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cloudystevie · 3 months

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scary my god you're divine

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pairing || bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 3235

summary || he would do anything for you.

warnings || smut! dom! bucky x sub! reader, possessive! bucky, a little bit of subspace, choking, little bit of exhibitionism kink, minor pain play, daddy kink (only three times okay i'm sorry i am who i am), degradation, unprotected sex

author's note || 18+ ONLY. not proofread yet. my very first request in a very long time! Anonymous asked: Could you write a Dombucky x Subreader? And if you wouldn't mind jealous!bucky, already established relationship and his dog tags on reader? hope you enjoy nonnie! as always feel free to send in requests or any asks! feel free to reblog! enjoy!

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Today, a select few from the team are supposed to train the new agents, preparing them for the physical aspect of being an agent. Some made it fun or tolerable, like Steve and Sam, who were born leaders and charismatic. Natasha and Wanda enjoyed supervising the sparring sessions. Tony and Bruce enjoyed using technology to throw new obstacles at the agents.

Sometimes literally.

Unfortunately, your grumpy boyfriend, Bucky, just did not find any joy in training days. He didn’t like giving out instructions and praise unless it was you who was under him. He didn’t like supervising weak punches and miscalculated throws. And technology was just a straight-up no for him.

Usually, he could make himself useful with Steve, throwing out no-nonsense orders without making himself a massive part of the effort.

You were taking the elevator down to the gym floor. Fury had instructed you to check everything out and ensure everything went according to the itinerary.

The doors open, and you glance around to ensure no immediate problems before letting your gaze fall on Bucky; his eyes are already on you. You offer him a bright smile, which he returns with a smirk, and your stomach flutters like it does every time you see him. You’re about 7 feet away from your boyfriend before you feel a hand on your lower back. You startle and turn around to face the newest agent. He has quickly climbed through all of SHIELD’s tests and proven himself to be of great value. He chatted you up last week at Tony’s charity ball, and you tried to let him down gently since you were already happily taken. Bucky was on a mission that day, and you didn’t want to add to his mental load by telling him about some punk who wouldn’t leave you alone.

Apparently, said punk, cannot take no for an answer.

“Back for more, cutie? You finally break up with your imaginary boyfriend?” Marcus teases, but really, he sounds more taunting than playful. You glance over your shoulder as you move away from his grip, and you already see Bucky glaring directly at the spot where Marcus’ hand was on your back. The stopwatch he was holding in his flesh hand shatters, and he doesn’t even flinch when Steve and Sam apologize for him, asking what was wrong as discreetly as they could but one glance over to where you were uncomfortably held hostage by the lean brunet man told them everything they needed to know.

Bucky cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders up as he stalks towards you two. His looming presence is felt before you can see him in your peripheral vision. You glance up at him and take an instinctive step back toward his hulking body, breathing a sigh of relief because Marcus has to let up now.

He doesn’t.

“Oh hey, Sergeant Barnes, if you don’t mind I’m actually trying to talk to this chick so…”

The way he talks about you as if you’re not right there makes you physically recoil. Bucky’s eyes harden; he’s not even squaring up to his full stature, and he already easily dwarfs Marcus. Bucky takes a step forward, and everyone in the room comes to a standstill. Everyone shuddering at the sheer anger rolling off of Bucky and the stupidity of Marcus.

Marcus huffs out a laugh. Maybe he gets a little pasty when he’s nervous because he seems to be digging himself a deeper hole when he says something about how many girls fall at his feet and Sarge, you've got to calm down. She’s not worth all that.

In an instant, Steve and Sam command everyone to return to their tasks, and the room begins to bustle again, but with a specific weary energy that was not there before. The very next second, Marcus is picked up by the collar of his black t-shirt and slammed against the wall, the room rattling with the force of it as all the recruits try to ignore the spectacle before them.

“Touch her again, and I will kill you,” Bucky promises. “If you look at her, I will kill you. If you even think about her, I will fucking kill you. Understand?” His voice is a low grumble, the words resounding and reverberating as you watch Marcus sputter out panicked apologies and his flailing body while Bucky still looks so self-assured and composed. It's as if he’s not scaring a man to death while simultaneously making you drool.

You call out Bucky’s name, and he looks at you over his shoulder, pinning Marcus with one final glare and shove before letting him go as the agent does the walk of shame to the washroom. It’s almost like you’re frozen in your spot. You’ve seen Bucky get aggressive on missions before, but watching him be so willing to defend you, stand up for you when you couldn’t, not even hesitating for a second when he threatened to kill for you. And the worst part is, you were confident he was dead serious.

Even worse, something about the principle of the situation was really doing it for you.

On the outside, it might have seemed like you were in shock or panic due to the agents’ actions, so Bucky whisked you away to a private interrogation room on the floor above the gym. The whole elevator ride there, his hand is protectively on your lower back, and you just watch the rigid set of his jaw and the anger and possessiveness written all over his features with unmistakable doe eyes. The air in the elevator is thick, and neither of you says a word. Before you know it, Bucky is easily lifting you and placing you on the metal table in the middle of the dull room, and his eyes are scanning yours for any hint of panic or if you’re upset. His hands cup your face gently, the cool vibranium soothing against your heated skin, and he finally breaks the silence. “You’ve gotta say something, baby. Are you okay? After this, that idiot’s going to be gone. I’m sorry if seeing me like that upset you, sweetheart-” Your rushed words cut off his ramble, “I thought that was really hot.” You say quietly and watch as Bucky’s face contorts from one of worry to one of confusion.

“The way you stood up for me, you were so nonchalant about killing for me. I can’t lie, James. That kind of did something for me.” You continue, biting your lip and scanning him for his reaction, hoping he didn’t take your words in the wrong way.

He’s silent for a moment. His chest moving steadily with each breath against yours.

The next moment, his lips are pressed against yours, and you let a surprised squeak out. Your mouth slots open when his wandering hands roughly squeeze your thigh through your satin pants, getting dangerously close to the heat pulsing between your thighs. Taking advantage of your open mouth, Bucky slips his tongue inside your mouth and you buck your hips to seek some friction against your needy core. The kiss is passionate and renders your breathless as he consumes all of your senses. All you can think, see, smell, hear, and feel is James.

His name falls from your lips in a gasp, you reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, letting your head lull to the side when he peppers sloppy kisses all over your jaw, trailing down your neck and biting and licking on your sweet spot. You swat at his firm bicep, “You’re gonna leave a mark James, stop it.” Your attempt at scolding him is weak, even to your own ears.

You feel Bucky smirk against your sensitive neck, his wandering hands cupping your ass and shamelessly groping and swatting at you. “Oh really? That’s too bad baby. Gonna be a pain to cover up.” He remarks, voice dripping in cockiness.

You scoff and bite back a whimper when he grinds his undoubtedly hard length against your clothed center. Your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself by holding onto his shoulders, a shiver crawling up your spine when a particularly slow grind nudges your aching clit. “You’re such a bad influence you know that?” Your voice lacks any real conviction. Your hips move in tandem with his, both of you sharing messy kisses and your bodies thrumming with lust and pent up energy.

“I’ll kill anyone who even thinks about looking at you.” Bucky says assuredly, and you can’t help the mewl that escapes your lips at his words. Your hands shakily going to undo his black jeans as he messily pulls yours pants down, being considerate enough not to rip them considering there was still a little more than an hour until the SHIELD training day was over. “Bucky I need you, need you to please-” Your voice is shaky and desperate, as you struggle to unbutton his jeans. He shushes you gently, cooing at you sweetly as he easily unbuttons his jeans, just enough for you to promptly pull out his erect cock. Your mouth practically waters at his length and girth, and you spit onto your hand and begin rubbing his length, swiping your thumb gently over the tip making him hiss and push his hips into your hand.

You bite your lip and look up at him through hooded eyes, and he slaps your hand away before tearing your panties in half, the top half covering your swollen clit and the bottom scrap of fabric falling limply against the cool table. You barely have time to scold him for ripping your panties before he’s shoving his whole length inside you in one fluid thrust. Your back arches, your legs wrapping around his waist as your buddy erupts in a shiver, a short scream escaping your lips. He swallows the noise with his mouth pressed against yours as he grunts into your mouth, waiting only a short second before he begins to thrust inside you. His thrusts are slow but hard, making the heavy metal table scrape against the floor with the force of each pass of his hips into yours.

“You’re mine, mine to touch. Mine to have. Mine to take care of.” Bucky grunts out, his movements picking up in pace as emotion swirls in his voice, his metal hand covering your neck, forcing you to stay upright in a position that allowed you to feel all of him. You sob out, digging your nails into his bicep and nodding your head, already succumbing to that foggy feeling you felt when you were so close to your boyfriend. He tuts at you, swatting your face with his flesh hand with enough force to make you moan out and clench around his length.

“Nuh-uh sweetheart, you’re not going dumb on me that quick. Use your words, tell me you’re mine. Tell me I’m yours.” His voice is commanding and you force yourself to look at him, pulling on his shirt and tugging on his dog tugs to get him closer, your foreheads pressing against each other as his thrusts continue to get faster. “I’m yours James, only yours. You’re only mine. No one else. Just you.” Your words are slurred as he groans out a good girl in approval and decides that he wants your shirt off. He skillfully manages to slip your navy blue long-sleeve off and unhooks your bra in one motion, freeing your tits to the cold air of the room, forcing the buds into sensitive peaks which Bucky is quick to take advantage of. His hands squeeze and pull at your tits, tugging and pinching cruelly at your nipples making you whine.

Your bodies are pressed so close to one another, each pull of his hips making his pelvis rub against your aching clit, stray tears streaming down your face and your chest heaving and pushed up against Bucky.

If anyone were to walk in right now the picture would be nothing short of debauched. You completely bare on the table, Bucky completely clothed. Getting absolutely plowed if the screech of the metal against the floor was anything to go by. Your moans get higher in pitch and volume making Bucky grunt, another swat to your cheek making your brain foggy. “Shut the fuck up slut. You want everyone to see you getting fucked like the bitch in heat you are?” But if your moans and increasing wetness are anything to go by, yes, a deep and dark part of you does want that. Bucky laughs at you, shaking his head in faux disbelief and you wrap your lips around his dog tags, enjoying the soothing sensation brought by the cool metal. Bucky looks down at your lips wrapped around the dog tags he never seemed to take off and he let out a wrecked sound. You clench around him at the sound making his rhythm falter.

Before you can even process the loss of his proximity, your back is flat against the table and his dog tags are now around your neck, landing on your chest and glimmering in the dull fluorescent lighting of the room. Bucky slams himself back inside of you, the unmistakable squelch of your wetness filling up the room alongside both of your noises of pleasure. Your high-pitched and pornographic mewls and his low grunts and deep groans. You cry out his name as your head lulls to the side, eyes shutting in bliss as your fingers move to give your aching clit some attention. But Bucky lets out a disappointed grunt, grabbing your jaw in his hand and forcing you to maintain eye contact. “Look away from me again and I won’t let you cum for a fucking week stupid baby.” Bucky threatens. “You better fucking pay attention to who’s fucking you dumb. No need to close your eyes and imagine when you’ve got the real thing right here.”

Each of his words ignites a newfound purpose in Bucky as he pounds into you impossibly harder, his hand swatting against your cheek again and wrapping around your neck, keeping you in place to take all of his thrusts. He knows you always struggle to keep your eyes open and you don’t doubt that he will follow through on his threat. He has always enjoyed testing your weakness and pushing your limits.

“Feels s’good. You’re so big Jamie. S’big, so good s’too good.” Your words are breathy and frail, your fingers rubbing quick circles around your aching button. A mean laugh rumbles in his chest as he watches the way his dog tags move with your tits, the sight is intoxicating and fuels Bucky to continue his torment. “There she is my dumb little baby. Couldn’t help yourself huh? Can’t help the way your brain goes quiet when I have my dick inside you.” His words should be humiliating but they only spur you on, your fingers on the verge of cramping but the jolts of pleasure are so overwhelming you can’t stop. “Jus’ need you. Need you to make it better. ‘M yours Daddy, only yours.”

“That’s it baby, I know, I know it feels so good huh. Daddy’s here baby, Daddy’s gonna take care of his needy baby.” Bucky’s head falls back on a moan when you clench around him, your walls pulsing and a ring of cream forming around the base of his cock. Your orgasm was surely just a few moments away and Bucky’s lips curled up in a smirk.

He folds your legs at the knee, sliding you closer to him with the pressure he has on your throat, the angle making him rub against your sweet spot with each deliriously pleasurable thrust. You squeal out his name, getting even louder than before and he shoves his dog tags into your mouth, muffling your garble out unintelligeble pleads to cum. With one hand Bucky squeezes your throat, and with the other he pinches at your nipples, tugging the sensitive flesh before trailing his hand down your body and slapping your hand away from your clit, he moves his lips down to your ears, licking up your earlobe before whispering his command, “Cum. Cum right fucking now or you don’t get to cum at all.” His fingers pinch your clit and the sudden burst of pain has you tensing your legs up, squealing out nonsense around the dog tags in your mouth and reaching your peak. Your body shakes against the table as Bucky pounds you through your high, his words of encouragement falling on deaf ears as you teeter between consciousness and unconsciouness. His body overwhelming your mind and soul.

His fingers release your throat and you look up at him with watery eyes, bringing him down to rest your foreheads against each other as he nears his own high. Your lips are pressing against each other, “There isn’t a single person in the world I wouldn’t kill for you. I would do anything for you. You are everything to me.” Bucky murmurs in a pussy-drunk stupor. But the words are true, he has said them to you before and will say them a thousand times again. You taught him how to live again, not just survive.

A broken cry falls from your lips from sensitivity and Bucky’s impassioned thrusts turn sloppy as he moans out your name, pulling you impossibly closer as he fills you with his cum. At the feeling of being completely stuffed by him, your second release is triggered and you shake in his hold as he comes down from his high. He presses lazy kisses against your lips and rubs his hands soothingly up and down your body, easing you out of your submissive state. He gently pulls himself out, using the handkerchief he carries around to wipe your thighs clean, but letting his cum keep your pussy messy. He quickly wipes himself off and helps you dress yourself.

A few more giggly kisses and you’re pretty much ready to go back down to the gym. Just in time to catch the final thing on today’s agenda: sparring. Bucky walks one step behind you, his hand back again on your lower back protectively as a path is cleared to the front of the ring where your friends are supervising Marcus and another recruit preparing for the second round of their match. Natasha and Wanda offer you knowing smirks and you roll your eyes with heat creeping up cheeks as you shyly glance up at Bucky through your eyelashes to find him already looking at you with a stupid smile. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and watches with intent as Steve and Sam coach their respective agents.

“Looking strong, Marcus!” Bucky calls out and you swat his chest making him laugh. Marcus takes one look at you, Bucky’s dog tags now around your neck and falling on your shirt, teeth imprints on your neck, and swollen lips. Poor Marcus falters, and the other recruit takes advantage of his distraction and easily tackles him to the ground, winning the second round. Bucky takes a single step closer to the ring where Sam is helping Marcus up, and the smirk on your arrogant boyfriend’s face is adorable. “Better luck next time buddy,” he says supportively. Sam flicks Bucky in the forehead, unable to hide the smile on his face, “Dumbass.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x yn #bucky barnes fanfiction

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butch-with-a-deep-voice · 3 months

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Fellow dommes, I would like to share a new thing I recently discovered that I think you should try out. We all know how nice the possessiveness of saying "you're mine" to your sub can be. Making them say "I'm yours", or cooing/growling "you're mine" into their ear while they're so deep into subspace all they can do is smile and moan. I've even seen a post making the rounds of growling "I'm yours" into your subs ears as you use them mercilessly. Remind them that only they get receive this treatment.

I see these acts of consensual possession and raise you the notion of ordering your sub to say "you're mine" to you as you make them cum. Holding their eye contact right before you push them over the edge and growl "what am I, kitten? Say it. Say I'm yours."

"You're mine?" they'll of course be initially confused, but press the idea, and as you do, push them over the edge.

"Again."

"You're mine" This time a little more confidence behind the statement.

"That's right... Again."

"You're mine" Finally getting the idea, and realizing it feels amazing.

"Again!"

"You're mine... you're mine... you're mine..."

By this point you can just watch and enjoy as they begin to chant it with the biggest smile on their face, all while orgasming in a way that they haven't before. A different kind of intensity. Continue to make them cum as they passively repeat "you're mine" over and over and over, letting the pleasure and chanting hypnotize them into a state of pure bliss. I promise you, it will give you a form of confidence in your domming entirely separate from claiming them and it feels utterly intoxicating 💕

#the absolute crazed hunger in my eyes when she finally fell into blissful chanting #when she subs it's obvious she's mine but that affirmation that i'm just as claimed somehow made me even more confident in my domination #oh vampling... 💕#this post is about lesbian sex #possesive love #possesiveness #lesbian ns/fw #lesbian nsft #nblw nsft #sapphic nsft #wlw nsft #consensual possession #bite me

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dragonsfictavern · 4 months

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Beyond Desperation

Halsin Silverbough x Reader

a/n: Halsin and Astarion, my two main mans. I couldn’t not write something for Halsin. Some of the description may have gotten a little size kinky but dude is huge so it makes sense to me.

summary: After a particularly adrenaline endorsing fight ensues, Halsin needs desperately to feel close to you. His first course of action is to connect his body and soul with yours, replacing the aches of the fight with the aches of strenuous activities. Leading him to go a little bit overboard and apologize through vigorous after-care.

warning: MDNI 18+, p in v sex, biting, marking, body worship, light subspace, phenomenal after-care.

word count: 2.7k

It was due to a planned attack that started all of this. You had been there of course, fighting by his side. He had been particularly looking forward to it all day, his energy levels high despite his calm demeanor. You could tell having learned to read his body language and all the other things he never needed to speak aloud. Halsin was itching to help and frankly, so were you. Both of you aiming to look out for the natural order of things.

But then something happened that you probably both should’ve expected. In his excitement, Halsin had gone a bit too wild for a first turn of attack. After that, it wasn’t much longer until the entire fight was over and you all had clearly won. The other guys, while having gotten a few good hits in, couldn’t last long compared to Halsin’s stamina.

Afterwards, he went right to you, still overwhelmingly pent up from the very underwhelming experience of a fight. Checking to make sure you weren’t seriously injured. His heading straight for you was growing to be somewhat of a common occurrence. You tried not to look into it or think too deeply about it. You knew the way in which he cared for others. But that didn’t stop your heart from warming that he came right for you when becoming aware of his need. That he trusted you to be able to take care of him.

Though right now you were starting to feel a strange kindred bond that your opponents had with him. That's to say you were beginning to fear you too didn’t have the stamina to match up with Halsin. Your nails dig into Halsin’s stomach, bringing out a low growl from him as he helps you ride him into another orgasm for you both.

Like clockwork a hoarse scream is ripped from your throat as Halsin brings you to another one of your countless rippling climaxes. Your orgasm coats his cock just as your walls spasm around him and he groans, his eyes clouded over in a lust-filled daze. The only thing on his mind is bringing you to your peak once again, desperate to feel the way you clench around him as he empties himself inside of you. Desperate to see and feel your body as he gives you pleasure. Even as a puddle of your combined release soaks into the bedroom sheets of the local inn.

Your body convulses as sharp prickles erupt over your body from his deep thrusts and the beginnings of overstimulation. A whimper moves past your lips as you sag against Halsin’s broad warm chest, exhaustion falling over you after hours of euphoric bliss.

“You’ve done so well for me, dove. I knew you would,” Halsin’s low gravelly voice whispers along the shell of your ear as he leans down to your height. Your body twitches as he continues rocking into you though you can tell he’s restraining himself. Holding back from taking you again so soon after such an intense orgasm. You whine, burying your face in his neck as your hands trail up his overheated skin till they wrap into his hair. Both of you feeling needy for touch right now. For closeness and connection. “Sh, sh, sh. I’ve got you.”

“More Halsin, please,” you croak out, lips brushing along his raging pulse. Your hips start to move with his and your jaw drops, feeling the burn as his thick girth continues to stretch and split you open. But Halsin’s hands are right there on your ass, pushing himself inside you. Your body warps into him, a long mewl leaving you. But just as you think it’s about to get so good again, Halsin’s hands tighten, keeping himself firmly planted in your walls.

“Relax, it’s alright. Take your time. I know you got one more in you and I’m not going anywhere,” Halsin’s voice is a low rumble that vibrates against your skin as he peppers kisses along your shoulder. Your body still shakes but you’re itching to move, to keep him stuffing you full of his cum till he forces it out with another healthy dose of it. You truly don’t know where your minds gone when you reach this place with him. The crown of his cock rests sweetly against your cervix and it only serves to drive you deeper into insanity.

“Don’t- don’t make me wait. I can’t and I know you can’t either. I know you need it and I can do this for you. I want to do this for you,” you beg earnestly as a light fog grows heavier in your mind and your arousal for him heightens. You know this’ll give Halsin peace of mind, you know it’ll calm him after the fight you all went through. You want nothing more than to give that to him. So you whisper the one thing you hope will push him over the edge. “Just let go.”

Halsin is frozen, keeping you frozen along with him. His forehead now resting heavily on your shoulder, his nose brushing along your collarbone as he inhales heavy amounts of your scent. Then with a final squeeze to your ass, he lifts you up his cock, only leaving in the tip before his hips snap harshly back up into you. You cry out, cunt fluttering around his cock to which it responds with a twitch. Your bodies having been molded and in sync to each others.

Your hands caress his ears in order to intensify his pleasure. You feel the rumble in his chest and you press closer to him. Using his hold on your bottom, Halsin moves you up and down on his dick with ease, starting you both at a hurried pace. Your jaw drops, teeth nicking the skin of his neck.

“You’re ok,” Halsin breathes out, his voice low. You can hear the way he inhales and exhales roughly, tiny grunts leaving him with every wet smack of your hips meeting. You can only respond with broken whines, eyes fluttering as you lean all your weight on his imposing yet comforting figure. Halsin is more than prepared to carry you through this as he fucks into you.

His hands grip your body tightly as he fights for control, not wanting to be more rough than you can handle. His nails lightly dig into your skin, breaking skin in a way that has you moaning as pricks of pain join in with the vast amounts of pleasure. You know it’s sure to leave a mark or two but you can’t help but want more. Something that won’t fade away in a day or two.

You writhe against Halsin’s body, wanting his cock to touch every depth inside you as he maintains his frenzied pace. Lifting his head from your shoulder, he maneuvers around in order to more easily trail his soft lips over your heated body. He follows a pathway down your neck, tongue teasing your shoulder. His back arches so he can continue on along your chest. You gasp as his teeth bite at you softly, making your body buzz and quiver. His lips seem unable to leave your skin. You note the way his body shakes, his breath mixing with his groans and coming out in short pants.

You moan as his nails sink in a little further. Head thrown back you bask in every sensation you’re greeted with. It’s only when Halsin’s lips pause just above your collarbone do some of your senses come back to you. Though it remains difficult as you feel as though your body is floating in an air of bliss.

“W-what?” You try to ask through your haze, but talking proves to be difficult as every single thrust is punching the air out of your lungs. You barely even register it as Halsin’s teeth sink deep into your flesh. You’re so consumed by pleasure the puncture feels like faint tingles that only increase your ecstasy. You cry out more from surprise than anything. Your hands hold onto his hair tightly as you keep him right there inside you. Now in every way.

Halsin, so caught up in the way your tight cunt sucks him in with every thrust, the warm wetness encompassing him, and your beautiful body welcoming everything he is, he couldn’t stop the overflowing emotions whirling around in his mind. Before he knew it his teeth were out and burying themselves in deep. He was going to take them out immediately— he was going to apologize. But then he felt you tug him closer.

So instead he finds his mind completely spinning. Every time he starts to lift you up his cock, his hips snap back up into you as if desperate to stay. You whimper, back arching unnaturally as you’re unable to escape a second of pleasure, not getting a moment of reprieve. His brutal pace is relentless as he jackhammers his way inside you. You squirm but it only has him pressing harder into your G-spot, causing a sharp choking noise to leave you from the shock.

Your body tenses as you can’t escape the intense sensations inflicted upon you. You try to open your mouth and express it but all that leaves is a long moan that only has Halsin start sucking at the skin around his mark, his teeth still embedded in you. Your stomach clenches painfully as your orgasm reaches higher and higher. Goosebumps spread across your skin like wildfire as you feel yourself burning from the inside out. That burning heat coming from the way his girth fills you, consumes you.

Halsin, having become attuned with your body, senses that you’re on the precipice of something magnificent. He doesn’t hesitate to slam your body back down on his dick and grind your clit roughly on the hair of his happy trail. You choke, your body jerking with violent force as the cord at the bottom of your belly snaps. A ringing echos in your ears and you can faintly hear your screaming beyond that as your climax crashes into you in waves, one right after the other as he doesn’t stop the stimulation on your clit.

A few moments later his teeth slip out of you as he goans from your clenching down on him. A few quick jerks of his hips and he’s emptying another load into your walls. You feel his cum flood through you, adding to the mix of busy sensations you’re experiencing. Yet this one has to be your favorite. Your body convulses uncontrollably and you feel a faint spark of worry as black spots suddenly surround your vision. You quickly call out Halsin’s name before you fall into darkness, your body going limp in his hold.

When you wake, you’re laying on the bed flat on your back. You wonder what woke you up and why you were asleep in the first place when a shocking texture brushes between your folds. You hiss, body jerking back. You look down just as Halsin’s head snaps up to look at you. Seeing a wet cloth in his hand and the tortured look in his eye has your memories flooding back to the front of your mind in an instant.

His gaze only lasts a moment before moving back down between your thighs. You see as that tortured look increases as his face twists. With a featherlight touch he cleans you up, being careful with the wet cloth as he wipes everything away. Your body aches but his soothing touch is enough to make you instantly relax back into the bed.

“Oh, Halsin,” you sigh, voice hoarse from your screams, watching as he avoids your gaze. Your limbs feel as though they weigh a million pounds, so all you can do is lay and watch as Halsin internally tortures himself over what just happened. Your heart flutters as he bends down, pressing soft apologetic kisses across your hips.

“Sweetheart, I am so sorry,” Halsin mumbles after a few long moments of silence. He grimaces, shaking his head as his eyes once again catch onto the forming bruises around your hips he’d just kissed. Looking away for a moment he puts some green paste he most likely made on his hands. He then leans forward, hands sliding over your bum and to the small puncture wounds from his nails. He makes sure to rub it in carefully to each mark. You wait until he’s finished and sitting back next to your legs.

“Halsin c’mere,” you call gently, loving the evident care shown from him while also needing you both need more. The air surrounding you is cold and empty as the fog is all but disappeared from your mind and you once again feel everything fully. You see Halsin hesitate, doing a double take to meet your gaze. Emotion rises in your chest and your voice cracks as you ask again. “Please, come here.”

His face twists in pain at the small break in your call. He doesn’t waste another moment before crawling up the length of his bed. Laying by your side he remains close while keeping a few inches of space between you. His eyes frantically move up and down your naked body, checking you over for what was probably the millionth time.

“How’re you feeling? Do you hurt? Did I hurt you?” He asks quietly, one question firing off as soon as he finishes asking the first. Finding your strength, you sluggishly lift an arm and cup his cheeks in order to bring his focus to your face. His cheek falls into your palm, soaking up your touch. “I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” you say in an attempt to calm his guilty heart. But Halsin immediately scoffs, not buying that for a second. In the moment, it had briefly scared you. But you were ok. Now, more than anything, you wanted to laugh about how he’d made you feel so good your body gave out. Though you could see he wasn’t in the joking mood right now.

“You cannot say such things, sweetheart, look at you,” Halsin says, motioning a hand along your stiff body, eyes following it. That same hand carefully lands around your waist. He rubs his thumb in calming circles, bringing a warmth to spread through you. Guilt continues to radiate off of him and it hurts your heart to see. He closes his eyes, angling his head to kiss along your wrist and down your arm. “I lost control— that is far from ok,”

“I wanted to go again. I don’t regret it, even now,” you admit, thumb caressing his cheek. Both of you subconsciously working to soothe the other. Halsin’s eyes open and meet yours. You can see his emotions going haywire through the depth of his eyes. He feels so much and carries so much on his back. He’s incredibly strong but you want him to know he doesn’t have to carry it alone.

“I was reckless. It was my responsibility to take care of you, make sure I wasn’t too rough. Now look at you,” he murmurs against your skin as he continues his soft kisses. With your hand now free of his face, you wrap it back into his hair. Such a simple touch from him has your heart beating out of your chest.

“Look at me. You’re taking care of me perfectly,” you express, letting your emotion shine through to him. His soft eyes flicker up to look at you as his lips reach your shoulder. They now look the tiniest bit more forgiving than they did a moment ago. Without moving even an inch away, his arms slip around your body. He curls you into himself, fully encapsulating you within his form. You hum contently, curling your arms between your bodies and brushing along his smooth skin.

“And I won’t stop. Is there anything you need?” His face now right in front of yours and his body surrounding you completely, you feel a million times better. Comfort and safety solidify themselves within you. Your eyes look between his as you can see his full attention on you and anything you may need of him. Right now the idea of needing more seems impossible as you have everything you could ask for right here.

“Just this.”

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bigfatbimbo · 3 months

Note

no thoughts just vox whimpering and moaning the word mommy while being edged. melt when you ask him who is a good boy

stupid tv got me horny

a/n — this little request inspired me so may I present

Mommy kink Vox x reader headcanons

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ So I mentioned in a post before that you wouldn’t even have to tell Vox to call you mommy, he just would.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ And depending on how fucked up he is at that particular moment, he’d have different reactions.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ If he happened to already be in subspace and he called you mommy for the first time, he probably wouldn’t even notice that he said it.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ However, if he lets it slip earlier in the session, he’d be absolutely mortified. Looking up at you embarrassed as he realizes what he just said.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ “Wait— Fuck I didn’t mean—“ he’d get defensive immediately, not wanting his guard to come down that easily.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ However, all of his walls would practically melt if you respond well. “No, sweetheart, mommy liked that.” Or maybe if you’re feeling generous, even call him a good boy.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ He would immediately get ten times needier too, like it’d be very embarrassing.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ He literally would need your attention so bad, in and out of bed.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Like even in public he’d have to be the center of your attention and all times, and he’d get super pissy if he wasn’t.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ He would literally pout about it. Maybe even do one of those cartoonish “um, ehem,” throat clearing things.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Speaking of being pissy, he can such a brat towards you. It’s definitely just because he wants a reaction out of you. (AKA a super hot punishment)

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ It’s definitely also an ego thing like, it’s a losing battle either way but at least he put up a fight.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ But after a little bit he would go back to being pathetic and craving praise so bad he’d plead with you to get it.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Oh he has such a praise kink too, especially paired with his mommy kink.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ He wants all of your attention and kind words to feed his fragile ego. It’s your approval and validation he wants more than anything.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ It’s also a matter of feeling taken care of, which isn’t something he feels very often, I would assume.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Like he is constantly fighting for control and power in his everyday life and throwing tantrums when he doesn’t get that, and I think not having the power in a scenario with someone he trusts would be a weight off his shoulders.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Speaking of trust, that would be a necessity in this situation. Probably for the word ‘mommy’ to even slip out in the first place.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ I think it would start with respect. In the sense that he would have to have some kind of respect or appreciation for you in order for him to trust you.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ And with respect and trust, as stated earlier, comes a constant need for validation.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Now, what you said about edging him. Don’t think I forgot.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ That would literally destroy him. At a certain point he’d only be able to glitch out and moan, more like scream, the words “mommy please.”

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ And if you coo down at him, “Doing so well, baby. Who’s my good boy?”

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ He’d literally whine and kick his feet, probably having tears streaming down his screen at that point. “Me, mommy, I— bzz— I am.”

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Please keep calling him a good boy after that. He’s so far into subspace that being good for you is the only thing keeping him going.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Now, the age old question thats mommy kink adjacent; would he suck your tits? The answer is yes, of course. He’d be very reluctant to ask though.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ I also don’t think he’d be that big on it. At least not in a screaming and crying kind of way. Maybe he’d hump your leg a little while doing that, but otherwise it’s not his favorite.

a/n — guys someone request sub Lucifer. I miss my little guy so bad.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #dom reader #hazbin hotel vox #vox x you #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox

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seonghwaddict · 5 months

Text

blue bird — choi san, jung wooyoung

in which one of the most dangerous men in the city approaches you with an offer, but how would you have known it would turn into something more?

mafia boss!choi san x fem!reader x mafia boss!jung wooyoung. genre. fluff, smut, mafia au. warnings. explicit sexual content minors dni, unprotected sex, dom!san, dom!wooyoung, sub!reader, slight corruption, p in v, oral (f and m receiving), multiple orgasms, threesome, fingering, reverse cowgirl position, pussy drunk wooyoung??, subspace??, cum swallowing, san is a little mean, wooyoung likes to tease, lots of teasing, hair pulling, slight degradation, dirty talk like a lot of it, brief begging, praise, overuse of the word pretty, pet names (doll, princess, baby, pretty girl, good girl, baby doll, pretty little slut). i think that’s it but if i missed anything please let me know. wc. 6.9k.

lilo’s notes. hiii happy new year everyone!! this is dedicated to @garlichoisan, surprise! i was your secret santa :3 i’m sorry but i completely forgot to write angst and couldn’t find a way to squeeze it in, please forgive me 😭😭 i think i got a little carried away with the smut, it’s probably not my best since i’m not very experienced in writing it but i hope you like it and this as a whole!!

　　　　　　　　　masterlist

choi san wanted you in a rather unexpected way.

not in a friendly way or a sexual way, but actually in a professional way. ever since he’d heard of what you, the so called “blue bird,” were up to, he knew you’d be a valuable asset. shortly after he heard about you, he was quick to tell wooyoung about what he had learned from idling in a bar he’d never been to.

it was an early morning. so early that the sun hadn’t risen yet, but that didn’t bother san. he preferred quieter, intimate spaces rather than the bustling clubs of grey city. as he sipped on his whiskey, the two men beside him got to talking. neither of them were very memorable, if anything they looked too similar; not intimidating in any way. still, he made a mental note of the guns attached to their hips. it was nothing very interesting, small talk from what he could tell. well, at least until they mentioned an odd name.

“did you hear what she did?”

“who?” one of them, the one with comically thick glasses, said as he blew out some cigarette smoke.

“well… ya know…” his voice lowered to a whisper, though in his drunken state it was less of a discreet whisper and more of a loud hiss, “the blue bird.”

he gave a sound of recognition. “wonderful heist, wasn’t it?”

“indeed,” he laughed, a deep chortle, “she was here tellin’ ricky all about it yesterday. flawless, flew in and out like a ghost.” he sighed blissfully, as if he had been there to watch you work.

now this. this is what caught infamous mafia boss choi san’s attention.

“more like a bird!” the bespectacled man nudge his friend with his elbow, a high pitched giggle leaving him. “get it? because she’s called bl-”

the friend held his hand up with a deadpan expression. “yes, i get it.”

the two men talked about you some more (“pretty thing she is, isn’t she?” “mhm, heard she’s actually quite sweet too. odd thing to hear about an outlaw.”), but san tuned them out again. with an important upcoming mission, he needed someone capable of doing exactly what these two men had described. he needed someone like you. preferably, you.

going off of what he had heard, he frequented that bar, hoping you’d happen to be there at the same time. he sat at the same seat at the same counter every night and always ordered the same thing. he noticed that after the first two nights he was there, no one really sat next to him. presumably because they recognised him and opted to avoid him instead of doing anything.

not that he cared, this part of town was known to be filled with people of the rebellious type; people like him who despised the government and would stop at nothing to take it down. if anything, they most likely respected him and his business. but alas, that doesn’t matter much in this particular story, does it?

wooyoung even offered to take turns visiting the bar, curious to see this mysterious person as well. but two weeks passed and no sign of you. most of the people there were the same every time he went, he was sure he would’ve noticed a new face at some point.

fortunately, his efforts became successful.

as usual, no one sat directly beside him, leaving one or two barstools between him and whatever other patron sat at the counter. or so he thought. the usual bartender passed him and came to a stop. confused and thinking the bartender stopped for him despite already sipping on his drink, san tilted his head. but it soon became evident that he wasn’t there for him, but rather for the pretty woman he didn’t notice sitting beside him.

“the usual?” the bartender asked, a crooked smile spreading on his face as he looked at you, his hands busy drying a glass.

san heard a brief chuckle beside him, prompting him to take a proper look at you. the first thing he noticed were your lips. plump and red, smooth lipstick. then the slope of your neck and shoulders, exposed by the thin straps of your silky black dress, jacket hanging by your elbows. the soft yellow-tinted lighting bounced off your rich skin and perfect hair in an almost hypnotising way. there was something enchanting about your aura, your posture, you.

he forced himself to look away, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“yes, thank you.” you replied, nodding at the bartender as he turned to prepare your drink.

“one hot chocolate for our blue bird coming right up!”

blue bird.

this time san couldn’t stop himself from looking. so it was you.

the men from the other day weren’t lying when they called you a pretty little thing. you wore a silky black dress and a black fur jacket to protect you from the cold wind of the night. as his eyes roamed over you they got caught on your plump thighs. briefly, he wondered if they felt as soft as they looked but soon enough something else caught his attention. as you shifted in your seat, he caught a glimpse of the inside of your jacket, a quick glint reflecting from inside told him you were indeed carrying a weapon. he made sure to keep that in the back of his mind.

a man such as himself, wide shouldered and intimidating, was hard to ignore. if you didn’t notice him staring from the corner of your eyes, you were sure the heat of his stare would’ve burned a hole through your skin. needless to say, he had caught your attention as well, except you seemed to be better at hiding it.

once the momentary shock subsided, he smiled. the fact that such a dangerous person would regularly order hot chocolates from a bar was amusing to him.

noticing the change in expression, you glance at him. what the hell? seeing a man grinning at you was unsettling. a man with such broad shoulders who could probably easily overpower you. his face looked familiar, you realised, but couldn’t quite attach a name to it quite yet.

unsure of what to do and what this man may want from you, you turned away and engaged in a conversation with the bartender as he prepared your drink, all the while ignoring the man at your side. as soon as you finished your drink, you placed some cash on the counter and got up, swiftly walking out of the bar.

while your goal was to get away, you didn’t take the fact that he might follow you into account.

“don’t go yet, little outlaw, i’d like to talk to you about something.”

his voice was rather calm and even, but still left minimal room for discussion. you rolled your eyes before turning around with a completely different expression—eyes wide and innocent, lashes fluttering, eyebrows raised.

“you must be mistaken, sir, i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

he chuckled and took some steps forward and that’s when you recognised him. shit. he slowly walked over to you, speaking to you in that same calm voice with a sprinkle of cockiness somewhere in it. “playing dumb? really? for someone as smart as yourself i’d expect you to know that the 1 billion won bounty on your head doesn’t hide you.”

you sighed at his words, taking steps back to maintain the distance. there was no use continuing the innocent act, snapping at him, “what do you want?”

“do you know who i am?”

“of course i do, the whole city does. do you think i live under a rock?” you scoffed a laugh.

he dismissed your sarcasm, being used to having to deal with such cheeky mouths. “i have an offer.” when you didn’t reply, he continued. “help me and my… business partner with a heist.”

that was not what you expected.

“hmm… no, thanks.” you smiled up at him but nearly faltered as your back hit the wall of an alley you had unknowingly backed yourself into. you cursed yourself silently as he stood right in front of you, so close you had to look up to maintain eye contact.

“i wasn’t asking, darling.” he looked down at you, expression nearly sneering as he held an air of superiority about him. “you either agree or you’ll wake up behind bars tomorrow morning.”

“you can’t arrest me or turn me in, they’ll forget all about me since you’re the more wanted one out of the two of us.” you spoke matter-of-factly, a cocky tilt to the corner of your lips.

“i never said i would be the one to turn you in, little outlaw.”

“you know,” you hummed and moved your arms. his first assumption was that you were reaching for the dagger he glimpsed inside your jacket earlier, instinctively catching your wrists in his grasp as your words died in your throat and your breath hitched. he shifted his grip to place both of your wrists in one hand, holding them up above your head as his free hand nudged your jacket open, revealing the dagger.

he clicked his tongue patronisingly and fished it out delicately. his eyes shifted to yours, eyebrows raising in a silent question as he tossed the weapon over his shoulder. the metal blade clinked and echoed in the barren alleyway. he kept your wrists in his hold but lowered your arms, holding them at the height of your hips.

he leaned forward, speaking into your ear lowly as you suppressed a shudder. “you may continue.”

you glared at him and had the sudden urge to punch the shit eating grin off his face. “what’s in it for me?”

“um…” his face went blank and he leaned back to look at you, clearly not a single thought processing behind those cat-like eyes. “is there anything you want in particular?”

“protection.” you said simply, tilting your head.

“oh,” he nodded slowly, his brows furrowing in confusion but he kept his eyes on you. “but can’t you find that in any store?”

he felt a hit against his shin as you kicked him lightly. “ew not that. i meant… well, doing what i do, there’s a lot of people after me. you have the means to have some of your guys make sure i don’t run into any trouble.”

san nodded understandingly, loosening his grip on your wrists but not letting go. not that you minded. “that’s perfectly possible, yes.”

you exhaled, relieved. warm air fanning against his neck as you did so. “okay, then, i’m in. so what is it you need me to do?”

this time he released your wrists completely and took a step back, reaching into an inner pocket of his tailored suit and pulled out a little card with one hand as the other brought your hand up.

he brushed his hand over your closed fist, opening your fingers up to reveal your palm, placing the card in your palm before gently nudging your fingers to close over it. in a swift move, he turned your hand around and bowed forward, pressing a slow and soft kiss to your knuckles—eyes locked on yours as you stared back at him in bewilderment.

he lifted his lips, smirking at you as he straightened up, hands moving to the bottom of his blazer and tugging, stretching the wrinkles away. “i expect to see you tomorrow at dusk, little blue bird.”

with a wink, he turned on his heels and walked away. you watched him, listening to the echoing footsteps as he left the alley and disappeared around a corner, leaving you slumped against the cold brick wall with burning cheeks.

you weren’t sure what you expected when you arrived at the address on the card choi san gave you. perhaps an underground bunker that looked nothing like the breathtaking estate you stood in front of.

the building was tucked within a small forest far from the outskirts of night city. the architecture seemed foreign and classical, a building you’d roam through whilst listening to tchaikovsky or chopin—not a building you’d expect to scheme against the government in. though, you supposed in some aspects it fit the aesthetic san had going on. sipping whiskey in a fully tailored suit, the smell of cigarette smoke and mint heavy in the air around him.

you walked up to the grand double doors, taking a moment to admire the intricate carvings before ringing the bell. less than a minute later, the right door swung open to reveal a stranger.

he wore wide dark jeans and a black and white plaid shirt, the top few buttons undone to reveal his chiselled collarbones and practically half of his torso. his black hair was slicked back with a few strands framing his face with the dainty square glasses he wore, some hanging silver earrings on display. he was, completely objectively speaking, handsome.

his eyes roamed over you, taking in your appearance before smiling and crossing his arms, leaning his side against the door as he pushed his glasses up to rest on the top of his head. you noticed a mole on his face—a small dot just under his left eye. “so you’re the little outlaw san told me about, huh?”

“yes, and you are?” you knew who he was, of course, but pleasantries were pleasantries nonetheless.

“jung wooyoung, but you already knew that.”

you chuckled and put your arms up in surrender, “oh no, i’ve been caught.”

his laugh was rather high pitched as he ushered you in. “come in, it gets cold at night.”

he led you through the house, stopping by what he referred to as his office but really looked like a sitting room with soft lighting and a desk to grab some rolled up papers before continuing the walk. the interior was just as beautiful as the exterior; intricate paintings and marble floors. wooyoung smiled as he saw the awe-stricken look on your face.

he led you to another set of double doors, pushing both of them open and stepping through without looking back to make sure you were following. now this was an office.

your jaw nearly dropped as you walked into the room, spinning a full circle to gawk at the various bookshelves that lined the walls and high ceiling that looked like it came straight out of the sistine chapel. a large fireplace cast a warm, yet still dark, glow over the room, making it look that much more impressive. a graceful vintage couch with two matching armchair were placed in front of the fireplace, a glass coffee table nestled between the seats and the source of light and warmth.

the floor creaked with every step you took, being made of dark wooden planks instead of marble.

you flinched as you heard san’s familiar voice snapping you out of your stupor. “pick your jaw up, you might catch flies.”

at the sound of his voice, you whipped around and glared at him after quickly pulling yourself together. he was sat in a leather chair at his impressive desk, wooyoung sat (balanced) on the arm of the chair.

you walked over and stood across from them in front of the desk. “it’s a nice house, are you two the only ones that live here?”

wooyoung took the chance to answer. “sometimes. there’s six others that are part of our… syndicate, but they stay in other places, surrounding grey city.”

“enough of that.” san waved his hand dismissively and leaned forward. as he did so, your eyes were drawn to his chest. he wore a white button up, though it appeared to be a bit tight judging by the way the fabric around the buttons strained every time he moved. your lingering gaze didn’t go unnoticed, but neither of them brought it up. “woo, the plans, please.”

the plan was set to take place the months after you had met with them for the first time. this gave you three to prepare, to memorise the layout and every detail about the building you’ll be infiltrating. for this preparation, you frequented their estate often—nearly every day—and spent hours with them. two weeks in, they offered you one of their guest bedrooms to stay in.

at first wooyoung got on your nerves, but soon enough you grew accustomed to his antics—the clinginess, the teasing. eventually, you even found yourself liking it and seeking it out.

san was slightly more reserved at first, more serious. but soon he, too, let down his guard. encouraging words, affectionate touches.

the more time you spent with them, the more you found yourself relaxing, letting them handle you with care instead of pushing them away like you used to with so many people before them. and eventually you, dare you say, began liking them.

you couldn’t deny the way san’s sharp snd perceptive eyes made you want to squirm under his gaze as he watched you bend over his desk to point something out on the building’s floor plan. you couldn’t deny the way his gentle commands (“do this for me please.” “come here, princess.”) had butterflies roaring in your stomach.

and wooyoung. while san was indeed quite physically affectionate, it was nothing compared to wooyoung. lingering touches and smooth words. sometimes you’d be grabbing something in kitchen and he’d come by, pulling you aside by your hips to grab something. later that day you’d offered to cook something up for dinner, but he only tutted and lifted you by your waist to place you on the marble island counter (“i don’t trust you in my kitchen, baby. just sit there and look pretty for me, yeah?”). jung wooyoung was a flirt and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

two days before the heist, you walked into san’s office after waking up and not being able to find woo. in the time you’d spent with them, you had learned that san acquired the bigger and fancier office by winning a game of rock paper scissors.

as you opened the door, the cat-eyed man looked up from whatever he was working on, smiling as he watched you yawn and stretch on your way over to him. he gave you a once over; you wore an oversized shirt, the collar shifted and hanging over one shoulder, the end of the shirt ending halfway down your thighs.

“sleep well?” he asked, putting his pen down as you stopped in front of the desk. he’d woken up not too long before you, still in his sleepwear, hair tussled but somehow still perfect.

you nodded, your voice soft in your sleepy state, “where’s woo?”

“he went out to get stuff for dinner,” he chuckled as he heard the slight concern in your voice. he pushed his chair back slightly and patted his lap. “come sit here while i work, princess.”

you grinned and walked around the desk, claiming his lap as your seat. you leaned back against him, back pressed to his front. he kissed your exposed shoulder chastely and got back to work. you tried to look down at his papers to see what he was doing, but the way his unoccupied arm wrapped around your waist and shifted you slightly (in a way that accidentally made his thigh rub against certain areas) had your mind going blank, unable to focus on anything other than his touch.

though you couldn’t see it, san also had a hard time focusing. every time you moved, your ass brushed over his pelvis. it was clear he didn’t think it through when he told you to sit on him since now he was having a hard time holding himself back, a bulge growing in his sweatpants.

you shifted again, trying to find a position where none of his body parts rubbed against your core, and he sucked a sharp breath in. his hands practically flew to your hips to hold you still.

“princess, i need you to sit still or i might go crazy, okay?” he spoke softly into your ear, hot breaths brushing against your skin and making you shiver, a fact he noticed and made him smirk. maybe he was already going crazy, but just a little more wouldn’t hurt, right?

he kept his lips by your ear for a moment before moving down slightly, placing them just below your earlobe. it was your turn for your breath to hitch, tilting your head to give him more space. he nearly groaned at the subtle act of submission, burying his face into your skin and kissing his way down to the crook of your neck.

time seemed to slow as his hands tightened on your hips, he scraped his teeth along your neck before biting down gently, not enough to hurt but enough to elicit a breathy whine. when the sound left your lips, he froze.

when you noticed he wasn’t doing anything, you whined again and rolled your hips over his pelvis, dropping your head back on his shoulder. the action surprised yourself too. you’d had sex, of course, but it was never a necessity for you. even when the opportunity presented itself, you wouldn’t chase after it. yet here you were, wordlessly begging him to continue. what had these men done to you?

“is this okay?” he whispered.

you nodded immediately, turning your head to look at him. his breath nearly caught in his throat as he saw the look in your eyes, illuminated by the soft glow of the fireplace—a silent plea for him to have his way with you, release the tension that’s built up over the previous three months. without waiting a second longer, he attached his lips to your neck again, a certain roughness to the way he caressed your skin with his lips and his tongue and his teeth.

you melted against him and let your eyes fall shut when you felt his hands slip shirt off, tossing it on his desk, and then rest against your bare waist, fingertips brushing over the skin making a shiver run down your spine. a voice that wasn’t his had your eyes flying open, your body freezing for a moment before you realised who it was.

“you two just couldn’t wait for me?” wooyoung pouted, leaning against the desk in front of the chair you and san occupied. san chuckled against your neck while you stared at wooyoung, dumbfounded, unexpected excitement stirring in your abdomen.

he looked from your face, to san’s smirk, and then down at the way your hips tried finding the right angle to grind on san’s lap. a dark chuckle left wooyoung’ slips and he leaned forward, hands coming to rest on your knees.

“need help with that, doll?” he tilted his head, a mocking pout gracing his lips as he cooed at you, one hand coming up to caress your cheek for a moment as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

your eyes practically twinkled as you looked up at him, pupils dilated as you nod helplessly. wooyoung smiled and patted your cheek affectionately, pecking your forehead again before sinking to his knees in between yours and san’s legs, kissing his way down your body. your eyes tracked him and his slow descent, breath held in anticipation.

“cute,” he giggled as he eyed your pink panties, slipping them off your legs and tossing them aside. he hooked your legs on either side of san’s, spreading them apart, looking up at you. “just relax, be a good girl and keep your legs like that for me, yeah?”

when you nodded, he kissed your inner thigh followed by a quiet groan as he noticed the arousal dripping from your cunt. “oh, doll, you’re so wet.”

“hm, is she?” san chimed in, one of of his hands leaving your waist to dip down and casually slide a finger through your folds; from bottom to top, applying more pressure the further he slid. you prepared yourself for his finger to get to your clit but, much to your dismay, he removed his hand just before he got there. you suppressed the urge to glare at him over your shoulder. simultaneously, wooyoung began leaving pecks all over your inner thighs.

san hummed and pressed another kiss just below your ear, whispering, his voice thick with lust, “all that and we barely even started. what a pathetic, needy mess, huh?”

the way he said it made it clear he expected an answer from you, but with how wooyoung ran a single finger through your folds, you couldn’t do much but shudder and nod. san clicked his tongue and snaked his hands further up from your waist just under your breasts, fingers brushing circles over your nipples. he waited patiently to give you more time to answer.

wooyoung’s tongue slipped out to lick a stripe from your hole to your clit and both your brain practically short-circuited. the combination of the feeling of his tongue and his wide, glossy eyes peering up at you from between your legs sending your mind reeling. he groaned as he tasted you, swearing in his head that he’d probably finish in his pants within five minutes. a sudden pinch of your nipples had you snapping out of your trance.

“say it, princess.”

“ah- i’m a mess.”

“and why are you a mess?”

you opened your mouth to answer but your own moan cut you off as wooyoung began circling your clit with his tongue. san’s lips backed away from your ear and he looked down at wooyoung, signalling for him to stop by holding up his flat palm. your chest heaved with heavy breaths as wooyoung reluctantly removed his tongue and leaned back just an inch, giving you a moment to recover.

“he won’t continue until you tell me why you’re a mess, baby.”

“because of you,” you whined, trying to press your hips closer to wooyoung’s face but to no avail as san moved his hands back down to hold you firmly by those hips he loved so much.

“good girl, that’s right,” he cooed into your ear, giving you a tender kiss. “you’re our pathetic needy mess, aren’t you?”

“your mess. i’m your mess.”

at the confirmation, san looked down at wooyoung and nodded. not even a second later wooyoung’s mouth was back on you. one of san’s hands stayed to control your hips and the other went back to massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples.

wooyoung’s pace was relentless. he ate you out like a man starved, licking up all the juices that seeped from you while he made sure to nudge his nose against your clit repeatedly. when his mouth wasn’t at your entrance, he had his lips wrapped around your clit, alternating between rhythmic sucks and prods of his tongue, one of his fingers teasingly circling your hole.

he swore he could’ve gotten drunk off your taste, finding the way you writhed in san’s lap so cute. wooyoung momentarily removed his mouth from you once again, watching your face as he tentatively pushed his finger past your entrance. he spoke, voice somewhere between a hoarse groan and a sigh.

“fuck…”

you threw your head back on san’s shoulder, suddenly aware of the hard erection pressed against your ass. you tried to rock your hips just a bit, wanting to help him, but his fingers tightened on your hips.

“keep being such a good girl and i’ll fuck you so good you won’t remember your name, but i need you to be patient. okay, princess?”

your breath hitches and you nodded at his promise, your attention being drawn back to the man between your legs as he added another finger. your breathing grew erratic.

“mmm, so tight.” he groaned, eyes fixated on the way his fingers disappeared into your before slipping out again, more and more of your slick seeping out with each thrust of his digits. wet sounds reverberated through the room as you let out a silent curse.

you thought your noises were kept to a minimum, too embarrassed to really let loose, but as soon as he curled his fingers in you—easily finding that spongey sweet spot—a proper moan ripped itself out of you. and then his tongue was back on your clit, not as firmly as you would’ve liked but enough to draw out more moans and whimpers.

at first, he took his time, fingers thrusting in and out of you at a frustrating pace, tongue only lightly brushing over your swollen pearl. but soon enough, he sped up gradually until he reached a speed that had you crying out and arching your back with every inch that he moved. all the while san muttered encouragement into your ear.

“mhm, you’re taking his fingers so well, princess.”

“can’t wait to have my cock in your tight little pussy. don’t worry, we’ll make it fit.”

“look at you, being fucked dumb just from his fingers. you can barely even keep your eyes open, huh?”

you thought you were controlling yourself well but the moment wooyoung added a third finger, the stretch burning just slightly though your wetness kept things moving smoothly, the moment san spoke all those filthy words in your ear, you felt yourself crashing over the edge. it all felt so good you didn’t even realise you were climaxing until you felt yourself shaking and stars swarming your vision.

a high pitched cry ripped through your lips, moaning wooyoung’s name as he takes his fingers out so he can slurp up your release, groaning against you. you tasted so good and if he could, he would have bottled up all the sounds you made to listen to them before bed every night. san planted tender kisses to your jaw and shoulder as wooyoung eventually removed himself.

he looked almost as fucked out as you, drunk of the juices of your pussy as he slowly got up. he took your face in his clean hand and eagerly pressed his lips against yours, making you moan as you tasted yourself on his tongue. the two of you made out slowly, sloppily, and he slowly trailed his hands down. tracing the curve of your waist before settling his hands on your hips, guiding them to grind over san’s length.

you followed his lead, arching your back to position your pussy right over his erection. that seemed to have made san lose all his composure, rasping out harshly, “woo, please lift her up for a moment.”

moments later, you were back in his lap, this time his long cock buried deep in your cunt. his hands guided your movements, his thrusts matching the pace of the roll of your hips. though he wasn’t able to see your face, fucking you in a reverse cowgirl position, he could image how fucked out you looked. cheeks painted red, glazed over eyes, swollen lips, messed up hair.

wooyoung separated his lips from you, chuckling against your mouth. you struggled to kiss him, san feeling so good in you that you had a hard time thinking straight. “does he feel good, babydoll?”

you nodded and leaned forward just slightly to attach you lips to his pretty neck, mindlessly kissing and licking your way down to his collarbones. wooyoung tilted his head back, another dark chuckle. he thought you were so cute—making sure to give him attention even though you were bouncing in another man’s dick. said man groaned and slumped back in the seat at the change of angle as you leaned forward, not pausing his movements once. ever since he first bottomed out in you he had trouble putting together sentences.

your fingers fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. most of them were undone anyway, he liked it like that when he wore button-ups, but you wanted it completely off. he noticed your trembling hands struggling and took over for you, ignoring the buttons and just pulling off the shirt. your eyes roamed over him, jaw slack.

“you’re so pretty, woo.” you whispered after burying your face in his neck again, any filter you had on your words completely gone.

“i think you’re pretty too, doll,” he chuckled into your ear. “so pretty getting off on me and sannie at once.”

you leaned back and looked him over, darting between his eyes and the erection straining against the trousers with pleading, half closed eyes. it didn’t take a genius to figure out what you wanted, making him coo as he understood you.

“oh, you want my cock? you wanna suck it? just one shoved inside you doesn’t satisfy you enough, huh, you pretty little slut?”

your head empty, unable to focus on anything other than the two men you were trapped between, you nodded. san groaned as he felt your walls clench around him.

“fuck- she likes that.”

“is that so?” wooyoung straightened up and grinned down at you, holding your jaw in his hand. “well, then, go ahead, doll, do as you please.”

at he sound of his permission, your hands found their way to his trousers, undoing the fly and letting them fall to the ground. you could already see the shape of it through his boxers, but didn’t pause to inspect it, hooking your fingers on his waistband and pulling it down to release him.

while his length was impressive, it didn’t look quite as long as san’s but rather thicker. compared to every dick you’ve seen, you decided jung wooyoung had a pretty one. the blushing tip leaked precum that you smeared around to stroke him slowly.

you looked up at him every time you tried something new with your hands, looking for his reaction—running your thumb over his tip, squeezing lightly as your hand moved down. no mater what you did, it elicited a deep moan from him. you looked entranced as you watched the way his eyelids fluttered in pleasure. you leaned forward (both you and san moaning and shuddering at the change in angle), pressing a kiss to his tip.

this new angle had san pounding against your sweet spot repeatedly without fail, making you suddenly feel like jello. still, you tried your best to focus on the task literally at hand.

wooyoung noticed your lack of concentration, threading his fingers in your hair and gently pulling to make you look up. he pouted at you mockingly. “can’t think straight enough with sannie’s cock stuffed in you? it’s ok, doll, you look so pretty and fucked out i could cum just from looking at you.”

you shook your head and pushed forward, wrapping your lips around his tip and sinking your mouth down on his length to the best of your abilities.

wooyoung groaned, “that’s it, doll, there you go. you can take just a little more, can’t you, pretty girl?”

eager to please him, you took as much of him in your mouth as you could. you felt him hit the back of your throat and pulled back, coughing around his length. he slipped his hand out of your hair and stroke your cheek, prompting you to glance up at him.

“you’re doing well, doll, just remember to breathe through your nose. i know you can take me just a bit deeper.”

you nodded at his words, swallowing a little more, and wrapped a hand around the rest that you couldn’t fit, stroking him slowly as you led your mouth get used to the feeling. truth be told, you hadn’t given anyone head before, completely relying on your intuition now.

“yeah, there you go, my pretty little doll. i knew you could do it.”

as you mouth worked on wooyoung, you felt that familiar knot tightening in your abdomen. san must’ve been close too, letting out a hearty groan as he gripped your hips tighter and thrusted up into you faster. every time he pulled you down and snapped his hip up to meet you, the lewd sound of his skin slapping against your and his balls hitting your clit had you whining against wooyoung’s cock.

he sucked in a sharp breath, shuddering before cooing down at you. “what was that, doll? i couldn’t quite hear you.”

you continued with the sucking and stroking until you thought it was impossible, repeatedly shaking too much to keep a steady pace. but you could tell wooyoung was close judging by his sounds and pulsating, and still wanting to please him, you kept your lips around his head as you hand stroked him as fast as you could.

moments later, his body tensed and he came into your mouth. the thick, slightly salty substance ran down your throat as you swallowed it all down. when you were sure he was done, you pulled yourself off him. wooyoung looked ready to pass out, leaning against the desk and staring up at the ceiling as he panted, catching his breath. silent curses left his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut.

now with wooyoung taken care of, you leaned back against san, revelling in the feeling of him pounding into you as you felt yourself coming closer and closer to the edge. you heard him gasp by your ear and you clenched down on him.

“f-fuck… i’m gonna cum.”

oh how san loves fucking you. loves the way your walls flutter around his cock. loves all the sounds you make that he was sure you weren’t even aware of. how you writhe and jerk and shudder and whine and moan and he could go on for days.

“please, sannie,” you whined softly, “please, fill me up, please please please.”

that was the last straw. the desperation in your voice has his stomach flipping and he came just as you finished your begging. a shiver ran down your spine as your body went limp. he kept himself buried in you as one of his hands slide down to rub quick and tight circles on your clit, quickly bringing you to an orgasm that had your eyes rolling back in pleasure.

once all three of you calmed down and got cleaned up, you found yourself relaxing on san’s lap again. this time, you were on one of the couches in the living room as wooyoung sat beside you. while you were in the shower, he cooked up some instant noodles, feeding them to you now.

a hand stroked the outside of your thigh comfortingly as you slurped down the last of the noodles, you recognised it as san’s hand. your legs still felt like jello and you cuddled into him as wooyoung got up to put the bowl away. you felt san press a kiss to the top of your head, practically cradling you.

“you did well, my little blue bird,” he whispered against the crown of your head and pulled you closer, “i could stay like this all day.”

“too bad because it’s my turn now.” wooyoung buckled as he returned, collapsing on the couch and snatching you of san’s grasp without warning. he stuck his tongue out at san as he held the back of you head and pressed your face into the crook of his neck, making you giggle.

san whined and reached his hands out to grab you again only to be swatted away by woo. “hey! no fair.”

“yes, it is fair,” wooyoung giggled, “you’ve had her on your lap long enough.” his best friend glared at him and muttered something under his breath as he looked away with his arms crossed.

“oh, you big baby,” you laughed as you turned your head to look at him. extending you hand to pat his knee.

san’s eyes flashed as an idea lit up in his head. he grinned as he wrapped his arms around both you and wooyoung. you weren’t sure how it happened but next thing you knew, all three of you were laying down on the couch, the two men sandwiching you lovingly.

you felt yourself blush and your brain going blank. wooyoung laughed at the expression on your face, leaning forward to kiss you until san reached over and flicked his forehead. they proceeded to argue about who should be able to kiss you more as you sighed contentedly. you realised there was no other place in earth you’d prefer to be in more than right here, nestled between the two men who you knew would take good care of you.

networks. @cromernet @blankjournal

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @hee0soo

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sprout-fics · 6 months

Text

Mind the Drop

(Captain Price x F! Reader)

Call of Duty Masterlist

Rating: M Wordcount: 7k Tags: BDSM AU, Dom/Sub, Subdrop, Comfort fic, Non-sexual kink, Non-sexual intimacy, Aftercare, Pet names, Platonic BDSM, Cuddling, Subspace, Sleeping together, Praise kink, Mutual pining, Safe Sane and Consensual Warnings: Subdrop A/N: This is an experimental piece that takes place in a BDSM AU verse, where a certain segment of the population is hormonally disposed to being a submissive or dominant. This is not inherently sexual, as you see in this fic. Dom/Sub negotiation is commonplace, but societal stigmas surrounding these roles persist, such as discouraging subs from entering certain industries, such as the military. For more details on BDSM AU within a CoD context, I highly recommend you read "Surviving You" by WhisperedWords12

“Do you know why you’re here, sergeant?”

Price’s voice is calm, firm. There’s not a reprimand there, no gruff warning or the cold, leveled anger of immense displeasure. No, your captain stares at you with his hands folded under his chin, as you stand at a lazy parade rest before his office desk. His eyes are intent, focused in the way he always is, but there’s a concern there hidden by the attentive glint in his eyes.

You don’t look at him, staring down at the surface of his desk instead, not answering. Your eyes rest on a mug of coffee sitting atop a coaster, the steam gone. It’s long since gone cold. It speaks to his own distraction. With what, you’re not really sure. You can’t find yourself to care.

You haven’t slept in days.

It’s nothing to do with your workload. Nothing in regards to any sickness or fever of any sort. In fact, things have been rather quiet recently as the team awaits new marching orders. You’ve all been taking advantage of the downtime as much as possible, relishing the long lapse of respite for your own enjoyment. You’d even taken the chance to recently meet up with someone.

Being a sub requires a certain level of attentiveness to your self regulation. Doms, such as the ones on your team, can go long periods without needing a scene. Eventually they will need to scratch that itch, have someone soft and sweet kneel at their feet and be good for them. The aspect of control, of caretaking and dominance is a necessary part of their existence. It makes them good soldiers, able to take charge and provide insight into their missions.

Subs are uncommon in the military, and the surrounding societal stigma of their existence often relegates them to desk duty or intelligence work. It’s rare to find one in the field, and even then they don’t last long due to the frequent harassment from their dominant counterparts. It’s the reason you’ve concealed yourself for so long, posturing to stand alongside these men who are your comrades, feigning an aura of authority as you go willingly to your duty.

It doesn’t erase the thing inside you- the urge to kneel for someone safe, to listen to their low, rumbling voice as it rocks you into a floaty, warm surrender that relieves you of all tension and stress.

Too long without a scene, without subspace meant you were prone to an itchy, uncomfortable sort of irritation. It manifests as annoyance, a short temper, but eventually transitions into a depressive spiral with little end. Most of the time you can use one of the endorphin injections provided free by the infirmary to even yourself out. Such medical kits, known as SubStop and DomStop, were common in the field, designed to even out the irregular moods and imbalances left by a sudden twist in hormones. You’d gotten used to the nasty side effects, the inevitable crash that came in the wake of the adrenaline. It was easier than dealing with the team knowing your true designation, that you’ve been concealing yourself from them all this time.

Even so, sometimes you required a little extra handling to be able to regulate, feel comfortable and get out of your own head.

In your recent downtime you found someone just like that. A local dom who was calmer, more level headed than younger men on base who were interested purely in the sexual side of submission. You had talked for some time, had explored each other, and had ultimately agreed to meet up for a single session. You had both enjoyed yourself, had a welcome release of rushing endorphins, and for a moment you wondered if perhaps this would lead to something more. It all came crashing down as he began to dress following your scene.

“I don’t do aftercare.” He said blandly, and left.

You haven’t been the same since.

You’d gotten back to base tired, drained, and had curled into your bunk that night to cry yourself to sleep. In the days that have followed you’ve been exhausted, listless, entirely unfocused. Constantly dazed, you try to ignore the whimpering, festering emptiness inside you, feeling as if the world is too big, and you yourself are so very small. You turn into your bunk early in desperate search of sleep, trying vainly to power through the dark loneliness that permeates your entire being.

Subdrop. You knew as soon as your one night stand left, and promptly ghosted you. You knew by the sudden wash of cold, the tremble in your limbs, and the clenching, terrible regret of something wrong. Like tossed into an ice bath straight from the fire, the shock to your system makes you gasp, clutch at your chest at most random moments, wanting to double over due to the phantom pain there.

You know the solution. You know that pure, blissful aftercare will alleviate the effects of your scene gone wrong, but there’s no one to turn to. You can’t disclose to anyone on the team about this. They understand, they know, and they’d be ready to help you. It wasn’t that they weren’t available, but that disclosing yourself might somehow change your rapport with them. The idea that somehow they’d change their view of you, see you as less than was worse than the spiraling side effects of your freefall drop.

Maybe you can find someone to help off base, but even then you don’t trust your own judgment when your insides constantly feel scrubbed cold and raw. If anything, it might make it worse.

You have no choice but to just bite down and deal, and hope that in the coming days that the drop will naturally work its way out of your system. Nevermind the sleepless nights, the hours scrolling mindlessly in the darkness of your bedroom, the way you stare off into space and don’t hear the voices of others.

The team is concerned about you. You’re not hiding your inability to cope very well. The bags under your eyes deepen with each passing day. You move as if pushing through water. You excuse yourself from the rec room when others enter for fear they’ll pull you aside and ask about your listless, depressive state. It’s all for nothing though, because here you find yourself in Price’s office, glassy eyes avoiding his stare.

“Sergeant?”

You blink as his voice prompts you from your reverie, and force yourself to glance up into his eyes before averting your gaze once more.

“Apologies, Sir.” You force yourself to rasp, and frown, not knowing what you’re even apologizing for.

Price is silent. Observing. You feel pinned beneath his stare, try not to squirm under his scrutiny.

“Sit.” He tells you, nudging a chair beside you with his foot. The command itself plucks inside your chest, the needed authority of his voice making something uncomfortable twist inside you. You slide into the seat, perching uncomfortably on the edge, hands folded in your lap. “Look at me.”

You do, you make the effort to look up into his unwavering stare, trying and failing to hide the fatigue in your eyes.

“You’ve not been yourself lately.” He tells you, voice soft, and you grimace. “You’ve been walking around base like a ghost, barely completing your duties, and you’re clearly ignoring the rest of your team.”

The unsaid “Would you like to explain yourself?” Hangs in the silence that follows as you offer no response. There’s nothing to say, nothing you can say without the repercussions that follow.

“I’ve…just had a rough few days.” You tell him, voice tight. “It’s nothing I can’t manage.”

“You know you can rely on your teammates, love.” He reminds you gently, and you swallow hard at the endearment, feeling your shoulders tense. “Whatever it is, we’ll find a way to help. We all care about you.”

Find a way to help. Of course. With the one thing they can’t help you with.

“You can’t help.” You tell him, composure crumbling. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Price is silent, and if you were to look at him, you’d see the inklings of distress etched into his face. You fiddle with the hem of your shirt, mouth pressed into a bitter frown as you try and hide it from him with little success.

Price rises from his chair, circles the desk to you before hesitantly laying a hand on your shoulder. You shudder a sigh at the contact, feeling yourself relax under the needed contact.

“There’s always something we can do.” He reassures you. “But I can’t help unless you tell me what it is.”

If only he could. If only your unwavering, steadfast captain with his guiding hands and gentle, smoky voice could help you, could alleviate the festering emptiness inside you. If only he could hold you the way you so desperately want, remind you what happened wasn’t your fault, allow himself to comfort you from the hurt clenching deep in your chest.

It all comes crashing down.

It starts as a hiccup, a stifled little sound you try to hide, and then your eyes are warm, wet with tears. They spill down your cheeks as you take an unsteady inhale, trying desperately to rein in your volatile emotions, conceal them from the man you admire so much. Try as you may, it’s without any success, because soon you begin to sob quietly with your head bent, face scrunching in an effort to stop your tears.

“It’s alright.” Price encourages softly, hand squeezing your shoulder. “Let it out.”

You do. It’s not a proper cry, not the true chest squeezing kind of cry that entirely empties you, but it serves a purpose in relieving a bit of the pressure inside you. Price stands beside you throughout, his hand drifting to knead gentle circles into the top of your spine as you shiver.

When you finally manage to get yourself under control, you scrub at your face with your jacket sleeve, heave a final shuddering exhale before summoning your resolve.

“Sorry, Sir.” You try again, voice muted, throat raw. “Truth is I…had a bad experience off base. It just shook me. I’ll get over it.”

You don’t need to go into further detail. It’s common knowledge soldiers hook up off base all the time, and Price knows this.

Yet suddenly his hand is tilting your chin up so you look directly into his grave, serious eyes.

“Did they hurt you?” He demands, voice suddenly deeper, grim with a scarcely concealed anger. You blink at the sudden change, the fierce protectiveness in his eyes that sets something in your stomach aflutter.

“N-no.” You manage, realizing what he’s referring to. “No, nothing like that-” You feel warmth crawl across your face, embarrassment prickling your skin. “It was all consensual.”

“Then…?” He presses, and you bite down on the words, refusing to bare this secret to him.

Price pauses then, shifts every so slightly and narrows his eyes. He’s thinking, considering, and you fear he’s seen straight through you. You don’t expect the words that come next.

“Are you dropping?” Price asks, strangely hesitant.

You freeze.

The silence that follows, heavy and persistent, tells Price all he needs to know.

At last, he sighs, letting go of a breath you didn’t realize he was holding.

“Oh love.” He murmurs, voice sad. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

You hunch over at that, hiding yourself from him, curling in on the physical sensation of disappointment that he’s given you.

Price sees it for what it is instantly, realizing his words have only furthered the festering ache inside you.

“Easy.” He gentles, and his hand is firm as it strokes between your tight shoulder blades. “I’m not angry.”

You sniffle into your shirt. “You…you’re not angry I hid my designation?” You ask in a raw whisper.

“No.” He replies instantly. “Only that we failed to make you feel safe enough to tell us.”

“...’s not your fault.” You murmur quietly.

“And what happened isn’t yours.” He offers, just as gently. His hand continues its long, slow strokes between your shoulders, and you feel yourself easing under it, comforted by the mere touch of another person.

“Do you have anyone to…?” He presses carefully, retaining space between you. Not advancing, not without your permission.

It takes you a moment to snap yourself out of the glow beginning to simmer across your senses to understand. He’s asking if you are seeing someone, if you have a partner to provide assistance with your drop. A bitter frown tugs your lips downwards, remembering the words of the man you met before he vanished.

“He…he said he doesn’t do aftercare.” You confess, voice small.

Price freezes.

You hear him take in a deep breath to steady himself, releasing it just as long in an effort to measure his anger.

“He did not do right by you.” He tells you, and in his voice you hear the ire, the offense on your behalf that clenches his hand atop his knee. Yet he unfurls it, and reaches out gently between you to gingerly rest it on your hand perches in your lap.

“I don’t mean to overstep.” He begins. “However, I can offer some assistance with this. Entirely on your terms. If you need someone to help, I can act as a…stand-in, as it were.”

You blink, face falling open in surprise as you stare down at your lap where his hand is. Reassuring but respectful, not crowding into your space. Asking for permission.

“You mean that?” You ask, finally looking up at him, voice cracking in a whisper that speaks of hope.

Price’s eyes are steady, calm as he regards you, Unflinching, intent, an anchor from the storm of your emotions.

“I do.” He returns easily, voice firm.

You swallow, face pinching as you consider. “And…what about after? Will it…” You trail off, the unspoken thing hovering in the air between you.

Will it change anything?

“No.” He replies quickly. “This is strictly between us. If you want to pretend like it never happened after, that’s what we’ll do.”

You hold his gaze for another minute, finally able to bear the stare of his blue eyes. You look for doubt there, an inkling of hesitation. Yet all you find is resolve and open, offering hands.

“Take some time to consider it.” He tells you in the lapse of silence that follows. “If you decide you’d like some help, you can come to my quarters tonight. If you decide against it, let me know.”

You manage a nod at that, swallowing the thickness in your throat and adjusting your hand under his in a small squeeze of thanks. It seems to be enough for him, because Price offers a smile, one that feels like it eases the tension radiating from your form just a little more. It takes a moment, but you sniffle and return the smile shyly.

“Right.” He announces, and gently withdraws from you to stand, assisting you to your feet as well and gently escorting you to the door of his office. You lean into his touch eagerly, feeling the firm grip of his palm at the small of your back. His voice rumbles with a gentle authority as he guides you forward. “In the meantime I want you to take the rest of the afternoon off, and to visit the infirmary for a check-up. You’re sleep deprived and dehydrated. Let them sort you. Understood?”

“Understood.” You echo dutifully, and once more that hand returns to your shoulder in a familiar grip, offering a small squeeze before he opens the door for you, his voice soft in a parting farewell.

“Take care, love. Let me know what you decide.”

—

In the end, you come to him.

It’s not a hard decision, but it does take some thought. You know his offer was genuine, with no ulterior motives. Almost clinical, doing his duty as your superior, in a way. You don’t deny that it hurts, considering the beginning of your feelings for him, but the doubt there is pressed down by the need for the assistance he offers. You hesitate only because you’re terribly afraid that things will change despite his words.

Would he try and bench you during missions? Have you hang back, underestimate you because of your designation?

You trust him, and that much is clear to you. You know Price won’t take advantage of you while you’re down. He’s a good man. You’ve handed your life to him in the field any number of times, trusting him to keep you safe and whole. This shouldn’t be any different.

…Right?

You swallow thickly as you knock thrice on his door, and almost instantly you hear his voice beckon you inside.

It’s dim, you notice, warm. There’s several blankets folded at the foot of his bed, a small assortment of snacks and water bottles set out on his dresser. Yellow light from his bedside light paints the room in quiet shadows. There’s a distant scent of cigars that lingers in the air, as if he’s done his best to air out the room before your arrival. It’s comforting in a way, a reminder of his scent in the few instances you’ve gotten physically close to him.

Price himself sits on the edge of the bed, limbs relaxed as much as he’ll allow them. He’s staring at you as the door shuts behind you, and if anything the dim shadows seem to make his eyes glint all the more.

“How are you feeling?” Is the first question he asks you, and something aches inside you at the purposefully slow, soft tenor of his voice, still accompanied with a hint of his gruff rasp.

“Shaky.” You tell him honestly, holding your trembling hands before your back.

Price makes a small, considering sound, examining your rigid, tense posture and letting silence hang heavy between you both for a few moments. You squirm under his gaze, eyes averting shyly at the fixation of his gaze on you.

Then he stands, takes two steps towards you. He stands just outside your personal space, tilts his head down to examine you with an unwavering, focused gaze. You have to restrain yourself from pushing forward, wanting desperately to fold into his arms, to let him hold you. It pulses inside your chest, tethered to the uncomfortably, empty ache sitting below your ribs.

“Will you let me help you?” He asks, voice a soft lull to your ears. It takes effort to not let your eyes flutter. You can already feel it creeping on you, that floaty, comfortable haze that offers to drown your senses in pillowy softness. You give him a small nod, only for a finger to tip your chin up towards him. It startles a breathy little sound from you, and you bite down on it a moment too late, teeth grazing your bottom lip.

“Need to use your words, love.” He rumbles, and damn if your knees don’t wobble at that alone, the deep tenor of his voice, the gentle but authoritative force of his words. You can see the shadows of his eyes as he falls easily into his role, a gentle, insistent domination that you can’t help but follow like a moth to a flame.

“Yes.” You manage, heat rising to your face. “Yes.”

He smiles then, and this time you have to use your strength to stay upright, already wanting to go down to the floor in front of him, feel the wood beneath your knees.

“We’re going to take this slow.” He tells you, his thumb brushing over your chin with a purposeful graze. “Need to work you through it, put you down and then bring you back up again. Can you do that for me? …Words, darling.” He adds when you once again nod silently.

“Yes, sir.” You offer, trusting, sincere.

There’s a dark look in Price’s eyes then, a hunger so swift and sharp it steals your breath in the single moment before it’s gone once more.

“Good girl. Can you tell me your safe word?”

You blink at him a little dopily, distracted by his thumb circling slow circles on your chin. You wonder what it would feel like pressed on your tongue.

“Just colors, please.” You tell him breathily.

Price nods at that, satisfied.

“Kneeling? Physical touch? Praise? Commands?” He goes on, and you nod eagerly at all of them before remembering to tac on your vocal approval. It seems to amuse him, your distraction, because you hear a chuckle rumble deep in his chest.

“Very good, darling. Going to keep this nice and slow, get you all sorted. Can you be good for me?”

That does it, and you shudder a little into his touch, tilting your head so your cheek brushes against his knuckles with a whispered little “Yes, sir.”

Maybe it’s the drop, maybe it’s him, but you already feel like you’re gently descending into total relaxation, a surrender and trust to be taken care of.

“That’s it.” He coos, wrapping one strong arm around your waist and gently guiding you back with him until his knees hit the bed. He sits, keeps you standing, one hand still tucked around your waist, just observing you. After a moment he reaches for a pillow, drops it to the floor just at your feet.

“Go ahead and kneel for me, sweet thing.”

You try to gracefully lower yourself down, but with your wobbly legs you fall more than you descend. A careful glance up at him proves Price is trying to hide his mild amusement, his hand snaking from your waist up to your shoulder as you sink to your knees. It takes a few moments to settle, and once you do Price’s hand once catches your chin, tilting you to his gaze.

Oh. This…this is nice. You think, eyelashes fluttering. Here, kneeling comfortably, safe in his room, the quiet lull of base a distant murmur in the backdrop. It’s cozy, serene, and you can feel the low, cloudy sensation of subspace slowly wash over your senses.

“Look at you.” He purrs, tapping your chin once to indicate you remain tilted up to look at him. “So far down for me already. Doing so well.”

The part of you that’s yet to let go, that clings on to that remnant, persistent tension of you swallows down the whine that threatens your throat. He seems to notice, tilting his head a little and blinking slowly, considering.

“What do you need, love?” He asks, and you shake your head mildly, trying to find your answer amidst the confusion of your clouded senses.

“Don’t know.” You tell him honestly, and begin to fidget. “I…”

“Shh, that’s alright.” he soothes easily, knuckles grazing your cheek. “Need you to listen to me, angel. Can you do that?”

You nod quickly, eager, willing to entrust yourself to him, to listen to whatever commands he has to offer.

“Good girl.” He returns, pausing to watch the shiver that traces across your limbs. “Go ahead and wrap your arms around my legs…just like that. Put your head right there on my knees. There you go.”

He maneuvers you slowly, gently, shaping you to his command as your arms settle locked behind his calves, chin pressed in the dip between his closed knees. He’s warm, and like this you can drink in the scent of him- smoky, musky, a hint of cologne he’s used to try and smother the smell of cigars.

In the dim, warm light you can see his eyes- dark, focused, unblinking as they gaze down at you settled comfortably at his feet. There’s a hitch in his breathing- a shallow indication of his reaction to the sight of you, with your hazy eyes and parted lips, well on your way down into subspace.

“Give me a color, darling.”

“Green.” You breathe almost instantaneously.

“Very good. How are you feeling?”

Your brow pinches at that, feeling the remnant tug of tension still pull as a dull ache in your ribs.

“...Better?” You offer after an uncertain pause. Price looks a little dismayed at that, with his furrowed brow and down turned lips that tug the corners of his beard. It sends a little bit of alarm pulsing through you, afraid of his disappointment, perhaps a reprimand, and he feels it instantly in the way you stiffen against him.

“Easy, relax.” He gentles, a hand reaching to cup your nape. “Just checking in, love. There’s nothing wrong. You’re safe.”

You ease at that, eyelashes fluttering, sinking back into him once more.

“Good girl.” He purrs, thumb stroking in lazy circles across your nape.

“Thank you, sir.” You reply, voice slurring a little as you sink down.

If his fingers pause on your nape, you don’t notice, too distracted by the warmth and smell of him in your comfortable position.

It’s nice. You can feel yourself unwinding bit by bit, head propped in between his knees as you look up at him in the dim, warm light. There’s the beginnings of a relaxed sort of glaze to his eyes as he stares down at you wordlessly, taking in the soft, sweet sight of your open face. He’s falling into domspace, you can tell, allowing himself to relax into the role of taking care of you.

“We’re going to try some breathing exercises, sweetheart.” He announces after the long silence. “Deep breathe-” He sucks in a long, heavy inhale, and you mirror him, holding as long as he does, before releasing. “And out. Very good. Doing so well for me. Again.”

You mirror him as he breathes, feeling the tension slowly relax from your shoulders. With each inhale you drop your chin further into the cradle of his knees, feeling a warm haze descend over you. Each exhale releases a little more of the stiffness in your limbs, like loosening a knot tied in your chest.

You don’t even notice it when your cheek lolls against one of his knees, eyes half lidded as you gaze up at him. Nor do you notice the purposefully slow, even breaths he forces himself to take at your loose, pliant form crowded so close to him.

“There we go, angel. All the way down. So sweet and soft for me. Tap twice on my leg if you can still hear me.”

A small tap twice to the inside of his knee, and when Price smiles you feel gooey warmth bleed down into your bones.

“Very good.” He coos, knuckles grazing over the cheek not pressed to his knee in a featherlight touch. “Going to let you float for a bit. You can go down as deep as you need. I’ll be right here. Tap on my knee when you’re ready to come up.”

You cast a lingering gaze at him, eyes vaguely worried, but his voice hushes you easily.

“You’re safe. I’m right here, not going to leave. I’ve got you.”

You blink at him, slow, trusting, before you finally allow your head to drape across his knee, arms relaxing but maintaining their hold on his legs. A deep, fulfilling sigh breezes past your lips, and you feel yourself go sweetly down into a blissful haze of warm, dewy softness. Your breaths slow to deep, even inhales and exhales, and you feel your heartbeat pulse low in your ribs, where the ache and emptiness of your drop slowly begins to alleviate.

“There we go.” Price murmurs above you, a hand petting gently at your hair in a tender touch. “Went down nice and easy for me, didn’t you, sweet girl?”

You make a little hum against his leg, too comfortable and floaty to do much more than that. It seems to amuse him, somehow, and when he chuckles the sound warms you right through.

God this is nice. Just sitting here at his feet, pressed up close to his legs, snuggled in as close as you can get. With your cheek pressed against his knee you can drink in the heavy, comforting scent of him, let it cloud your thoughts and drift you further into blissful tranquility.

You don’t need to speak, to think or make decisions. Duties, secrets, resilience, you don’t need any of it. All you need is to just be here, pressed against Price, pliant and sweet as he rumbles soothingly down at you.

“Doing well, love. Take as much time as you need. You’re safe.”

Yes. You’re safe. You’ve always been safe with him. There’s nobody in the world you trust more than Price. He’s saved your life many times over, has dragged you to safety, has slung your arm across his shoulder as he helped carry you, has offered careful, firm murmurs as he’s wrapped bandages across your wounds. He’s always taken care of you, in his own way. Each debrief comes with a hand across your shoulder, a long, sideways glance that says more than he can.

You’ve never let yourself get close to him, too afraid of him finding out what you are, too afraid of his prejudice and judgment.

Now that you’re here, curled up at his feet and drifting serenely, you wonder why you ever worried at all.

You stay like that for a long while, simply breathing, thoughts empty as you hug his legs, absorbing his warmth. The room is quiet, and in the soft after hours of base the only sounds you can hear is the slow, steady thump of your heart and Price’s low, measured breathing.

You wish you could stay here forever, just being sweet and good for him, but eventually your knees begin to cramp up and you shift uncomfortably with a little whine.

“Eyes up, love.” Price tells you, words belaying a hint of firm command, and instantly you prop your chin to look up at him with soft, dewey eyes.

You’re too lost to notice the way his eyes glint, the unblinking fixation of him as he simply takes in the sight of you- lost in the dopey haze of subspace, lips parted as you stare at him with a glassy, lidded gaze.

“Look at you.” He breathes with a soft sigh, raising a hand to cup your face. You lean into it with a blissful little sigh. “Gorgeous thing.”

You squirm a little at that, skin warming with the praise. As you move to hide your face in his knees, Price keeps a hold of your chin, forcing you to stare up at him.

“Mm, eyes on me. Just like that. Good.”

You wonder, amidst the cottony softness of your thoughts, what the purpose of this is, with him taking his time to just drink you in like he’ll drown without the sight. You can see his eyes tinted with the same wayward longing he offers you when you catch his gaze after missions- when he aches for you, longs to make sure you’re safe.

The ache in your knees returns, and a little whine bubbles up your throat, brow pinching with discomfort.

“Feeling sore?” Price inquiries gently, and you nod into his hand. “Alright angel, sit up for me. Slowly…good. Good girl.”

You raise up a little on your knees, and soon Price leans over you, securing his hands on you to drag you further up and onto the bed. You allow him to arrange your heavy, sluggish limbs so you’re braced with your back against the headboard, nestled in his pillows. You go willingly, easing into his touch, content at letting him maneuver you as he pleases.

When he moves away from you, however, you startle a little at the sudden absence of his touch.

Price notices instantly, and once more you feel his hand stroke across your face, thumb descending to press against the plush bed of your bottom lip.

“Just getting some snacks and water, love. Count to ten for me, I’ll be right back.”

That eases you some, and you nod, slowly counting. You get to eight before Price returns, dropping a bottle and a snack bar on his bedside table.

“Scoot forward for me.” He instructs, and you obey as best you can, allowing him to shuffle you a little forward further down the bed. It takes some maneuvering, but soon you find Price sitting up behind you, dragging you back so you sit inside the nest of his legs, back pressed to his front.

If you thought kneeling at his feet was nice, this must be heaven.

He’s so big and warm, and when an arm wraps around your front to keep you from falling too far down the bed, you distantly wonder if you ever want to come up at all.

Price adjusts, and you hear the sound of a wrapper being put aside before the snack bar appears in your line of vision.

“Just a few bites.” He tells you, but makes no motion indicating for you to take the bar from his hands.

You lean forward obediently, taking small bites from his hand as he provides them to you, quiet and appreciative, until the entire thing is gone.

“Very, very good.” He murmurs, chin braced atop your head, huffing a pleased little sound when you squirm a little in his lap at the praise. “Like being told you’re good, don’t you, angel?”

You want to hide your face in his chest, but unable to do so your instead let your head drop forward a little, avoiding his eyes.

“Shy thing, aren’t you?” He rumbles, pleased, and it only makes a rush of warmth trace across your skin at the deep, purring tenor of his voice in your ear.

You get the feeling he wants to tease you a little more, but opts instead to wrap a hand under your jaw in a careful grip, lifting you up so he can graze the water bottle across your lips.

“Just a few sips.” He encourages. “Then we can lay down and take a little snooze. How’s that sound?”

You nod eagerly at that, and readily drink down the water when he offers it to you. You’re about halfway down when you finally tilt your head away, and Price wordlessly deposits the bottle on the table.

“Tell me a color, love.”

You have to think about it, past the hazy softness of you, brow pinching as your brain turns over the question.

“Green.” You reply with a little sigh, one that Price mirrors behind you.

“Good girl. You ready to come up yet?”

You shake your head at that, frowning. Honestly, a part of you knows you have to come up at some point, but if you had it your way you’d stay like this forever, caught in his arms, warm and fed and cared for as his chest rises deep with every inhale.

Price chuckles at your pouting little expression. When he bends forward to reach for a blanket at the bottom of the bed, he’s forced to curl over you, pressing you down with his weight. It’s startling how quickly you have to stifle a moan at the sensation, with his larger frame bracketing you in, engulfing you with the firm line of his body against yours.

He pulls back all too soon, drapes a blanket across your lap and up to your shoulders. It’s soft, a little worn, but it smells like him, and that’s all you need. You snuggle happily into it with a little hum, leaning back against him a little more until you’re completely situated.

“There we go, angel. How’s that feel?”

“ ‘S nice.” You slur, tucking your head a little further down to nestle into the blanket. “Comfy.”

Price hums a pleased little sound, one hand still wrapped around your front, and now the other resting easily on your thigh, pressing in soft, lazy circles. It’s instantly soothing, and once more you can feel yourself drifting a little further down into that wordless, worriless meditation.

“Close your eyes for me, love.” Price murmurs gently. “Slow, deep breaths.”

You comply readily, and as you feel his chest rise slow and deep behind you you force yourself to match it, dragging in a warm inhale that’s heavy with his scent. You follow him as he exhales, and then repeats once more.

“Just like that.” He murmurs as you grow completely limp in his arms. “All the way down. Perfect.”

You’re too far under to even acknowledge him, senses heavy and sated as he curls himself a little further around you, hand stroking lazy patterns along your thigh.

“Rest now, darling. I’ll be here when you come up.”

Regardless of the command, you find yourself drifting easily into stillness, a languid little sigh releasing all the tension in your body before sleep descends dusky and tender over your senses.

—

It’s still dark when you finally wake up, sluggish and heavy. The room is still warm and dim, quiet with the low, steady thump of your heartbeat. It’s the first thing you notice aside from the contented weight of your limbs.

The second is the pair of arms wrapped around you, tucking you close into Price’s front as you both lay on your sides.

“Awake?” He rumbles, and with the soft hoarse of his voice you can tell he’s been dozing as well, not fully asleep, still present for you to wake up and he told you he’d be.

“Mhm.” You mumble, ignoring the self conscious little flutter at being caught in his arms like this.

“Feeling better?” Price asks, and makes no move to shift away or dislodge you from his hold.

“Much.” Your eyes are level with his collarbone that peeks beneath his shirt, and there you see an old, silvery scar that snakes up towards his jugular. You wonder about the story there, about how this man has seen so much violence and yet somehow can still be so gentle.

“Thank you.” You whisper, feeling that warm haze now gently ease, and in its place a comfortable awareness free from the empty, clenching side effects of drop. “For all of this.”

Price is silent for a moment, and you wonder if perhaps you said the wrong thing. His voice is low, deep as he speaks.

“He shouldn’t have treated you like that” He rumbles, and there’s a hint of darkness there, one that melds with his hold on you tightening just a fraction, as if he’s too possessive to let you go. “If I-”

He stops himself then, words biting into nothingness. You hold your breath, waiting for more, but it doesn’t come. Instead, the silence envelops you both, soft and warm, a touch bitter with unspoken words.

“I understand why you didn’t tell us, love.” He speaks at last. “And I trust you’ll understand when I say we will never judge you for anything but yourself.”

Emotion, hot and thick, rises up through your belly. It scrunches your face, warms your eyes as you sniffle against him.

This is what you wanted. The entire time, all of this hiding and secrecy and anxiousness. You wanted to be accepted, to be held, to be cherished, by him.

“I wish it was you.” You whisper, scarcely audible. “The entire time, I wished it was you.”

Price stiffens at that, and you’re certain he’s going to pull away, to declare this scene is over and gently escort you out. You wonder vaguely if you’ll hurtle straight back into drop with his rejection.

“If I had known-” He murmurs in an echo of his previous words. “I would have offered myself much sooner.”

You look up at that, tilting your head so your eyes no longer look at his chest, but into his eyes. Soft, sincere, achingly tender in a way that plucks the defenseless heart strings inside you.

“You mean that.” You state then, voice scarcely containing your hope.

Price makes a little rumbling hum down at you, his hand flexing at the small of your back.

“Only if you’ll have me, angel.”

Angel.

Now, here, out of subspace, away from the cottony softness of him guiding you down. Instead he calls you this beloved endearment because it’s you, because he wants you.

It’s all you’ve ever wanted- to be here, to be in his arms, to entrust yourself to him so wholly and completely that he becomes the only thing for you with his gentle guiding hands and stern, smoke laden words.

“I’m your captain.” He tells you, one hand grazing your cheek in a beloved touch. “But if you ever need more, all you need to do is ask.”

The words inside you seem to buzz soundlessly in the cavern of your thoughts. There’s so many things you want to say, to confess, to ask of him. Yet here, in this moment, the only thing you can offer him is the thing you’ve said from the beginning.

“Please.”

And- oh. Oh, his smile, the way it tugs at his beard and makes the smile lines crinkle at the corner of his eyes, pleased and soft even as his eyes glint in the darkness. A quiet, profound gratitude of which he speaks little, and yet feels so deeply.

“Can I stay?” You ask, voice small but hopeful, and Price’s eyes twinkle with an amusement that swoops low in your stomach.

“Who said you were leaving?”

You smile at that, and if anything it makes the corners of his lips tug tighter, a low, pleased rumble vibrating through his chest pressed close to yours.

“Rest, darling.” He encourages once more. “There will be time in the morning.”

There will be. There will be time come morning, and there will be time after. There will be time for the touches that follow, and the words that precede them. There will be time for his familiar control to settle comfortably over you, for you to slowly but fully surrender to him. There will be time for you to become his entirely, and for you to go willing into his guiding hands.

Yet here, in his arms, safe and whole, you silently wish that dawn will never come.

I already posted this over on AO3 but figured I would post this on here as well. Enjoy!

#price x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x you #to add to masterlist

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