches the both of you. Your feet scramble to find the ground, but your arms are so focused on clinging onto them both that your roommates have to hold you in the air briefly.

They’ve been gone for only hours, but it feels like an eternity. You’ve missed how they wrap their arms around you, bringing you into a confused, but welcomed embrace.

“Hey,” Chan speaks gently. “What’s wrong?” His fingers run in your hair, getting tangled with the knots. He carefully pulls his hand free. “Did you… take a mud bath?”

Changbin leans close to your head, sniffing your scalp. “Did you take a bath in general?”

Chan swats him on the shoulder, giving a nasty glare before his eyes turn gently to you. “You had a bad dream or something?”

And it’s one you wish you could wake up from. You wish you could tell them everything from the start, but the only thing you can do is sob. “Y-you have n-no id-dea.”

Even with the dirt and grime on you, they hug you again. Their lips and fingers smooth over your face and your hair.

They deserve to know the truth, but you can’t bear the thought of them getting caught up in a mess that feels like your fault.

“We need to move,” you sniff. “We can’t live here.”

Changbin tucks you under his chin, leaving your backside to Chan who trails his fingertips up and down. “Why not?”

“The door. It’s haunted. Or not haunted but...” How can you explain it? "It's just not right."

You feel Changbin tense under you, but in a vulnerable moment like this, he doesn’t let his fear show more than that. “What door, baby?”

Wordlessly, you lead them to the living room. Walking towards the crawl space might have felt heavy alone, but with Chan and Changbin holding each of your hands, the steps feel easy.

You let go of them to get on your knees, digging your fingers through the crack.

“Oh.” Chan turns his head to the side. “The boarded-up door. It’s just bricks on the other side, no?”

You don’t pry it open, not yet. “I…I thought so too, but there are people on the Other Side. One night, there was this mouse-”

“Mouse?” Chan’s eyes widen. “Fuck. I knew something was gonna come out of that door. We need to call someone-”

“No. No, no, no. Just listen,” you shake your head. “It led me to the door. And there was a tunnel.”

Changbin’s eyebrow quirks up. “A tunnel?”

“Yes. Let me finish. And it led to a living room that looked like ours but wasn’t. The lights were different, there weren’t boxes, and people were living on the upper and lower levels.”

You hate how they’re looking at you. Their eyes are full of confusion, and disbelief. But worst of all, they’re looking at you as if you’re just plain crazy.

But with everything that’s happened, maybe you are.

You’ll just have to show them. Sweat gathers on your fingers when you tug on the door, anxiously waiting to see their expression change to fear when they see what you saw.

But when it’s open - wide and bare for all to see - it’s only bricks.

“No. Fuck!” You slam the door frustratingly, yanking it open to see that red stone there again and again.

“No! No! No!” SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.

The house shakes from the force. You can’t hear the echoing from the blood rushing to your ears. Your vision blurs, hot tears streaming down your face for the second time this early morning.

Strong hands pull you away from the door and right into Changbin’s chest.

“Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” But his concern doesn’t faze you. You have to yank from his grip to run past the kitchen, heading towards the front door.

The sun peeks over the mountains when you’re outside. The air is crisp, biting at your skin that feels too hot.

If the door won’t reveal itself, you think something else will.

“Seungmin!” Your voice echos. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty!”

Chan and Changbin follow you outside, their steps thudding until they’re in the driveway. They stand a foot behind you, looking at each other bewildered before something trembles in the bushes.

A black cat jumps from the leaves, shaking off the stems and stretching nonchalantly. His blue eyes blink slowly, head turning from the men to you.

What do you want?

“Jesus!” Changbin jumps. “Where the fuck did he come from?”

You ignore his question and stomp towards the cat, angrily wiping your tears. “Tell them.”

Seungmin tilts his head to one side.

“Tell them! Tell them about the Others, the warning you gave me, anything.”

You can hear the leaves crunching quietly as Chan tiptoes to you. So slow, so delicate. As if you’re a deer that would run off.

When Seungmin says nothing, you scream.

“Ugh! I’m trying to help you! You stupid fucking cat! Why can’t you just listen!? You guys are stuck and I can’t do anything about it if you don’t let me help!”

“Mrow.”

Chan has a hold on you before you can yell at Seungmin again. The movement makes the cat dash, little paws thudding on the ground before disappearing among the trees. You desperately whine, watching the only thing that could have helped turn into a speck in the distance.

He spins you around to face him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You blink. Chan never talks to you like that. “I…He’s one of them.”

“One of who?”

“The Others. From the Other Side. He-”

“No. This is crazy.” Chan shakes his head. “You…Is this because we've been gone? I told you that we’re busy doing the album and that it’s gonna take until the end of the week to finish things up. Why are you doing this?”

His words make you physically recoil. You stare at him in shock, hurt evident in your eyes. “You think I’m doing this for attention?”

The tick in his jaw is enough of an answer.

Emotions thicken your words. “You don't know what it’s like. To be alone in this fucking nightmare. You’re gone. You’re both gone all the time. And when you are home, you’re on the computer acting like I’m a nuisance. What did you call me the other day? A distraction?”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I don't care how you meant it!” Your voice trembles. “I’m alone. I fucking hate it. You have Changbin while I lose my mind in that fucking house. And when I do need you, you’re still not here!”

Chan has you by the elbows as you wipe your tears. You expect his anger to fade into softness. He normally would whenever he sees you this upset, but his jaw hardens and it feels like the next words would only do more harm than good.

Changbin has to tug on his shoulder to break the tension. Chan’s grip loosens and Changbin stands in the middle, protectively in front of you.

“Okay. I think we need a breather. It’s late. Well… early I guess. I’m tired, you’re tired, we’re all tired.” He grabs your hand behind his back and keeps his other hand on Chan’s shoulder. “Hyung, it’s been a while since you’ve gotten good rest. Look at your eyes.”

You dare peek at Chan. You don’t know how you missed it before but the bags under his eyes are darker. They make his face hollow, drained with color.

Guilt eats at your heart.

“And you,” Bin turns around. “It’s been a while since you’ve showered, huh?”

Despite the dried tears, you scoff.

Changbin squeezes your hand. “Then that settles it. Go inside, Hyung. I’ll take care of everything.”

Chan deeply exhales. He lets you go and nods, taking a few steps back. “Thanks.”

Changbin and you are silent when he walks back into the house, the tips of his ears twinged red. Either from the cold or frustration, you aren’t sure. Changbin only turns back to you and brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear when the door closes.

“You okay?”

No, but you don’t want to keep causing stress on your best friends. “I’ll manage. I didn’t mean to make him so mad. I ruined everything.”

Changbin’s thick fingers caress your face. “No. Don’t say that. You didn’t ruin anything. Chan’s just been really stressed. But still, he shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at him like that.” You sniff, holding back tears again. You know you have to apologize, but the raw emotions of fear and anger are still in the air. The only reason you’re keeping it together is because Changbin looks as though he might break if you do.

“I just wanted you guys to believe me.”

“We do.” Changbin brushes his thumb under your eye. “But neither of us has really slept and it all just sounds…complicated.”

“Here.” Changbin intertwines his hand in yours. “We can freshen up first. I honestly need a nap, but I can be in the shower with you if you want.”

You playfully push him and laugh. Even with your knotty hair and dirty skin, Changbin would still make a move. It makes the heaviness in your chest lighter.

“Eww. No, thank you. I can wash up on my own. You guys go to sleep and just focus on getting rest.”

Changbin pouts, but nods, leading you into the apartment. He kisses you gently once you’re in the kitchen, holding onto your waist and running his hand up and down your back. It’s just lips, but you melt anyway. It feels like forever since you’ve been held so tenderly. You have to fight the urge to tilt your head and deepen the kiss, content when Changbin pulls away and rests his forehead on yours.

“You know we’re here for you. Always.”

Showering feels like a rebirth. The water scrubs not only the dirt but the emotions with it. You feel rejuvenated in the steaming water, letting the droplets slide down your waist and the curve of your breasts.

Getting out is difficult. You miss the hot shower the moment it’s off, drying yourself and putting on plain shorts and a shirt.

The sun is above the horizon now, bright and yellow. You stare at it from your window. A small, bitter laugh comes from you.

What a way to start the day.

You’re considering whether you should waste the day sleeping or attempting to do something productive, but there’s still frustration in your heart. Why didn’t the door show itself?

You’re already walking out of your room and down the hall, intent on confronting it head-on. If you open the door and it’s just bricks, you’ll drop the whole thing. The Others must not want to be found, to be helped. As much as it would pain you to know they’re stuck, their choice to stay is theirs.

Skittering down the stairs, you think of an alternate plan. If the door does reveal itself, they do need help. Or something from you, at the very least. Whatever it is, you’re planning on chewing them out for making a fool of yourself first and then giving them what they want.

Standing in front of the little door with determination is new for you. A part of you is wishing that it's just bricks there. Everything, despite how terrifying it was, can be summed up as a dream. Or a hallucination in the case of the doll.

You get on your knees, shoving your fingers through the crack once again.

“Okay. It’ll be fine.” You give yourself a quick pep talk. “You’ll open the door, see what’s there, you’ll have to apologize to-”

You open the crawl space mid-sentence, stopping when the blue tunnel unravels. Maybe you’d like to see its familiar pulsing and greeting, but anger that the shower was supposed to wash away resurfaces.

Those assholes.

There’s a man on the Other Side that you’ve never seen before. His hair is cut short, buttons eyes a dark blue, and piercing in a way that makes you think he hates you the moment you come out of the little door.

But the room, the room is unrecognizable. There’s no furniture, no couches, but bugs in their place. Big, lively-looking insects that the man sits on.

A beetle couch.

“You got a lot of nerve coming here after calling me a stupid cat. Again.” He folds his arms over his chest. “I can’t even talk if I wanted to over on that side.”

He’s the cat. He’s Seungmin. You should have known from his rude sneer and pompous attitude, but seeing him human is baffling.

“You…you made me look like an idiot.” You walk over to the bug couch, stopping at arm’s length. “I was trying to help you.”

He snorts. “Help me, yeah? By what? Yelling at me and calling me names? You dug your own grave doing that.”

He’s trying to spin it on you and it’s working. You’re reminded of how you treated Chan, of how you yelled at not just Seungmin, but a cat. Though you feel somewhat bad, you don’t have the empathy to apologize.

So Seungmin keeps talking. “I could hear you guys yelling even after I took off. Screaming at me then them. Sounds like they aren’t home enough to actually care about anything you’ve experienced.”

“That’s not true.”

“No?” Seungmin sits back, slightly spreading his legs. “Why did I hear you say something about you being alone? That they’re not there when you need them?”

If his goal is to make you feel like shit, he’s succeeding. You sit on the opposite side of the beetle couch, ignoring how the antennas flick upon your weight.

“I was just… mad.”

Seungmin nods, tilting his head upwards. “I get it, but you must feel that way at least a little to say it.” He turns to you. “There’s always some truth in moments like those.”

You can’t look at him, not with how ashamed you feel. “I wanted them to believe me. I wanted them to help.”

“Help?”

“Help me help you. All of you.” You flail your arms to express the entire apartment. “I know you guys are stuck, Jeongin told me. I put myself on some stupid mission to free you guys, but I can’t do it alone. I didn’t mean to get so mad at them. I just wanted them to see the truth.”

You wrap your arms around yourself for comfort. The tears building in your eyes make your sight watery, and you can’t do anything but try to blink them away.

Seungmin puts a hand on your shoulder, smoothing over the sleeve of your shirt. Finally, you look at him. It’s not a glare or an annoyed look on his face, but compassion.

Maybe he can be nice when he wants to, just like a cat.

“That is a stupid mission, but it’s kind of ironic.” He smiles. “You want to help us, but we want to help you.”

You use the back of your hand to wipe stray tears. “Help me? With what?”

“What you said earlier. It’s okay to be honest and say you’ve been lonely. The people you love get busy. They can’t make time like before. It hurts, but that’s just how things are.” He squeezes your shoulder.

“On that side. That’s how things are on that side. But here? Time is all we have. We’re never lonely. We never need to put responsibilities first because you're our responsibility.”

Seungmin follows the length of your arm to your hand, fiddling with your fingers when he reaches them. “We won’t ever make you feel alone. We never did.”

You let him hold your hand and bring it to his lips. Seungmin plants a gentle kiss on your knuckles, making your stomach erupt in butterflies. You’ve missed this feeling of reassurance, of being doted on. There’s not an ounce of hesitation when Seungmin leans in, inviting him wholeheartedly.

His hands cup your face to bring you closer. Even if your lips are already meeting, he can’t help but angle his head so they interlock deeper. You can taste his passion. You can feel his adoration when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip.

A plea. A quiet ask if he can go further. You love the surprising gentleness of his lips and actions.

You respond by opening your mouth just enough for his tongue to slip in. Gently, it makes its way between your lips. The warmth has you moaning, parting your mouth even more so he can swirl on your tongue.

His hot muscle has your eyes fluttering. It’s not desire, but yearning that builds in your stomach. You want to be taken care of. You want to let yourself be kissed and held in the most rawest form.

Seungmin knows. He can feel your need. He lays you flat on the couch carefully. His lips are still on yours as he moves you, cupping the back of your head to place you down.

He pulls away for a brief second. “Look at you. So beautiful.”

You’d roll your eyes any other time, but you find yourself blushing instead. You didn’t know he could be so mushy. Seungmin laughs at your pink cheeks and kisses your nose, trailing down until he finds your neck.

You bare your throat to give him free roam. Under his lips, you moan and smooth your hands on his upper back. Seungmin lifts the end of your top so it reveals your belly button, looking at you questioningly.

Clothes seem to fly off your bodies. It doesn’t take long until you’re both nude, letting him cup your breasts and pinch your nipples from on top.

Your thighs rub together impatiently, slick gathering between the space but you don’t rush him. You let his buttons gawk at your tits, tongue swiping at the corner of his mouth to collect his drool.

“And these,” Seungmin pushes them together. “Can’t forget about these.”

You giggle. Seungmin’s rough hands jiggle your breasts until you can feel his erection tapping your thigh. You desperately try to get his cock to fit between your legs, but he’s distracted by how your mounds fit perfectly in his hands.

He leans down, lips ghosting over the peak of your breast. “So pretty.”

His mouth wraps around your nipple like he can’t wait any longer. Seungmin sucks and releases quickly, making the gushing between your legs double. You arch into his mouth, panting and running your fingers through his hair.

“Ohh. Just like that.”

Seungmin hums appreciatively. His tongue flicks over your nipple repeatedly. The simultaneous smoothness and roughness of it make you tremble. Your other nipple isn’t completely ignored. His fingers twist and tug until you squeal.

And when his teeth come to play, you thrust your hips. Your thighs can only provide pressure, but not direct stimulation. You can’t touch your clit from your legs being so tightly pressed together. Seungmin lets you whine from pulsing need, giggling with your nipple between his teeth.

“You want something?” His cocky smile looks sexy with your bud in his mouth. You’d knock it off his face if you could, but you pout instead.

He bites harder, making you squeal. “Seungmin!”

“I can’t read your mind, baby. Why don’t you tell this stupid cat what you want?”

He laughs at your red face. Seungmin switches to the next boob to give the same treatment.

Until you answer him, he’ll stay on your chest even with his cock dripping on your thigh.

The swollen nipple that was just in his mouth gets twisted by his fingers. You don’t have to look at it to know it’s red and puffy, but you glance down anyway. Seungmin’s already ravishing your unbruised boob, ignoring your cries of sensitivity from your other one.

There’s not a chance you can stand another second of his mouth. “Seung.”

His eyes look up, but his mouth doesn’t stop sucking.

“I…I want you to touch me.”

Seungmin pinches your nipple harder. Chills erupt on your skin from the painful pleasure and you have to hold your breath to keep yourself from screaming.

“My pussy! I want you to touch my pussy.”

Finally, he pops off your nipple. Saliva clings to his lips that he swipes with his tongue. “Mhm.”

Seungmin sits up, letting you get a good view of his body. His torso narrows at the waist and doesn’t expand much more at the shoulders. His chest is flushed pink with his nipples erect and dark. The v-line on his stomach is dainty, pleading with you to trace it.

But he’s too out of reach for you to grab. Instead, you rub your breasts soothingly, tapping your nipples to get jolts of pleasure coursing through your body.

Seungmin grabs the base of his cock and strokes himself. He angles the head so it lines with your entrance, but rather than pushing in, he slides it against your cunt. You look down to watch it grind on your stomach, the tip stopping below your belly button. His thumbs spread your pussy apart so he can properly grind against you.

The stimulation is jaw-dropping. It feels like you’ve been leaking for hours. The pleasure is so good that your stomach aches from how hard you clench.

Seungmin ends up pushing your lips together so they curve around the head of his cock. Your clit can feel every vein and curve. Arousal drips from your hole that clenches emptily. When you said you wanted him to touch you, you meant a lot more than that.

“Please, Seungmin. Just fuck me.”

He grins. “There it is.”

With a hand steading on your hip and the other holding his cock, Seungmin slides low enough for his tip to catch your entrance. You think he might miss a few times from how wet you are, but the glide is smooth.

He opens you up just right. The crown of his head stretches you deliciously, narrowing just slightly before thickening down the rest of his length.

You grab onto the couch, terrifyingly reminded of its insect nature when it twitches in response.

Seungmin takes his time bottoming you out. It feels like miles before he goes as deep as he can get, lifting your legs so he can press his pelvis flush against you.

“Oh, fuck.” Seungmin’s buttons glisten. “Been fucked so many times and you’re still so tight.”

He pulls out and goes back in, making you switch to your boobs again and squeezing. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape when he tries to set a pace. Your brain has to catch up with the pleasure your body is feeling. Moaning doesn’t yet sound when you can’t even breathe from his cock filling you.

With your legs wrapping around his waist, Seungmin leans down. Now, you finally have something to scratch on. Fingernails find his back and you dig them into his skin, hearing him hiss in your neck.

“I haven’t even started fucking you and you’re clawing me up.” He sounds prideful. “You are a bad fucking kitty.”

Seungmin cackles when he repeats Minho’s words verbatim. You can’t even focus with his cock pounding in your walls, but you do somewhat recall how eager you were to be a pet for Minho and Felix.

Pleasure finally registers when Seungmin fucks deep. You can feel his tip kissing your cervix, daring to break past the barrier and touch the back of your throat instead. His cock is so hot inside you, searing your insides in the best way possible.

You moan loudly. It’s hard to stop once you start. Sounds of desire tumble from your lips with every thrust. You can feel the veins of his length sliding in and out, the head always staying inside you before pounding in. His hands on your waist have you slam onto his cock, making his dick feel impossibly deep.

His nose touches yours, eyes locking with your mouth agape. Seungmin looks at your drooly lips for a brief second before kissing you again.

It reminds you of the garden yesterday. Where Jisung was messy and desperate, Seungmin is sure and confident. He doesn’t even blink when your teeth clash together. His focus is on keeping your mouth on his while his hips thrust wildly.

You can’t keep your ankles crossed for much longer. Seungmin’s pounds are so strong that they force them apart. He lets go of your waist with one hand and places it on the back of your thigh instead, spreading them further for more access.

The new angle has you seeing stars. You can feel how your cunt swallows him whole, squelching with every intrusion. His cock hits the upper part of your walls, grinding on a gummy spot that makes you pant in his mouth.

“Fffuucckk. Right there. Right there. Pleasepleaseplease.”

Blunt fingernails dig into the underside of your thigh. Seungmin must feel how hard you're clenching and how much softer your pussy has gotten from his relentless pistons. He can’t suck on your tongue when it’s your cunt that keeps sucking him in.

“Yeah? Yeah, you like it right here?” Seungmin’s hot breath fans over your face. “Gonna cum on my cock?”

You nod, letting your head bobble at will. White pleasure builds and builds in your tummy at a pace you can’t keep up with. It makes you squeal overwhelmingly from the sheer amount but Seungmin doesn’t stop. His cock keeps hitting that spot until your fingers find his hair.

“Oh, fuck yes. I’mma cum so good on your cock. Don’t stop, Seungmin.”

Half of you expects him to pull out. It wouldn’t be out of his character to halt his own pleasure to ruin yours, but it turns out that Seungmin can listen well.

He groans when you tug on his hair, managing to keep his pace despite the dull pain. You can hear the slap of his balls against you from his efforts.

Your eyes roll so far your head tilts back. All you can do is gasp when the pleasure bursts from its bubble. Suddenly, his pumps send you on overload. The veiny texture of his cock has you gushing more than you bargained for. As good as he fucks into you, the unbearable slams has your vision seeing black dots.

“Yeah. Yeah. I love that fucking look in your eyes. Makes me wanna fuck you harder.”

You don’t know where his burst of energy comes from. You’re still trying to find your sanity and come down from your high when he pulls so far back that his tip almost slips out before ramming back in.

Your head lifts to see him bullying into your cunt. You clit peeks from under your hood, you can see the messy arousal on your inner thighs, and your lips are so swollen. There’s not much more you can take, but when you feel his cock twitch you know he’s close.

Still, you yank on his hair in desperation. “S-Seung- I’m…I’m-”

“Come on. Take it. Take it. I know you can.” Sweat drips down his forehead. “You’ve been doing so good. Don’t tell me to stop now.”

Seungmin’s praises are like music to your ears. You swallow your words and let yourself moan instead, embracing the fire in your pussy and chest.

It only grows hotter when his thrusts turn erratic. Your walls feel like jelly when you leak from the overstimulation. Your hips spasm under Seungmin when he fucks harder. He sits on his haunches and puts your legs in the air, chasing his orgasm that’s only seconds away.

“In your pussy, yeah? Fuck yeah. Just the look in your eyes says it all.” He moans. Seungmin stills his hips inside before his cum pours out.

He puts his hand on your lower abdomen and presses down. You scream from the pressure, feeling his cock tenfold spilling in you. Your legs shake in the air so violently that Seungmin has to wrap his fingers around your ankles.

It feels like slow motion when he pulls out. The head of his cock makes your cunt stretch and pulse one last time before it slips, slapping wetly against his stomach and dripping with arousal.

You’re panting like an animal, eyes unfocused as you watch him catch his breath. His skin feels hot and sticky when he leans down to wrap his arms around you. It’s only a little uncomfortable, but you welcome his touch regardless.

Seungmin waits until your breathing is almost normal, playing mindlessly with your hair.

You glance at him to see him beaming, smiling ear to ear. It's infectious, and there's a ghost of a grin on your lips. “What are you so happy about?”

He shrugs, pulling you closer. His hand moves from your hair to your arm. “You know. Just that you're staying.”

“Staying?” You draw back. The post-orgasm fades a little too quickly for your liking. “When did I say I was staying?”

His navy-blue buttons aren’t threatening at all, unlike his words. He’s happy, shining with joy. “You didn’t have to say it. I told you; If you come back here again, we won’t let you leave.”

#smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #skz #skz seungmin #stray kids seungmin #seungmin smut #seungmin stray kids #horror october!#kim seungmin

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milf-murdock · 7 months ago

Text

The Ghost of You (Part 3)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x 141!Reader Summary: The entire task force believes you to be dead. What happens when Simon finds you on his doorstep? Part 1 here Part 2 here (the rest of the 141 reacts to your death)

You awake in darkness. The dust is everywhere; you feel it coating your mouth, layering your lungs, prompting you to cough and sputter.

There was so much you didn’t know: how you survived, what exactly you survived–some kind of explosion, for sure, but what caused it? Enemy action? Was it a setup? Your head spins as you try to replay everything you remember. There wasn’t much to remember. One second you were standing in an abandoned warehouse on a routine recon mission. The next second, a devastating blast and everything went black.

In spite of everything you don’t know, there is one thing you know for certain. Everything hurts. As your body rattles with each cough, pain wracks your body. When the coughing fit finally subsides, you test the extent of your injuries with light movement. Toes? Movable. Fingers? Still attached.

Taking stock of your surroundings, you realize that it’s not the wholly darkness of night that surrounds you. There’s faint glimpses of sunlight trickling through the wreckage. It gives off enough light to see that you’re effectively trapped beneath a giant sheet of metal. It must have been the roof of the warehouse, snagged by fallen crossbeams that held it just barely over your body. A few inches further and it would have meant certain death.

The realization sends a bolt of adrenaline through you.

“Holy fuck,” you think to yourself. “I’m alive.” The gravity of that sentence hits you like a freight train.

You survived this. You are alive.

You need to get the hell out.

With your strengthened resolve, using every scrap of strength you can muster, you set to work slowly, carefully, freeing yourself from the debris. There’s not much give between the roof and your body, but you manage to make it onto your stomach so you can begin to crawl from under the wreckage. The pain threatens to pull you back under into unconsciousness, but up ahead lies a single golden ray of sunlight streaming through a gap in the wreckage–a beacon of hope. You fix your sights on it and power through.

Ghost sits alone in the darkness, consumed by his grief. The small velvet ring box is back in his hands, taunting him.

Every time he felt he had gathered up the strength to get rid of the damn thing, something stopped him–a small tug deep from within. One final shred of hope? One last desperate attempt to cling to what could have been? He just couldn’t let it go.

He had been so close to happiness, so close to letting himself believe for just a moment that maybe he even deserved to be happy, after all the pain he had endured in his life.

He was a fucking fool.

The box served as a painful reminder of everything he had lost: a future, a family, you.

But he hadn’t just lost you. No, he lost the man who was capable of that kind of love, that kind of hope.

The man who had happiness just within his reach. And then watched as it crumbled to ash in his fist.

Everything reminds him of you.

He can’t stand being in the kitchen; the ghosts of you two slow dancing, your favorite song playing in the background, pass him on the way to the fridge.

He can’t sit on the couch because the phantom touch of your familiar body tucked up into him is too damn painful.

He can’t even sleep in his own goddamn bed because even when sleep does eventually win out and take over, he never fails to wake up to that fleeting moment of hope when he opens his eyes, hands stretching out automatically to cup you, and for a split second all feels right in the world again. Then his hands meet empty air and the loss comes crashing back down to him tenfold.

And so Ghost sits on the floor. In the dark. With his bourbon.

Haunted by the ghost of you.

It takes every ounce of strength you have to limp to the safehouse roughly 3 klicks away. Collapsing onto the musty sofa, you finally allow yourself to succumb to the darkness that has been creeping into the edge of your vision.

You’re woken by a strong hand on your shoulder. Fight or flight kicks in as your hand flies up to grab the stranger’s arm, jerking awake to find a familiar face hovering over you.

“Nikolai?” You gasp in surprise. You’re not sure who’s more surprised: you or the rugged sergeant above you.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Just hearing Nikolai’s thick Russian accent was a comfort.

You survived. You made it to safety. And now, you’d be able to get home.

There’s footsteps on the doorstep once again.

‘That bloody idiot doesn’t know when to quit,’ Simon thinks to himself.

“Fuck off Price,” he shouts towards the door before taking another drink. “Damn prick needs to take the fucking hint,” he mumbles under his breath.

The door clicks.

Price doesn’t have a key, the thought races through his addled brain a second too late.

Typically, Ghost would be on alert. Someone entering his home? Not on his fucking watch.

But what does it matter? Ghost thinks. Maybe they’ve finally come to take me away.

Let them fucking come.

“Simon.” Your voice is hoarse–soft and broken.

The sound alone cleaves Simon’s heart in two. Was he hearing things? It sounded so real.

He stumbles to his feet, tripping slightly as he gets his bearings and steps into the hallway, moving towards the door.

When your broken and bruised body limps into view, Simon can’t even think straight.

It’s a trick. It’s not…it can’t be…

Regardless of what his brain is telling him, his feet move to you.

You make it all of two steps before you’re falling, collapsing into Simon’s outstretched arms.

The second he makes contact, he knows it's real.

His knees buckle beneath him and he guides your bodies to the floor, falling to his knees as he holds your trembling form tight against him.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, repeating your name over and over like a prayer. The pure shock and disbelief are overwhelming as he pulls you tighter, his grip a vice on your body, keeping you rooted to him.

He buries his face in the top of your head and breathes you in. Hot tears slide from his eyes, falling into your hair.

“You’re alive. You’re here.” His voice is ragged, desperate for this to be real, to be true. He has spent every moment since that day in Price’s office dreaming of your touch, longing to feel you in his arms again. Losing you was a pain incomparable to any other.

And here you are, your trembling body back in his arms as he holds you fiercely to his chest.

“You’re alive,” he repeats, voice equal parts pain and relief. “You’re here.”

“I’m here, Si,” you whisper into his chest. “I’m here.” He smells of bourbon and that distinct smell of Simon and it warms your heart–you weren’t sure you’d ever smell it again.

“How?” Simon’s voice breaks on the single syllable.

Simon carries the two steaming mugs of tea over to the couch, relief washing over him once again as he walks back in the room to find you sitting there. He was half convinced that you would have disappeared when he walked into the kitchen, nothing more than a mirage sent straight from the depths of hell to torture him.

But there you sit. Hair wet from the shower. Draped in one of his old t-shirts. You smile up at him as you take the mug, and the sight alone has Simon reaching up to press against his chest, as if he could soothe the ache that lay beneath there.

He takes his seat close to you, one hand instinctively finding purchase on your bare thigh.

“You were dead,” Simon’s voice chokes out the last word, his grip tightening further, like if he relaxed his grip even a little bit, you’d vanish into thin air.

“I survived.” Your own voice chokes up as the reality of your ordeal catches up to you. Your hand covers Simon’s and you absentmindedly trace the veins on the back of his hand, steadying your breath.

You recount as much as you can remember: escaping from the wreckage, searching for survivors, making your way to the safe house. How your good fortunes continued as Nikolai found you and helped you navigate your way back home.

The tea has long gone cold by the time you finish. Simon doesn’t look away the entire time, utterly transfixed by you. His eyes trace you up and down, as if he still can’t believe you’re sitting here before him.

You turn a pleading look towards Simon. “I tried to call you,” you explain. “So many times. But it never rang.”

For the first time, Simon looks away, something like shame settling in him.

He didn’t want you to see him like that–a mess of a man, hardly a man at all. A man who drowned his pain and his sorrows in bourbon. A man who couldn’t even sleep in his own bed. A man who turned off his own cell phone because he couldn’t bear the condolence messages and check-ins from his squadmates.

You spare him the burden of explaining as you sit up to press a kiss against his hollow cheek.

“It’s okay, Si,” you say quietly. “We’re okay now.”

Simon pulls you from your spot on the couch to his lap, holding you even closer. You bury your face in his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.

His strong arms wrap around your body, and it dawns on him that he holds his entire world within his arms. And he’d be damned if he would ever let anything take you away from him again.

He holds you tightly as your breathing levels out, sleep tugging at your edges. The sheer exhaustion deep in your bones weighs you down, but none of it matters as you fall asleep in the safety of Simon’s arms.

Masterlist here

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley imagine #simon “ghost” riley x reader

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bakugoushotwife · 1 year ago

Text

kinktober day twenty-five: biting kink

>>> oh yeah i got a new laptop! went back in and reformatted the other days so hopefully they aren't an eyesore but we back on track with choso here :)) he's so.....yum...he's so....biting coded idk

>>> starring: choso kamo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: sorta dark content just to be safe, biting, a little blood, one spank, spitting, oral (f!receiving), doggy, uh kinda yandere coded i suppose, one kinda baby-trapping comment >>> wc: 3.3k >>> event masterlist:

choso is a family oriented man. it’s at the core of who he is, and everyone knows how important his family is to him—no matter how small said family was. his brother yuji meant a lot to him as his only “blood” relation and closest friend. he loves the guy more than anything. or, he thought he did. that was easy to say until he met you of course. choso was new to life despite his soul being over a hundred years old, and he had never experienced the emotions you bring him. the joy, the excitement, the true love. it amazes him and he’s still not quite used to all of it just yet, despite the several years that you’ve been together.

you met through yuji during the height of his woes of war and the inner battles he fought against his own cursed brain—toeing the line between human and monster. at some point, he made peace with not belonging. he knew that yuji loves him and that was really all he needed. he didn’t have to relate to yuji’s struggles. his perfectly human issues, like running behind on laundry now that fushiguro is on a mission and isn’t hounding him to do it. he didn’t have to relate to the emotions of love and worry and anxiety or jealousy, not until yuji introduced him to a fellow sorcerer—a kyoto school alumni. you were radiant. like a captive ray of sunshine. he hadn’t experienced such warmth in his chest, blossoming across his face. what was this? he missed your name. he was too busy panicking over introducing himself and how he would do so that he’s already made a complete fool of himself by the time he bows at the shoulders and gives you a gentle whisper of his name.

you miss his name too, he was much too quiet. you look to yuji, and he clarifies. “my brother, choso. the one i was telling you about!” he pats your back, and you do remember him telling you about his older sibling. by the time choso’s lifted back to his regular posture, he’s convinced yuji’s probably only revealed the most embarrassing things about him and that you would be put off just by the knowledge of what he is. but when he looks at you again, you’re smiling. you give him your hand instead of bowing, repeating your name and cheerfully offering to show him around kyoto city.

he was so glad he accepted. that warmth in his chest never went away. you were so addictive. you didn’t bat an eye at his awkwardness and you seemingly took pleasure in teaching him any gaps he had yet to experience. that day, when you showed him around the city–he had no clue what it was that he felt for you. he followed you around your town, touring shops and exploring scenery with you, with no trace of embarrassment. you were easy to get along with, naturally talkative and entertaining—he learned a lot about you that night. you were captivating. you were standing at a natural pond, pointing out some cranes and spouting off facts about their mating cycles. he had no clue what half of it really meant, but he liked the sound of your voice and the excitement shimmering in your eyes. he knew he wanted to feel this warmth again. he never wanted it to go away—his body was buzzing with the feeling of being alive. he’d never had that before. it was you, it had to be you, maybe that was your cursed technique. but either way, choso was hooked.

“you’re beautiful.” he blurted out in the middle of your educational rant, and he’s not sure what made him say so. clearly you were gorgeous—but the confidence to confess it was something he was sure he would lack forever. maybe his brother had rubbed off on him, after all yuji was very outward with his affection for his boyfriend. but you weren’t choso’s anything. he just met you. and if he hadn’t left an awful first impression, he was sure he had made things way to awkward for a first interaction now.

but you giggle. he likes the sound. it was warm like that feeling in his chest. you turn to give him your attention then, and he really gets to see the gentleness in your eyes. so free of judgment, so soft as they look over him. he’s sure he’s blushing again.

“so are you.” you grin, one side of your mouth higher than the other. he’s entranced by it. but he’s not the only one affected by this first time encounter. you were amazed by his kindness. he was easy and gentle, not to mention ethereally gorgeous.he was tall and broad, and even though he was covered head to toe, you could tell by the veins in his hands that nothing but strength and muscle lurked beneath his oversized sweater.

that really sent him reeling. what does he say to that? he’s never been in this position before and yuji certainly didn’t give him any pointers. he could only follow his overly-forward example in his established relationship. “i like you. i want to see you again.” he tucks his hands in his pockets and scuffs his boots over some dirt.

“like a date?” you ask, brow raised and hopeful. it had only been a few hours of wandering together but you liked the calm tranquility he brought—along with that strikingly handsome face.

date. date? he knows what that is, he remembers something about these. it’s where couples spend time together! but you weren’t a couple yet, so… was that different? he could ask later, right now you stare up at him expectantly—and he can’t say no to that look on your face. “yes. romance.” he nods, and you smile softly at the attempt.

though romance you he did. he must have learned a lot in the weeks leading up to your official first date, because from that point on choso never ceased to amaze you. he surely didn’t know everything about being a boyfriend, but you made things pretty easy on him. he mostly acted off of instinct, and where that failed him–you made sure to keep him informed on how to love, console, talk through his feelings, and navigate any other bump in the road along the way of your beautiful three years together.

you taught him how to embrace his intimacy, too. and boy, is that his favorite way of loving you. he is clingy and possessive–you’re the only person alive who could evoke such neediness from him, of course he wants to stay near you always and make his claim on you as visible as possible. hasn’t he already established how beautiful you are? i mean your nature and beauty alone was enough to bring someone like him out of his shell. he can only imagine what effect you must have on lesser men.

he never imagined that lesser men would include your male coworker— partner. even worse. he may be unfamiliar with several things that this life has to offer, but the concept of a work husband was not lost on him. especially when it comes time to pick you up that day. choso always liked to pick you up. he liked to see you as soon as possible number one, and number two he liked to make sure his presence was still well noted around your infested office. he picked a good day to stop by, apparently. your partner had you trapped in your chair—his body wedged between your desk and any escape. choso could tell by the look in his eye that his intentions were anything but pure–and clearly the healing bruises peeking up over your collar weren’t enough to let the pervert know that you were more than spoken for.

you could feel his energy as soon as he rounded the corner, and your relief was clear. you slump into your seat, ready for your loving boyfriend’s rescue from this horribly awkward conversation. your relief doesn’t last long. the look on your boyfriend’s face was that of pure rage, his eyes a dark purple flame. your pesky coworker seems to feel the perilous stare. he wheels around to be met with the boyfriend you warned him about, and he opens his mouth to make excuses.

“leave. don’t talk to her again.” he utters from your doorway, making sure the man had to walk past him to obey his requests. “want kids one day?” he threatens, raising his brow, his face a nasty scowl. the guy backs aways from you immediately, tucking his head to slide past choso and pray that his sliminess doesn’t get on his clothes. choso growls a little upon his exit, slamming your door shut behind him. your kind and gentle boyfriend was in the backseat of his own mind, and you knew it. he was blinded with jealousy—though he trusts you with his life. it just disgusts him that anyone can picture you in the way that’s only meant for him. if he could, he’d make sure no one could even look at you, though that’s far from an achievable reality. he stares at you, the fire dimming in his eyes only slightly since you were not the source of his rage—but you would surely be the resolve of it.

you could tell what he was ordering you to do without him having to say a word, and it wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve let choso fuck you in your office. it excites you to see him so controlling. you unbutton your blouse, moving from your office chair to the desk to present yourself for him. he growls approvingly, thumbing over his bottom lip as he admires you. you’re already a patchwork of bruises in various stages of healing—and thanks to your overzealous partner, he’d have to add more to the collection.

“just panties.” he orders in that low silken tone of his. you can see the imprint of his cock steadily hardening against the casual black jeans he chose to wear today. your mouth nearly salivates at the thought of how rough he was about to be with you as you grip at the sides of your pencil skirt, yanking it down your legs and into the floor before you move for your bra—sighing at the relief of your free chest meeting the cool air. he nods, tugging at the neck of his shirt to remove it.

your body just puts everything in overdrive. every need to take you and mark you up intensifying tenfold. you are perfect, sultry little lips, a perfect rack and curves for days. he knew he was hardly the first guy to fantasize about you—but he had to make sure he was the only one taking up your thoughts. you shudder at the reveal of his chiseled top half. he was so bulky despite first impressions, huge biceps and thick, veiny forearms. his chest was wide and pecs defined, he was a god. your legs shift wider in subconscious accommodation for him and he’s pushing his jeans down and giving you a half-lidded smirk—enough to make your panties stick to your cunt in anticipation of him. he grabs your chin, giving you a harsh kiss. he was so dual, so easy with you one moment and brutal with you the next, it was everything. he gnaws at your lip, shoving his thick tongue into your mouth, licking over the walls over your cheeks and tasting the bitter energy drink you’ve been sipping on your tongue. he chuckles when he pulls away, your lip puffy in the spot his teeth met.

“so pretty even your coworkers want you. what am i gonna do with you, sweetheart?” he sighs, sinking to his knees. he rubs you over your panties, enjoying the squishy mush he feels waiting for him beneath the fabric. you kick your legs on either side of him, leaning back on the desk to get more of that feeling, his fingers temporarily hooking on your clit with each pathetic little roll of your hips. “only this wet for me though, right?”

you nod vigorously, parting those swollen lips to plead your case. he swipes your panties to the side and loudly spits against your clit. his other thumb comes in to spread the nasty lube. you clamp your mouth shut again at the feeling of his digits stroking over you, your studious boyfriend having learned exactly where to touch you through your times together. you shudder instantly, body responding through jerks of your legs and trying to shut them around his head. that only makes him move his fingers all together, leaning in to suckle your clit in between his teeth, biting at the sensitive nub. you can feel his hair rub against your inner thighs, the warmth and wetness of his mouth making you look around for a way to ground yourself against the rapid stretching elastic feeling in your core. his hands find the dimples of your thighs, kneading at them and groaning as he flicks his tongue against the nerves now—memorizing the patterns and speed you liked best like this quick figure eight he was doing now.

one hand grips the desk, your other coming up to grip at his black pigtail, whisper-chanting his name as helplessly grind on his face. he knows you won’t last much longer, and he knows exactly how to push you over the edge—letting his fingers take the place of his mouth so he could occupy his teeth with the plush skin of your inner thighs. luckily you love it, his sick need to brand you in the most dangerous way possible—loving the message it sends. you squeal as he sinks into your flesh, seeing stars from the combining sensations.

“choso!! cumming, oh shh—” your mouth drops open, the shocks coming over you in waves. if he was in a kinder mood, he’d work you through the onslaught and let you sit on his length, working you both out in such a delicious fashion. but he’s insatiable, and one of those sweet squeals from you is not anywhere near enough. he stands back to full height, pulling off those soaked panties and letting them lie forgotten along with the rest of your clothes. you’re so gone already—so beautiful and blissed out in the way that you have taught him exactly how to do this to you and no one could be as attentive and cater to you like he does. you look up at him so sweetly, you’ve given over your entire body for him to decorate as he sees fit—and your neck doesn’t have his teeth marks in the delicate skin where everyone can see. no, he had been a gentleman so far, keeping everything coverable–tasteful peeks available depending on the work shirts you chose. he thumbs over your lip, scraping his teeth over your jaw and nipping at different places just enough to bruise, loving the blues and reds left in his wake. he knows to be careful, to avoid your carotid–no one’s more in tune with blood flow than he is. so he picks his spot, laving his tongue over it as his fingers play in the mess between your legs, making you gasp and hump into his hand again like the eager little girl you are. you scream out his name when he bites, the iron tang of blood dripping on his tongue and down that pretty neck of yours. you kick your feet, the pain so deep but so good—connected directly to the panging need in your cunt, you can’t deny that his kink is one you share.

you can see the red staining his teeth when he pulls away to look at the little streaks running down your skin–just enough. he would never seriously hurt you, and he knows that you love to be bitten and branded as much as he loves to do it. you grin at the sight of him, blood on his lip and desire burning in the place of his earlier rage. he turns you, helping you lean over your desk so he could see what marks needed to be replaced on your ass. he licks his teeth, several had healed up and disappeared to his distaste. he slaps the supple skin, making you jump a bit with giddiness—some dizziness even. you push against your wooden desk to feel his warmth, his large hand enough to sting your whole cheek as his teeth sink into the other. your eyes roll back a little, knowing this one had drawn blood based on the way he soothes over the indents with his tongue. it’ll be hard to sit on it tomorrow, but he compliments the brand with a few hickies surrounding the main piece, palming at your skin to soothe. he loves hearing you mewl and moan when he claims you, he loves seeing that glistening layer of your want for him on your thighs when he spreads your ass cheeks, grunting out just how happy it makes him as he guides his fat leaking cockhead to the eager entrance.

he hisses and you moan when he bottoms out in you, giving you inch by inch without mercy. you press your cheek to the cool wood of the desk, only able to feel the heat of your body and his hot cock sliding in and out of you. you can’t speak, he fills you too well. he’s angled too perfect, hitting every spot over and over to make you stupid—unable to even hold yourself up any longer. he loves using such a brutal pace on you, thrusting powerfully enough that his balls slap against your bruised ass. you clench down around him so tight he’s worried his cock might snap in two—but it’s so worth it for the animalistic moans spilling from your throat every time he nudges against your cervix. you look so cute beneath him, clawing at the desk and screaming his name in those silent yells.

“is this my pussy? tell me who’s pussy this belongs to.” he grunts, pulling your arms behind your back. you arch to fight against the depth he’s getting, only to give him more with your squirming. he tightens his hold to keep you still, using his other hand to pull your hair up for a clear answer. you inhale sharply at the pain, the feeling so blissful you can feel another elastic band stretching thin inside you. “asked you a question, sweetheart. speak up.”

“yes–” you choke out, trying to collect your thoughts in between the loud beats of your heart and throbs of your pussy. “all yours, ‘s your pussy chos–choso!” you cry out, the rubber band snapping as he finds the weak spot of your womb.

“that’s my good girl, want my pussy to cum for me.” he squeezes your wrists in one big hand—freeing your hair. you gasp out, nodding eagerly as the release comes gushing, your series of babbles and squeals enough to do him in. he slams his cock as deep as it will go–hoping to one day mark you as his in the most obvious way possible as his seed spills into your insides. he rocks you both through it this time, a sign that your boyfriend was returning to normal after receiving the cure to his sour mood. his soft hands caress the curves of your waist as he stills, catching his breath. you lay beneath him in a dream state, blood on your body and traces on the table and on his own person. he chuckles a little—hopefully your partner, and any other oblivious skeez, gets the point now, if your screaming didn’t run them out of the office.

#kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kyleewritesjjk #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #choso x reader #choso kamo #choso jjk #choso smut #jjk choso #choso

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