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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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rowarn · 9 months

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okay i'm back to expand on toxic situationship simon vs smitten golden retriever könig fighting for ur attention!!!

when simon first met you, he had no intention of interacting with you let alone "dating" you. but it just kind of....happened. you had a way of worming your way into his thoughts and his life.

the problem was that he was not build for a relationship. he had problems. a lot of them. he wasn't the type to work on himself, he was the type to find distractions to cope with the mess that was in his head at all times.

the closer you tried to get to him, the further he pulled away. but then when you backed off, he remembered he needed you as a distraction. so he'd rein you back in only for the cycle to continue.

he ignored how much it hurt you, how sometimes your eyes would swim with tears when he gave you the cold shoulder and told you to leave him alone. it wasn't like you understood what was going on — simon refused to open up and tell you that he was just...fucking messy in the head. instead, he just let you think he was some sleazy douchebag who used you for a quick fuck only to toss to the curb when you annoyed him.

part of him wondered (but didn't care bc it benefited him) why you kept coming back after how much he hurt your feelings. but when he wasn't being an intentional jackass to get you to leave him alone for a week or two, he was a great guy. a gentleman. he spoke to you with a soft but not condescending tone and was patient even when you asked stupid questions. when he had you as his distraction, he enjoyed your company and you enjoyed his — only for him to turn around and spew vitriol out of left field.

it was during one of the times he had chased you off that you met könig. on an elevator of all things. the entire mechanical box shuddered with his weight and you were downright shocked as the hulking mass of him ducked to step in.

when you asked what floor, he spoke with a quiet, almost nervous tone to tell you. as you rode the elevator down, you couldn't help but notice how he sort of shrunk in on himself as if he was trying to take up as little space as possible — as if that was even possible. he was massive. he avoided your gaze in a way that was shy instead of suspicious.

it was kind of...cute.

when you both got off the elevator, the lobby, you took a deep breath and stopped him, asking as confidently as you could if you could have his number. his eyes had widened but he surprisingly didn't say no — jackpot!

tho you couldn't see all of his face — the bottom half of it covered by a mask and his large hood concealing his hair, you felt a bit of an attraction to him.

as you walked out, hastily typing his number into your phone as you parted ways, you realized you may have a thing for masked man since this man — könig, he had said with an accent, and the ass that was simon both wore masks.

in between the time of The Simon Cycle, you went on a couple dates with könig. he was charming and sweet, if not a little shy. he was clumsy and almost always bumped his head on doorways before shamefully rubbing the spot he bumped with a look of embarrassment in his eyes.

he was excitable and energetic. he loved animals and always pointed out whatever animals he saw while walking with you — people walking dogs, cats in windows, ducks floating on ponds.

the more time you spent with him, the more you forgot about simon.

until his name popped up on your phone one evening when you were spending an evening in with könig. it was nothing crazy, he wanted to watch his favorite horror movie with you (an ancient black and white).

könig caught sight of your frown as your phone rang, catching sight of the name 'simon' with a blank picture.

"who is this?" he had asked, tho it wasn't out of jealousy, just pure concern and interest.

you let out a sigh, "i dated him....sort of...? not really..." you had responded, earning a confused look from him.

you explained everything to him, from meeting simon all the through his on and off behavior. by the end könig looked upset on your behalf, shaking his head.

"if he cannot decide if he wants you, then he should leave you alone," he said softly, smiling under his mask with a crinkle of his eyes, "that way someone who knows that they want you can move in!"

that was one thing you liked about könig, he was actually open to communicate his thoughts and feelings with you. he told you were pretty, how he liked your laugh, how much he enjoyed your company and was excited to see you again when you both had time.

simon was closed off. he was quiet, mostly listening rather than talking. but he listened well. you remember mentioning that you broke your lamp and had bought a new one but couldn't figure out how to set it up. a week later, after a nice evening spent in bed together, you woke up to find him sitting on your living room floor putting together that lamp for you.

even though könig was...lovely. there was something about simon that was so intoxicating that you couldn't seem to let it go. but also the sex with simon was....spectacular. you never had a man so eager to make you cum until you were incoherent — never had a man who could.

and könig was....traditional. slow. he wanted to date for a long time before jumping into bed. he wanted to properly court you and go through a whole process. which you respected but...you were impatient. greedy.

it wasn't like könig was against you seeing simon. he had told you that you were free to do what you wished, but unless you made it official with the other man he was not going to back down from trying to court you.

so when simon called on you again a couple nights later, you answered.

he was glaring when he opened the door for you, motioning for you to enter before shutting and locking the door.

"why didn't you answer?" he grilled. clearly you ignoring his call when you were with könig annoyed him more than you thought.

you raised an eyebrow before slowly answering, "i was on a date, simon."

that seemed to make him freeze where he stood, eyes narrowing even more into a glare.

"a date?" he spat, "with who? you don't need to go on any dates, you're with me."

that made you roll your eyes so hard it nearly gave you a headache, "a nice guy named könig. simon, i'm not even sure you like me beyond wanting sex. i want a boyfriend." you huffed, "and clearly you don't want that!"

"oh yeah? then why are you here instead of with your boyfriend?" he hissed the last word in disgust.

"we're not official. he hasn't asked but we've been...seeing each other." you decided simply.

at that, simon jerked his mask over his mouth to kiss you in that heated way that made your legs tremble, "does he fuck you as good as i do? hm?"

that got your attention, a sly smile coming to your lips as he worked you out of your clothes.

he was jealous. this revelation was exhilarating to you. simon, the guy who acted like he couldn't care less about you, was actually jealous that you were seeing another guy!

the sex that night was as phenomenal as usual and more. he spent a good half of it with his head between your thighs, pinning you down with strength alone as he ate you to orgasm after orgasm until your cum was a sticky, stringy mess on his lips and chin.

then he worked you to two more orgasms on his cock, the last one he hadn't even needed to touch your clit before you were creaming around him with a sweet little squeal.

simon had a point to prove. you were his and he was not going to lose you to some asshole. deep down, he knew he didn't deserve you and that he should let the better man have you but he just couldn't. he needed you. he wanted you. he was selfish and greedy.

simon disappeared after that. but for once had actually communicated what was going on — deployment, he said. didn't know how long he would be gone. he had actually gave you a goodbye kiss that left you spinning.

the next time you saw simon, you were on a date with könig. it was a quaint little bar that könig said he liked. so there you were, sitting across from him at a booth, nursing a drink and softly talking with one another.

you didn't even know simon was back. he hadn't said anything. when he walked into the bar, his eyes scanned the place like they always did before landing on you.

his gaze lit up as he took a step towards you but quickly halted when he saw you were sitting across from another man. but that didn't stop him for long.

you cursed under your breath, catching könig's attention before simon was right there at the end of the table, glaring at könig.

"can we help you...?" könig asked softly, clearly a little nervous.

"hi...simon..." you sighed softly. könig straightened up in his seat at that.

"official yet?" he asked you, ignoring your greeting.

you gritted your teeth, casting a glance towards könig who looked confused.

"no." you answered simply.

with that simon, yanked a chair from a nearby table and sat right at the end of your table. you concealed a groan of despair.

simons glare fixed upon könig, a challenge clear in his stare alone. he reached forward and grabbed your drink from your hand despite your protest, lifting his mask enough to take a sip, the cocky smirk visible briefly on his lips.

könig quickly understood what was going on and his own eyes narrowed into a glare. you could practically see the sparks going off between them and buried your face in your hands.

it was going to be....a painfully long night, you feared.

#simon ghost riley x reader #könig x reader #konig x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #ghost smut #cod smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod x reader

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xiaowhore · 9 months

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hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry!

premise. in which you manage to make neuvillette feel better at the expense of your dignity. (a fair trade, really.)

word count. 1.5k

note. do umbrellas exist at teyvat. i really don't know.

You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to dramatically brood in the rain when he gets sad, but to be fair, you don't know much about him at all.

You clutch onto your umbrella, contemplating. So, uh... Are you supposed to approach him now? Shield him from the rain with your umbrella? That doesn't sound too bad, actually. But then what? Ask him if his pet fish died and now he's mourning his loss? That's hardly appropriate to say to the Chief of Justice... But it would be creepier to just stand there without saying anything, right?

You could leave and pretend you didn't see anything. Of course, that's an option too. It's possible he prefers to be left alone when he's unhappy.

But sulking while standing in the rain just gives “I want someone's attention” vibes, doesn't it?!

With a fit of reckless courage and a “fuck it” mindset, you advance your way forward to where he stands.

Regretting something as soon as you do it is on-brand for you, you realize as you soon come to learn you have to be on the tip of your toes to have the umbrella barely raising over his head instead of hanging from him. You must make a pathetic sight, attempting to shield both yourself and this hulking tower of a man from the rain with a tiny umbrella.

“...What are you doing?” Neuvillette turns around, taken aback when you're in much closer proximity than he expected. Panic flares in his eyes, and like the gentleman that he is, he steps back to create some distance. His head presses against the edge of the umbrella.

“Hey, you shouldn't move away!” You follow his movements, closing the gap. His head is now safely within the umbrella's reach, but you're an inch away from being pressed up against his chest. “I miscalculated. This thing's too small for us.”

When the initial shock wears off, his shoulders slump, a sign of him lowering his guard. “If you know that much, you should use it for yourself and go home.”

That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Appealing, even. You've never felt so silly in your entire life and the option to run away is looking more enticing with each second that ticks by.

Still.

“It's dangerous to walk alone at this hour. Won't you accompany me, sir?”

...Not the best excuse you could've come up with, but your mouth runs faster than your brain. Neuvillette, being the considerate person he is, actually takes some time to think about it, and you hurry to say, “If you leave me alone now, you could have another disappearance case in your hands tomorrow. Would you really like more work on your desk rather than some company tonight?”

He gives you a long, suffering stare that looks suspiciously like the one he gives to Lady Furina when she disappoints him, but he doesn't say no. His hand wraps around the umbrella handle, overlapping with your fingers. It takes another two seconds of that stare before you get the message and you let go, finally able to rest the balls of your feet on the ground as you stand on normal footing.

“I hope you don't make a hobby of coercion,” he hums as you walk together, your shoulders brushing every so often. “Or else I'd see you as a criminal suspect tomorrow instead of a victim.”

“I see that jokes aren't your strong suit, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You laugh awkwardly, your nervousness spiking to an all-time high throughout your entire interaction with him. It's been barely ten minutes.

Silence ensues.

“Do you like showers, sir?”

You should've just kept your mouth shut, damn it.

“I like them the same amount as the average person, I suppose.” The ridiculous question doesn't phase him, and you don't know how he's able to keep a straight face while saying that.

You decide to push your luck. “...Do you prefer bathing with cold or hot water?”

Finally, you draw out a light chuckle from him, the sound deep and pleased. It almost makes playing the fool worth it. “I've been told I'm not the best with small talk, but you seem to be worse than I am.”

Your head snaps up to look at him, affronted. “It wasn't a bad question!”

“Certainly not as bad as talking about the weather. Do you want me to praise you?”

Was the Chief Justice always this sassy? “You're making fun of me,” you point out the obvious, turning away and crossing your arms. “I asked about showers because you were standing in the rain.”

“You thought I liked showers because I was in the rain?”

“Well, I didn't know for sure. That's why I asked.” Even you can tell you're sounding more and more ridiculous by the minute. Was your house always this far? You can't wait to dive to your bed and pretend this encounter never happened. “I think I'll just shut up now.”

“Really, now?”

“Every time I open my mouth around you, I embarrass myself further. I think it's for the best.”

You hear another chuckle as heat crawls up to your cheeks, spreading to your ears. “For what it's worth, you did put me out of my terrible mood. You're quite funny.”

“That's a nice way to say you think I'm being strange.” You hide your face with your hands, peeking at Neuvillette's expression between your fingers. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, he looks straight out of a painting, even with wet hair and drenched clothes.

You've never seen him up close, never even dreamed of standing next to him. Now, you're exchanging jabs at each other like it's the most normal thing in the world, like you weren't just thinking he was someone out of reach when you watched his court trial in amazement. Now, he's so close that you can almost feel the heat from his body, so much more tangible than just a figure you admired from afar.

“But I do have your strangeness to thank,” he admits, looking off into the distance. The stars shine bright in his eyes. “Had it not been for you squeezing me under your umbrella and forcing me to walk you home, I'd surely still be under the rain.”

“...Couldn't you have phrased that better?”

“In court, I only state facts.”

You laugh dryly. “You could spare me some dignity by embellishing the story a bit... Oh, we're here.” You were so occupied defending yourself from his witty comments that you didn't realize you had already arrived home until your door was right at your face. You glance at Neuvillette, who then nods towards the door. If he's disappointed to have the stroll cut short, he doesn't show it.

“Go in. It is rather late.” He closes the umbrella and offers it back to you, a gentle smile on his face. The sight is almost like a reward for your efforts; the small upturn of the corners of his lips makes all the difference, his sharp, cold gaze softening into something more affectionate. The rainbow after the storm. The gratitude for a small kindness.

“You have to get home, too,” you utter, pushing it back to him.

“The rain stopped a few minutes ago,” he insists, gesturing behind him. You blink owlishly, observing the still pools of rainwater. You didn't even notice. Why didn't he say so? You didn't have to squeeze together under such a tiny umbrella, then.

“You should still keep it.”

He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive. “Why?”

You unlock your door, stepping inside, but still not closing it shut. “Well, it gives you an incentive to see me again.” You grin at him mischievously, like you thought of a genius plan. “I work at the cafe in the main street. I'm sure we have some tea that will strike your fancy. Make sure you're not moping next time we meet, yeah?”

Not for the first time, he seems taken aback. But his gaze softens once more, his expression molding into something pleased. “Very well.”

And so, he leaves with a small umbrella in his hand, a smile on his lips, and the clear skies over his head.

The next time you see Neuvillette, the sun is high in the sky. Compared to that night, you can see him a little better now.

That's how you notice he looks unusually shy with a bouquet of flowers in his arms and a pink blush high on his cheeks. “...Good afternoon,” he starts, his lips curving to a beginning of a smile. “The weather is great today, isn't it?”

You stare. You stare some more. And when the sight finally processes in your mind, your twinkling laughter rings in the air, as sweet as the aroma of freshly baked muffins. “And who stooped so low to talk about the weather this time, huh?”

Neuvillette can't even pretend to feel bad about it, not when you're jumping off the seat in the counter to show him a table for two. “Your silliness is infectious, it seems.”

“Hey!”

(You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to be smart-mouthed, the type to be indulgent to your whims, the type to be romantic towards the person he's interested in—

But now you have all the time in the world to get to know him better.)

#neuvillette x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact scenarios #neuvillette #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette x you #genshin impact x you

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kingkatsuki · 3 months

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Old man Bakugou (who isn’t even that old, but god I want him)

Warnings: 18+, retired!Pro-Hero Dynamight, Bakugou is 50, reader is like half his age or more or less idc but Bakugou is older.

Bakugou retires at fifty. It’s much younger than a lot of other heroes that have paved the way for him, and yet he’s accomplished so much that it’s time for him to step aside for the future Pros. The ones that still have so much drive and energy, and are ready to conquer their dreams just like he was.

It gives up a place in the top five rankings for another younger, keen Pro-Hero to take his place. But of course Dynamight is still popular, and he’s still got a loyal fan base that continue to adore him even into his retirement.

Bakugou is still recognised when he goes out to restaurants and coffee shops, full of people trying to grab his autograph or share stories of how they grew up with him and watched him reach number one.

And then there’s you— he meets you one night at a bar when he’s nursing a beer, trying to adjust to having a free schedule instead of protecting the city. And he can’t help but notice the way your eyes glisten when you notice him, leaning against the bar beside his stool as you tilt your head inquisitively.

“No way, you’re Dynamight? My mom used to love you.”

And once again Bakugou is reminded of just how old he is, his blond hair now mixed with wisps of silver, the thick stubble that frames his jaw well on its way to being a beard, his muscular chest now curved with soft pudge and blond hairs and his back aches as he sits on the barstool.

“She had the biggest crush on you when she was younger,” You take a seat beside him as you sip at your own drink, “Had posters and figures up of you and everything.”

Bakugou doesn’t know how it happened— or why a pretty young thing like you wants anything to do with him. He’s gotta be twice your age, maybe more— but the casual conversation continues and you’re practically leaning into him now, pretty eyes glazed over as you stare down at his lips.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fuck an old man,” You tease, but you should be careful what you wish for, “Can you even still get it up?”

Bakugou reckons he should have you over his knee for that comment alone, but that’s all it takes for him to have his beer bottle slamming down onto the bar as he grabs you by the wrist.

Barely ten minutes later Bakugou has your knees pushed up to your chest inside the dingy dive bar bathroom. Your knickers bunched around them to keep your thighs together as he rams his thick, hard cock inside your tight cunt. The ferocity of his thrusts unlike anything you’ve felt before and you’re certain you can feel him in your lungs. Your naive hole squelches around him, your essence leaking out of you and soaking his heavy balls as the only words that leave your lips now are incoherent babbles. Your hands cling to him for some semblance of reality, painted nails leaving crescent-shaped moons in his forearms. Your grip rough enough to break his skin and join the multiude of scars that already marr his body.

Your head knocks against the mirror with each cant of his hips but you could care less. The pleasure surging through your veins has your mind hazy, his hulking body practically folds you in two as he looms over you, burying his cock inside you to the hilt as you feel so full.

You’re positive you look debauched. Your pretty lipstick ruined as it’s smeared across your lips and cheeks, certain you’re drooling down your chin as he fucks you within an inch of your life. It’s nothing like the inept men around your own age you’d been with before. With age comes experience, and you’re certain you see heaven when a calloused thumb slips between your bodies to press against your puffy clit.

“Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart,” He groans, “This old man’s gonna have you gushin’ all over his cock.”

#Bakugou smut

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daydreamerdrew · 1 year

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The Hulk! (1978) #24

#it’s intriguing to me that the Hulk recognizes that ‘Friend knows how to talk to the Hulk. Doesn’t tell… asks instead.’#he’s not just reacting #i.e. reacting negatively to being told what to do or reacting positively to being asked #but analyzing the conversation and recognizing what this person is getting right that others get wrong #it’s not necessarily surprising in that I wouldn’t think that the Hulk would understand the conditions he functions best in #but I’m just thinking about the last issue of the main The Incredible Hulk book that I read #where the Hulk makes an argument against Samson thinking that he’s a monster #and Samson is impressed that the Hulk could use that kind of reasoning #I think that he thinks of understanding the Hulk in terms of analyzing him #which is a process that’s hindered by Samson’s own biases #and doesn’t really consider asking the Hulk directly about his perspective with the intention of taking it at face value #a similar thread is that the Hulk is direct and blunt and has no social filter and doesn’t seem to ever really consider lying #and is always shouting his emotions and understanding and intentions at people #but stories are written as though the characters just aren’t hearing him and so aren’t reacting to what he’s specifically saying #and that could be attributed to people not trusting his intentions and so not considering that he’s telling the truth #when he says he just wants to be left alone #or not trusting the Hulk’s judgement when he says he won’t hurt them if they leave him alone #because they think he’s too emotionally unstable #which isn’t completely unreasonable because the Hulk does not solely lash out in situations in which he has been genuinely wronged #but it’s obviously complicated because the reason he’s so paranoid is because of how often he’s been genuinely wronged #marvel #bruce banner #my posts #comic panels

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nabtime · 5 months

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Sir Waylon of Gotham

Waylon wasn't much for talkin' to hoity-toity well-to-doers. Didn't much like their attitude. Or the way they looked at 'im. Lookin' down their noses, all pinched-faced and holier-than-thou, like he was the scum of the earth for the way he looked. And while Waylon wouldn't deny that he was scum, it sure weren't for lookin' the way he did. He'd earned that title fair 'n square, through hard work 'n strikin' fear inta the people of Gotham.

And he did that by bitin' they's arms off, not 'cause he was a li'l scaly.

Point was, Waylon didn't talk much with fancy people. Yeah, he talked to the Bat Brood and they could half be considered fancy on account of mostly bein' Waynes under the mask, but they didn't count. Not really. 'Specially their newest petite couyon that liked to swing about in his sewers like the chit owned the place. He didn't know how the kid was added to the family- coulda been adopted, coulda been one a' the other one's partner, coulda been another blood son a popped up outta nowhere 'gain.

Waylon didn't ask and the chit never said. No, all Phantom ever wanted to talk 'bout was how Waylon was doin. Idjit was far too concerned about Waylon's well-bein' when he shoulda been mindin' his own damn business. Kid said it was part a his business. That heroes had to check in on the reformed, make sure they were well and happy so they didn't have a need to get back inta villainy. Waylon wanted to call bullshit on 'im but he just didn't have the heart when the kid looked so earnest 'bout it.

And maybe the kid was swingin' in all the time just to check in on an Old Croc. Maybe even the kid didn't mind bein' 'round 'im an 'is big, scary teeth. Sure it were more likely he needed an escape an' the sewers were a place most Bats didn't venture less they had to, but iffin that were true- kid didn't have to find and talk to him every time.

All this was to say that he'd gotten used to seein' Danny 'round the sewers, and even seein' Jay when the older kid was sent to bring the other back topside.

Who he had not gotten used to seein' in the sewers, though, was a pretty thing all done up in medieval dress and glowin' green. Nor was he used to the hulking Knight done up in glowin' black armor standin' next ta her.

And, again, Waylon wasn't much for talkin' to hoity-toity people, let alone Ghost Royalty or some such, but he was still a man with manners. An' they were in his sewers (well, an' Grundy's, but the big lug weren't here, so's point was moot) so he was haven'ta be the one to greet 'em.

He growl echoed off the stone and muck as he approached the two beings that were floating midair, just above the water. They both looked lost until he fully rose from the grime and addressed them.

"Youins need somethin? Ya lookin fer Danny?"

And, well, Waylon said he had manners. Never said he was gonna use 'em.

"Oh!" said the sweet thing in flowing gown, her voice just as soft as she looked. "Yes! You must be the good Sir Waylon of Gotham that the King speaks so fondly of. I am Princess Dorathea and this is my personal guard, Fright Knight."

Sir Waylon? Now that's not somethin' he's ever heard afore. Him? Deservin' of a title like Sir? Ain't no way. He weren't 'bout to say nothin', but it sure did make him feel all flustery that a noble Lady like her would think so highly of a monster like him.

"Nah I wouldn' say he's 'xactly fond a me, but the name is Waylon, yeah, uh- My Lady."

And she smiled at 'im, sweet as anythin', like he weren't made a sharp edges an spilled blood. The big Knight aside her was actin like that too, posture relaxed as he just let her get closer. Closer an most people ever dared. 'Cept Phantom an some a the Bats. Was it a ghost thing? No fear a death, so whats scary about a big man with sharp teeth anymore?

"Would Sir Phantom be near-abouts?" she asked. "I require his counsel on matters of import."

"Sorry, cher- uh, My Lady," he grumbled, "ain't gotta clue where he's at. Somewhere's topside, prolly."

Her shoulders slumped just the slightest, obviously disappointed in his answer. And try as he might to want to give her a better one, he only knew where the kid was when he wanted to hang around underground. Waylon avoided the streets at all costs these days, not wantin' to risk trouble again. He'd spent enough of his days wastin' away in Arkham and Blackgate, thanks.

The Lady turned thoughtful though and graced him with a tilt of her head and a smile. "Perhaps you would deign to assist me instead, Sir Waylon?"

"Well nah, I'd love ta, My Lady. Supposin' its somethin' I can help ya with."

"Yes," she said, circling around him in a graceful glide, "so long as you are willing, you will suit just fine."

"Ya still haven't told me what ya need help with, ah- My Lady."

Waylon couldn't see the Knight's expression but he could almost feel the amusement pourin' off a him. And he wondered just what the hell he'd agreed to that a guy like that'd find it funny.

"My brother is making moves to take back the Kingdom. He has amassed a small, but skilled contingent of rebels and intends to usurp me at the upcoming Yule Celebration."

"So ya need muscle ta help stop 'im?"

"Oh no," she said, sweet but full of venom- like arsenic. Her grin was now full of teeth, teeth much to sharp for a proper Lady like her, and her eyes turned to glowing reptilian points. "I can take care of him myself. I intended to ask Sir Phantom along as contingency."

She looked him up and down and the Knight standing guard behind her was projectin' a certain smugness as he did the same.

"You, however, Sir Waylon," she said, and the tone near sent a shiver down his spine. "Will do well as both warrior and suitor."

"What say you?"

#nap shitposts in the afterlife #naps fics #dp x dc #dpxdc #i leave the ending up to your imagination or someone elses potential continuation #i just had the funny idea that they'd all be good together. yes that includes Fright Knight.#have fun with the ship and ship name byyyeeee

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dante-mightdie · 12 days

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No but with chief! Price what if the other wife accuses the reader of hurting her or witchcraft or something like that and the whole clan shuns her to the point where price needs to ritualistically kick her out of the clan. And the reader is just absolutely heartbroken that no one not even her husband would believe her. She is just stuck alone and tied up in the forest left to die from everyone she loved.

Add on: maybe she is found by another clan who takes her in and either Alejandro or König are the strongest warriors of that clan who take a liking to the reader and the reader still has trouble trusting people after what happened?

Meanwhile Price might have found out about the trickery of the new wife and wants to go after the reader but he only finds blood marks where he left her and is just consumed by guilt thinking that a wild animal or some man hurt and killed her with the last thoughts that she thought were that of betrayal from the one she loved???.??

(I know it’s pretty similar to the pup! Reader story but I love these kinds of angsts)

okay first of all, love this

second of all, imagine (omg imagine) in this scenario, that simon isn’t a part of the clan. (canonically, he is but the whole second wife scenario isn’t canon for me, it’s just a fun idea I wanted to write based on asks) and he’s the one that finds you tied up in the forest. this big hulking man with a mop of shaggy hair, scars littering his enourmous from (I imagine simon being like 6’7 in this AU bark bark)

you think he’s going to kill you but he just keeps your hands and ankles bound and slings you over his shoulder and decides to keep you in his hut in the woods <33333

#mw2 #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost x reader #john price x reader #john price #captain john price #viking!simon #chief!price #viking!au

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 5 days

Text

MDNI, Mentions of sex but no smut, violence.

Thinking about baby daddy!Miguel O’Hara who’s scow immediately returned to his face as soon as you and your daughter were out of sight. Wasting no time to march to the elevator and hit the button to your floor.

Baby daddy!Miguel who couldn’t help but let out a scoff in disgust when he turned the corner of your hall and saw Henry sitting on the floor against your door. Not noticing until he was close enough that he was passed out, head lulled to the side, and an occasional snores leaving him as Miguel glared down at him.

Baby daddy!Miguel who had to resist the urge to wake him up with a swift punch in the face, and not stop until he wasn’t conscious again.

Baby daddy!Miguel that opted to instead nudged him with the side of his foot. Wanting to see what bullshit he’s spew out first.

—

What you ever say in this guy, Miguel will never understand, what you’d see in any guy that wasn’t him he’d never understand. Although to be fair, when you were with him, he probably wasn’t as pitiful looking as this.

“Not so much of a cocky ass now huh?” He couldn’t help but mumble to himself before taking the heel end of his foot and nudged the smaller male's knee. “Wake up.”

After a few more nudges, Henry woke with a loud snore, droopy eyes looking around in confusion before he finally noticed the legs in front of him. Neck cracking up slowly until he was met with the sight of Miguel’s body hulking over him. The overhead lights casting a shadow over his face so he couldn’t read his expression, and if Henry was just a tad bit less drunk, he’d feel the death-like glare being casted on him.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” He slurred, remembering why he was outside your door in the first place.

“None of your business.” Miguel retorted, hands crossing in front of his chest. Despite his scary guard dog aura, Henry tsked in annoyance as he began to stand.

“I think knowing where my girlfriend is my business-“

“She’s not your girlfriend anymore.”

Silence filled the air as Henry was finally able to get himself up on two feet, before a scoff left his lips.

“She already told you. I’m not surprised.” Now it was Miguel’s turn to scoff.

“Of course she told me. I'm the father of her child-“

“I knew something had to still be going on with you two.” Henry’s finger jabbed into Miguel’s chest, his drunken slurring forming into a bit of a hiss. Not phasing the bored look on Miguel’s face. “I’m not fucking blind, I’ve seen the way you looked at her. You’re still in love with her.”

“Look, I’m not wanting to cause any problems,” that’s a lie, “but it’s obvious you’ve had too much to drink and are just talking nonsense. She doesn’t want to see you, alright? So how about you walk away and leave her and my daughter alone.” Miguel spoke calmly, not denying the allegations thrown his way before they both knew it was true.

Miguel’s hand found its way to Henry’s back, not-so-gently pushing him towards the elevator and away from your front door.

“I’m not stupid as you think I am, man.” Henry retorted, planting his heels into the wooden floor to stop himself, before turning around to face Miguel again. “You’re not over her, you don’t think I knew what you were doing at the barbecue when you were dancing with her? Practically fucking her in front of me.” Miguel’s jaw clenched to keep himself from acting irrationally as Henry hissed at him like a dog ready to attack. “The way you always try to one up me in front of her. I’ve seen your messages to her, the old photos, the Spanish nicknames-.”

“Alright that’s enough dude.” Miguel interrupted him. Tone returning to its harsher original one.

“I’m not surprised the minute the opportunity comes, she runs back to your ass!” Henry shoved against Miguel, causing no recoil from the larger man.

“I’m not the one who cheated on her.” Miguel snapped back.

“Yeah, but you were just waiting for the opportunity for me to fuck up. Look like some…knight in shining armor.”

“Okay, man let’s go. You’re not gonna be able to finish this fight. Go home.” That’s when he felt it, a harsh pain on the side of his face. He didn’t realize till he touched his cheekbone and hissed at the throbbing sensation that came from the area that had transpired.

Henry just punched him in the face.

“I wanted to be nice. You already put her through a lot of shit in the past few days.” He mumbled as he rubbed the stop that was sure to bruise black and blue. “But you decided to make this more difficult for yourself.”

Henry didn’t have a chance to reply before his back collided with the wall, air being knocked out from his lungs as Miguel’s hands found their way to Henry's throat.

“You wanna know what happened the night she caught your ass sleeping with another girl?” The question was rhetorical.

“…What?” Henry asked, voice meek under the weight of Miguel’s hands.

“I got her to stop crying, comforted her… got her some food… then I started fucking her till she starts to cry again.”

“You son of-“ Henry began, trying to thrash his way out from under Migue, only to have more pressure applied to his throat. He quickly stopped when he felt himself become light headed, arms that were around Miguel’s wrist drop back down to his sides, and a cough left his throat when the hands around his neck loosened slightly so he could breathe a bit more properly again.

“You’re gonna shut up and listen, and listen good.” Miguel began, his voice dropping down to just above a whisper. Allowing Henry to let out a frantic nod before continuing. “I was the one who comforted her when you fucked up and broke her heart. I was the one who was there to pick up the pieces, not you. I’m the only one who knows her better than she knows herself. I’m the father of her child, me. It was always gonna be me. You weren’t the one who changed her baby’s diapers, you weren’t the one who taught Gabi to ride a bike, you weren’t there for her like I was. You never will, because when it comes down to it, she’ll pick me over you, every. damn. time.”

Miguel didn’t know what felt better, finally getting Henry to shit his smug ass up, for being able to get all his frustrated thoughts out in words.

“She’s mine, she’s always been mine, she's always going to be mine. So don’t for another second, think that you can just walk back into her life and act like you own her. You don’t own shit, you understand?” Miguel finally ended his rant, eyes narrowed as he waited for Henry’s response. Satisfaction flowing through his veins when the smaller male looked like he had just just been face to face with the grim reaper himself.

“I-yeah, yes-I understand.” Henry finally stuttered, face paled, and eyes wide.

“Good, now I want you to walk out of this building, and walk out of her life. If I see you or hear you trying to talk to her ever again, I’m not gonna do as much talking next time.”

—

Part 8<

Not proofread.

Word count:1.2k

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush

@queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @fruityfucker

@pigeonmama @scaryplanetdestroyer @migueloharastruelove @krentkova19 @genny1019 @maiyart @stressed-cherry

@haveclayeveryday @leonsbimbogf @bmoplanet @carmison @c4rm1son

@scaleniusrm @ginnysculture @mishaglass @wusyanmee @bunnibitez @miguelzslvtz

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@ghost-lantern @saaaaaaaaaaaamiiiiiiiiiiiira @lavenderslemonade

#miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara au #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv spiderman 2099 #astv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 fanfic #bd!miguel #baby daddy!miguel #miguel fanfic #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel ohara blurb #miguel o’hara blurbs #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman 2099 blurb

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hazelfoureyes · 16 days

Text

The Big Part (2)

Part 1

Alastor x Recently deflowered fem reader

Alastor had said he saved something for the next night after taking your virginity, and after what felt like a month and more of waiting, the next night finally came. As did Alastor. Multiple times.

「warnings/promises: smut, p in v, creampie, demon Alastor, Alastor isn’t so nice tonight cuz he’s ready to bust a nut babe sorry, cervix hulk smashed, drooling, lotsa cum, sex with the lights on, pretzel reader, curiosity killed the pussy cat, dom Alastor, organs shifted, it’s 2am so my proofreading may be shit」

Part 2

The Big Part: Bigger and Wetter

minors dni pls thank you bbs

Were you a whore? Or one of those sex addicted nymphos?

Ever since Alastor slid out of you and left you alone you could still feel him. A phantom limb of sorts, nestled between your legs and sunk to the hilt.

Was that normal? You couldn’t be sure. Not that you could ask anyone. Once again, same dilemma, Husk would groan and shoo you away. Angel would just start describing all of the dicks he wished he still felt.

More pressing, somehow, was the fact Alastor had scheduled to return tonight. Same time. You had no idea what time you’d been shadow portalled into your room the previous night.

To be safe, you returned to your room as soon as nightfall came. What if he came and you hadn’t been there? What if he never came back at all?

Despite your best efforts, you hadn’t seen him since he, you buried your head in your hands to hide from no one, deflowered you. What a silly word. You’d be a mess of damp pedals and scattered pollen had you been a flower.

Biology of plants aside, the word pollen brought to mind the ‘first’ you’d be treated to soon. You crossed your legs, the idea of making Alastor cum was exciting enough. But to feel it? You couldn’t imagine.

But you wanted to.

Scooting back onto the bed, you settled under the covers. Maybe that craving would be cured with a little imagination. With embarrassing speed, you slipped your hand into your pants and down to your core. You were already so wet just from thinking about Alastor. Nearly pathetic levels of aroused, panties soaked. Kicking off your pants and underwear, you let your fingers feel at your entrance for the first time since Alastor pulled out. You didn’t feel different to the touch. But there was a throbbing ache inside you.

Your nondominant hand snaked around your thigh. One finger, then two, you remembered his hips against your body. The way he told you to make yourself orgasm.

It wasn’t enough. You managed a third finger. Your free hand came to your clit. He’d just been there. Less than 24 hours before, you and he occupied the same space.

The hunger didn’t ebb. It wasn’t the size, or the speed, your newly greedy cunt wanted someone. Maybe fingers would never again be enough to satisfy you. Had Alastor knowingly cursed you to a lifelong addiction? You could almost hear him, smirk in his voice, “Missing me that much already?”

Your hand flew from your body, pitched knees caving in. You thought your heart might squeeze through the confines of your ribs from fright. As you looked over the blanket, there stood Alastor leaning on his microphone. His eyes were sharp, moving from your face to your lap and back.

“It’s a little rude to start the festivities before all the guests have arrived.” His hand gripped the blanket and yanked it off of you and the bed entirely. Exposed, your hands came back down to hide yourself which only made the deer demon laugh. “Darling, what’s there to hide?”

His shadow slithered up the wall behind him, voice crackling as an old radio filter cut through, “I’ve done more than look at you already.”

That somehow didn’t make it any less embarrassing. More so, as you thought about it. He’d done so much more than look. Alastor had been inside you.

When you didn’t say anything, he put one knee onto your bed and leaned forward. He used his microphone to slot between your legs and spread them open, “Remove your hands.”

You didn’t immediately respond.

“Oh, sorry,” a glow from his eyes as his head tilted unnaturally, “I suppose I wasn’t clear. That wasn’t a request, dear. If we’re going to do this you’re going to have to do as you’re told.” The tone of his voice paired with his changing eyes made you tremble. Your hands slipped up your stomach as you let him take in the sight of your glistening lips, already wet from your lazy fingering. “Good girl.”

He watched you clench and you swore you saw him swallow hard in response. A hum, “I’ll save that for tomorrow. Now!” He clapped, microphone flashing out of existence, “I believe we have a date. A new first for the taking.”

He was particularly excited about this one. Taking your virginity was definitely an amusing trophy but the idea of seeding your still virginal womb brought a twisted smile to his face. First in life and death to mark you from the inside.

Alastor had spent all day avoiding you. He was quite worried just the sight of your hips swaying as you moved down the hall would incite him to take hold and bend you over the nearest surface. He hadn’t had sex in quite a while before your offer, but this little advent calendar of firsts you had so easily agreed to was triggering unusual reactions from him. His mind was plagued with all the ways he could change you. All of the sounds you’d offer him exclusive first rights to enjoying. All of the little flashes of fear and embarrassment you’d display as he claimed new parts of your body with his own.

Already hard and throbbing in his pants, he knew he wouldn’t last too long. But luckily he had every intention of drowning your pussy so that wouldn’t be an issue.

You watched his half lidded eyes scan over your body, tongue swiping over his lips. A fox in the hen house.

“You’ve already prepared I see! How considerate.” He inched closer. One hand removing his belt and pulling his leaking cock out in a scene you were happy to repeat, his other hand came to your entrance. Three fingers pushed into you, longer and thicker than your own. Immediately your expression shifted from embarrassed to debauched. That burn of his stretch was reminding you of how much he opened you up the night before.

You hadn’t realized you’d closed your eyes until they popped open in response to an unexpected sound. A lusty sigh coming from Alastor, his hand gripping the base of his member tightly as he finger fucked you. Being unsure what he was doing didn’t stop you from gripping his fingers tighter. Did it feel good for him to hold so tightly at himself? You clamped down again, his fingers stilling. Finally his eyes left your lap to meet your stare, following your line of sight to his hand around his cock.

“Perhaps,” his fingers pulled out, “You aren’t the only one eager to continue yesterday’s games.”

Games. You wouldn’t call any of this a game. But you were happy to play along if it meant that ache would soon be calmed.

A pick up in your heart rate as he began undressing.

“Why today? Why get naked today?” A sharp look made you shrink, “I’m not complaining just…curious.”

A roll of his eyes, “I don’t want to stain my pants.”

Your eyes closed, needing a moment to calm down. What did that mean. Stain? With what??

You’d seen porn before, you weren’t completely naive. How much exactly would he…you opened your eyes, his face close to yours.

Mind blank. Skull entirely hollow as a clawed finger traced down your cheek. Gentle. Uncharacteristically gentle. Frighteningly gentle.

His nose grazed yours, hand tilting your face slightly so his mouth could ghost over yours without hitting against your nose. His smile open and letting his hot breath roll over your lips and chin.

Your eyes screwed shut, gasping sharply as you were taken by surprise by his sudden and complete entrance into you. Alastor had gotten close to drink in your expression when he entered you. He bottomed out in one move, a soft slap of his body hitting into yours. His sharp and predatory expression softening with the feeling of you surrounding him entirely. He hadn’t expected to react that way so he had no time to try and steel against the pleasured response.

An honest and open moment between you both, before his usual unbothered demeanor returned.

“Much easier than before, right, dear?”

You could almost feel his grin on your skin. The ache dulled but didn’t leave you. Without thinking your hips rolled against him, itching for the friction your body craved.

Alastor was entirely taken aback. Whimpering virgin turned hungry doe. His hands came to your hips and held you still, genuinely making you whimper.

“Now now, you’re getting ahead of yourself.” his nails dug into your flesh.

Hitched breath, clenching now around the firm but yielding length spreading you open at the center. His head fell down slightly as shadows grew up the walls. Little prongs stretching out before his hips pushed against you. No drawback, just a deeper press. Your delicate but hungry organ moved with his intrusion and pulled a gasp from you.

Black dripped from his lips as sharp teeth cut against his grin before his eyes came up to meet yours, “Do you want me to take more of your first experiences?”

Voice heavy as it hit the air between you, the murmur of a waiting audience crisp and distant behind his tone.

You nodded. Of course you did. After the previous night you were desperate to feel everything you’d been missing out on.

His hips rolled into yours, pushing your stomach up with his length.

A moan, delayed as your senses were struggling to understand the still novel sensations.

“Say it.”

Not a request.

“I want you-.”

“Alastor.”

“I want you, Alastor, to take more firsts.”

His hips rolled again, that infamous grin reaching his ears. “Use your manners, my little doe.”

Another involuntary spasm around him, “Please.”

As if he was prepared for your answer, because he was, because he knew there was no other answer, his body was ready with a snap of his hips. “Perhaps I was too accommodating last night?” Another languid and punishing roll of his hips that started at his chest, allowing his entire length to slip out of you before just as easily pushing back in. Your eyes slid shut, mind fractured as it focused on the claws pressing into your flesh, on the still slight burn of your opening stretching at his widest part, at his voice making your body shiver.

A tiny part of you thought you may actually die if he didn’t pick up the pace.

He considered trying to keep his release at bay, but knew he’d have time to enjoy you as many times as he wanted. Your unspoken wish granted, his speed jumping from lazy and considered to determined and frantic. The warmth you provided, the slick wetness he coaxed out of you, all of it was thickening the fog of his mind. Finding an even rhythm to pull back the tension of his orgasm, you found yourself scrambling under him. The goal was definitely different now than the prior night, and as your eyes opened you could see he had clenched his shut. You knew what was coming, and though you weren’t actively trying to cum you still found a building pressure in your gut.

When your legs began to kick up to make some distance between his cock and your cervix, the pace so deep and rushed your body was feeling overstimulated already, his hands grabbed both ankles and pressed them as far up as your muscles could stretch. Your knees nearly pressed into your shoulders, raptured groans escaping you when you could feel all you’d done was allow him deeper access to you.

“Al-ah!” His name was too long, much like the other part of him choking you up now. Helpless to stop it, panicked by the feeling, you felt tears forming as your orgasm was truly forced out of you. You saw white as you trembled, crying out little pleas for him to let up the stimulation but he wasn’t listening anymore. His ears were pressed to his skull and ringing, heartbeat pounding in his head and down his cock.

What a help you were, squeezing him like your body needed his release as badly as he wanted to give it. You felt the heat of his seed filling you before his hips slowed, not stopping but pulling out more and more with every thrust until he was finishing on your lower lips.

His clawed thumb wiped the dripping liquid up and down your folds. Dirty. But dirtied by him, before anyone else. Alastor watched the way your hole twitched and wanted to devour you.

A moment finally of relief for your nerves, you tried to stop the way your pussy was twitching and working his cum deeper inside. You were surprised how hot you found it, a strange swelling of your pride at your body making him cum and a deep satisfaction at feeling that warm liquid coating your walls. Oh no, another addiction? Something else your fingers could never do…

You felt sleepy, emotionally rocked and physically spent, you sighed dramatically, “Alastor-,”

His other hand released your ankle but instead of pulling away, he gripped your hips and rolled you to your stomach.

A second of panicked confusion. “What are you doing?” You lifted yourself up on your elbows and looked back. Wide and creaking antlers loomed over you, eyes black and pupils red looking straight through you. Hungry.

Something possessed you, not quite fear. Something even more base than that took in the demonic Alastor and felt compelled to raise your hips. “Alastor?” A little purposeful clenching, semen slipping past your still untouched clit and dribbling down your thighs and stomach as your head lowered back to the bed.

Following an order you hadn’t been given yet was easy when his eyes were locked on your core. You whined, a new position meant a new angle so you held tightly to one of your pillows in anticipation.

Your face pressed into the pillow as his body rubbed against yours. The hands on your thighs scratching upwards, “Words, sweetheart.” Deeper than before, scratchy and strained.

Biting your lip you considered just spontaneously combusting and turning to ash, but you wanted to feel more, you needed to see what else he could offer. Curiosity, pussy cats, a joke you couldn’t find the functioning neurons to piece together as you struggled to squeak out, “Are you done, Alastor? Or, I can k-keep going.” The heat of your blush threatened to follow through with the combustion, face burning with embarrassment for saying something so needy.

He knew you could. Lubed and softened, Alastor’s dick pressed into you and sank in with ease. That was the only response you received. Your body, for the first time ever, felt like it was made to take him. Everything felt swollen and sensitive as his still hard member pulled and pushed at your walls. The kind of sounds people paid to hear were filling the room, your moans long and deep now. The wet slap of his balls against your pussy sounded so sharp against the rounded breaths you seemed to sigh out.

Despite his sudden increase in size, your body gave way easily. Rutting into you, Alastor felt like a lesser creature. How rarely he dropped the more complicated facets of being an overlord and just let the demon in him dictate his moves. You were a different feast entirely to the lowly shark sinners he so easily took apart some time ago. A different kind hunger being satiated and stoked again in a lustful cycle.

It felt like you were molded to him, forgetting his shape and learning it anew every time he buried himself into you. Looking down through the sharp contrast his demon form offered he could see himself being taken in deeper than before. He regretted suddenly not looking for the bulge he surely made earlier in your stomach as he had the night before.

Your body had bones, you were sure of it, but you collapsed like jelly into the mattress. Alastor’s hips followed yours down, never missing a beat as he continued a bruising force. Your mind was swimming as your brain was 80% pleasure reception and 20% breathing deep enough to stay conscious. Heart beat dictated by the pitch of his breath.

Drool soaked into your pillow, cum dripping down onto your blankets. Sweat slick body rocking into the bed as you felt a pulse at your clit. The electricity a response to your thoughts, your realization you were a cocksleeve for the cruelest overlord in recent memory. Was this an achievement? It felt like one. Another, louder moan from you as his breaths turned to growls.

The blankets were ripped as his clawed hands balled into fists around you.

What an education you were receiving. What a thorough teacher Alastor was for you. Your body already responding so well to your new lessons.

A daring move that got you scolded earlier but you pushed your ass back up into his body to greet him. This time Alastor was happy for it, the softness of your ass shaking as he humped down into your wet heat. Soft flesh he wanted to grip and bruise and scratch but he kept enough of himself to remember you were breakable.

Too new still for a lesson on pain. No, right, he was supposed to be offering you the new sensations of being seeded.

Your hips were fucked off the bed as his speed quickened, your back bending uncomfortably. You bit into the corner of the pillow, needing to do something with the static ricocheting inside your body. A flicker of the lights you had forgotten were still on was the only warning before both of his hands came to press between your shoulders and pin you down. A set of three thrusts, each deeper than the last as he came a second time.

Your legs kicked up again, hitting lightly at the back of his legs as he reached a new depth, twinge of pain deep in your center as he pressed.

With a sigh, all of the air left your lungs. His hands slid down your back with a tickle, holding your cheeks open so he could watch himself pull out of you entirely.

Voice and body back to normal, Alastor patted softly at your thighs, “Thoroughly fucked now, dear. I’d say your pesky virginity has been completely and utterly taken.”

You couldn’t reply, brain going quiet as a blissed out sleep creeped up your spine.

“Happy to be of service, do come find me when you’re ready for my help again.” Was all you heard before his laugh was fading away. Either into the darkness of your dreams or into his own shadow, you couldn’t be sure. You were out cold before that laughter went quiet.

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

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#alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor smut #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin alastor #fanfiction

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princessbrunette · 8 months

Text

kinktober : oct 5th

könig x cumming in panties

he’d cornered you when he knew you couldn’t bring yourself to run from him. könig was sick like that.

he’d been depriving you all week. you weren’t too sure on the why, but you figured he was punishing you for something. or maybe he wasn’t, maybe könig had just wanted to toy with you, get you all desperate just for his own twisted entertainment.

on monday, he’d had you speared on his cock— but not allowed to move, and overall not allowed to cum, removing you from his lap when he was finished with his work at the desk and never revisiting, leaving you empty and needy whilst he beats off in the shower. tuesday he’d insisted on teaching you self defensive moves, pinning you with your knees up and dragging his heavy bulge over your puffy slit through your leggings until you’d soaked through the material, and then getting up like it had never happened and even having the audacity to berate you for being distracted.

wednesday, he’d forced his way into your shower and you thought you’d finally get some relief— instead he’d crowded you against the cold tiles, ran his hands over your body greedily, fondled you and kissed you enough to get you whiny — before pulling away, continuing on with his shower as you stand pressed to the tiles panting in disbelief, and climbing out alone. thursday, he’d ignored you completely — which only made you want him and his approval more. it had reached friday, and you were at your breaking point. not only had you reached physical desperation, but you felt emotionally needy and fragile beyond belief too, breath hitching in your throat when you spotted him by the gymnasium on base.

when he spotted you wandering over, his eyes lit up through his hood and he smiled. he smiled and you thought thank god, it’s over. your knees are weak and trembling by the time you reach him, hands clutching his black military issued shirt. “kö,” it comes out as a sweet whine. he tilts his head, hulking frame looming over you as he cups your cheeks gently.

“hmm?” he hums lovingly and you inhale shakily, your own hand laying over his.

“its aching— need you, please. have twenty minutes until my meeting n’i won’t be able to focus.” you press yourself to him, all but begging with tears in your eyes.

“t’aww, schatz.” he whispers hoarsely, taking your waist and walking you backwards into a hallway that no one ever seems to go down. “i can give you something, yes?” he cooes and you nod so furiously you think your head might come off.

he crowds you to a wall, so that if anyone was to enter the hallway, their vision would be obstructed by his giant frame anyway. you don’t know how he’s done it, but he pulls out his cock and it’s already fully hard, thick and pretty in his grasp. he stands with his legs spread wider to lower himself a little, the height difference almost obscene and he runs a thumb over his tip, full balls resting on the waistband of his cargos. you whimper, just from the sight of it.

a low hum leaves his throat and he lets his tip graze your stomach, dragging lazily across the material of your shirt, smearing the slightest bit of precum onto it. “please.” you whisper, teary eyes searching for permission. he tsks, and pulls your skirt up to sit around your waist, gently but slightly impatiently tapping your inner thigh so that you’ll stop pressing them together tightly.

“you missed me, little one?” he questions, pressing his tip harshly over your pantie-covered clit, rubbing it in circles making you buckle.

“mhm, missed you a lot.” your hips jerk off the wall, humping back against his tip. each time you squirm, you can hear the obscene wetness in your panties making you whine in embarrassment. he chuckles harshly, pulling back.

“poor thing.” he responds cooly, accent thick and low. he pulls down the waist band of your panties and stuffs his cock inside making you grip at his clothes so that you don’t totally collapse. gripping your hips, he begins to slowly thrust. the height difference is a slight hinderance, and he’s hunched over you, but once he gets the angle right you’re whimpering helplessly, his cock sliding back and forth over your soaked slit and never once inside.

he has the audacity to laugh, strong arm bracing the wall beside your head as he leans over you, his hood tickling your cheek. “what if someone were to come down this hall, hmm? see my cock stuffed in your little panties. that pussy all needy for the colonel. you would probably like that, yes? you like to show off.” your brain was hazy but the last part rung an alarm in your head. was that what this was about? was he still punishing you?

“just wanna— wanna cum!” you cry, and you’re not aware of the mascara pooling beneath your eyes until he harshly wipes the tears with his fingers and pulls away. you groan, devastated, bleary eyes watching him rub the wetness from your tears against his own shaft. he grabs your wrist, roughly and maybe a little desperately and guides your hand to pull your waistband down a little more, exposing your needy cunt to him.

“hold this. like this.” he sneers and you do, not having the capacity to question him let alone argue. he stops touching you completely, focused on fisting at his own cock, tip aimed down your panties and you sniffle, staring up at him pitifully. you longed to touch him, have him praise you, kiss you — but all he did was stare down his nose at you with his hood still firmly in place as he jerked himself off.

your pleas and wobbling bottom lip only seemed to push him further, and soon — he was cursing, pressing you to the wall with his weight and unloading his balls into your thin delicate panties. you whimper sensitively, looking down at the way his hot seed seeps into the baby pink panties. your brain is mush by this point, and you stare up at him obediently, albeit sadly.

he recovers, jagged pants leaving him as he stands back up to his full height, tucking himself back into his pants. he takes the material of your panties and pulls them firmly back up, his cum pressing against your folds. his big warm hand comes up, rubbing you over your panties to make sure his cum has spread around and you moan at the touch, but as soon as it came it leaves— the hand grabbing your jaw for a moment and looking at you before he steps back, eyeing you with his hands now clasped behind his back. he watches you fumble to adjust your clothes and pull your skirt down, hands and thighs shaking.

“keep that in there all of today. i will come to visit you later on.” with that, he coldly steps aside. oh, he was mean. “off to your meeting. cannot be late now, liebling.”

#könig smut #könig call of duty #call of duty smut #könig x reader #cod smut #könig cod smut #könig cod

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cordeliawhohung · 4 days

Text

pornstar!gaz x fem!reader

everything was fine until he showed up

cw: alcohol, parties, kyle is jealous jealous, arguements

Quiet music hums through the surround sound set up in the studio’s penthouse, but it’s not quite loud enough to drown out the sound of Kyle’s teeth grinding together.

Parties always set him on edge, but anything that involves work is especially excruciating. Everything is so fake. Plastic. Synthetic. The actors and actresses on set, the sounds everyone makes, the shitty positions directors always force people into; it’s just as bad off set as it is on set. Faux laughter, forced pleasantries. Even when the cameras aren’t rolling, no one can escape the fact that they’re always performing.

Kyle wonders if you feel the same way in that sequin dress. It’s hardly long enough to cover the crux of your ass, and the spaghetti straps keep falling off your shoulders. Your lips keep curving into the most beautiful smile as you sip on your martini while chatting with various people next to the hors d'oeuvres table. Kyle’s been nursing his own drink for the last forty minutes; a strong whiskey on the rocks because they refused to serve anything as simple as a pint. The liquor is getting to him. Numbing his nerves enough to make it feel like he’s floating, but not enough to stave off that insatiable ache in his stomach.

He’s thought about you all day. What he wants to say to you. How he wants to say it. Those words have stayed locked tight in his throat since the moment his eyes found you in the crowd. He’s nothing but a pathetic wreck of a man hiding in the corner of the room with the least amount of traffic. Some people search him out for a short conversation, but the sour mood he’s in must be acrid because they wander off not too long after attempting to chat him up.

Leaving both you and that party far behind him is enticing. It’s hot and stuffy; utterly suffocating. Perhaps he can sleep off whatever this haze is — this roaring emotion he refuses to name — and return to it tomorrow. But he’s wasting away. That feeling inside of him has already eaten more of him than he can bear.

It only gets worse when Simon shows up.

He’s a difficult man to miss with his hulking size and tattooed arms. The brute cleans up nice enough with freshly washed hair and dark casual clothes that fits in well with the semi-formal attire everyone else is wearing. Kyle’s trying to be rational about the whole situation. Simon’s technically a colleague, not competition, and treating you like an object to be won feels cruel. Besides, for all he knows your little confession to him on set was scripted.

Still, that thought doesn’t cease the memories. Doesn’t halt the way he can hear you saying it over and over again, nothing but a broken record he can’t fix. It’s corrupted the kinder memory he’s been trying to hold of your half-awake words when you told him you loved him. Him and not Simon.

The vile thought that you say that to everyone crosses his mind, but only briefly before he flushes it out like a bad wound.

Kyle chokes on his drink when he finds you in the crowd again and realizes that you aren’t alone.

He can tell by your alluring smile that it’s a friendly conversation, something he shouldn’t be concerned about, and your shoulders dance with laughter at something Simon’s telling you. Kyle’s fingers twitch as he watches Simon lean closer to you, curving down to try and meet your height as he attempts to speak over the growing chatter of the crowd that fills the room.

Something superheats Kyle’s blood to a rolling boil as he watches Simon’s hand skirt against the small of your back. He’s so incredibly soft and gentle with you, nothing but respectful as he assists you in moving away from the cunt who won’t stop digging his elbow into your side by accident — he hates it. He hates it because it should be him there with you, guiding you through a sea of drunken idiots. It hurts more knowing that it could have been him if he had just gotten over himself and approached you when he first found you.

Then, the ever attentive Simon Riley looks through the crowd. Certainly he’s looking for a new spot. Someplace less crowded. Certainly he didn’t mean to look directly at Kyle, still hiding off on the sidelines like a proper recluse. It’s gut-wrenching, unnerving. The small smirk that pulls at Simon’s lips nearly has Kyle’s fingers squeezing through the glass in his hand, and he keeps himself from biting through his tongue as he watches the man lean down to grab your attention again.

What Simon says to you, he can’t be sure. All he knows is that your gaze flickers through the outskirts of the crowd until you find him. Kyle has never felt so exposed in his entire life. Even his first time being bare and naked on set hadn’t left him feeling so open. But it doesn’t last long. The very moment your eyes land on him, you freeze.

You freeze, expression stiffening, chest ceasing in movement, eyes widening.

Then you look away.

It’s then that Kyle realizes he can’t stand the stuffy air.

The sun hasn’t quite set yet over London, and it’s fighting with fiery clouds and brilliant beams to stay above the horizon. It’s a luminous sight that he’s glad no one else seems interested in trying to enjoy. The terrace is completely devoid of anyone else, leaving him alone with nothing but the breeze. Everything is always better without prying eyes to ruin the view.

But it’s too late. It’s difficult to enjoy the cotton candy clouds and beautiful shadows of the skyline when his mood is already contaminated. He’s decided that he cannot — afterall — go through with this attempt. This silly notion that he can admit his feelings to you. A storm of emotions brews in the cauldron of his stomach, and he’s choking on the fumes. It’s too much. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you over his inability to keep himself grounded.

A loud burst of chatter bleeds into the evening air followed by sharp heels clacking against the concrete floor of the terrace as the sliding glass door opens and quickly shuts once again. Kyle freezes, knuckles creaking with strain as he grips the flimsy railing keeping him from turning into red paste on the pavement countless stories down. He’s hidden behind the brick corner of the building, trying to stay out of view, but he can feel that it’s you. You’re tugging on that string wrapped around your finger, and following the line until you find him.

“Was hoping you’d show up,” you admit, chipper. Your elbow brushes against his as you settle against the railing next to him, and Kyle can feel the embers you leave in your wake, charring his skin. “I know these functions aren’t really your type of thing.”

Kyle huffs something sour, something more abrasive than intended, and his head hangs low as he stares at his feet.

“Yeah, gettin’ a bit crowded in there,” he concurs.

Talking to you has never been so difficult before, but now Kyle can’t even bring himself to look at you. His own feelings and thoughts keep choking him, and he regrets not running away when he still had the chance. It’s all so stale and robotic, and he can feel the tension twisting up his spine, clenching his jaw and settling as a deep ache in the back of his neck.

“I, uh, wanted to apologize properly for the other night, and thank you, by the way,” you continue. His aloofness is obvious. It permeates through his pores and soaks into the exposed skin of your arm, dripping down your dress until it stains your legs. “I’m still really embarrassed about all of it. I don’t normally drink that much.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Kyle says in an attempt to assure you. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

The air shifts, and Kyle realizes he’s fucked up.

He finally looks at you and finds your brows knitted close together. There’s a slight tilt in your head, a flicker of your eyes, an attempt to recall a memory that’s not quite there. His stomach drops when you open your mouth and he realizes that you don’t remember that night at all.

“Didn’t mean what?” you question.

It’s too late to turn back; he’s got one foot in the grave already. His lips press together and he swallows down the stale aftertaste of liquor as he shakes his head.

“You didn’t mean it when you said you loved me,” he clarifies.

Kyle doesn’t know what he expects from you. A real confession? You to backpedal? For you to call him crazy? What he doesn’t realize is that while he’s spent months learning you, months tracing your body with his fingertips and pressing kisses against your skin, or getting lost in the scent of you, you’ve been learning him, too. You’ve learned that he likes it when you kiss his stomach, and that he hates accidentally bruising you. You’ve learned that his eyes always dilate when they land on you, clothed or not, and his fingers twitch when he smiles, like they’re missing the warmth of something. Most importantly, you’ve learned that his jaw only flexes like this when he’s angry.

“Kyle,” you say cautiously, “are you mad at me?”

Confusion clouds his eyes and he tries his best to blink it away. “I’m not mad.”

“But you are,” you insist.

“Why would I be mad?” he defends as he pushes himself away from the railing. “If you didn’t mean it, then you didn’t mean it.”

You turn and follow him as he backs away from you. There’s an odd twist in his feet as he points his toes away from you, as if he’s trying to flee. Your arms cross over your chest, and while Kyle would usually ogle at the way your tits press together with the motion, all he can do is stand there and wait for the retort he can see brewing in your eyes.

“Who said I didn’t mean it?” you challenge.

“Dunno, you hardly seem to remember it, anyway.” Kyle says with a shrug. Then he pauses. “Did you mean it when you said it to Simon on set today?”

The shiny lip gloss coating your lips forces them to pop when you open your mouth to retort, yet the only thing you can manage is a laugh in disbelief. It’s such a sour laugh that it burns your throat on the way out, and you have to look away from Kyle to keep yourself from spouting a snarky comment you’re sure you’ll regret.

“You’re unbelievable,” you say as you roll your eyes.

“Am I?” he disputes.

“Are you seriously holding something I said on set against me? Are you really gonna be upset with me over that?”

“I’m not upset with you,” he retorts.

“But you are!”

An exacerbated sigh exhales between Kyle’s lips as he brings a hand up to his face. Long fingers rub at the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. His teeth haven’t stopped grinding throughout this entire exchange.

“This was a mistake,” he mutters.

It’s a swift movement that he makes to turn around, nearly spinning like a top on his heels, but you don’t let him get away that easily. Sharp, unforgiving brick scrapes against your elbow as you reach out for him, and the tips of your fingers get caught in the unbuttoned collar of his dress shirt. Kyle doesn’t fight against you as he turns back to face you with a huff. His fingers wrap around your wrist as he attempts to gently pry you off of him.

“You’re an idiot,” you say with narrowed eyes.

“Oh, so I’m an idiot now? I thought I was unbelievable?” he asks with a raised brow, razor sharp attitude, and steam pouring from his ears.

Heat radiates off of his body so feverishly that it doesn’t feel real. The way his breath fans across your face has your knees feeling weak, and despite the pent up rage that’s locked inside of him, he still looks at you with as much love as he always has. It’s infuriating how, despite it all, he’s still been the kindest person you’ve ever met.

“You are. Because if you’ve got the ears to hear me tell Simon that I loved him on set today, then you certainly must have heard it when I accidentally called him by your name, too,” you seethe.

For a moment, all either of you can do is breathe. Air comes hot and heavy and they dance in the small, empty space between you and Kyle. He doesn’t speak, and neither do you, but the grip he has on your wrist starts to loosen. Desperate eyes scan his face, searching for something — anything — and yet there’s nothing new that there wasn’t there before. Still, he is silent.

“Don’t you… don’t you get what I’m trying to say here?” you ask. Any frustration in your voice has vanished. Replaced instead with a tone that cracks as the fabric of his shirt slips between your fingers. “Kyle, I-”

Soft lips clash with yours, silencing the rest of your speech just as the exposed skin of your back meets the cool, rough surface of the brick wall behind you. Your wrist is still in Kyle’s hand, and he holds it close to his chest as he pins you with the rest of his body, holding you still so he can devour you properly. You don’t fight against it, in fact you do quite the opposite. Your free hand snakes around his neck and glides up the back of his head, and your mouth moves in sync with his. Salt and liquor melts on your tongue, and while the tension in your shoulders dissolves, a heedy want ignites in your stomach.

Kyle only pulls away when you’re both panting between bites, but he doesn’t move far. His forehead rests against yours as his hands make a home in the curves of your hips. The sequins on your dress are abrasive and annoying, getting caught in the buttons of his shirt, but he doesn’t mind getting tangled in you.

“Come home with me,” he whispers. His thumbs ghost the hem of your dress, and you can feel the way he wants to hike it up. There’s very little stopping him from throwing your leg over his waist and fucking you there on the terrace, and you know there would be very little protest from you if he did. “Please, doll.”

“Okay.” It takes very little for you to give in. Hardly any effort at all. “Take me home, Kyle.”

His lips crash against yours in another kiss before he’s pulling you away from the wall and around the corner. It’s then that you realize, you think you’d follow Kyle Garrick anywhere. So you do. You follow him back into the penthouse, through the crowd of co-workers, all the way until you reach the elevator. It’s childish the way you two grin and giggle to each other, sneaking off like young fools in love. Maybe it’s because you are.

By the time the elevator doors close, you forget all about that stupid party. All you can focus on is Kyle’s hands on your hips and the look in his eyes. You can tell from his dilated pupils that he’s going to have fun making a mess out of you now that he’s finally going to get you all to himself.

#gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #pornstar!gaz #f!reader

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