#do not play with my fragile heart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshigray · 2 years ago

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𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬, 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 | toji fushiguro

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Your ex-husband bringing the kids over for trick-or-treating is one thing; him wanting to spend the night at your place is another. But it's just for the night. There's no way one night can rekindle some old feelings...right?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: ex-husband! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - the reader is around their mid-30s - Tsumiki (age 11) and Megumi (age 9) - mutual pining - kissing/makeout sessions - unprotected sex - Daddy kink - breast sucking + nipple play - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - spooning + mating press - cervix fucking - breeding kink - praise - clitoral play (pressing and grinding) - pet names (baby, good girl, mama, princess, sweetie, sweet thing) - you and Toji have been divorced for five years - cameos: Gojo, Utahime and Mei Mei - mention of drool/spit and tears - humor bc I'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k (....dawg.)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: happy Halloween, everyone!! so, randomly missed writing ex-husband! toji bc it's lowkey my favorite, soooo yeah, this is what we're doing to celebrate the end of the month! anywho, happy October, beautiful ppl, and tysm for reading my works!! Alsooo, ty for 2.8k!!!

“Trick-or-treat!!”

“Gasp—Oh my goodness!”

“We came to celebrate Halloween! Also, Megumi forgot his toothbrush here again.”

Opening your door to children at the sunset of Halloween day isn’t out of the ordinary or anything special. However, it’s always a pleasant surprise when it’s two kids you hold dear to your heart. You greet them with a hug, two siblings you know too well to say you’re acquainted with. If anything, you’re practically family.

The raven-haired brother, referred to as Megumi, speaks up. “It’s not my fault! Dad was rushing me last time.”

“Because you had to bring your stuffed animals last time, holding us back for your baseball practice.” Tsumiki, the older sister, snapped back. The two argue amongst themselves in front of you as you try to mediate. It’s no avail until another voice comes to the fray.

“All right, chill out, you two.” The voice belonged to the person approaching the porch stairs, your eyesight capturing the familiar figure walking up with two duffle bags. The one standing tall before you was the father of the children, Toji Fushiguro. Who’s also known as your one and only former husband. “Get inside and finish y’r homework, or else we’re goin’ back home.”

The siblings stop bickering and head inside, taking off their shoes at the foyer and walking upstairs. Now that they’re gone, you turn to the man with the jet-black hair, his viridian orbs focused on you. The weather was chilly, so the man wore his usual dark denim jacket over his plain black sweatshirt, matching his jeans. “You look good, big guy. What’s in the bags?”

He greets you with a curled lip, and the scar on the side of his lip lifts. “Picked them up from their after-school sports, so it’s their sports gear and costumes for tonight. Mind helpin’ me here?”

“Hmmm,” you merge your facial expressions to that of faux pondering, turning your back to Toji. “Nah, can’t. Got dinner to finish making.”

“Hmph, should’ve known.” He makes his way through between you and the front door. “Wouldn’t wanna break your pretty nails carrying heavy shit, huh, princess?”

You glare at him using the nickname, hating his patronizing gaze. “From what I remembered, you would never let me carry the heavy stuff because you thought I was too fragile and easy to break. So how about that, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor?”

“Really? I don’t remember sayin’ all that before. You must’ve put me in a spell.”

“Probably, I’ve been told I’m quite cute~.”

“Mmm, nah, more like an old hag of a witch.” Toji barks a laugh at your offended reaction, and he immediately ducks and heads for the stairs when you throw a sandal at him.

“At the very least, say I’m a cute witch, fucker.” You say the final word under your breath, grabbing the sandal you threw and heading back to the kitchen.

To say you and Toji were acquainted with one another would be the biggest understatement of the century. The two of you met a decade ago, fell madly in love, and married within a year of the relationship. When you tied the knot, Tsumiki had to have been two years old, and Megumi just turned one year old. You two had been together for four years after that, and you could confidently say those were one of [if not THE] best years of your life. You often second-guessed yourself being in a relationship with someone who had children, fearing that they wouldn’t like you or ignore you.

However, those worries were blown right away as the days went by. Every time you spent time with the children brought you three closer than ever; it was to the point that they saw you as their mother. How sweet! And there’s no denying that Toji loved you. The man would break someone’s nose for you — yes, it happened before, and it wasn’t pretty — for you were his sweet little thing that kept him going.

Well, if it was so great, why the divorce? Let’s just say you weren’t Toji’s first love. That title would have to be awarded to the Megumi’s mother. Even in her unfortunate passing, you can tell that Toji loved that woman like no other. It didn’t make you jealous or anything, seeing the man you love still mourn for a dead woman. Hell, you’d probably do the same if you were him. But, you can’t lie; it felt like you were cast over a “shadow” when it came to her influence. It was damn near suffocating to bear, especially in those four years of marriage. So, for your sake and his aching heart, you pulled him aside and suggested a divorce. And Toji didn’t fight you on the proposition, signing the papers and setting you free from the thick air.

Although things ended between you two, that didn’t mean things stopped being what they were. If anything, it was as if nothing happened at all. Even if you still don’t live under the same roof, you still make time to hang with the Fushiguros, whether invited to some occasion or exchange phone calls or texts to check up on them. Even now, five years after your separation, it warms your heart knowing that you get to interact with the people you care about.

There are moments you find yourself missing living under the same roof with all three of them and living alone can be pretty lonely. But all in all, as long as they’re comfortable and trust you enough to be around, there’s no need to change things up again. Like right now — the four of you sit at the dinner table eating before the kids go off trick-or-treating.

“Are you going to trick-or-treat with us, Y/n?” The brown-haired child sitting next to you asks while finishing up her dinner.

“Sorry, not this time, gotta be at a Zoom meeting for my job in a few minutes. But I do have someone else to take my place. Gojo will be here at around—Why are you two making that face?” You stop mid-sentence to notice Megumi and Toji at the other side of the table, displaying disgusted facial expressions at the mention of the white-haired other’s name.

“Why him?” They said in unison.

“Why not??” You question their irritation.

“He’s so annoying…” Again, in unison. Proof enough that they’re father and son.

You sigh as you get up to take your plate to the sink. “Oh, come on, you two, it’s not like he’ll be with you guys the entire night. He has a party at a friend’s he’s going to later.”

“Isn’t he too old to trick-or-treat?” Tsumiki questions, noting that Gojo is way past his undergraduate years.

“He is, but whatever gets that prick any free sweets,” Toji answers his daughter before getting up to put his dish in the sink.

You exit the kitchen, head into the living room, and sit on the couch. The laptop you had placed there was ready to open and unlock, and you clicked on applications and windows to look through before your meeting started in the next three to two minutes. He should be here about—

DING-DONG!!

Now.

Right on cue, you motion for Toji to grab the front door, and he follows your command. “Kids, Gojo’s here!” You shout out to the two kids who still sit at the table. “When you’re done eating, you can go upstairs and put your costumes on. But whoever finishes last has to do the dishes.” You can hear commotion from the table as the brunette rushes to put her dish in the sink and dash for the stairs. Megumi groans to himself; you giggle when you hear him mutter an “Aww man…”

You pull out your headphones to connect to your laptop, put them in their respective ears, and prepare yourself for the meeting. Ignoring the faint passive-aggressive tones of your ex-husband when greeting Gojo at the door…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Your eyes flutter open, noticing the lighting change around the living room. The orange sunlight no longer decorated the space, substituted with the gradual darkness that overtakes you. The only source of light you can figure out is the flashing from the television screen.

Aside from the TV, there are no other signs of life. There aren’t any signs of Tsumiki or Megumi around playing or causing a raucous. It could only mean the two are still trick-or-treating with Gojo.

One blink, two blinks. I must’ve fallen asleep after the meeting… You hum while sinking to the couch, burying your face into the pillow.

But…since when did your pillow act like it was breathing with a heartbeat? And…I smelt that cologne before…How?

“Ya awake now?”

You raise your head, realizing you are not lying on your couch. Technically, you were; however, you were lying on something else on the furniture with you – more like someone.

It’s then you realize that you were lying on Toji during your entire slumber, him leaning on the end of the couch, one leg spread to make room for you to sleep on him while you sit on the other. And you can guess that you had your head on his chest, snuggling up to his warm figure. He looks at you with his green eyes now darkened by the room, yet you can see their glow from the television light. And that small smile he gives you, the scar on the right side of his lip lifted upward. The familiar butterflies in your stomach flutter like before. Like old times sake…That must be embarrassing, huh?

You frantically try to get off of him, “Sorry about that, I thought—“

“No, no,” Toji places a stern hand on your back, keeping you from moving further. “You were comfortable.”

You stare at him for a few seconds until your face contours to a look, and a smile starts to creep up while you situate yourself back to your original position, pressing your face back on his chest to listen to the beats of his heart again. “I recall having this couch all to myself not too long ago, so where’d you come from?”

“Well, I wanted to watch some sports highlights, but I figured you’d kick my ass if I pulled you off and had you sleep on the floor instead.” With the click of your tongue, he chortles. You bet your ass I would. “So, I decided to have ya sleep on me while I watch TV.”

“What’s wrong with the other side of the couch? It’s quite vacant and enough for a big guy like you.”

“True,” his hand rubs circles on your back, an old habit he did when he used to have you like this. “But then I’d be lonely.”

You titter. “That’s big for someone who said he thrives on being alone.”

“I thrive being alone when I’m working.” You’re glad he can’t see your eyes roll; he’d probably grab you by the cheeks like a child. “Besides, why would I wanna be alone when I have you for myself.”

And there it is, your cheeks begin to warm up. Or was it because you’re so close to him that his heat is transferring to you? That’s probably it, yeah. Let’s change the subject…”How long was I out for? I remember the kids left around 7:30-ish.”

“Mmm, it’s going to eleven right now.”

Three and a half hours? Damn. “It’s past their bedtime.”

Toji scoffs. The abrupt motion of his chest rising is satisfying in a way that makes you even more comfortable. “You still think they’re gonna sleep with all that sweet shit they got?” He snickers some more as you shake your head.

“They know better. When you guys get home, be sure to put their candy bags on the top shelf of the closet for the morning.”

“Still traumatized from that one time?”

“Uhhh, yes??” The memory flashes to you for a quick moment, but the dread from before still haunts you. Megumi was six years old and Tsumiki seven, returning home from trick-or-treating and immediately tasting their labor from that night. However, what you didn’t expect was for them both to eat almost half their bags. Let’s just say, thanks to their sugar rushes, they didn’t drop dead until the hour hand touched two of the morning. “Unless it’s the weekend, never again.”

The way the older man chuckles is so therapeutic — it nearly makes you want to fall asleep again. “You weren’t the one chasin' Megumi all over the place tryin' to get him to sleep. Little squirt gets his speed from me.”

“Awww, poor you~” You can sense the glare as you respond in a condescending, sing-song tune. “You and him are always butting heads. Like father, like son.”

“Tch, hate that sayin’ so fuckin’ much.”

“Why? ‘Because it’s true?”

“Shut up.” The hand he used to rest his head comes down to pinch your nose. You wriggle out of his hold with giggles, but he happily keeps you grounded to him with his stronghold and a leg wrapped around to prevent yours from moving. “He only listens to you. Such a sweet lil’ baby to you, huh? Puttin’ my own son against me.”

More giggles prompt out of tiny guilt, and you bring up a hand to rub on his chest. “He’s such a bright boy now. Growing up so big and fast.”

“Miki, too. That girl is way too smart fr' me to catch up. And she’s becoming so kind and strong, crazy to think she made me play teacups when she could barely go down the stairs by herself.” Toji hums, the vibrations felt on the pads of your fingers. “Think she gets that from you.”

You shook your head. “They’re your babies. They do amazing things because they have a big guy like you to catch them if they ever fall.”

“Hmm, fair…But let’s not pretend I’m the best dad in the world. Fuck, never in my life did I think I’d be a dad, especially with two kids. I didn’t know shit back then — still! I still don’t know shit.” You don’t say anything, just listening to him voice his thoughts to you. Because he knows you’d listen – you always do. “If you weren’t there for them, I don’t think they’d be shining like this. Y’re definitely the thing that brought us up together. They look up to you so much. Ya did so well with them.”

Nodding aimlessly, his black sweatshirt grazing on your cheek. “Thank you. Same to you. Didn’t do so bad yourself, big guy.”

“Mmm.”

Nothing is said between you two after that. The only thing that makes noise is the voices coming from the television. The volume lowered, an initiative you could guess from Toji wanting you to get some rest. The silence was too awkward that it might torture some, but it was fine where it was. There was no need to change it, especially when you were comfortable in each other’s embrace.

That is, until Toji asks, “Do you miss it?” The rubs on your back go slower, his fingertips drawing a ticklish sensation.

“Of course I do. All the time.” You answer honestly, turning your head to rest your chin on him. Your eyes glimpse directly at his, giving him a tiny grin. “Why ask? I know the kids miss me being around; what about you? Miss me nagging and putting you to work all the time?”

He sneers at your comment. “Every day.”

It was such a simple answer, yet it had the power to wipe that smirk right off your face. Your eyes locked in his sight, and your heart tuning to an irregular rhythm. Oh, come on, Y/n, get a grip! “Ahem—Toji, I hope you know that I never stopped missing everything we had — I never will. Those years that we shared were probably the best I’ve had. We had happy moments, others sad, of course. But, God, do I miss it all. I miss it so much. I miss having you guys here. Miki and Gumi and—“

“Me?” Good Lord, if this man doesn’t stop looking at you with those goddamn eyes of his, such captivating orbs that say more than he lets on. Your breath hitches, and so does the hand on your back. “Hmm? Ya miss me, baby?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why’d you have to call me that? And it gets worse when he places his free hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin while the forefinger teases the lobe and tragus of your ear. Goddammnit…

“...Yes,” your voice was down a whisper, which could easily be mistaken with the television. But you know Toji heard you, loud and clear. “Especially you, Toji.” You said it. The words that he wanted to hear from you. They felt so forbidden to say, yet it was the truth. You avert your gaze away from him. But you knew that wouldn’t work, not right now. Toji taps your cheek with his thumb, and your eyes sheepishly return to his.

He doesn’t say anything, and that makes your heart beat at an unbearable rate. It’s all you can hear when you stare into his deep emerald eyes, the sound of it ringing your eardrums as if you could puke. Your throat running dry, so you gulp to ease the uncomfortable bob. If something could just happen to end this anxious torture, that would be great.

And then your prayers get answered: something does happen. Toji slowly brings his face closer to yours — your body goes rigid, and you instantly face away before the inevitable happens. No, I didn’t mean that!

“Aht aht, don’t do that, baby.” His hand slithers from your cheek to your chin, forcing you to face straight at him. “Lemme see you.”

“Toji, wait,” your voice travels out in a shaky breath. “We shouldn’t be doing this. We can’t cross this line anymore.”

He listens to your pleas, but his body does otherwise. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead while the hand on your back snakes downward. “Why not?” His gruff voice dialed down to a whisper.

“Because—Mmmm…” Toji interrupts you by licking the helix of your ear. Oh, you slick bastard. “We’re supposed to be done…”

“That’s not stoppin’ me from takin’ care of my sweet thing.” Jesus Christ, you almost melted from the way he whispered that to your ear. He’s pulling out all the same old tricks, and it gets more hellish by the second as you try not to give in. “So, y're gonna let me take care of you like I always do, right, mama?”

Both his hands now rest on your ass, groping it while your hips sway as if they have a mind of their own. The leg between yours comes up slightly, making you ride on it. The heat on your cheeks has already blossomed to your ears, making it hard to think straight. Gripping his sweatshirt, your hips ride his thigh to ease the throbbing sensation that grows with every motion. Good God, you shouldn’t be doing this. You know you shouldn’t be doing this. However, it’s been so long that you felt wanted like this — wanted by him. It’s all the same – his voice, his hands, his words, his body, and the names he calls – yet here you are turning into putty.

“Haaahh, Mmmfff…Toji, please,” Toji withdraws his face from your shoulder, leaving him to examine your expression. You must look so dumb right now, with your hooded eyes and shivering lips. But, at this point, do you even care? “Please…Treat me right.”

One moment, you see his gaze narrow with a devious glint. Next, you’re taken aback when Toji slams his lips on yours, kissing and sucking your bottom lip until you give him access. With a moan, you open your mouth for him and sink deeper into the kiss. Your hands come around his neck, keeping him focused on you and you alone. Not that he would have it any other way.

His strong hands continue to knead your asscheeks while you hump and grind on his thigh. Nibbling on your lip, you whimper helplessly for him. It strokes his ego, knowing he’s making you like this, the fucking bastard. He takes in your tiny cries happily, shoving his tongue to play with yours. You give in to him, almost losing your balance riding his thigh, yet Toji’s lips never leave yours.

You break the kiss to get an imperative breath, panting loudly and sweetly for him as Toji kisses and licks your ear. The sounds make your lower region twitch. “Hnnmm, fuck…That’s my girl. So fuckin’ good fr’ me always, Y/n…” You can feel him slide a hand up to the hem of your leggings, forcing it inside for his thick fingers to brush up on the bare flesh of your butt. You gasp sharply. Him squeezing your butt has you biting down on his sweatshirt. “—Hahhh, Oh God, Toji,” With every squeeze, he inches closer to your panty-covered chasm, where you know he’d find a damp spot. Please touch me. Please, please, plea—

CLACK-CLINK!!

The two of you are frozen stiff when you hear the sound of the door opening and closing, the foyer lights turned on. “Alright~, we got you guys home. See ya later!” That was Gojo’s voice, indicating everyone was finally back from trick-or-treating. This means that Tsumiki and Megumi are about to see you on top of their father, his hand in your leggings and smacking lips with yours. Your eyes shoot wide with horror — immediately remove yourself from Toji and stand up from the couch to pull your bottoms up. You barely had the chance to peek at Toji because the kids already run to the living room to find you two.

“Y/n, Y/n, look!” The brunette was the first to greet you with her adorable pink Barbie cowgirl costume. She and her brother, dressed as Sasuke Uchiha, cheerfully showcased their pillowcases full of candy. “Look at all this candy we got!”

“Wooow, you guys really went on a haul,” you can only hope they can’t see you sweating bullets through your fake reaction. “Wh–Where’s Gojo?”

“He dropped us off here a few seconds ago and left for the party,” The raven-haired boy answered while scanning his pillowcase.

You only nod along until you frantically wipe your mouth, realizing the tiny trail of spit from the corner of your mouth. “Umm—Ahem, well then, I’m glad you two got all that candy. Now, let’s hurry up and get you guys home so you can get ready for school tomorrow!”

But the children didn’t move an inch. Actually, they looked like they were going to tell you something. You lift a brow. Oh no, they’re going to look at each other. They looked at each other and then glanced back at you. Oh, God, no. “Uhhh, Y/n, we were thinking.” Big sister Tsumiki is always the one who asks the following question. “Can we stay over?”

You inhale a massive breath, yet you do your best not to exhale a heavy sigh. “Kids, you promised to keep the overnight stays to three at max per month. This will be the fifth!”

“Yeah, but it’s dark out. Plus, it’s way past our bedtime.” The younger chimes in with a tiny pout. “We’ll be asleep by the time Dad gets us home.”

And here comes Tsumiki with the tag-team response to add on. “And that means he’ll have to make continuous trips back and forth from the car. Picking me and Megumi up, getting our bookbags, the bags full of candy, the whole thing! We already packed up our PJs just in case.”

You stood there staring at the two in astonishment. There’s no way they thoroughly planned this out. There’s just no way… And to make it worse, they were making valid arguments. You open your mouth to say something, but the two give the best puppy eyes they can. The wave of guilt hits like a train, internally cringing. You turn to Toji, who still sits on the couch, and the motherfucker only gives you a shrug. Wow, what a helpful father he is.

You groan into your hands, shaking your head while looking at the kids who wait for your verdict. “…Alright, you can stay as long as you PROMISE to put those candy bags in my bedroom closet. Deal?” The happy smiles and aggressive head shakes should answer your question. “Good, now go ahead and take your showers before you head for bed.” They rushed to the stairs by the time you finished that sentence, so enthusiastic about staying the night at your house, and you can’t help but smile hearing their footsteps run up the stairs.

With that being said, you turn to the older man again. Your brows are trenched down, but your smile is still present. “So, you legit just sat there and let those two tag-team me like that? In my own house?”

Another shrug with a dumb smirk on his handsome face. “Told you: too smart fr’ me to catch up.” You shake your head before exiting to get the kids and guest rooms ready, leaving him with the television.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The midnight hour has finally danced its way into the darkness of the night. Halloween is finally over, and the month of October is no more. The pitter-patter sound of the rain cleanses the neighborhood of its merits and festivities that partook hours ago, ready for a new phase of the year to take over.

After having the guest room ready with sheets and sleepwear for Toji and kissing the kids goodnight, you rinse your stress off with a nice shower and put on your pajamas to get ready for bed. After you turn the lights off, you drape the comforter over your figure as your body sinks with the cozy sheets and pillowcase. Your eyes close while focusing on the curtains of your window, the only light piercing inside being the lampposts by the street.

…Well, at least that’s what’s supposed to happen. But that’s not the case because you’re not the only one lying comfortably on your mattress. Instead, Toji is here with you, in your room, on your bed, his chest to your back, and his hand roaming inside your oversized shirt. Your lips are now connected with his, sharing your erotic moans with his enticing groans, and you get a little louder as his fingers cup and play with your breast.

“Mmphh…Ahhhh, I thought I told you you’re sleeping in the guest room—Nmmff!” He tweezes your nipple with his forefinger and thumb roughly.

“And I thought you’d be smart enough to know that wasn’t gonna happen.” Toji kisses the crook of your neck, drawing near your ear for him to whisper. “Besides, look at you. Still sleepin’ with no underwear on?”

“Hmph, only when I have a man around the house.” That answer got you another rough tweak on your nip and a purposeful gnaw to your ear. You knew he’d react like that, never liking the mention of another man leaving your mouth – especially during an intimate time like this.

“That so? What man you know that can handle all this?” Toji then moves from his side to be between your legs, pulling up your shirt to fully expose your chest. And your breathe hitches while his free hand travels down your abdomen to your bottoms.

“Ahhhh, no one. Just you...” You look at him with half-lidded eyes, taking in his reaction to what you said. The salacious grin on his face becoming broader should entail that he greatly loved that retort.

He brings his face to your other unattended nipple, “Good answer, princess.” The nub of your breast enters his mouth, and the wet warmth of his tongue greets it with lapped motions and grazes from his teeth. Despite that, it doesn’t distract you from the fact your bottoms are pulled down with ease and are thrown to the bedroom floor, leaving your cunt out for him, your erotic fluids seeping and glistening from the outside lights.

Toji plays with your folds until he can stuff his pointer finger into your chasm, the insertion resulting in your body’s jolt. It’s been a long while since you had his thick digit inside you, playing and scraping the inner walls to evoke whimpers. God, it felt so good, this satisfying feeling returning to awaken your body to his touch. He interacts with your body as if he’s the only person who knows how to get you going – and it’s the truth. No one can put you in a blissful haze quicker than this man. And you’d prefer to keep it that way.

The addition of his middle finger into your leaky entrance startles you, the thick digit making its way in with such vigor that he uses both fingers to scrape the velvety texture of your walls. Your eyes are now screwed shut at the growing commotion between your thighs, and the heat within your body flourishing all around gets to your head. “—Khmm, Oh fuuck, Toji. Please, don’t stop.”

With a soft ‘pop’ noise from his lips, Toji replies to your demands. “I’m sorry, what’s my name again?” You giggle with trenched brows. Of course, how could I forget?

“Nmmph, D-Daddy, pleaseee, I’m so clo—Ahhhann!!” He puts his thumb to your clit, grinding down on it unexpectedly. “I wanna cum, pleaseee…”

“Hmmm, good girl,” he teased, laying down kisses, nibbling on the skin of your stomach and inner thighs until he arrives at your leaking slit. Your body jerks up from the bed when you feel the cold, wet muscle slowly lick on your clitoris before ravaging your folds. The sounds of his mouth on your cunt are so lewd to the ear, slurping noises from his lips with the lapping motions of his tongue claiming your come are too much for you. And when he uses his hand to swipe and pinch your clit? Oh, it’s a wrap. Your release comes out without control, biting down on your bottom lip to make sure your cries don’t leave this space for the kids to hear. Their room is on the other side down the hall; tonight isn’t the night for too many risks.

When your trembling body calms down and subsides, Toji withdraws his face from between your thighs. Your essence paints his mouth, and he wipes his chin clean while licking the remnants that coat his scarred lips. “Hmph, missed tastin’ you like that.” You open your eyes when your high finally evades you, watching your ex-husband pull down his sweats. His erection springs out and hits his stomach, your mind going rampant with thoughts as you ogle at his freed limb. Shit, it’s been so long. Will that shit even fit me again?

“Don’t think it’ll fit, baby?” Damn him, he loves teasing you. Toji then discards his black wife-beater, at long last revealing his well-built, brawny physique that has you drooling for him. He uses his hands to maneuver your legs—your knees pushed to your chest as your legs propped up on his shoulders. A position you’re all too familiar with. Your eyes don’t leave Toji’s cock as he aligns his cock to your slick-coated folds. “Take some breaths fr’ me, sweetie. Can’t take care of you when you’re all tense.”

You take up on his advice and begin taking deep breaths, reminding yourself to maintain the steady pattern as he pushes the tip of his dick between the lips of your cunt. Every inhale is where he nudges into the hole of your inner cavern, and every exhale gives you time to breathe out the pain that comes in for a split second. This carries on until the cockhead wedges itself perfectly into your vagina, along with the inches of his girth that stretches until the base kisses your lips, the tip of him kissing your cervix. Tears swell up in your eyes, taking more deep breaths to prepare yourself for what’s about to come.

“Oooh fuuuck…Heh, yeah, that’s my baby right there. Fittin’ so perfect fr’ me, mama…” He puts his weight on you, keeping your figure unmoving under his bow.

“Nmmmf, Daddyyy,” you’re forced to take in all of him, and drool trails down your lips with no hope of taking care of it. “…I’m so full, you’re too much…”

“I know, sweetie, I know.” He wipes your spit after kissing your forehead. How gentle compared to what you’re about to go through. “Gonna move now.” His thrusts start slow for the two of you to adjust to each other; the feeling of his length’s veins coming in and out of your chasm is so euphoric, and the kisses to your cervix want your body to writhe and squirm. But you’re bent into this position for a reason: forced to submit to him no matter what. So you do just that.

Yet your horny haze gets more potent once he picks up the pace, rutting into you with increased speed. Your slit, still sensitive from earlier, gets overstimulated with the constant grazes on your gummy walls and jabs to your tender cervix. It takes everything in your power not to come so early.

“—Hahhhh, Nmmph. Oh, shit, shit, shit…” Toji groans above you, the thrusts of his pelvis increase to an irregular rhythm, grinding deep into your cunt to the point of uncontrollable babbles escaping your lips. His bullying on your insides results in you gripping his length hard, causing the older man to hiss and moan at your contractions. “—Ohhhfuuuckk!! Jesus Christ, baby. Y’re gonna make me go crazy.”

As if that wasn’t already happening now that he pistons his cock into your wetness, your brain turning into mush from the onslaught of ruts to your puffy wet chasm. Tears stream down your face, and more drool follows down with more precise hits to your delicate canal. The pounding in your head makes it hard to think of anything else, the squelching noises and paps of Toji’s balls hitting your cunt making it worse.

“D-Daddyyy, I’m—Ohoooo!! Oh, Jesus, ohhhshit!” You can’t formulate a proper sentence, too engulfed with the electrifying sensations coursing through your body.

“Damn, you feel too fucking good—Hnngh!!” Toji places his forehead on yours, resting his entire weight on you while his hips have a mind of their own. “‘Bout to make me knock you up…”

Oh, good Lord. The mere thought of having a child is the last thing that should be on your mind. But in a time like this, who in their right mind would be thinking straight? “Nnnfff! Oh God, pleaseee, fill me up, Daddyy!” Green eyes narrow with trenched brows. “—Pleasepleasepleaseee!! I want you to fill me up so bad, I want it, I want—Hyaaaaa!!”

How can he deny your desperate, teary pleas when you’re urging him on like this? “Heh, you’re so fuckin’ sexy, mama.” Toji captures your lips with his, your mewls taken by him as you sink further into your pleasurable thrill.

Sporadic thrusts of his pelvis produce more raunchy noises in the joining of your sexes, his heavy balls smacking on your cunt as he drives the base of his cock straight into you. Your slit is now a puffy mess, come and slick form a soapy mess that Toji now harbors a milky ring around his girth. A few rushed, sloppy thrusts heighten your high once more, and then Toji presses his pelvis down to the hilt on one final, harsh thrust, unloading his seed into your aching folds. And your climax follows in a few seconds, the walls of your cunt fluttering on his pulsating dick as your essence soaks him. Your muffled shrieks are received by him, quivering under him until the aftershocks wash through your body.

Once you two breathe at a steady tempo and the nerves of your sweaty bodies fall still, the kiss is broken with heavy pants and a string of spit that links you two together. Toji buries his face between your neck and shoulder, licking and kissing your skin as you’re allowed time to experience your clarity.

“Hmmm…You know I’m not done yet, princess.” Toji mumbles to your ear before stationing your legs off his shoulders for them to rest.

“Yeah, I know, big guy.” You tease him with a breathless laugh, kissing him on the temple. “Always wanting more…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…So, you’re telling me you had your ex-husband spend the night? Not just the kids?”

“Yup, that’s what happened.”

This morning was different from your usual routine – well, you can’t say it’s different if you have done it before, huh? After five years of divorce, you thought you’d be so used to waking up and getting ready for work without worrying about others. However, this morning proves otherwise.

It felt natural walking into the kids’ room and lightly shaking them awake, telling them to get ready while you whip up something quick for them to eat as Toji showers (using your bathroom, by the way). Watching the kids run down the stairs and eat breakfast puts a smile on your face, reminiscing about the good old days when they were younger and teenier. It sometimes feels surreal doing the same thing for them now that they’re getting older and taller. But seeing them bicker and interact with each other in your presence never fails to warm your heart.

When Toji’s finished freshening up and loading his kids’ stuff in his truck, it’s time to bid them farewell for their departure for school. You give them final touch-ups on their hair and outfits, reminding them to be safe and not get into trouble (especially Megumi, now that the boy’s been getting into fights). And before they rush to the car, you hug them and give each a kiss on the cheek. Here is where the warm feeling inside your heart begins to deteriorate, not wanting to let them go. Yet, for their sake – and education – you release them and hope for the best.

The last to leave was Toji, who came from the kitchen to the front door with a paper plate wrapped in foil in one hand. His name is written boldly by a black Sharpie. “This fr' me?”

“No, it’s for Shiu Kong, for dealing with you all the time.” You stick your tongue out at Toji as he glares at you, not even moving out of the way while he exits through the door. “You better eat that when you get to work, you have a terrible habit of skipping lunch.”

“Whatever ya say, mom.” He pesters you with the title, knowing you’re technically not a mother anymore. Yet it only makes you smile knowing he notices your maternal side.

“Don’t forget to text me when Tsumiki’s soccer game is next week.” You watch him go down the porch stairs.

“Will do.”He whistles.

“And Toji?”

The man stops walking to turn to you, his forest green eyes fixed on you so quickly that you almost forget what you want to say. Or what you wanted to do. You place your fingers on your lips and blow a kiss with an outward gesture. It was an old habit you did whenever he left, something you can’t seem to get out of practice with. It’s embroidered in your mind at this point.

And when he catches the kiss with his free hand and places it on his chest, it makes your heart skip a beat. Toji grins, “I’ll be damned if that was fr' Shiu, too.”

You snicker with a shaken head. “Drive safe, Toji.” Closing the front door, you stand there for a while. Your smile doesn’t falter; it gets bigger as you replay the moment instead. Thinking about him, hearing him, seeing him, it all drives you crazy. And that’s a good thing…right?

“I don’t know, sounds like you still kinda care about the guy.”

“Of course I do,” So here you are, sitting in your living room enjoying the rays of the sunset decorating the space, in a video call with your best friends, Utahime and Mei Mei. You reply to the former’s comment. “Just because I don’t have the ring on my finger doesn’t mean I shouldn’t care about him. I mean, he’s the father of two lovely children.”

“Shoot, you’re better than me, then.” The dark-haired woman admits. “But you’re kinda proving my point, Y/n. Even when you don’t have the ring on, you two act like the same old couple, and it’s definitely not just for the kids’ sake. Let’s be real here.”

You try to interject, but the pale-blue-haired other, Mei Mei, intervenes, “I agree. It’s one thing if you let the children stay over, but he also wanted to spend the night. Sure, he could’ve been tired from driving all day and such. However, if you’re still seeing a man for the last five years – while legally unbound – and he says he wants to spend the night under your roof, which is rare, that should ring some bells at least.”

“I know, it did…” you nod along with what your friend is saying, throwing your head back with a heavy sigh. “But it’s not like he’s never spent the night here before, nor is he banished from stepping inside.”

“Oh? Then why is this time different from the others?”

Utahime jumps in after Mei Mei’s chirp. “Yeah, you’re telling us about all these nostalgic lovey-dovey feelings as if you’re falling in love with him all over again. What, did you two have sex or something?”

An open mouth, yet no words come out, leaving you in a predicament. You could’ve just lied or swerved the subject to something else. But you didn’t. And the two women on the screen lift their brows with hooded eyes, a look meaning a thousand words. You couldn’t even explain yourself either because a sudden knock on your door captured the attention of all three of you.

You stand up and walk towards the door, your friends still on call on the phone at hand. Opening the door, you’re almost stunned to see in front of you. Tsumiki and Megumi with nervous smiles, and their father at the car collecting the same duffles bags from last night. You’re kidding.

“Hey, kids.” The two of them gulped from not calling them by their names. You bring up the phone to face the screen to them. “Say hello to Auntie Mei Mei and Utahime.” The women on the line smile and wave at the children, who sheepishly wave back.

“Hi, aunties.” Megumi greets them, and then his eyes drift back to you. “So, Y/n—“

“What did you forget this time?” Straight to the point, no room for excuses.

“It was Miki this time! She forgot her soccer cleats.” The older sibling gawks at her younger brother for calling her out.

“Tsumiki, I know you have cleats at home.”

“I do, but these are special! You bought them for my birthday, and I’ve been wearing them to every game ever since! So, I was scared when I couldn’t find them at home.” The brunette was quick to defend her stand. “Also, Dad doesn’t feel like driving up here and then back. So…can we…”

You close your eyes and bring the phone to your face to shield your vexation. Twice in a row, the sixth time this month. You can hear the giggles of your friends from the other side of the phone, adding more fuel to the fire. You don’t look up until you hear heavy footsteps on the porch, seeing Toji holding both duffle bags with a hand and shoulder. He stares at you as you stare at him, a silent conversation on how to handle this situation. And when he shrugs with lifted brows, you realize it’s no use and release the long-awaited sigh.

“….If I see one more thing being left behind here, you guys can’t come back till December, understand?” It wasn’t anything serious, but enough for the kids to know you weren’t joking. They nod their heads in unison while you roll your eyes. “Okay, get in here.” They rushed inside with gleeful laughs, the shuffling of their backpacks following along with them. Your eyes then drift to Toji as he walks up to you. “Did you forget something here, too?”

“Yeah,” you lift a brow when he drops Megumi’s bag to the floor. Before you can register his hand on your chin, you squeak when he brings his lips to yours. It lasted for seconds, but the kiss was sweet and tender, sucking on your lip before letting go with a playful bite. “Meant to give you that when you woke up. Thanks fr' the food, mama.”

Toji picks the bag up and walks inside your home to put the bags in the rooms, leaving you standing on the porch with an astounded expression. You couldn’t appropriately calibrate your thoughts until you heard faint laughs from the phone. Then, you realize your best friends witnessed the entire scene that transpired.

Utahime, with the slyest leer, was the first to say something. “Oh yeah, he laid that pipe on you good, without a doubt.”

“Mhmm,” Mei Mei agrees with a chuckle. “And I'm guessing he’s gonna do it again tonight. Isn’t that right, Y/n?”

You end the video call with a heated face. “Sh-Shut your damn mouths!!” Again, you groan into your hands before returning inside. Thank God I still have those birth control pills...

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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evansbby · 3 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝟐

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x naive!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: VERY DARK ELEMENTS, noncon, extremely rough smut, daddy kink, slight dd/lg undertones, captain kink, age gap (Steve is very into the age gap), MAJOR size kink, no seriously Steve is HUGE, physical violence, injuries, descriptions of injuries of a sexual nature, misogyny, heavy mentions of blood, possibly inaccurate medical information, mean Steve (seriously, he has no soul and is very mean, honestly unhinged), rough oral (m receiving), innocence kink, naive reader, 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS. MINORS DNI.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve plays the part of Captain America to perfection. But behind closed doors, he unleashes all his darkness on you.

𝐀/𝐍: This is a sequel to The Captain's Reward. Reminder to PLEASE read the warnings very very carefully. This is a VERY dark story. Dead dove don't eat. Please consider this a warning. If this isn't your cup of tea, just scroll. To everyone else, enjoy.

Steve doesn’t think there’s another girl in this entire universe who’s as beautiful as you. As sweet, innocent and pretty as you. And, he thinks as he licks as lips hungrily, there’s certainly no one else in this world as fragile and weak and helpless as you are at this very moment. All because of him.

He watches you attempt to hobble your way to the bathroom, his face concealed of any emotion. But he feels a pang of amusement when you grab his dresser to try and balance yourself. It’s cute, that look of determination on your face, the hope you undoubtedly have inside you that you could possibly reach the bathroom on your own two feet. Of course, you couldn’t. Steve had made sure of that.

An entire night of relentless fucking. And Steve hadn’t broken a single sweat. You, on the other hand, had screamed, cried, fought and passed out – and that had all been within the first hour. After that, you’d grown more docile. A broken look had settled behind your eyes as you’d been powerless against him whilst he’d defiled your body in almost every way imaginable. There had been moments where your fire had returned and you’d started fighting back again – and Steve had taken great pleasure in putting you back in your place each time you did that.

Now, you wail in frustration, falling back down on the king-sized bed with a cute thump. Steve almost smirks. He knows you’re in no condition to walk – not when your legs won’t stop shaking and you’re still bleeding. And sure, maybe he should’ve called the physician about twelve hours ago, but you were way too delectable to neglect for even a second. He wanted to savour your loveliness some more, ruin you a little more, break you down just a little more before the doctor examines you.

And then he’d do it all over again because he deserved to.

“Two agents will be here shortly to help you get ready.” Steve says finally.

Your head whips over in his direction, and he loves how your entire body jumps when he speaks to you. He knows he still holds that authority over you, that special importance that only a man of Steve’s calibre could possess. Despite the fact that he’s undoubtedly the villain in your eyes, which he doesn’t give a single fuck about. He knows deep down you still hold him in high regard – after all, he was an important, respected government figure. A hero. Your saviour. And you? You were just a dumb little girl.

“G-Get ready?” You squeak.

Steve feels his dick harden again – not that it had ever gone fully soft to begin with. He doubts he’ll ever not be hard in your presence ever again. Not when you were so deliciously sweet and broken and cute right in front of him.

“Your family has sent a bag of your belongings. The agents will help you get ready so the physician can see you.” Steve says, keeping his voice level and emotionless.

He can practically see your heart lurch up to your throat as you sit up even straighter.

“My family? They know I’m here? A-Are they coming to get me?”

This time, Steve allows himself to smirk freely, ever-amused by the tiny bit of hope in your voice.

“They know. And they happily provided my agents a bag of your belongings once they were informed that you were under my care, and will be for the foreseeable future.” His tone is smooth and calculated, knowing this information will hurt you. Of course, being Captain America had its perks – including the undying love and adoration that regular civilians like your parents had for him. They’d been happy that Steve had plucked you up and wanted to keep you. As they should be, because they knew what was best for you.

Your face crumples like a piece of paper, and the now familiar sight of your sweet tears as they glisten down your cheeks gets Steve even harder. Fuck, all he really wants to do is grab you, push you back down on his bed and fuck the living daylights out of you again. You were such a goddamned baby, crying your eyes out like a little fucking girl because your mommy and daddy didn’t give enough of a fuck about you to save you from the big bad wolf.

Well, you were young after all. At some point during the previous night, in between the animalistic fucking and the touching, he’d had you beneath him. Kissing the life out of you because he couldn’t get enough of your salty sweet lips, and the taste of your pure submission. “How old are you?” He’d asked.

You’d told him, in that sexy breathless whisper of yours, the one that let him know that you were half scared, and half overwhelmed with the pleasure he was drawing out of your body. Between pretty gasps and some more kisses, his tongue probing your mouth whilst he’d lazily fingered you (a short reprieve for you both before he’d inevitably fuck you again, over and over again all night). You’d told him you had one year left of college, how you were so close to graduating.

And that was exactly why you were so perfect for Steve – someone young and pretty and innocent like a little flower, someone he could defile over and over again. Someone with which he could let his inner darkness take over, and then watch while you cried your little baby tears as he put you through everything he deserved to put you through.

“Th-They don’t care?” You sputter now, hiccupping and crying like it’s the end of the goddamned world that your parents hadn’t given more of a fuck about you, and Steve relishes every second of it.

“They know what’s best for you.” He rises to his feet and fixes his tie. He’d woken up and gotten ready hours before you, as he’d had a press conference to attend. Of course, the first thing he’d done in the morning was fuck your sleeping body, nestling his fat dick between your peachy-warm ass and taking your tight, broken little pussy one last time before he had to go. You’d woken up with a start, crying and trying to fight him off with renewed vigour, but he’d had you settled down on his dick soon enough. Clearly, since he’d gotten you off three times before he’d unloaded inside you, revelling in the sound of your sobs.

He'd gone on to stand on a podium at the press conference and give a speech about HYDRA’s attack at your university yesterday. How, thanks to him and the Avengers, there had been no casualties. Not a single life lost. He’d received a hero’s welcome from the general public, with reporters scrambling to ask him question after question on how brave he’d been, how countless students now owed their lives to him. As he always did, he’d painted a gracious smile on his face – the perfect poster boy of bravery and humility. And then he’d come home to precious, little you. Stirring on his king-sized bed after a night of ruthless fucking.

Now, he had a meeting to attend, which meant he didn’t need you or your body for the next few hours. Therefore, the doctor could check up on you.

But, before Steve leaves, a thought enters his mind. In two long strides, he crosses the room. You gape as he nears you, cringe away from him when his thumb and forefinger grab your chin roughly, making you look up at him. And fuck, you look so innocent and sweet, so afraid of him. It makes him want to ditch his meeting and get back into bed with you. Show you and teach you everything about sex that your innocent mind undoubtedly didn’t know. Hell, he’d popped your cherry last night but he’d been so preoccupied with your cute little pussy that he’s still yet to use your mouth or your other hole.

But he needs to set something straight first.

“You are my property.” He says it plainly, matter-of-factly. Long ago, Steve had mastered the art of keeping his face neutral, and he knows you’re intimidated by him. He can see you, feel you, shaking under his grip. “That means you do not speak to any other man without my permission, or without me there with you.”

You suck in your breath, but you don’t say anything. Not that you could even if you wanted to, since he’s holding your jaw so tightly. One little jerk of his wrist and it would all be over for you. Sweet little girl. Life over before it even began. Of course, Steve has no intention of killing you, but he wants you to believe that he could, and he knows that you, sweet naïve little you, will believe it.

“No talking unnecessarily with the doctor or any other men you may encounter whilst I’m gone today.” Steve continues. Of course, he has a lot of other rules for you too but he’d let you know them in due course. “As my personal property, I expect you to obey what I am telling you right now. If the doctor has any questions for you, you are allowed to answer him but nothing more than that. Just know that I have eyes and ears everywhere, and I’ll know if you disobey me in any shape or form.”

He lets go of you roughly, pushing you down till you’re lying on your side. He takes one last look at you, a long, lingering look filled with lust and want. You look scared out of your mind, and he wouldn��t have you any other way. He exhales slowly, before beginning to make his way out of the room once more.

“I’ll tell him you raped me.”

Your voice carries across his bedroom like a whisper, and Steve probably wouldn’t have even heard it had it not been for his enhanced hearing. His jaw tightens, a wave of irritation rumbling inside him at your choice of word. Expressionless, he turns back around. You’ve pulled yourself up into a sitting position, and you look so tiny on his huge bed. So tiny and scared and shaking – like a little baby who has no idea who she’s up against. He meets your sad, accusatory eyes, his dick hardening even more when he sees the fire’s back within them. But all he does is look at you, daring you to say more.

You swallow, as if trying to harness all the strength you possibly can from within you. “I-I’ll tell him you kidnapped me and raped me. And he’ll see for himself once he looks at me, anyone would!” Your voice breaks as you glance down at yourself, at your bruised and bloodied body. You sniffle, “You’re a rapist and everyone’s gonna know!”

This time, Steve takes his time, leisurely making his way back in your direction. And it’s comical, how quickly your bravado dissipates. You cringe back again, crawling to the edge of the bed in a bid to get away from him. But where would you go? You could hardly take a single step without falling over your shaking legs. It makes Steve’s lip curl in amusement, watching how you start to scramble, terror evident in your eyes. Along with the immediate regret for what you’ve just said to him.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Captain, please, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t–”

Your breathing sounds laboured once Steve finally reaches you, and you look like you’re about to pass out. Scared out of your mind like the stupid little girl you are. A rapist. Who the fuck did you think you were, calling Steve that? Comparing him to the vermin who prowled the streets and took advantage of women, the very same low-lives who Steve himself had personally put behind bars numerous times. He’d never be like them. No, this was different. He deserved this. He deserved you and your body. You were his. He could do whatever he wanted with your body, after everything he’d done to save you, to save the world.

You look up at him, swallowing harshly as if expecting the worst. But all Steve does is stroke your cheek softly. His fingers trail the smooth expanse of your face, your cheekbones, your temple, your forehead, your jaw. He strokes your face like you’re his little pet, and predictably, you start to relax. He can feel the goosebumps he’s leaving against your skin, and he knows the effect he has on you no matter how much you fight against him, or how much you accuse him of wronging you.

That’s when he draws his hand back and slaps you hard across the face.

The shock of the blow has you opening your mouth in a silent cry, but nothing comes out except for a pathetic squeak. You fall back down on his bed, clutching your face as tears of pain stream down your cheeks.

“Tell him.” Steve says softly, “Tell anyone you want. Let’s see what they do about it.”

***

Steve is hard throughout his meeting. All he can think about is you, his perfect little secret locked away in his room. None of the others could ever even dream of having a girl as lovely, soft and sweet as you.

Bucky’s girl was unruly and wild – he’d found her at a nightclub of all places, which meant her pussy was probably as used as the toilets in the dinky joint he’d met her at. And no matter how happy Bucky seemed now, Steve knew it was all a farce. That unkempt slut would never truly be the right fit for Bucky, and Steve knows his best friend deserves better. Steve would never settle like that; he would never be like him.

Tony’s wife – Pepper – was a vapid fool whom her husband had just made VP of Stark Industries. A woman in such a high-ranking position meant clearly for a man? Steve still feels revulsion when he thinks about it. No wonder Tony was a raging alcoholic – allowing his wife to wear the pants in their relationship had clearly chipped away at the old man’s sanity. Steve would never be like him.

Then there was Bruce. He had Natasha but he didn’t know how to control someone like her. He was too busy locked up in his laboratory, doing countless experiments per day. Tinkering with machines and chemicals and whatnot. All while Natasha ran roughshod all over town. Steve had heard stories of the redhead’s promiscuity. Bruce was a fool not to keep her in check. Steve would never be like him.

Thor still pined over Jane, the woman he’d claimed was the love of his life. But she’d gone and died on him. Steve doesn’t believe in love, but Thor’s situation reminds him of Peggy. What a fool he’d been back in the day, allowing himself to fall for someone as rotten as Peggy. She’d played him, danced circles around him and laughed while he’d scrambled after her. Made sacrifice after sacrifice for her. Then he’d woken up one day and realised she, like most women, was an airheaded whore. Steve didn’t think about Peggy at all anymore. In fact, he was happy she was dead now. And unlike Thor, Steve never pined over his past. He’d never be like that.

Clint and Sam, thankfully, had their heads screwed on the right way. Both of them had nice little housewives tucked away in their homes. A baby on their hip, an apron over their dress. Barefoot and pregnant, hidden away from anyone else. Steve could respect that. Sure, Sam partied a lot and stepped out on his wife more often than not. But he was a man and men had needs, and Steve could understand that.

Although neither Clint’s wife nor Sam’s wife were half as beautiful or innocent as you. No, Steve had won in the end, picked the best of the litter, the cream of the crop. And soon, you’d be his little wife, too. Tucked away in one of his suburban properties, hidden from the public eye. And, of course, he’d knock you up too. If he hasn’t already, that is.

That’s all Steve can think about throughout the whole meeting. Not that it’s anything important, anyways. Tony is droning on about something or the other – Steve doubts anyone is listening. Tony was a fucking fool, and everyone knew the true leader of the Avengers was Steve. He was the one everyone listened to, the one everyone reported to and responded to. Steve knows he holds all the power in the world. Presidents, kings, world leaders, they all practically bowed down to him. Tony was nothing but a shrivelled up, coked up, alcoholic that Steve chose to keep around out of pity.

He makes a few pleasantries once the meeting is over. Bucky invites him over for lunch with him and his girl, but Steve declines. He knows Bucky just wants his best friend and his girlfriend to get along, but Steve doesn’t view women as equals to get along with. That’s why, if he had his way, Natasha wouldn’t be a part of the Avengers at all. Anyways, he knows Bucky’s girl is temporary – nobody kept whores around for too long. Sure, Bucky was infatuated right now, but soon his best friend would want to settle down – and it wouldn’t be with a slut like his current girlfriend was. No, Bucky needed a nice, quiet, bookish, innocent, young girl. Like how Steve had you.

And with that thought, he quickly makes his way back to his apartment, back to you. The physician is leaving as soon as Steve arrives, ready with a full report.

“She’s hurt bad, Captain.” The doctor says, his face not revealing a single emotion, which Steve prefers. It’s not the first time Steve has sent a girl to be checked up by him, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. “Her pelvic region is in a very vulnerable state. Sprained in many areas, and she’s lucky she didn’t break anything down there.”

Steve feels nothing. He knew you were injured, that much was expected. How could you not be? What with how small you were and how big he was? There was bound to be some type of damage. No surprise there.

The doctor continues: “She needs time to heal, Captain. Apart from her sprains, she is also suffering from some tearing and bleeding. It will heal, but only with time. I have prescribed her medicine for the pain, but in order for her to heal properly and fully, she cannot be subjected to any vaginal sex or penetration of any kind for at least two weeks.”

Steve’s mood sours immediately. Not being able to enter your heavenly little snatch for two weeks sounded completely absurd to him. Now that he’d had your tight little pussy for one night, he expected free access to it whenever he wanted. But to be barred from what he surely owned? It was insane torture. Half of him wants to throttle the doctor right then and there.

But all he does is nod, and waits till the doctor shows himself out.

Quietly, Steve makes his way through his apartment, heading straight for his bedroom. He tries to formulate a plan of action in his head. How was he to navigate these next two weeks? Of course, he’d still keep you in his room, even if he couldn’t use you sexually. You were his property after all, and two weeks wasn’t forever. It was a long time to not fuck, however, and Steve makes a mental note to inform his agents to have a few girls sent up to one of his other apartments for the time being. They wouldn’t compare to you, but they’d have to do.

He opens the door to his bedroom and immediately pauses. There you are, sat in the middle of his bed. You’ve changed into a pair of pyjamas; a silk button up top and matching shorts with little hearts printed on them. Steve doesn’t think he’s seen anything more girlish and cute – they must have been sent along with your other stuff from back home.

Sure enough, you have a pink backpack open in front of you, and you’re sifting through it like it’s a treasure chest and not some cheap piece of luggage that looks like it’s been through several rounds of tug-of-war. Pulling out clothes and holding them close, as if he’s fucking smuggled you out of the country or something, and you’ve finally gotten a care package from home.

But then you shriek in delight, grabbing what looks to be a stuffed animal from inside your bag and hugging it close.

“Chester, you’re here!” You squeal happily – the happiest Steve has ever seen you in the short time that he’s known you. And fuck, the blood rushes straight down to his dick as he watches you hug the teddy bear close to your chest, nuzzling its fur against your nose. And you’re so preoccupied by the dumb toy that you still haven’t noticed that you’re not alone in the bedroom. “I missed you so much! I’m so glad Mom and Dad sent you!”

It’s the rawest, fucking sweetest sight of innocence Steve has ever fucking seen. You, all soft and tiny on his huge bed, in your silky pyjamas, all freshly showered and looking like a goddamned angel. As if that wasn’t enough to get Steve all riled up, that sheer juxtaposition between your softness and naivete compared to Steve’s own roughness. But you had to get your goddamned childish toy out, hugging it like it was your lifeline, looking like the sweetest, most corruptible baby girl he’s seen in his entire goddamned life. Fuck, it’s like you were begging for it.

With a guttural growl, Steve lunges for you. He feels something animalistic take over his entire body. And he’s always prided himself in being disciplined, trained his body and mind to show restraint, self-control. But all that goes out the fucking window when he sees you sitting so pretty on his bed with your goddamned teddy bear. The sight goes straight to his fucking dick and now he feels like a fucking animal.

You realise a second too late that you’re not alone, and you scream bloody murder as Steve grabs you. But even if you’d had a head start, you wouldn’t have been able to escape him. Even if your body was a hundred percent healthy, even if you were in an open field or somewhere public instead of the closed quarters of Steve’s bedroom. Even then, you wouldn’t have stood a single chance. Steve feels lust like how he’s never felt it before. Lust like fire, catching all over his body, searing his fucking soul.

For a moment, he feels incensed to the point of madness. How dare you be so fucking perfect? Like a fucking doll laid out to tempt him. Looking all heavenly and sweet, youthful wonder in your eyes that had been scared away the moment you’d noticed him there.

He grabs your calf, savagely dragging you to the edge of the bed. And you look so fucking terrified, shaking like a goddamned leaf just like how you were last night when he’d first ravaged you. And it feels like the first time again, in some ways. Except now that he knows exactly how your tight cunt feels around his big dick, he’s even more incensed to have you as you continually fight against him.

“The doctor said no!” You cry out desperately, kicking at him in a bid to get away except you’re so fucking weak, it’s like fighting with a goddamned ant for all the good it’s doing. “C-Captain, please don’t! Please don’t, the doctor said no!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve seethes through clenched teeth. He straddles you quickly, a knee on either side of your waist, his palm plastering over your mouth to silence you. “I know what he fucking said.”

And yet all he can think about is how you smell like strawberries and fucking cream. The female agents must’ve bathed you – your face and body all look scrubbed clean and glowing. No longer looking like how he’d left you this morning – covered in your own virginal blood. Part of him is completely enamoured by your sweet-smelling innocence, but the larger, darker part of him wants to corrupt you once more, leave you bruised and bloodied once more just how he had last night. He always wants you like that, because you’re his and he can do it.

He knows he shouldn’t, he knows it’s a danger to your health and wellbeing. But goddamit, Steve deserves this! He deserves your body whenever the fuck he wants it. He’d fucking saved you from HYDRA, saved your entire university and you were his forever reward. Fuck the doctor’s orders, you were his. He’d do with you exactly what he wanted, when he wanted to do it.

You wail as he rips your silky pyjama shorts in half. And it only takes Steve half a second until he’s forcing himself deep inside your tight cunt once more. And it feels like fucking heaven, entering back into what was now and always would be his property. Your tight, pulsating softness strangles his fat cock like a goddamned vice, choking it. And it’s like the past twenty-four hours of him ravaging you hasn’t made a single difference because you’re just as virgin-tight as you were last night.

“STOP, PLEASE! IT HURTS!”

You instantly start crying and screaming, flailing underneath him just like you had last night. And you bring that goddamned stuffed animal up to your nose, cuddling it and nuzzling it as you cry into its fur. All that does is incense Steve further – you’re such a fucking baby – and he lets out a low growl.

“Call me daddy,” he commands you, holding you down with one hand whilst his other grabs for the lube once more. He’s inside you, but he wants to go in deep, go in all the way like how he had last night. And you’re not wet, so the lube is a necessity. He pulls out and squirts it all over his dick, jacking off as he looks down at you. All crying and pathetic with your teddy bear and your silky pyjama top with the hearts on it. “Say it. Right fucking now.”

“Daddy,” you cry, sounding like a dejected fucking baby, “Daddy, please! Please no more! Th-The doctor said no more!”

“I don’t care,” he breathes, drinking in how hot you look when you cry. How hot you look with your legs splayed open, lying underneath him like you’re nothing more than a worthless little doll. A part of him is so turned on by the fact that he went against the doctor’s orders, the fact that the animal inside him just couldn’t wait to get inside you again. “You’re mine. I can use your body whenever the fuck I want.”

“B-But it hurts!”

You’re a pouty little mess, hugging your teddy bear close like it’s your only form of comfort. Which it is, because Steve wasn’t about to comfort you ever. Not now or any time in the future. But he’s just so fucking enamoured by how sexy you look – like an innocent angel sent down from heaven just to seduce him. Physically, you’re everything he wants, craves, dreams about. Like a pretty little doll, so innocent and cute yet beautiful like a fucking vixen. Like it’s written in your stars to be owned by him, to be ruined by him, over and over and over again till he consumes you entirely.

Once upon a time, Steve thought it was written in his stars that Peggy was the love of his life. Well, he didn’t believe in love anymore, but the sight of you beneath him right now, teary eyes glistening as you look up at him with an almost revered expression… The power trip it gives him almost knocks the wind out of him. It wasn’t love, it could never be love… But it’s a strong feeling that practically consumes him in this moment.

Overcome with something he can’t quite explain, Steve kisses you hard. Driven by possession or perhaps something else, but he presses his lips against yours like he’s fucking parched and you’re the only one who could ever quench his thirst.

You cry as you kiss him back, and he wonders if it’s muscle memory or if you’re only responding because you’re scared. Either way, it excites him. And he’s too busy making out with you that for a second, he forgets to press his cock back inside you after coating it with the lube. But then he does, and fuck, you’re wet now. Wet from just a little kissing. Fuck, you were so perfect for him. He couldn’t wait to marry you.

“Call me daddy again,” he says against your lips as he pushes his cock deeper inside you. With your wetness and the aid of the lube, he fits into your pussy like a snug fucking glove. He holds your hip with one hand in a bid to keep you in place, and his other hand finds its way up to your face. He cups your cheek, “Tell daddy how good it feels to get fucked like this.”

You shake your head desperately, “I hate you! I hate you so fucking much!”

Steve frowns, a new darkness spreading across his chest like a spilled vial of poison. His hand hardens, gripping your face harshly as he bucks his hips, pistoning his dick inside you with renewed force. You squeal in pain, your tiny fists hitting against his chest and grabbing the lapels of his suit which he hadn’t even bothered to take off.

“I don’t fucking care if you hate me,” he hisses, his face inches from yours. “Your feelings don’t matter, and they never will. But you better fucking listen to me and do what I say, or else I could make this a lot more painful for you.”

The threat has your eyes round as saucers, and your lips pursed, wet from his saliva and your own mixed with your salty tears. Then he feels the tenseness leave your body, sees your limbs stop thrashing as you finally go limp in his arms. As if you’ve given up and accepted your fate.

“Good girl.” He smirks, granting you one single praise because you didn’t need more than that, lest it built up your confidence. “Now, tell me exactly how daddy’s cock feels right now.”

You scrunch your eyes shut, either from embarrassment at his dirty talk or just from the sheer hate you’re feeling for him. Again, Steve doesn’t give a fuck. He gives you one extremely hard thrust that jolts your eyes back open, as if warning you he’d go even harder if you didn’t comply.

“B-Big,” you breathe out softly, shyly, “It feels big, Captain. I mean daddy.”

“Yeah? You ever thought you’d get fucked by a cock as big as this?” Steve asks, pulling out and admiring how his huge length is covered in your juices. And your blood, because of course, despite not going as hard as he had last night, he’s made you bleed once more. God, you were such a goddamned baby.

You shake your head, only earning a slap to your face and a menacing look that has you crying out: “No!”

“No, what?” He knows he has a sick gleam in his eyes, because he wants to hear you say it. “

“No, I never thought I’d get fucked by a cock as big as yours!” You cry out, your sentence ending in a piercing scream as he slams into you once more. The teddy – fucking Chester – slips out of your grip because of the force of which you’re being fucked. But Steve won’t have that, he shoves it back into your arms, wanting to watch you hold it and cuddle against it. Use your little toy as the only source of solace while your daddy ravaged you.

“That’s right,” Steve says lowly, drinking in the sight of you crying into Chester’s fur, “Cuddle your fucking toy like the little baby you are. Getting fucked by a man more than twice your age,” he licks his lips when your pussy clenches around his cock at his words, “And you like it, don’t you baby girl? You like how much older I am than you.”

“No, I don’t!” And yet you moan desperately, rutting against him now, clutching at your teddy bear yet at the same time thrusting your hips upwards to meet his animalistic thrusts.

Steve smirks, “Your cunt likes it.”

He ruts into you with wild abandon. And the whole time, he’s wondering how you’ve just walked into his life and awoken a wild beast inside him, this innate animalistic need to fuck your little body over and over again like he was put on this Earth to do so. With others, he’s always showed restraint. But you? Restraint went out the window with you.

And you squeak so fucking cutely when you cum. And Steve knows you’re in pain, what with all your bruises and injuries, and yet your hips meet upwards with his thrusts, riding out your orgasm as your hands clutch at his suit which he has yet to take off. Like you can’t help but accept the pleasure he gives you, because it feels so fucking good and he knows you’ve never felt pleasure like this before. Not before him.

“Feels good, huh?” He hears himself say, “Thank me for making you feel good.”

“Nngh, thank you, daddy!” Now, you don’t even hesitate, don’t even fight back. Your head’s thrown back and you’ve got that dazed look in your eye, forever lost in the throes of pleasure as he mauls your body to his liking.

Tamed once again.

He makes you orgasm twice more before he unloads inside you, holding your hips upwards with your legs bent back against your chest to make sure it sticks. He wants you pregnant by at least the end of the month. Hell, between last night and now, there was no way you weren’t pregnant already. And you look so fucking dazed, your fists grabbing his suit jacket so tightly, your face contorting in pleasure as you cum over and over again, and your little pussy eagerly swallows up his cum.

It's only once he’s stood back up, once he’s buckling his belt again that you seem to come out of whatever sex-crazed stupor he’d reduced you to. That’s when you start crying once more, your lips curling in anger and that fire returning to your eyes as you look up at him in absolute contempt. But he revels at the sight of you; Chester still clutched to your chest, your hair dishevelled, your eyes red, your legs shaking, his cum dripping from between your thighs. And the fresh white sheets once more stained with dark, scarlet blood.

***

“Wow, Steve. I’m really happy you found someone. I can’t wait to meet her.” Bucky says earnestly.

It’s been two days since the last time Steve fucked you directly after the doctor had advised him not to. Knowing he has no restraint when it comes to you, he’s deliberately kept well away for the time being. He’d temporarily moved to one of his other apartments, quietly making arrangements for the future whilst also making sure his agents kept you well fed and taken care of in his room. He’d left you in such a bloodied state, he supposed you deserved the brief retrieve. But in the coming few days, he planned to move you to his house in the suburbs. But he had to go public with you before he did that.

Steve nods smoothly, “Yes. She’s extremely shy, which is why I kept our relationship a secret for so long. We’ve been together six months, but I’m certain I want to marry her.”

Lying always came easily to Steve. Just another mask to slip on, just like how he did every single day when he donned his suit and a smile on his face. His words painting a rich tapestry of lies while the darkness behind his eyes remained at bay and nobody was any wiser.

“Well, that’s great. I can’t wait to meet her!” Bucky slaps Steve on the back, a wide grin on his face.

“Yes, Steve. I’d love to meet her too. It would be nice to have another girl around here.” Bucky’s girl – Kira or Kiara or something like that – pipes up.

Steve nods at her, feeling a wave of irritation build up inside him. Couldn’t she see that the men were talking? Stupid, insubordinate little bitch. Clearly, Bucky didn’t plan to keep her around for long as he hadn’t even bothered to teach her basic manners. In Steve’s ideal world, women were to remain silent unless spoken to, especially in public. Under the arms or on the laps of their husbands like pretty ornaments, made to be admired, not heard. Clearly, Kira, like most females of the twenty-first century – had no idea what it meant to be an ideal woman. Unlike you.

“Yes. Buck, as I said, she’s very shy and suffers from strong bouts of social anxiety. But I’ve been working on it with her, and I think she’ll be ready to meet the team soon, at the very least. I’d like to propose to her soon.”

Kira claps her hands together excitedly, “Oh, how exciting!”

Steve does his best to ignore her and keep his face impassive.

“I’m really happy for you, man,” Bucky says, “Me and Kira would love to meet her. When do you plan on proposing?”

“Soon,” Steve says vaguely, plans of a big, public proposal clouding his thoughts. Little did Bucky know; Steve had already privately proposed to you. He’d done it the very same night he’d met you, between your wanton moans and his heavy thrusts, when he’d demanded that you marry him, and you, in your soft breathy voice, had agreed to do just that. Not that he even needed your agreement, it’s not like you had a say in the matter either way. And a public proposal would be just for show, so every single person on his team and in his country would know that you were Steve Rogers’ property. Yes, his plans would come together soon. Very, very soon.

***

“I-I want to see my parents!” You demand shakily the moment Steve enters his bedroom. He licks his lips at the sight of you, sat on his desk wearing what looked to be a pair of embroidered jeans and a cute pink top. More clothes that your parents had packed for you. And you look just as sweet as he remembers from two days ago, and he feels his cock twitch to life in an instant. But he knows he can’t fuck you now, if he did then he’d risk even more damage to your body. Permanent damage.

“Greet me properly.” Steve says, keeping his voice level and impassive. “It’s about time we went over certain rules that you need to follow now that you are mine.”

“I need to see my parents!” You repeat, “You’ve kept me locked up here for days, and I know they’d be worried about me.” Clearly, spending two days away from him has given you some sort of amnesia with the way you’re acting so brave all of a sudden. Well, Steve has no problem reminding you what exactly he was capable of.

He crosses the room quickly, smirking at how you shrink back in fear. That was more like it. Grabbing you by the neck, he easily lifts you up off his desk chair and throws you not-so-gently onto his bed.

“Captain, please!” Your face crumples in desperation, “I’ve been here almost three days now, and I just don’t understand why you won’t just let me go! You’ve used me countless times, but why can’t you just be done with me now? Why do you have to keep on torturing me like this!?”

Steve wants to roll his eyes. Women.

“Did you not hear me? I asked you to greet me properly,” Steve says softly, completely ignoring your impassioned plea. He grabs you by the chin. Hard. “Rule number one, as stated before, is that I own you. This means you must greet me any time I enter this room, or any other. You stand up,” he yanks you to your feet, and you yelp in pain, “and you approach me with your gaze lowered in respect,” he pushes your head down like you’re a dog, till your eyes are looking straight down at his shoes, “and you greet me whilst properly addressing me. Now do it.”

You don’t do anything, and the insubordination bristles Steve. He’d have you tamed soon enough. Quickly, he grabs your chin again, squeezing it hard till it hurts and you cry out in pain. “You and I both know the pain I am capable of inflicting upon you, sweetheart. Don’t make me do it now.”

“H-Hello, Captain,” you speak through angry tears, teeth gritted and eyes downcast, “Good morning – uh – sir.”

He would have preferred you to call him daddy now, but that would come with due course. He wanted you to call him that outside of sex but he knew it would take time for you to not be mortified enough to do that.

“Good girl,” he praises, before pushing you back on the bed. Throwing your tiny body around was very easy, and he liked exerting that power over you. “You will see your parents soon enough, but we need to go over some things first.”

You open your mouth to speak but Steve quickly raises his hand as if to silence you, also giving you a look menacing enough to make you shrink back again.

“Next week, we will make our first public appearance together.”

Your jaw drops open “But–”

“There will be a party in our honour, and I will introduce you to my colleagues and the general public. You will be on your best behaviour as there will also be press there.”

You start shaking your head, a dazed look on your face as if you can’t quite believe the words coming out of his mouth. Steve doesn’t give a fuck, and continues to speak as if your reactions don’t even matter. Which they do not.

“It will also be where I propose to you in front of everyone, and you will graciously and quietly accept, or else.”

“WHAT!?” You blurt out loudly, a horrified look spreading across your features, “P-Propose? What do you mean? C-Captain, no. No, no, no, that can’t be right. You can’t propose, there must be some kind of mistake–”

Steve’s jaw twitches, but expressionlessly he waits for you to stop stuttering like a goddamned fool. Your eyes look wide as saucers, shocked beyond belief as if you couldn’t wrap your head around the very idea of being married to him. Well, it hardly mattered as you were a woman and women had no say in matters such as these.

“You will be on my arm and under my supervision for the entirety of the event. Your behaviour will reflect my values, which means you will be polite and demure. Only speak when spoken to, and remain silent when it comes to worldly or political matters that do not concern you or women in general.”

“I’m not going to– Captain, this is a mistake–”

“Your parents will be present at the event. You will not talk negatively about me to them or anyone else, nor talk in detail about the circumstances under which we met. I will do all the talking, and you will nod and agree to whatever I say.”

Fire blazes in your eyes, your incredulity forgotten for a second. “You can’t stop me from telling my parents what you did to me!”

Quietly, Steve nods. He sits down next to you on the bed, making you jump in fear. You try to shuffle away from him but almost too easily, he picks you up and places you in his lap. Your back to his front, just how he had held you the night he’d first had you. It makes his cock harden immediately, but he knows he can’t fuck you. Not for another week and a half. Instead, he places his hand in front of you, almost in your lap, where it looks so goddamned big compared to your own tiny hands.

“Do you see my hands?” He prods you when you don’t reply, “Answer me.”

“Y-Yes.”

He watches you grudgingly look at his hands, take in all the roughness, all the callouses. His bruised knuckles, the burns and scars that would heal and fade away over the next few days. Hands that had seen everything, hands that were capable of acts that your tiny, girlish mind could hardly comprehend. Horror for you was submitting your homework late. The horrors his hands had seen and committed would make the hairs on the back of your neck rise in trepidation. You were lovely and sweet, and had no idea the evils and gore he had witness and contributed to. All to keep the world safe. To keep you, his beautiful little bride to be, safe.

“The night I met you, these hands choked three grown men to death.” Steve says tonelessly.

Your tiny gasp makes his dick harden even more, and you jump in his lap, his statement catching you so off-guard.

“I wrapped my hands around their throats, and I watched the life drain out of their eyes,” He continues, revelling in how you’ve begun to shake in his arms. “And it meant nothing to me. They were evil. Vermin. Disposable. I could have killed ten more of them and it wouldn’t have mattered. Killing them meant nothing to me. Ending a life no longer damages my psyche.”

Slowly, almost tenderly, Steve cups your face. He angles it sideways till you’re facing him, and he can see the beginnings of your delicious tears well up in your eyes. Your beautiful, wet eyes that glisten in total horror. You’re frozen, paralysed in fear. Breathing erratically in his lap while he holds you, holds you like you’re a little doll. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, taking his time in inhaling your sweet, beautiful scent. Another kiss, this time your hairline, and he can feel you shuddering underneath him.

He moves down to your cheek, kissing you there too. And the same with your other cheek, and he hears you whimper softly, your body on high alert, as if you don’t trust his gentle demeanour. Finally, Steve presses a soft kiss to your lips, sucking gently as if to savour your taste. He kisses the corner of your mouth, down your jaw; he peppers kisses up your neck before returning to your lips. Now, you’re quivering on top of him, unsure and nervous and scared. That’s when he opens his mouth and utters his next words.

“Would you like me to kill your parents, sweetheart?”

A broken noise falls from your mouth at his nonchalant question. A mix between a whimper and a cry, and you gape at him in total fear.

“You could tell them the truth about everything, just like I know you’re thinking of doing,” He casually tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, “You could cause a scene at our engagement party, too. Cry for help and run your mouth to whomever you think will listen. And then when all’s said and done, you’d find that no one would believe you. And you’d turn to your parents for comfort, thinking surely, if anyone would take your word, it would be them, right?”

You say nothing, and Steve pinches your side cruelly, making you cry out and nod your head out of pure fear.

Steve smirks, “Sweetheart, I’d have your parents out of the room before you’d even know what’s happening. I could make them disappear in a heartbeat, and no one would know any better.” He starts kissing your neck again, marvelling at how soft and sweet-smelling you are. “I could choke them out with my bare hands just like I did those HYDRA bastards. And in their last moments, as they try to hang on to their pathetic lives and take their dying breaths, I’d tell them it was all because of you. Their own daughter’s insubordination would be the reason for their demise. And when that’s all said and done, you’d still be mine. Dead parents and a guilty conscious, but my property all the same.”

He finishes his speech with a final kiss to your lips, before turning you around fully to face him.

“So tell me, sweet girl. Are you going to be on your best behaviour at our party?”

He wishes he could capture that delicious horror in your eyes, and keep it in a jar as proof of your innocence and subordination to him. You take a few gulping, shuddering breaths, as if trying to calm your own self down, as if trying your hardest not to cry. Finally, with your wet eyes downcast, you nod, and in a breathy whisper you answer him:

“Yes. I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

***

“Bruce, I’m glad you were able to tear yourself away from your lab long enough to attend my party,” Steve says good-naturedly, a mask of friendliness on his face as he elbows the scientist jokingly.

“Of course, Steve. This is a great event.” Bruce looks forever like his dishevelled and distracted self, as if he’d just blindly stumbled out of his laboratory and put on a sports jacket before arriving here. “Nat and I couldn’t wait to meet this secret girlfriend of yours.”

He’s got Natasha on his arm and all Steve can think about is how pathetic Bruce is for allowing his girlfriend to attend a public event dressed in such an indecently cut gown. Steve himself would never allow you to wear anything indecent where other men would be able to lay their eyes on you. Of course, in the privacy of his room, he’d have you wearing all types of scantily-clad, vintage lingerie. But in public? You were Captain America’s soon-to-be wife, the picture of modest femininity and demure innocence. Which was why tonight he’d personally chosen your dress – a beautiful baby blue gown with a respectable neckline.

Steve would never be like Bruce.

“You must be the lucky lady who finally managed to capture Steve Rogers’ heart,” Natasha shoots you a friendly smile.

Steve feels you stiffen next to him, and he knows you’re scared because someone has directly addressed you. Since the party started half an hour ago, he’s had you snugly tucked by his side, his arm around you and hand firmly pressing against the small of your back lest you try to slip away. Although he doubts you’re capable of that at all, since you look like you’re scared shitless. Undoubtedly, his threats from earlier are still looming over your head, as they should.

“She is,” Steve answers for you, making sure to keep his voice light and good-natured. “She’s had me head over heels for her since the moment we met in front of that local art exhibition late last year, right sweetheart?”

He pinches you lightly, nobody else would’ve even seen it. But you jump, swallowing hard as your stupid little mind tries to keep up with his smooth lies. “Y-Yes,” you answer shakily, “I was volunteering at the art exhibit and that’s how we met.”

A flimsily executed lie, but Steve supposes you haven’t had half as much practice as he’s had with being dishonest. Hell, his whole life revolved around dishonesty and facades, so much so that he’s perfected the art of putting on mask after mask. His agents had coached you on what to say so your story would match Steve’s, and they’d made sure all the details lined up before the false story was leaked to the press. Besides, Natasha was too much of an airhead and Bruce was too distracted to question your less than stellar lie.

“Well, welcome to the family,” Natasha leans in to give you a warm hug which you return after glancing up and receiving an approving nod of permission from Steve. And then the redhead looks up at him, “And Steve, I can’t believe you hid her from us for six whole months! You didn’t even tell me, and I thought I was more special than that!”

Steve resists the urge to roll his eyes. Natasha had always been under the impression that her and him were exponentially close. As if Steve would ever be close friends with a woman. Everything he did, he did for his image – and that included having the world think him and Nat were some sort of crime-fighting duo. When the reality couldn’t be further from the truth – if Steve had his way, a woman wouldn’t be part of the Avengers at all.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to jinx a good thing,” Steve answers good-naturedly, giving you a warm squeeze. He can feel your breath hitch, feel your eyes dart over to him warily before you look down at the floor again. He can sense that you’re nervous, scared of breaking the façade of picture-perfect happiness you’re supposed to be presenting, wary of the consequences if you were to break said facade. You’re also jittery and skittish, holding on to his arm with your tiny hands like the naïve little girl you are, a little girl forced into the spotlight of his world. On the arm of the most important person in the room. No, the most important person in the world.

“Nat, Bruce, if you’ll excuse us. We’ve got to make the rounds and greet everyone before this one gets too tired.” He says, and it’s not even a lie; as you’re still healing from all the injuries he’s inflicted on your body after that first night of fucking. In fact, it’s one of the reasons why your weak little body is clinging on to him so tightly – he’s sure your legs would give out if he wasn’t there to keep you up. And that thought, the fact that you’re relying solely on him, gets his dick hardening in his pants.

Steve leans over and softly kisses your temple, letting his lips linger for a second. His nose twitches, taking in your sweet scent. Two female agents had bathed you in rosewater and rubbed and lathered all sorts of sweet-smelling oils and creams on your skin, till you were glowing and smelling sweet like a flower. Then they’d slipped you into the dress he’d chosen, and applied light makeup to your face (as well as heavy makeup on your body to conceal any bruises) as per his instructions. And so when he’d seen you for the first time earlier tonight, standing there in the middle of his bedroom like a girl straight out of his wettest dreams, all he’d wanted was to shove you down on his dick and use you as a goddamned fleshlight, ruin you for daring to look like such a sweet little angel, for daring to seduce him like that, all while you stared up at him with fresh tears in your eyes and a naïve indignance in your face. Fuck, he’d been hard ever since.

He waits for you to croak out a goodbye to Natasha and Bruce before leading you away. And he hears them whispering to each other as the two of you leave:

“Gosh, isn’t he so gentle with her, Bruce? I’m so happy Steve finally found someone to settle down with!”

“Mmhm,” Bruce agrees, “I didn’t even know he was dating anyone. He always seems so busy, putting everyone else’s needs over his own. He deserves this.”

Everywhere Steve goes, he’s used to people worshipping him. Praising him, his bravery, his selflessness, his good looks. Tonight is no different, as he parades you around the banquet hall, introducing you to everyone in the circles he hangs around in. Not that he enjoys the company of any of these people – but they think he does. Just another part to play.

And he knows how jealous every man in this room is right now, how their hungry, pathetic gazes follow you around as you cling to him. Because you’re so lovely, so pure, so soft. Unhardened by the hardships of life, your face brimming with innocence and that delicious fear because of the control Steve has over you. And he knows that every other man wants you like how he has you, but they never would. He’d kill them if they tried.

He feels you stiffen, and he follows your gaze to the edge of the ballroom where the engagement party is being held. Right in the corner by the entrance, sticking out like two sore thumbs, intimidated and out of place, are your parents. Not that he’d even bothered to find out what your parents looked like from the background checks his agents had done on you in the past week, but he can tell it’s them now. And he smirks and makes a beeline straight for them, with you in tow beside him.

They’re immediately in awe of him, just like he knew they would be. Most people are in awe of Steve, and he’s used to the way they look up at him as if he’s some kind of God. Like he’s the epitome of what every other man strives to be, both physically and otherwise.

He shakes your father’s hand, gives your mother his warmest hug. Smiles and holds you close, apologises to them for keeping his “relationship” with you a secret all these months. Tells them how in love with you he is, how the two of you have so much in common, how he’s never felt like this about anyone else in his life. How he vows to take care of you and keep you safe for as long as he lives. How he’d love it if he could have their blessing as he asks for their daughter’s hand in marriage.

That last line has your parents practically falling apart. Your mother starts crying, thanking him for being so kind and generous. Telling him that she knows he’ll take good care of you. Your father is similarly affected, although he clears his throat and nods and claims the two of you make a beautiful couple, and of course you have his blessing. And it’s laughable almost, how the two of them don’t even spare you a glance. Because if they did, they’d see your face crumple in dismay, your body go stiff, your tiny little hands forming fists by your sides.

“M-Mom, please, we need to talk–”

Steve drags you away before you can croak out another word, and swiftly leads you to the centre of the banquet hall, a bone-crushing grip on your hand.

“Remember what I told you,” He warns, and he doesn’t have to say anything else. The memory of the threat he’d made earlier settles on your pretty face like a ghost, your delicate features etched in pure fear of him. And fuck, it gets him so hard how completely at his mercy you are in this moment. So tiny, fresh like a fucking flower, soft and feminine and perfectly afraid of him, clinging on to his arm while every other man looks at him in awe, and you in desire.

“I-I just wanna talk to my mother!” You squeak out softly, and it’s the first full sentence you’ve spoken to him all night. And of course, Steve could answer you. He could tell you that you’d have the opportunity to talk to her later (if you behaved). But he says nothing, because nothing you say is important, nor would it ever be.

One by one he goes over to each guest in the banquet hall, your little body firmly pressed to his side. And it turns him on so fucking much, how small you feel against him. Like a quivering little mouse. It reminds him of the fear he’d seen the night he’d first had you, and it thrills him how you’re still just as scared of him as you were then. In fact, even more so.

But he dons the mask he always does, the mask of the happy, humble Steve Rogers, as he makes his rounds, acts like the perfect host. Thanks every single person personally for coming, and for meeting his beautiful girlfriend.

“Bucky, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend.”

As Steve introduces you to his oldest and closest friend, he regards Bucky’s face carefully. He wants him to see how lovely, soft and feminine you are. See how Steve has chosen the perfect girl and Bucky should discard Kira and closely follow his example with someone who was more like you.

Instead, his enhanced hearing picks up the slight hitch in your throat and the sharp intake of your breath as Bucky shakes your hand. He notices how you swallow hard, almost like a gulp, and a different kind of nervousness takes over your being, your eyes glistening like stars as you look up at the Winter Soldier.

“H-Hi,” You utter softly, and it’s the first time all night where Steve hasn’t had to prompt you to speak.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” Bucky straightens after letting go of your hand, and Steve makes it a point to yank you up against his side, keeping his arm firmly around your waist. “Steve did an amazing job of keeping you a secret all this time, but he hasn’t been able to shut up about you now that we all know.”

You laugh shyly, and it’s the cutest little laugh Steve has ever heard. But it also incenses him, to hear you laugh at something another man has said. Even if that man is his best friend.

“She’s not used to big events like this,” Steve rubs your hip, eyeing Bucky carefully. “I think I’ll take her home soon.”

“Remember how much we hated these kinds of events back in the day, Steve?” Bucky elbows him before his gaze settles on you again. “Don’t worry, you get used to them. Well, Steve certainly did since he’s a pro with people now. Me on the other hand? I get shy too, so you’re not alone.”

Steve feels you perk up, feels your whole energy shit. Those stars in your eyes, he can practically see them. They make him want to crush Bucky’s head into the ground.

“R-Really?” You sound all breathy and cute, all innocent and hope-filled, your pathetic little heart no doubt thinking you’ve found an ally of some sort. It’s almost comical, and yet Steve does not feel like laughing.

“Of course. But it gets easier over time.” Bucky straightens his suit and looks around, “I wish my girlfriend was here - she’s been dying to meet you, but I have no idea where she ran off.”

You wilt like a flower in slow-motion, your cute little mouth down-turning and your gaze retreating to the floor. Steve’s heightened senses notice all of it, and it sears him from the inside out.

“Girlfriend?” You echo softly, pathetically shrinking into yourself.

“Yes, my girlfriend Kira – you’d love her! Steve, have you seen her around?”

“No, but we better get moving. Lots of people to meet,” Steve tugs you along, watching as your eyes trail back to Bucky, a roaring fire in his heart igniting like something he’s never quite felt before. He pushes it back down quickly, extinguishing it before it affects his mask. But not before digging his fingers into your hip hard enough for you to whimper.

He guides you over to the remaining groups of people he has yet to greet. But you’re a million miles away, despite the fact that he’s physically holding you up and prompting you to speak every now and again. More than once, he catches you looking across the ballroom with a pathetic, yearning look in your eye. He follows your gaze to find it fixated on Bucky, who’s now embracing Kira in the corner of the crowd.

“Eyes on the ground or on me,” Steve mutters lowly. Of course, up until a few moments ago, he was not the least bit bothered by where or who you looked at. But those stars in your eyes when Bucky had spoken to you, and that twinkling laughter that Steve had never heard before now? His fists curl at his sides, and he wonders if he hasn’t made it clear enough who exactly you belonged to. Perhaps the brief retrieve you’d gotten when he’d been barred from fucking you these past few days had caused you to forget.

He finds he doesn’t have a problem with reminding you, even if it means going against the doctor’s orders again.

After a handful of more wooden hellos and fake pleasantries, he decides it’s time. Everything has been set up meticulously, and he leads you up to the centre of the small stage. He doesn’t even have to clear his throat to get everyone’s attention, he knows every single pair of eyes in this ballroom is plastered on him now, as he finally, officially makes you his property and brands you as his. He clears his throat.

“I know you’re not a huge fan of public declarations of love and whatnot. Quite frankly, neither am I and you know this. But I just… I always felt so out of place and,” he makes himself chuckle charmingly as he takes both your hands in his, “pardon the pun, like a man out of time. Until I met you.” He utters your name softly, slowly. Playing a part like he always does while you look up at him like a deer caught in headlights. You look uncomfortable, shy, nervous, caught-of-guard despite his agents drilling tonight’s plan into your dumb little head like how they’d been ordered to.

He squeezes your hands, hearing sighs and simpers all around him. But all he can focus on is you, looking so breathtakingly beautiful and innocent in the intimate candlelight of the ballroom. Like you’ve stepped straight out of his dreams and into his arms. Like his very own dream-girl that he’s hunted down and caught, and will now keep forever caged as his.

“You taught me that there’s more to life than just work, you taught me how to enjoy things without feeling guilty about it…” he pauses, and as if on cue he hears more sighs erupt from the crowd of guests. “You came into my life when I least expected it, and for so long, I wanted to keep you a secret from the world because I wanted to keep you safe and,” again, he makes himself laugh softly, “And I guess a part of me just wanted to keep you all to myself. But now, I want nothing more than for everyone to know just how much I love you…”

Steve would be bored by the whole thing if it weren’t for your innocuously animated facial expressions, your eyes shining with bewilderment, your luscious lips forming the shape of an o. He’s memorised speeches like this more times before than he can count. As an avenger, it’s something that’s become second nature to him – playing a character, smiling for crowds of people he couldn’t care less about, spewing out line after line that he no longer believed in. It was all in a day’s work for him.

But you… You look like you want to break into a run as you stare up at him, too scared to look away. And he’s so infatuated by that look of yours, that deliciously pure look of fear for him, he almost wants to take you into his arms there and then, shield you from everyone else because they don’t deserve to look at you. You’re like a pure little flower, delicate against the forces of nature, and despite his primal need to ruin you, there’s a part of him that wants nothing more than to protect you.

He gets down on one knee, earning many a gasp from the audience. Everyone’s waiting with baited breath, and that’s when he sees it. A lone tear meandering its way down your cheek, almost like a final plea for him to rethink his proposal. Your lips purse slightly, as if silently begging him not to go through with this. It almost makes him want to laugh. God, how great it would feel to snuff the hope right out of your eyes. Stupid little girl.

“Baby, will you marry me?”

He’s got the box open between his thumb and forefinger, the ring sparkling brightly against the velvet interior. He watches you carefully, not a doubt in his mind what your answer would be. You know the consequences were you to defy him now, or at any point. But it’s mildly amusing to watch you all the same, watch a plethora of different emotions flit through your face. Fear. Helplessness. Anger. Defiance. Sadness. Resignation.

“I-I…uh…” your eyes blink back tears, and you look past him, undoubtedly at your parents. Your plump lips part, and Steve’s itching to kiss them in front of every single person here as he claims you as his. But instead, he waits, wearing a mask of charming patience as he looks up at you expectantly. And when he finally catches your eye, all he has to do is blink, as if to say: see what happens to them if you disobey me.

“I do.” You whisper. A tidal wave of applause and exclamations follow. Mindless people crying, screaming, whooping, hollering, clapping and snapping pictures as if they had a personal stake in this proposal. But they don’t matter. The only thing that matters is that he’s made you his in front of all of them.

Slowly, he slips the ring on your dainty finger. There’s no sentimental value to it; his agents had picked it out. But it’s a mark of his ownership over you, with his initials delicately inscribed on the inside slightly protruding outwards so they’d brand your skin when you put it on. A taken woman, a kept woman. His forever reward. All his. And nobody else’s.

“He deserves this,” a woman in the audience says, “oh, he’s given so much to our country, hasn’t he? All he does is give, and make unselfish sacrifices for us.”

“Yes,” the man next to her agrees as they both clap, “Steve Rogers deserves this happiness more than anyone else in the world.”

Delicately, Steve gathers you in his arms. You’re so small and trembling, half in a state of shock over what’s just happened, over the weight of the sparkling rock now on your finger. But it doesn’t matter how you feel, not when he’s got the most beautiful girl in the world on his arm, now when he’s just marked his ownership over you. And fuck, he can feel himself harden in his pants at how small you are against him. How weak and helpless and in shock after agreeing your life away to a man you’d only just met a week ago.

“Good girl,” he praises as he hugs you close, the two of you being showered by applause and yet all he can focus on is you.

“I…I…” you can’t speak, can’t stop stuttering, and so all you do is rest your cheek against his chest, and let him hold you, and hug you, and rock you against him. Before he dips your head back and kisses you all sweet and gentle, when all he wants to do is ravish you. Kiss you like a damn caveman and taste your blood simply because he owns you and he can.

He presses his hard crotch against your midriff till he feels you gasp, looking up at him with pleading, wet eyes. And it gets him even harder. You’re his. He’s essentially bought you from your parents, and now he owns you. Your sole caretaker, he’s the one you answer to, cater to, listen to, worship.

God fucking damn… Fuck the doctor’s orders. He wants to shove his cock inside you now, even if it means he’ll permanently break you.

He kisses your forehead, looking beyond you for a moment. Thor’s clapping at the back but he’s got a sad, forlorn look in his eye. Undoubtedly thinking about that bitch Jane who had died. And Bruce and Natasha, hugging each other as they look on happily. As if their sham of a relationship could ever compare to what Steve has with you. Bucky’s there too, arm in arm with his girl, a look of pride on his face.

And right at the back, in the very corner of the ballroom leaning against the wall, is Tony Stark. Nursing a brown bottle of liquor, hair unkempt, face hollow and unshaven since God knows when. And yet his eyes are alert, and he looks straight at him in a way that makes Steve bristle.

“W-Will I get to go home? For a little while? J-Just until the…the wedding?” You ask softly, and Steve looks down at you, the sound of your breathy, quiet little voice going straight down to his cock. There’s something about you asking him that, because he’s who you’d have to seek permission for anything from now on. And it incenses him all over again, and the thought of Tony is wiped completely out of his mind.

He doesn’t even bother answering your pathetic question, instead leaning down to kiss you again. You taste sweet, beautiful and salty with tears. He doesn’t mind. You don’t kiss him back. He doesn’t care about that either. You were completely and irrevocably his, and there was no reversing it. A sudden carnal need has him biting down on your lip. Hard. You whimper. Fuck.

He wants you. Suddenly, he can’t wait anymore. Grabbing your wrist in a crushing grip, he yanks you down the stage. Like the red sea, the crowd parts for him. Clapping, congratulations, more applause. He doesn’t care about any of it. You whimper beside him, the shock of the proposal clearly having yet to wear off because your feet drag against the floor. He huffs in impatience, scooping you up bridal style in one quick, fluid motion. The crowd erupts with more simpers and applause, none the wiser to the dark, carnal thoughts swirling in his head.

He carries you down the side of the ballroom, out into the hallway and towards the bathroom. He can’t wait. He shouldn’t have to wait. You were his bride to be. His little fiancé. His to do with as he pleases. Nobody could stop him. He was Captain fucking America. He’d kill anyone who stopped him. Crush their fucking skulls and paint the hallway with their worthless blood.

It’s like a wild animal has taken over Steve’s mind and soul as he pushes past the bathroom door and all but throws you inside. You wail weakly, and it gets him even harder how fragile you are, how easily he’s able to toss you from one corner to another without even using one percent of his strength.

“Y-You can’t–” You gasp weakly, that delicious pleading look still in your big, wet eyes as you realise his intentions, “The doctor, h-he said–”

Steve can’t get his eyes off your dainty little hand as you hold it in front of you, as if trying to shield yourself from him as you back away till your back is against the wall. The glimmer of your engagement ring as it brands you as his forever. Fuck, he doesn’t think he’s ever been harder than he is right now. A large part of him wishes he’d ended his proposal by fucking you in front of every single guest, letting them watch as he deflowered you and took ownership of your body again and again and again till he’d fucked you into unconsciousness just like he had that first night.

Because now you were forever his. Branded by the ring on your finger, forever tethered to him in every single way possible. Every single person now knew you were the sole property of Steve Rogers. Hell, your own parents had signed you away to him, and now he was your God, your saviour, your caretaker, your everything.

He wraps one hand around your tiny, delicate little throat, lifting you up off your feet in a crushing grip before he kisses you. Really kisses you. Forcing his tongue into your mouth in a display of total dominance and ownership, licking and exploring every part of you. Biting at your lip till he knows you’re crying against him, your little fists pounding on his chest as he kisses you. Your breathless little gasps against his mouth because he knows he’s depriving you of oxygen, choking you while he kisses you, knowing there’s not a damn thing you can do about it because of how weak and little you are.

Abruptly, he puts you down. Undoes his fly, grabs his rock-hard dick and pumps it as he watches you cower, gasping for breath and trying hard not to look at his crotch.

“N-No, Captain, no, please not here. Please, please, please–”

“Get on your knees.”

Steve loves the look of earnest confusion on your face. You’re so pure, so innocent, you truly don’t know what he’s ordering of you. Your pouty little mouth purses, your brows furrow, but Steve’s so fucking hard, that animal inside him roaring at the chance to feel your warm, wet, virgin mouth on his dick. And he’d rather be balls deep in your tight snatch but he knows he can’t, not when you’re so close to healing, not when he’s already abstained for so long.

He shoves you down onto your knees, and it’s the realisation on your face that does it for him. That sweet realisation of what’s about to happen, and the image of you in your pretty little dress, face done up all sweet, not knowing just how ruined he plans to make you look by the end of this. That’s what makes him grab his hard, fat, throbbing cock and smack you across the face with it. Hard.

You cry out in pain, and Steve does it again. Slaps your poor cheek with his fat cock just so you know what’s about to go down your fucking throat with zero mercy.

“Tell me how happy you are to be my wife,” he orders, tracing your lips with the tip of his dick. His precum paints your face, mixes with your tears and makes your cheeks shine.

“I-I’m not, I don’t want this – Captain, please don’t!”

SMACK.

Another smack to your face, and you burst into baby tears as if you can’t take it anymore. As if you’ve been holding them in for this whole function and now you’re really letting it all go. Crying for everything you’ve lost – not that Steve gives a single fuck.

“Say it.”

“I-I’m happy to be your wife, okay?! Please, I can’t do this here, Captain, please don’t make me!”

He grabs your hair and yanks it, and it’s when you scream in agonising pain that he shoves his huge cock down your throat. And again you scream, but this time it feels like fucking heaven – feels like vibrations on his cock as he holds your head down, shoving as much of his huge member as he can fit inside that tiny, tight fucking virgin mouth of yours.

“God fuck,” he hisses, tapping your cheek hard with his palm, “Daddy needed this, sweetheart.”

He can’t help the pet-name, not when you look so sweet and ruined already. On your knees on the bathroom floor in front of him, his huge dick in your mouth, his balls in your face. Tears streaming down your cheeks, your pretty dress spread like flower petals around you. He wonders if you’re wet from how rough he’s being, and the thought sends him into a frenzy, and he bucks his hips against your mouth, making you scream around his dick again.

“You should get used to this,” he hisses, “This is your life from now on, baby girl. This is what you were meant for. You’ll serve me like this every fucking day if I want you to. On your knees like a goddamned whore wife for your husband.”

Except you’re not a whore. No, you’re his innocent little bride. The epitome of elegance and class, of feminine purity. Except for when he’s got you behind closed doors, where he can reduce you to a sniffling, slutty little mess because you’re his and he can and he deserves this.

His cock is so big, you’ve barely taken a quarter of it in your mouth and you’re already struggling to breathe. Choking on his fat cock while you start to panic, your tiny fists pushing and shoving at his abs through his three-piece suit. He takes no heed, instead reaching down to rip your dress down its front, wanting to see your pretty breasts bounce as he truly begins to fuck your face.

You whine and cry on his cock, and that’s when he grabs fistfuls your hair from either side and truly begins to fuck your face. Your eyes widen like saucers with dread pooling in them. You punch him with all your might, try to push him off you but there’s no hope. The bathroom echoes with sounds of struggle, your gasps and screams against his dick that he pushes further and further down your throat with each thrust.

“You like that, don’t you?” As suddenly as he’d started fucking your face, he pulls out of your mouth. You gasp for breath, ready to fall into a heap on the gleaming, tiled floor had he not had a strong grip on you holding you upright.

He spits on your face, taking his time spreading his saliva across your forehead, cheeks, lips, nose. But even that isn’t enough, and he takes his heavy dick, covering in your spit and his precum, and rubs it all over your face. And it gets him so fucking hard, almost like he’s scenting you. Ruining you for anyone else despite the fact that there never would be anyone else.

“Say you like daddy’s dick in your mouth,” he orders you.

“Captain, ple–”

“Say it or I’ll drag you out in front of everyone and fuck you like the bitch in heat I know can be.”

You cry and cry, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look up at him with a mix of fear and revulsion. Your spunk kept coming back, no matter how many times he tamed and broke you. No matter how much he threatened you, hurt you, pushed you around. And it makes you so much fucking sexier to him that he almost can’t stand it. You’re everything he’s dreamed of and more, and it thrills him how scared you are of him, and yet how at the same time you push your luck and keep trying to fight back against him.

“Say it, or I’ll fuck you in front of your parents before I kill them.”

A gasp dies in your throat, and you look up at him with a peculiar kind of hatred. Like almost a revered kind of hatred. Like you’ve never seen anyone so powerful in your life, and he knows how helpless he’s making you feel. And it gives him the biggest fucking power trip he’s ever had.

“I–I like daddy’s dick in my mouth,” you try to downcast your eyes but he’s holding your face in a death-grip, and holding your gaze too.

“I know you do,” Steve sighs, pressing his fat, throbbing cock back into your mouth with such force, he almost knocks you backwards. But with a steel grip in your hair, he begins to move your head up and down. Using your mouth like a goddamned fleshlight as he fucks it. His tip hitting the back of your throat and making you gag around him and he still doesn’t let off.

You’re his pretty little mess, on your knees serving him like he’s your fucking God. Face ruined, dress ripped, your tits bouncing for him. Fuck, he wants to take your nipples in his mouth. Suck and bite them till they’re bruised and sore. He’d take you home and do just that, because you were his. His girl. His fiancé. His bride to be. His little toy. His forever reward.

Now, he takes his dick out from your mouth once more, resting it on your face as he roughly guides your tired, chapped lips to his heavy balls.

“Suck,” he orders, slapping your face lest you pass out on him again. This time, you don’t question him or even protest. Your lips wrap around his balls, sucking like you’re a goddamned pornstar, a half angel, half seductress put on this Earth especially and only to service him.

It doesn’t take long after that for him to blow his load. Not when you’d been teasing him all night, dressed up in your innocent blue dress like you were seducing him. Pressing your little body against his all night because of how weak you were from how hard he’d last fucked you. And it turns him on so fucking much, your physical weakness compared to his brute strength. He could kill you if he wasn’t careful. But he was always careful. He couldn’t lose you now. Not when you were the girl of his dreams and he’d finally made you his.

He cums on your face, wanting to brand you even more. And you blink up at him in delicious confusion, you lashes sticky with his seed, your pouty lips shining and downturned. It gets him hard all over again, and roughly he yanks you up to your feet. Holding you up with just one arm, he drags you to the bathroom mirror, grabbing your chin to get you to look at your reflection.

He drags his finger across your cheek, gathering his cum on it before prodding it against your lips. Your eyes widen, that delicious innocence shining through once more as you gape up at him.

“Lick it off.”

You’re too weak, too scared, to worn out to argue this time. And Steve almost blows another load when you suck on his finger, tasting his cum for the first time. And he takes his time, feeding you his seed till your face shines clean. And he suddenly has this wild urge to fill you up with his cum. Blow a load down your throat, then flip you over and fuck your pussy so savagely before filling you up, and then, when you’re on the verge of passing out again, he’d force his cock straight up your virgin ass and cum in there too.

It excites him, knowing he has the rest of his life – and yours – to subject you to whatever he wants to. And as his wife, it would be your duty to just take it. Sweet little girl, your life was his now. He’d make your decisions, decide what you wore, when you slept, who you spoke to, what you did. And he’d use your body how he deemed fit because it was his, and you were his.

He takes his jacket off and drapes it over your front to protect your modesty before hoisting you up bridal style once more. You’ve practically passed out again, but he doesn’t care. He carries you out of the bathroom and down the hallway. There’s a back elevator that takes him down to a private parking lot underground. His agents have the black car waiting, and he lays you across the backseat.

“I almost forgot you prefer ‘em barely concious.”

Steve blinks, his lip curling at the familiar voice.

Tony Stark steps out of the shadows. Or staggers, rather; his suit creased, and liquor bottle in hand. Steve keeps his face impassive, shutting the door of the car behind him.

“What, you’re leaving so soon? Got tired of dragging that poor thing around like she’s some kind of toy?”

Steve smirks, signalling for his agent to start the car, “Go back inside, Tony.”

“Is she one of the ones you get delivered to your apartment after missions? I’ve seen a fair few of them being carried out once you’re done with them.” Tony downs his drink, “Poor girls. Never knew what hit ‘em, huh?”

Jaw tensing, Steve crosses his arms over his chest, “Take it easy on the drinks tonight, Tony. I think they’re making you hallucinate.”

“She’s too young for your PR circus bullshit, Rogers.”

Of course. Tony was jealous.

“I’ll have one of my agents escort you back upstairs if you’re unable to find your own way.”

“She looked terrified up there. What did you do, threaten to kill her family?” Tony brings his bottle to his lips again, only to realise it’s empty.

Steve only watches him quietly. Studies him, like how he often does. Old, unkempt, borderline crazy old man. A once great leader turned into a punchline. The butt of every joke. Forced to drink himself into a stupor in the shadows whilst Steve was worshipped and revered by the masses like how Tony once was.

Steve smiles easily, “Go to bed, Tony. You’re drunk.”

“I see you, Steve,” Tony slurs, shrugging off an agent who attempts to grab his arm, “I see the real you. At least what you’ve become. And you’re riding this high now, but soon they’ll all see what you really are. Hell, her face will give it away each time you bring her out in public.”

The conversation is hardly stimulating, and Steve finds himself growing bored. He opens the car door, getting a flash of your smooth, pretty legs as you lie unconscious in the backseat.

“Shout it from the rooftops, Tony. Nobody wants to believe a drunk. Nobody wants to take orders from one either.”

Tony sneers, “You’re not taking my spot, pal.”

Steve doesn’t bother answering him. He gets into the car, draping your legs over his lap before shutting the door. Tony was never someone Steve took seriously enough to waste any more energy on him than he really had to. Nor did he think of the man as a serious threat. Steve had already taken Tony’s spot. That fact was as plain as day.

Now, he strokes your bare calf, and watches as you lie in the car. Deathly still, blinking up into the darkness. Morose as you stared out the window, so ruined and deliciously used. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to seeing you like this, seeing you so utterly ravished and broken. He traces shapes against your smooth, supple skin, before pressing a soft kiss to your calf. It’s oddly gentle, especially after the animalist display he’d put on in the bathroom. But you’re like an angel in the backseat of his car, an angel with a sparkling rock on her finger, an angel that was all his. His forever reward.

He has the female agents bathe you once he’s carried you back up to his apartment. He has some things to attend to in his office, and by the time he comes back to his bedroom, they’ve laid you out on his bed in a pretty pink negligee. Fresh and pure like a flower, eyes blinking up like a deer caught in headlights the moment he walks in.

He’d ordered the agents to give you something to knock you out for the night, and it’s clear the drug has yet to take its full effect. Perhaps that’s why you’re not your usual skittish self as he sits on his side of the bed. In fact, he can feel you watching him, your breathing shallow and slow. He was supposed to go back to his other apartment after dropping you off, but he feels an inexplicable need to stay.

“I…I wish you were nice,” you croak out softly, so soft he barely hears it, and yet it surprises him, because you’ve all he’s heard from you up until this point is begging, cries and insubordinate accusations. The drug has you slurring your words slightly, and yet you’re perfectly clear, “It would be so much easier if you were just a little bit nice.”

He doesn’t say anything. Your words are stupid, foolish, childish. To Steve, it doesn’t matter what you think of him. It doesn’t matter what’ll make things easier for you. Instead, he lies down, dragging you till your body’s flush against his. Tiny and peachy warm, smelling like strawberries and cream, the negligee silky soft, your bare skin even softer. It gives him that animalistic urge where he wants to just consume you.

Instead, he holds you closer, till your cheek rests on his chest and your body’s practically on top of his. And he doesn’t quite understand why he requires this closeness right now, only that he just does, and you’re his bride and therefore there to provide him with whatever he wants.

And right now, he wants to hold you. Feel your body against his. Remind himself how small you are, how much power he yields over you. As your husband, your provider, the man you look up to, the man who owns you. He was rough with you in the bathroom after the proposal, but now it’s like the animal is sated, and all that’s left is this almost strange, alien need to have you close.

He lifts you up and presses a kiss to your lips. A soft peck at first, then another one before he deepens it. He wants to feel you kiss him back, just like how you’ve done in the past despite pretending not to want him. But your soft lips remain lax against his, and he draws back to see you sniffle.

“Would it hurt you to be nice?” Your voice comes out so small, so beautifully weak. “Just a little bit nice? Like how you are on TV. I wish… Oh, I wish you’d just…”

You’re babbling, the drug pulsing through your system. And Steve knows better than to respond to your wistful, girlish, drugged up chatter. And yet…

“Niceness gets you nowhere,” he answers quietly, his large hand running up and down your back, his pointer finger tracing against the smooth skin of your arm. “Now go to sleep. That’s an order.”

“He was nice,” you say it so faintly that if it wasn’t for Steve’s advanced hearing, he wouldn’t have heard you. And there’s a certain dreamlike quality to your tone that incenses him to his very core. “He made me feel like a person, and his eyes were kind. I couldn’t stop thinking about them. He… he…”

You pass out, the drug finally kicking in. And you lie there in his arms, all soft and small and asleep. All while Steve remains deathly still, a certain darkness that he’s never quite felt before coursing through his veins.

A darkness that makes him want to choke his best and oldest friend to death.

Whew! Did you make it till the end? I sure hope so! I'd really love to know what you guys think! I am so nervous about this. I know that The Captain's Reward is probably my most popular story, so the sequel has big boots to fill. I really, really hope you guys enjoyed it. Please please do let me know what you think! Feedback, likes and reblogs would mean the whole world to me!

I've also come up with a few questions. But as always, you guys don't have to answer these! They're just for fun hehe. Any type of feedback would be amazing!

What did you think of Steve's proposal? LMAO.

Do you think Steve will grow softer towards reader? Or will he remain how he always is?

What do you think Steve will do to Bucky?

Anyways, I'm so scared to post this I feel like throwing up! I hope you guys enjoy it, thanks so much for being so patient! Love you, bye :)

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction

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like-wuatafauq · 1 year ago

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If ever someone actually genuinely wants to care for me and date me, good luck. I'm gonna say no and then go cry about it when I'm alone in bed.

#i just think everything broke my heart a lil too much #plus im doing them a favor honestly im a lot of work im not being self pity im being fr #theres too much damage my heart has if i say youd have to b really gentle its not out of self depreciation or pity me i have a fragile hear #i mean it in the literal sense to be careful with it #so its best i stay in bed if genuine love ever knocks on my door #personal #txt #i dont need someone to think im being dramatic about how fragile my heart is and just play with it #i wouldn't do it to someone and i wouldn't want it done to me #i rather stay in bed #long tags

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suguae · 1 year ago

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Haunted

Toji cannot move on, until he realized too late.

Warnings: Angst, slightest fluff (reader and baby 'gumi moment)

You were just a girl, standing in front of a man, asking him to love you.

How hard was that for him? Yes, he wasn’t good with his words but he wasn’t good at anything else either. He was just there.

Maybe because the woman he truly loved—he was still mourning over her. His sad eyes every time he watched an old couple dance together, wishing he had been doing that but with her. The cute babies babble with their mothers as Megumi babbles with his father, how he wished his wife was still here instead of you. He never said it, but that’s what it felt like.

And perhaps that's what it was.

Sometimes he curses himself out when he accidentally calls you his wife's name. During intimate times only. You tried—trying to keep the emotions in as if it wasn’t breaking every part of you, was the hardest part. “Look he’s walking...” You smiled at the dark haired baby who was walking towards you. Toji smiled, making sure he’d record every second of it; deep down he wished his wife was the one the baby was walking towards instead of you.

And it was wrong—so wrong.

“This relationship, I’m with you but Toji—Toji this is the loneliest I’ve ever felt.” You whispered while he ate his leftovers, his brows still furrowed from the argument occurring earlier. Having Toji work from 9–5 wasn’t the best but good thing he had you, helping him out with so much. Picking up groceries, picking up his lovely son—until you mentioned that one of his teachers mistaken you as his biological mother. That right there was enough to make Toji angry for weeks at least.

But not this time.

He stopped chewing on his food after you spoke, waiting for more of an explanation. Which you figured he needed, “I don’t think you’re in love with me–”

“I like you [name], a lot.” He cleared his throat. He leaned back on his chair as his arms crossed waiting for you to continue the sentence he interrupted.

Right, he liked you a lot. These three rough years you’ve been dating Toji—that particular l word was never uttered once, not even if he was drunk, or having a special moment with you. You huffed trying to find the right words for Toji to understand. That was until little Megumi started crying from his room. “I’ll try to put him back to sleep, finish eating.” He watched as your fragile little body sulked its way to Megumi’s room.

He knew this was gonna happen, he knew you were bound to leave him sooner or later.

You smiled as you opened the door to see the little Megumi standing on top of his little bed. His hands wiping his tears as he ran towards you, his arms now wrapping around your legs. “Sleep with mama and papa.” He cried out as you leaned down to pick up the little boy. “[name] and papa, not mama okay?” You corrected him, if Toji were to find out that he had been calling you that, then that argument would’ve climaxed.

The little boy nodded, his tears now gone as you swayed him around. “Sleep with you.” He mumbled, leaning his head on your shoulder as he played with a strand of your hair. “Just for tonight.” You whispered, watching Megumi pick up his head and smile. Content with your answer.

Toji’s heart could just swell at the sight. You treated his son as if he was your own and nothing looked so much better right now, except for the fact that he wished it was his wife.

Megumi was now soundly sleeping between you and Toji, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” His eyes shut tightly hearing those piercing words leave your mouth. It hurt when his wife left him, but this hurt was different—different because he knew it was coming yet he didn’t want to do anything about it.

“I’m sorry—”

“You don’t need to be the one apologizing.” He watched your soft gaze stare at completely nothing. He was confused, this was his fault. He never treated you how you needed deserved to be treated. “It was my fault for throwing myself at a man who simply was not ready.”

The next morning was silent—baby ‘gumi was confused at the saddened look on your face. Constantly walking up to you asking if you were okay. He was still just a baby, yet he read the room so well. “I’m sure we can work this out—” Toji now sitting next to you on the couch, some cartoon playing in the back as Megumi’s little head sat on your lap. “You’re not ready, Toji.” You nodded, eyes still glued on the tv as if it was meant for you and not the little Megumi.

“And how are you so sure—”

“Tell me you love me then.” Your eyes are now fixed on Toji’s. It was hard, he felt as if his mouth had been glued shut. You sigh, bringing your gaze back to the tv, “I love you—but it’s hard when it’s one sided Toji.”

It hurt much more, seeing you drive away as the clueless Megumi waved you out. Poor thing thinks you’re simply going to the store. The house that once felt like home was so dull now. Toji sat little ‘gumi down on the couch.

His constant, “mama?” or “[name]?” while he kept his gaze on the door every so often. Nothing prepared Toji for this. Megumi cried that he wanted to sleep with his mama and papa, his heart swelled knowing that he had been talking about you.

You were gone, just like his wife. But it hurt—it hurt so much more knowing that you’re alive trying your best to…move on. He stayed up late that same night, stumbling upon a video from two years ago. When Megumi first learned how to walk. You and Toji had just started dating but the look of happiness plastered your face as you watched the little baby walking.

That was one thing Toji never forgot about, how much you loved kids. Telling him how once you had kids of your own you would finally be able to live in peace. How he heard of it less and less as the years went on, he wonders if you still think that.

next part ->

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #angst #jjk angst #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #toji zenin #jujutsu toji #toji fushiguro angst #toji fushigro x reader #jjk x you #jjk drabbles #rosipuree

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survivorsfm · 1 year ago

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* ANONYMOUS ASKED : pls help do i do avan jogia, mackenyu arata, charles melton OR raymond ablack for a sorta sad, soft himbo ( ? ) bartender kind of vibe . . . ? may differ slightly depending on fc but i cannot decide <3

ohhhhh, my god. you’re not doing this to me, nonnie. nope. i will enter denial and just pretend you didn’t put me in this awful, cruel position. how am i supposed to choose ? and the trope you want for them ? please, i will cry if you eventually bring them. but okay. OkAY. in order to accomplish that, you need a helpful answer, so … i’ll go with mackenyu or avan. mackenyu has been wanted here for ages now, and avan is one of my favorite face claims of all time, hence i’d love, love, love having them here. i’ll let this post open in case any of our members wanna drop their preferences and help you a lil further, though !

#answered.#appless rp #oc rp #mumu rp #active rp #PLEASE NONNIE DO NOT PLAY WITH ME AND MY HEART LIKE THIS I'M FRAGILE

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sidemari · 2 months ago

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• After Dark •

A NSFW compilation of short texts (not so short) about their kinks. This could also be called "1 character, 1 kink".

Characters included: Childe, Diluc Ragnvindr, Dottore, Kaeya Alberich, Kamisato Ayato, Ningguang, Scaramouche, Wriothesley and Zhongli [separately] x Fem/AFAB/GN!Reader

TW: Aphrodisiacs; BDSM dynamics; bondage; brat taming; breeding kink; consensual non-con; creampie; DD/LG; dirty talk; edging; exhibitionism; fingering; masturbation; oral sex (F/M receiving); overstimulation; praise kink; sub/dom dynamics; vibrators; unprotected sex. Let me know if I missed any.

WC: 10k+ (all of the stories together, of course).

Forgive me for any mistakes, I'm exhausted, and I won't read this giant post over again for the next few weeks, lol.

Childe

Consensual non-con. (Fem!Reader)

You were lying on the sheets, your wrists tied above your head with a bow he had tied himself — tight enough to keep the fantasy alive, but soft enough not to hurt you.

“Look what we have here…” Tartaglia’s voice sounded deep and theatrical, as if he were playing a character. He was looking down at you with a wild glint in his eyes, the crooked smile of someone who was having fun — but with his heart pounding with desire and zeal for you. You squirmed, trying hard to look scared, even though you knew that was exactly what he wanted.

“P-Please… Don’t do this…” You whispered, trembling on purpose, playing the role perfectly.

“You should know that you can’t tease someone like me and still get away with it, princess…” He growled, pulling your legs to the edge of the bed. The way his eyes bored into yours, even when he was playing his role, was still full of adoration. “It’s too late to regret it now.”

The sheets under you were damp with some of the essence that insisted on seeping from you, due to your anticipation. Your nipples were hard beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown, and he noticed every reaction — every little sign that you wanted this as much as he did.

“You’re so wet…” He commented as he slid his fingers between your legs. “You’re begging me with that little body, even though you’re saying ‘no’ with your mouth.” He leaned in and whispered against your ear, “But I know your body better than anyone, my love. I know when it’s desperate for me.”

“P-Please, don’t do this to m-me… I’m… so sorry for—” But he didn’t let you finish. He thrust into you hard, in one motion, eliciting a scream from you that was a mix of shock and pleasure. You arched your body, pulling at the sheets, feeling the heat rise like an overwhelming wave.

“Beg me.” He ordered, his voice hoarse with lust. “Tell me you need it. That you can’t live without my cock ravishing your cunt.”

“Ajax, please, use me… Fuck me until I can’t think anymore…” You moaned, your eyes moist, no longer from pretense, but from real, deep pleasure. His hips moved with rhythm and strength, your name escaping between his lips. The act had already given way to surrender — the game was exciting, but what made it all intense was the trust between you.

He leaned in, his red hair wet with sweat, his eyes fixed on yours.

“Is everything okay?” He asked softly, breaking character for a moment, just to be sure.

You nodded with a lascivious smile. “I can still take much more, love…”

And he provided that to you, until your legs were trembling, until your eyes watered with pleasure, until your voice broke. And when it was all over, he released you with loving hands, kissing each mark and scratch, wrapping you in his arms as if you were fragile.

“It was perfect.” He whispered. “You’re perfect.”

Diluc Ragnvindr

Bondage. (Fem!Reader)

The flames in the fireplace cast warm shadows over the stone walls of the room. The unmistakable aroma of wine and wood filled the room, and the silence was broken only by the soft crackling of the fire. You sat on the edge of the bed, your heart racing, your eyes attentive to Diluc’s every move as he walked back towards you.

He looked even more imposing under the golden light, his red hair loose over his shoulders and an expression that mixed concentration with restrained desire. In his hands, he held the red satin strips that you had timidly suggested the night before.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked in a low, husky voice, kneeling before you. His hands caressed your thighs gently, reverently, as if preparing the ground for something deeper. “I only want this if you want it too.” You nodded, your face hot, your breath shallow.

“Yes. I do. Just… just take care of me.” A small smile appeared on his lips — a rare, intimate smile that made your chest tighten.

“Always.”

Patiently, Diluc led you to the center of the bed. His kisses came slow, intense, as he took his time to undress you, piece by piece, as if each button and strap were a ritual. When you were naked beneath the fine linen sheets, he pulled away just enough to tie your wrists with the satin, crossing them over your head and securing them firmly to the headboard.

“Let me know if it’s too tight.” He said, caressing the skin of your arms, his dark eyes assessing your expression every second. You felt the knot tighten securely, but it didn’t hurt. It was firm… comforting, even. You trusted him. You always had.

Diluc lay back down beside you, his fingers gliding over the curves of your bound body, his eyes exploring every detail as if he were memorizing the landscape of the woman he loved. He leaned in, kissing your collarbone, your jaw, until your lips parted reflexively.

“You’re so beautiful like this…” He murmured against your skin. “Surrendered, only mine.”

His words made something inside you melt, even more so when his hand went down between your legs and found you already wet, hot and pulsing.

“Already so wet… I’ve barely touched you.” He chuckled softly, a deep, satisfied sound, before pressing his thumb against your clit and making slow, teasing circles. Your hips moved instinctively, but he held them back with his other hand, holding you in place.

“No.” The word was spoken tenderly, but full of command. “I’m the one in control here.”

You bit your lip, arching your back with a restrained moan. Tied up and exposed, each touch felt more intense. Diluc knew that. He knew your body like no one else. His fingers danced between torture and pleasure, making you writhe under the delicate control he masterfully exercised. His breathing was also heavier, his dark eyes fixed on your face, capturing every reaction. He alternated soft caresses with firmer touches, sometimes leaning in to kiss your breasts, sometimes whispering praises in your ear:

“You endure so much for me… so obedient…”

“You’re driving me crazy like this…”

“I need to hear you beg, love.”

You felt yourself getting close. Your body trembled, your muscles contracted, your orgasm building like an inevitable storm. But then, just as the wave began to rise, he stopped. He removed his fingers, went back to kissing your neck, leaving you on the edge — dragging your pleasure with refinement and intention.

“D-Diluc, please…” You whimpered, your eyes watering, your body arching toward him. “Don’t stop…”

“You haven’t reached your limit yet,” He replied quietly, his voice low and husky, his fingertips tracing your abdomen. “I want you to need this. To really beg for me.” You panted, your body too hot and sensitive. Each pause was sweet torture, a flame that burned without consuming — until the desire became something deeper, more urgent. And then, when you finally moaned his name, begging without pride or shame, he smiled.

“Good girl.” He positioned himself between your legs, kissing you hungrily, his entire body pressing against yours. The heat of his skin, his weight, the firmness with which he held your hips — everything about him was absolute. When he finally entered you, slow, deep, your body cried out in relief. It was as if everything fell into place — as if the universe were spinning on its axis again. He groaned softly, his lips against your neck, his hips moving with a rhythm that was torturous, but felt so good.

“You’re perfect. So tight… You take me so well…” His voice was hoarse from pleasure. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this… about you, trapped, moaning my name…”

The restraints kept you from touching him, but that only made everything more intense. You felt vulnerable and adored at the same time. His thrusts became harder, but the bed creaked in protest as he lost himself in you.

“Look at me.” He pulled your face with one hand. “I want to see your eyes when you come for me.” And you obeyed. There was no other choice, no other destiny, no other name to say but his as your body shattered with pleasure — the orgasm ripping through every inch of you hot, overwhelming. Diluc continued for a few more seconds, until he spilled himself inside you, trembling, his face hidden in your neck.

When your breathing returned to normal, he carefully untied your wrists, kissing every red mark left by the satin. His fingers caressed your arms, your hair, your waist.

“You were wonderful,” He murmured, pulling you to his chest. “Thank you for trusting me.” You smiled, tired, satisfied, whole. In the flames dancing in the fireplace, everything seemed safe. Everything was love.

Aphrodisiacs. (Fem!Reader)

You were sitting on the couch in Diluc’s private library, wrapped in a light robe, your body still tingling from the wine he had brought. But it wasn’t just any wine. It tasted exotic, sweet and spicy — with something that made you feel warm from the first sip.

Your heart beated faster, your skin felt more sensitive, and every glance Diluc made in your direction made your breath falter. He was there, standing in front of the bookshelf, watching you with those intense red eyes, like embers about to catch fire. There was a small smile on the corner of his lips — a smile that betrayed that he knew exactly what he had done.

“This wine…” You began, your voice lower than you expected. “There’s something more to it, isn’t there?” Diluc approached slowly, his hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes fixed on yours.

“It’s a special batch. Made from a rare variety of fruits grown in the fertile soil of Sumeru. Some say it… stimulates the senses.” He stopped in front of you, leaning down just enough to touch your chin with two fingers. “Do you feel it?”

You nodded, your lips parted, the heat growing in your lower belly like a fire slowly spreading. He gently removed the robe from your shoulders, exposing your skin to the warm air of the room.

“You look so beautiful like this… all flushed, breathless…” He knelt between your legs, his fingers sliding up your bare thigh. “Sensitive.” His lips brushed against your skin, each kiss sending electric waves to the core of your body. It was as if each touch of his tripled in intensity. The wine, or whatever it was, made your body beg for more — made you writhe under the softest caresses, yearning for something that had yet to come.

He pulled your legs up to his shoulders with ease and buried his face between your thighs, his hot tongue sliding inside you with precision, firmness, and calculated pleasure. It was almost cruel, the way he used his mouth — as if he studied your reaction to every movement. You moaned, your hands going to his hair out of reflex, but he held them with one of his large hands, keeping you in place.

“Stay still,” He murmured against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

And you tried. But it was impossible not to writhe, not to moan, not to beg. The heat was too much. Your body throbbed, hungry, desperate for release. And when you were finally on the edge, arching your back and gripping the seat under you, Diluc stopped. His red eyes rose to yours, hungry, and a little cruel.

He stripped off his own clothes, revealing the strength contained beneath his formal attire, his muscles defined in the firelight. When he lay down on top of you, the heat of your two bodies met like a spark in gunpowder. He entered you slowly, filling you completely, and you both gasped in unison.

“You’re… tight,” he whispered through his teeth. “Like you’ve been waiting for me for days.” His movements began slowly, deeply, and you felt every inch of him as if it were the first time. The aphrodisiac made your body vibrate, your skin tingle, your senses plunge into a pleasurable torpor. It was impossible to control your moans, the way your body trembled beneath him, the way your hips sought more. Diluc bent down, kissing your neck, your shoulder, biting carefully.

“Are you this sensitive because of me? Because I filled you with that wine, knowing what I would do to you later?” The answer escaped like a sob of pleasure.

“Yes…” He increased his pace, his movements more intense, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the muffled room. His hands held your waist firmly, keeping you in place as your body was taken deeper, faster, harder.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against your mouth. “Only mine. I want you like this… writhing in pleasure, calling my name, begging for more.” You couldn’t think, speak or breathe properly. The pleasure came like violent waves, and when it arrived, it was overwhelming. Your body arched, your eyes rolled back, your moans were lost in Diluc’s mouth as he also spilled himself inside you, with a low, hoarse grunt, full of pleasure.

He stayed there for a while, still on top of you, kissing your forehead and stroking your hair. Then, he pulled you to his chest, covering the two of you with a blanket.

“Next time,” He said with a satisfied smile, “I’ll use a smaller dose. Or maybe not.”

Overstimulation. (Fem!Reader)

The night had started slowly. Calm kisses, hands exploring patiently, and tender whispers exchanged under the soft light that entered through the mansion’s windows. Diluc was always meticulous with everything he did, and with you it was no different. He made love like someone who appreciates a rare wine — slowly, savoring your every reaction, every sigh.

But that night, there was something more. A glint in his eyes, something hungry, that made your entire body react even before the first most intimate touch. He wanted more — and he wanted you to feel more.

Your eyes met his for a moment, and all you could do was nod, already feeling the heat begin to pulse in your belly. Diluc smiled — not that gentle smile of his usual, but a slower one, full of dangerous promises.

The sheets were rumpled beneath you, your hair spread across the pillow as he settled himself between your legs again. You had already gotten there — not once, but twice. Your body was trembling, sensitive, a little fragile under the touch of his hands… but still hungry.

“Look how wet you still are for me,” He whispered, sliding two fingers inside you, slowly, almost reverently. You gasped, your body reacting with small spasms, as if you were on edge — and you were.

“Diluc…” Your voice was broken, pleading, but he just smiled and lay back down between your thighs. The first touches of his tongue were almost unbearable. Your skin reacted with small tremors, the pleasure coming fast, too aggressive, as if every nerve was screaming with the accumulated intensity. You tried to close your legs, instinctively, but he held them firmly.

“Don’t run away now, my dear,” He said in an almost serious tone, looking at you with his red eyes burning with desire. “You can handle it. I know you can.”

And he went back to licking, slow and deep, exploring you with the precision that only he had. His hands held your thighs open, pinning you to the bed as if he wouldn’t let you escape for even a second. Your head threw back on the pillow, moans escaping loudly, uninhibited, because you could no longer control anything.

It was too much. Everything was too much. His mouth, the heat, the perfect and cruel rhythm, the feeling of being consumed entirely. Your entire body trembled, and when the orgasm arrived — a third, overwhelming one — he didn’t even give you time to breathe.

“Diluc, please… I… I can’t take it…” You whimpered, almost sobbing, your body contracting as if you were running away and searching for more at the same time.

“Of course you can,” He murmured, his fingers now replacing his mouth. Two firm fingers, thrusting in and out of you at a torturous pace, while his other hand caressed your clit with soft, rhythmic circular strokes. “You’re so good for me… you always give me everything.”

You whimpered fearlessly, shamelessly — your moans mixing with disjointed words, your eyes watering. Each wave of pleasure was more intense than the last, each one stealing a piece of your air, your strength. And yet… you didn’t want him to stop.

Diluc was visibly aroused by your surrender. His eyes were glued to your body, to the way you trembled and moaned and begged. He climbed on top of you, pressing your body against his, and aligned himself with your entrance again — hot, hard, hungry.

“One more,” He whispered against your mouth, his lips crashing to yours in a searing kiss. “Just one more for me, love…” And when he entered you, everything went blank for a second. Your body, which already seemed about to collapse. He moved with force, with need, each thrust deep and accurate. The sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, his moans mixing with yours as he held your face, his eyes fixed on yours.

Your entire body exploded in pleasure once more, with such intensity that tears escaped your eyes. You moaned loudly, your whole body arching, your hands gripping the sheets as if you were going to come undone.

Diluc hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck when he came too, with a hoarse moan. His body shuddered against yours, and then everything was quiet for a moment — just your hearts beating fast, your breathless, sweaty, and exhausted.

He kissed your forehead gently, running his fingers through your heat-soaked hair.

You smiled against his chest, your body still trembling, but completely sated.

Dottore

Sleepy sex. (Fem!Reader)

The lab finally fell silent. Vials still pulsed with faint blue glows, remnants of some unstable mixture he had decided to leave for the next day. For the first time in hours — maybe days — Dottore was without his mask and his impenetrable posture. Just a man with heavy eyes and slow breathing, slumped on the couch in the next room, his shirt half open and his hair still a little messy from the last time he ran his hands through it.

You approach him silently. He knows it’s you even before he opens his eyes, and he murmurs something hoarse, low, almost swallowed by fatigue.

“You should be sleeping…” But his arms open anyway, as if his body were defying its own order.

When you lie down next to him, he immediately pulls you onto his lap, burying his face in your neck as if he were trying to hide from the world. There’s something curious there — he seems more fragile than you’re used to seeing. The defenses that always make him so hard to read were now slowly melting away in the heat of your skin.

“You calm me down.” He confesses softly, between warm kisses on your shoulder. His voice is still slurred, half-sleepy, but the desire… that was already starting to boil beneath the surface. His hands slide down your thighs more slowly than usual, as if he were too lazy to let go of his control — but also without the slightest desire to resist you. Each touch of his is a little more needy than technical. You see him without any armor, and yet so sure of himself, even tired.

Your lips meet slowly. It’s a lazy, slurred kiss… but full of that typical Dottore intensity. He murmurs against your mouth:

“Do you want this now?” And when you respond with a whispered yes, he sighs as if he already knows. “Of course you do. You always know how to make me weak…”

The excitement grows between kisses and touches exchanged in silence, almost respecting the tiredness that weighs on both bodies. Still, there is something delicious in losing yourself like this — in bodies intertwined without haste, in moans muffled by the pillow, in panting breaths that mix.

Dottore’s surrendered more than ever. With half-open eyes, he observes your every reaction, even as he moans softly as he feels you mount him with the calm of someone who knows all the shortcuts to your pleasure. His hands hold your hips, sometimes tightly, sometimes just caressing you with his fingertips, as if he wanted to prolong that moment as much as possible.

You move your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him, feeling how his body trembles beneath yours.

“You’re driving me crazy…” He says, his voice deep and broken.

“Then go crazy with me.” You reply. And he does exactly that.

There, between the rumpled sheets and the drowsy smell of experiments and desire, Dottore lets himself go. Cumming with you on top of him is almost cathartic, as if his own body were thanking you for letting him come undone like that — tired, vulnerable, but satisfied.

Then, he keeps you there, lying on his chest, fingers drawing circles on your spine. The drowsiness is now real, deep… but in the midst of the torpor, he still says with an almost choked voice:

“You are the only experiment I never want to end.”

Kaeya Alberich

You being on top. (Fem!Reader)

He loves to tease. You know that. Just look at him, with that crooked smile and his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. But behind the sharp words and calculated charm, there is something else — something that only you know.

It is the Kaeya who moans softly when you hold his chin firmly and tell him to stay still and obey. It is the Kaeya who shudders when you push him against the bed and ride him at your own pace, making sure to control every moan, every sigh, every tremor of his body.

“Are you that sensitive already?” You ask, feigning innocence as you move over him, slowly burying his cock deep inside you, staying there for a few seconds, grinding your hips against his, before starting the movements all again. He bites his lip, his eyes moist with pleasure — that pleasure that burns in his chest, that almost hurts because it feels so good.

“You’re going to kill me, love… I can’t take it—”

“Yes, you will. You’ll take it because I want you to.” And he obeys. Always.

He loves seeing you on top — literally and emotionally. He loves when you hold his wrists against the mattress and straddle him with a sweet, dangerous smile on your lips. He loves feeling his entire body begging for release, while you deny it, only to see him begging for more.

“Touch me… Please, just a little—” His voice breaks, choking, and he turns his face away, ashamed of his own weakness. But you hold his chin, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Or else… At least let me touch you…” His hands struggle against yours, winning and lifting one of them to touch your breast, squeezing it devotedly. You pull his hand away, preventing him from touching your body under the threat that you wouldn’t let him cum if he did.

“Look how beautiful you are like this… Whimpering and almost crying just because I’m giving you pleasure in my own way.” The moan that escapes him is almost a sob. A muffled sound, drenched in emotion and desire. You don't need to do anything else — just exist, and he's already surrendered.

“Can I?” He bit his lip, trying to hold your hips only to have you slap his hands away.

“Can you what? Use your words, Alberich.” Heavens, iit was so good to see him like this, escaping his dominant and sharp personality.

“C-Can I cum? I'm so close, p-please…” Your movements became faster and your own hands guided his so that one of them stimulated your clit while the other squeezed one of your breasts, teasing your nipple every now and then. That was your way of saying — without words — that he could cum. And he did, becoming a whimpering mess under you.

“Remind me to tease you more often if you're going to treat me like this.” He murmured, before pulling you off of him so that you two could switch positions. “Now I need some revenge, right?”

Bondage. (Fem!Reader)

You were there, your wrists tied above your head, your back against the mattress, your body exposed and heated by his voice. Kaeya was an expert at seduction, but with you… he sometimes left a little teasing aside, just to show how much he knew what he was doing.

“Don’t worry, love,” He whispered, adjusting the tie on your wrists with surprising care. “If you want me to stop, just say so. But something tells me you won’t.”

The fabric he used to restrain you was soft, allowing it to be firm enough to impede most of your movements. His kisses spread like slow fire — down your neck, against your collarbone, across the curve of your breasts. Your eyes returned to his for a second, and Kaeya gave you that mischievous and affectionate smile, his fingers sliding between your legs, teasing you just enough to make you gasp.

“Look at you… You’re already so ready, and I barely touched you.” His fingers penetrated your folds, curving to reach your g-spot with ease and mastery. It was almost as if he had memorized your body: every curve, every sensitive spot. Teasing was a game he mastered.

Then he bent down and devoured you with his mouth while his fingers didn't stop their movements. His tongue lapped at you with a precision that made you writhe, tied up, completely helpless in the face of the pleasure he administered with dedication.

"Stay still for me, darling," He murmured against your sex, his dark blue eyes fixed on yours. "Let me take care of everything." And you let him.

The world was reduced to his hands, his mouth, the weight of his body on yours. He made you ask — not beg, because he knew the difference. He wanted to see you surrendered, but with pride, surrendered to him because you trusted him, not because you were forced. And that made him crazy with desire.

When he finally entered you, your moans mingled with his, muffled by deep kisses. The thrusts were firm, constant, followed by sweet and dirty words in equal measure.

"Just like that… You're mine, all mine. I'm going to remind you of that every time you cum around me." And you both came, strong and overwhelming, the waves of pleasure washing over your bodies. He released you afterwards, with gentle hands, worried eyes, covering you with kisses and caresses.

"Did I tie you up too tightly?" He asked, caressing your cheek affectionately.

"No, I like it when you do that." You kissed the corner of his mouth. "Can we go again?"

"Always."

Aphrodisiacs. (Fem!Reader)

You didn’t know exactly what he had put in that wine — but you knew he wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want. Kaeya was a tease, but he loved you. He loved the way you trusted him even when your eyes were clouded with desire, even when your body trembled for more.

“Just a touch of something special,” He whispered against your lips, holding the glass that was still between his fingers. “Something to... ignite what’s already burning.”

The drink tasted sweet, almost fruity, but the effect was immediate: your skin tingled, every heartbeat seemed to echo between your legs, and Kaeya’s presence, with his scent, his smile, and his cool fingers against your warm skin, became unbearably addictive.

He noticed the effect, of course he did. He sat behind you, pulling you onto his lap calmly, his chest against your back, his hands traveling over your body, mapping it with care and intention.

“It’s hot, hm? It’s the aphrodisiac... But it’s also me.” He chuckled softly, kissing the side of your neck. “Your body knows who it wants.”

You moaned softly when his hands reached your breasts, squeezing them gently, his thumbs playing with your nipples through your thin clothing. Your hips moved unintentionally, seeking friction, relief — and Kaeya guided you with pleasure.

“You’re sensitive... So beautiful like this. I could make you cum with a touch.”

He laid you down with all the care in the world, removing each piece of clothing with lingering kisses. His fingers stimulated your sex just enough to make you shiver, and he smiled, fascinated by the intensity of your reaction.

The aphrodisiac pulsed in your blood like fire, and Kaeya enjoyed every second — with patience, with precision, with desire. His touch was the final dose: you came with just his fingers and tongue, your entire body arching in response.

“That’s it...” He whispered, between kisses on your belly, moving up to your lips. “I want to make you come like this again and again.” And he really did.

With his body pressed against yours, his eyes fixed on yours, Kaeya penetrated you slowly, moaning with the pleasure of being inside you — and feeling how hot, tight, desperate you were. You scratched his back, and he moaned back, asking for more.

“It’s my fault,” He murmured with a dirty smile. “I left you like this... and now I’m going to fix it.”

Overstimulation. (Fem!Reader)

He had already made you cum once. Then twice. And now your body felt like it was about to collapse under his every new touch.

“Kaeya… P-Please…” You moaned, your voice broken by the excess of pleasure, by the tremors that ran through your open legs, still exposed to him.

But he didn’t stop.

His tongue moved slowly over your clit, as if savoring your every reaction, every involuntary spasm, every breathless sob that escaped your lips.

“You can still take more, can’t you?” He asked in a low voice, his lips wet with your essence, his eyes half-closed and hungry. “Your body is begging me even if your mouth says otherwise.”

You tried to close your legs, but his arms were firm, keeping them apart. Kaeya was gentle, but determined. The pleasure was already unbearable — and yet, you wanted more.

“You look so beautiful when you crumble like that,” He whispered, before lapping at you again more firmly, his fingers sliding inside you with ease, curling at the exact spot that made you gasp. Your back arched once more, the orgasm ripping through your body with force. He felt it and smiled, because he knew there was more to come.

“How many times can I make you cum before you pass out in my arms?” He murmured against your skin, kissing your inner thigh, his fingers still inside you, moving slowly, as if he was testing the limits of your sensitivity.

You whimpered, struggling weakly, your body already too sensitive, your clit throbbing, your mind clouded by so much pleasure.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” He whispered, moving up to your lips and kissing you tenderly. “You’re doing so well...” Kaeya entered you slowly, feeling how you trembled, how your body pulsed around him, completely surrendered. He moaned against your mouth, pleasure consuming him too.

“Let me take you to the edge… Just one more time.” He asked, his voice choking with desire and affection. “I’ll take care of you later, I promise.”

And you let him. Because there, even in the midst of the chaos of absolute pleasure, Kaeya was your safe haven — even when he made you forget your own name with yet another orgasm that made you see stars.

Kamisato Ayato

Bondage. (Fem!Reader)

You had lost count of how many times Ayato had told you that he loved seeing you surrendered to him. But there was something in the way he said it — with that serene smile, his clear eyes fixed on yours — that made everything inside you warm. With him, even submission was wrapped in elegance and reverence. And that night, the touch of the silk tying your wrists only confirmed that.

The softness of the sheets contrasted with the gentle tension of the ribbons that held your arms above your head, firmly on the back of the bed. Your legs, equally spread and immobilized with delicacy, made you feel vulnerable... and deeply desired.

Ayato was kneeling between your legs, impeccable even in that intimate moment. No part of him seemed out of control — everything was calculated, refined, even the way he ran his fingers through the ties to check if they were tight enough without hurting your skin.

“You trust me, don’t you?” He asked softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then your lips sweetly.

“Of course I do.” You replied, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Good girl.” He whispered with a crooked smile that made your stomach turn. “Then let me guide you tonight.” His hands were as gentle as they were firm. He began exploring your skin with light touches, trailing his fingers along the curves of your body, slowly moving downward. He kissed each spot patiently, with a silent adoration that made your skin shiver from head to toe. And then he stopped, observing your bound body as if it were the most precious of works of art.

“You look so beautiful like this... exposed just for me.” He said in a low tone, almost like a prayer. “Every sigh you take, every shiver... it’s all mine.”

You gasped as you felt the tip of his tongue slide down your belly, rising to the base of your breasts, where he stopped to nibble lightly. The restraints made it impossible for you to try to squirm, and that only made each touch intensify. You were surrendered, and he knew it.

Ayato brought his fingers to your intimacy, touching slowly, exploratively. Your hips moved, an involuntary reaction to the growing pleasure, but he held you firmly.

And with that, he bent down, his tongue taking the place of his fingers. Ayato’s tongue was a precision weapon. He knew exactly where to lick, where to suck, when to speed up and when to stop just to watch you writhe, begging for more.

The tension of the tapes on your wrists made each sensation even more vivid. Your senses were heightened, your body reacting to each stimulus as if it were the first. Your moans became pleas, and when the first orgasm came, you practically cried out in pleasure, trembling under his touch.

He climbed up your body, his chest pressed against yours, his eyes staring into yours with a glow that was both hungry and calm at the same time.

"You're not done yet," He whispered, his lips almost touching yours. "Not until I say so."

And then he positioned himself and penetrated you slowly, with an almost cruel slowness. You were so sensitive that the simple act of feeling him inside you drew a loud moan. He moved firmly, controlling each thrust, watching every expression on your face, as if memorizing every nuance of yours.

The silk ribbons held your arms in place, and that only intensified everything. You couldn't touch him, couldn't pull him closer, only feel — and obey.

“You’re mine.” He whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “So obedient, so perfect for me…” The climax came again, even stronger, making your vision blur for seconds. Your entire body trembled, sweat stuck the strands of hair to your forehead, and all you could do was call his name, as if it were all that mattered in the world.

And when he finally came undone on top of you, with a low, satisfied groan, Ayato wrapped his arms around you, whispering praises, loosening each bond with affection. His kisses were now tender, and he murmured between one touch and another:

“You were wonderful... as always.”

Aphrodisiacs. (Fem!Reader)

The evening began with a treat. Ayato appeared with a small, ornate wooden box adorned with the Yashiro Commission seal and a delicate silver-blue bow. He handed it to you with a restrained smile, but his eyes — always so serene — gleamed with something more mischievous.

“A special Sumeru delicacy.” He explained, sitting down next to you. “Sweets made from the nectar of a flower called the Nilotpala Lotus. They are known for their… stimulating properties.” You looked at him with a mix of curiosity and amused trepidation.

“Stimulating how?” Ayato smiled, taking one of the small candies with graceful fingers and bringing it to your mouth.

“Why don’t you try it and find out?” Your distrust didn’t last long. You always trusted him — and besides, the scent emanating from the little box was sweet, delicate, and enveloping, like jasmine with a hint of honey. When you bit into the first sweet, a warm wave ran through your body. It wasn’t just the taste — melting on your tongue like silk — but the sensation that was slowly spreading through your limbs. Heat. Sensitivity. A silent awakening in every spot of your skin. Ayato watched, enchanted by every expression that took over your face.

“It’s starting to take effect, isn’t it?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath.

“It’s like… my body is more alive.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

He moved closer, his fingers gliding along your bare thigh with reverence. The contact made you hold your breath — a simple touch sending shivers that seemed to run down your spine. Ayato smiled with silent pleasure, as if appreciating the fruits of a carefully laid plan.

“You’re so sensitive… so receptive.” His lips touched your collarbone, then your neck. “Every part of you is begging for attention.”

Gently, he laid you down on the sheets, pulling the fabric of your robe with slowness. The cool air against your exposed skin contrasted with the heat building inside. Ayato took his time — he explored every inch of you with kisses and caresses that set you on fire. He knew your body like no one else and seemed determined to enjoy every second.

When his mouth found the curve between your legs, you gasped. His tongue was patient, meticulous, eliciting reactions heightened by the sweets. It was as if his every touch was magnified tenfold — and you couldn’t escape the sensation.

“Ayato—!” You moaned, your hands gripping the sheets.

“Yes,” He murmured between kisses, “I want you to say my name like that. I need to hear you come undone for me.” His fingers gripped your thigh more firmly, preventing any movement. Each lick was a delicious torture, each pause a subtle punishment. You felt the muscles in your stomach contract, the heat between your legs growing until it became unbearable.

“Please... more...”

“More?” He teased, looking up with that calm smile. “But I’ve barely begun.” When he finally entered you, with the same careful rhythm, your bodies fit together as they always did — perfectly. But now, with the aphrodisiac coursing through your veins, it was all too much. Too intense. Too pleasurable. Each thrust was deep, calculated, and you whimpered in pleasure, completely surrendered to this man who never lost control — except when he wanted to make you lose yours.

“You’re so beautiful like this... all surrendered, all mine.” He whispered against your ear, the sound of his voice like velvet on your skin.

Your orgasms came in waves, shaking your body with force and he was there, steady, attentive, guiding you through it all, as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world. In the end, he held you against his chest, running his fingers through your sweat-dampened hair.

“Maybe we should bring more of those sweets home.” He whispered. “Or maybe… you only react like that to me.”

Overstimulation. (Fem!Reader)

The night was silent inside the Kamisato residence, and the intimacy of Ayato’s room seemed separated from the rest of the world. Candles in thin holders cast soft shadows on the walls, and the light scent of sakura petals invaded the room through the half-open window. You knew him well — every subtle expression, every restrained gesture. And you knew exactly how to make him lose that control.

Ayato lay on his back on the futon, his hair slightly messed up by the silk pillow. The blue yukata he wore was loose, his chest partially exposed, rising and falling with his already irregular breathing.

“Are you comfortable?” You asked, your voice soft as you caressed his abdomen with your fingertips.

“Yes,” He replied, his tone low, almost a whisper. “But you… are playing a dangerous game, my dear.” You smiled, leaning in to kiss his collarbone.

“Maybe I am.” Your fingers slowly moved down, tracing the length of his cock before wrapping your hand around it with precision. The moan that escaped Ayato’s lips was suppressed, but you felt his body shudder.You started slow, almost lazy, and his eyes closed as his hips lifted, seeking more.

Your tongue collected the pre-cum that leaked from the tip of his cock, tasting it before taking his length into your mouth, sucking just the tip before sucking him completely — the head of his cock hitting your throat and making you choke on sinful sounds.

“You’re already so sensitive…” You murmured, watching his skin react, his entire body arch in response.

“You… always know how to disarm me, don’t you?” He said with a crooked smile, trying to maintain his composure even though his toes were already twitching.

The first time he came was quick: he’d been on edge since the very first touch of you — hot spurts of cum hitting your throat, and you drank all of him with need. But you didn’t stop. You continued to stimulate him, now with slower, delicately torturous movements from your hand, that stroked his cock with devotion. Ayato gasped, his neck and back arching.

“Wait… ah! You’re teasing me—”

“I’m taking care of you.” You whispered, caressing the side of his face. “You always take care of everyone and everything. Now it’s your turn to surrender, Ayato.”

The second time came with more difficulty. He groaned your name, his hips shaking as the pleasure coursed through him again, this time more intense, more desperate. His eyes were watering, and you leaned in to kiss away the silent tears that trickled from the corners of his eyes.

“You’re doing so well,” You praised, and he shivered all over at the compliment whispered in his ear. “So beautiful, so obedient.” Ayato smiled, his lips trembling, his cheeks flushed. “You’re cruel, love…” You just laughed softly.

“Cruel? Never. I am devoted. To your pleasure, at least.” And when he reached his third orgasm — shaking, sobbing, completely lost in the touch, in the words, in the suffocating intimacy of that room — you wrapped your arms around him, kissing his forehead tenderly.

“You were perfect,” You whispered, stroking his hair as he caught his breath. Ayato smiled, tired, satisfied.

“I love you.” He murmured against your neck.

“And I love seeing you like this… All mine.”

Ningguang

Exhibitionism. (GN!Reader)

It was night in Liyue, and the high moon was shedding its silvery light over the rooftops of the Jade Chamber, making everything even more luxurious and enchanting. You were there, alone with her, after a long day. Ningguang, as always, maintained her impeccable posture, sitting elegantly on the divan in the center of the hall with large windows, which offered a full view of the city below.

"Close the door." She said, her voice like silk, low and sure. "And stay where you are. Don't come any closer yet."

You obeyed, not understanding at first, but soon your eyes fixed on the way she stood up. The soft light illuminated her contours as she slowly dropped the white robe she was wearing, revealing the scarlet lingerie, convenient, tailored. It was delicate, lacy, with small provocative slits on the sides. She turned to the side, purposefully, knowing exactly how the curve of her waist and hips would steal your attention.

“I spend my days being admired by everyone. Desirous glances, restrained suggestions. But tonight,” She walked to the glass windows and stood there, facing the city, “Only you will see me like this... and only you will be able to touch me... When I allow it.”

The position was daring. Anyone with a well-positioned around that building could, in theory, see that enchanting silhouette through the windows. But Ningguang didn’t seem worried. She was in complete control of the situation — and you knew she wanted it that way.

She glanced over her shoulder, her red lipstick contrasting with her pale skin and her steady gaze.

“You like seeing me like this, don’t you?” You nodded, your breath catching in your throat.

Then, with calculated slowness, she reached for the clasp of her bra and unclasped it, letting the garment slide off her shoulders. Her exposed breasts were exposed under the moonlight, and the view was as mesmerizing as it was forbidden. She didn’t cover anything, showing herself with all the naturalness of someone who controls her own desires — and those of others.

“You’re so quiet…” She teased. “Did the image of me undressing for you in front of all of Liyue leave you speechless?” Her hands then went down her own thighs, until she reached her panties. She didn’t take them off right away. She just moved them a little to the side, revealing just enough to drive you crazy with desire. Her fingers slid there, and an almost silent moan escaped her lips. She touched herself in front of you, slowly, with evident pleasure. “Stay there. And just look. I want you to learn... that my lust is a gift I grant you.”

Little by little, her body began to move more rhythmically, her hips undulating slightly against her hand, her moans becoming more frequent, although muffled by her ladylike composure. She arched her back against the glass, knowing that this accentuated every curve, every tremor, every breath.

You wanted to touch her. You wanted to be part of it, but she hadn’t let you yet. Then she stopped all stimulation abruptly, earning a curious look from you. She turned slowly, her hair fanning out over her bare back as her gaze met yours — steady, warm, with a glow of victory.

“Come.” She said, holding out a hand. “You’ve endured my teasing well. Now you can worship me up close.”

Scaramouche (Wanderer)

BDSM, brat-taming. (AFAB!Reader)

You teased him. You knew exactly what you were doing — every defiant look, every insolent retort, every cheeky smile. You knew Scaramouche wouldn’t let you off the hook. And that was exactly what you wanted.

He sat cross-legged, watching you with feigned boredom and a sharp glint in his eyes. The silence was thick in the room, until he leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, and spoke in a low, harsh voice:

“Say one more word in that tone, and I’ll make you regret every syllable.” You smiled. Sweet, defiant.

“What if I want to be punished?” It was too fast. In the blink of an eye, he was on his feet. You barely had time to step back before you were gently pushed back against the bed, your body restrained firmly. His fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You don’t want punishment. You want attention. And you’re begging for it in the most childish way possible.” He growled. “But I’ll give you what you want. Only my way.” He tied you up with leather handcuffs attached to the corners of the bed. There was no rush. He made sure to maintain control over every movement, every touch. The straps tightened just right — security and submission. You bit your lip, already feeling the heat building between your legs, and he laughed mockingly.

“Look how you look just being restrained... so easy to read. So predictable.” He leaned down to your ear, his voice a whisper full of promise. “And you love it. You love challenging me just so I can bend you.” Scaramouche then slowly removed his blouse, letting you watch — like a small visual punishment. Without being able to touch, without even being able to brush your fingertips. He came closer again, his eyes sparkling, his fingers tracing your exposed body with a sharp caress.

“You’re going to beg today, you know?” He said, his hand squeezing your thigh firmly. “And I won’t give in until I hear you ask for it. No smiles. No sarcasm. Just you, little brat, surrendering.” You shivered under his touch, feeling his power wrap around you like an invisible chain. And for the first time that night, you were speechless. He smiled. A victorious smile, dark, hungry. “Good, you finally understand who’s in control here.”

Scaramouche pulled away just enough to let you feel the emptiness of his absence. The handcuffs forced you to stay exactly where he wanted you — exposed, vulnerable, irritatingly aware of your own arousal. His gaze slid over you like a cruel caress, and the smile that formed on his lips promised no relief, only torment.

“Did you really think you’d get what you wanted that easily?” He knelt between your legs, his fingertips sliding along the inside of your thigh but never reaching where you needed him most. “Not after all that petulance.” He leaned in, his lips brushing your skin — a touch that was almost chaste, almost pitiful. Almost. You arched your hips, desperate for more, but he pressed his hands against your thighs, keeping you still.

“Tsk.” His tongue ran a lazy path, too hot and too light at the same time. “So sensitive... Already shaking from that? And you think you’re strong.” You moaned softly, trying to press yourself against him, but the chains wouldn’t let you. And he smiled, cruel and calm.

“Not until you ask. Not with the boldness from before. I want your real voice. I want your surrender.” He then brought his hand between your legs, running his fingers over your sex without actually touching. Just the heat of the contact hovering there, making you cry out in frustration. Your body begged, throbbed, but he just watched. “Do you really think you’re going to cum before I let you?” He laughed, soft, contempt slipping through every syllable.

“You have no control here. I’m the one who decides when and if you deserve it.” Then he went down again, with his tongue, his fingers. The pleasure flared like fire. You arched, trembling, almost reaching… And he stopped. Nothing. Cold, suddenly. You gasped, desperate.

“N-no… please, Scara, don’t do this—” He looked at you, and his gaze was pure dominance.

“You’re going to beg for real. You’re going to moan my name and call me master in that sweet little voice. Or you’re going to spend the whole night like this — trembling, wet, and empty.” His finger came back, teasing. Another slow kiss, a warm breath. But it was all superficial. Punishment disguised as affection. And you were already starting to give in. You bit your lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. Your entire body ached with need, and yet he hovered there, cruel and serene, as if your suffering was entertainment.

Scaramouche tilted his face, his eyes narrowed in pure delight as he watched you squirm.

“Almost, aren’t you? That cheeky little mouth has lost its power. Where did all that teasing go, hm?”

His fingers slid in again, this time touching exactly where you wanted it most — but only for a second. A warm, lingering touch and then emptiness again. You gasped, sobbing, your hips trying to follow the absent touch.

“P-Please…”

“Please what?” He murmured, with a satisfied smile. You hesitated, pride throbbing in your chest. But it was useless. You were already defeated.

“Master…” The word escaped in a broken voice. “Please, master… let me cum. I need…”

“Ah…” He sighed with pleasure, as if those words were sweeter than any moan. “Now my little brat knows how to behave.”

He returned with his fingers, his mouth, his body — all at once, without mercy. The touches came fast, intense, too skillful to resist. You moaned loudly, feeling the orgasm build up like a colossal wave. The tension made you tremble, the pleasure bordering on unbearable.

“Cum for me. Now.” He ordered, his voice low and hoarse. “Show me who you belong to.” And you broke: your body buckled, the chains rattling with the force of your climax. A hoarse cry escaped your lips, his name lost between sobs and moans. He held you tightly, whispering praise, guiding each spasm of your body.

“Look at you… So beautiful, begging and cumming like this, all mine…” When the tremor passed, you could barely breathe. But his smile said he wasn’t done with you yet. “Now that you’ve learned your lesson… let’s see how many more times you can obey.”

Wriothesley

Breeding kink, praise kink. (Fem!Reader)

There’s something about the way Wriothesley watches you that goes beyond lust. It’s control, care, and such a genuine desire to see you rendition to him — completely vulnerable — that makes it impossible not to surrender to him.

When he praises you, his voice is low, gravelly, almost a whisper as he explores your body with caresses, touches, and kisses. His cock brushes against the folds of your sex, which is crying out to receive him after so much teasing, but penetration doesn’t happen — he continues using the tip of his cock to stimulate your hard, swollen clit, occasionally putting just the tip inside you, but never penetrating you completely. Your sanity was running out. You needed him, you needed him to fill you, stretch you, mark you as his.

“Wriothesley… please!” You moaned in frustration, your hands gripping his biceps, your nails digging into the skin. “Fuck me already.”

“Patience… Didn’t you say you’d be a good girl for me?” His words silenced your desperation — you wanted his approval, his praise — even if it meant your frustration would only grow. You nodded, biting your lip and leaning your head back against the pillow as you felt your orgasm approaching. It was almost strange how just the act of grinding against each other could completely break you. More moans left your lips and he smiled.

“You’re perfect.” He murmured, thrusting into you without warning, reaching the deepest point inside you in seconds. That was enough to make you cum, your walls contracting against his cock, milking him. “Fuck, always so tight… and so warm…” He pulled you into an urgent kiss, his orgasm approaching as well.

“Cum inside me…” You begged against his lips, your nails scratching his back, your body jerking against the sheets with every thrust of his hips. “Please, I’ve been a good girl.”

“You look so beautiful like this, begging for me… Your body knows you belong to me, can you feel it too? It’s begging me to fill you completely, to plant my seed in your womb.”

“I…” You could barely speak, a second orgasm quickly approaching. “I want to feel you stay in me for hours, I want to feel you dripping out of me just so you can fill me up again.”

“So tight, s-so hot…” He bit his lip, his words failing and his eyebrows furrowing, a clear sign that he was about to cum. And he did: hot and deep. Spurt after spurt of his seed invaded your womb, marking you completely as his. “Good girl... My girl. So obedient, so perfect, so… mine.”

Zhongli

Edging, use of vibrators. (Fem!Reader)

The room was calm, silent, as if the world had stopped to watch you both. Zhongli always treated pleasure with reverence, as an art that required patience, study and devotion.

You were lying between the silk sheets, your body already covered in a thin layer of sweat, the sheets messy beneath you. Your legs trembled slightly, and your breathing came in ragged pants. The vibrator in your intimacy vibrated in a soft, continuous rhythm — but never enough.

Zhongli was beside you, on his knees, his golden eyes fixed on each of your reactions. His expression was calm, almost solemn. As if he were praying with his eyes, adoring each sigh that left your lips.

"You're doing so well, darling." He murmured, his voice deep and calm, almost a whisper that touched your core. "So sensitive... so obedient."

The vibrator was lightly pressed against your clitoris, and you gasped, your hips arching reflexively. But, as he had done before, he pulled the toy away before your climax. Again. Once more. You moaned in frustration, almost tearful, feeling your own essence drip down your thighs.

"Zhongli… Please…" Your voice was a raw, trembling plea. He smiled gently, caressing your face with his fingertips, as if you were made of porcelain.

"Patience, my dear. Pleasure must be built, polished… almost like a rare jewel." He slid the vibrator over you again, this time with a light circular motion, unhurriedly. "When I allow it, it will be the kind of pleasure that will completely break you. Isn't that what you want?"

You whimpered in response, feeling every inch of your body tremble under the touch of the toy and his words. The moans came low, almost desperate, your mind clouded between torment and ecstasy. And he watched, mesmerized by how beautiful you were as you lost control for him. And then he finally whispered those words against your ear.

“Come for me…” You knew you were lost — and at the same time, exactly where you wanted to be.

The permission came as a blessing, and you came hard, your body arching in pure bliss. The sounds that escaped your lips were hoarse, beautifully uncontrolled. And Zhongli didn’t look away for a second: he matched every spasm of your body with his firm hands on your thighs, keeping the vibrator gently pressed against your clit even as you shuddered in extreme sensitivity. You gasped, breathless, and yet… yet you wanted more.

“You look so lovely like this.” He murmured, tracing the contour of your belly with his fingertips. “So surrendered… So mine.”

You tried to push the toy away with trembling hands, but he held them easily, his fingers intertwined with yours. His gaze was calm, but there was a spark of raw desire burning behind the gold of his eyes.

“I’m not done with you yet.” And then he turned the vibrator back on — a lower intensity, but focused, insidious, teasing exactly where you were most vulnerable. You let out a sob of pleasure, your body convulsing in immediate response.

“Zhongli… It’s too much, I can’t—”

“Shh…” He leaned down, kissing your lips tenderly. “You can, I know you can. Trust me.”

He knew your body like he knew the stories of every era of Teyvat— deeply, with respect, with adoration. Every pause between moans, every quiver of your muscles, every new limit crossed was memorized by him — memorized with mastery, just like the stories he had once told you.

“You deserve every drop of this pleasure.” He whispered in your ear, as his cock finally replaced the vibrator. “And I will be here to guide you through it.” You whimpered — a beautiful, husky, indecent sound — as your second orgasm came fast, violently, stealing your breath, your strength. But he didn’t stop his thrusts, because Zhongli didn’t love in a hurry. He loved like a god who had all eternity to worship his favorite mortal.

Breeding kink, DD/LG and praise kink. (Fem!Reader)

The candles cast a soft amber light over the room, dancing over the contours of the antique furniture and heavy curtains. Zhongli was meticulous even in his intimate moments — everything around him seemed carefully prepared to make you feel adored. And it worked.

You lay between the silk sheets, your breath held as he knelt between your legs, his golden eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that made your entire body shiver.

He leaned forward, his hands firm on your thighs, spreading heat wherever he touched. “You’re perfect like this, you know that?” His voice was deep, sweet, enveloping like a balm. “So receptive, so mine… Just like the good little girl you are.” His kisses began softly, almost reverently, on your abdomen, then below your navel, until he was inside you again — slowly, deeply, filling you as if each movement meant more than just physical pleasure.

“Zhongli, please…” You whimpered, your hands finding their way to his back.

"You drive me crazy." He murmured against your neck, his thrusts deep and slow, his hips pressed against yours as if he wanted to merge the two of you into one body. "Every time I feel you like this, so hot, so tight... All I can think about is filling you to the last drop." Your moans were interrupted only by the words he whispered in your ear, between kisses and caresses that left your skin on fire.

"I’ve been thinking about fucking a baby into you…" Zhongli brushed his lips against your ear. “Every single day, every now and then, I catch myself thinking about knocking you up, making you round with my child, tying your soul to mine because of our heir…” His thrusts became more rapid, almost violent as he continued his monologue. “Would you like me to do so, my girl?” Your eyes widened — you suspected he had some kind of breeding kink, but having him finally admit it… it made your heart warm up in adoration.

“I’ll happily nurture your heir inside my womb.” You reassured him.

"You deserve to be praised, adored… You deserve to be filled with me, like the good girl you are." You felt him grip your waist, keeping you in place, as if he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t disappear. The pleasure was intense, pulsating — and he knew exactly how to handle every second of it. "Atta girl... Just like that, love, you're taking me so good.”

“Daddy… I’m…” That name slipped from your lips unintentionally, and you felt aroused by it. You had never called him that, even though you fulfilled the role of being his little girl. “I’m so close, please, daddy… Cum inside of me.”

When he finally reached his limit, his moan was muffled against your skin. His orgasm provoked yours: your cunt convulsing around his cock, milking every last drop of his cum out of him, the contractions of your walls helping his seed reach deep inside of you, invading your womb without warning.

The silence that followed the climax was thick and full of meaning. Zhongli didn’t pull away immediately — instead, he remained above you, his body still entwined with yours, his fingers slowly tracing your waist, as if he wanted to memorize every curve again.

Your breathing was irregular, your eyes half closed as you felt the heat of his body mixed with yours. There was still the sensation of his semen inside you, hot and abundant, as he had promised.

The kiss he placed on your forehead was slow, like a seal of care. Zhongli then pulled out of you calmly, carefully observing your reactions, as if any discomfort you felt was a crime he would never forgive himself for committing. He lowered his gaze to where your bodies separated, and the sight made him let out a heavy sigh — satisfied, possessive, enchanted. And even breathless, he still whispered with possessive caress:

“Look at you…” He murmured, his fingers tracing the inside of your thigh, where his cum dripped lazily. “So full of me…”

You moaned softly, shuddering at his touch, and Zhongli smiled. A small smile, but full of tenderness. He rested his forehead on yours, his nose lightly brushing against yours, before murmuring in the softest voice you had ever heard as his fingertips caressed the skin of your lower bell in an instinctive, protective way.

“You make me want a future.” He murmured, kissing the top of your head. “With you. With the two of you.”

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shariasweet · 2 months ago

Note

ANYTHING ABT KJUNGWON PLEASEEEEEEEEEEESBKJSABHJBJSF

y.jungwon 𝒙 f.reader

𝓦c ::: -1k 𐙚𝓢harinote ::: oh how I yearn for jungwon, sigh 𐙚 warnin𝓰.ᐟ ::: kissing · pet names · fingering (f) · oral (f) / spit · humiliation (slightly, he's sweet) · squirting · not proofread as always.

this was beyond embarrassing.

if embarrassing was even the right word—this was humiliation and the heat rushing to your cheeks was undeniable proof.

“squirting videos… how to squirt… how can my boyfriend make me squirt?” your boyfriend let a teasing laugh echo across the bed. his voice was lilting with amusement as his eyes glanced up at you from your laptop screen. “baby, this is filthy.” jungwon grinned, continuing to explore the iceberg of your search history.

now more than ever, you wished that the earth would crack open and swallow you whole.

he sat at the edge of your bed, your laptop resting on his lap and his dark eyes flicking between the screen and your flushed, blown-out expression.

you hadn’t meant to leave those tabs open.

or your browser history untouched.

so when jungwon asked to borrow your laptop earlier—just for a second to check something—you didn’t think twice. not until now… you could hardly remember your ovulated haze anyhow, let alone anything you'd desperately searched up in attempts to get off.

your heart pounded in your chest.

jungwon let out another low laugh, biting back a grin as he closed the laptop slowly, setting it aside with the same care he used with anything delicate.

then, his attention returned to you fully—warm, playful, but sharp with an underlying seriousness. “so,” he said, asking you if it were the most casual thing in the world. “have you tried it?”

“tried… what?” you murmured, already fidgeting with the hem of your shorts.

“making yourself squirt.” his eyes flickered, dragging down your body slowly, as though he could see the wetness seeping through your cotton panties and shorts. “i mean, clearly you’re curious.” his voice softened, dropped—inviting. “want help?”

your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

your thighs pressed together instinctively, warmth blooming in your belly from just the idea of trying to… then the thought of him making you do something like that.

jungwon stood and took your hand, guiding you toward the head of the bed like it was nothing. his grip was gentle, his expression unbothered. “lie back,” he instructed, already pulling his hoodie over his head to reveal the toned muscles of his abs. your throat bobbed—dry. “don’t overthink, just let go f'me angel. i’ll take care of the rest.”

you settled into the pillows, nodding as your limbs were buzzing with nerves as you settled. he climbed over you slowly, careful and calm, brushing your hair from your face with a tender touch.

“relax for me, baby.” he smiled against your mouth, pecking you on the lips. he trailed kisses down your body... each one trailing lower and lower. he began working on your jaw, the curve of your throat, to the center of your chest… then beneath hem of your shirt. his tongue carefully traced each spot he kissed, teeth nipping and grazing your skin.

and then it was off… he carefully peeled the material of the shirt over your head, hands creeping up your sides to cup your breasts before removing your shorts. he stripped you down piece by piece, kissing every new inch of bare skin like he had all the time in the world.

when he sat back to look at you, it was with reverence—admiring you as though you were the most fragile, delicate thing in the world.

“so pretty,” he murmured, hands parting your thighs. “already wet too… is it from earlier? or just from me?” the teasing tone hinting in his voice returned and you felt that embarrassing heat creeping back up your body.

his fingers dragged through your folds, "agh!" you gasped, feeling them play with the slick already sticking to his skin.

he spread it around slowly, opening your glistening folds to reveal your puffy, aching clit.

“gotta get you wetter,” he murmured. “so wet you can’t hold it in…” his brows knit together in concentration as he continued to thumb at your clit—rubbing the bundle of nerves in small circles.

then he leaned in, kissing down your stomach before spitting, hot and heavy on your clit. you let a small yelp bubble past your lips, hips jolting—and he chuckled, thumb circling through it lazily.

“there we go.”

two fingers slid in soon after. slow. deep.

he didn’t rush. in jungwon fashion, he just eased them in, curling them gently, his eyes locked on yours the whole time.

“feels good?” he asked, voice steady. you nodded, already breathless. “yeah… yes…”

“good girl… just breathe.” he adjusted his wrist slightly. “i’m gonna hit a spot that’s gonna feel weird at first. but i need you to let go, okay? don’t hold it back.”

his other hand gripped your thigh, pulling you closer and forcing your hips to grind deeper into his fingers.

“ah—o-oh! oh, fuck…!” your jaw fell slack, his free hand rode up your thighs, applying a firm pressure onto your stomach as his fingers continued to coax an orgasm out of you.

he had found it—that spot he'd sworn to find—and dragged his fingers over it with devastating precision… your body twitched and your thighs trembled. “right there,” he whispered, low and husky. “you feel that?”

“f-fuck, yes—” then your tears began forming, pricking your eyes and blurring your vision.

he kept going. kept pressing, rubbing your clit with his thumb in slow, perfect circles whilst prodding at the spongy spot buried into your cunt. your sounds got louder. messier. lewder.

the slick sounds between your thighs became obscene as slick lathered around the base of his fingers. “wonnie, i—something’s—i think i’m—”

“don’t stop it,” he breathed, focused completely. “don’t fight it. let it happen.”

your stomach clenched tight. something inside you coiled, thick and hot… "shit! mpf, stop..!" your hands flew to grasp onto his triceps. "'feels like i'm gonna pee—ungh!" your hips bucked and your voice cracked—and then it hit.

your whole body went limp, releasing all at once and jungwon didn’t stop.

he moaned, latching his mouth onto your cunt, tongue lapping at your juices as your body kept releasing, cunt pulsing around his fingers, his lips sealed over your clit to catch every drop.

you gasped, clutching the sheets as your fingers tangled into his hair.

jungwon swore under his breath, stunned. “fuck. you squirted.” he looked almost dazed, staring at the mess you made. the white sheets of your mattress? soaked.

“angel… that was so fucking hot.” he looks up at you, awestruck with slick and wetness dripping from his face.

he leaned in, kissing up your knee, your thigh, your trembling stomach. not stopping until he's kissing your lips, the taste of yourself evident and reminsent on his lips. he didn’t stop praising you as you came down from your high, taking deep breaths as your eyes stirred open once more.

“so pretty,” he whispered, kissing your temple now. “so good for me. i told you i’d take care of you.”

#shariasweet ༉‧₊˚.#enha smut #enhypen smut #enha hard thoughts #enha hard hours #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #yang jungwon smut #jungwon smut #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon x reader

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vylosinbound · 2 months ago

Text

Slipping into sleep

MC falls asleep in front of the brothers

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor

Genre: Fluff / Slice of Life / Comfort

In the Devildom, it’s always night, and for a human like MC, the lack of sunlight can become exhausting. With different rhythms and endless-feeling days, it’s not unusual for MC to suddenly collapse onto someone… even at the most unexpected moments.

How would each brother react?

LUCIFER

A soft, elegant melody played in the background, keeping you company alongside two glasses of fine demonus, one of Lucifer’s favorites. In his study, your voice had grown quieter and quieter until you finally gave in, leaning against his shoulder with a slow, deep breath.

Lucifer paused mid-sentence, his gaze drifting down to you.

“...Really? Now?”

he sighed softly, though a small, fond smile tugged at his lips.

The truth was, the warmth of your body against his affected him more than he cared to admit.

He watched you for a moment, then set his pen aside and slid an arm around you, pulling you closer to better support you.

“...You’re so fragile sometimes. But with me, you’re allowed to be.” His voice was low, barely above a whisper.

Lucifer continued his work with careful composure, though every so often, his eyes would flicker back to you, as if to make sure you were still breathing easily.

MAMMON

You were lying together on the couch, watching one of his favorite movies (a loud, over-the-top action flick), and Mammon was in the middle of an animated rant about how he could "take that guy down in five seconds flat", when he felt a soft breath against his chest.

You had completely collapsed, curled up against him. "Hey... MC...? You even listenin’—oh..."

His cheeks instantly flared bright red. Mammon bit his lip, barely holding back the urge to wake you up just to see that confused little face of yours. Instead, he tightened his arms around you, heart pounding wildly.

"Sleep tight, babe..."

The words were whispered so quietly he was sure you couldn't hear them, a sweetness he only ever let slip when he thought you were fast asleep.

LEVIATHAN

You had been gaming in his room, surrounded by piles of plushies and anime merch. At some point, your controller slipped from your hands, and you slumped against him, fast asleep. Levi froze instantly, his entire body stiff with panic.

"O-OMG... MC?! W-what do I do?!"

He was sweating bullets, heart racing, mentally flipping through every "how to handle sleeping MC" trope he had ever read in fanfics. Finally, he cautiously, so cautiously, laid a trembling hand on your hair, stroking gently.

"I-it's fine... you can sleep on me if you want..."

His voice was barely a whisper, but the tips of his ears were burning bright pink.

SATAN

You were reading with him in his room. His voice, calm and deep as he read aloud, had an almost magical way of lulling you to sleep. Without warning, you leaned against him, your breathing slow and even.

Satan noticed immediately and smiled to himself. "You really are precious, MC."

Without a word, he pulled a blanket around you and kept reading, this time just for you. His voice softened even further, a silent promise to guard your dreams.

ASMODEUS

Asmo had been showing you some new skincare products, excitedly chatting about face masks and beauty routines. You leaned into him, clearly exhausted.

He gasped, then giggled softly. "Aww, my darling MC… completely worn out! So cute!"

With infinite care, he repositioned you comfortably against him, running his fingers through your hair in slow, affectionate strokes.

Every now and then, he pressed tiny kisses to your forehead.

"Sleep well, love. You're in the best hands possible."

BEELZEBUB

Beel was munching on a snack after training when you slumped beside him, yawning.

He noticed right away when you leaned into his side, falling asleep without a second thought.

"Oh... MC fell asleep?"

He set his food down quietly and wrapped his massive arm around you like a protective wall.

Beel didn't even dare to move too much, afraid to disturb you. He simply sat there, holding you gently, feeling the slow rhythm of your breathing against him.

BELPHEGOR

Belphie was already half-asleep, of course. But when you curled up against him and buried your face in his chest, a smug little smile appeared on his lips. Without even opening his eyes, he tightened his arms around you, pulling you even closer.

"Yeah... right where you belong..."

He nuzzled against your hair, completely content, and let himself drift into sleep with you tangled securely in his arms.

#obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me diavolo #simeon #satan obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me headcanons #obey me x mc #obey me x reader

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cheers-to-you-th · 5 months ago

Text

Don't Play Games (my heart is too fragile)

Pairing: Streamer!Seungcheol x Reader

Genre: Fluff, smut !MDNI!, s2f2l (kinda)

Tags: Fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, smut, Streamer!AU, former college classmate!Seungcheol, very short period of angst, slow burn

WC: 21k

Summary: Getting addicted to watching hot men play video games was definitely not on your year's bingo card. Getting addicted to watching Choi Seungcheol of all people? The idea would have been laughable.

Warnings: Smut, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected sex (they’re dumb, you shouldn’t be: wrap it before you tap it), pet names (princess), bigdick!Seungcheol, praise, some angst, lmk if I missed anything

taglist: @christinewithluv @cherry-zip @orngejuiceluv

The first time you stumbled upon Seungcheol's stream, it was an accident, a shocking one at that. It was just another boring day at work, your normal podcasts weren't doing it for you- listening about murders while writing a report on "harassment" between two employees who were simply arguing gave you some ideas that would not be very HR Manager of you- so you instead decide to go on twitch, your coworker had once told you it was perfect background noise.

You clicked on the first stream in the gaming category: Val w/coups by 'everyone_woo'. The stream had opened and the face of your old college classmate filled your screen and you nearly got whiplash from the double take you did.

Apparently the aforementioned "Coups" was the former infamous president of Chi Beta Zeta, Choi Seungcheol. It makes sense, you suppose- that they'd be friends- having been in the same frat, but the idea of shy Wonwoo from Engineering and not-so-shy Seungcheol, your fellow Communications major, was a little off-putting. That is, until you remember the other thing they had in common along with the rest of CBZ: sex.

Rumors constantly circulated: who Seungcheol brought upstairs at the last party, what girl Wonwoo was seen dragging into the supply closet near the library; although you were never a part of the rumors they spread like wildfire.

You shoved those thoughts aside as you finished the report, and when the rest of the day went by quicker than normal, you reminded yourself to thank Jeonghan later.

(And you definitely maybe went home and looked up "S.coups" on your computer before deciding his gravelly voice would be your new favorite white noise machine.)

Soon enough listening to him had become a habit; you were working? He was raging over a new fps he was trying; you were cleaning the house? He and Wonwoo were trying a new game pre-release.

On Wednesdays you, Minghao, and Jeonghan have a tradition: the three of you meet at a whole-in-the-wall cafe to gossip catch up with each other outside of work-talk. It started back in college, an agreement to always meet in the middle of the week for a break from everything—stress, assignments, life. Even now, years later, with jobs and responsibilities pulling you in different directions, Wednesdays remained sacred.

Today the three of you find yourselves in the same dimly lit restaurant you’ve all sworn by for years. It’s not anything fancy, but its quiet, comfortable, and, most importantly, they have a bartender who never questions the amount of time you all spend loitering at a table long after the food is gone.

Minghao is already there when you arrive, scrolling through his phone with the slight air of disinterest he always carried. Jeonghan shows up moments later, his usual carefree smile in place as he slid into the seat across from you.

“You’re late,” you tease, setting down your bag.

Jeonghan waves a hand dismissively. “Traffic.”

Minghao snorts, locking his phone. “We chose this place because it’s closer to your office so you can walk here.”

“Exactly,” Jeonghan says, grinning. “Too many people in my way.”

You roll your eyes but let it slide, already used to his antics. The three of you order your usuals, conversation flowing easily between catching up on work drama and not-work drama. It’s comfortable, familiar.

Then, as if on cue, Jeonghan’s eyes gleam with mischief, and you know what is coming before he even opens his mouth. “So,” he starts, resting his chin on his hand, “how’s our favorite Twitch streamer?”

You groan. “We’re not doing this.”

“Oh, we absolutely are,” Jeonghan counters. “Minghao, did you know our dear friend here has been religiously listening to Choi Seungcheol rage at video games?”

Minghao raises a brow, intrigued. “Seungcheol? That Seungcheol?”

You huff, sinking into your seat. “It’s just background noise. I put it on while I work.”

Jeonghan’s smirk widens at your dismissal. “Sure. Background noise. Because out of all the streams in the world, you just happened to choose your old college classmate’s?”

Minghao, ever observant, takes a sip of his drink before adding, “You know, he mentioned you a couple times.”

You blink. “What?”

Jeonghan nods enthusiastically. “Oh yeah. Back in CBZ, there was a few months where all he could talk about was you. He thought you were cute and would get really annoyed when you brushed him off. It was super funny seeing him finally get rejected, even if it was just because you were too oblivious to notice him flirting with you.”

“Dense,” Minghao supplies. “That was the word he used.”

You roll your eyes at them, “I wasn’t dense or oblivious, I don’t even remember talking to him for more than ten seconds. I was too focused on trying to graduate, plus he wasn’t my type.”

“Suuuuuure.” Jeonghan leers, “That’s why you listen to his voice on a daily basis now. Regret some things?”

You don’t roll your eyes at him, focusing intently on your drink as you swirl the liquid in your glass. “Whatever, I just thought it was more interesting to listen to someone I kind of knew instead of some random person.”

Jeonghan and Minghao exchange a look that makes it clear this conversation is far from over, but, mercifully, they let it go—for now.

A week later they grill you about Seungcheol one more time before finally deciding to let it go, thinking finally you can live in peace.

That’s why you’re almost having a heart attack as you exit the elevator to see the very man of your dreams standing outside the apartment adjacent to yours, moving boxes in hand. Frozen, you stand there gawking looking at him. As if he can feel your gaze, Seungcheol looks over at you and raises an eyebrow in question, looking borderline nervous and irritated. It broke whatever trance you were in as you introduced yourself (trying your best not to stutter) as a former classmate. He visibly relaxed at that while his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Professor Han’s class, right? We had a study group together one time.” You nod, thinking back to how girls had glared at you during class for daring to be randomly grouped with Seungcheol. The session had gone by quickly, slipping your mind until now.

“Uh, yeah, for midterms practice I think. I’m surprised you remember.” Your response has a smile pulling at the corners of his (annoyingly perfect) lips.

“Hard to forget such a pretty face.”

His words cause your eyes to roll, some things never change you suppose. You hum in response, “Except when I first came up here and you looked like I had insulted your entire bloodline or something.”

Seungcheol’s smile, you decide, is your favorite sight. His eyes crinkle at the sides, the cutest dimples form on his cheeks when his lips curl upwards, a chuckle escaping them. “Sorry, I just thought- it doesn’t matter. It was really good seeing you again though.” A matching smile on your face, you offer to help him with any boxes but he only shakes his head.

“I was taught to never let a lady carry her own things, carrying mine? Unheard of. Although if you want to cheer me on I wouldn’t mind seeing your face more.” He winks and you just shake your head, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks. You respond with something about outdated views before excusing yourself to the safety of your apartment, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart.

Over the next few weeks, the two bump into each other frequently; exiting your apartments, entering the complex; each time briefly chatting before going your separate ways. Some nights you would get a notification about a stream, only to hear him talking through your bedroom wall. Part of you felt bad watching him play, guilt gnawing away at your thoughts and distracting you.

It’s fine you tell yourself as you write the marketing team’s monthly performance report.

It’s fine you delude yourself as you hand said report to your deskmate, Minghao, to review.

It’s fi-shit you finally are snapped out of your denial when Minghao hands your report back covered in red pen marks and shame. He says your name with concern lacing his voice, “Have you been doing okay? You seem kind of… off and I’ve never seen this kind of work from you before.”

You shake your head, burying your face in your hands, “Sorry Hao, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

He just tilts his head and tells you that, if you ever need to talk, he’s here. That was the downside of working with your best friend– you could never hide anything from him. Normally you’d take him up on the offer- tell him your woes and such- if it wasn’t so goddamn embarrassing. You brush him off before taking a deep breath and steel yourself as you weigh your options. You could either tell Seungcheol that you watch his streams or stop watching them altogether, and you sure as hell wouldn’t be inflating his ego anymore (at least that’s the reason you tell yourself, it’s definitely not that you don’t want him to feel uncomfortable around you).

The rest of the day goes by at a torturing pace, no commentary in the background to make time fly quicker. By the time you get on the bus, you’re half-asleep, and then you’re full asleep, head lulled to the side, bouncing uncomfortably on the window, not that you notice.

“..am? Ma’am this is the last stop. You need to get off now.” The driver of the bus stands in front of you while you rub the sleep out of your eyes and look around. Taking note of the darkness outside the window and unfamiliar street, you sigh and lean your head against the window again, flinching at your slightly bruised head.

Could this day get any fucking better.

You apologize to the driver, who just looks at you with pity, and get off the bus, gauging your surroundings and sighing, breath fogging in front of you. Your bus stop is one of the last ones, meaning after a second you realize where you are and groan, pulling out your phone to call a car. Except of-fucking-course your phone is dead. It’s late, the watch on your wrist reading 11:56 (thank god at least something of yours is working) and look around one more time, hoping a taxi would drive by and save you from the cold night. Shoulders slumped in resignation, you start walking towards your apartment, it’s only a few blocks away, a maybe twenty minute walk, as long as your notoriously shitty sense of direction screws you over, which it does. By the time you reach your building you’re shivering, nose and fingers red as you reach into your bag for your keys.

Keys.

Keys that you remember setting on your desk at work but don’t remember picking up. You want to scream. And cry. Mostly cry, if you’re gonna be honest because now your shitty day turned into an even shittier night. Morning, you realize as your watch now reads 12:34. A shaky laugh escapes your lips as you slump down next to the apartment complex’s glass door that seems to taunt you, as if it's rubbing in your face how close relief is and how unreachable.

You feel your throat start to tighten and tears begin to well in your eyes.

“Y/n?”

You think you’re starting to go insane from the cold until a warm hand lands on your shoulder, a shadow crouching in front of you. Looking up hesitantly, you come face to face with your new neighbor, plastic bag in hand from what you assume to be a late-night snack run. The tears in your eyes start to fall as you begin to sob, if you were in your right mind this would be the most embarrassing moment of your life, but right now you’re cold and hungry and scared and this man appeared like an angel sent from heaven just to help you.

“Oh my god, you’re freezing. What are you even- nevermind that come on.” Seungcheol’s arms wrap around you as he helps you up, getting into the building with his keys and walking with you to the elevator. When it starts to ascend, Seungcheol sets his bag on the ground and takes his jacket off, wrapping it around you. You don’t even have the strength to argue with him, all of it spent on the tears that now slowed to a stop as you look down at your feet, shame starting to kick in. You don’t want to imagine the look on his face right now, knowing it’ll be the same pitying glances you’ve received all day.

The elevator dings as it arrives on the correct floor. Your feet start moving, muscle memory kicking in until you’re at your door, realizing you still don’t have your keys. When an arm once again wraps around you, you don’t even protest, allowing Seungcheol to guide you into his apartment, where he sets blankets and pillows on his couch. When you move to lay on it, he stops you.

“What are you doing? I’m sleeping on the couch, you can take my bed.” The words seemingly bring you out of the numb trance-like state you’d been in ever since you stopped crying.

“I- what?! No, oh my god Seungcheol no, I couldn’t- I mean you’re already doing so much for me and-” A warm hand cups touches your forehead, promptly cutting off your rambling as your frantic eyes meet Seungcheol’s warm gaze. Fuck he shouldn’t look at you like that.

“No offense Y/n but you look like you’re on the verge of hypothermia, you need the bed more than I do.” His hand moves from your cheek to pat the top of your head as you huff, letting Seungcheol guide you to his room where. You can’t help but feel guilty as you watch him rummage through his closet before emerging with a victorious smile and a large T-shirt.

“Wear this- before you argue,” He cuts off your protests before they can even start, “think of it as me not wanting dirty clothes on my bed and, as much as I would love to see it, you are way too cold to be sleeping in panties tonight.”

Your face flushes as you grab the shirt he holds out to you, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you Seungcheol. Really. I’m sorry that you have to do this, but I really do appreciate it.” Glancing up at him, you watch as his teasing smirk melts into something different, softer.

“Don’t apologize. I’ll always be here if you need help with something, what are neighbors for?” walking towards the door, Seungcheol looks back at you one more time, “I normally wouldn’t let you sleep without at least having a warm bath to stop a cold, but I think you’d pass out in the shower if I tried. Get a good night’s rest, yeah? I’ll see you in the morning.” And even after he leaves the room, his warmth stays, the soft gaze he’d given you burned into your eyelids as you drift to sleep.

The scent of coffee and bacon wakes you from deep sleep. For a second, you're disoriented, the unfamiliar surroundings causing a brief panic before switching to embarrassment as memories of last night flood back. You're in Seungcheol's bed, wrapped in his sheets that smell faintly of pinewood and something uniquely him.

Sunlight streams through gaps in the curtains, painting stripes across the room. You stretch away the ache in your muscles from the cold and stress of yesterday, tugging the oversized shirt Seungcheol lent you down as you swing your legs over the side of the bed.

Your bare feet hit cool hardwood, as you shuffle towards the bedroom door, following the enticing smell of breakfast. In the kitchen, Seungcheol stands at the stove, his broad back to you.

As you approach, Seungcheol turns, spatula in hand, and flashes you a heart-stopping smile. "Morning. How are you feeling?"

You run a hand through your sleep-mussed hair, suddenly self-conscious. "Better, thanks to you. I can't believe that happened."

"Hey, don’t worry about it," he chuckles. "I figured you could use the rest. Coffee?"

You nod gratefully while he pours you a steaming mug. Seungcheol plates up eggs, bacon, and toast. The domesticity of the scene isn't lost to you - here you are, in his clothes, sharing breakfast in his kitchen. It feels dangerously intimate.

"Thanks," you murmur, accepting the plate he hands you. "You really didn't have to do all this."

Seungcheol waves off your gratitude as he settles across from you at the small kitchen table. "It's no trouble. Besides, I couldn't let you face the day on an empty stomach after last night."

You take a bite of the perfectly crispy bacon, trying not to moan at how good it tastes. As you eat in companionable silence, you can't help but sneak glances at Seungcheol. His hair is slightly mussed from sleep, a slight sleepy haze in his eyes. He looks softer like this, less like the polished streamer and more like the boy you’d seen in college.

"So," he says after a while, setting down his mug. "Want to tell me what happened last night?"

You hesitate, your fork hovering over your plate. What were you supposed to say? That you had been thinking of him non-stop for the last 24 hours? That you were a mess whose sense of direction was almost as bad as your work-life balance? That you'd been caught in what was arguably one of your worst moments, by none other than the main cause of your original turmoil?

He seems to sense your internal conflict because he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. His tone softens, playful but not prying. "You don’t have to, y'know. I just figured you might want to talk about it. Seems like you had a long day, I won’t judge."

You sigh, feeling the weight of exhaustion creep back in. "It’s not even that interesting," you start, avoiding his eyes. " It was just... one thing after another. Fell asleep on the bus, could’t call a taxi caus’ my phone died, forgot my keys at work; Honestly, the world was conspiring against me the whole day, I swear."

Seungcheol hums thoughtfully, swirling the last of his coffee in his mug. "Sounds rough. No one likes walking around in the freezing cold with no way to get inside. It was a good thing I went out when I did, maybe it’s a sign I should take more midnight snack runs."

You laugh softly and promptly ignore the stuttering of your heart, "Hopefully it won’t happen again," you admit. "And… either way it’s not exactly something I want to bother you with."

He raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. "You weren’t a bother at all. Besides, I think helping you out is the bare minimum of what neighbors should do, don’t you?"

Neighbor. The word feels heavier than it should, he’s right; all you are to him is a neighbor, nothing more nothing less. You try to play off the feeling of your heart dropping into your shoes, shaking your head with a small laugh. "I have to admit, I’d never have guessed you were the knight-in-shining-armour type. At-night-in-UnderArmour maybe, but this is unexpected"

Seungcheol grins, his dimples flashing. "Hey now, don’t let the frat guy rep fool you. I’ve always been nice."

You laugh at that, the tension in your chest loosening. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

As he rinses the dishes, you take a moment to look around his apartment. It’s cozy, a mix of modern furniture and personal touches—a stack of books on the coffee table, a framed photo of what looks like his old frat brothers on a shelf, and a ridiculous number of gaming peripherals on his desk. It suits him, you think, the same way his easy smile and annoyingly perfect hair suit him.

"So," Seungcheol says, drying his hands before turning to face you. "Any plans today? Or are you planning to crash and catch up on sleep?"

"Work," you groan, already dreading the thought of going back to the office. "I have to deal with a report I butchered yesterday."

"Rough," he says, leaning against the counter. "Tell you what—after work, if you’re up for it, I’ll make dinner. Consider it part two of my neighborly duties."

The offer catches you off guard, but you manage to nod despite the sudden flutter in your stomach. "You don’t have to keep feeding me, you know."

Seungcheol just shrugs, a teasing glint in his eye. "I know. But I want to. Plus, you owe me. You cried on my shirt last night, remember?"

Your jaw drops, heat rushing to your face as you groan. "I did not—!"

"You totally did," he interrupts with a laugh, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. "It’s okay, though. It’s a good story."

"You’d better not go spreading this around mister." you say, pointing a warning finger at him. But the smile tugging at your lips betrays you, and Seungcheol just grins wider.

"Hmm I make no promises madam."

As you gather your things and prepare to face the day, Seungcheol’s warm gaze and easy laughter lingers in your mind, making you feel giddy and guilty at the same time. And as you step out of his apartment, you realize you’re already looking forward to the evening.

The day drags on slower than you’d like, each hour feeling like an eternity between the mountain of emails, the endless meetings, and the painstakingly slow process of fixing your stupid report.

By the time you get back to your apartment (with your keys this time, thank god), exhaustion is settled deep in your bones. You drop your bag by the door and kick off your shoes, barely making it to the couch before collapsing in a heap. The thought of getting up, even to change out of your work clothes, feels like an impossible task.

A soft knock at your door jolts you out of your half-asleep state. For a split second, you consider ignoring it, but then you remember Seungcheol’s offer(demand?) from this morning. With a groan, you drag yourself up and shuffle to the door, opening it to find him standing there, a grin on his face and a grocery bag in hand.

"Thought you might be too tired to make it over," he says, holding up the bag. "So, I figured I’d bring the dinner to you."

You blink at him, caught off guard. "You… didn’t have to do that," you mumble, though the smell wafting from the bag has your stomach growling in protest.

He laughs, brushing past you into the apartment. "I know. But you seemed like you had a long day, and I wasn’t about to let you skip a proper meal. Plus, I’m not sure I trust you to make anything edible in your state."

"Hey!" you protest, following him into the kitchen. "I’m perfectly capable of cooking, thank you very much."

He raises an eyebrow, eyes scanning your kitchen clearly unconvinced. "Sure you are. When was the last time you had something that wasn’t instant ramen or takeout?"

You open your mouth to argue, but the words die on your tongue because… well, the empty takeout boxes in your kitchen speak enough. Instead, you cross your arms and huff. "Fine. You win. But only because I’m too tired to argue."

"Glad we’re on the same page," he says, already unpacking the bag and setting up in your kitchen like he owns the place. You watch as he moves with practiced ease, pulling out ingredients and utensils like he’s done this a million times before.

It’s oddly comforting, watching him work. The kitchen feels warmer, cozier, with him in it. You find yourself leaning against the counter, a small smile tugging at your lips as he chats about his day—about how his coworker accidentally sent an email to the entire company, or how he nearly slipped on ice outside his building.

Before you know it, the smell of something delicious fills the air, and your stomach growls loudly, earning a laugh from Seungcheol.

"I guess you’re hungry," he teases, sliding a plate in front of you.

You roll your eyes but can’t hide your grin as you pick up your fork. "If this is bad, I’m never letting you live it down."

He smirks, leaning against the counter as he watches you take your first bite. The flavors hit your tongue, and you can’t help the satisfied hum that escapes you.

"Okay, fine," you admit, reluctantly. "This is… not bad."

"Sure, not bad. Dare you say good?" he says, his grin widening. "You’re welcome, by the way."

The two of you eat together, the conversation flowing easily. It’s light and playful, with just the right amount of teasing to keep you on your toes. By the time the plates are empty, you realize you’re smiling more than you have in days.

As he helps you clean up, you find yourself glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. There’s something about the way he moves, the way he laughs, that makes your chest feel a little too tight and your thoughts a little too scattered.

"Thanks for this," you say softly as he dries the last plate. "I really needed it."

He looks at you, his expression softening. "Anytime," he says simply. "That’s what neighbors are for, right?"

Neighbor. There it is again, that word. But this time, it doesn’t feel as heavy. Because maybe, just maybe, it’s not about what you are to each other now, but about what you could be.

A few days pass in a blurry haze. Seungcheol’s number was now saved in your phone, his occasional texts making you more giddy than you’d like to admit. The two of you occasionally see each other in the hallway, tonight he knocks on your door with food in hand, claiming he made too much and offering you some. You invite him in to share the meal (you’re just being a good neighbor), laughing and joking around as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And honestly, it kind of was.

Seungcheol insists on brewing you a cup of tea before he leaves, claiming it’s the perfect way to wind down after a long day. You let him, mostly because you’re too tired to argue but also because, well… It's nice having him here.

He chats while the kettle heats up, leaning casually against the counter like he belongs in your kitchen. The way he speaks, the rhythm of his voice, fills the quiet space in a way that feels natural—like he’s not just filling silence but adding something to it.

When he hands you the steaming mug, his fingers brush yours briefly, and you try not to overthink the spark of warmth that lingers long after he pulls away.

"So, any big plans tomorrow?" he asks, settling into a chair at your kitchen table. It feels oddly domestic, like this is something the two of you do all the time. You shake your head, cradling the mug in your hands. "Just work. Again. Though I’m praying for fewer disasters this time."

He chuckles, resting his chin in his hand as he looks at you. "Sounds like you could use a break. Maybe take the weekend off, do something fun."

You snort softly. “Like what, go clubbing or something? Not really my vibe."

"Doesn’t have to be that extreme," he says, grinning. "It could be something simple. A walk in the park, binge-watching a terrible reality show, or trying out that café down the street you keep mentioning but never go to."

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Are you suggesting I take myself on a date?"

"Hey, self-care is important," he says with a shrug, though the teasing glint in his eye suggests he’s enjoying himself. "But if you need a plus-one, I might be available."

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you’re not entirely sure how to respond. Is he joking? Probably. But there’s a softness in his expression that makes you wonder if there’s more to it than that.

"I’ll think about it," you say finally, trying to sound casual. "But don’t get your hopes up, Cheol. I’m not easy to impress."

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. "So it’s Cheol now, huh? Don’t apologize- I like it." he once again practically reads your thoughts, “And here, once you’re done thinking, let me know, yeah? Or in case you get locked out again.” Seungcheol slides over his phone with a new contact open as you roll your eyes, typing your number in anyways.

It’s late by the time he finally leaves, the mug you used now washed and drying on the counter. As you close the door behind him, your apartment feels quieter than it did before. Not in a bad way— the kind of quiet that lets you think. You find yourself replaying the evening in your head: his laugh, the way he somehow managed to turn your chaotic kitchen into a space that felt warm and inviting, the way his gaze didn’t leave you once when the two of you talked.

Shaking your head, you force yourself to focus on getting ready for bed. It’s nothing, you tell yourself. He’s probably just trying to make some new friends in the neighborhood.

But as you crawl under the covers, your mind drifts back to his earlier word, "If you need a plus-one, I might be available." The thought lingers, a soft thread of warmth that wraps around your chest as you grab your phone, typing a message before you can change your mind. Your fingers hover over the screen for a moment before you close your eyes and press send.

You: So how about that date?

The text felt heavier as the three little dots that blink back at you in reply. You hold your breath, heartbeat thudding in your ears.

When his text pops up on your phone, a shy smile automatically spreads across your face as you read it.

Seungcheol: How about Saturday?

Seungcheol: I’ll plan it—just be ready by 10.

The squeal you let out could rival one of a teenage girl on her first date as you kick your feet giddily in bed. Fuck, you were already down so bad. When you hear a chuckle through the wall your phone drops to the floor with a thud as it buzzes again..

Seungcheol: Careful, I might start to hope you’re looking forward to seeing me

This arrogant correct motherfucker. Your fingers type a quick response, trying to save whatever dignity you have left.

You: Saw a spider

You: Anyways where should I meet you?

His response makes your eyes roll with endearment annoyance.

Seungcheol: I think your memories are getting mixed up, spider was what everyone called Hoshi, not me. And no spoilers, just dress comfortably.

Two days later, Saturday morning rolls around, and you’re standing in front of your mirror, staring at your outfit for the third time. He said casual, so why are you frantically searching for the perfect attire?

It’s fine, you think, not over the top. He doesn’t know what your closet looks like anyways, for all he knows you always wear this kind of clothes.

Your cozy beige sweater is paired with jeans and ankle boots, casual but still nice. Your makeup is light, natural.

A knock on your door makes your heart jolt. Grabbing your bag, you take a steadying breath before opening it.

Seungcheol stands there, hands casually tucked in his jacket pocket, a grin already spreading across his face. His eyes flick up and down your body once, twice, hitching in some areas before finally settling on your eyes.

“You-” He clears his throat, “You look really good.” His eyes flick away from yours briefly, you swear you hear him mutter something along the lines of too good but it must be your imagination, flustered by how the man in front of you seems almost shy.

“Thanks,” you reply, giving him a similar once over to the one he’d subjected you to earlier.

Black cargo pants with a dark denim jacket (that somehow looks warm) over a white graphic T. The outfit might look sloppy on someone else, but Seungcheol makes it look like he should be on a runway, the clothes draping over him perfectly as though everything was custom-made for him.

“You don’t look half bad yourself.”

“You really are hard to impress huh?” he teases. “Lucky for you I’m always happy to deliver. Ready to go?”

The two of you walk to the parking outside as you chat, getting into his annoyingly nice car. You can’t help but wonder where he’s taking you as the roads out the window blur. No matter how hard you try to pry the information out of him, he doesn’t budge. A lesson in patience, he tells you. When the car finally stops, you look around, surprised– an amusement park.

“Seriously?” you ask, poorly trying to hide your smile as you stare at him.

“What? Too childish for you princess?” he says with a sly grin. You just hum in faux indignation, giving up on any attempt at hiding your smile.

The park is alive with bright lights, lively music; the smell of popcorn and funnel cakes wafting through the chilly air. You wander through the attractions, playing a few games and riding the tamer rides to start. At one of the stands, Seungcheol picks up two pairs of animal ears, holding them where you can’t see.

“Pick a side.” he states with a sparkle in his eyes, hands behind his back.

You roll your eyes at his antics and do as he asks.

“Good choice,” he said, handing you a pair of floppy bunny ears, putting the other set- wolf ears- on his own head. “How do I look?”

You snort. “Ridiculous.”

“Come on princess, I think yours suit you perfectly,” he teased, tugging gently on one of the ears now perched on your head. He drags you over to one of the photo-booths scattered around the park and pulls you inside as you laugh.

His arm is wrapped around you, who instinctively leans into his shoulder as the screen counts down. After some more silly shots, the last timer runs on the screen. The two of you are posing when you impulsively turn your head and press a kiss to his cheek as the flash goes off. Before you can try and see Seungcheols expression you quickly get out of the booth, crouching down to wait for the photos to print. A shadow surrounds you but you ignore it, grabbing the two photo stips and standing up, actively avoiding looking at the man behind you until you feel strong arms circle around your waist.

“Don’t get shy on me now, princess.” Seungcheol’s voice is low and quiet, his breath tickling you neck. He gently turns you around in his arms, forcing you to face him. When you do, you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips.

His eyebrows raise, expression soft and questioning as you raise your hand to his cheek. “You’ve uh.. Got a little something on here.” Before you can wipe off the lipstick mark a hand grabbing your wrist stops you. Seungcheol just hums, the smile on his face growing as he responds. “Leave it there, I like it.”

You look away, flustered, “It might stain.”

His smile only grows further as his hands squeeze your waist reassuringly, “Even better.”

A few more hours fly by in a blur of laughter, shared glances, and the occasional screaming as you ride a roller coaster. As the day winds down, Seungcheol leads you toward the Ferris wheel.

“Ending with a Ferris wheel ride at sunset huh?” you tease with a smirk. “Classic.”

He chuckles. “You’re smiling, so I think it’s worth being cheesy.”

Your face flushes as you step into the car with him, the soft glow of the park lights casting everything in a dreamy haze. As the wheel lifts you higher, you take in the moment—simple, sweet, and perfect.

The car sways gently as it begins to ascend, the world growing smaller beneath your feet. Seungcheol leans back in the seat across from you, his arm casually draped across the edge, as though the intimacy of the situation didn’t seem to bother him at all. Meanwhile, your heart is racing, the memories of the day making it difficult to keep your composure as you keep your eyes trained on the park as it gets smaller and smaller.

“Nice view,” the man across from you murmurs. When you sneak a glance at him, his eyes aren’t on the horizon—they’re focused on you, his soft expression making your breath hitch.

You bite the inside of your cheek, turning to face the window again. “Yeah, it’s beautiful,” you agree, your voice coming out shakier than intended. The warmth of the sunset casts a golden glow across the park below, lights beginning to twinkle as the day faded.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Seungcheol shift slightly closer. “You’ve been smiling all day,” he comments. “Do I get some credit for that, or was it just the funnel cakes?”

You laugh, turning back to meet his gaze. “Oh definitely the funnel cake, But you’re decent company too, I guess.”

He grins, leaning forward just slightly. “Decent? Come on, you can do better than that.”

You raise a brow, trying to hold your ground despite how his closeness makes you feel like melting into the seat. “Don’t push your luck.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the distant hum of the park and the creak of the Ferris wheel as it carries you higher. His expression softens, and he tilts his head slightly, as though weighing his next words carefully. “You know,” he starts, his voice low, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I hoped you were looking forward to seeing me.”

Your breath catches, and you search his face for any trace of teasing, but his expression is nothing but sincerity with a tinge of nervousness. “Maybe I was,” you admit quietly.

His smile widens, dimples returning with full force as the confidence that had momentarily wavered in his eyes returns. “I’m glad. Maybe I was hoping to see you too.”

The car comes to a stop at the top of the wheel, leaving the two of you suspended in the sky. The view is breathtaking, but all you can focus on is the way Seungcheol’s eyes shine, on the curve of his nose, where your lips are stamped on his cheek, how soft and welcoming his own lips look. His fingers brush your own and your heart is pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice smooth and steady, as if sensing your hesitation.

You nod, your gaze flicking between his eyes and the hand now gently covering yours. “Yeah. Just… you make me nervous.” As soon as the words leave your mouth you want to jump out of the ferris wheel.

He chuckles softly, the sound halting your thoughts. “Ditto.” he remarks and you swear your heart stops as he leans closer, his voice barely above a whisper. His face is inches from yours, the space between you charged with tension. You could feel the warmth of his breath mixing with your own, the weight of his presence grounding you and making your head spin all at once.

And then, as though the universe decided it hated you, the car jolts slightly, the Ferris wheel beginning its descent. The tension clears, and you both laugh as it dissolves into something softer and more familiar. When you both reach the ground, Seungcheol offers you a hand as you step out of the gondola, not letting go until the two of you reach his car.

Seungcheol opens the passenger door for you, his hand lingering on the frame as you step in. He waits until you’re settled, closing the door with a gentle thud before walking around to the driver’s side. As he slides into the seat, the soft click of the doors locking echoes in the quiet night.

The drive home is comfortable, the radio humming a mellow tune as the city lights streak past the windows. Neither of you speak much, but for once you don’t mind the silence, it’s comfortable, as if the events of the day are still settling in your minds.

When the two of you finally arrive at your adjacent apartments, he turns to look at you.

“So,” he begins, his voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt, “did I live up to your standards of being ‘decent company’?”

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin. “I guess you weren’t terrible,” you reply, feigning nonchalance.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he leans against the wall. “I’ll take it. Progress is progress.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward—it’s heavy with the weight of the day, the laughter, the quiet moments, and the words that neither of you seems quite ready to say.

“Well,” you finally say, your hand moving to the door handle, “thanks for today. I really needed it.”

Seungcheol doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the photo strip from earlier at the amusement park. He holds it out to you, his fingers brushing yours when you take it.

You glance down at the photos—the silly poses, the bunny ears, the surprised look on his face as you kissed his cheek—and your chest tightens in the best way possible. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the stillness.

When you look back up, he’s watching you, his expression unreadable. He shifts, fingers lightly grazing yours.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his voice steadier than you feel. “If you’re up for it… we should do this again sometime.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, all you can do is nod. “Yeah,” you manage, your voice soft. “I’d like that too.”

His smile grows, and for a split second, you think he might lean in, but instead, he squeezes your hand gently before pulling back. “Get some rest.” he says, his tone light but his eyes lingering on yours.

As you open your door, the apartment inside feels emptier than normal. You pause, glancing back at Seungcheol.

“Text me when you’re free,” he says, his grin now fully teasing. “Or, you know, just knock on the wall or something.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you softly close the door. Your heart races as you lean against it, the photo strip still clutched in your hand. You glance down at the images, your smile widening as you run your thumb over the glossy surface.

You were screwed—completely and utterly fucked—but for the first time in a long while, you didn’t mind one bit.

Jeonghan is late again, you’d think he’d learn to use his time better on Wednesdays but some things never change, you suppose. You sit across from Hao, sipping on your coffee as he eyes you suspiciously.

“So,” he begins, placing his tea on the table, his voice carrying that signature teasing lilt. “You went on a date.”

You nearly choke, coughing into your hand as you set your drink down. “Excuse me? How do you know that?”

He just smirks, leaning back in his chair with an air of triumph. “I was just guessing but you just confirmed it.”

Your jaw drops at his audacity. “That’s not fair—you tricked me!”

“Hardly,” he replies, stirring his tea with mock innocence. “You’re just too easy to read. So was it good?”

Before you can fire back, a familiar voice cuts in, smooth and teasing. “What’s this about a date?”

You turn to see Jeonghan strolling toward your table, his blazer slung over one shoulder and his hair annoyingly perfect, as if he’d stepped out of a magazine, not his office. He grins as he pulls out a chair to join you.

“Oh, great,” you mutter, sinking into your seat. “Now it’s both of you.”

Jeonghan raises a brow, clearly delighted. “Both of us? This sounds like a story. Go on, I’m listening.”

Minghao smirks, pointing at you with his spoon. “She went on a date.”

“Stop saying it like that,” you shoot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jeonghan’s eyes light up as he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. “Ooh, let me guess, the new neighbor you told us about?”

You sigh, knowing you’re outnumbered. “Okay, okay fine. Yes, with the neighbor, and it was nice. That’s all you’re getting.”

“Nice?” Jeonghan repeats, feigning disappointment. “That’s all? Come on, you can do better than that. You haven’t been on a date in god-knows how long and all you can say is ‘nice’?”

“Why are you even here?” you snap, though you couldn’t help the laugh that slipped through.

Minghao tilts his head thoughtfully. “Was it ‘okay’ good or ‘planning another date’ good?”

“I’m betting it’s the second one.” Jeonghan said, his voice lilting.

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands. “Why do I tell either of you anything?”

Jeonghan flashes his signature cheshire smile, nudging your arm. “Because we’re your favorite. Now, come on. Was there a spark? A magical moment? Did you trip over something and land in his arms? Don’t leave us hanging.”

“Nothing like that, you dork.” you respond, trying to hide your smile but failing miserably. “It was just... fun. Exciting. Better than I thought it would be.” Jeonghan and Minghao exchange a look, one of those silent, unspoken conversations that only the three of you could understand.

“Definitely planning date two,” Minghao says, deadpan.

You groan again, but the warmth of their teasing—playful and supportive—makes it impossible to be annoyed. “I hate you guys,” you mumble, though your laugh gives you away.

“And yet,” Jeonghan teases, raising an imaginary glass, “you keep us around. To your nice, hot neighbor for finally getting you out of your apartment!”

Minghao raises his tea to join in. “Cheers to that.”

Rolling your eyes, you clink your mug against theirs. “You’re both insufferable.”

“For sure,” Minghao says with a smile, “that’s why you love us.”

Weeks pass in a blur of updating your nosy friends and texting Seungcheol, soon enough you find yourself looking forward to his messages, giddy feelings replaced with warmth and comfort. The banter is light but always at the edge of something more lingering between every word.

Cheol: So u finally going to admit that you miss me?You: I don’t wanna lie to you Cheol.Cheol: You say that now, but wait until this weekend. You’ll be begging for more.You: Oh? What if I have plans this weekend? You know, being busy and all that.Cheol: Then I guess I’ll have to cancel my dinner reservations :(You: We can't have that can we?

The next message is an address and the words: 7pm

Saturday evening comes faster than you expected, and when you glance at the clock, the realization hits that you’re running behind. You rush to get ready, a mix of excitement and nerves churning in your stomach as you pick out an outfit matching the nice restaurant Seungcheol had sent you. You want to show him a side of yourself that’s more than you coming home or leaving for work.

You choose a dark red dress that hugs your curves in all the right places. The neckline dips just low enough, an elegant slit running up the side. Paired with black heels and a sleek necklace dangling almost dangerously low, it feels just right. You spend a little extra time on makeup, defining each feature and topping it off with a red lip that matches your dress. By the time you’re finished, you feel more confident than you have in a while.

A knock at your door sends a rush of adrenaline through your veins.You check the mirror one last time before stepping toward the door, trying to keep your composure.

When the door opens Seungcheol just stands there for a second, his eyes scanning you from head to toe. The intensity of the gaze almost has you feeling self-conscious, until you see the way his eyes take on a slightly glazed quality instead of the usual teasing glint.

“Damn,” he finally breathes out, his voice low and shaky. “You look… wow.”

You bite back your smile, feeling your cheeks heat up at his gaze. “Thanks,” you say, trying to act nonchalant, but failing miserably.

He steps closer, his gaze still lingering on you, and you can almost feel magnetic pull in the space between you. “I… ” His eyes flick down to your heels and then back up to your face, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “I might need to take a second to adjust.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of his hands burning your hips through the fabric of your dress, “Well, would you look at that? Choi Seungcheol is actually tongue-tied.”

Seungcheol’s grin widens, “How could I not be speechless when you look like that?”, he asks before taking your hand and leading you to his car. The ride is short, but this time, it feels different. The air between you is thick with anticipation, neither of you speaking much—words feel unnecessary when the moment speaks for itself.

When you arrive at the restaurant, the valet greets Seungcheol like an old friend, and you can’t help but notice the way he carries himself—confident, composed, like he belongs in this world. He guides you through the entrance, a small smile on his face as gently takes your hand.

The restaurant has an air of quiet elegance, the kind that feels effortlessly luxurious. The lighting is soft, casting a golden glow on the crisp white table-cloths, the flickering candlelight adding a comforting warmth. The faint murmur of conversation fills the background, but you feel as if the two of you are in your own little world.

Seungcheol pulls your chair out for you as you sit, and you can't help but feel a little overwhelmed by how natural he makes everything feel, despite the grandeur of the setting. You settle into your seat, your hand instinctively resting on the edge of the table, your fingers brushing the silverware as you glance around. The atmosphere is luxurious, yes, but there’s something reassuring about the way Seungcheol carries himself, like he’s right at home here.

Once the menus are set in front of you, Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate. He scans the offerings with a casual air but glances over at you as you study the menu in your hands. "Don't let the fancy setting fool you. The food here is surprisingly good. I’ve been here more than once.” he says, his voice smooth and low, the confidence he carries in all things evident in the casual mention.

You chuckle, glancing up at him. “Take a lot of your dates here, do you?”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, that signature smirk tugging at his lips. “Only one.”

You can’t help the shy smile that spreads across your face, “Who would have known you’re secretly a softy.”

He leans forward slightly, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “I’ve got layers, princess. Lots of layers.”

The way he says it, so effortlessly confident, causes your stomach to flutter a lot little. You take a sip of your water, trying not to let him see how much he’s affecting you. “I’m sure. I bet you’re the life of the party at places like this.”

Seungcheol smirks and leans back in his chair, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I can be. But I also know when to appreciate the quiet nights. Sometimes it’s better to enjoy the little things.” His gaze shifts to meet yours then, a quiet intensity in his eyes. It’s a subtle change, but one that makes your heart race.

You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of his gaze. You glance at the menu again, though you haven’t truly registered anything on it. “I’ll take your word for it,” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady.

When the waiter returns to take your order, Seungcheol speaks for both of you, his choices seemingly effortless. You take the time to fully appreciate the man in front of you; the way his red tie is the same hue as your dress, how his white button up stretches across his chest giving an outline of a fit physique further supported in the way his sleeves strain against his arms.

Seungcheol clears his throat, and you realize you’ve been caught red-handed, so you decide to just shrug because yeah, he’s hot. There’s something more serious about the way Seungcheol watches you now, his eyes tracing the curve of your neck, the way the candlelight plays in your hair. It’s as if the energy in the room has shifted, becoming a little more personal.

“I have to admit,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer than before, “I’m having a really good time.”

You laugh, but it’s not from nervousness. It’s a genuine sound. “You’ve been teasing me nonstop for days. I’d hope you at least had a good time after all that hard work.”

His lips curve into that familiar teasing smile. “I’ve been doing more than teasing. You just don’t realize it yet.” He tilts his head slightly. “I’m glad you came, though. Really.”

The words, simple as they are, catch you off guard. It’s one thing for him to be flirty, but for him to show this side of him, this quiet sincerity... you weren’t prepared for it.

Before you can respond, the drinks arrive—a crisp white wine for you, a rich red for him. The clink of glass as it’s set on the table draws you back into the moment. Seungcheol raises his glass, his eyes locked on yours. "To good company," he says, his tone earnest but playful.

You smile and clink your glass against his, the material cool against your fingers. “To good company,” you repeat, your voice just as soft.

The conversation flows easy after that, not forced, but natural. He talks about his favorite restaurants, his travels, and how he’s surprisingly fond of quiet nights. You find yourself opening up more than you intended, sharing stories about your childhood, what drives you, what you love most about your work. He listens intently, his gaze never wavering, his attention fully on you. As if every word matters to him, every sentence is important.

It’s hard not to notice how his gaze shifts from playful to something more thoughtful as you speak, his eyes locking on yours with an unreadable emotion that makes your breath catch every time. You don’t want to admit it, but his attention feels like a constant pull on your thoughts, something that you can’t seem to escape.

When your meal arrives, the soft clink of silverware against the fine china is the only sound for a moment. You both pause, then Seungcheol leans back slightly, eyeing your plate with a mischievous grin. “You’re not going to finish that, are you?” he teases. “I’ll be happy to help.”

You raise an eyebrow, shooting him a playful glance. “I think I’ll manage just fine.”

The two of you laugh easily over the shared dish, the comfortable intimacy of it all settling around you like a familiar blanket. It’s rare to feel so at ease with someone in this kind of setting, but with Seungcheol, it’s effortless.

At some point during dessert, Seungcheol reaches across the table and gently runs his thumb along your hand. The motion is slow, deliberate, and for the first time, he’s not teasing. His touch is softer, and his eyes—god those eyes—hold a sincerity that has you feeling like you’re the only person in the room–in the whole world even.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I’m really glad you agreed to come out with me tonight.”

You hum, feeling a flutter deep in your chest. “So you’ve mentioned.”

After a moment you respond again, “I am too.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, the tension between you now wrapping around your mind and dulling the outside world. The soft clink of glasses, the quiet hum of the restaurant, the distant murmur of conversations... it all fades into the background.

Finally, after a long moment of simply looking at each other, Seungcheol stands and walks around to your side of the table, offering his hand. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice low but steady.

By the time you’re at the door to your apartment, the tension between the two of you is almost suffocating. You invite him inside, and Seungcheol takes a deep breath, “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back.”

And when you lean close to his ear and tell him then don’t, it’s like floodgates open. Seungcheol shuts the door behind him, crowding you against it as he leans close to you, hands finding your hips and breath warm against your ear. “Do you even know what you’ve been doing to me all night?” he asks, voice so low it's almost a growl.

You smile, hands trailing up his torso to wrap around his neck, “I guess I clean up well.”

Seungcheol chuckles darkly, experimentally squeezing your hips, “Too bad I’m gonna get you all dirty again.”

When he tilts your chin up to meet his lips, you expect the kiss to be hungry, as desperate as he has you feeling, instead Seungcheol kisses you slowly, tenderly with a sweetness rivaling ambrosia. Your arms wind themselves around his neck, pressing yourself harder against him as if even a second apart would be painful because, quite frankly, that’s how kissing him felt. He takes his time to savor each brush of your lips on his, each sigh that you breathe into his mouth.

Seungcheol looks absolutely ruined. His pupils are blown out, hair messy with your hands in it and red lipstick smeared on his swollen lips. You’re sure you don’t look much different, as the two of you crash back together at the same time. This kiss is how you expected the first to be, hungry, desperate, and hard.

Even when your lungs burn for air your lips chase after him when he separates from you, pupils blown out, hair messy, your lipstick smeared across his mouth, Seungcheol looks absolutely ruined.

The only thing you can hear is breathlessness before you’re tangling your fingers into his hair to crash your lips together again. Seungcheol presses into even more, hands pushing against your door as he intoxicates you once more. The kiss isn’t soft this time, lust taking over and pulling the two of you into each other. His hand moves to your jaw, switching the angle and taking away any last bit of brain function you have because even when kissing you with such passion Seungcheol still isn’t rough with you. He kisses you with a confidence and control that has you whimpering into his lips.

The sound clearly affects him, his tongue prodding at your lips and a small breath leaving him when you open your mouth further. He starts exploring your mouth as his hands move to explore your body, sliding up and down your waist to your thighs, where he squeezes before lifting you up seemingly effortlessly.

“Your room?” Seungcheol murmurs into your mouth. You break apart from him once again, hands on either side of his face, forehead resting against his. “Same layout as your apartment.” You recall, resuming the kiss once more as he carries you over to your bed, gently setting you down on the edge.

He drinks the breathy sound that leaves your mouth when his fingers find the zipper on your back, slowly drawing it down and caressing each new plane of skin revealed to him. You lift your hips, helping him get the dress fully off your body and thrown somewhere on the floor. You try to pull him in closer to you but Seungcheol is frozen. You wiggle impatiently and he just shakes his head at you, a breathy laugh leaving his kiss swollen lips.

“Be patient baby, let me appreciate you, fuck.” The last word comes from a deep place in his chest, an almost guttural sound as his hands gently trace up your legs, hips, waist, settling just below your dark red lace bra that matches your now discarded dress. He looks at you with an awe equal to that of meeting a deity, as if he’d never seen anything more captivating and never will in this lifetime. His gaze makes you flush because you’re just you, sure you put on a pretty matching set but even then you didn’t think he’d be this into it. You apparently verbalize your thoughts unintentionally because Seungcheol looks up at you once more, this time gaze filled with disbelief.

“Just you? Just you? God, you really don’t know how beautiful you are, do you, princess?” The nickname causes a shiver to go down your spine, his hands gently as they move behind you, unclipping your bra. “So perfect, so pretty for me.” His words are accompanied by his hands slowly massaging your now bare chest before he dives into you, mouth ravishing every inch on your skin as he pulls sounds from you. Your fingers find their way to his hair, tugging when he nips at your skin. After thoroughly stealing your breath his lips start making their way down to where you need him most. His nose presses against your core causing an embarrassingly depraved whimper to leave you.

“Fuck princess, you’re so ready for me,” he says as he pulls your panties away from your body, holding them up for you to see the ruined fabric. You don’t have time to think about them as he starts to leave hot open mouthed kisses on your inner thigh before dipping his tongue ever so slightly into your weeping hole. Your hands tug slightly on his hair and seemingly break whatever resolve he has as he starts to devour you. He knows exactly when to slow down, licking your cunt up and sucking in ways that have your head spinning. Your insides clench around nothing, leaking arousal as his lips wrap around your clit. He drinks all of your juices, his tongue collecting your wetness like water.

When he focuses his tongue on your hole, prodding timidly inside you as your walls beg to be stretched, your hands tug harshly at his hair, making him moan right into your cunt, as if he’s enjoying the pull of his hair as you use him for your pleasure. Your orgasm approaches at the speed of light, quicker than you’d ever thought a man could pull from you.

You spasm with each swipe of his tongue that gets faster as he notices how close you are. When he decides to focus on teasing your clit, something snaps in you and you come undone on his tongue.

He practically makes out with your cunt, stretching out your orgasm and making your legs tremble at his sides. You can feel the big smirk across his lips through your pleasure-induced haze. He doesn’t move away even when you start to feel over stimulated, you tug on his hair.

“You can give me one more, right princess?” He looks like something straight out of a porno, mouth covered in you, hair messy between your fingers, how could you possibly resist such a sight, especially when his finger runs up and down your entrance teasingly.

“Please” is all you have to say before he disappears once more between your legs. His fingers start to stretch out your walls, tongue lapping up any juices that escape. The pounding of his fingers inside you drag you close to the edge faster than before, and when his fingers graze one spot you’re seeing stars.

“There, right there fuck Cheol please–” your words get cut off by a breathy moan as he sucks on your clit, vision going blurry as you come on his fingers. When you’re coming down from the high, you watch as he takes said fingers and licks them clean with a groan, “You might just be my new favorite meal, princess.”

Your eyes roll at the comments as you shakily climb to your knees, earning a raised eyebrow from Cheol as you grab his shirt to pull him towards you, “You’re looking way too clothed to be saying that right now.” You mutter, making quick work of his buttons. His laugh turns into a groan when you press a kiss to his neck, sliding his shirt off of him and running your hands across the expanse of his torso. His muscles are firm and defined, and you don’t resist the urge to bend over and softly bite his chest, reveling in the choked sound he makes. His hands grab your head, pulling you into a wet kiss as you pull at his pants and boxers, sliding them down his legs to free his hard cock. As you look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, long, thick, deliciously curved, this man will be the end of you.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips. A whimper escapes you, and Seungcheol hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, princess. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he thrusts his hips up, causing your movements to stutter as you gag. “You can take a bit more, yeah?” his question ends with a groan, his fingers tightening on your hair.

You lower your head further in response, taking in another more of him. His hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair.

“Fuck, just like that baby, want you to choke on it,” his voice is gravely and low, the sound going straight to your core. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat and your eyes start to water. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure.

“Fuck my throat,” you beg ask, “Please”

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips as he guides himself into your mouth, smirking at how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “Well since you asked so nicely.”

You whimper around him, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. Suddenly he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with a sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. He crashes his lips to yours in response before pulling away suddenly.

His eyes widen as he looks around, suddenly looking frantic, “Shit, condoms. Stay here, I’ll quickly get dressed and run to my–”

“Are you clean?”

Seungcheol’s eyes go wide at your suggestion before slowly nodding, “I got tested last month, you’re not suggesting…” His voice trails off.

Have you ever let anyone hit it raw? Absolutely not. Did you have the patience for him to go to his apartment and grab condoms? Also absolutely not.

“I’m on birth control, clean, and way too fucking horny for you to be anywhere except inside me.” You state blankly. He shakes his head in astonishment before climbing on top of you, kissing you once more.

“God, you’re perfect.” he sighs, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks at you one more time for approval. “Ready?”

“Please— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head slides inside you, eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. He barely pulls out before fucking into you with a little more force. “Shit, you’re so tight, fuck.”

“Cheol please,” you gasp, not quite sure what you're asking for when you latch onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. You’ve never felt this full in your life as Seungcheol waits for you to adjust, pussy spasming around him in ways that make his eyes roll back. When you give him the okay he pulls out slowly, so you can feel every vein as it drags on your walls before he fucks back into you.

His pace starts to get faster and the sounds from both of you sound straight from a porno, but you don’t care because all you can think about is how good his dick feels inside you, how full you feel. From this position, you can see the way his face contorts in pleasure, brows furrowed and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips and sucks hard. “Fuck princess, you’re so perfect shit– pretty pussy made for me, huh?”

“For you,” you pant, thoughts reduced to just the feeling of him inside you. “All for you Cheol.”

His mouth curves into a soft smile as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Seugcheol’s hand slides down to grasp your hip, squeezing the soft skin and pulling you harder against him, impossibly closer.

“You’re perfect princess, my perfect pretty baby,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he repeats, more to himself than to you, voice strained as he tries to hold himself back, chasing your release before his own.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening, and you’re sure you look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, but the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Cheol, I’m—”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you baby, let go for me. I’ll take care of you,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall (thank god his room is the only one next to yours). Your body obeys him, a gast tearing through you as you moan Seungcheols name like a prayer. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, his expression as wrecked as you feel. “Tell me where—.”

“Inside.”

“Shit, are you sure?”

“Fill me up Cheol, please. Want it so bad.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. He buries himself inside you, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls. He ruts against you, his body trembling against yours before he collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms and kissing you gently. You almost cry when he slips out of you, hating the feeling of being empty as he finds your bathroom and returns with a towel to clean you up, eventually lulling you to sleep.

The first thing you register when you wake up is warmth— you soft sheets tangled around your limbs, the lingering scent of cologne woven into the fabric. The second thing is weight, the steady rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek, an arm draped around your waist, fingers splayed possessively over your hip.

Your eyes flutter open, and for a moment, you’re disoriented. The golden morning light filters through the curtains, casting lazy patterns across the room, but it takes another second for reality to catch up.

Seungcheol.

His presence is unmistakable, the solid warmth of him anchoring you even before you tilt your head up to look at him. His face is relaxed in sleep, soft in a way you don’t think you’ve seen before. His lashes rest against his cheeks, lips slightly parted, one hand still gripping your waist as if unconsciously keeping you close .

You take a slow breath, careful not to wake him just yet, allowing yourself the luxury of watching him like this. The confidence he always carries, the sharp smirks and teasing remarks—none of it is present in this moment. Right now, he’s just Seungcheol.

Your fingers move instinctively, tracing the curve of his nose, the contour of his lips. His grip on your waist tightens slightly in response, and you hear the low, raspy sound of his voice.

“Mmm.” A deep inhale, then a groggy mumble. “It’s too early.”

You laugh softly, then for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the quiet of the morning stretching between you. His fingers skim along your spine absentmindedly, tracing patterns into your skin. It’s dangerously intimate, this kind of quiet closeness, and you find yourself holding your breath as you wait for him to say something.

When he finally does, his voice is softer than before. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod against him. “Yeah. You?”

His thumb brushes over your hip, slow and deliberate. “Best sleep I’ve had in a while.”

There’s something unspoken in his words, something that lingers between the two of you, but neither of you address it. Not yet. Instead, you stay like this for a while longer, wrapped in each other. Eventually, though, reality has to creep back in. You sigh, shifting slightly. “We should probably get up.”

Seungcheol groans dramatically, pulling you tighter against him. “Or we could just stay like this.”

You laugh, pushing at his chest again, this time with more force. “You have things to do, and I—”

“—have to stay here and cuddle me,” he finishes smoothly, peeking one eye open again and giving you a peck on the lips. “Sounds like the perfect plan, right?”

You roll your eyes but don’t immediately pull away, allowing yourself one more stolen moment of peace before finally sitting up. Seungcheol watches you, his gaze heavy-lidded, filled with something you can’t quite name. Then, just as you’re about to move off the bed, his hand catches your wrist, stopping you.

You glance back at him, and his expression is unreadable for a beat before he smirks, tugging you down just enough to brush his lips against yours.

“Morning,” he murmurs, and it feels dangerously close to something more.

You swallow, the weight of the moment settling over you, but instead of overthinking it, you smile. “Morning.”

A week later you find yourself lying in the same bed, missing the man who had laid with you. The two of you haven’t seen each other since—your schedules never quite aligning—but the texts haven’t stopped. If anything, they’ve only gotten more frequent and flirtatious.

Cheol: You avoiding me or just giving me time to miss you? You: Are those the only options? Cheol: Unless you’d rather admit you can’t stop thinking about me. You: You’re so full of yourself. Cheol: And you love it.

You hate how much you do love it.

You turn and nearly walk into two people standing in the hallway.

“Whoa—careful,” a deep voice says as a steady hand catches your elbow.

It’s Seungcheol. Of course, it’s Seungcheol. He’s standing in front of you, that familiar grin spreading across his face. Standing next to him is a man you instantly recognize—Wonwoo. His calm, sharp features are exactly as you remember, though he seems a little more refined since college. You school your expression, feigning polite curiosity.

“Hey,” you manage, adjusting your grip on the bag.

“Hey yourself,” Seungcheol says, his grin widening. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Uh, I live here,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light despite the sudden thumping in your chest.

Wonwoo clears his throat, glancing between the two of you. “Cheol, are you going to introduce me, or should I do it myself?”

“Right.” Seungcheol gestures toward him. “This is Wonwoo—friend, buddy, compadre, if you will, and frequent pain in my ass. Wonwoo, this is…” He pauses, “Her.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow but extends a hand to you. “Nice to meet you, ‘Her.’ Or, nice to see you again, I guess.”

You laugh, shaking his hand. “Nice to see you too. I’d remind you of my real name, but apparently Seungcheol forgot it.”

“Hardly, you’re the only thing he’s been talking about recently. You were friends with Kwan’, right? I think I crashed your study sessions a few times.”

The mention of Seungkwan brings a smile to your face, he’s now roommates with Jeonghan, even though he’s grown so much since you first met him the younger boy will always have a special place in your heart, “Yeah probably, he always had someone tagging along with him. That kid was a real social butterfly.” Wonwoo opens his mouth to respond but Seungcheol cuts him off.

“Yeah, great, glad you guys are close.” Seungcheol crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he studies you. ”Small world and such.”

Your stomach twists slightly, but you keep your expression neutral. “Yeah, crazy coincidence. It’s almost like we went to the same school.” you say sarcastically, “So, what games will you be playing today?”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes at you, “Who said anything about playing games?”

You swear your heart stops at that moment.

“Oh-uh,” Think, think, think, “Well the walls don’t do a very good job at masking your swearing at night, just assumed that’s what was going on.”

Wonwoo, ever the observant one, stays quiet, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—like he’s connecting dots that you’d rather he didn’t.

“Sure,” Seungcheol responds, still watching you closely. “Anyways, we should get going.”

You nod, stepping back toward your door. “Yeah, it was nice seeing you both. I should put these away before they melt.”

“Uh huh,” Seungcheol mutters, stepping aside. Wonwoo simply nods politely, his expression calm but unreadable.

Once inside your apartment, you set the groceries down with a sigh, your mind racing. You didn’t slip up that bad, right? At least you had covered your mistake pretty well? Still, there was something about the way Seungcheol looked at you– like he was trying to piece together a puzzle– that left a sinking feeling in your stomach.

Another few days pass before you hear from Seungcheol outside of the usual teasing texts. You’re curled up on your couch when your phone buzzes.

Cheol: So, are you going to keep eavesdropping through the walls, or are you finally going to come over and play?

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

You: Who says I want to play?

Cheol: You wound me. But fine, if you’re too scared to lose, I understand.

You: Oh, please. Like you could actually beat me at anything.

Cheol: Prove it. Tonight. My place.

You hesitate for a moment. It’s one thing to comment on him playing games, but actually playing with him? You can’t be sure you won’t slip up again. But then again, you can’t let him think you’re scared.

You: Fine. What time?

Cheol: 8. Wonwoo will be there. And a few others. Don’t be late.

You stare at your screen for a moment before shaking your head. There’s no way this is a good idea, but you’re already getting up to change.

At 8:03, you knock on Seungcheol’s door. He opens it almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for you.

“You’re late,” he says, pouting slightly.

“It’s literally been three minutes, you big baby.”

“Three minutes too long.” He steps aside, letting you in. “Come on, the others are already here.”

His apartment is warm and filled with an easy kind of chaos. Wonwoo is lounging on the couch, a controller in hand, looking perfectly unbothered as he glances up at you. “She showed.”

“She did,” Seungcheol confirms, closing the door behind you.

At the other end of the room, four other guys are gathered, already deep into conversation. Seungcheol gestures toward them. “These are the guys. That’s Jihoon—" he points to the one sitting cross-legged on the floor, focused on a laptop. Jihoon barely glances up, offering only a short nod. “Vernon—” the boy next to Jihoon gives a small wave, expression relaxed. “Mingyu—” the tall one grins and throws an arm around Seungcheol’s shoulder. “And Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung—who you recognize from random campus events back in college—immediately brightens. “Wait, I know you! You were friends with Seungkwan, right?”

You laugh, nodding. “Yeah, that was me.”

“Small world, huh?”

Seungcheol claps his hands together. “Alright, now that introductions are out of the way, let’s get down to business.”

“Games,” Mingyu supplies helpfully.

“Winning,” Seungcheol corrects, looking directly at you.

You raise an eyebrow. “You wish.”

He grins. “We’ll see.”

The first game is an intense round of Mario Kart, and to no one’s surprise, Wonwoo dominates. “You guys suck,” he mutters as he crosses the finish line first yet again (as if you and Seungcheol weren’t on his tail the whole time).

“Okay, okay,” Seungcheol says, waving a hand. “Let’s switch it up. How about teams?”

You find yourself paired with Jihoon, who simply shrugs. “You ready?”

You smirk. “Let’s kick some ass.”

“Hell yeah.”

The match starts, and it’s immediately clear that Seungcheol is more competitive than he let on. The room is filled with laughter, shouts of victory, and groans of defeat. Soonyoung nearly falls off the couch at one point, yelling dramatically when your car pulls ahead of him.

Through it all, you feel yourself relaxing, the nervous energy from earlier fading away. When you glance at Seungcheol, he’s already watching you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he grins again.

As the night stretches on, the games gradually give way to easy conversation and laughter, drinks appearing in everyone's hands. Mingyu pours shots for everyone, insisting on a toast to new friends, while Soonyoung—already a little tipsy—challenges Jihoon to a battle of wits (which mostly consists of Jihoon sighing heavily while Soonyoung rambles on).

You find yourself nestled into the couch, comfortably warm from the drinks, the buzz of conversation wrapping around you. Seungcheol drops down next to you, draping an arm along the back of the couch. “Having fun?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You let out a quiet laugh. “Guess you’re not as unbearable as I thought.”

“High praise.” He grins, taking a sip from his glass.

Eventually, the night winds down, one by one, the others heading out or claiming their spots to crash for the night. You stretch, standing up to grab your things. Seungcheol watches you with an amused glint in his eyes. “Need someone to walk you home?”

You raise an eyebrow, a huffed laugh leaving you. “What, for the whole two feet I need to walk?”

“Exactly,” he says, standing up and smirking. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you in the five steps it takes to get there.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips as he walks you to your door anyways. As you turn the key to your apartment, you look back at him, maybe it’s the alcohol in your system, or maybe it’s the confidence from meeting his friends that has you leaning up to place a soft kiss on his lips, “Goodnight, gamer boy.”

You realize your mistake the next morning, hoping he didn’t.

Still, life goes on, months pass by with you and Seungcheol seeing each other but never giving what you have a label. Your affection for the man starts to pile more by the day along with your guilt, feeling as if you’re betraying him with every brush of your skin on his. Tonight you’re curled up comfortably by his side, his TV playing some rom-com in the background as the two of you feast on fried chicken and soju, a perfect evening. You don’t know when your conversation became talking about your childhood, but you don’t care as Seungcheol tells you a story of the messes he got into with his older brother.

“You’ve always been a trouble-maker haven’t you?” you exclaim, kissing the tip of his nose. He giggles, humming in response and you admire the way it makes his face light up, warming your heart. Everything is so perfect, the way his arms wrap around you, the way the alcohol makes your brain slightly fuzzy. How he presses kisses all over your face as you laugh, finally getting a real kiss pressed to your lips as he lays you down on his couch. Sweet, gentle, and full of an emotion you don’t want to name. When he pulls back the same emotion fills his eyes.

“I really like you, you know?” he says shyly. You nod in response, smiling up at him. “We should make things official then, yeah?” You’re about to nod when the guilt you’ve been suppressing comes back stronger than ever, “I- I’m sorry.” You tell him. Before he can question you further, you stand up, rathering your stuff, “I’m really sorry Cheol.” You say once again before leaving his apartment, too drunk and too scared to face him.

The next day, as much as you try to avoid him, you run into Seungcheol in the hallway and he stops you. His teeth worry at his bottom lip, brow furrowed, “We need to talk about last night. Did I do something? I thought we– I thought things were going well but– just.. Tell me what I can do. Please?”

His words shatter any resolve you had to keep things from him.

“I know you stream.” the words fall from your mouth and make the man in front of you go ridged, “I mean, I’ve watched you a few times– more than a few– I found you a few months before you moved in and didn’t really know what to do.” You wring your hands together, too nervous to look him in the eye.

A few moments pass before he replies, “So what, you just planned on never telling me? Even after we started hanging out? After we… after everything?” His voice sounds defeated, broken. You shake your head but no sound comes out of your mouth. What could you say? Had you ever planned on telling him? You never knew things would get this far, if you did would you have told him sooner. You can feel Seungcheols heavy gaze on you, prompting you to speak, “I— I don’t know Cheol. I’m really sorry I just- I don’t know.”

He nods in response, and you can practically feel your heart drop, “Give me some time.” Is all he says before walking away, leaving you feeling empty.

Another week passes without a word from Seungcheol. Then another. Guilt is eating you from the inside, you don’t know what Seungcheol is thinking, if he’ll ever talk to you again. You can’t say you’d blame him if he didn’t. Once again at work you start slipping up, eventually Minghao decides that enough is enough.

“Spill, now.” He says when you take your usual seat across from him. You try to convince him to wait until Jeonghan arrives but he’s firm in his insistence.

“Tell me what's going on, from the beginning. No lies, no excuses, no ‘I’ll figure it out on my own’ bullshit.” And so you do. You start from the beginning, Jeonghan's recommendation, the comfort it had brought you until your new neighbor appeared, the dates, the late-nights, the avoidance. You spill your guts out and Minghao listens. When you finish your tangent he just shakes his head.

“I know I’m an idiot Hao, but what was I supposed to do?” You defend yourself, from what exactly, you aren’t sure. Your throat starts to tighten and Minghao places his hand atop yours on the table, “Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re overthinking it.” He talks the panic out of you like he has so many times before, guides your breathing and soothes your nerves.

“Just because you’re an idiot doesn’t mean you can’t fix things.” His statement makes you laugh, his hand squeezing yours reassuringly. “Trust me, I’m sure you and your little gamer boy can work things out. Just tell him the truth, the same way you just told it to me.” You nod in response. The rest of the break the two of you talk like you always do, laughing and jabbing your coworkers as Minghao just rolls his eyes at you.

“Y/n?”

Your name from across the room breaks the comfortable bubble you’d been in with your friend. Seungcheol stands a few feet away from your table, betrayal evident in his eyes. You stand up to go towards him, but his scoff makes you stop in your tracks. He turns on his heel and walks out.

“What are you doing? Go after him, dumbass.” Broken out of your trance you hurry out the door, ignoring how the cold wind bites at your skin, your jacket left behind you. Seungcheol’s back is towards you as you chase after him, grabbing his arm and forcing him to face you.

“Wait a second, I-”

You’re cut off when he yanks his arm from your grip. Your chest aches when you see the look in his eyes. It’s unfamiliar, the face of the man you once found comfort in contorted into something else, something that scared you.

“Don’t start with me Y/n,” his tone is harsh, cutting through the cold air straight into your chest, “I trusted you, you know that? I really trusted you, I thought- it doesn’t even matter because you turned out to be the same as everyone else. This is all, what, some sort of twisted game? You wanted to get into my life and have a piece of me like every other crazy bitch that watches me, right? Well congradu-fucking-lations, you win. Your sick game is over now.” His eyes looked at you, filled with anger, betrayal, hatred, “And to think, after I started to believe that maybe, just maybe you had a reason to lie to me, that you actually cared about me, I see you with another guy. You can’t even go one week without finding a new boy-toy to play with, can you? You’re just another attention-seeking whore.”

His words hit you like a slap in the face. Here you are, freezing your ass off to try and explain yourself all for what? Finally all the emotions that have been boiling under the surface start to bubble over, “Excuse me?” Your voice comes out dangerously calm, seemingly stopping Seungcheol’s next sentence.

“First of all,” you clarify, “you’re the one who moved in next to me, let's not get things twisted. And yeah, I didn’t tell you I knew who you were, you wanna know why? Because the first time I saw you it looked like you were about to have a nervous breakdown because I recognized you. Of fucking course I said I knew you from college, I wasn’t about to make you more uncomfortable than you already were! I haven’t watched a single video since that day out of respect for you and your privacy. You are the one who kept talking to me, you are the one who asked me out, you are the one who kept doing things that would make it impossible for me to not start falling for you. A whore? I’ve been so worried about you that I make stupid mistakes in the simplest fucking tasks at work and my coworkers started to get worried, my friends started to get worried. So I finally tell them what's going on and when they convince me to come clean and explain everything to you, you decide to jump to conclusions. You can say whatever you want, Choi Seungcheol, but don’t you dare think for a second that I don’t care about you.” Hot tears stream down your face, but you don’t care, the words come pouring out from you, and you watch as Seungcheols expression morphs from anger, looking away before you can see what it turns into. His hand reaches out for yours but you pull away, not looking at him because you know if you do it’ll change your mind. “I hope you can find an attention-seeking whore to play with Seungcheol because I can’t do this. Not anymore.”

When you return to the cafe, Minghao doesn’t scold you for letting your emotions control you, offering instead to cover for you so you could go home but you refuse. Because what is home, you think, without Seungcheol.

You stay at Jeonghans for the next few days, calling out sick from work to instead watch dramas with Seungkwan. He doesn’t question your sudden appearance, nor the tears that fall whenever the drama leads would interact, which you’re thankful for. He gives you a steady shoulder to cry on and a reliable source of laughter to cheer you up. The two of you are currently huddled under a blanket, watching as Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams run towards each other in the rain. Your hands are holding his tightly under the blanket as you both squeal when they kiss. When the movie ends tears stream down both of your faces and Seungkwan bumps your shoulder lightly, “Whatever you’re going through must be serious, you never cry during The Notebook.”

You roll your eyes at his statement, laughing along with him as you turn the T.V. off. He turns to face you, suddenly serious and you know what's coming.

“You’re not kicking me out, are you?” The smile accompanying your joke doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and Seungkwan notices with a sigh.

“You know I would never, but you also know you can’t avoid going back forever. Eventually you’ll need to go back to your apartment.” He gives a pointed look at your too-big hoodie and sweats courtesy of Jeonghan. “Listen Y/n, you know I love you but–”

“I know Kwan’, I know. I’m just scared. Even if I know you’re right. I don’t think I’m ready to face him yet.” You cut him off, tears welling in your eyes once more. Seungkwan clasps your hands in his.

“Remember my senior year when I had a mental breakdown and called you at ass-O’-clock in the morning?” You nod, the memory vague but there. He continues, “I went over to your house and told you I was scared, that suddenly everything felt so real with job applications, interviews, and graduation getting closer. I didn’t know what to do, I wasn’t ready to be an adult yet and suddenly life was being shoved in my face and I didn’t know how to cope. Do you remember what you said to me?” A small smile forms on your face among the tears, Seungkwan giving you a reassuring one in response.

“There are some things you’ll never be ready for, but the clock still ticks and the Earth still spins, no matter how terrified you are. You just have to do it scared.”

You recite the words with him, words your parents had told you when you were eighteen and unprepared for college life, words you lived by since then, that had gotten you through your darkest times and happiest moments. Words that you had somehow lost in the chaos of adulting.

You wipe your face on your sleeve, small laughs replacing your sobs as you look at your lap, “Thanks Kwan.”

You don’t need to say anything else, he knows, like he always does. Like all of your friends always do because at the end of the day no matter how tough things get you will always have an amazing support system full of amazing friends. No man could change that, no amount of distance could break the bond your little entourage have. Because they, you realize, are home.

Seungkwan wraps you in a warm embrace as you tear up some more, not sad this time. The two of you rock back and forth for a while before pulling away and making eye contact.

“Tomorrow?”

“Can’t we wait until the weekend?”

“Fine, you stubborn pain in the ass. Saturday. Morning.”

You groan in response but don’t bother to hide the smile on your lips.

Saturday morning comes faster than you’d like. The moment your eyes flutter open, reality crashes into you like a wave, heavy and unrelenting. For a fleeting moment, you consider burying yourself deeper into the blankets, pretending that you could stay in Jeonghan’s guest room forever. But Seungkwan’s words from the night before echo in your mind. You just have to do it scared.

With a deep breath, you push yourself out of bed. Jeonghan is already in the kitchen, sipping his coffee with an all-knowing smirk when you walk in. "So, today’s the big day, huh?"

You roll your eyes, reaching for the mug he’s already set out for you. “You act like I’m about to get married.”

“Considering the dramatics, it might as well be.”

You groan, dropping your head onto the counter. “Can you not?”

Jeonghan chuckles, patting the top of your head before walking away. “Just rip the bandaid off, Y/n. You’ll feel better once you do.”

You’re not sure about that, but you know he’s right.

By the time you reach your apartment complex, your heart is pounding so loudly that you can hear it in your ears. The familiar hallway feels foreign, your feet carrying you toward your door on autopilot. You turn the key in your apartment door, the familiar creak of the hinges sounding louder than usual in the quiet hallway. The space is just as you left it—dim, still, and eerily empty. It feels foreign, like you don’t quite belong here anymore. Maybe because, for the past few days, you didn’t. With a heavy sigh, you drop your bag by the door and toe off your shoes, making your way to the couch. The exhaustion from carrying the weight of everything settles into your bones. You lean back, eyes fluttering shut, trying to steady your breathing.

It takes a few days for you to settle back into your apartment. At first, everything feels too quiet. You find yourself reaching for your phone to text Seungcheol before remembering the way things ended. You distract yourself with work, with cleaning, with anything to keep your mind from wandering to the ache in your chest. But no matter how much you try to push it down, it lingers.

You haven’t seen him since that night. You don’t expect to. Instead you go back to how things had been before he moved in, ignoring the ache in your chest whenever you hear him through your thin apartment walls.

Some nights, you lie awake, staring at the photo you had taken with him on your first date, wishing to go back in time. You listen to the faint sounds of his life bleeding through the walls, wondering if he does the same, or if he threw the picture away all together. The murmur of his voice on the phone, the clink of dishes in the sink, the low hum of his TV. It’s almost cruel how easily he seems to slip back into routine while you feel like you’re unraveling. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. That you’ll get used to it. But the silence in your own apartment is deafening, and the space he left behind feels colder than it should.

You start wearing headphones more often. It helps, a little. Drowns out the ghost of his presence. Keeps you from wondering if he ever pauses, mid-conversation, mid-laugh, mid-breath, thinking about you. You don’t let yourself hope.

But late one night, when you’re standing at your sink rinsing out a mug, you hear it—your name. Soft, hesitant. Muffled by the wall but unmistakable. Your breath catches, fingers tightening around the ceramic. You wait, straining to hear more. A part of you wants to move closer, to press your ear against the wall, to pretend that he’s just on the other side, that nothing has changed. But then you hear footsteps, the creak of his door opening.

And then nothing.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You tell yourself it was nothing.

But you don’t wear your headphones that night.

The next morning, you wake up with the imprint of your phone against your cheek, the playlist you put on last night long finished. Your first thought is that you dreamed it—his voice, his hesitation. That your mind is just playing tricks on you because it wants so badly to believe he still thinks about you.

But then, as you move through your morning routine, you catch yourself hesitating near the front door. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s the weight in your chest, the feeling of stepping into the world once again without him waiting to greet you. You push the feelings aside.

When you finally open the door, you nearly step on something– small and familiar, sitting right in the center of your doorstep.

Your scarf.

You freeze. Your fingers twitch at your sides.

The scarf you’d left at his place weeks ago, back when you still had a place there too. It’s neatly folded, like he took care with it, but there’s no note, no explanation. Just the scarf. You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the fabric as you pick it up. It still smells like his apartment, like the faint trace of his cologne, like something that used to feel like home.

You stand there too long, cold air slipping into your apartment through the open door, numbing your fingers, your face. Your mind races with all the possibilities—did he find it by accident? Did he mean to leave it for you himself? Did he hesitate, just like you are now?

You don’t know what to do with it.

So you do what you always do—you tuck it away, shove it into the depths of your closet like you can bury the feelings that come with it.

But that night, when you curl into bed, your hand drifts toward the closet door. Before you can stop yourself, you pull the scarf back out. Hold it in your lap. Press it between your fingers. Like maybe, if you close your eyes, you can pretend—for just a little while—that you never had lied to him in the first place.

The scarf stays on your nightstand after that. You don’t wear it. You don’t even move it. But you don’t put it back in the closet, either.

It’s stupid, you tell yourself. It’s just fabric. Just something that happened to be left behind. He probably didn’t think twice about it. He was just returning something that wasn’t his, nothing more.

You keep going to work, settling disputes with coworkers who seem to have nothing better to do than fight (you ignore the way you almost reach for your phone to listen to Seungcheols voice as you work).

You keep meeting Jeonghan and Minghao on Wednesdays, occasionally Seungkwan joins the three of you (you ignore the way they glance at you with pity).

Everything is where it’s supposed to be (you ignore how everything you do feels like it’s missing something).

It’s late, and you’re lying in bed, not really asleep, not really awake. The walls between your apartments have always been thin—thin enough that sometimes you can catch pieces of his voice, low and tired, when he’s on the phone late at night.

But this time, there’s no conversation. Just footsteps. The sound of a drawer opening, then closing. A pause. And then, so quiet you almost miss it—your name.

Your stomach twists.

You tell yourself it was just in your imagination, don’t let yourself dwell on why he might have said that because he didn’t (you ignore how you know that’s a lie).

The next morning, you wake up feeling like you never really slept at all. Your body is heavy, your mind clouded with something you don’t want to name. You go about your day like normal—like nothing happened. Like you didn’t hear him say your name. Like it didn’t send a crack through the carefully constructed distance you’ve been trying to build.

But it lingers.

You don’t mean to, but you start listening to him more. Not on purpose—at least, that’s what you tell yourself—but your ears tune in anyway. You notice the little things: the way he moves around his apartment, the late nights he stays up, the mornings he leaves just a little later than he used to.

And then one evening, when you step out of your apartment to grab something from the corner store, you nearly run into him.

You freeze.

So does he.

For a moment, neither of you speak. He looks… tired. Like he hasn’t been sleeping well either. Like maybe he’s been feeling the same weight pressing down on him. Your throat is tight. You should say something. You should walk away.

But then his gaze flickers, just briefly, to your door. To you.

When he starts to turn around Seungkwan’s reminder rings in your head.

Do it scared.

And before you can stop yourself, before you can think better of it, his name slips past your lips, “Seungcheol.”

His breath catches.

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, “We should talk.”

Seungcheol freezes, hand hovering above his door knob for a second before dropping to his side. When he looks up at you his eyes are full of so many emotions it makes your heart ache; shame, regret, hurt, hesitation. It almost makes you change your mind, but then you see it, the tiniest sliver of hope behind his gaze, that helps you keep going, inviting him into your apartment. He hesitates before entering, you walk in after him, closing the door.

Seungcheol doesn’t sit, so you don’t either. Instead, you stand near the couch, gripping your hands together to keep them from shaking. It’s silent for a moment, you aren’t used to his presence anymore.

“I meant what I said before,” you begin hesitantly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

His gaze flickers with something unreadable. He responds softly, voice sounding almost broken, “Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

You exhale, the numbed frustration and regret rising again in your chest. “At first I thought it wasn’t important, you were just my neighbor, and you looked nervous when we first met so I figured you’d rather stay anonymous. But then we started to get to know each other and suddenly I was keeping a huge secret and I didn’t know what to do. I-,” You take a deep breath to calm yourself down and stop your rambling, “I was scared. I didn’t want to ruin whatever this was—whatever we were. I thought if I told you the truth, you’d push me away.” You let out a small, humorless laugh. “Looks like I managed to do that anyway.”

Seungcheol sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “You should’ve given me the chance to decide how I felt about it instead of lying to me.”

You nod slowly, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest. “I know,” you whisper. “I should’ve told you the truth. I should have done so many things differently, but I didn’t, and I hurt you.” You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his eyes even though it makes your stomach twist. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Seungcheol looks at you, nodding, “Me too. For what I said.”

“Don’t worry, I get it, you had every right to be mad.” You protest.

He flinches, shaking his head. “Not like that.” His hands ball into fists at his sides before he sighs, running one through his hair. “Yeah, you should have told me. And yeah, it hurt. But what I said to you?” His jaw clenches. “That wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve that.” His voice is thick with guilt, his brows furrowed in frustration—at himself, not at you as he looks away. “Did you- when we would be together who were you thinking of?”

You tilt your head in confusion, so he elaborates, “I guess what I’m asking is if you just thought of me as S.coups, if you thought it was just another game.” When he meets your gaze once more it’s as if all the confidence was drained from him, he looked unsure, raw vulnerability in the way he bites his lip and wrings his hands together.

“It was never a game, not for me at least. To me you’ve always been Seungcheol, even when you first moved in, I didn’t really think about your job other than being worried that I would make you uncomfortable by knowing. Even when I’d watch you play, when you were having fun you were Seungcheol playing games like you used to during class. On days you didn’t seem as into it you were Seungcheol doing your job.”

You hear Seungcheol inhale sharply as you continue, “Back then and now you mean so much to me, I never meant to hurt you, but I did. And I don’t expect you to forgive me just because I apologized. If you still hate me that fi–”

You’re cut off by lips on yours, gentle and nervous until you kiss back. After so long it feels like the world finally clicks into place, a hand sliding into yours gently as your tears mix with his.

When you separate Seungcheol’s hand grips yours tightly, eyes still closed as if he’s scared you’ll be gone when he opens them. “I don’t hate you, Y/n.” His voice is softer now, barely a whisper. “I never did.” This time you lean into him, pressing your lips together once more. His free hand moves to cradle your face, yours lightly gripping the front of his shirt. Muttered ‘I missed you’s are scattered between kisses as you make your way to the couch, placing yourself on Seungcheol’s lap when he sits. Neither of you can help the tears on your faces.

After who-knows-how-long you’re still in Seungcheol’s embrace, his strong arms wrapped around you, drawing slow patterns on your back as the two of you sway back and forth gently. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, a quiet rhythm that makes you feel like you can finally breathe easy. You don’t know how long you sit there, tangled together on your couch, his arms around you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go. Maybe he is. Maybe you are too.

“Thank you. For coming back.” Seungcheol murmurs into your hair. His voice is soft, careful, like he’s afraid of saying too much, of pushing too hard.

You shift slightly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes are still damp, lashes clumped together, and the sight of it twists something in your chest. “Always,” you whisper. “I’ll be here as long as you still want me.”

His breath shudders as he exhales. “I do.” He presses his forehead against yours, voice thick with emotion. “Always did, always will.”

You close your eyes, soaking in the warmth of him, the weight of his hands resting at your waist, grounding you. “No more hiding. No more running.” you say softly.

Seungcheol nods, his grip tightening like he’s holding onto something fragile. “No more running,” he agrees. For a while, neither of you speak. You just exist in the quiet, in the warmth of each other, letting the weight of everything settle. Eventually, Seungcheol chuckles, breath fanning against your cheek. “I don’t want to move,” he admits.

You smile, brushing your thumb against his cheek. “Then don’t.”

His lips twitch into a grin. “You’ll let me stay?”

You pretend to consider it, tilting your head. “Depends. Are you planning on stealing all the blankets again?”

Seungcheol laughs, the sound vibrating against your skin. “No promises.”

You sigh dramatically. “I suppose I’ll allow it.”

His arms tighten around you, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to yours. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I can let go just yet.”

Neither do you.

“You ready to lose again?” Seungcheol asks, raising an eyebrow, the usual playful confidence in his voice.

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “In your dreams, Cheol.”

It’s silly, how normal it is, how easy it was to slip into the rhythm of this again. Your friends around you in his apartment, all laughing and having fun.

"Hoshi, I’m going to kick your ass!" Seungkwan yells from across the room, his voice high-pitched with mock frustration.

"You've got a lot of nerve talking, considering you're in last place," Soonyoung teases back, his grin wide and infectious.

"I can’t believe we’re playing this game again," Mingyu groans dramatically, even though he’s clearly enjoying himself despite the complaints.

"You’re just mad because I hit you with a shell. Like this," Jihoon shoots another shell at Mingyu’s cart, the corner of his lips curving upward as he hears Mingyu’s swears.

Seungcheol laughs, his usual confidence shining through as he skillfully handles his character. Every now and then, his hand would brush yours, and in those moments, it felt like time had slowed just enough for you to savor the simple joy of being surrounded by friends—by family.

"You’re about to lose!" Jeonghan said, voice full of amusement as he leaned over to look at the screen.

Seungcheol shot him a mock glare. "You’re not even playing."

But despite the teasing, the tension was long gone. No more waiting for the right moment to speak, no more hiding. It isn’t perfect—nothing ever is—but it's real. And that's enough.

You lean back against the couch, your head resting against Seungcheol’s shoulder as you pull into fourth place with a groan.

Seungcheol leans in, nudging your shoulder lightly with his. “So, when do you plan on winning?” he teases, his grin wider than before.

You glare at him, but the corners of your mouth betray you, lifting into a smile you can’t fight. “I’ll win when I’m good and ready, it’s not my fault my boyfriend is a professional.” you reply, your voice playful as you pout at the man in front of you. He laughs and presses a kiss to your lips, “Boyfriend, huh? You’re trying to use my weaknesses against me aren’t you?” You look up at him with the best innocent face you can manage, “That depends, my dear, is it working?”

“Maybe.”

“Ugh, get a room, you two.” Seungkwan’s complaints cause a wave of laughter as Seungcheol just pulls you closer into his side, sticking his tongue out at the younger boy. The teasing continues for a while longer, but you can feel how the warmth in the room isn’t just coming from the shared space or the game. It’s the laughter, the familiarity, and that makes a smile spread onto your lips. No distance, no walls. Just warmth, joy, and the comfort of being surrounded by people who cared. People who you knew would be by your side through thick and thin because the clocks still tick and the Earth still spins, time moves forward with them by your side to move with it.

A/N: Wooo she’s finally done!! Thx @orngejuic for being my beta reader ilysm.

#seventeen #svt #choi seungcheol #seventeen seungcheol #svt imagines #svt x reader #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #angst #seungcheol angst #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol imagines #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan

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starmaidengarden · 3 months ago

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idia : malleus : x gn!reader. no cw/tw. soft relationship headcanons. pt3!

idia shroud ༉⋆｡˚

Dating Idia Shroud is like entering a world of late-night gaming sessions, anime marathons, and unexpectedly deep emotional connections. He might be shy and reclusive, but once he trusts you, you become his safe place.

Getting Together

Idia has had a crush on you from afar for months but actively refuses to acknowledge it. He convinces himself that you’re way out of his league.

Painfully clear. Every time you talk to him, his hair turns bright pink and he full-on shuts down. His brain blue-screens, avoiding eye contact, and randomly vanishing from rooms when you enter.

Ortho eventually gets tired of it and drags him into confessing. Idia’s idea of a confession? "Uhh, statistically, the rejection probability is 90%, so it’s fine, but I—I like you. Okay, BYE—”

he immediately collapses into a nervous mess. Internally screaming. Externally panicking. But also lowkey floating with happiness.

In a Relationship

Online dates > Going out. He’d rather stay in and watch shows, play co-op games, or binge movies than go on traditional dates. (If you insist on going out, he’ll drag himself along—grumbling but secretly enjoying it.)

He loves doing co-op games together, and if you dont play games, he’ll happily teach you (while holding back to let you win).

He starts coming out of his shell for you. Like—willingly going outside?? Sitting next to you in the cafeteria?? “I’m only doing this because your stats are maxed in ‘Affection,’ okay?!”

He talks about you constantly to Ortho. “Y/N said my hair looks cool today. That’s like… a critical hit to the heart.”

malleus draconia ༉⋆｡˚

dating Malleus Draconia is like stepping into a fairy tale—romantic, magical, and filled with deep, old-fashioned devotion. Since he’s a fae prince, love is no casual thing to him; it’s eternal.

Getting Together

Malleus falls in love deeply and deliberately. He doesn’t experience fleeting crushes—when he realizes he loves you, it’s serious.

He doesn’t realize he’s being obvious. Everyone—including Lilia, Sebek, and even Silver—knows he’s in love. If you don’t catch on, Lilia might “accidentally” push you both into a romantic setting.

He doesn’t confess in a traditional way. Instead, he starts courting you in an old-fashioned, fae-like manner—bringing you rare flowers, inviting you on moonlit walks, and speaking to you in poetic secrets.

When he finally confesses, it’s grand, poetic, and old-fashioned. “I have lived through countless moonrises and starfalls… but never has anything stirred me like you. If you would allow it, I wish to be by your side… eternally.”

(He’s completely serious. You’re trying not to short-circuit.)

In a Relationship

Deep devotion. Malleus treats love as sacred. Once he’s with you, he is yours forever. He’s an old soul, so he speaks to you with deep sincerity. "You are precious to me" means everything when he says it. He often calls you his treasure or his beloved.

Loves spending quiet time with you. Whether it’s stargazing, reading together, or just walking through a forest, he enjoys simple yet magical moments.

Affection is slow He's not used to being touched—so the first time you hug him, he literally freezes. He doesn’t rush into physical touch, but when he does, it’s gentle and reverent. He loves holding your hand like it’s something fragile and precious.

Talks about the future easily. Unlike humans, fae think in centuries—he naturally includes you in his long-term plans, as if your love is inevitable and eternal.

He brings you gifts from other worlds—enchanted trinkets, preserved flower petals from Briar Valley, even weather in bottles.

Also? He watches you sleep. Not in a creepy way—just in awe. “How do humans look so soft when they are vulnerable?”

#twst #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst headcanons #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader

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sixeyesonathiel · 2 months ago

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Hi!! I didn’t even realize ur requests were open until I checked your pinned omg. Can u write something dark with loser reader and bully fratboy Gojo pls?? They used to be rly close like lowkey childhood besties and everyone thought they were gonna end up together, BUT he got mixed in with the wrong crowd (aka the frat) and now he’s just so MEAN. He bullies her for no reason now but like... in that messed up way where he’s still obsessed w her?? Like he knows her too well, knows what makes her tick and he uses that against her just to watch her squirm. I want toxic codependent vibes, power imbalance, him being POSSESSIVE as hell and her still clinging to what they used to be. And maybe he’s extra cruel bc he HATES that she still gets to him. Also, this is embarrassing but please write the reader as flat chested. Thank uuu

a/n: ahhh this was actually the second request i ever got on here and it made me spiral (in the best way). i literally paused all my wips to double down on this one because the brainrot was insane. i hope you enjoy what i cooked up hihi <3

cw: dark content, somnophilia, cockwarming, dacryphilia, edging, overstimulation, oral sex, fingering, spanking, nipple play, hair-pulling, public sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, filming, degradation, humiliation, sadism, drug use, alcohol consumption, jealousy, possessiveness, gaslighting, victim blaming, slut shaming, coercion, stalking, obsessive behavior, 18+ only, MDNI.

fratboy satoru who was once your north star, the kid who’d slip you extra cookies during late-night study sessions, his goofy grin lighting up your world. you’d giggle at his dumb jokes under a blanket fort, his hand brushing yours, promising forever with the kind of sincerity only a kid could muster. but that satoru’s dead, buried under the weight of his family’s collapse, his own arrogance, and the frat’s toxic grip. now, he’s a king in a jungle of red solo cups and bass-heavy trap music, his blue eyes cutting through the haze of a packed house party.

fratboy satoru who’s buzzing from the xans suguru slipped him, his veins electric after a football game win, dragging you to the frat house basement where the air’s thick with weed and desperation. the couch is stained, sagging under your weight as he shoves your skirt up, pinning you down with a hand on your chest. “don’t fucking scream,” he hisses, eyes glinting with sadistic glee as his fingers plunge into you, slick and merciless, curling deep while his other hand smothers your whimpers. “bet you’re soaking ‘cause you love this shit.” your body betrays you, clenching around him as tears stream down your face, and he’s eating it up, his grin wicked as you shatter, sobbing into his palm. “look at this pretty cunt, dripping for me like it knows who owns it,” he growls, his voice low and filthy, fingers pumping harder just to hear you choke on your own moans. he doesn’t stop there—keeps going until you’re shaking, cumming again, your thighs slick and trembling. “fuck, you’re a mess, my favorite fucking mess,” he laughs, licking his fingers clean, eyes never leaving your tear-streaked face. he doesn’t soften, just pulls you onto his lap, muttering, “stay still, or i’ll fuck you right here.”

fratboy satoru who thrives on your fragility, your too-soft heart that cracks under his cruelty. you’re in the library, glasses slipping, surrounded by textbooks, trying to claw your way through a chem assignment. he finds you, of course—slips into the chair behind you, yanking your ponytail back just hard enough to make you gasp. “thought you could hide from me?” he whispers, voice dripping with mockery, but he’s already pulling you into a cramped study room, locking the door. he bends you over the table, skirt flipped up, your notes scattering like confetti. “fuck, you’re so small, so breakable,” he pants, belt clinking as he frees himself, slamming into you so deep your nails dig into the wood. “cry for me, baby, you’re cutest when you’re a mess.” you do, snotty and pathetic, your glasses fogging as he fucks you senseless, his cock stretching you until you’re dizzy. “look at you, taking this dick like it’s your fucking job,” he snarls, slapping your ass, loving how you flinch. your tears only make him harder, and when you beg him to slow down, he just laughs, kissing your wet cheeks. “nah, you’re too fucking cute like this, all pathetic and ruined.”

fratboy satoru who’s got an unholy obsession with your tits, small as they are, worshiping them like they’re his personal altar. he’s got you sprawled across his dorm bed, the sheets reeking of weed and cheap cologne, straddling your waist as he sucks and bites, leaving your chest a map of purple bruises and red teeth marks. “fuck, these are perfect,” he groans, teeth grazing your nipple until you whimper, your hands fisting the sheets. he pins your wrists above your head, his knee between your thighs, grinding against you just to feel you squirm. “keep still, or i’ll tie you up and do this all fucking night,” he warns, eyes glinting with that mean streak, and you know he means it. his tongue’s relentless, swirling over sensitive skin, and when you arch into him, he growls, “goddamn, you’re begging for it, aren’t you? little tits driving me fucking insane.” he leaves you raw, marked, and when he’s done, he kisses you hard, all teeth and possession, muttering, “you’re my fucking angel, don’t forget it.” but there’s no softness, just his hand squeezing your bruised chest one last time.

fratboy satoru who can’t get enough of your pussy, addicted to the way you taste like it’s his last hit. “been thinking about this all night,” he says, spreading your thighs wide, his fingers digging into your ass as he buries his face between your legs. his tongue’s obscene, lapping at your clit like he’s trying to drown in you, sucking hard until your knees buckle. “taste so fucking sweet, could live down here,” he mumbles, voice muffled as he pushes two fingers inside, curling them just to make you scream. you grip the counter, biting your lip to stay quiet, but he doesn’t give a fuck—he wants the whole house to hear. “let it out, baby, let ‘em know who’s eating this pussy,” he taunts, licking you through your first orgasm, then another, until you’re a shaking, dripping mess. he stands, chin glistening, smirking. “that’s my girl.”

fratboy satoru who’s a monster when he’s jealous, his blood boiling when he spots you laughing with some nerd at a campus café. he doesn’t confront you there—just waits, simmering, until he’s got you alone in his car, parked in a shadowy alley. “think you can flirt with other guys?” he snarls, ripping your blouse open, buttons pinging off the dashboard. he reclines the seat, forcing your legs over his shoulders, fucking you so hard the car creaks. “this pussy’s mine, you fucking get that?” he spits, slapping your thigh, his cock relentless as you cry out, overwhelmed. “bet he can’t fuck you stupid like i do,” he growls, his pace brutal, overstimulating you until you’re sobbing, begging for him to ease up. but he doesn’t—he leans down, kissing your tears, smirking, “so fucking pretty when you’re pathetic.” when it’s over, he doesn’t soften, just tosses you his jacket, muttering, “cover up, you’re a fucking mess.”

fratboy satoru who films every depraved second, his phone propped on a nightstand as he’s got you bent over his desk, your skirt bunched at your waist. “smile for the camera, baby,” he taunts, spanking you hard enough to leave welts, the sound echoing in the room. the video’s grainy but vivid—your choked whimpers, the wet slap of skin, your thighs trembling as he fucks you raw. “gonna keep this forever,” he says, voice low and possessive, “jerk off to it when you’re not here.” he doesn’t share the vids, thank fuck—they’re his alone, a private shrine to your broken devotion. “look at this tight little cunt, swallowing me whole,” he groans, zooming in as you clench around him, your tears glistening in the low light. “fuck, you were made for this dick.” he cums with a grunt, watching the footage later, stroking himself to your snotty, ruined face, muttering, “you’re mine, always.”

fratboy satoru who’s unhinged when he’s high, snorting lines with sukuna in the frat house attic before stumbling to your dorm at 3 a.m. you’re asleep, curled up in a t-shirt, but he doesn’t care—he crawls into your bed, yanking your panties off, giggling like a fucking lunatic. “shh, just let me have you,” he slurs, burying his face in your pussy, his tongue sloppy but desperate, moaning like he’s getting off more than you. “fuck, i’d die for this pussy,” he mumbles, licking you until you stir, gasping as your body betrays you, cumming under his relentless mouth. he’s still high when he fucks you, slow and messy, his cock slipping in with a wet squelch. “you’re my fucking lifeline, i’d die without you,” he whispers, eyes bloodshot, but there’s no softness—just his hand gripping your throat, keeping you in place as he takes what he needs.

fratboy satoru who’s got a fetish for your panties, always checking what you’re wearing like it’s his birthright. he corners you in an empty lecture hall after class, flipping your skirt up without preamble. “let’s see what you’re wearing,” he says, fingers brushing the fabric, smirking when he sees the plain cotton. “boring,” he scoffs, pocketing them, leaving you bare. “walk back to your dorm like this,” he orders, his voice low and mean. “bet you’re wet thinking about it.” he’s right—your thighs are slick, your face burning with shame as you obey, and he kneels, licking a slow stripe up your inner thigh, teasing your clit just enough to make you whine. “so fucking needy,” he laughs, standing to kiss you, his lips tasting of you and spearmint gum. “you’re mine, don’t forget,” he adds, twirling your stolen panties around his finger like a prize.

fratboy satoru who lives for fingering you at a frat party, right in the middle of the chaos, perched on his lap like his personal trophy. the room’s a blur of flashing lights and pounding music, but he’s got two fingers buried in you under your skirt, pumping slow and deliberate while he laughs with suguru about some dumb bet. “keep quiet, or they’ll all know what a slut you are,” he whispers, biting your earlobe, his thumb circling your clit until you cum, shaking in his lap, tears welling up from the embarrassment. but he doesn’t stop—keeps going, chasing another orgasm, then another, because you’re just too fucking cute, all teary-eyed and red-faced, trying to hide your face in his neck. “fuck, look at you, falling apart for me in front of everyone,” he taunts, his voice dripping with filth. “bet you want ‘em all to see how this pussy creams for me.” you’re sobbing, mortified, but he just licks your tears, thrusting harder, making sure every drunk asshole in the room knows you’re his. when you cum again, he doesn’t even flinch—just smirks, licking his fingers clean, muttering, “good fucking girl.”

fratboy satoru who’s got you bouncing on his dick like a ragdoll, his phone pressed to his ear while he’s laughing with suguru about some frat drama. you’re in his dorm, straddling him on his gaming chair, your skirt fanned out, tits jiggling with every brutal thrust as he grips your hips, slamming you down harder just to feel you choke on a sob. “yeah, sugu, tell me more,” he says casually, but his eyes are locked on your tear-streaked face, your mouth open in a silent scream. “fuck, this pussy’s gripping me like it’s scared i’ll leave,” he growls low, just for you, his free hand smacking your ass to make you yelp. “keep it down, baby, don’t want suguru hearing how you’re creaming on my cock.” but he’s lying—he loves the idea of someone knowing, and when you cum, shaking and snotty, he mutes the call for a second to kiss your tears, smirking. “you’re too fucking cute when you’re falling apart.”

fratboy satoru who catches you washing dishes in the frat house kitchen, your apron tied tight, looking so domestic it makes his dick twitch. you’re humming softly, oblivious, and he can’t take it—you’re too much like wife material, and it’s fucking with his head. he yanks you against the sink, ripping your leggings down, and fucks you right there, the counter digging into your stomach. “look at you, playing house like you’re not my little cumslut,” he sneers, his cock splitting you open as water sloshes in the sink. “this pussy’s so wet, like it’s begging me to ruin your perfect little fantasy.” your hands grip the faucet, knuckles white, as he pounds into you, dishes clattering with every thrust. “gonna fuck you so good you’ll never dream of anyone else,” he says, biting your neck, leaving a bruise. when you cum, crying his name, he just laughs, leaving you there, panties soaked, to finish the dishes.

fratboy satoru who’s paranoid you’re dreaming of someone else, watching you sleep so peacefully in his bed, your face soft even after he’s fucked you raw. he’s high, overthinking, and can’t stand it—he needs to own every part of you, even your dreams. he slips your panties off, careful not to wake you, and slides his cock into you slow, groaning at how warm and tight you are. “fuck, even your sleeping cunt knows it’s mine,” he whispers, thrusting shallow, watching your brows furrow in your sleep. he’s gentle at first, but when you stir, moaning softly, he goes harder, waking you with a gasp as he fucks you deep. “no one else gets to haunt you like this,” he growls, cumming inside you as you whimper, half-conscious. he doesn’t soften, just kisses your forehead, muttering, “stay in my bed, always.”

fratboy satoru who’s got you cockwarming him while he’s gaming, his headset on as he barks orders at his Valorant team, crushing some rival frat. you’re perched on his lap, his dick buried deep, your thighs trembling as he keeps you still, one hand on your waist, the other clicking his mouse. “don’t you fucking move,” he hisses during a pause, his voice sharp, “or i’ll fuck you till you’re screaming and they all hear.” every time he gets a kill, he thrusts up hard, making you gasp, your pussy clenching around him. “this tight little cunt’s my good luck charm,” he taunts, slapping your thigh when you squirm. he edges you for hours, ignoring your whimpers, until the match ends and he finally fucks you proper, growling, “cum for me, show me you’re mine.” you do, sobbing, and he just smirks, leaving you to drip on his chair.

fratboy satoru who’s feeding you bites of his burger at a crowded frat party, perched on a table while he stands between your legs, his plate balanced in one hand. everyone’s too drunk to notice how he’s grinding his bulge against your clothed cunt, your skirt riding up as he presses harder with every bite he offers. “open wide, baby,” he says, shoving a fry in your mouth, his hips rocking subtly, making you squirm. “fuck, you’re so wet through these panties, like a needy little bitch,” he whispers, his voice low and filthy. “bet you’d let me fuck you right here, let ‘em all see how you take this dick.” you’re blushing, teary, trying to chew while he keeps the pressure on, your clit throbbing. he doesn’t let you cum, just keeps you on edge, smirking when you nearly cry from frustration. “eat up, you’re gonna need the energy.”

fratboy satoru who’s obsessed with edging you until you’re a babbling mess, especially after a nightmare where you tried to leave him. he’s got you in his dorm, tied to his headboard, your thighs spread as he teases your clit with slow, featherlight strokes. “you love this dick too much to leave, don’t you?” he taunts, stopping every time you’re close, your hips bucking desperately. “say it—say you’re fucking obsessed with me.” you’re crying, snotty, babbling, “i love you, satoru, please,” and he just laughs, cruel and delighted. “that’s right, my pathetic little angel, keep begging.” he finally lets you cum after hours, your body shaking, and he’s kissing your tears, but it’s not soft—just possessive. “don’t ever fucking dream of leaving me again.”

fratboy satoru who’s got a sick obsession with public bathrooms, dragging you into one at the science building during a lecture break, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. “be quick,” he snaps, locking the door, his belt already clinking as he shoves you against the sink, your skirt yanked up. he spreads your thighs wide, his cock slamming into you with a wet squelch, the mirror fogging from your ragged breaths. “love how you take this dick,” he growls, smacking your ass hard, the sound echoing off the tiles as your face crumples, tears spilling from overstimulation. “cry harder, baby, it’s so fucking cute—look at you, sobbing like a slut in a shithole like this.” your hands claw at the porcelain, your body shaking as he fucks you relentless, his pace brutal, loving how your tears streak your cheeks, snot dripping. he doesn’t stop after you cum once—keeps going, growling, “gimme another, let ‘em hear you outside.” you’re a wreck, begging for mercy, but he just laughs, cumming with a guttural groan, his seed dripping down your thighs. he kisses you soft after, wiping your cheeks, but it’s fleeting, his voice cold. “you’re okay, yeah? just us. now fix your face, you look fucked out.”

fratboy satoru who’s vicious when you try to slip away, catching you creeping out of his dorm after a screaming match over his latest stunt—spreading lies about you to keep guys away. you’re halfway down the dim hallway, heart pounding, when his hand clamps around your wrist, yanking you back. “where the fuck you going?” he snarls, his blue eyes wild with something raw, almost feral—fear masquerading as rage. he pins you against the peeling wall, ripping your jeans down, your legs forced around his waist as he fucks you right there, rough and angry, the drywall scraping your back. “you don’t get to leave me,” he spits, voice cracking, his cock stretching you so wide it burns. “this pussy’s fucking mine, you hear me?” you’re sobbing, your nails digging into his shoulders, and he’s relentless, slamming into you until you cum, crying into his neck. he’s kissing you like he’s pleading, desperate, his hands bruising as he holds you tight, whispering, “i’m sorry, fuck, don’t scare me like that.” but there’s no softness, just his grip tightening, a warning not to try again.

fratboy satoru who’s addicted to breaking you, loving how you shatter under him. he’s got you on all fours in his room, the frat house walls thin enough to let every sound carry, fucking you from behind with a sadistic edge. “nah, baby, take it,” he growls, yanking you back by your waist when you try to crawl away, your body trembling from the stretch of his cock, so thick it feels like it’s tearing you apart. “you can handle more, i know you can,” he says, slamming into you, the headboard banging loud as you sob, snot dripping onto the sheets. “fuck, you’re so cute like this,” he whispers, kissing your spine, his voice mocking as he keeps going, even when you’re shaking, cumming around him with a choked scream. he doesn’t stop, pushing you into another orgasm, his cum spilling inside you as he groans, low and filthy. after, he cleans you up, his lips soft on your swollen pussy, murmuring, “you did so good for me,” but his eyes are already glinting, planning the next way to ruin you.

fratboy satoru who flips out when he sees you chatting with a guy in chem class, his jealousy a live wire. he doesn’t confront you there—just stews, his jaw tight, until he’s got you alone in an empty campus parking lot at dusk. “think you can replace me?” he growls, shoving you over the hood of his car, the metal cold against your stomach as he rips your tights open, the fabric tearing loud in the quiet. he fucks you so hard your knees buckle, his cock driving deep, relentless, your hands scrabbling for purchase on the slick surface. “this cunt knows who it belongs to,” he spits, his hand fisting your hair, yanking your head back as he overstimulates you, pushing you past your limit until you’re crying, begging, your voice hoarse. “so fucking pretty when you’re pathetic,” he laughs, kissing your tears, his tongue licking the salt off your skin. he cums with a snarl, leaving you shaking, but he doesn’t let you collapse—carries you to the passenger seat, tossing his jacket over you, muttering, “you’re mine, always remember that.” his hand rests on your thigh as he drives, possessive, unyielding.

fratboy satoru who’s rarely tender, but when he is, it’s after he’s pushed you to the edge, leaving you bruised and trembling. after a night of fucking you senseless—your thighs marked with bites, your wrists sore from his grip—he pulls you into his bed, the sheets tangled and smelling of sweat. “you’re my only light,” he mumbles, voice low, kissing your hair, your shoulders, the purple welts on your thighs. his fingers trace the marks he left, like he’s trying to piece you back together, his touch almost reverent. “don’t hate me, okay?” he says, voice small, almost boyish, and you nod, too exhausted to argue, your body curling into his warmth. he holds you through the night, stroking your back, and for a fleeting moment, he’s that kid again—the one who’d sneak you candy and whisper promises under starry skies. but by morning, his eyes are cold again, his smirk sharp, reminding you the softness is a trap, a rare glitch in his cruelty.

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