#hope is not a word i can trust always. sometimes it is very dark.

[dog-girl-zezora]

...

[kisspurins]

hold me tight 𓍯𓂃 𓏧 ♡

୨୧ pairings｜bestfriend! anton x reader

୨୧ wc｜3.3k

୨୧ warnings｜smut with plot，dubcon，mentions drinking，mouth fucking with fingers，spit play (kinda)，size kink，frat boy!anton，fat cock anton，unprotected sex，tongue kissing，thigh riding，praising，crying，dumbification，breeding

you didn't think much of it when anton invited you to his frats house party.

you've known anton since freshman year when you were taller than him and he had a buzz cut from a stupid dare he followed through with the day before school started back. he'd been someone you always took the role of protecting before he grew into his looks and puberty hit him mid sophomore year and suddenly he was towering over you instead. anton has always been sweet but after he joined swimming and left your social circle, slowly that facade became apart of him only you knew and thats what kept you close.

so there was no surprise when he showed up to your dorm room asking if you wanted to be his plus one to his frats yearly welcoming party.

"please the guys always ask about you!" raising up from your bed you give him a look, brows furrowed, "the guys know about me?" without thinking your best friend was nodding, "yeah I talk about you all the time." his sentence came out rushed and when he realized what he just said he stopped his pacing around your room turning to face you.

"not—" "really? what do you tell them?" you interrupted, big smile spreading your face as he stumbled over his words. anton huffed, cheeks tinted a light red when he looked you in the eye. "are you coming or not?" you shrug twisting the strings dangling on your shorts with your finger. "I'll come but you better not leave me."

you should've known better than to trust anton of all people to stick beside you at a party.

the room was hotter than you expected it to be, even with the windows open to let the night air circulate, there was too many sweaty bodies pressing against each other to cool down the room. sometime in the beginning you had already lost sight of anton to some sorority girl, and unlike him, one thing you aren't interested in is sucking up to some people you know you'll never talk to again after college. the red plasic cup in your hand, your second one, is empty from your nervous sipping, leaving your head cloudy and vision blurry. and the flashing lights made everything 10x worse for your headache, not to mention how impossible it is to find anton like this.

you remember how much you hate being a lightweight while you sloppily stumble through the crowd. you pushed yourself down the hallway, hands pressed into the wall while you made your way further down to antons room. you weren't very familiar with frat parties since you decided against joining in on the weekly mixers after a one night stand you couldn't remember, but you did know your way around antons frat house. hes sneaked you in a couple times while his friends were out claiming "if they saw a pretty girl like you, they would ravage you." and you didn't fight him on it.

you're two seconds away from almost throwing yourself into anton's door when it opens, flinging you to collide against someones hard chest. "I'm soooo sorry!" you gapsed, hands reaching to feel on the person who protected your fall, "I was just about to come find you."

pausing for a moment you look up, giggling when you notice you're feeling up on anton. "there you aree! you got so big tonieee?" "you're drunk already? I barely left you alone."

If you were sober you would've recognized the worry in his voice, but all you can think about now is how sweet it is, like he uses the most gentle tone he has only for you. “Its been half an hour dummy…” you trailed off, "left me alone for that long!"

“I'm sorry angel.”

“It's okayy!"

you catch the "angel" too late. eyes fluttering up at him while you melt into his arms wrapped securely around your waist, hoping he couldn’t tell in the dark entryway how that one word made you feel so gushy.

"gonna take you inside okay?" you nod to his words. there wasn’t much space between you two at all, the tips of your feet only a few inches apart. anton sat you on his bed, running to turn on his lamp instead of the big light because you were already having trouble focusing. across from you, anton leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. It was easy to look at him. he was so enamoring. everything about him was all consuming.

"how many drinks did you have? do you want water to sober you up?"

you shake your head no, leaning back to snuggle up in his bed. "m fine right here." anton doesn't protest, just hums before he's walking up to you and slipping in the empty space next to you. purposely laying on the edge so you can't fall if you were to drunkenly roll over. "can I hold you?" he asks, voice light and clear, "you don't need to say yes if you don't want to right now." you consider, thinking about giggling at anton and wrapping yourself up in his embrace, becoming another one of his easy girls he can cross off a list. but you also think about how you've been friends with anton this long and hes never been a bad guy. how you know for sure he wouldn't hurt you, or use and leave you. "okay but you have to hold me tight."

anton hummed in response again then his strong arms were holding you to his chest. you feel the vibrations from him talking on your back and it's enough that it almost rocked you right to sleep. "what happened to the girl?" you asked, sudden curiosity peaking your interest. "she wanted to get high and have a quick fuck." you peeked over your shoulder when he spoke, his words lingering for a bit. you didn't know what to say to that. sorry? oh cool? you rake your head for something, anything, but anton was already clearing his throat, "I stopped smoking." "oh" "yeah"

you two didn't speak anymore after that. your head stayed drifting from the alcohol and anton just held you like this was natural for him and it probably was. he was so warm you could practically feel the heat radiating off his body making you unbelievably sticky. and maybe the alcohol was making your talk so bold, you spoke without realizing. "can I take off this dress? it's so hot tonie." you whined a little shuffling around. anton pressed his fingers deep into your hips stopping your movements, "will you chill out?" he asked between gritted teeth. "why?" you teased, quickly forgetting all about the stickiness you felt. "gonna pop a boner over this?" you said swiveling your hips making sure to directly press against his crotch more. "you're drunk yn," he hissed, "you don't know the things I'm capable of doing to you."

"what're you gonna do? take advantage of me?" anton’s eyes are dark as he listens to you, hands already working to flip you over. face to face with him now, your confidence slips. "what—what are you doing tonie?" his hands sneak up to cup your face, one of his thumbs caressing across your cheek. "shhh it'll be okay. don't you trust me?" you've never doubted anton.

the thumb caressing your cheek inches its way to your lips and instinctively your mouth drops open for him. "awww, been waiting for me?” you whine when he teases and doesn't press his thumb on your tongue like you wanted. "don't you have manners baby?" you whimper at his words. his voice is so much deeper then you were used to, sharp and assertive. "please tonieee... need your fingers please please?"

anton knows in the morning you'll be scared and confused waking up naked next to him. the thought of your wide teary eyes while you try to remember what you did last night, it turned him on. being able to have you like this was a rare opportunity and what kind of friend would he be not to take care of you when you're begging for him so much?

"you're such a good girl. the sweetest girl ever." your face lights up when anton is sweet, eyes practically sparkling when you stick out your tongue waiting for him.

anton caresses your cheek again, this time pushing his thumb to glide over your top lip knowing you would get more impatient waiting. your mouth is warm and pretty, so delicate hes afraid he'll break you when he presses his thumb on your tongue and you gag just from the touch. his heartbeat is loud in his ears as he watches you resisting the urge to wrap your lips around him. "fuck," he gasps pushing further back and your eyes get watery. "go ahead baby."

immediately you're wrapping your lips around his thumb humming in satisfaction. your tongue swirls around his finger and anton swears he can feel his dick twitching. and just to be mean, he pulls out his finger. you whine in protest, head falling forward a little to chase after him and before you can vocalize your feelings, anton's pushing his index and middle finger back past your pretty lips. he almost forgets theres still a party going on just a few doors down, indecent noises of suction blocking out the faded music in the background.

"you're so perfect," anton breathes out, starting to fuck your mouth open with his fingers. spit starts leaking at the corner of your mouth, dripping onto his wrist. you're so shameless when your mouth is full, eyes closed and hips bucking. anton can't stop himself from commenting. "all this time all i had to do to shut you up was stuff your mouth?" you're too hypnotised by the feel of his fingers going in and out of your mouth to register anything he says.

"come on baby," anton mumbles pulling out his fingers as slow as possible and still you break out into a fit of tears, breathing hard and pulling for his hand again. "wh—what! no! no no tonie please!" "shhh don't have to make this hard." he coos to try to calm you down. It works for a second but then you're crying again shuffling closer to him.

"don't be a crybaby. I promise I'm gonna take care of you, pretty." anton says, hands working down your body to grope your ass. you whine when he squeezes, teary eyes focusing up at him. "not a crybaby! you're just so—" your words get stuck in your throat when he inches your dress up, "mhm?" "so mean." you huff and he laughs, hands gripping your ass again. "always wanted to do this to you.." your thighs clench together when he says that and like he expected it, he was prying them open with this thigh replacing the space himself.

"ton.." you drag out, your hips unconsciously moving slowly on his thigh. anton was quick to catch the hint, lifting his leg up a bit more to give you more friction as you grind harder, your body moving on it’s own as you ramble incoherently. “I know baby, couldn't help yourself. just a dumb little thing huh?" you shake your head no, hands trembling when you reach up to pull his head closer to you. "kiss me please?" you glance from his lips to his eyes, hips starting to stutter when you make eye contact and he licks his lips, "please—please kiss me.." "you sure?" you nod eagerly closing your eyes.

the longer the wait the more your heart races. something about this situation makes you feel desperate and mushy. you've never wanted so bad for someone to kiss you and the fact that its anton makes things harder, you can barely think of anything besides how this feels so intimate. his hands move to brush your hair away from your face softly, a touch that usually doesn't affect you but then he starts tucking your stray hairs behind your ears and your heart is fluttering. he listlessly leans forward, gently pressing his lips onto yours with a light pressure. your heart skips a beat with the realisation that your best friend is kissing you on the lips. you forget all about your achy cunt when kissing him, his lips so soft and pillowy you feel yourself getting dumb.

everything feels like it’s spinning when anton slips his tongue into your mouth, trying to focus on syncing up but its hard when it feels so foreign and it makes you foggy thinking about him tasting the alcohol off your tongue. naturally, you let him take the pace and your mouths get more accustomed to one another and it makes you wonder what was so hard about this at first. the kiss is so slow and overwhelming, tongues twisting together while spit drips from the corner of your mouth. you don't notice when hes pushing himself over you, fingers hooking under the thin strap of your panties.

"knew you wanted this," anton laughed, hand dropping down to cup your cunt. "poor girl is leaking everywhere." you whinced at his words, your knees trying to knock together to squeeze and keep him there. "don't be mean" you can hear anton let out a breath before he's prying your legs open and giving your cunt a little tap. "don't do that anymore." your lip tuts out at his harsh tone. when he gets stern like that its a little scary and you can feel every fiber in your being aching to obey him. blinking up at him, you mumble a little “sorry” and let him touch you.

anton moves slowly, sliding his finger up to your swollen clit and circling it through your panties. there’s an intense amount of heat surging between you two. the way you’re positioned with him, his large frame caging you between the bed and his hand that pushes into you doesn’t help anything. you can feel yourself get more slick the more he puts pressure on your clit. "please.. need more ton,"

he hums, letting his fingers slip under your panties, now directly pressing on your nub. your back arches off the bed waiting for him to do more and he lets you get caught up. "tonie..” you whimper. he looks up from your cunt and hes so pretty your thighs twitch. “mhm?” "take clothes off please? so hot.." as soon as you utter the words, your eyes were trailing to the side, embarrassment settling in your chest.

"you're so smart baby." he says withdrawing his fingers. you stay still in your position, watching his every movement. anton is teasing when he lifts his shirt over his head, arms flexing so much it makes your mouth watery. you try to follow him, fumbling to pull off your dress in a rush while he's taking off his pants. you're moving slower than you thought because when you're done with your dress, anton is moving back in between your legs hands working to slip off your panties. your head is so consumed you just let him manhandle you, eyes fixating on his dick. so girthly and heavy resting on his stomach.

everything moves so fast when hes towering over you again, hand pressing over your tummy while he glides himself up and down your slit.

you always knew anton was big. you've spent so many nights with him, you were used to seeing him in a pair of grey sweats and those leave everything to the imagination. and with the way he talks extra cocky about himself, you had no doubt. but the feeling of his tip pressing to your hole is too much. forcing its way into your snug cunt, you gasp so sweetly, eyes watering while your hole clenches around him. your swollen lips drop into a pretty little "oh!" and he smiles.

“hnng— tonie s’too big! can't!" “you can do it for me, pretty.” his breath is hot against your ear. “I’ll make it fit.”you already feel so cockdrunk, struggling to keep your eyes open as he bullies his fat tip into your sloppy hole. anton's cock twitches so good inside you at the sight. "come on baby, stay with me." he huffs out, too stuck on the way your pussy is spread open so shamefully for him. you moan breathlessly at each push, pussy squelching while he splits you apart. you can't help but to try and squirm away. "ton... too much—" you whimpered, "really can't— ah! ah ah!" anton breaks you off, big arms wrapping around your hips so you can’t run from him. you squeal when he traps you and then he's pulling you down down down onto his thick cock.

“see pretty," he groans, bottoming out in one swift thrust "could take all of me. don't know what you're talking about." your head shakes no, the strech is enough to break you but anton's not stopping till he’s buried in your dripping cunt all the way to the hilt. you can't think. you don't even realize your tongue is sticking out until he pulls out and leans down to suck on it when he pushes back in, his balls smacking against your ass in the process. you're so overwhelmingly full of him, you can't kiss back. letting him suck n pull on the muscle.

drool drips delicately down your mouth at how animalistically he was treating your mouth. no longer sweet and gentle but instead gross and rough. pulling away from you, he smirks as he begins to pull out inch by inch agonizingly slow. "pussy belongs to me now." he hums, cock ramming into you.

the pace he starts up is numbing and makes you delirious. “oh! oh my— oh my god! nnng please!”you can do nothing but lay there and take it as anton edges you closer and closer to cumming. “gonna fill you up.” he whispers, voice raw and dripping with desperation. "need to make you mine. like that pretty? wanna be my girlfriend?" you nod eagerly, "already— already yours t—tonie!" that spurs him on. he increases his pace impossibly, so rough your skin is stinging where his balls smack your ass, fucked out little "ah! ah! ah!" leaving your lips each time his hips hit yours.  "fuck you're so cute,” he trails off dangerously, gaze unfocusing on the creamy white ring forming around his base to look in your eyes, “need you like this forever..”

“yes yes yes, please! forever please please!” hes fully intent on keeping you babbling for him or until you physically couldn't anymore, pulling one of your legs to hang off his shoulder so he can hit impossibly deeper. your eyes go wide when he starts hitting your womb, fingers digging into his arms. "right there! oh! tonie right there!" little yelps leave you, “feel you! feel it s’deep!”

“yeah? right here?” he purrs, tip pressing more into that mushy spot. his eyes are dark and glinting with something predatory as they greedily lock onto the way his cock fucks in and out of you. your body moves with every thrust, headboard knocking into the wall repeatedly you know people can hear it too. anton's thrusts get sloppy when hes close, body leaning over to groan into your ear. "gonna cum baby?" you wrap your arms around his torso to pull him closer, needing to feel his heart beating against yours before pressing your lips to his cheek. "cumming tonie!!"

you cum so hard your body shakes in anton's arms, not registering that he just came inside at this point, too exhausted and cock drunk that all you can feel is anton pulsing inside you. "ton.... s'much— inside so— so much.." you moan softly, words slurring together. sloppy hole quivering at the feeling of being so overfilled. “I know baby,” he whispers, voice light and sweet again. he waits patiently for you to unlatch for him so he can clean you up, not wanting to accidentally trigger you. instead of lessening your grip, you snuggle more into him.

"please just hold me tight?"

© KISSPURINS 2024 ✿

[diazisms]

buck knows it can't be that big of a surprise to anyone, not really. not when he's only ever laughed at the jokes, never corrected anybody. he's half dreading it, telling the team. they're his family. they mean everything in the world to him, but, god, what if they knew. what if they knew all along this part of him that was too dark to look at, the dusty corner of the attic no one ever even shines a flashlight on in fear of what they'll find. it's not that buck decided to shine a flashlight, either. it was more like watching eddie smile at tommy and laugh at his (frankly very unfunny, thanks) joke made the whole room flood with bright, fluorescent light. it was kind of impossible to keep his eyes from drifting to it. to that attraction that was always there, always buzzing just under the surface of his skin.

sometimes he wonders if all the scrapes and cuts and scars, all the time he purposefully threw his body against the asphalt weren't just to get his parents attention. maybe he thought if he could give it a way out, the thrumming would leave and his heart would settle.

he spent an hour this morning and two hours last staring at himself in the mirror, repeating the word over and over and over. he spent the night before last avoiding his reflection altogether, terrified he wouldn't recognize the man looking back.

like it's some shocking revelation, this, and not the slow build of realization that's been coming for as long as he can remember.

and that's the thing, right? because buck can't blame his friends if they all laugh and pat him on the back and say i knew it, because it's not like he was totally unaware either. purposefully ignorant? yes. oblivious, though?

probably not as much as maddie might think.

his plan is to not say anything. to hold the word close to his chest for as long as possible but it's like his friends have fucking phd's in how to read him and his body language, and they're gently poking and prodding and pleading for him to open up.

hen's eyes are brighter than normal and chimney's smile is earnest and bobby's got his 'caring dad' face on and eddie's so beautiful when he smiles at him encouragingly he almost screams.

the words spill out before he can stop them. i'm bi. buck's eyes screw shut.

a hand falls lands on top of his, fingers squeezing. when he looks up, hen is grinning, and, jesus fuck, she looks so proud of him. buck didn't consider that as a possibility. that people would look at him with pride. that they'd thank him for his vulnerability, for trusting them, that he'd get pulled into teary eyed hugs. it's not some sort of new phenomenon — evan buckley assuming the worst — but it catches him off guard more than it usually does.

eddie hangs back. buck feels his absence like someone carved the emptiness out of him. he's on edge, a weird, jittery distance between the two of them for the rest of the shift. buck doesn't run into the fire without gear and let the flames overtake him but it's a near thing. eddie keeps looking at him, though. like there are words he doesn't know how to form and it makes something bubble in his chest. not quite hope because buck's not foolish enough to assume eddie would ever want him like that. the way buck's starting to realize he does.

and, oh god, does he.

but then the day ends and buck's lacing up his sneakers in the locker room and eddie's dressed but he's lingering, checking his watch thirty times in a minute. chimney heads out, pats on their backs, a wink and wide smile in buck's direction. buck gets up, throws his bag over his shoulder.

eddie stutters in his movements like he doesn't know if he's gonna allow himself to follow through with them, but then strong arms are wrapping themselves around buck, holding him so tight it almost feels like he can't breathe.

somehow, inexplicably, it also feels like he's exhaling for the first time.

"i'm proud of you, buck. i love you, you know that?" eddie says as they pull away, words a little awkward with their disuse but so genuine his heart twists painfully in his chest.

yeah, buck wants to say. almost does. but not how i want you to.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 🥴 maybe they’d be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?

(Because I’m in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I haven’t come across anyone with whom I’d like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)

I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this ❤️🕊️

Ghost x FVirgin!Reader Word count: 2,9 k Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink Summary: Reader tells Ghost they’re a virgin while things are about to go down. 

A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet. This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust.  I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have – he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me. I think Simon has a wild side – not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further.  Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience… it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things – with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader ❤️❤️❤️ much love 😘

Simon Riley was a one of a kind man. 

He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him. 

Simon was not only sturdy and mature – he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.

Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.

And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.

Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him. 

After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.

A bedrock. 

With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.

After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.

In real life, things were not that breezy.

Because what would he say if – no, when – you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two? 

What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth? 

It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then… Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.

He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.

Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the same–if not greater–fervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.

And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was. 

He felt safe.

In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects. 

Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?

You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth? 

Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone. 

Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm. 

Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.

Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside. 

.  .  .

Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth – and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time with him.

The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.

"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy. 

You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck. 

"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.

"Don't be. This has been fun." 

He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest. 

"But it's about time I torture you, right?"

Oh God…

Things happen so fast that it’s hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.

He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when it’s time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.

He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant. 

His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him – against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.

The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.

"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. He’s a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.

"Yes," you try to assure him – a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.

"You afraid…?" 

"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.

"Mm. That makes two of us." 

He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient. 

Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this… giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy. 

He’s a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.

"Alright… Come here."

He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. There’s no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide. 

The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power… It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding. 

You feel both lost and found with him. In him.

He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for – and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.

Shit… You need to tell him – and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.

"Simon…?"

"Mm-hm?" 

He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.

"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.

Great… 

Here comes the awkward.

He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.

"Is that so?"

His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.

"Yes…?" 

A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch. 

"Love… Are you sure you want to do this?"

Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.

He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower. 

He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.

"Sweetheart."

His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheart…

"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.

"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.

"Now… listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you don’t wanna do."

You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met… You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal – not until now.

He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.

"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.

I want you.

You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.

"You want it?"

"Yes."

That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

“You want it with me?”

“Yes.”

"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody – and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.

"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.

"Well, in that case…" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."

Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear. 

His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.

"Oh–" 

He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on – you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.

"You like that?"

"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.

"That's it…" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."

You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.

"Simon?"

"Speak your mind, love."

"Are you disappointed…?"

He stops again, a breath away from you. 

"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disa–"

He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he's…ardent, and very, very serious.

"Love, I'm honored."

You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.

"Silly little thing…" 

It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.

You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.

"Look at that… All wet and sweet for me already."

The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is – he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so close…

"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"

The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside. 

Oh God oh God–

You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough… not nearly enough.

"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"

You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen. 

"Yes."

[noroi1000]

Their Neighbor (18+)

Summary: You caught your husband cheating. You had it on tape. You went for comfort to your younger friends, students - Satoru and Suguru.And they've always been in love with you...When they knew your relationship was ruined, they saw an opportunity for them.They offered you to make a sex tape for the three of you, and also to prove that you can have fun too.

Dom Gojo x Sub Reader x Dom Geto

Warnings: Smut (sex tape, oral sex, anal sex, threesome, double penetration), cheating, mention of divorce, Strong words

@getosbigballsack

"What do you think is going on there?"

The dark-haired man looked at the white-haired man who was standing by the window, looking at the lights on in your apartment on the other side of the square.

"Probably her husband started arguing again. I wish this would end already. She'll cry for him again..."

You lived in an apartment building. Where in the middle was a small square with three entrances.

They lived on one side. You and your husband lived across the street.

These were expensive apartments.

Well, you were married to a famous lawyer. He hasn't lost a case in court in several years. It was very bad at first. But over the years, he made it. He started getting rich, that's why you live in an apartment. On the same floor as them.

They are younger. students. However, the Gojo family gave them an apartment so they wouldn't have to live in a dorm or some other bad apartment.

That's why they have a suite.

When they just moved in there, they met your husband. Someone not very nice.

He was busy with work. They also heard rumors that he previously had trust issues with clients because he was a terrible womanizer.

However, he later married to avoid bad talk about him.

You were the housewife. He was working and told you to be at home.

You spent your days peacefully. That's why when you found out that someone new moved in there, you didn't want to be rude.

And you hoped you'd meet them someday.

Once, when you were in the square, you met them. Two young men who have moved in here and are students. A little younger than you. You couldn't forget their eyes when they looked at you. so nice. You thought young people like them would be mean and you wouldn't care.

However, they approached you and started talking to you. Why? Because they once saw you through the window walking beside your husband. Him, still with the phone in his hand. You, you walked beside him in silence. Even if there was love between you, perhaps there is less of it once.

It was just what they thought it was. And they were very observant.

People could believe it or not, but they felt something that you were a very interesting person. You were nice and sweet. You smiled gracefully at them as they offered to carry your groceries from the car to your house.

For your help, you gave them a fruitcake that you baked. You told them you didn't want to throw it away, and your husband said he wouldn't eat the cake because he's allergic to certain fruits. Even though he didn't even know what was there.

That's why you fed your new neighbors. Gojo was very pleased with your baking skills. And you said that since you're married to your husband, you don't have much to do.

You promised them you'd bake them cakes when you had time.

At least they appreciated your work.

You've become more like friends since then.

You spent time together when you all had nothing to do.

Sometimes you visited them, sometimes they visited you. It was connected by mutual emotions. Because you liked each other.

You felt relieved when you spent time with them. Because your husband started ignoring you more and more.

Both they and you noticed that he was coming home from work later and later. Plus, he used to piss you off sometimes. Which just showed he wasn't interested in you anymore.

You came to them once for comfort. Without explicitly showing that you need comfort. You took your husband's favorite cake you had baked and left the house. Just so you don't go to them empty-handed .

And they took you home.

Well, their house wasn't what you expected.

You expected scattered socks and underwear. A bit of a mess.

But they had a nice house.

Compared to your husband's office in yours. There was begging all the time. He made you clean up there, and when you cleaned it up, your husband yelled at you for throwing away some very important papers.

And then he went to "work" because you made him start all over again. And apparently he had a lot more peace in his office than he did at home with you.

According to Gojo, who has passed by his office more than once, he does not need peace in his office. He needs his secretary who is always by his side. During breaks at work, they go out for lunch together, they act like a couple.

Your heart was almost broken when you heard that.

You didn't know why Satoru would lie. He is very observant. Besides, they study near his office. That's why they go there.

You've found out the hard way that your husband has a slutty secretary dressed more like a prostitute than a secretary in a law firm.

You gave your neighbors a lift because you had to go to your husband's. Because he forgot his briefcase from home. So you took them along, by the way, since you were on your way.

And when you got in the car after taking his things, you started to get nervous behind the wheel. When you drove off to park near the school, instead of getting out, they started worrying about you.

They asked what happened to you. And when you told them that they were right that your husband might be cheating on you, they found a chance to win your heart.

Because you were their lovely neighbor. So nice and hurt by her husband every time.

They were already hopelessly in love with you. That's why there was this reaction.

They said that they thought you were much prettier than that secretary.

They made you blush, but their cute and comforting smiles stole your heart.

Young, flirty men are your neighbors.

They are the ones who gave you courage.

When you went to your friend's birthday one day, he installed cameras in the house. To be sure that nothing will happen.

Instead of having fun with your friend all evening perfectly, you just had a good time. You were afraid of catching your husband cheating.

You were trying to have fun. And even after you drank some wine, you texted Satoru and Suguru.

They knew you went to a birthday party. And after you sent them heart stickers, they knew you had something to drink.

Alcohol gives courage. But it also causes stupid behavior.

When you came home, a little drunk from what you did with your friend, you found your husband in bed.

Lucky you didn't take your car to go to your friend's. You came by taxi.

It wasn't that late, but it was already dark.

Out of habit, you looked at the windows of your neighbors apartment.

As always, they were still awake.

You didn't go over to your husband to say hello.

You just saw him lying under the covers and snoring softly.

Alcohol makes you brave, but it also causes stupid behavior...

These cameras were to be installed for at least a few weeks. And then you would review the recordings.

However, the few glasses of wine you drank made you check the recordings from tonight on your laptop.

You've been scrolling through footage from the kitchen, the bathroom, and the madhouse. Nothing new. Just your husband who lies lazily and doesn't have the strength to even get up from the couch to open the door.

But when you saw who came to him in your absence, you had no doubts...

He's cheating on you!

You turned on the bedroom video to see your husband fucking his secretary. In your house. In your bed!

Without wasting time watching the abomination, you took the icy water in the jug and poured it over your sleeping husband, who jumped out of bed as he felt the cold against his skin.

And here is another proof of treason.

He slept naked. There was a condom next to the bed, and there were scratches from his fingernails on his arms.

Can he ever please a woman?

He started screaming and so did you.

You knew the neighbors around would hear anything.

Meanwhile, your friends saw your figure behind the curtain as they looked and the window.

A curtain on which there was a light shadow.

"What do you think is going on there?"

The dark-haired man looked at the white-haired man who was standing by the window, looking at the lights on in your apartment on the other side of the square.

"Probably her husband started arguing again. I wish this would end already. She'll cry for him again..."

"It's not like I don't like being able to comfort her and spend time with her... But I'm sick of this asshole doing this to her. She probably found out he was cheating on her."

Suddenly they saw you open the window and throw his work laptop onto the sidewalk.

Then he started yelling at you.

And when Geto saw how he raised his hand on you, he left the house, running to the opposite entrance to the building.

He started ringing the doorbell quickly and firmly.

Until after a minute, your husband opened it, in a robe.

His skin was wet as he stared at the taller, younger boy.

"We apologize for the noise at night. We need to sort things out..." your husband said.

"Where is (y/n)?" he asked, looking around for him.

"Suguru-kun?"

Your husband turned to glare at you.

Well, before he told you to leave the house, you said you were leaving.

And now you were taking your things that you will need.

Your husband didn't hit you. You hit him. You kicked him in the crotch with all your might. And when he took his laptop to show you the "section of the law" about recording without consent, you threw his laptop out the window, telling him how illegal it is by law to cheat on your spouse.

If you're going to get a divorce, you have the perfect reasons.

And you have even more to get him to let go, and no one took his side during the trial. All the things he said when his mistress was with him? He bribed other lawyers to misdefend their clients! That's what he's famous for!

Plus you have a video of him in your bed with his lover! Who will go to such a lawyer? A lawyer who cheats on his wife?

He divorces because of infidelity! And now he's betraying himself!

You pushed your husband out of the doorway to walk out with your bag in hand.

You'll be back for the rest of your stuff soon.

"Are you okay?" the dark haired man in the bun asked you as he placed his hand on your back, shielding you from your husband's gaze as he stopped behind you.

"Yeah." you replied, breathing to calm yourself down.

As you went up the stairs he took your bag, carrying it for you.

"What happened?"

"He was cheating on me... Just like that..." you said, doing your best to keep your emotions from exploding.

"I'm sorry I asked..."

"That's fine. You were right."

"Where are you going now?"

"I was planning to go to my friend's for the night. I'll think of something else in the morning."

"Come to us."

You stopped and turned to look at him.

"We have quite a lot of space. Therefore, it will not be a problem for you to stay with us. And we also have no problem for you to stay longer."

"Suguru-kun..."

"Come on... We're friends. Besides, your husband will be able to see that you're doing well without him."

His hand pushed your back lightly in encouragement.

You rubbed your eyes because you thought salt water was already gathering there.

"Fine..." You replied, walking right next to him as he led you down the familiar road to their apartment.

"The door is already wide open for you. Entrance always for you."

As you were walking up the stairs, you saw Satoru at the door when it was open.

He waved his hand towards the entrance.

You smiled slightly, rubbing your eyes again.

White-haired hands appeared on your shoulders as you walked inside.

"You can always rely on us. We are at your disposal." he said happily.

They always helped you... And you gave them cake for it...

They were always there for you when you needed them...

That's why you wanted to cry.

Because of what your husband did to you...

What you've been through right now...

Before your neighbors are so sweet and help you...

Suddenly tears appeared on your cheeks and they started to panic.

"He betrayed me... What should I do now? I left the house... I'm going to get a divorce... I want him to have it worse than me... But I'll have to suffer…”

"(y/n), it's not your fault he's a complete asshole. You are cute and kind. The fact that he did it just shows what a son of a bitch he is. He had the best wife in the world, and he did it anyway. We would never do that to you." Satoru's fingers brushed your cheeks before blushing a little, you clung to his chest, snuggling against him.

He bent down to pick you up and took you to the couch.

You sat sideways on his lap, cuddling up to him.

Your calves were placed on Suguru's thighs as he sat down next to his friend.

"We'll help you plan what to do next. For him to regret. Did you catch him?" Suguru asked.

"Cameras in house..." you moaned softly as your face was buried in white man's chest.

"Do you have cameras oh! A sex tape about cheating..." the white-haired man muttered. "Do you have it? We can use it somehow."

You pointed to the bag with your things.

Geto reached over to pull out your laptop. And after a very short time of searching, he turned on the video that was there.

You turned away because you didn't want to see it.

"Fake orgasm." White Hair said at one point as he saw your husband's secretary squirm beneath him.

You might have guessed some strange comments...

Suguru sat silently and watched.

"Oh fuck, he has a bush... Was he even able to please you? Our dicks are bigger!" He said rubbing your back. "He doesn't know what a shaver is? Holy shit, such hair even on the balls is probably like nettles..."

You wanted to laugh at his comment.

"I haven't been in bed with him in two months." you said as your cheek rested against his shoulder.

"Admit it, all sex with him is fake orgasms."

"...Actually, most of the time..." You replied.

Geto laughed.

"Eeewww, man no... Tie it at least... Bleh... Who sane doesn't tie condoms when they take them off?! I can't look at this... He can't do anything before sex, during sex and after sex..."

"And now he'll probably go to sleep." The dark-haired man chuckled.

They both looked at the video.

Your husband suddenly lay down on the bed under the covers and fell asleep.

"He did." he laughed.

"Your husband is pussy..."

You looked at Satoru's mouth as he spoke.

Has he always had a mouth like that? So tempting?

You looked away not to think about it.

"We may share this to damage his reputation at work."

You looked at the dark haired man with your laptop on your lap.

You will have no consequences.

There are a lot of porn videos on the internet.

Revenge on your husband?

Yeah.

"Do it..." you said calmly.

Your eyes are slightly red from the tears you shed earlier.

"Are you sure?" he asked with a smile.

"Yeah."

Without much thought, the dark-haired man uploaded the video to a website and shared it.

Soon this video will also reach your husband. Many people in the city will recognize him.

That your husband will be embarrassed is a little comforting.

However, that didn't change anything in your shattered heart.

You loved your husband. Even though it was less and less as the weeks went by, you still tried to love him.

And now you've lost your husband. You're going to get a divorce for sure, and you have no one to comfort you except them.

However, you are very happy to have them. Because they as your friends and your neighbors knew a lot about you. And they were able to take care of your well-being.

Your legs were on one of Suguru's thighs as he closed the laptop and put it back in your bag.

"How long ago did you have good sex?" Gojo asked suddenly.

You looked at him blushing.

"Because you know... Sex will give you some relief."

"Satoru-kun...?"

"It's not like I'm suggesting you start fuck guys you like."

"What Satoru means is that good sex will de-stress you. But if you do it with just anyone, you'll ruin your reputation, and your husband will be in a winning position when he finds out."

With Suguru's explanation, it makes a little more sense now...

"We don't want him to feel good about you being outraged that he had sex. So why don't you do the same?"

You looked questioningly at Suguru.

They acted like they were reading each other's minds, and they both meant the same thing.

"You can make a sex tape, and in order not to give your husband the satisfaction of your unpleasantness in life, you can show him how good you felt at the time."

Her eyes widened and you blushed.

"...I don't know if that's a good idea... Besides... I'm not going to find a single guy who's going to make a sex tape for me..."

"Maybe there won't be one. But there are already two." Satoru pointed at both of them with his thumbs.

You suddenly got off his lap.

"Hold on... Are you serious? Or just joking?" You raised your hands almost defensively.

Defense against their prank? Or defense against their true words?

"Why should we be joking?" Geto muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Y-You..."

"If you want to make a sex tape, we are at your disposal."

You looked at the white haired boy's slight smile.

They're not joking...

Are they really asking you to make a sex tape with them?

Do they like you at all?

Since your husband preferred his secretary, maybe that's the problem with you?

"No rush. We don't have to do this if you don't want to. However, remember us if you ever need a break from it all."

"Suguru is right. You don't have to agree, but if you change your mind, we'll be waiting for you. We've been waiting since we first met."

You widened your eyes as he said that.

They've been waiting for you since you first met?

Does it mean what you think?

Have they fallen in love with you?

Or maybe they just want to fuck you?

No... If that's all they wanted, they'd have tried to do it from the start... It's something else... They're always there when you need them. They do everything for you...

Even now they offer you something to forget what happened.

And later so you can show your husband that you had even more fun than you did with him.

"Are you really serious?"

"Yeah."

"...I want to do it..."

You said, convincing yourself to be firm with your words.

They told you that you'd need lube if you really wanted to have fun with them.

Even though you were already wet from their foreplay, they convinced you that you would need more.

You were lying on the bed as Suguru's fingers disappeared inside you and he applied lubricant all over your pussy.

Satoru was standing next to him. Hand on his cock under his boxers while he held the camera in the other hand to zoom in on his friend's work on your pussy.

You moaned as you watched them do whatever they wanted to your body.

At first, they had to convince you that you turned them on. Because you're older and have a husband. And they are students. So you thought they might prefer college girls.

But they started taking your clothes off, kissing you and touching you. To rub against you.

Squeeze your soft breasts and buttocks.

Slightly rocking your hips and their penises underneath your pants rubbing against your body in an erotic way.

You blushed when you saw them shirtless. So muscular... It was really sexy...

"Did you set up the camera correctly?" The dark haired man asked as he looked at the white haired man's smile.

"And what do you think?" he asked as his hand tightened slightly at his length.

The dark-haired man looked at him silently with a small smile, and then he took one of the closed condoms and slowly tore the foil, wrapping it around his thick shaft.

You were staring at the erotic scene in front of you.

Are you really going to fuck your neighbors?

You're their haunted neighbor... Should you?

You have a husband...

Fuck your husband! You hate him! And they want to do it with you! If they didn't want to, they wouldn't be so horny... Right?

You want to do it with them... You like them so much... And if they say they've been waiting for you... For now...

Suddenly you felt a movement on your finger. And you watched as Satoru's fingers take your wedding ring off his finger.

"You don't need that." He chuckled as he tossed the gold ring over his shoulder onto the floor.

It fell somewhere in the room and you doubt you'll find it soon.

He walked over to the camera stand he was holding and mounted it there, perfectly aimed at you.

You looked at the lens, seeing a red light that indicates that the camera is recording.

Suguru spread your thighs tighter as he massaged the length with his wet hand, adjusting the condom a bit so it wouldn't fall off for sure.

You felt the bed sag beside you and looked at White Hair's thigh next to your head as he sat up.

Smiling, he lifted your arms, placing your head on his thigh.

And your hand reached out to start massaging the smooth skin on his shaft.

As you focused on White Hair's hand on your chest, you felt Suguru nudge your entrance. And you let out a calming exhale to let your body relax.

What was about to happen is just beginning...

His fingers guided the tip into your pussy mouth, feeling the tight warmth around it.

He hummed as he thrust deeper into you.

Now you understand why he gave you lube... Even though you were so wet, you could have guessed that they would be afraid that you couldn't make it.

Because even without comparing their dicks, you understand their difference. Satoru is longer and Suguru is wider... But they're both big... Satoru is wide  enough anyway. And Suguru is so long.

Even though their bodies don't look like their sizes are off scale. They are just big men.

And from the beginning they exuded the energy of a big dick...

And now you will feel their big cocks on your body...

You arched your back as you felt his hips touch yours.

After a while, his hips began to move, and you felt him slide on the wetness inside.

And the tip of Satoru appeared at your mouth as he encouraged you to part your lips for him.

Once you realized that with Suguru's thrusts you would need to silence his moans, you opened your mouth for him, listening to him purr from the warmth of your tongue.

The tip and piece of his cock in your mouth, sending pleasant vibrations to his veined skin from the moans you pour from your throat.

And all because the wide cock of one of your neighbors is getting stuck in your pussy.

You were as tight as he thought...

"You should try that pussy later too, Satoru... So tight and willing..." He moaned to his friend, while Satoru enjoyed your warm lips.

He pressed himself closer to you, staying in place for a moment. And your legs trembled from feeling too full.

Everything is clearly visible on the camera.

A dick disappearing inside you, a dick in your mouth.

Their hands on your body.

Oh yeah, it's gonna be a great sex tape for them.

Perfect shots so they can watch it later.

As Gojo entered your mouth more, Geto's hips sped up, hitting your body harder.

The saliva in your mouth spilled onto your cheek as he kept his hand on your head, moving you along his length. His fingers collected your saliva from your cheek.

They smiled at each other before Gojo looked at the camera, sending the same smile as he held it to your lips.

As his friend's thrusts grew stronger, he pulled the tip out of your mouth before you could bite him.

Your jaw clenched as you suppressed moans by closing your mouth.

They laughed when they saw your face.

Your hands gripped Satoru's body as you sought some support to hold on to.

"You're sweet..." the white-haired man muttered. He grabbed your hands, holding you as you needed.

Who would have thought that one dick could make you such a mess...

They were curious how you would take two dicks.

The way his cock was wide was indescribable... You felt pressure on your G-spot as he moved. He stretched you so that his shaft pressed into your most sensitive places.

Satoru's hand reached between your legs, his fingers dancing over your clit.

And the white haired man's fingers let go as he saw his friend's frown as you trembled beneath him, clenching on him as orgasm washed over your body.

He left your walls looking at the mess your pussy has become.

"It's the first time you had an orgasm like this?" he asked with a small smile.

Your body reacted just like that.

Your husband probably couldn't please you so much.

"You promised me her pussy. Then give it to me." The white-haired man chuckled as he released your hands and Suguru lifted your body to turn you around.

The next time you opened your slightly watery eyes, you were lying on Satoru's chest.

As his tip insistently rubs against your entrance.

"I will do it raw. Suguru, take off the condom. Let's go on her raw."

They both laughed, and the dark haired man tugged on the rubber on his penis to take it off.

While he was at it, Satoru thrust into you, his tip kissing your deepest parts.

"The feeling without the condom is so much better..." he murmured as he felt your walls tighten around him. "Suguru... Let's do this..."

You heard a bottle and splashing. And then a big drop of something cold on your ass.

Two fingers stretching you. A little discomfort neutralized by the pleasant feeling of the cock inside you.

And the next moment, as you lay on his chest, you felt something much wider stretching your ass.

And its length slowly and gently pushes into your prepared ass.

Your body still and trembling when you couldn't move. Tears streaming from your eyes as you felt excessive feelings in your lower body.

Satoru's hands stroke your back reassuringly as you swing your hips out for them to give them more access.

For your and their pleasure.

They show you that they are so much better than your husband. In everything that can be.

"Our sex tape could be a lot longer than that, right? Baby? Let's have a nice fun~."

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 10 Wheee this one is slightly over 2k words. I hope you enjoy it half as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also I'm still shit at spelling, you're welcome to point out mistakes to me. We've come to the day of the concert. Also! When Simon thinks of you as "little" it is a reference to your height compared to him, your weight does not matter. If he's taller than you, then you're little to him. I don't make the rules. Warnings: Simon on a motorcycle, yearning, you two need a warning in general Part 9 | COD Masterlist | (Part 11)

The next time Simon is graced with your company outside of the shop is the day of the concert.

He already told you that he’d come and get you on his bike and your eyes had sparkled with excitement. It was rather surprising, that little shy you would be so excited at the prospect of riding on his bike with him but he’d rather take that than you being unhappy with it.

He arrives at your place and before he can get in his head over how he should greet you he takes off his helmet and gloves, shooting you a quick text that he’s there (heck yeah, he secured your number, doesn’t matter that it was for the sake of organizing going to the concert).

The entrance door to your home opens and Simon catches a glimpse of you. Clearly you’re explaining to Wraith that he’ll have to stay at home and he can’t help but grin triumphantly. You trust him enough to go somewhere without your mutt. He’ll be your guard dog instead (if only you’d put a collar with your name on him).

Finally you turn to him and close the door behind yourself. You brush invisible dust off your clothes, the gesture awkward and self-conscious. He prays you don’t feel how heavy his gaze is when he lets it drag across your figure. Goddamn he’d never have expected you to dress up like that. But man, is he glad he gets to witness it.

You’re so precious and pretty, no matter what you wear but he finds a part of him hoping you didn’t just dress up for the concert but maybe a little bit for him too (please). You’re so beautiful you outshine the goddamn sun. No, wait, that phrase doesn’t suit you.

You’re no sun, no bright blinding light and he doubts you’d want to be that.

You’re a moon, he decides. His own personal moon. Silently reflecting the light of day at him, comforting him in the darkness.  Inoffensive and distant (he’ll find a way to get closer). He doesn’t need to shield his eyes from your brightness for you are not blinding. You are awe inspiring. Someone that silently waits to be admired and doesn’t demand attention (though he suspects you’re no fan of attention either way).

Sometimes you’re fully yourself, sometimes hiding behind clouds and sometimes invisible altogether. Simon will always find you though. Even on a new moons night. Even when you don’t want to be found. Now that he’s caught sight of the full moon he won’t live with only seeing it once a month (or rather only seeing you twice a week for a few minutes in his shop).

When he takes in your appearance again a soft smile settles on his face and he finds himself thankful for his mask for hiding the stupid lovesick expression he’s wearing.

You stop before him and tilt your head up at him. God he really could just snatch your small form up and keep you with him forever. The way you’re clutching your phone in your hands abruptly catches his attention. He wonders what that is about.

“Hi, sweetheart.”, he murmurs and you nod, still clenching your hands around your phone. Suddenly concern overcomes him. Did you change your mind? Did something happen?

“Talk to me, sweets…”, he implores gently, nodding in the direction of your phone, thankful that no one can hear how soft his voice is. Only for you.

You look up at him, your eyes flickering with something he can’t exactly pinpoint. “I want…”, you begin and your voice fails you. It reminds Simon of the first times you interacted and suddenly he’s very aware of what a difference your dog makes.

With Wraith by your side you barely hesitated to speak your mind, but now that you’re alone with Simon it feels like all the progress you two made has gone down the drain. One day, he’ll travel to the dark side of the moon and uncover its secrets but until then he’ll merely try to help you not to wane.

“What do you want?”, he encourages and gathers his own courage to put his index finger under your chin when you look down again. The way he lifts your chin is tender, as if he’s afraid of breaking you if he handles you too roughly (he is, something has broken you before, he suspects, and he refuses to add to old wounds). “You can tell me.”

Your eyes meet his and you swallow and square your shoulders as if preparing for battle. “I would like to send my friend your phone number and a picture of you as well as where we’re going.”, you say slightly shaky.

Simon’s hand falls from your face and he grows still. Very still. Suddenly he feels cold. He can see you shuffling your feet in place.

“You… Want me to let you take a picture of my face?”, he asks slowly and you look down, your shoulders hunching slightly. If he wasn’t so stumped he’d try to comfort you but his own heart starts racing.

“I trust you…”, you begin. “I do. But we’ve only really met one time and I am about to climb onto your bike with you and it would make me feel a lot more comfortable if my friend had… something in case … in case…” You don’t finish the sentence.

The air grows tense around you two as Simon regards your hunched over form. Is this your deal breaker? Will you not come with him if he says no? Does he want to say no? What would happen if he let you take a picture of his face? The thought makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

The way you’re withering under his gaze is more than enough proof of how uncomfortable you are too. And despite his own discomfort Simon doesn’t want you to feel like you have to hide from him.

“How about a deal, sweetheart?”, he asks slowly, trying to break through the tension.

Your eyes snap back up to his, wide in surprise at the fact that he doesn’t immediately dismiss you. You nod jerkily.

“No picture.”, he says and he swears you nearly flinch drawing even more into yourself. His hand finds your chin again, making you meet his eyes again. The touch comforting and warm, trying to convince you without words that he is not upset at your request.

 He needs you to see his eyes, he needs you to see that he means it when he continues. “You can send her my number and my address, hell, I’ll let you send her a picture of my ID.  Anything you need to be comfortable, sweetheart. Anything, just… no picture of my face.”

The way your eyes are searching his make him swallow and he wonders if this is where he loses the bit of trust you’ve started putting into him.

“Your license plate…”, you mumble. Cautiously your own hand comes up to cup his that ensures that you’re meeting his gaze.

“No picture of your face, Simon.” He can hear you take a deep breath. “I’ll send her your address and pictures of your bike’s plate.”

Something in his chest splinters at that, something rotten and ugly. Something he didn’t know was still there. It crumbles and suddenly he breathes easier. How come he wasn’t aware that he didn’t have to fight for his comfort? That the two of you would find a compromise this easily?

Just like that the tension is gone, something warm and soothing settling around Simon’s heart. Why does something so small make him so happy?

He studies your face, the way he can feel your skin against his fingers and suddenly without thinking his thumb raises to touch your lower lip.

Torturously slow the pad of his thumb glides over it. The gesture is subconscious, a thank you, a need to feel something more of you. His throat is awfully dry when he swallows, eyes fixed on your lips. “Yeah, sweetheart. Of course. Thank you.”

The expression in your eyes is unreadable and you seem just as caught in the moment as he is. You go to say something, your tongue darting out to wet your own lips, catching his thumb in the process.

He inhales sharply, freezing once again. His thumb remains on your lower lip, soft and inviting. It’s probably creepy, the way he stares at your mouth, but he can’t help it, not when every part of his body screams at him to touch you more to take you in his arms and lay some sort of claim on you. Kiss and bite and nip on your lips so everyone can see that you belong to someone. Belong to him (you don’t though, you don’t belong to him, yet).

Simon tries to be courteous and respectful so before he does anything stupid he closes his eyes tightly, praying that you don’t feel the subtle shudder that runs through him at the feel of your tongue on his skin.

It’s hard to imagine what you’re thinking when he’s like this, utterly frozen, eyes closed tightly, his eyebrows furrowed. The hand that’s holding his squeezes slightly.

“Simon?” Your sweet voice rings out and he slowly blinks his eyes open. Once again he finds himself breathless at the sight of you. He bites his tongue to hold onto the whimper that threatens to spill over his lips when you bring his hand to your cheek and tilt your head into it.

“Hi.” You smile at him and he swears he is a second from throwing all caution to the wind and kissing you. “Where did you go?”

His exhale is shuddering and he withdraws his hand abruptly. The small flicker of hurt across your face makes his heart ache but if he keeps touching you he will lose whatever is left of his mind.

“Just trying to be respectful, sweetheart. I.. you…”, he groans in frustration and decides that it’s wiser to not try to explain himself. He doesn’t miss the small amused smile that settles on your lips at his attempt at explaining himself.

“You can take a picture of the plate now.” Is what he settles for and you nod, having mercy on him and leaving it at that.  

As you take the picture something occurs to him. “I’ll send you a picture of the one of my truck… It wouldn’t make sense if your friend doesn’t have the plates of both.”

The surprise is palpable when you look at him but what he said makes a bright smile break out across your face and Simon suddenly wishes to take a picture of you instead. He wants to always have your smile with him.

Finally it’s time for you to climb onto his bike and he holds out the spare helmet he brought with him (he might have bought gear for you but you didn’t need to know that). Before he can explain anything you’ve already pulled it on and secured the band under your chin.

“Not your first ride?” Simon tugs his own helmet back over his head and meets your eyes.

“Nope.” You pop the p and giddily do a few hops where you’re standing. Even though most of your face is hidden by the helmet he can see the immediate embarrassment that follows the action and he tries to bite back his laugh at the adorableness of it all.

Still the thought of someone else having you on their bike behind them, your arms wrapped around them has an ugly green monster rear its head in his chest. Trying to ignore the feeling he holds out a protective jacket to you and you put it on without questioning where he got one in your size.

One piece after the other he has you put on the protective gear giving you a once over to make sure you’re properly zipped up.

You cock your head at him. “Should I be concerned that you’re so prepared with the gear? How … how well do you drive?”

There’s subtle nervousness again and he chuckles, stepping in front of you while he puts on his own gloves, his movements practiced and unhurried, trying to calm you. He inclines his head, so close his helmet almost touches yours and if he isn’t mistaken he watches you take a deep surprised breath.

“No need to be scared, sweetheart. Just making sure, you’re properly protected. I’m not gonna take any chances with your safety.”

Your head ducks down, breaking the eye contact and your eyes find his legs that are only clad in black jeans.

“What about your safety?”

His grin behind his mask is feral and he’s thankful you can’t see it because it might actually make you concerned for him.

“C’mon. Time to hop on.”, he says, ignoring your question completely.

He easily throws his leg over the bike, sitting down and then holds out a hand to you. Somehow he’s not sure you’ll actually take it. The fact that you didn’t object to riding with him is already surprising enough. You don’t seem like someone who’d be comfortable with this much physical contact.

Easily you slide your hand into his and let him steady you when you carefully climb onto the smaller seat behind him.

“Hold on, sweets.” His voice comes out quietly, intimately and he fights the urge to clear his throat.

He softly takes your wrists in his hands, trying to ignore how small and fragile they feel even with the jacket on, and draws them around his middle. He feels the exact moments you begin holding onto him and it makes him take a deep shaky breath. Thank god he decided to take the bike instead of the truck.

The motor rumbles to life and you tighten your arms around him. Time to show you how good of a guard dog he can be. He’ll make sure you feel safe enough to speak your mind without your other dog around.

[giannan04]

Hiii, can you please write a Yandere San X reader fanfic? Maybe where he’s her therapist and he gets her to break up with her bf because he’s been obsessed with her? 🙏🏽make it dark pleaseee? Tyy in advance

Thanks for the request!💕🫶🏻I hope you like it, I tried to fit everything in the best I could 🥹🫶🏻I hope it’s dark enough for you 👀

-

Pairing: Therapist Yandere! Choi San x afab! Reader, Mention of Jung Wooyoung X afab! Reader

Genre: Yandere; thriller

Warnings: Manipulation, mentions of a toxic relationship, slight smut, character death, very slight gore.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 🔞

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Dr. San Choi's reputation preceded him. He was the therapist everyone seemed to swear by. Patients praised his ability to get results where others failed, and he was known for treating some of the most complex mental health cases in the city. When your relationship with Wooyoung started having problems, your best friend Mingi suggested therapy. You were hesitant at first, but when he specifically recommended Dr. Choi, someone who had worked wonders for him, you decided to give it a try.

“Trust me, San’s the real deal,” Mingi said, leaning in with that serious look he gets when he really means something. “He helped me when I was going through one of the darkest periods in my life. If anyone’s gonna help you figure out what’s going on, it’s him.”

That’s how you found yourself meeting with San in his warmly lit office multiple times a week. From the start, Dr.Choi had a way of making you feel truly heard, like every word you said mattered. He never rushed through sessions and even went as far as canceling other appointments just so you could have more time when you needed it. He never told you that you were wrong, no matter how messy or complicated your relationship issues sounded. Instead, he listened with that same calm, reassuring expression that made you feel understood and validated. Over time, he even gave you his home address, offering to meet there if you ever needed to talk outside of office hours. You didn’t think much of it—you just figured he was incredibly dedicated to his work and to helping you through this tough time.

Over the weeks, San subtly guided you into believing that your relationship was toxic, that Wooyoung was holding you back. He never said it outright; instead, he asked questions that made you second-guess everything. "Do you feel like you're truly happy?" he'd ask, his voice gentle but insistent. "Sometimes, we stay in situations because we're afraid of being alone, not because they're right for us." Little by little, you found yourself reexamining your relationship with Wooyoung.

San’s advice seemed to play on repeat whenever you fought with Wooyoung. The tension between you two had been getting worse for months, with minor disagreements escalating into major arguments. Every time you argued with Wooyoung, you couldn’t shake the feeling that San’s words were right there with you. Even though part of you still hoped things could improve, the truth was hard to ignore: deep down, you knew San was right, there was no saving your relationship. It felt like there was no way to fix what had become broken, despite your hopes that things could somehow get better.

One night, after another argument left you in tears, you found yourself at San's apartment instead of your own. You needed someone to talk to, and San was the first person you could think of. You had caught Wooyoung with another girl, and you didn’t want to be alone. You needed to let everything out. Your heart was broken, and you know the only person you could talk to was San. You hadn't planned on it, but he'd always offered you to come to his place,and before you knew it, there you were, standing outside his front door.

When San opened the door, pleasantly surprised to see you. His brows furrowed as he glanced at his watch. “Y/N? What happened? It’s almost midnight,” he asked, concern replacing the confusion in his eyes as he noticed that you were sobbing. Tears covered your face, and you were so hurt and anxious that you were shaking. San’s heart broke seeing you like that. Without hesitation, his expression softened, and he gently took your trembling hand. “Come in,” he said, his voice soothing as he pulled you into the safety of his home.

You sat on his couch, trying to hold back more tears as you told him everything—how you found Wooyoung with another girl, how you felt like your relationship was falling apart. San listened intently, never taking his eyes off you, nodding with genuine empathy. When you finished, San leaned in closer, brushing a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “You deserve so much better than this, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice low and comforting. “You deserve someone who would never even think of hurting you like that. Someone who truly values you.”

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks at his words and the way his hand lingered on your face, the soft caress sending a warmth through you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. His touch was tender yet firm, making you feel safe; cared for. You haven’t felt that way in a while. You caught your breath as he leaned in just a bit closer, his other hand gently resting on your thigh, as if waiting for your permission. “I can show you what it feels like to be treated right,” he murmured, his gaze darkening with desire. Despite the hesitation you felt at the back of your mind, you couldn’t deny the lust and attraction you felt in that moment. You leaned into his touch, your body responding before your thoughts could catch up.

His lips were dangerously close now, and there was no more space between you. All the tension, all the confusion, all the heartbreak you were feeling—everything faded away as his hands slid further up your skirt, placing his hands on your ass, pulling you into him with a gentle firmness that felt intoxicating. “Let me take care of you, Y/N,” San whispered, his words making your body tingle and heart flutter. And before you could even think to resist, you found yourself nodding, your body betraying you. In your head, you knew this was wrong, but your body felt so right. And you needed, no, deserved to be loved and cared for. It was about damn time.

“I want you, San… I need you. Please, take care of me,” you told him softly, never looking away from his brown almond-shaped eyes. That was all San needed to hear-the very words he had been waiting for since the moment you stepped into his office. San smirked, as he began undressing you with a deliberate slowness, savoring every second. He took in each sight of your beautiful body, pleased that it belonged to him.Before you knew it, he was fucking you right there in his living room, each touch, each kiss, each thrust leaving you wanting more. For the first time in months, Wooyoung and your relationship problems vanished from your mind, replaced by the warm sensation of San's hands on your body, the way he whispered your name like a prayer. The way his dick filled you up, the way he kissed your body was he made love to you.

The only things you were thinking about was how you never wanted San to stop making love to you. And San knew, finally… you belonged to him. San's hands rested possessively on your waist as he thrusted deeper and deeper inside you, your ass slapping against his thighs. You moaned uncontrollably, never wanting him to stop. You wanted to show him he had complete control over you. San’s eyes never left the sight of you, he loved seeing what a slut you could be for him, and how only he could make you feel this way. Smirking, he bent down close to your ear, whispered sweetly to you. "See? You feel it, don't you? How good we are together. You don't need him, Y/N. I'm the one who understands you, who can give you everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. Only I can make you feel this way. You belong to me, and I’m never letting you go."

The next morning, sunlight peeked through the curtains, but the warmth in the living room felt oddly suffocating. You noticed a heavy blanket was draped over your naked body. You must have fallen asleep after what happened last night, so San must’ve brought a blanket out for you. You glanced over and San was still lying beside you, sleeping peacefully. His arm was wrapped tightly around your waist. Yawning, you reached for your phone which was on the floor next to you. You unlocked your phone, and your heart nearly skipped a beat when you saw a text from Wooyoung: I know I fucked up. But I love you. And I want us to work on things. I don’t want to lose you. Let me know when you’re ready to talk.

Your heart fluttered with a sense of hope, but before you could respond to the text, you felt San's eyes boring into you. You looked up at him, not realizing how closely he was watching your every move. You didn’t even hear him wake up. His expression remained calm, but the slight clenching of his jaw told you everything. He was furious. He must’ve seen you open the message on your phone when he woke up.

"Oh. Wooyoung texted me. He wants to fix things," you said, a little too eagerly, not noticing the anger settling into San's expression.

San's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he leaned in to kiss your forehead.

"That's... nice," he murmured, though his voice didn’t reflect that. He actually sounded pissed, but you could tell he wasn’t trying to show it. San stood up, wrapping the blanket around him as he walked towards his bedroom. “I have to get dressed. You can stay here as long as you need, Y/N. I actually have to head out for another appointment, but make yourself at home, alright?"

You nodded. “Okay, thank you,” you said sweetly, ignoring the tension.

San drove in silence, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. He replayed your excitement over Wooyoung's text in his mind, a bitter taste settling on his tongue. How could you be so blind? After everything he had done to get you away from Wooyoung, after showing you what real love felt like, you still had the nerve to be excited about that cheating scumbag reaching out! Pissed off didn’t even begin to describe how San felt. He was so angry his eyes twitched and his hands shook as he drove. He had to do something, he was about to have you all to himself until that mother fucker sent you that text.

His thoughts darkened further as he arrived at the home you shared with Wooyoung. His plan formed in his mind, making him feel only a little better. He knocked on the door, his face wearing the mask of a friendly, concerned therapist. Really, he was the furious therapist who wanted to fuck somebody up.

Wooyoung opened the door, blinking in surprise. "San? Aren't you YIN's therapist?"

San let out a cheerful laugh. "Yeah, I am! My office is getting renovated, so I thought I'd stop by and see how things are going. I know Y/ N's been having a tough time, and I wanted to touch base."

Wooyoung relaxed slightly, shrugging. "She's not here right now, but come in. We can talk about how she's been doing. Ive been wanting to talk to you, anyway. Maybe you can give me some insight."

San stepped inside, carefully observing every detail of the house, the place where you once tried to build a future with someone who never deserved you. They moved throughout the home and as Wooyoung started talking, San could feel his blood boiling but he knew he had to remain calm. Wooyoung would get what he deserved shortly.

Wooyoung led San into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. “Want some?” he asked, holding the bottle up. “No, thank you. I’m just here under professional circumstances” San smiled, watching as Wooyoung shrugged and opened the bottle. “Suit yourself,” he said, taking a sip. San and Wooyoung sat at the table, ready to discuss sessions. Which was what San wanted Wooyoung to think, anyway.

"Ever since she started therapy, it's like she's blowing everything out of proportion.

She's been acting like our problems are way bigger than they actually are, like she's ooking for an excuse to leave. I don't know, man... it feels like she's being pushed into seeing the worst in me." Wooyoung stared long and hard at San.

San's eyes darkened, his smile slipping for just a moment as he watched Wooyoung ramble on. How dare he accuse him of manipulating you? Wooyoung was the one who had been lying to you, hurting you, cheating on you, and who knows what else. Hell, this dick was the whole reason you needed therapy in the first place! And yet here he was, acting like the victim.

"You really think so?" San's voice was low, dangerous. He took a step closer to Wooyoung, who didn't seem to notice the shift in San's tone.

"Yeah, it's like she's-" Wooyoung was cut off by the sudden pressure of San's hand around his neck. Panic flashed in Wooyoung's eyes as he struggled against San’s grip.

“San, what…what the hell are you doing?" Wooyoung croaked, trying to break himself free. He managed to break out of the hold, shoving San back with surprising strength, but San's fury was beyond reason now. The therapist quickly regained control, his movements turning brutal as he rained down punches, each one fueled by the sickening memories of everything Wooyoung had done to hurt you.

"This is for Y/N," San hissed between clenched teeth, his eyes wild as he struck Wooyoung with relentless force. San began to stop on Wooyoung, not caring that his blood was getting thrown into the air.

"For every tear she shed because of you."

Wooyoung's resistance weakened as blood dripped from his split lips and broken nose. San's breaths were ragged as he lifted Wooyoung's head by his hair, glaring into his fading eyes. “Pl-please, man…don’t do this. I love Y/n. I never hurt her that much. Believe me”, Wooyoung tears mixed with the blood covering his face satisfied San beyond reason. “Sorry, but with you gone, Y/n will be happier. If you really loved her, you wouldn’t mind dying.” With a final surge of strength, San twisted his hand, the sickening crack of Wooyoung's neck snapping echoing in the room as he tore his head clean off.

The lifeless expression on Wooyoung's face was frozen in terror as San calmly wiped his hands on a towel he found in the kitchen. The sight of Wooyoung's head dangling by his fingers didn't faze him-in fact, he was feeling a sense of satisfaction

San returned to his apartment, already mentally preparing to tell you to ignore Wooyoung’s text, that he didn’t deserve you. But when he entered his home, he found you pacing the living room, your phone clutched tightly in your hand.

"San, I've been thinking... maybe I should give Wooyoung another chance," you blurted out. You didn't notice how San's entire demeanor shifted, his smile growing unnervingly cold.

"Why would you even consider that, Y/N?" San's voice was sharper than you expected, laced with barely-contained fury. You thought your therapist would’ve been happy for you, that you were ready to work things out. “After everything he's put you through, why would you care? Especially after what we did last night."

His words cut through you like ice. You hadn't anticipated such a strong reaction from him. Your face turned bright red and you avoided his gaze. "I... I don't know. I guess I was just confused. I just wanted to feel loved but I’m in love with Wooyoung, and it’s hard to let go of someone you cared about for so long."

San's eyes narrowed, his patience thinning. "You shouldn't have even cared when he texted you. Do you think that was fair to me? Letting me be the one to comfort you, only to get excited over him? And then you let me fuck you-" His words dripped with venom as his eyes blazed with barely-restrained anger. “You’re a worthless whore. Disgusting… I don’t know how I’m even looking at you right now. I shouldn’t have felt bad for you all of those times you came to my office, crying about him. You deserve to be treated like shit!”, his words dripped with venom, his face turning red as he screamed in your face. Your ears throbbed and you broke down in tears. San was scaring you, and the things he was saying to you hurt.

You took a step back, sobs shaking your body. San... I didn't mean for things to get so complicated… please stop yelling at me, you’re scaring me!,” you put your hands in front of your face, just in case he was going to starting hitting you.

San's expression hardened, and without another word, he grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the living room. "I think it's time I show you something, Y/n.

You nodded, unsure of what he had to show you. For some reason, there was a feeling in your stomach, a gut feeling. Something was off. The unease grew as he led you to a trash bag that was sitting in front of the front door. “What’s that?,” you asked, confused. Why on earth was he showing you a trash bag? Did he want you to take the garbage out?

San laughed, but it wasn’t humorous. With a single swift motion, San tore the trash bag open, revealing the gruesome sight inside.

Wooyoung's severed head stared back at you, lifeless eyes wide open in horror. His olive skin had turn a sickly gray color, and a stench burned your nose. Your breath caught in your throat as you stumbled back, terror freezing you in place. You screamed, your hands covering your eyes as you dropped to the floor. “Why… why would you do this?”, you covered your face, as you choked on snot and tears. Your body shook and between the crying, the smell of rotting flesh, and the sight of the love of your life’s body-less head was all too much. You stared up at San. Someone you trusted with your problems, someone you felt safe with, was a monster. San looked at you, a twisted grin on his face.

"Now, Y/N, tell me... are you still confused about who really cares about you?"

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I’m still taking requests everyone, I’ll write anything🫶🏻❤️

[dyaz-stories]

anywhere else is hollow || Cha Hyun-Su x Reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings & tags: mostly fluff, some angst because it's sweet home, sharing a bed.

first one-shot · previous one-shot

A/N: Third entrance for @neohumanmonster's fandom event! The prompt was: Peaceful Pillowtalk. For context, reader and Hyun-Su were in high school together, reader was only there for a year before going to another high school, and therefore has no knowledge of the bullying which hyun-su was a victim of. this one-shot can be read independently (there's nothing intense plot-wise that requires having read the other parts), but I do recommend reading them for context.

Hyun-Su stays over at your place quite often now. Long gone are the days when he would drop by for no more than a couple of hours and flee the scene, as though he was scared that you spending time with him would make you despise him. Now he helps you out around the house, and, when he offers, the two of you go out on ‘dates’ around the city. It still makes you nervous, being out in the open, but Hyun-Su doesn’t hesitate anymore to take your hand in his and guide you through the empty streets.

When you’re both in your apartment, you can almost tell yourself you’re two college students living together. Almost. If it wasn’t for your blinds being always drawn to ensure no monsters could see you from outside, or your parents’ former room being turned into a laboratory by your dad before his disappearance, the illusion would be close to perfect. You do like the thought of it. Imagining you and Hyun-Su, sharing a place in a world where the Apocalypse hadn’t happened… It would be sweet.

That being said, despite your developing relationship, that you still haven’t put words on, Hyun-Su keeps sleeping on the sofa. You’d prepared a blanket and a pillow, ‘just in case’, in the very beginning, and that is where he still collapses every night. You’ve been waiting, hoping he would ask for another— arrangement, but he hasn’t said anything, and now you’re wondering if you should.

It isn’t always easy, being the one taking all the steps in the relationship. Makes you wonder if you’re pushing too much, too fast, makes you wonder how much he wants it. And yet, if he does want it but doesn’t dare to ask, how stupid would it be to lose that much time, when you never know how long you have?

“Um, Hyun-Su?” you say that night, as you’re about to leave for your room. He looks up at you with these beautiful dark eyes of his. “I was just thinking— you know you don’t have to sleep here, right?”

He blinks at you.

“Do you— are you asking me to leave?” he asks, and you immediately want to slap yourself. A few months ago, you think he’d have been half-way to the door already. Now, he sounds cautious and a little worried, but he doesn’t seem to have jumped to conclusions just yet.

“No,” you sigh, resisting the urge to bang your head against the door frame because, yeah, it makes sense he’d interpret it like that. “No, I just meant you could, uh—” you glance towards your room. “Just meant you have other options. Here. If you— if you want to.”

You don’t know why you’re so nervous all of sudden. You think a part of you cannot forget how beloved Hyun-Su was in high school, while you were— no one. If the world wasn’t ending, you don’t think he would have looked at you twice. So, sometimes, you wonder if he wants you the same way you want him. It doesn’t help that he doesn’t initiate much of your more intimate moments, and isn’t much of a talker in general.

Hyun-Su’s eyes slowly move to the open door to your room, then move back to you, going wide.

“Are you—” His voice cracks. “Are you sure?”

You nod, not really trusting yourself with words right now. You don’t want to sound desperate for affection, but you also don’t want, even for a second, to make it sound like it’s something you’re nonchalant about.

“Okay,” Hyun-Su mumbles. “Okay.”

He gets up from the couch, walks over to the door, where you’re still standing. You’re both quiet when you take his hand in yours and pull him towards the bed. It feels awkward, but you don’t have enough experience with this sort of thing to tell if that’s how it’s supposed to be.

For a while, you just stay laying on your back, staring at the ceiling, with Hyun-Su doing the same thing next to you. The atmosphere feels heavy, your whole body warm and tingling. This is all just so new to you. There have been lots of moments between the two of you, mostly spontaneous, just doing what felt right in the moment. This is different, probably because you asked, and you’re not sure what to do with it.

After a while, you roll over on your side, looking at Hyun-Su’s profile, until he turns his head to look at you. You press your lips together. Your mind is going into overdrive, trying to figure something to say — what do you even say in these circumstances? You’re drawing a blank. At least until Hyun-Su raises a hand and his fingers start slowly tracing your cheekbone, then your jaw.

You feel your breath catching in your throat, and your lips part as you do your best to keep yourself perfectly still. It’s like you’re finally being approached by a shy cat that you’re trying not to scare away.

Gently, he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asks, soft voice echoing in the dark.

Afraid of what? Of him? Of someone who touches you like you’re made of porcelain?

“No,” you answer.

For a while, there’s just the sound of the two of you breathing, and the feeling of his hand on your cheek.

“What if I hurt you?” he asks finally, voice weak and fragile.

“You wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

You swallow. You know he can feel it.

“Yes, I do,” you whisper, and you genuinely believe it to be true.

Hyun-Su’s hand stills. You hear him breathe out, before there’s the sound of rustling and then the feeling of his lips on yours. As usual with him, the kiss is brief and soft, a simple press of his lips against your own. What follows isn’t usual, though, the way he wraps his arms around you and pulls you against his chest, so he can put his chin on top of your head. It has your heart beating erratically, even if it’s not the first time he’s that close to you.

It’s just that that happens mostly when the two of you are kissing. The fact that he’s seeking that kind of closeness without that happening is a whole other kind of intimacy, one that almost makes you shiver.

“Is that okay too?” he checks. “You— said I didn’t need to ask, but…”

“It’s more than okay,” you answer, closing one arm around him however you can. “And I meant it when I said that.”

“I—” A sigh. “I don’t want to impose on you. Sometimes I— I feel like I need you too much.”

It becomes hard to breathe all of a sudden. Hyun-Su isn’t one for that kind of confession, not usually, but you desperately want to hear more. He keeps talking, and you feel his voice rumble through his chest and through you, while he plays with your hair distractedly.

“You’re so— independent. You look like you’re doing so well on your own, here. But it physically hurts to be away from you,” he mumbles into your hair. “But I— know what I am. I never want you to think you can’t— can’t push me away because you’re scared of that— that part of me.”

Your eyes sting, and you hold him a little tighter against you.

“I know who you are, too, Hyun-Su. And I don’t want to push you away.”

“Not now,” he admits. “But if one day—”

“Hyun-Su,” you call softly, trying to get his attention back on you instead of this distant, nebulous future. You live in a world where you may not know tomorrow, where a simple infection could be the end, not to mention the ever looming threat of monsterization taking you over. “I want you here. With me. I promise.”

Finally, you seem to be getting through to him. He relaxes into you, and his breathing turns deeper, more even.

“This feels nice,” he whispers after a while, and you smile against his skin.

“It does.”

You drift into sleep not long after that, you think, and for the first time in forever, you don’t wake throughout the night, startled by the smallest sound.

You just feel safe.

i hope you liked this one! i love developing reader and hyun-su's relationship through small steps, but just to let you know, we're getting closer to some smut taking place 👀 i hope people won't feel let down by that. i do think it would be out of character to write something super intense for them at that point so don't expect anything hardcore, but the 'porn with feelings' tag on ao3 is my shit so if you like that you might find something to enjoy in there! okay i think i'm done with this lil ramble.

Comments, whether here, in the tags or in a reblog, are greatly appreciated! interactions really motivate me and keep me writing :)

next part

[barefoothighlander]

could you do ghost being with someone on the team who’s just so innocent and naive it makes him wonder why they chose the job she has, like her callsign is angel, she puts her hair in braids when she’s allowed to, she puts little bows in her hair sometimes, she’s respectful etc

of course :) here's a quick little drabble I hope it fits what you had in mind

warnings: fluff, description of violence, mention of alcohol, mention of blood

The team got called in around midnight, everyone making their way to the base as quickly as possible, Ghost and you got there around 12:13, your appearances as a stark contrast to each other. He's drenched in black, face hidden from prying eyes behind the skull, looming and feared, you, on the other hand, showed up with your hair pulled back into french braids that ended in small buns behind your ears, a tank top covering your chest that had a small bow sitting between your breasts.

The two of you made your way into the conference room, Ghost finding his usual spot on the back wall while you greeted the team.

"G'mornin Angel" Soap greets, purposely avoiding Ghost's glare while he shamelessly eyes your form, "Little frilly for the field no?" He says pointing toward your top, you playfully push at his shoulder as you find your seats.

Price had given your mission assignments, a small hideout in the States was housing illegal weapons and you had to reclaim them.

You changed into your tactical gear and got into the plane, sitting between Ghost and Soap, fortunately, Soap liked to talk so the ride went quickly, the two of you chatting about your home life, Soap had recently gotten a dog and you were completely jealous, Simon designating your home pet free for the time being.

You landed and got started on the mission, following as Ghost took lead, clearing the building without a hitch while you followed behind, shooting down anyone in your sights. There were a few more enemies than you expected, having to use your knife on a few, effectively covering your gear in blood.

You completed the mission, boarding back onto the plane to return home, Ghost stares at you, the spatter of blood covering your soft cheek, it always confused him, why you decided to join the force, you were so soft, delicate when you were with him, he trusted your capability in the field, your skill saving his life a few times, but off the field, you wouldn't hurt a fly.

Touching down on base you decide to take a shower before going home, not wanting the dirt and blood on you to stain or transfer onto anything. You step out a few minutes later noticing Ghost sitting on one of the benches in the locker room.

"You know you can't be in here"

"Wanted to make sure you were okay"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugs, turning and handing you a bag of clothes, you grab it and begin dressing yourself, brightly coloured sweats tugged onto your body before you cover your chest with a lace-trimmed tank top.

"That's why"

You furrow your brows in question.

"You're just very, innocent"

"Innocent?"

"I've seen you take out a room of men without breaking a sweat yet when we're home, everything is daisies and bows, it confuses me how you can be so kind and warm with a job like this"

You think about his words,

"It confuses me how somehow as nice as you would want to be with someone like me"

"Simon,"

You move forward to hold his face in your hands, a soft smile on your face, "My job is bloody and violent, and that's exactly why I am the way I am, it's nice to be - what'd you call it? Soft - it lets me forget about all the horrible things out in the world"

You reach down to kiss him, "And in regards to you, you aren't a dark person, you're thoughtful, generous, funny" You emphasize each word with a kiss.

"I just don't want them to take advantage of you," He says

"I doubt they'll even try when you're five feet away from me"

He huffs a laugh before the two of you make your way into the hall, greeted by the rest of the 141

"We're all going to the pub, care to join lovebirds"

Ghost grimaces at Soaps term,

"Of course," You say

You spend a few hours in the bar, the men all sipping on variations of whiskey while you sit with some fruity concoction between your hands.

"So what's with the bows," Soap asks, his words slurred

A small huh comes from you,

He gestures his hand in your direction, "Last week, you showed up with wee bows in your hair"

"Oh, um, I just thought they looked nice," You say suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

"They were cute lass"

A small smile creeps onto your face, "Well thank you"

"Can't have them in the field" Price says

"Of course Captain" You nod at him, trying to be serious but a small fit of giggles overtakes you, your laughter transferring to Soap and Gaz as they start laughing.

"I'm serious, your callsign might be Angel but you can't be skipping around on a mission"

You nod at him, feeling Ghost's hand on the small of your back while he leans into you,

"I think it's time we head home," He says, turning to look at the team now getting tired, you nod at him.

"We're gonna head out, see you all tomorrow" Your words are met with boos from Soap and Gaz,

"C'mon lass we've barely started"

"Johnny you're half asleep"

"Am not LT"

You giggle at the exchange, Ghost's arm snaking around your waist before pulling you out,

"G'night Angel!" Soap yells and Ghost lets a small grunt leave his mouth,

"Be nice Simon"

"I'll knock that stupid haircut off his head if he keeps flirting with you"

You laugh at his words, resting your head against his form while the two of you make your way home.

[kairiscorner]

the poll has spoken.

miggy and his feelings for you. (when he catches you smiling because of someone else)

summary: what's the next step after telling someone you like them? usually, stuff like that ends in rejection–but... you didn't reject miguel when he finally expressed how he felt for you. what's next after this? he can only handle his need to love you and declare that you're his and he's yours so much before he... before he breaks.

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader

genre: a bit of angst and fluff 🫂🫂🫂

word count:

a/n: i'm writing this on the date of my blog's second monthsary, HEHE, this is kind of a belated monthsary gift (or early third monthsary gift~~~) for my miguel babes out there, y'all know who you are 🤩 anyway, hope you guys enjoy !!

the rapid palpitations of his heartbeat could still be felt in every fiber of his bones, of his muscles, as he reminisced that moment when he mustered up all the courage he had and breathed out those three, four words he's been dying to utter to you, for you to hear, listen, and sink in your heart as he tells you in such a soft, sentimental tone that he can't help but let out.

"estoy enamorado de ti."

"i'm in love with you, i love you."

he has never been able to recover from the shocks and tingles sent up his spine and tickling the back of his brain every time silence settles in and consumes him. the silence is a perfect, beautiful torment for miguel; because it is the silence that reminds him of how you held him dearly, teased him for his "dramatic", "extra" showcases of affection towards you, and that he remembers every bit of how he feels around you, the love of his life. you've always seen him as a very close friend–like an annoying, overprotective brother at times in the past–but those feelings have thus shifted; and is miguel ever so grateful for that happening.

he's been so scared and lost–like a child who's afraid of the dark wandering in a pitch black room, calling out for help–he was always unsure of what to do with these secret feelings he harbored for you. he thought it'd be better to bury them, to never let you know and take that secret of his to the grave; but he knew he would forever regret that. sometimes, wanting to love and wanting to protect the one you love are two very conflicting ideas–thet don't always end in mutual agreements. and ever since you declared that you reciprocated his feelings and loved him back through your actions and words... he has never felt an even greater need to love and protect you.

miguel's got a new role in your life now, to be the man who will protect and take care of you, ensure you don't go a single day without feeling loved, that you live every day, every hour of your life being as you are–happy and comfortable with yourself, hopefully with the addition of him in the picture. miguel trusts you among everyone else in his whole life–you are the only friend he has that's stuck with him this whole time and still puts up with him, despite his hard-headedness, and does the unthinkable: love him the same way he loves you. he couldn't ask for any more, really, when everything he's ever wanted in life had been granted in the brief moment you two shared when he swore to you he'd work on being such a pain in the ass for you and not be a selfish prick.

he's spent every waking hour searching for you, wanting to hold you close to him in private and smother you with all the love and affection in the multiverse. you have to understand, now, that miguel has never felt this compelled to be with anyone before in his entire life–this is his first time wanting someone with such devotion and affection behind that desire, it's a desire with depth, with genuine emotions; and it sometimes terrifies him. he doesn't know what to do with these feelings, save for acting accordingly to what they compel him to do, so long as it is within bounds of what you want and what you're okay with. however, there are times that those feelings of his get... a bit out of hand, may come off as a bit too strong. there are some things that his feelings compel him to do without him even being able to think of the consequences until it already happened and the damages have already been done.

he feels his heart get pierced by a sharp dagger, he feels like he's getting light-headed as he watches from the monitor on his screen that beautiful, all-too familiar face that he never wants to wake up without seeing as the first person to greet him in the morning, giggle and look so close in proximity with this... random person. miguel swears he's never seen this person before, this person's not a friend of yours he knows about, nor a relative, he can tell that much–they're someone he doesn't know about; a total enigma.

and that scares miguel, because he has no idea just how happy this person makes you.

he feels a twinge of venomous envy strike at his heart, and he feels his pulse quicken a bit when he witnesses the corners of your pretty lips curve up into a smile after that person told you a funny joke, said a nice thing to you today, or... maybe... no way, you wouldn't fall for their flirting, would you? miguel asks lyla to run a background check on the person close to you, and lyla reassures miguel after doing so that this person wouldn't harm you–they were just a 'really close friend of yours'.

"and you're positively certain about that?" miguel asked her as his eyes remained glued on your delightful figure, smiling all the while as this person continued to make you all happy and a little brighter than you seemed before. he hated it. he hated it because some random person was doing his job for him, to make you the happiest you've ever been–but who was he to pry you away from your friends? he loved you and trusted your friends, that he knew of–but this person, he has no idea of who he is–and this frightens him because... he might actually lose you to them, he thinks.

"miguel, i've never heard you use those two words together in one sentence before. you're anxious about something, aren't you?" lyla asks miguel with a curious look on her face, prompting miguel to bare his fangs as he furrowed his eyebrows together and glared at the AI assistant. "just answer me." "alright, grouchy, yes–yes, i'm positively certain this person has no intention of hurting them." lyla replied as miguel placed his palm on his face and rubbed his eyes clean of the frustration he was experiencing right then and there, only for it to return on his face with a scorching heat filling his frame the longer he thought about you smiling around this person.

miguel turned the monitors off and decided to distract himself with some missions, though you never left that spot in his mind and heart once as he fought anomalies and tracked the statuses of other universes. his other teammates believed he was acting pretty strangely whenever he'd go out and fight the anomalies; he'd act more brutal and less cautious than he usually would, bringing the anomaly to the brink of death at one point until peter b and jess had to intervene and contained the anomaly for him.

miguel had to sit the next mission out, and so, he was holed up in his office again, begrudgingly so. "either you tell us what's going on, or you're not coming on anymore missions." "no, that's stupid, i will be going on the next o–" "you're posing as a threat to the anomalies, a lethal one, and that's not like you." jess berated miguel like a mother chiding her son for having a temper tantrum. miguel sighed and leaned his head against his hand, his elbow propped up on the control panel to support his head. jess sighed and peter b entered the room once things cooled down. "hey, so... what's his deal?" "no clue." jess replied to peter b with a shrug as miguel slumped over on his desk, sighing to himself repeatedly as thoughts of you refused to leave his mind.

you were like an endless memory miguel wanted to relive forever, and he never wanted you to leave his mind, actually–but he knew he'd go crazy without properly talking to you about this, but the thought of that alone was killing him right now. he felt so helpless and pathetic, he couldn't even talk to the love of his life about what he was so afraid of... and now, the others had to pick up after his scattered, broken pieces. "what if we have them talk to him?" "with him being in this state? yeah, no, not the best idea." "c'moooon, they're the end all, be all solution to his little slump. i know, because mj is–" "alright, alright, i get it; save your hopeless devotion for mary jane later. call them up now, we need to go on the mission, parker." jess told peter as he smiled and contacted you to come over to miguel's office right then and there, with the very important reminder that miguel was: 'in a terrible slump and needs some love and affection to be cured.'

after a few minutes, miguel heard the doors to his office slide open, and the clacking of a couple of familiar heels were heard; before you could even speak, miguel immediately knew it was you. call it creepy or weird if you want, but miguel can't help but memorize every detail of you, because it's the mere thought of you that keeps him going–but the thought of you... leaving him, that's enough to stop him from even wanting to go on. miguel spoke out your name in a gentle whisper, but afterward, he immediately shied away from you–hiding his face in his hands again as you approached him.

"mig, what's wrong?" you asked him, and the sound of your melodic voice filling his ears made him go mad with affection for you but also ridden with guilt all over again as he remembered just how angry he was at that person making you smile and... at you, for being happy with someone who wasn't even him. of course, that anger towards you fizzled out quickly, but he can't help but feel awful that he can't be fine with letting you be happy with someone who isn't even him. "...nothing's wrong." he lied in a soft grumble. you folded your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow up at him. "right, well, you looking like a sad, droopy-eared dog while hunching your back and burying your face in your palms when i'm not looking is the definition of something being wrong." you pointed out, making miguel bury his face in his hands even more at how right you were. "what are you even doing here?" "peter called me." "that pendejo... well, why'd you agree to come anyway?" he asked you as he turned to look at you with softened eyes, eyes that appeared to be on the brink of sobbing.

you pulled up a chair and sat close to miguel, so close that your knees were touching his own–making him look up at you in surprise. "because you've been avoiding me all week." you remind him, and that very fact made miguel tense up. he gradually turned his head to look at you with an evidently pensive look on his face, which was rare for him since he didn't really show much emotion... except to you, his beloved partner. being his partner gave you the privilege to see all sides of him–the good and bad sides–whether he likes to or not; and having been together with miguel for a while and being his friend for the longest time, you could tell something was wrong. "i'm... sorry, i'm just..." miguel muttered under his breath with a sigh as he rubbed his eyes again with his hand. you gently took his other hand in your own and interlocked hands with him, making him jolt up and turn to look at you in surprise.

you sighed and ran the pad of your thumb over the back of his big hand, thinking of what to tell him as you just held on to him closer and tighter. "is it about my friend?" you asked him softly as miguel tensed up even worse again. miguel's lower lip trembled and he took in a deep breath. "...n-no, why would... well, o-okay, yes, it is. h-how'd you..." "you were always the jealous type, mig." you tell him with a grin as miguel looked down in shame, but you placed your other hand on the side of his face and lifted his head up a bit to look at him. "but, i know you're not like this to hurt them or me. you love me, right? well... i definitely love you, too, unconditionally." you tell him in a whisper as you bring your face closer to his own shy one. you could see the signs that he was getting more and more flustered and embarrassed. "mi vida, i... don't deserve you. who wants such a jealous, overbearing, overprotective guy as their lover? i-if i can't trust them with you, then... can i even trust myself to make you happy?" miguel rambled as he felt his breath getting ragged and his grip around your hand tighten.

you leaned over and kissed miguel's plush lips, effectively answering his question. "yes, miguel–you are trustworthy, you are worthy of having me." you reassured him. you pressed your lips against his again, making him moan gently through your kiss and mumbling your name. "cariño... i'm sorry, still... i'm just... just really jealous, and i... wanna make you the happiest person in the world." he muttered to you, sighing. you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, patting his shoulder and shushing him. "you already do though... miggy, i want nobody but you, you and your sweet, jealous ass." you plant a kiss on the top of his head as you said that, making him even more heated up in the face and shy. "i can assure you, nothing bad's going on between us–they told me a few funny jokes that made me grin, but... i smile even wider when you're being all adorable like this with me. they're just a friend, and you're... the love of my life." you told him with a smile as miguel looked up at you, his hazel brown eyes gazing up at your own and concentrating on your pretty orbs.

"it's okay to be jealous, but... know that in every universe, i'll choose you and only you as my lover. you're perfect, miggy, you're all i want and need." and the minute you tell him all that... he feels his world slowly come together again, and his mood instantly lifting. he gently wrapped his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him, making him lowly sigh in relief. "and you already know i want and need you the most... no soporto estar sin ti amor... i can't live another day not being with you..." he murmured to you as an oath, an oath to not hurt you ever again, to not let his emotions overwhelm him and make you feel forgotten or guilty over something you didn't do, and... an oath to you that he loves you more than anything or anyone he's ever loved before.

he can't stop being jealous on instinct, he'll sometimes get insecure and anxious about himself, but... he loves you, that much, he knows; and you... you love him dearly, too. he just needs you to keep going and to keep feeling worthy and happy; you are enough for him, and he will always, always let you know that you are all he loves and cares about, in his own little and big ways and words–because... you love him like that, he makes you happy like that, and you couldn't ask for more.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

[hornytofugirl]

Let Me Make It Up To You (Ayato x Fem Reader)

cw: minors dni, nsfw, fem!reader, fem!reader x ayato, masturbating, pillow humping, boob play, some dirty talk, creampie

note: my very first smut... be gentle with me lol

word count: 1.7k words

plot: you're home at the kamisato estate, frustrated that ayato will not be at home again due to a late-night meeting at the sangonomiya shrine. you start to touch yourself under the sheets, not knowing that ayato is coming home early due to cancellations

Ayato wasn't going to be home tonight again. This time, he's going to a late-night meeting at the Sangonomiya Shrine, and will have to stay overnight on the island. Sometimes, you ask if you could accompany him on such business trips, but Ayato always gave a sweet, yet tight smile, and said, "No, love. I will always be back." You often open your mouth to argue back and point out that sometimes, he was gone for two weeks at a time, but you could see his eyes darken. No, he wouldn't give you explanations, but you trust him, and he trusts you.

The trust you have in him doesn't diminish the dull ache you feel when you sleep in your bed at the Kamisato estate, the coldness of the sheets a reminder that he wasn't going to come back until... who knows. He did mention tomorrow night, but sometimes, last-minute changes happen, and then he wouldn't be back until another day. You swallow the hope bubbling up in your throat. Don't expect anything. You reach your arm out to where Ayato would be if he was sleeping next to you. It's cold. There's nothing to hold. Of course he isn't here. Why did you even try?

You close your eyes. It's going to be a long night. You feel a tingle below, and you already know what it is. You want him, but he's not here. He's not fucking here. He's not fucking you here.

You slowly trail your hands down into your shorts, your hands cold and clammy. You shut your eyes tight to forget the fact it's you touching yourself, and not Ayato touching you. Your fingers swiftly move back and forth across your clit, and you curl your body up, imagining it was Ayato's long, elegant fingers instead. You quicken the pace of your fingers going back and forth, visualizing Ayato's elegant face, his light blue hair falling over his face as he focused on making you moan his name.

"Ayato... Ah-" You moan softly, your hands feeling warm and wet. You imagine Ayato smiling as he deftly moved his fingers into your folds, whispering, "Ah, the way you moan my name is beautiful. Do it again," and without warning, he shoves his fingers into you, and you instantly feel your walls clamp onto him.

"A-Ayato!" You yelp, thrusting your fingers inside yourself over and over. You try to replicate Ayato's rhythm, his intuition when it comes to you. You swiftly take a pillow and press it between your legs. You start to imagine Ayato holding your hips from behind, ready to put his cock inside. You press the pillow against your clit, imagining that first thrust...

And the lights come on.

Ayato's hands and face fade away. Now, it was just you and the pillow under the blanket.

You feel your face warming up, and not in a good way. You panic and look at the pillow between your legs, and you can see a little wet stain in the middle. Fuck. You swiftly flip the pillow, and you emerge from under the blankets, ready to make a silly excuse to the housekeeper.

The light harshly blinds you, and you immediately squint looking down and trying to locate the housekeeper's dark kimono. However, you see white pants instead. Your heart skips, and you look up.

Ayato's face is staring right back at yours, and his face is unreadable. There's a small smirk that surely shows amusement, but his eyes...

"I've left you at home for too long. Is this what you do when I'm not here?" He asks, his voice calm and still. You freeze. You couldn't tell if he's mad, disappointed, or amused.

"I-I can't help it," you utter, "I miss you. Can I not cope with your absence in my own way?" You feel your eyes fill up with salty, hot tears, and before you could tighten your yukata with embarrassment, he swiftly grabs your wrist and pins you down on the bed.

"I'm not mad at you, love. I'm mad at myself. Let me make it up to you." Ayato says, looking down at you, slowly untying your kimono top. Your cleavage starts to slowly spill, your small, hard nipples popping out.

Before you could say that he doesn't need to make it up to you, he rushes into your chest, and sucks on your nipple. You cover your mouth to stop yourself from screaming with pleasure. He licks your left nipple in a slow circle, squeezing your right boob hard with your right hand. You can feel the hum of your moan vibrating against your hand, and you proceed to press your hand harder to your lips. To have the rest of the estate hearing you moan? Embarrassing.

However, Ayato stops squeezing your tits, takes your hand and has you completely pinned, both of your wrists trapped within his hands. He presses his lips against yours and grinds himself against you, his white suit grinding against your sleepwear. You can feel his cock poking against your thigh and your mind races. Oh god, he's so hard. You moan his name in his mouth, and you fight his hands so that you can wrap yourself all over him, but he holds you firmly in place.

"Like I said, my love, let me make it up to you." Ayato says, his eyes overshadowed with lust.

"You don't need to! It's not your fault-"

"I will make it up to you. Stop talking." Ayato said, his voice cool. He stares at you intently, and you immediately shut your mouth. He swiftly unzips his pants, and quickly grabs both of your small wrists in one hand so that your hands are straight above you, you arms completely up, your whole body naked and vulnerable. Ayato towers over you, covering the light above - his shadow over you.

His warm, hard cock trails within your wet folds, but doesn't quite go inside. You instinctively arch your body up, wanting Ayato's cock inside of you, but he doesn't let you get your way. His dick slips up and down your pussy with ease, his dick slick with your wetness. He moves his hips just so that his wet dick presses against your clit, and you let out a whimper.

"Ayato, please. Go inside me," You beg. You watch as his dick goes up and down, and in every place but the place you want it to be.

"Then look at me, love. Then maybe I'll go in." Ayato replied, "I can't tell if you want me or not if you're just going to look at my cock like that. So, look at me."

You muster up the force to look at Ayato. His eyes pierce right back at yours, and you can feel him thrust into your folds again, this time going faster. You wiggle, but you keep your eyes on him, with the hopes that he'll finally go inside you if you listen to him. But he keeps on moving his slick dick on you instead of inside of you. You feel your body boil with want. You moan, and your hips move wildly, hoping that somehow if you move your hips at just the right angle, he'll accidentally just slip in and proceed to do missionary.

"Please Ayato, stop teasing me-" You moan, and then that's when he thrusts his dick inside.

"Oh, fuck." Ayato groans, and then takes his hands under your ass, and raises your body so that his dick can completely and deeply be inside of you. He thrusts quickly, each thrust opening you up further and further. You wrap your arms around his broad back, your nails digging into his warm, smooth skin. You don't want him to stop. You don't want him to go. You claw and scratch to keep you inside, your walls tightening.

Ayato, noticing your claws, thrusts harder and harder, making your moans choppier as he puts all of his force into his hips. He slips his hands under your back and flips you over so that this time, you can be on top.

However, he wraps his arms around your back so that you would have no way to slip your pussy down into his dick with your hips. You were on top in terms of position, but that was it.

Before you could protest and volunteer to ride him, he thrusts his dick up inside, and you moan instead of speak. Your eyes roll back with pleasure as he proceeds to pull your hair back, your boobs bouncing in his face, his cock still thrusting inside your wet pussy without any sign of stopping.

"You look so pretty with your hair pulled back, taking my cock like this. You're such a good girl," Ayato says, his voice breathy, yet husky from thrusting quickly into you. His words only made you moan louder, you now being conscious of the way you looked. Did you look pretty? You couldn't think - all you could do was feel. All you could do was feel his cock ramming against you, and you can feel yourself tightening to make every thrust more pleasurable for him.

"Oh god. I'm almost there." Ayato mutters, thrusting into you with more fervor. You can almost feel your orgasm coming too, and everything starts to black out. You feel your legs tense, your pussy feeling flashes of pleasure-

"Ayato, cum in me, please!" You scream, and you can hear Ayato moan with satisfaction - with something warm filling up inside you. He cups your ass and makes sure that his cum is lodged all the way up inside you before letting you go. You look behind to see his cum trail out of your pussy, Ayato's cock glistening with your juice and his cum under the bedroom light. You look at him, and you give him a light kiss.

"I think you've made it up to me." You say with a smile. Ayato looks up at you, his eyes now light, and with a relaxed smile.

"I'll cancel my meetings tomorrow. I intend to do more, my love."

[moodymisty]

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝕺𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝕸𝖊

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Author's Note: Part 2! I know it came out kinda fast, but part 3 might take a bit longer since it's a bit more heavy than these first 2 chapters. It will also feature much more of our spooky man than this one has. Either way, I hope you enjoy meeting our stinky little Night Lord.

Summary: A Night Lord becomes interested in you while you stand under the eyes of your Salamander guardian, and you find yourself stuck between two titans.

Relationships: Yandere Salamander/Fem!Reader/Yandere Night Lord

Warnings: Hints of nsfw at points, Yandere, Size differences, Very toxic suffocating relationship(s), Some knight/princess dynamics, Demeaning language, Both these guys have hero complexes, Violence blood and bruises and possibly death to say without spoilers

Word Count: 3446

You need to eat. 

When Ralkan had told you to stay you’d trusted his judgment; Staying put in your quarters. It wasn’t safe for you on your own, not with Night Lords now prowling around. At least in his eyes. You didn’t have enough information to feel either way about it, though you can't say you have no fear of astartes you don't know.

Even when you first came aboard this ship, coming face to face with astartes for the first time- even as their kind faces smiled and they gave you polite dips of their head and welcomed you aboard- you still felt the heart pounding fear of seeing towering warriors on the line between human and something else.

Floating in the vastness of space beside the Flamewrought, Night Lord ships linger around with an unnerving aura you could feel when looking out any of the large viewports. it almost was like the ships were leering, as ridiculous as such a notion sounds.

There wasn’t much you could do in hidden away in your quarters, however. You could only write so much before you could no longer avoid the growling of your stomach, and the way it aches.

You can just go to the mess hall and get something to eat, and rush back to your quarters. It's not as if you have other options in the matter; He surely hadn't expected you to just starve, or get someone to wait on your hand and foot.

You had your fill of that on Terra. You can get your own food, you aren't a child anymore. And this ship is alive and well, you aren't going to let yourself fear some invisible terror in the dark.

Having your fill of hermitry you get up from your desk chair, leaving the small quarters that have been designated as your own. It has only the basics; A bed, a desk and chair, and a few other basics for a human to live. Perhaps it isn't as grandiose as a study in your highrise on Terra, in the shadow of the gilded Imperium palace, but it is far more freeing.

Upon leaving hall was relatively empty; They hadn't felt content to put you in quarters with other baseline humans, but you were still far away from the Salamanders own barracks. You were sure Ralkan had a say in this intentional placement as your guardian.

Down adjacent halls you can sometimes see a hint of dark blue armor pass the corner of your eye as you walk, but by the time you go to look, it’s gone. You've seen glimpses of the Night Lords now that they're aboard the ship, but you've avoided a full confrontation as of yet.

Ralkan's suffocating protection has done a good job of it. However he has his duties and cannot be around you always, and you’ll take the moment to take a deep breath free of him for just a little while.

You would never say you dispised him, but his aggravating behavior has begun to make your quarters feel like a cage. You cant stay in there forever, you have to eat. You doubt he would scold you for such a thing.

When you reach the mess hall you quickly grab a heaping portion of food- anyone who notices pays no heed to the amount- and sit to quickly shovel it all down. It's less than appealing taste is like nothing else now, with how hungry you are, and you find it gone within minutes. Only crumbs are left, and finally you're full again.

You quickly get up and move to shuffle back to your quarters not moments after the last bit of food hits your belly. If you're quick and avoid too many eyes he'll never know, and you two can both continue being sweet on one another with him being none the wiser.

His heart is in the right place; It's just that his grip is far too tight.

Your feet hit the floor at a quick place, walking as fast as you can go. The halls are a bit emptier than they were earlier, but you notice your door is within sight after what feels like only a few minute trek. When you get in, you can continue to write about Commander Artellius, and your time with the Salamanders. Being in travel has made things largely uneventful, other than the edition of the new temporary allies.

You reach towards the door open it, when a voice cuts the air and nearly startles you into to the ceiling.

“Well, what is this?”

The voice is loud, with an odd accent that warps his words ever so slightly. The shadows overtaking you are massive, and they almost seem to have appeared out of nowhere.

Maybe they had been following you. You were too busy staring at your own feet to notice, worried about making it back before a fellow of Ralkan spotted you out and out.

With no other option you turn and look up, gazing over dark blue armor with dents and scratches, marked with brass edging and red accents.

Only one had spoke, but there's three here; The middle is the tallest, but the one to his right is the most scarred; And the one that spoke, judging by the way he's smiling. He's the cockiest one, clearly.

The one in the middle has skin pallid and marked, a massive, jagged scar cutting across the bridge of his nose and brow. You think his irises might be a color, brown or grey, but there’s something in them that almost seems to suck the light out of everything around him and make them almost as black as his hair. But unlike his brother, he's yet to speak a word.

Your hand hovers over the handle of your door, frozen. You've barely even looked to the third Night Lord to your right.

Stuck like prey, you jolt as you spot an armored hand begins to reach towards your face from the corner of your eye, towards your jaw, and you yelp as it clamps around your jawline. Instantly your own hands try to pull at his armored fingers, teeth gritting as he holds far too tight. The cocky one steps a bit closer and turns your face as if examining a curious trinket, before he notices something.

“She’s all bruised,” He says, his thumb shoving your cheek and pushing it.

You were? When Ralkan grabbed you last you saw him he must’ve done so too hard. You can’t feel it hurting, but you are more than used to the smattering of bruises across your skin from him. Even at his most gentle, it’s obvious he isn’t made with it in mind.

You look up at the one gripping you, watching his eyes rake over you. He laughs, a gravely chuckle that you can feel in your chest as his own rumbles. The third one simply watches, body blocking the only escape path away from the other two. He's watching, like the act of doing so is more amusing that actually joining in.

“I thought the Salamanders were supposed to be altruistic.”

The Night Lord turns your face harder, and you gasp trying to pull at his gauntlet to free yourself even a minutia. Your muscles ache, jaw yelling in pain as his gauntlet is like a vice grip around the bottom half of your face.

“Hey, careful.”

The one in the middle finally speaks up for the first time, and the one grabbing you turns to him and scowls, clicking his tongue. His nose wrinkles but he doesn't let go of you, goading his taller brother.

“What, you suddenly care? We don’t feed other people's pets.”

Reaching forward he tugs one of your hands away from your captor's gauntlet, raising it for your captor to easily see.

“Look at the clothes. I think she’s important.”

The one grabbing you scoffs and turns away, pulling you around again. His other gauntlet grabs at your other arm, and looks at your hand. His face perks considerably, and the jolt of fear it sends through you beats all others.

"Ink stains. You don't work. You're soft."

Something on his face and in his voice changes, and you try to dig your heels into the ground in some fruitless effort to stay put.

"Volya." The middle one says as your capture seems to be readying to pick you up. You can barely open your jaw to speak let alone yell, unless someone spots you, you stand no chance of getting out of where ever he's planning on taking you.

"Yeah yeah, she's important; What important person is shoved back here by all the serfs and storage? They won't notice."

You yelp digging your heels deeper, and briefly look at the one who has voiced even the tiniest bit of concern for you. He catches your gaze, and something changes in his eyes as your hands pull at the fingers that hold you.

Moments later he grabs at his battle brother’s gauntlet, the ceramite clanking against each other as armor plates collide. Your captor looks at the taller one like he's furious at just being touched.

“We’re already far out-numbered on this ship. Just leave it. Find a less important one to toy with.”

He looks at his brother for a moment, nose wrinkled and teeth barred, and you can feel the air change like a fight is brewing; But he lets you go.

“Fine.”

Taking his fellow with him the two Night Lords leave you and the tallest of the three, the one who stood up for you, alone. You rub your jaw and look up at him. He watches with an unreadable expression on his unkempt face.

“...Thank you,”

You say, and you’re surprised by the way he reacts to it. Though his surprise fades away, as he smiles. It feels like his teeth are too big for his mouth, his two sharp fangs press against the inside of his upper lip.

“It talks? A surprise.”

Whereas Ralkan is stoic and mindful, this man is the opposite; His smile is cocky and posture relaxed even in his hulking armor. His arms cross, but given the size of his chestplate, the closest he can get to fully doing so is gripping his forearms with the opposite hand.

You swallow the knot in your throat. You know that while he did chase the other two away, it's very well possible it's only because he wanted you to himself.

Though maybe it's that curiosity in you- the thing that Ralkan seems so irritated by- that has you prying for answers rather than just crying and pleading for him to let you leave.

“What is your name? You’re the first of your Legion I’ve met.” 

That wasn’t the question he expected to hear, you suppose. His face perks with surprise and curiosity not unlike a child.

“Lev.”

Ralkan told you they enjoy terrorizing the weak, only picking fights that they know they can win by overwhelming odds. You'd say if you didn't cower like prey maybe he would leave you alone, but that's impossible when Lev is a terrifying example of just how little of a thing you are, in comparison to these giants.

But he doesn't seem like how Ralkan described them on first impression, however. Perhaps he’s just hiding it so you let your guard down. Though why would he risk a fight with his battle brothers if that was the case?

“We didn't know they had any of you studious types on board. Do they keep you all locked up?” 

You're sure Ralkan would like to, if he had his way with it. Had he been less inclined to take your opinion seriously, you'd probably be chained somewhere in your quarters, right about now.

"I was, informed, to stay in my quarters until you all left the ship."

Lev snorts, his smirk lopsided. Before he has a chance to say anything more, you notice that he has blood coming from one nostril, down his lip. It’s dry, but you wonder if he was in a fight and broke his nose not long ago. The bruising around it and dipping underneath his eyes adds to the theory.

“You’re bleeding…”

You say, gesturing to your own nose. He brushes his gauntlet against his upper lip, and watches dried blood fall to the ground. He licks his upper lip, and more of the blood wipes away. You find yourself more distracted by the gesture than one would like.

“Ahh, one of your Salamanders saying things he shouldn’t have; He could throw a punch, but couldn’t take one.” He smiles at you again.

“I didn’t kill him, if you’re worried about him.” "Believe me, I wanted to. All these overgrown lot are a bunch of stuck up types. You think they'd learn to keep their mouths shut before I take something from it."

You get the hint that he's joking, as odd as that is; Salamanders don't often joke. But you also get the hint that the only reason he didn't kill the man, was that as he mentioned before, he's greatly outnumbered on the Flamewrought.

You hadn't been thinking about the Salamander oddly enough however, too focused on the purple and blue bruising scattered across the hump of his nose. Your eyebrows raise, back still pressed against the wall.

“But, are you ok?”

You mumble, watching his eyes look over you. It almost looks like he thinks you're messing with him, until he seems to realize you were serious, and his expression mellows a bit. He uncrosses his arms and reaches a hand for you, and unlike his battle brother, you don't shirk away from his gauntlet nearly as much.

He grabs your jaw much in the same way his battle brother had earlier, but soft enough that it doesn't hurt.

"You stink like one of them," He remarks, and you assume he's referring to the Salamanders. His fingers grip your chin and pull it upward, exposing more of your neck.

He looked as if he was going to open his mouth and speak more, but a voice cuts through the air and stops him dead.

“Do you not have somewhere to be, Night Lord?”

Ralkan's voice makes your heart nearly stop, though you can’t manage to pull your eyes away from the Night Lord even as he approaches with thundering footfall. Lev however does, and looks towards the Salamander who stands no more than a meter to his right. You can see his face sour as he’s forced to drop his hand.

“Perhaps. But I believe on our arrival you said we were welcome guests, can I not wander?”

Ralkan steps forward, just short of trying to shove his slightly larger body between the both of you. He reaches for you, a massive green gauntlet landing on your shoulder.

“Move along, Son of Curze.”

He gives Ralkan a look. One that while irritated, is pleased that he managed to get under the Salamander’s skin.

But the Night Lord still hesitates to leave, watching as you shrink under the shadow of your returned guardian. For a moment you fear he might start something, with the way he looks at you and follows the arm trailing up your shoulder to Ralkan.

But recognizing the fight isn't one that he's sure he'll be able to win, Lev turns away from your overbearing knight to look down at you with the same smirk he'd given you earlier.

"Another time, little Salamander."

Lev leaves. He walks past the Salamander with not even a look, and just barely they manage to not slam pauldrons as he turns away. 

When he is safely out of earshot, Ralkan looks down at you; His expression is still stoic, but you can see the anger hidden beneath it.

“I told you to stay out of their sight,” He says, gripping your shoulder tight. You attempt lightly to pull away, his grip painful, but make little progress.

“I, I’m sorry Ralkan but I had to eat. Did you want me to just starve in there?”

His gaze softens ever so slightly, but you can still tell he’s more than a little bit angry. At you, and himself. Even if he wasn’t at all angry at you, his emotions weigh still on you like lead. He takes this whole protecting you duty that he has been given so incredibly seriously, you wonder how much worse it's going to get until someone else might have to protect you from him.

Ralkan takes a kneel, coming eye to eye with you. Both of his hands now cup the sides of your shoulders, and he looks at you like he's almost pleading at you.

“Now that he has his sights on you there’s nothing that’s going to stop him until he has you.” 

Despite his unnerving look, the blood on his face from a fight that put a Salamander on an apothecary table, he didn’t seem to be the way that Ralkan had described them. 

Maybe he's lying, maybe Lev is faking it.

“It wasn't like he was going to carve me up; By the Throne, Ralkan he saved me. There was more of them, but he chased them off.” Ralkan lightly shakes you.

“They enjoy toying with things like you. Don’t assume anything.”

You take in a deep breath, your face beginning to get hot with anger. You'd said earlier that this ship was more freeing than Terra, but not that's beginning to not be the case.

“He didn’t do anything, just-“ Ralkan’s brow knits in anger and he cuts you off, speaking angrier than you think you've ever heard him. Astartes voices are booming, and his hits you in the chest as he raises his voice.

“There are Salamanders already injured because of them. I asked you to stay here because I trusted you to heed my warning, if you won’t, then I can bring you to my own quarters and lock you inside.”

You look at him surprised at his anger, and your mouth clamps shut. You're angry at him for threatening such a thing, as much as your not surprised by it, but you can't fight him. Not realistically. You look away from him and try to swallow a knot in your throat at suddenly appeared.

Ralkan, realizing he’s upset you, softens his expression and sighs. His hands slide down from your shoulders to hold your hands in his massive gauntlets. The gesture doesn't go unseen, as you look down at them for a moment. The ceramite is cold and rough on your skin.

“I want you safe. It is my duty now yes, but,”

He hesitates for a moment, before removing one of his hands from your own and cupping the side of your face. You hate that the gesture melts away some of the anger you have welled inside of you.

“I would be beside myself if anything were to happen to you. I want you to be safe for your sake and my own.”

He leans closer. In your personal space, breath fanning across your skin, he closes the gap and presses his lips against yours. You don't move for a moment, before you gently exhale and lean closer to him. His nose presses against your cheek, and you can feel the small scars of his skin brush against yours. With him so close you realizes just how warm he is, astartes always run hot but it's like his blood is fire, your lips and face feel so warm. Though it could be your own flush, body heating up.

When he pulls away from you lips separating with a soft pop, you feel some of that stuffy heat dissipate, but the burn over your face remains.

“I must remove my armor first but, will you return to my quarters with me? I will tell you all about Nocturne. You can rest there as well, if you’d like.”

He’s trying to make it up to you, you can tell. He may not be directly apologizing, but he's trying to give you something he knows you want in an attempt to be sweet on you again. You hate how well it works. If only it didn't feel like he had you trapped in a cage, bars getting tighter and tighter.

With the warmth of his lips still on your own, you nod.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Ralkan smiles and rises to his feet. He gestures for you to walk beside him and takes your hand in his gauntlet once more, and you both leave your quarters for his own.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 25 all chapters

WARNING: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

“Surrender to me. I will eat this sweet pussy every morning for breakfast. I will be your slave.”

You don’t believe him, of course, but there is a growing desperation in his pleas that fills you with warning. He’s been patient with you, but you wonder if someday this man will not snap.

He has you tied up again.

You’d watched him produce the red ropes earlier with resignation, but surprisingly, no fear. You realize that you have arrived at a place of relative numb, where you have accepted he will not satisfy you without your submission, but you trust him not to really hurt you.

Drive you absolutely batshit insane, maybe. But not hurt you.

You’ve had time to think about it, and you know there are so many things he could have done by now to really win your compliance. He could have beat you. Starved you. Drugged you. All the usual dirty tricks men have used to keep independent women in line over the millennia.

He has not so much as spanked you, really, except for that once the other day, and even you know that had been child’s play.

More and more, you have come to understand that this man has been through it. He’s told you more about his brutal past, curled up with his head in your lap, spilling his soul to you while you stroked his dark hair. You have discovered that once he feels safe, the taciturn Mr. Wick actually has a lot to say.

If you hadn’t been sleeping beside him, the signs of PTSD might have escaped your notice. But after over a week in his non-stop company, you have woken beside him when he’s riddled with night terrors, his strong hands gripping your body hard enough to leave bruises. Sometimes he zones out, and you know he's not really seeing the room you're in. 

After hearing about his training (as a fucking child soldier!) and the things he had to do to survive over the years working for the Bratva, trapped in a cycle of violence he had little power to escape or control, you honestly think it’s a miracle that he’s come out of it as intact as he has—and goddamn if there isn’t a part of you that wonders if you cannot bring him back.

You should know better by now, than to think you can fix a man with your love. It’s a mistake you’ve made before, in your younger years, and you should know that nothing lies down that path but disappointment and heartbreak. But…what else do you have to do with your time?

Take up knitting?

You had watched him with a distant fascination, as he looped your wrists in the cord, securing them with beautiful knots before affixing your spread arms to the metal headboard. You had thought the curled iron design of the bed to be very pretty, but now you understand the form of it is perfect for knotting ropes in various positions.

You’re not sure how long he’s been torturing you with his tongue, bringing you right to the edge licking your clit with his fingers buried inside you, before withdrawing right at the last moment. He always fucking knows, even when you do your best to remain still as a stone. You have been going through your days in a constant state of low-burning arousal, perpetually wet with slick and uncomfortably swollen. You feel where his body has been every time you sit down, keenly aware of what he’s done, and what he hasn’t allowed you.  

“My poor darling,” he continues to taunt you, taking a break to nip at the inside of your thigh, your soft flesh already riddled with little bruises. “Why do this to yourself, when with three little words I could set you free?”

You cannot hold in your ragged sigh. “It’s kind of nostalgic really, just like my first boyfriend in high-school. Getting fucked constantly with no real hope of satisfaction…”

Wick responds to this with a snarl, the way you knew he would. Jesus Christ but his teeth are sharp. Suddenly he sucks at your clit with a vengeance, making you squirm and cry out in surprise. Of course he stops before you even have the chance to make use of the friction.

“I do not want to hear about the other men you’ve had in your life,” he cautions you. “I’m the only one who counts now.”

“Could have fooled me.”

When he gets on his knees with a dark look, you do feel some satisfaction. You’ve learned if you piss him off enough, he’ll try to punish you by taking his pleasure and leaving you hanging. At this point, you’re just relieved that it’s over.

“That smart mouth needs filling,” he growls, guiding his tip to your lips, and you let him fuck your face, sucking his glans messily with a swirl of your tongue the way you’ve learned drives him mad. The only time he catches a hint of teeth is not your fault, but his, in his enthusiasm for trying to shove his cock down your throat. It’s not long before he cums, spilling hot seed across your tongue. Some of it dribbles down your chin, and he wipes it across your lips with narrowed eyes, daring you to spit it out.

You’re foolhardy, but you’re not stupid. You lap it from his finger like a good girl, watching the post-orgasm glaze take over his midnight dark eyes.

The monster will be sated, for a little while.

You’ve bought yourself time, but no real relief.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

can i request being titus' basement wife, just kinda like soft dark yandere vibes, idk i trust you dawg 🤭🤭

Tough Love [Sequence #1]

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Soft!Yandere!Titus x fem!Reader

WORDS: 834.

WARNING: mentions of kidnapping, dark!Titus, toxic behaviour (possessiveness), reference to stockholm syndrome, power play, dominant!titus, praise kink.

A/N - thank you for this request, my dearest Bel! apologies for getting back to this so so late. hope you enjoy xox

At first, it would be a “tough love” type of situation: you deeply resented Titus for the misfortune he had brought upon you. He had spoiled you of your own independent life, solely for what you could only presume, was to pursue his own personal interests, and you resisted him for that.

On many occasions you tried desperately, despite all odds working against your favour, to escape. Sometimes configuring a plan, although most of the time you would wing the escape.

You were in his territory, however: heavily confined and chained to his will. The chances of succeeding were slim to nothing, and this was proven many times.

Anyone could’ve easily been fooled: despite his well-rounded and meekly approach, he had a darker demeanour about him that you had now known.

"Try that act again with me, and I won't be so lenient next time, Y/N."

He frightened you in those moments, to consider what a man of his strengths could be capable of, considering the strenuous lengths he went to, to have you all to himself.

Although, these moments would be sparred, for in a few short hours later, after Titus had some thought to process, he would return with an apologetic look, expressing his guilt towards you.

You noticed that he had greatly opposed the idea of hurting you: having no intention to harm you purposefully, only wishing for you to favour him, as he did with you.

He wanted to be loved, and you were the apple of his eye.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, my sweet thing. You shouldn't have done that. You should not have done that... Look at what you made me do, silly girl."

Whether he was profusely muttering to himself or you: you could not say with certainty.

Although, it showed a completely different, jarring side to him, it had blindsided you. He could and was often a kind and gentle soul. A man who took his time and effort to console you, and yet, step a foot over his line and he would remind you, exactly who was in charge.

Two-sides to the same coin.

The more Titus was around you, the more familiar you became, growing heavily reliant on him, it could potentially have been his efforts to persuade you to love him. Make you believe, he was all that you required, that he could satisfy you and only him.

He in return, grew comfortable as the feelings from your behalf, began to gradually show and reciprocate. Beginning as small mannerisms, a quiet exchange of “thank you” and “please”, or that you would wish him a good night, and return a smile.

He fed you well, always providing meals on a timely manner, with a vase of handpicked flowers. Bathing you, with decadent, alluring scents, clothing you with new, unworn apparel like some spoiled brat. He spoke to you and more so listened to you.

His treatment towards you was more so homily, than hostile. He stripped you of your life, of your identity for a reason, and it was only with time that he opened up.

He wanted to be loved, just like any other sane person, he wanted the mundane spoils of life: a white-picket fenced house and a family to call his very own.

"I wanted that luxury from the moment I saw you. It had to be you."

Many of times you tried desperately to convince yourself that he was merely manipulating you [and who could know, if he truly was], he had a seductive way with his words.

The more he spoke of this domestic, blissful dream with you, the more you seemed to desire it also, envisioning the details in your mind as it warmed your heart like a flame stoking in the fireplace.

Slowly the mutual trust began to blossom: and not before long, you were free from the four, brick walled confinement of the dingy basement, being led up to the breath of fresh air that was a neatly furnished house with contemporary furniture. A home, your new home.

"I did this all for you. This is your home now, Y/N. This is all ours. Everything you’ll ever need, I have given and will give to you."

Not before long, you had settled into a fashionably domestic routine.

Titus greatly enjoyed cooking for you, although when you decided to take the reins, he relished in your eagerness to tend to him.

Whatever the chore being attended to, he would closely watch you, hours on end even. Pleasantly admiring how dutiful you had grown towards him, proof of your loyalty.

He was also deeply in awe of your beauty, and never did a day pass by where he did not mention it to you. Praising you about how angelic and graceful you appeared to him, the way your hair swayed in motion with your body, your figure itself, and that face.

“Now how did I get so lucky finding you, baby? The woman of my dreams.”

TGC-verse Taglist - @chompchompluke @melinskis @connorsui @rhaenattargaryen @sofiyathecunt @fan-goddess @x-prettyboy-x

credit for divider - @/itbmojojoejo

[nomie-11]

Chapter 1 - Chains of Starlight

masterlist! | next part ->

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The faucet drips into the rickety sink she stands in front of. The hollow plop, plop, plop of the water drops in the basin are a constant reminder that this basement is her reality. There is no escaping the humidity of this dungeon, not without a compromise she isn’t willing to make. There’s no salvation for the damned. 

Running her fingers through her matted hair, the crust of her own blood thickens the feeling of the dirt that covers every surface of her body, her fingernails are gone, partially from the torture and partially from attempting to scratch the door down. There are marks on the ceilings, etching of stars that used to feel like home, but now when she lays on the floor of the dungeon to look at her ‘stars’ all she sees is the hope she could have had. 

Lilith Sorrengail is not always right in her assumptions about people. Sometimes she gets it wrong, sometimes the people she thinks are conspiring, sneaking out weapons, and planning rebellions are the people who are only caught in the crossfire, too young to really understand what is going on. But she can’t go back on her word, her promise, that if the young girl said nothing she would never leave this basement. Lilith Sorrengial was not a woman to change her mind, but today in the basement of her very house at Basgaith, she is open to negotiation. 

She is strong footed as she approaches the basement, her heels clicking as she descends the stairs. Her key fitting perfectly in the lock that has kept her down her for one year and 42 days, the young girl flinching at the familiar footsteps that only lead to torture. No matter how strong she is, a 19, now 20 year old, can only withstand so much without feeling fear. 

The thick wooden door swung open with a long, dark creak, and the young girl didn’t even bother getting up to face her captor. 

“Rise, girl,” She commanded, her voice booming and loud through the echo chamber. “We have negotiations to make.”

The girl doesn’t move, doesn’t rise from her bed of stones. 

“Lilith Sorrengail,” she prompts, her voice smooth and calm, not betraying the racing of her heart. “Who do you live for, hm? Who do you want to protect so badly that you keep me alone down here?”

“I’m not going to spill my life secrets to you,” The older woman snaps. “You’re lucky I’ve kept you alive this whole time, now listen to me.” 

The younger girl bites her tongue, but she’s itching to scream. 

“I’m going to let you out of here, and you’re going to go to Basgiath War College and become a rider. You will not die, no matter what happens to you, and you will watch Xaden Riorson and report back to me, do you understand?” 

The young girl made no moves, no motions to say yes. 

“Do you understand me, Genevieve Hale?” She leaned down, her back arching over Genevieve laying on the ground, a sinister smile in her face. “You’re in my hands, either you say yes, or you die.” 

Genevieve doesn’t speak, doesn’t move. 

“Why won’t you just kill me,” She says, a small smile on her face. “I would rather die than serve you.”

Lilith Sorrengail laughed, a hearty, evil laugh erupting from her chest at the small act of defiance from the younger girl. 

“Little girl,” She coos, a sinister grin covering her face. “Would you die instead of seeing the sky again? The stars from the back of a dragon, wind rushing through your hair?” 

Genevieve’s eyes widened, a cord being struck in her chest. 

“You have a deal,” She says, her head held high as she brings herself to a stand. “But, make no mistake, I will not hold back when it comes to your precious children. They are mine for revenge.” 

Lilith Sorrengail can only smile, holding back a laugh, and nod. Violet Sorrengail will be perfectly safe, guarded and protected by the very person she’s trusting Genevieve to watch. Every pawn is in its place, and the queen is cornered. Checkmate. 

——————————————————

The heavy iron door to the basement dungeon slammed shut behind Lilith Sorrengail, her heels clicking their way up the stairs as they did in the other direction not so long ago. A smirk was painted on her face, satisfaction filling every bone of her body. Her daughter would be kept safe by her enemy, who would be watched and analyzed by her prisoner. The deal was struck, and now Genevieve Hale was no longer just a prisoner, though; she was a weapon, she was a pawn. 

Alone and cold, Genevieve rose to a stand in the center of her room. Her tattered clothes hung loosely off of her body, a testament to the days of starvation and torture, and they were stained and bloody, but she relished in the fact that in a few days time, she would wear black. The days she had spent doing sit-ups, pull-ups, push-ups, and running in place would pay off, there is an escape to this hell, and it's just in sight. She had been prepared to die in this forsaken basement, but now, a world that she had once thought was dead to her was opening right back up, now with a mission she despised and a future she couldn’t predict. 

As she straightened herself, she pushed open the heavy iron and wood door that once held her as prisoner, light from the top of the winding staircase filling the hallway that she was yet to climb. It didn’t smell like fresh air yet, but the light felt like life was rejuvenating her bones once more, kissing her once tan and weathered skin for what felt like the first time in decades. The walls still surrounded her, but now there was a promise; the sky, the stars, the dragons. Freedom underneath the sky. No matter how much she hated Lilith Sorrengail, she couldn’t deny the excitement that flickered and breathed like a flame  within her at the thought of an endless sea of stars. 

Each step felt like a link of the cold iron chain that held her back was breaking off. The guards posted in the stairwell made no moves as she passed, already told not to interfere, but she smiled at them, her newfound freedom filling her with joy. Each step bringing her closer to the sky, her face lit with the idea of chasing the true freedom behind the confines of the war college she would soon call home. 

As she emerged into the sunlight, Genevieve squinted against the brightness, but her steps didn’t falter. She stood taller, posture straighter than before, as if she hadn’t spent the last year bent over at the feet of an oppressor. The feeling of the sun, now fully blazing and surrounding her, was both foreign and familiar, a sensation that was once forgotten being burned into her memory once more. 

Taking a deep breath, she savored the fresh air, the scent of the grass and the earth. The world was wide open before her, and for the first time in one year and 42 days, she felt a glimmer of hope. A small spark of dangerous hope, laced with anger and a burning desire for vengeance. Genevieve Hale was free, but she was not the same girl that was thrown into that basement. She was harder, colder, and every step forward was a step closer to making Lilith Sorrengail pay for what she had done. 

Basgiath War College would be the battlefield for now, and she would make sure that every player in this twisted game understood one thing: Genevieve Hale was not to be underestimated. Not anymore. 

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Hey guys! attempting to actually write a fanfiction for once after reading so many (cough cough Fear and Flame), so lmk what you think!

[stxrvel]

i don't wanna live forever (5)

summary: the time had come to destroy HYDRA and collect for all that had been taken from them...

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: 6k

warnings: descriptions of: blood, wounds, fights and weapons. probably gonna wake a lot of sadness since the begining. mentiones of suicide thoughts. heartbreak. stubborn characters. mentions of character deaths (canon). remember i'm not that good at writing action scenes and that English is not my first language!

note: hi guys! i didn't rest today at work. instead, i wrote 6k words for my actual hyperfixation and i'm actually exhausted. sometimes i write first in spanish and then in english, when my head is not up for the double translate, and leave the conversion to future me. this is future me talking and i hate myself for that. but i'm kind of proud how this one came out, so i hope you guys like it the same! feedback and reactions are always appreciated! see u guys next time <3

part 1

It was already getting dark when the small cellar you were in with your friends filled with applause and singing, a joy bouncing off the walls as you walked in Steve's direction with a grin from ear to ear. Your blond friend watched the small cake Peggy had gotten him that afternoon head towards him between your hands, setting it down on an upturned wooden barrel, a little damp, that they would use as a table.

Peggy and Bucky were off to the side, their faces matching your excitement as Steve reached down and shook his head.

“I don't even want to imagine how you got that cake in,” was the first thing Steve said when the happy birthday song ended, shooting you a grateful look. His eyes sparkled like you hadn't seen in many days and you felt Peggy's squeeze on your forearm as she came over to form a little circle just like Bucky.

“Trust me, you don't want to know,” Peggy shook her head, her smile matching the blond's.

You watched Steve split a piece of the cake with a spoon you had no idea where Peggy had gotten it from, your friend bursting out laughing when Steve raised his head and she smeared white cream all over his nose. At that moment you felt Bucky's body heat behind you, all your senses turning on at once.

“No candle, but you can make a wish before you take the first bite.”

Steve shared a look with his friend, still with that twinkle in his eye and the most relaxed expression he'd had in days. He was still wearing his uniform, having caught him by surprise to bring him into the warehouse after a long day of planning strategies for the next mission against HYDRA. You and Peggy had been thinking for several days about doing something, and being that it was rather difficult to throw a small party in the camp you were in, you decided to opt for something a little more ordinary and familiar. You couldn't say, however, that Steve didn't like it, not when you saw him smiling at everyone so openly, shoulders down and spreading laughter to everyone around him.

With the spoon halfway to his mouth, Steve closed his eyes and made a wish.

You smiled indulgently, watching two of your friends share a small moment as Steve took some more cake to give Peggy. With your hands behind your back, you suddenly felt Bucky's left hand make its way through your fingers, intertwining your hands very carefully.

“How's the taste?”

Steve shook his head nodding at your words, his brow furrowing in pleasure as he enjoyed the large bites he was taking of the cake. At that moment, all you could think about was how much you would sacrifice to stay in that bubble forever, even without knowing what was coming next.

-

“Are you okay?”

You heard his footsteps before you saw him, his body leaning against the second to last step where you had sat and turned away from the others. The routine you had had to get used to over the past few months, after believing you were going to change the world, had become a constant burden that was hard to shake off. Still, you took and cherished moments like those when you could go out and sit and just watch the vast sky stretching for miles. The stars shone so brightly there, in the middle of the forest, that they seemed like little beacons seeking to guide you to a better future; perhaps to a future that you did deserve. Steve also sometimes accompanied you in silence, having learned that he couldn't always argue with you about the meaning of life and the purpose for which you two had to carry out the unjust orders of superiors. You once saw one of his drawings, a woman sitting at the top of a flight of stairs and a starry night giving her a message of hope. Maybe he saw it the same way too after a while.

“Yeah,” you replied to Bucky with a tight-lipped little smile.

Bucky didn't know much about you now. As the weeks went by you realized it was true what he had once told you, when the America's couple shows and his platoon's stay coincided for the first time in months. You had changed a lot since the serum injection. And, well, who wouldn't, after all? That's why when you were together after so long he spent time very close to you, very aware of you, checking with his excellent senses that nothing was out of place. That you were okay.

You didn't know if he had believed you, by the way his face remained expressionless, barely a slight twitch of his eyebrows, but he didn't repeat the question.

“Do you think there's anything else for us, besides this?”

Bucky turned his gaze to look at the sky and you watched his profile, the curve of his eyelashes and his half-opened lips. Situations like that had become commonplace, too. Since you no longer spent so much time together and you had changed so much because somehow you had to adapt to the harsh reality against which you had crashed, Bucky constantly wondered many things about life that ended up being his own fears materialized in existential crises. For him his world was shaking. Since you told him that you had been invited to the Super Soldier project with Steve, everything had become uncertainty for him. Uncertainty about his life, about your life, about the life you wanted to have together, uncertainty about the future, uncertainty about life.

You had the conception that Bucky could never fully adapt to the abrupt change that meant his two best friends were involved in a private experiment that gave them heightened senses and more strength and speed than an average human. Now he seemed to looked at himself like the mere mortal who walked shoulder to shoulder with two gods. He seemed to feel that death would knock faster at his door and it drove him mad.

“Yeah, I don't think this is it,” you shook your head in assent, watching out of the corner of your eye as Bucky rested his forearms on his knees and leaned forward a bit. His hands interlocked and parted, his fingertips met and parted, his fists opened and closed.

“But you'll outlive me,” Bucky looked down, his blue eyes glittering focused on yours under the moonlight. You could barely hear movement in the back of the hold where Peggy and Steve were still talking. Your heart flipped at the vulnerability you saw through his eyes, lately more common than you'd like. You didn't like not being able to quell those thoughts that dominated his head; the insecurities and fears that made him doubt so many things in the middle of the night.

“We'd live the same amount of time,” you assured him shaking your head, your own mind refusing to accept that Bucky's fears could take more power over him. Whatever you could do to calm him, you would do, always.

“You have the serum. You and Steve will live for many more years. Hell, maybe you'll even be immortals,” Bucky tried to smile, but a grimace settled on his face and made his words bitter. He was subtly trying to untwist his shoulders, barely moving to your side trying not to show too much that he was kind of nervous.

“Why are you telling me that now?” you shifted on the wooden step, moving a little closer towards him. Bucky tensed visibly, not because of the closeness, but because he knew the moment was coming when you would stop following his lead and start asking him what was really plaguing his mind. For some reason, Bucky couldn't approach those topics of conversation naturally, letting his mind and words wander a bit before daring to take his fears by the horns.

“I don't know… I guess. It's a truth I have to accept,” he confessed, his voice so fragile and soft that had it not been for the extreme hearing the serum had granted you, you surely wouldn't have understood him. You felt your heart crumple and moved your hand from your lap to cradle his hands that he still could not let still.

“But it is a truth that is still a long way from being fulfilled.”

“And first we have to get through the war,” Bucky turned his hands to lace them with yours, his fingers intertwining with yours and giving them a squeeze.

“We will. I have no doubt about it. In fact, I have a plan to persuade Phillips,” you smiled at him trying to lighten the weight on his shoulders a bit.

Little surprised, Bucky let out a laugh, his free shoulders shaking in sync with his chest. A beautiful smile spread across his face, and you would've enjoyed it except you could still notice his tired eyes and the dark traces beneath them. It seemed that the moonlight intensified the reality of his emotions.

“You always have a plan for everything.”

“What can I say? I'm an optimist,” you lifted your shoulders, leaning against Bucky's side. His head dropped to rest on the crown of your head, his breathing synchronizing with yours for a moment.

“Between the two of us, you definitely are,” he murmured, taking a deep breath, enjoying the moment for several seconds. “Sorry for… coming to bring up those topics of conversation.”

“No, it's okay. I like to listen. And you tend to do that sometimes,” you shook your head over his shoulder trying to dispel the topic, Bucky's hands tightening around yours.

“What?”

“You suddenly talk about things you don't want to tell me too much about and then put a little light-hearted attitude on it so it doesn't sound so serious.”

Bucky lifted his head, causing you to move in time to meet his surprised expression as well. His lips were trying to twitch into a smile, but he didn't seem to know if he wanted to laugh or frown.

“Do I really do it that often?”

“A little, yes.”

“Ah, I'm pretty bad at dissembling I guess,” Bucky looked up, finally succumbing to the smile. The gesture satisfied you enough to delve into the emotion with him, taking a moment to further enjoy that scenario you could no longer be a part of lately; to enjoy those everyday moments where you could feel love materially spark around you, as if it was a novel written solely to satisfy human romantic desires and whims.

You shook your head, returning to the subject.

“But you don't have to worry about my supposed immortality. I know we'll live the same,” you assured him once more, your arms wrapping around his right arm and squeezing it securely, hugging him, trying to send him some of the confidence you felt inside.

“How are you so sure?”

The truth was, you weren't, but you couldn't let him know that, much less let him know that you didn't expect his life expectancy to be as extensive as yours was now either. But how were you going to tell him that? He must've been martyred enough by his own thoughts during every moment of the day when they drowned him, and it wasn't as if you expected too much of a life after him either. You could have immortality served on a silver platter, but what would be the point if you had to spend it on your own? Bucky was thinking about not wanting to leave you alone, and you were thinking about the impossibility of finding a reason to live after him.

“Because I know I don't want to live forever if I'm not with you.”

Bucky stopped his light, ghost-like caresses on your fingers. He turned his face to look at you, his nostalgic expression disappearing in a matter of seconds. His blue eyes looked contrite, as if there was a storm inside them. You had never hesitated in your answer, no matter when he had asked. And yet you seemed to have taken him by surprise; it seemed that such a thing would never have crossed his mind even by accident.

“Y/N…”

“I'd be living in vain. Stolen time,” you shook your head, averting your gaze from the depths of his, an unknown kind of longing or fear furrowing across his features that you couldn't bear to see a second longer. You were there at that moment and you would see each other again later, why did you have to think about it too much?

Bucky sighed. Only when you felt his body relax against your side did you know he understood that it would do no good for him to try to antagonize you.

“Still, you deserve a life like this. After all you've been through,” his voice was barely a whisper that tore through the silent chill that surrounded you, but the implication of his words furrowed against your chest like a dagger. You shook your head before the memories could reach you.

“We all deserve it, especially in this world consumed by the greed of power and hatred.”

You saw him nod out of the corner of your eye, his hands wrapping around one of your hands, the one closest to his side and bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. His eyes were fixed on your profile, you could feel it, but you were afraid to turn to look at him and allow your emotions to come out. You were too sweet to succumb to strong feelings when you were with Bucky.

“Hey!” was Steve's voice, like a beacon in the middle of the ocean, making you both turn at the same time. “Peggy's just leaving.”

“Want a ride, Barnes?”

“Ah, it would be my pleasure, Agent Carter.”

Peggy moved, after saying goodbye to Steve and you, and walked in the direction of the huge forest that stretched into the distance where she had parked her car. Or Howard's car, you couldn't quite make out through the darkness.

“See you later, Miss I-don't-want-to-live-forever,” Bucky approached you with a half smile, having said goodbye to Steve, meeting him halfway to melt you in his arms. The tension in your shoulders eased considerably, a sigh making its way into your chest.

“Take care, Bucky,” you squeezed his waist, because you weren't tall enough to reach his shoulders in a hug, and he squeezed you back in response.

“Sure thing. I got to see my girl again, after all.”

You laughed between the hollow of his neck and shoulder, feeling your cheeks burn. Bucky broke away just barely to look at you with his own huge grin.

“Don't overdo it, Barnes.”

“Come on!” Peggy insisted, glancing at the watch on her wrist.

You broke away from Bucky, trying to push him to get into the car with his affianced friend, but he had other plans. In the midst of your struggle to push him away, he grabbed one of your wrists, using very little force to pull you close to his chest, his lips crashing against yours in a fleeting action, but not at all rough, barely a brush. Before you knew what happened he had already pulled away from you.

“When I get back, we have a lot to talk about.”

He never came back. He left in the next couple of days for the mission on the train and all you got back was a shattered Steve, his face dirty and sticky from all the tears he'd shed, his pleading eyes crystallizing on you the moment he had to tell you that Bucky had died. You could still remember how his voice cracked as he begged your forgiveness, repeating it over and over as if it would ease the burden he felt on his shoulders, the guilt for not being able to get him in time. You never blamed Steve for what happened, but it seemed like he did for a long time.

Reliving those memories was always a constant martyrdom. After Bucky's funeral you didn't think you could move on, but carrying all his pain in a sack of rocks, Steve assured you that they would avenge the reason Bucky had died. HYDRA. So you did and were able to carry on for a while until Steve was also declared KIA.

Peggy and Howard were a great help when you realized that you couldn't die on your own, because you healed faster than normal and could spend more time than humanly possible underwater. To say that you didn't try to leave the earthly world would be a lie, but your friends tried to help you in every way they could until you had to leave the United States. When you thought you would have to spend years hiding in Europe, Howard told you that wasn't necessary. Just staying under the radar and out of the feds' jurisdiction would be fine and he would take care of it. And one day, after spending a week in the apartment you were renting without getting out of bed for almost any reason, a knock on the door startled you.

“Correspondence,” rang through the silence of the apartment.

You only got up because you knew the mailman was wrong. You had given your address to absolutely no one and there was no way any person knew of your existence in that country. You thought you took pity on the man, when he handed you the letter and it did indeed have your name on it.

It was an acceptance letter from some university. Apparently you had enrolled to study mathematics.

You had a suspicion of what was going on, but something in your chest asked you to ignore it. The letter asked for an interview before classes started in exactly three days, and after that interview you received a letter from Peggy.

When Howard died you knew you couldn't go back to Europe. Largely because you had to find out who his killer was, but also because you wanted to watch over Peggy's life as you couldn't do for your other three friends. You were often terrified for your friend's life, especially having the job she had and dealing with all those powerful people who wouldn't hesitate for the blink of an eye to order her death.

Steve was right. You stayed with Peggy to investigate Howard's death. But you also stayed because she was the only thing you had left and you had to take care of her; you had to preserve her, to do everything you could to prevent another tragic and unnecessary death. You would've sacrificed anything in life just to allow Peggy to have the life she deserved. And so you did. You cared for her for many years, you were so attentive to her that her children called you aunt and then her grandchildren called you grandma; you were at all her family gatherings, giving gifts to her children at Christmas and celebrating each new year as you watched time pass through her eyes. Every January 1st you saw it as a win, a whole year in which so much sacrifice had been worth it.

Now… well, now everything was a bit more complicated.

Natasha had left the abandoned dam first after going over the plan one last time. You were supposed to go with Steve and Sam, even though Steve was reluctant to have you near the Winter Soldier again, as if you didn't have the same strength and agility as he did. Of course, his fear was rooted in something completely different than that, something he and Natasha had discovered with Zola.

“HYDRA spent years searching for you to recreate the super-soldier serum after the war. If not for the excellent work Peggy and Howard did, they probably would've found you more easily.”

Now, having such a palpable possibility of destroying HYDRA, you didn't think there was the slightest chance that they were still thinking about it, although Natasha stressed that it seemed to be that the soldier had two different missions when he found them in the middle of the city, one of them being that he was to keep you alive. Zhivoy, you recalled bitterly. Alive.

Steve didn't want to risk finding something else waiting for them when they reached the helicarriers, something that might lead you away from him. And yes, you understood his concern because it was the same one you'd felt for years and was more latent recently since Steve returned. But you weren't going to stand by like a fucking statue while they did all the work. You would take it upon yourself to destroy HYDRA completely and deprive them of any chance they might have to get close to Steve, you or Bucky again. Whatever you had to do, you'd do it.

“He's not the same,” you had told Steve, as you walked to the Triskelion in the company of Sam and Maria.

“But he'll remember us,” Steve assured, his hand tightly gripping the strap with which he held the shield. Steve had been repeating that to himself all day, even in front of Sam. You couldn't believe you were the one trying to maintain an objective demeanor in that situation.

“Yeah, maybe at some point. But right now it's not him, Steve,” you turned to look at him, his face fixed on the expanse of water surrounding the large building he used to work for. “He's not the Bucky we knew.”

Steve looked back at you, pausing for a moment. You knew he was mindful of it, you knew Steve was aware of how dangerous he was now; that there was a good chance he really didn't remember them and you wanted to make sure that wouldn't cloud his judgment; that he would still fight for his life.

But the resolve in his eyes didn't convince you. His lack of response fanned a hollow in your chest, your hands breaking out in a cold sweat as you stared at the empty space he left in front of you.

Steve was willing to bring him back and you were afraid of losing him.

For some reason, you felt it had to be different.

-

You heard Steve's voice over the speakers, running so you could find the helicarriers exit before they took off. Steve and Sam were supposed to meet you halfway, but you were already halfway there, fighting off a few agents, and you still didn't hear them nearby. Your breath caught in your throat as one of the STRIKE agents grabbed you by the throat while another plunged an electric baton into your side, the sensation of volts coursing through your entire nervous system sending you into a momentary state of shock.

You dropped your hands to stop struggling with the agent behind you and grabbed the wrist holding the baton with an overly strong grip, snapping the bone in place and jerking your head to strike the face of the man behind you as his grip wobbled for a second. Both agents fell to the ground, two bones broken in less than a minute. You grabbed the baton before departing, hitting them both in the head barely using half your strength, knocking them unconscious instantly.

As you exited the Triskelion facility to meet the gap you would have to jump over to intercept the first helicarrier, you heard Steve and Sam's voices closer. Oh, right, you forgot to use the communicator.

“Where were you?” Steve exclaimed, running alongside Sam closer to the chasm.

“You've got blood on your neck,” Sam pointed out, before spreading his metal wings and flying off into the sky.

“Put on your communicator,” Steve asked you just before you both jumped at the same time, a feeling of emptiness planting itself in the pit of your stomach.

You landed with your legs bent and leaned forward for a spin before getting up and continuing to run alongside Steve. You rummaged in one of your pants pockets, praying that the small devices hadn't been shattered during the fights you had inside the Triskelion.

Only one was spared.

Steve barely sent you a reproachful glance, shaking his head, as you approached a horde of HYDRA agents. You barely finished putting the small communicator to your ear when the hail of bullets came in their direction. Steve grabbed your arm to pull you behind his shield until he managed to hide behind two large containers. The fight was immediate.

The group of agents split up and you jumped right in front of two of them, sliding on the ground to use the baton from below to disarm them. You knocked one of them out with the high volts of the baton and the other tried to stab you from behind, but you stopped his hand midway and flipped his arm over, a shriek of pain escaping him as his shoulder dislocated. The man fell to his knees and, lifting one leg, you half-turned to strike his face with your full tibia.

“Cap, I found the bad guys you were talking about,” you heard Sam's voice, noting that, although that communicator was working, the voice you perceived sounded distant.

“Are you okay?” you heard Steve, as he came closer and you stepped on the handle of the staff, lifting it in a single stroke so that it landed in your hand.

“Not dead yet.”

Steve nodded, though he knew Sam couldn't see him and gave you a questioning look.

“Works?” he pointed to your ear, starting to pace.

“A little bruised, but does the job.”

Your friend shook his head, starting to run inside the helicarrier.

“Cap?” you smirked.

“Don't start,” the blond spoke through his teeth, moving toward his target. “Report location.”

You nodded in his direction, heading for the first agents who appeared to obstruct his path, clearing Steve's way in the direction of the helicarrier hub.

When you were done with the agents and Steve was finally able to enter the control center, you turned your attention to the voices ringing through the communicator.

“Ah, shit,” was Sam's voice, and the next thing you heard was gunfire around the helicarrier next to it.

“Fine, but you're going with me. I don't want to let you out of my sight,” Steve had said a few hours before they left the dam, leaving no room for argument in his haughty voice.

“That's unnecessary, Steve. We'd waste too much time,” you shook your head, trying to match his stoic, stern expression.

“She's right,” Maria nodded in your direction. “There are three helicarriers and three of you.”

“No,” Steve began to rise, your eyes following the movement of his body and his blue eyes fixed on yours. “Fury delegated orders to me, and that's an order.”

You indulged Steve until you lost sight of him, understanding he had said that out of pent-up fear. You grabbed one of the weapons that had been left on the ground and passed the strap over your head. The third helicarrier was a considerable distance away at a jump. You had to pick up too much speed to even make it to the tip, but you weren't going to stand there waiting for Steve when you could be doing something more; something necessary.

So that's what you did. Steve still hadn't reported state when you started running from tip to tip, your steps getting bigger with every second until you reached the gap and picked up momentum at the tip. That was insane. You felt the emptiness in your stomach again and out of the corner of your eye you could see a couple of explosions occurring in the harbor where the helicarriers had departed from. You stretched your arms out, counting on having propelled your body far enough, fearing a deadly fall as the other edge began to look higher and higher.

“Y/N, status,” you heard Hill, your heart in your mouth.

Your mind went blank for a second, when in the midst of the adrenaline you almost didn't even feel the moment when your left hand gripped the edge of the helicarrier tightly, the aircraft moving a little farther with each passing second. You had jumped at just the right moment.

Breathing hard, you propelled yourself upward until you could plant your feet back on the runway floor and replied to Maria, “Waiting.”

Steve must've thought you were still on the helicarrier with him.

As you ran, Sam reported that he had intercepted the second helicarrier after Steve, barely recognizing their voices amidst the tussle you were having with the agents who had appeared before you could reach the control room door.

“Y/N, where are you?” the voice of Steve came over the comm, a few minutes after you took down the last agent, moving in the direction of the metal door. You felt heavily for the programming card you had taken from Steve when he had pulled you close to get behind his shield, as you heard him ask Sam if he could see you.

You were about to reach the door when the scenery abruptly changed, a body appearing out of nowhere colliding into your left side sending you crashing to the ground hard.

“Shit.”

“Y/N?”

You ignored Steve's voice, moving to push off the heavy body on top of yours. Amidst the struggle you crawled away across the floor, a hand clutching at your ankle before you could move any further.

You recognized him by the coldness that ran through your body at the contact. You could almost be sure it had burned you.

This time he wasn't wearing the mask, those blue eyes boring deep into your head, the angry expression very different from how you had seen him last time. Although you would've liked to stay longer just watching, after spending so many years suffering his death, you pulled the leg he had held captive and tried to hit him in the face, his metal arm moving faster neutralizing the hit.

At that moment you stood up arching your back, planting your feet hard and running towards the soldier before he could catch you off guard.

You tried to strike his face, but he nimbly dodged every blow, just as you dodged his. He let out a grunt of frustration as you sent him to the ground with a kick to the chest, pulling a weapon from his side that he didn't hesitate a second to point in your direction. Feeling the air caught in your throat, you moved quickly on the ground, trying to escape his bullets while managing to find a place to hide.

You heard his footsteps approaching, as you hid behind a container, stopping just on the other side, and you moved to the right side of the container when you knew he was going to jump out and surprise you from above.

His body froze for a second, which you took advantage of to jump over the dumpster and grab him from behind, the baton you had on your belt wrapped around his neck, cutting off his breathing. You tried to hold him tight as he tried to push away your grip with his metal arm, almost as strong as your push to keep him in place.

The soldier began to slow his movements, but if you hadn't been so torn between he's the Winter Soldier and he's Bucky, you would've noticed one of his hands move over his vest, grabbing the handle of a knife and burying it in your right leg hard, all the way in, causing you to gasp.

Clearly your grip wobbled, the soldier taking possession of your staff and turning around as he pulled the blade out of your leg to direct his foot towards your chest, pushing you back to the ground where you fell with a loud thud.

The wound was deep. You could feel and hear the blood pouring out of it, but you didn't just stand there as you saw him leap down from the container, raising his arms to parry his attack as he directed the knife towards your face. His face contorted and scrunched up in concentration was all you could focus on, remembering that you couldn't let him win, but you also couldn't hurt him like he wanted to hurt you. You had to be objective, yes, but the thought of hurting him once more was heartbreaking.

You struggled with his hand until he let go of the knife, using your strength and trying to ignore the sharp pain in your leg from the effort to push him to the ground beside you with your hand on his neck and your leg around his waist, lying on top of him with one leg on each side.

At that moment, as you tried to keep your arm over his neck and he tried to weaken you by hitting your sides, you heard Steve and Sam's voices again. A small panic ran through your body which was enough for the soldier to push your arm away, grabbing you by the neck with his metal arm and bringing a gun close to your face as he rose up, taking you with him, until he slammed you into a wall with great force.

You raised your hand between your bodies to move the tip of the gun, the shot falling a short distance above your head, your exorbitant eyes watching his furious expression. His metal hand closed tighter and tighter around your neck, your breath hitching, but you didn't relinquish your grip on the hand still holding the gun.

In the midst of the struggle, you brought your knee up to strike his crotch. The soldier jerked away, a whimper dying in his mouth as you moved toward him again, pushing his arm away as he pointed the gun at you again and the shot landed somewhere behind you again.

You hit him in the face with your own head, one of your hands holding his right arm with the gun and the other trying to keep his metal arm that held the knife dripping with your blood at bay. You hit him full in the nose again, but even though the blood was starting to drip down, the soldier didn't budge one bit.

“Go!” you shouted to Steve and Sam, the soldier averting his attention for a tiny moment before struggling against your grip again.

You had to break free somehow to get the card to Steve. Your body began to give way with the soldier's thrust, your boots sliding on the floor like it was marble. The soldier began to close his arms and you tried to match his strength, but the blood leaking from the wound in your leg was slowly weakening you. And it was a vibranium knife again.

Suddenly you noticed Steve running towards you, the fleeting glance costing you restraint, as the soldier raised your arms and turned you roughly, his back crashing against your chest and his metal hand burying in your chest the knife hard, moving it from side to side as he did that cold night in Siberia.

In the midst of the pain and weakness from the blood loss, you laid your head on his shoulder, the adrenaline slowly draining from your body.

“Bucky,” you whispered like a prayer, your strangled voice barely making its way out of your mouth and the soldier tensing behind you. The struggling stopped for a second.

Then his body heat disappeared. Steve must've reached and tackled the soldier without missing a beat.

“Hey, hey,” you heard Sam approaching you, kneeling beside you and taking your hand that wanted to pull the knife out of your chest. Right through the center, near the heart. That pain was no match for the disappointment that was tearing you apart inside. Maybe that time you could actually die. “Don't touch that.”

“Give the card to Steve…” you barely muttered breathlessly, one of your hands moving to pull the card out of one of your lower pants pockets. “Run.”

Sam hesitated for a few seconds, looking between your knife and the fight that was still picking up steam in the background, until he clicked his tongue and stood up.

“Don't take that knife out!”

You saw him run in the direction of Steve and the soldier, his metal wings rising in the midst of the struggle. Steve and Sam began to get the upper hand, and at some point, Steve took off in the direction of the helicarrier control center.

You dropped to the ground, watching helplessly as the soldier overpowered Sam, dislodging his wings with the force of his metal arm. The pain was too much, but Sam was completely helpless. No matter how much training he might've had, fighting the Winter Soldier was disproportionate.

So in a matter of seconds you stood up, grasping between gasps the handle of the knife and pulling it out of your chest without a second thought.

The electric current of pain that coursed through your body was unbearable, feeling as if the hollowness you constantly felt in your chest from emotions had suddenly materialized, a constant pang that coursed through you from head to toe at every microsecond, with every movement. Sam didn't even have time to react when you grabbed the soldier by the throat, burying the knife in his leg and trying to wave him off.

You could consider yourself well served if at that moment that was your death.

The soldier grabbed the arm around your neck and leaned forward, lifting you up and flipping you over onto your back, falling hard and painfully to the ground. You looked at the knife in his leg before looking at his face again. He had a couple of cuts, his expression still angry, but he seemed to hesitate as he pulled the knife out like it was nothing and watched you lying on the ground, completely at his mercy.

His hesitation brought unease to your chest.

“Bucky,” you called again, tears welling in your eyes.

The soldier only frowned, his anger momentarily fading until he seemed to remember something.

He turned to look at the control center. Before running off, he sent you another disgruntled look, just like that time on the road.

Whatever had happened after that, death or not, was extremely painful.

-

tag: @samodivaa @rubyxx16