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pedrosyouknowwhat · 6 months ago

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Lamb to the slaughter

Summary: Your husband, the Great General of the Roman Empire, wishes for you to perform your wife duties

Pairings: Dark! Marcus Acacius x Priness! Reader

Warnings: Non con, marital rape, arranged marriage, abusive and toxic dynamics, choking, riding, slight spanking, verbal abuse, forced breeding, breeding kink, I want to make this a series, reader is Geta and Caracalla's sister but there isn't any physical description, size kink, Acacius is just huge, reader is afab, legal age gap (Reader is in her 20s, Marcus is in her 40s)

"The people of Rome are hungry."

You bellowed at your brother, glaring at him amidst the climax of your fight. He wouldn't listen; Geta had been as stubborn as he was as a child. He stood before you, draped in fine silks and gold, infuriated that you had disturbed his feast to talk about these matters.

"The people of Rome wouldn't be hungry if we had enough land to import food from." He grunted at you. "Our main aim is to conquer these lands in order to have so, is that clear, my dear sister?"

You laughed at his excuses. "You greedy little bastard, you could have the entire world and still find something to blame for your poor governing."

He glared at you, fingers twisting madly as he stepped, slowly, towards you. The slap resonated through out the empty corridor, drowning the sounds of the party just at mere meters away. Before you could place your hand in your aching cheek, his ringed fingers covered your neck, quickly cutting the air.

"I believe I have granted you too many liberties, my dear sister." He whispered with trembling calmness. "I believe you forget that if you eat, it is because I feed you, if you breathe, it is because I allow you to, and if you speak...it is because I haven't cut off your tongue yet."

You attempted to remain stoic, but the lack of air brought tears to your eyes. He watched you, grinning slightly from your position, before he let go.

"I have decided your fate;" He smirked, decisively. "I am to find a man to marry you. That will tame you."

As you gasped for air, your eyes widened, fearing whichever man your brother may choose for you. And you were right to fear it.

Two days after the fight, you continued praying that your brother forgets the threat, as he most usually does; however, as General Marcus Acacius returned from Numidia, with ships filled with fresh slaves and land conquered, the gods have decided to frown upon you.

You watched as he was paraded into the main palace in dashing white robes, certainly a spectacle fit for a Hero. He reached the steps as people chanted his name, and went directly to talk with the Emperors, not sparing even a glance at you, sitting along with your brother's pet monkey, Dundus. You caught a whiff of his scent; eucalyptus, mint and leather.

You were busy observing your nails as a shadow casted itself upon you, and you glanced to see Geta and the General standing right in front of you. You had never seen Acacius so close, the battle scars smearing into his skin, the streaks of grey in his dark curls, and his piercing dark eyes as he observed you back.

"Do you think you can handle her, my General?" Caracalla questioned, perching on his shoulder. Your brows furrowed in confusion, before it all doomed on you.

"No!" you whispered, to no avail.

"If I can handle Barbarians from the other side of the sea, I think I can handle a spoiled princess." Acacius replied, his eyes wandered down the neckline of your dress, which he could see as he was towering before you. You couldn't do more than stare into those eyes as your brothers laughed, demonically.

After that evening, you had done everything in your power to postpone the wedding. Ditching tailoring appointments, sending back any flower arrangements proposed and avoiding Marcus Acacius at all costs. But you couldn't miss the games thrown in his honor.

His presence emanated an aura of masculinity and ferociousness as the Colosseum chanted his name; you smelled him before you saw him, eucalyptus, mint and leather. You were taken a back when he sat next to you, being too immersed in thought as Geta and Caracalla announced your matrimony.

You watched as a group of slaves was tossed into the arena; as they fought and as one of them was notoriously more skilled than the others; Hanno, he was called. You wished for a second that your brother had decided to marry you to one of them instead, perhaps they'd be more discreet about staring at you, unlike Acacius.

The wedding day came, a sunny morning with games planned to be celebrated in the afternoon as an honor. Acacius stood in the altar, clad in white like the day of his parade, and you couldn't help but wonder about how little you knew about him; not a single word had he crossed with you. His face was stern, not a single ghost of a smile on his face. The evening went by quickly, quicker than you expected, and soon enough you were in his Villa, the place were you would now reside.

You barely noticed the decor of his chambers, the paintings and sculptures, the soft wool cushions and the white and crimson sheets. He walked in confidently, as one walks into his room, and you stood, long white robes and golden embellishments, looking the most gorgeous you ever felt, but the fear was overwhelming.

What did he expect of you, certainly? you were well educated, but no one had ever explained you what actually happened in a wedding night. You had some idea, a naive concept, but as Acacius disrobed himself, any idea of what to do slipped your mind.

He was soon standing in all his naked glory, and your lips parted. His shoulders were broader than you have seen, a muscled stomach scarred with evidence of his battle experience, thick thighs, and a cock that slowly grew before your eyes.

"Why are you stilled clothed?" He inquired; the first words ever directed to you. As you stumbled with your words, he neared you dangerously. You felt the warmth emanate from his body as he unwrapped your dress from your body.

"Wait," you pleaded, tugging at the dress. "I have never been with a man."

He looked at you; and for the first time, he snickered.

"You think that will change anything?" He questioned, taking the silk from your hands; he ripped his way through the fabric until you were bare, only the gold on you. His hands, rough and calloused, palmed your stomach, smoothing the skin as if inspecting you. Tears welled up in your eyes.

His fingers smoothed over your nipples, making you squirm, he observed and then he pinched them, enticed as you let out a yelp. One hand trailed down your abdomen, pointer finger touching your skin until he reached your mound; tears now poured down your cheeks. His finger graced your slit, feeling sudden wetness you haven't anticipated. His scent, eucalyptus, mint and leather.

"Have you ever rode a horse?" He asked, intrigued. You nodded, brows furrowing in confusion. "It would be pretty much like that."

Before allowing you to respond, his hand wrapped around your forearm, pulling you behind him as he made your way to the bed. Any effort against it was futile, he would easily overpower you.

As he laid against the pillows, still gripping you, he nodded at his cock, now fully erect. You stared in awe, as even the veins on it looked huge; his tan skin melting into the red hot tip, weeping precum, standing proudly enough, you thought that if could tear you apart, reach your guts.

"Put it in." He demanded, because he couldn't just rape you like a barbarian, he had to force you to do it. You breathed, trying to recollect any previous knowledge as to how to do it. Impatiently, he grabbed a handful of your leg, forcing you to straddle him. His thighs were so wide, the stretch from your legs hurt.

You let out a breathe and grabbed it, careful of hurting him in fear of his anger. Angling his cock with your entrance, you attempted to push it in, only securing a searing pain. As more tears sprouted of your cheeks, Acacius spat on his hand and pushed yours away, pumping his cock with slick. His fingers then found your cunt, and his grip on your arm tightened. Wet with his saliva, he circled the spot that sent waves of pleasures towards your stomach. Wetness grew down there, and he slipped one of his thick fingers.

You gasped from the sudden intrusion, feeling as he pumped the digit, stretching you for him. Before you could feel pleasure building up, he had taken his hand and lined his cock. Your other hand fell to the middle of his chest, seeking support as he stretched you with his mushroom top. Every ridge and vein took its place inside of you, forcing your mouth agape. He fed your cunt slowly, inch by inch until you felt as full as you could possibly be. Your crying had seized as your body processed the new feeling, of being split open.

You felt him stop, nudging at a curve deep inside of you, and you felt a slight relief that it was over before his hands went to your hips, forcing you on the half his hand had preciously been wrapping around. Quick and rough, you doubled over, attempting to find a spot were it wouldn't press against you like it did. Acacius grunted in pleasure at how your walls fitted tightly around him.

"Was that so hard, foolish girl?"He barked, and you looked at him between the strands of your hair that had fallen away from your laurel wreath crown. His hand slapped your ass, leaving pain the size of his huge hand. "Move."

You physically couldn't; shaking your head, you tried to plead for him to stop, but all he did was seize your neck with his hand, pressing similarly to your brother months before. He gave you a warning look, eyes glossy from pleasure, and you attempted to move, guided by the grip on your hip.

"There you go,"He groaned. "Didn't think you could take it."

You attempted to keep the pace of his hand, staggering. Through your droopy eyes, you could see his face illuminated by the candle light; a scar across his cheek that didn't maim his handsome face, the grey in his scruff and his hands moved you to fuck him, his brown eyes were closed in pleasure as his cherry tainted lips parted, allowing grunts and moans to escape. You felt his desire as he increased his speed, his cock burning into you in every thrust as he commanded you with his hands. He seemed to be fighting his pleasure, his eyes rolling back every now and then as he attempted to keep his gaze on you.

"That's it," he guided, voice gruff. "You look much prettier like this."

Your gaze, that had been stuck to his chest in effort to advert his eyes, rose to look at him. Oh, he was entranced by the way your crown had knocked to the side due to his maneuvering, the way tears glistening in your blushed cheeks, and how small your hands looked pressed into his chest. And finally, how your cunt pulsed around him every time he slammed you down onto his hips along with the sweet whimpers you emitted.

His hands departed from the place they have stuck to, roaming to cup your ass for more support. You gasped as he effortlessly raised you off his cock, letting it slip out with a faint "pop". Without a word he tossed you to the side of the bed.

"Enough of my amusement," he groaned as your face slammed into the pillows. He was everywhere as he positioned you on all fours, immense chest stuck against you and hands arranging your limbs. His hand fell across your cheek, igniting fire in his touch. "I am going to fuck a heir into you, stay still."

He said it with such easiness in his command that you knew he was used to giving this type of orders.

"No no please," You attempted, thrashing around to persuade him, but his cock was already lined between your legs. "Please, please don't-"

The scruff of his chin scratched against your neck a he bottomed inside of you, quieting you definitively. You could feel him in your guts, balls sticking to your clitoris due to the wetness he had caused.

"What can make a foolish little girl like you to behave more than carrying a General's heir?"

He began his assault on your core, one hand grasping the hair on your nape as he fucked you as a animals do.

"Your brother told me-"He grunted between thrusts, allowing himself to go inside, all eight inches of him. "You doubted his reign."

As you wept into the pillows, moans escaping your mouth, against your honor. He halted, hand pressing against the back of your neck.

"Answer me." He pressed, pushing your face even deeper into the pillows. "Did you?"

"Y-yes." You choked out, cock so deep inside you couldn't string a coherent word.

"Good." He admitted, to your surprise, continuing his pace. "Your brother is a foolish man; proved it himself when he gave you to me."

Your knuckles wrapped around the bed sheets, attempting to suppress the waves of pleasure that erupted as he picked a strong pace. Your cunt became wetter and wetter as it clenched, unwillingly, around him.

"What can a war torn general do to a tiny princess like you?" He mused between his sighs and groans. "Foolish Emperor."

As he said the last part, he rested once again his chest to your back, both covered in sweat from the heat of both of your bodies. His arm, strong and rough, wrapped itself around your lower stomach, holding you in place as his lips sucked your neck. The closeness felt awry, even if you were newly weds.

"Once I have fucked a child into you, no one could deny it's place in the throne."

That took you by surprise, but your eyes were closing off from exhaustion and your lips were too busy whimpering from the hot fire he had ignited in your core.

"Oh," he chuckled against your salty skin, dipping his other hand in between your body, tracing a path until he found that spot. His pointer and middle pressed against it, recollecting moisture from your pussy before circling it slowly. You felt the pressure build, as if you urgently needed to go to the bathroom. "a gentlemen as myself needs to make a girl cum before painting her insides. How could I forget that?"

He teased, managing a rhythm with his hand and hips. You felt a knot building right where he was rubbing, spreading through your nerves to make your whole body become limp. You let him fuck you, body tired and sore and unable to pose any more resistance other than gentle whimpers, swallowed by his loud groans, the sound the bed made against the floor and the squelching of his cock drilling into you. You were too gone to process any more than the pleasure washing over your body; pain bloomed, but in the most exquisite way as you felt yourself cling around the thick thing drilling into you.

"There you go," He cooed, closing his eyes as he felt it too. "there, there..."

Your mouth suddenly opened agape, as a hoarse whine left your throat and you felt it. You came undone so easily, beneath him.

He attempted to last, at least a few minutes more, prolong his pleasure, but the way you looked over your shoulder at him, as if attempting to understand what just happened, drove him wild.

It took him three final thrusts to come; You could count them as each was more punishing and rough than the previous, despite being hammered into you quickly. With a final grunt, you felt his burning hot cum pour into your insides, and his huge body collapsed on top of yours. You waited patiently for him to pull out, but as a child smitten with his favorite toy, he rolled over and continued to hold you close, hot breathe fanning in your neck.

He panted, regaining his breathe, before he actually spoke to you, who was quietly laying in his bicep. You felt tears spring from your eyes again.

"You will birth me an heir to claim the throne after your brothers have fallen."

Marcus Acacius had spoken.

#Dark! Marcus Acacius #Marcus Acacius #Gladiator 2 #Pedro Pascal #Marcus Acacius x reader #Gladiator II #Dark! Marcus Acacius x reader #Pedro Pascal x reader #Emperor Geta #gladiator ll #general acacius #dark fic

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msfantasy-anime · 6 months ago

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Why would I be jealous?

Monkey D. Luffy x Wife!Reader

Summary: a prompt provided by @matronofthevoid. Times when others expect Luffy to be jealous, versus times Luffy was actually jealous.

Part VIII

“Hey you’re gorgeous!” The drunkard slurred, hiccuping as he places a heavy hand on your shoulder.

You were two seconds away from committing unspeakable acts of violence but you recognise the man is barely coherent. So instead, you only sigh and wave him off.

The drunkard slouches sadly at your wordless rejection and begins to stumble off back to his table of friends who continue to hoot and holler.

Luffy continues to swallow clumps of food by the fistful - not taking any notice of the hoards of men that have approached you, Nami or Robin this whole evening; all whilst Sanji can’t stop watching the girls like a hawk. “This is unbelievable, how can you call yourself Y/n’s husband when you don’t even notice these filthy savages laying their dirty hands on your wife.” Sanji scolds his captain who’s finally paused from stuffing his face to swallow the lump of food stuck in his throat.

“Huh? What the heck are you talking about?” Luffy huffs- annoyed Sanji is interrupted his delectable feast.

“How can you not get jealous?! I would be driven insane if I saw anyone even glanced at my wife’s direction.” Sanji declares which makes Luffy’s eyes shoot out of his head.

“You’re married?!”

“No you idiot! I’m just saying if Y/n was my wife, I wouldn’t let anyone look, breath or even smile in her direction. But here you are stuffing your face whilst Y/n is harassed and hounded for her good looks.” Sanji spits venomously but Luffy doesn’t even spare a glance. Turning his attention back to his feast.

“I don’t get it.” Luffy he drawls, his brain going blank as he try’s to make sense of Sanji’s words.

Why would Luffy get jealous over other men having working eyes?

Brook places his tea-cup down on his saucer. “So I can ask to see her panties and you wouldn’t be jealous?” Brook asks, a twinkle of mischief in his … empty eye socket.

“No.” Luffy says stiffly.

“No? So I can ask her?” Brook asks - a glimmer of excitement making his heart race slightly… figuratively of course.

“No- I mean, don’t do it.” Luffy says pointedly, his serious voice taking over. Sanji lifts his brow.

“So you would get jealous of that?” Sanji taunts but Luffy shakes his head.

“No.”

The vein in Sanji’s forehead makes its return at his captains elusive words. “Why the hell not?”

“Because.” Luffy answers taking a hulking bite out of the meat stick, chewing slowly before swallowing the lump of flesh. “She’ll kill you.”

Now don’t get it wrong. It’s not like Luffy doesn’t get jealous. He certainly does, just not in ways other people expect.

It’s a brand new sunny day on the Thousand Sunny. The cloudless sky was inviting Luffy to come out to play - only for the day to start in chaos when you are no where to be found.

“Nami! Y/n fell overboard! I can’t find her anywhere!” Luffy shouts in a panic running in circles.

“Would you calm down!” Nami shouts back. “She’s swimming on the port side with Gimbe!” Dashing to the port side, Luffy flings himself onto the rail in a frenzied panic only to see you laughing and splashing about.

Luffy’s face sours to a childish pout. “Hey no fair, I wanna play too.” Luffy mumbles, his jutted chin sitting on the rail. “Hey Y/n! At the next island come explore with me!” Luffy suggests enthusiastically, only for you to turn him down.

“Sorry Stretch, Nami and Robin asked me to go shopping with them. Besides, I can’t keep wearing the same clothes everyday.” Luffy grumbles at the rejection.

“Fine! At least come have breakfast with me!” Luffy demanded only for you to smile back apologetically.

“… I kinda already ate though…” The gasp of betrayal that poured from Luffy’s throat was so tangible that you knew you had some making up to do.

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skyrigel · 7 months ago

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Simon Riley came every Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. He always bought ‘one’ of many things. One plate, one milk carton, one coffee mug, one yogurt cup, and several other one's.

It was infuriating, the mystery he possessed — hardly any word, he simply nodded and left. Came back again in his very sexy- very much left to your own devices all black attire and damn that stupid mask you'd tore from your own mouth if ever such opportunity came, that treacherous thing !

Considering how you bribed lads round the corner to get that man's name was pretty embarrassing.

But you had to do something; wondering what those arms and chest and face and thighs and inserting many immoral curiosities would look like wouldn't get you anywhere.

“You and your wife eat from the same plate or what ?”

Simon's eyes were already on you when you risked a glance up from the single ceramic plate, but you had taken him by surprise by speaking first. Well it's rare when he buys dishes, very rare, and all of them are mismatched and what a bachelor would work upon, but proof was much needed.

“I don't have a wife.” He said quietly, punctuated with the beep as you scanned other many items. You scrambled further to ask for husband, or —“or anyone.” Simon added with soft nod.

You sighed with relief, while Simon looked with widened eyes, analysing you. Fuck.

That shouldn't have made your heart flutter, and his voice — god, his voice was different from the one you presumed in your head. It was husky, and deep, but the smoothness of it strung like iyre played.

“What do you do when your friends come over ?” you asked because Mr. Riley apparently wasn't looking away, and your cheeks could've rivaled a beetroot.

“I have no friends.” He said simply, eyes locked, assessing, you felt numb and breathless — his gaze was heavy, and addictive.

Another beep. “What if someone visits you?” You swallowed hard, and Simon's jaw pulled back. Was he smirking !?

“Why would someone visit me ?”

“To check on you. To spend time with you. Be your friend or something…you know.”

Simon definitely knew, since the glint in his eyes was jolting sparks inside you, making you glitter up like confetti.

The store was empty except for two sixteen year olds who were picking through booze, one's ear was bleeding — possibly a post restroom piercing souvenir.

“Why would someone want to spend time with someone like me ?” He was asking you a question, uncertain but confident to get an answer back.

“You are a mysterious man, Mr. Riley.” You said instead, bobbling your head like a teenager as you felt so high school just by looking at him, he had you all giddy, all desperate to keep going the conversation and now it didn't seem like something was needed to keep the fire going, the flames were high on.

“Yet someone knows my name already.”

“Someone would —” you gasped, clenching your eyes shut for one brief moment, this was it, you couldn't back down now, “Someone would like to know more.”

Simon's gaze was unwavering, then wordlessly he disappeared back in the store.

You scrambled to hold on to something, almost half dashing to check over cameras and find him, or just chase after him to apologise…for being so pathetically terrible. Mindlessly with biting lips and trembling hands and tapping feet you scanned cigs and booze for the two boys with swollen lips and smug smiles, at least someone was lucky tonight.

“Fuck.” You sighed, red with embarrassment, you'd scared him off. Although no one would believe it because Simon was a pretty intimidating man. Big and strong and ghost-like.

Then out of nowhere, several cutlery and groceries and a wine bottle came by a cart and behind it stood Simon Riley, with muscular thighs and a shy smile.

Simon's hand hovered over the items you'd already scanned and billed, then blinking he unclasped his mask — revealing his jaw, and his white smirk that was dwindling to an inevitable, involuntary smile — he smiled like someone who didn't smile a lot, that needed to be changed.

“Would someone like to eat Chicken curry, and possibly drink some wine ?” Simon said with a coy smile, holding out the wine bottle to you.

You chuckled softly, taking the wine bottle and scanning it with a beep, “Someone would like that.”

Masterlist

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halcyon-writings · 4 months ago

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Hi!! Just wanted to stop by and say I loved your interpretation sinister mark, honestly the first one where I found where he’s written appropriately. If you’re willing to i’d love to see more content of what you think about the soon to be cannibalistic man <3

thank you so much for the kind words!! and I am very willing to write more for this soon to be feral man (as well as other characters!), I just gotta get the encroaching writer’s block to back off so instead have a little ficlet!

cws: violence, death of background characters, reader isn’t so good either (bc I’m going off of the random tidbit that ppl in his universe are just a touch more evil)

“Why is it (Sinister Invincible) in a cage?”

“Because it growled at me.”

nav. ☆ loose continuation from this.

Perhaps there was always something wrong with Mark Grayson.

You didn’t know him as Mark, at first. You knew him as Invincible. Once a respected hero, now a name that only could be said with vitriol.

For once he isn’t wearing that costume or cape. Choosing to wear an old t-shirt with a faded science joke and old jeans. You’d think he was almost… normal.

But then someone had said something about Invincible. You had to sigh, a hand coming to your temple as you hear the familiar crunch of bone, the squish of flesh and then the screams of civilians shortly after.

He gives you an unapologetic apologetic shrug. As he wipes his hands clean, you hear teeth clink as they land on the pavement of the outdoor patio of the high-end restaurant.

With a slow roll of your shoulder, your eyes dim, pupils expanding until it seems as though they overtake your irises, and suddenly the panic stops. As though the people around you both have conveniently forgotten what just happened here.

Well, they’ll freak about the blood and gore, but not about who did it at least.

“I really wanted that appetizer,” You murmur, closing your menu as you know Mark is going to take you and leave to not rouse any more suspicion.

“I’ll get one of the chefs to make it,” He says casually, sipping his drink until the glass is empty. He scrounges around his pockets until he finds his wallet. He leaves a few crumpled bills on the table.

He was a villain, not a total monster as to dine and dash.

“Fine,” You acquiesce, still your brow is furrowed.

Mark gives your shoulder a squeeze. One that is appreciative of your understanding and a warning all in one. “That’s why you’re my favorite.”

“I’m the only one you tolerate.”

“That too!”

#invincible x reader #invincible fic #invincible imagine #mark grayson x reader #sinister invincible x reader #sinister mark x reader #halcyon writings.

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honeyryewhiskey · 5 months ago

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when dean falls in love

or, all the little details that run through dean's mind when he's falling in love. and all the fears and self-doubt that come crashing down on him. warnings ! a pinch of angst | mostly feel good | kissing | confessions | dean admiring reader | dean's internal struggles | reader being patient | sam third wheeling j's note ! this is my apology for that sad one i posted last night. also, i had little baby 26-year-old dean in mind for this one. enjoy <3 5k words

Few rules exist in Dean’s life—most are made to be bent, broken, or ignored altogether. But you?

You’re the exception. You’re the rule he refuses to cross.

You are entirely off-limits.

Not that you seem to care. You crashed into the Winchesters' world like a wildfire, all sharp eyes and steady hands, showing up guns blazing in the middle of a nasty hunt. There was no slow introduction, no time for cautious trust. One minute, it was just another night, another hunt—then suddenly, there you were, standing in the wreckage, breathing heavily, covered in blood that wasn’t yours.

Dean should’ve known to let go right then and there—you were too good to be true. But he didn’t. Instead, you stuck to the corners of his mind like sugar between his teeth, sweet and relentless. Your energy, raw and electric, burned through everything around you. You invaded his thoughts, wrapped around his mind like a constant hum.

You were the kind of girl who made a man forget his own damn rules.

At first, Dean tells himself this newfound trio is temporary.

You’re a lone wolf, and the Winchesters don’t do long-term attachments. But somehow, you weave yourself into their lives like you’ve always belonged.

You slip into the passenger seat of the Impala without waiting for an invitation, kicking your feet up on the dash just to piss him off. You steal fries off his plate like it’s second nature, smirking when he glares at you but never stopping. You roll your eyes at his bravado, call him out when he’s being an ass, and yet—when it matters—you’re always there. Ready to fight. Ready to bleed for this life, for them.

For him.

Dean tells himself he doesn’t notice the little things. The way you hum along to his rock tapes like you’ve known them forever, how your hands—so much softer than he deserves—patch him up without hesitation. The way you meet his teasing with just as much fire, never backing down.

None of it means anything.

Because it can’t.

Not when he’s always been too rough, too jagged around the edges to hold onto something as good as you. Somewhere around his twentieth birthday, he made peace with the fact that he was cursed—fated to be nothing more than a soldier, a brother, a blade meant for war.

Being anything else, wanting anything more—wanting you—would only end in tragedy.

But then he catches Sam talking to you in hushed voices over coffee in the morning, like you’re family. As if every diner table and wobbly motel kitchenette was always meant to sit the three of you. He watches you clean his gun without being asked, like it’s second nature now. He hears your voice on the other end of his phone at 3 a.m., always answering when he calls, asking if he’s okay after a rough hunt.

And just like that, you’re in. You’re a part of them.

A part of him.

And that? That’s the most dangerous thing of all.

Dean doesn’t know when it happened—when the lines started to blur, when the rule he swore by turned into something fragile, something breakable.

Maybe it’s the way you slip so effortlessly into their lives, settling into the spaces he didn’t even realize were empty—mediating brotherly arguments like you were always meant to be their missing piece. Maybe it’s the sound of your laughter, bright and unshaken, slicing through the heaviness of a bad hunt. Or maybe it’s the way you look at him, like he’s something more than the scars, more than the sharp edges—like he’s worth seeing at all.

Or maybe it’s the small moments like this.

The diner is warm, buzzing with the quiet hum of conversation, the clatter of silverware against plates. Sam’s focus is his laptop, half-listening to whatever you’re saying as you flip through the menu, sitting beside Dean, debating tonight’s meal. Dean’s trying to keep up, trying to ground himself in the normalcy of it all.

And then, without a second thought, you reach for his jacket.

It’s been draped over the back of the booth since he sat down, familiar and worn, carrying the weight of long nights and too many miles. And you just take it, slipping your arms through the sleeves, tugging the collar up like it belongs to you.

Dean’s fingers tighten around the menu.

It’s nothing new—he’s handed it over a dozen times before, thrown it around your shoulders without a second thought on cold nights. But this? This is different. You didn’t ask. Didn’t even hesitate. You just did it, like it was instinct, like it was yours.

He clears his throat, trying to force down the feeling clawing its way up his chest. “Comfy?”

You hum, settling into the fabric, your fingers curling into the sleeves. “Mmhmm.” Your voice is light, easy. “You always run so warm. Thought I’d steal a little of that.”

Dean swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry. Prying his eyes off of you, he tries again to look like he’s reading the menu. Scanning the small font, even though he’s already decided on a burger and fries like he always gets.

Across from him, Sam sighs, clicking at his keyboard. “You guys do realize you act like a couple, right?”

Dean shoots him a glare. “Shut up.”

Your laugh falls out sweet and quiet, the sound pressing against his heart with a persistence to make it move faster. Your boot nudges Dean’s under the table, and he takes it as an excuse to look at you again. “You jealous, Sammy? Want me to steal your jacket next?”

Dean barely hears the response. He watches as you burrow further into his jacket, your nose dipping beneath the collar. Then, with that same mischievous glint in your eye that always spells trouble for him, you lift the collar to make a show of taking a slow, exaggerated sniff.

His brows press down, lashes forming a tight squint around his eyes as he braces himself, “What the hell are you doing?”

Your lips twitch like you’re holding back a laugh. “One thing about this old jacket, though,” you muse, taking another thoughtful inhale. “There’s this metallicy smell… buried under all that cologne you drown this poor leather in.”

Dean scoffs, shifting in his seat and turning his head to save himself from letting you see the pink creeping up his cheeks. “I do not drown it in cologne.”

Sam doesn’t even look up from his laptop, but his chuckle doesn’t help ease Dean’s embarrassment. “You kinda do.”

Dean’s head shoots up, tilting slightly as he glares at his brother. You’re already grinning, undeterred, your fingers lazily tracing the worn seam of the sleeve. “It’s faint, but it’s there. Like… gunpowder. And whiskey, I would assume. And maybe a little bit of blood?” Your teasing gaze flicks up to meet his, “What have you been getting into, Winchester?”

Dean should play it cool. Shrug it off. But he can feel his ears burning red and hot from that little teasing smile on your lips and his brain is a few steps behind, caught somewhere between you’re too damn close and when did this get so hard to ignore?

He leans back, arms crossing over his chest. His mind makes quick work to steady buzzing nerves, “Dunno what to tell ya, sweetheart,” he sighs, jaw popping as he finds his barings, “That jacket’s seen more action than you have.”

You feign offense, pressing a hand to your chest. “Wow. First, you over-season your leather, and now you’re just slinging insults?” You shake your head, dramatic as ever. “I thought we had something special, D.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “Yeah, yeah. You done sniffin’ my jacket, or should I be concerned?”

You huff, settling back against the booth so that your arms brush against each other when you shrug. “I dunno. Might need another whiff.”

Dean points a warning finger at you, his smile breaks his attempt at stoicism, and all it does is make you grin wider.

Sam lets out another long-suffering sigh, shutting his laptop with a little more force than necessary. “I’m concerned. And I’m officially done with this conversation.”

You smirk, smug as ever, but Dean? Dean’s just trying to pretend he’s not completely, stupidly gone for you.

The rest of dinner passes in easy conversation—at least, for you. Dean is quieter than usual, letting you and Sam fill the space between bites of food and stolen fries. He tries to focus on anything else—the chipped laminate of the table, the hum of the old diner lights, the way his fingers tap absently against the side of his glass.

Mostly, he tries not to look at you.

Not when you lean forward, chin propped in your palm, laughing at something Sam says. Not when you nudge his boot under the table, stealing the last bite of his pie with a satisfied little smirk. Not when you adjust the lapels of his leather jacket like it’s yours now, like it belongs to you the way he does.

By the time the check hits the table, he’s still got too many thoughts in his head, and none of them are ones he should be having.

Outside, the night air is crisp, the motel’s flickering vacancy sign glowing just across the lot. Sam mutters something about research and trudges off toward their shared room, leaving the two of you lingering by the diner’s door.

Dean shoves his hands into his pockets, suddenly hyper-aware of how quiet it is. You shift on your feet, then tilt your head toward the motel.

“What’s it gonna be tonight, D?” Your voice is soft, slipping into the quiet like it belongs there. “You sticking around for a bit, or heading to bed?”

Dean exhales, shaking his head. “Gotta make sure you get in safe.”

Your laugh rings through the empty parking lot, light and easy, curling around him like warmth against the cool night air. And despite only wearing a flannel, despite the late hour and the breeze whispering through the lot, he feels nothing but warm.

“Ah, yes,” you tease between giggles, nudging his arm. “My knight in shining armor, always keeping me safe.”

The short walk across the lot is quiet but never empty—the kind of silence that lingers in the spaces between you, comfortable and charged all at once.

At your door, you unlock it with a flick of your wrist, pushing it open before leaning lazily against the frame. The dim motel light catches the amusement in your eyes as you glance back at him.

“See?” You gesture to the empty room with a grin. “All’s quiet on the western front.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves you off, stepping inside without a second thought, the door clicking shut behind him.

You move past him with easy familiarity, shuffling through your things while Dean leans against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. He watches as you slip into your usual routine—kicking off your shoes, pulling your hair back, stifling a yawn with the sleeve of your sweater. His jacket, draped over the chair beside your bed, stays untouched. He doesn’t move to take it. If he’s honest, he kind of hopes you’ll sleep in it. Let it take on your scent instead of his.

When you return from the bathroom, fresh-faced and sighing contentedly, you crawl onto the bed and sit cross-legged, flipping absentmindedly through an old paperback—the one you grabbed from the library when you were supposed to be researching.

“You gonna tell me what’s got you so deep in thought tonight?” you break into the silence without looking up, voice soft but knowing.

Dean huffs, tipping his head back. He’s trying to find something other than you to look at, he’s gotta stop watching you so often. “I’m always deep in thought.”

You snort, “yeah, okay. Sure.”

Your eyes flicker over him, he’s always following you into your room like a stray pup, like he doesn’t know where else to go. He lingers in your space, but is careful to maintain a set distance. At first you thought he was trying to claim you as another notch on his bedpost, but all that ever happened on these nights were quiet talks until your eyes grew too heavy to keep open. And by morning, you’d be alone, tucked beneath the blankets like someone made sure they were pulled around you just right.

You watch him for a beat, noting the familiar tension winding through his shoulders. “Seriously, though. You were kinda out of it at dinner.”

Dean hesitates, glancing away like he can pretend he didn’t hear you. His eyes settle on the peeling motel wallpaper, tracing the cracks like they hold some kind of answer. He hadn’t planned on sticking around this late—not when his head is already full of you. Not when it’s dangerous for the sanctity his carefully drawn lines to be near you like this, feeling the way he does.

But neither of you move. You, cross-legged on the bed, book in hand. Him, still leaning against the dresser, pretending he has somewhere else to be.

He should make an excuse, crack a joke, steer this conversation somewhere safer. But your voice, soft and steady, tugs at something in him. And instead of fighting it, he lets himself lean in.

“You ever think about what happens when we stop?”

Your fingers still against the worn pages of your book. “Stop what?”

“This.” He gestures vaguely, like that explains everything. “The hunting, the moving around. All of it.”

Your brows furrow slightly as you consider his words, the weight of them pressing down in a way you don’t want to acknowledge. This life—it’s far from glamorous, but it’s all you’ve got. Stepping away from it is a thought you buried long ago, a fantasy that never had a chance. You shrug, pushing the thought aside. “I don’t know,” you say quietly. “Never really let myself think about it too much.”

Dean exhales a heavy breath, eyes dropping to the floor like the weight of your words is sinking in. “Yeah.”

A beat of quiet settles between you. It’s not uncomfortable, but there’s a weight to it that presses against Dean’s chest, making the space feel tighter than it is. You can feel his tension, like he’s holding something back, but he doesn’t look up.

Then, you shift, breaking the silence with an easy gesture—a pat to the empty space beside you on the bed. “Don’t just trail off on me, D. Sit down. Tell me more.”

Dean hesitates for a split second. This is a bad idea. It’s an invisible line he’s been toeing for too damn long, one he’s tried not to cross—never sit on the bed, never get too close when we’re alone. But then again, it’s you. You’re looking at him like you care, soft and patient, as if whatever’s inside his head actually matters.

And just like that, he gives in. One little exception, just for tonight.

With a quiet sigh, he pushes off the dresser, settling beside you on the bed. He stretches his legs out, but the small mattress makes it impossible to keep any real distance. His legs brush against yours, and his arm brushes yours too. He hopes to hell you don’t see the flush creeping up his neck.

If you notice, you don’t mention it. There’s no teasing, no playful smile—just the quiet comfort of your presence beside him. You don’t push, don’t pry. You just sit there, calm and steady, waiting for him to speak.

“I dunno,” he mutters, “just been thinkin’ lately. About what it all looks like when it’s over. If it ever is.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “And?”

Dean swallows, debating how much to say. How much to admit.

“And… I don’t see much of anything.” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Spent my whole life doing this, I don’t see an ending where I’m not dying at the hands of this. Y’know, going down in the fight.”

You’re quiet for a moment, then—so softly he almost doesn’t notice—you shift closer, your arm snaking its way around his. You’re snuggled right up next to him, watching with careful eyes.

“There will always be monsters to hunt,” you murmur, your voice soft yet steady in the dim room. “But you don’t have to be a warrior forever, D. There will always be hunters, too. Doesn’t mean you have to be one.”

Dean chuckles, but it’s a hollow sound, more an exhale than a laugh. His gaze drifts toward the bedspread, unable to meet yours. "Yeah, well... I don't know if I could just walk away." His words come out quieter, like he’s unsure if he’s talking to you or to himself.

You turn slightly toward him, noticing the tension still coiled in his shoulders. The quiet settles deeper now, heavier with each passing moment, but he doesn’t seem to notice the distance between your words.

“What’s got you thinking about all of this?” you keep your voice light, though there’s a weight to it.

Dean rubs the back of his neck, his thoughts at war with the words he wants to say. "I can’t have the things I want, not really," he finally admits, the confession slipping out before he can second-guess it. His gaze drifts to the side, and his fingertips come up almost absentmindedly, dragging across your temple, pushing stray hairs back into their place.

“This life," he continues, barely above a whisper, "it consumes all the good things in my life."

“Not true,” your voice is firm but gentle, like you’re trying to remind him of something he can’t see.

He doesn’t answer immediately, just quirks a skeptical brow at you.

“You have your brother,” you continue, “and you’ve got me. Nothing in this universe can take us from you.”

Dean’s breath catches, and for the briefest moment, he wonders if you understand just how much weight those words hold. He swallows, trying to hold it together, but he can’t ignore the ache that creeps up his spine. He gives a small, almost rueful chuckle, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "What makes you so sure?"

You meet his gaze with a steady confidence. "Because I know you wouldn’t let it."

His hand lingers by your face, his thumb brushing softly against the warmth of your cheek. There’s an electricity in the touch, something that feels too close and yet too natural. He can feel the way his pulse quickens, how much his body wants to close that last inch of space between you. But he doesn’t.

You don’t push him. You just watch him, like you’re waiting for him to decide whether to take the step—or to retreat.

Dean’s breath catches in his throat, and his eyes drop to your lips for a moment before meeting yours again, like he’s trying to reconcile the gravity of what he’s feeling. His voice drops to almost a whisper, his words thick with something raw. “You have no idea how right you are, little miss.”

Your hand comes up, curling over his with a quiet, deliberate touch. The softness of your skin against his makes it almost impossible for him to remember the times he’s watched you move through the world—handling a gun with precision or a blade like it’s second nature. Most of you makes him forget, really, about everything that doesn’t involve you in this moment.

Your warmth, your softness, it makes him lose himself in daydreams of a version of you—one that doesn’t belong to this life. A version where you’d lean into that gentleness, the part of you that exists outside the hunts and the danger, in a life far away from the chaos that haunts him.

You shift, sitting up, still keeping your gaze on him, and it makes something in his chest tighten. The determined strain in your features catches his attention immediately. It’s the same look you get when you're deep into a lore book, your brow furrowed with that little scowl—like something has piqued your interest, and you won’t rest until you’ve unraveled it completely.

“Dean, there’s more to this than you’re letting on.”

He shakes his head, trying to brush it off with a quick, dismissive shrug, his lips pouting up into his best attempt at nonchalance. “Nope. That’s pretty much it.”

You let out an exasperated huff, and Dean can tell you’re seeing straight through him. It’s not enough to deflect you. What he doesn’t expect, though, is the rough shove to his shoulder. It makes him blink in surprise, but before he can recover, your fingers press right back into the tension of his muscles he’s been trying to ignore all night.

“You’re as stiff as a board,” you point out, your fingers digging in a little harder. “Something’s bothering you.”

His breath comes out shakier now, and for a moment, his whole body feels like it’s been wound too tight. You can feel it, he knows you can. There’s no denying it now, but the words feel too heavy in his throat. He wants to argue, to brush it off again, but something in the way you’re watching him shifts. It’s not just curiosity anymore—it’s concern. And maybe, just maybe, a part of him wants to let you in.

But damn if it doesn’t feel like a risk.

Dean shifts uncomfortably, trying to pull away, but the pressure of your fingers is a subtle anchor, keeping him there. His gaze flits to the floor, anywhere but your eyes, because once he looks at you, he knows he won’t be able to hide.

"I told you, it's nothing," he mutters, his voice rougher than usual, the words escaping before he can stop them. He tries to push himself up, but the weight of your stare presses him back down.

You don’t buy it. You never do.

"No, Dean," you start softly, the concern clear in your voice, "I know you better than that. Something’s been eating at you for a while, and you’re not gonna keep dodging it."

His chest tightens, his heart racing in his ribcage. Every part of him wants to throw up some wall, some excuse. Something to keep you from seeing the rawness of what’s inside. The vulnerability he’s been running from his entire life.

But still, you watch him, waiting, your eyes steady and unwavering.

"Come on, just let it out," you press, your hand moving to his shoulder again, your touch gentle now but insistent. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself, you know?”

He swallows hard, his jaw tightening, hands suddenly restless at his sides. The fight inside him is crumbling, piece by piece, until he's barely holding on to whatever's left. His voice comes out strained, almost desperate.

“Please, just drop it,” he grinds out, his eyes briefly meeting yours before flicking away again, helplessly. “I’m fine. You don’t... you don’t need to know all of it.”

You sit forward, leaning in just a little, your hand still gently gripping his arm as you search his face. The determination in your gaze doesn’t waver, but there’s something softer there now, almost like a plea. “Dean—”

He jerks back slightly, suddenly standing up with a bit too much force, the air between you thickening with a tension that’s making it harder for him to breathe. He takes a few steps away, running a hand through his hair, his back turned to you as he tries to calm the storm rising inside.

"I can’t do this," he mutters, his voice low, rougher now, like it’s been dragged over gravel. His shoulders still tense with the weight of the world pressing down on him.

You’re silent for a beat, and he knows it’s because you’re giving him space. But he also knows you won’t stop until you get him to say what he’s been holding back.

He exhales sharply, his hands trembling as he clenches them into fists, his back still turned, fighting a battle he knows he’s losing. "God, I don’t want to talk about this." His voice cracks slightly as he says it, and he hates how much it betrays him.

His eyes flick to you then, and there's a crack in the armor—a vulnerability that’s almost painful to see. He looks at you, but he’s not sure he can bear the weight of your gaze anymore. Not when all he wants to do is keep you safe from the wreckage inside him.

His body is coiled tight, but his chest feels like it’s going to implode. He wants to walk away. He wants to escape from the weight of this conversation, from the way you're looking at him like you’re waiting for him to finally crack open and spill it all out.

But when he finally turns back to face you fully, all he sees is that unflinching patience, that quiet insistence that you’re not going to let him go until he finally says what he’s been hiding for so long. It makes him want to burn every rule he’s built for himself.

"You don't get it," he spats roughly, eyes flicking to the floor. "I can’t just... say it. It’s part of me, it’s who I am, this thing that I can’t get away from."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room in one smooth motion. There’s no anger in your steps—just a calm resolve that cuts through the tension between you like a knife.

"I'm not an idiot, Dean," you peek up at him, unfamilarly timid as you cross this uncharted territory. "I see the way you look at me. Hell, at first I thought I was imagining things but I can see it’s eating you alive. And I—” your words cut off in your own shock at the confession, the sincerity in your expression making his knees weak, “I can’t bear to see you like this.”

Your hands reach up tentatively, like you’re scared he’ll tear himself away again. But he stills, letting your warm hands press into either side of his jaw, “you’re my rock, alright?” your words trail into a soft laugh, easing the tension of your own truth. “I don’t wanna live in a world where I’m not by your side, because you make life worth the fight to stay alive. But you can’t just keep me in the dark, I have to know what you’re feeling.”

His breath catches in his throat, the weight of your words hitting him harder than he expected. The realization that you know, that you’ve seen through all his defenses, makes everything inside him ache.

"I don’t know what you want from me," it comes out sounding like a plea, still looking for an excuse to retreat into himself.

"I want you to stop hiding from me." Your words are simple, but they strike right at the heart of the matter. "I want you to stop pretending like you can’t have the one thing you want most."

His throat tightens, and he shakes his head, trying to dismiss it. "I don’t get it," he mumbles, though his eyes are locked on yours, searching for the reprieve he still doesn’t believe he’ll find. "I don’t... I’m not fit for this."

"I’m not either, D. I’m just asking you to let it happen." You’re so close now, he can feel the warmth of your body, the soft pressure of your fingers against his jaw. Your gaze doesn’t break, it never wavers.

And that’s when it hits him. He’s been afraid of this—afraid of the way you make him feel like he can finally breathe, like all of his pain and avoidance can cease in your presence. he’s been holding himself together with tattered shreds for so long, and you’re the only thing that’s strong enough to pull him out of the mess he’s made of himself.

And letting that security live in someone else terrifies him more than any monster he’s faced.

“I’m not perfect,” he admits quietly, his words like gravel in his throat. “I’m broken, and I’m scared as hell, but god, if you only knew how much I want—”

You stop him with a soft kiss, the sweetest touch of your lips to his. It's gentle, almost hesitant, but it shatters something inside him, enough to freeze him in place. The weight of everything unspoken presses in, and for the first time, it feels like the walls he's built around himself might finally crumble in your hands.

The chains of his tightly kept composure snap at the delicate pressure of your lips, and without thinking, his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer. His hands find purchase at your waist, holding you as if you were the only thing that kept him grounded. The kiss deepens, desperate, as if he's trying to kiss away the years of holding back, the silent fear of letting you see the real him, the uncertainty of if you’d stay with him in the wreckage.

When you finally pull back, your lips linger just above his, breaths mingling. Your voice is a soft whisper, but it cuts through the tension like a thread being pulled taut. “Then say it, Dean. Tell me what you want.”

His heart beats in his chest, loud and frantic, as his walls come crashing down, piece by piece. He can’t think straight with you in his arms, all of his steely armor melts at your touch. And for the first time in what feels like forever, he lets go of some of those fears.

His eyes are nearly consumed by his pupils as he takes in the sight of you slightly out of breath, lips wet and a little more pink. From his doing, from his touch—it makes every broken rule worth the trouble.

“I've fallen for you, Sweetheart,” he breathes, his voice is raw, shaky, but it's honest, every word carrying the weight of what he’s been holding back. “I want to keep falling for you, love and all that crap. And I’m terrified of it, but I can’t keep hiding this from you.”

Your thumb brushes over his cheek, the gesture soft, but nevertheless, grounding. A quiet smile tugs at the corner of your lips, and your eyes hold nothing but certainty. “You’ll never have to hide any part of yourself, Dean. I’ve been here all along, with nothing but love. Just been waiting for you to see that.”

tags <3 @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @snowluvvie @dulcescorderitas @bluemerakis

#dean winchester #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fluff

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angrythingstarlight · 9 months ago

Note

I saw this on my dash and IMMEDIATELY thought of Bee! 😆

If anyone tried to tell her no - “That’s not what my daddy says.”

A new associate at the jeweler's tells the toddler she can't have an expensive necklace. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't know that this toddler is Bucky's Barnes daughter. And she can have anything she wants.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumblebee.

"I gots monies for my necklace," she says, going on her tiptoes to peer up at Robert. Bee shows him the banded cash in her small hands while moving Mr. Tato under her arm, the stuffed dino upside down next to her now empty purse.

"You don't wants it? I gots more and Papa's card."

She's confused. And a little upset. Bee knows when she hands the people at her favorite toy store her monies, they put bows on her new friends and place them in a pretty pink bag for her. They don't make faces at her and they never refuse to let her look at the items in the displays.

She has the monies so why won't he give her the necklace?

Bee already told him it's for her mommy. He responded with a curt huff that she was too little for such an extravagant necklace but she doesn’t that understand either because her mommy isn't too little.

"I highly doubt you have enough to afford anything in this store. The answer is no." He states with a dismissive wave of his fingers. "Go away."

"But—"

"Go. Away. Come back with an adult."

Bee shoves the money in her purse and balefully scrunches her nose. She might not understand why this man is being so mean but she know her papa will take care of this.

"I gonna gets my Papa. You waits rights here."

"You do that." He scoffs, watching the toddler walk away. His sneer slipping off when she goes right up to the stores' best customer.

The man who spends more in a day than their other VIPs spend in year. The man laughing with the shop owner. The man with affiliations no one is allowed to mention.

His heart slams to his feet when he sees her grab Mr. Barnes hand and point in his direction. And it stops beating, laying cold and lifeless next to his formerly smug attitude when Mr. Barnes picks her up and heads to the counter.

In less than ten strides, he's on the receiving end of a glare from the mobster.

"Did you tell my daughter she couldn't have that necklace?" His tone is dark and sharp, cutting right through the associate.

"Uh, no. Well yes but I may have been too hasty—"

"I tries to gives my monies and he says no," Bee interject, gazing forlornly at diamonds glimmering under the florescent lights. "I needs it for mommy but he says we too wittle and go aways. He's mean Papa."

Anger weaves it's way through the pakhan, growing with every despondent word out of her mouth.

Bucky doesn't expect special treatment, even though he can demand it with a snap of his fingers. He does expect, no he requires, that his girls get treated with the upmost respect and care wherever they go.

Everyone knows that.

Or they should. Robert certainly will when he's done with him.

Bucky doesn't plan on letting him think he's getting away with how he treated his sweet little girl.

Not breaking eye contact, Bucky leans over the counter, a devilish grin crossing his face when the man shrinks back. He has a protective grip on Bee, keeping her against his side. His posture casual even as his expression is anything but calm.

"Obviously he meant that he didn't want your money because he was planning on giving you the necklace. It's a gift for you since you've been so well-behaved in the store." His words come out slowly, carefully, still as sharp as before and Robert flinches when Bucky strums his fingers on the glass. "Isn't that right?"

Robert can barely breathe through the tension thickening the still air, his eyes nervously flickering between the mobster and his boss. The other man has no intentions of getting involved. Only offering up a slight shake of his head, a silent warning not to fuck this up even more.

"Of course sir. I'll get it wrapped up immediately." This is coming out of his paycheck. He knows it, Bucky is going to make sure of it. Damn it. He wishes he had just taken the wad of cash when she first waddled over. He assumed it was play money. Clearly he was wrong. It's an expensive mistake he's going to remember for a long, long time.

"And..." Bucky tacks on with a meaningful glance at the little ballerina in his arms.

Robert paints on a grin, swallowing quickly. "I apologize for being rude earlier Ms. Barnes. It will never happen again."

Oh it won't. Bucky is very sure that it won't.

A chubby cheeked smile lights up her face, blissfully unaware of what's transpiring between the two men, Bee rests her head on Bucky's shoulder. "Tank you!"

As they watch him package the diamond necklace in a thin sheet of wrapping paper, she smiles up at her Papa. "Me and mommy gots you a gift too but it's a secret so I can't tells you."

"Really?" Bucky glances down at her, his eyes warming at the sight of her cheek smushed against his suit. It's clear to everyone watching he'd buy this entire store if she asked. "Does it happen to match this necklace you're getting her?"

"Yes! She says you needs a new watch so we gots you a pwetty one and we puts our names on it." Bee nods, whispering between her fingers. "You gonna be so 'cited Papa."

This girl and her secrets. Bucky laughs under his breath. "I can't wait to be surprised Bumblebee."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bumblebee series #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky x reader

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hot-patootiee · 2 months ago

Text

Part 3

part 2 here. I’m writing these like right after my Calc BC exam and I have a killer headache but fuck it we ball. Aka Steve is not the only one to obtain brain damage because of an ex.

Don’t worry about the headache, I’m having a special gummy and chilling.

…

Eddie wakes up to an empty bed. He finds a note on the nightstand.

Had to go to work, see you later

-Steve

An idea forms in his head on what to do to help apologize. Steve’s constant complaints about the big empty house he lived in. How he wished Robin or Eddie could stay forever.

Eddie was still a little unsure. It would be quite an assumption to make. He would probably have to talk to Robin during her break and see if she would also be on board and if she thought it was a good idea.

But, he knew Steve would be ecstatic to have people he cared about close by. Eddie couldn’t help but remember the nights he was woken up from Steve calling to make sure he was alive.

It would suck moving away from Wayne, but Eddie figured that taking the relationship too serious would be better than not taking it serious enough.

Eddie decided that despite just waking up at this unholy hour (11 am), he would go see Robin and brief her on his plan.

When he got to family video, luckily, Steve was working in the back and Robin sat at the desk.

She perked up as soon as she saw him.

“Eddie I messed up.” Robin stumbles out with a groan.

Eddie waits for her to continue.

“I didn’t know that Steve thought you two were dating. He’s been talking about you for weeks and I never noticed.” Robin whines again, head dropping shamefully.

“I have just the thing.” And just like that Robin is up again.

“Really?” Robin exclaimed, jumping on her toes as she leaned against the counter. Eddie personally didn’t think Robin could show this much emotion, but with Steve’s stories, it doesn’t really surprise him.

“Do you think Steve would be on board with us living with him?”

“He’s been asking me to forever, it’s just my parents give me crap for moving in with a single man.” Robin replied plainly, hints of resentment lacing her voice.

“Well you’re 18 and therefore you make your own decisions. Do you want to move in with him?” Eddie probes and Robin smiles at him in return.

She nods hard, making her hair bounce with the stiff jerks of her head.

“I want to do something else too.” Eddie mutters.

Robin seems a little suspicious as she says “Good idea, but why?”

“This is kinda both a burden and a blessing. Steve’s been wanting it for a while, but it ultimately gives him more work to do.” Eddie points ponders slowly. He rolls over potential actions in his mind, seeing how smoothly they work before coming to a conclusion.

“Maybe just a nice night. Steve gets headaches and weed might help him relax. Or He’s been talking about hosting a game night forever, we could take care of everything and just let him relax.” Eddie shrugs, thinking through different dinner options and possibilities of what Steve would like.

“Ask Steve if there’s anything you can do to make his life easier. He’s selfless by nature so there’s probably something you’ve been doing that he doesn’t like.” Robin replies coolly. She then winces. “I should probably stop putting my feet on his dash.” She murmurs in a guilty tone.

“That’s a good idea.” Eddie nods.

“I gotta pack my shit, I’ll help you pack yours, you help with mine?” Robin inquires. The way she bats her eyes might’ve seemed flirty to anyone else, but it was evidently just effective manipulation. Because Eddie knew unless he was throwing all his shit out the window, she would immediately get bored and ditch him for a German dictionary.

News flash: she did.

…

Steve surprisingly did not get impatient as time trudged on. Eddie searched his face for any mark of displeasure, but failed to find any.

But, apparently Eddie just wasn’t the one seeing it. Something about Steve had changed a little bit, instead of backing down when challenged, he just dug his heels in. It reminded Eddie of the Steve in the upside down.

Allegedly Steve had been driving all the kids down to the new diner. Mike had been skeptical about Steve’s directions and had started loudly declaring that he had gone the wrong way.

“It’s not like you’re the intellectual authority on anything Steve.”

The breaks were hit so fast that all the boys jerked forward with the sudden stop.

According to Dustin Steve then yelled “WELL I AM THE AUTHORITY OF THIS GODDAMN CAR, GET OUT IF YOU HAVE AN ISSUE!”

Steve waited a few beats and when nobody moved, put down the parking break and the engine whined slightly as Steve shifted into first a little too violently and pulled out.

Mike was scared so badly that he just sat there petrified for the rest of the ride.

So, Steve was evidently frustrated.

Eddie went to visit Steve immediately after hearing what happened. When he found him, Steve was grumbling on his bed. Obviously still peeved about earlier, every few seconds he would reflexively rub his temples.

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin when he noticed Eddie.

Eddie didn’t say anything, he just pulled out a joint and handed it to Steve, who took it apprehensively.

“It helps with headaches.” Eddie weakly justifies, but it seems to be enough to convince Steve, who then leans forward and sticks his hand in Eddie’s pocket and extracts a lighter.

He lights the joint with little fanfare, like he was just having his third daily cigarette. He breathes it in easily before expelling the smoke through his pursed lips.

“This is a little different.” Steve comments, slightly more relaxed at the promise of a high that the joint brought.

“I swapped seeds with Argyle, I had sativa, he had indica. What you’re smoking, just indica, apparently argyle is trying to get the hybrid strain.” Eddie says in a blasé tone as he climbs into Steve’s bed.

“What’s the difference?” Steve asked before taking another hit, longer this time.

“It’s supposed to relax you more. Less high, but more relaxing.” Eddie loosely explains.

Steve hogs the joint a little, but Eddie honestly thinks he deserves it. When Steve finally plops his head on Eddie’s lap, he gets an idea.

Eddie sinks his fingers into Steve’s hair and slowly begins to massage his head. Steve immediately melted into it, muscles straining occasionally when Eddie dragged his fingers especially hard at a tender spot.

Conversation became less frequent as Eddie pushed his fingers into Steve’s jaw and massaged the tense muscles there. Steve made the occasional noise, a grunt or a strange trill that he seemed to find incredibly funny.

The tension and brewing migraine seemed to have completely melted off Steve, leaving him tired and happy. He giggled through half lidded eyes and smiled impossibly wide when Eddie left and came back with reheated leftover pizza from Steve’s fridge.

Eddie struggled not to focus on Steve’s face, his gaze traced Steve’s wide smile and the sparkle in his dark eyes.

“Kis’me” the words came from Steve with a slight lisp. An unwavering smile still plastered on his face.

Eddie obliged because honestly how could he not?

The movement caused Eddie’s face to feel like firecrackers were going off on his skin. The tingling sensation danced across his skin, warmth blooming from where Steve and him met.

Eddie couldn’t focus, incredibly overwhelmed by the assault on his senses of different textures and pressures. The plushness of Steve’s lips contrasted with the lean muscle Eddie’s fingers dug into.

Eddie pulled away when his lungs went tingly from lack of air. He giggled as Steve and him stayed close, puffing out breaths of air right next to eachother.

“Wish you could stay all the t’me.” Steve yawned out, stretching his back slightly like a cat and dipping further into Eddie’s personal space.

“I can.” Eddie replies firmly.

“Really?” Steve is smiling again, so wide that Eddie was worried it might hurt from pulling his lips.

“How’d you like that? I move in with you, maybe Robin too.”

Steve trills, making soft stringy vocalizations at Eddie’s proposal. Steve nearly seems to glow at the proposition.

“Youu move ‘n tomorrow?” Steve’s muscles jump erratically in excitement, his knees tapping and jerking like he can’t control it.

“If you still want me to in the morning.” Eddie whispered, stroking Steve’s hair.

…

When morning came, Eddie woke gently, the after effects of the high still cradling him and making him relaxed.

Unfortunately it didn’t last long as he heard a shrill whistle and the telltale thump of something falling and Robin’s witchlike giggles. Eddie reluctantly pulled himself out of bed and found the hallway scattered with boxes. He turned the corner and Will and El were both there, but not to make things easier. El had a little whistle she was happily blowing whenever someone passed her. Will seemed conflicted on whether he found it funny or entirely too disrespectful for him to take part in.

Unfortunately, the first time El did this, it scared Robin so badly that she nearly threw a box of her own clothes down the stairs.

And there Robin was, clothes halfway out of the box and engulfing her upper body. Steve was laughing his socks off which promptly led to a fistful of clothes being thrown in his face.

Eddie quickly decided he wanted nothing to do with this and quietly made his way back to Steve’s room.

Best to act like he didn’t know them for a few more hours.

…

When Eddie finally arose at a normal time (11:30am) he found Robin setting up the room across from Steve with her stuff.

“Heya birdie.”

Robin glared at him.

“I talked it over with Steve, he’s apparently thrilled enough to forgive me only after I cook gnocchi.”

Eddie makes a half confused noise.

“Potato pasta.” Robin paused. “And you’re helping.” Robin asserts, making Eddie grumble.

Eddie leaves without seeing Steve, opting to also grab his shit to move to Steve’s house. Luckily, he and Robin had already boxed up a majority of the room.

It was probably a good thing he’s moving, Wayne’s back couldn’t take the couch springs much longer.

He packed his boxes into the van, the summer sun making his sweat so much he was forced to change into one of his sleeveless tops.

When he arrived back at Steve’s the kitchen had been fully commandeered by Robin who was peeling steaming potatoes with her fingers. Eddie didn’t get more of a glance as he began moving his stuff upstairs, abandoning it in the hallway because he was a little unsure what room Steve would want him in.

During one of his trips back down to his van, Steve finally appeared. He was sitting next to the counter and stealing potato bits from Robin as she worked. He looked at home in his own house for the first time in a while. His eyes traced Robin carefully as she worked as if she’d disappear. When Steve noticed Eddie, his eyes immediately flicked over to him.

“Which room should I move my stuff in?” Eddie asked with false casualness.

“Mine.”

Steve made no move to help, which was honestly something Eddie fully expected. Instead Steve bounced his feet on the floor with a smile and stuffed another crumbling bit of potato into his mouth. Eddie had apparently failed to realize the two little gremlins sitting in Steve’s shadow. Will and Eleven similarly shoving potato bits into their mouths.

Eddie couldn’t help but smile at Steve’s happiness.

…

Later that night, with boxes still artfully scattered around the second floor, a train of children entered the house. Each carried either a food item to contribute or a housewarming present.

Max grumbled as she handed Steve the Apple pie that had evidently been made by the Sinclairs, judging by the streak of flower on the back of Lucas’s shirt.

Eddie was setting up ‘a game of things’ which he knew from experience would always wonderfully devolve into Regan jokes and idiocy.

Steve got to sit and relax as Eddie and Robin hosted the party, letting him play with the kids and receive their guilty apologies. Since they were still kids, Steve forgave them. Heck, he was way more self absorbed and dickish at their age.

When Eddie finished, he dropped behind Steve, putting his hands on Steve’s shoulders and beginning to rub into the tense muscles. Steve twitched occasionally when Eddie hit a knot, but otherwise seemed pretty content.

“Your metal music gives me headaches.” Steve says suddenly. “You play it too loud and it hurts.”

“Then I’ll turn down the music. You’ll never get a headache from it again.” Eddie affirms.

Steve just hums.

“I forgive you.”

Steve paused for a moment.

“But that doesn’t mean you can stop massaging me.” Steve snapped, head lolling back until it met Eddie’s arms.

AN: have a head massage while high, it’s the best thing ever.

Also, I just don’t understand grand gestures of love, they never made me feel good. Like thanks for the stuffed animal and candies, kinda doesn’t make up for you being a dick about my dead dog. How about you instead like make something that takes time and actually shows you give a shit or go out of your way to give me a good night. I don’t understand the fall in love fast thing a lot of people do. I cultivate my love by the light of the hearth, not the light of a firecracker.

Ps. If you want me to do a follow up where Nancy and him talk. Just let me know. It’s just I didn’t really see her as central part of this story. Thought it would be better to highlight the kids, Robin, and Eddie.

Tags @stripey82 @genderfluidbitch @mensch-anthropos-human @c4tharsys @scoops-aboy86 @breealtair @raleighrox @wannabe-edgy-grandpa @flustratedcas @shoujo-wizard @polysdoitforscience @exasperatedsighohmy @piemaker93 @tinyplanet95 @skepticalqueen @sharingisntkaren @scarletyeager @crypticcrytid @midnightskeeper @wheneverfeasible @ancientwormcivilization @fucjinf-whatever-dude @estrellami-1 @queenofshenanigans @grilledcheesehasfeelings <- get out of my walls

@ellietheasexylibrarian @live-laugh-love-dietrich @turinspeachjam @me-ig7 @revevivant @motherofpirates @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @samsoble @legalmenace87 @thehanwen @bigspongey @thedragonsaunt @newagemyth @pentapoctopus @my-hyperfixations-hell-blog @bumbledoubletea @blackbirdflyflyfly @what-if-a-dragon @reddiandbyler4life @i-think-i-thunk @gregre369 @fiddledeedee85 @ladykailitha

You know the drill, rest of the tags in the comments.

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leeechin · 8 months ago

Text

𐀔 YOUR EYES ONLY [l.hs] ⊹ ꠋ ⋅

⋆ summary: you’re eager to give your boyfriend a nice birthday celebration on your free day from work, despite his late work schedule. ✧ pairing: idol!heeseung x model!reader

⌗ warnings: kinda cute in the beginning but then gets real nasty loool, alcohol consumption, slightly intoxicated sex, unprotected sex, hee spanks the reader literally 2 times, fingering by a skyline window, size kink, 2 different positions, oral (m.rec), creampie, nicknames & petnames, mdni. let me know if i forgot anything !

word count: 2.5k

(note: happy birthday to my man 👰🏻‍♀️ and yes, i changed the title from the original preview i posted a couple days ago :p. i know i’m late 🤦🏻‍♀️but it’s still his bday in my timezone so..)

★ find my other works here !

you couldn’t wait for heeseung to get home.

today was one of the only free days you had from your jam-packed schedule. but unfortunately it was not the same for your boyfriend. checking the time on your phone, it was around 10:30 ish, with heeseung usually coming home a couple hours earlier.

you ordered a set of cupcakes for heeseung to enjoy with you when he arrived back to the apartment you guys lived in, along with candles with the numbers of the age he was turning. you were eager.

and you might’ve also deliberately chosen a short white nightgown that covered the lacy panties you were wearing, choosing to not have a bra on, knowing how much heeseung would love that. that was a present for later, a robe covering your body to be revealed later.

pacing around the large living room to kill some time, you peer at the skyline view of the city at night, down the the busy road that was never empty, the cars looking so small from how far up your apartment unit was. you loved how heeseung picked a unit with such a nice view.

‘how much longer until he is home?!’ repeated in your head, continuously pacing around the living room, skipping by the window. you decide to blast some music and dance to it, letting your body flow to the music.

“did i make you wait that long, you’re dancing in our living room?” heeseung bursts out laughing, closing the door behind him. you jump at the sudden sound of his voice, but excitement takes over your face as you dash to your boyfriend, jumping into his arms and peppering kisses all over his face. “happy birthday hee.” you smile, arms wrapping around his neck as he held you up with both his hands. you wipe the residue of your lipstick off of his cheeks, placing your lips over his as he carried you near the dining table, carefully placing you down.

“what’s all this?” heeseung grins, glancing at the box of cupcakes, along with the fancy bottle of champagne with two glasses that you two only used for special occasions. you cling to heeseung, his taller frame enveloping you against his body in a hug, resting your chin on his chest as you look up to him.

“just a little something for the birthday boy.” you respond, eyes looking up adoringly to your boyfriend. heeseung swears he’s the luckiest man in the world, pulling you into another kiss, this time longer and you notice how heeseung’s hand roamed to the bottom of your nightgown, grasping a handful of your ass, causing you to gasp against his lips, giggling after you push him away. “enjoy the cupcakes and champagne first, hee.”

he nods, knowing how much effort you put into getting all these nice things for him, it’s the least he could do, especially with practice the past week running much later than it should be, making you go to sleep by yourself sometimes. but god, you just looked so cute in that nightgown, he wanted to devour you on the table.

“i love you so much y/n.” heeseung says, watching as you pour the fancy champagne into the two glasses. you smile, handing him a glass, clinking it with yours. your smile never leaves your face, as you’re overjoyed with the time spend you are spending with heeseung.

“i love you too, hee.” taking small sips of the champagne, you admire his after-practice look, you loved it when he wore compression shirts that hugged his body flawlessly. a small beat of silence fills the room that makes heeseung speak up.

“what’s on your mind pretty girl?” you take another sip from the glass, choosing to just down the rest of the drink. “just thinkin’ about the cupcakes. i’m gonna go get a lighter for the candles.” heeseung nods, as you jumped up from you seat, skipping to the kitchen, looking through the drawers for a lighter, your nightgown rising up to reveal your lace panties with each small jump. heeseung shifts in his seat, fighting the urge to follow you into that kitchen to forget about the cupcakes and bend you right then and there.

“i found it!” you exclaimed, emerging from the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear as you get closer to the table. you take out the two cupcakes that had the candles of the age he was turning. “my favorite flavor, how sweet.” pulling your waist flush against his as you fumble with the lighter to put on the candles. you tipsily sing a happy birthday, clapping your hands together infront of your boyfriend, being slightly off tune but, it didn’t matter.

sitting down to enjoy the cupcakes, you teasingly swiped a piece of frosting on your pointer finger to swipe on heeseung’s nose, giggling loudly at his reaction. he gets up to do the same to you, but you get up and run around the living room, heeseung chasing you until you stop by the large window that gave a skyline view of the city.

your back is facing towards heeseung as you admire how the stars are exposed so clear for you pupils to see. he takes this opportunity to sneak up behind you. “did you wear this on purpose for me?” he murmurs, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, his hands lower to under your nightgown, grasping at the soft flesh of your ass. your breath hitches, as you press your hands against the glass of the window, stabilizing yourself as you fall weak into heeseung’s touch.

“mm yes, just for you, hee.” pushing your hips back, desperate to feel more, but one of his hands grips your waist tightly to hold you in place. he pulls the bottom of your short nightgown up, to fully reveal your pantie-clad covered ass, his bulge forming painfully hard in his boxers. you whine as one of his hands kneads at the soft flesh of your ass, the other arching your back at an angle that had him groaning at the sight of your wetness seeping through your panties.

“all this, just for me.” he speaks, more to himself, but his words send another fresh wave of arousal as his cold fingers trace teasingly along your lower half. you keep your back arched, forehead and hands pressing against the window as you feel heeseung place a smack on one of your asscheeks. you let a moan, enjoying the contact.

“oh you like this, huh?” he taunts, placing a smack on the other side, a curse leaves his lips when he pulls down to your panties, looking at how it sticked to your folds. “mhmmm.” you hum, nails attempting to grasp at the hard glass of the window. “so wet too.” heeseung adds on, tracing his digits along your soaking heat.

“please hee, been waitin’ for you all day.” you whine, wiggling your hips as he continued his teasing touch. “since you said please, anything for you baby.” he obliges your request, wasting no time pump two of his thick digits into your tight cunt. gasps and moans of pleasure leave your lips and you leave your handprints on the window, blurring the glass. heeseung chuckles at you trying to keep yourself still, the simple pleasure of his two fingers making you feel so good.

the feeling of your tight walls continuously sucking in heeseung’s digits had him feeling like a mad man, he could nearly cum in his pants at the sight infront of him.

“feels so good!” you pant, the tips of his finger hitting that one spongy spot that had you spiraling. “yeah?” he responds, speeding his pace, leaving you a panting mess. ”already clenching so hard, are you gonna cum on the birthday boy’s fingers?” he pokes at you. you let out what heeseung would decipher as a ‘yes!’ making him add a third finger with his fast pace, feeling your slick drip down his hand to his wrist.

“you can cum anytime for me now, angel.” he coos at your ear, leaning forward to place a small kiss on the side of your nape. his hands rubbing your arched back gently as you ride out your orgasm, standing up straight. heeseung pulls up your panties so that you’re now wearing them again. but it doesn’t really help with anything because, he’s gonna rip it off of you once the two of you reach the bedroom.

heeseung picks you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he guides you to your shared room with a trail of messy kisses on the way.

“oh shit, keep doing that baby.” heeseung groans, head hitting the headboard of the bed as your warm mouth envelopes as much of his thick cock as you can. you hollow your cheek as you choke a little over halfway down his thickness, looking up with tears pooling at your waterline.

the sight is enough to heeseung to fill your mouth up, but he holds himself back. not knowing what to do with his hands except run them through your hair and make a soft grasp as he guides your head to bob up and down. your hand ran up to stroke at what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, heeseung letting out a string of curses and groans at the stimulation. you moan around him, the sight of his contorted face in pleasure making your panties uncomfortably soaking wet against your pussy.

“mm good girl. such a good present—fuck!” his eyes closing as he feels himself twitch in your mouth, only spurring your to suck harsher, sloppy sounds of your mouth around his cock fill the room. “gonna fill that mouth up, such a good fucking mouth.” heeseung babbles, guiding your head to bob faster as he chases his release, stilling his movements as he paints your throat white. you swallow his seed, opening and sticking out your tongue to show heeseung proof.

the birthday boy moans at your action, exhausted as he’s just gotten the best head ever, slumping his back against the headboard, chest heaving as he tries to regain his strength.

you take things into your own hands, crawling further up on the bed so that your now straddling both side of his thighs. giving heeseung a mini show as you sit up slightly, lighting your nightgown up so that he can watch the way you peel off your panties to reveal your puffy pussy for the second time of the night.

“heeseung, can i?” you ask, moving yourself to hover your entrance directly over the thick mushroom tip of his cock, eyes trailing down to his again, hardened length.

“mm yeah baby.” he groans, hands placing on your hips as he guides you down his thick cock, the stretch stinging slightly as he bottoms out. you stay still for a bit until you feel adjusted, taking slight control as you bounce yourself on him at a pace that both of you moaning in content. “hee, ‘s so big!” you mewl, hands finding purchase on his exposed chest, trailing your nails around the toned muscles. he lets out another moan in satisfaction, feeling himself nearly split you open.

you find a pace that has you seeing stars, riding on his cock ruthlessly. he lifts the bottom of your nightgown up to reveal your tits bouncing in tandem to your bounces, dangling in front of his face. heeseung couldn’t help but latch his mouth onto one of of your tits, tongue swirling around the hardened bud adding stimulation to the feeling of his cock hitting all the right spots.

your eyes shut tight as you slightly change the angle of his cock diving into you, tip repeatedly hitting your cervix. you were starting to feel tired and your legs were wearing out, heeseung noticing and taking things to his own hands, grabbing at both of your asscheeks to hold himself as he thrusted his hips up, making the both of you let out a moan in unison.

“fuckkkk, you’re always so tight.” heeseung rasps out, head hitting against the headboard again, the warmness of you wrapped around him, the grip on your ass moving to your hips to pull you on him repeatedly, meeting his sloppy thrusts. eyes looking down to where the two of you connected, the nasty sounds of your walls sucking him in sending you into overdrive.

“hee i’m cumming, fuck!” you nearly scream, barely giving him any time to process as your walls tighten even more around his thick cock, convulsing around him as you let the knot in your stomach untie. “oh shit.” he cursed in response, hands on your hips dragging you up and down as he chases for his own release, following you not long after, filling you deep with thick ribbons of cum.

you fall against his chest after you ride out your second orgasm, breathing heavily against him as he softly pats your back, allowing you to relax into his touch. but you know you’re not done yet.

with heeseung’s stamina, you knew that you had one or two more left in you. and your point was proven when he flips you onto your back, pulling your nightgown over your body fully, leaving you laying bare in his sight.

another curse leaves his lips, looking at your now ruined state. but he’s quick to pull both of your legs over his shoulder, his tip aligned to the entrance of your spent cunt. you let out a soft whine, attempting to buck your hips up to take in his tip. “you can take more?” he double checks, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

you’re quick to nod, too incoherent to say actual words when you feel him snap his hips harshly, filling you to the hilt, leaving you no time to adjust as he sets a merciless pace, cock dragging along your tight walls. you were splayed perfectly to him, the pretty sounds that escaped your lips being muffled by his moving against yours.

you pull away from the kiss, already feeling your third orgasm of the night approach, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you relish in the sounds of his hips hitting the back of your thighs, along with the nasty glide of his cock leaving your cunt and re-entering.

“such a good fuckin’ pussy.” heeseung praises, strings of groans following along. placing his hand over the small bulge in your stomach, seeing how deep he was in you. “you’re close again?” he adds on, hands moving to hold the sides of your face as he leans in to place another kiss on your lips, so sweet and tender, opposite from the way his hips battered his cock to your release. his name repeating like a prayer when your orgasm approaches again, no warning as you loosen your body, walls clenching even tighter as you milk every last drop around your boyfriend.

you let out a soft moan of relief as you feel him paint your walls white for the second time. heeseung tiredly flopping onto his back and pulling your into an embrace where your face rested against his chest.

“so pretty baby.” he hums, fingers running through strands of your hair, you looking up to him with half lidded eyes as you mumbled another ‘happy birthday’ before drifting of to sleep.

— @00kittenz @selleprotection @simbabyj @friendlyuser57

i didn’t know how to end this off sorry 💔💔

#lee writes ! ‧₊˚ ୨ ୧ ˚₊#enhypen smut #heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung enhypen #heeseung

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