#slowly falling for this gentleman

[screampied]

C*M RIGHT ON ME, I MEAN CAMARADERIE ☆

☆ sum. what’s bed chem? where they like to finish inside, when you both arrive at the same time, and the thermostat’s set at six-nine. toji, nanami, choso, gojo, sukuna.

warnings. fem! reader, established relationships, unprotected, premature ejac, lots of cúmplay, ōral (m! receiving), praise, dirty talk, overstim, impact play, squírting, bōob job, manhandling, size kink, spít, brēeding kink.

☆ NANAMI KENTO - TUMMY.

nanami was a gentleman—he didn’t mind filling you up, but he’d rather prefer to paint your tummy instead. he’d always have you in missionary too, giving you deep passionate strokes whilst he’s buried nose deep near the crook of your neck. “sweetheart, you’re doin’ so good,” he softly rasps as blond tresses of hair glue against his perspiring skin. with just how close he was—you feel his husky pants ghost against your skin, nearly tasting his loud rosemary cologne scent. “mmh, missed you all day at work. had a boner in my meeting ‘n everything.”

“y- yeah?” you pant right with him, weak arms wrapping around his broad narrow shoulders. nanami’s so slow that it’s almost painful, trying to make every thrust count. you’re slathering his entire cock with nothing but your slippery slick, hearing the weeping sloshes purr from beneath your folds. he was hitting you good, and the back of your ankles find themselves running down his chiseled back. with a sheepish smile—you meet his mahogany-eyed gaze, moaning put sweet nothings. “you weren’t thinkin’ about me in your meeting, were you ‘ken?”

“ah,” he grunts, “you know i was, sweetheart,” and he’s staring at you with the most warmest expression. his soft fawn eyes linger on you the entire time and he brings a tender kiss near the twitching corner of your mouth. “all i think about is you,” he kisses near underneath your chin. “only you,” and you moan once he sneaks a hand down between your sprawled open thighs, giving your stuffed pussy a loving pat. “and of course her.”

nanami’s pace slowly accelerated as he moved— you can’t help but drag your nails down his back, clinging onto him for dear life. “fuck,” your head falls back against the cushioned pillow that’s laid directly behind you. his hips, they were delicious.

nanami pounds into you in such a romantic way, and yet his thrusts were far more crude. he knew how to fuck, and he knew how to hit all the right spots to make you gasp. “kento, ohmygod,” you’d whine out his name constantly in sweet repeated syllables. “faster, ‘s okay, fuck me. fuck m- me.”

“such a naughty mouth my wife has,” he whispers, and his voice pitches—growing a bit raspy. he’s driving fat inches into you, jaggedly crashing his hips into you again and again. you moan, feeling strands of his hair tickle against your forehead. “oughta clean it,” his voice goes even lower, and the bass that lives on his tone makes you throb. he feels it—your spongy insides desperately convulsing around him. nanami cups your chin, pressing a wet chaste kiss against your lips. “faster, hm? ‘s that what you want, my love?”

as your eyes start to flicker back, rolling toward the very depths of your cranium—you whimper, babbling out pathetic whiny cries by this point. “y- yes, faster please ‘ken. need it, fuck me.”

his body sticks against yours practically - skin against skin, and he’s attached to you like velcro.

your cunt’s soaking him fully and it makes him bite the inside of his hollow cheek. nanami reaches onto the wooden-made headboard with a single burly arm, and you moan at the sight of his bulging muscles flexing from his grasp. “i see you checking me out, honey,” he chuckles, his hips bucking even quicker. you whimper once his cock kisses up against your clit. it scratches such a carnal itch in your brain that makes your thighs almost collapse. fuck, he found the spot, he found that spot and now you were sure your brain was short-circuiting. fuzziness coils at your brain before you cutely try to paw your hands at his arms. “go ‘head. feel me up, sweetheart. these muscles belong all to you.”

as your hands feel against his brick hard muscles, nanami’s blond brows contort into a furrow once he feels a sudden familiar strain. “oh, god,” and you feel this pace gradually slow down. he bites his lip, still holding onto the headboard while another hand grips your waist. “honey, you’re gonna make a mess out of me again, fuck.”

nanami rarely swears—but when he does, it makes you throb. he tries not to, but whenever he’s stuffed deep inside of your cunt, he can’t help it. you’re clinging onto him with your pretty thighs wrapped around his slim waist. “cum, ‘ken.” you moan, flimsy arms wrapping around his tense shoulders. nanami’s weight hovers over you completely, and he feels your finger twirl against his faint blond chest hair. he huskily groans, giving you those last final deep strokes before shooting complete blanks.

with quickness, nanami pulls his cock out— and he sprays globs of satiny ribbons right on your bare tummy. he groans as his pink lips purse together and he’s shaking. your pussy’s so soaked, and he only imagined what would happen if he came inside. the thought purged his mind—flooding his thoughts, and he takes a few seconds before collapsing right on your chest.

“are you alright?” he pants, resting his chin between your breasts. for a faint moment, you see him pouting and you kiss his forehead. a sheepish grin spreads against his lips before you feel him softly pressing down on your tummy. “i wasn’t too harsh, was i?”

“again, kento,” you playfully coo, and he’s taken by surprise once you suddenly get up, lightly shoving him on his back. landing with a quiet ‘oof,’ nanami falls back against the bed with a timid look in his eyes, allowing you to straddle his lap. “this time, inside though.”

“yes ma’am,” he replies in a cheeky tone, still sweating as he brings his broad bare hands toward your waist. “let’s see if you can handle me, sweetheart,” and you moan once he abruptly spanks your ass, leaning in to whisper against your ear. “your move.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO - TITS.

“get on your knees,” choso mumbles, remembering you wanted him to be a bit more rough whenever it came to intimate activities. he’s got the biggest pout though as he’s stroking himself awkwardly, a pout twisting against his pink lips. “…please,” he murmurs quietly, watching as you got down on your knees, reaching an arm behind you to unclasp your bra. choso’s already panting as he gawks, swollen round thumb grazing up against his veiny bulging cock. “good girl, good.”

“you remember what to do next, baby?” you sweetly hum, cupping each of your springy tits. god, you looked so pretty. choso loved finishing on your chest. after you demonstrated to him what a ‘boob job’ was, he became obsessed. sure, he liked finishing inside too but he always preferred this—spraying creamy ropes near your breasts, and his favorite part was to always shove his cock in between them.

you taught him a lot, and maybe he was far dirtier than you expected.

with a nod, he continues to pump his cock into his hand before groaning out a, “mhm,” and he kisses his teeth. already, he was close. you drove him crazy - you and him both knew that, and it makes him get harder at realizing how big of a mess he’s about to make - on you.

choso’s cock was so pretty — it’s long, and stands tall right before your eyes. your eyes rove at how it’s got a slight left lazy curve due to how heavy it was, as well as having a prodding vein running down the middle of his shaft. you can’t help but lean in, lapping your tongue against the vein as you bounce your doughy twin mounds with the palm of your hands. “f- fuck, baby you’re teasin’ me,” he moans, a hand of his grabbing onto the top of your head. dewy eyes of yours slowly glance up at him and you hum, licking a long playful stripe right down from his swollen tip until you reach his shaven base. “ah, you don’t wanna wait, do you? should i just—”

“go ‘head, ‘cho,” you coo, twiddling your thumbs against the sensitive nubs of your nipples. doing so, you make yourself twitch between your legs and you moan, giving his achy tip a quick kiss.

“o- okay,” he swallows thickly, and his breaths become more and more shallow. choso’s abs tighten and clench and you watch how a single drop of sweat races down the very center. he’s got the prettiest expressions. his lip quivers before he gnaws on it, letting off a soft whine at the tightening pressure that’s arising against his cock. “baby, tell me if it’s too much,” he mumbles with pouty lips, and that’s when he aligns his shaft in between your jiggling breasts. a perfect fit, he moans immediately once you sit up with a teasing smile, circling your tits around repeatedly. “fuck, keep doin’ that. touch yourself, uh huh.”

as your hands cling onto your plump breasts, he’s slowly thrusting his dick in between your tits. you feel that same prodding vein that runs against his shaft against your skin and you sigh. “cum, choso. give it t’ me.” you softly utter, never breaking eye contact. choso practically had heart eyes — only you could talk to him like that and make him entirely weak. he lets off a sweet elongated moan, watching with saucer-wide eyes as his hardened dick’s gradually disappearing in between the valley of your breasts.

“ngh, ‘m cumming,” he groans in a low voice, inhaling his final sharp breath. as choso’s nostrils flare up, it’s only then that he abruptly cums on your chest, painting the upper part of your frame with his creamy white color. “mmh, shit,” his head tosses back, and his dick finally grows flaccid. choso’s soft now, and his tip’s still the same rosy white, streams and streams of speedily dribbling from the sides. he’s huffing as a bit of it plops on your cheek and you swipe a thumb against it, lapping it right up. “baby, you’re s- so dirty.”

“for you,” you reply in a honeyed tone, leaning in more to slowly swirl your tongue around his throbbing crowned tip. foaming minuscule bubbles ooze from the reddened head of his cock and he groans, still feeling the euphoric after effects of his body. the sensitivity of it all feels good, and it leaves an unforgettable sweet taste in his mouth. you’re still on your knees and as he’s coated the entire parts of your tits with spurts of hot dripping cum. you lick your lips, giving his tip one more kiss. “you did so good, baby. good boy.”

with his dick still in hand, his eyes widen at your praise and it’s so cute—he’s got literal heart eyes forming before his pout returns.

“… say that again,” he gruffs, a thumb delicately smearing against your glossed lips. you were covered in his mess, and he only wanted to do it more. “please, say that again.”

with a sheepish smile, you hum. “good boy?”

“mm,” he moans from just your words, and you gasp once he suddenly lifts you up. choso’s panting, and you realize he’s leading you toward the bedroom. “i- i need to show you just how much of a ‘good boy’ i can be. h-heh.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO - INSIDE.

“fuuckk, dunno who’s the bigger slut right now, baby girl. you or these. damn. hips.” toji groans, enunciating each virile thrust.

raven shaggy strands block his semi-blurred eyesight as his own sculptured hips continue to punctuate each hit against your very core. you’re moaning until the cords in your throat goes strained—he’s got you laid flat on the bed. ass up, face down.

his favorite, toji loved his doggystyle.

not only did he love it though, he was fucking mean. each jackhammering clap of his hips sends you whiplash as multiple breaths snatch out from your throat. “yeaaahhh, take it. fuckin’ take it. move that ass against me, don’t be lazy,” he grunts, verdant eyes peering at the doughy globes of your rear jerk and toss back against him. with a swatting hand going towards your left ass cheek, he grabs your hip with another. “oh, c’mon. you can move quicker than that big girl. thought you could take me.”

“hngh, i can,” you mewl out, hearing your own cunt retaliate against his teasing. he’s buried so deep that the crown of his cock’s just sloppily making out with your cervix. so big, the crooked stretch of his dick always makes you drool, aching for more within each pivotal stroke. you feel a scarred thumb of his caress down the juncture of your jittery waist as your cheek smushes up against your pillow. “toji, you’re jus’ fuckin’ big.”

“watch that mouth,” he swats a palm against your ass again, making you moan. the bed beneath you both wails out a plethora of groans, sounding as if it the headboard was about to shatter into a million pieces. the cocky authority in his low deep voice makes your cunt twitch — and oh, does he feel it. “cute, strugglin’ ‘ta take me ‘n yet your pussy’s tellin’ me something else,” and once he leans further in, his chest brushing up against your back, he’s even deeper. toji’s swollen fat crown massages through your walls and you whimper, feeling his hand softly wrap around your throat. “you’re soaking me, you know that? ‘n you said you weren’t even that wet, liar. .”

your eyes gradually droop once he creeps his hand up toward your face, popping two fingers into your mouth. “put that bratty fuckin’ mouth to use,” a husky voice whispers against the shell of your ear. you happily take his two digits, swirling your tongue around the thickness of them both whilst he’s still ruthlessly pounding you. your ass sticks up in the air and he groans, continuing to hump his hips achingly against your backside. “fuck, good girl. get my fingers wet. gonna shove ‘em right in this sloppy pussy later,” and he hears you let off a sweet needy coo. spanking your cunt with his free hand, he licks near your neck. “oh? you’d like that, huh doll?”

shamelessly, you nod at his words and he darkly chuckles. cute, even with your throat being stuffed with his fingers. and you’re nothing but a mess too. strings of spit drizzle down the inner crevices of your mouth as your tongue curls around his fingers. “shit, y’er gonna make me cum,” his breath grows shaky, and he hears your pussy starting to whine out airy moans of itself. gummy flesh sticks against each other from each thrust and it’s hard. both gripping mounds of skin clash amongst each other at full force and the impact rings through your ears. toji groans, feeling his full base starting to tighten and his jaw clenches. “gotta make this tummy plump again, just … gotta,” and his hips dramatically buck, plummeting every length inch inside of your sopping sweet cunt. “f- fuck!”

toji gets humbled by his own release before he cums—and he groans. that final merciless shimmy of his hips rigidly sealing the deal. within seconds, he’s cumming—emitting out masses of thick slimy ropes that quickly sprays the inner lining of your pussy. your mouth’s still full of his fingers and your lashes flap, eyelids becoming insignificantly heavy. you weakly grind your hips back on him and toji’s loudly grunting. “god, i need .. a minute,” and a drop of sweat races down his sculpted v-line. a hand combs through his shaggy unkempt hair as he’s still pumping you with such salacious virility. “ugh. gonna get ya pregnant at this rate. swollen all u-up,” and his voice falters once his cock finally finishes it’s sloppy spurts.

you felt warm, a few remnants of cum tear and ooze down the undersides of your thighs—he came that much, and you only wanted more. whenever toji came inside, he’d always think about making your tummy round ‘n plump again.

“t- tojiii,” you whine, his fingers popping out of your mouth. he slowly scissors his fingers together, glancing at the glistening trail of saliva you’ve gifted his digits before he gradually pulls his cock out. your thighs were sprawled open and you could just feel his dangerous eyes bore into your back. “fuck, ‘m full.”

“good,” he rasps, smearing a fat thumb down your drooling clit. velvety ropes of cum—globs of it leak out from your folds and you’re just stupidly smothered into the pillows - fucked entirely stupid. toji’s chest heaves in and out before he brings his thumb up to his scarred lips, getting a taste for himself. “hn. not bad. now roll that ass over, baby. ‘m not done givin’ you a good fill.”

�� SUKUNA RYŌMEN - ASS.

sukuna rarely pulls out but when he does, he likes to finish on your ass.

he loves more than anything to spank you until you’re whining from the swatting stings, constantly moaning out his name until your voice wears itself thin.

“your pussy’s always so weak,” he snarls, submissively having you on all fours. his chambers were quiet - minus the loud smacks of bodies clapping against each other every few thrusts.

his hips were maddened—he’s got you face down, fat cheek shoved into the silky made sheets with your tongue lolled out of your mouth. “ ‘s a shame, thought i trained it well,” the demon tsks, and your tummy curls once you feel his turgid tip swivel around your spongy insides. riiiight there, he hits every spot, feeling you slather all nth inches of his dick with your honeyed slick.

crimson red eyes peer at how well his dick continues to disappear within your walls—over and over, you’re gripping down on him like a vice and it makes him hiss. “there we go. there’s that pathetic squeeze,” and you moan, feeling him reach down to maneuver evil circles against your cunt. so sensitive, you writhe back against his hips and his forked tongue licks against the inside of your neck. “aw, someone’s pussy needed some lovin’ too, huh,” and as his warm breath ghosts against your skin, his thrusts grow sloppier. you shudder, feeling beads of sweat race down the cracked valley of your ass.

“suku—”

“quiet, woman,” he shushes you, a sharp nail softly grazing down your skin. you moan, taking in every lengthy inch until your toes curled. sukuna’s hips were just downright brutal—you were gasping as he moved, his pace growing completely crazed and relentless. you could barely keep up, and although he’d never say it aloud because his pride wouldn’t let him, he found it adorable. as his hands continue to toy against your stuffed squelching cunt, he groans against your ear. “hear that?” he purrs against your skin, each saturated slosh getting louder than the next, a wolffish grin curls against his lips. “you wait your turn to speak, right now it’s hers.”

your eyes were already starting to roll back, he’s hitting you deep, and that crooked curve of his cock makes you salivate everytime. “o- ooh,” you’d whimper out, feeling the fabric of his kimono tickle against your skin from each swift movement he makes. his angry tip smacks against your clit and it’s just so rude - hitting and slapping away repeatedly until your brain’s complete mush. he was right though - you were incredibly wet. your pussy was more of a crybaby than you were. the sloshing sounds pour out from your cunt bounce off the regal walls of his royal chambers and that’s when you shriek. “ ‘m gonna cum, gonna cum ‘kuna—fuck.”

“thought i told ya to keep quiet, princess,” bruising your pulsating clit continuously until you’re seeing nothing but stars. your vision glimmers, and you can see the entire galaxy, all from his deep, deep thrusts. “but, fine,” and the curse groans, knowing he was reaching his monumental high too. sukuna’s giving you his all, his pace was insanity, insane—just like he was.

his skin glues against yours after each hard ferocious thrust, sharp smacks swatting against your skin. “fuck, better take it,” and you moan once he spanks your ass again. “i didn’t tell you to stop arching, little girl. keep up.”

you moan, his swollen fat ridge of his cock continuing to drag in and out of your dripping cunt, screaming out cute squelching ‘pop’s until you’ve just about had it. here it comes, you prepare a long breath before you end up squirting right down on his cock. you’re squeezing around him tightly, clamping against him and he grunts before shortly following your lead. sukuna’s hips get sloppy, and by this point he’s just humping you from behind.

“k- kuna, fuck,” you whimper, growing quiet once clods of frothy white cum start to bubble down the sides of his thick shaft. veins prod from each sides as he’s filling you up, and it’s so much. you’re salivating, feeling his hands claw up and down your body — a wordless indication that you’re his and his alone. both of you groan in unison and as you finish gushing out on him, sukuna grunts.

“good,” he murmurs, glancing down at the translucent ring that starts to form around his full base. you’re sopping wet, so much that it’s almost pathetic. even more now that he’s gave you his cum, and sukuna watched as you bawl your empty hands into the ivory colored sheets, making a cute attempt at trying to crawl away.

“runnin’ away so soon? get back here,” he purrs, and you moan once he drags you back with his hips, a low chuckle leaving from his lips. sukuna licks down your spine before a wide thumb smears against your cunt. your folds still ooze with sultry cum before he playfully bites against your neck. “you’re still weak. pussy needs more training,” and you gasp once he leans further in, pulling your hips back down once you tried to sit up.

“now, arch girl.”

☆ GOJO SATORU - MOUTH.

whenever you go down on satoru, he’s just so pretty.

leave it to him to always make the most sluttiest facial expressions, while moaning out even sluttier moans. his long, slender fingers grip against your hair, tugging at your scalp lightly as your head continues to bobble.

“oh, fuck. that’s it baby. god, you ‘n that mouth,” he huffs, and you can hear his tone shake once you teasingly skim your tongue down the side of his cock. streams of saliva pour past the corners of your lips as he’s encouraging you to go faster and faster. thin snowy brows compress together and he even bites down on his bottom lip, flexing his perfectly chiseled muscles all because of you. satoru’s right thigh starts to bounce and he grunts, hearing the sloshing wet sounds—the way you take him fully in your mouth. his flushed tip continues to thwack back against your uvula and he hears you moaning yourself, despite it being muffled. “mhm, use that tongue. don’t be shy, wanna see you do that thing again, b- baby. spit on it.”

departing your lips from his dick, you take a second to breathe—satoru watches with dilated pupils and needy eyes, cupping your chin. “go on,” his bottom lip quivers, and although he’s trying to keep up his tough dominate act, he’s already pouting. you have a smug smile, positioning your spit-slick lips toward his crimson tip, before gathering up a nice amount of saliva. lustrous strings tug from your lips, landing on the head of his cock and he grunts—you go back to sucking him off again with a few croaking sounds leaving the back of your throat. his tip’s fat, his girth even fatter. it reaches all the way inside of your mouth, until your pretty cheeks were all puffed and full. “god, you’re so fuckin’ nasty, baby,” he starts to whine, and he can feel himself getting close - too close. with low half lidded eyes, he watches as you use a hand to stroke up and down his length, sliding your tongue all around his twitching veins that print on his hardened cock.

satoru’s legs were about to collapse—he felt it. there’s a lump growing in the back of his throat as he watches you, sloppily thrusting his hips into your mouth. “talk s- so much, all you needed was dick ‘ta keep you fed, huh?” and even his dirty talk’s becoming whiny. you had him weak, he’s feeling himself tighten and he groans once your eyes meet his. you’re so smug, he hates it - but it secretly turns him on. your pace grows relentless. as he continues to have a big hand gripped on the back of your head, making you go even further down—he lets off a gasping wheeze. “shit, ‘m gonna cum. ugh, gonna cum baby,” and as his breath starts to grow more shallow, he uses another hand to stroke your cheek. “c- can i fill up this mouth again, angel? pretty please?”

“mmph,” you nod, finding your own hand creeping down between your legs to touch yourself. you were soaked, briefly drooling from the crevices of your thighs with slick. satoru’s breath hitches before his weak pumps inside of your throat starts to get slower and slower.

the second he cums—he lets off a maddened growl. it’s cute, it shoots out in thick ropes that paint all over your tongue. it was a lot too, his poor swollen tip’s all red as you’re letting him fill your mouth with such bittersweet heaps of cum. he perfectly paints near the roof of your mouth too. satoru’s face twists as he’s dumping everything out—he’s got the cutest expression, but with the way he’s panting and moaning loudly, it’s even more lewd.

his brows furrow and he’s still trying to pump his flaccid dick into you, he wraps a hand around it before letting off a shivering groan. “that’s a g- good girl,” he says through clenched teeth, slowly dragging his cock away from your lips. he loved seeing you like this, on your knees with your lips all swollen and plump. “hah, don’t swallow yet baby. let ‘toru get a good look first.”

as your knees bury into the soft minuscule fibers that make up the carpet floor, he cups a hand under your chin. your cheeks were still full and round, storing such amounts of his candied seed before he leans down. “say ah,” he demands in a shaky tone, watching as you immediately pry open your mouth. satoru feels his dick twitch at the sight of how he poured so much down your throat, tiny velvety bubbles bubbling all around. “good. . good girl,” and he finally tells you to swallow, ogling once you take in, savoring every bittersweet drop. a thumb briskly swipes against your damp lips slowly before he inhales a sharp breath, lowering himself to your head level. “now gimme a kiss. don’t be g- greedy, i want a taste too.”

once you lean in to kiss him—he moans right inside your mouth, luxuriating in the taste of himself lingering on his tongue. satoru tastes minty, a coolly mint taste forevermore stays on his tastebuds. “fuck,” he groans between sloppy kisses, and you feel his hands slither around your waist. they go toward your ass, giving it a nice squeeze and hearing you cutely gasp. once your mouth opens just a bit more, he delves his long tongue down your throat. satoru keeps moaning in your mouth, and that’s when you feel him starting to grind himself against you. his cock that now hangs was so soft, tears of dried cum pathetically leaking from the sides. with loud lips and teeth clashing amongst each other, he abruptly stands up again, wrapping a hand around his cock. “ngh, tongue. stick it out again, baby.”

you do, lolling it out and he whispers out a ‘fuck,’ once he sees your own drool streaming down your chin, landing on your tits. such a tease, satoru scoffs with a pout before bringing his achy cock up to your lips. “s- still hungry?” the white haired man asks with a quivering lip, smacking his tip against your tongue. you moan, the loud echoey slaps from his dick slapping on your tongue. you give him a nod and he’s got a sleazy grin, staring at your cute attempts to try and suck him off again. “heh, ‘course you are. such a cock drunk baby,” and with one more smack against your twitching tongue with his swollen tip, he starts to ease his way down your tight throat again. groaning, he huffs.

“n- now open niiiiice ‘n wide, baby. ‘m gonna give you that full, all you can eat, f- fuck.”

[goatgoesmbe]

141 x f!reader thoughts..

Kyle would be the kind of guy who would help you find your bikini top when he saw you panicking by the beach, not knowing how it slipped off of you in the first place. You were crouching in the water, drowning in shame with your face fully flushed in a darker hue as you tried to cover your breasts with your arms.

He didn't care that you were a stranger. He would always help a damsel in distress every chance he could get.

And then, he would put on the most pitiful look on his face as he told you that he had been looking everywhere but he couldn't find it, would offer you a towel to drape over your body, just so you could have some dignity left as he escorted you back to your bag. Letting you press the swell of your chest against his body as you tried to hide from the leering gaze of the others. Acting like he didn't have said bikini top shoved inside the pocket of his shorts.

While Johnny would be (too) eager to help. He practically sprinted towards you and splashed water everywhere, falling deaf to your squeal, brushing off how you looked afraid at a hunk of a man that was him- running towards you full speed.

But you were desperate, and not in any state to flee. So you asked this stranger for help which he happily agreed to.

He'd found it in record time, and when you were about to thank him, he lifted the bikini top over your head. Grinning as he taunted you, saying that he would only give it back if you let him eat your ass.

You slapped him on reflex, but it gave the opposite effect from the way he chubbed up in his speedo.

And again, you were desperate. So in the end, you agreed to his term.

John would be a gentleman, as he would approach you slowly, asking if you need help with anything. His voice was calm and his whole demeanor was kind, so you nodded and accepted his help.

But then, he wouldn't let you out of his sight. Pulling you close to him when you said you were gonna look the other way to make the search more efficient. "Stay close" he murmured to your ear, one arm around your waist as he pressed your body against his. Bare tits pressing against his torso.

..He just wanted to protect you from perverts who couldn't keep their eyes to yourself, right? just trying to hide you from them with his broad stature. He definitely didn't have any other intention.

Most would think that Simon wouldn't bat an eye. But, fortunately for you, you were pretty enough for him to care.

So he stood up from his spot and approached you directly. Gaze focused on your tits as he ignored anything else around him. Shoving some random kid out of his way.

You were too focused on your search to notice until a dark shadow loomed over you. And you didn't get the time to react before he unceremoniously lifted you up and carried you away like a sack of potatoes after wrapping you in his big towel like a burrito.

[incognit0slut]

Angel

PART 5 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Single Dad!Spencer x Nanny!Reader Spencer likes having you around to look after his daughter, in fact, he likes you a bit too much.

content: (18+) 5.4k, breeding kink, fingering, fem oral, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, d/s dynamic but he still tries to be a gentleman although reader doesn’t want him to, mutual pining, body worship with slight religious metaphors bc he’s down so bad, and of course sweet aftercare a/n: 1) i know the gif isn’t spencer but i just had to; 2) i changed the title from the original plan bc i was listening to angel baby while writing this; 3) if i have the chance to describe his happy trail and tummy i will in a heartbeat; 4) this fic is basically the epitome of D-I-L-F!

“I want you to understand,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear, “that I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

A hand creeps up the back of his neck. “What if I want you to?”

“I’m serious.”

“I am serious. I’m not the one hesitating.”

His hand glides slowly up your side, fingertips barely ghosting over your skin, and a soft, shaky breath escapes his lips. “I’m trying to be responsible."

“I think we’re past being responsible,” you counter as his fingers trace your waist. “What are you so worried about, anyway? You’re not forcing me into anything.”

“I want to make sure you don’t feel like—” his fingers twitch, lingering over your bare skin, “—like I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

“I’m literally naked under you,” you remind him. “If anyone’s taking advantage here, it’s me.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he exhales. “You’re making this really hard, you know that?”

“That’s kind of the point.”

And it’s true, Spencer realizes with a rush of heat, because he’s incredibly hard, the heavy length of his cock pressed against your stomach while he braces his weight above you. His lungs tighten, squeezing around breaths that feel too thick to swallow as his teeth graze his lower lip. It takes everything in him to keep from losing himself when his mind is already slipping.

How could he have ever imagined it would go this far?

Spencer can’t quite make sense of how this quiet, unassuming crush that crept in the first time he saw you with his daughter has led to this. It wasn’t anything grand or sudden, just this slow bloom that unfurled every time he caught you reading to Violet or laughing with her over some little joke in the living room. There was just something about the way you slipped so easily into his life, fitting into the spaces he hadn’t realized were empty until you filled them.

He’d never let himself imagine it would go beyond that. He’d convinced himself those feelings for you were just something he’d have to live with quietly, a small ache that would fade with time. But somehow, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden, you’d found your way to him. And against all his expectations, you liked him back. You like him enough that you’re now wearing nothing but a smile.

Flushed skin kissed by the moonlight spilling through the window.

Innocent eyes touched with a hint temptation.

It all feels like some sort of surreal dream.

The moment that led to this replays in his mind, clear as daylight even if it happened well past midnight. He’d gotten home somewhere between too late and way too late, running on nothing but caffeine and sugar, and there you were, leaning casually against the kitchen counter like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You started talking about your day with Violet, recounting how you’d taken her to the park, read her favorite book before bed, and how she’d peppered you with endless questions about why the sky changes colors when the day changes into night. But something was different in your voice, a softness to the way you said his name, and your gaze lingered on him just a beat longer than usual. It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing he could point to and say that’s it, but he felt it. An almost imperceptible shift in the air.

Before he knew it, he had crossed the room and kissed you. He should’ve thought it through or paused to consider the consequences, but the way you responded made it clear you’d been waiting just as long for his attention.

His shoulders fall with a quiet exhale.

“This could get complicated,” he continues, as if reminding you (and maybe himself) that there’s a line between employee and employer that he’s about to cross. A line that could change everything between you both once it’s blurred. “We should think about what this means.”

“We’ve had plenty of time to think. If you wanted to stop, you would’ve done it already.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“Then please enlighten me.”

Instead of answering right away, he leans in, his lips finding the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, and then he’s gently pulling the tender flesh between his lips that draws a sudden moan from your throat. The sound seems to fuel him, and before you can even register what’s happening, his fingers are already slipping lower, exploring the soft space between your thighs.

“What if I want more than this?” His fingers inch closer, teasingly brushing against your heat with a slowness that borders on torment. “What if I want everything?”

Your hips buck against his hand. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Not just tonight.”

The words send a ripple of electricity that blooms deep in your core. When his fingers finally slip between your folds, a sharp gasp escapes your lips before you can hold it back.

“You… you mean you want… more than this? More than just us… here?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice catching like gravel in his throat as his fingers trace over the slickness he’s found. “Does that scare you?”

For a moment, words fail you. The slow, coaxing rhythm of his fingers pulls you deeper into a haze where coherent thoughts are hard to grasp. There’s a pause, a heartbeat where he stops. Waiting.

“No,” you confess, the truth slipping out more easily than you expected. “It doesn’t.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “It doesn’t?”

Your lungs expand, filling with a rush of oxygen and a nervous flutter that lands somewhere in the pit of your stomach. “I think this is the right time to tell you I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

Spencer stays motionless for a beat. Then something shifts—his gaze softens, and a small, almost incredulous smile curves his lips. “You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

“As in… you have feelings for me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you’re not just… turned on right now?”

“Well, that too,” you admit with a grin, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. “But it’s more than that. I really like you.”

His smile widens, and his fingers begin to move again, circling your clit with just the right pressure to pull a sharp intake of breath from you. It’s as though your confession is a final green light he’d been waiting for. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your teeth catch your lip, struggling to hold back fragments of breath. “I thought it was obvious,” you manage between heavy exhales. “Why do you think I always stay late?"

"To avoid traffic?"

You huff. "I tried to be around you as much as possible, Spencer."

His fingers toy at the edge of your entrance, tracing the slick, warm wetness that clings to his skin as a quiet hum rumbles in his chest. “You know I’m not always the best at picking up social cues.”

“You’re a profiler.” Your breath catches halfway between a gasp and a sigh when he slides a finger in. “You're supposed to notice everything."

He lets your words settle, eyes narrowing slightly as he turns them over in his mind.

“I guess I was too focused on trying not to cross any lines to see the ones you were trying to draw."

A soft moan escapes your lips as another finger slides in.

“I'm… glad you finally caught on."

"I'm catching on now.”

His eyes drop to the way your body greedily takes his fingers. The sight alone sends a rush of heat straight to his gut like a line of fire winding up through his chest and spreading into his limbs. You’re dripping, the slick sound of your arousal nearly derails him as he continues to watch the wetness coat his fingers with every slow thrust.

“Since when have you had this crush?” He asks curiously.

There’s a beat of silence, only punctuated by the soft, breathy noises escaping you. When he finally looks up, he catches the way your face scrunches in pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes barely open, and he can’t help but find it almost unbearably adorable. The corners of his lips twitch with a quiet laugh before he leans in, pressing the softest it’s okay, you can tell me kiss against your lips.

“Since when?”

You blink your eyes open at his question, and there’s a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Since—” you start, but your voice catches when he curls his fingers slightly, and you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a barely-contained grin.

“Since?” he prompts again.

You swallow the lump tightening in your throat. “Since you interviewed me for the job."

He absorbs your words. "That’s… more than a while."

"It was innocent at the time," you confess, trying to regain some control over your thoughts. "Just a silly little crush."

His pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, and whatever sense of composure you had left is slipping away piece by piece. “What changed?”

Desperation claws at you with every passing second, your hips moving against his hand as you scramble to gather your thoughts. But the way his fingers are mapping every sensitive spot makes it nearly impossible to articulate anything coherent. He doesn’t miss the way your breath stutters, or how your words break apart into fragmented attempts to answer.

“I-I—” you stammer, wincing as the words catch in your throat before you finally manage to continue, “I probably shouldn’t say…”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing."

He lets out a soft laugh. “Tell me anyway,” he urges. “I want to hear it.”

You fall quiet again, and the only sounds that fill the space between you is the ragged pull of your breaths and the slick rhythm of his fingers pumping lazily inside you. The words sit heavy on your tongue, threatening to disappear if you don’t say them quickly enough.

"Remember when… you taught Violet how to… ride her bike?”

He tilts his head slightly. There’s a furrow in his brow as he searches your face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, there were a lot of lessons.”

“The very first time.”

“Ah,” he muses. “Around June, then.”

You nod. “When I… saw you with her that day, I-I… I got curious.”

His fingers falter, just slightly, the subtle pause enough to show that you’ve grabbed his attention. “Curious?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You were so adorable with her… and I started thinking about what it would be like… to have your kids.”

If there was ever a moment to leave him utterly speechless, this was it. His brain seems to stall, the gears grinding to a halt as the reality of what you’ve said settles in. He’s spent so much time trying to be the one holding it all together, but now? Now all he could picture was you holding a baby—his baby—and the thought sent his mind reeling, knocking him off balance in a way he didn’t expect.

“You… thought about that?”

Your fingers trails his shoulder before slipping up into his hair, curling gently at the nape of his neck. “It crossed my mind more than once.”

“That’s—” wow. He leans his forehead against yours. “Not embarrassing. At all.”

“Really?”

“That’s probably the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life.”

You let out a soft chuckle, gently pulling on his curls before drawing his bottom lip into a gentle suck. “It’s never been innocent since then.”

Goosebumps rises along his skin, and the heat pooling low in his stomach tightens as he grows impossibly harder. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time.”

His jaw clenches.

He’s so close to completely losing it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he mutters, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.

“Why.. why not?”

“Because I might give you exactly what you want.” When he feels you clench around him, he huffs in amusement. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

There’s a tender spot he finds deep inside, one that feels achingly sensitive, and your mouth falls open, a soundless gasp escaping before you can catch it.

“You really mean it,” he says, more a realization than a question, as he watches your body go pliant beneath his touch.

“I do,” you manage to say.

“You want me that way?”

You nod frantically. “Want your cum in me.”

The second those words leave your lips, his groan rumbles through his chest, and you swallow it down as his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling in a chaotic rhythm that’s both desperate and needy. When he finally pulls away, you’re left panting, your lips swollen, his forehead resting against yours.

“Never would’ve guessed you had such a dirty mouth."

"There's a lot of thing you don't know about me."

His breath brushes against your lips as he whispers, “I’m starting to figure that out.”

When he slowly withdraws his fingers, you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your throat. Your eyes follow his every move as he sits up and settles between your thighs. You’ve always thought Spencer was an attractive man, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t admired the way his shirts fit just snug enough to hint at what was underneath. But seeing him naked like this? That was a whole new level of breathtaking.

Your gaze trails down his frame, landing on the soft curve of his stomach, something you'd secretly adored every time it pressed against his dress shirts. It was even more captivating without anything hiding it now, especially with the trail of dark hair leading down. Soft, scattered strands, drawing your eyes right to the place where you can’t help but stare.

He gives himself a slow pump. Once. Twice. And then, finally, you feel the firm pressure of his tip pressing between your folds.

“Are you sure?” he asks, the head of his cock sliding over your sensitive skin. “There's a condom in my drawer."

Your body tenses at the thought of him pulling back, and without thinking, your hand reaches between the two of you, wrapping around his cock before he can pull away. “When was the last time you got tested?”

He exhales sharply. “A few months ago,” he mutters, hips twitching against your grip despite himself. “If there was any risk, I wouldn’t even consider this without telling you.”

“I got tested last month,” you assure him quickly. “We’re both safe.”

He nods absentmindedly. “We can… still grab the condom if you want…”

“Spencer,” you interrupt, gently brushing the bead of precum that had formed at his tip. “I thought I made it clear I want you to cum inside me.”

He can only stare as your delicate finger trails along the thick vein. It feels like all the oxygen he’s desperately clinging to has been sucked from his lungs.

“I know you said you don’t want to take advantage of me…” you continue, guiding him right to your entrance. “But I really want you to.”

He finally lets out a low, gruff sound, something between a growl and a sigh as he slowly pushes himself in. His eyes are locked on the sight of your walls stretching to accommodate his size, watching as your body struggles to take him.

"You should stop talking like that," he rasps through gritted teeth. "I’m barely holding it together."

"Here's another thing you should know about me.”

He ruts gently into you. A push. A pull.

A heartbeat in between.

“I really like it rough."

That’s all it takes.

He slams his hips into yours.

Intense doesn’t even begin to describe what he feels. It’s more like a surge, a rush of heat and desperation that floods every inch of him the same time you cry out. His throat tightens, constricting around breaths he can’t seem to catch as he resorts to inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Jesus… you feel so—” His words falter, his voice rough and breathless as his fingers figs into your skin. His chest rises and falls with each labored breaths, and his eyes squeezes shut for a moment.

Tight. Warm. Wet. That’s exactly how you feel.

"Perfect." His large hands grips your waist. “You’re perfect.”

You mewl at his words, the sound spilling from your lips before you can stop it, and the soft, needy noise is enough to make his eyes flicker open. He begins to pull back, just enough to make you whimper from the sudden loss of contact, but before you can catch your breath, he snaps his hips forward with a rough, powerful thrust.

Your hands fly to his arms, holding onto him tightly. "Spencer… Please…”

He lets out a sigh.

No man is immune to that tone of desperation, least of all Spencer. Not when you’re offering yourself to him like something out of a dream. Not when your eyes lock onto his with a look that belongs more to an angel—if angels could be so helpless and desperate. Because what angel pleads with every breath for more?

What angel cries out as he holds your hips firmly in place and thrusts with a force that drives you to the brink of sanity?

He’s mesmerized. His eyes track the way your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips. There’s something almost greedy in the way his gaze roams over you, but it’s when he locks onto where your bodies meet that he really loses himself. A glossy ring coats his cock each time he pulls out, and when he pushes back in, the friction between your bodies creates a lewd, wet sound that fills the room.

He laughs. Not out of mockery, but out of sheer delight.

You’re an angel wrapped in sin.

“I can’t—oh god, right there—” Your nails leave little crescents moon on his skin. “You’re so… so deep.”

You’re really testing his limits, and Spencer knows he’s very far from a violent man, but right now, the temptation to cover your mouth with his hand is becoming dangerously real. Although with the way you’re writhing beneath him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, he’s sure you’d probably enjoy it.

“Spencer…”

His balls slaps your ass as he slams into you.

“O-Oh—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He squeezes your waist tightly. “Already?”

“Ngh.”

Your grip loosens on his arm, and before he can fully process what’s happening, your fingers dance along your clit. It takes all his willpower not to spill into you right then and there when he feels you tighten around him in response. But he holds on, because he needs you to cum first. He needs to feel your velvety walls flutter along the rigid veins of his cock, needs to watch the way your body tenses with pleasure.

He needs to feel it more than once.

He lets you have your first orgasm. Although letting seems like the wrong word. There’s nothing passive about it. He’s making you cum, driving you to it with each calculated thrust. You’re toying with your clit, rubbing in frantic circles just like you do whenever you touch yourself with the thought of him, but this time, it’s even more intense. This time, he’s inside you. And this time, it takes only a few moments for the tension to snap.

You clamp down on him. Hard. So hard that his movement falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm. Just as you start to catch your breath, he pulls out, and you’re left in that delicious, dizzy haze, but your mind is even more disoriented when his face suddenly lowers between your thighs.

“Oh, you’re gonna—” you moan as his shoulders nudge your legs apart, opening you wider for him. “Spencer, you don’t have to—”

Before you can finish, before you even take another breath, the tip of his tongue flicks out.

“I want to.”

And he means it. He dives in with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt. His tongue starts firm and flat, pressing against you before dragging slowly upward, gathering your slickness in one deliberate sweep. Then he changes rhythm, the broad strokes shifting into something more focused, alternating between gentle flicks and deep, hungry pulls, and it’s doing things to you that no amount of late-night fantasies could have prepared you for.

Your head is all over the place that you reach out blindly, trying to find something solid, but the air merely glides over your skin. You stretch for the edge of the bed, fingertips just skimming the surface before your arms flail helplessly in the empty space. He notices your struggle almost immediately, and without missing a beat, he pulls back, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Here,” he says, reaching out his arms toward you. “Give me your hands.”

Gladly. The second your fingers lock with his, a sense of grounding floods you, though it does nothing to ease the intensity of what he’s doing. If anything, it sharpens. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flex under your thighs as he positions himself. And sure, your legs somehow feel weightless, like they’re floating in the air, but the rest of you?

You’re a mess of nerve endings on fire.

It’s impossible to think clearly when every cell in your body is buzzing. Your thoughts scatter the second his mouth moves in that devastating way, driving you out of your mind. You try to hold on to some semblance of control, but who are you kidding? He has officially turned you into a puddle of desperate, needy nerves, and you don’t even care.

It doesn’t take long before that coil snaps, and when it does, your entire body trembles. It’s always the second orgasm. The first is a tease, a little warm-up. The second one is the worst—or the best, depending on how you look at it. It doesn’t just tug at your edges, it tears right through, leaving you gasping and shaking and completely undone like every part of you has been pulled apart and put back together very wrong.

His mouth is glazed with your slick when he finally pulls away. “Good?”

You can barely feel your legs.

“Speechless,” is your answer.

His nose twitches in amusement as his hand leaves yours only for them to slide down your body, gently coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist. “Continue?”

“Please.”

A palm slips down your thigh. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip as he hovers above you. “About what?”

“About taking advantage of you.”

You huff out a sigh. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Say it again,” he urges, guiding his cock smoothly along your folds before your whines travel into his ears. Ah, there it is. This is the sound that would greet him in heaven, if such a place existed for someone like him. Men who’ve taken lives to save others. Men who carry too many regrets to count. Spencer knows he’s not the kind of person heaven was built for, but if it were, he’s certain it would sound exactly like the breathy moan that escapes your lips.

And he’s tasted the afterlife, once, when he was younger—drifting somewhere between consciousness and oblivion with a ghost of a needle stuck in his arm. But nothing about that brush with death was like this. This feels like he’s been pulled back into something he didn’t believe he deserved.

“Say it again.”

He’s pleading now. It sounds awfully like a prayer.

“I want you to take advantage of me,” you say, the words spilling from your lips like a soft, sinful confession, music to his ears. An angel. “I want all of it.”

He takes your hands again. “So you won’t be mad if I get a little rough?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

That’s all he needs. He gently pushes your hands above your head, pinning them to the mattress, his fingers lacing through yours as his weight presses you into the bed. There’s a sudden rush—like a switch has flipped that it knocks the breath out of you. Your heart skips a beat, but not from nerves. No, this is anticipation, excitement.

You test his hold on you, just to see what happens, but his grip stays firm, almost daring you to resist.

“You asked for this,” he warns as he shifts his hips, aligning himself right to your entrance.

You shake your head. “I begged for this.”

He laughs, a flash of teeth in the dim light. “Yeah,” he breathes, his grip tightening as he presses deeper, “you did.”

A breathless whine escapes your lips as he fills you.

Angel, angel, angel.

He looks at you with a kind of reverence that borders on worship, though his movements are anything but saintly. There’s nothing gentle or innocent about the way he’s taking you, and there’s a quiet madness in the way you respond. Making love would be too tame, too soft for what this is. But fucking seems too crude, too disconnected for the way your eyes meet his, for the way you say his name like a prayer and a demand all at once.

The moment your voice breaks, breathless and needy, something inside him snaps. He feels the tightness coiling in his gut, and once it starts, there’s no stopping it. The pressure is mounting, and with every hard thrust it becomes harder to hold back. He knows he should slow down, give you a moment to catch your breath, but he can’t—his body won’t let him.

His fingers tighten around yours. He’s moving with a single-minded intensity now, pushing you flat against the mattress, your body pliant beneath him. The bed creaks every time he moves and your legs wrap tighter around his hips as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Spencer leans down, brushing his lips against yours, so close but never quite closing the distance, like even the simplest kiss would shatter him too soon. Instead, he rests his forehead on top of yours and whispers, “l’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, like he’s stuck on some endless loop. It’s not a real apology, not for anything he’s done, but for how much he needs you and how he’s afraid of breaking you with how much he can’t hold back.

He’s so close and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m—” He groans as he feels the tension in his body snap, the wave building up in his spine and crashing down with brutal intensity. “I—fuck—I can’t hold it—”

You’re barely coherent yourself, but your voice comes out strong. A little breathless.

“Inside,” you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. “I want it inside.”

Your words push him over the edge. He shudders, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as he can the moment the last thread of his restraint snaps. He can feel it, the way he pulses inside you, filling you completely. Every thrust is accompanied by a harsh groan as his release paints your walls, and the sound of your soft, desperate whines only pushes him deeper into the overwhelming pleasure.

When it finally becomes too much, he carefully pulls out. But the intensity is still coursing through his veins, and he’s too addicted to the sound of your sound, too drawn to the way your body trembles beneath him.

His hand drifts from your wrist almost on instinct, tracing its way down between your legs. He doesn’t need to see the mess he’s made—he can feel it. There’s a fleeting moment where he pauses, almost in awe, before his fingers brush over your clit, and your hips jerk in response. He’s not even sure if he’s teasing you or himself at this point, but he’s too far gone to care.

He slides two fingers inside you.

Your back arches instantly, your nipples brushing against his chest, and you gasp, fully aware of what he’s trying to do. “Oh… I—I can’t…”

He shakes his head. “You can,” he reassures you, watching in fascination as he pushes the white liquid of his release deeper into you. His gaze snaps back to yours. “I think you can give me one more.”

Your body trembles, and you can’t hold back the soft, broken cry that escapes your lips.

“Spencer…”

He loosens his grip on your hand, guiding it gently to rest around his neck. “Please,” he begs, his lips brushing your skin, “for me?”

The way he says it makes it impossible for you to deny him. And he knows it. He feels it in the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the tension inside you builds again. His fingers work faster, more desperate now, curling inside you just the way you like.

He’s watching, waiting, and when you finally cum again, it’s like witnessing something so divine. Your body shakes beneath him, a violent, beautiful quake that feels like it’s pulling him into its orbit. He’s unable to tear his eyes away as your head tilts back, lips parting with a choked moan that’s as delicate as it is devastating like an angel’s breath caught on the edge of rapture.

If angels looked this breathtaking in heaven, no wonder people were willing to risk damnation.

Spencer smiles wryly to himself.

Since when did he become so religious?

Another strangled moan escapes your lips. When your orgasm finally subsides, your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and with what little strength you have left, you reach up and yank weakly at his mop of brown curls.

“…no more.”

He smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No more,” he agrees, pulling his fingers from you carefully.

Without saying a word, he slips off the bed and disappears from the room, only to come back with a damp towel in his hand. You expect him to hand it over to you, but you’re surprised when he kneels at the edge of the bed, gently spreading your legs apart.

Your skin tingles under his gaze as he stares at the mess between your thighs.

“That was…” he starts as he begins to wipe the towel over you. “…very reckless of us.”

With a small, tired smile, you mutter, “You don’t seem too bothered by it.”

He glances up at you. “I’m not,” he admits, finishing his cleanup and setting the towel aside. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least pretend to be responsible.”

You reach for him as he climbs back into bed. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m on birth control?”

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his body visibly relaxing as he lets out a quiet laugh. “It definitely helps,” he says, tucking you under his chin, “but I’m still going to try to be more careful next time.”

Your grin is as wide as the warmth spreading through your chest. “Next time?”

He smiles softly. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Which part? You said a lot of things.”

“You know what I mean,” he insists.

“I know. But I want to hear it again.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours. “I want everything.”

“Everything?”

“Every single part of you.”

You take a deep breath. A whiff of his sweat and the faintest trace of soap clings around your senses until you release a happy sigh. “Do you think Violet will be okay with this? With us?”

His hand slips to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts his head to look at you. “She already loves you,” he reassures you. “She’s more adaptable than you think. And she trusts you.”

“But... what if it changes things for her?”

“It will change things,” he admits. “But all the changes will be good ones."

You mull over his words. “You think so?”

“I know so, because you make her happy. You make both of us happy, an—”

He stops, his lips just barely parted as he catches himself.

He almost said it. He almost called you angel.

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly, a faint embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m just really happy,” he explains, his fingers absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. There’s a curious look in your eyes, but instead of pressing him, you bury yourself into his neck, which he’s quietly grateful for because he’s not sure he could have explained himself without sounding like a total sap.

And maybe he is a sap, but even he’s aware that words like that shouldn’t be thrown around too soon, especially after just one night. Not before things settle in, before everything feels a little less like a dream and more like reality.

But he thinks about it. Oh, he thinks about it. The word stubbornly lingers at the edge of his mind he’s keeping for another time. He imagines letting it slip on some quiet morning, when you’re half-asleep and bundled in his shirt, golden sunlight filtering through the window to cast a warm glow across your skin. Or maybe when you meet him at the door after a long day, and Violet runs up, chattering away while you smile at him with that look that feels like coming home.

He can picture it falling easily from his lips someday, maybe even in a future where you’re holding the baby you had wondered about having with him and he’s standing there, watching you like someone who can’t quite believe his luck.

He’ll say it with a kind of certainty then. Not as a prayer, not as some lofty declaration of divine grace.

And when that moment comes, without hesitation, he’ll finally call you his angel.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Keep Talking

Your LADS man hitting it so well that you start speaking another language. Here's how I imagine they would react. [Requested by: tianalamb] A/N: Took some creative liberties as always CW: ‼️MDNI‼️fem!reader, afab!reader, p in v, raw dogging

Zayne

Type: Checks if you’re okay

Zayne is already incredibly touch starved so anytime the two of you are getting it in he is absolutely drowning in you. Nothing, but tangled limbs, faint snow particles that melt when they touch your heated skin, heavy breaths, searing wet kisses and whimpers of pleasure. Such a gentleman in the streets, but a real pussy pleaser in the sheets.

Here you are straddling him, dripping down his dick, watching him whimper under you. Unfortunately for you those thighs of yours are starting to burn. “Wooo hold on Zayne” The only thing he’s holding onto is your hips as he plants his feet and pistons up into you. The sudden change in power has you throwing your head back in ecstasy. Your sudden loud moans mingle with the string of foreign words. Zayne slows his pace and pulls you down; examining your face with concern “Is this okay? Did I go too fast?” You’re still trembling on the brink of another orgasm “No Zayne it was perfect keep going I'm close” He would waste no time snaking an arm around you and holding you close as he continued to bully your swollen pussy with those same vicious strokes that continuously massage your g spot.

Rafayel

Type: Speaks back to you in Lemurian

Rafayel is all red ears and shaky breaths yet somehow you always end up pinned underneath him. His lips never leaving your neck as he slid into you so tenderly. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close while he gave you long languid strokes. The way you gripped him already had him whimpering with each thrust, but the minute you started to beg him to go faster he thought he’d lost his damn mind. He’d slip his hand between your sweaty bodies, thumbing your clit while pounding your weeping pussy mercilessly. You jerked and squirmed under him as tears pricked your eyes.

When those foreign words reached his ears Rafayel would raise his head meeting your gaze and respond in Lemurian. Knowing that he’s hitting it so good you’ve reverted to your mother tongue would boost his ego immensely. He’d sit up pressing one of your legs down by your head and throwing the other over his shoulder so he can get even deeper — repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. That devilish smirk gracing his lips when he sees your eyes rolling from pleasure. “Raf- ngh! I’m cl- ah!” he’d lean down — folding you like a pretzel — taking your bottom lip between his teeth and giving you a sharp nip before whispering “I like when you speak in your mother tongue”

Xavier

Type: Gets turned on even more

Xavier was always insatiable when he got hot and bothered. He knows exactly what to do when it comes to making a mess of you. His goal would always be to have you begging for mercy while simultaneously begging for more. “One more baby just give me one more you can do it” his words were said through gritted teeth as he gave you rough calculated strokes. He would stare into your lust filled eyes as foreign words fell from your kiss swollen lips.

He had no clue what you were saying, but that silky voice of yours only turned him on even more. He gripped the fat of your hips and continued bullying your dripping cunt like he wants to mold the shape of your gummy walls to fit him and him only. Shudders rippling up his spine as your orgasm has your pussy spasming around him making him fall right over the edge with you.

His grip on you would become bruising as thick ropes of his cum filled you up. He’d pull out slowly watching his seed drip out of you. Just when you think you’re going to get a chance to catch your breath Xavier has you bent over the couch stretching you on his cock again. “Keep talking to me like that” he’d say breathless trailing wet kisses wherever his lips could reach.

Sylus

Type: Talks to you in the same language

It should be known by now that Sylus is a polyglot because he refuses to hire an interpreter for his business. He has the patience of a saint when it comes to prepping you. So when he has you pinned under him squirming and shaking from your second orgasm it’s not a surprise when foreign words roll off your tongue draped in pure bliss.

“You’re divine” He says slipping into your sopping cunt, audibly groaning as he sinks every inch into your welcoming heat. Once he bottoms out inside you he has to take deep breaths to stop himself from cumming too quick. His thumbs lovingly stroke your waist as he starts slowing moving. He’d already have you overstimulated so it didn’t take long before your third orgasm crashed over you.

His grip is turning harsh as he talks you through your third — his hips snapping into you at an even pace making your high last even longer. His breath is hot and choppy next to your ear; he’s trembling just as much as you. Sylus would have you so drunk on him that you didn’t even notice the entire time he was talking you through your orgasm he was speaking in the same language you were rambling in. You’d try your best to run, telling Sylus it’s too much. He’d hold you in place, singing your praises in your language as he added his fingers to the mix. Light spanking straight on your puffy clit had you practically screaming. His thrusts become sloppy right before spilling into you. Heavy ropes of cum painting your insides as Sylus holds you close whispering what feels like poetry into your ear.

Caleb

Type: Makes you repeat yourself over and over

Caleb could never get enough of you. The way his hands roamed from your boobs, to your hips, down to your thighs and slowly but surely making their way back to your waist. Your mind already going blank from the multiple orgasms he’d snatched from you. His thrusts are deep and slow “I could stay like this forever” he’d whimper as your cunt squeezed him mercilessly.

He perked up when those breathy foreign words dripped from your lips like honey. You pressed a hand against his stomach, covered in both your juices and his cum, whining for a quick break. Caleb has no idea what you’re saying, but the way you squirmed and whined under him only made his desire grow.

One moment you’re clawing at his back and next you’re flat on your stomach being pressed into the mattress. “Say it again” his breath is hot against your ear, but his tone has the heat in your core reigniting with a passion. His hand slipping under you and propping your chin up so he can hear you clearly as you ramble in your native language. He’d slip two of his long fingers into your mouth when you try to stifle a moan by biting your lip “Again” he’d demand. He licked and sucked on your neck while you drooled from both sets of lips, eyes rolling as he bullied his cock into you until you were whimpering uncontrollably; barely forming words. “Keep talking” Caleb really couldn’t get enough of you especially now.

[entitled-fangirl]

Mind and Body.

Cregan Stark x chronic illness Targaryen!reader

Summary: Cregan visits King's Landing, spotting a princess who'd been hidden away due to her constant illness. He's enamored.

A/n: based on an ask!

Masterlist

...........................................

"Lord Stark," Alicent greeted. "How wonderful for you to journey so far."

There was an agreement for the Warden to visit every five years to ensure his loyalty to the Realm and vice versa. Not that King Viserys was ever worried about Cregan. But the North was far and it was important to each side to check on the development of the other.

"'Tis only my duty to the North," he answered. 

The two walked quietly to the council room. Viserys had quickly grown ill, so most business would be conducted there. When he was well enough to go.

Which meant Alicent and Otto were in charge of their meetings when the king was absent.

…

The initial greeting was pleasant, even if the king was slowly decaying in front of him.

But Cregan had been free to wander around the castle as their guest. The next talk of business would not be until the morning, so he decided to take advantage of that.

The sun was beginning to set, just a hint of the dark creeping onto King's Landing. Cregan stood on the balcony overlooking the courtyard. Even their cold nights here were hotter than the chill of a warm Northern day.

"Princess, surely you should rest!"

His head snapped back towards the open doors behind him. His curiosity was beyond peaked. Princess Helaena was fine. He'd given her a brief nod and a polite acknowledgement hours ago.

And soon enough, a ghostly presence passed by the doorway. Cregan felt his breath catch.

Silver hair. Grey complexion. And a gown and cloak that dragged with every step.

He was struck.

Her guard followed behind, a resigned look in his eyes.

"I feel fine," her voice softly commented. It was weak, like she never used it.

As they journeyed down the corridor, the voices faded and Cregan found himself following them.

"You've still yet to regain your strength from your scare last week. You'll catch a chill," her guard reprimanded. His armor clunked together with each step, a reminder of the life he abided by.

She was like a gust of wind that chilled you from the bottom to top of your spine. And Cregan quite enjoyed the cold.

"I only wish to leave my chambers for a moment." Her movements were slow and lethargic, yet graceful and calculated. 

"You should have waited for me to gather your boots. I have no doubt the stone is freezing over. Please."

Cregan noted just how comfortable this guard was with telling the Princess off. They'd obviously gotten to know one another well.

She released a ragged sigh, pausing in her steps to look over her shoulder. "I-" She froze completely at the sight of Cregan behind them. She hadn't even heard him following, and he didn't make himself known.

Her guard followed her line of sight with ease, immediately moving into a defensive position at the sight of the large stranger.

"Forgive me," Cregan immediately covered, holding his hands out to show he wasn't a threat. He took cautious steps forward more into the light of the nearest window so he could be more seen. "My curiosity got the better of me."

Her guard turned, relying on the princess for her answer to the situation. It was up to her, after all.

Her head tilted to the side and she stepped past him to close in on Cregan.

As she neared, he noticed just how shallow her cheeks were sunken in. The grey in her complexion was an unwelcome one. Her eyes held a dullness to them, despite the intensity of their gaze. 

"Cregan Stark, my princess," he greeted, tipping his head down and holding out a hand. He only hoped she'd accept it.

She stared for a while before remembrance ran through her. "Stark of the North. Right." She took his invitation, a shaky hand falling on his.

He noted how cold they were. But he stashed that fact away and kissed her knuckles gently as any gentleman should.

He also noted the ready look in the guard's eyes. Like he'd pummel him just for stepping a toe out of line.

"I can't say I've had the pleasure of meeting you," Cregan continued, letting her hand fall back to her side. "How the Crown has hidden a pretty girl away, I cannot understand."

For once, her lips quirked up on the ends, a soft breath escaping her nose. She finds his comment humorous. "You mustn't lie."

True, she's a bit worse for wear, but she still holds the Targaryen beauty that's so coveted. 

"I have not yet," he insists. "Nor do I intend to."

She gets antsy, unsure what to say. Her guard catches on and steps up to the pair. "Excuse us, Lord Stark. Princess Y/n much needs her rest."

"Of course. Excuse my ignorance. Please." His last word is directed right at her as if assuring she'd understand that he meant no harm in his actions before.

She still doesn't speak, only staring as her guard gently turns her back to where they were coming from. "Please start moving back to your room. I will catch up with you in a moment."

She doesn't fight, beginning the willowy trek back to her room. Slow steps once again.

Both watched until she turned the corner, and her guard's worried face switched immediately to questioning. "Ser Criston Cole, Commander of the City Guard," he introduced himself. "Might I ask your reason for following the princess?"

"I only saw her pass through the doorway. Curiosity truly got the better of me. I've not seen her around-"

"-and you won't," Criston finished. "Between you and I, it would be better if you forgot her entirely."

The Stark was thrown off by Criston's sudden aggression. And so he got defensive. "The Crown cannot simply hide away a vital member of its lineage!"

Criston grabbed Cregan's collar with both fists. "I'd warn you to walk away from this now." He was older than him, clearly trying to use that as an intimidation tactic.

Too bad nothing intimidated the Wolf of the North.

"And if I do not?"

"The Crown doesn't take it lightly when its weakest member is targeted."

"What is wrong with her?"

Criston, realizing his intimidation is doing nothing, lets go of him. He gives a glare that clearly says 'none of your fucking business' and begins to walk off in the direction of the princess. "Stick to snow and barbarianism, Cregan Stark!" He calls over his shoulder.

If anything, the guard's gall encourages Cregan. He loves a challenge.

…

The next time he spotted her was while sparring. The training courtyard of King's Landing was very different from that of Winterfell, but he took the opportunity to train with gratitude. 

It was quite amusing to see Cregan sweating profusely in a thin tunic while the others wore multiple layers.

Not that he would brag about his adherence to the cold. Out loud, anyway. In his head was different.

And when his eyes wandered up the castle walls, there she was. 

Seated in a comfortable chair on her tiny balcony that was clearly drug in and out every night she sat. She was covered in a thick fur, but there she was. Maybe the outdoor air brought her comfort. Her handmaiden brushed through the woman's overly shiny locks.

It was hard to tell exactly what she was looking at, but it was clearly in his direction, so he did his best to avoid staring.

Easier said than done.

Every few hits, he'd find himself looking up to make sure she was still there. She truly felt like a ghost, potentially disappearing now that he'd spotted her.

But she didn't. She only watched from above.

…

By the fifth day of meeting with Alicent and Otto, he brought it up.

"I also couldn't help but notice the princess you keep hidden from sight. I want to ask about her."

Alicent had been waiting for this. Criston had tattled on the man that first night. 

Otto was more amused. "Ah yes. I believe it's time we spoke of her. For once."

The queen gripped the chair tightly, earning a small 'tsk' from her father. "What is there to say? She's sickly."

Cregan leaned forward in his chair. "Why keep her locked away from the people?"

"She is not-" Alicent calmed herself and began again. "She is not 'locked away.' She is too ill to attend matters. That is all I wish to say of it."

"Humor the boy," Otto reprimanded. "Once you've spotted her, she's hard to forget."

"Forgive me for my bluntness," Cregan continued. "What illness does she carry?"

Alicent forced herself to keep speaking. "The maesters don't know. We've brought in every kind of maester and septon we could find. It just… comes and goes like the tide. You've not seen her at her healthy side, and for that, I am sorry. She can be a joy when she feels alive."

"She looks like death, no doubt," Otto asked Cregan.

"Like she's seen through its eyes," he agreed. "But not completely dead. There's still a small flame."

Otto liked that answer, smiling. "I like that. Now, back to the North…"

Cregan couldn't wait for the next sighting.

…

Had he stayed up late in the library, just hoping to see a glimpse of her during the dark hours? Yes. But he wouldn't admit that to anyone.

But it paid off. 

Like clockwork, she journeyed through the open doorway to the library, pausing when she spotted Cregan.

And she changed her course, moving into the room.

He felt that gust up his spine again, though it eased within moments.

She looked a little better. There was just a tiny increase of color to her cheeks than the last encounter.

Perhaps she was getting better.

"Do you always watch the men train from your balcony?" He braved to ask. He wanted the answer. He needed to hear if it was a special occurrence for him.

"No," her soft answer came.

He felt thrill warm his face. "Then why do it now?"

"I had to… cool myself. I was feverish."

Well, now he feels like a dick for trying to flirt with a woman close to death.

"Forgive me. I meant no offense."

"'S alright." Her attention turned to the vast shelves aligning the walls. 

He looked around too, though not in that direction. "Where's Ser Criston?"

She manages a smile and gazes back at him. "Think I can't outrun my guard dog?"

He exhales with a guilty look. "I truly don't believe you can, Princess."

"Good. You're right." She moves past him. "He was excused for the night. I snuck out during guard change."

"Quick," he remarked, watching her journey one of the large wooden tables there and sit. "I want to know more about you."

"There is not much to know." She rested her head in her hand. "Though, I can entertain your questions enough."

"Alright. Your age."

"Eight and ten."

He nodded. That was only a two years difference. "Have you always been sick?"

"No. I developed a horrid fever when I was four. No one thought that I'd make it. And I never really recovered. I've been stuck in this… state."

"And the kingdom just… forgot?"

She shrugs. "When the King never announced the recovery of his daughter… they make assumptions."

"Do they believe you to be dead?"

"I don't know what they believe. I don't talk to them."

A sadness filled Cregan at her declaration. He was beginning to realize just how much he takes his health for granted. He couldn't imagine a day without greeting his people. It felt like a stake in his heart. "Then I apologize for disrupting that when I spotted you in the hall that night. I should have kept to myself."

"No," she mused. "I'm grateful that you did not."

His head tilts. "Truly?"

She grows a tired smile. "I've never met a Northerner."

"And now that you have?"

Her eyes lazily travel over his body, taking her time to appreciate every part. When her eyes met his again, her smile only grew.

…

Cregan's three week stay was now entering its final week. He had found himself over and over again running into the silver-haired princess.

He tried to keep their meetings stashed away in his mind, but the look Otto gave him over dinner had told him he'd done a poor job of it.

So, there they all sat. Cregan Stark and the Targaryen dynasty- Otto and Alicent, Aegon II, and Aemond. Helaena found herself often staying within her chamber, eating with her young children. Sometimes eating with her ill sister when the two grew lonely.

Cregan was never good at small talk. He was a man that always got straight to the point. And the arrangements between the Crown and the North were at a standstill. It caused a light tension over the food.

They just couldn't agree. With the death of Viserys nearing, Cregan wished for reassurance that the next King or Queen would hold the North's arrangements. Alicent's word wasn't enough to reassure him. He needed more.

But that argument was hours ago, and now they all sat awkwardly over their plates.

Cregan had managed to bond with Aemond briefly over discussions of blacksmiths and longswords. It was something he knew well, and the prince clearly had an interest in it. It was better than sitting in silence.

Aegon had no interest whatsoever. He drank away his worries, no doubt planning his next trip out into the night.

"We all heard the rumor," Aemond mused through his quirked lips.

"Rumor?" Stark asked, sipping from his cup.

At the sudden question, each of the royals heads tipped up. They needed to know the truth.

Aemond smirked and leaned forward. His voice lowered. "That you killed a bear with nothing but a club and your hands."

He looked around the table, seeing everyone's eyes on him. He cleared his throat and set his goblet down with a light thud. 

A nod.

A collective intimidated breath fell across the table.

Aemond was impressed. He tipped his cup to the Northman and took a swig.

"Your Grace," a guard interrupted, bowing his head. "Princess Y/n," he announced.

Cregan didn't catch the others reactions, instead turning as much as he could in the direction of the door.

He'd feasted with them for over two weeks and only now did the ill princess join them.

She had color to her cheeks now, the light pink standing out beautifully. Lively. 

She was finally in a gown fit for a princess, deciding to uphold her appearance. 

She clearly wanted to be there.

It was quiet as each step echoed until she reached the seat next to Aegon. The prince reached out, tugging her chair back to encourage her to sit.

Now seated across from Cregan, her eyes met his.

And she smiled.

"It's good to see you up," Otto announced. "I didn't dare to think you'd recovered this well."

She watched the servants tend to her. "Neither did I, but Criston was nearing the idea of simply locking me in my room to get me to rest."

They all found that relatively amusing. Except for Alicent, who only stared with a guilty look. They all knew the queen was sleeping with the Commander of the Guard. She ordered him around like a dog, having him watch her ill daughter like a hawk.

"It is," Cregan spoke, clearing his throat again, "It is good to see you." His voice was softer, clearly meant for her. His eyes took her in a way the gods would scorn. Like she was something to worship.

When healthy, he thought she was a version of the earth itself. Like the warmest day in Winterfell when the wind was just cool enough to remind you to be awake. Or the beauty of falling snow. It bites when you get too close, but he wouldn't be frightened of death in its embrace. She was not sunshine or light, but she was beautiful in her own way, dragging death alongside her wherever she went.

His eyes only left hers when he heard Aegon clear his throat obnoxiously. 

"Sister, I thought you were dining with Helaena tonight?"

"The twins were… rather tiring today and she wished to rest instead."

He nodded, accepting that answer, but his eyes were trained on Cregan now, squinting as if he could read him. His fingers picked the meat off of a bone on his plate absentmindedly.

Alicent was about the same, recognizing the longing look in the Wolf's eyes.

…

The princess had excused herself early from dinner, still not entirely up to the usual standard of supping like the others.

That gave Cregan no excuse when Alicent dismissed everyone except for him.

So here he is, stuck sitting at the large table and Alicent paces around it like a lion and its prey.

"I don't like the way you look at her," she started. "She is ill. Have you no morals?"

"Like what?" Cregan challenged. "Look at her in what way?"

"Like you want her."

Her bluntness is not something he expected. He's a bit thrown off. But the queen isn't entirely wrong. "Your Grace-"

"-Do not give her false hope," Alicent says in a lower tone. A pleading one. "She cannot take a heartbreak. She cannot take any outside occurrences tormenting her. She'd surely die."

In truthfulness, Cregan had not considered what would happen if she did grow attached, only for him to leave. The thought hurts. "I mean no harm to her. She is magnificent."

Alicent pauses like the words were poison. "Do not lie to me." Her anger grows. "She is ill. She will always be ill. She'll spent her life in her chamber, in her bed. Do not act like that is not the case."

"Meaning what, my queen?"

"That she could never be a wife."

…

The queen's words had haunted Cregan more than he cared to admit. He mostly hated that she might be right.

When he saw the princess again the next day, she was more chipper than he'd ever seen her before. 

"Lord Stark!" She greeted, her steps a bit quicker than before, though still not he'd consider fast.

He gave a brief smile, continuing his walk down the corridor.

Her face fell a bit. "I-Is something wrong?"

"No. I'm only rushing to meet with your mother."

She sighed, trying to keep up with him. "I thought you did not meet again until the morrow."

"You'd be correct in that."

His tone was matter of fact, no room for the gentle pronunciations he'd used before. It was clearly hurting her. It hurt him, too. But he was on a mission.

So she stopped, watching the Northerner walk away with heavy footsteps.

…

He threw the doors open, not waiting for the guards to do it. "I've decided you're wrong."

It was a bold move, causing the Queen to stand and frown. Not many challenged her, especially in this way. To arrange a meeting midday and then enter in this fashion? Suicide.

Otto was amused, not moving from his seat. He gestured to a chair in encouragement.

But Cregan stood, his hands flat on the tabletop. "You've promised the agreement will continue to the next ruler in line, and I said I could not take your word. That I needed more proof of your insistence. Well, I know what I want."

"I appreciate a man who is bold, Lord Stark, but I implore you not to make demands of the Crown," Otto tried to ease.

"No," Cregan began again, his anger turning to Otto. "Though I doubt there will be much fight to this demand. After all, it seems you will not notice its absence."

"And what is that?"

He paused. "The princess. The one hidden away from prying eyes. I will make her my wife. If she'll have me."

Otto was genuinely not expecting that. Alicent grew angry. "That is my daughter! You will not take her away like a bartered cow!"

"That was not my intention. But fine. Let me rephrase." The Wolf rolled his shoulders back, standing tall before the two. " I wish to court your daughter. No alliance involved. No quill to parchment. No deals. This is not part of our agreement."

"How is it not?"

"If you let me court her, it means you have faith in the North. In me. I don't need a parchment to say that."

Otto sighed. "Let me get this clear. You wish to marry a princess of whom will spend her life half dead?"

Cregan shrugged. "Half dead is half alive. And I like the odds. I like her."

"Surely she won't last in the North," Alicent reasoned. "The second the air seeps through your window, she'll die."

"The same way she's dying here?"

That shut Alicent up.

"There are great maesters in the North. They know the effects of the cold on the body. I have no fear of that. I'll tend to the fires in her chamber myself if I must- even collect the wood myself if you're so frightened. I am no idiot. I can keep her alive and happy."

The two considered the man's proposal. It was a strange one. But they recalled the look between him and her at dinner the night before.

"She'll never give you children," Alicent said with remorse.

He nodded. "I'm prepared to deal with that."

Otto look to the Queen, giving a tilt of his head.

She sighed. "If she wants you, she's yours."

…

Three days left in his stay, and he had spent two days without seeing her.

He didn't wish to go to her chamber. She deserved the privacy. That and… he didn't know where it was. 

So instead, he resorted to staying up late, hoping she'd appear. 

She didn't.

…

Criston Cole passed Cregan, a glare in his eyes.

Cregan followed, grabbing the guard from behind and pinning him against the wall. "Where is she?"

Criston hissed through his teeth. "Why do you assume I've hidden her?"

"Tell me."

He spit in the Wolf's face.

Cregan only blinked, the rest of his face unflinching. "Where is she?"

"In her room. Where she always is," he seethed.

Cregan's head tilted menacingly.

Criston continued. "West wing. Up the stairs, the door at the end."

He slammed the guard against the wall one more time for good measure, then stormed off.

…

He knocked on the door, and her handmaiden answered. "Oh. You're not the maester."

He frowned. "The maester?"

A soft voice came from inside the room, catching the handmaiden's attention. She nodded and opened the door for him.

He stepped in.

The princess laid on her bed, looking quite literally like death. It was worse than the first time he'd sighted her.

She was thinner, her cheeks sunken in again, her skin the dull grey he hated. Her hair was greased with sweat. Yet at the sight of him, she tried to give a weak smile.

Nearing her side, he sighed. "I had… I had no idea, Princess."

Her handmaiden moved to the other side of the bed, going back to dabbing the princess's forehead with a wet cloth. 

Y/n hummed at the chill. "'S alright."

"So, these are the ill spells you were speaking of." It was a statement, rather than a question.

"Yes," she sighed. "'S so sudden."

"I see that." He reached out to her hand, brushing his fingers over hers. He didn't want to overstep. But she was the one to intertwine their fingers. 

He spent the rest of the day in there, leaving when the maester entered. He stopped him, leaning in to speak lowly to the doctor. "I want you to feed her meat. Lamb, pig, I do not care. But have it brought to her."

…

The maester did as he commanded. And the next day when Cregan visited, she was chipper.

Was she entirely well? No. But the protein had her sitting up in bed, speaking to her handmaiden as her hair was being braided.

It warmed Cregan.

He grinned when he entered, sitting at her side comfortably now. "You look much better."

"I feel better," she smiled. "The maester said you helped."

"That's ridiculous. What do I know about health?"

But they both knew. They all knew.

"Mother told me something odd."

He froze. "Oh?"

"That you wish to marry me."

He took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm his nerves. Perhaps she's rejecting him.

"Is that true?"

He nodded, his fingers playing with hers. "It is. If you'll have me."

She smiled, gently waving her handmaiden off now that her hair was done. The girl left with a knowing grin.

"I'll have you, Cregan Stark."

He cupped her face, brushing his thumb over the light pink in her cheeks. "Then I am a lucky man."

…

And in the North, she blossomed. 

He kept a steady diet of red meat for her, watching as she no longer spent every day in their chamber, even getting to journey out to the courtyards and sit through petitions. 

The two spent every night cuddled under the furs of their bed. The fire always burned, he made sure of it. 

Her mind loved Cregan, and now her body could too.

................................................

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[gghostwriter]

How Three Became One

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Part 3 Summary: In the aftermath of your failed make-up anniversary dinner, the third person in the relationship reaches out to you Trope: Angst w.c: 1.6k a/n: There is JJ slander in this (doing it for the plot and to hurt you all, like how I hurt myself in writing this.) I’m mostly writing follow ups now of my one shots and this is part of a part three series, i swear once i get all these follow ups done I’m going to hibernate for a bit to focus on my crime series. Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

The somber air inside the coffee shop threatens to stifle your already critical heart. Its’ clear window clouded from the cold. Dull shades of gray creeping from every corner of the room, draining life as it went, no matter the strain of each lighted lamp on the tables.

Your fingers pulled the sleeves lower, wanting to cover any sliver of skin, trying to fight off the chill, as if it doesn’t come from within. Why did you agree to this, you wondered for the nth time, what good would confronting your nemesis, the root of the problem—Spencer’s Achilles heel, bring?

Comfort? 

Not at all.

The truth? 

Maybe.

Closure?

Closure from what exactly?

The failed relationship still stuck in limbo, dreadfully waiting for its free fall or flight from the precipice it’s balancing on?

Spencer had given you space, an act you weren’t sure to be grateful for. Yes, it spoke about his gentleman sensibilities and respect to not hound you to talk but on the other hand, his presence in reminding you how much he cared was sorely missed. Couldn’t he have at least left you one voicemail, voice pleading and coated with sadness, to repeat over and over again? Or a singular flower tucked to your doorstep, wilting slowly each day for your eyes to lay on?

You wanted nothing but you wanted something.

It was a conundrum.

Late into the night, when the phone rang and when your steps hastened against the wooden floor, you almost wished it was him. Eyes unfocused, the name unregistered, you surely wished it was him, instead of Her. 

Her voice, blended with a slight static, was hesitant and soft as if she had encountered a wounded animal in need of her saving, tore through the paper-thin shield you’ve built around your bleeding, bruised heart. 

You wanted to lash out, to be quiet, and to agree to anything she asked for—anything to end the call immediately, but when she suggested to meet in this quaint hidden coffee shop, describing it’s freshly brewed coffee and tasteful pastries, a sob rose and lodged itself in your throat.

It was your spot.

A secret place in your neighborhood you discovered and happily shared with Spencer.

This once vibrant store, the backdrop of so many rose-tinted memories, turned ordinary—tainted with the truth that it was no longer just yours and his. It was also Hers. 

“Hi,” JJ softly greeted, occupying the seat in front of you. “Thank you for seeing me.”

Clearing your throat, the shred of what little courage you mustered leaving your body. “Yeah, uh, hi.”

Her blue eyes documented the lemon ginger tea in front of you, cooled and untouched. “I haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?”

“Fine, been doing good,” the darkness under your dull eyes painted a different picture, something that registered as her feminine shoulders drooped.

Lips pressed tightly together, she shifted in her leather worn bench, allowing the silence to further the divide between you both—the two female protagonists featured in Spencer Reid’s story.

“You don’t have to lie—”

“Right. A profiler, as if I could ever forget.”

“—Spence also isn’t doing well—”

You flinched, the sound of his name uttered out loud feeling like a thousand pounds dropping on your chest.

“—and just know that I’m here for the both of you, to clear up any misunderstandings. Let me help, ask me anything.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s why we’re here after all.”

Your eyes examined how her golden hair fell perfectly around her, creating a halo of perfection you have never felt once before. You were always the kid who worked hard to seem put together—a stack of paper stick achievements built to hide how ordinary you turned out to be. A woman made of dismantled almosts. 

“Can you tell me—” clearing your throat “—about you and him. Anything, as team members, friends, your first date—just anything I need to know. He’d always quickly summarize the context of you as his best friend, defender, confidant. Never letting anything beyond that.”

She nodded with a slight smile on her lips. “He’s always been a little brother. I, like everyone else in the team, wanted to protect and guide him. Joining the BAU at such a young age and enduring hardships that come with it—the kidnapping, the Dilaudid, his parent’s involvement in a cold case, losing Maeve, and prison—is too much for anybody to bear all on their own. We’ve always been close, being exposed to the darkness that comes with our job will do that for you but I’ve never seen him like that with you. He was so light and happy, almost as if the younger version of Spence came back to life—” she laughed before the brightness wiped away from her face. “—and now, like this with you, he looks afraid, like he might lose it all, lose you. I’ve seen him sad when we weren’t able to save Maeve but this time, this sadness that comes from the thought of you leaving, seems too deep to come out from. I’m afraid that he won’t make it and for that, I feel responsible.” 

The deep red nail polish on your fingers were leaving chipped specks all over the white table, like blood on a pure white snow. The cage around your devotion and love threatens to topple down, releasing you from indecision. It seemed unfair to persecute a man of Spencer’s caliber for his past and for your fear of never being enough. 

A shadow of a smile peeked from behind your curtain of self-preservation. Maybe all could be salvaged with a deep talk between one another and a schedule to a therapist—solo and couple. You loved him strongly enough to tackle those doubts and reverently wish to see the relationship through, forever if time allowed it to.

But the small voice in the back of your head echoed above the chimes of change and courage, it’s deep tone trying to pull you back to stagnancy and reality. What did she mean by that? Why would she feel that way?

“Responsible?” you whispered, heart beating loudly against your chest. Its’ sound parroting on your ear. “Why would you feel responsible?” 

“During the last case, being held at gun point—” the bewilderment in your eyes causing her to gasp. “—he never told you, did he?” 

The anticipation, anger, and dread enveloped you, as if you were about to combust at the drop off a hat. If you looked down to any piece of you, you’d think you were doused with gasoline and a small flicker of fire started at the tips of your shoes. “Tell me what? JJ, tell me what?”

She took a deep breath, trying to delay the inevitable truth. “During that time, the unsub wanted us to admit, confess a secret no one knew and wanted nobody to know and I—”

You raised your hands, trembling from realization, to unsuccessfully block the truth from spilling into the world. You didn’t want to hear it—needed to never hear it. “Stop. Please, stop.” 

Droplets of sadness mixed with the specs of chipped nail polish on the table, your tears creating tracks on your ashen cheeks. This was enough to break you—the shaky mirage of your strong self was nowhere to be found as sobs freely escaped from the depths of your ribs. 

You came here, filled with indecision which turned into hope before rapidly decaying to death.

The final nail in the coffin.

“You’re married, JJ. You have kids, how could—” you pressed your fingers tightly to your lips, nails digging into the soft flesh. “—I guess I always knew, huh. I may not be a profiler but my woman intuition has never steered me wrong. Not even once.”

She hung her head, the locks of halo you once considered pure and perfect shrouded around her like a thick veil of shame.

“So what now? What about Will and I? Does he even know?”

Her watery blue eyes, pleading with yours. “No, nothing changes. I love Will and my kids and it’s just a secret I want to take to my grave.”

A vicious hollow laugh bled out of you. “Are you even inlove with him? Your husband?” 

The lack of response was very telling. Her love for her chosen partner was shallow compared to the other. You briefly wondered if there was no kids in the picture, would she have even stayed? 

The thought was dashed repeatedly in your head. It wasn’t your problem to speculate. Mind made up, you refuse to be part of this convoluted love story any longer.

“That’s cruel of you. I wouldn’t even wish that on my worst enemy,” you slowly gathered your things and any strength that could take you home. The only place you’d allow yourself to unravel. “I think, I should go.”

“But—”

You mustered a small smile. “Thank you for being honest, JJ. I wish you the best with all of this. Tell Spencer, I’m sorry and please take care of him for me, will you?”

Quickly turning away from the mess that shredded your love life into bits no longer salvageable, the dull shades of gray once crawling from every corner of the store followed your trail. 

Another dismantled almost to add to your ever growing collection.

The colorful world you and Spencer built with the thought of forever turned to ash. 

Burnt from the truth.

The remains charred to multitudes of gray that signified the end. 

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[lyvhie]

★ ˙ ̟ ─── . “perv!127”.

| cw | perv behavior, masturbation, infidelity, alcohol consumption, stalking, fingering, oral (f), public sex, cockwarming, vouyerism, exhibitionism, pet names. | a/n | ill be honest, doyoung and haechan were my favorites, chat... btw i accidentaly posted this twice, i hate tumblr!! ANYWAYS, I HOPE I DID IT WELL (pls let me know, i have a hard time with this kind of thing)....

Mark really didn’t want to be like this, but he couldn’t help the dirty thoughts he had about his sweet girlfriend. It was getting harder and harder to control himself around you. You had decided to take things slow, to only move forward when you were both truly ready, especially you, since you were still a virgin. And maybe that was part of the reason behind his growing frustration.

Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t have some kind of fetish about virgins. The problem was that you acted in such unintentionally provocative ways, and it was torture for him not being able to do everything he wanted with you.

Like when you walked around the house without a bra, your hard nipples poking through your shirt, practically begging for his mouth. It was even worse when you hugged him, and he could feel them pressed against his chest. Or when you were cuddling and he had you as the little spoon—you'd shift around a little, rubbing your ass against his cock, forcing him to mentally sing every kind of anthem he knew just to keep from getting hard.

And, of course, even if he really, really wanted to throw you on the bed and make love to you until sunrise, he would only ever do anything when you allowed it. That's why he was forced to find other ways to relieve himself...

"Nothing really important happened today," your cheerful voice blessed Mark's ears through the phone as you began to rant about your day. "Oh, right, baby, I almost forgot! Did you know they opened a geek store two blocks from here?"

"Oh, really?" he replied, voice low and hoarse. "Had no idea," he added, keeping his answers short. Not because he didn't care, but because every word you said made his cock throb. He just wanted to listen.

His free hand clutched the phone tighter against his ear. The other moved slowly, rhythmically, stroking his hard cock. Your voice. Your laugh. The way you called him "baby" so sweetly, so innocently, with no idea that he was falling apart on the other side of the line.

"And I bought you a few Spider-Man editions, they're so beautiful!" you continued, excitement bubbling in your voice. "Ugh, it was supposed to be a surprise, but I just had to tell you!”

He bit his lip hard as his imagination ran wild, picturing how you'd sound moaning his name instead of talking about comic book stores, how your body would tremble beneath him, how your breath would catch when he whispered filthy things against your ear. The way your tight little voice would break when he slid into you for the first time...

“Fuck, babe,” he hissed, throwing his head back against the headboard, his hand moving faster now.

“Mark?” your voice wavered, a note of concern slipping in. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, beautiful… just—” he gasped, forcing his voice to stay steady, “keep talking. Don’t stop. Please,” it came out almost like a whine, needy, strained, like he was hanging onto every word you said just to survive the moment.

As much as Doyoung liked to think of himself as a gentleman, even he couldn’t deny how filthy his thoughts had become. He should be ashamed of himself—lusting after you, his sweet, married neighbor. But shame did nothing to stop him. If anything, it only made it worse.

And the best part? Your marriage was crumbling. He had watched it happen, had listened patiently as you poured your heart out to him, seeking comfort in his presence. He had played the role of the good neighbor, the trusted friend.

But deep down, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Because every time you sat beside him, eyes glossy with frustration, lips trembling as you vented about your husband, all he could think about was how easy it would be to slip his hand between your thighs and show you exactly how a real man would treat you. And the way you looked at him sometimes—soft, vulnerable, needy—only made it harder to hold himself back. Just like now, as he watched you waste yourself with yet another can of beer, despite his weak attempts to stop you.

It was just another one of those nights, sitting together, talking about life, about how lonely you felt even with a husband waiting at home. By now, Doyoung already knew how weak you were to alcohol, how easily your sharp words turned slurred, how your usual restraint melted into something softer, looser.

His eyes followed the way your fingers toyed with the rim of the can, your lips slick from the drink, parted just slightly as you blinked up at him with that hazy, unfocused gaze. He swallowed hard, shifting in his seat. He shouldn’t be thinking about how easy it would be to push you back against the couch, to let his hands roam lower, to have you sighing his name instead of that bastard’s.

But fuck, you were making it so damn hard to be a good man.

“Dodo, am I not pretty?” Your innocent, slurred words snapped him out of his thoughts. You stared up at him through those drunken, doe-like eyes he couldn’t help but adore, making his heart skip a beat.

“What?” He quickly answered, voice tight, though his mind was already spiraling, his chest constricting. “Of course you are.”

But then, you leaned in just a little too close, your breath almost mingling with his, your face just a few inches apart, utterly unaware of the effect you had on him.

“Do you really think so?” Your pout deepened, and you seemed to search his gaze for reassurance, making him want to devour you.

He gulped, his throat dry. “Y-yes, I do,” he breathed, his voice shaking as he fought to keep his composure. “You're gorgeous. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

And God, he meant every word, even if it was laced with thoughts he knew he shouldn’t have. He moved his hand up to your shoulder, slowly, appreciatively, letting his fingers glide down your arm, feeling the way you unintentionally shivered under his touch.

So responsive. So soft.

You were so close now, your breath warm against his skin, your lips parted ever so slightly. It wouldn’t hurt if he showed you just how much he liked you, right?

His palm cupped your face, thumb grazing your cheekbone, and his heart skipped a beat when you leaned into his touch without hesitation—so trusting, so unaware of the thoughts racing through his head.

Without a second thought, he found himself closing the gap, pressing his lips against your soft, pliant ones.

You tensed for a brief moment, as if processing what was happening, and even made a weak attempt to pull away—but he wasn’t having that. His grip tightened, holding you in place, his fingers pressing into your skin just enough to keep you right where he wanted.

And the second his tongue slipped past your lips, tasting the lingering bitterness of alcohol, you melted.

Fuck, you had no idea what you were doing to him. And you also had no idea what you were doing at all.

You were drunk, completely out of yourself, vulnerable in a way that made his chest tighten and his cock throb. If you were kissing him so eagerly, pressing your body against his so willingly, he could probably do anything he wanted to you right now, and you wouldn’t even think to stop him.

His hand trailed lower, fingers caressing your jaw before slipping down to your neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his touch. His fingertips danced along the neckline of your clothes, toying with the fabric, brushing ever so slightly over your breasts.

Then, just to tease, he tugged at your bra over your clothes, watching how it pulled against your skin. The soft whine that slipped from your lips between kisses had his mind sinking into a hazy fog of lust, but at the same time, it snapped him back to reality.

He pulled away, breathless, watching as you panted softly. You looked so out of it, yet so content, and before he could say anything, you were already leaning in again, chasing his lips for another kiss. He let it happen, just for a second, just to feel you melt into him again, before he forced himself to stop. His hands found your shoulders, gripping them firmly as he gently pushed you away.

Not like this. Not tonight.

“Doyoung…” you whined in protest, a pout forming on your lips.

He bit his lower lip. You were really testing him.

“You’re too drunk, darling,” he murmured, forcing a weak smile as he brushed his thumb across your cheek, trying to keep himself in check. “I’m taking you home, hm?”

It killed him to say it, to pull away when you were right there, pliant, eager, looking at him like he was the only man in the world. But no matter how much he wanted you, he wanted you sober even more. He wanted you to remember, to crave him just as much when your mind was clear.

So, for now, he would be good.

Yuta couldn’t help it, he just loved to tease you. You were his cute, pretty makeup artist, always working so hard to make his already striking face shine even brighter on stage. Which meant you were around him all the time. And if you weren’t? Well, he made sure to personally request you. Only you. After all, you were the best at what you did.

His sharp eyes roamed over your face intently, catching every little reaction—the way you nervously pressed your lips into a thin line, how your brows furrowed slightly, and how your hands trembled as you carefully dabbed the brush against his skin.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement. “Why are you shaking so much?”

The question was laced with mock innocence, but you knew better. Especially with his hand resting high on your inner thigh, fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns against your skin, rubbing up and down as if he had all the time in the world.

You didn’t know exactly when this whole thing started, but by now, it had become a regular occurrence—Yuta all over you, always touching, always whispering filthy things in your ear when no one was looking. His hands would linger too long, his gaze would darken with something unmistakable, and no matter how many times you tried to put an end to it, he always had a way to pull you right back in.

If you so much as hinted at resistance, he’d play his favorite card: the resignation threat. A single word from him could shatter your career, and he made sure you knew it. He never said it outright, never needed to. The smirk on his lips, the way he leaned in just a little too close when reminding you how irreplaceable you were—it was all part of the game.

But the worst part? Unlike what you had once believed, everyone knew. Even the other members. And yet, not a single one of them ever tried to stop it.

“Y-Yuta, can you please not do this here?” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. Nervous eyes flickered around the room, scanning for any sign that someone might be watching, that someone might care. But no one seemed to pay either of you any attention.

Yuta, on the other hand, wasn’t even pretending to care. His gaze dipped, zeroing in on the teasing hint of cleavage right in front of him as you leaned in closer to check his face. The position gave him the perfect view, and he took his time, shamelessly drinking it in, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“What? Now you’re trying to say this is my fault?” he raised a brow, looking up at you with that smug, knowing smirk. “You’re the one who chose to wear this skirt. You’re practically begging for me to touch you.”

Never mind the fact that he was the one who forced you wear it in the first place—telling you how pretty you looked in it, how it suited you so well. The truth was, he just loved the view. Loved watching the way your legs looked in that tiny thing, loved how you had to move carefully to keep from showing too much.

“I am not,” you shot back firmly, glaring at him, which only made him chuckle. He loved when you showed your claws—when you tried to act defiant, even when you both knew how easily he could break that act.

His hand moved up slowly, deliberately, until his fingers brushed against your clothed cunt. The sudden contact made you gasp, your body freezing in place as heat bloomed through you.

“Really?” he mused, voice dripping with amusement as he pressed just a little harder. “Because your body’s telling me something very different.”

It’s just a natural response, you told yourself, trying to cling to any shred of defiance. You wanted to snap back at him, but instead, a soft, helpless moan slipped past your lips.

Yuta smirked. He had already pushed your panties to the side, his fingers slipping inside you with ease, stretching you just enough as he pumped them in and out at a slow, teasing pace.

Your eyes darted around the room again, panic bubbling in your chest, but no one seemed to notice—or maybe they were just pretending not to. You bit down hard on your lower lip, desperately trying to stifle your sounds, only to earn a low hum of satisfaction from him.

“Let’s do this,” he mused, his foxy grin widening. “If I make you cum, you’re gonna be my personal stress relief tonight. Got it?”

Jaehyun had a girlfriend, one he claimed to love deeply, but he knew he was being a scoundrel. Still, he blamed it on biology, on a man’s natural urges. It wasn’t his fault that you, his girlfriend’s best friend, had been haunting his thoughts since the very beginning of his relationship.

He tried to be a good boyfriend, really, he did. But every time you were around, laughing, teasing, flashing that mischievous smile his way, it became harder to pretend. Harder to act like he didn’t imagine you beneath him, under him, taking him in ways his girlfriend never could.

Maybe it was wrong, but how could he be blamed when you were the one constantly in his head, you were the one who made his cock twitch with just a glance? It wasn’t his fault that every touch, every brush of your skin against his, sent a jolt straight through his body.

It wasn’t entirely his fault that he found himself slipping into these desperate habits to satisfy his twisted desires. He hated himself for it, for feeling this way, but the guilt wasn’t enough to stop him.

He couldn't resist the forbidden thrill of sniffing your panties every time he slept over at your place (he thanked God that you and his girlfriend were roommates) and taking a few of them with him so he could use them later. Not only that, but he really loved to peek at you in the shower. It was nice to see the way you touched yourself- even if it wasn't sensual, he just really liked watching you and imagining what it would be like if he were the one touching you like that.

And he didn't know you left the door unlocked on purpose, knowing he would be there—just like tonight.

You had chosen the perfect time, late at night, when his sweet little girlfriend was fast asleep, and you knew exactly who was watching you through the narrow crack in the door.

"Enjoying the view, huh?" you said, catching him completely off guard. He froze in place. "I know you're there, Jaehyun. Not gonna come in? I've been waiting for you."

He was stunned to be caught-stunned even more by what you said.

He hesitated only for a moment before stepping inside, welcomed by a wave of warm, damp steam that kissed his skin.

Even better—he now had a perfect view of you, not through a crack in the door, but all of you. He swallowed hard.

"Oh, you're this happy?" you teased, a playful smile dancing on your lips as your eyes dropped to the bulge in his sleep shorts, the soft, thin fabric doing nothing to hide just how excited he was.

"It's not like I can help it," he muttered, his eyes slowly roaming over every inch of your body, licking his lips like a starving animal eyeing a taste of something forbidden.

That made you laugh, "Come here, come," you beckoned him with a finger, his gaze lifting to meet yours. "I'll take care of it for you."

He knew exactly what that meant. It was written all over your eyes, your voice-and, of course, in the very situation he found himself in.

He bit his lip, casting a quick glance toward the door. His girlfriend was asleep just a few steps away.

"...Are you sure?"

"I'm giving you the chance to fuck me. You don't want that?"

He didn't think twice to answer, "Fuck, of course I do."

In an instant, his clothes were gone, and he stepped under the shower with you. His hands found your waist immediately, pulling you against him with a kind of hunger he didn't bother to hide. His hard cock pressed against your stomach as his hands wandered all over your body, fingers gliding, gripping, worshipping the feel of your wet, heated skin. It hit him all at once: this was real. He was really touching you.

“You have no idea how long I've been needing you," he nibbled on your neck, kissing his way up toward your mouth, searching for a kiss.

"Oh, believe me, I know," you whispered back, meeting his lips, feeling the desperate way his tongue moved against yours, barely holding back from reacting to your teasing.

"I'm going to fuck you so good," he said, squeezing your ass firmly. "I promise."

Okay, it’s not that he was stalking you. Jungwoo was just… preparing himself. Making sure he knew exactly what you liked, what you disliked, so that when he finally approached you, he wouldn’t embarrass himself and lose his chances with you.

Of course, that meant he had to figure out which places you frequented, who your friends were, what kind of things made you smile. It was all just research. Necessary steps to ensure everything would go perfectly between you two.

Not only that, he also ended up making sure you were safe. After all, the world was full of dangerous things, especially for someone as precious as you. So, really, watching you wasn’t just about getting closer. It was about protecting you. Making sure you got home safely, ensuring no one suspicious lingered too close, even subtly steering you away from places that didn’t seem right.

Learning your habits, memorizing the way you moved, keeping you safe—well, wasn’t that just proof of how much he cared?

Jungwoo couldn’t help but let a passionate sigh escape from his lips as he watched you try on the new lingerie you bought. He had noticed it the first time he ever saw you changing, that bad little habit of yours. You never closed your curtains. It was almost like an invitation, like you wanted him to see.

Of course, he couldn’t let you keep doing something so dangerous. He’d have to remind you (when he finally gathered the courage to meet you) that you shouldn’t be so careless. That there were people out there with bad intentions, people who could hurt you.

You were lucky that he was the one watching you, and not someone else.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t do much more than enjoy the view.

His mouth nearly watered at the sight of you in that delicate blue bra and lacy panties. God, you had such impeccable taste, it suited you perfectly, just the way he’d imagined. And, oh, he had imagined it. The moment he saw you pick it up in the store, he knew it would look divine on you.

His heart and cock throbbed in unison, so pleased, so grateful. He didn’t even need to rely on his imagination tonight, you were right there, unknowingly putting on a perfect show just for him. His fingers twitched at his sides, itching to reach for you, to touch, to feel, to claim. But for now, he had to be patient. Good things come to those who wait, right?

You shifted slightly, turning to the side to admire yourself in the mirror, and the movement nearly sent him over the edge. The way the fabric hugged you, the way your hands ran along your own body, adjusting the straps, smoothing the lace—it was almost too much.

Jungwoo bit his lip, his breath heavy as he palmed himself through his pants, his eyes glued to you like a starving man. You were so unaware, so innocent in your little routine, completely oblivious to the fact that someone was appreciating you more than even you appreciated yourself.

As if the universe really wanted to test his self-control, you let out a little sigh and pouted, clearly dissatisfied with something. His stomach clenched. What’s wrong, sweetheart? Don’t you see how fucking perfect you are?

Then, you did something that nearly made him lose it. You reached behind you, unclasped your bra, and let it slide down your arms. His cock jolted in happiness inside his pants when he caught a glimpse of your chest, your beautiful breasts gracing his eyes. He could barely contain the desire to press his lips to them, to suck and taste you so badly.

He was sure he could cum just like that, just at the sight of you. That’s why he had to look away, his cheeks burning in embarrassment, his heart hammering against his chest. But even as he turned his head, his body refused to obey. His eyes flickered back to you, drawn to every movement, every little shift of your body. Fuck. You had no idea, did you? No idea how much you tormented him, how badly he wanted, needed you to see him.

He swallowed hard, his hand gripping his thigh as if that would ground him, stop him from doing something stupid. He desperately needed you to acknowledge his existence. To look his way. To notice him. Just once.

But he knew this wouldn’t happen. At least, not yet.

Johnny always knew how to talk his way into anything, and with you, it was no different.

You trusted him, he made you laugh, always knew the right thing to say, always had a comforting tone, a clever joke, a witty excuse. You never really noticed how often he got away with things no one else would dare.

Like the way he’d casually barge into your room while you were changing.

It happened more than once, always with him claiming it was an accident, but somehow never looking particularly surprised. If you were trying on new clothes, he’d flash you a grin and say how amazing you looked, how the outfit suited you just right. If you were in your underwear, he’d murmur that you looked stunning like that, like it was the most natural compliment in the world.

And if you were naked… He’d let his eyes shamelessly roam, taking in every inch before offering you a cocky smile. He’d only leave when you scrambled to the door and slammed it shut, his muffled voice on the other side teasing, “You’re so fucking hot, you know that?”

And somehow, he always got away with it. Maybe because, deep down, you liked the attention. The way his eyes lingered on you. The way his charming smile could so easily cloud your judgment, sweeping your thoughts away from the obvious implications of his behavior.

And when he invited you over, you hadn’t expected to walk in on that. You froze in the doorway, gasping in surprise the moment your eyes landed on him—hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself slowly. You turned around on instinct, heart pounding with embarrassment.

But he didn’t look the least bit flustered. In fact, the small smile on his lips said he’d planned this.

“Oh,” he said casually, his voice laced with amusement, “you’re here already.”

“Yeah, I—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—you know!” you stammered, unable to string a proper sentence together.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled, and you heard the wet sound of his hand moving faster. A soft groan slipped from him. “You came in at the perfect moment.”

You swallowed. “W-what?”

“Come on,” his tone low and teasing. “Look at me, baby. Don’t you wanna see what you do to me?”

There was a pause, the air thick with tension. And slowly, curiosity, shameless curiosity, won. You turned your head, just enough to see him biting his lower lip, his fist moving faster, eyes locked onto yours like you were the one touching him.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with praise as he threw his head back, pumping himself faster. It was so much easier with you right there, just a few steps away, no need for imagination this time. You were real, watching, and that alone had him melting. “Fuck,” he groaned, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m gonna cum… just for you.”

And so he did, hot spurts of cum painting his hand as your name slipped from his lips in a satisfied moan. His body shuddered, breath heavy, and when he opened his eyes again, they landed right on you.

You were still standing there. Still watching. Eyes wide, lips parted, your thoughts written all over your face.

“So… are you gonna keep watching or help me out?”

Taeyong isn’t much obvious about it. To anyone watching, he just seems like the perfect, overly sweet boyfriend, the kind who couldn’t imagine living without you.

And really, he is the best. Caring, loving, sincere. Honest about almost all his feelings. He’s all affection, always holding you close, always cuddling you like you’re the most precious thing in his world, peppering your face with kisses like he’s addicted to your skin. And that clingy, affectionate side? It’s the perfect cover for how perverted he really is with you.

His hands are always on you. Always.

When you’re curled up together on the couch watching a movie, his fingers will start innocently enough, tracing light circles on your stomach, pretending to be casual. But they always wander higher. Just under your breasts at first, staying there long enough that it starts to feel normal. Harmless.

Until suddenly he’s full-on groping you with a calm look on his face like it’s just another act of love. And you’ve gotten so used to it, you barely even flinch anymore.

Whenever you take a bath, he insists on joining you, always under the excuse of helping you clean up or giving you a "five-star spa experience" with his so-called massage service. It’s all about relaxing you, he says. Just a way to help you unwind.

But the truth is, he just wants full access to your body, to touch you anywhere he wants, whenever he wants. And really, he does love you, so much it borders on obsession. He needs you close, always.

And when you sleep together? You curl up on his chest, soft and warm, pressing against him like you belong there. You're so close he can feel every part of you… and most nights, he ends up cumming in his pants, silently, helplessly, just from the way your body molds into his.

Sometimes, he just can’t hold himself back.

There are nights he wakes you up, his body burning too hot, need pressing hard against his patience. His arms wrapped around you, chest to your back, lips brushing your ear.

“Can I please just put it in?” he whispers, voice soft and breathy, a desperate little whine that trembles with restraint. He presses a kiss to your neck, soft and pleading, while his hard cock grinds lazily against your ass through his briefs.

And how could you ever say no to him? So you just sigh softly, pull your shorts to the side, and let him slip inside you without another word. The sound he makes, a choked, relieved groan, almost teary in its intensity, is absolutely priceless.

Does Haechan usually enjoy a bit of a chase? Absolutely. He liked the tension, the teasing. But with you… there was something different. Something addictive about the way you melted for him with just a little push, the way you were so, so easy for him and only him.

He couldn’t explain it. Maybe he didn’t even want to. All he knew was that with a little persistence, a little pressure, he'd have you right where he wanted, squirming under his touch, your body giving in to him in the most satisfying ways.

You were genuinely his favorite plaything, he loved to mess with you.

You weren’t even in a relationship, but he made it clear to everyone that you were his—hence the reason why you never managed to find a romantic partner.

Donghyuck sabotaged every single potential candidate for that spot in your life. He made a point of being extra clingy the moment someone interested in you entered the room: he’d hold you by the waist the entire time, pull you into a hug, cover your face with kisses, and slip his tongue into your mouth in a messy kiss. Even if you tried to resist all his attempts, you always gave in in the end.

It was so easy, it was almost refreshing.

If he wanted to pull you into a corner in a public place just to fuck you, all he’d have to do is ask sweetly and you’d already be lifting your skirt for him to take you from behind. If he wanted to eat your pussy for breakfast, he’d just need to walk into your room, crawl under your covers, and find his feast between your legs. If he wanted to film you giving him the best blowjob of his life, all he’d have to do is promise to make you come until you couldn't take it anymore.

He also had a little habit of leaving pieces of himself everywhere. Whether it was cumming in your panties or wiping himself off on your pillow, he loved the thought of you surrounded by him, even when he wasn’t there.

Sometimes he’d jerk off while you were in the shower, moaning your name into your bedsheets and finishing all over your favorite pair of underwear, then toss them casually back into your drawer, knowing you’d find them later. Or worse: he’d tell you to wear them, right before you went out, watching closely as you hesitated… then slipped them on anyway, embarrassment all over your face as his cum stuck to your skin.

“Now, pull your leg up, cutie," he murmured, kneeling down in front of you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“But, Hyuck—” your voice trembled as you glanced around the library. It was full, and this corner wasn’t nearly as hidden as he made it seem. “We’ll get caught…”

“We won’t,” he said confidently, already lifting your leg and hooking it over his shoulder. He pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses along your thigh, voice dripping with sweetness. “Just be quiet for me, baby.”

“But still—”

“Please,” he breathed, and before you could respond, he kissed your clit, firm and full, enough to make you jolt and suck in a gasp. “Just wanna eat you.”

You bit your lip hard, casting one last panicked glance around the room. No one seemed to notice. No one had any idea what was happening behind the stacks.

When your eyes met his again, you didn’t speak, just gave him that look, the one that said “hurry up” without a single word. That smirk of his spread lazily across his lips before he finally dipped his tongue between your folds.

You were his. Not because you said yes, but because you never said no.

↝ taglist: @nebularsung, @spacejip, @peterm4rker, @sinisxtea, @bluedbliss

[monstersholygrail]

Just being neighborly

Pairing: Orc neighbor x fem!reader— yandere reader, nudity, dryhumping, rough play, kidnapping(?)

This fic was inspired and continued off of this post by @bunnis-monsters ! (With permission ofc)

Ever since your new neighbor moved in you had had your eye on him. He had appeared on what you originally thought was going to be an ordinary day. Arriving with a large U-Haul truck yet he was the only one to come out of it.

He was strapping orc, tall and handsome— though he clearly didn’t know it. But that was perfectly fine, you were more than happy to let him know.

You were surprised when he moved to the back to open it up and started taking in boxes and furniture all by himself. The sight of him lifting up an entire dresser with one arm soon had your panties soaked with arousal. You had never wanted to swap places with a piece of furniture so bad. You couldn’t believe you were jealous over a dresser. A dresser! Yet you were and you totally couldn’t deny it.

Imagining yourself finally in his huge muscular arms as they circle around your body and trap your form against his, begging for you relieve some of pressure you had caused in his cock. Showing you exactly what he means as he rubs you into the bulge straining against his pleated pants. His large hands digging into you roughly as he helps you grind your slick core against his impressive erection.

Luckily you catch yourself daydreaming before he can spot you practically collapsed on the railing of your porch. Your brows furrow as you wipe your mouth, a small bit of drool on the corner of your lip.

Deciding you need to get your claws in him, so to speak, before anyone else in the neighborhood does, you think of the perfect excuse to head on over.

Knocking on the back of the moving truck, lemonade glass in hand, you wait for your new neighbor to notice you. He whirls around clumsily at the noise, causing the truck to slightly shake.

“Hi, neighbor! Welcome to the neighborhood. Thought you might be thirsty so I come bearing drinks!” You greet, flashing him your most flirtatious smile.

Orc neighbor comes to the opening of the truck slowly. Your head tilts back the closer he gets and you force yourself not to literally purr in delight. You push your chest out as you hand him the glass, knowing the view of your cleavage from his angle must be spectacular.

He crouches down and carefully takes the glass of lemonade from your hand between a few of his fingers. There’s an evident dark green blush on his cheeks and you can’t help but giggle at the sight of it.

“Thank you, little lady,” he mumbles shyly. Your smile widens, looking over your new obsession.

Oh, he’s so darling. You already want him all to yourself. But you know you’re going to enjoy the chase. Even if he isn’t aware of it.

It started off light, you wanted to at least give him time to fall for your advances. Your seduction plan would gain a natural intensity, fitting to the clear chemistry between you and your orc neighbor.

First you always seemed to end up needing to borrow a cup of sugar. He was more than happy to give you some and you made sure to thank him with a hug that let him feel you completely. When he never tried to cop a feel you opened up all your blinds and started making it normal for you to walk around your house naked. Letting him get little glimpses here and there. But when you realized he’d avert his gaze, being the gentleman he is, you knew you had to make your interest more obvious.

So you start peeking through the curtains, waiting to see when orc neighbor goes to take out his trash so you can go too. Wearing nothing but your flimsy almost see-through robe. Letting him watch as your nipples harden the longer you both interact.

When you head back into your house you purposely leave the door open, waiting for orc neighbor to come inside. And of course because he's such a gentleman he nervously comes up on your porch and reminds you softly that you left the door open.

Oh my, silly you. Your mind must be so all over the place that you just happened to forget in your rush! Luckily he was there to save you from someone bad coming in. Of course, such heroics deserve a reward so you invite him in to have breakfast with you. He’s so busy looking around your comfy home that he doesn't hear you click the lock in place as you shut the door.

You must be so clumsy this morning because when you go to bring him a nice cup of coffee, you accidentally trip and end up spilling it all over him! Apologies spew from your lips as take some napkins you just so happened to be holding and start patting all over his tummy and his crotch.

His cock twitches under your attentive touch and he blushes, hoping you don't notice. But of course you do. You notice everything about him. He quickly assures you it's ok but that he should get home to change.

That won't do, no, not at all. You tell him that's not necessary at all as you enjoy wearing oversized shirts but they're hard to find in human sizes. Much more common in orc. So you're sure you have something that'll fit. He's too bashful to refuse such an offer.

You head into your closet and grab the first oversized shirt you can find. Absolutely positive that he won't notice how it smells like him. Or that it looks eerily similar to that shirt of his that went missing a few days ago.

To be continued…?

[with-my-calamitous-love]

more gentleman thoughts, nsfw version 🫧 please read responsibly. f! reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

gentleman! dazai, who always knows the right words to say that’ll turn you on. whose long, slender fingers reach all the right spots in you, one by own inserting them until he has you stuffed. who gets you cumming from his fingers alone, but doesn’t stop there, hooking your leg over his shoulder and slipping his cock all the way in with no resistance. who can be sweet and slow or rough and fast- just tell him what you want, and he’ll give it to you. “good job, belladonna. already so wet, hm? i’ll make you feel so good.”

gentleman! chuuya, who gives you the most satisfying love life known to man. who, minimum, makes you cum 2 or 3 times before he fucks you. who sets the mood- candles, roses, and if you’d like, handcuffs, blindfolds, chokers… who absolutely defiles all of that beauty the second he feels you wrapped around him, pounding you hard and fast, getting off to the sounds of your pleas. who makes you cum from his length alone, making you dizzy with pleasure while he bends you over the counter. “comme ça, chérie? you feel so good. you’re not getting any sleep tonight.”

gentleman! ranpo, who drags out your orgasms. who wants to make you feel everything. who’ll kiss your pretty pussy through your panties first, watching how your arousal stains the fabric. who’ll slowly peel it away, making sure you feel his warm breath on you before finally putting his mouth on you. who wont move his head from between your thighs until your gushing, singing his name. who makes sure you cry out that he’s the best, that only he can make you feel this good. “you like that, sweetheart? hm? oh, i know i’m the best at it. here, let me prove it.”

gentleman! atsushi, who at first may not be the most experienced, but who learns how to get you screaming and moaning for him. who doesn’t fuck, only making love and making your pussy pulse with pleasure. who solely focuses on you, eating you out, for hours, softly kissing and sucking at your breasts, before finally slipping his cock into you. who thrusts rough and passionate, growling into your ear with an animalistic side thats expected of a tiger. who groans as you scratch his back, getting you into a mating press while he takes you. “c’mon, baby. just one more, please? you feel so good.” he’s said ‘one more time’ 3 times already.

gentleman! akutagawa, who blurs the lines between a gentleman and a pure, asshole. who wraps his hand around your throat, lightly applying pressure while he thrusts in and out of you. who gets you lightheaded, kissing your collarbone and placing a playful smack to your thigh while he fucks you. who makes you earn his praise, cumming around his cock before he even thinks about saying something nice. who leaves bruises, and tends to them after. “if you didn’t want me to spank you, why did you moan and ask for more? hm?l

gentleman! odasaku, who is perhaps the sweetest lover you have ever known. who honestly feels bad about ruining you, but can’t resist the way your makeup runs down your cheeks while he thrusts in and out. who runs his hands through your hair, tugging at it occasionally to pull your head back, leaving kisses and hickeys on your throat. who often books nice hotel rooms, but (much like chuuya) can make your apartment just as romantic. who is the king of aftercare, getting you anything you need, running you a bath, and reading to you while you fall asleep. “ah, so good, love. i’ll make you cum, i’ll take care of you. trust me?”

[pomefioredove]

a private meeting

summary: yuu makes a list of the top five cutest third years. the following conversation type of post: short fic characters: cater, trey, leona, rook, vil, idia mentioned, lilia, malleus additional info: romantic?? platonic?? idk, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, this is more for character interactions. and fun

"I'm sure you're all well aware of why we're here,"

The eight gentleman standing around the dark, candlelit room look between each other.

Leona yawns.

"How long is this gonna take, exactly? I was dragged outta bed for this,"

Vil glares. "Hush. I wanted to deal with this matter in the quietest manner possible, without disturbing the prefect. Sevens know what happens when your egos go unchecked,"

"Look who's talking,"

Another glare, but Vil chooses not to waste any more time.

"Two nights ago, the prefect hosted a slumber party for Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, and our own Epel Felmier,"

"I remember that," Lilia says, rubbing his chin. "Sebek was invited, but refused in case someone attacked Malleus whilst he was away."

Malleus shakes his head.

"During this event, the prefect created a list of the top five "cutest third years", as we all know. And, to avoid any childish squabbling, I've gathered you all here to open it as an ensemble. Rook?"

A slim, folded sheet of notebook paper appears from the dark of Rook Hunt's pocket. He holds it up, as if presenting it to the heavens.

"Where did you even find that?" Trey asks, adjusting his glasses.

"Facile! It was buried under a stack of homework assignments in our dearest Trickster's bedroom," the blond says merrily.

"Logistically speaking, that's almost too easy. Are we sure it isn't a fake?" Ortho pipes up.

"Ortho?" Vil asks. "What are you doing here?"

The boy giggles in an electronic chime. "Idia is hiding under his covers and won't come out, so I'm here in his place!"

"...Alright,"

"I don't know what he's so nervous for," Vil goes on. "When I am already guaranteed to be in the first place slot."

Leona scoffs, kicking back with his feet on the table. Vil glares again.

"How rude,"

"He's not wrong. You are the most beautiful here..." a smile creeps up Lilia's face. "But, as I recall, you said cutest third years, not most beautiful. And if anyone is the cutest, it's me."

"Oh, spare me," Leona sighs. "Let's just get this over with. Open the damn thing."

"You're not the least bit curious, Leona?" the fae asks, batting his large eyes.

"Don't patronize me. And no, I'm not. I couldn't care less,"

Lilia smirks, but says nothing more on the matter.

He turns to his tablemate. "And what say you, Malleus?"

Every person in the room falls silent, and then turn to the prince sitting at the furthest corner of the table with his hands folded in front of him.

He hasn't shared a single thought all evening.

"...The contents of this list make no difference to me," he finally speaks. "My feelings towards the prefect will be unaffected."

Rook sets a hand over his heart. "Quelle beauté! I am moved! Not even the strongest of winds could make your friendship bow,"

Leona groans as if he's in agonizing pain.

"Open it!"

"Okay, hold on. Isn't this like, a major privacy violation?" Cater says. He doesn't sound eager to see the results, either.

"I would hate for someone to read my private thoughts to a room full of people."

"He may have a point. This was a list made between friends at a slumber party. Taking it out of that context could be disastrous," Trey agrees.

"There's a 96% chance this will end in conflict!" Ortho chimes in, merry as ever. Leona sighs.

"Can I just leave?"

"No," Vil snaps. "Rook, open it."

"Rook, don't,"

"Rook!"

The poor man observes the conflict slowly unraveling before him, and he sets the folded sheet of paper on the table.

"Now, now, do not squabble! Let this be a chance to celebrate our bonds with the lovely prefect!"

"I agree with Rook," Lilia smiles big. "We should all agree that no matter what is on that list, we'll leave it after tonight and move on."

Vil sighs. "Yes, yes. You're all right. We can't let what they wrote at a private slumber party affect our relationships with them,"

"No matter what, we leave them out of this. Agreed?"

Everyone in the room nods.

"Alright. Rook, read it,"

Rook reaches behind him, the anticipation building, and... is met with a cool wooden surface.

The note seems to have disappeared into thin air.

Before anyone can express their obvious confusion, an evil cackling pulls their attention to the doorway.

Vil gasps.

"Grim! Put that down!"

The small direbeast, now holding a crumpled piece of paper in his paw, smiles wickedly.

And then, to everyone's horror, he eats it whole.

Leona is the first to react, storming over and lifting Grim by the scruff of his neck. "Seriously?!"

"Fufufu. Looks like someone cared, after all," Lilia chuckles. Vil rolls his eyes.

"Hey! Not my fault you guys were so loud! You woke me up from my nap over a stupid list!" Grim says, crossing his arms.

A brief silence follows, and then a sigh. Leona drops him and he lands on his feet.

"Perhaps Grim is right," Ortho says. "Instead of worrying about the numerical grade the prefect assigns you, you should focus on the unique and special aspects of your individual relationships!"

"How eloquent!" Rook coos. "Oui, you are right! Sometimes it is best to let secrets remain secrets."

"Something about the way he says that tells me he already knows what it said," Leona grumbles.

"Ohoho. A fascinating mystery, non? Did I sneak a peek before tonight, or am I just as clueless as you?"

The prince rolls his eyes.

Vil sighs. "Ortho is right. Now I feel ridiculous for getting so worked up over what amounts to a joke at a slumber party,"

Everyone grows quiet, seemingly reflecting on themselves for the duration of the brief silence.

Lilia's giggles change the melancholic mood of the room.

"Perhaps Malleus had the right idea all along. It doesn't matter who the prefect thinks is more attractive; they're still a wonderful friend. How wise- I'm very proud,"

Malleus beams.

"Yeah yeah," Grim grumbles, turning to the door. "I didja a favor, anyway. None of you weirdos were number one."

He leaves, and he takes the peace and reflection with him.

Slowly, everyone turns to each other.

[2neaky]

𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘙𝘦𝘣𝘦𝘭 𝘙𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦 & 𝘐’𝘮 𝘥𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘙𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮 (𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨). 𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘭’ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 + 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 … 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸.

Content Warning — toy use (bullet vibr*tor), *rgasm denial, dom Terry, descriptive language, profanity, p*rn w/ no plot, second pov

There’s a calculating look in those hazel eyes. You hate it. At least for right now.

You watch him with squinted eyes yourself, a slight frown on your lips as you watch him pretend to be oblivious.

It’s not working.

Regardless, he keeps his focus on the road ahead, one hand on the bottom of the steering wheel while the other rests along the car door’s ledge. His hand is hidden in the door’s pocket, toying with something.

No doubt, that fucking remote control.

The car jostles as he narrowly avoids a small pothole. 

“You just gon’ keep burning holes into the side’a my head or what?”

He hadn’t looked away from the road. You watch the corner of his lips twitch when he decides to press them into a thin line. The muscles in his jaw tense before ultimately relaxing.

He’s trying not to smile. You know it. That steel-cold stare of his isn’t enough to hide it. Terry can play a convincing stoic, but you know better.

And you hate it. You hate being the trembling mess, a dewy sheen over your beautiful face. But, it was the cross you had to bear—in exchange for him agreeing to pay for your nails.

Granted, you didn’t have to do this. Terry’s a gentleman, he likes making sure his woman is covered. And you love that about him.

But, his mischievous side seemed to have come out to play today, and you found yourself on the receiving end of it.

“You think this is funny?”

He blinks, still staring ahead. “Funny?” Finally, he breaks his gaze away to give a simple glance. Like the option of looking your way wasn’t even given a second thought. “Sumn supposed to be funny?”

An intake of air passes through you as you open your mouth to respond, yet you’re swiftly cut off by a sharp gasp of your own.

Mini quakes wrack throughout your being, stronger towards your core. A swooping feeling travels to your lower tummy. Weakly, your thighs squeeze together, shortly falling apart there after.

Your body’s been through this song and dance for too long—the last fifteen minutes to be exact. It’s wearing your patience and strength thin. 

Very thin.

A trickle of wetness slowly seeps into the seat of your panties, soaking them further. At this rate, you’re sure there’s a wet spot in your jeans. How does he expect you to leave the car like this?

Your pussy flutters around the foreign object buried within its slick walls. A violent shudder moves through you, uncontrolled.

“What’s the joke, baby?” He looks at you again. Those big, golden-brown eyes pierce you for a second longer than last time. “Hm? Tell me.”

Your lips quiver, a weakened whimper slipping past its cracks.

His voice lowers as he stares ahead at the road before you two, heavier than usual. “I wanna laugh.”

“A-auh … shit…”

Your voice is a tiny, broken mess. The muscles in your stomach contract as you lean forward, that vibrating toy putting pressure against your spot. Your mouth drops open, eyes threatening to close.

“T-Terry—“

“Hm?”

You don’t even see him do it, but you catch the subtle flex of his veiny forearm; Your eyes widen, the vibrations grow stronger, rougher.

“Stop, I—“ You try to remember how to swallow your spit. The hand you’ve got wrapped around the seat’s armrest tightens enough to make your knuckles pale. “I-I can’t—“

“Can’t what?”

You’re panting, chest rising and falling quickly. Heat is spreading throughout your body, you feel like you’re going to lose your mind if you don’t shed at least one layer of clothing.

Your pelvic floor is clenched tight, your body trying to prevent a serious flood coming its way.

“I’m gonna—fuuuck!” Your eyes roll back as the muscles of your core weaken for a full second, the threat of your orgasm growing more and more serious. “M’gonna … cum.”

You barely hear the scoff. It feels like the longest second of your life. You feel like you’re a balloon, ready to pop, but the gas tank is shut off right before you do; The vibration comes to a halt.

Echoes of it still travel throughout your body, as your pussy clenches down repeatedly on the toy—a nicely sized bullet vibe.

Your body wavers as you slowly look his way. There’s a worn look on your face. 

It’s hilarious, to him at least.

You can tell by the one-sided smirk he confidently sports. You feel small under his stare, subjected to his whims; Here you are, doubled over in your seat, trembling, while he’s sat back, relaxed. The car is driving as smoothly as ever.

“Did you?”

Meekly, you shake your head. All of your fire has been snuffed out by two little clicks to a remote control.

“Good.” The smirk slips from his face. “I just got this truck … try not to mess up the seats.”

[domoriu]

perv bsf!bonedo

req - could you imagine bonedo as your bestfriend and theyre lowk freaky and a perv for you

warnings: the boys are kinda (really) icky, 18+ mdni !! panty stealing/sniffing, non consented recording, manipulation? idk… also ty @tsandoll for helping me w some of these 🫶🏽 the rest of the members under the cut !! <3

sungho

super subtle about it

youd never guess he was so pervy

everyone else around you guys would definitely know sungho had some sort of crush on you, but you’re oblivious to it and think its just him being a gentleman and good friend

buys you whatever you want, will even buy you clothes if you talk about needing some new outfits. ends up dressing you up the way he likes and gets turned on seeing you in the outfits he bought for you

“do you think this looks good?” and he’s nodding and trying his best to not pop a boner in front of you

you’re at a party? sungho is gonna be your plus one. he doesn’t even care about your complaints about him “scaring the hoes” cuz you get touchy when you get under the influence and he’s going to be there for you and enjoy the next few hours of you clinging to him

he even lowkey sabotages any relationship you could possibly have, tells people you two are dating/fucking and leaves you to wonder why none of the people you’ve been interested in ever pay you any mind.

when he comes to your house he has to fight the urge to sniff all of your clothes and your sheets. you just smell so good to him, and he knows if he gets a hard enough whiff he might get hard.

when he jerks off, he’s imagining its your hand, he’s imagining what your mouth would feel like wrapped around him, and he imagines how you’d look taking his cock.

goes through your messages together with his phone in hand while the other one is wrapped around his cock, playing back the voice messages you’ve sent him before to help him get off. then once he’s cum to the thought of you he’s calling you and talking to you like nothing happened.

riwoo

shy boy. its a little more obvious that he’s a little pervert, and you’re using that to your advantage.

he’s acting really innocent but he knows exactly what he’s doing. he just might be a little clumsy with it, which is ultimately how you figured out his perv agenda.

gets hard so fast, and you constantly touching him doesn’t help his case at all

you invite him over, he’s running to your bathroom to quickly jerk off. he tries to be quiet, but he fails miserably.

“riwoo? are you okay in there?” you’re smirking behind the door and he doesn’t even realize how obvious it is that he’s in there getting himself off, and by the way he stutters a weak “y-yeah im fine!” you know exactly what he’s doing.

he’s a bed/pillow humper. when you two have sleepovers, and you fall asleep before him, he’s putting a pillow over his dick and softly thrusting into it, even sometimes he’ll do that when you’re awake, just really slowly and subtly so you dont notice. but when you’re asleep, he’s more shameless. eagerly humping the pillow or even humping the mattress while he stares at your sleeping body.

sometimes he’ll just jerk off as fast as he can, staring at your figure while you sleep. he’s edging himself, each time your body twitches or you turn in your sleep he stops touching himself, so close to cumming but he doesn’t want to get caught. he cums quick the nights you wear something loose or something more revealing, because he can move the fabric to see exactly what he needs to get to his climax.

whatever he does while you’re asleep you’re not aware of, but you know that you catch him staring a little too hard at your cleavage sometimes or catch him looking at your ass

touchy with you and he tries to say its just friendly touching, but no friend keeps their hand right at the bottom of their friends back before the curve of their ass, or rests their hands or head on their friends tits when they watch movies.

jaehyun

a little shameless about it, but he’s always scared out of his mind that you’ll find him gross

the flirting he does with you is a bit more flirty than his usual, sometimes leaving you flustered but you mask it well.

“a little kissing never hurt a friendship” while he looks at you with his big puppy eyes. all you can do is stare at him and laugh because no way he’s serious.

“jaehyun… you’re staring at my tits again” “sorry! sorry… they’re just… so nice…” and he’s absolutely not sorry

dirty little panty sniffer. super scared of getting caught though, but he ends up snitching on himself

“definitely wasnt going through your stuff while you were in the bathroom” no one accused you of doing that but if you say so…

touchy as fuck. like youve never met someone as touchy as jaehyun. and you know he means no harm, so you let him cop a feel from time to time

back to the panty sniffing, also a pillow humper. will steal a different pair of your panties each week, ruin them completely and then return them like nothing happened (he’ll wash them first of course, he doesn’t want to get caught)

he even knows about the box you keep in your bedside drawer, the one with your toys in it. jerks off to the thought of you fucking yourself open with your dildo, wishes that he could be the one fucking you instead. wishes he could press your vibrator on your clit while he stretches you out on his cock.

taesan

also a shy perv

but he’s a lot bolder than youd think

thinks with his dick… once his dick twitches his mind goes blank

since he’s tall, he’s definitely using this to his advantage. its a lot easier for him to stare down your shirt with this angle

he might get a little bold sometimes and take a pic under your skirt

has a whole folder of “off guard” photos of you, every time he takes one you’re trying to grab his phone to see the pic but he refuses, telling you that its for his eyes only and that youll try to delete them - whole time he had taken various panty shots and other body pics

steals your panties, goes through your clothes bin and sniffs them until he feels dizzy and his cock is straining in his pants.

he tries to be subtle about everything and he’s mostly successful, never catching him doing anything out of the ordinary and anything he asks you to do for him doesn’t seem too off putting

if you’re complaining to him about a guy you’ve been talking to, he’s asking you what they do that gives you the ick and what they do that makes you like them a little more

he makes sure you’re comfortable with him always, there’s never been tmi between the both of you so you feel comfortable telling him about your sex stories - he listens super intensely, and at night he’s humping his mattress at the thought of fucking you just the way you like, because he knows he’d be better than any of the guys youve been fucking

he’s also cumming loudly with your name leaving his lips repeatedly. he wishes he could send you a pic of his stomach covered in his cum and tell you that you’re the reason he came so much

having trouble deciding what type of revealing pics to send to a guy? taesan is telling you that you should send it to him first, so he can tell you from a guys perspective if its good, and will definitely ask you for multiple pictures for “options”

he couldn’t care less what you sent to someone else, as long as he always got access to the pics first and he was definitely going to be jerking off to them later.

leehan

another shameless perv… but he’s really shameless - he’s touchy, he compliments you, he even purposely tries to get you flustered

once he gets the reaction he wants out of you he’s just laughing, and he’ll go back to doing the same thing over and over

lets you believe he’s just joking around with you, even though he’s so serious

“can i eat you out as a friend?” “leehan stop, you play around too much” and there was absolutely no hint of joking around in his voice

whenever you stay over at his place he tells you that you can leave your old clothes with him, that he’ll wash them for you so you have clothes when you come over

before he washes them he’s definitely jerking off with your panties, he might even put them in his mouth cuz he’s a sick freak like that….

and whenever you two are on the phone he’s most likely going to jerk off to the sound of your voice

“leehan, are you okay?” “m’fine, just keep telling me about your day” and he has to mute his mic when he cums - might be a little bold and let you hear it

with him being touchy, anyone would think you were a couple with how comfortable he was touching you however he pleased - seriously, why was he gripping your ass in the middle of the store?

pet names!! darling, princess, he’ll even call you a good girl sometimes just to gauge your reaction. might ask you to grab something for him and he’s like “such good girl for me” and you’re left feeling hot all over and confused about your feelings (even if leehan was insanely straightforward)

[sugussugar]

imagine coming home with suguru after a late night of dinner and drinks with shoko and satoru.

you're exhausted. your eyes are drooping shut, your legs feel abnormally heavy, you swear your skull is shrinking in size at the pain of your headache, everything hurts and all you want is sleep.

and suguru, ever the gentleman that he is, refuses to let his baby do anything while in this state. (← or in general at that.)

he starts by carrying you from the car to inside the house, cooing as you begin to fall asleep. he steps inside the bathroom with you nestled in his arms and places you on the toilet, meticulously undresses you, ridding your body of any clothes jewelry or accessories.

he sets you in the tub, delicate as ever, making sure all he thinks about is how fragile you are and how much care he must handle you with, and cleanses your entire body for you; whispering soft: “no no, baby. you get your rest, i'll take care of everything.” every time you so much as think to lift a finger.

he would be so tender when drying your body, kissing all along your body as he goes while murmuring quietly into your skin: “you're so beautiful... so perfect.”

he rubs a vanilla scented lotion into your skin afterwards , using that as an excuse to litter your body with even more kisses before picking you up and strolling off to your shared bedroom.

he doesn't get you dressed, something he insisted wasn't necessary: “sleeping naked is much more intimate, my dove.” or something like that. (you were half asleep when he said it) however, he does pick you out an outfit for tomorrow and folds it up neatly on your dresser.

you're laying in bed, quickly losing consciousness as he does that until you're startled by him gently tapping your cheek: “no no, lovely. i still need to brush your hair. sit up for me?”

he doesn't give you time to respond, already slowly hoisting your body upward into a sitting position, cautious not to startle you too much.

he then brushes through your locks, starting from the bottom and making his way to the top, kissing the back of your head then whispering: “doesn't that feel nice?”

afterwards, he lays down in bed with you, pulls you close, and finally grants you your wish of sleep.

[comatosebunny09]

apt 302 | sylus q.

— summary: at first, your new neighbor was as mysterious as he was handsome. after taking some time to get to know him—or forcing your way into his quiet life—you realize looks can be deceiving. — cw: gn reader, neighbors au, neighbors to friends to lovers, profanity, innuendoes, jealousy, misunderstandings, stalker ex, alcohol use, guns mentioned, self-indulgent, allusions to reincarnation, angst, pet names, sylus being an insufferable gentleman, slice of life — dividers by: @omi-resources — notes: this grew way longer than i expected, soooooo you’re gonna hate me for what comes next. anyways, thank you so much for reading! — now playing: my favorite person now - she was pretty ost — tagging: @alfredosaws, @chuppiechanchan @hao-ming-8 @antonneva @sunsets-and-crows @leighsartworks216 @grabby-smitten @nebulorra @minniestarmj @elysiums-light @saiaise @queenofstresss @beewilko @aetherscribit @libriomancer @world-of-hearts @awkwardnurse @huachengnism

Information Technology isn’t as cushy of a field as you initially thought.

Sure, you have a desk job doing the most mundane of things—working the help desk, troubleshooting devices, re-imaging computers. But your job isn’t without its drawbacks. 

Sometimes, the days are long and arduous. The constant customer interaction doesn’t help matters; you’re a bit of an introvert, requiring five business days to recover from just a few hours of socializing. 

So, forgive you for seeking a little respite in the form of your favorite set of pajamas and fuzzy slippers as you ease into your apartment. 

The weight of the world sloughs off your shoulders when the door leading inside clicks shut behind you. You sigh gratefully, the sound of your keys clattering against your entryway table, intermingling with that of your AC humming to life.

You hang your bag and sweater on the coat rack. Trade your uncomfortable shoes for house slippers, the soreness in your heels slowly retreating. The last vestiges of sunlight creep through the slits of your blinds to bathe your home in its ethereal glow before ducking behind the horizon. 

Your apartment is humble. Has a natural, minimalistic vibe with bits of decor displaying your personality sprinkled throughout. You already pay the price of a kidney and two lungs to stay here. No use investing in posh furniture when your job sometimes requires you to pick up and go at the drop of a hat.

Your stomach growls whilst you draw your curtains shut and turn on some ambient lighting via your phone. You’ll eat soon, you promise. For now, you’re on a mission. 

Quietly, you move through your home in search of your laundry area, thoroughly prepared to slip into your PJs following a shower to jumpstart your weekend. 

Too bad a pile of sopping wet clothes awaits you when you open your dryer door. 

“Goddammit,” said under your breath as you mash the power button. It won’t turn on. Figures. You kick the offending appliance. Stupid thing must be out again. 

You had set your clothes to dry before you left for work. You were looking forward to snuggling up with wine and your favorite show, donned in comfy clothes. Seems your dryer had other plans.

You should’ve replaced it months ago when it first started acting up. You had hoped to salvage it a little longer; appliances don’t come cheap these days. Besides, you’ve had a darling neighbor to fix it each time. To extend its lifespan. 

Speaking of which—

Chewing your lip, you pad over your cold, hardwood floor to snatch your phone from the coffee table. Fall onto your couch cushions with a devious smile twitching your lips. It’s getting late, so you don’t think to badger him into tinkering with your dryer tonight. However, perhaps he’ll let you utilize his. At least until you can use your day off tomorrow to shop for a replacement.

You hover your thumb over his contact, his name flanked by crow emojis. Contemplate calling him, but what if he’s busy? This is usually about the time he’s leaving. Instead, you settle for opening your messaging app, already conjuring an excuse.

(You): 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛💥💥💥 (Sylus): lol (Sylus): good morning to you too. (You): 😒😒😒 dude it’s like 6  (Sylus): 🤷‍♂️ (Sylus): im just now getting up. long day at the office.  (Sylus): whats up? (You): are you busy tonight?? (Sylus): not really. 😏 what did you have in mind ? (You): pause. not like that (Sylus): 😢 (You): my dryer’s out again (Sylus): ah. want me to take a look? (You): nah you already do so much (You): is it cool if i use yours tho? 😬😬😬 (You): i’ll bring you booze (Sylus): lol (Sylus): its fine sweetie. doors unlocked. ill be in the shower. help yourself. (You): 🙏🙏🙏

You take your time gathering your saturated clothes into a basket. On your way out, you snag a bottle of Merlot from your fridge.

No matter how often you’ve been here, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to how much more… put together Sylus’ place is compared to yours.

It suits him—the black and red furniture, the stylish accents littering his apartment. It smells delightful inside, a mixture of mahogany and amber enmeshed with remnants of food. Soulful jazz flows from a record player, fitting the sepia-toned glow of floor lamps and candles flickering on every other surface.

You toe the door shut behind you. Feel so small and out of place amid his decor. You’ve only recently started coming here, having spent much of your time together inside your apartment. Regardless, you navigate his space like it’s your second home, finding his washer and dryer set.

After starting your clothes in the dryer, you wander back to the living room, hands stuffed in the pockets of your cardigan. You take some time to admire the atmosphere. Fingers skim over the various vinyls organized on a built-in bookcase on the wall.

You snort with a half-smile. You know so little about your neighbor, yet you know just enough to be this comfortable with him.

He’s a music buff; that much is for sure. He’s clearly made of money if the luxurious furniture and his car are anything to go by. You don’t press him about what he does for a living. Figure he values his privacy above all else, unlike you.

You’re an open book. The primary yapper in your acquaintanceship, prattling on about your life and aspirations. And he just sits there, wordlessly nodding with a polite smile behind the rim of his glass. Where you would otherwise be wary of being in someone’s home like this, you feel safe around him in a way that almost terrifies you.

“Admiring the decor,” teases a voice from behind. 

You jolt, spinning around like you’ve been caught stealing. You’re met with a smirk beneath scarlet eyes, twinkling with mischief. Strands of white cling to Sylus’ forehead, damp from the warm spray of his shower. He towels his hair dry, maneuvering around the living set towards you.

“Hey, you,” you greet, trying to play it cool. Like your heart isn’t hammering and heat isn’t branching into your cheeks. You attempt to maintain eye contact. It’s increasingly difficult to do so with his physique peeking through his t-shirt and sweats like that.

“Hey, yourself.” There’s amusement in the deep gravel of his voice. A smile in his eyes as he studies you, draping his towel around his shoulders.

You swallow. Try to divert the subject, motioning to his record collection. “You got some new tunes, I see.”

A chuckle is dredged from the bowels of his chest. You feel it pull in your stomach. “Sure did. Got something you might like.” 

God help you as he reaches around you, the fine hairs littering your body standing on end, your mouth agape like a fish out of water.

Unconsciously, you step back, your spine softly thudding against the records display. Your heartbeat’s on a warpath, and you swallow against the dryness of your throat as the veiny, sinewy muscle in his forearm stains your periphery.

He gives you a bemused look before slowly peeling a record from the shelf behind you. Steps back to fish out the vinyl and settle it on the platter, replacing the record that was just playing. 

You release a breath you were unaware of holding. Good job playing it cool, dumbass.

“You alright?” Sylus quizzes with a raised brow. “You seem a little on edge tonight, sweetie.”

You sigh, schooling an unconvincing smile onto your face. Try to ignore how the term of endearment glides off his tongue so effortlessly. You wonder how many other people he addresses like that. 

“Work was…rough today. Kicked my ass. I’m tired.” 

A snarling sound invades the space between you, heard over the gentle croon of the new music. Your eyes fall to your stomach. You rub it placatingly. In all your haste to have some dry friggin’ clothes, you forgot to eat. 

“And hungry, too,” you sheepishly add.

You glance up, and Sylus’ gaze tracks from your stomach to your face. He smirks knowingly, motioning with a nod toward his kitchen. 

“Figured you didn’t eat yet. I made carbonara if you’d like some.”

You smile wryly at his back as he pads away, carrying the scent of cedarwood and bergamot with him. Where would you be without such a doting neighbor? 

You track him to the kitchen. Leaning against the threshold, you watch him procure a bottle of water from his fridge. It’s so very small, dwarfed by his massive hand.

“I suddenly got called for a Teams meeting five minutes ago.” 

Your heart drops, the smile nearly falling from your face. And here you thought you’d have his company over dinner.

Suddenly, he taps your nose, drawing you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t noticed when he got closer, swaddled in the static of your bodies being so close. “Where did you run off to,” he rasps, searching your gaze for something. 

The proximity of your bodies grows stifling, his warm breath glazing over your skin, dizzying. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he steps back, leaving you shell-shocked and utterly confused. 

“In the meantime, make yourself at home. You know where everything is,” he says, brushing past you with an air of finality. 

You strain your ears for the noise of a distant door shutting before you make your move, rummaging through his cupboards and drawers for a plate and cutlery. After you’ve scooped a decent helping of food onto your plate, you settle onto one of his velvet couches, cross-legged and shoveling food into your maw. 

The fluttering of wings piques your interest. You’ve hardly any time to acknowledge him before a tuft of black, iridescent feathers shines from Sylus’ coffee table. The crow studies you curiously, ingesting you with his beady eyes before he preens himself.

“Me-fith-toe!” you greet around a mouthful of food. 

Said crow ducks away, dodging errant crumbs and spit flying from your mouth, cawing in protest. You give him a rueful look. 

Sylus has a soft spot for animals. You noted it the first time you entered his apartment, greeted by his boisterous companion. Funny; he doesn’t look like the type to have such an eccentric pet. 

But Sylus has found numerous ways of pleasantly surprising you, revealing parts of himself to you bit by agonizing bit.

“Chicken?” you say after finally swallowing, offering a forkful of pasta to the bird. Mephisto scrutinizes the food before resigning himself to pecking at it. You smile fondly, your eyes crinkling with mirth. “Mephisto, you cannibal.”

Lulled by the occasional flap of Mephisto’s wings and Sylus’ even tone murmuring things of business somewhere far off in his home, you fall into a familiar rhythm, quietly waiting for your clothes to dry.

You spend the remainder of your evening in your neighbor’s company, drinking Merlot and judging each other’s music tastes, long after your pajamas have dried and settled in the dryer.

“So, have you boned yet?”

You choke on your waffle. Pound on your chest with the heel of your palm to dislodge it. You turn narrowed eyes on the source of the question. She merely shrugs from across the table, sipping her mimosa as if she’s asked the most innocent thing. 

“Bitch.”

“What?” She appears nonplussed, setting her champagne flute down with a definitive clack. All serious when she returns your stare over crossed arms, and you know you’re in for it. 

“You talk about the guy so much I figured you would’ve already, ya know…” The humping gesture she makes under the table is a bit much. 

You blanch. “No, dumbass, I haven’t boned.” Your voice peters towards the end of your sentence. And you peer down at the napkin folded in your lap, heat prickling your face. 

You won’t deny Sylus is good-looking. More like he could be someone modeling Prada on a catwalk. Can’t pretend you haven’t entertained the thought of being a little closer to him, too. More than just the late nights spent talking or him fixing something you broke.

You shake your head. Of all the times you’ve been tucked away in either of your apartments, he’s never made a move on you. Sure, he’s said some pretty suss things. Flirted with you outside of your usual banter. 

And maybe he’s done things to confuse the ever-loving hell out of you—cooked you breakfast when you were drunk off your ass and hungover the next morning. Lended you one of his expensive record players. Shacked up at your place a few times under the guise of “coming to get Mephisto.” But—

Nah. He’s not like that. You’re just neighbors, right? Unofficial friends. Friends hang out all the time, right?

“He’s not like that,” you say brattishly, stuffing more food into your face. At least not with you. 

You don’t miss your coworker’s fox-like grin spreading in your periphery. She taps her cheek thoughtfully, watching you like a smug sibling about to snitch. 

“Sure, sure. If you say so. He’s still a man, though. He might not have tried you yet—”

“Hush,” you interject. The table shakes, cups rattling as you saw into your sausage with your fork and butter knife. You’re done with this conversation.

Try as you might, however, you can’t banish your thoughts revolving around him. Especially with your coworker watching you like that, silently egging you on.

He’s not that kind of guy. 

He’s still a man, though. 

You’ve repeated it like a mantra throughout your day, even as you mindlessly clacked away at your computer. 

Work was a blur. An exhausting blur. Day gave way to the soothing exhale of night, and you were finally nestled in the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, on your couch, entertaining yourself with a game of Uno. It wasn’t much fun playing alone, but you needed a distraction from the mess of your mind when your favorite show couldn’t help. 

It’s a quarter past 9 when a shuffling sound in the breezeway outside your apartment catches your attention. It’s accompanied by the echoed rasp of a recognizable voice, chuckling and murmuring indiscernible things. 

You peel yourself from your couch as if on autopilot, nose pressed against the cold metal of your door as you peer through the peephole.

It’s your nightly ritual—waiting like an overzealous puppy to greet or send off your neighbor. You don’t always get the luxury of saying goodnight in person. Sometimes, he’s gone for days—weeks—at a time. You don’t know the semantics of his job, but you make it your mission to help assuage whatever burdens he shoulders whenever you can.

He’s there to help you, after all. Whether with a glass of wine, a warm meal, or his company.

So, forgive you for wanting to be a decent neighbor. And you would be tonight if not for the scene that passes through the fisheye of your peephole.

It’s Sylus, clad in something flattering and expensive. There’s no mistaking his broad back and shoulders. The purl of his voice, the wispy dusting of alabaster hair on his collar. But the smaller frame with him, well—

Your heart plummets into your stomach.

She’s pretty from what you can glean from the limited view of your peephole. Donned in a dress that’s form-fitting, voice high and light. Giggling silly things, fastened to Sylus’ side, held there by a virile arm draped around her middle. She’s drunk if the sloppy lean of her body is anything to go by. Sylus angles himself near her ear to whisper something, ushering in a new set of giggles.

You watch with your breath corked in your esophagus until they slide into his apartment together, their enmeshed voices fading from the stilled walls of the hallway.

Huh. Well, so much for him not being that type of guy. 

You grapple with this new revelation, a furrow between your brows, hands falling listlessly at your sides. Numb as you drag yourself back to your couch, bouncing comically on the cushions.

You don’t even know why you’re upset. He's a grown man with a…life. You think. 

It’s the first time you’ve witnessed him bringing someone to his place other than you, but it’s only natural for a guy like him to have options. He’s far from hideous. Has the gift of gab, for God’s sake. He’s charming and the very definition of masculine. 

It just stings a little, knowing that it’s not…you that he’s touching like that. 

So, you are definitely not flinging Uno cards onto the coffee table. Muttering things to yourself, gripping the stack in your hands so tightly, the plastic squeaks. What’s even got your undies in a bunch? The man’s not yours. You’ve never screwed around. Never really showed signs of wanting to, so it makes sense he would seek pleasures of the flesh elsewhere. His world doesn’t solely revolve around you as much as you would like for it to.

You’re halfway through a third round of angry card-flinging before a soft rap at your door nearly sends you some 30 feet into the air.

Stomping to your entrance, you peek through the peephole, and your heart works overtime when you catch sight of a wash of black and scarlet.

Internally, you scold yourself for how gullible you are. You throw the door open like you weren’t just cursing him and his stupid existence moments ago. Try to act nonplussed, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe with a haughty look. 

Of course, he would smell good. Look good, propped against the threshold like that, an amused cant to his lips, his physique devastating beneath the tight cling of his turtleneck.

“Hey,” he greets, the sound breathy and easy like warmed honey. 

“Hey, yourself.”

He studies you for a bit. Eyes flicker over your face, and you tamp down the sparkling rush of warmth that wades over your skin at the attention. Even when you’re mad at him, your attraction still finds an annoying way of creeping through the seams.

“This is going to sound incredibly strange, and feel free to tell me to piss off, but…do you mind if I crash on your couch for the night?”

You stand up straight. Blink owlishly, mouth opening and closing. “Huh?” is all you’re able to muster. 

He chuckles, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this side of bashful. “Yeah. It’s a…bit of a long story, sweetie.”

“O-Okay,” you say, rigidly moving aside.

“Thanks.” The charm is back on, turned up to max capacity. He brushes past you into your apartment, falling onto your couch with a huff. Quirks a brow at the mishap on your table, the carnage having spilled onto the floor. 

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but were you playing Uno by yourself?”

You ignore him, plopping cross-legged on a floor cushion adjacent to him. Bypassing the tick in your brow, you look off to the side, fighting the embarrassment threatening to take hold of your visage. Shouldn’t he be across the hall, entertaining his company?

“Shut up and grab some cards,” you grumble to dispel the green-eyed thoughts stewing in your mind.

“Bossy.” But he doesn’t contest you, gathering the abused cards to shuffle them. 

The remainder of your evening slides by with comfortable quips. With booze and a break to catch up on Love Is Blind—somehow, he’d roped you into watching it. 

You had no idea he was such a sap. Nearly forgotten how miffed you were mere hours ago. 

He assuaged your worries with an explanation as the sun crept over the city. 

The girl in his apartment was an old colleague who’d gotten drunk and convinced herself that she was anything but. 

Being a good samaritan, Sylus brought her to his place to sober up since the apartment complex wasn’t too far from the main strip of bars. He didn’t want any issues when she inevitably woke up. Messing with drunk people wasn’t his thing. 

So that’s how he ended up here, inhabiting your couch like he’d always been a part of the decor. 

He didn’t owe you an explanation. You were just friends. Still, you couldn’t help the quiet smile that twitched your lips after he cleared the air.

At some point in the morning, you both fell asleep. He looked all serene, too big for your sofa, but comfortable. You watched his lashes flutter from your place on the floor, his lips parting with soundless exhales. Even in sleep, he maintained that guarded aura, his arms folded across his chest. 

You were bleary-eyed, gathering yourself from the hardwood to fetch a blanket to drape over him. He shifted, and he was so pretty with the sun bathing him in an angelic glow like that, his hair bright like a halo. 

You were about to retreat to your bedroom when an abrupt knock tore you from your reverie. You glanced at your guest, ensuring he went undisturbed. He needed the rest. He was a night owl, and something about the sun vexed him, so he typically spent his days sleeping when you weren’t impeding on his time.

You moved to the door, foregoing the peephole to open it. Big mistake.

On the other side stood Little Miss Pretty from the night prior, impatiently tapping her foot. Her hair was flattened on one side, and her dress was askew. By the looks of it, sleep hadn’t been kind to her.

“Hi, good morning,” she sighed, schooling her expression into fake politeness. She straightened herself as best she could, but the white patch of dried slob staining her chin did little to help her plight. You bit back a snicker. 

“I’m looking for a friend. He lives across from you. His name’s Skye.”

You quirked a brow at that. Skye? Oh, honey…

You wondered how many other people Sylus had fed a fake alias to. Or if Sylus was even his real name.

“Haven’t seen him,” you chirped over crossed arms. Pulled the door slightly closed behind you, barring the woman from getting a peek at him, nuzzled up so cozily on your couch.

She sighed with slumped shoulders. A childish pout warped her lips. Her voice shifted into something more bratty. “You sure? Tall guy, white hair, red eyes? You can’t miss ‘em.”

“Not ringing a bell, hun. Sorry.”

It was taking all of you to keep up this ruse. You were fighting so hard to tamp down your amusement. This woman reminded you of an antagonist in a Korean drama, the way she was kicking and huffing about. 

“Where the hell did he go,” she groused. You watched her draw her phone from the pocket of her fur coat, your throat growing dry. 

Your blood turned to ice when a familiar ringtone chimed in your apartment behind you. You stiffened comically; mouth hinged open with shock.

The woman’s expression morphed into one of suspicion. She tried to look inside your home, the upbeat ring of Sylus’ phone still flooding the uncomfortable silence.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to assert her way inside. “What the fu—”

“Hey, girlie. Back the hell off before I call the police,” you warned with a hand pushed to her sternum. She insisted on being unruly, so you snatched your taser from the entryway table, the telltale blue sparks and sharp whip of static causing the woman to jolt back with alarm.

“You’re both insane!” she shouted from the hallway, the stomp of her heels reverberating off the walls as she made her way to the stairwell. 

With a relieved sigh deflating your chest, you eased the door shut. Leaned against it, glancing at the man of the hour. He was still fast asleep, his leg dangling off the edge of your sofa. You smirked knowingly, shaking your head as you disappeared into your bedroom. 

You’d let him sleep for as long as he needed. And you’d give him shit when he awoke about his taste in acquaintances. 

(Sylus): hungry? (You): a little. was gonna make some ramen if you want (Sylus): 🤢 (Sylus): that stuffs terrible for your digestion sweetie.  (Sylus): how about i make you dinner instead ? (Sylus): at the supermarket. need anything? (You): 😲😲😲 (You): you keep spoiling me and i might think you like me (Sylus): 😏 (You): nvm. no don’t need anything. lemme know when you’re back (You): i can help with groceries (Sylus): now who likes who? (You): fkdkos (Sylus): ? (You): sorry fat fingers 

You have a nasty habit of not using your peephole as of late.

Your apartment came with one for a reason. Sure, your neighborhood’s been pretty tame since you’ve moved here. But that doesn’t mean the occasional weirdo doesn’t slip past security, roaming the halls and startling the other tenants. 

You’ve found yourself forgoing the use of it a lot lately, given the only person who typically knocks on your door is the guy across the hall. And he usually calls or texts before he bugs you, but that doesn’t stop him from being spontaneous. You suppose today is one of those such cases after he manipulated you with dinner. 

Maybe his hands are full, you muse, unlocking your door. Though you’re doubtful he can’t handle a few bags. You’ve seen him in action at the community gym, thick cords of muscle rippling beneath a tan stretch of skin. 

You draw the door open with a smile, expecting to see a customary thatch of white. What confronts you instead sends a tide of dread washing over your innards. 

“Oh, thank God you’re home,” breathes a voice you haven’t heard in months. A voice that still makes your body stiffen, and your blood run cold. 

When your senses return, you step back into your apartment, thoroughly intending to slam the door in your ex’s face. They’re quicker, however, wedging themselves in the gap before you can shut it. Grabbing for you, a crazed look warping their features.

“Baby, please! Talk to me! I miss you!”

You bat at their hand, trying vainly to crush them, to scare them off. It’s to no avail, and you wonder if they’re coked up, giving you a run for your money as they try to bully their way into your home.

There’s a softball bat propped on the wall, and your fingers brush the base of it in your attempt to grab it. Something to defend yourself since your taser’s out of reach, tucked somewhere in your bag. 

The sounds of your struggle intermingle, your voice strained and panting, please please please, and your ex’s caught between sobs of your name. 

Just a little further. Just—

Suddenly, there’s no more resistance in your door. You stumble against it, a wild look in your eyes. And then, there is the noise of a brief scuffle. Of a back being shoved against a wall, of rusting plastic bags, of “Who the fuck are you?!”

Amid your panicked frenzy, you glance up to see a back to you. Barring you from the view beyond your threshold, and your body’s awash with relief as you register your savior’s form.

“You would do well to piss off,” seethes Sylus, and there’s an edge to his voice you’ve never heard before. You feel it furling in your stomach, burning your lungs. And in this moment, you don’t know who to be more afraid of.

Your ex makes a sound of protest, but you imagine the cut of Sylus’ eyes deterring them.

There is the scuffling of shoes across the concrete flooring of the breezeway, and you listen with bated breath until the cacophony fades at the foot of the stairs, willing your heart to ease down.

Scarlet eyes shift to you, brows knit with concern. “Who was that?” Sylus asks, tone cautious as if he doesn’t want to startle you more than you’ve already been.

You right yourself, smoothing out the wrinkles of your clothes. Finally grab your bat, waving it intimidatingly as you step aside to let your neighbor in.

“My stupid ex. Just know you saved their life. ‘cause I was gonna—” You make swinging gestures, the metal bat swooping in the air. The corners of Sylus’ eyes crinkle. 

“Slow down before you hurt yourself.” He kneels to retrieve the bags he’d tossed down in his haste to intervene. You scurry over to help, gathering up spilled food.

Once you’re both inside, the bags placed haphazardly on the counter, you’re seated on your sofa, nursing the rush of adrenaline still spuming through you like the hot rush of a geyser. 

“You need to get a restraining order,” says Sylus. He emerges from your kitchen with a tense set to his jaws, two bottles of Angry Orchard clasped between his fingers. 

Plopping down beside you, an arm draped over the headrest, he shoves a bottle into your hand, side-eyeing you as he throws his head back for a swig. 

You babysit the cider, the crisp condensation of it serving to ground you. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m not asking, sweetie.”

You bristle under the weight of his tone, feeling much like a scolded child. You know this. Should’ve done it long ago the first time your ex took it upon themselves to do surprise pop-ups at your place—at your job.  

“And an alarm system.”

“I know, I know.”

“I can take you right now to look for one—”

“I got it, Sy! Fuck, I-I got it.” You release a weighted sigh, warring with yourself. 

Not only do you feel silly for being so lackadaisical with your life. But now, you feel even worse for the seemingly impenetrable silence that settles between you. You didn’t mean to yell, frustration and adrenaline having burbled to the surface. He was just worried. No need to take your emotions out on him. 

Sylus exhales slowly, an unreadable expression descending onto his face whilst staring at the wall.

“Sorry,” you murmur, unconsciously patting his quad. You don’t miss how he stiffens; don’t miss the tight coiling of tendons in his neck. You retract your hand, instead drumming your fingers along the bottom of your bottle.

“I’m assuming this isn’t the first time this has happened,” queries Sylus in an attempt to dispel the tense atmosphere.

You shake your head, shrinking into yourself. Stare at your lap, pulling at some frayed threads in your bottoms. 

“How did they even manage to get up here?”

You shrug. The security guards at the gates aren’t always the most attentive. Besides, sometimes, the pin pad leading into the lobby malfunctions, making it easier for anyone to just slip into your complex.

Unprompted, you begin to bare yourself, explaining the possibilities of why your ex showed up.

Sylus listens attentively. Doesn’t interrupt you, watching the subtle shifts of your expressions as you speak. 

You tell him that things weren’t bad in the beginning about two years ago. How your ex said and did all the right things, and they were wonderful. But they wanted something you weren’t ready for. You had some growing up to do, so you broke things off. Moved to another city, started a new job. 

You didn’t bank on them following you. 

The visits were random at first. Occasional run-ins at the park, the bar. Things soon blossomed into something more concerning when your ex found your new address after you relocated to another part of the city to ease the stress of the commute. 

This was their second time making an appearance at your door. You knew you should’ve done something to protect yourself sooner, but you didn’t think much of it then. Figured they would live and let be. Today proved otherwise. 

“You’re grossly naive, sweetie.” 

You snort before gulping down the remnants of your cider. “Way to make me feel better.”

He chuckles, and it’s comforting, your thighs pressing together amid your dinky couch. “It’s what I’m here for. But I could understand how you could drive someone to such extremes.”

You glare at him. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means…” 

Before you know what’s about, he’s panning in, flooding your vision with the scarlet shine of his eyes. With the wispy dance of his lashes until his breath fans over your molten cheeks. Limber fingers sneak beneath your chin, slightly tilting your head back. 

Warmth wades over you. Your breath swells in your chest. Lips purse as a mysterious shade of burgundy leaks over his irises. His voice drops a few octaves, husky, the sound of it pinching in your stomach.

“It means that you’re someone worth fighting for.”

You scoff, shaking yourself away from his hold. Ignore the bashfulness creeping into your face in favor of being a cheeky little shit. 

“All right, Li Shang. Getting a little too serious over there.”

He huffs a laugh in response, popping up to grab another round of ciders from your fridge.

Ingredients sat untouched on the countertop as your evening eased by. You’d settled on a pizza, catching up on shows and talking, long after the moon had pinned itself to the center of the sky. 

Sylus promised to teach you how to use a gun. He had plenty and would carve out time in his schedule to take you to a range. He didn’t press much after, instead letting the weight of your evening melt from your shoulders. 

He was reluctant to leave you, even after sunbeams spilled through your blinds and you snoozed so quietly, cheek propped against his shoulder. 

His hand never left your thigh. Possessive in its touch as he mirrored your affections from before. 

It’s strange.

Today is your birthday. You’re enjoying yourself, filled with enough alcohol to tranquilize a small goat. 

Your co-workers had dragged you out. Surprised you with dinner, a cake. Took you to the strip of bars lining the streets adjacent to your apartment complex. You were all smiles until your cheeks ached, and you’d nearly thrown up from laughing so much. 

Still, you feel…empty. Like something is missing. Or someone. 

You look at your phone for the umpteenth time. Scroll through your messages, reliving the moment in your head. 

Sylus was the first to wish you a happy birthday. It made you swell with overwhelming happiness, knowing he’d woken up so early to be the first to say it. You don’t think you’ve ever cried harder when he sent a voice message of him singing “Happy Birthday.”

God, for everything he was good at, poor baby couldn’t hold a note to dig himself out of a hole. Still, you cherished the gesture, lying in bed for the first hour you’d been awake, replaying said message and rolling around your bed like an enamored teen.

Even now, you replay the voice note, holding the speaker to your ear. It’s hard to hear it amid the live band playing and the merriment around you at the bar. Try as you might to enjoy what remains of your night, you can’t keep your thoughts from drifting back to a certain smug figure clad in black. 

(You): 🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛🐦‍⬛💥💥💥 (Sylus): hows it going birthday babe? (You): 😭😭😭 (You): u shuld be her e (Sylus) im sorry sweetie. i had some work to catch up on.  (Sylus): you must be having a good time. 😏 (You): fuk wrk 🖕🖕🖕 (You): am not drink ur dronk (Sylus): lol. you sound plastered. (Sylus): do i need to come rescue you? (You): hum (Sylus): ? (You): hone (You): home (Sylus): 🫤 (Sylus): we need to have a serious talk about you enabling autocorrect. (You): r u (You): home (Sylus): about to be. why ?? (Sylus): sweetie?

Somehow, you find yourself staring at the glossy, black numbers embossed on the top center of his door. 302. It’s ingrained in your memory. You’d probably find your way to his apartment with your eyes closed, driven to it by the familiar smell and homeliness it exudes. 

You’re still a little tipsy. Took some time to sober up as best you could before ditching your friends and catching an Uber back to your complex. You had enough sense to gather everything you’d shown up with. Didn’t hitch a ride with any strangers regardless of how many of them tried to pull you into their arms as you stumbled out of the bar. 

You had a one-track mind. Only wanted to spend the rest of your birthday with him.

With a goofy smile plastered on your face, you knock on his door. You’re singing that infectious song you can’t get out of your head when it swings open.

“Apateu-pateu, apateu-pateu,” you chant, shaking your hips from side to side.

He greets you with an omniscient smirk, eyes softening whilst leaning against the doorframe. “Well, hello, birthday babe.”

“Sup!” you return a little too enthusiastically, pitching forward until Sylus steadies you with his hands. You giggle like a drunken fool, peering at him. Hadn’t realized how good his hands felt, searing through the fabric of your top. 

Come to think of it, you hadn’t noticed many things about him before. His lips are a pretty shade of pink. Skin textured, nose sharp, cheeks high. Little flecks of amber dwell between the scarlet rinse of his eyes. His hair falls into his face, damp from the shower he probably had before answering the door.

“I take it you had a good night,” he says, gaze painting a steady triangle between your eyes and mouth.

“Almost,” you whisper back, surprised by the huskiness of your voice. You lose yourself in the idle stir of his eyes. In the fragility of his smile, and you feel so safe in his hands like this. 

You don’t know what compels you to do it. To conquer the space of hot, dizzying breaths between you. But, you sort of…well…

Your inhibitions hit the floor. With your fingers wrapped tenderly around his wrists, you angle yourself closer to kiss him. You almost pull away when he stiffens. But he seemingly relaxes, and his lips cautiously move against yours as he unconsciously guides you closer.

You cling to the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He encircles your waist in his powerful arms, fastening you to the hard press of his body. He kisses you like he’s waited lifetimes to do it, one hand molding around the apple of your cheek. 

When your tongue sloppily prods the barrier of his teeth, he bristles. Draws away from you with a resounding smack, blinking wildly. You’re confused. Your heart sinks. You try again to draw him back in, but he gently pushes you away, shaking his head to dispel the bleariness. To chase away the spell that’s fallen over you. 

“Baby, wait. No. Not…not like this,” he rasps through kiss-swollen lips, holding you by your hips. You’re wounded. A hot flush of embarrassment washes over you, and your brows knit together like those of a confused puppy.

“Wha-what’s wrong? Did I—am I—”

“No, no, you’re…you're perfect,” he soothes with a chuckle, a thumb gliding over your bottom lip. “Beautiful, even. I just…I don’t think now is a good time to do this.”

“Oh.” You deflate, a scorching film of tears clouding your vision. “Oh, okay. Um, I’ll just—yeah, I’ll go. I’ll…see you around, I guess.”

You slide out of his arms, too mortified to look back as you fumble with your keys. After he murmurs a hoarse, “good night.” Did you misread him before? Misinterpret his actions, his words? 

You’re numb as you sink into your couch. Sobriety slowly creeps in. Stray tears blister your cheeks, but you don’t full-on sob. Can’t bring yourself to, instead laughing hysterically with your face buried in your hands, swallowed by the bleak loneliness of your apartment.

Happy Birthday, indeed.

[daxisyzz]

Double-Edged

This is part 2 of Close encounters

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: On an undercover mission, you and Bucky pose as a married couple to infiltrate an illegal weapons auction—but when a stolen kiss becomes part of the plan, the line between duty and desire starts to blur.

Word count: 847

Read part 1 for more context.

The safe house was quiet—too quiet.

You leaned against the desk, pretending to focus on backing up the drive, the screen’s soft glow flickering over your face. But your mind wasn’t on encrypted files or aliases. It was on him.

The kiss.

The way Bucky had grabbed you like it meant something. The way your heart had stuttered, knees weakening under the press of his lips. You’d told yourself it was for the mission—just a cover. A performance. But your pulse was still racing hours later, and no damn performance ever made your skin feel like it was burning alive.

Bucky was in the other room now, shedding his gear with infuriating calm. You could hear the metallic clicks of his knife being dismantled, the soft hum he made under his breath like he had all the time in the world. Every now and then, your gaze flicked to the doorway. You hated that your eyes kept seeking him out. Hated it more when he caught you looking—and smirked.

He strolled into the room, throwing a protein bar at you like it was a bouquet of roses.

“Dinner of champions,” he said with an infuriating amount of smug.

You caught it without looking. “Wow. A gentleman and a flirt. Be still my heart.”

“Careful,” he said, plopping down onto the couch across from you. “Wouldn’t want you falling too hard.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve tripped over flat surfaces more romantically.”

He chuckled, eyes glinting. “That why you grabbed my lapels like a woman possessed?”

“I was playing the part.”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Sure didn’t feel like acting.”

You froze, heat creeping up your neck. “Don’t flatter yourself, Barnes.”

His smirk deepened. “Oh, I’m not the one replaying it in my head on a loop.”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”

“You’ve been twitchy all night. Can’t even look at me without blushing. Kinda cute, actually.”

“Cute?” you echoed, incredulous. “You think mocking me is flirting?”

He stood and crossed the room slowly, with that same predatory grace he always moved with. “No. This is flirting.”

His hand brushed your waist as he reached past you for the backup drive, intentionally too close, his breath warm near your ear.

Your body betrayed you with a shiver. You hated how smug he looked when he noticed.

You shoved him back half-heartedly. “Back off, Barnes.”

He grinned. “What if I don’t want to?”

You glared, crossing your arms. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“I told you,” he said, voice low. “You ever stop pretending you didn’t like that kiss?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. He took a step closer, testing.

“No guards,” he said softly. “No crowd. No danger. No excuses. So if I kissed you right now, would you stop me?”

Your heart thundered in your chest.

You tilted your chin up. “Maybe I would.”

“Maybe,” he echoed, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the touch maddeningly soft. “That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

“I’m not here to be convincing. I’m here to finish the mission and survive a night in this glorified broom closet with your arrogant ass.”

His eyes lit with amusement. “You sure? Because you’re looking at me like I’m the mission.”

You stepped closer, nose nearly brushing his. “If you’re the mission, Barnes, I’m about to fail spectacularly.”

That made him pause, just for a second. Then his hand found your hip, fingers curling in a way that made your breath catch.

“You gonna kiss me again, or are we just gonna keep playing chicken?” you asked, defiant but breathless.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he said, voice rough. “But you look like you’re about to combust.”

You didn’t answer with words. You kissed him.

Hard.

His hand shot to the back of your neck, pulling you in like he’d been dying for it. Your fingers clutched at his shirt, dragging him closer. It was messy and heated and nothing like the last one.

This one was real.

When you finally pulled away, lips tingling, you didn’t back down. “Still think I’m blushing because I’m embarrassed?”

He grinned, eyes heavy-lidded. “Nah. Now I think you’re blushing ‘cause you like the way I taste.”

You smacked his chest and spun away, flustered.

“God, you’re insufferable.”

“Yeah?” he called after you, clearly pleased. “You gonna tell me to sleep on the floor, sweetheart?”

“Damn right.”

“Fine. But you better hope I don’t get cold,” he teased. “I do tend to cuddle in my sleep.”

“You cuddle and I’m putting you through a wall.”

He laughed as he settled back onto the couch, arms behind his head like he’d already won something. “Noted. But I snore too, so really, you’re getting the full experience.”

You didn’t respond. You were too busy staring at the ceiling, heart racing, wondering how the hell you’d gone from tolerating him to kissing him like oxygen depended on it.

One thing was clear—this wasn’t part of the mission anymore.

And Bucky Barnes? He was going to be the death of you.

A/n: sorry for getting this put late I had actually not planned on writing a part two but @maryevm inspired me to.

[heartsriki]

More than enough ━━━━ S.J

pairing ᝰ jake x fem! reader wc: 1.6k

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ teasing, kissing, reassurance, fluff w slight, minuscule angst, established relationship.

synopsis — Jake’s always been the slow, chill type, but when his friends make him doubt if that’s enough to keep you, he surprises you with your first kiss.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊Posting this little idea I had before I revamp my acc and continue my enha series ^^

jake was always passive.

Not in a bad way, he was just the type of guy who doesn’t make the first move, doesn’t push, doesn’t assume. when you first met him, he was like a breath of fresh air. soft laughs, gentle eyes, the kind of guy who made you feel welcomed.

you liked him almost immediately. but you never said anything, not even a hint. he was sweet and friendly to everyone, so you figured… no way it meant anything. no way he’d actually like you back.

until jay opened his big mouth one day and let it slip, totally unaware he was dropping a bomb. “you know jake’s had a crush on you forever, right?”

…excuse me??

you were stunned. and maybe a little annoyed. because jake? the guy who barely looked flustered around you? the guy who smiled like you were just another friend? that jake had been crushing on you the whole time?

Either way, now you both were together, and he’s still kind of the same.. hands laced with yours, arms around your shoulders during movies, falling asleep with your head on his chest. all soft, all good.

but kissing? that’s the part that’s got you confused.

he hasn’t tried. hasn’t even almost tried. You attempted once but he kind of brushed around it.

You’re not interested in rushing things, you’re really not. if he’s nervous or just not ready, that’s okay. he shows you he likes you in a million other ways anyway.

“Ow—man,” Jake hisses, half-laughing, half-whining, after a light smack lands on the back of his head.

“Sit up,” Heeseung grins, collapsing onto the couch next to Jay with his usual cocky flair. “How’s you and your girlfriend?”

Jake sets his phone down, a lazy little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “We’re good.”

Heeseung hums like a man who’s about to ruin the vibe. “Have you gotten lucky yet?”

There’s a synchronized groan from both Jake and Jay. “Dude,” Jay mutters. “Why do you always have to make it weird?”

Heeseung just shrugs, hands raised in mock surrender. “So that’s a no?”

Jake sighs, suddenly very interested in his shoes. “We haven’t… done anything like that.”

Jay nudges Heeseung with his elbow, like a disappointed dad. “Leave him alone, man. A real gentleman takes it slow. Holding hands. Hugging. Kissing. That stuff comes first. The rest follows.” He turns to Jake. “But you’ve— at least kissed, right?”

Jake freezes. Visibly uncomfortable. Visibly cornered.

“Uh… no. We haven’t. Does that… does it really matter?”

Jay groans. “Here we go again. You and your emotionally-repressed-pacifist-ass attitude.”

Heeseung shakes his head dramatically. “So what? You’re just keeping her in the dark? I genuinely don’t know how you pulled her, man.”

Jay laughs, “Sure, all the soft couple shit is cute. But if a girl didn’t kiss me for months, I’d be wondering if we were just friends with good lighting.”

And Jake—God, Jake tries to keep it together. But there’s something tight in his chest now, like panic. “So… is that how she feels? Do you think she’ll get bored of me?”

Jay and Heeseung exchange one of those looks.

“Well not exactly-”

Jake doesn’t wait. He doesn’t want to hear it. He’s already up, already heading for the door, already out.

the apartment falls quiet except for the soft click of the door closing behind him.

Jay shot Heeseung a sharp glare.

Heeseung just blinked at him, deadpan. “You’re the one who brought up the kissing.”

Jake opened the door to your apartment slowly. He didn’t see you at first, just heard the soft murmur of the show playing in the background from the living room.

He let out a small sigh at the comforting feeling of being in your home. After slipping off his shoes, he went to look for you.

It didn’t take long. He exhaled in relief when his eyes finally landed on you.

You were standing in front of your mirror, fixing your hair. It was part of your usual after-work routine, you must’ve just gotten home.

You gasped when you saw his reflection behind you in the mirror, making him flinch. But he quickly smiled when you turned around and walked over to him.

“Baby, when did you get here? Did you text me?”

Jake opened his mouth to answer, but the second you looked up from your phone, eyes locked on his like he was the center of your universe… he froze.

Is this when I should kiss her? Is that what she’s expecting? Do I just lean in? What if she doesn’t want to and I look like an idiot?

“Jake?”

That snapped him out of it.

“Sorry, gorgeous. Just got lost in thought,” he said, grabbing your hands and giving them a soft kiss. “What’s the plan for today?”

You laughed, walking away. “I thought you were hanging out with your friends today. You were so excited, did they kick you out?”

Jake followed you as you moved to the kitchen to grab a glass of water

“No- they changed plans. We’re hanging out next week with the others.”

You hummed. “That’s great, baby—oh—”

When you turned around after pouring your drink, Jake was standing right behind you. You gasped at how close he was.

You stumbled over your words. “Uh- do you, um… wanna watch my drama with me? Maybe order some takeout?”

Jake looked at you with wide, puppy-dog eyes and nodded.

You pushed his weird behavior to the back of your mind for now. Maybe he was just tired.

…

No. he was definitely acting weird.

When you both sat down to watch your show, he kept stealing glances at you. He also kept a strange distance, where he’d usually have his arm around your shoulder, making cheesy comments about the lines or teasing you about the lead actor, tonight he sat stiffly beside you.

His breathing was uneven, and he flinched slightly every time you touched him.

Moments passed, and you were starting to piece it together.

At a certain point in the episode, the two characters on screen shared a romantic moment that ended in a kiss. Your heart fluttered but you also kept Jake in your peripheral vision.

He was watching the screen, then glancing at you, eyes full of nerves and overthinking.

You decided to mess with him, just a little.

You turned slightly, facing him more directly. He hesitated before meeting your gaze.

You leaned in slightly, eyes flicking to his lips and back to his eyes which were now blown wide.

You leaned in close enough for him to close his eyes in anticipation. But.. when nothing happened he opened them again. You were back to watching the show…

He shook his head, hating how stupid he probably looked just now.

You didn’t say anything, you just smiled a little to yourself and kept your eyes on the screen like nothing happened. But Jake wasn’t watching the show anymore.

He could feel his heart pounding so loudly it was a wonder you couldn’t hear it. His palms were sweating. His leg was bouncing. He was screaming at himself internally.

Just do it. Kiss her. You like her. She leaned in. That wasn’t an accident. She wants to. Right?

He glanced at you again.

You were relaxed, head slightly tilted toward him, eyes on the TV but that tiny smile still tugging at your lips. Like you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

Jake’s breath caught.

He didn’t mean to move.. not really.

But suddenly, like something inside him snapped, he reached out and gently placed his hand on your cheek.

You turned toward him, surprised.

And before you could ask what he was doing, he kissed you.

It was quick, nervous and sudden.. but soft. His hand was still lingering near your cheek, eyes fluttering closed as he pressed his lips to yours in a way that took the breath out of both of you.

You froze for half a second… then kissed him back.

When he pulled away, breathless, he looked absolutely terrified. “Sorry- I didn’t- was that okay?”

You blinked, stunned, heart racing.

And then you smiled wide, warm, dizzy with something that felt like relief. “What was that for?”

Jake laughed, a little dazed. “I don’t know.”

Jake kissed you again,this time slower, steadier, his lips were so full they kept you in a trance.

But when he pulled back, his hands still resting gently on your waist, there was something different in his expression. His brows were slightly drawn, like he wasn’t finished.

“I… need to tell you something,” he said quietly.

You tilted your head. “Okay?”

He hesitated, eyes flicking between yours, searching for reassurance even as he spoke. “Earlier. At Jay’s place. The guys were talking and—” He sighed. “Heeseung said something. About how if I didn’t make a move soon, you might get bored of me.”

Your heart dropped. “Jake…”

“I know,” he rushed to say, shaking his head. “It’s dumb. And I told myself not to listen. But it got in my head, and I started overthinking everything. I just… I didn’t want you to feel like I didn’t want you. I do. So much it’s insane. But I kept waiting, and second-guessing, and I think part of me just… I don’t know.”

His voice cracked a little. “I was scared you’d get tired of waiting for someone like me.”

You reached up, gently cupping his cheek.

“Someone like you?” you repeated softly. “Jake, I didn’t fall for you because you were fast or smooth. I fell for the guy who makes me feel safe just by sitting next to me. The guy who listens. The guy who looks at me like I’m the best part of his day.”

He blinked, lips parting.

You leaned in again, pressing your forehead to his. “I’m not bored, Jake. Not even close. I was just waiting on you. And I would’ve waited longer, if you needed me to.”

He exhaled shakily, like the weight on his chest finally lifted. “I’m really lucky to be yours.”

You smiled. “Very lucky.”