#This is SO NOT PERFECT but god I need to just be done with it and stop fixing things lmaoooo

[i-like-loserz]

breedable

pairing: husband!san x reader

cw: explicit (18+), raging breeding-kink, unprotected sex (no condom, yes other contraceptives), needy/whiny!san, cuteness/sexiness aggression (^^look AT THOSE ADORABLE PICS), not dub-con because you're not actually forcing san to have a child - its just a fantasy and san respects the responsible day dreaming -- oh, and this is NOT beta-read.

wc: 1.6k

note: reverse breeding kink turns my mind into a slushie

masterlist

---

you have a special type of aggression when it comes to your husband.

while there's the usual cuteness aggression that makes you want to pinch his cheeks and tickle him until he's a giggling mess -- or the alternative "awe-infused-aggression," that makes you want to crawl all over him and worship his body (because he's built like a god) -- but this special aggression is a mix of the two.

you call it the "i-need-to-pass-on-his-genes-with-mine" or the breeding-aggression. you see his perfect, docile face -- the cute way his brows scrunch together whenever he's feeling too much, the way his chiseled abs clench as he holds himself back -- and it sets a fire in your horny soul.

typically, when one describes a breeding kink, it involves someone wanting to impregnate the other person in an act of love and possession. of course, the other person is wholeheartedly egging them on because they, too, want to carry their baby.

in this case, however, you work hard to fuck him to get you pregnant.

you may wonder, "is that not exactly the same thing as a normal breeding kink?," which will be responded with a, "no, because san is a smart boy and he doesn't want a child at the moment -- that is, not until you're both done achieving your dreams and settled into a family-friendly environment."

san is the sensible one in the relationship, while you play the role of a feral cat in heat. he always insists on a condom or some birth control while you immediately embrace your inner horny demon and cannot go a week without begging him to fill you up like a boston cream donut.

you often think he's just playing the role of the timid damsel, begging for mercy before getting thoroughly ravished because he always ends up giving in.

at first, this obsession started with an accidental and harmless mistake.

you forgot to get condoms.

neither of you realized it until you stuck your hand into the bedside drawer, only to come up empty handed.

san, the sweetheart he is, offered to run to the store to get some. but before he could leave, you pulled him back and convinced him that one time without it wouldn't hurt. you can always take the morning after pill. right?

and you thought that was that.

but once you saw the way his cute lashes fluttered as he entered you, eyes shiny from how lost he was in the pleasure -- maybe something clicked for you. maybe.

and maybe, when you felt how his body shivered, finally feeling your warmth without any barriers, and how his cock throbbed within you, you knew this would turn into an addiction.

a dangerous one.

then when he came inside, painting your walls in his warmth before pulling out to reveal his sloppy mess, your brain chemistry became altered in a way that would change the course of desires for the rest of your life.

and then, pushing his love back in so affectionately with his fingers, eyes glazed over in awe and hunger, you knew something changed within him as well -- as much as he'd deny it. he already started to get hard again from seeing how he dripped from your perfect cunt.

and so, after that fateful night, you tried to hold back, knowing that taking the morning-after pill often wasn't healthy (and, of course, you and san weren't ready for kids yet).

this didn't stop you from imagining how his cum would feel if there wasn't a barrier between you every time you fucked. or how pretty he'd be as your baby daddy, claiming you as his own as he gives you the perfect little family.

ok, and fine, maybe you 'forgot' to buy condoms a few more times after that. and maybe you made it a habit to make him cum a few times before fucking him so he'd be a little less attentive to the missing condoms just so you can feel him gushing out of you once more.

but that's neither here nor there.

...

ok, so, maybe it was here.

and there.

here, in the house -- on the couch during movie night, on the bed in the morning, on the kitchen counter when you saw him in that cute little frilly apron he borrowed from you, in the shower when he got back from the gym.

and there, outside the house -- messily in the car(s), in a tight dressing room, spontaneously in a lake, in a utility closet at his work (don't ask) -- so you had to find a sustainable solution quickly.

it finally got to the point where you made a doctor's appointment to get on birth control because you knew you wouldn't be able to hold yourself back anymore. the pull-out method wasn't going to work for long, and you knew san was struggling to deny your whiny begs to be filled.

now, you can say whatever you want and he'll be the obedient husband that he is.

---

"cum in me, sannie..." you whisper in his ear, rolling your hips and perfectly arching your back so you can press your hot body against his. "don't you want to make me a mommy?"

you admire how his cute face scrunches up as you speed up on top of him. he's flushed a pretty scarlet, from his chiseled chest to his cheeks -- a product of your merciless teasing and edging from earlier in the evening.

"b-baby," he meets your motions smoothly, eyes squeezed shut as his body struggles to bear with the sensations of your soft heat wrapped around him. "fuck, i-i'm..."

"...you're...?" you ask, mockingly. you lightly rake your nails against the back of his neck. the action never fails to make him shiver and buck against you. you let out a short gasp as the feeling of him suddenly fully thrusting into you nearly knocks the air out of you. he's hitting that sweet sweet spot inside of you now -- and it's making you almost as delirious as the man under you.

"p-please..."

"c'mon, hubby, i wanna feel it dripping out of me," you sigh dreamily. your lips barely brush over his neck as you speak, "then you can shove it back in and make sure it keeps, right~"

"yes, yes, anything--" he mumbles, head tilted back in ecstasy. his large hands grip around your waist, guiding your body like a glorified cock sleeve, up and down his cock just right. you swear you're starting to see white spots in your vision as he continues to use your body.

you love it when he's like this. tunnel visioned and desperate to reach that explosive feeling of stuffing you full of his cum. your eyes roll back as he continues to nudge against that soft spot inside of you.

"u-uh, san..." a familiar and addictive exhilarating heat blooms from your core and proliferates through every nerve in your body before you even realize it. you bite your lip to keep you from drooling as your body starts to shake in his hold.

the shockwave of pleasure makes you clench around him, making you impossibly tight around him as he continues to thrust into you.

"fuck," he groans at the feeling of you fluttering around him. he struggles to keep up his pace as he gives into his pleasure. you can feel his abs clench against you as his hips begin to stutter to meet yours. "take it, baby. i need you to t-take it all for me."

"give it to me. i need it."

he pulls your body down and gives one last punishing snap of his hips to press himself deep inside of you as he finishes with a broken moan.

as he cums inside of you, his body trembles, overwhelmed by his orgasm, the press of your perfect body against his, the heated air surrounding the two of you, and the panted breath leaving your precious lips.

his arms wrap around you, holding you close, as he nuzzles his face against your neck, pressing soft and sweet kisses to your sticky skin.

as you both start to calm down, san lifts his face from the crook of your neck to look up at you.

"baby?" he gently brushes some hair from your face so he can get a good look at your flushed expression, "i think i'm ready." he has such a cute little smile on his face as he stares up at you with adoring eyes.

"ready?" you ask, still trying to come down from the pleasure infused fog that has settled over your mind.

"i think we should start baby-making, for real."

a silence sits in between you as you stare at him in disbelief. you weren't expecting your sensible and responsible husband to suddenly propose such a life altering idea to you.

you're suddenly pulled out from your warm post-orgasm deliriousness.

"...san. are you sure?"

he looks down at your connected bodies, at your baby-less stomach and the sticky mess that's now dripping onto his thighs. and then you feel him twitch inside of you.

oh.

"i-- yeah."

not convincing.

(at least not in the state you're in)

"yeah, no." you shake your head, fully aware of his wandering thoughts. "let's talk about this when we're fully clothed, okay."

who knew you'd be promoted to be the sensible one?

[dollyswishingwell]

hi dollyyyy, after reading ur last post abt insatiable mc i declare myself as one of the people that want a post with the roles reversed omg..... .. .i wanna se the lads going crazy for mc

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Insatiable P.2

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, mostly suggestive but some smut, that’s it

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ They can’t keep their hands off you

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You were ruined.

Absolutely demolished, really, legs shaking, breathless, and curled up in the center of the bed like a worn-out porcelain doll. Your silken slip was hiked up around your hips, one strap barely clinging to your shoulder. Gloss smudged. Hair a mess. The sheets clutched desperately to your chest like they were the only thing protecting your fragile soul from yet another round.

You peeked out from under the covers, just in time to see him coming back.

“R-Raffy…”

Rafayel was already shirtless again, collarbone glistening, belt hanging loose. His purple waves were a mess and his pupils were blown wide with the kind of hunger that should’ve been illegal.

“You’re too pretty,” he breathed, crawling onto the bed like a predator who had not gotten his fill. “I swear to God. It’s your fault. You walk around the house in those tiny little dresses like some cursed siren and then act surprised when I lose my mind five times a day.”

“B-But I’m sore—!”

“I’ll be gentle,” he lied immediately, already grabbing the bedsheet you were clutching and yanking it off like it personally offended him. “And then I won’t.”

You yelped and tried to crawl back giggling, but he was already wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest, burying his face in your neck with a groan that made your thighs clench all over again.

“‘M obsessed with you,” he mumbled into your skin, his voice rough with love-drunk need. “You don’t get it, pearlie, I look at you and I black out. I wanna kiss every inch of you until you’re crying.”

You were already teary-eyed and trembling.

“You’ve already done that like four times today,” you whimpered, face burning as he licked a fresh kiss across your collarbone.

“And yet,” he said with a grin, “I still feel like I’m starving.”

Your whine was muffled by the pillow as Raf slotted his hips between yours and nuzzled into your cheek like some deranged, horny little prince.

He placed one gentle kiss to your forehead. Then two not-so-gentle ones on your chest.

Then whispered softly—

“Let’s make it at least six.”

And just like that, the bedsheet was gone, your pleas were ignored, and your sweet, artsy husband was devouring you all over again like you were his favorite masterpiece, smeared in lipstick, gloss, and love.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You were barely breathing.

Absolutely spent, trembling under the silk sheets, your thighs still pressed together, your chest rising and falling like you’d just run a marathon. Your lip gloss was smudged. There were hickeys blooming all over your collarbone and neck like some exclusive collection. And your once-perfect hair?

Destroyed. Gloriously ruined.

You lay there blinking up at the ceiling, the sheets clutched to your chest like a makeshift shield.

Then, the bathroom door creaked open.

“Z-Zayne—wait, baby, please—”

He was already walking back toward the bed, towel slung around his neck, toned body still damp from the shower he had taken exactly five minutes ago… post-round-five.

“I was going to let you rest,” he said calmly, slowly undoing the towel from around his neck as he climbed back onto the bed. “And then I walked past the mirror and remembered how you looked begging underneath me, and, well…”

His hazel-green eyes darkened.

“I’m not a strong man, sweetheart.”

“Zayne!” you squeaked, pulling the covers tighter around your body. “You’re a doctor, shouldn’t you be worried about, like, overworking my body?!”

He raised a brow and placed one large hand against your thigh, slowly dragging the sheets away from your chest like he was unwrapping a precious gift.

“You should’ve thought about that,” he murmured, “before you came out this morning in that tiny little lace set and kissed my neck while I was on the phone.”

You whimpered.

“That was eight hours ago!”

“And I’ve had to touch you five times since to keep myself from losing my license due to lust-induced delirium,” he said flatly.

With a soft grunt, he pulled the sheets completely off your body, exposing the state he left you in, marked up, trembling, and absolutely perfect in his eyes. He groaned under his breath, pinning your hips with both hands.

“You’re too pretty, darling,” he whispered against your shoulder. “You break my self-control. I’m a respected surgeon and you turn me into a beast.”

You hid your face in your hands with a choked laugh. “You’re insane.”

“You married insane,” he corrected, already sliding between your thighs again. “Now be a good girl and let me love you properly, for the sixth time.”

He made very good on his word, leaving you breathless, boneless, and ruined all over again, whispering in your ear like a man in love with every inch of your soul and body:

“Let them say I’m obsessed. You’re my wife. You’re mine.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆��˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You couldn’t move.

Your body felt like jelly, your limbs tangled in silk sheets, hair a wild, tousled mess across the pillows. Your lips were kiss-swollen and glossy, your pretty robe long discarded somewhere across the room. You were a wreck, soft thighs trembling, eyes dazed, the scent of your husband still all over you.

You clutched the sheets to your chest like your life depended on it.

“Xavi… I can’t. I literally can’t feel my legs.”

And yet.

You watched in horror as your beautiful, unhinged, silver-haired husband slowly turned from the mirror, where he’d been fixing his tousled hair, red marks all over his pale neck like you had ruined him.

But his eyes were dark. Soft. Starved.

He walked back to the bed, bare-chested and flushed, licking his lips like you were the last meal of the universe.

“You’re too pretty, starlight,” he murmured. “It’s your fault. You kept making those sounds, and you looked at me like you wanted me to ruin your life. So I did.”

“Five times,” you gasped, clinging to the covers as he crawled over you. “You did it five times. I need water. And a medic.”

He chuckled softly, brushing your hair away from your flushed face and kissing your cheek with maddening gentleness. His fingers curled under the sheet you were hugging so tightly.

“Mm. You don’t need water,” he whispered. “You need me again.”

“Xavi—”

“Just once more. For science.”

He ripped the sheet away.

You screamed. He grinned like a man entirely out of his mind.

“You don’t understand,” he murmured, pinning your wrists above your head as he kissed down your shoulder again. “I don’t get tired of you. I don’t reach a limit. I see you, and I want to touch you again. Over and over. Until you’re crying my name so sweet I forget what galaxy we’re in.”

“You already did,” you whined, squirming under him. “You kept calling me starlight in three different languages.”

He blinked. “…Did I?”

Then smirked.

“I’m doing it again.”

And he was wrecking you all over again, slow, obsessed, utterly devoted, his voice a breathy chant in your ear as you melted into him:

“So pretty… so good for me… mine, mine, mine.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You were sprawled on the bed like the world’s most exhausted princess, lipstick smeared, thighs trembling, hair in complete chaos, and the silken sheets yanked up to your chest in a desperate attempt to protect what little pride you had left. You looked used, loved, devoured, and Sylus?

He looked like he’d barely broken a sweat.

His silver hair was ruffled but charmingly so, his toned torso covered in blooming bite marks, but he was already standing by the foot of the bed again, rolling up the sleeves of his half-unbuttoned shirt, red eyes gleaming like a predator who enjoyed watching his prey try to crawl away.

“Sylus—no, baby, I can’t,” you gasped, clutching the sheet tighter. “You’ve ruined me three times already and I can’t even feel my spine anymore—”

“That was four,” he corrected smoothly, already tugging the sheet right out of your grip like it was tissue paper. “Don’t shortchange me, kitty.”

“Sylus!” you squealed as the sheet was ripped from your hands, exposing your completely wrecked, bite-marked body to the cool air and his shameless eyes.

“Ohhh, look at you,” he drawled, low and pleased, eyes raking over your bare skin. “You look like something I paid for and destroyed. You love it, don’t you?”

“I look like I’ve been hit by a luxury car,” you whimpered, burying your face in the pillow.

He chuckled darkly, crawling over you with slow, deliberate movements, voice dripping with affection and heat.

“That’s because you have. You married a man who’s obsessed with you and has the stamina of a war machine. What did you expect, sweetie?”

You moaned softly as his lips grazed your shoulder again, gentle, teasing, as if he hadn’t just wrecked you five minutes ago. His hand slid under your waist with practiced ease, pulling you closer.

“You’re the prettiest thing in the world, kitty,” he murmured into your ear. “You’re lucky I let you breathe.”

“Sylus,” you warned, “I will cry.”

“Cry on my chest then.”

And just like that, he was pulling you under him again like you were nothing more than his favorite toy, whispering in your ear as you sob-laughed into the pillows—

“I could drag you in here five times a day for the rest of your life and still never get tired of you…”

“…So go ahead, sweetie. Scream for number five.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You couldn’t even speak.

Your voice was hoarse, your body shaking, your pretty little nightdress long gone, discarded somewhere on the floor like your last shred of dignity. Your cheeks were flushed, lipgloss smudged, neck and chest covered in bite marks so deep and dark they looked like they might be permanent.

You were lying on your stomach now, gripping the sheets like a woman barely surviving battle. Your legs refused to close. Your whole body was humming from the aftermath of multiple rounds.

And you could feel him behind you. Still there. Still hard. Still watching.

“C-Caleb,” you whimpered, voice cracking. “Please. Please, I need a break, I—I need water, I need—”

“You need me.” His voice was low, rough, and absolutely merciless. “You always need me.”

You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling again, slow and casual like he had all the time in the world.

“B-But I can’t feel my legs!”

“That’s fine.” His palm slid over your lower back. “You don’t need them.”

You shrieked into the pillow as he yanked the bedsheet right off your body with one brutal tug, leaving you bare and trembling under his shadow.

“You started this, pipsqueak,” he whispered against your ear, his big body already sliding over yours again. “Walking around in my shirt this morning with your cute little thighs peeking out. Sucking on your lollipop and sitting on my lap like you weren’t begging to be fucked stupid.”

You sob-laughed helplessly. “That was at breakfast—”

“And now it’s almost dinner,” he bit out, nipping your shoulder. “And you’ve already screamed my name four times today, baby. Don’t act like I’m the crazy one.”

“You are!” you cried, kicking your feet weakly. “You’re a menace! I look like I just got dragged through a war zone—”

“You look like my wife.”

He pulled you up by the waist, kissed the corner of your eye where tears welled.

“You are my wife. My pretty, soft, ruined little housewife who gets dragged into bed five times a day because I can’t stop thinking about her.”

You hiccuped through a shaky moan as he pressed deeper against your back, voice thick with adoration:

“Mine. My pips. My wife. My problem.”

And as he pinned you down again for round five, he whispered it over and over like a prayer he’d never stop chanting:

“Love you. Love you. Love you.”

[eliasoir]

୭౿ AFTER HOURS ⠀── L. HEESEUNG !⠀

【 𝖨𝖭 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 】 ⏖ 𝓈𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅. 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈 . . .

⏜💬. 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 ﹙ 𝖬𝖣𝖭𝖨 𝟣𝟪+ ﹚ ⠀◞ ◟ 𝗰𝗼𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿!𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝘅 𝓯!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ! 𓂃 𝖻𝖾𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗲 ／ 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑 , 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗑 , 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 , 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝒻. 𝗋𝖾𝖼 , 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒 , 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 , 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 . 𝘄𝓬 𝟤.𝟣𝗄

★ 𝓑𝖫𝖮𝖶𝖠𝗞𝗶𝗦𝗦 !

the office was almost completely still, dead quiet after eight pm. the lights were dimmed, halls empty, the last of the cleaning staff gone a little bit ago.

but you’re still here trying to catch up on some of your paperwork. apparently, so is lee heeseung. and god, you’ve been trying to ignore him for weeks. he’s too smug, too good at his damn job, and worst of all, too attractive.

always has his sleeves rolled up by the end of the day, loosened tie, tousled hair that always looks like he just ran his hands through it after winning a case. in your books he was disgustingly perfect. and it didn’t help that he was always around. flirting with you in passing like it’s a reflex, always saying your name with a tone that is anything but casual or coworker-like. almost like he knows it does something to you. and it does. but you were a professional. composed. however, heeseung was a walking sin in a three-piece suit.

you’re halfway through drafting a motion that was supposed to be done a few days ago, when a soft sounds hits your door. “hey.” his voice is low, annoyingly smooth.

you glance up and he’s leaning against the doorframe, sleeves rolled up per usual, pretty silver watch glinting. he holds a file in one hand, other tucked in his pocket. his tie loose around his neck but this time with the top two buttons of his shirt undone.

“got those docs you needed,” he says, stepping in closer to your desk.

you swallow hard. “thanks.”

you stand, reaching for the file, only for him to hold onto it a second too long, fingers brushing yours as you tug it to you. the silence stretches thickly.

“got a lot left?” he asks, eyes flicking over you. his gaze is blatant, hungry. score ripping them off you and looking at your paper cluttered desk.

“not really,” you mutter, hugging the file to your chest. “was just about to—“

“head out?” he cuts in, brows twitching. “or come by my office?” his tone is easy, but his eyes say something else. something darker.

“your office?” you ask, voice a little too breathy.

he grins slow, like he’s been waiting for this moment. “yeah. i owe you for those merger notes, right?”

you try not to let your breathing catch and stay calm. his presence alone made your skin heat up. “you could’ve just emailed me.”

“sure,” he shrugs. “but then i wouldn’t get to see you like this.”

he steps closer, your back hits the desk with the step you take back.

“like what?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he eyes your legs, your black skirt, your matching pantyhose, your high heels on your feet.

“like this,” he calmly says. “you in this skirt. those pretty heels. standing there looking at me like you’re either gonna make out with me or hit me.”

you should stop this, make him leave. you know you should. but then he lifts a slow hand and runs the pad of his thumb just beneath your lip, tilting your chin up slightly.

“come to my office,” he murmurs, gaze locked on your lips like he was already pressing his to them. “please.”

you don’t remember saying yes, but you let your hand slip in his as you walk with him.

the second the door clicks shut, he’s on you.

you drop the file down on his desk, back facing him and he takes that for advantage. he presses up behind you, hands not on you yet, just lets his breath ghost over your ear and neck. whatever it was about him, it snaps the thread you’ve both been trying to keep up for weeks. you spin to face him and then you’re kissing.

the kiss was never once anything but hunger. it was deep, hard, months of sexual tension fulminating in one filthy, unprofessional mess. now his hands were everywhere. sliding down your sides, gripping your ass, pressing you even closer to him. then he’s pushing you back onto the edge of his desk.

“shit,” he mutters, yanking at your blouse, eyes locking with yours. “you know how hot you are?”

“heeseung—“ you gasp as he grinds his hips into your slowly, the hard bulge of his cock through his slacks pressing between your thighs.

“been thinking about this since you started here,” he breathes heavily. “every time you walked in here with those cute little outfits. so slutty—shit.”

he grabs at your blouse, yanking it open hard enough that you thought it broke. the buttoned top freeing your boobs and the black lace covering them.

“fucking finally,” he mutters, his mouth crashing down to your chest, tongue licking a bold stripe over the swell of your breast before he’s tugging your bra down roughly. the quick movement making your tits spill out of the, and he wastes no time, sucking one of your nipples straight into his mouth.

you gasp, arching your body into him, hands flying to grab at his shoulders. he groans against you, sucking hard, tongue swirling as his hands come up to the other, squeezing, kneading, pinching it. anything he could to make you whimper. he switches to the other breast with just as much desperation.

“so fucking pretty,” he growls, lips glossy, breath hot. “been dying to get my mouth on you.”

you try to say something back, but he grinds into you again, right against the heat of your pussy through your thin clothing. it’s filthy. he’s filthy. perfect. he ruts into you slow, yet still rough, like he’s trying to feel you through your clothes. he’s still groping your tits, licking and sucking and moaning into your skin.

“feel that?” he mutters, grinding harder. “s’how hard i get for you.”

all you can do is moan softly in response. as if something clicked in him, his hands hike up your skirt just enough to get to your pantyhose better. he doesn’t wait another second, bunching them in his fists and rips them, causing the cool air to float to your aching core.

“oh my god,” you breathe.

“don’t worry. i’ll buy you another pair,” he says, eyes glued to the run in the nylon. “or twenty. fuck—spread your legs.”

you do, heels sliding apart on the polished wood as he sinks to his knees in front of you. and his own breath catches when he sees what’s underneath.

“fuck,” he murmurs, fingers brushing over the thin black string cutting across your hips. his eyes snap up to yours, full of heat and thick lust.

“a thong?” he smirks, almost laughing. “fucking hell. you knew i’d be here tonight, didn’t you?”

his hand grip around to your ass, thumb sliding along the curve of it. he pulls the elastic away from your skin, hard, letting it snap back against your skin with a loud pop. the act causing a small whimper from you.

“nasty girl,” he mutters, mouth trailing up your thigh. “walking around the office like you’re so fucking innocent…but wearing this under your skirt.”

your heart slams against your ribcage. and suddenly, as if it hit you all at once what you two were doing, you speak up.

“heeseung—what if someone—“ “they won’t.” his voice is wracked with need. “office is empty. just us.”

and then he buries his face between your thighs. you gasp, a choked moan leaving you as his tongue meets your pussy. his hand gripping your thigh tight as he held the fabric of your thong to the side.

he groans deep into you. “fuck—you’re soaked,” he mutters, stuffing his face closer to get to your bare cunt. “can’t believe i waited this long.”

you can’t think, let alone speak. his mouth is too good. lips and tongue working you open like he knows your body already, like he’s done it a hundred times and committed it to memory. he slides two fingers into you without a warning. you moan out, clutching at the edge of the desk, knuckles white.

he curls them with perfect precision, sucking on your clit, murmuring, “so fucking tight,” like he’s losing it already.

when he finally pulls back, lips shiny, he stands and kisses you like he can’t be away from you any longer. his lips and tongue mingle with yours, letting you taste yourself. his fingers still buried inside you, still pumping you slow.

“you taste so good,” he whispers, voice gone gravelly. “think about this every time you say my name. imagine what you would sound like…let me hear you.”

his fingers reach the perfect spot just as he speaks, curling inside you just right. “f-fuck, hee—“ your moan breaks out of you before you can stop it, high and trembling, hips grinding against his palm.

he moans lowly, taking his fingers from your cunt as you whine. he’s unbuttoning his shirt now, working his tie looser. he pulls at it, frustrated and needy, yanking it off and throwing it aside.

“turn around,” he says, low and firm. “bend over the desk.” your knees almost give out at the sole tone of his voice but you do as he says.

his hand splays on your back, pressing you down to the cool wood, the other hand pulling your hips back toward him. you hear the unbuckle of his belt. the tugging of his zipper, and the low, shaky breath he exhales when he finally takes in your form bent over for him.

“you’re perfect,” he mutters. “absolutely fucking perfect.” smoothing his hand over the curve of your bare ass, licking his lips.

he slowly drags the head of his cock through your folds, spreading you open. he teases you leisurely, collecting slick on the tip.

“beg,” he says.

“please,” you moan in a breathy voice. “heeseung—need you.”

knowing he could hardly wait any longer either, he decides that was enough for him and pushes in. the moan you let out is a broken one, echoing off the high ceilings of his clean office.

he bottoms out, hips pressing to yours as his breath stutters. “fuck. you feel—fucking amazing, baby.”

he barely waits another second before pulling almost all the way out of you before snapping his hip forward. the motion making you jolt a giant the desk, hands grasping tightly. he fucks into you like he’s wanted to for months. like it’s the only thing that’s ever made sense to do.

his thrusts are deep, and angled just right every time. he was relentless. one of his hands come around to rub your clit, fingers still wet from earlier. “you’re mine now,” he growls lowly into your ear, pounding into you harder. “understand?”

you nod frantically, crying out when he hits your sweet spot over and over.

“say it.”

“yours,” you sob. “i’m yours—ngh—heeseung, i’m—“

before you could register it, your orgasm hits you like a truck. you come around him hard, hole clenching tight, legs shaking. the heels you were wearing were the only things keeping your legs from giving out.

he curses under his breath, thrusts into you a few more times, then groans deep as ecstasy shoots through him in shockwaves, his hand gripping your waist grip almost bruising.

the air around you was thick and hot with sweat, sex, and silence, the office going still.

he leans over you, breath ragged, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“wanna do that again on the conference table next time,” he murmurs, grinning smugly against your skin.

you laugh weakly. “you’re unbelievable.”

he eases out, tugging your skirt back down. “and you’re irresistible. we should stay after hours more often.”

he eases back from you slowly, lips brushing your body again like he’s not ready to let go. you’re still pinned against the desk as you face him, blouse open, skirt wrinkled up, your pantyhose letting a cold patch of air float up to your cunt. he glances down, winces slightly, then meets your eyes with the ghost of a smirk.

“shit. i really did a number on those, huh?”

you blink at him, still breathless. “you ripped them. ruined them.”

“they were in my way,” he shrugs unapologetically. but then his face softens a little. “i’ll buy you more. promise.”

he steps back just a little, looking you up and down like he only just realized how wrecked you look. then he laughs, both admiring and amused.

“how the fuck are you gonna leave the building like this?”

you sigh, buttoning your shirt back up. “guess you’re walking me out.”

he grins, grabs his tie off the floor, and presses one last kiss to your lips. “c’mon,”

© ELIASOIR ⠀──all rights reserved.

[kkuras-gamer-gf]

Read your diary | Megan Skiendiel

Smut. Any maneskin fans? Loosly based on their song of the same name! Too short, so sorry.

G!p megan. Perv!meg who sneaks into your room when your gone. Reader is just as bad kinda. Perv4perv in a way. Dom!Megan?? Who would've thought

Megan didn't intend on going this far; it started simply as wanting to be a good roommate, doing the laundry. One day while folding and putting it away, she found something, a small book. She shouldn't have read it, but she couldn't help herself.

Surprised by what she found: your dirty little secrets and detailed summaries of your hookups. Then she read further, and her name started popping up. First, just little comments about Megan being attractive, and then it switched; filthy fantasies filled the pages.

The next week, she was doing more laundry, and a pink pair of underwear fell out of the basket. She shouldn't have; she should've just put it back in the basket, but she opted to stuff it in her pocket. Later that night, she wrapped them around her cock as she pleased herself.

It should've stopped there, but it became a bad habit, stealing a pair and then throwing it in the washer after she was done. It was the perfect excuse; you were gone most of the day for work, so she felt comfortable in her dirty routine.

Until today, that is, you had a half day at work. Megan didn't know that, so she assumed it was safe. But it was different this time; she had dared to go further, settling into your bed with your used panties in her panties, reading various pages in the diary.

Just as she reaches into her boxers, you open the door with a sharp gasp at the sight.

"Wh- Is that my underwear?!" You ask, looking at the balled-up fabric in her hand.

"I—I was doing laundry."

"In my bed?!?"

She jumps up, hiding the small book behind her back.

"Well...well." She really didn't want to out herself further, but she also needed a way under your skin to get the control she wanted. "You write about how you want me to fuck you!" A smirk as she gains an upper hand.

Your jaw dropped at this. How'd she know that?

"You—wh—how?" Your cheeks are bright red as you fumble around for words, "Did you read my journal?!"

"This one?" Pulling her hand from behind her back and opening to a page, "I feel guilty. What would she think if she knew I fucked myself in her bed?" She quoted, An embarrassing confession.

"I—stop."

She didn't, flipping forward some pages.

"I wish instead of my fingers it was her coc—"

"Don't act like you're innocent." You interrupt, "You take my underwear when you do laundry. God knows what you do with it."

"I think you know what I do with it." She takes a step, making you gulp, "And I think it turns you on." Faces now only a couple inches away.

"You're disgusting." It's more of a whisper, not meaning it enough to put effort in. She wasn't wrong; you knew that with the way your core dripped.

"I'm disgusting? I'm disgusting?? Says the slut who writes chapters about me and my cock. Let's see, which page was it..." Long fingers flip through pages, "In my dream last night—"

"Fuck you."

The smirk on her face drops, slamming the book shut and throwing it on the bed before a hand moves to wrap around your neck, threatening to tighten. As much as you tried to suppress it, you couldn't help the small moan that left your mouth.

"On the bed."

You oblige, lying down, as she uses the grip she has to push you in that direction. Her hands fumbled with the button to the jeans she was wearing, not bothering to take them off, just reaching in a hand to pull her cock out, hard and already glistening with precum.

Bigger than expected, intimidating almost. Your eyes widen at the sight, causing a cocky smirk on the girl's face as she looks down at you like you're her prey.

"Aw, don't tell me it's too big. You can take it, right?" Faux sweetness in her voice.

Nodding rapidly, needing her to do anything to soothe the heat in the pit of your stomach.

At this, Megan pulls you so your legs hang off the edge. Pulling at your jeans and throwing them to the floor, a thumb rubbing over your soaked underwear, practically drooling at the sight.

"Fuck, no wonder I have to do laundry so much."

"M-Megan, please."

"You want these off, huh?" Despite the teasing tone, she pulls at them as soon as you're nodding your head. Though she doesn't throw them to the side, instead balling them up to stuff into her pants, you were too much in a haze to protest, admittedly the act turning you on more.

Her leaking tip slides through your folds with embarrassing ease before sheathing herself inside you in one thrust with no warning; a moan mixed with a cry echoed off the walls.

"Fuuuck." Megan moans as her head falls back at the sensation, "So fuckin' tight."

The brunette's hands grip at your waist, trying to ground herself and not cum right away. Starting with slow, deep thrusts, pulling little noises out of you with every move.

"You know how fucking long I wanted to do this?" Her breathing gets increasingly labored, and she thrusts quicker with her words as if she's working herself up.

"Fix that bratty attitude." A particularly harsh thrust as she mumbles the last part.

"P-pl-please." The words leaving your lips don't even make sense as you beg her, for what you're not sure.

It's like she was made to fuck you with the way her body fit with yours, the tip of her cock reaching where others have. Her tempo changed in tune with your body; it makes you wonder if she's that good or if she did a little too much research.

"Tell me how good this cock feels."

"Shhhit. So, so good." Words slurring at the pleasure, hands grabbing to try and pull her closer.

Megan's hand that once gripped your waist moved to rub fast circles over your clit, your own hand wrapping around her wrist at the overwhelming sensation. You didn't want to admit that your nerdy perv roommate had you close to an orgasm within minutes. Neither did Megan, as she wanted to uphold her current dominance, holding herself back.

"Mm, I want to fill you up." She mutters through her heavy breaths.

The loud moan you let out shows the effect it had on you, clenching around her, basically begging for it.

"You'd like that, right? Having my baby?" Megan's voice lowered as her hips stuttered, the idea making her closer to cumming.

"Yes! Fuck, yes. Please." Tears stream down your face as you plead for her to fill you up. "Want it so bad."

"Yeah? Want my cum, baby?" Breathless moans and whimpers as her once loserish persona fades back in a bit as she reaches her peak.

Pulling out her eyes filled with wonder as she stared at the liquid dripping onto your bedsheets, seemingly never experiencing it before.

Your body lay limp; you barely noticed her cleaning you up with your own underwear and, of course, stuffing them back in her pocket for whatever perverted thing she'd do with them later. Grabbing the diary from beside you and placing a sweeter-than-expected kiss on your cheek before grabbing your laundry basket.

"Same time next laundry day?" She smirks before walking out to your laundry room.

It seems now you have a new tradition for laundry day.

[bowxs]

@thecrazzykidzz requested this one for soldier boy!!

3. “thats not what i meant and you know it”

75. “your making a mess everywhere”

76. “do you feel how deep i am?”

you didnt even know what you were arguing about- well, you knew, ben didnt really. he had made some offhand comment about how your butt seems bigger recently and clearly you didnt like that

“so you think im fat” your arms are crossed infront of your chest in a way that made them look so unintentionally good, ben couldnt help but stare. it only a lasted a second before you snapped your fingers at him, clearly not pleased

“eyes up here, benjamin!” you said, clearly annoyed with his behaviour. “baby, i never said you were fat i said your butt has gotten bigger-” “which means you think i gained weight, which means you think im fat.” you argue as if it makes perfect sense

“baby, c’mon, thats not what i meant and you know it” ben says in that stupid, almost condescending voice that always hits the right spot for you. damnit.

“cmon, lemme make it up to you”

youve lost count of the amount of times youve cum already, and bens not even close to done with you. your overstimulated, spent, but so fucking wet still

“look at you baby, your pussys begging for more” he coos, his hand rubbing your wetness and spreading the slick all over your mound and along your thighs

“couldve just said you wanted me to fuck you, didnt need to be all upset with me” he says, but your not paying any mind as he lines himself back up with your entrance, not bothering to go slow as he pushes in

your back arches off the bed as you feel him slide back into you like he belonged there, and you can practically feel your insides moulding around him like a home to keep his cock in

“shit- look at that” his voice is almost one of awe as he looks down at your stomach, a small bit visible bulge appearing and disappearing as he thrusts in and out of you, slowing down to watch it

ben presses down on the bulge, just enough so you can feel it so deep inside of you, you think you might actually pass out from pleasure. “do you feel how deep i am baby?”

all you can do is whimper and nod, the pressure of his hand only heightening the feeling of him inside of you, and you dont know how but it makes you want him even more

it only takes a few minutes for a mix your wetness and bens precum to form a ring around the base of his cock, the sticky sound filling the room

“your making a mess everywhere” ben’s voice is gruff and deep, his eyes watching the sticky mixture between you two stretch each time we pulls away from you, the sight only spurring him on “dripping onto the fuckin’ sheets- jesus”

“ben- ben im gonna cum- oh god” your head is thrown back onto the sheets as your legs tense up, mouth hung open in a string of moans as your 3rd 4th orgasm of the night washes over you

“yeah baby, cum on my cock- justt like that” and god if those words dont make you want to cum again

[truthfultales]

Reader x Halsin –

Buried In You

Unaccustomed as I am to writing reader-insert smut (my focus tends to lean toward more emotionally nuanced intimacy ^^), this is something of an experiment - I hope it lands. EDIT: Ended up expanding the ending slightly, as it felt something was missing. I wanted to involve his scent, as well as the nest his chest forms. His warm tenderness behind the solid physique. (And I did feel the need to add even more reverence, while also underlining the hint at Breeding.)

Link to Ao3

___________________________________

– Buried in You –

There’s something ancient in the way Halsin touches you – not practiced, not polished, but instinctive, like moss growing toward light or rivers carving stone. His hands roam your skin with reverence and hunger braided together, calloused palms spreading heat along your thighs as he guides you into his lap like a blessing he’s waited seasons to receive.

You straddle his hips, and when you reach between your bodies to guide him to your entrance, his breath catches – a sharp inhale, like the first time he breathed forest air after captivity.

“You’re sure?” he asks, voice deep and tight with restraint.

You answer by sinking down on him.

The stretch steals your breath – slow, thick, endless. He fills you inch by inch, the way roots claim the soil, until you’re seated fully, hips flush, stuffed full of him. Halsin groans beneath you, head falling back against the bedroll, jaw clenched, golden eyes fluttering shut.

“Gods, you’re–” He shudders. “You feel like the forest itself. Hot. Wet. Alive.”

You stay there a moment, impaled and trembling slightly from the sheer fullness of him. He’s so deep it borders on overwhelming – not painful, but intense, grounding. You feel stretched open, not just physically, but claimed. His hands find your waist, holding you still as he breathes through it.

“Look at how well you take me,” he says, voice a growl now, roughened by arousal. “Like you were carved to fit me.”

You begin to move – slow circles of your hips, grinding instead of bouncing, letting him drag along your walls with every pass. Halsin’s grip tightens. His cock pulses inside you. He’s losing composure by degrees, undone not by roughness but by the softness of it – the intimacy. The unbearable pleasure of being inside you and watching you take him.

Every thrust is a low, drawn-out stroke that has your cunt fluttering around him. You’re soaked, every motion squelching softly between your thighs. He slides in deep, kisses your cervix, and you gasp –sharp and helpless. Halsin’s voice breaks.

“Oh, love,” he moans. “You feel like the first bloom after frost. Like spring come too early.”

The words break something in you.

You ride him harder, chasing the rhythm that makes your vision blur –and he meets you, hips snapping up to bury himself deeper, each stroke slapping wetly as arousal coats your thighs. His praise comes fast now, unfiltered:

“Perfect. So tight. So good for me – gods, you’re drawing everything out of me–”

You clamp down around him, and he knows.

His hands shoot to your hips, slamming you down onto him, and he buries himself to the hilt with a ragged groan. His cock throbs inside you as he comes, heat spilling deep, thick, warm – filling you in waves that pulse through his whole body. He holds you there, his arms tight around your back, as if anchoring himself to the earth.

He doesn’t pull out.

You stay locked together, chest to chest, your cunt still fluttering from aftershocks as his cum seeps from around his cock. Halsin cradles your face, kisses your temple, still buried in you.

“I’m not done with you,” he whispers against your skin. “Not until I’ve filled you again. And again.”

His hands soften – one trailing reverently up your spine, the other slipping between your thighs. With patient worship, he begins to circle you there, slow and deliberate, coaxing another wave from you while you’re still trembling from the first. His other hand cups your breast, his mouth lowering to take the soft weight into the heat of his mouth. You arch into him, caught between comfort and desire, between grounding and flight.

You breathe him in – the sharpness of his sweat, the heat of it mingled with the familiar scent of woodsmoke and pine needles and the faint, earthen tang of crushed herbs clinging to his skin. His chest, broad and furred, is your sanctuary now; you drag your palms through the hair there, luxuriating in the primal warmth of him. Even the dark scent beneath his arms – wild, musky – makes your blood hum.

Halsin’s golden eyes open as he feels you rise again, slow and sure as the moon tide.

He watches your face as if it were sacred, memorizing every flicker of expression – the flush across your cheekbones, the way your lips part around a breathless sound you try to swallow. One hand remains at your back, steadying you, while the other continues its quiet devotion between your thighs, coaxing the storm building beneath your skin.

“You are… wonder,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “More than I thought the gods would ever let me touch.”

Your forehead meets his, and your hips roll once more. It’s not urgency that drives you now – it’s worship, tethered to the quiet understanding that this moment is not a flame but an altar.

A prayer in motion. Your worship, unspoken but aching in every breath, reaches its peak in that shattering stillness, your body clenching around him as if to draw him into your very soul.

You tremble in his arms, boneless and burning, clutching at him as if the world might fall away without his weight against you. And in that sacred pulse – those final, reverent contractions – you feel his seed drawn deeper, claimed by your body with the same certainty as breath filling lungs, or roots drinking rain.

He holds you through it, murmuring praise into the curve of your neck, his voice like low thunder, his breath damp against your skin. There is no rush to move, no need to explain. Only the quiet miracle of being fully seen – and still wholly wanted.

At last, you sink fully into him, your limbs draped over his, breath slowing, your heart settling into the rhythm of his chest. You feel his hands still resting on you – warm, grounding, protective – as if to say, I am still here. I will remain.

Outside, waves lap against the dock. The fire at camp crackles, dimming to embers. The stars have begun their slow wheel across the sky, unnoticed.

He doesn’t move, and neither do you. There is nothing left to chase. Only the stillness after the bloom, the peace after the rain.

Halsin presses one final kiss to your brow – soft as moss, deep as root – and whispers, "Sleep, my heart. We’ll delight in each other again, soon. You are safe."

And with his heartbeat beneath your cheek, the world feels as it should – quiet, and full.

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

You stared blankly at the spreadsheet open on your laptop screen, wondering how you’d gone from “just us, barefoot on a beach” to twelve-person string ensemble and a four-tier cake. You didn’t even remember how it happened. Just that it was spiraling now. Too fast and too big.

Well that spiraled quickly

“Shhh,” he murmured. “Come here.” He pulled you into his lap, your legs draped over his thighs as he settled back into the couch. His hand slid under the shirt you were wearing, his shirt resting warm and steady over the gentle swell of your belly. “First of all,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple, “you already gave me perfect the day you said yes.”

He is the cutest 🥹

“We can call off the whole thing right now and go to city hall in whatever we’re wearing,” he whispered, “and it’ll still be the best day of my life. I swear to God.” “You’d marry me in sweatpants?” “In a heartbeat. With mustard on my shirt and the courthouse AC broken. Don’t care.”

Oh he so means it, she has to say the word and they are on their way to city hall

 “You’re not doing this alone. I’m here, Baby. For all of it.” You nodded slowly, sniffling into his neck.He pulled back just enough to look at you. “Now, what do you need? A nap? A foot rub? For me to throw this whole planner into the ocean?” “Honestly? All three.” “Done.”

He truly knows what the right answers are

Not because the stress was gone, but because Bucky Barnes knew how to hold you steady when it hit.

This is so accurate and important!

“You’re glowing, by the way,” she said, settling on the couch beside you.  “Even if you’re panicking. Still glowing. Like, annoying-level glowing.” “I don’t feel glowing. I feel deranged. I cried over a centerpiece. A fucking centerpiece, Peach. Bucky had to talk me down like he was disarming a nuke.” Peach laughed, flopping over until her cheek was resting on your shoulder. “Sounds like he passed the test.”

Leave it to Peach to bring some positive vibes and laughter!

“The one that actually matters. You already knew the sex was good. You already had the chemistry, the intellectualism, the obsession. But the way he holds you through this? The hormones, the wedding spreadsheet meltdowns?” She grinned. “That’s the forever part.”

So true!

“I knew the second I saw him in Hilton Head. I wanted to strangle him. And kiss him. And break every plate in the house.” You smiled. “Sounds romantic.”

Romantic in their own crazy way 🤭

“If you still want simple, you can have it. But don’t hide from what you want because it scares you. If it’s fireworks and a string quartet on an island with your belly full of baby Barnes? Then bitch, do it.”

Yes!

“Now. Are we crying into this gelato like the emotionally unstable icons we are?” You grabbed two spoons. “Of course.”

Obviously 😌

Your mom finally stood and crossed the room to cup your face like she had when you were small. “He’s going to lose his mind,” she murmured. “Not that he isn’t already crazy about you.”

She's not wrong 🤷🏻‍♀️

Bucky: I’ll bring dumplings. One glimpse for every sauce container.

“We’ll practice,” Peach grinned. “We’ll make a TikTok. Bucky’ll cry watching that.”

She's so funny 😅

You: Stop trying to bribe my honor.

She so much better than me! I would have folded with that offer hahah

“You know he’s parked outside, right?” You turned toward the window and there he was, in his sportscar, sunglasses on, and pretending to be normal. He was parked illegally and completely unrepentant. “Already in full simp-mode.”

Truly! And he wouldn't want it any other way

You’d spent the afternoon at your final fitting with your mom and Peach. He’d tried to bribe someone, anyone, to get a peek. The designer, the assistant, the poor delivery driver who’d dropped off the steaming food Peach ordered from a fancy Thai place. But no one cracked.

Wow my respect to all those people 🫡 I know Bucky would have paid a lot

“You’re quiet,” you called, not looking up. “That’s dangerous.”

That's always suspicious haha

“No panties next week.” You laughed. “Excuse me?” “You heard me,” he said, one hand gliding down to cup between your thighs. “None. I want to be thinking about this sweet little pussy while you walk down the aisle. About how soaked you’ll be by the time I say I do.” “Just picture it, baby. You walk down that aisle, glowing, mine in every way. Everyone watching you. No one knowing you’re bare under there except me.”

I mean 👀

“You think you’re glowing now? Wait until you’re wearing my name, my ring, carrying my baby, and soaked for me on our wedding night.”

If she wasn't already pregnant, she definitely would be after the wedding night 🤭

“We’re getting married in front of my entire family.” “I’m your family and I’m gonna fuck you now,” he said simply as he rose.

🤭🤭🤭

“You’re gonna walk down that aisle,” he whispered, “and I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.” You kissed his jaw. “You better.”

I'm sure Peach would drag him there if he wouldn't 😅🤭

“You know what’ll help?” You sighed happily. “What?” “No panties.” “We’ll see.” He grinned against your temple. “No. We won’t. That’s the whole point.”

Ahahah he really wants this😂

🥹🥰🥹🥰

“He’s not exactly a prince.” “No,” she said softly, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “He’s better. He’s yours.” “You’ve always been sunlight, but with him? You shine. And that baby already knows how lucky they are.”

“You gonna cry?” you asked without turning around. “No,” Peach sniffled. “You’re gonna cry. And ruin your lashes. So don’t.”

Fair point

Your body was already beginning to shift, soft in places it hadn’t been months ago, glowing with the quiet strength of what you carried. And the dress wasn’t there to hide it. It was designed to honor it.

That's such a beautiful description!

Peach held up a tissue like a threat.

Only Peach can hold a tissue like a threat 😅

 “Don’t you dare. We’ve got twenty minutes. You cry now, and the stylist will have to reapply your entire face. And Steve’s already crying and pretending he’s not, so that’s my job for later.” You smiled. “He is?” “Oh, he’s wrecked. I caught him sneaking a look at Bucky, who’s pacing the beach like a caged panther. He’s muttering to himself and holding the rings like they’re gonna disappear.”

Aw that's so cute 🥹

Then you whispered to your reflection, “Let’s go get married.”

I love when people say this like a motivational mantra 🤗

Today, his hands were waiting to touch you, his future wife. And for the first time in years, he was nervous in a way that had nothing to do with power, and everything to do with love.

He is a true romantic

Fair

You had insisted on a first look. Said he couldn’t badger his way into seeing the dress ahead of time, but you’d give him this moment before the wedding.  Something private. Just for you two. And thank God for that, because Bucky already felt like he was going to drop to his knees.

“If you pass out, I’m not carrying you.”

Haha Steve 😅 and we all know he would carry Bucky

He shut his eyes for a second. Took a breath like it was his first in years. Then he turned. And the world fucking stopped. His voice cracked as he said your name. You stepped forward, nervous for only a second until you saw the look in his eyes. “Arăți ca pentru totdeauna. You look like forever,” he said hoarsely. He reached out, fingers brushing your waist like you were made of spun sugar, like you’d disappear if he held on too tightly. But you didn’t disappear.

So cute 🥰

“She’s coming,” Steve said under his breath as Peach walked toward him. “Try to stay upright..”

He really doesn't want to carry him 😅

Bucky swore the sun dimmed itself just to let you shine. He’d seen you earlier, kissed you, held you, but this was different. This was sacred.

🥹🥹🥹

Reaching the altar, Peach dabbed her eyes discreetly, and tucked in beside Steve. He reached for her hand. His grip trembled and he leaned close and whispered something only she could hear. She nodded, then pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

They are so cute and probably ecstatic for these two important people in their life 🥰

But Bucky couldn’t see them anymore. He saw only you. And you were looking right at him. Like there was no one else. No crowd. No ceremony. Just him.

That's how it should be 🥰

“Okay?” he mouthed. You nodded, eyes shining. “You?” His laugh was pure joy. “Not even a little.”

That's just so sweet 🥹

Too late. You were already reaching for him, grabbing his lapels and pulling him in like you couldn’t wait another second. The kiss was deep, sweet and improper. The crowd gasped. Peach hooted. Steve muttered “Jesus, you two,” and shook his head, but there was a grin on his face big enough to rival the ocean.

Haha of course Peach hooted 😂 and Steve is the one talking as if he and Peach are any better lol

“No panties. Just like you said. And shaved bare, too.” Bucky didn’t stumble, but he damn near did.

That's the moment he actually need Steve to catch him from hitting the floor 🤭

He’d kept himself in check all day. Ceremony, photos, dinner, the toast that Peach gave that wrecked you both, he’d kept it buttoned up. But now he was unhinged. It shocked him how much he wanted you.

Is he really shocked tho?

“You’ve been teasing me for days,” he said, breath hot against your neck. “All that talk about the dress. And what you’d wear underneath.” “You like?” you asked, breathless. Bucky smirked. “I love you bare. Shaved. Soaked for me. So gorgeous.” 

His favorite wedding present 🤭

“It’s not just how perfect you look. It’s everything. Your laugh. Your voice. The way you make me feel. The way you look at me.” “It gets me hard, Frumoasă. Really fucking hard. But that’s not why I love you. You’re kind. You’re sassy. You’re good. And you’re real.”

This is wholesome and horny at the same time

“Still with me, Mrs. Barnes?” “Always,” you whispered.

🥰🥰🥰

Later, he carried you to the bath, washing you gently, like something priceless. You curled between his thighs as warm water lapped at your skin, the scent of gardenia rising with the steam.

Because she truly is priceless to him 🥰

“You’re everything,” he whispered. “My love. My future. My family.” You turned in his arms, pressing your lips to his. “And you’re mine.”

🥰🥹🥰🥹

At Last

Make it So | Knock You Down Masterlist

Summary: Bucky makes you his wife. And you let him.

Word count: 4.8 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader; Steve Rogers x Peach

A/N: This fic is in the Knock You Down AU, and the wedding is finally here. It comes after the events of Make it So. This universe obviously intersects with the Peach verse, and would come after Show Off. It also will intersect with the Muse AU in the future of this story. Being on the couch for the past week is coming in clutch to catch Bucky and Steve up to Ari. I'm nervous because I haven't written for these two in a while and wanted to get the wedding just right. Please let me know how you feel by commenting, reblogging, and interacting. 😉

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Reader is 3 months pregnant. Anxiety attack, wedding stress, destination wedding, wedding dress shopping, sex in an established relationship, pregnant reader, Bucky is a simp and feral for Furmoaså, flirting, teasing, Bucky speaking google Romanian, praise so much praise, oral, (f receiving) more bathroom sex, bump worship, raw p-in-v, after care.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

The coffee table was buried in color swatches, RSVP mockups, half-emptied takeout containers, and a half-full glass of ginger ale you’d been too nauseous to finish.

You sat cross-legged on the floor in one of Bucky’s dress shirts, hair up in a messy bun, your phone in one hand and your planner in the other. 

You stared blankly at the spreadsheet open on your laptop screen, wondering how you’d gone from “just us, barefoot on a beach” to twelve-person string ensemble and a four-tier cake.

You didn’t even remember how it happened. Just that it was spiraling now. Too fast and too big.

The tightness in your chest was creeping up your throat. That shallow, dizzy feeling again, not hunger, not nausea. Just too much. Your vision blurred and your hands trembled as you shut the laptop.

And that’s how Bucky found you.

“Hey. What’s going on, Frumoasă?”

He was fresh out of the shower, his hair damp and curling. His chest was bare, sweatpants riding low on his hips. He was drying his hair as he stepped into the room, but when he saw your face he dropped the towel.

In two strides he was in front of you, crouched between your knees, warm hands cupping your cheeks.

“Baby,” he said softly, thumbs brushing away tears you hadn’t even noticed. 

“Breathe with me, okay? In…”

You inhaled shakily, eyes locked on his.

“Good girl. Now out…”

Your exhale caught, but you pushed through it.

“There you go,” he murmured, forehead pressed to yours. “Again.”

You followed his rhythm until the wave of panic ebbed, just enough to let your lungs expand again. You felt yourself calm just a little.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I’m trying to do everything right. I want it to be perfect. I want you to be proud. I want the baby to be okay, and I just…”

“Shhh,” he murmured. “Come here.”

He pulled you into his lap, your legs draped over his thighs as he settled back into the couch. His hand slid under the shirt you were wearing, his shirt resting warm and steady over the gentle swell of your belly.

“First of all,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple, “you already gave me perfect the day you said yes.”

“And second… proud doesn’t even begin to cover it. I look at you every day and think, how the fuck did I get this lucky?”

You closed your eyes and let yourself sink into him, your forehead against his neck, your body melting against his chest. His other hand moved to your hair, fingers cording through the thickness gently.

“We can call off the whole thing right now and go to city hall in whatever we’re wearing,” he whispered, “and it’ll still be the best day of my life. I swear to God.”

You let out a broken laugh. 

“You’d marry me in sweatpants?”

“In a heartbeat. With mustard on my shirt and the courthouse AC broken. Don’t care.” 

His lips grazing yours.

“You’re not doing this alone. I’m here, Baby. For all of it.”

You nodded slowly, sniffling into his neck.

He pulled back just enough to look at you.

“Now, what do you need? A nap? A foot rub? For me to throw this whole planner into the ocean?”

You laughed again, watery and real. 

“Honestly? All three.”

“Done.”

And just like that, the storm passed.

Not because the stress was gone, but because Bucky Barnes knew how to hold you steady when it hit.

—---

It was past eleven the next day when Peach arrived, holding a pint of salted caramel gelato.

“Tell me you’re not still doom-scrolling BridalTok.”

You didn’t answer. The open Pinterest tabs on your laptop, the silk robe you hadn’t changed out of since breakfast, and the vanilla candle you’d lit twice today were damning enough.

Peach kicked off her sandals and padded inside.

“You’re glowing, by the way,” she said, settling on the couch beside you. 

“Even if you’re panicking. Still glowing. Like, annoying-level glowing.”

You groaned and pulled the throw blanket over your face. 

“I don’t feel glowing. I feel deranged. I cried over a centerpiece. A fucking centerpiece, Peach. Bucky had to talk me down like he was disarming a nuke.”

Peach laughed, flopping over until her cheek was resting on your shoulder. 

“Sounds like he passed the test.”

You peeked at her from under the blanket.

“What test?”

“The one that actually matters. You already knew the sex was good. You already had the chemistry, the intellectualism, the obsession. But the way he holds you through this? The hormones, the wedding spreadsheet meltdowns?”

She grinned.

“That’s the forever part.”

Your throat tightened a little.

You sat up slowly, tugging your knees to your chest. 

“Was it like that for you and Steve? When you knew?”

Peach went quiet, her teasing softened by memory.

“I knew the second I saw him in Hilton Head. I wanted to strangle him. And kiss him. And break every plate in the house.”

You smiled. “Sounds romantic.”

“It wasn’t. Not then. But when I saw him again in Brooklyn, and I wasn’t mad anymore. Just wrecked and happy to see him? That’s when I knew.”

She turned to you, all mischief gone.

“But this wedding? This is you. Big, golden, joyful you. And Bucky sees it. He wants it. Not because it’s shiny, but because it’s yours.”

You blinked hard, breathing shallow now for entirely different reasons. Peach nudged you with her foot. 

“If you still want simple, you can have it. But don’t hide from what you want because it scares you. If it’s fireworks and a string quartet on an island with your belly full of baby Barnes? Then bitch, do it.”

You wiped your eyes. “I love you.”

She grinned. “Obviously.”

She stood and stretched dramatically. 

“Now. Are we crying into this gelato like the emotionally unstable icons we are?”

You grabbed two spoons.

“Of course.”

—

The boutique was a quiet sanctuary tucked between two noisy cafes in SoHo, and for a few hours, it belonged to just the three of you. 

A sign in the window read Private Appointment – Bride Inside, scrawled in looping script, and Peach had immediately posed in front of it for a photo.

Inside, soft jazz filtered through the air as you stood on the pedestal, hem floating just above your bare feet, silk and tulle whispering around your thighs.

You tried not to cry.

Your mom sat on the velvet settee, hand pressed to her lips. Peach held the other, and even she was misty-eyed, despite teasing you the whole drive over about being “the chill bride, remember?”

“You look like a goddess,” she whispered. “A divine entity. They should retire white after this.”

The gown had been a long shot,  a last-minute sample pulled out of storage by a determined assistant who said, “I just have a feeling.” 

And somehow, it was everything.

Soft and stunning, romantic without being fussy. Ivory silk with a gentle shimmer, delicate cap sleeves that slipped off your shoulders just enough, and a deep V-back that draped like liquid. The front skimmed over your three-month bump, subtle enough to feel like a secret only Bucky would notice up close.

The veil was still in its packaging. You hadn’t decided on it yet. But when the assistant gently pinned a cluster of pale blossoms behind your ear, you suddenly saw the whole picture.

A villa. The sea. Golden hour.

And Bucky.

Your mom finally stood and crossed the room to cup your face like she had when you were small.

“He’s going to lose his mind,” she murmured. “Not that he isn’t already crazy about you.”

You laughed, thick with emotion.

“I don’t even know how to walk in this.”

“We’ll practice,” Peach grinned. “We’ll make a TikTok. Bucky’ll cry watching that.”

The fitting ended with a rush of photos, none of which you sent to Bucky. You’d barely stepped out of the dress when your phone buzzed.

Bucky: How’s it going? Are you still in the dress? What if I promised not to blink. Just a peek.

You: Absolutely not.

Bucky: I’ll bring dumplings. One glimpse for every sauce container.

You: Stop trying to bribe my honor.

Bucky: Your honor already said yes to marrying me. Let me worship you. …I’ll throw in a foot rub.

Peach leaned over your shoulder and read the thread, grinning.

“You know he’s parked outside, right?”

You turned toward the window and there he was, in his sportscar, sunglasses on, and pretending to be normal. He was parked illegally and completely unrepentant.

Your cheeks flushed.

“Oh my God.”

Peach cackled.

“Already in full simp-mode.”

—---

Bucky couldn’t stop imagining you in that dress.

He hadn’t even seen it, just chased the outline in his head, by the way your voice caught when you described how it shimmered, and by the way your hands had brushed your own hips when you whispered, “It just floats, Bucky. Like a dream.”

Well, now he was the one dreaming. Hard.

You’d spent the afternoon at your final fitting with your mom and Peach. He’d tried to bribe someone, anyone, to get a peek.

The designer, the assistant, the poor delivery driver who’d dropped off the steaming food Peach ordered from a fancy Thai place. But no one cracked.

So now he was pacing the penthouse while you did your hair in the ensuite, wearing one of his old tees and nothing else. The same legs that would walk toward him in that dress next week were currently propped up on the vanity, lotion glinting on your thighs like an oasis illusion.

He was losing it.

“You’re quiet,” you called, not looking up. “That’s dangerous.”

“I’m picturing you in white,” Bucky said, appearing in the doorway.

His eyes were starving.

You smirked at him in the mirror.

“That bad?”

“No,” he said, stepping closer.

“That good. Too good.”

He leaned down, mouth brushing your neck, hands sliding up the backs of your thighs. 

“I can’t stop thinking about how you’ll look. But even more? About what’ll be underneath.”

You raised a brow.

“You won’t be seeing that during the ceremony.”

Bucky raised himself to full height.

“No panties next week.”

You laughed. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, one hand gliding down to cup between your thighs. 

“None. I want to be thinking about this sweet little pussy while you walk down the aisle. About how soaked you’ll be by the time I say I do.”

You gasped as he dragged his nose along your neck.

"Vei fi atât de frumoasă..."

“I thought you said you didn’t want to jinx anything,” you whispered, teasing. 

“I don’t,” he murmured, lifting you up onto the counter with ease. “I just want what’s under the dress.”

His hands were hot on your thighs, spreading them open as his mouth found your neck, his voice wrecked with want.

“Just picture it, baby. You walk down that aisle, glowing, mine in every way. Everyone watching you. No one knowing you’re bare under there except me.”

You moaned softly, head tipping back as he kissed just beneath your jaw.

“You’ll say your vows, let me put that ring on your finger, and I’ll be standing there thinking about how my cum’s gonna leaking out of you that night.”

“James…”

“That’s right, mama,” he smiled into your neck, while slipping two fingers under your shirt to roll your nipple between his fingers.

His other hand was between your legs, thumb dragging a slow, teasing circle.

“You’re soaked,” he growled, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“This all for me, Baby?”

You nodded, dizzy.

“Been thinking about you all day.”

“Yeah?” His fingers dipped lower, spreading slick heat. “You ache, sweetheart? Want me to fix it?”

Your hips rocked into his palm, desperate and needy.

He chuckled.

“I’ll take care of it.”

Bucky sank to his knees.

He lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, his hands gripping your hips, spreading you open with no shame. His mouth hovered over you, hot breath ghosting across sensitive skin.

And then he devoured you, his tongue firm and greedy, lips wrapping around your clit and his groan vibrating straight into your core. You cried out, fingers clutching the edge of the counter, spine arching as you came, so sensitive with pregnancy.

“You think you’re glowing now? Wait until you’re wearing my name, my ring, carrying my baby, and soaked for me on our wedding night.”

You whimpered, thighs rubbing together for friction. Bucky smirked, cock hard against your back, his lips brushing your ear.

“No panties,” he repeated, voice wrecked. “That’s final.”

As if he wouldn’t let you do anything and everything you wanted. He was grasping at straws, desperate.

You shivered.

“We’re getting married in front of my entire family.”

“I’m your family and I’m gonna fuck you now,” he said simply as he rose.

“Right here.”

You were already nodding when he turned you around and bent you over the counter, dragging your panties down and pushing your thighs apart. He didn’t bother teasing this time, just slid in deep and slow, your walls fluttering around him as he groaned your name like a prayer.

“God, you feel like heaven.”

One arm locked around your waist, hand splayed over your belly. The other cupped your breast through the shirt, thumb brushing your nipple. His thrusts were rougher now, driven by something raw.

“You gonna come again for me?” he growled into your neck.

“Come on, sweetheart. Give it to me.”

You shattered with his name on your lips.

And he followed with a broken moan, spilling inside you with a possessive groan, his body curling protectively over yours as he kissed the sweat-slicked skin at the back of your neck.

“You’re gonna walk down that aisle,” he whispered, “and I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

You kissed his jaw. “You better.”

“You know what’ll help?”

You sighed happily. “What?”

“No panties.”

You laughed and buried your face in his chest.

“We’ll see.”

He grinned against your temple.

“No. We won’t. That’s the whole point.”

—---

The bridal suite smelled like pressed linen, sea air, and gardenia. You’d dreamt about this as a child.

But nothing about this was childish.

The silk under your fingers was real. The gold initials stitched in your train were real. The diamond on your hand caught every beam of sunlight through the balcony doors.

And Bucky Barnes was real.

You stood barefoot before the full-length mirror, the final zip of your gown still undone, your hair swept up in curls, a halo of pins and fresh petals glinting beneath your veil.

Peach was in the hallway chasing down earrings. The stylist was packing up brushes. And your mom stood behind you, hands gentle on your shoulders, looking at your reflection in the mirror.

“My beautiful girl,” she whispered.

You turned to look at her.

There were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling.

“You used to twirl around the living room with a pillowcase on your head and say, Mama, one day I’m gonna marry a prince.”

You laughed, already crying.

“He’s not exactly a prince.”

“No,” she said softly, brushing a lock of hair from your face.

“He’s better. He’s yours.”

That hit deeper than expected.

“You’re brave, you know,” she added.

“Not just because you’re marrying him. But because you’re letting yourself have this. Love, joy, your dream. You’re not shrinking for anyone.”

You swallowed hard.

“He loves you so much,” she continued.

“You’ve always been sunlight, but with him? You shine. And that baby already knows how lucky they are.”

You rested your hands over the small swell of your belly, blinking fast.

She stepped closer, adjusted a strand of hair, and kissed your temple.

“Take a deep breath, baby. This is the start of the rest of everything.”

Peach was showed up behind you in a sage-green slip dress, grinning like she had a secret.

“You gonna cry?” you asked without turning around.

“No,” Peach sniffled.

“You’re gonna cry. And ruin your lashes. So don’t.”

You huffed a soft laugh.

“Help me with the back?”

She stepped up behind you, fingers gentle as she zipped the dress slowly, smoothing it with a reverent touch.

“Holy shit,” she breathed.

You finally looked at yourself.

Your body was already beginning to shift, soft in places it hadn’t been months ago, glowing with the quiet strength of what you carried. And the dress wasn’t there to hide it. It was designed to honor it.

A deep neckline, silk that draped like water over your hips, the faintest shimmer that caught the light every time you moved.

Your hand found your belly, still barely visible. But you felt it. Bucky’s child. Yours.

“You’re not just a bride,” Peach said softly behind you. “You’re a monument.”

You turned, blinking back tears.

Peach held up a tissue like a threat. 

“Don’t you dare. We’ve got twenty minutes. You cry now, and the stylist will have to reapply your entire face. And Steve’s already crying and pretending he’s not, so that’s my job for later.”

You smiled. “He is?”

“Oh, he’s wrecked. I caught him sneaking a look at Bucky, who’s pacing the beach like a caged panther. He’s muttering to himself and holding the rings like they’re gonna disappear.”

Your stomach fluttered with nerves, joy, and a little nausea.

Peach stepped forward and took your hands.

“You ready?”

You nodded. “I think so.”

“Good. Because this wedding? It’s not about proving anything. Not to family. Not to guests. Not even to yourselves. It’s just the loudest, brightest way to say what you already know.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“That he’s mine.”

Peach nodded.

“And you’re his. For good.”

You took one last look in the mirror, breathed in deep, and exhaled slowly.

Then you whispered to your reflection, “Let’s go get married.”

—--

Bucky’s palms were sweating.

Which was absurd, given what his hands had done in past lives. They done some dangerous things and they had been steady. Always. 

But not today.

Today, his hands were waiting to touch you, his future wife. And for the first time in years, he was nervous in a way that had nothing to do with power, and everything to do with love.

He stood at the edge of a terraced garden that sloped down toward the sea, the salt air heavy with hibiscus and lavender. The villa behind him had hosted billionaires and heads of state, but none of them mattered.

The only thing that mattered was the sound of soft footsteps behind him.

He adjusted the cuff of his navy linen jacket, one of three that had been custom-made for this day. Steve had rolled his eyes earlier, muttering something about Bucky becoming a goddamn peacock in his old age.

But then again, Steve hadn’t seen you yet.

You had insisted on a first look. Said he couldn’t badger his way into seeing the dress ahead of time, but you’d give him this moment before the wedding. 

Something private. Just for you two.

And thank God for that, because Bucky already felt like he was going to drop to his knees.

“Buck,” came Steve’s voice from behind him, sarcastic.

“If you pass out, I’m not carrying you.”

Bucky cracked a shaky grin but didn’t turn around. Not yet.

He heard your laugh before your voice. The sound of Peach’s heels clicking nearer. 

And then…“James.”

He shut his eyes for a second. Took a breath like it was his first in years. Then he turned. And the world fucking stopped.

You stood in the garden light, hair swept up, veil fluttering slightly in the sea breeze, and the gown…Jesus.

Bucky couldn’t breathe.

You looked like a dream he was afraid to wake from. The silk clung in all the right places and glowed against your skin, soft and strong and completely you.

His eyes dropped to your hand and the ring he gave you glittering in the afternoon light, and then lower, to the barely-there swell of your belly, where his child grew.

His voice cracked as he said your name.

You stepped forward, nervous for only a second until you saw the look in his eyes.

He was ruined.

Bucky’s throat worked as he blinked hard.

“You look…”

“Yeah?” you teased, suddenly shy.

“Arăți ca pentru totdeauna. You look like forever,” he said hoarsely.

He reached out, fingers brushing your waist like you were made of spun sugar, like you’d disappear if he held on too tightly. But you didn’t disappear.

You stepped right into his arms, melted into him, and he kissed your temple carefully.

“I love you,” you whispered into his neck.

His voice was raw. “I love you more.”

You pulled back to look at him, hands resting lightly over the lapels of his jacket. 

“Still nervous?”

He shook his head.

“Not anymore.”

—---

The ceremony was held at golden hour on a bluff overlooking the Aegean. The aisle curved through native sea grass and white stone, petals scattered with the ocean spread wide behind the altar.

Bucky waited, heart racing, jaw tight, in the very center of it all.

Steve stood at his side, a rare look of reverence on his face. The man had been his right hand through everything it took to build an empire. But nothing had ever made Steve sniff back emotion like this.

“She’s coming,” Steve said under his breath as Peach walked toward him. “Try to stay upright..”

Bucky didn’t reply.

And then he saw you and everything went still.

You stepped into view, arm tucked gently through your stepfather’s, veil floating behind you, dress glowing like it had been dipped in starlight.

Bucky swore the sun dimmed itself just to let you shine.

He’d seen you earlier, kissed you, held you, but this was different.

This was sacred.

Reaching the altar, Peach dabbed her eyes discreetly, and tucked in beside Steve. He reached for her hand. His grip trembled and he leaned close and whispered something only she could hear. She nodded, then pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

But Bucky couldn’t see them anymore.

He saw only you.

And you were looking right at him. Like there was no one else. No crowd. No ceremony. Just him.

He pressed two fingers to his lips, then to his heart.

You felt it. A vow without words.

Your stepfather leaned in and whispered, “He loves you, baby girl,” before placing your hand into Bucky’s.

The officiant spoke, but neither of you heard a thing.

“Okay?” he mouthed.

You nodded, eyes shining. “You?”

His laugh was pure joy.

“Not even a little.”

The ceremony passed in a blur of gold and sea wind and reverent silence. There were a few readings, a pointed look from Peach when the phrase “in passion and peace,” was spoken, and Steve chuckled under his breath.

Bucky barely registered it.

He watched your lips shape the words “I choose you,” like they’d been written into his skin.

And when it was his turn, his voice cracked.

N-am crezut niciodată că merit așa ceva, dar jur pe Dumnezeu că voi petrece fiecare zi demonstrând că merit.

“I never thought I’d deserve something like this,” he said, eyes fixed on yours. “But I swear to God, I’ll spend every day proving I do.”

The officiant smiled.

“I now pronounce you…”

Too late.

You were already reaching for him, grabbing his lapels and pulling him in like you couldn’t wait another second.

The kiss was deep, sweet and improper.

The crowd gasped. Peach hooted. Steve muttered “Jesus, you two,” and shook his head, but there was a grin on his face big enough to rival the ocean.

You and Bucky walked back down the aisle hand in hand, both of you beaming, radiant with something wild and holy.

He leaned close as the cheers swelled behind you, eyes flicking down your body. 

You bit your lip and winked at your new husband as you leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“No panties. Just like you said. And shaved bare, too.”

Bucky didn’t stumble, but he damn near did.

You kept walking, serene and glowing beside him, your veil floating like a flame in the breeze.

Bucky was wrecked.

And the happiest he’d ever been in his life.

—-

The villa was quiet when you arrived and bathed in candlelight, the ocean’s rhythm a soft pulse through the windows. Someone had come in ahead of you; peonies floated in the clawfoot tub, and bottles of water chilled beside a tray of honey-dipped figs and dark chocolate.

But you didn’t notice any of it right away.

You noticed Bucky.

He kicked the door shut behind him, jacket already off, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, his gaze raking over you like he was starved.

He’d kept himself in check all day. 

Ceremony, photos, dinner, the toast that Peach gave that wrecked you both, he’d kept it buttoned up.

But now he was unhinged. It shocked him how much he wanted you.

“Come here,” he said, voice raw.

You turned slowly, silk rustling as you moved toward him like a dream he’d been chasing his whole life. And when you were close enough to touch, he did.

His hands found your waist and then lower, gathering your gown in his fists, dragging the fabric up inch by inch until the whole thing slipped off your body and pooled at your feet.

And Christ.

There you were.

“Fuck,” he whispered against your mouth. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, sweetheart. Look at you. Mine.”

His lips dragged over your collarbone as he walked you backward toward the bed, relishing the fact that you were bare under his hands. He groaned as his palms found your breasts, thumbs grazing over sensitive nipples.

“You’ve been teasing me for days,” he said, breath hot against your neck. “All that talk about the dress. And what you’d wear underneath.”

“You like?” you asked, breathless.

Bucky smirked.

“I love you bare. Shaved. Soaked for me. So gorgeous.” 

He sank to his knees in front of you, pressing a kiss to the gentle swell of your belly. His hands were splayed over your hips, grounding himself.

“But it’s not just this,” he murmured, voice thick.

“It’s not just how perfect you look. It’s everything. Your laugh. Your voice. The way you make me feel. The way you look at me.”

You were already shaking under his praise, thighs trembling, breath catching. His tongue dipped into your navel and swirled, making goosebumps peak.

“It gets me hard, Frumoasă. Really fucking hard. But that’s not why I love you. You’re kind. You’re sassy. You’re good. And you’re real.”

You whimpered, hips twitching.

“To find someone gorgeous, sweet, smart, hilarious, and mine? That shit’s not real. It’s not. But you are.”

His mouth moved lower, and you barely had time to moan before his tongue slid through your folds, filthy and slow. He groaned like a man who’d been craving this all night, gripping your hips and dragging you closer.

You cried out, one leg lifting automatically over his shoulder, and he buried his mouth deeper. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging hard. But he didn’t stop. Not until you shattered against his tongue, sobbing his name, your body convulsing from the force of it.

Only then did he rise, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stared you down.

“You’re already wrecked,” he rasped. “And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

He undressed without looking away. Shirt, belt, trousers, all gone in seconds. His cock was already hard, thick and heavy, flushed dark and wet.

And when he crawled over you, he took a beat to just look at you.

“Still with me, Mrs. Barnes?”

“Always,” you whispered.

And then he sank into you, slowly, inch by agonizingly thick inch, stretching you around him until he was seated to the hilt and barely breathing.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, forehead pressed to yours, eyes shut like he was in pain.

“You feel like…fuck, you feel like coming home.”

You whimpered, your hips rolling to meet him. He started to move, deeper with each thrust, building a rhythm that made the headboard knock the wall and your name fall from his lips like he didn’t know how to stop saying it.

He kissed your breasts, your neck, your mouth, his hand slipping between you to trace soft circles over your clit. But what wrecked him, what destroyed him, was when his hand slid to your belly again.

Right over where your baby was growing.

“We made something,” he choked out, voice breaking. “Right here. Inside you.”

“You made me yours,” you whispered.

“I always will.”

You came again, sobbing his name, your walls fluttering around him. And Bucky followed with a groan, burying himself deep inside you as he spilled, clutching you tight, and shaking from the force of it.

Later, he carried you to the bath, washing you gently, like something priceless. 

You curled between his thighs as warm water lapped at your skin, the scent of gardenia rising with the steam.

He kissed your shoulder and the back of your hand.

“You’re everything,” he whispered.

“My love. My future. My family.”

You turned in his arms, pressing your lips to his.

“And you’re mine.”

——-

Well? Whaddya think? 🤔

[sexyandcringe]

As much as you love to spend time with Suna Rintarou, you hate asking for it.

And as much as you hate asking for it, you still catch yourself tapping on his name, texting him to let him know you are free for the day because your friends ditched you.

Y/N: Yo, my girls went to war and left me alone and broken (they ditched me), wanna bangout?

Y/N: I meANT HANGOUT***

Y/N: We can bang too, though. Later.

It takes him around 10 minutes to reply, just as you’re about to hop in the shower.

Rin: Sure, let’s do that

Rin: When are you coming?

Y/N: I’ll take a quick shower and i’ll be over?

Rin: Bet. Text me when you done.

You leave a thumbs up reaction and head into the shower, already excited by the idea of meeting up with Rintarou.

It’s been a year now — this messy, no-strings, fwb thing you’ve got going; And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like him, but these kind of things never end well for you, so you keep it casual, hit him up when you need some company (or a good fuck). it’s not like you don’t have a life; you’ve got your friends, your books to read, a job to do. You’re good on your own. 

You know Rintarou is not one for anything serious, but he is a good guy overall. He doesn’t just reduce you to a fuck-buddy, he sees you as a friend and cares for you, like friends do, but that’s all you’ll ever be to him. A friend and a good fuck.

That doesn’t stop you from parking in front of his building, walking up to the third floor stairs because his lift is always fucking broken, and knocking on his door with a wide smile and a basket full of snacks.

“Hey loser,” you greet, holding up the basket, "Got you some snacks.” 

His face remains stoic, unimpressed as he stares at you, “Fruits are not snacks, Y/N.”

Your only reply is pushing him aside and stepping inside, putting the basket on his kitchen table like you own the place. Suna Rintarou may be a professional athlete, but you really have to put up a fight with him for him to eat some fruits, and this is one of your battle tactics.

“I climbed, like, a thousand stairs. gimme some water.” you demand, flopping down in a chair around the table,  playing with the little cat statue in the middle of it. The one you got him when you were in Milan — black and white, scowling with a tiny green collar. It looks just like him and you still think it’s one of the cutest gifts you got him.

He scoffs but heads to the fridge anyway, grabbing a bottle and pouring it into your heart-shaped glass. the one you made him swear not to let anyone else touch. it was your heart-shaped glass that you bought for yourself, and since Rintarou’s apartment is like a second home to you, leaving it here was just as natural as breathing. 

“Am i your slave now?” he grumbles, setting the glass in front of you.

You grin, “You love being my slave.” 

Rintarou swears he is going to wipe that stupid grin off your face soon. Tonight.

There is always something to talk about when you are with him.

The latest drama about his new manager, your neighbour who you are 100% sure is growing weed in their backyard, your coworker who might actually be satan in disguise; and when you run out of shit to say, you end up watching anime together, stealing each other’s snacks in-between kisses. All normal, absolutely nothing weird about kissing your homies on the lips, you tell yourself, especially if said homie is a complete hot mess of an athlete with the body of a Greek god and the most annoyingly perfect hands you’ve ever seen.

So every time you hang out with Rintarou, you end up with your limbs tangled with his, sharing heavy breaths at the rhythm of his heartbeat, and while you feel so full of him in those moments, he always leaves a hole bigger than before in the depth of your soul.

You’ve lost count of how many guys dumped your miserable ass with some variation of “you talk about suna too much”. Like you could just turn your heart off for him on command.

Not that any of them gave a shit about you either — most of them just wanted a warm body for the night, which, honestly, is probably all you’re good for.

Sometimes you wonder if Rin also sees you just as a piece of meat.

Maybe he’s just really good at acting like a friend.

You tell your friends that it’s just physical and there’s no way you’d fall for someone like him, but you can’t tell them that the idea of him seeing you just as a good fuck and nothing more hurts you more than it should do.

“i’m going to italy in a few weeks,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed next to your half-asleep body, a strawberry lollipop lazily tucked between his lips.

You remove your sheets and sit up slowly before replying: “Okay.”

It’s going to be okay. It’s not the first time he’s gone out of the country, and he always comes back to you, be it in a month or two. You’ve done it before, you can do it this time too. It’s not a big-

“I don’t know when i’ll be back.”

Silence.

Usually, you’re good at hiding your feelings from him, keeping them caged under your throat, unspoken truths that you gulp down like heavy crumbs, but today you are doing a terrible job at that.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” It slips out a little too rough for your liking, a little too desperate.

“I got a sponsorship for an italian team and I want to see where this takes me. If it doesn’t work out in Italy I may shift to Spain or Sweden like Kageyama. I don’t think I’ll be back for a while.” He quickly glances at you, as if scared to meet your eyes. fucking coward.

You sit in silence, letting his words sink, letting the emotions stabilize and settle down for once.

You nod, “I see, i get it.”

You don’t. You don’t get it at all, any of it, but you can’t let him see you this weak.

You pick up your things, from the underwear thrown across the room to the toothbrush you left in his bathroom. You kiss him one last time, a simple peck on the lips - soft, quick, nothing like you want it to be, but you hope it will leave his lips burning, and you wave him goodbye, trying your best not to look at the broken expression he’s giving you. You can’t.

Driving back to your house feels sour and empty and when you open the door to your room the first thing you see is a small polaroid on your nightstand, a picture of Rin lying in the grass, smiling wide, while Luffy, his corgi, lays atop of him, snuggling his nose in it’s owner’s neck, and then there’s you, a blur of hands and open mouth at the edge of the frame because you couldn’t make it in the picture. Yet, it was one of the prettiest pictures you’ve ever taken of Rintarou.

You stare at it long enough to feel your heart cracking bit by bit.

And you break.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

[radiohao]

yushi swears he has an “obvious” crush on you, but you're in major denial

pairings: tokuno yushi x f!reader

genre: fluff, crack, uni!au, soccerplayer!yushi, bulletpoint fic, oblivious!yn, ft. ive rei, sion, riku, friends-to-lovers

warnings: REDO OF THIS FIC, mentions of reader getting sick, one joke abt kidnapping, a mention of a broken wrist but it's not in detail, mentions of getting drunk, not proofread

wc: 2.7k

—

lately, you've been developing an unHEALTHY obsession with the new transfer student, tokuno yushi

he's in your econ class and came in from japan last semester

you still remember him walking in with a gray sweater, dark washed jeans, and soft, tousled raven black hair

and of course you remember you two locking eyes

u swore you were hearing wedding bells imMEdiately

you looked away so fast your neck probably cracked a little

thank god you sat in the back of the room because then you can just stare at this god-given sPECimen every day for an hour

well... nOw he sits right next to you...

it was... an interesting story, to say the least

— flashback —

you're barely awake and class only begun five minutes ago

wHY did you let rei convince you to play roblox obbies with her at 3AM?? half the world is ASLEEP at that time

and now you're suffering the consequences because your eyelids feel like they weigh 10 pounds

you got an americano since you assumed it'd wake you up, but it's so bitter you can't take another sip without scrunching your face in disgust

u should've gotten a frappe instead

your professor clears her voice before speaking

"good morning everyone! with the new semester starting, i thought it'd be nice if we all compress so it's easier to hear. as you may know, i recently got a surgery done in my throat, therefore i can't speak at loud volumes as it strains it-"

you roll your eyes and softly groan at the announcement

oh lord PLEASE you do not want to be sat with some gUy-

"y/n, may you please sit up here at the front next to yushi? thank you."

wHAT??? oh nonono well now u regret ever thinking that because yushi is not just some GUY!!

you mumble curses as you grab your things and make your way to where yushi is sitting

when you get there, his bag is on the seat next to him, which u assUME is your seat

he looks at you just standing there stupidly and his eyes widen before he takes his bag

"oh, sorry." you wave him off and sit next to him

your professor moves some more people to the front before starting her lecture

ykw this is perfect!! you're in the front so u hear her better and won't... fall.... asleeeeeppp.......

your eyes are drooping and your head jerks forward

crap nO not now

you need to take a sip out of your americano- ZZZzZzZzZzZz

—

so you blacked out.

goddAMNIT

you're woken up when someone lightly squeezes your shoulder

"wake up y/n, lecture is over."

"augpghgnm five more minutes plEAse.."

"okay." oh really? okay period!! that usually doesn't work but hey you'll take it! and whoever this is has a cotton candy-like voice that easily puts you back to sleep again

five minutes pass by and your shoulder is being squeezed again

you FORCE your eyes open before you get drowsy again and once u make eye contact with "cotton candy voice" you nearly fall off your chair

tokuno yushi is sitting next to you with his hand on your shoulder

"i'm sorry, did i startle you?" he says softly

you're like ??? what what what

"no, you're good! thanks for giving me a couple extra minutes to sleep," you say with a laugh

he chuckles and shakes his head, saying "don't worry about it. you seemed tired anyway. i'm gonna head out now- oh, also, make sure to check your notebook."

yushi slings his bag over his shoulder and you just nod as he talks (you're losing focus because of how good he looks rn)

"'m yushi, by the way. see you." he waves goodbye and leaves the room

you open your notebook and see that he wrote down notes for you during the lecture

ur eyes are glued to a little note he put in the corner saying "sorry my handwriting sucks lol" and your first coherent thought is I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN

but then you're also like why did he do that in the first place???

he was probably just being nice since you looked so pathetically tired

yeah that's it

— flashback over —

safe to say you would do anything for tokuno yushi

he tells you to do his homework for him? you'd do it. he says to throw out all your clothes? everything is in the dump already. he asks you to jump off a cliff? you're already falling off the ledge.

well now you and yushi are friends.. sort of

you talk every class and text each other

and when you found out he was on the soccer team he asked you to come to his games, and ever since then you've been going to each one

but it's just that sometimes he does things that make your heart jump and your cheeks warm up

like that one time he gave you his jacket after class because it was raining, saying he "didn't want you to catch a cold"

or that other time when he came to your dorm after his game with snacks beause you said you weren't feeling well

you feel like you should believe that he likes you but it just seems too good to be true!!

and if you're being honest there's so many other girls that line up at his door every day, so it wouldn't make sense for him to choose you!!

this man is making you go clinically insane

and rei keeps telling you HE DOES LIKE U GIRL but ur just like no... i don't tHINk so...

you're torn because there are signs that maybe he does feel the same but when you think about his popularity and how much of a wanted bachelor he is, you feel your confidence start to crumble

maybe you should just give up on your man because there is NO WAY he likes you

—

yushi is going to rip his hair out of his head

WHY is it so difficult to ask a girl out?????

truth is, he's liked you since the day he saw you

it was like wedding bells were ringing in his head and he was like YEP this is the mother of my kids right here

the first time he tried to make a move on you was when you were asked to sit next to him

he silently pumped his fist under the table like Y E S this is my chance

and he thought u looked so pretty while sleeping

yushi secretly moved some of your hair behind your ear because he could see it was bothering you, but he didn't tell you as to not sound creepy

and he's pretty proud of his status with you now, but he really wishes you'd just call him out for all the moves he's made on you because he's SHY

he tried to ask you out two (2) times already!!

the first time when you walked out of the lecture hall together and it started POURING

he lended you his hoodie and he was about to confess but it just so happened that rei called you

"y/n, i have something to tell you."

"what is it?" RRRRIIINGNGNG "oh, hold on. hello, rei? wHAt?! you broke your wrist??? oh my gOD- sorry, yushi i have to go.”

that's fine!!!! there's always next time!!!

the next time he tried asking you out was when you said you came down with a fever on the day of his game

horrible game by the way, he played so bad

(he never plays well when you're not there, yushi swears you're his good luck charm)

he bought all your favorite snacks and a plushie and went to your dorm after the game

you open the door wrapped in a blanket and he just wants to cuddle you-

who said that

"hi, ushi," you say with a croak to your voice, "what are you doing here?"

he smiles softly and holds up a bag

"i got you some snacks. thought you didn't eat yet."

you snicker, "how do you always know?"

"i just do."

you invite him inside and have a little chat

about an hour later, you and yushi are sat on opposite sides of the couch

yushi thinks it's now or never and takes a breath, "y/n, i have feelings for you."

hOOOOOOOnnKK SshhhOOOo

what the hell

he looks to the left and sees you snoring your ass off

and yes u look adorbs but REALLY?? he JUST mustered up the balls to confess and you're sleeping

he sighs.

yushi SWEARS his crush on you is obvious, i mean how is it not??? he lends you his stuff, listens to you talk for hours on end, talks to you more than he talks to his own teammates, and buys you small gifts all the time

LITERALLY EVERYONE KNOWS TOO

like the soccer team, the girls that like him, even his younger brother

he'll just have to give it another shot

third time's the charm, i guess

—

okay, yushi has officially devised a plan

well, technically it's his, riku, and sion's plan

basically what's going to happen is yushi invites you to the upcoming soccer game (to which you always go anyway), and when they win the game, he will offer a ride home to you and confess in the car with flowers and a plushie

sion suggested the car thing so there are no distractions and you can't run away ("that sounds like i'm going to kidnap her," yushi deadpans. "lovingly, of course!" sion exclaims)

riku suggested the flowers and plushie so it's less creepy

so actually this isn't yushi's plan at ALL but he will sAy it's his plan anyway because he's the one confessing!!!

alright, game time. (literally)

—

you walk into the lecture hall and sense bad juju

what's going on, you think. you don't like this!!

as you head to your seat, you notice yushi isn't there in the spot next to you

okay wow so you like him so much your body just knows when he's not there??? got it

but nOO :( he's not here!!!! who are u supposed to stare at now!??!?

you grumble a little as you sit down, but you spot a little post-it note on the chair.

huh, weird

taking it off, you read the writing scratched onto the note, with lettering you recognize all too well

'sorry, skipping class today to rest for tonight's game. it'd be great if u were there, like always. have rei drop u off bc i wanna eat out w/you after. c u :) - yewshee'

you laugh at the stupid spelling of his name

he wants to eat out after??? what do you WEAR????

—

it's almost time for the game and ur STRESSING

HWAT DO YOU WEAR OH MY GOD

you settled on a cute frilly blouse and some shorts

pretty but simple (like yushi, you think)

rei drops you off (her wrist is mostly healed) and you find a seat in the middle of the stands

SMACK in the middle to be more specific

it's not rlly what you wanted but you don't mind because the front stands are full of families cheering on their sons and girls in the back cheering on their bfs

u totally don't wish that was you on the top of the stands haha

oop game is starting

you see yushi warming up and your heart swells

he looks SO good in his uniform because you can see his calves and biceps flexing

amen for soccer uniforms

—

yushi feels like he's going to crap his pants

he's already got the usual pre-game jitters, but it's even worse because he can't SEE you in the stands

where the hell are u???????

he's squinting like an idiot and riku laughs at him

"you look dumb as hell," he says

yushi smacks his back and riku winces in pain

just then he sees you, looking around

wow, you look really pretty

"she can't hear you, by the way." sion laughs

what

OH CRAP DID HE SAY THAT OUT LOUD

he groans and rolls his eyes in embarrassment

their coach tells them that the game is going to start soon

at least yushi knows he'll win now, since you're there

—

they won

is yushi surprised? not at all

he KNEW it from the moment he saw your face

now it's time for the next part of the plan: get you in his car

okay that doesn't sound weird at all

um but it's kind of hard trying to get you when there's a swarm of people around him congratulating him

PLEASE he just needs to get to his (soon-to-be) girl

he practically shoves everyone out of the way and heads to the parking lot

thank god you're already there, leaning against the hood of his car

"sorry, i was held back a bit," he starts

you smile and omg yushi thinks he's gonna faint

"it's okay. but congrats!! you guys did so good, as always."

the two of you open the car and sit inside

"i'm excited! i didn't eat dinner yet since you said we'd be going out- hello why are you not starting the car" you say

"y/n, i have something to tell you." he says cautiously

your head tilts to the side and you gesture for him to continue

he pulls out the flowers and plushie from the backseat and you softly gasp

the bouquet is beautiful, full of your favorite flowers

yushi clears his throat and leans forward a bit

"i have feelings for you. i've liked you for around... 5 months now? but yeah, i thought i'd let you know. if you don't feel the same way, it's okay, we can just move past it. the last thing i want is for you to be uncomfortable, which is now making me realize that i probably shouldn't have done this in the car because it seems weird-"

he's basically rambling at this point but he doesn't cARE he just needs to get it all out before he bails out on himself

"you... like... me??" you question

yushi nods with a small smile on his face

"are you sure? i mean, like, why me?"

"i just feel so comfortable and safe around you. i love how independant, thoughtful and selfless you are, and how you always appreciate the small things in life. i love how genuine you are, because it never makes me feel like i'm being judged or lied to- it just feels real. you always think about others before yourself, and that makes me want to be the person to take care of you."

wow you did not expect that

yushi just kinda stares at u because he didn't expect to say that himself either

haha that's so sweet of him,,, oh god,,,,, this is a LOT to take in

why do you feel lightheaded and why is your vision going black

um what's happeni-

—

so you passed out

maybe it was the shock or the mental stress of the situation but you BLACKED OUT

you wake up to yushi fanning you with some random papers from his backpack that he hurriedly took out

he even has a hand on your wrist to check if you still have a pulse lmao

he freaked OUT when he saw all the color drain from your face

"hey- you okay?" he asks worriedly

you chuckle weakly and sit up, brushing the hair out of ur face

"yeah, sorry i just- i guess i was just surprised."

"did you want me to take you home? or to urgent care?"

"nO- i'm good, i swear, yushi. i just- it was a lot to take in. i didn't think someone like you would like someone like me, but i shouldn't have doubted you. i feel the same way. that was really sweet of you- this whole confession was, to be honest. i don't mind you being the one to take care of me. i want that, actually. i want that with you."

you two are just staring at each other like haha what do we do now

yushi leans forward even more and cups your cheek with his palm gently

"can i kiss you?"

GOD and he asks for consent, how perfect can he get??

"of course."

he presses his lips against yours and they mold together so perfectly it's like he was made to kiss you

when he pulls away you just look at each other fondly

"oh, and y/n?"

"hm?"

"please don't pass out on me like that again, i almost got a heart attack."

you laugh and rub the back of his hand softly

"no promises."

— bonus —

at the diner, you facetime rei and tell her the news

"GOD, FINALLY!!! i nEVer thought this day would come — thank you for having the balls to ask her out, yushi-" she's squealing so much on the other side of the phone she literally starts lagging

riku and sion just laugh at her reaction

"you know," sion starts, "yushi got drunk once and was ranting about you-"

"oh my GOD i remember that!! he was like 'y/n, i looooveeee youuuu...' i think i have a video, actually-" riku adds

"god, please don't." your bf says, massaging his temples

you laugh

he's so cute

—

author's note: hiii!! i loved this banner so much i thought it deserved a better fic to go with it haha so here we go :) have a good day/night everyone!

[woozisprincess]

Seventeen's reaction to you wanting to run through the entire group

You want to run through the Seventeen members like you're on the track team.

Seventeen x Fem Reader

Super suggestive, entirely talk about sex, Soonyoung wants a threesome, they are all dtf, it's the same scenario but if each member were the first to find out, reader gets called a slut (lovingly), unedited bs

Seungcheol

"Really?" He looks at you with a raised brow. Not what he was expecting when he asked if you had a crush on any of them. Was hoping you'd say him, but he supposes this can work in his favor. He leaned close to you, grabbing by the waist. "Well, you could always start with me." And if he got his way, you won't even think about the others once he's done. You thought a night with the leader was a great way to kick off your excursions.

Jeonghan

All of them? Not that he was judging. Just sounded like a lot of effort. Also Cheol's really possessive, the maknae doesn't like to share either, and Soonyoung is such a brag. So many things to consider, and work around. Sounds like more effort than it's worth. But then again... Sense you're offering. "I don't know about those other guys, but I can promise you won't regret a night with me."

Shua

Well that's... Not information that he asked for, but go off. "Whatever makes you happy, sweetheart." Dumb response. What does that even mean? Truthfully, out of everyone you did not mean to tell Joshua. Sweet, gentle Joshua. You apologize for your poor manners. Joshua thought for a moment. "Well I'm not exactly a perfect gentleman all the time." He smiled at you. Sum bout' how he said it. Did that mean what you thought it meant?

Junhui

"Damn, girl!" The reaction was automatic. "Like the whole team!?" You confirmed. After the initial shock Jun actually could not care less, just another thing about you that he probably shouldn't know, but you told him regardless. "Well... Shit," he muttered, "let me know when it's my turn." He might not care all that much, but he's not fucking stupid. If a bad bitch wants him, a bad bitch wants him.

Soonyoung

"Oh bet!? Can I go first!?" That's it. He jumps at the opportunity laid out before him, does not give a fuck that his band mates also take up space in your mind. Was actually weirdly into the fact that you wanted them all. Would you have two of them at once? That'd be so hot. Is giddy when you agreed to let him go first as long as he bought you dinner first. Told the whole group he hit. However, was a real one and did not tell them that they were potentially next.

Wonu

Oh? Okay then? You didn't even say it directly, but from how you were literally growling when talking about each member during the performance? Yeah you wanted that cookie, you wanted the whole fucking box of cookies. The bakers dozen, if you will. "Someone's libido is fucked." He mentioned, casually. You went flush after realizing how fucking feral you were acting. "Hey, you want what you want. I want you too, if that makes you feel any better." It did. It made you feel a lot better.

Jihoon

Could you even do that? Like that's a lot of dudes. Your body would need breaks, surely. He had no clue why he was focusing on the logistics so much, but he knew proper protection was a must. "Make sure they all wear condoms, don't get distracted." Solid piece of advice, but not the response you were expecting. Jihoon then showed you that he was ready for you anywhere and anytime by opening a random drawer in his studio, revealing a box of condoms. Extra large. Oh my god. You 100% put those condoms to use.

Dokyeom

"Sorry? What? Sorry?" He short circuited. You patted his shoulder and apologized. "Nononononono." You shouldn't apologize, it's your body! Oh, for freaking him out? No he's not freaking out... He's a grown man, perfectly capable of listening to a beautiful woman's sexual desires, especially if he's a part of them. "I just-" he sputters. "Me too?" Yes? Oh. So nice of you. Very generous. "Thank you." Adorable. You couldn't wait to ravage him.

Mingyu

Big softie, immediately asked to take you out for dinner. You grin at the prospect of princess treatment. And boy was he generous. Most selfless lover you've ever had. And the date itself was magical, he pulled out all the romantic stops. Truly, that night you didn't just fuck, Kim Mingyu, you made love to him. Definitely happening again... After you make your rounds though. Mingyu completely forgot you wanted to fuck the team. Was chill about it though. Very happy you had plans to return to him.

Minghao

"What do you mean by that?" You looked at him like he was stupid, confirming his suspicions. Another one you didn't actually tell, it just slipped out. While watching them practice, you pointed out Jihoon and Hoshi, started singing that two bad bitches song. Then muttered 'actually, all these bad bitches.' Minghao's interest was piqued. Really, the last person you wanted to tell was Hao, he could be awful... Judgey. But he was surprisingly very open minded. You supposed it wasn't that out of character. "So is this like a mission, or a fantasy?" Mission? Cool. "I'm very in support of women taking control of their sexuality's." Aka, 'I'm down to fuck.'

Seungkwan

"Slut." Automatic. Not a single regret. To be fair, he was calling you that already. You couldn't argue with him either. This would be the sluttiest thing you've ever attempted. Seungkwan was so proud. "You know you're gonna have to amp it up if you wanna pull the whole team, right?" Told you what to wear for who, how to act around who. Made you a slide show full of info, though, he gave you no info on himself. But then he finished his lecture and said. "And about the sex part, can't be a good slut unless you've had some proper experience." His voice was low when he spoke. And you had complete faith that Boo Seungkwan could make the best slut.

Vernon

"baller." He meant that shit too. High-key a power move. He's sure you'd have them all whipped in no time. And some of them liked to fucking spend! Not only could you have dick whenever you wanted, and also multiple lovers for different moods, but dinner dates, lunch dates, cuddle seshes, shoes, purses, nails, hair, Lego sets! Whatever you wanted! The world was your oyster! Vernon's always liked a woman who knows what she wants. "Question. Can you choke me?" The answer was yes.

Dino

"Reaaallllyyyy?" Chan wasn't judging. Okay he was judging a little bit, but just because it was his hyungs. "They're all so... Bleh." Like sure they were attractive and talented, but they were also his hyungs. He just didn't get it. What did they have that he didn't? Well a few of them are really buff... Some of them have quite the way with words... And Hoshi and Jeonghan were charismatic... So maybe they had a lot. But still, they're his hyungs!!! "Don't even bother with those guys, I'm sure once we're done you won't even want them." Only one way to find out.

(⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

A/N: I want to run through svt like I'm on the track team. I really like Kwan's, like yes, training ark. Jihoon said wrap it losers!!!

Anyways, if you liked this pls talk to me about it, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Comments or reblogs appreciated.

[star-mum]

hello lovelies, I'm finally free : D

Once again, I'll read it without checking the tags, I'm in the mood for surprises :3

"Isaac Lahey pulled you far away to somewhere secluded" we're starting with SEX !!! pwp? maybe (well not without completely cause i know you, but little plot?)

"which would soon be filled with sweaty assholes" usually it's the other way around

"11. McCall" : O

oh okay not cheating... (said dejectedly)

"his eyes flashing that glowing golden yellow" JAOAOWIAJA W AAAAHH I'VE MISSED WOLF SHENANIGANS (literally giggling and kicking my feet)

"and fuck you senseless, feeling like an overeager dog" derek is an idiot cause this FUCKING RULES !!!!!

"Your gut had shriveled up when you saw that it was one with Scott’s name and lacrosse number on it" Lydia knows EXACTLY what she's doing, don't be fooled

"if it meant that you had been misleading him or leading him on" I think he knows, yes Scott is stupid but he can smell Isaac on us afterwards

(you have no idea how much I've missed these dumb dogs and their dumb abo dynamics)

(I'm also on my ovulation period so very horny) (sorry if tmi)

(if youre not sunny and you're reading this, I am not sorry actually, you chose this)

"She was excited that the two of you would look ‘coordinated’ cheering for your ‘boyfriends’" this was calculated, don't fall for her lies !!!!

"weird spiritual sexual codependency" delicious

"All of it was to make Isaac jealous - to get some kind of a rise out of him" terrible for Scott but he'll live... not the first time this has happened to him

"feeling of his teeth digging into your neck" hihi 🫣🤭🤭

"the first small indicator of his facade cracking" he's the pathetic pussy

"Was supposed to be treasured as yours" 🥺

"knowing that those tights emphasized your thick thighs" FAT READER !!!!!!

"he slashed his claws across your chest, shredding the fabric to pieces" scared is the best way to be horny, Eleanor Shellstrop always right

"you would have been angrier about if not for the very pretty boy currently sucking on your face" sacrifices must be made...

"You have to ‘take it off’ too" please for the love of god, I am NOT fucking you in this dumbass get up, Isaac

"You act like a dumb slut all the time.” SKSKKSKS YEEEEAAAHHH (I love all your readers so much, they're so fun)

"You don’t have to be so mean" QOAJAIAKAN he is SO cute tho

"He wouldn’t take a step in any direction if it wasn’t to stand in your shadow. He didn’t worship anywhere if it wasn’t at your altar" WOWOWOWOWOWOWOW

"Owning a pet meant that sometimes you came off with a few tiny wounds" i love this so much

"cooling the salvia he had left there" this is always my favorite typo in ANY smut fic ever cause it's just proof the writer was going at the speed of light to bring the vision to life (i can fear the frantic typing)

"Get on your knees for me like a good dog" hell yeah

"more than eager to shove his face into the folds of your perfect pussy" every single guy in this show has this energy, they all eat pussy like they're starved

"There was no skill to it" but damn it if he's not giving it his all

"Behave.” “I wasn’t done.” i love them

"beyond human strength helping him to easily lift you" one of my FAVORITE things in this show

"Such a sweet little puppy. Good fucking dog" LOVE IT HERE

"the metal started to crumble beneath his fist" ‼️‼️OJNANAOAKANA HIHI 🫣

"Especially knowing that he would be able to smell that cum on you for hours" another one of my favorite things about this show :3

"Somehow, at six-foot-one, he looked so terribly small" he just has that pathetic sad vibe to him

"I’ll even get you a dog collar with my name on it so that everyone can know you’re mine" HE'D WEAR IT !!!!!!

I LOVED THIS !!! I LOVE IT HERE !!! this felt like coming home, I've missed this

seriously the ending of this semester was so fucking stressful (for a myriad of reasons) I REALLY NEEDED SOMETHING NICE LIKE THIS !!!!

The Good, The Bad, and The Dirty

If you wanna start a fight,

You better throw the first punch - make it a good one.

And if you wanna make it through the night,

You better say my name like:

The Good, The Bad, and The Dirty.

Sub!Isaac Lahey x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary:

What you and Isaac had going on wasn't exactly public - and whatever it was didn't have a title. Sexual, friendship, two souls entwined and bound to each other in an utterly complicated way.

Whatever. It didn't have a label. The two of you didn't need one.

But Isaac definitely didn't expect to see you showing up to a lacrosse game wearing Scott's number with the name McCall boldly across your chest. All he knew from the moment he saw that stupid shirt on your chest was that the night was going to end with it shredded to pieces.

(He had no clue that was precisely your plan from the start, because you knew how to guide him exactly where you wanted him - every. Single. Time.)

Sub!Isaac Lahey x Dom!Fem!Reader. Best Friends with Benefits (Secret Relationship) to Lovers. Smut/PWP. Set during Season 3.

Word Count: 7,200

Teen Wolf Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below.

Warnings: this is primarily a smut fic - there is some slight plot; this does take place in a high school setting, but just for the sake of clarity/for the sake of argument, the characters are eighteen or older; the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina and breasts (but as with all my fics, the primary pronouns used are you/yours); mention of the reader wearing a skirt;there is some descriptions of the reader being curvy/plus sized (as with many of my fics - and I always just picture Isaac with a plus sized girl) (absolutely no bias there), and there is mentions of Isaac being taller than the reader, but that is based on the assumption that at 6.1, he would be taller than most people; there is also mentions of Isaac lifting the reader due to his supernatural strength, but her back is also supported by a wall so it’s not wholly unrealistic; mentions of background Scott x reader (mostly the reader using Scott to make Isaac jealous and Scott having feelings for the reader that she does not return), and this would have been when Scott and Allison were broken up because I would not do my girl wrong like that (you can even interpret this as Scott using the reader to help ‘get over’ Allison if you want); some non-detailed mentions of the abuse Isaac received from his father (which is pretty difficult not to mention in an Isaac fic); there is some dom/sub themes - Isaac is submissive and the reader is more dominant; Isaac is jealous and possessive - very slight angst because it discusses Isaac’s jealousy coming from a place of being hurt; this is not the first time that Isaac and the reader have had sex with each other; Isaac and the reader have been best friends since before his father’s death (and his werewolfism) and they recently started having sex, and they have a murky situationship; the reader clearly knows that Isaac is a werewolf; mention of Isaac ‘pinning the reader down’ and fucking her (in a memory) (and she loved it); Isaac calls the reader a ‘slut’ and a ‘whore’ - not in a kinky way, but over the fact that he is deeply offended that she was flirting with Scott and pretending to like him; in turn, the reader calls Isaac a slut in a kinky way; the reader also calls Isaac ‘puppy’ and ‘good boy’; hair pulling - Isaac receiving; something like subspace is described (regarding what Isaac is feeling) but the word ‘subspace’ is never used during the fic; the characters do not discuss having a safe word in place, but they trust each other due to their history and know how to nonverbally balance each other’s needs; Isaac using his claws to shred a shirt that the reader wears with Scott’s numbers on it, and in the process he accidentally scratches her chest slightly (but she likes she slight pain); very slight blood kink - Isaac licks up the blood from these small cuts; I feel like there should be a warning for the endless amounts of dog imagery because I cannot stop comparing Isaac to a kicked dog because it works to well; lacrosse pads being used for slut activities; oral sex - reader receiving; Isaac has an extreme scent kink (he loves the way the reader smells); praise kink - Isaac loves being praised by the reader; penis in vagina sex; unprotected sex; (surprisingly, there’s no breeding kink in this); I think that’s actually it for this - one stray joke about the reader getting Isaac a dog dollar.

A/N: I had so much fun writing this. As soon as the request hit my inbox, I knew I was going to write it at some point. Part of me kind of feels bad that I didn't write the expected jealousy = dominance - you may notice when you read the fic, I started out writing Isaac as dominant, but I cannot help writing him as submissive, and it turned into this interesting painting of 'his dominance is a performed act, and submissiveness is his true self' and 'his jealousy is possessiveness, not dominance' and possessiveness is a very submissive trait. (I could go more into depth about this in another post, and I probably will.) People often associate possessiveness with Doms, but I see Isaac as the most possessive Sub ever because he's a wolf. Anyway - I am really happy with how this turned out, and even if it's not what the original requester intended, I think the point of a request is that the author gets to interpret it and write it in their own style. And this is definitely how I would write it most true to my style. Also this has references to Season 3 - like Lydia dating Aiden and Isaac fighting the Alpha pack, but this is set after a lacrosse game, and in S3, they were in the off season of lacrosse. and I can guarantee you my autistic ass is the only one who cares about that and you didn't even notice until I pointed it out. So please - carry on.

...

The lacrosse field of Beacon Hills High School was absolutely buzzing. 

The night air was filled with cheers as the team and many fans were celebrating another win, while the opposing team sulked in disappointment as they packed onto their bus with their heads hung low, their coach screaming at them for the loss. Chatter and celebration filled the air - but you didn’t get a single moment to be a part of it as Isaac Lahey pulled you far away to somewhere secluded. Somewhere only he could get to have you.  

He currently had you pinned up against one of the lockers in the girls’ locker room. It was a place that nobody would think to look for the two of you - a place that wouldn’t be entered for the rest of the night, unlike the boys’, which would soon be filled with sweaty assholes shedding their kits and getting a shower before they went off to some party to celebrate their victory. Isaac had locked the door to make sure that the two of you would be left alone, and left the lights off so that nobody would be suspicious of any light coming from the crack beneath the door. 

But right now, none of those details mattered. 

All that mattered was that stupid number in the middle of your chest. That stupid block lettering sitting across your perfect round breasts. 

11. McCall. 

You could claim that you had worn it as a joke. But as Isaac locked his jaw stiffly, staring you down - you didn’t think that you would be getting away with that claim. 

“Take it off.” Isaac growled at you, his eyes flashing that glowing golden yellow, a visual that made your breath tight in your chest and made your cunt quiver. 

You remembered the first time you had seen that glow coming from his eyes - the first night he had found you after he received The Bite, when he was still high on adrenaline and warned by Derek not to do anything ‘stupid’. And the stupid thing he had done was climb up the side of your house, claw in through your bedroom window with the clumsy hands he barely knew how to use, and pin you down to your bed and fuck you senseless, feeling like an overeager dog with intensely swollen balls, feeling like he was too strong and going through puberty all over again. 

It had been one of the best nights of your life. 

“What?” You said, your voice even, calm, not even close to mocking dubious. “Take what off?” 

You were faking confusion - faking it poorly, easily signaling to him that you knew exactly what he was talking about. 

It was a dare. You were egging him on purposefully. The two of you always had the best sex when you did. That’s what the whole night was about, after all. 

Lydia had gotten the shirts made - she had gotten one for herself with Aiden’s name and lacrosse number on it, and she had told you that it was cheaper to ‘order multiple at a time’, and then she had pulled out one in your size. Your gut had shriveled up when you saw that it was one with Scott’s name and lacrosse number on it. 

A plain white tee shirt in a feminine, tight fit with burgundy vinyl lettering to match the school’s colours. Lydia had ordered them in white because she said it would be easier to make into an outfit, and she didn’t want to ‘wear that god awful colour’ with her nice coats. 

You had gone on one single date with Scott. He asked you out, you said yes. It had been a pleasant, average evening that ended with a bit of kissing. It was nice - Scott was a great guy. But it definitely hadn’t been anything special. It had only driven home in your mind that you definitely didn’t have those feelings for Scott. And you felt guilty for every single time you had flirted with him in Isaac’s presence just to make Isaac jealous, if it meant that you had been misleading him or leading him on. 

A while ago, Lydia had been talking about guys, and she said something about ‘you and Scott’ and not even fully paying attention, you agreed with her. And then she cheered, and you realized that she had been talking about romantic couplings among your friend group. She thought that your flirting with Scott and the one single date meant that the two of you were dating - so she took this as a greenlight to order you the shirt. She was excited that the two of you would look ‘coordinated’ cheering for your ‘boyfriends’ in the stands. 

But more than anything, you felt awkward correcting her because you couldn’t exactly tell her about the thing that you and Isaac had going on. 

Mostly because you had no clue what to call it. 

The two of you had been best friends for years, and you had been his rock and his confidant before anybody else knew what was going on with his father. And then, shortly after he had made the grand transformation from abused introvert to powerful (hot) werewolf, the two of you had started… this. 

Some might call it ‘friends with benefits’, some might call it a weird spiritual sexual codependency that had truly begun with you patching up his wounds from the beatings his father had given him. Either way, the slight flirting of your normal friendship ramped up tenfold, and now, every single time the two of you were behind closed doors together, the intense sexual tension in the air built until you were both partially unclothed and moaning. 

And in the outside world, the two of you were constantly at war. You were constantly in the throes of a game that nobody else knew was going on. You both refused to name each other as a romantic partner, but you were constantly in some kind of effort to get the other’s attention or make the other person jealous. He flirted with Allison and Erica, and… that stupid game was the only reason you had gone on a date with Scott. It had been a relatively nice date, but you hadn’t felt a single sense of the spark with Scott that you did with Isaac. 

And it was the only reason that you were wearing the stupid shirt that Lydia had given to you. It was the only reason you had sat in the stands beside Lydia with your jacket unzipped and even taken off all night in the cold, showing off that shirt, loudly cheering for Scott, putting on a show. 

All of it was to make Isaac jealous - to get some kind of a rise out of him. 

And it had worked so damn well. Seeing his clenched jaw, his flared nostrils… seeing the way his sharp fangs extended out over his lips as if he couldn’t control them while he looked at you with hellish lust in his eyes… you were almost terrified by how well you had succeeded. Almost. 

“Take. It. Off.” He growled, grinding on each word, his chest now heaving with the effort. 

“Make me.” You mumbled in reply, entirely confident, hoping that further teasing would only wind him up more. Hoping that it would only beautifully play into your game. 

He stepped closer to you and when you instinctively took a step back, your body hit the cold metal of the lockers, and you swallowed harshly as your body pumped with more lust. It was oddly thrilling to be so trapped - only because it was Isaac. And because you knew there was only one way this could end. 

Because your body was preparing for the sensations you knew came next - the ghost of his touch already lingering on you, your mind replaying those past events like grooves in a record. It caused you to become wetter and wetter just thinking about the feeling of his teeth digging into your neck, the feeling of his hands possessively gripping your hips, the feeling of his cock splitting you open. 

His breath ghosted over your forehead, his height towering over you somehow not intimidating at all as he pressed his hard body (disappointingly still clad in lacrosse pads, keeping you from feeling the true ridges of his muscles) up against you, truly ensuring that you could not escape. Not that you would want to escape from him. 

He took a thick sniff into the air, his nostrils flaring widely, and you knew he could smell it on you - the lust, the pure attraction you felt toward him, the adrenaline. Or maybe it was just the pure smell of your pussy pathetically leaking into your underwear that he was picking up on. Either way, he let out a whine, the first small indicator of his facade cracking, and you felt his hips jolt toward you, instinctively seeking friction. 

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me?” 

Isaac growled, still trying to sound tough, the words bordering on a pained howl. There was a unique agony in his voice as he stared down the length of your body and continued to fixate on those numbers on your chest, true haunting dancing in his pretty baby blues. 

Your gut twisted horribly as you realized it. This wasn’t just something he could brush off in the name of sex. You had really hurt him this time. Perhaps you had gone too far this time. Something that had started out as a well-meaning game of cat and mouse had turned into truly taunting a wolf - and unintentionally, you had wounded that wolf. 

That wolf that, even if it was never spoken, was supposed to be yours. Was supposed to be treasured as yours. 

You had gotten so caught up in playing the stupid game that you had made a terrible mistake. 

But you needed to see it through now. 

You reached up and grabbed both sides of his face, forcing him to look you in the eyes. 

“Make me.” You repeated the words, and Isaac let out another huff. “Make me take it off, Isaac.” He replied to this with a growl from deep in his chest, a sound that vibrated through your hands on his delicate, angelic face. “Make me yours.” 

He reached up with one hand in the middle of your chest and gently pushed you back, making sure your body was stiff and firm against the metal of the lockers, propping you there like hanging art on a wall. And then he took a small step to distance himself, his eyes flickering up and down your body sharply, drinking you in even though he had seen you thousands of times before. 

It had been torture - pure torture all night. From the moment he had seen you unzip your jacket, revealing that fucking shirt with Scott’s name on it (and the fact that you had paired it with a tiny little skirt and a pair of sheer tights… knowing that those tights emphasized your thick thighs, his favourite part of your body… just to torture him…) - he had been tempted to ditch off the field completely and run up into the stands just to tear it off you. Just to prove a fucking point. 

But that hadn’t even been the worst part of it. No. One of the words parts had been the fact that he was forced to stay on the field all night listening. Over-hearing you chatting it up with Lydia and Allison about your ‘date’ with Scott, talking about kissing him, theorizing about what having sex with him might be like. You had known he was listening the whole time. You knew his hearing was enhanced enough, and you knew that he had a special knack for picking up on your voice in a crowd. You had been doing it on purpose. 

And every time he glanced over between goals and saw Scott’s name stretched across your perfect tits… it killed him a little more inside. 

While thinking about all this, while thinking about the fact that he had been waiting to do this all night - 

Isaac raised up his hand, very intentionally flaring his claws, bold enough for you to see what his next move would be so that you could anticipate it and wouldn’t be afraid. And his cock began to throb almost painfully between his legs when he saw you push your chest out, arching your back against the lockers as you licked your lips, silently begging for it. 

Clearly, you didn’t wear Scott’s name proudly. You were aching him to tear the shirt off you, downright lustful at the thought - biting your lip, batting your eyelashes at him, the scent of your lust even more potent in the air down. 

Such a beautiful fucking tease. 

With delicate precision, he slashed his claws across your chest, shredding the fabric to pieces and feeling a cathartic vindication as the name and number of another guy fell apart and began to fall off you. 

A twinge of guilt nearly ruined the moment as he saw the slightest bit of blood glinting across your perfect skin, gathering in your cleavage along your gorgeous stretch marks, but you didn’t seem to care, and you didn’t seem to be in the slightest bit of pain. In fact, you let out a purely lustful moan and arched your back even more, pushing your chest toward him more - making you look like a perfect porno in your shredded clothing with your red lace bra now revealed underneath. 

Though in a moment, you reached up, pulling the scraps of the fabric away and shucking off the useless remains of the shirt, throwing it to the ground like the garbage that it now was. In the back of your mind, you guessed that now you would have to put on your jacket  - which you had been carrying in your hand and tossed off to the side earlier, and zip it up completely to cover yourself in order to leave. But that didn’t matter now. You didn’t care if you would have to leave here in just your bra if you meant you got to have what would likely come next. 

Isaac indulged in the sound of your pretty panting, the way you licked your lips, and the perfect, accelerated thumping of your heartbeat in his ears. 

“Better.” He sighed in relief, much preferring the sight of your chest heaving, nearly bare in front of him than the visual of Scott’s fucking name plastered across you like he owned you. He never did, he never would - 

You let out another hot moan in response, and Isaac found himself licking his lips. 

While he stood there, frozen with his lust, too busy visually admiring you, you were driven forward by your maddening need. You grabbed the front of his jersey and yanked him forward into a heated kiss. It was a mouth that you knew well from experience by now, and it was only a second before the two of you were exchanging moans and a clash of tongues. 

He craned down, his hands possessively grappled for your thighs, those claws making quick work of your tights, putting runs and even huge holes in the sheer material, quickly exposing your skin to the cool air of the room. It was something you would have been angrier about if not for the very pretty boy currently sucking on your face. 

One of his hands moved to claw at the seam of your tights, but you quickly clamped your legs shut, trapping his wrist from moving any further, much to his whiny disappointment. You used your hold on the front of his jersey to push him away, and you were met with the most sweetly crestfallen expression - wide, glossy, sad eyes staring you down while he curled his lip, clearly wondering what he had done wrong. Wondering what he had done to be denied. 

“Not so fast.” You scolded him gently. “You have to ‘take it off’ too.” You told him, running your fingers down the front of his chest, more than offended by all the padding he was wearing in addition to the clothing. Far too much coverage. 

“I’m not the one who was acting like a whore.” Isaac huffed, clearly still wounded from the fact that you had worn Scott’s numbers. The word sounded strangely good on his lips, but still, you rolled your eyes. From him, it wasn’t dominance or power. It was slowly turning into bratty defiance in your little game. “I wasn’t out there shaking my ass in front of the crowd while wearing some other guy’s fucking number, acting like a dumb slut-” 

“Oh, please.” You let out a dark laugh, and Isaac swallowed thickly, knowing that you had truly arrived. After all the winding up - the main event had finally started. “You act like a dumb slut all the time.” 

Isaac let out a sharp breath at your words, loving how easily you tossed the words back at him. Something inside of him was absolutely purring at the harsh title that was now freshly branded into his skin. This was the moment that his brain began to melt between his ears, and any sense of the ‘tough guy’ act that he put on for the rest of the world was completely gone. 

From this point on, he was dissolving into the sweet puppy that only you were allowed to know. 

“Like now, for example.” You continued on, more venom lacing through your lips. You put on your most threatening voice, hating to get firm with him, but knowing it was necessary. “So you can strip down, and fucking behave yourself, or I can get dressed and go find Scott and see what fucking him would be like instead.” 

Isaac glared at you, and you saw that horrible quiver come across his lip again. Before you could worry that you had gone too far, he reached up and began pulling off his gear, and you heard a few muffled complaints as his pads hit the floor. 

“You don’t have to be so mean,” He told you, nothing more than a petulant whine at this point. 

He was ready to be compliant with you - ready to do whatever you said because he needed it just as much as you did. 

When he was shirtless, you didn’t wait for him to ditch his bottoms before you leaped into action once again. You reached out and tucked your fingers into the waistband of his shorts, hauling him toward you - and much like a loyal dog tight on a leash, he let himself be so easily pulled, even though he was much stronger than you and he could have overpowered you if he wanted to. 

But that was the glory of it. He was a statue of might, standing over six feet tall, shredded with muscles that were enhanced with supernatural strength, and yet - he wouldn’t hurt a fly without your permission. He wouldn’t take a step in any direction if it wasn’t to stand in your shadow. 

He didn’t worship anywhere if it wasn’t at your altar. 

He had sought out guidance anywhere and everywhere since his father had died - Derek, Scott, Deaton, even Erica. But he had only found sanity and solace at the palace of your lips. 

Which was why he moaned into your mouth as you kissed him again, quickly shoving your tongue past his teeth to remind him of why he was here. He belonged to you, and he shouldn’t do anything without your sacred permission. 

You got a firm grip on his hair and caused a sting across his scalp with how possessively you were holding onto him, causing pleasant tingles through his whole body as he was reminded of that lovely feeling of being held by you, being owned by you. You used the hold to force him tighter into your mouth, angling his head just the way you needed to kiss him firmer, deeper, controlling every single aspect of it - causing a sweet whimper out of him as he was guided like a puppet on a string. 

He had been the one to drag you here with a demanding, tight grip on your wrist - he had been the one to practically throw you up against the lockers in anger. He thought this whole thing had been his idea. 

But this had never been his game. 

Any tough moves he made out on the lacrosse field, any intimidation he managed with people like Stiles or the Alphas he had battled during the summer - it was all a farce. You were the only person that knew deep down, he was a puppy, just looking for guidance. At the end of the day, after everything he had been through in life - he was just looking for somewhere soft to lay his pretty head. 

Isaac let out a whine as you pulled away from the kiss to take a breath. He instantly wanted to protest, instantly began chasing your mouth. He didn’t care if he drowned in your mouth, if he died due to lack of oxygen. 

But of course, he didn’t settle for a lack of contact. 

While you combed your fingers through his hair and used the other hand to start untying the knot of his shorts, he immediately dipped his head down, seeking more of your precious skin. His neck almost became pained from the awkward angle, having to lean so far down due to his height - but he didn’t care. He dipped his head between your breasts and immediately began laving his tongue over the small cuts he had unintentionally left there. From him, it was a wordless apology, hanging his head in shame at the fact that he could ever hurt you, no matter how small, no matter how meaningless the tiny scratches were to you. 

In your mind, it didn’t matter. Owning a pet meant that sometimes you came off with a few tiny wounds. You would end up loving the scars. You let out small hiss at the sting of saliva, and then began moaning, and he was quickly driven mad by the twang of your blood on his tongue. 

“Isaac-” You moaned out hotly. 

He believed that he was a beast being fed by you, bound to devour you disastrously sooner or later - but you knew not to be afraid. He could do you no real harm. You could never truly be afraid of someone with such delicate sadness in his eyes. 

Especially not when he humped your hip like a lost puppy and whined against your skin like he had been kicked in the gut. His cock throbbed painfully inside his athletic cup, far too fucking restricted, crying out for your touch. He was grateful when you pushed down his shorts and his thin athletic pants underneath, and then took care to strip off his underwear and cup without hurting his sensitive, now very hard cock. 

“Aww, puppy.” You cooed - it was a playful pet name that you had used with him many times before, but for some reason, it practically punched him in the gut, easily forcing the air out of his lungs when he heard it. 

His responsive moan crescendoed into a harsh growl between his teeth when you reached out and grabbed his cock with a cool hand - it was an immediate contrast, his skin boiling hot with blood thumping so hard underneath, making his cock so rigid that it practically vibrated under your touch. The tip of his dick leaked furiously into your hand as you began casually pumping him, no distinct rhythm or precision in your movements, purposefully teasing him. 

“You need this, don’t you?” You purred, voice purposefully honey-sweet as you lapped up his reactions. “You need me.” 

“I need you.” Isaac panted in return without hesitation. “I need you, please.” 

You ran your thumb over the leaking slit of his cock, indulging in just how wet he was, loving how it showed his desperation, plain and clear. You also couldn’t help but to love the beautiful little whimper he let out from the back of his throat, the way his breath puffed across the exposed skin of your breasts, cooling the salvia he had left there. Your skin becoming more exposed as he reached a hand up and yanked down your bra, putting strain on the straps where they sat on your shoulders. 

“You gonna earn it?” You posed, feeling the devil on your shoulder, unable to resist. Isaac only whined in response. “Get on your knees for me like a good dog.” 

Isaac’s breath caught in his throat. 

When he had first become a werewolf and you had found out about it, you had made a good many ‘dog’ jokes about him. And he used to hate them. But over time, he had come to love the comparison because he loved being your dog. (It’s why the nickname ‘puppy’ put a warm fondness in his gut rather than making him feel humiliated.)  

He knew, at the end of the day, that it was true. He needed to be owned by you, he needed a damn leash. He was intensely loyal, despite himself. And no matter what, at the end of the day, he would always return to you, head down, looking for praise, looking to be fed - whether that was a feeding of the soul, or stupidly literal, who knows. 

Any other time, the words would have been embarrassing - it would have been something he argued against. But this time - he practically let out a bark to demonstrate his pure loyalty to you, and he rushed to follow the simple order. Even though he hated your touch leaving his cock as he dropped to his knees on the cold tiled floor (thankful that he was still wearing his knee pads where his clothing was caught in a tangle just above them), he was more than eager to serve you. He used a careful, precise claw to reach up and shred a hole in the crotch of your tights, quick to destroy your underwear as well when he found them in his way. 

“Good boy.” You easily praised him, and he found his brain once again delightfully fuzzy at the simple words. 

Your fingers were in his hair again, but he didn’t even need your touch driving him forward. He was drawn to your exposed cunt like a madman, more than eager to shove his face into the folds of your perfect pussy. He used a hand to lift your perfect plump thigh and pull it up over his shoulder, inviting you to sit some of your weight on him so that he could be closer to you, ever closer, closer. He shoved his tongue deep into your hot, wet hole and shoved his nose between your folds, unintentionally bumping against your clit, just hungry to taste and smell as much of you as he possibly could. 

“Isaac!” You moaned out, using your hold on his hair to try and keep him in place while you humped against his face, causing him to moan enthusiastically into your pussy. “Oh fuck, puppy! You’re so good.” 

The combination of the praise and the nickname was absolutely dizzying, and along with your wetness on his tongue, your smell so potent and perfect surrounding him - he felt as though he didn’t deserve something this good. But he didn’t care. He quickly became obsessed with drowning himself in you - with one hand possessively gripping your thigh beside his head and the other gripping the edge of your skirt, moaning frantically into you while he fucked his tongue in and out of you, lapping up as much of your taste as he could. 

“Oh fuck - such a sweet puppy, so good for me.” 

There was no skill to it. 

He was growing dumb between the ears, becoming more and more of the dog that you accused him of being - nothing but animal instincts and the loyal need to please you. He humped his hips into the air and his cock began leaking openly onto the floor, leaving a pathetic puddle of precum there that neither of you would notice, something that would have the janitor questioning later. 

Currently, all Isaac cared about was the taste of your pussy on his tongue, the wonderful essence of you that reminded him he was home. All he cared about was being good for you while getting a reward that he barely deserved; all he cared about was the wonderful heat of your pulsing cunt under his lips with your vibrating little button bouncing on his nose, getting to smother himself in your perfect scent. 

“Yes baby, so fucking good-” 

All of his moaning and insistent tongue-fucking meant that you were drawing close to your orgasm very quickly. 

Your thighs began to shake, your muscles jolting beside his head and he continued to lap it right up. He moaned even harder, angling his head to drive his tongue deeper into you as you became wetter, and he only basked as there was more for him to consume. You panted in harsh gasps as beautiful jolts of pleasure rang through your cunt while his tongue pierced you again, and again, and again, fucking you in the most perfectly thoughtless way. 

Your fingers dug into his scalp and he didn’t even care that you used the touch to drive him further to smothering while you rubbed your pussy across his face, smearing your wetness all over his cheeks and his chin, coating him so perfectly in your smell. He could only enjoy it as you came all over him and tipped your head back against the lockers behind you, your moans echoing against the walls like a perfect concert while the boys in the locker room across the hall were none the wiser. (The chatter of their conversations and the sound of their showers completely muting out the sound of your moans from reaching their ears.) 

“Fuck, Isaac! Oh, puppy! Such a good boy!” 

Isaac moaned at your words and his cock was downright throbbing now. 

But even though, in the back of his mind, his dick was cold in the air of the room and he wanted nothing more than to sink into your perfect pussy, he still felt a deep pang of disappointment when you used your grip on his hair to pull him away from your perfect, wet cunt. He let out a whine showing that disappointment, and fought to keep your leg on his shoulder as you moved to pull away. But still, he ultimately conceded to you when you patted his hand off your thigh and scolded him with a glare and a quiet warning of: 

“Behave.” 

“I wasn’t done.” He complained, his voice small. 

But still, he settled for licking your taste off his lips, looking up at you through his lashes from down on his knees. You combed your finger through his hair again, unable to stop yourself from admiring him, even if he was being a bit of a selfish brat. 

He was just so damn pretty. 

Porcelain skin stretched over perfect muscles, big pretty blue eyes staring up at you, his cock out and still leaking, bright red now due to being neglected by you. You couldn’t have imagined a more perfect sight. You couldn’t help but to reach down and drag your thumb through some of the lingering wetness on his chin and feed it to him - and of course, he ate it right up, sucking the digit eagerly into his mouth and moaning around it. 

“Oh? So you don’t want to fuck me then?” You posed, playing off his words with a teasing statement that easily drove him mad. 

These words quickly sparked him to action. 

He jumped up off his knees, rising to his tall height once again, somehow so unintimidating. Such a sweet little wolf. 

With your back pinned up against the lockers for support, he grabbed your legs and pulled you up off the ground, his beyond human strength helping him to easily lift you so that you could wrap your legs around his waist - and just a moment later, as his cock perfectly lined up with your soaked entrance, you easily fell onto that perfect, stiff shaft. 

He didn’t hesitate to fuck up into you. He knew you didn’t need soft and you definitely weren’t expecting it, and any sense of patience he might have had was long gone. There was no sweetness, no slowness - all that was left was his pure possessive need to be close to you and your guiding hand driving him on, encouraging him as you dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving marks that would never last with his werewolf healing. 

“Good boy.” You told him, your breath slipping away for a moment as you were reminded of just how perfectly his cock could split you open. “Fuck, Isaac.” 

He kept one hand tight on your hip and the other went above your head, hanging onto the top of the lockers, desperate to hold on to something as he felt your perfect, hot wetness gripping his cock. Following his instincts, he fucked forward, slamming his hips into you, needing to feel more, needing to be closer to your warmth - needing more of you. 

“Need you.” He panted, his head falling to press his forehead close to yours, something that felt sweetly intimate for the situation, his eyes squinted tightly as he became overwhelmed by the sensations. “Fuck - need you, need you so much.” 

“Come on, puppy.” You encouraged him. “Come on, take what you need.” 

You tightened your legs around his waist, his movements nearly threatening to buck you off as he moved his hips so wildly - sheer need absolutely tight in every muscle as thick whines poured from his lips. You were eager to soothe him, your hands running up and down his sweaty back - some of it lingering from the hard work he had done during the game and some of new from how hard he was fucking you now, lighting up all the nerve endings inside your pussy, making you feel so perfect. 

“Such a good boy.” You moaned, your breath brushing against his lips - his mouth open as he struggled for air and continued to whimper sweetly for you. “Such a sweet little puppy. Good fucking dog.” 

Isaac let out a growl, fucking into you harder, his brain pure static at this point. 

Yes - he was a good dog. He was your good dog. 

He couldn’t help it when the pleasure surged through him, the pure energy, and his grip on the lockers above your head tightened so much that the metal started to crumble beneath his fist as if it was nothing more than a piece of paper. You heard the terrible shrieking groan of the metal, but you didn’t even bother to look up - you couldn’t have taken your eyes off Isaac in those moments. You were far too enraptured by your puppy in front of you, by the nearly pained look on his face, by the feeling of his perfect cock splitting you open as he faithfully fucked up into your pussy, not stopping for even a moment. 

You brought a hand to his face, grasping his jaw between your thumb and forefinger, digging the touch in - just a twinge of pain to get his attention, a firm grip to remind him that he was yours. 

“Look at me.” You demanded, your breath hot, your voice shaking slightly as the pleasure shook your body. “Come on, puppy - look at me.” 

He forced his eyes open, eager to be good for you, eager to do as you said. He gulped air in as he continued to grip onto your hip, the locker crumbling even more into a mess as the tension in his muscles was wrought into it, forced there rather than ever be taken out on you - even unconsciously, he could never use too much force on you. 

The silken blue that looked at you was a sight so beautiful that you couldn’t bear to look away, a mess of lust and ravenous madness, a prayer of devotion to you that was far too complex for words. You gave him a small, sweet kiss on the lips that he moaned so deeply at, his hips stuttering terribly as his balls downright ached - 

“Cum for me.” You demanded, the words a firm smack against his mouth, a punch to his gut that made him cry out. “Cum for me, puppy, be a good boy, come on-” 

He let out a strangled moan that dissolved into a downright filthy whimper from the back of his throat as his hips sped up, his skin practically blurring as he was now given precious permission from you. Your cunt became utterly sore with the speed and pressure his pelvis kept hitting you with, continually pounding into you with that impossible strength, the sound resonating harshly through the room, nearly threatening to break you. 

But it was only a few breathless moments later that a moan punched through his gut and you heard something that resembled your name choked through his throat - and then he fucked into you one last time, his hips then becoming glued to yours, almost entirely still in contrast to moments before. He ground against you sharply, overstimulating your swollen clit with the stiffness of his pelvis as he seemingly tried to merge with you through persistent will alone as he pumped his cum inside of you in warm spurts. 

“Good puppy,” You hummed, continuing to run your hands up and down his back and through his hair. You kissed down his cheek and his neck and along his shoulder, praising him, soothing him, worshipping him just like he deserved while his cock throbbed inside of you. “Good boy. So fucking good for me.” 

He moaned in return, words lost to the stupidly thick tongue inside of his mouth - one that was only capable of licking up and down your neck while he humped his cock inside of you for a few more moments, enjoying your soothing words and the warmth of your pussy around him as his orgasm ebbed away. 

Unfortunately, it couldn’t last forever like that. 

You pulled him in for one last kiss - one that the two of you savoured with a moan and a dip of tongues into each other’s mouths as he pulled his cock out of you. 

(Distantly, you had a thought about how you would have to walk out of here with no underwear - because you definitely weren’t going to keep on the scraps that he had left you, gaping with remnants of his cum inside of you. And you did feel a strange sense of satisfaction in that. Especially knowing that he would be able to smell that cum on you for hours with his werewolf nose, even if you went home and changed your clothes before Lydia’s mandatory ‘Lacrosse Team Win’ celebration party - and that was enough of a reason not to take a shower and scrub the scent off.) 

He let you down and you were unsteady on your legs, much like a baby deer, still having to lean on the lockers for support while he moved to grab some toilet paper from one of the stalls to help clean you both up. 

A heavy silence fell over the two of you, unlike any other time that you had sex with Isaac. 

While you righted your clothes (prying what was left of your underwear out from underneath your tights and throwing them away, along with the scraps of the shirt that had started this all, fixing your skirt, and putting your jacket on over your bra for some coverage) - and Isaac got dressed, you wondered what would happen next. Your eyes landed on the huge dent that was now in the top of the row of lockers, and you genuinely weren’t sure if you should ask him to try and fix it, or if it would just be better to leave it like that and let people wonder. 

“Please…” 

Isaac mumbled out, his voice so quiet, raspy around the edges due to the moaning he had just done. When you whipped your head toward him, he worked up the courage to finish the sentence. 

“Please… don’t talk about Scott anymore.” 

You stared at him, puzzled, as he put on his jersey (his pads still left on the floor, seeing as he didn’t need them anymore). Clearly, his mind had been on a completely different track. He was staring you down with those sad, glassy eyes once again, and you felt a terrible twinge of guilt tighten in your gut. 

You knew that he was the jealous type. That was why you had done all this. But you couldn’t go on being his secret fling, his secret fuck. His perfect confidant with no public title. 

So you prodded that wound one last time. 

“Why not?” You asked, risking it all. 

You would either leave this losing your best friend, the best sex of your life, and the person you loved most in the whole world - or you would leave this as a whole, better person. 

Isaac swallowed, and bowed his head, unable to look you in the eyes. Somehow, at six-foot-one, he looked so terribly small. He might not be able to do this. He might be too broken to live up to it. But you hoped, you prayed that he would - 

“Because I-” He shuddered, verging on tears. And somehow, he was able to get the words out. “Because I’m in love with you.” 

Everything inside of you lit up. More perfect than any orgasm, better than the feeling of his cock inside of you - this was what you had been missing the whole time. 

“And look, I understand that you might have just been playing around,” He continued, his words having a terrible meaning - acknowledging your game in wearing Scott’s numbers, and voicing his insecurities in your relationship, believing that you had been unserious with him because you had never loved him at all. “But it kills me to see you with other guys. I can’t-” 

You stepped forward, using a hand on the side of his jaw to pull him into another kiss. In a moment, he understood the passion, the warmth - something that went far beyond sexual needs. The way you guided him because you knew exactly what he needed. The unspoken connection the two of you always had that now needed those words. 

“Isaac, you should know I love you too.” You told him. “That I’ve been in love with you - since forever.” 

He let out a tense breath of relief. 

“I won’t talk about anyone else like that, or flirt with anyone, or anything along those lines, if that’s what you want.” You assured him. “You are mine, and I’m yours. Okay, pup?” 

He flushed at the nickname, and nodded, and you smiled brightly. 

“I’ll even get you a dog collar with my name on it so that everyone can know you’re mine.” You said - your tone was distinctly joking, but you didn’t miss the way he bit his lip, and the lustful light that grew in his eyes. 

“Shut up.” He laughed, shaking his head. 

(He definitely wouldn’t end up masturbating to thoughts of that later. Definitely not.)

...

Please keep in mind, there will not be a continuation or a 'part 2'. This is a oneshot, meaning that it is a complete story on its own and I do not feel the need to continue it. If you comment asking for a Part 2 or asking for a continuation after I have written this ending message, I consider that to be extremely rude and unkind.

If you are going to comment, please comment about the content of the fic that has been written. I love discussing the characters that I write about with other people in the comments and connecting with fellow fans. I work very hard on my fics and I always appreciate comments, but I do not appreciate when people only comment asking for more rather than wanting to discuss what I have already worked hard on.

Even if you don't comment, I hope you enjoyed, and if you want more from me because you enjoyed this fanfic a lot, you should definitely check out my Teen Wolf Masterlist, which has a lot of similar fics!

Happy Reading,

Sunny ☀️

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Anniversary gift

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ Suggestiveeeee, lots of fluff and simp men, 🧶 anon i used all your ideas :p let’s hope i did it justice, let’s not question who took the photos for reader lol

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You give them a book of very spicy photos for your anniversary

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

He’s seated cross-legged in the sun-drenched studio of your estate, purple hair tousled, shirt entirely unbuttoned. Blue-pink eyes are completely locked on the glossy little album you gave him.

He was quiet for a while.

Too quiet.

Then he flipped the page and let out a sound that could only be described as an emotionally-compromised whimper.

“Pearlie… what are you trying to do to me…”

Another page flip.

“You’re actually unreal, baby. This isn’t fair. I’m gonna have to fight a god for this level of beauty. I’ll duel the moon. I’ll—”

He presses the album flat on his chest and throws himself backward on the floor, groaning, curling around it like it’s sacred.

The first photo, you, in a cherry-red bikini, towel wrapped low on your hips, the string of your top cheekily untied and draped over one shoulder, hair tousled from ocean spray. There’s glittering salt on your collarbone. The light hits your skin so perfectly it looks airbrushed.

“This is art. You are art.”

“You knew what you were doing… you minx.”

The second photo, you in your bridal veil, no clothes but a sheer white cloth draped carefully around your chest and thighs, pearls in your hair, eyes all soft and sleepy. There’s a vintage hand mirror in your hand. It was his.

He gets emotional.

“My wife. My muse. My everything. You expect me to function after seeing this?”

The third photo, the tasteful nude. Just your bare back, wrapped in white fabric from the waist down, lounging against the satin sheets he brought back from the North Territory. Your hair’s loose. There’s a fresh bouquet behind you.

“You have one hour to explain why I can’t paint this right now.”

“Actually, No, I’m starting now. I need my brushes. Baby, I’ll cry if you don’t let me immortalize this.”

Rafayel becomes insatiable. He needs a new photo every week. No, every four days.

He makes a whole cabinet drawer in his art room just for them, lovingly labeled “The Pearlie Archive.”

He carries his favourite polaroid in his coat pocket.

If he has to go to a meeting, and someone annoys him too much? He’ll look it mid-conversation just to soothe himself.

Eventually, he even makes a rotating sculpture series based on the photos, each titled something stupid like “Wife in Moonlight No.3 (She Looked At Me After This One and I Died).”

And of course, every time you hand him a new photo with that bashful little smile?

He groans, presses his face into your neck, and says—

“You’re evil. A beautiful, perfect little devil, pearlie.”

“I’m gonna spend the next 17 hours painting your elbow.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

The two of you return to your estate after a private anniversary dinner at Linkon’s most exclusive restaurant. He’s been looking at you all evening like you’re the only woman on earth, because to Zayne, you are.

You’re dressed in something elegant and white, your hair done exactly how he loves it, diamond earrings glinting when you lean in to murmur sweet things during dessert. He kissed your hand at the table. He fed you the last bite of your souffle. He looked genuinely weak when you smiled.

Now, back home, you lead him by the hand into the cozy sitting room, your heels already kicked off, makeup still perfect, and you sit him down on the plush velvet armchair. You pull out a small, gift-wrapped item from behind the bar cart. It’s square, not too thick, tied in a delicate ribbon.

He eyes it suspiciously, lips quirking slightly.

“Another gift, sweetheart?” he murmurs, hazel-green eyes sparkling. “Wasn’t dinner and your company more than enough?”

You smile innocently, cheeks warm.

“This one’s just for you. A private gift. Promise you won’t open it until I say so?”

He raises a brow. He’s intrigued.

“You’re starting to worry me, snowflake.”

Still, he obliges, sitting obediently with the album in his lap while you go behind him, slipping your arms over his shoulders.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Now.”

He unties the ribbon. Opens the first page.

And stops breathing.

⸻

First photo, you in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a frilly pastel apron over one of his old dress shirts… buttoned only halfway. The hem flutters just below your thighs, leaving your legs completely bare. Your hands are flour-dusted, cheeks pink, and there’s whipped cream on your nose.

You’re bending slightly over the counter, sliding a tray of heart-shaped cookies into the oven with the most mischievous smile.

“Sweetheart… what… what is this…”

He flips the page.

Second photo, you licking icing off your finger, eyes wide and innocent, the bow of the apron tied low on your back, the skirt very short. Zayne’s name is scrawled in icing of the cake on the countertop beside you, surrounded by pink sugar hearts.

Third photo, you, from behind, balancing on your tiptoes to reach for a spice jar. The dress has ridden up. There’s no mistaking what’s not underneath. The caption under it reads in your handwriting:

“oops. no panties today, chef~”

He’s silent.

Dead silent.

His jaw’s locked. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, ears turning red.

You lean close to whisper innocently, “Do you like it?”

And Zayne, your brilliant, stoic, always composed husband, finally breathes out—

“I’m going to have a stroke.”

⸻

The album now lives in his locked desk drawer, where no one else will ever find it. Not even if the house were on fire.

But more importantly, you find yourself pinned between the kitchen counter and your blushing husband not even twenty minutes later, his tie long gone, your apron hanging off your shoulders,

“Was this all a plan, darling?”

“Did you intend to drive me mad tonight?”

He kisses you breathless, his hand cupping your cheek, the other sliding beneath the fabric with reverent slowness.

“Next year,” he murmurs, voice low and hot, “I want one in a nurse uniform. And the year after that? Surprise me.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The evening had been perfect in that quiet, Xavier-esque way.

A soft dinner at home, lights dim, stars glittering through the penthouse windows. The table set with care, he’d even lit candles, though he tried to pretend he hadn’t planned that far ahead.

You’d cooked, and he sat beside you the whole time, sipping wine, brushing his fingers against yours between each course, looking like he wanted to say something but didn’t have the words.

He never needed them anyway.

Not with how he looked at you.

“You’re… beautiful, starlight,” he murmured as you curled into his lap on the sofa after dinner, blanket half-draped over your legs. “You always are. But tonight… I’m starting to believe you really were made to haunt me.”

You giggled, pressed a kiss to his jaw, and handed him a small, ribboned album from behind the couch cushion.

“Happy anniversary, Xavier. I wanted to give you something personal.”

He blinked, confused.

Took it delicately, like it was a sacred relic.

“A… book?”

“…Wait.”

He unties the ribbon. Opens to the first page.

And that’s when the nosebleed hits.

⸻

First photo, you in a sheer, pale lilac negligee that hugs your body like mist. Your thighs peek through delicate lace. The neckline drips low enough to give a suggestion of cleavage, hidden by a loosely tied robe. You’re sitting in his reading chair. One hand rests lightly on your collarbone. Your expression is soft. Sleepy. Dangerous.

Blood hits the page.

“X-Xavier?!”

“You’re bleeding!”

He slaps a hand over his nose, face completely red, eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Starlight what did you do.”

“You can’t—you can’t just give me this!”

⸻

Second photo, the robe is slipping off your shoulder now, revealing more of your bare skin, your stocking-clad thighs folded neatly beneath you as you recline on your side like a classic painting. The caption is handwritten:

“I imagined you’d like this one. I was thinking of you when I posed.”

Xavier collapses backward. Still holding the album upright like it’s the last thing tethering him to earth. He’s trying not to breathe too hard. His nose is still bleeding, too frozen to take the tissues you’re offering him.

“I’ve made contact with divinity,” he murmurs dramatically. “It’s her. She’s real. She’s my wife.”

⸻

Third photo, you, standing in front of the penthouse bedroom mirror. The robe is untied. Your back is to the camera, head turned over your shoulder. The light catches on your shoulder blades, your soft hips, the top of your thigh-highs.

Underneath it is another note:

“You can come find me now, if you want. The robe’s still on the floor.”

He gets up. So fast you hear the whoosh of air.

Absolutely frantic.

“Where is it. Where is the robe.”

You laugh, backing toward the bedroom.

He follows like a man possessed.

⸻

Later, after he’s finally calmed down and your poor bedsheets are a casualty of the nosebleed and the aftermath, he insists on making a velvet-lined case for the album.

He keeps it in a drawer near the bed.

Takes it out every few days just to sigh over it.

“You didn’t have to go so far,” he murmurs, tracing the page edges. “You could’ve given me a photo of you in sweatpants and I’d still cry.”

Then his voice drops to a whisper.

“But I am going to need another shoot… same robe… maybe no robe… just a suggestion.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You’d just come home from a week-long seaside villa getaway where Sylus spared no expense, private chef, marble infinity pool, silk robes delivered every morning, a whole fleet of bodyguards paid to “look the other way” when his hands wandered too far under dinner tables.

He was glowing with pride the entire trip.

“I’m a dangerous man, kitty,” he’d murmur as you swam up to him in the ocean, sunglasses perched on his silver hair. “But I’d give it all up to keep you soft like this. Tucked away. Spoiled rotten. Never needing to lift a finger except to choose which bikini to wear.”

He returned home relaxed, sun-warm, glowing from power and pleasure.

That is, until you handed him the velvet envelope.

“A little souvenir,” you said coyly, settling into the penthouse lounge with a yawn. “From me to you.”

He opened the album.

He paused.

Then he tilted his head.

Slowly. Like a predator smelling blood.

“…Kitten.”

⸻

First photo, you reclined across red silk sheets, wearing a see-through black chiffon robe that slips completely off your shoulders, revealing glitter-dusted thighs, sultry makeup, and the barrel of one of his gold-plated pistols perched lazily on your hip. A diamond necklace is looped between your teeth like candy.

Your eyes are half-lidded. The wedding band sparkles under the camera flash.

“Is that my pistol?” he murmurs, voice strangled.

“Did you take that from the vault?”

Second photo, you’re in the passenger seat of one of his vintage sports cars, door open, one leg outside, the other tucked provocatively on the leather seat. Your silk stockings are barely rolled up. The seatbelt’s undone. The caption below reads:

“ready for a ride, baby?”

He flips the page and laughs.

A dangerous, breathless kind of laugh.

The kind that says you’re not getting out of bed for three days.

“This is evil.”

Third photo, you, laying sideways across the hood of the car, fully naked except for stilettos and a diamond anklet, one of his revolvers laid carefully across your bare stomach.

⸻

He flips back. Again.

And again.

Then he gets up. Walks directly to the foyer. Takes his wallet from the marble console.

Silently, carefully, slides his favorite photo, the red silk sheet one, into the inside flap.

“You are truly born to torture me.”

⸻

You spot him flipping through the album again later, standing shirtless by the balcony with a cigar in his mouth, laughing under his breath.

“I knew you were perfect, kitten,” he drawls. “But this, this is perversely delightful.”

He tosses the cigar into the ashtray. Stalks over to you, scoops you into his arms like you weigh nothing.

“Give me another shoot. In my office next time. I want a shot of you splayed across the desk.”

He grins.

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You had a second honeymoon at the tropical resort, It was perfect.

Private beach. Ocean-view suite. Room service for every meal because you “didn’t feel like leaving bed” and Caleb had no problem with that. He spent most of the week either kissing saltwater off your shoulders or carrying you around like his pretty little prize.

“You really gonna let me have you all to myself like this again, pips?”

“No comms. No Fleet. Just my pretty wife lookin’ like paradise.”

Now, back home, sun-kissed and still a little sand-dusted, you hand him a neatly wrapped album as you’re snuggled on the couch, legs over his lap, wearing his oversized academy flight jacket.

He’s already smiling like a golden retriever with a brand new bone.

But the moment he opens the album?

Full body combustion. (He didn’t blow up again, don’t worry)

⸻

First photo, you, provocatively leaning over his fighter jet, hips arched, wearing a custom, skimpy version of his old pilot jumpsuit. The front is unzipped nearly all the way down, teasing a scandalous glimpse of your favorite lacy bra underneath, his favorite color. His name tag is pinned to your chest.

You’re wearing his flight jacket over your shoulders.

Hair tousled. Lipstick smudged.

The note underneath says:

“Reporting for duty, Colonel.”

“BABY.”

He literally shouts. Slaps the photo against his chest. “How will i ever step foot into that jet again without thinking of you?!”

Second photo, you inside the cockpit, half-in, half-out, glancing over your shoulder, lips parted, legs bent, the jumpsuit riding way too high. Helmet beside you, glove between your teeth.

He clutches his chest. Falls back onto the couch. Groaning.

“That’s my cockpit,” he moans dramatically. “You’ve defiled military equipment, and I have never been prouder in my life.”

Third photo, domestic theme. You in a retro gingham dress, pearls and red lipstick, holding a woven basket full of apples. You’re on a ladder, picking fruit, skirt accidentally hitched way too high, revealing sweet white thigh-highs and the hem of lace panties. The sun flares behind you like a lens filter from heaven.

Underneath, in your own handwriting:

“Almost fell off the ladder. Hope it was worth it”

“Oh my GOD,” he whines, flipping back and forth between pages. “Every photo is my favorite. I need one a week. No, twice a week. Actually, start filming them too.”

He grabs your face, squishes your cheeks, eyes sparkling like he just won the universe.

“Next time you wear that jumpsuit, you’re not taking it off. I wanna peel it off myself.”

You tease, “So you liked it?”

He growls.

“Pips, If you weren’t already my wife, I’d marry you all over again for this. I’d drop to my knees right now. I’d burn the Fleet down to make sure i never have to leave your side.”

He tucks the album into his duffel bag. That bag goes everywhere.

He literally calls it his emotional support photo album.

If he’s gone on deployment, he’s flipping through it in the captain’s quarters, smiling like a lunatic.

“God, my wife’s such a bombshell.”

And yes, he starts commissioning a video next.

Wants voiceover. Wants to hear your giggles in the background. Wants you whispering “I miss you, Colonel” while lying on his jet wearing nothing but the flight jacket.

[lightsoutmatthews]

willy just posted new pics from cannes on his insta and it gave me an idea! can you do willy x reader at some fancy event and the alllll the ladies keep coming up to will, so reader starts to feel really insecure/not enough. but sweet sweet willy is so loyal and so in love with reader and wants to show her that. thanks chica <3333

Those pictures made me go all 😵‍💫

There´s only you – William Nylander

You stood in front of the hotel mirror, adjusting the strap of your dress for the third time in probably as many minutes.

It wasn’t that it didn’t fit, it did, perfectly actually. You had gone shopping a week ago just to find something perfect for tonight.

A sleek, dark navy gown with a slit up the side, elegant but not too showy. Subtle jewelry, hair done up just the way you liked. You looked nice, good, even.

Unfortunately, good didn’t seem like enough for tonight.

Tonight, you were going to a red-carpet charity gala in Toronto on the arm of Leafs winger William Nylander.

You had been dating for a while at this point, but it would be the first time you would accompany him to such an event.

William was adjusting his cufflinks nearby, looking completely at ease in the tailored black tux.

You caught his reflection in the mirror. His blonde hair was slicked back, his jawline sharp and eyes bright. He looked like a movie star.

He was famous after all, but it was more than that. He glowed in places like this.

You felt lucky but at the same time incredibly nervous.

“You ready, älskling?” he asked, smiling at you in the mirror.

“Yeah,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Let´s do this.”

-------------

The venue was stunning. All marble floors, hanging chandeliers and tall windows overlooking the Toronto skyline.

Cameras flashed as you and William stepped out of the car. He held your hand the whole time, even as the mass of reporters shouted his name.

“William! Over here!”

“William, who are you wearing?”

“Is this your girlfriend?”

You clung to his side, eyes darting everywhere.

He leaned down, whispering softly against your ear as he sensed your unease, “You´re doing great.”

The moment you got inside, though, the swam began.

First, it was a group of women, models, maybe, with perfect hair and bright red lips. They recognized him immediately.

“Willy! Oh my God, I didn’t know you would be here tonight!” one of them almost shouted, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

She didn’t even spare you a glance.

Another one giggled, resting a hand on his arm. “I swear you get more handsome every year.”

You laughed politely, stepping a little closer to him. he didn’t move away, but he didn’t say much either, just gave them that soft, easy smile he used in public.

That professional smile you saw him spot many times before.

More women joined throughout the night. Models. Other attendees wives. Influencers. All gorgeous, all confident, all dressed to kill.

And every time they looked straight at William and barely at you. Some didn’t even hide they scanned him from head to toe.

It was starting to bother you, but you didn’t want to be that girlfriend. The clingy, insecure one. So, you smiled, sipped champagne and stayed close but not too close.

But your chest was getting tighter by the minute.

You started comparing.

You dress wasn’t as bold. You shoes weren’t as high. You didn’t have that high-society polish that they all seemed to carry effortlessly.

The way they walked, talked and flirted, it was like they belonged here, and you were just someone tagging along.

At one point, while William was chatting with a group of other Toronto athletes, you stepped away to the restroom.

You needed a break.

Your cheeks were hot, and not from the champagne or the warmth inside the building.

Why did you feel so small? You were the one here with him after all.

You knew William loved you. He told you all the time, but here, tonight, he fit so well in this world of flashing lights and glamorous women.

You couldn’t stop wondering, what if someday he realized he wanted someone more like them?

You swallowed the lump in your throat and pressed your lips together, trying to shake it off. He hadn’t done anything to even give you remotely the impression that he would.

You just needed a second to breathe.

--------------

When you came back out, you saw him standing near the bar. A tall blonde was leaning in close to him, hand resting lightly on his chest as she laughed at something he said.

It punched you in the stomach immediately.

You turned back towards the hallway and ducked outside to the balcony. It was quieter out there, the city lights glittering below.

You leaned against the stone railing and took a deep breath, wrapping your arms around yourself even though it wasn’t that cold tonight.

You didn’t cry, but the tears picked at the corner of your eyes.

You heard the door slide open behind you a few minutes after initially stepping out.

“Hey,” William said softly.

You didn’t turn around right away, the sound of his voice making the tears threaten to fall any second.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “I just needed some air.”

“I noticed,” he said, coming up beside you now. “Are you okay?”

You hesitated for a second. Debating to tell him the truth.

“I´m fine,” you lied instead. “Just a little overwhelmed with it all.”

William watched you for a second after that. “Something is wrong,” he pointed out.

You looked up at him finally and that was when your voice cracked. “I don’t fit in here, Will. I feel like I´m just standing in the background while all these girls throw themselves at you.”

His expression fell instantly. “What?”

“They´re all so confident and glamorous and they look like they belong with someone like you. Meanwhile I´m just me.”

He was quiet for a beat, his brow furrowing. Then he reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Älskling” he mumbled, the Swedish term of endearment sending shivers down your spine. “You´re the only person I see in a room like this.”

You scoffed a little, not because you didn’t want to believe him, but because it felt too good to be true.

“I´m serious,” he said, stepping closer. “You think I care about them or that any of them matter to me?”

You looked down. “I know you don’t mean to make me feel this way, but when they look at you like that, it just…it gets in my head. I start wondering if I´m good enough.”

Williams hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up. “You are good enough. You´re more than enough and you´re everything to me.”

Your eyes burned.

“They don’t know me,” he said gently. “But you do. You know the dumb stuff I watch when I´m sick, the way I get grumpy when I haven’t eaten. You´ve seen me at my worst and still love me. That means more than some girl laughing at my jokes for five minutes.”

You swallowed hard. “But they´re all so…”

“Älskling,” he interrupted you softly. “I don’t want them. I want you. Always.”

He leaned in and kissed you softly, slow and sure. His hand stayed on your waist, grounding you.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “I know I don’t say this nearly enough,” he murmured. “But I love you. Not because you came here with me tonight or because you look amazing in that dress…which you do by the way. But because you´re you and nothing any of them say or do is ever gonna change that.”

You blinked quickly, trying to keep your tears from falling. “Do you really mean that?” you asked quietly.

“I swear on every hair product in the bathroom,” he laughed, and you joined in a second later.

He smiled at the sound. “Are you coming back inside?”

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly.

He took your hand again, and this time, you didn’t feel like you were trailing behind him. You felt like you were right where you belonged.

-------------

Inside, the event was still in full swing, but William didn’t drift back into the crowd.

Instead, he led you to one of the cocktail tables off to the side, ordered you a drink and sat beside you with his arm around your shoulder.

When people came up to him, he smiled, but he didn’t entertain them for long.

When another woman approached with that flirty tone, he didn’t give her the polite brush-off. He simply turned to you and kissed your cheek.

It was a small thing, but in that moment it felt big.

You saw the woman blink, then glance between the two of you before she smiled politely and excused herself.

William leaned into you. “Better?”

You leaned into him, heart full. “Much.”

--------------

Back in your hotel room later that night, everything felt quieter and softer, like the tension of the evening had finally melted away, leaving just you and William, as you were meant to be.

You kicked off your heels the second the door closed, groaning in relief. “My feet are killing me.”

William chuckled and dropped the room key on the table. “You looked incredible, though.”

You gave him a look. “My toes are genuinely numb. I think beauty might actually be pain.”

He laughed in acknowledgement while he was already slipping off his tuxedo jacket and loosening his tie. “Do you need help with the dress?”

You turned around without answering and he unzipped it slowly, carefully, almost sensually.

His fingers brushed the bare skin of your back, lingering just a little longer than necessary.

You didn’t stop him.

Once free, you let the dress fall to the floor and stepped out of it, his glaze roaming over your body until you tugged on the hotel robe.

William toed off his shoes and changed into sweats and a shirt while you whipped off our makeup and tossed your jewelry on the nightstand.

Finally, the two of you ended up on the bed. Him stretched out, you curled into his side with your legs draped over his.

You felt warm, safe and exhausted.

William pulled the blanket over you both, one hand resting on your thigh, the other scrolling through photos on his phone.

“Look at this one,” he said, holding up a picture of you two from the red carpet. “We look hot together.”

“Speak for yourself,” you laughed.

“Babe,” he groaned in disbelief, setting the phone down. “Don’t make me fight you on this again.”

You buried your face in his chest. “I know. I´m sorry. I just… it was a lot tonight. Seeing how people look at you and how those women flock to you. I just felt like I didn’t measure up…”

He shook his head immediately. “You don’t have to measure up to anyone. You´re not in competition.”

You looked up at him. “It´s hard not to feel like I am in those situations.”

Willima stat up straighter, shifting so you were facing each other fully. “Okay. Listen to me,” he started gently. “I love you. Not you on a red carpet or you in a dress. You. The one who is always honest with me and weird and overthinks everything while trying to be chill even when you´re clearly not. I love every part of that.”

Your eyes prickled again, but you smiled.

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “I know I´m used to this stuff. The events and the attention and the cameras, but I don’t care about that stuff. The second you walked away tonight; I couldn’t focus on anything else. I was standing there thinking where you went because I didn’t want to do any of it without you.”

You swallowed and then mumbled. “I didn’t want to make it about me.”

“You are it for me,” he said without hesitation. “You´re the best part of my life. These nights don’t mean anything without you in them.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed in the best way.

He reached for your hand, playing with your fingers as he spoke. “I´m never going to let anyone make you feel like you don’t belong. Especially not in a room I´m in.”

After a short pause he continued before you could interject. “You´re mine and I´m yours. That´s it. That’s the whole story.”

“William,” you breathed, voice tight with emotion.

He leaned in and kissed you. Soft, slow and grounding. The kind of kiss that said “I see you and I choose you. Again, and again.”

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours like it had on the balcony earlier in the night.

“You´re the only one I want to come home to. After a shitty practice or a bad game, after a long road trip or just dinner with the guys, for as long as you will have me.”

You blinked fast, but the tears slipped out anyway.

You let out a quiet laugh. “God, I´m a mess tonight.”

He smiled and kissed you again. “You´re my mess.”

You curled tighter into him, heart full in a way that had nothing to do with the champagne or fancy clothes or flashing lights.

It was just him, just the warmth of his body and the quiet of this moment along with the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in his life.

This time you believed it. Not because he said it, but because you knew he really meant it.

[astro-duck]

God what if I got back on the DuckTales finale again. I’ve being thinking about it more and it PISSES ME OFF!!!!! ARGGGGGGG. Other people have made this point, and have done so more eloquently than I will, but I need to type out a rant anyway.

Webby Vanderquack being a clone of Scrooge completely shits all over the entire show’s message of found family! It doesn’t matter that she gives a speech about “Family being the people who care about you.” It doesn’t matter that Scrooge calls the entire cast his family at the end. Having “The rightful heir of Scrooge McDuck” be revealed to be a genetic clone of him, aka 100% related to him right before she takes the Papyrus that will only appear to the heir of Scrooge, makes it seem like only people biologically related to you are really your “family”.

Obviously that’s not what the show wants us to take away, but that’s what it seems like. Webby being a clone of Scrooge (and calling him “Dad” at the end which is fucking wild???!!!) adds nothing! All it does is take away from the fact that Beakley raised her and make someone who she (arguably) never saw as a father (I’d argue more of a mentorship) her dad. For what? For genetics? For biology? Bullshit.

Here’s how to actually do it, a couple proposals depending on what you want to do with Webby, May and June.

Option 1: There are no May and June. Give the finale to some established characters instead of some random twerps. Huey is kidnapped by F.O.W.L, and is initially extremely resistant to their message, but is enthralled by Bradford’s connection to Isabella Finch. He eventually gives in to their message that he belongs there, with people of his intellect, and not with his brothers and family. When the rest of the Ducks/McDucks/the gang show up to rescue him, he is caught in this moment between his family yelling for him not to do it, and Bradford telling him that all he has to do to have a life at F.O.W.L., a life with his people, is reach forward and take it. Huey chooses F.O.W.L. And the Papyrus does not appear to him. And everyone is really confused because that should have worked?? He’s an heir of Scrooge??? So Bradley’s like “hmmm, disappointing, guess I’ll kill you.” Or whatever. And then the episode follows a similar trajectory, big epic battles trying to rescue Huey (because family forgives each other or whatever) until a second opportunity arrises for someone to grab the Papyrus, but the only person with an open shot at it is Webby. Webby, not genetically related to Scrooge at all, runs up to the spot where it should appear, with the gang (Scrooge, Dewey and Louie, Donald, Della, etc.) all cheering her on, and the Papyrus appears to her and she takes it. Bc family is who’s there for you and not who you’re related to. Then whatever, family is the greatest adventure of all blah blah blah. Big emotional climax, we forgive Huey, all is well.

Right? Obviously it’s not perfect, I’m no writer, but doesn’t that make sense? It also plays better into Huey’s little “I’m the smartest person ever” arc that he had going on than the current finale did. I just picked him for the brother that betrayed them because he’s already teed up for it, but it could be Louie, Dewey, Donald or whoever. As long as it was set up in a believable way.

But say that you really like May and June. Fine, let’s keep them in there.

Option 2: A very similar set up to the current finale, except May and June are revealed right away to be clones of Scrooge, not Webby. Webby is not related to him/them. Then May and June, along with Webby (+Huey, I guess) go back to F.O.W.L headquarters together, the same rescue mission ensues, but at one point one of the twins breaks away from the fight and runs up to the platform where the Papyrus is being held. She reaches out for it, fully prepared to take it and bring it back to Bradford, only it doesn’t appear. And then Bradford can be like “hmmm, disappointing, guess I’ll kill you guys.” And then the twins are getting saved (just bc it’s the right thing to do, and not let two little girls die.) (perhaps at Webby’s urging: “This is the only family they’ve ever known, of course they chose F.O.W.L. But if we show them what real family looks like, they’ll know they made a mistake!” Type shit.) and Webby has her shot to get the Papyrus, and it appears to her and she takes it. Same reasoning. Idk, maybe she can give it to Bradford when he’s threatening May and June, because she wants them to be like sisters to her, and they’re so moved by her display that they decide not to be evil anymore. They save Webby/Scrooge/someone and everyone learns to trust them. They defeat Bradford. Family is the greatest adventure of all, blah blah blah, we’re all falling out of an airplane.

Right? Because it didn’t matter that they were clones of him? It only matters that he wasn’t really their family until both sides decided to care for and trust each other. And Webby still takes the Papyrus. But what if, for some reason, you really like that Webby is a clone of Scrooge? Fine, third time’s the charm, I guess.

Option 3: The exact same setup as the finale, except when Webby goes to get the Papyrus for Bradford, it doesn’t appear. Because she’s choosing to go against Scrooge and his family, which means that in no way could she be the rightful heir of Scrooge McDuck. Bradford, just like in every universe is before, is like “hmm, disappointing, guess I’ll kill you now.” And the rescue mission occurs. Webby realizes her mistake, realizes that F.O.W.L. could never be her home, and apologizes. Then, just like before, a big battle ensues. Webby breaks away from the fight, and she has the chance to take it again. Only this time she is on Scrooge’s side, and he is cheering her on and telling her that he knows it’ll appear, and it does. And she takes it. Because only after she accepted that the gang is her real family could she take the Papyrus. Then whatever, she gives it up to save May and June and they’re moved, just like in option two. Anything goes, nothing matters, family is the greatest adventure of all time, blah blah blah, roll credits.

(You could also just cut May and June from option 3, have Webby be revealed to be a sole clone of Scrooge and the same arc plays out, sans twins. We’ll call that option 3.5)

Literally anything would be better. But as it currently stands, it seems like the only reason the Papyrus of Binding appeared to Webby is because she is a clone of Scrooge, because she was actively working against him at the time. Also the finale was poorly handled in other aspects, both like this and not. I think Webby had some interesting potential with Beakley in a few scenes. Beakley explaining (lying about) who her parents were, and Webby, dressed as June, having the opportunity to torture her Grandmother for information. But both scenes were not well handled, and Beakley lying is just kinda weird for the story imo. Also Huey’s arc was underdone and Dewey, Louie, Donald and Della definitely should have had more to do. I like Huey, he’s my favorite, but it’s a three part finale and they spent too much time on two new characters who were just diet Webby, and didn’t even really add anything imo. Also there were too many other characters, so none of them got to do anything.

Overall, I was disappointed. I like the scene of them falling out of the airplane, though. Wish it felt better deserved.

Okay that’s all. <3 Goodnight!

P.S. just figured I’d say that I did not even read this back. Sorry if it’s nonsense. Not even beta read by me lol

[crowfish-brainrot]

Mistakes Were Made Part 4

Adrenaline can make people lusty, and that's what inspired this fic. Also, if I was MC, my sexy self would be fuckin' all five of these men until I got into a relationship bc I am weak and they are too hot to not. Soooo, this might get kinda messy, but it'll end in a good (poly?) place.

CONTENT NOTES FOR ALL PARTS: 18+ MDNI. LaDs men x MC (you), Casual Sex, Pre-relationship, Complicated Feelings All Around. Smut & Angst. Smut with Feelings. No use of Y/N. Possibly ooc bc I'm still getting back into fanfic. Oral f&m receiving, p in v, unprotected sex bc its fiction, creampies, softdom!Xavier, brattamer!Zayne, brattyswitch!Rafayel, switch!Sylus, dom!Caleb brattyswitch!MC, but it's all fluid imo. light bond*ge, sp*nking, size difference, overstimulation, improper use of evol, semi-public sex. Nicknames used in all parts: canon nicknames as well as bunny, princess, love, & darling. F reader. MC is described as being curvy and strong with some fuller titties bc I love titties. Possibly MMF if I get to a part 6 Unedited. You get this raw (just like our Lads!)

Xavier | Zayne | Rafayel | Sylus (this part) | Caleb

Every fucking time you went anywhere with Sylus, danger followed close behind. It was by a miracle of the gods themselves you hadn't sat on Sylus' cock yet. It helped that you could make an excuse about needing to return to Linkon abruptly. Your mission partner got a call about some wanderers, you have to go give him back up. You had a doctor's appointment in a few hours you couldn't miss, or your secondary employer needed your protection for an event. Sylus never questioned you out loud, as long as you promised to return to the N109 Zone.

This time, however, you went on a trip with him halfway across the world to chase down a lead tied to Ever, so none of your flimsy excuses couldn't help you now. After a fight like that, you desperately needed some excuse to leave before you added yet another too-handsome-for-his-own-good man to your roster.

The fight was brutal. You were pitifully outnumbered, but you and Sylus fought alongside one another like you'd done so your entire lives. In perfect sync, you rarely had to speak before you two resonated and caused a swirling storm of energy. You both made it out of the fight, neither too injured. The blood covering him wasn't his, and he looked every bit the intimidating leader of Onychinus that he was. Instead of being terrified at the sight like you should've been, you found him downright enchanting. Covered in the blood of your enemies and sweat-slicked from battle, he never looked better.

"Everything alright, kitten?" he asked.

"Yeah," you said, your voice too high to be normal. "I'm just checking for injuries. Are you sure you didn't get hit?"

"Worried?"

"Maybe."

He chuckled. "I'll let you thoroughly investigate once we get back to the safe house."

Your heart thrummed under your breasts at the sound of his rich laughter, and you could already tell you were doomed.

The ride back to the safe house didn't help your situation. The motorcycle purred beneath you and your arms wrapped tightly around Sylus' bulky body. He was so strong, so stable, that your head spun. The vibration of the bike and the heady leather and spice scent of him, now tinged with the copper tang of blood, all sent more need curling low in your belly.

You arrived at the safe house, a large manor house hidden somewhere in the woods far beyond the city lights and a long way down a dirt road. Sylus left you on the bike as he quickly checked to verify that the location hadn't been compromised in the time it took for you to complete your mission. He gave you the all clear, and on trembling legs, you stumbled off the bike.

A long tether of black-red mist wrapped around your waist to stabilize you. The now-familiar feel of his Evol was a welcome one. Slightly warm, it buzzed against your skin with raw power. You hummed softly as your mind wondered if there were other ways he could use this power of his. If it was tangible enough to touch you, what would it feel like inside you? Nope. Stop it! Your thoughts would get you in trouble, especially around him. You avoided eye-contact with him after battles for a reason.

You looked up to see Sylus' smirking face and the flush on your cheeks creeped all the way back to your ears. Damn it. You pushed past him and hurried inside, trying to put as much distance between you as you could. You brought a small vibrator with you, you did know yourself after all. It was a quiet thing, and even his safe houses were massive. You picked the bedroom farthest from his to give yourself some privacy. Hopefully it was enough.

"Running away so soon, sweetie? I thought you were worried about me." Sylus appeared in the archway between the kitchen and the stairs. He leaned against the frame and raised a silver brow at you.

"We're both covered in blood. Hard to see if you're wounded if we're both a mess," you said. It was a lame excuse Sylus saw right through. Lying to him was pointless, but he always smiled when you did. Like it entertained him when you tried to slip past with unspoken truths.

Sylus stood up straight and slowly undid the buttons on his blood-stained shirt. Your eyes followed his deft fingers as he slowly exposed the open expanse of his chest. Your throat closed, but you couldn't look away. Buttons undone, he shrugged the shirt off. It fell to the floor in a whisper, and he smirked down at you.

"Does this help, kitten?" he asked, his voice low and full of challenge.

Dear fucking gods, this man was so hot it bordered on unholy. His voice, the sharp lines of his face, his hair, and every line of his muscles all could've once been marble. Gorgeous didn't seem like a strong enough word to describe him, and he knew it, too.

He let you drink him in, and you made sure to keep your eyes off his face. If you snuck a single look, he'd know the hunger pooling low in your belly. You never desired Sylus. You hungered for him. Wanted to consume him, and be consumed by him.

Xavier wrapped you in safety, protected you. Zayne took care of you and stabilized you with his presence. Rafayel spoke to your heart and brought you to new depths. If you crossed into something sexual with Sylus? You'd consume one another whole. He spoke to your very essence. Being so close to him, the heat of battle still boiling in your blood, with his bare chest on display? It bordered on torture.

You swallowed. "Let me take a look."

Evol-suppressing bullets didn't last long, but you didn't want to risk Sylus' health. The mere thought of him bleeding made you dizzy for a reason you couldn't explain, so you didn't think about it too much as you checked him over. A bullet grazed his ribs, and your Evol recoiled at the strange energy emanating from it. The wound wasn't deep. His Evol could fix it in a second without much fuss, once the suppressant effects ebbed. Still, the sight of red blood dripping down his pale skin?

Your mind filled with the memory of blood -- his blood?-- staining your palms. You breathed through it, and turned back into the kitchen, digging under the sink for the first aid kit. He kept one under every sink, and in every bedroom, in all of his safehouses. First aid kits didn't usually come so well stocked with so many extras within, but he was a criminal, and it wasn't like he was going to call for help.

You dragged him by his wrist and plopped him down on a bar stool so you could clean him up. Sylus said nothing, but his eyes never left you as he obediently sat down. You cleaned the wound and placed a large bandage over it to cover it until his Evol could address it.

"Anywhere else?" you asked, as you ran your hands down his arms, to his fists. They often got bloody after fights, he did prefer them as his usual weapons -- despite owning multiple armories-- and usually they healed instantly. Still, you checked him over to be sure.

"I'm fine. I didn't realize I'd been hit at all until you rubbed alcohol over the wound," he said, taking your hands in his. "Are you okay? You haven't looked me in the eye since we got here."

"I'm fine," you said. It sounded like a lie to your ears, so you knew he didn't believe you either. "I don't like seeing you hurt, is all. I know it happens, but..."

You looked down at your threaded fingers. You touched Sylus often. Always casual. A brush of shoulders, grabbing his hand, the brush of your knees when you sat next to one another. Wrapping your body around his when you rode on his bike. It felt natural to reach for him, and it seemed he thought the same thing. Since you started reaching for his hand outside of battles, his found yours, too. Never more than you could take, and never anything but respectful. Just warmth and steadiness that comforted something deep within you.

"It will take far more than some simple bullets to hurt me, kitten." His voice was soft, gentle in the tone he only ever used on you. He drove you insane sometimes, but some new level of trust took root between you. Then, his voice took on a different tone, one more playful. "Though, I didn't realize you cared so much about my well-being."

"Shut up or you'll ruin it," you said.

He chuckled softly. The sound rich and warm, it filled the space between you both. You needed to get to your room, shower, come, and maybe figure out what type of food he stored here. If you stayed this close to him the heat of his body and his shirtless chest would do you in faster than you could talk yourself out of.

"Well, you're fine. So I'm going to go clean up," you said, too fast to be casual. "Let me know if we get attacked!"

"Look at me," he said. Not harsh, but it was a command all the same. One you couldn't ignore.

You drew your eyes up to his face, focusing on his nose so you wouldn't accidentally meet his eyes. Your heart fluttered the way it always did around him. Too loud, too fast. His fingers rested under your chin, but he didn't pull your face up further. Not yet.

"After every fight, you're always in such a hurry to leave. I thought by getting out of Linkon you'd settle after a fight, or at least tell me what gets you so jumpy." Sylus' thumb rubbed over your chin, and his ruby gaze dropped to your mouth. "I have my ideas, of course, but I want to hear from you. Why do you always run away from me, sweetie?"

Your pussy throbbed at the low, rich tone of his voice, how it burned with information he held back. He let you squirm for long enough, waited so patiently, and your half-truths and scattered lies wouldn't be enough to save you this time. His free arm reached past you and rested on the counter, pinning you in place. You could escape if you tried, probably. But, did you want to?

No. No, you didn't want to escape at all. His proximity and warmth silenced the voice in the back of your head that screamed "do not fuck the actual fucking boss of Onychinus!" You'd thought about it. Oh great fucking gods had you thought about it. Since you met him, really. Those thoughts you had about him, from tantalizing to downright fucking filthy filled your mind, and warmth pooled in your lower stomach.

"I get...needy after battles," you quickly said. "Really any time something gets my adrenaline spiking. I need to work it out, somehow. Otherwise I can't calm down. I make a quick exit so I can blow off some steam."

"And these other men you mention, your hunter partner, your doctor, and your employer, they help you calm down?"

Oh fuck. He knew?

"I never said they were men..." you whispered.

"You didn't need to," he said, his voice soft. "Do you think I'd leave you unprotected as you left my territory? You keep interesting company, kitten."

Fuck.

You cleared your throat. "Yeah, well..."

Your cheeks flushed and you struggled to find the words. What could you say to that? Sylus sent Mephisto to your apartment a few times a week, relaying intel or inviting you out. Had he caught you in your apartment with Xavier? Seen you out with Rafayel, or stumbling into Zayne's place?

"I'm not judging you," he laughed. "Call it...curiosity. I know you desire me. I sense it. Feel it. When the Evol linkage put us in that hotel closet, I felt your emotions. Your fear, your desire. I thought you'd ask me to stay after that. But your hunter partner was waiting for you at the event, wasn't he?"

You swallowed around the thick lump in your throat. "What about it?"

Xavier was waiting for you at the event. He asked you five times why you were late, and you told him that your coat was in the closet, and it was stuck shut. You had to ask hotel maintenance to fix it. He didn't seem like he believed you, but Lois corroborated your lie and all was well. You spent the night in his room as you tried--and failed--to not think about Sylus. That was months ago, and now you were here.

"I told you, curiosity." Sylus' hand dropped from the counter and settled on your waist. His other hand tilted your head up, forcing your eyes to meet his. "How many times have I told you to use me? Why not ask me to help you with your problem, sweetie?"

You couldn't look away from his carnelian eyes. There was no malice there, no look of burning jealousy. He asked like he wanted to genuinely know, and fuck, if you hadn't asked yourself the same question.

"First, I didn't know if you wanted me to use you like that."

"That's cute. Here I thought I was being obvious."

Your cheeks burned, but you continued. "Second, or relationship is already complicated. Given our jobs, and the fact that you are literally the most wanted man by the Association, crossing that line didn't seem wise."

"Yes, because the Association will be very understanding with you if we're found out. As long as we haven't had sex, it'll all be fine, won't it?" Sylus grinned as he poked holes in your logic, and damn it, he was right. Of course he was.

"Our relationship is still complicated" you said, continuing on. "Our connection, how our Evols keep linking up, how I go between finding you charming and thinking you're the biggest pain in my ass. That makes this complicated, too."

"Is it? I thought that added a bit of fun." His eyes flickered from yours, to your lips, then back up again. Mirth danced in his eyes, like he loved watching you squirm like this. He probably did. You didn't hate it either. Something about finally confessing this under his heated gaze sent your core to burning temperatures.

"Third, I already have people who can help me out. One of them is almost always available, and I already set expectations with them. Having sex with you would make me feel, I don't know, greedy, I guess?"

"Have I ever judged you for being greedy, or told you that you should want less?" Sylus' tone suddenly went serious, stern.

"No," you said. "But other people have."

"Other people don't matter, and if the people who do matter to you judge, let me handle them." He dropped your face and took both your hands in his. "Our connection is one of souls. Your desires are mine, and mine often reflect yours. The only people who will judge you for being greedy are the ones who fear they won't have enough, which isn't your problem. It's theirs."

"I thought you'd be mad if we had casual sex and found out about the others," you said, your voice soft.

"The idea didn't thrill me at first. I sulked in my office for a few days, but I discovered the feeling wasn't anger. It was jealousy. Not jealousy that other people got to feel you, but jealousy that I hadn't." Sylus shook his head and brought his gaze down to your connected palms. "It's your body. It's your life. You'll never face any judgement from me, but we both know if we have sex, it's not going to be casual. Nothing about us is."

He was right. Nothing about you and Sylus could be defined as "casual". From the first moment you met him, something seethed under your skin in desire to consume him. To take him. To feel him. He saw you to your essence. He infuriated and intoxicated you. Nothing with him would ever be casual.

Not that you succeeded in being casual with Xavier, Zayne, or Rafayel, either. Zayne was the best at it, but even those lines blurred when you spent the night at his place and you brought him lunch on the days you had the time. Xavier's intensity only got more prominent, diving in front of wanderers or into danger to keep you from getting hurt. Sometimes he asked you to care for him when he was sick, and you did. Rafayel became needier. Clingier. Texting you both goodnight and good morning, telling you he missed you, often with suggestive photos attached. You tried to keep it casual, but maybe it was pointless all around.

"Our relationship is predestined," Sylus said, calling your attention back to his face. "Unless you command me to leave, I'm here. We're both busy, however, should you want me, you can have me. In any way you need."

Gods, who knew an adult conversation like this could turn you on instead of make you want to run for the fucking hills? He made it seem so simple. Easy. Like you could have this, have all of them, and it would be okay. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't have feelings for the men closest to you. Some more complicated than others, but the feelings existed all the same.

You stepped between his legs and wrapped your arms around his neck. He returned the embrace with a sigh pressed into your hair. Tension melted out of your muscles and he held you. Warm, safe, and steady.

"I want you, Sylus," you murmured into his neck. "Even if it makes me greedy."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear so he could cup your face in his hands. "My love, I will show you what it means to be greedy."

His lips slotted over yours and suddenly you were lost. His lips were soft and decadent, and his kiss mirrored the hunger in yours. He stood, and your legs wrapped around his waist. Your hands tangled in his hair, and you lost yourself to the heat and presence of Sylus.

He pulled away only when he set you down. Bleary-eyed from the pleasure-soaked kiss, it took you a moment to realize you were in the bathroom. Sylus turned on the water in the massive shower, and hot water rained down from above.

"We're both bloody, and I didn't get to check you over for injuries. Trust me to take care of you, hmm?"

Your pussy pulsed in time with your racing heart. "Yes, sir."

His eyes darkened at your words, and he slowly unbuckled your gear. Careful fingers lifted your shirt up off your body, and his knuckles grazed over your ribs. You swallowed hard, but you didn't stop him, entranced by the way he handled you. Careful, but certain. Your top fluttered to the floor, but you didn't bother looking where. He made quick work of your bra, unclasping it with one hand. His gaze devoured your tits as they bounced free.

Now at the same level of undress that he was, you made quick work of his belt. Your eyes never left his face. It was impossible to look away from him and his reaction to you. Seeing a man as stern and serious as Sylus with an expression so needy it bordered on pain sent your stomach into flips. You unbuttoned his pants and shoved the material down. You brought your attention down his massive body, to the tent in his boxers.

Gods, you always imagined he'd have a massive cock, but even without getting up close? It seemed like he was even bigger than Zayne. Your knees trembled as you took a step closer and pulled the waistband down. His cock sprang free, rock hard and throbbing. You clenched around air. That might've been the biggest cock you'd ever seen in your life, and you wondered how you were going to take such a fucking monster.

Sylus took your momentary stunned expression in, and made quick work of your pants, pulling them down and off your hips. Your panties were soaked through, and he hummed as he ran a finger between your thighs. The soaked fabric clung to you, and you whimpered when his finger traced over your clit. He slipped them down over your thighs, then steadied you as you stepped out of your clothes.

He led you into the shower and the hot water washed over your body. Perfectly scalding, you hummed a contented noise as you settled under the spray. Sylus came in a moment behind you. "May I wash you off, love?"

"Yes please," you hummed.

He immediately got to work. He started off by washing your hair, his talented fingers gently working in the shampoo and scrubbing off the blood and grime from the fight. You melted in his hands, turned into mush by the way he touched you.

He worked the conditioner in with the same level of care as he shampooed your hair with, then he started the slow process of washing your body. His fingers worked the muscles in your shoulders, and your arms, and you hummed softly.

"Do I get to wash you after?" you asked, your voice teasing.

"If you'd like," he said. "I'm yours to play with, kitten."

You giggled and leaned into his touch. His hands went lower, over your breasts, and he took them in his grip. He squeezed them in his large palms and groaned at the weight of them. Your nipples hardened under the stimulation, and he rolled them in between his fingers. You moaned, and Sylus cursed.

"Fuck yes, love," he praised. "That sound is better than I imagined."

"Sylus!" you cried when he rolled your nipples between his fingers a second time.

"I told you, I'll show you what it means to be greedy." He pulled you back against him as he kneaded your tits in his large hands. "You should know by now I never say something I don't mean."

Goosebumps rose all across your body and you whined, high and desperate as he continued to play with your nipples. His cock throbbed at your back. He was so much taller than you, you wondered if you could even take his cock standing up without your feet leaving the ground. He continued washing you, moving on from your tits, down your sides, your stomach your thighs, until he was kneeling on the shower floor. There, he washed your calves and feet, scrubbing every inch of you clean.

In the same way you took baths with Rafayel after a night at his place, there was a sense of devotion in Sylus' actions. You were a fool to believe that any of the men in your life could be casual, not when everything they all did for you spoke of quiet devotion that bordered on reverence. Even now, Sylus did nothing but tend to you with pure tenderness and devotion in his beautiful red eyes.

Freshly clean, the body wash smelled something like cherries and the scent filled the room. Sylus pressed a kiss to your stomach, and then his hand went between your thighs. You were so wet he effortlessly slipped one finger inside you.

"Look at you, so wet for me," he said, his voice husky and deep. "You won't run away from me again, will you kitten?"

"No, sir," you panted. "I won't run from you again."

"Good girl," he cooed. "Let me take care of you."

You moaned as your hands slipped into his white hair, clutching tight as a second finger slipped inside you. His long fingers curled forward as his thumb rolled over your clit and your knees trembled. His free hand steadied you as he continued the slow, deep fucking of his fingers.

"You're so tight, sweetie. You won't be able to take my cock like this."

"I want to! I want your cock so fucking bad!"

He chuckled into your skin, the sound rich and warm. "I know you do. You just need to open up for me a little more. I don't want to hurt you."

He pushed you back toward the shower wall and lifted your legs over his shoulders. Black-red mist wrapped around your waist and pinned you against the wall. He settled between your thighs and smiled up at you, the glint in his eye similar to the he gave you when he nipped your palm after you held his chin. His fingers applied more pressure, and he hummed.

"I'm starving. Can I taste you?"

The way he looked at you, this massive, powerful man on his knees? That did you in. You'd give him anything he asked for in that moment. You understood his hunger. It mirrored in yours for him. Your fingers threaded through his hair and you pulled him closer to your weeping cunt. "Please."

Sylus groaned as he dove into your pretty pussy. His tongue lapped from your entrance to your clit, then back again. His scarlet eyes rolled in the back of his head. His lips found your clit and he sucked in perfect time with the pressure he applied to your sweet spot.

You clutched onto his hair for dear life as he ate you out like he truly was starving and you were his sustenance. Your walls fluttered around his fingers and he growled into your skin. The vibrations rolled through you, and the pleasure building low in your stomach went taut.

He pulled his lips away from your clit for only a moment. "Come for me, love. As many times as you want. Be. Greedy."

Sylus punctuated his words with deep thrusts of his fingers inside you, and your thighs trembled. His lips suctioned back around your clit, and you were lost. You came with a sharp cry of his name on your lips, your back bowing off the wall. His evol held you steady, keeping you in place as he continued devouring you.

Slick with release, he slipped a third thick finger inside you and your vision went white. Blinding. Too bright with pleasure and sensation as he stretched you out.

"Good girl. You're taking my fingers so well," he praised. "Just a little more, kitten."

"Sylus!" you whined, grinding your hips into the thrusts of his fingers. The stretch burned. His fingers were enormous, like the rest of him. You'd taken plenty of thick cock in recent months, but this? This bordered on too much.

"You can take it. I know you can," he said. "Breathe, sweetie. I've got you."

You made some sort of whine of protest, words too hard to formulate. How you could stretch more than this, how you could take more than what he already gave you, you had no idea. You already felt split open, and you hadn't taken his cock. Yet.

His mouth went back to work, slowly bringing you to another peak. While hungry, he didn't rush you. He savored you. Sucked your clit and drank you in like you were the finest wine he'd ever tasted, the most delicious meal he'd ever had. He devoured you with patience, letting you ride the waves of pleasure closer and closer to your second release.

Hot water rained down from above, and your eyes fell closed as you lost yourself to the slow build of pleasure he pulled from you. Each curl of his fingers and suck on your clit pulled more wetness from you, which made the stretch more manageable.

You gushed around his fingers as you came a second time, and Sylus growled. The sound low and rich as he drank you in again, working you through your release with the steady thrusts of his fingers. When you came down, he slowly pulled out of you and brought his fingers to his mouth. He licked each one clean, and your come-drunk mind could only manage to moan.

"You taste divine. I'd stay here on my knees all night if you'd let me." Sylus planted a kiss on either thigh and steadied you on your feet as his evol slowly released you. You clutched onto him until your wobbly legs stabilized. His cock throbbed against your stomach and your head spun when you took in the sheer size of him again.

"I might let you one of these days," you said. "Right now, I need a break. Get down here."

He handed you the shampoo and leaned down, waiting for you to wash him as you requested. With a soft, lust-drunk giggle, you began the same slow process he started on you. He purred like a cat when you washed his hair, and when your hands traced down his taut muscles. His breathing went shallow when you sank to your knees to continue washing his body. His cock was right at face level, and he hissed when your soapy hands gripped his hard, hot length. You tested the weight of him in your palms and shuddered. Sylus ran warmer than most, and his cock was almost scalding as you stroked him. The harder he got, the hotter his cock became.

"Sweetie," Sylus rasped. "Unless you want me to come all over your pretty face, I suggest stopping."

You pouted slightly, but you stopped your strokes on his massive shaft. He helped you stand, and you both rinsed off the soap that still clung to your skin. He turned off the water and wrapped you up in a towel, then himself. He took his time drying your hair, before he turned his attention to himself. The moment he deemed you both dry enough, he lifted you into his arms and carried you into the bedroom.

Your lips met in a heated kiss as your back hit the silken sheets. His massive body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin near scalding. His mouth trailed down your jaw, to your neck, and you whimpered when he sucked on the sensitive skin. Your legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him close as you rolled your hips up to meet his.

"Sylus, please. I need you inside me. Now. Please," you whined.

"Are you certain you're ready for my cock, kitten?" Sylus leaned back just enough to reach between your bodies. He slipped his massive length between your lower lips and slapped the thick head against your clit.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and your back arched off the bed. "Yes! I'm ready, give it to me, please!"

He kissed you once. "If that's what you desire, I'll give you everything."

Sylus notched the head of his cock at your entrance, then slid in slowly. You both hissed at the massive stretch. Despite how wet you were and the aid of his fingers, the stretch still burned slightly, but you welcomed it, welcomed him, as he slowly sank inside you. Inch by glorious inch, he stretched you out. Slow and steady. You clutched his arms to ground yourself, and breathed with him as you encouraged your body to relax around his massive size.

He was so hot, his cock almost burned as he stretched you out. The heat eased the stretch some, but you already burned with desire. Feeling his, hot and throbbing as he stretched you out melted your mind from the inside out.

It took several minutes of slow, steady pressure but finally, you took his cock in to the base. Every inch of him was buried inside you. You were beyond full, stuffed was more accurate. It felt like he was in your lungs. There was no room for anything but him. No thoughts, no worries, only the pleasure and sensations he gave you. You moaned his name, high and breathless as he held himself there.

"Can I move?" he asked, his voice tight with restraint.

"Please."

That was all it took. His hips rocked back, and the drag of his cock along your walls made you cry out his name. He groaned above you as his hips rolled forward, stretching you out all over again. Working you open wider with every powerful thrust of his hips. Your nails dug into his forearms, clutching to him to ground yourself so the pleasure wouldn't make you float away entirely.

"Look how well you take me, sweetie. What a good girl you are, taking every inch of my cock," he praised, his voice like velvet in your ears.

"You feel so good, Sy!" You whimpered after a particularly hard thrust, his cock hitting against your cervix with enough pressure that your lungs seized. "Fuck, you're so deep. Feels so good!"

Sylus cursed under his breath as he picked up the speed. He sat back on his knees and wrapped his hands around your waist. He was so massive that his long fingers nearly met across your middle. Your shoulders rested flat on the mattress below as he lifted your hips. The new angle allowed the head of his cock to hit your sweet spot every time he thrust in.

He held you in place while he pounded into your depths. Each thrust shook through your body, the clap of skin on skin loud in the room. Your high-pitched cries, needy and broken melded with his low, panted groans. You clenched around him as your peak came ever-closer.

"Where do you want my come, kitten?" Sylus asked. "I feel your desire, but I want to hear you say it. Tell me what you want."

You'd been tested, and your birth control held up so far. Sylus wanted you to be greedy, told you to take what you wanted. Right now, all you wanted was the feel of his come deep inside you.

"Inside me, please. Please come inside me, Sylus!"

"Good girl, telling me exactly what you want." Sylus thrust in deep, punctuating his next words with firm rolls of his hips. "I'll. Give. You. Everything. You. Ask. For."

His pace picked up again, his massive cock punching the air out of your lungs with every stroke. One hand left your waist to settle over your hip, and his thumb rubbed circles over your clit. Tension coiled low in your stomach, and your whines pitched higher. He thrust in deep, and your back bowed off the bed as white-hot pleasure seared through your body.

"Sylus!" you screamed as you came all over his cock.

Sylus' large hand found yours and he threaded your fingers together. He came a moment behind you, squeezing your hand as he pumped his come inside you. "All this come is yours, kitten. Take every. Last. Drop."

You clutched him with your thighs, keeping his cock buried deep. Hot, thick come filled you, and every throb of his cock shook through your stretched pussy. He lifted you into his arms, letting you settle over his lap, and he kissed you. You returned the lazy, satisfied kiss, getting lost in the heat of his touch and taste of his lips.

He pulled away just far enough to let you catch your breath. He stroked your cheek and rested his forehead against yours. "Are you too sensitive to take anymore, or can come for me one more time?"

You giggled softly. Your body buzzed, and your brain was fucked-out. Hazy with lust and lingering pleasure. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, then moved lower down his neck. "I can take one more, if you can give me one."

"If I had my way, I would keep you coming for me long past sunrise."

"Let's see if you can tire me out before the sun comes up."

"I'll rise to the challenge." Sylus bounced you up and down his rapidly-hardening cock, and all you could do was clutch onto him. "I'll show you just how greedy I can be, especially when it comes to you."

A/N: I didn't expect this part to go this way, but honestly? I love this. Sylus, the man you are. 😌 Our dragon is tied for #1 with Rafayel for me, so obviously I love him & had so much fun with this part! I want to do one of these with each LI before we start getting into overlap territory, and if we get there or not really depends on how much y'all want that. So, lmk! Either way, the next part of this series is going to be all about our favorite Pilot. Caleb is the LI I'm least familiar with, but my sister is a Certified Caleb Girlie so she helped me with his part. I'm so excited for you to read it next!

Masterlist | Next Part

[cricky-butspicy]

No idea if this has been asked before, and there's too many answers to go through for me to ACTUALLY find it- question for Slasher boys!

If the reader was, let's say, hurt by their family and possibly kicked out for coming out to their family as gay, bi, trans, or anything along the LGBTQ+ spectrum before they went off to college, how would the Slasher boys react to finding out that tidbit of knowledge?

ANOTHER THING- EXPECT ART OF MY READER INSERT AT SOME POINT IN TIME WHEN I FIGURE OUT MOST OF HIS DESIGN. You have a moth lover reader insert coming at ya, prepare yourself for tiny, moth color painted desk helper robots he collects and names, and prepare yourself for cute, moth themed jackets

I think there is a way to go to the magnifying glass and search posts by words/tags they contain! It's easier than going through the whole blog. If anything, I usually will link you an answer if it's been previously answered! So, no worries! This one hasn't been answered.

They seem fine at a glance. Of course they are sorry you had to go through that and are upset by it, but really, it's hard to see how upset they are by it. Like the tight fists and the bitten tongues and the pure rage trying to seep out of their skin. They focus on you when you tell. They make it about you and how they are worried about you and your feelings. They don't let you see just how worked up they are from hearing something so terrible.

Hope that these boys don't know your home address and hope that you don't give them time to find out! Also hope that you are clear on who was bad and who was good to you in your family. Otherwise you might just find that they are taking a "trip" for a few days! Where are they going? Oh, nowhere special. Just a little place they know that they want to spend a little time at. Oh? You want to come? Sorry, but maybe next time! They just need a little them time is all!

And if you look and see in the papers that your family was massacred, don't even worry about it! You get calls about them all passing away under a mysterious attack? Murderers that look to have killed in cold blood. That's so strange! Who could have done it? And Soleil and Atlas come back and ask you how you've been while they've been away and you tell them of this "tragedy" and they wonder what on earth could have happened! They comfort you a lot; they do know even separated family can have complicated ties to a person, but they assure you everything will be alright. They were so cruel to you. They didn't deserve you. You're better off without them. They'll help you through this. Everything will be ok <3 And you know, you are perfect just the way you are, right? No one could ever tell you differently, you know? Not on their watches. Not. On. Their. Watches.

In reality, this is a hard one for both of them to hear. Soleil has some major problems accepting his own sexuality while Atlas's mom has major problems accepting his sexuality and his older-half sibling's, Deimos, sexuality and gender identity. Soleil is scared his family and the world would despise him for coming out and accepting his feelings (which I will tell you, would never happen with his family. They are a very accepting group of people and love him no matter what) while Atlas's mom wants to save her children for her god (who she assumes is their god naturally.) Atlas thinks it's horseshit, and will openly flaunt how in love he is with Soleil around her and that Deimos is fucking Monty behind her back (which she full-heartedly denies,) and that her god can screw themself. He's not worried about other people's opinions like that. Especially not his mom's.

They take care of you in the way they know how.

-

I look forward to your self insert!!! I live to see them all! 🥰💕 Poor Soleil will have a time! He's terrified of most flying insects but especially of butterflies with moths as a close second! He's a fearful guy! But I LOVE MOTHS SO I'M EXCTIED!