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#or bothering them just to get a rise out of them
homocidal-invader · 2 days
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Professor Membrane: Good or Bad Father?
I've decided to scientifically argue weather or not Professor Membrane from Invader Zim father of Dib Membrane and gasoline the other one by going through EVERY EPISODE of Invader Zim (that he appears in) and making a point counter of every good and bad action he does.
Episode 1 The Nightmare Begins Ignores Dib -1 point
Episode 2B NanoZim Just gives him the tiny ship when he needs help even though what he says is insane. Proffy doesn't even call him insane just tells him to run along + 1 point
Episode 3A Parent Teacher Night He tried to show up for the meeting,,, even if it resulted in the lab exploding. + 1 dad point - 1 scientist point
Episode 6B Battle Dib Didn't recognize his son - 1 point Too hard to contact - 1 point Gave Dib the permission slip + 1 point
Episode 8B Bad Bad Rubber Piggy MADE HIS SON INTO A COOL ASS BATTLE ROBOT TO PREVENT HIM FROM DYING + 1 point
10B Bloatys Pizza Hog Only one annual family night out - 1 point Lets Gaz choose wherever she wants + 1 point Made sure Dib also came + 1 point If Dib doesn't show up, he'll put it off for next year - 1 point 12B Game Slave 2 One of the best lines in the show + 1 point
13 Battle of the Planets Told his son aliens were fake and said he had a big head as a baby. The iconic line "my poor insane son" debuts this episode. - 1 point
14 Halloween Spectacular of Spooky Doom said "It was only a matter of time" for Dib going to HIS INSANE ASYLUM THAT HE OWNS. - 1 point Did not consider Dib's opinion for a second. - 1 point Sent Dib to the asylum. For the rest of his life. - 1 point And an extra bad point, because that's really bad, and the worst thing he's done in the show and what most people remember him for. - 1 point Another bad point for apparently experimenting on baby Dib so much he has subconscious trauma over it. - 1 point
15B Future Dib Neglects his children (hasn't shown up for weeks) - 1 point However he makes prerecorded messages for them so he's not totally abandoning them. + 1 point Inviting his kids to the infinite energy thingy. + 1 point Pat Gaz on the head + 1 point Noticed Dib was missing immedietely + 1 point He told Gaz to make sure Dib doesn't do anything embarrassing. - 1 point Waited for his kids despite jeers from the audience + 1 point DOESN'T GIVE EVERYONE PERPETUAL ENERGY BECAUSE THEY DISRESPECTED HIS KIDS + 1 dad point - 1 scientist point Membrane doesn't realize the robot dib is fake - 1 point
18B The Sad Sad Tale of Chickenfoot Invasion of privacy by letting randoms in the house. - 1 point Calls his son insane to everyone there. - 1 point Insisting what his son's future is as I'm assuming he does that a lot offscreen. - 1 point Not defending Dib when everyone starts laughing at him - 1 point
20 Tak The Hideous New Girl Trying to make friends with Dib's friend :) + 1 point
21 Backseat Drivers from Beyond the Stars Tells Gaz to be nice to his brother and helps her out with her problem. + 1 point Calls Dib insane behind his back - 1 point
23b Dibship Rising He LIED about the can of beans wiping out ALL HUMAN LIFE - 1 point?
25 Gaz Taster of Pork Always keeps the fridge stocked with good food + 1 point Stopped what he was doing immedietely to help Gaz with her problem + 1 point Put his kid on public TV without consent - 1 point Turned his kid into an experiment - 1 point Makes his children have to do an escape sequence at all - 1 point Apologizes + 1 point
27 The Most Horrible X-Mas Ever Trusted Dib with his anti-santa arsenal + 1 point
DELETED EPISODES!
Mopiness of Doom Listened to Dib + 1 point Told Dib to give up on his dreams - 1 point Very encouraging to Dib + 1 point Constantly checking in on Dib + 1 point Very tuned into Dib's emotions and be able to tell when something is bothering him + 1 point Professor Membrane's love is conditional - 1 point Complaining about Dib to Gaz - 1 point
10 Minutes to Doom Did not recognize his son - 1 point Did not want to get involved with Dib's fashion matters - 1 point Deciding to take a look anyways + 1 point Didn't to his son and now insisting that they have to stop him - 1 point
Day of Da Spookies Calls his son insane - 1 point Stopping work to help him anyways + 1 point
TOTAL SCORE
Good Points - 25 Bad Points - 30
ENTER THE FLORPUS
Making his kids a food robot + 1 point Waiting for Dib + 1 point Calling his son insane to Gaz - 1 point Telling Gaz to be supportive, even using metaphors + 1 point BEHOLD MY BOY CHILD + 1 point Mean to Dib about his interests - 1 point Arguing - 1 point Calling Dib's spaceship fake - 1 point Wishing isn't very scientific son - 1 point Patting his son on the head + 1 point Unprovoked calling Dib's ideas imaginary - 1 point Confirming he knows aliens exist, thus meaning that he's just saying they don't to be mean to his son specifically - 1 point Insisting it's a hallucinations so hard - 1 point Saying he'll always be proud of his son before he thinks he's going to die + 1 point Saved his son from a pit! + 1 point Helped fight off robots with Dib + 1 point Saying "great work honey" to Gaz + 1 point Using the moose without arguing + 1 point Pretending like all of it was a hallucination - 1 point Convincing everyone else it was a hallucination too - 1 point 10 Good point 10 Bad points
TOTAL SCORE
Good Points - 35 Bad Points - 40
RESULTS ARE IN!!!! Professor Membrane, SCIENTIFICALLY, is a BAD DADDYO!!!!!!
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starlingflight · 23 hours
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A/N this is too long to count as a drabble but I have no self control.
Prompt: I20 — She went to the toilet and on her way back, opened the wrong door.
AO3 or read below:
“Did I mention it's infused with the natural rejuvenating properties of the spring?” Hermione asked for what must have been the fourth time since they'd begun the uncomfortably hot walk back from the ancient Grecian temple.
“Yes,” Fleur replied shortly. “You did.”
If Hermione heard her, she did an excellent job of not showing it as she continued. “It's said to have exceptionally powerful healing capabilities…”
Ginny stopped listening, letting Hermione's voice become a distant buzz which melded with the far-off rush of the sea sounding from the bottom of the cliff. Not for the first time, she wondered how exactly Ron and Harry had managed to get out of this particular excursion.
She kept her eyes focused on the villa, which finally came slowly into view ahead of her as Ginny tried very hard not to think about her dry throat, or the sticky sweat running down her back, or just how bloody warm it was.
It really shouldn't have been called a villa at all, in Ginny's opinion. The house – mansion – was huge, rising up against the dramatic backdrop of foliage-covered hills that lay behind it, shimmering like a brilliant white jewel in the blazing Greek sun as the three of them approached it.
Finally, they reached the whitewashed front steps. Ginny retained just enough self control to stop herself moaning in relief as they stepped through the rustic front door and into the blissfully cool air of the villa's lavish interior.
“I'm going to the bathroom,” she announced, cutting off Hermione's seemingly never ending lecture on the magical properties of ancient Greek amulets.
“I will get some wine,” Fleur said, her tone more like a command than a suggestion, but not one that Ginny currently felt inclined to argue with. “We will meet you by the pool.”
“I'm just going to put this in our room,” Hermione said, holding up the offending bronze amulet, which flashed eye-catchingly in the sunlight coming through the villa's many windows.
The three of them went their separate ways; Fleur headed straight ahead, towards the ridiculously opulent kitchen; Hermione turned left towards the wing – wing– that housed her and Ron's room for the week, and Ginny went right, hoping she could remember the route to the bathroom.
Upon locating it, Ginny went directly to the marble sink, set beneath a mirror which covered the whole wall, giving an excellent view of her red, and blotchy skin, and the way her hair, now damp with sweat, clung to her neck, hanging limply around her shoulders.
Desperately, she turned the shining golden tap, sighing in relief as a gush of cold water met the bare skin of her arm. She cupped her hands together, gathering pools of water and splashing it over her hot, irritated skin.
The relief, however, was fleeting, lasting mere seconds before the water evaporated and Ginny felt the closeness of the mid-afternoon heat surrounding her oppressively once more. Longingly, her mind filled with tempting images of the azure pool awaiting her outside.
She turned the tap again, ending the stream of cool water, before spinning on her heel intent on her new destination.
Her mind wasn't fully on the route to the bedroom that had been claimed by herself and Harry; Ginny was much too preoccupied fantasising about her plans to change into the smallest bikini that could still be considered acceptable for a family holiday, before sinking into the pool's inviting water for the rest of the afternoon.
It didn't become clear she'd chosen the wrong door until she'd already pushed it open and her lips had parted slightly in surprise at the scene that greeted her.
The room she’d entered was not their bedroom at all, but rather the small, richly decorated, library beside it, which she'd only bothered to enter once so far in the two days since they'd arrived in Crete, intent on finding a book for beside the pool. It was not, however, the shelves lined with books that captured Ginny's attention now, but rather the sight of Ron, who was balanced on one knee, holding a sparkling diamond ring aloft to Harry who was standing in front of him, one hand clasped in Ron's.
They both turned, evidently alerted to Ginny's presence by the creak of the door, identical looks of horror on their faces.
“Oh,” Ginny heard herself say.
“Ginny!” Ron hissed, dropping Harry's hand as though it was as burning hot as the sun outside.
“It's not what it looks like,” Harry added, nervously running his now-free hand through his hair.
The corners of Ginny's mouth twitched, her shock giving way to a great deal of amusement as she battled to keep her expression blank. “I'm so sorry to intrude.”
Harry shook his head vehemently. “You're not – obviously you're not – we were just –”
Ron shoved the delicate looking ring roughly back into his pocket as he stood, turning to her with panic in his eyes. “You weren't supposed to see–”
“It's alright,” Ginny assured, unable to stop her smirk from spreading across her face as they both rushed to give an explanation. “All I ever wanted was for the two of you to be happy – I'd assumed it would be with me and Hermione, but the heart wants what the heart wants, I suppose.”
“My heart doesn't–” Harry started.
“Don't be ridiculous!” Ron proclaimed at the same time.
“I'm not being ridiculous,” Ginny said through a laugh. “You know, Ron, when Mum taught us to share, I'm not sure spouses were what she had in mind.”
Ron surged forward, grabbing Ginny by the arm and pulling her into the room before kicking the door shut behind them. “Don't be so loud!”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “I don't think there’s much chance of Hermione hearing me from the other side of this ridiculously large house.”
Ron turned sharply to look at her. “Who said anything about Hermione?”
“Well, I'm assuming the ring’s for her,” Ginny countered reasonably. “...Unless you actually are planning on stealing my fiance, which would make the rest of this holiday very awkward.”
“Obviously it's for Hermione,” Harry confirmed quickly, shooting Ron a look that quite clearly said, 'help me out here.’
“Don't tell her,” Ron begged Ginny, ignoring Harry altogether. “I haven't figured out how to do it yet – Harry was helping me.”
Usually, having Ron at her mercy in such a manner would give Ginny an immense sense of satisfaction, on this occasion, however, she felt only a warm rush of affection for her brother and an uncharacteristic willingness to help, not that she would say as much to his face.
She crossed her arms, leaning back against the nearest bookshelf as she looked expectantly between Harry and Ron. “And what have you two Masters of Romance come up with so far?”
Harry frowned indignantly at her dry tone. “I got you to say yes, didn't I?”
Ginny shushed him with a wave of her hand, which incidentally bore the evidence of the truth of his argument in the form of a ruby and diamond engagement ring. “This isn't about us.”
She returned her attention to Ron, her eyebrows rising in silent question.
“Well,” he said weakly, the tips of his ears turning magnificently crimson. “I thought I could do it here – the island is nice – and I have the ring so the time seems right –”
“I told him not to overthink it,” Harry cut in, obviously pained by Ron's stuttered attempts at an explanation.
Ginny caught his eye and suddenly they were both grinning. “Was that before or after he got down on one knee for you?”
“Before,” Harry confirmed, unabashed now that the shock of being caught had worn off. “You interrupted the actual proposal… Ron's still waiting on my answer.”
Ginny shrugged unapologetically, her shoulder bumping against the leather-bound books behind her. “I can't say I'm sorry to have come in between the two of you.”
Harry sighed wistfully. “You never are.”
“You never want me to be.”
“Can you stop flirting for five minutes!” Ron snapped. “I'm trying to do something life changing here!”
Ginny dragged her eyes away from Harry's and back to Ron who was now leaning heavily against the antique sofa beside the window. “Harry's right, you're overthinking it. She was very charmed by the temple this morning– take her there at sunset and ask her.”
“Today?” Despite being on a Mediterranean island in the height of summer, Ron suddenly turned so pale it was hard to believe he'd ever seen the sun in his life. “You think I should ask her today?”
“Yes,” Ginny and Harry said in unison.
“You said yourself the time seems right,” Harry reminded him.
“Really, there's no time like the present,” Ginny concurred.
“But I don't know what to say,” Ron croaked, looking desperately between Ginny and Harry.
“‘Will you marry me?’ Is usually a good starting point,” Harry suggested.
Ginny hummed in agreement. “Yeah, that bit's quite key, I'd say.”
‘Will you marry me?’ Ron mouthed the words as though they were completely foreign to him. He suddenly bore a striking resemblance to his teenaged self in the run up to a Hogwarts Quidditch match, and for the first time since she'd entered the small library, Ginny felt as though she was intruding.
“I'm going to go,” she said gently, taking pity on Ron in the face of the enormous task ahead of him. “You two can keep practising.”
“You could stay?” Harry suggested. “We could probably use the help.”
Ginny shook her head, her part in this mission becoming clearer to her by the second. “I'm going to go and let Hermione talk my ear off about ancient Greek magic customs for the rest of the afternoon so she doesn't notice you're both missing.”
She and Harry shared a look of equal parts amusement and exasperation as Ginny took a step towards the door, both no doubt wondering which of them had the more challenging task ahead of them.
“I'll come and rescue you soon,” Harry assured her.
Ginny smirked at him as her hand found the door handle behind her. “Just promise me you'll try to resist Ron's charms.”
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xxfangirl365xx · 3 days
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Question: "What is a day you'll never forget?"
Ghoul's answer: The Day we met Show Pony
NOTE: Written in my wattpad a few months ago, i posted Jet's and Kobra's here so here is Ghoulie's (:
Mine predates all of the other guys' stories and it's kinda sappy but why not. Mine was the day I met my fellow prankster Show Pony. Despite popular belief they didn't just roll up and start hanging around with us.
The four of us ( Poison, Kobra ,Jet and I) had been in the zones about a year and had pretty well adjusted to life out in the middle of nowhere. We were on patrol by ourselves, one of the first times Dr.D let us do that alone. Basically we got to drive around all day, nothing usually ever happened. On this day in particular we were on our way home and spotted something off in the distance...Dracs? Possibly. We drew out ray guns and headed over only to be met with a horrifying scene of three people, all fairly young, seemingly dead.
"Dear Destroya" Poison remarked observing the sad scene
They definitely had just escaped the city and made it pretty far into the zones...unfortunately they were unarmed and didn't stand much of a chance.
Jet went to the three and looked to see if by some miracle they were alive. First two were a sad head shake no.
The third person had long dirty tangled black hair and was maybe about 17 years old...about the same age as me. Jet gently grabbed their wrist expecting nothing and were were all shocked when he found a pulse.
" Guys! This one's alive!"
" They're bleeding from somewhere on their head" Kobra noted, hiding behind his brother, scared for who knows what reason.
It's not a secret that I hate blood, I get a paper cut and nearly pass out and the guys make fun of me for it a lot, but this time it didn't bug me, I was much more bothered by the fact this poor kid was now hurt and alone laying next to their dead friends. I wasted no time In gently picking them up and we headed back to the car so we could go back to the diner and hopefully help this kid. I rested their head in my lap to keep them as comfortable as I could on the ride home. I took my vest off and covered them with it because it was getting cold. I felt really bad, you know, I was so lucky to have found a good group to rely on and call my family and I think this made me realize how fortunate I really was. This kid needed a friend and I decided to be that friend.
We got home and I carried their limp body in the diner and laid them on an extra mattress we had.
" YO DR.D" Poison yelled
" What's up boys?" He asked coming into the room a few seconds later ( this was before he hurt his leg)
"We found this wanderer on the route home" Poison explained " Their buddies were dead but they're alive for the time being"
He stood over my shoulder looking at the kid
" Should I call a doctor?" he asked after a second
" Aren't you a doctor?" Kobra asked confused
He laughed, realizing he had never clarified where that title came from
" It's just a name, I ain't got a degree to back it up. I don't know shit about medicine" he continued
" Ohhhhh..." we exclaimed in unison
"I'll call someone" He said leaving the room
I sat next to the kid for a while, just watching the rise and fall of their chest for what seemed like hours until an actual doctor came.
He looked them over before coming to the conclusion they were in perfect health other than a head injury.
" Just keep a close eye on them for the next few days,once they wake up they may be a little out of it but I'm sure they will be okay." He said before him and Dr.D went outside to smoke a cigar and gossip for a while.
" Well, you heard him. I guess they're gonna be alright" Jet said. "Well' I'm gonna go change the tire on the Trans-am, it's got a leak."
" I'll come watch." Poison said , Kobra following right behind his brother
Jet poked his head in the doorway after a second.
"You coming Ghoul?"
" Nah, I'm gonna sit with them." I said
" alright"
I sat for a while enjoying some silence until the kid began to wake up. Of course I had never been in a situation like this before.
I sat next to them and gently moved the hair out of their face.
"Ugghhh-shit" they mumbled groggily
'"Uhhh...Um.." what are you supposed to say in this situation?! " He-y?"
They looked over at me and the first they they said...I kid you not was
" Why do you have a bee on your sleeve?"
I looked at my shirt sleeve..I do have a bee on my shirt. Huh...good observation.
" Who...are you? You look funny." They said again
" I'm Fun ghoul, I'm Killjoy." I explained " what's your name?" I asked, unsure if they could answer that question. To my surprise they answered rather quick
" I've been waiting foreverrr for someone to ask me that. My name's Show Pony." They said slurring their speech.
" Nice to meet you, Show Pony... How ya feeling?"
"I dunno" they giggled
"Looks like you hit your head pretty bad huh?"
" I think so" they said continuing to giggle like a crazy person
" What's so funny?" I asked starting to laugh too
" The room's spinning it's like a carnival ride"
" Oh yeah that is fun- do you like carnivals?"
"Yeah...no clowns though"
" Oh you don't like clowns?"
" nu uh they're creepy and smelly...am I smelly? The dessert is gross." They thought for a second before they started crying
" Am I a clown? I'm weird looking and I smell" they said in between tears
I forgot the kind of wack mood swings that happened when you were going through withdrawals from BLI brainwash drugs.
'"Hey, you're not a clown, don't cry" I said, trying to comfort them.
Without a second though I knelt down further and hugged them.
They stopped for a second and were perfectly still.
" I overstepped and made them uncomfortable!" I said in my head " Oh Ghoul you idiot!"
To my surprise they hugged back and quietly whispered
" Thank you"
I spent the rest of the night doing my best to take care of Show Pony and just chatting and giving them a hard time while they tried to tell lame jokes such as this fun one at 2:07 AM
" Hey Ghoul Knock Knock"
"Who's there?"
" Boo"
" what?"
" Nooo you're supposed to say boo who!"
" Aww don't cry Pony"
" Your a jerk"
Show Pony became very good friends with us all and impressed Dr.D with their intense knowledge of music and when he started his station he made Show Pony his official helper.
So yeah, I love Pony, they're one of my best friends no matter how annoying they can be, one of my favorite people and a part of my large Zone family.
Anyways that's my story, see ya later
-Fun Ghoul
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leavingautumn13 · 1 month
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Where does Pumpkin best like to be scratched, and does she have favourite sunning spots?
pumpkin likes her cheeks and between her wings scratched the best. she does not allow belly rubs.
she spends a lot of time on the deck of the ship when sunlight's available. she likes sleeping on the railing next to the stairs that lead down to the crew cabin--the rest of the crew pets her as they walk by. she also likes sleeping in the window of euphemia's cabin or in the cockpit windows if the ship is in transit.
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catcatb0y · 2 years
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Since I somehow haven't seen any leaks this week, despite being flooded with them the past fortnight, I'm gonna say it: I don't want Midoriya to show up to Bakugou's fight.
I say this as a wholehearted BakuDeku, completely invested in their development and relationship (platonic or romantic), I don't want Midoriya to show up. At least not now, not yet.
This is BAKUGOU'S moment to show off HIS Heroism. The Heroism that inspired Midoriya, the Heroism that was inspired by Midoriya.
We all hated the series shoving Uraraka (and many, many other female characters of Shounen's past) into the Generic Love Interest Box, watering down their character and reducing them to just their connection to the main character- why are we so desperate for it now?? Because it's Gay?
'Antis are apparently accusing us of not liking/watering down Bakugou's character to make him saved by Midoriya' I don't wanna be that guy, but... ya kinda are...
Everyone thus far has gotten their moment to shine, has gotten their fears and faiths tested- why is Bakugou any different?
Honestly, I'm genuinely surprised that I haven't seen any anti takes about how Shigaraki was using Bakugou's weakness (being compared to Midoriya) against him ((I.e. that he didn't actually mean what he said- which would be an obvious load of BS, because why else would Shigaraki care about fighting Bakugou of all Heroes))
Anyways, I had like... Way Less Bitchy ways of saying this, but I vented to myself too many times, so I forgot the exact wording I had, but this fight (or this previous fight, I guess? Because I only ever hear anything about leaks when Bakugou is suffering*) this is Bakugou's fight.
He's not JUST Midoriya's weakness, he's not JUST the person closest to Midoriya. The fact that "It's great for Bakugou to be told that he only has worth because of his closeness to Midoriya" is a take that I had to read with my own eyes (and a take that people agreed with enough to have it reach my dash) ☠️
Bakugou has literally been comparing himself to Midoriya since day one- so have his peers to a slightly lesser extent- yes, it's a win to have the protagonist's [closest person] be of the same gender, but Bakugou is his own character.
He and Todoroki are both facing their season one fears- 'being nothing more than (someone else)'s shadow'- and while I love Midoriya, especially feral!Midoriya, he genuinely does not have a place in this fight.
Yes, BakuDekus know Bakugou (and Midoriya) better than anyone else, but also??? Y'all drop that title every time leaks come out I swear. How many times have you guys dropped random death flags on this kid?? The Time Travel Theory?
Shigaraki specifically called out Bakugou's fears and y'all went: let's make those fears come true.
Lmao, y'all...
Even taking into account "All of us really want them to fight side by side Heroes Rising style!" yes, maybe (putting aside the fact that people only see what you actually put out there, and despite all of the leaks shoved in my face, I haven't actually seen anyone make predictions or talk about them fighting side by side- just 'Please (Midoriya) go help Bakugou'):
- It also doesn't fit in line with the theme! The theme is 'control your heart' and 'don't go playing Hero on your own'- neither of which are in line with Midoriya going feral again. It also really doesn't do anything to open up WHY he's so attached to Bakugou, WHY "there is no wall too high to climb," and no one ever gets the chance to point out how there is a distinct difference between Midoriya saving (everyone else) and Midoriya saving (his Kacchan).
- It didn't work last time. Even before the War Arc, the only reason that it worked was because someone else stepped in, but specifically during the War Arc it made things worse. It would make no sense for it to work this time.
- Genuinely cannot comment enough on how "you only have worth because of someone else" sucks to hear ESPECIALLY to someone as insecure as Bakugou, and saying that what the series needs is for Midoriya to step in is like... so you want to prove the villain right? I love Midoriya, but watering Bakugou's character down like that is almost genuinely insulting to him and everything he has been through.
- Victimizing Bakugou (yet again) doesn't add anything. He KNOWS that he's weak, he's BEEN there before. The kid has faced his weakness time and time again, but the difference now is that he has people who will stand up and stand with him. He didn't work with anyone in the crowd. He didn't work with his fellow students. He didn't work with Midoriya or the Pros. Bakugou standing alone is what has gotten him in trouble time and time again- and yeah most of that sn't even his fault, but this is huge for him.
- It's also! Huge for Hero Society. From the kid that suffered at the negligence of Heroes (many, many times, but most notably episode one where the Heroes on scene watched a kid nearly die because they never even considered working together) to a Hero leading a team that will cover his back and each other's gaps.
- If anything, it would make more sense for Bakugou 'winning over saving' to reach out a hand to Midoriya 'saving over winning'. With how thematically tied they are, it's likely that, should they fight together (they will eventually- not now hopefully, but the series isn't over yet), Midoriya should prioritize winning and Bakugou, saving (to fully complete their narrative parallels).
Saving has always come natural to Midoriya, and, while there is obviously something different about how that applies to Bakugou, that is something that Midoriya needs to admit himself. He needs to control his heart and to stop going out on his own. Him playing Hero alone again goes against that. It's unfair to Bakugou, but it's also making light of Midoriya's character and ignoring all of the genuine consequences he has faced because of his recklessness.
They're gonna get a moment, but this is not it.
Also, I get it, guys. Kacchan the Heroine is a huge thing coming from the og voice actors, but... Can we not try to force queer ships into heteronormative stereotypes? Especially not one that has been so blanantly awful to the characters in it before?
Like, it's weird to push them into a stereotypical m/f role (even if it is just excitement), but it also ignores just how double sided and reciprocated BakuDeku is.
If Bakugou is Midoriya's heroine, then Midoriya is Bakugou's.
Bakugou inspired Midoriya who inspired Bakugou.
The thing about their relationship is how equal it is- they have both grown so much because of each other. Midoriya's power and Bakugou's heart.
Neither sun nor moon, they are yin and yang; they're the weakness within strength and the strength within weakness. They're winning by saving and saving by winning.
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ellemj · 3 months
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Bigger Than He Was
Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT
Request by @littlemiss-yeehaw: jealous!Bucky, fake dating, handjob.
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Summary: Bucky pretends to be your new man when you run into your ex in public. However, the little act of pretending sparks something inside of him that he didn't know was there.
Warnings: profanity, alcohol consumption, handjob, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight size kink, jealous!Bucky, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 7.8k
A/N: The first request I wrote from the smut menu had to be from my Tumblr best friend. Not only does she pre-read nearly everything that I post, but she keeps me from deleting my blog on a near daily basis, and she keeps me sane. I hope you all enjoy it as much as she did. If it wasn't for this girl, my blog would've been deleted before Needs & Wants was ever completed lmao.
            You’ve decided that no one in the world looks more out of place than a super soldier in a grocery store. Specifically, a super soldier in the produce aisle of a small local market. He looks like a bull in a China shop as he scours through a bin of tomatoes to find ones he approves of. He holds one tomato in each of his leather gloved hands as he compares them carefully, acting like choosing between the two is every bit as difficult as deciding whether someone lives or dies in his usual line of work.
            “They’re pretty much the same, Bucky, and we only need two. Just put them in a bag.”  You say with a sigh, resting your elbows on the handle of the shopping cart that you’ve been pushing as you’ve trailed behind him. Though you’re the one carrying the team’s grocery list, Bucky’s been the one pulling things off of the shelves and setting them in the cart. You originally suggested each of you taking half of the list and splitting up to get the shopping done faster, and to avoid the pointless arguments and annoyances you’d face in each other’s presence, but Bucky’s only response to your idea was a furrowed brow and silence. So, you’ve been following him around with the shopping cart safely between the two of you.
            Bucky starts to put both of the tomatoes down and pick two different ones just to bother you, but he takes the high road and bags the two he’s already holding instead. He’s usually assigned to grocery shopping with Sam, which he definitely prefers, but with Sam off to visit his family this week, he ended up being stuck with you.
            “What’s next?” Bucky asks, setting the plastic bag of produce in the cart and then casting you a sideways glance. You cross tomatoes off of the small piece of paper in your hand before moving on to read the next item.
            “We’re done with food items, next is ibuprofen, melatonin, and some feminine products.” You answer, lifting your gaze to meet his as you tap the pen against the piece of paper absentmindedly. Bucky nods curtly and starts leading the way down the aisle, knowing all of the aisles with medication, first aid, and toiletry type supplies are on the opposite end of the store. You follow a few feet behind him, missing your usual shopping buddy, Wanda. Though it’s a menial task, you always seem to have a fun time when the two of you are on the grocery schedule for the week. Bucky is a stark contrast to your far more bubbly, lighthearted friend.
            You’re lost in thought as you turn a corner and enter the pharmacy aisle, not paying any attention as Bucky looks through various types of over-the-counter medications. It isn’t until you hear a voice one aisle over that you straighten up and tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. The voice sounds familiar, so familiar that you find your ears straining to hear it better so you can identify it. Is it an old friend? Someone from SHIELD? You can’t be sure, but you’re starting to think it isn’t a friend by the way your nerves seem to be rising with every incoherent word that they mutter. You leave Bucky standing at one end of the aisle as you walk ahead, trying to get closer to the source of the voice. You’re nearly at the opposite end of the aisle when suddenly, the front end of another shopping cart appears and quickly turns in front of you, almost colliding with the front end of yours. You stop abruptly for two reasons. The first reason being so you don’t cause a pileup on aisle thirteen. The second reason being because you now see whose voice was causing your heart rate to elevate and your stomach to twist into a knot. Your fucking ex-boyfriend.
            “Oh, wow, hey!” The man before you extends the greeting so casually, as if he didn’t waste a year of your life with meaningless words and empty promises. He raises a hand to rub the back of his neck, his eyes darting over his shoulder just as a pretty blonde woman steps into view. Oh. “This is uh, this is my girlfriend.” He gestures to the woman before looking back at you with a wary glance, clearly trying to gauge how you feel about him committing to someone new so soon. The woman offers a small smile and wave as she introduces herself by name, but it all goes right over your head. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, unable to tear your eyes away from the piece of shit behind the cart full of organic produce and a questionable amount of wine.
            Bucky’s watching everything unfold from a few yards behind, acting as if he’s still deciding between a name brand bottle of ibuprofen and a generic version of the same. He gives you a few seconds to soak in the obviously awkward social situation as his eyes analyze your body language. You’re tense, your grip on the handle of the shopping cart is so tight that your knuckles are turning white. It’s been ten seconds since the woman introduced herself to you and you still haven’t uttered a word. Bucky glances to his right and notices the selection of condoms, lube, and pregnancy tests spread over the shelves next to the medication section. He only takes a second to weigh his options: let you continue to flounder in front of your shitty ex and his new victim or offer you an easy reprieve while simultaneously sending your ex into a mental spiral. His gloved hand wraps around a couple of boxes of pregnancy tests and he pulls them off of the shelf, signifying he’s chosen the latter.
            “Oh, trying for a baby?” Your ex jokes when Bucky approaches from behind you and drops a handful of pregnancy tests into the cart.
            “No, it’s just smart to have a few of these on hand when we only ever fuck raw. Do we know you?” Bucky’s tone is calm and even, like he’s just said something completely within the ordinary. It breaks you out of the trance you were in and you blink your eyes as you feel the heat from Bucky’s body enveloping you in warmth. He cages your body between his and the cart, his chest brushing against your back as he places his hands on either side of yours on the shopping cart handle. You don’t see the way his lips curve upward into a shit-eating grin as your ex’s face falls at both Bucky’s unfiltered words and the public display of affection he’s witnessing.
            “Aren’t you…” The man addresses Bucky with slightly widened eyes and an unsure voice. You almost laugh at the effect Bucky has on the poor guy’s demeanor, and the fact that Bucky towers a few inches over the man is just icing on the cake.
            “Bucky.” Your ex has just realized that not only are you grocery shopping with the Winter Soldier, but you’ve also been letting him fuck you.
---
            Your week has been full of unexpected moments, but two stand out in particular. The first moment was when Bucky so calmly chose to play the role of your fake boyfriend at the grocery store three nights ago. Nearly every waking moment since then has been spent replaying it in your head, wondering why he decided to step in and do that for you, why he decided to take such a blunt approach and tell your ex that the two of you prefer unprotected sex, and how the hell he acted as if nothing happened immediately after the interaction was over. The second moment is unfolding right now. Your eyes are locked in on your phone screen as you mull over the text that’s displayed there.
            Are you free tonight? Would love to sit down and catch up, want to talk about things.
            You don’t have the number saved in your phone but you know exactly who it is. It’s the same shitty ex you ran into two nights ago, the same one who now thinks you’re fucking the Winter Soldier. Before you’ve even considered responding, a second message from the same unsaved number rolls in.
            I’ll be at the bar we used to go to, the one off of 83rd street, in an hour. Hope to see you there.
            The way your face scrunches up in confusion at the sight of the two texts on your phone screen piques Bucky’s interest as he steps off of the elevator and uses the collar of his t-shirt to dab sweat off of his neck. He’s just finished a pretty strenuous workout and had every intention of heading straight to his room to shower and spend the rest of the night in there, but he can’t ignore the feeling of some kind of invisible string tugging him in your direction. It was only two nights ago that he pressed himself against you in the grocery store and pretended like he knew what it’s like to have you in his bed.  It was only two nights ago that you became a near constant thought in the back of his mind.
            “Don’t tell me he texted you.” Bucky’s voice catches you off guard. You lift your gaze from your phone screen and lean back into the couch cushions, attempting to look perfectly at ease in his presence. Truth be told, you’ve been a little on edge around him since the night in the grocery store, but you don’t know why. Maybe because he saw you in such an embarrassing and vulnerable moment, in your own personal hell.
            “He didn’t text me.” You lie, watching him carefully as the elevator doors close behind him and he takes the few steps across the room to reach the sectional you’re currently lounging on. It’s odd to see him sink into the opposite end of the piece of furniture so comfortably, like he’s such a normal guy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him sit in the living room of his own free will, and it’s a sight to see.
            “You’re a bad liar.” Bucky huffs. His expression turns thoughtful as he thinks back to his encounter with your ex that night. The corners of Bucky’s lips curl up into a smile when he remembers the way the guy practically shrank when he heard that the two of you like to fuck raw. “What does he want?” Bucky seems to have a sixth sense about this shit, so you decide to go with it and tell him the truth, see where it gets you.
            “He said he wants to catch up and talk about things.”
            “Right after seeing you with another guy.” Bucky points out, hoping you’ll see where this is going. You shrug your shoulders and cross your arms over your chest.
            “I guess so, or maybe it’s unrelated. People break up and then discuss it later for closure sometimes, it’s a thing, Bucky.”
            “So, you’re going?”
            “I haven’t decided yet.” You answer honestly. You watch as Bucky nods slowly, as if he’s digesting the information and deciding what to do with it. He uses the collar of his t-shirt to wipe a bit of sweat away from his neck again, drawing your gaze down to the flexing of his bicep. You’re quick to avert your gaze back up to his eyes, but the satisfied smirk on his face tells you that he caught you looking.
            “We’re going.” Bucky decides, sitting up a little straighter on the couch and running a hand through his sweaty hair. The bewildered look that takes over your face says it all.
            “What the hell do you mean we’re going? There’s no we here, it’s just me.”
            “I meant exactly what I said, we’re going.”
---
            You stand in the garage of the compound, where everyone’s various vehicles are stored away safely. Your fingers pick at the frays of your black jeans absentmindedly as you lean against a concrete pillar, waiting for Bucky. You know you should just get in your own car and leave without him, there’s absolutely no good that will come out of letting him tag along for this. Yet, something in the back of your mind is tugging at you to stay and wait for him, to see what might come of this. Looking up at your reflection in the car window a few feet away from you, you take in the sight of your little ensemble. You’re wearing dark jeans paired with a tight little long-sleeved crop top that shows the tiniest bit of your midriff. You wanted to wear something fairly plain yet something that showed a little skin, so this is what you settled on.
            Unbeknownst to you, Bucky’s outfit for tonight will go well with your own. He’s wearing dark jeans as well, but with a dark t-shirt and black leather jacket. As the elevator carries him down to the lowest floor of the compound, he has a brief second of clarity where he asks himself what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. First, he went against every rational thought in his mind when he pretended to be your boyfriend in a damn grocery store. Then, he spent two nights thinking about what it might’ve been like if he actually had been fucking you raw like he’d told to your ex he was. Those two nights ruined him. You ruined him. It took less than 48 hours for his mind to become completely preoccupied with you.
            When the elevator slows to a stop and the doors slide open to let him into the private parking garage beneath the compound, his eyes fall on you instantly. Fuck. One look at you and he’s immediately decided that you’re not taking a car, no, you’re taking his bike. Hell, you’re dressed near-perfectly for it. The only issue is that bit of smooth skin you have showing beneath the hem of your little top, he’s not going to take you out on his bike and risk ruining that perfect skin of yours with road rash.
            The ding of the elevator draws your attention to your right, where Bucky is stepping into the parking garage looking totally different than when you saw him upstairs half an hour ago. His messy hair has been washed and dried, his flesh and metal biceps are hidden within the sleeves of his leather jacket, and his neck is no longer glistening with a sheen of sweat. You’re unashamedly focusing on the way his jeans are accentuating the muscles of his thighs when he starts stripping off his leather jacket.
            “Put this on.” He says as he holds the jacket out to you with one hand, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans with the other to fish out the key for his bike. Your eyes widen as you stare at the jacket in his outstretched hand. Shaking your head, you take a step back from him.
            “Why?”
            “Because you’re not riding on the back of my bike with skin showing, it’s not safe.”
            “The back of your bike? Bucky, we’re taking a car.” You say defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest. Bucky can’t ignore the way your breasts are slightly pushed up by the action, a hint of cleavage peeking out over the lowcut neckline of your top. He quickly averts his gaze back to his motorcycle that stands a few feet in front of you both, a sigh leaving his lips at your stubbornness.
            “Just put on the damn jacket.” He says, looking over at you one more time, but this time with a softened expression. You don’t know why you comply and take the jacket from him, but you do. It’s warmed from his body heat when you slip your arms into it and the way it engulfs you and pulls down on your shoulders with a bit of weight is almost comforting.
            The motorcycle ride to the bar, however, is anything but comforting. The only other time you’ve ever been so close to Bucky was that night at the grocery store when he cozied up behind you for show. But this felt different. This involved your chest pressed against his back, your inner thighs brushing against his hips, and your arms wrapped around his torso. This felt intimate. It felt the same way to Bucky and he couldn’t ignore it, no matter how hard he tried. When he stopped at a redlight in the city, you let your hold around his abdomen relax for a moment. Your hands slid down to rest on the tops of his thighs as you remained pressed against his back, and he was praying for the light to turn green again before one of your hands had a chance to shift and find out how hard he was beneath the fabric of his jeans. He can only blame himself for the torture, since he was the one that insisted you take the bike.
            When you turn onto the right street, you’re quick to tap Bucky’s thigh with your hand, completely missing the way he tenses up beneath your unexpected touch. You use that same hand to point to a small parking garage across the street from the bar that you’ll be heading into, and Bucky gets the signal. It’s only two minutes later that he’s parking his bike on the third floor of the garage and trying to keep his eyes off of you as you stand beside the bike, removing your helmet carefully. Some part of him can’t help but think that you’re being so careful because you want to look your best when you waltz into the bar to meet your ex, and he fucking hates it. He has the sudden urge to mess your hair up and send you in there looking like shit. But that urge only makes him think about all of the ways he could mess your hair up. He could grab you by it and pull you against him, he could run his hands through it and rake it into a ponytail while you’re on your knees for him…shit. He just volunteered to drive you to the bar to meet your ex. He can’t do a damn thing.
            You hand Bucky your helmet and immediately start smoothing down your hair, seeing the look of disdain he gives you but choosing to ignore it. He had no obligation to be here with you tonight, but he insisted, so he has to put up with it.
            “You don’t have to go in with me, I can do this on my own.” You say, hoping Bucky will choose to wait for you in the parking garage rather than go inside the bar with you.
            “What are you planning to do?” Bucky asks, swinging his leg over as he dismounts the bike and joins you on the concrete floor. He stands in front of you, slipping his gloves off and resting them on the seat of the bike before reaching under the chin of his helmet to undo the strap there. Your eyes drift to the veins on his flesh hand and golden accents on his vibranium hand as you formulate a believable response.
            “Hear him out, give him closure or whatever he’s here for.”
            “Whatever he’s here for?” Bucky repeats your words almost sarcastically, scoffing beneath his helmet. When he pulls it off and rests it on the seat next to his gloves, you can see he’s scowling. “Why are you playing dumb? He’s here for you.”
            “No, he isn’t. He’s with someone else now, and he thinks I am too.” You point out. A low chuckle rumbles past Bucky’s lips as he runs a hand through his hair and starts toward the concrete staircase on the other end of the floor.
            “That’s exactly why he’s doing this, because he thinks you’re with someone else and he can’t stand it.” Bucky sounds so sure of himself, as if he’s experienced something like this before. In fact, he sounds so sure that it makes you wonder if he really has experienced this before.
            “You think he’s jealous? You saw the girl he was with, didn’t you?” You question, falling into step next to Bucky. His leather jacket still sits heavy on your shoulders but giving it back to him hasn’t even crossed your mind yet. Bucky’s hoping you’ll forget about it and keep it on when you walk in and sit down across from that piece of shit ex you’re here for.
            “She doesn’t have shit on you and he knows it.” His words leave your lips parted and your eyes widening in surprise as he reaches the staircase and starts heading down in front of you. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. For the most part, you’ve only ever heard him talk about you with an air of annoyance or indifference, but you could swear that what he just said was almost complimentary. If you could see the grimace on Bucky’s face, you’d know you were right. When he saw the blonde in the grocery store, he wanted to laugh at the way the guy had downgraded after losing you. She was pretty, sure, but you glow like the fucking sun even on your worst day.
            “So, what should I be doing here tonight then?” You ask, knowing Bucky probably has a plan in mind if he came all this way just to witness what’s about to go down.
            “Showing him that you don’t need him, that you’re better off without him.” You reach the bottom of the stairs and step out onto the sidewalk across from the bar. Bucky turns to face you as you scan the area for a crosswalk.
            “And how do I do that?”
            “For starters…” Bucky says, stepping closer to you and grabbing the front of his leather jacket that you’re still sporting, “keep this on.”
---
            Bucky’s been standing at the bar for the last fifteen minutes, nursing both a beer and an aching jaw. The ache is from how hard he’s been clenching his teeth together since your ex strolled in and took the seat across from you at a little two-seater table across the room. Of course, the guy showed up without his new girl. And, of course, he’s been trying like hell to get you to smile and laugh at whatever half-assed jokes he’s been cracking since he sat down. Bucky knew the guy wasn’t after closure.
            He watches with a less-than-pleased look on his face as the guy leans his elbows on the table and rests his hands a little too close to yours, but you don’t pull away. You’re sitting facing Bucky’s direction, yet you haven’t once let your eyes flit up to meet his. It’s infuriating. Bucky strains his ears to pick out your conversation through the din of the usual bar chatter around him. He listens intently as the guy tells you that it was nice to run into you at the grocery store, that he didn’t know if he’d ever see you again, that he missed the way you laughed. What a fucking ass. If Bucky remembers correctly, from overhearing gossip among the team, the guy had you nearly head over heels for him, and then one day he pulled the rug out from under you in and instant. He never even gave you much of a reason why. He simply called you up, ended the relationship over the phone, and a week later you heard through the grapevine that he’d met someone else. Why you felt compelled to meet the guy here tonight, Bucky will never understand. He doesn’t think the prick deserves even a minute of your time.
            “So, you’re really seeing someone else now?” The man’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard to Bucky’s sensitive ears, but he continues to focus on your conversation anyway. Bucky has to know how you’ll respond. He watches out of the corner of his eye as you push a stray lock of hair back over your shoulder, over the shoulder of his leather jacket, and then you blush. Why are you blushing? Bucky’s heart starts to race in the slightest because he can’t figure out if you’re blushing at the idea of you and him being together or at your ex prying into your personal life.
            “Yeah, he uh…at the grocery store, he…” You stutter through your answer. Like Bucky previously said, you’re a bad liar. The pink showing through the skin of your cheeks darkens another shade as you look away from your ex. Your eyes finally land on Bucky, who’s now standing at the bar facing you head-on. He holds your gaze assuredly and gives you a small nod, letting you know that you’re saying the right things. Somehow, just making eye contact with him and getting that small nod of approval calms your nerves.
            “Right, I remember. I guess I kind of thought that was a joke.”
            “A joke?” You ask, a bit offended at your ex’s confession. He rubs his hand across the back of his neck and lets out an awkward laugh before leaning back in his chair comfortably and taking a sip of his drink.
            “Yeah, I mean the guy said you only ever fuck raw. You never once asked me to fuck you raw. It just didn’t sound believable.” Huh. You’re silent for a moment as you sip on your own drink and let your gaze float back to Bucky once more, unaware that he’s just heard every word that the man said. The two of you stare at each other with some kind of…tension in the air between your table and the bar. Honestly, if you and Bucky were actually together in some alternate universe where you didn’t find each other incredibly annoying from the start, you think you would love to let him fuck you without protection. Something about it just sounds so filthy and enticing. But when you imagine it with the man that’s currently sitting in front of you, the man who promised you a lifetime and then kicked you to the curb like a broken piece of furniture, you cringe. No, you never asked him to take off the condom, and you probably never would have. Truthfully, that should’ve been a sign.
            Bucky’s eyes analyze the two of you as you put on a tight-lipped smile and then relax in your seat, fiddling with the zipper of the leather jacket draped around your frame.
            “It didn’t sound believable?” You ask softly, looking up through your lashes in a way that makes Bucky’s cock twitch, and he’s not even the one you’re looking at. When you do flit your eyes over to him, he can sense the change in your demeanor instantly. You’re not coming off so lighthearted and timid now, you’re giving off an air that says you-don’t-know-who-the-fuck-I-am anymore. “When I look at you, I can’t even fathom the two of us having unprotected sex. It never once crossed my mind to ask you for that. But when I look at him?” You let your gaze travel over to Bucky once more, and this time your ex catches on. He turns in his chair, scanning the bar behind him until he sees the super soldier leaning against the bar with a smug smile on full display. “When I look at him, I can’t stop imagining it.”
---
            Bucky’s leather jacket weighing on your shoulders, his body warmth seeping through his t-shirt and offering you reprieve from the wind that’s hitting you both head-on, his right hand reaching back to grip the side of your thigh as he weaves his bike skillfully in and out of traffic on the way back to the compound. All of those things are mixing and swirling together to create a near suffocating tension. You’re focusing on keeping your helmet from bumping into the back of his and even more than that, on keeping your mind out of the damn gutter. What you’d said back at the bar, the final thing you’d said before your ex realized he had no chance at getting back together with you, it was true. When you look at Bucky, you can’t stop imagining him fucking you without anything between your body and his. You don’t know when that started or when it might end, but it’s true. So, you left with him, climbing onto the back of his bike much more willingly than you had earlier in the evening. Not because you wanted to be close to him, but because you wanted to get home as fast as possible so you could get the hell away from him. Where on earth did this new found attraction come from? Why was your mind betraying your body with every single glance in his direction? Fuck physiology.
            Bucky can almost hear you overthinking behind him as he turns off of the interstate and onto a quiet, private road leading up to the compound. Hell, he’s overthinking too. He heard what you said at the bar, and he saw the look in your eyes when you said it. Had you been thinking about him the same way he’d been thinking about you since that night at the grocery store. No, there’s no way. If you really had been, then you wouldn’t have wanted to meet up with your ex tonight. Bucky lets out a breath and slows the bike as he nears the entrance to the parking garage. Neither of you said a word when your ex stormed out of the bar, nor did either of you when you made the walk across the street to the public parking garage and started the ride back home. It’s been silent, unbearably silent for too long.
            When Bucky finally parks the bike among the various vehicles owned by your friends and colleagues that reside upstairs, it seems as though you can’t get away from him fast enough. You swing your leg over and dismount the bike quickly before slipping your helmet off and taking a few steps over to the wall to set it on the shelf it originally came from. You’re halfway to the elevator when Bucky speaks, stopping you in your tracks.
            “The jacket, sweetheart.” He says coolly. When you turn around, you see him still sitting on the bike, looking down at the helmet he holds in his hands. It almost bothers you that he isn’t looking back at you. He can call you sweetheart but he can’t lift his eyes to your face? You let out a deep sigh before walking back over to him and standing a foot away from him and the bike. You strip off the leather jacket a bit reluctantly before holding it out to him. You have to admit you feel a bit like you’re missing something without it on now. Bucky takes it without glancing in your direction, and as soon as you turn on your heel to walk away, you can hear him dismounting the bike and setting his own helmet on the shelf. You’ve just hit the button to call the elevator down to the garage when he decides to speak once again. “You’re a bad liar.”
            “What?”
            “You’re a bad liar. I don’t know much about you, but I know that.” Bucky says. You stand in front of the elevator but you can’t tear your gaze away from him when he’s speaking so ominously. You watch him carefully as he turns away from the shelf and faces you, but still doesn’t lift his gaze to meet yours. Instead, he smooths out his leather jacket before laying it over one arm and tucking the keys to his bike into the back pocket of his jeans.
            “What does that have to do with anything?” You question, crossing your arms over your chest. Your eyes dart back to the screen above the elevator. It’s still so many floors away from reaching you.
            “I knew you were lying when you told me he hadn’t texted you. I don’t even think your piece-of-shit ex believed you at first when he asked if you were really seeing someone new, you couldn’t even get a full sentence out. You’re a bad liar.” The words pour out of his mouth with ease, as if he pre-planned the entire speech. When you don’t say anything, he finally lifts his eyes to meet your narrowed stare. A shiver runs down your spine, but you blame it on the fact that you’re no longer wearing his jacket. “When I look at him, I can’t stop imagining it.” When Bucky repeats your words so perfectly, you can feel all of the color draining from your face. “When you said that, you didn’t stutter, you didn’t hesitate. You weren’t lying.”
            “You think I was being honest?” The question leaves your lips with a hint of anger edging each word. Bucky merely shrugs in response, tilting his head to the side as he waits for you to answer your own question, since it’s obvious that he thinks you were being honest. “You think I look at you and imagine you fucking me raw?”
            “Do you?” Bucky taunts, licking his bottom lip before drawing it between his lips and pressing his top teeth into it. Your gaze darts down to his lips against your better judgement, and when your eyes settle back on his, all you see is a reflection of what you’re sure your own eyes are showing. Lust. He thinks about it. He thinks about fucking you raw. In this moment, you’re sure. In fact, he’s thinking about it right now.
            Your feet start moving before you even have a moment to consider the action, they’re carrying you straight toward him, ignoring the elevator that’s just arrived to take you away from him. When you stop a few inches in front of him, he’s staring down at you with a raised brow and building anticipation. He wants your answer.
            “Yes.” You breathe the word out. In an instant, Bucky’s dropping his jacket to the floor and tangling his flesh hand in the hair at the nape of your neck as his pulls you into him, crashing his lips against yours. It’s a kiss that takes your breath away and fills your lungs with a fiery burn, yet you don’t want to break for air. You kiss him back, moving your lips to suck along his bottom one as you tilt your head to the right to give each of you better access. Bucky languidly drags the tip of his tongue along your top lip before snaking it lower and letting it delve into your mouth. God, he might’ve imagined fucking you but truthfully, he forgot to imagine kissing you. He never would’ve thought it could be this good. His vibranium arm wraps around your lower back, pulling you closer into him until his body warmth begins sending tingles across the surface of your skin. Once he has you flush against him, that same cool metal hand begins unwrapping from your back and traveling down until it’s in place to grip a handful of your ass, hard. When you gasp into the kiss, Bucky pulls back and bites down on your bottom lip. Fuck. If you don’t stop him now, he won’t be able to stop himself from having you right here in the garage. As if you’re reading his mind, you place both hands on his chest and pull your head back until there’s an inch of space between your mouths. While your eyes are focused on his pink nose and swollen lips, your mind is focused on what you feel pressing against your thigh. He’s fully erect, his cock straining against the front of his jeans just from kissing you. You could overthink this, let your mind weigh all of the pros and cons of what’s happening right now, and then convince yourself to be responsible and go upstairs to your own room, pretending this never happened. But for some reason, your right hand is already coasting down his chest, over his abs, and sliding between your lower bodies. You find yourself palming the outline of his cock, offering him such a perfect amount of pressure and friction that he can’t help but lean his hips forward and press his cock further into your touch.
            “If you don’t stop now…” Bucky rasps, but his eyes flutter closed and he bites down on his lower lip before he’s even finished the sentence, your sensual touch getting the better of him.
            “If I don’t stop now?” You encourage him to say what he wants to say, but you can’t fight the teasing smile that’s beginning to play on your lips.
            “If you don’t stop now, you won’t be able to return all of those pregnancy tests on your next grocery run.” You laugh lightly as you lean in and press a soft kiss against Bucky’s jawline, continuing to rub his erection through the taut fabric of his jeans.             “Are you thinking about fucking me raw, James?” You tease. Bucky groans before opening his eyes and pulling you away from his jaw by your hair. He doesn’t stop you from slowly sliding your hand back and forth along the outline of his cock, but he makes sure you’re looking right in his eyes before he speaks again.
            “Right here in this damn parking garage.”
            Without a single thought in either of your minds, Bucky lets you push your palms flat against his chest and walk him back until he stumbles onto the seat of his motorcycle. In one swift movement, you slip your hand past the waistband of his jeans and boxers and the warm skin of your hand comes into contact with his hard length, without anything between the two of you. Bucky lets out a heady groan and his hands begin moving all on their own, working to unbutton and unzip his jeans to give your hand as much space as possible. As soon as he has his pants undone, you shift your hand and wrap it firmly around his cock, giving it a slow stroke inside of his boxers. When you near the head of it, a bead of precum drips onto the side of your thumb and you smile to yourself as you spread it back over the smooth tip of his cock. What is it about having a man this way that makes a woman feel so damn powerful? Bucky looks at you with a mix of annoyance and awe at the way you’re working his cock so effortlessly yet turning him into putty in your hands. He’ll let you have your fun for now, and then he’ll show you that he can have the same effect on you.
            The moment your eyes lock onto his, he slides his right hand along the side of your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss, the taste of your lips and the feel of your hand stroking back and forth along his hard-on is nearly enough to send him over the edge, and he inhales sharply, tugging his lips away from your own.
            “I’m not going to have much use for those pregnancy tests if we keep going like this, am I?” You ask jokingly, as you remove your hand from Bucky’s pants and raise it up to your face. Bucky runs a hand through his hair as he blows out a breath and watches you intently. Your thumb, still a bit shiny and wet from his precum, ventures dangerously close to your mouth. You keep your eyes trained on Bucky’s as you use that same thumb to tug down your bottom lip before sliding it into your mouth and sucking.
            “Oh, fuck.” Bucky groans, his rationality fleeing as his own flesh hand delves into his pants and begins mimicking your actions from a moment ago. The way your eyes follow his movements, your pupils blown wide with lust as you watch him touch himself, it’s too damn much for him. He grabs you by the hair once again, in that desperate, needy way that you’re quickly growing to love, and pulls you against his chest, kissing you as fervently as the first time. However, this kiss doesn’t last. He pulls away from you in an instant and suddenly, his hand is on your shoulder, pushing you down to your knees. Before you reach the floor, he uses the toe of his boot to slide his discarded leather jacket across the floor to cushion your knees. So fucking thoughtful.
            Bucky stands up with you on your knees in front of him and his bike resting on its kickstand behind him. His eyes never part from your face as he pushes his already undone pants and boxers down his thighs just enough to free his cock from their confines. Your breath hitches in your throat as soon as you lay eyes on it, as soon as you lay eyes on the sheer size of it. Bucky doesn’t make a move to stop you as you reach up with both hands and take hold of his length, using one hand to begin stroking it from the base to the tip while your other hand grips his thigh. Your eyes widen at the way it looks even bigger in your hand, which is a mental image that Bucky will probably be recalling every day for the rest of his life. You’re more than ready to lean in and take him in your mouth, to experience every second of what it’s like to suck him off, but his gentle touch halts your movements. His flesh hand softly cups the side of your face as he lets his thumb caress the skin over your cheekbone.
            “You’re so much bigger than he was.” You whisper, your eyes traveling up Bucky’s torso until you’re getting lost in his gaze. It’s true. Your ex was…well below average in this department. But Bucky? God, Bucky is so far above average it’s actually making you wonder if you can even fit half of him in your mouth. Bucky chuckles lowly before tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, and then copying your earlier move. He slips the pad of his thumb between your lips and watches with hooded eyes as you eagerly accept it, sucking on it gently. Fuck. He’s so ruined. Only a moment later, he’s standing there with his head thrown back and a string of curses are falling from his mouth as you bob your head back and forth, letting his cock slide along your tongue and brush against the back of your throat repeatedly. He’s fully lost in the pleasure of your mouth. He’s so lost, in fact, that when you grip his thighs with both hands and lean into him as far as you possibly can, letting your nose brush against his lower stomach and your throat tighten around his shaft as you gag, he lets out a groan that reverberates through the parking garage and sends a fresh wave of heat straight to your core.
            “Fuck, do that again.” He rasps, finally looking down at you as you pull your head back until only the tip is resting on your tongue. A smile plays behind your eyes as you dare to look up at him. He can’t help himself. Both of his hands move to run through your hair, encouraging you to do exactly what he just said. You repeat your actions, moving your head forward and taking his entire length in until you gag a second time. But this time, Bucky holds your head still there for two seconds. His eyes squeeze shut as your throat grips his cock tighter and tighter, the sensation bringing him so close to the edge that he abruptly pulls back and leaves only half of his length for you to taste. “Just like that, shit.” Another minute of your mouth doing exactly what Bucky wants and he’s fighting with every cell in his body to delay the inevitable. He wanted to fuck you raw, truly, it was his intention from the moment you admitted you thought about it. But having you like this? Having you on your knees for him, telling him that his dick is bigger than the last piece of shit you were with? God, he’s so close to cumming in your mouth that it almost hurts.
            “I’m so fucking close.” He groans the words out as if he’s in pain, as if he’s holding back because he doesn’t want to cum in your mouth. That just won’t do. So, you release him from your mouth with a pop and start working him with your hand as you tilt your chin up to meet his gaze.
            “You don’t want to cum in my mouth?” You ask innocently, looking up at him through your lashes. It’s the same way you looked in the bar earlier and he feels his last bit of resolve crumbling. He could easily cum in your mouth, but that’s just not what he needs right now. In that desperate, needy way that you love, Bucky grasps your hair and pulls you to your feet. A whimper leaves your lips as his cock slips out of your hand.
            “No.” Bucky says calmly, turning you around and pushing your back forward until your hands land on the seat of his bike. “I’m going to give you a reason to use one of those damn pregnancy tests.”
            He’s swift in pulling down your jeans and panties with both hands, and then lining his cock up with your entrance and making you think he’s going to fuck you. But no, Bucky lets the tip of his cock gather the wetness that you’ve been sitting in since you left the bar, and then he begins chasing his release with his own hand. You let out a needy whine, pushing your hips back against him and hoping his cock will just happen to notch inside of you and slide all the way in, but Bucky isn’t going to let it happen until he’s ready.
            He has a plan. He’s going to fill you with his cum first, then use his fingers, his tongue, and his cock to fuck it back into you after. The next time your run into your ex, Bucky wants you to be so fucking pregnant that the guy loses his goddamn mind.
There will be no tag list for the smut menu requests.
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ichorai · 4 months
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wool ; coriolanus snow.
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pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)
synopsis ; when you laughed, airy and light and reminiscent to that of wind chimes, coryo wished he could bottle up the sound and keep it as his, only his.
words ; 1.5k
themes ; mild fluff/angst, slightly suggestive
warnings / includes ; set before events of tbosas so no actual spoilers, making out, clemensia appearance, mentions of other characters, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could, let's pretend the academy also serves dinner
a/n ; this man has consumed me body and soul. this fic was inspired by the song wool by flatland cavalry on the movie soundtrack! let me know if you guys would like a second part :)
series masterlist. main masterlist.
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Coriolanus Snow was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He bore an aristocratic last name—yet you noticed that his dress shirt’s buttons seemed to be various different shades of black and slightly misshapen. His voice, so sweetly saccharine, charming, seductive—would whisper falsities like it was second nature. He would often claim that he wasn’t hungry, but you’d catch the longing glint in his pale irises as he eyed the steaming bread rolls Sejanus slathered with generous helpings of butter. 
Control. That was all he needed. 
It crumbled, ever so slightly, when you nudged your slice of apple pie in his direction. His eye twitched, and you pursed your lips, pulling your plate back to you. You ate quietly, and Coryo stared at you all the while, as if he were mentally dissecting your mind—studying you. 
You knew. It was all too clear, even if he wouldn’t tell you. And if he wouldn’t tell his closest friend—or, the closest thing he had to a friend, the two of you certainly did things that friends wouldn’t do—he most definitely wouldn’t let it slip that he was financially strapped to anyone else.
That same day, he met you in the back of the library. The two of you were supposed to be studying history—Professor Demigloss was one of the nicer teachers at the academy, but that didn’t mean he was any less strict with grades. And neither you nor Coryo could afford slipping now. Not if you both wanted to get into university. Being on top meant that there was only greater distance to fall.
But there were… distractions.
Mainly, his foot knocking against yours under the table. Your hand over his jostling knee. His teeth digging into his bottom lip. When you shifted so that your thighs brushed against his, the books spread out over the table were entirely forgotten.
He pushed you against the bookshelves a mere second later, the wood digging into your back uncomfortably, and kissed you until you grew dizzy. You were a welcome distraction—he could taste the apples on your tongue. The way you snaked your arms around his neck, toying with his pale blonde curls, pulling him closer until his body slotted against yours just perfectly—clicking into place like a pair of magnets facing opposite directions. It was desperate and heavy and he could only barely pull away to inhale sharply before cradling the base of your head to tilt your jaw back and kiss you even harder. Coryo swallowed any muffled whimpers that slipped from you when his free hand traveled lower.
Lower, lower, dangerously low—
When Clemensia’s voice echoed through the library in search of her lab partner, the two of you sprang apart, gasping for air.
She rounded the bend, and her dark eyes landed on the two of you. Keen, observant, narrowed. Coriolanus was flushed, hair mussed, lips swollen, chest rising and falling erratically. You were looking anywhere but the two of them, smoothing out your clothes and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.
“Oh! I guess I’ll just have to find another time to bother you, Coriolanus,” she tittered, sickly sweet. She tilted her head with a tempered smile. “What’re you guys studying?”
Snow rolled his eyes in exasperation. “History,” he said. Curt, simple.
“Right.” She eyed you curiously. When she spoke again, it was directed more to you than him, sounding uncharacteristically void of frigid scorn. “I’d be careful if I were you. You sure he’s not just sleeping with you because you’re the top of the class?”
You stiffened, and Coryo bristled. 
“I’ll be fine, Clem. See you tomorrow.” 
There was another beat of terse silence. Her eyes darted warily between the two of you, and she whisked away in a flutter of red and black.
You blew out a breath. Your mouth tingled with the phantom memory of his lips planted over yours, and your cheeks flushed with heat. The two of you sat back down, both quiet. You worked in fluid tandem with each other, as you always did. His hands kept to himself this time. 
“I’m not using you,” he whispered, eventually. “It’s not like that.”
“I know,” you replied hesitantly, testing the waters. “It’s not like you’d need to. Your grades are just fine as is.”
The two of you kept working until your fingers cramped with overuse and his head pulsed with the beginnings of a migraine. 
“Dinner?” you asked once the clock struck six, nudging him. “I think they’ll be serving mashed potatoes today.”
His stomach clenched at the thought of warm food. Control.
“Sure,” he replied coolly, flicking his books closed and gathering up all the papers to stuff into his bag. “I’m sick of mashed potatoes, though.”
You shot him an incredulous smile, brows quirking up. He was lying, but you didn’t know. “Not even when it’s seasoned with roasted garlic? A dash of the freshest of herbs?”
The blue of his eyes gleamed when they bore into yours. “Not even then.”
“You’re a strange man, Coriolanus Snow.” Your lips twisted downward, but it was more of a smile than a frown. When your eyes darted below to glance at his school uniform, you couldn’t help but notice the unironed creases in the carmine fabric. One of the buttons—the very top one—was oddly shaped and a different color from all the rest. It reminded you of his dress shirt. You quite liked that dress shirt. He looked handsome in it, but you chalked it up to his uncanny ability to look handsome in just about anything.
Your head tilted to the side, molten eyes fixed on the button. You knew. He knew that you knew. Panic seized in his chest, an irrational clawing sensation searing within his lungs. Would you tell the rest of the class? What would you say to them? That he was living as filthily as a District boy? That he skipped meals because he couldn’t afford them? That his cousin mended his clothes for him?
But your frown-smile deepened. Fondness stained your expression, clear as day. Coriolanus found himself surprised, as he often did around you. 
“I love your buttons, by the way,” you mumbled, reaching out to trace it with a finger. He held his breath on instinct. “Is it a stylistic choice? Having them all irregular like this?”
Stylistic. Coriolanus almost laughed.
“Mhm. It’ll be in fashion one day. I’m just ahead of the trends,” he murmured charmingly. A bluff.
When you laughed, airy and light and reminiscent to that of wind chimes, Coryo wished he could bottle up the sound and keep it as his, only his. 
“Maybe I’ll start wearing mismatched buttons now, too. Rebel against uniformity.” You stood up from your chair as you spoke, not catching the way Coriolanus’ expression faltered momentarily with your last three words. It was a joke, he had to remind himself. Just a joke. “Come on. Let’s go have dinner. I’m starving.”
He jerkily stood up. Grabbed your hand just because he could, fingers folding over your wrist. He could feel your pulse, thumping quicker and quicker. You regarded him curiously. Snow’s remaining spindly hand cradled your face and he stepped closer, intuitive eyes roaming over your face, wondering just how much of you was real. How much of you was lying, just as he was?
His lips fell over yours again. This time, the kiss was sweeter. Slower, more languid. His nose brushed over your cheekbone, warm to the touch. You hummed pleasantly against him, before placing a hand flat over his chest—over the crooked button—and pulled away with a dazed smile. It felt dangerously good that you hadn’t tugged your hand out of his grasp yet. His grip tightened in a near possessive manner.
As the two of you began walking out of the library, Coriolanus couldn’t help but think back to your hyperbole—about how far from starving you truly were. You wouldn’t ever know, not when your family was the very epitome of Capitol wealth. But he was glad he wasn’t the only one lying, for once, even if your lie was merely an inflation of the truth. 
After dinner, Coryo worked off the top button of his uniform with repeated tugs to the threads, pulling apart Tigris’ handiwork. He slid it over the table to you, watching the way your countenance softened in endearment. He kissed you again in the dark hallways outside the cafeteria, finding it difficult to get your lips to melt away from your tightly-stretched grin.
He walked home with a mirroring smile and a missing button that night. One less piece of the wolf’s sheeply clothes.
4K notes · View notes
pearlywritings · 11 months
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Sometimes the name doesn't matter
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synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife.
pairings: Alhaitham, Ayato, Diluc, Kaeya x fem!reader (separately)
tw: fluff, established relationship, a little bit of bullying, a bit of unwelcome drunk flirting, characters are whipped for their wives
word count: 5.4k+ words
a/n: part 2 can be read here!
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Alhaitham 
Your husband is… Truly something. Honestly, that's the best way to describe this epitome of nonchalance, smugness and sarcasm, sprinkled with sharp glares and served with a smartass sauce. No one would be able to swallow such a nasty pill, yet you somehow managed. But that's what doctors say, right? The medicine might be bitter, but it'll get better. And it did.
Hard to believe, but the Akademiya's Scribe is enamored by you - it took time to realize, many interactions for him to see that you do not rise annoyance in him, multiple times sharing the eye contact and hundreds of hours being your interlocutor to cognize the beauty of you, but when he fell - he fell hard, and the realization didn't make him feel repulsed. On the contrary, it brought him inexplicable peace, and, being an efficient and straightforward man he is, Alhaitham faced you the very next day and asked out on a date.
The rest is history. You dated, you moved in, you got married - the sequence your husband perfected in its briefness to be over with quickly anytime his colleagues or anyone asked about you and your relationship. You, of course, would give a more detailed summary to your friends, speaking of him so tenderly, always witnessing the same reaction - disbelief. And you get it where they come from - after all, your partner is known to not be the most cordial person. He prefers it that way though - he is bothered much less and can dedicate that free time to his lovely wife.
He makes it a point to not leave the house unnecessarily early, just exactly enough to get to his office on time, and same with finishing his work, bluntly rejecting anyone who tries to approach him with stuff. This way he doesn’t waste a second with you, quite on contrary, sometimes a couple of hours can be added, if you visit him during the afternoon to go grab lunch together, or enjoy the one you brought with you, and then rest somewhere in a private spot with your head on his shoulder, holding a bigger hand that is resting on your thigh, while his other one is occupied with a book. This is enough to power you both up to push through the rest of the day, and Alhaitham really appreciates it, never failing to give you a kiss on the lips and murmuring the soft words of reassurance, before parting your ways till the evening.
Today is one of those days when you find yourself in the House of Daena with a home-cooked lunch neatly wrapped and warm in your hands. A couple of librarians greet you on the way, knowing perfectly well who you are, and you smile at them. One older woman, who’s always been fond of your character, informs you that Alhaitham hasn’t left the Grand Sage’s office since the moment he arrived, and you thank her for going out of her way to reassure you that you will not need to search for him.
There’s another exchange of greetings at the bottom of an elevator and just seconds later you start ascending to the above of the huge library. The quiet whirling of mechanisms is calming and you hum softly to yourself, imagining that tender look in those light turquoise eyes, a rare shine in orange-ringed yellow pupils and a slight pull of thin lips upon seeing your figure and catching a whiff of food you brought. A content sigh escapes your chest and you prepare to soon step off the huge round platform.
But instead of catching a glimpse of your husband, you are met with sharp black eyes, staring at you and a scowl present on the face of a person you don't believe you've seen before, at least not long enough to remember. You blink in surprise, eyes darting to look at the man from head to toe - he is wearing the Akademiya’s robes, but there is no indicator to which Darshan he belongs to. A Matra perhaps? But you are used to seeing a completely different face of a scholar Alhaitham appointed as his secretary for the period of time he’d fulfill the role of an Acting Grand Sage. Panah has soft brown eyes, always nodding to you in a greeting and leaving upon your arrival if it is lunch time and his boss doesn’t instruct him to stay and carry on with his job, not minding you two.
This one practically glares at you, arms crossed and posture intimidating. You simply tilt your head in question, waiting for him to say something.
“Who allowed you to enter?”
The tone of his voice is pretty rude, and the gruff voice doesn't add grace to it. You are not one to judge someone by their looks - your husband is the proof of that, so you decide to brush it off and simply answer.
"Shohre of course, as usual."
“...as usual?” His brows furrow, and you get even more confused with the question. Is your husband having some kind of an impromptu inspection? He didn’t tell you anything about it in the morning, and since the Akasha got turned off, there is no simple way to warn you of it. 
"Is Alhaitham holding any meeting, perhaps?" You try, knowing it's absurd since he doesn't love his sweet lunch time being interrupted, but right now it's hard to find an explanation for this hostile-acting man's actions.
"You have so little respect for the Acting Great Sage?"
This time the booming edge in his words makes an echo in a pretty vast space and almost makes you flinch. The situation is escalating pretty quickly.
"Sir, I don't know who you are, but I do not believe I ever deserved such treatment from you. Would you be so kind to explain what's going on or at least let me see the Acting Great Sage-"
That must've sounded kind of sarcastic, because the man looks like he is ready to fume akin to a kettle.
"Who even are you!? Who do you think you are? Demanding a meeting like that - you must know his schedule is packed, so don't you assume that your pretty face would get you through-"
"Jahan, what is going on?" The "Jahan" shuts instantly upon hearing a deep, dripping with authority voice behind him. Your face instantly brightens when you spot the tall man approaching you two with his arms crossed and the most nonchalant expression etched in his features.
“We have an intruder, Sir.”
What in the Archon’s name- This is becoming ridiculous.
"An intruder?" He lifts his brow and glances at you, gaze lingering just for a few seconds longer. Then it returns to his subordinate. "I don't see one here."
"This woman," you move just in time not to have his index finger directly point you right in your face, "came here without prior appointment, not stating her purpose, not even stating her name!"
"Is that so?" You almost snort at how little Alhaitham cares for what this man has for an explanation, instead moving directly to you and taking a heavy lunch boxes from your hands, allowing your shoulders and arms to drop in relief.
“Her name is of no matter. All you need to know is that she is my wife.”
The room falls silent. The man stares at his boss with eyes so wide, you worry they’d pop out of his sockets. Your husband though doesn’t show any reaction to the stunned look on the man’s face, balancing all the containers in one hand, offering you the other, which you take with a smile.
"S-she what?"
"My wife. And she, along with the necessary descriptions, is literally the only person on the list of the people who are free to come and leave whenever. On the list Panah passed to you along with other instructions before taking his sick leave. Did you even skip through those?"
The tone of your husband is cold with a mocking edge, rubbing his subordinate’s incompetence in his face, and you don't need to look at the man to sense his panic.
"I-I, no of course I thoroughly looked through every single one, but I do not remember such paper, it must've been lost along the process-"
"It doesn't matter. Now you are aware. But there is one more thing you need to learn about my wife visiting."
"Yes, Sir?"
"You leave the moment she enters."
There is a momentary pause (you know Alhaitham is rolling his eyes inwardly at how slowly the notion seems to reach him), before Jahan snaps out of his stupor, slightly bows, mumbling something and quickly walks off to the elevator.
Not even waiting for the mechanism to start, your husband tugs on your hand and you take the hint, following him to the sofas and a table.
"What an imbecile," is murmured in annoyance and you finally chuckle, covering your mouth with a hand.
Your husband is truly something, but one thing is absolutely certain - his wife is the only person that really worths his nerves and time.
Ayato
Kamisato Ayato is a character of many admirable traits and worth-mentioning accomplishments, a great leader, an amazing big brother, a boss held in high regard, and a loving husband of three years to you. This last, but not the least, is Commissioner's favorite, and he makes sure to show it every opportunity present in his individual mischievous way.
You know he gets away with a lot of things, and for numerous reasons, ranging from being the head of the Yashiro Commission, to him being pretty unknown by face among the commoners due to Ayaka handling all the public affairs. This one in particular is harmless, but there is that little thing which drives you up the wall - he does it only when you are present, leaving you very flustered and with a fast beating heart.
"My name? Oh, I am a husband. This gorgeous woman's husband."
"Lord Kamisato? No need to be so formal with me, just call me her husband."
"'Kamisato Ayato' and all my titles are so long to write down, can't I sign it with 'Y/n's hubby' instead?"
"Kamisato Y/n's husband. That's who I am."
"Ayaka, have you forgotten? No more calling me 'big brother', only 'Y/n's husband- Stop laughing, I am serious!"
The last one is literally happening right before your eyes, with the younger sibling hiding her smile and suppressing her giggles behind her intricately decorated fan, as the older one has taken his glove off, wiggling his fingers to show the glistening golden band wrapped around one of them. You, on the other hand, are trying to cover your heated face with a stack of papers you picked when Ayaka entered the office and addressed her big brother as, well, big brother. Peeking above the filled with reports sheets you catch a sly smile playing on Ayato's lips, while his usually piercing eyes reflect the special kind of adoration he holds for you.
You know why he is doing this - the man fought hard for your heart and then hand in marriage, and since it is now a reality, he absolutely keens on that "I am your husband" notion. Sometimes it's a perfect ice breaker in introducing you two to new people, sometimes it's a reason for an eye roll (yours as well), at times it puts people in stupor which Ayato uses to his advantage, but there is always only one initial thought behind every single one of them - showing the world he is proud to be your partner with a label "husband" on it.
And this sentiment is fully returned! However you never had an opportunity to do the same - he always beats you to it, and leaves bashful long enough for the moment to become wasted. You know you can always talk it through with him and he’d be more than happy to give you a chance, but, after all these times he left you speechless, it’s simply a matter of pride to pay him back. Besides… You really-really want to see his reaction if you told someone important those words. 
That you are his wife.
You hear a soft knock on the living room’s door where you and Ayato are sitting next to each other at one side of the low table.
“Lord and Lady Kamisato, the guests have arrived.”
“Wonderful, please let them in.”
The man notices your elation upon hearing those words and smiles to himself - your friends from another nation, whom you haven’t seen properly in ages, finally managed to reach the coasts of Inazuma and seek a meeting to reconnect with you and also meet your mysterious husband you’ve written and praised so much in your letters.
The scene is heartwarming. Two girls around your age are tightly hugging you with excited squeals while the man that came in together with them, patiently waits to be introduced. Ayato follows his example, watching your grinning face, filing away every single detail about it - the sparkles in your eyes, the rosiness of your cheeks, that adorable wrinkling of your nose when the girls say something cheesy, and the pure happiness written all over your visage.
“Oh, Y/n, it’s so nice to see you again after so long! So much happened…”
“Yes! We totally should discuss every single event! But I offer to start by introducing us and our husbands.”
“One of you got married?” You ask surprised. “I know that only one of you got recently engaged-”
“Me! But the wedding is so soon, that I already call him my husband, hehe. Oh, we brought the wedding invitation for you and your husband as well, I hope you two will make it!”
“Girls, girls, let’s calm down,” you laugh, pausing them and gesturing to the two men silently observing you - both pairs of eyes shining with admiration. “Ayato, my dear, I want you to meet my friends I’ve told you so much about…”
Your husband hears familiar names, ones he’s remembered long ago, and nods in recognition, offering each a kiss on the back of their hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet people my beloved holds in high regard.”
“Likewise,” they giggle, giving you teasing looks about how gentlemanly your spouse is, and you roll your eyes, but a smile tugging on your lips doesn’t go unnoticed.
“And I’ll take an opportunity to introduce our companion,” one of the women says, stepping closer to her fiance and offering everyone his name and a slight description of his field of work, to which Ayato hums with interest.
“And these,” your other friend gestures to you and your husband, “are Kamisato Ayato and-”
“Wife.”
Everyone falls silent and looks at you with confusion. You yourself are stunned, eyes slightly widened and heart skipping a beat. The word really just flew out of your mouth faster when you could think about it.
“Excuse me?” Your friend gapes at you, and suddenly it clicks. This spontaneous reaction, caused by your unspoken desire, presents you with a perfect opportunity. You finally can get “revenge” on your husband.
“That’s what I said, sweety,” with a smirk and boosting confidence you glance at Ayato and meet his lilac eyes, staring at you with a hint of amusement. “I am this marvelous man’s wife. You know, 'Kamisato Y/n' is way too long to pronounce. So, maybe just a wife instead?”
The silence reigns again, with the three of your guests clearly being in stupor and your husband observing you with an unreadable expression. But suddenly he laughs. Joyfully and sincerely, it plucks on the strings of your crazily beating heart. Instantly there are arms wrapping around your waist and lips pressed against your temple, and you can feel the smile he hides in your hair.
“Yes, that’s right… This remarkable woman is my wife. Most incredible and lovely wife.”
Turning your head slightly you manage to catch a soft blush dusting his porcelain skin, before he faces away from you. Oh Archons, he loves it and he is bashful!
As you fully turn in his embrace and start teasing him, loud enough for only the man to hear (you are not that cruel to embarrass him in front of people), your guests' existence is forgotten for a moment. Both girls sigh and look at the completely lost man, whose hand his future wife takes and rubs a thumb over his knuckles.
“Ah… Please, don’t mind that. She always had a strange sense of humor, and it seems that her husband only enabled it.”
That is true, but you look genuinely happy, so they can bear a week of occasional cringing.
Diluc
The annual harvest celebration has been a tradition in the Ragnvindr family for as long as the Dawn Winery existed. When Master Crepus was alive, it was hosted in the grand mansion with spacious halls and intricately decorated staircases, the one Diluc used to call his home. Guests would gather, wine bars would be uncorked and red liquid fill dozens of glasses, as he and Kaeya would curiously watch the adults interact, sneaking out of their rooms to spy from the hiding spots they knew so well.
But not anymore. Gone were the days of careless happiness he calls the past now, gone his father, gone the mansion, and gone his desire for active social interaction. It's been some years since his return and the sale of the mansion in attempts to run away from said past. The celebration came to a stop for as long as he was gone and then while he tended to re-establishing the business after arrival.
The Dawn Winery, despite all the maids and winemakers, would become so quiet. And it's not like he stayed there for long too - he was always somewhere, preoccupied by something.
That is until his life was shaken and turned upside down, and all by the hands of one single person. The person, who brought light back to his dark crimson eyes, who made him stop and think about how he can not just exist, but live, and happily so, waiting for every opportunity possible to be in the loving presence; the person who brought out that part of him he buried deep down in his graveyard of a soul, and gave it freedom to be again. The home actually started feeling like one, not a building he had a study and a bedroom in, but a place he could share with another, basking in the long-forgotten sensations, having his heart dance jigs and face soften in a tender gaze.
Many changes occurred, and, with some encouragement, he decided to bring back the tradition his father held in high regard, with only his sons' birthdays being more important to the late wine master.
The Winery is not as big as the family mansion used to be, but it is still enough space, with some of the furniture moved and the floor cleared, it can host many people. Besides, there is always a lovely outside with benches, and tables, and chairs, and it seems that Barbatos is kind to you, sending delightful weather as his gift.
Diluc is not a fan of social gatherings, however, he couldn't help but feel giddy when Adelinde exclaimed in elation at the prospect, be rather content when he saw happy smiles of the citizens - it's been a while since any proper celebration, and the monster rampage last month has been keeping everyone in a gloomy mood, and most importantly - he couldn't betray the trust and confidence his wife put into him.
…right. His wife. The ending to his reputation of the most eligible bachelor (not like he ever cared for the title), and the talk of the town for the past couple of weeks. Diluc Ragnvindr is a rather private man, and upon mutual agreement the wedding was private as well, with only few attending, and those few knew how to keep their mouths shut till the right time came. Or not, since one Cavalry Captain loves getting on the redhead's nerves and spilling some beans to the people who are willing to listen, and then not saying another word to create an intrigue.
So yes, this celebration is also a way to finally introduce the owner of the Dawn Winery's wife to the public, and put an end to all the speculations and maybe seal some lips that spew hatred towards the 'lucky woman', and there are a number of those.
You haven't been taking your eyes off the small group of nobles, standing almost in the middle of the first floor hall, loudly discussing the matter, inevitably drawing the attention of the ones not involved in the conversation, but standing rather close to them.
"I am telling you, she must be some dirty little thing, seducing our poor Master Diluc," the raven-haired tall man claims, elegantly holding a glass of dandelion wine in his long fingers. With his white and black clothes he reminds you of a dalmatian. Barking is almost identical too.
"You are right! She must be some commoner, too ashamed to show her face. If she was of a noble origin, the wedding would be grand and public," ah, and this bear-like looking man… you remember him - he was very active in trying to arrange a marriage of a very uninterested Diluc and his 17-year old daughter. You almost grimace at the thought.
"Oh yes! And we all know, that such well-known and ancient family as Ragnvindrs ought to have one of the noble daughters getting married into it," it is the first time you see this dramatically dressed woman, but even so you would've doubled in boisterous laughter if not the pretty dress Adelinde helped you lace an hour ago, that could potentially be ruined with the drink in your own glass.
You will yourself to tune them off for a moment and check on other guests. It quickly becomes clear that this conversation makes them uncomfortable. Some manage to entertain you though, by making fun of those nobles, parodying the pompous manner of their talking and snickering at that. 
Nevertheless, one shall put an end to this idiocy.
"Afternoon, good sirs and ma'ams," the group direct their gazes at you, approaching them with a polite smile and a glass absent from your hand. "I've caught pieces of your conversation earlier, and couldn't help, but feel concerned."
The derogatory gaze the woman throws your way doesn't go unnoticed, but you simply choose to ignore it.
"Is that so?" The 'Dalmatian' hums, as if condescendingly. "Are you worried about Master Diluc as well, young lady? Such compassion is admirable."
"Oh, I hardly worry about Diluc," some eyes widen at your lack of his title acknowledgement, but you once again ignore it. "I am concerned about you. You know it's bad manners to berate a person in their own house? I'd really advise you to stop talking, especially about the matter you seem to know nothing about. Not to make bigger fools of yourselves at least."
"How dare you-" the woman you haven't heard talking before, but saw her nodding a lot, with those huge feathers in her hair waving with each tilt of her head, starts gasping because of your 'insult'. "How dare you speak to us like that! A servant must stay silent until asked to open their mouth!"
"I am not a servant here, nor anywhere else," the assumption doesn't surprise you, since all the maids were allowed to wear pretty outfits even while doing their job - after all it was a celebration honoring them as well, they help the Winery keep running.
"When who in the Archon's name are you-?"
"Y/n Ragnvindr," a deep soothing voice rings behind you, so loud and clear, that it immediately shuts all the sounds in the room. 
Your lips curl in a wider smile, all the while holding the bewildered gaze of the woman who decided to pick a fight with you.
"Yes, dear?" His chest is now against your back and a hand, clad in a white glove, reaches for yours. "Are you done with welcoming our partners from Liyue?"
"Of course," the back of your hand is brought to his lips to leave a chaste kiss there, and only then you turn your head and catch a dangerous glint in those blood-colored eyes. He is pissed, but neutral face hardly betrays him. "I see we have a problem here."
"Mhm," you hum, not letting go of his hand and looking back at the tensed individuals, who were bad-mouthing you just minutes ago. "It surely isn't how we planned to reveal our marriage, but the situation called for it, I suppose."
"L-lady Ragnvindr, we didn't know-"
"Can these people be escorted out?" Your question interrupts her harshly, making her flinch. "They disturb other guests, and clearly do not know basic rules of respect."
"My dear wife," you can practically feel menace radiating off of his body, and voice dripping with smugness, "no need to ask me. That's your house as much as it's mine, and you contributed so much into organizing this event. So don't be shy to make your own decision."
"Well then," your smile gets even sweeter, contrary to your eyes that burn holes in their distasteful figures, "Get out."
Kaeya
"Hey pretty tits, hic! Argh, you come here often?"
You wouldn't think that a question like this was addressed to you, if the heavily smelling of alcohol man wasn't occupying the bar stool to your right, leaning forward in your direction. You slightly turn your head and suspiciously watch the swinging glass in his trembling hand, half full and threatening to spill the dark liquid. He really had too much tonight.
"...was that supposed to be a compliment?" 
Leaning back to avoid any unfortunate outcome, you give him an unamused look, finished with an arched brow. From the corner of your eye you can't help but notice Charles staring at the man. It is nice to know your good acquaintance doesn't ignore the possible trouble a drunkard can cause another customer.
But you can handle it.
"It was!" He exclaims so happily, childishly proud that you acknowledged the fact. Should you tell him he sucks at it? And that there is only one man whose drunk flirty compliments you'll ever accept, and even in a state like that he would manage to be good, putting a smile on your face? Right now though, the urge to grimace is stronger.
"...thanks," I suppose?. "And yes, I come here often to spend the evening with my partner."
At that his face visibly falls and you turn away, assuming it is enough to cut the conversation short, and concentrate on savoring your first drink of the evening. You ordered it while waiting for one particular Cavalry Captain, and even though it's not strange for him to come later due to astronomically fast piling up paperwork, today he seems to be particularly busy. Maybe you should purchase a bottle and come to his quarters?
Just before you could do just that, there is a hand sliding over your right hip and a hot breath caressing the shell of your ear. You don't even flinch or freeze, recognizing the alluring presence immediately and leaning back into the firmness of his chest.
"You are late, Kaeya."
A soft chuckle and a kiss to the temple make it pretty clear that the azure-haired man cracked your fake rebuke on the spot, knowing that you are not one bit angry at him, but actually really happy to finally have him here.
"I apologize, princess," another kiss, this time to your cheek, "work's been a bit tough. But I am glad to finally be here with my woman."
"Youuurr?"
Ah, you completely forgot about the drunkard to your right.
Turning to look at Kaeya's reaction, you are stricken by the star-shaped pupil gazing right at you - he hasn't even glanced in the other man's direction, instead fixated on you completely. And that is making wonders to your poor heart.
"Who's that, snowflake?" His tone holds curiosity, but you know your lover, and you know when he is ready to be an ass. You shouldn't encourage this, however…
You'd love to see Kaeya Alberich tell the suitor off for you.
"No idea. But he said I have pretty tits."
He hums at that.
"True, but I would've aimed for that delicious butt. I am a simple man, after all."
You barely slap his hand in time, not nearly as drunk to start touching each other right here and right now. At your jab in his ribs he simply laughs heartily, settling his palm back onto your hip and momentarily redirecting his attention to the troublemaker who's been staring at you two throughout the whole exchange.
"You are not from here, are you?"
Only when your lover says that, do you decide to take in the other man's appearance. Indeed, if you were to look longer at him (not like you were interested) it would be easy to guess Fontaine as his land of origin.
"And what?" He straightens his back and puffs his chest as if trying to intimidate. What a rooster. "Does it prevent me from pursuing a pretty woman from another region?"
Oh, so now it's not simply one flirting remark, but a full-blown pursuit? How troublesome.
"Oh no, no, of course not," honey is dripping off those pretty lips, pulled into a smirk. "It's just that otherwise you'd know it's a bad tone to hit on someone's ex-girlfriend."
Confusion appears on the pursuer's face and you look inquiringly at Kaeya as well. The only answer you get is a wink and a mouthed request to order him a drink. Still perplexed, you nevertheless turn to Charles and ask him to make the Cavalry Captain the usual. 
Meanwhile the man pulls his thoughts together.
"It's stupid! If she is your ex, then how does it not give me the right to date her? Ridiculous. Why do you even hold her like that!?"
The shouting gathers attention from other patrons - some were invested almost from the beginning, seeing how that unknown man tried to make a move on you, and snickering behind their mugs of alcohol at his unawareness of your relationship. 
And Kaeya is all for the show. Many eyes watch as an elegant hand wraps around the glass of his favorite drink and brings it to the silent lips. It feels like everyone stopped breathing and the silence is pressuring, like a string ready to snap and reveal some shocking truth. You, on the other hand, roll your eyes at the male's love for theatrics and put an elbow onto the counter and lean your cheek into your open palm. This is going to be crushing, you almost feel sorry for the guy.
When the Cavalry Captain takes the third sip and sighs in delight - then, and only then, - he looks dead into the other man's eyes, so oppressively that he shrinks under the weight of this cold gaze.
"Maybe because she is my wife?"
If it was physically possible, the drunkard's jaw would hit the floor. The glass, he's been holding just seconds ago, however, follows its destiny, breaking from the impact with floorboards and ruining the prolonged silence and earning a grunt from the barman.
"S-she's what?"
"His wife," you raise your hand and show the ring, getting quite tired and wanting to save at least some of this man's dignity. "So, if you could, please, let us two have our date night. Uninterrupted."
Finally it seems to have him sobered up a little and he starts profusely apologizing to you, to Kaeya, to Charles, to Barbatos and Focalors, while digging his porch with mora out to pay for his drinks and minor damage he caused.
When he stumbles outside and the other patrons stop following the drama, you turn to a contently sipping on his wine Kaeya, who is excelling the nastiest grin on his face.
"Ex-girlfriend? Seriously? That's how you call your wife now?"
"Well, technically I am not wrong, right? Since you are not my girlfriend anymore," he shrugs his shoulders, finishing the last few gulps and putting the glass back onto the counter. 
"Then the next time we meet new people I will introduce you as my ex-boyfriend. What? Technically you are," having his own words being thrown into his face makes Kaeya laugh, and he hugs you tightly, kissing the corner of your mouth.
"Deal. But only once, to make it even. I enjoy being called your husband way more."
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mimicmimikyuwrites · 14 days
Text
Loyalty is Hot - Adam (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Reader SMUT
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Request: "I was hoping for a fic where Reader is Adam's third wife and they meet Lucifer (maybe in a meeting?) and he states how he could take Reader from Adam as well. Adam is kind of internally panicking as Lucifer states what it took to take his other two wives until Reader gets all fed up and rudely puts him in his place. Causing Adam to get all hot and bothered for his wifey and their loyalty?"
Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, praise kink, creampie, semi-public sex (they fuck in a meeting room), Adam being himself, creampie, slight angst, SMUT, MDNI
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You hated meetings, or waking up for them more specifically. It seemed that every time your husband dragged you to one it was at the earliest time possible, a time you'd much rather be spending in bed with him, enjoying the time of day where Heaven was at its most peaceful. It was also the time of day when Adam, sleepy and in a loving mood, was least annoying (which pained you a bit to admit, especially considering how much you loved him.)
"Hey! Wake the fuck up, babe! Don't fall asleep on me, not here." Adam nearly shouted, gently poking at you before you fell asleep on his shoulder in the meeting room. You opened your eyes with a sigh, keeping your head rested against your husband.
"Who are we even meeting with? More importantly, why haven't they shown up yet? It's been at least an hour," You questioned, a rising annoyance in your voice. Adam had sprung this meeting on you at the literal last minute, saying something along the lines of 'I need to show off my hot-as-fuck wife,' before practically dragging you out of bed; no more information given. Being the good wife you were, you accompanied him, albeit with some complaining. The last thing you were expecting, however, was for the meeting to be in Hell.
"We're meeting with Lucifer," He explained, the wide grin on his face shown on his mask. "I can't wait to see that fucker's face when he sees how sexy you are and realizes that you're all mine." One of his hands moved down to place itself on your thigh as he leaned in, smirking. "Who knows, maybe I'll even bend you over and fuck you right here on this table while he—"
You glared at him, smacking his hand away with a hiss of his name. He drew it back, letting out an amused laugh. "We are here on business," You reprimanded, an upset frown on your face. "Could you at least save the horny talk for after the meeting? Y'know when we're not in Hell?" Despite your reaction, you had to admit that the idea your husband had conjured up was kinda hot when you thought about it more in depth.
Fuck, you could see it now, feel it even. Back pressed against the table while your husband loomed over you, beautiful golden eyes staring into yours as you spread your legs for him. His thick cock sinking into you slowly, only for him to start with a quick, animalistic pace–just the way you liked it. Fuck, and the way his hands would reach out, grabbing at whatever he could; your ass, tits, thighs, anything that was soft and grabbable.
You hadn't realized the blush that had spread across your face until you saw your husband's smug grin. "Awww, did that turn you on, baby?" He cooed, almost mockingly. "Remember what you said, 'Save it for after the meeting.' Can't jump on me just quite yet." He leaned back in his chair, the grin on his face only growing as you shot him a harsh glare. As much of a lover of sex as he was, Adam loved teasing you even more.
You opened your mouth to argue back at him, slightly embarrassed by his use of your own words against you, but you were cut off by the sound of the door opening and closing. You turned your head, spotting the King of Hell himself. He looked just the way Adam had always described: pale white skin, rosy red cheeks, golden hair, noseless, and short. So short.
You stood from your seat as Lucifer approached the table, the sound of his boots against the tile of the floor filling the otherwise large, quiet room. You smiled, holding out a hand to shake, your typical behavior for business matters, regardless of who it was. "Hello, Your Majesty," You greeted politely, earning an eye roll from your husband next to you.
Lucifer returned your smile with one of his own, taking your hand and shaking it. "Who might this beautiful angel be, Adam?" He questioned, pressing a light kiss to your hand before letting it go and sitting down. Adam smirked as you sat back in your seat next to him, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you in close; not letting his annoyance at Lucifer's small display of affection be visible on his face.
"This is (Y/N), my wife. She's gorgeous, isn't she? A real hottie. Did I mention she's my wife?" He introduced, taking pride in having you by his side. Lucifer glanced at you, looking unamused by Adam's obvious boast before smiling at you. "Well, I certainly hope she's happy with you. Y'know, considering your history with your other wives." He antagonized, covering it up with a polite tone.
Adam's smile faltered. A sensitive topic had been brought up, one that challenged your husband's confidence. You looked between the two, taking note of how they glared at each other with mutual hatred. Lucifer turned his attention fully onto you, leaning in slightly. "Tell me, dear. Does he even satisfy you? Are you happy with him?" You opened your mouth slightly in shock, taken back by the sudden, blunt questioning.
"Fuck you! Of course she's happy with me!" Adam growled. "She's not like those last two bitches who'd settle for you of all people, you short fuck." Despite his assertion, you could hear the doubt in his voice, like he was trying to convince himself of it, too. Lucifer grinned, sharp teeth on full display, not affected whatsoever by your husband's burst of anger.
"It's not my fault that your wives like me better, Adam," Lucifer replied snidely. "All it took for Lilith was a man who did more than the bare minimum, and as for Eve, all it took was giving her a choice of who she wanted to be with for once, and that someone certainly wasn't you."
Lucifer then motioned to you. "I wonder what it'll take for me to win your third wife over, probably not much, to no fault of her own. You're probably leaving her just as unhappy as you did the last two, Adam." You watched as Adam tensed up at Lucifer's words, any confidence now gone as he struggled to keep up his self-absorbed facade.
"T-Thats not true," He stuttered, one of the few times you had ever seen him do so in all of the years you had known him. The drop in Adam's demeanor was the final straw, and you calmly got up from your seat. Both men's eyes followed you, watching your movements closely. Even with the mask on his face, you could see the fear in your husband's eyes as he watched you approach Lucifer.
"Honey? Baby?" Adam called out to you, watch as your face morphed into one of pure anger; a sight that even scared the King of Hell himself. They both knew that you were far from happy, and that was never a good thing.
"First of all, Lucifer," You hissed, saying his name with pure malice. "I am not Lilith, nor am I Eve. I may have been created with the same purpose in mind, but let it be known that we are far from similar." You slowly got closer to him, almost like a predator stalking its prey in the most terrifying way possible. "Second of all, yes I am happy. Clearly happier with Adam than Lilith was with you, considering how she up and left you and went only God knows where. I also don't see Eve around."
Lucifer's smile fell for the first time that day, and with it, his pride. Adam watched in astonishment as you continued to put Lucifer in his place. "Finally, I need you to understand that you're far from being my type. You're a coward who barely governs his people, yet so proudly calls himself the boss. Then you waltzed in here acting like you knew me better than I know myself, even when we had just met. I love Adam with every fiber of my being, even if he's the most obnoxious jackass I've ever met."
You got even closer, causing Lucifer to lean back in an attempt to escape you. "Oh, and for the record—" You leaned into his ear. "Adam fucks me better than I'm sure you've ever fucked anyone else in your pathetic life. So, yes, he does satisfy me." You whispered. You pulled back suddenly, a smile on your face. "Is that understood?"
Lucifer gulped, nodding in reply. "Lovely." You grinned, moving back to Adam. "Now, I'm afraid we're out of time. We'll have to reschedule this meeting for another day, preferably with someone else. Maybe you can send someone in your stead? Someone who's more politically involved in your Kingdom's workings, perhaps."
Lucifer let out an awkward laugh, standing up before making his way to the door, mumbling something about how we would send his daughter instead next time, before leaving. You stood triumphant, hands on your hips as you watched his departure.
"I—" Adam began, almost at a loss for words. "Are you aware how fucking hot that was!? Holy shit—" He pulled you down into his lap, pulling his mask off before crashing his lips against yours, kissing you eagerly. He pulled you down by the hips, grinding you against him, causing you to feel his growing hard-on through the fabric of his robes. "Fuck–Please, I know you said we have to wait, but please please please let me fuck you right here. Need you now."
You grinded down, a moan escaping both of you. "Why don't you do what you said you'd do earlier, hmm? Fuck me right here on this table, Adam." He bent you over the table, and you let him pull your skirt up just enough for him to be able to then tug your underwear off, tossing it aside somewhere in the room.
"Impatient today, aren't you, hon?" You teased playfully, looking back to find him not even bothering to take off his robes, choosing to pull them up instead. He chuckled, placing his hands on your hips as he lined himself up with your entrance. "Seeing you put annoying little fucks like Lucifer in their place does things to me, baby." He purred, thrusting in.
You let out a gasp at the feeling, his thick cock stretching you out perfectly. His pace was quick from the start, hips snapping against yours as the sound of it all filled the room. "I bet Lucifer couldn't fuck you like this now, could he? No, you need a real man to show you who you belong to." Adam groaned, kissing and nipping at your neck.
"H-He could never," You stuttered, struggling to speak as your mind went foggy from pleasure. "I need—Oh, fuck!" You let out a cry as his fingers found your clit, rubbing at it. "That's a good girl, let all those pretty little noises out." He praised, the sound of your moans more beautiful than any Heavenly choir to him.
"You're so much better than those other whores," He moaned, pounding into you, eyes screwed shut in pure ecstasy. "My perfect fucking wife, the love of my life—Shit—" He let out a growl as you clenched down on him. He let out a sweet laugh, hands moving up to grab at your tits while he fucked into you. "Oh? The praise turns you on, huh? You should be honored to receive it from me."
A mix of your moans and his spread throughout the room as you both drew closer to your climaxes, your shared noises growing louder and louder by the second. "Fuck," He cursed, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he rutted into you. "Gonna cum, 'm gonna fill you up. Maybe I'll even put a baby in you just to show Lucifer how in love with me you are."
"Do it—" You begged, legs quivering as he angled his cock in just the right way for the tip to graze your sweet spot. "Cum inside me Adam, let them know that I'm yours. All yours—A-Adam!" Your orgasm hit you with sudden force, the feeling coursing through you.
"Yesyesyes! Feels so fucking good cumming around me—" The sensation of your pussy contracting around him during your orgasm pushed him over the edge, and he came, shooting thick ropes of cum deep inside of you.
You rested your face against the table, no longer able to hold yourself up by your arms after the energy your climax had used up. Your orgasm subsided, but your body still shook, lightly trembling from the enjoyable onslaught it had just endured. You took deep breaths as Adam pulled out of you, feeling his cum leaking out of your well-fucked cunt.
He pressed soft kisses to your neck, holding you as you both basked in your post-orgasmic bliss together. "I love you," He mumbled against your neck, smiling. "You seriously have no idea how grateful I am for you to be my wife. You're absolute perfection, sweetheart." He pulled himself off of you, sitting back in his chair, a satisfied smirk on his face. "You think some sinner scum is gonna have to clean our mess up? That shit would be hilarious."
You sighed, shooting him a harsh look that he only laughed at. "Adam," You warned. "Have some respect, would you?" He laughed again, pulling you down into his lap, grinning. "Respect? Baby, we just screwed in a fancy meeting room. We are past the point of failing to show respect."
He leaned in closer to you, mischief in his golden eyes. "Now, why don't we go for a round two?"
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empresskylo · 1 year
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can you do something with the cod men when you're mad at them? like how they would react to that?
includes: simon, könig, johnny, price, & alejandro. afab!reader; referred to in feminine terminology. nsfw content! a/n: i got a little carried away with ghost's so his is quite a bit longer than the others. my bad.
Ghost 
♡ he doesn’t like when you’re mad at him, but he also doesn’t let it bother him too much. he’s glad you care enough to actually get mad at him. it’s a weird way of him knowing you care deeply about him. but it only infuriates you more when you’re cursing him out and he’s just standing there smiling at you.
♡ ghost likes to think that sex is the answer to everything with you. and i mean…. i wouldn’t complain.
𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖
♡ you were sitting down on simon’s bed, annoyed and pouting. you had rehearsed what you were going to say to him over and over in your head as you waited, pissed.  the anger inside you skyrocketed the second ghost appeared at his door. he sauntered over to you, clearly seeing the ire spreading over your features. “what’s wrong, pet?” he asked you, his hand reaching out and skimming your chin softly. he tilted your head up with one bent finger so you were looking at him. “you mad at me?” you could hear the playfulness in his tone. god, his voice was so attractive when he spoke lowly like that. you momentarily forgot the entire reason you were sitting here waiting for him.  “I think that’s quite obvious.” you scoffed, shaking your head out of his grip.  “mmm. want to get it out of your system then, yeah?” he asked. you knew he didn’t mean letting you curse him out while he sat there and took the beating. he meant fucking you. you clenched your fists as ghost stroked his fingers through your hair, twirling the end of a strand absentmindedly.  “simon,” you began, ready to chew him out. before you could finish your sentence, simon was hunched over, his hands on his knees, level with you, placing a kiss on your jaw, his hand somehow grabbing your rising wrist without looking as you reached up to push him away. then he kissed your neck, and back up to your jaw. he saw the goosebumps rise on your flesh. he hovered his lips above yours. you could feel them ever so slightly as you spoke. His hand still clutching your wrist in his.  “we can’t just fuck every time we’re mad at each other,” your voice was much less confident now compared to mere moments ago.  ghosts eyes darted between your own, kissing just below your lips then hovering above them again. “sure we can." you gulped as simon pushed you back on his bed. you gave such little resistance that you wanted to scold yourself for being so weak. You saw ghost smile, knowing you were succumbing to him, barely able to even put up a fight. It was so fucking easy for him. You wanted this as much as he did. his hands teased the hem of your shirt as he finally connected your lips together. his tongue entered your mouth as his hands moved south, slowly unbuttoning your pants.  you groaned into the kiss, ghost’s fingers teasing your slit over your underwear. He pulled away and yanked your jeans the rest of the way off.  he left kisses along the inside of your thigh, stopping at your clothed core. he hooked his fingers along the hem of your panties and pulled them down painfully slow. he settled himself back between your legs, his hands sliding up to your waist and yanking you closer to the edge of the bed making you gasp. “m’sorry, pet,” he cooed, his voice laced with lust. you whimpered as he attached his lips to you, and began sucking and licking. your hands gripped the bed sheets as you felt one of his fingers slide inside of you, his mouth working your clit simultaneously. “m’sorry,” he mumbled against you.  you could barely hear him as you let him pump his fingers inside you, his mouth making obscene noises as he devoured you.  right before you were about to come, he paused. you whined as a now shirtless simon hovered above you. He pried the shirt from your body and leaned his head down to place kisses on your neck as he mumbled apologizes. “m’sorry. m’sorry. m’sorry. ” he whispered against your skin. he kissed your nipple then sucked it into his mouth. you groaned when he released it with a pop. “do you forgive me, pet?”  his hands came up to knead your breasts. you tried to clear your head as you spoke but it was hard when simon was sending waves of pleasure through you, making you arch your back into him.  “you don’t even know why i’m mad,” you said breathlessly.  you cried when ghost pulled away from you, a fist on either side of your head holding himself up. he looked you up and down before he spoke. “do you forgive me?” he asked again, ignoring your previous comment. god, why did he have to be so difficult sometimes? 
you sighed, most of your anger washed away the second he started kissing you anyways.  “yes. i forgive you.”  he smiled, “that’s my sweet girl,” he cooed before entering you without warning. you gasped, your hands immediately reaching up to hold on to him, nails digging into his back. “that’s right, pet. show me how angry you are.” he began to ram into you, your nails scratching and clawing at him, drawing blood, your head lulling in pleasure. ghost kissed your collarbone, then up your neck, then your lips. He groaned at the pleasure mixed with the pain from your claw-like fingers on his back. “Jesus. fuck—simon,” you mewled. his hips rocked against yours at a steady pace.  “tell me why you were mad at me.” you noted how he used the past tense and mentally rolled your eyes. “what?! now?” he didn’t slow his movements, giving you a serious look. he always wanted you to soften and forgive him before he even found out what it was you were pissed off about. He had a backwards way of looking at things. you told him through moans and gasps why you were mad. it sounded silly now that he was balls deep inside you. he didn’t stop rutting against you the entire time you talked. he laughed as you struggled to get the words out in coherent sentences, losing your place multiple times as he ground his hips rather harshly. “m’sorry,” he said again, but for an actual reason this time. he placed a soft kiss on your lips. “forgive me?” he asked, his eyes looking between your own, his hands pulling your hips up so he could hit you deeper. you basically screamed “yes! yes, i forgive you.”  simon groaned loudly, your walls fluttering around him, both of you orgasming in sync. he spilled inside you, his seed overflowing as he continued to pump lazily into you, every move making him growl before collapsing on top of your body. he rolled over so you lay on top of him now, his hand stroking your hair as he held you, a large, self-satisfied smile on his face as he looked down at you.
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König 
♡ he hates when you’re mad at him. he can read it so easily on your features. it hurts to know he somehow hurt you. “what did i do?” he’d ask the moment he saw your brows furrowed and nose scrunched.
♡ he makes up for it by apologizing and promising to do better. promising to fix whatever it is you’re upset with him about.
♡ and he likes to drown you in sweet gestures. he’ll give you your favorite flowers, make you dinner, swoop in to lift something heavy that you were trying to life on your own, offer to carry you if you look even the slightest bit tired. and that’s not to say he doesn’t do that kind of stuff already, but he goes overboard when he knows you’re mad. he does it to the point that you finally break, usually laughing. 
♡ “i got that,” könig mumbles as he takes the heavy box out of your hands and sets it on the table. you scowl at him but say nothing. he watched you as you tried to grab another box from up high. he beats you to it, “got it,” he says. you turn to stare at him. “i can do this myself,” you mumble like a child. “i know,” he says softly. you roll your eyes.  later that day, he’s already stolen the dirty dishes from your hands and washed them, tied your shoe you when you started to reach down, grabbed a mug from a high cabinet and handed it to you. you were slowly breaking. when you began pulling off your hoodie, hot from all the running around, you felt two large hands slide over yours, stealing the hem from you and pulling it off. you couldn’t contain your giggle. “jesus, könig.” he smiled at you once the material was shed and began folding it in his arms.  he nudged you and you rolled your eyes playfully, letting him wrap his arm around you and kiss the top of your head.
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Price 
♡ doesn’t like when you’re mad but also never thinks he’s wrong. however, my guy is smart enough to never admit that. he’s happy to admit to any fault, it’s almost infuriating how much of the blame he’s willing to accept. you even tried tricking him once: pretending to be mad at something you knew he didn’t do. he apologize immediately, pulling you into him and kissing the top of your head. you didn’t have the heart to tell him this was all a trap.
♡ he thinks it’s funny when you’re mad. even though he’ll take the brunt of your anger, he can’t help but chuckle. “what’s so funny?!” you asked in the midst of ripping him a new one. “just like the way your face gets all scrunched up when you’re mad,” he said before booping the top of your nose. “can we focus here, please?!”  “right, sorry, love. back to it then,” he said waving his hand in the air, encouraging you to continue your scolding.
♡ it makes it hard to stay mad at him for long. you always fold. he just accepts his wrongs to easily when it comes to you. “i’m still mad,” you mumble after letting your anger go as price took your words to heart, saying he was sorry, and promising to not hold back secrets from you.“yeah?” he asked a bit cheekily. he sauntered over to where you stood and wrapped his arms around you so your back was pressed to his front. he leaned down and kissed your cheek before talking softly. “and what could i do that would make you less mad?” his hands slid across your abdomen and down to your waistband. your instinctively fell back into his touch making him chuckle in his chest. “let me take care of you then, love.”
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Soap
♡ johnny hates when you’re mad at him, especially if he knows its something he did really wrong. He gets so stressed out when he knows he did something to piss you off. And of course, the guys–knowing how much it bothers him–like to tease him about it. 
♡ “uh oh,” gaz snickers. “She looks fucking pissed,” price remarks, crossing his arms, enjoying the panic that is rising on soap’s face. “Good luck, amigo,” alejando pats soap on the back as you approach.
♡ he’s such a soft himbo, i imagine it’s hard to stay mad at him anyways.
♡ soap runs his hand through his hair as he gazes down at you. “Shit, baby. I didn’t think that’d piss you off so much.” you scowl up at him. “I’m sorry, lass.” he dips his head to try and kiss you but you turn your head to the side. Pain fills johnny’s eyes as he sighs. He scratches the back of his neck, hating that you won’t even look at him. He falls to his knees, grabbing your attention. He grabs your hands, “i really am sorry, love,” he pleads.  You look at him with slight panic on your face. “Johnny!” you hiss. “People are looking! Get up! Please!” you plead, trying to pull at his hands to get him to stand.  “No. I deserve this. I have to pay for my sins,” you can hear the teasing tone in his voice. You roll your eyes, subduing a smile.  “You’re such an idiot,” you say laughing, still yanking at his hands. Soap takes that as his moment to stand up and bury his head in your neck before you have the chance to switch back to angry mode. He pulls you into him, kissing your neck and up towards your lips making you giggle with a hand on his chest.
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Alejandro
♡ kinda likes it when you’re mad at him??? He likes arguing with you, its fun getting you all riled up. He thinks its hot when you know what you’re talking about and you’re telling him whats what. And he loves the heat that sparks between the two of you were you’re both fuming and yelling at one another.
♡ “You got to be fucking kidding me, Alejandro.” “¿ahora que?” what now? he whined. He spun to face you, raising his brows and crossing his arms as if he had better things to do than put up with this right now. You were fuming with rage as he looked at you so expectantly. If your skin could turn the shade of a cherry tomato, it would have by now. You cussed Alejandro out, your hands raising and moving in the air as you yelled. Alejandro cursed back at you in Spanish, looking down at you with fire in his eyes. Finally, you both took a breath, your faces inches apart from one another having moved into each other’s space the more you argued, both of you having scowls plastered across your faces. You could practically feel the steam pooling out of your ears. “You have never been hotter to me than you are right now, mi amor,” he rasped out, his breath fanning across your lips. “God, you’re so infuriating!” He leaned into you, his hand snaking up and fisting your hair, pulling your head back so you had to look up at him. He gave you a devilish grin, “te encanta, bebe” you love it, baby. You let out a frustrated puff of air before your hands went up and grabbed the lapels of his shirt aggressively, yanking him down with all your strength to crash your lips together. He pushed you back so you slammed up against the wall, biting your bottom lip, drawing blood. You moaned, he grunted. You tore at his shirt and he slid his hand up to rest on your neck, putting just enough pressure to make you wet between your thighs. By the time this was all over, you would both be littered with bruises and scratch marks.
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angelltheninth · 7 months
Note
Hey idk if you take requests for monster lovers, but I liked the werewolf one so I would like to request one if possible! Can you write something where reader stumbles upon an abandoned castle and she meets the owner of the castle who is a vampire? Normally he wouldn’t tolerate trespassers, but he’s been very lonely these past decades and the new person is rather cute…
Omg this reminds me of Dracula and Lisa! I loved them in Castlevania.
Pairing: Male!Vampire x Fem!Reader
Tags: fluff, meet scary, first meeting, crushes, falling in love, domestic fluff, touch starved, kissing, neck kissing, drinking blood
A/N: Here's the thing about vampire bites in my headcanon, they actually feel really good when they're from a vampire you're in love with.
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Touch-starved!Vampire who closes his doors to everyone, turning them away, scaring them or if they're really stubborn he will drain them of their blood entirely for bothering him too much. He doesn't want anything to do with... well anyone really. He's happy being on his own, for the most part. Or so he thought.
Touch-starved!Vampire who sees you lost near his castle and at first he wants to shoo you away like everyone else. He sends his bats to do the job. But... you're not scared of them. You think they're cute. Oh. Now that he looks at you again, you're pretty cute too.
Touch-starved!Vampire who doesn't know how you'll react to seeing his fangs so he keeps his hand over his mouth until you move it away for him. Are you actually curious about them? Most people scream bloody murder when they see them. Then again they more then likely to end up dead moments after so it's justified.
Touch-starved!Vampire who can't believe how warm your hands are on his cheeks. He's felt humans before but he never let them get close quite like this. Is he cold for you? If you follow him to the castle he can stand next to the fireplace if that would make you more comfortable.
Touch-starved!Vampire who doesn't understand what the hell is happening to him right now. He's rarely felt like this even around his own species, let alone a human woman. Very curious. He'll have to keep you around more, or at least have you visit more often until he figures it out.
Touch-starved!Vampire who can smell when you're approaching his castle and waits for you at the door, offering you his hand to welcome you in. This becomes something of a routine for you two, so much so that your friends ask about the handsome new man who walks you home every night. Very late at night, or just before the sun rises.
Touch-starved!Vampire who loves it when you eat in front if him. He doesn't eat human food, or rather he doesn't need to, but if he knows that you're the one who made it then he will try it. He will even let you use his very underutilized kitchen and cook with you just to be close to you.
Touch-starved!Vampire who panics when you cut your finger. He will leave if you want him too, he will get you first aid supplies too. He can't control the fact that his fangs elongate when he smells how good you are but its in his nature, so hopefully you don't hold it against him.
Touch-starved!Vampire who stumbles over his feet when you offer him your neck. Understand that for him this will be a big step in your relationship, a new dynamic. Are you sure you want to take this step with him? Because if not he would still love to have you around, your company is always welcome in his castle.
Touch-starved!Vampire who moans when he gets to taste your blood for the first time. He feed a few days ago but it wasn't like this. Is this... yes, he knows now, he's in love with you and from the noise you made when his fangs pierced your skin and how you're pressing against him and sighing contently he would say you feel the same.
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pucksandpower · 16 days
Text
Ours to Protect
Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen
Summary: life with your boys may be chaotic but, through all the ups and downs, you wouldn’t change it for the world
Warnings: depictions of injury, vague descriptions of pregnancy, and Jos Verstappen being Jos Verstappen
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You take a deep breath as you step out of the car, the roar of the crowd already audible even from the secure paddock parking area.
Your stomach flutters with nerves and excitement as you smooth down your outfit and head towards the paddock entrance. This is your first race of the season and the reporters and fans are always rabid at the start of a new year.
As you enter the paddock you glance around, looking for Charles or Max but neither are immediately visible in the organized chaos. You clutch your paddock pass, suddenly feeling self-conscious walking through alone.
The other drivers’ wives and girlfriends are already gathered in small groups, greeting each other with cheek kisses as they exchange pleasantries. A few give you sidelong glances as you walk by, no doubt wondering why you’re alone when the rest of them arrived together with their partners.
You keep your head high, ignoring the looks. Your relationship with Charles and Max has been going strong and so far you’ve kept it private, with only close friends and family aware that the three of you are together. The public and the media still think of you as just a friend and you aren’t sure how they would react if they knew the truth. The three of you have discussed going public but agreed it’s better to wait, wanting to enjoy your time together out of the spotlight for now.
Still, you wish Charles or Max were with you as a buffer from prying eyes. You check your phone but there are no new messages. They must both still be busy with their pre-race preparations. Taking a deep breath, you make your way towards the Red Bull garage first, figuring you’ll find Max there.
As you approach, you spot a small crowd of reporters loitering near the garage entrance. They perk up as they see you coming, immediately descending upon you with microphones and cameras.
“Y/N! Over here!” One calls out. “Are you here to see Max?”
You stop short, feeling cornered as they form a semi-circle around you. “Um, yes, I’m just heading to the garage to say hi,” you say carefully.
“And what about Charles?” Another reporter asks, eyebrow raised suggestively. “Will you be visiting him in the Ferrari garage as well?”
You freeze, panic rising. Do they know about your relationship? You haven’t been seen together in public yet. “I-I’m friends with both Charles and Max,” you stammer.
“Just friends?” A third reporter chimes in skeptically. “Our sources say you’ve been getting very cozy with the two drivers lately. Care to comment on the rumors that you’re stringing them both along?”
You take a step back, heart pounding as their questions come rapid-fire.
“Are you cheating on one with the other?”
“How long do you think you can keep this charade going before they realize?”
“Doesn’t it bother you, playing with their feelings like this?”
Their accusations hit you like blows, your anxiety spiking as you find yourself backed up against a wall, cameras flashing in your face. This is your worst fear come to life. You look around desperately for an escape but find only unsympathetic faces staring back at you, judging you.
“I … I have to go,” you gasp out, ducking your head and pushing your way blindly through the crush of bodies. You can hear them calling out more questions but you block it out, focused only on getting away. You’re shaking and feel sick, tears pricking at your eyes.
Is this what it will be like if you ever go public? This is exactly why you wanted to keep it quiet.
Suddenly you collide with a solid chest. Strong hands grasp your shoulders and you look up with a start to see Max gazing down at you, concern creasing his brow.
“Whoa, schatje, what happened?” He asks. He glances over your shoulder at the reporters who have reluctantly backed off but are still hovering nearby. Max’s jaw tightens as he seems to grasp the situation.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” you say shakily, embarrassed by your reaction.
Max studies your face, clearly unconvinced. “Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he says gently, keeping an arm wrapped securely around you as he guides you away from prying eyes.
Once you’re safely inside the Red Bull motorhome, Max steers you over to a quiet corner and helps you sit. Crouching down in front of you, he brushes a strand of hair back from your face. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
You take a shuddering breath, willing yourself to calm down. “The reporters ambushed me outside. They started accusing me of stringing you and Charles along. I just panicked and had to get out of there.”
Max’s face darkens. “Those goddamn vultures. What the hell gives them the right ...” He cuts off his tirade with a sigh, taking your hands in his. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that alone. I should have been there with you.”
You give him a shaky smile. “It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting it.”
Max kisses your forehead. “Let me go talk to Charlie so he knows what happened. I’ll be right back, okay?”
You nod gratefully. After Max leaves you take deep breaths, willing your racing heart to settle. You knew the secrecy couldn’t last forever but you weren’t prepared for the cruelty of those reporters. The idea of having to face that regularly if you go public makes you feel ill.
You’re lost in thought when another familiar voice says your name. Looking up you see Charles hurrying over, the same concerned look on his face that Max wore earlier. You stand and Charles immediately folds you into a tight hug.
“Are you alright, ma belle?” He murmurs. “Max told me what happened.”
You cling to him, taking comfort in his embrace. “I’m okay now. Just a bit shaken up.”
Charles’ jaw is tight as he pulls back to look at you. “I’m so sorry I was not there. I should have been with you.” His hand comes up to cup your cheek tenderly.
You cover his hand with your own. “You couldn’t have known. I’m the one who decided to come alone like an idiot.”
Charles starts to argue but you cut him off. “Let’s not play the blame game, okay? I just want to put it behind me.”
Charles presses his lips together but nods. “Of course. As long as you are alright.” He kisses your forehead sweetly. “I will not leave your side for the rest of the day, I promise.”
You give him a small but genuine smile. “Thank you.”
Just then Max returns. “How is she doing?” He asks Charles quietly.
“A bit better I think. Still shaken though.”
Max nods, his eyes stormy. “I warned the press to back the hell off but I doubt they’ll listen.”
Your heart sinks. The last thing you want is them continuing to hound you every race. You bite your lip. “Maybe … maybe we should just tell them the truth.”
Max and Charles exchange a surprised look. “Are you sure?” Charles asks cautiously. “We do not have to do anything until you are ready.”
You take a breath. “I’m not really. But I don’t want to have to look over my shoulder constantly either, you know? And I hate feeling like we have to hide.” You look between them. “I mean, only if you both are comfortable with it too. But maybe it’s time.”
Max considers you thoughtfully. “I’m ready when you are. I’m tired of sneaking around too. If this is what you want, I’m with you.” He glances at Charles who nods.
“Oui, I agree. I do not enjoy the secrecy either. I am ready to tell the world you are both mine.” Charles smiles and pulls you close again.
You let out a shaky laugh. “Well it’s definitely not going to be easy, but with you two by my side, I’m ready.” You take each of their hands, feeling emboldened.
Charles grins and kisses your cheek. “Then let’s do this.”
The three of you head out of the garage hand in hand. You hold your head high as you approach the still lingering reporters, flanked on either side by your boys. Their steady presence gives you courage.
The reporters perk up excitedly seeing the three of you together, shouting questions, but you ignore them. At an unspoken signal you all stop and turn to face the cameras head on.
Charles leans in and kisses you sweetly, then Max does the same, before kissing each other with you sandwiched firmly between them. You smile against their lips, the action speaking louder than any words. Then, without giving the reporters time to process what just happened, you continue walking down the paddock, leaving behind an audience with their jaws on the floor.
You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as their shocked reactions fade behind you. Let them talk. You have everything you need right here. Wrapping your arms around your boys, you head off to face the rest of the day, and your future, together.
No more hiding. The world knows now. And you’ve never felt more free.
***
The morning sun filters in through the curtains, stirring you awake. You stretch leisurely, reaching across both sides of the large bed only to find it empty. The faint clinking of dishes filters in from outside the room — your boys must be up already making breakfast.
Smiling sleepily, you drag yourself out of bed and shuffle towards the kitchen, eager for coffee. As you enter, you find Charles at the stove scrambling eggs while Max sets the table.
Charles glances up with a grin. “Bonjour, ma belle. Sleep well?”
You hum affirmatively, accepting the mug of coffee Max hands you with a quick peck on the lips. “What time is it?”
“Just after 9,” Max says. “We were going to let you sleep in but breakfast is ready.”
You sip your coffee, leaning back against the counter. “That’s okay. I wanted to go to the farmer’s market this morning anyway. Care to join me after we eat?”
“I wish I could, but I have a training session in an hour,” Charles says regretfully.
Max shakes his head too. “And I have a sponsor meeting.”
You pout playfully. “Fine, abandon me to go shopping alone.”
Charles chuckles. “We would never. But duty calls today unfortunately.” He plates the eggs with some toast and you all sit down to eat.
After breakfast, you quickly get ready while Max and Charles clean up. Emerging from the bedroom, you grab your purse and find them waiting to walk you out.
“Have fun at the market,” Max says, kissing your cheek. “Get some of those apricot tarts I like.”
You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Only if you’re good.”
Charles hugs you tightly. “Be safe out there. Call if you need anything, yes?”
“I’ll be fine!” You assure him with a laugh. With a final wave, you head out the door and down to the lobby.
Stepping outside, you pause in confusion. A large crowd is gathered in front of your building. Fans, you realize. But how did they find your address?
Your heart sinks. Ever since going public, you’ve dealt with heightened interest and gossip. But this feels like a violation of privacy. Biting your lip uncertainly, you start trying to weave through the crowd towards the market down the block.
Immediately people press in excitedly around you. “It’s her!” You hear someone shout. Camera phones are suddenly in your face as people call out questions.
“How does being with the two of them work?”
“Be honest, do you prefer Max or Charles?”
You keep your head down, trying not to engage. Their invasive questions make your skin crawl. “Excuse me, please let me through,” you say as politely as you can.
But the crowd only seems to grow more aggressive, everyone shoving to get close and fire off more intrusive questions about your relationship. You feel hands grabbing at you and start to panic.
“Please, I need to get by,” you say, shrinking away from the grasping hands. But the crowd surges and someone shoves you hard from behind.
You cry out as you fall forward, directly into the path of an exuberant fan. Blinding pain explodes in your temple as her flailing elbow catches you across the face.
You hit the ground hard, vision graying out. Dazed, you try to curl into a protective ball as feet trample around you, completely oblivious.
“Stop, please!” You sob, blood dripping from your throbbing temple. But the crowd is a living entity now, crushing in on you. This is a nightmare.
Suddenly you hear a roar over the din. “GET BACK!”
The footsteps stutter to a halt as the authoritative voice bellows again. “GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HER!”
Then Max is there, somehow muscling his way through the press of bodies to drop to his knees beside you. His face is thunderous as he quickly but gently gathers you into his arms.
“Fucking animals,” he spits, glaring venomously at the stunned crowd as you cling to him desperately. “I’ve got you, just hold on.”
Over Max’s shoulder you can see Charles forcibly holding the fans at bay, yelling expletives in a jumbled mess of three languages. The path clears as Max carries you swiftly back into your building.
Once inside the apartment, Max lays you gently on the couch, hands feather-light as he examines your injuries. His jaw clenches when he sees the gash bleeding heavily at your temple.
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says tightly. “This needs stitches.”
You nod weakly, letting him press a towel to stanch the bleeding while Charles comes bursting in, swearing violently when he sees the blood.
“What the hell happened?” He demands, kneeling beside you. His touch is infinitely gentle though as he brushes hair from your face.
“Got mobbed by those goddamn stalkers outside,” Max growls. “One of them elbowed her in the head.”
Charles’ expression darkens dangerously. You’ve never seen him look so livid before.
“We’ll deal with them later,” Max says firmly. “Right now we need to get her to the emergency department.”
Charles nods, visibly reigning in his anger. “You’re right, of course.” He looks back at you, anger fading to concern. “Are you able to stand, chérie?”
You cry out as simply trying to sit up sends shooting pain through your head. Charles’ jaw ticks as he looks ready to rush back outside and fight the crowd himself, before he easily lifts you into his arms, Max holding the cloth to your cut as they carefully get you down to the garage.
The car ride passes in a haze of pain and you cling to Charles in the backseat while Max drives, exhaustion hitting you.
At the hospital, Max scoops you up, carrying you inside despite your mumbled protests that you can walk. He ignores you, striding right up to the intake desk.
“She needs help now,” he snaps. The no-nonsense tone of his voice has nurses springing into action immediately.
Before you know it, you’ve been whisked off for scans and then into an exam room. A kind faced doctor stitches up your wound carefully while Max and Charles hover protectively on either side.
“Any other injuries?” The doctor asks gently.
You shake your head. “Just some bruises I think.”
She pats your leg. “I’d still like to do a full workup, including a pregnancy test, before we proceed with any other treatment or medication.”
Your eyes widen. With everything going on, your period being late hadn’t even registered. But now that she mentions it ...
Charles and Max go still beside you. “Pregnancy test?” Charles asks tightly.
The doctor smiles reassuringly. “Standard procedure. I’m sure it’s just a precaution.”
Charles grabs your hand, tension radiating off him while you wait on the results. Max paces like a caged animal until the doctor returns. Her kind eyes immediately give it away.
The tests come back quickly and the doctor steps back in to review the results. “No signs of fracture or serious head injury, that’s good news. We’ll get you a prescription for the laceration and ...” she trails off, looking at the chart with a slight frown.
You feel Max and Charles tense on either side of you. “What is it?” Max asks sharply. “Something wrong?”
The doctor looks up. “No, nothing wrong. Just unexpected. The bloodwork indicates that you’re pregnant, about 8 weeks along.”
“Mon dieu,” Charles breathes, stunned. Max ceases his pacing, mouth agape. They both turn to you with myriad emotions swirling in their eyes.
“A baby?” Max says hoarsely. “We’re having a baby?”
You place a hand over your still flat stomach, head spinning. “I guess we are.”
Charles lets out an incredulous laugh and surges forward to capture your mouth in a fierce kiss. When he pulls back, his eyes are blazing.
“They could have hurt our child,” he says darkly. You can see the protectiveness rising in him, mixed with anger at those who endangered his baby.
Max’s expression mirrors Charles’ stormy one. “Those goddamn animals,” he spits. “If anything had happened ...” His hands fist at his sides.
You reach for them both. “But nothing did,” you remind them gently. “We’re both okay.”
They take deep breaths, focusing back on you. Charles rests his forehead against yours while Max kneels to press a kiss to your belly.
“We won’t let anyone hurt you again,” Max vows fiercely. “Either of you.”
Charles nods, jaw set. “We will keep you both safe, I swear it.”
Their protectiveness makes you feel warm and cherished. You know with your boys watching over you, nothing can touch you or your child.
“I know you will,” you say softly. Drawing their faces down, you kiss them each lovingly.
A fierce joy lights their eyes now as the shock fades. You’re having a baby, the three of you. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together as a family.
Charles presses one more kiss to your lips, tender and full of promise. “I love you so much, all three of you,” he whispers.
Max squeezes your hand, eyes blazing. “I love you too. More than I ever thought possible.”
“And we,” your hand drifts to your still-flat stomach, “love you. My brilliant boys.”
***
The paddock buzzes with excitement on race morning, but for once it has nothing to do with fast cars or famous drivers. All eyes turn your way as you make your way through, one hand resting on your growing bump.
At five months along, your pregnancy is impossible to hide anymore. You’d managed to keep it quiet for a while, but last week an overly zoomed paparazzi shot of you in a fitted dress had let the secret out. Now it seems everyone has an opinion on your relationship dynamic and who the father might be.
You keep your head high, ignoring the whispers. Charles and Max wanted to shield you completely, but you refused to be stuck at home or made to feel ashamed. Besides, their steady presence on either side of you is comfort enough.
Charles presses a supportive hand to your lower back. “How are you feeling, chérie?”
You give him a reassuring smile. “We’re good.” Over your head, his eyes meet Max’s, a silent conversation passing between them. Their protectiveness has ramped up tenfold since finding out you’re pregnant.
Nearing the Red Bull garage, Max steers you towards the bathroom. “I’ll meet you inside in a minute, okay? I just need to check in with my engineers first.”
You nod, squeezing his hand before separating. As you exit the bathroom shortly after, a commotion down the paddock draws your eye. Even from a distance, the man’s imposing figure is recognizable. Your heart drops into your stomach.
Jos Verstappen.
He’s gesturing angrily at a retreating figure, who you realize with dread is Max. You’ve never actually met Max’s father, but from what you’ve heard, the man is bad news. Max has only mentioned him in the past tersely, a shadow passing over his face. Whatever he suffered as a child at Jos’ hands seems to have left deep scars.
As you watch, Jos suddenly wheels around and stalks towards the Red Bull garage, no doubt having caught sight of Max going in. Swearing under your breath, you hurry after him. There’s no way this confrontation ends well.
Inside the garage, the mechanics fall silent at Jos’ dramatic entrance. He pays them no mind, making a beeline for Max, who has gone rigid. You slip in behind Jos, catching Charles’ eye where he stands with the Ferrari crew down the pitlane. His brow furrows in concern but you give a small shake of your head — let Max handle this first.
“Max.” Jos’ tone could freeze over hell. “Care to explain what the hell is going on?”
Max’s face shutters. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“The hell you don’t!” Jos snaps. “I had to find out from the goddamn gossip rags that not only are you whoring around with multiple people, but one of them is pregnant? Have you no shame?”
Max flinches, looking stricken. Your hands curl into helpless fists at your sides.
“Watch yourself,” Charles suddenly growls, appearing behind you.
Jos whirls on him with a nasty sneer. “Stay out of this, playboy. This is between me and my son.” He turns back to Max. “Well? Explain yourself.”
Max seems to steel himself, straightening his spine. “There’s nothing to explain. What we have is no one’s business but our own.” His eyes flick to you and Charles briefly and soften before hardening again on his father.
“Bullshit!” Jos snaps. “Have you lost your mind? Carrying on with that girl while she whores around with this one too?” He jabs a finger at Charles then points at your belly. “And you’re telling me you’re fine possibly raising another man’s bastard as your own?”
Max’s expression darkens and he steps forward menacingly. “Watch. Your. Mouth.”
Charles moves closer too, vibrating with anger, but you grab his arm, shaking your head again. Let Max stand up to his father himself.
“We don’t care about who the biological father is,” Max continues fiercely. “That’s our child, no matter what. We’re a family.”
Jos scoffs. “A family? You’re delusional. What happens when those two get bored and leave you behind? This little fantasy you’re living is going to destroy your career.”
“You’re wrong,” Max says sharply. “I love them, and they love me. I’ve never been happier than with them.” His eyes soften again as he looks at you and Charles once more. “I don’t need or want anything else.”
Jos’ lip curls derisively. “Pathetic. I didn’t raise you to be so weak. This ends now, before you ruin your life even more. You will get rid of her and end things with the boy too.”
Charles growls, shaking off your restraining hand to storm forward. But Max beats him to it, getting right in Jos’ face.
“No,” he says, so firmly it brokers no argument. “You don’t control my life anymore. I won’t let you tear apart my family. Now get the hell out of my garage before I have you removed.”
For a moment Jos just gapes, clearly not expecting Max to stand up to him. His face purples with rage but before he can respond, security is there grabbing him by the arms.
“I think it’s time for you to go, sir,” one says firmly, already hauling Jos away.
He struggles in vain, spluttering furiously. But Max has already dismissed him, turning away. Only once Jos is gone does Max seem to deflate, shoulders slumping.
In an instant, you and Charles are both there, wrapping him in your arms. He clutches you both desperately, face buried in your hair.
“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that,” you murmur, smoothing a hand over his back.
Charles presses a kiss to his temple. “You were very brave, mon amour. I’m proud of you for standing up to him.”
Max huffs out a shaky laugh. “Didn’t feel very brave. But I meant what I said — I’m not letting anyone take either of you away from me.”
He pulls back to meet your eyes earnestly. “You are my family now. The only thing that matters to me.” His hand comes to rest gently on your belly. “All three of you.”
Emotion clogs your throat and you see Charles blink back tears. You both lean in simultaneously to kiss Max’s cheeks.
“We love you so much,” you whisper fiercely. “And we’ll always be a family, no matter what.”
Charles nods. “You are stuck with us now. We are yours, just as you are ours.”
The last of the tension bleeds from Max’s frame and he gifts you both with a brilliant, beautiful smile. Leaning his forehead against yours, his eyes shine with happy tears.
“I’m the luckiest man in the world,” he says softly. “I have everything I’ll ever need right here.”
You smile through your own tears, heart overflowing. Together, wrapped in the safety of each other’s love, you know everything will be okay.
1K notes · View notes
luvit · 26 days
Note
https://x.com/nsfw_stellaa/status/1755710192359022819?s=46
LITERALLY GAZ. IT EVEN LOOKS LIKE HIM.
- twt link plug
(afab!reader, mdni 18+)
this is so gaz making out with your pussy because you kept asking for a kiss and he was teasing you by giving you kisses everywhere except your lips. the right ones at least
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gaz for sure moans and mumbles against your pussy as if talking to it. chuckles to himself when he can feel you squeezing down on his tongue as he licks up your juices and spreads your folds against his mouth.
"mm, taste so good, baby," he murmurs against your clit. kisses it a couple times in thanks. because he just loves the taste of you, loves the feel of you. he'll swipe his tongue between your folds from side to side to spread them apart and make more room for him to prod against your slit. "dripping s'much for me. thank you, baby. thank you."
you're moaning out and trying to grip his hair but he thinks you're still trying to coax him upwards for a proper kiss so he traps your hands in his, interlaces your fingers, and keeps them pinned to the bed while you just squirm and take it.
"kyle," you grit your teeth when he plunges his tongue deep inside.
"wha'?" he doesn't bother detaching from you and just burrows his head deeper between your legs. it's like he's obsessed. so thirsty for you. loves the feeling of your slick pooling against his tongue and dripping down his chin.
you're pretty sure that your entire face is on fire. it's so hot. the sounds he makes against your pussy is downright embarrassing. messily slurping up anything you have to offer so he can smear it all over your thighs. doesn't help that he leaves open mouthed kisses on your puffy folds.
"kyle, wait," you pant. you feel him huff against you. he doesn't stop still, but tilts his head upwards to look at you and the heavy rise and fall of your chest. the angle he's now at lets him swipe his tongue across your clit in slow back and forth movements. you can't even collect your thoughts properly.
"c'mon, baby. talk t'me," gaz coos.
you bite your lip. "stop teasing me. all i wanted was a kiss."
he hums and wraps his lips around your clit to suck at it a couple times. lets it go with a wet pop before resuming that filthy slurping of your pussy. he pulls back just enough to tell you, "i am giving you kisses."
"not there," you drag out in a whine. you grip his hands tighter and try to pull him upwards like that. but he holds fast and continues groaning against your pussy.
"quit tryin' to pull me away. you wanted kisses. you're getting kisses."
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do not edit or reupload my works elsewhere (reblogs welcome!)
1K notes · View notes
ja3yun · 24 days
Text
Push My Buttons | L.HS
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bodyguard!heeseung x rich girl!reader warnings: enemies to ???, angst, smut (mdni), car sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, choking, mentions of spit, possessive!hee, some violence, not proofread, anything else lmk! wc: 7.5k synopsis: lee heeseung has been hired as your personal security by your father. you and him don't see eye to eye, so when tensions rise at your best friends party, you both know how to push each others buttons. a/n: hi! this is a thank you for 1k! i still don't believe it if i'm honest because i don't think i deserve it but regardless, thank you all so much if you follow me! this is a little idea i had sitting on my laptop that i've decided to complete for this occasion so enjoy!
_____
Browsing through the racks of the Prada store, you can't help but feel acutely aware of the imposing presence of your hired security, stationed just two feet away.
"Do you have to stick to me like glue all the time?" you mutter, not bothering to meet his gaze.
“It’s my job, Y/N. You’d know what that was if you weren’t such a spoiled brat,” he spits back, his eyes rolling in exasperation.
Lee Heeseung was appointed by your father to ensure your safety during his frequent business trips. Unfortunately, your father's demanding role as CFO of a tech company keeps him away for extended periods. He doesn't trust you to fend for yourself, fearing that others might exploit you to reach him. Given your father's controversial reputation stemming from questionable business dealings, Heeseung's imposing presence is a constant fixture in your life.
Your bodyguard would be more tolerable if he weren't so insistent on being by your side every second. It's tiresome, really, how he clings to you like a shadow, never granting you a moment of solitude. If you go to the bathroom, he is right outside the door and if you dare try and sneak out the window - which you have tried numerous times - he is chasing you down the street, sweeping you off your feet and taking you home.
You had hoped that being only a couple of years older, he might adopt a more relaxed approach, letting you live your life a little, but you were wrong. Since the first day he turned up, he’s been nothing but a hoover, sucking the fun and freedom from your life all to keep you safe.
Sure, he probably knows deep down that he's a tad overbearing, but hey, he's clinging to this gig like a lifeline. Compared to his last job of being a bouncer at some dingy club, knocking back people with fake IDs and kicking out drunk people, your dad's cushy paycheck is like hitting the jackpot.
To Heeseung, you’re just some rich kid who has more money than sense, squandering it on everything and anything you deem a necessity at the time, only to then throw them away or forget about them. Considering he struggled to pay his rent before this job, he hates your whimsy ways with money. 
It's like you live in your own little bubble, completely disconnected from the real world. There are people out there starving and you’re buying thousands of pounds worth of clothes that you could easily get from a bargain bin for a fiver. 
Finally, you spare him a glance, “Just stand over there, okay? You really don’t have to be here and mess up my whole vibe,” you flail your arms around hoping the gestures will add some exclamation to your statement.
With a resigned sigh, he acquiesces, nodding, "In my line of sight at all times, got it?" He scans the area once more, on high alert for anything out of place, before reluctantly giving you some breathing room.
Heeseung blends in, looking through the obscenely expensive trousers which he is convinced he has seen the exact same jeans in thrift stores, just without the brand label. It’s a reminder of the contrast between you both; your lavish ways are still an alien concept to him.
He’s been in this role for 3 months and he won’t get over it, how different you both are. Your beliefs and traits are so starkly dissimilar that not once have you ever seen eye to eye. He doesn’t hate you, but he’s close to it. You always treat him with little to no respect and considering he’s only looking out for you per your daddy’s request, he would like to think you would be a little more grateful. 
Suddenly, his thoughts are interrupted by a lone figure approaching you, a slick smile playing on his lips. Heeseung’s jaw tightens as he analyses the scene in front of him, trying to speculate what the guy wanted, although Heeseung already knows his intentions.
You’re too busy trying to decide whether beige or cream looks better on you as you hold out two vest tops to notice the incoming man.
“I think you should go with that one,” the sudden boom of a voice beside you makes you jump and turn to him, clutching the clothes to your chest as you try to still your thumping heart, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, beautiful.”
Normally, you pay no mind to greasy men like him, but his cinched suit which was clearly tailor-made to fit and his sleek dyed brown hair was enough for you to give him a second glance. You can always spare some time for people who look good.
“Which one?” you ask, holding them back up at arm's length.
“The left one, I think you would look sexy in any of them, to be honest,” he smirks, thinking he’s being so smooth but you’re not really impressed by flattery. You know you look good, you see yourself in the mirror every day. Plus, he’s only trying to oil you up so he can either as you out or try and fuck you. The only one who genuinely gives you truthful advice or says you look good and mean it with no intention is Heeseung.
Your bodyguard is watching like a hawk, face steaming with anger as the guy puts his hand on your waist, holding one of the vest tops to your chest area. He’s already given the guy enough leeway by even letting him speak to you, but now he’s touching you, and Heeseung will be damned if he lets him get away with that.
With measured steps, Heeseung comes up behind you, licking his lips as hugs you from behind, “Baby girl, are you almost done?” he whispers loudly enough that the unwanted man in front of you can hear, “Who is this?” he asks, eyes now pointed forward.
The stranger's confidence falters under Heeseung's intense scrutiny, his eyes widening slightly as he realises the gravity of the situation. Heeseung's demeanour is unmistakably protective, his stance leaving no room for doubt about his intentions. His eyes are so dark that the boy knows that one wrong move will have Heeseung pouncing on him.
“I’m Woobin,” he says almost inaudibly. It’s amazing how quickly he resigned from his cocky attitude as soon as Heeseung made his presence known.
"Do you work here, Woobin?" Heeseung's voice is a low rumble against your ear, his lips trailing a path of kisses down your neck to your shoulder. His touch is electrifying, sending shivers down your spine as his hands caress your stomach, his thumbs tracing delicate patterns against the skin beneath your shirt
The butterflies in your tummy are fluttering around as if they’ve been disrupted from their nest by his touch. This is new, he hasn’t done this before, usually opting to just stand between you and potential danger. It's exhilarating and maddening all at once, the line between protection and possessiveness blurring in the heat of the moment.
Heeseung knows that if he simply said he was your security, it wouldn’t deter the man, he had to think on his feet. That and the way he touched you evoked something inside him, protectiveness laced with something else. 
“I don’t work here, I-”
“Then get your hands the fuck off my girl,” Heeseung interrupts Woobin, maintaining eye contact with him as he bites down a little on the nape of your neck, almost like he’s physically marking you as his own in front of a potential suitor.
Your head is in a frenzy, knowing that Heeseung is stepping far beyond his role of protection, yet, you don’t stop him. It would be lying to say that his lips didn’t feel good on your skin, the way his fingers lightly gripped the softness of your stomach gave you fanny flutters like nothing else; as he boldly stakes his claim, you can't help but feel a surge of desire mingling with frustration
But this is also the man that is currently cockblocking you right now, stopping you from getting Woobin’s number and potentially a good fuck that you’re clearly in desperate need of; why else would you be getting turned on by Heeseung right now? This is the man you cannot stand, he is the last person on earth you want to be with. 
Woobin awkwardly laughs and backs away, giving a slight wave to you as he walks out of the store, leaving you both in the thick silence.
As his form disappears into the distance, Heeseung stands by your side, his stare unflinching as he watches the threat go by, proud of himself for handling the situation quickly. Heeseung hasn’t let you go, his hands moving from your tummy to your waist, gripping it softly.
You don’t know what to do, still standing in a haze of shock and confusion, your eyes watching the back of Woobin with intensity. The man behind you didn’t even have to say much before Woobin was running with his tail between his legs.
Honestly, you know Heeseung can be intimidating, but this must have been a new level, even for him. You couldn’t see his eyes, yet, you know they held only room for intimidation.
Heeseung's attitude relaxes somewhat, but his protective stance remains firm. He slowly releases you from his grip, placing one last kiss on your neck for what reason he doesn’t know. 
You take a moment to compose yourself, internally dealing with the mixed feelings of the encounter before pure rage flushes over you, “What the fuck was that?” you seeth, twisting your body to face him.
“What was what?” he asks, unfazed by your angry demeanour. 
Slamming the vests back on the rack, you face him, your shorter stature suddenly being a hindrance as you try to act tough, “You know what! You just cockblocked me for no reason,” you ball your fists to the side of your hips, trying not to cause too much of a scene in the store. 
“Good. God knows what he had, he was a creep,” Heeseung’s face is stoic, not giving much of his emotions away which only serves to piss you off more. 
You wanted him to look a little bit sorry for overstepping, to say he was at least sympathetic towards your frustration. Instead, he just stands there, insulting the boy he didn’t even know.
Letting out a groan, you shut your eyes and unclench your hands, “I can’t ever have any fun with you around,” you try to calmly explain but as the words leave your lips, you begin to question why you’re trying to be civil in the first place. 
This man is the bain of your existence, the reason you haven’t had sex in months, he is utterly infuriating and here he stands in front of you with no remorse for ruining your life.
Heeseung nods, feigning understanding as he leans down to make eye contact with you, his nose almost touching yours, “I don’t know, baby girl, it seems like you were having a blast a second ago,” he says smugly, a half smirk creeping onto his face.
You beam red, embarrassment and anger mixing to create a shade of crimson you didn’t know you could make. He was frustrating, arrogant, irrational, rude, cocky, and overall just irritating. You hate Lee Heeseung.
Winking at you, he nudges his nose with yours before standing back up, his figure back to towering over you, “Pick the one on the right and let’s get a move on,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets and taking one giant step back. 
It was like he was mocking you, giving you your space after infiltrating it as if he wasn’t leaving wet kisses on your neck five minutes ago. 
With a huff, you face the two vests once again, looking between both options, each one having its own backer. You bite your lip and contemplate over them, choosing the one on the right.
_____
As you apply your final coat of mascara, you take one long look in the mirror. You look great, everything about you falls into place perfectly, your hair and makeup only adding to your beauty while the dress you’re wearing hugs you nicely.
Obviously, you don’t tell Heeseung that you had a party tonight, knowing that he would lock you up like some Disney princess in your castle. If there was one thing Heeseung hated more than men coming into your zone, it was parties where tons of men could. 
The last party you went to was just before Heeseung arrived on the scene, the bodyguard now never letting you experience any joy or social gatherings that weren’t accompanied by him or a simple meet-up with friends. ‘There’s too much risk at a party’ he will always tell you.
A knock on your bedroom door almost makes you drop the mascara wand but you catch it before it causes disaster. 
“I’m coming in,” Heeseung’s voice travels through the door before he swings it open. His eyes trail over your body as he assesses the outfit, “A bit dressed up for a night in with me, no?” he tries to pass it off as a lighthearted joke but he knows he’s about to argue with you about your plans.
“Oh, y’know, just thought I would try and make an effort to sit in and watch Louder Milk for the nth time,” you roll your eyes, twisting the mascara shut and turning to face him.
Heeseung grumbles, “Let’s cut to the chase where you tell me where you plan on going and I obviously stop you,” he crosses his arms and tilts his head expectantly.
But you can’t let him win, not this time around. It’s your best friend’s birthday night out and if you miss it, you’ll never be invited to anything again; you can’t miss a 21st birthday party and expect there not to be consequences, especially not in your circle of friends.
You finish getting ready with a sense of purpose, carefully placing your lip oil and hairbrush into your YSL bag. "I've got plans," you announce, nonchalantly shrugging your shoulders.
His brows furrow slightly. "You never mentioned we had plans tonight," he remarks, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
"We don't have plans, Heeseung. I do. And you weren’t invited," you retort, your tone tinged with sarcasm as you shoot him a playful smirk.
He raises an eyebrow, trying to decipher your intentions. "A party? A date?" he ventures, scanning your attire and deducing that this isn't just a casual outing.
As you attempt to breeze past him, he swiftly moves to block the doorway with his arm, his muscles tensing as he grips the doorframe. You lock eyes with him, noticing the frustration brewing beneath the surface.
His jaw tightens as you stand your ground, a silent challenge passing between you, "Tell me where you're off to," he demands, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone.
You really need to get fucked because he’s suddenly turning you on, and his body starting to look like a jungle gym. Regardless of the fury and hatred for the boy in front of you, when he got angry, he was a new level of hot; it’s probably the reason you subconsciously push his buttons.
“I am going to Ryujin’s birthday party,” you confess, taking hold of his arm and trying to pry it from the wall, but he’s too strong and it doesn’t work. Even with all your efforts, it doesn’t budge.
Smiling at your feeble attempts to move him, Heeseung cockily leans on one foot, the other tucking behind his leg as he watches you struggle.
Undeterred, you try to slip under his arm, but he effortlessly scoops you up and returns you to your room, closing the door behind you with a practised ease. His years dealing with drunks at his previous job have endowed him with certain skills in handling runaways..
"Don't make this difficult, Y/N," he warns.
"You're the one being difficult! It's my best friend's birthday. Are you seriously telling me I can't go? I'm not in danger, you know," you retort angrily, frustration evident in your voice.
Heeseung understands that you're completely oblivious to the dangers lurking around your family, shielded by your innocent perspective. No one has bothered to inform you about your father's involvement in money laundering and his dealings with shady men. In your eyes, having a bodyguard feels like an unnecessary intrusion into your life rather than a protective measure.
"Listen, let's just imagine I let you go. Where is it?" he asks, a tinge of apprehension in his voice.
"Serenity," you reply, already sensing the tension building.
Heeseung's eyes widen in disbelief, "Serenity? The bar down by the loch? Are you serious?" he exclaims, his concern evident.
It was a losing battle the moment you opened your mouth. The bar isn’t known for its good reputation, it’s sleazy and grim, and despite its calm name, no one who occupies the bar could be considered peaceful.
Ryujin picked it simply because she likes to cosplay as a poor person sometimes, wondering what it would be like to live on the other side of wealth while obnoxiously spending a shit ton of money, completely rendering her ideas pointless.
You don’t agree with it but she is your best friend, the only person that gave you the time of day when you didn’t have a penny to your name all those years ago.
"I am not letting you step foot in that place," Heeseung asserts firmly, drawing a line in the sand.
“She hired out the whole bar, it’s not like anyone can just walk in,” you try to reason back but it doesn’t work as Heeseung’s resolve remains the same.
“You aren’t going, end of discussion. The whole neighbourhood is trouble and your friend is fucking stupid for this,” he scratches his jaw as the worst-case scenarios pop into his head. He might not like you but he really can’t stand some of the thoughts popping into his head, the urge to protect you growing stronger by the second.
The loch is a small part of town, mostly made up of deadbeats and criminals. Word spreads fast around there and there is a high chance the scums of the area know a bunch of snooty rich kids are going to be there for the picking.
You need to go, you can’t cancel any more plans so you need to think of something quick, “You can come with me,” you suggest, stepping closer to him. Would it be overbearing and annoying to have him there? Yes but at least you would be there. And it might actually be good if he was, after all, he is good at his job; you feel safe around him and the more he’s warning you away from Serenity and the loch, the more you’re starting to want his protection.
“I thought I wasn’t invited?” He raises his eyebrows sceptically.
Placing your hands on his chest, you trail them up to his shoulders, a pout forming on your lips. "Well, I'm inviting you now. Please, Heeseungie?" you implore, employing your best puppy-dog eyes and fluttering lashes in an attempt to sway him.
Typically, your pleading face doesn't work on him, but the combination of your hands massaging his tense shoulders and the endearing nickname starts to chip away at him.
"Fine. We can go for an hour or so, and then I'm taking you straight back home, understand?" he relents, already second-guessing his decision.
You squeal with joy, wrapping your arms around his neck and jumping up and down. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Finally, you've managed to reason with him.
Pushing you away gently, he clears his throat. "Be at the car in 10 minutes before I change my mind."
This is going to end disastrously.
_____
"Remember—"
"In your line of sight at all times," you finish, a hint of exasperation in your voice as you recite Heeseung's usual mantra.
Heeseung unbuckles his seatbelt with a grunt, his irritation clear as he mutters curses under his breath. He can't believe he's ended up in this mess, much less mocked by you. He is well aware that this is a recipe for disaster especially as he examines the area and notices gritty individuals prowling around the loch's borders, waiting for an opportunity to strike.
Heeseung is confident in his ability to handle himself; it's your safety that concerns him the most as he observes a suspicious figure crossing in front of your car.
You waste no time darting out of the car and hurrying to the club's entrance, leaving Heeseung trailing behind, a gust of wind in your wake.
"This fucking girl," he grumbles to himself as he parks the car and follows after you. He sees through your tactic—trying to get inside before him so he'll be left waiting outside while you venture off on your own. But he's not falling for it today.
He catches up to you just as you're about to give your name to the bouncer, his arm instinctively settling around your waist. The bouncer eyes Heeseung with a sceptical gaze, taking note of his attire and demeanour, which hardly scream 'rich kid bellend.'
As Heeseung squeezes your side, you shoot him a playful smirk over your shoulder. "Oh, this is my boyfriend. He's just trying to get into character for the place—dirty-chic and all that," you quip sarcastically, gesturing between him and the bouncer.
The bouncer chuckles at your comment, nodding in amusement. "You've done a good job. I almost mistook you for one of those creeps by the water," he jests, stepping aside to let you both in.
Heeseung doesn't react to your teasing or the bouncer's remarks. He's grown accustomed to such comments after spending the past few months with you and your friends. From being called shabby to poor, to filthy to crude, he's heard it all. Sometimes you apologise for your friend's words, but he knows the damage is already done.
It’s times like that that he has some faith in you, that you aren’t all diamonds and gold, that you do have a heart underneath it all.
Sticking close to you, you both end up at the bar ordering a gin and tonic for you and a water for himself. He knows everything about you by now, the constant watchful eye on you has got him to learn your favourite everything, so he finds himself ordering for you more times than not. That is, when you let him be actively seen with you.
"Can you vanish over there while I find Ryujin?" you ask, already scanning the room for the birthday girl.
Nodding, Heeseung points towards a nearby wall. "I'll be over there. If anything happens, remember to stay where I can see you. Don't run off; I will find you. And if you're going to the bathroom, come and get me," he advises, his tone firm as he leans down to emphasize the importance of his instructions.
"Yeah, sure," you reply casually, already making your way over to your friends at the other end of the bar, their excited screams and squeals guiding your path.
True to his word, Heeseung gives you space but remains vigilant, never taking his eyes off you. He's pleasantly surprised when three hours pass, and you're only on your second drink. Normally, he's had to carry you out of brunch with your university friends, and that's not even bottomless. Part of him thinks you’re remaining sober for your own vigilance, which makes him happy that you aren’t so reckless to get drunk in an unfamiliar setting around a lot of people you don’t know.
As the night progresses, Heeseung's gaze remains fixed on you from his position against the wall. He observes the way you interact with your friends, the genuine joy evident in your laughter and the twinkle in your eyes. Seeing you light up like this is a rarity, but it warms something inside him to witness you truly enjoying yourself.
Despite his reservations and occasional frustrations, Heeseung takes his role of keeping you safe very seriously. The thought of anything happening to you weighs heavily on his mind, not just because of the potential consequences from your father, but because he has come to genuinely care about your well-being. It's a realisation that surprises even him, how much he's come to feel responsible for you beyond just fulfilling his duties as a bodyguard.
Day by day, Heeseung finds himself spending more time in your presence. Even when he should be stationed at the front door, he often finds himself drawn to your side, whether it's watching TV shows together or cooking dinner. Sure, these moments are often punctuated by arguments over his choice of shows or the random spices he adds to your meals, but they keep things interesting, injecting a sense of spontaneity into his otherwise regimented routine.
And truth be told, he finds a strange satisfaction in winding you up, relishing the sight of the vein in your forehead protruding whenever you're exasperated with him. Despite the occasional clashes, there's an undeniable chemistry between the two of you, a dynamic that keeps him on his toes and reminds him that guarding you isn't just a job - it's become a massive part of his life.
Recently, he has become extra protective over you, the incident at the Prada store being a prime example. Men like Woobin are not the ones he should be protecting you from, but he can’t help it, you’re too precious to be led off by the likes of him.
Shaking his head, he disregards his last thought. You’re not precious, you’re a princess, a snooty diva with an attitude problem.
This is what he has to tell himself every day.
He watches you go up to the bar and sit on the stool as you order another drink, but his attention shifts to a familiar face in the crowd. Woobin - and he is walking straight for you. Like he hasn’t dealt with him enough today, it was almost as if thinking about him that manifested him straight into your lap.
As Woobin twists the stool you're sitting on to face him, Heeseung's grip on the empty cup tightens, his knuckles turning white with the effort to maintain his composure. He knows he can't just stride over there like he did at the store; he crossed a line then, kissing your neck was too far, and biting down on you to mark you was too far. But the possessive feeling that had simmered earlier resurfaces as he watches Woobin casually tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.
His mind races with a mantra, a desperate attempt to keep his emotions in check. The real threat to you is outside, not in here. The real threat to you is outside, not in here. The real threat to you is outside, not in here.
But as he watches Woobin's hand graze your leg, Heeseung's resolve crumbles.
"Fuck this," he mutters under his breath, his anger boiling over as he pushes himself off the wall and throws his cup away. Without a second thought, he makes a beeline for you, determined to put an end to this unwanted intrusion.
You suddenly feel Heeseung's chest press against your back, his presence feels overpowering, his aura dark and intense. You glance at Woobin and notice the fear flicker back into his eyes, just like before, as Heeseung speaks with a menacing tone, "Have you got a death wish or something, mate?" His question hangs in the air, a clear warning.
Woobin takes a step back, but despite the quiver in his pupils, he refuses to back down. "She obviously isn't satisfied with you," he retorts, attempting to sound tough. "She hasn't even tried to bat me off."
You scrunch your face in disbelief at Woobin's audacity. His attempt to turn the situation on you is off-putting, and any attraction you may have felt towards him suddenly dissipates.
Heeseung's gaze shifts down to you, his eyes hooded as he leans in close. "Is that true, baby girl? Do I not satisfy you?" His words send a shiver down your spine, leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you can form a response, he leans even closer, his breath hot against your cheek as he whispers in your ear, "You better agree with me, or else I'll punch his lights out, right here, right now."
His threat hangs in the air, leaving you feeling torn between conflicting emotions. As you struggle to find the right words, Heeseung's lips graze the skin of your earlobe, sending a jolt of sensation through you. You're unsure whether he's doing this to turn your mind to mush so you can do nothing but agree with him or assert his dominance over Woobin, who watches with a flushed neck, clearly intimidated by Heeseung's display of possessiveness.
Nodding slowly, you side-eye Heeseung, “Y-you do,” you say quietly but as he bites down on your ear and you yelp, you speak up a bit more confidently, “You do satisfy me.”
“Good girl,” he whispers, placing one final kiss on your ear, “You heard her, so get the fuck away from her, or I will throw your body in the loch and no one will even care to look for you,” he challenges Woobin, threatening him like some gangster.
As Woobin backs up and mutters ‘This is not fucking worth it’, Heeseung smiles triumphantly, knowing he’s scared him off for good. Heeseung fixes your hair, gathering it all to sit nicely at the back, running his fingers through it as he silently warns any other men in the club that you’re no one but his.
You hate to admit it, but it turns you on a little.
But your responsible head twists back on and you understand what Heeseung has done again, “Heeseung,” you slap his chest and push him away, “Stop fucking babying me!” Standing up from the stool, you weave through the people at the club in search of the exit, Heeseung’s antics finally pushing you too far. 
"I am doing my job, Y/N," he shouts over the chatter and music, his voice barely audible amidst the din of the club.
"No, you aren't. That is not your job," you retort, your voice rising above the noise. "Pretending to be my boyfriend and scaring away potential fucks is not part of the remit!"
Your words hang in the air, heavy with frustration and disappointment. You push him away one more time, creating some distance between you before storming out of the club.
Fuming with anger and adrenaline, you make your way through the car park, your mind racing with conflicting emotions. Part of you resents Heeseung for his overbearing behaviour, but another part can't deny the thrill you felt with his protective display. It's infuriating to admit, but the feeling of his possessiveness is sending shivers straight down south, You hate that you're even thinking like this.
His touch on your ear and neck lingers in your mind, igniting a whirlwind of desire and confusion. You're not thinking straight anymore, and if Heeseung catches up to you, you're not sure how you'll react - whether it'll be pure anger or pure lust.
Either way, you need to get this steam out. 
“Y/N! Get back here right now!” he shouts, pushing past the men who are ogling your figure. 
As you hear his voice, something takes over you. You pull the first guy you see into a kiss, holding onto this jacket as your mouth moves against his.
Heeseung sees red, blood red as he watches you kiss the stranger. It’s reckless behaviour, your lips moving roughly against a guy probably twice your age but, of course, the guy doesn’t mind. He wraps his arms around you to bring you in closer. That gesture shakes Heeseung from his shock coma, his emotions fueling him.
But Heeseung can't stand idly by any longer. With a guttural growl, he yanks the man away from you, his anger propelling him into action. He delivers a punishing punch to the man's face, the force of it sending him crashing to the ground, sprawled across the gravel of the car park.
Heeseung doesn't stop there. He delivers a few more swift kicks to the man's prone form before turning his attention to you. Grabbing your arm with bruised hands, he hauls you towards the car, his grip tight and unforgiving.
"You're so fucking irresponsible," he seethes, his voice dripping with venom as he struggles to contain the storm of emotions raging inside him. The veins in his neck bulge with the intensity of his anger, his eyes flashing with a dangerous fire.
“Sorry if I want to have some fun,” you argue back, trying your hardest to release yourself from his firm hold.
As you both approach your car, he opens the door and shoves you in, “And kissing and fucking random guys is fun?” he slams the door behind you once he knows all your limbs are inside the vehicle.
Striding over to the driver's seat, he gets in quickly, locking the doors so you can’t make a quick escape. You don’t even attempt to try and flee, already knowing you’re only going to end up in a game of cat and mouse all night, and in this weather with your dress isn’t fun. 
“I’m 20 years old, nearly 21, I can fuck if I want to,” you shout back, slamming your hand on the backrest to hammer home your point. You are old enough and wise enough to make your own decisions, Heeseung is only there to make sure you don’t end up getting kidnapped or whatever it is your dad thinks will happen to you.
"It's not wanting to fuck that is my problem, it's who you want to fuck," he growls, his voice tinged with bitterness.
You want to slap him, angry that he doesn’t seem to get it, “I don’t get to fuck anyone thanks to you,” you retort back with venom laced in your voice.
His entire body turns to face you, his gaze piercing through you as he asks, "You want to get fucked?"
“Yes! Obviously!”
Heeseung lunges towards you, pressing his lips to yours in a matter of seconds to your answer. At first, you’re confused at what is happening, the unfamiliar feeling of his mouth melting into yours causes your head to thump.
But as he moves you to lay back, flicking the seat to recline all the way back, you find yourself chasing his body with yours, your lips like magnets as they draw themselves back to his. He tastes sweet, not like how you expected, you were presuming it’s the flavour of his vape he swears he doesn’t use.
Shuffling your way up the seat, you spread your legs so he can situate himself neatly in between you, knees resting against the edge of the seat for support, his hands roaming all over your body and his kisses never faltering. 
He was hungry for you, those tiny tastes of your neck served as appetisers before the main meal which was your mouth and tongue. Roughly, he brings one of his palms to cover your throat as squeezes, the consequential parting of your lips as you gasp gives him access to lick into your mouth. The grip on your throat is heavenly, just tight enough to make your brain go fuzzy but not to the point you think you’re in danger.
With a quick roll of his hips, you feel the outline of his cock being pushed onto your core, even through jeans he’s prominent, only building up your anticipation more. He does this a few times, each time the rough edges of his zipper rub your barely covered clit, eliciting a moan from you.
Heeseung's smirk widens at your response, his gaze flickering with desire as he watches the desperation in your eyes. Without hesitation, he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he repeats his question, this time with less anger and more longing. "You want to get fucked?"
Your breath catches in your throat at his words, your desire for him burning hotter than ever before. "Yes, please, Heeseung," you whimper, using your hands to hold his hips against yours as you rut yourself desperately against him, humping his length through his jeans. 
Heeseung almost feels bad for you, clearly, he underestimated how much you needed to seek release. No wonder you were willing to entertain someone like Woobin. He had to make this worth the frustration he has been causing you.
The pressure of Heeseung's hand around your throat tightens, eliciting a gasp from your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, "You sure you want to fuck a guy like me?" he hisses, his voice tinged with both agitation and desire, the intensity of his gaze burning into yours.
Despite the lack of air, you manage to choke out your response, your voice laced with desperation, "Yes, Heeseung, I need you."
A smug smirk plays across Heeseung's lips at your admission, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Oh, I know you need me, Sweetheart," he replies, his tone dripping with confidence. "You're staining my jeans as we speak." His words send a shiver down your spine, a potent mixture of arousal and frustration coursing through you.
But then his question cuts through the haze of desire, forcing you to confront the reality of the situation, "I'm asking if you want to go back to little Woobin now?" he taunts, knowing full well the answer already. He just wants to hear you say it.
With a shake of your head, you release your hold on his hips and begin to unbutton his jeans, determination blazing in your eyes. "No," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. "No, I only want you."
“Thought so,” he kisses you again before releasing your throat, focusing his hand's attention on ridding you of your pants while you work to get his trousers out of the way. He tugs your underwear down, tossing them to his side of the car before lining himself up at your hole.
Wrapping your legs around his hips, you try to push him to slip into you, but he keeps his hips rigid, only making you look more desperate for him. He taps your clit with the head of his cock, each time it slaps down, he echoes it with a tut.
“You don’t even know if I’ll fit,” his voice whispering in your ear as he licks the shell of it, “All those preppy rich boy cocks aren’t anything like mine,” he takes your wrist in his hand and guides you to feel his length as it sits neatly in your folds, “See?”
Whining, you pout, knowing he’s just teasing you for badness, “I promise I can handle it,” you say lowly, pumping his cock between your cunt and hand. The motion makes Heeseung hiss in pleasure, the feeling of his cock trapped only adding to his anticipation of being inside you.
He moves in for a chaste kiss on your lips, his touch soft despite the intense need between you, "I'll go slow," he tells you, his words a balm in the midst of the intense moment. Even in the heat of passion, Heeseung is driven by his instinct to protect you.
With one swift movement, he slides into your heat slowly, letting you stretch around him. Surprisingly to both of you, your pussy is accommodating him perfectly, the stretch a little painful but not unbearable. He shallowly moves his hips back and forth, watching his cock disappear into you further and further each time until he’s bottoming out and tapping your cervix lightly.
Heeseung isn't wrong when he tells you that no other cock you've had can compare to his. Every curve and ridge of his dick seems perfectly designed to hit every sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. It's an otherworldly sensation, the way he gains traction with each movement, his confidence growing as he senses your comfort and willingness to take more.
"You're so tight, baby girl," he murmurs between kisses.
Lost in the throes of passion, you cling to Heeseung, your bodies moving in perfect synchronisation as you lose yourself in the sensation of him filling you completely. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire that burns hotter with each passing moment.
Heeseung's hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and contour with a hunger that matches your own. His touch is both gentle and possessive, his fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they trace the contours of your skin. The pads of his fingers roughly grab your tit that’s managed to escape your dress, twisting your nipple between his finger and thumb.
Your hands are in a similar position, running along his toned stomach under his shirt, trying to commit it to memory, just in case you never get to do this again. You wish this was happening with zero clothes in the way but the desperation between you both got in the way. 
As the intensity of your desire builds, Heeseung's movements become more urgent, his thrusts growing deeper and more powerful with each passing moment. You can feel the tension coiling within you, the promise of release looming on the horizon like a distant storm.
“You’re squeezing me so tight, Y/N. I won’t last much longer,” he admits, knowing that he’s close to the edge himself.
“Need it, I need you to cum,” you moan loudly, your hand leaving his skin to find your clit, rubbing it vigorously as you try and speed along your orgasm.
Your words drive Heeseung to pound into you faster, willing both of you to come undone together. The car shakes as you both speed up your movements, your hips trying to match his rhythm to create a deeper impact with each buck of his hips.
With a final, desperate thrust, Heeseung drives you both over the edge, sending you spiralling into ecstasy. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling under him, the ropes of his cum coating your heat. 
“Oh, fuck,” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels his cock swell and throb inside of you, “Cum with me, Y/N. Please.”
Circling your arms around his shoulders, you hug him close to you as his body shivers, still reeling from the aftermath of his climax. You lay like that for a few minutes, processing everything that just transpired between you both.
“Are you okay?” he asks, holding himself up to face you, one hand wiping your sweaty bangs from your forehead.
Nodding, you shut your eyes, massaging his shoulders lightly as you let bliss take over you, “I feel great,” you smile.
Heeseung grabs your pants from the driver seat and bundles them up, using them as a makeshift cloth to clean you up, spitting on them before running them along your swollen cunt, “We can’t do this ever again,” he says quietly, his breathing starting to regulate again.
“What do you mean?” you lean on your elbows, looking up at him with confusion, “Was it not okay?”
Of course, it was okay, Heeseung thinks your pussy might be the best he’s ever had, but it’s not logical to try and keep this fantasy alive. You were too different, this encounter was fueled by anger and rage between you both, hardly the start of a picture-perfect relationship.
He discards your underwear and pulls his own bottoms up, tucking his softening cock into his boxers and jeans, “It was great, but I’m supposed to protect you, not fuck you,” he says, shuffling back into his seat, starting the car.
“We’ll use protection next time,” you shrug, fixing your seat to sit upright, “It’s no big deal.”
Heeseung sighs, his frustration evident as he starts the car and pulls out onto the road. "You know that's not what I mean, Y/N," he replies, his voice tinged with resignation.
The rest of the drive home is filled with silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Heeseung's thoughts swirl with the fear of losing his job, the guilt of failing to protect you, and the sudden need to be inside you all the time.
“We forget about this, okay?” he asks, eyes flickering to you.
You nod in agreement, but a smirk tugs at the corners of your lips, betraying your true thoughts. Deep down, you know that you won’t forget about it, and this will certainly not be the last time you find yourself fucking Lee Heeseung - You'll make sure of it.
2K notes · View notes
tonycries · 17 days
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I Wanna Get Freaky On Camera
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Synopsis. On your knees in front of your boyfriend, it was just an innocent video, right? So why are you hearing his best friend’s voice from behind the screen?
Pairing. Multiple x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, being recorded, voyeurism, oral (male receiving), exhibitionism, mentioned threesome, cowgirl, dirty talk, pet names (babe), swearing.
Word count. 1.5k
A/N. Surprise post. Art by @_3aem on X.
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“Smile for the camera, babe.”
You would - if you weren’t choking on his throbbing cock, tears streaming down your cheeks, throaty little gurgles muffled by his leaking tip hitting the back of your throat. 
The flashlight was blinding. 
Harsh light bouncing off your boyfriend’s half-lidded eyes, pupils blown. Chest rising and falling erratically, hungry gaze locked on the way you gag and moan around his dick. “Mmm yeah- oh fuck yeah, deeper. Milk me dry, babe. Look s’pretty on film.”
Strangled praises only spurring you to obey mindlessly, you relax your throat - shoving his pulsing dick deeper and deeper. Inch by inch. Your nose pressing into the tufts of hair on his pelvis, wet with precum and spit. Too cock-drunk to think too hard about the rustling from the screen.
Precum salty on your tongue, you flick his sensitive slit in a way that makes him throw his head back - phone unsteady in one hand, the other searing on your scalp. Breath hitching, he bobs your head in increasingly urgent movements - up, up, up. Desperate, jerky thrusts of his hips like he’s trying to fuck something delicious out for you.
Your boyfriend's knuckles are white on his phone. Deliriously, you wonder why the fuck he even bothered with the video at this point - too shaky, too impatient. 
Almost as if he could read your mind, a low whisper rings in your ear, breath hot on your face. “Don’ worry about that, babe.”, zooming in on your swollen, glossy lips. “Jus’ focus on what you’re doing like the filthy slut you are.”
Feeding off the electricity crackling in the air, you tighten the hands massaging his tight balls. Pressing right between them in the way you knew drove him crazy. 
You squeal - as much as you can with his throbbing erection lodged in your throat - nails digging into his hips as they tremble and buck into your plush mouth. “Ah! Oh fuck- Hngh- Baby, m’gonna m’gonna-”
His words turn into breathy moans, signaling the beginning of the end. With a final thrust, he explodes in thick ropes of cum that paint your mouth white. You struggle to swallow the hot spurts of seed quickly enough, coughing around his twitching cock. Cum spilling out of your bruised lips, specks splattering onto the back of his phone. 
Tears stinging your eyes, but you still refuse to break eye contact - batting your lashes innocently at him as you milk his cock for everything he’s worth.  
Chest heaving, lust-drunk words tumble out of his lips, “S’perfect. Look at her hah- look how fucking pretty she swallows my cum.” 
Words you’re slowly realizing aren’t meant for you.
Heart dropping straight to your dripping cunt, eyes widening as it strikes you - this fucker was on video call.
Now, he didn’t mean to trick you. He really did feel so awful about it - but watching the way his pretty girl’s lips stretched so sinfully around his cock - he really couldn’t bear to be stingy enough to hide it. 
Which is why, a dangerous smirk playing at the corners of his lips, he pats your hair soothingly as you sputter. “Now now. We’re not done yet. What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t give my buddy a front row seat to you creaming on my cock?”
Humiliation mingling with something carnal inside you, you freeze in shock as an awfully familiar voice chuckles from the phone. “C’mon now, sweetheart. I bet you’ll cum faster with an audience.” 
Thighs squeezing together. Heat rushing to your cheeks. Shit. Maybe you will. 
And for all the dark confidence on your boyfriend's face, you relish in the breathless gasp escaping him as you stand. Knees stinging where you straddle his hips - still-hard cock glistening with cum and saliva, leaking onto his toned abdomen. 
Surprise flickers across his face, swiftly replaced by a predatory excitement echoed by the appreciative groan from his best friend. 
“Well, might as well put on a show, huh?”
And with that, you sink down completely onto his still-sensitive length, groaning at the feeling of him throbbing inside you, heavy balls pressing into your ass. Tears clinging to your lashes at the delicious stretch, you don’t give yourself time to adjust to his thick cock, grinding in feral, mindless motions with reckless abandon. 
One hand has a bruising grip on your hips, steadying your rhythm as he thrusts up into you at an unforgiving pace matching yours. The other, angled just right to capture your dripping, wet hole stretched so shamefully on his throbbing dick. 
“That’s right, show him that perfect view. Goddamn. Imagine how jealous he is- fucking his fist just wishing that was you.”
“Sh-shit. She jus’ got wetter. Looks s’good with her pretty pussy stuffed.” Low groans spill from his phone, making you buck \wildly into his twitching cock. 
White-hot ropes of pleasure run down your spine at the lewd squelches sounding from the speaker - your boyfriend’s best friend not even trying to hide his desperate chase for pleasure.
Balls stinging your ass at the merciless cadence, it’s all you can do to brokenly stammer out “Sh-show.”
A moment fumbling to switch the camera and you wince as the light hits your eyes. A jolt going down your body at his best friend’s disheveled state.
Greedy gaze flickering between your boyfriend - brows furrowed and bottom lip under his teeth as he focused on fucking your snug cunt - and his best friend on the screen - hungry gaze locked on you and thumb mercilessly teasing his leaking tip. Veiny hand moving up and down. Up and down up and-
“Shit, baby. You’re hah- clenching down on me so hard, like being watched, hm?” a dangerous murmur. You whine mindlessly in agreement, mixing with the relentless slapping of skin as you fuck yourself deeper and deeper onto his heated cock. 
“Hngh- M’getting so fucking hard just watching her drunk on your cock. Look s’good split open on it.”
“Yeah? She’d probably look better split open on two. Maybe we should let you join in next time. Would you like that, babe? My little cockslut?”
You jolt as you’re finally addressed as the men spoke over you as if you were nothing more than an object. A carnal, ugly part of you delighting in the way you were so used. 
“Oh god, yes.” you pant, words pulling you closer and closer to the edge, head spinning so deliriously. “Wan’ both of you. Wanna feel both of you inside me. I need it.”
Your boyfriend's eyes narrow, pupils dilated with lust as he responds, “Anything for my greedy girl. But for now…” his voice trails off, thrusting deeper into your snug cunt. 
Onscreen, his best friend groans, doubling down on the hasty hand moving along his throbbing length. “Fuck, I wish I was there.”
A hum of agreement, “C’mon now. Beg me to fill you up, slut. Make sure our lil’ friend hears how desperate you are.”
“Yes, yes, yes” you chant, lost in the haze of pleasure. “Fill me up, please. Want it dripping out of me.”
At your words, your boyfriend’s pace falters, thrusts becoming erratic and desperate as he approaches his climax - his best friend not far behind, fist flying fervently up and down his glistening length - in tandem with the ruthless cock ramming into you.
“God. Such a good little slut f’us” your boyfriend praises, voice strained with pleasure. “Cum for us, baby. Let us see how much you want it.”
And that’s all it takes for you to see stars behind your closed lids, riding out wave after wave of pleasure on your boyfriend’s twitching cock. Finally, he empties inside you with a guttural groan, filling your fluttering walls to the brim with his seed. 
So much- there was so much. Seems he was the one that adored having an audience. Though, with the way your pussy is greedily milking his cock, you can’t say you’re far behind.
Your thighs shake in pain and pleasure as his hot cum leaks out of your overfilled pussy, dripping down your legs and onto his quivering balls as he fucks into you like an animal. Over and over and-
With all the strength you can muster, you crack an eye open to glance at the screen - only to catch the heavenly sight of him losing control. Fist faltering on his throbbing erection as with a final, forceful tug he spurts thick ropes of seed. An orgasm so hard that it leaks onto his lap and reaches his chest.
The three of you chasing peak after peak. So sinfully. 
Your ears ring, vision spotty as your high finally bates. Spent, you collapse against your boyfriend’s muscled chest, heart hammering wildly against both of your ribs, and cunt still twitching in sensitivity.
Still disoriented and completely fucked out, you almost miss the low murmur from above you. Almost.
“Can’t wait till you’re here to see this in person.”
- GOJO and GETO, TOJI and SHIU, SUNA and Osamu, ATSUMU and SAKUSA, Eren and Armin
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A/N. I miss when this song was everywhere.
Plagiarism not authorized. 
2K notes · View notes
skzms · 2 months
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¸*˳·˖ৎ୭ good loving changbin x f!reader
summary: out of the 90 odd playlists on changbin's spotify, jisung picks what might be the one playlist that isn't meant to be played in a car with him and chan – changbin and your sex playlist
word count: 2.6k words
author's note: this was originally for something else that has now fallen through, so I might as well post it for you all to enjoy <3 thank you to ems and a certain someone else for reading it first and gassing me up. also can you believe this is my first time writing a standalone for my main man? unbelievable
warnings: unfocused (bricked up) driving; many memories of unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it & pee after sex, guys); oral (m&f receiving); breeding kink; blindfolds and sensory deprivation; the tiniest bit of side minsung bc it's me
skzms' masterlist
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♫ frank ocean - novacane ♫ doja cat - agora hills ♫ the weeknd - the party & the after-party ♫ plaza - all mine ♫ madeintyo - hunniddolla ♫ partynextdoor - wus good / curious
The last notes of a TigerJK track blast through the car, but before the song even fully ends, Jisung sighs dramatically and rips the USB cable from his phone.
“Okay, I’m officially bored with my music,” he announces with a pointed sigh
Changbin scoffs from the driver’s seat, the sound of the indicator clicking through the air as he makes a right turn.
“Only took you – what? 3 hours?” he teases. Jisung flicks his shoulder with a pout. Chan next to you, who’d been so quiet for the last hour that you thought he was asleep, chuckles quietly and pops one eye open, giving you a look that says ‘here they go again’.
“You said you didn’t mind! I offered to leave the aux to you, and you said I should put the music on!”
Changbin reaches over from where his arm is resting on the middle console and absentmindedly pats Jisung’s arm.
“I’m just teasing you, Sung, I like your music,” he chuckles, but Jisung’s pout doesn’t budge.
“No, no, you know what, let’s put your music on then,” he exclaims pettily and grabs Changbin’s phone from between them. “We have like an hour left, and I wouldn’t want to keep bothering you with my music.”
Changbin’s strong shoulders, the only thing you can see from your seat behind him, a peek of them visible between the back- and headrest of the driver’s seat, rise, and fall in an easy shrug. But despite your limited view of him, you still stare because you’re atrociously down bad for your boyfriend, yes, but also because his thin, black, figure-hugging sweater is ridiculously distracting, especially when you know what it feels like under your fingertips.
“Go ahead, Jisung-ah, just pick whatever.”
His voice is soft, and you know his eyes are equally so, and you wish you could see them. But you’d have to crane your whole body to the left if you wanted to do as much as catch his eyes in the rearview mirror. So you count your losses and let your eyes trail back out the window, watching the highway and the fields beyond pass you by while Jisung quietly scrolls through Changbin’s Spotify.
You’re on the way to the mountains, to Changbin’s family’s cabin in the woods. They usually rented it out as an airbnb, but had offered it to Changbin and his friends for a little fall break getaway, which you had gladly accepted. You’re in the car with Chan, Changbin and Jisung, but the others are also on the way, Felix, Jeongin and Hyunjin in one car, bringing copious amounts of snacks and food, and Seungmin and Minho in the last, and most likely quietest car, bringing what is probably a ridiculous amount of booze.
“You have so many playlists, Changbin-hyung,” Jisung whines, kicking his feet restlessly into the carpet.
“Just pick one that looks good,” Changbin retorts, “we pretty much listen to the same stuff anyways, I don’t know why you’re insisting on using mine.”
Jisung scoffs.
“I will not let you tease me later about me bothering you with my music for four hours,” he pouts, and this time you can’t help but giggle. He must know that he will get teased anyways. “Plus, I wanna find some new stuff to listen to.”
He scrolls for 10 more seconds before he shrugs.
“Okay, fuck it, let’s just do this one, this looks chill.”
He presses play and your body reacts immediately, before your brain can even catch up, heat dripping down your spine and into your abdomen. No, he couldn’t have …
“Which one is that …?” Changbin asks, his voice sounds casual enough to the boys, but not to you, attuned as you are to even the slightest crack in his facade.
Jisung obliviously checks Changbin’s phone again.
“It doesn’t have a title. Just the explosion emoji,” he shrugs and goes back to looking out the window, his head bopping to the music, completely oblivious to what he just did.
Of the 90 odd playlists on Changbin’s Spotify, Jisung had somehow managed to pick your and Changbin’s fucking sex playlist.
Frank Ocean’s voice floats through the car, and you see Changbin’s fingers flex on the steering wheel. You rack your brain for a reason to ask Jisung to change playlists, but the heat coiling between your legs is too addicting, making your head a little fuzzy already. And so neither you nor Changbin say anything as the song nears its end and when the tinny sample of Agora Hills starts playing, it doesn’t even take you by surprise. No, all it does is remind you of a few nights ago, of the same voice greeting you as you walked out of the bathroom wrapped in your towel, Changbin waiting for you, lounging on the bed wearing a tight black t-shirt and a devilish grin on his handsome face.
He’d gotten up and sauntered over to you, ignoring your raised eyebrow, thick arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you so close you could smell the cologne on his skin. He’d pushed you against the wall and kissed you with such eager lips, warm hands slithering over your damp skin, hot tongue licking the stray water droplets off your shoulders before ripping the towel from your body and sinking to his knees. He’d given you your first orgasm right there, against the bedroom wall with your thigh over his shoulder, and the second one on the bed, hands laced with yours as he fucked his tongue into you.
The memory vibrates through your body, and it’s like you can feel his soft fingertips on your skin, can feel his hot breath on your lips, the rumble of his groan against your clit. Arousal already pools deep in your gut when the song changes.
But this one, is even worse, the Weeknd’s voice calm and balmy in your ears and taking you back to a few months ago, a random weekend off for Changbin, when he’d suggested the blindfold for the first time. Said blindfold has become a regular part of your sex life now, but you still remember everything from that first night, the intensity of it all, of every one of Changbin’s touches, of the nerves jittering through your body, of the otherworldly feeling of the orgasm he pulled from you with his fingers, of the wet tears staining the black silk as you begged for him to take it off so you could look at him as you fell apart – the look on his face when he did, the way his thumbs wiped your tears away as he kissed you, forehead’s touching as you fell apart almost at the same time.
Distantly, you can hear Jisung ask Changbin about the cabin, the rooms, where the nearest supermarket is, but you can’t find it in yourself to focus. Chan next to you, thankfully, still has his eyes closed, his arms crossed over his chest that’s rising and falling gently.
For a second, you wonder if Changbin knows. If the edge to his voice is real, or if it’s all in your head. But then a muscle in his neck jumps when the song changes, and you know he knows, know he feels it, too.
Your pussy throbs when the bass drum of the next song hits, the smell of your laundry detergent wafting off your clothes only serving to drive you a little more insane, intensifying the memory of your face buried into the freshly washed duvet of the foot end of the bed, sucking in greedy lungfuls of air through your open, drooling mouth, on the night Changbin had fucked you raw for the first time. When you slightly shift in your seat you have to bite back a moan, your pussy so sensitive, your whole body floating somewhere on the edge of reality where you can feel the memory of Changbin’s nails digging into the skin of your hips, of his plush pink lips dragging wetly against the shell of your ear as he gasped strings of praises into your ear before he filled you up, so hot and sticky and perfect and addicting.
You lift your hand with no involvement of your brain, burning with the need to establish some kind of grounding contact with the love of your life in the front seat before you lose your goddamn mind.
Changbin nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels your fingers tracing the swell of his tense muscles, and his vision blurs for a moment when your fingernails drag down his skin. He doesn’t know if this is better or worse because the feeling of finally being able to feel you, instead of having to contend with the dull ache of knowing you’re behind him with no chance to even see you, makes him a little bit dizzy.
He’s rock fucking hard and weeping into his boxers, has been since the first notes of Jisung’s ill-fated pick rung through the car, and he thanks whatever fucking deity gave him the idea of wearing jeans today because if he was wearing sweats, there is no way Jisung wouldn’t have caught on. But instead, all Jisung does is babble on and on about the week, about whether there might be some early snow, about who he should room with, about how he had always wanted to try chopping wood, though he wonders if he’ll be strong enough to do it.
And Changbin truly tries his best to make all the appropriate noises, say all the right things and focus on the road at the same time, though that is so, so hard when the song that’s playing now was the one reverberating through the walls of the bathroom of a club he doesn’t remember the name of while you were on your knees, skirt flaring over your soft thighs, your eyes so big and watery and pretty as you took his cock down your throat.
It’s torture, the way he can still feel your nails digging into his thighs, the music throbbing through the wall and into his spine, the way he feels the phantom of your throat constricting around his cock.
“He wouldn’t, right?” Jisung says through the horny fog in Changbin’s brain, and Changbin has to blink a few times before he can reply.
“No, Minho would never pick Seungmin over you,” he says dutifully, but all he can focus on is the memory of the tears dripping down your glittered cheeks, the lipstick smeared around the base of his cock.
He casts a glance at Google Maps and the indicator that there are only 13 minutes left would be a relief, but that’s almost 4 more songs, and he knows which one’s next because it’s the one you don’t always get to, the one you only still get to hear when it’s 3am and his whole body is folded over you, your sweet gasps and whines and slick sounds filling the room, as he fucks his release back into you, filthy and hot and wet. It’s usually at this point that his brain to mouth filter has melted away, and he starts slurring his words when he tells you he wants to marry you, wants to put a baby or five in you and raise them and grow old together. And it’s always bittersweet because at this point, with you whimpering, promising you’re his, his orgasm racks through him dry, no more cum left to fill you up with.
His cock twitches and he has to stop himself from grimacing when a thick stream of pre-cum leaks into his boxers.
Are you as affected as he is? It kills him, the fact that he can’t even see you, the only thing he can see in his rearview mirror, apart from the road, is a sleeping Chan. He wonders how you’re doing, if your body is on fire like his, if you’re squirming in your seat trying to get friction, if you’re wet in your …
He has to actively stop himself because if he thinks about your pretty, creamy little pussy now he might actually cum untouched. Oh, but he wonders, wonders if you’ve been turned on for long enough that it does the maddening, hot throb it sometimes does. Wonders if you’ll cum quickly when he’s finally buried in you, squeezing around him so hard he sees stars as he fucks you through it and towards your second …
“Wow!” Jisung exclaims, and Changbin nearly swerves straight into a tree. Wait, a tree?
When he blinks back into focus he realises they’re rolling up to the cabin, his cabin, a silver car parked in front of it, Minho waving to them with one gloved hand before he goes back to unloading beer.
“Ha, I knew we wouldn’t be last. Hyunjin’s on dish duty tonight, just like I told him he would.”
Jisung jumps out of his seat as soon as Changbin kills the motor, already skipping down the drive and yelling about dishes and a bet to Minho. Chan yawns behind him.
“Thanks for driving, man,” he mumbles, slapping a hand on Changbin’s shoulder, and Changbin forces himself to give him a smile. He wonders if his face is as hot as it feels.
When Chan throws the car door shut behind him, Changbin finally dares to throw a discreet look down.
Oh, he’s definitely hard, and he has no idea how Jisung didn’t notice because it is … obvious. No wet spot, thankfully, even though his boxers are sticky with his pre-cum, but his cock, right there, hard and pulsing and straining against the zipper. Straining so hard, as a matter of fact, that he has to bite back a hiss as he climbs out of the car.
But then the back door of the car opens and you get out. Changbin’s cock kicks valiantly, heart squeezing in his chest when he finally lays eyes on you because you’re … you’re you, always like straight out of his best wet dreams, but god, he loves you like this, legs deliciously shaky, chest rising and falling rapidly, burning hot blush on your pretty face.
The look in your eyes is nothing short of feral, all blown pupils and eyelids heavy with arousal, the last remnants of his reason fly out the window. He swallows and chuckles drily, gaze not budging from yours as he slowly reaches out his hand and drags you closer, until your bodies are pressed together. The proximity, your hot breath against his face, he wants to eat you whole. He blinks down at you slowly.
“If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it to a bed.”
“Then we better hurry,” you say and Changbin leans down, winding one arm around your waist, using the other to swoop you up into his arms, before carrying you into the house, past Minho and Jisung and Chan without so much as a hello, and kicks the door of the first bedroom he finds shut behind him.
Minho blinks after you stupidly and gives Jisung a look.
“What’s gotten into them?” he asks incredulously. Jisung grins, but his cheeks are a fiery red.
“I’m pretty sure I accidentally put on their sex playlist in the car.”
Minho’s eyebrows shoot up and Chan chokes on air.
“Jisung!” he scolds, but Jisung just giggles giddily.
“In my defence, I didn’t notice until like 4 songs in when I saw Changbin bricked up and clutching the steering wheel for dear life.”
Minho smirks at him, and Jisung blushes even deeper.
“Jesus Christ,” Seungmin suddenly yells behind them, and they turn to see him hurrying out of the house, slamming the door shut behind him, “didn’t they arrive like literally 2 minutes ago, how are they already fucking?!”
Chan groans, running an exasperated hand down his face. Minho is still staring at Jisung, dark eyes watching him as he shrugs nonchalantly.
“It was a good playlist.”
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