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anantaru · 2 days

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GENSHIN + HE TALKS YOU THROUGH IT

— ꒰ including ꒱ — diluc, wriothesley, childe, ayato

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — dirty talk, oral (fem! receiving) rough syx & dom genshin men, petnames used: baby, love, darling, good girl, pussy drunk men, fem! reader ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ

— ꒰ DILUC ꒱

you wince, before feeling diluc's hands caress your frame softly as he urges you towards the bed slightly, "lay down, c’mon hurry for me, i will get on my knees for you," your face burned at his words, your blood boiling extremely hot— regardless, you do not go against your boyfriends instructions and obediently drop on your back, head bouncing against the soft pillows and legs propped up your heels.

diluc follows you right away, settling his hands against your lower stomach, "let me slip these off you," and his voice was pummeling into your blood, sounding raspier than usual, presenting himself teasingly, taunting

how can someone be so sexy, yet also gentleman alike at the very same time?

you always wonder and never find an answer.

his fingers are skillful, yet they are also dangerous, feverishly slipping into the waistband of your wet panties to slide them off you— your pussy bare and exposed now, clenching around nothing as it earns you a disgustingly sinful groan from him.

"there you go, you're so pretty," he breathes and spits on your clit before rubbing the saliva over your puffy folds with his digits, "my pretty girl."

diluc leans into your thighs and places a subtle kiss on your knee, holding a crooked smile— such kiss was certainly concealing something beneath the surface, mingled with aroused ideas of how the next couple of hours will look like.

"you know what to do, right?" he motions, getting on his knees as his dick presses painfully against his tight pants. of course, you know what he's talking about and situate your legs against his shoulders, earning yourself an appreciate hum from the red haired man.

without a word, warm air wafts over your slicked folds and trembling skin as diluc's fingers hold against you gently, the tip of his wet muscle experimentally nudging at the hood of your sensitive clit.

he doesn't falter in his rhythm and gives your cunt a good, fat lap of tongue and saliva before trailing down to your hole.

he noses his way to your clit and presses his mouth against it firmly, your cunt throbbing at the connect of his tongue licking you in shifting patterns, the vehement sounds of saliva and arousal slapping and slapping and splattering all over his tongue had your toes curled, lips parted.

"ooh you taste so good darling, you taste so fucking good, fuck—" he moans, and he sounded so desperate, like he's going to skip the foreplay once and for all and fuck you into the bee until you couldn't walk nor move for weeks.

your legs entwine and shiver on his shoulders, your control over your body lost and slipping from the palms of your hands as murmurs of encouragement hit your sensitive pussy— your fingers splayed possessively into his scarlet hair as you ride his face and cry his name.

"let me make you feel good, it's gonna feel good, promise," diluc mumbles into your cunt as his nose continuously nudges into your puffy clit, his slender fingers probing at your hole when his tongue laps around you.

in between your quivering thighs— everything felt wet, disgustingly sloppy and so hot and you wonder if diluc didn't secretly use his vision on you to get this particular effect from you.

alas, his slacked mouth was meeting your hips, your core stuttering up into his face as you craved, no, needed more friction, needed more of his voice crumbling at the taste of you as your eyes drift over the fluffy clouds of pleasure in your head.

— ꒰ WRIOTHESLEY ꒱

wriothesley looks down on your twisted expression and a sheen line of sweat pillowing on your forehead, "look at me," his face was tilted at the side as you felt his complete weight cover, crush and fold your body in half.

the press and burn of his cock was breaching in and out of you fast, in fact, yes, wriothesley was aware of your strong liking towards his dominating aura in the bedroom, especially when he's looking at you through glazed eyes and his sweat laced chest rising and falling when you clench around him.

he knows it all, and he's been wanting to pleasure you over and over all this time.

"look at me in my eyes," he commands again, forcing you to look at him, yet all you could muster was to part your eyes slightly, an overcast mist of salaciousness prevailing over you.

he shatters, widens and parts your sloppy hole effortlessly, turning you addicted off the strong, thick compress in your pussy that you almost didn't even realize he's managed to coax literal tears from your eyes, pull them out one by one, small crystals sinfully glimmering on your sticky lashes and shouting more more more.

"you're so good, you're so good, my good fucking girl," he drawls proudly and smirks down at you, his voice explosive with thirst and longing, "my good girl, mine, you hear me?" as he assures you and moves his hips with one quick roll of his dripping dick, beginning to fuck into you.

wriothesley knows you deserve it, deserve to be bounced back and forth the bed until you're full of his semen, yes, you do, and you know it.

"you feel me in you? feel me, fucking feel me baby,"

driven by curiosity, you focus your eyes at the man on top of you, swearing there was nothing more handsome than somebody like wriothesley, a highly respected duke, whispering those sweet and filthy profanities into your mouth while his cock thickens within your soft walls, "does that feel good, yeah? i can see it on your face"

"yesyesyes… it does," you whine and squeeze at his words, his cock dragging and pressing and dragging so strongly along your wet walls before he's stuttering in midst a long, languid thrust, his head thrown back and facing up the ceiling— not long after, loading you up of his creamy cum.

— ꒰ CHILDE ꒱

"come on, show me how good i make you feel," childe messily flicks his cock-head over the reactive hood of your clit, poking and tapping at your softness as you moan out his name— making him laugh at you sweetly, although breathless, his chest rising, pupils dilated wide with hunger, gaze luxuriant upon your naked body.

childe knows how to handle you— until your thighs were shaking and hole spread wide as you're soaking him, ruining him and turn the harbingers usual confidence-loaded expression into a shade of something else— something almost frightening.

"you want it? you want my cock, hm?" he fists himself in front of you, pushing in deep through the small tunnel in his palm as you whine out for him in desperation, "yes baby, please, i want to feel you,"

ajax laughs, humming in approval at the choice of words in your answer, "i know you do, baby, there you go then," as he towers proudly against your skin, his handsome face all twisted and menacing on top of you as he inserts the head slowly.

"feel my tip, right there," he continues and groans when your hole flawlessly forms around him, rasping harshly inside his throat, "you're so wet, fuck, ’m gonna slide in really easy, aren't i?"

this is good, this is so fucking good— archons, childe believes he must be in heaven right now.

you're just so warm, so soft and wet, how was he supposed to let alone breathe when you're taking him so well?

he grumbles lowly, starting to press his cock into you as he digs his fingers into your hips before testing the waters, rolling his hips a little faster, then alternating between fast and slow to find the best rhythm for the both of you. afresh— he pulls a long, shaky moan from past your swollen lips when he finds your sore spots, your skin pressing and slapping together in a delirious tempo and pitches of rapture.

"let me take care of you, i got this," you clutch on to him tenderly and nod your head, your spit filthily pooling at your throat as childe tenderly kisses your temple, "don't hurt your sweet, little head over this, leave it to me, yeah? fuck baby, okay...okay, i'm gonna— fuck you're so tight,"

his thrusts turn more impatient and uneven, although the heaviness was still unmatched as your walls were grabbing him, pulling him in deeper, your hips instinctively rutting up into his to feel more and more, just fucking more, "fuck, i'm gonna make you feel so good tonight,"

— ꒰ AYATO ꒱

ayato's cheeks, jaw and eyes were illuminated by the sight of your body pulled underneath his own— and his cock was oozing of clear pre, his hand rubbing over his solid erection until the sticky semen dribbles down the crook of your thigh.

in any remembered previous night, ayato had always been very much into foreplay, well, only if his frustration levels were on the lower side. in terms of now, he cannot be bothered to focus on his train of thoughts when all the blood was stored in his rock-hard cock thudding heavily and hurting him.

it's so painful— but watching your pussy being empty and not full of his cock was even more distressing.

he slaps his tip over your hole before sheathing himself up with you, his eyebrows lasciviously quirked at you, "all the way in, love, i'm going all the way in," he began to pull his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration, your eyes glazed over as he watches you writhe beneath him the moment he inserts himself.

you gasp audibly, your body tensing and nerves freezing at the solid press on your hole before your back instinctively arches into his defined chest.

"oh you feel too damn good, fuck, you're messing with me, aren't you?" his lips drag over your searing cheeks, drinking up your budding tears and the drool slipping from past your lips, lapping it all up with one single lick of tongue.

"you feel me there? right there," you felt his warm hand press against your stomach, an intoxicating combination of bliss and sensitivity rushing through your system as his body was near close to crushing you with his weight.

ayato was fucking ruthless, frustrated and as if it's his last time of being inside of you— no shame, no pauses, only pushing into you weightily, his balls smacking against your ass as you're feeling so satisfied when your pussy quivers around him, holding him close.

"open your legs a lil more for me, c'mon, i know you can do it" he groans and fucks into you with one sharp push and shove, "i wanna fit it all inside," before stretching and driving you towards insanity.

his tone was as focused as his expression and his stance, "you've always done it so good for me," as you squeeze the moment he says it out loud— the moment he reminds you of all the countless of times where he's left you utterly spent and full of his cum, your hole throbbing and letting it ooze out before he fucks it right back into you, turning you breathless.

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 1 day

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You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 14: You're All I'm Dreaming Of

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fourteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: References to sex, Mentions of sex (not really explicit), Self-detrimental thoughts, Cursing, Drinking/Snorting Drugs, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from Soldier Boy's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

********************************************

Previously:

"Y/f/n Y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks, an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

You open the door to look at them. "The rapper?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The rapper? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo. Who did you think I meant?" You ask.

*******************************************

Present Day

*Soldier Boy POV*

The longer Ben sat in the motel room the more he thought of you. It wasn’t unusual. Ben was always thinking of you, even before he fucked everything up and before you two became supes, Ben rarely thought about anyone else. He hated that he did that, hated that you were always on his mind because he believed that he shouldn’t care about you as much as he did. Because why would you want someone like him? He was a fuck up before and after the serum and you deserved better. You always had deserved better.

When his cage had finally opened your name had been on his lips. He was ready to see you again, tell you how sorry he was, and how much he loved you. He hoped that it was you finally coming to take him away, but it wasn’t.

Y/n said she never wanted to see you again. Of course it wasn’t her.

He sighs and takes a bite of cheeseburger. His first one in 40 years, that the British fuck had gotten him, but it tastes like sandpaper, because he can't focus on anything but you.

"Well we know a few of your old team members are already dead." Butcher breezes pacing in the dingy motel room. "Countess, Gunpowder, Indigo-"

Ben reaches for his knife to grind up the oxy on the table in front of him, hoping that the pills will bring more relief than the whiskey.

It had been three days since he got out of Russia. Two since he visited Legend, when Legend told him that you were dead and Ben threw Legend's red armchair through the window of his apartment.

When Legend said it, Ben couldn't breathe, couldn't grasp that you were really gone. He didn't want to believe it.

You were all he thought the past 40 years, you were the only reason why he wanted to get the fuck out of Russia. He hated himself for what he had done, felt that he deserved the torture, but it was nothing compared to how he had tortured himself over the years.

The last thing he said to you often replayed in his mind and the way you looked when he said it burned against his eyes at night. He hadn't meant to hurt you, he didn't want to hurt you, never did. You were his oldest friend, the only person he knew that could be honest with him, call him out on all his shit, the only person who knew the real him, and the only person he could trust to be the voice of reason when he lost his temper.

And he threw you away like you meant nothing to him, when you were the only person who meant everything, the one person that he actually gave a fuck about.

Ben thought about your last night together often, remembered the dinner in the little restaurant when you wore a dress the color of his suit and looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen you as you danced to the song that always made him think of you. Remembered how he felt when he finally took you to bed, how each time you cried out his name it made him feel proud that it was him making you feel that way, that you wanted him as much as he had wanted you for so long.

Of course, then the memory of the next morning broke in his mind. When he woke up before you and held you closer than he'd held anyone else, slowly stroking your back and watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept and allowing himself to feel at peace. He couldn’t stop smiling in that moment because you genuinely wanted him to hold you close to him. When he woke up with you in his arms when you were children he feared that you wouldn’t want him to hold you, so he always pulled away, afraid of the rejection. He felt rejection from his father, but Ben knew that if you ever rejected him he wouldn't recover.

And then I rejected her, like a dumb fuck.

Ben was not a cuddler, he didn't think it was manly, but being there with you the morning after was different, and he believed he could have laid there for eternity listening to the soft beat of your heart where you rested against his chest and watch the gentle rise and fall of your body as you breathed. He had trailed his fingers along your spine as you laid on his chest, happy for the first time in his life.

When you told him that you loved him, he had been stunned. He remembered the soft blush of your cheeks and wide smile as you said it. He had wanted to say it back, to hear you say it once more, and to make love to you again while he said it- because he knew that’s what you had done together. He had fucked a lot of women, but that night with you was different, he cared how you felt, wanted it to be good for you, wanted to be everything you needed.

But the thought of you loving him scared him.

As much as it made him a pussy, Ben understood that it scared him.

You shouldn't love him because he didn't think that he could be what you wanted, that after all these years he couldn't be enough for you, and he believed that he shouldn't care for anyone as much as he did for you, because that meant weakness. That meant that every time you were on a mission together he would have to worry about you more than anything else. And Soldier Boy couldn't be weak.

So he pushed you away and ran to Countess. Ben's jaw tightens.

The psychotic bitch that sold me out.

It had surprised him, how recently she had died. Butcher hadn't taken responsibility for it as he had for Gunpowder, which made Ben curious as to who had done it.

"Are you sure that Indigo is dead?" Ben asks taking another bite of the hamburger, but it still tastes like nothing.

He wondered if that was because you were gone and then wondered if he'd ever be able to taste anything ever again.

"What?" Hughie looks up from his bag of food. "Why would you think that?"

"Countess. Y/n hated her." Ben takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey on the table to try and dissipate some of the sadness he felt when he thought of you being gone. "Who told you that y/n was dead?"

"Her daughter." Hughie answers.

Ben freezes, his muscles tightening as a sickening feeling rises in the pit of his stomach. "She-she had a kid?" The thought made jealousy burn in his chest. Someone else had loved you, someone else had been man enough to say the thing that kept him up at night.

Of course she had a kid. She said she wanted a family. I was just too fucking stupid and couldn't admit that I wanted to give her that, to give her anything she wanted because I fucking love her. Did I really think she was going to wait for me? After everything I did to her? After everything I said?

"Yeah-" Butcher shrugs. "Spitting image of her."

"She looks like her?" The thought of seeing you smile again makes something stir in his chest.

But it wouldn't be y/n. Ben reasons to himself. Because she’s gone.

His hand tightens on the bottle of whiskey and he’s surprised it doesn’t shatter in his hand as a wave of sadness comes over him. The memory of you and him at Fairmount Park, when you painted him briefly flashes across his mind and he allows himself to bask in your smile for a few fleeting moments before it’s gone. It makes him feel like he’d taken a knife to the chest at the thought that he’d never see it again and never hear you laugh.

"Yeah. Calls herself the same thing." Butcher continues.

"I want to meet her." Ben states taking one last drag of whiskey from the bottle.

"What?" Hughie chokes on his food.

Ben stands up. "I want to meet her. Where is she?"

"Oi, I don't think that's a good idea. She didn't really seem too keen on seeing you-"

"What do you mean?" Ben spits back, eyes narrowing.

Hughie shifts in his seat uncomfortably and Ben can hear Hughie's heartbeat quicken in fear.

"Don't be a pussy and just tell me." Ben snaps, becoming angry.

"She didn't want to talk too much about her mom. But she did mention how upset her mom was with you." Hughie states.

Ben felt the memories of the past creep up on him again.

Of course she was upset.

He remembered how broken you had looked the night you caught him and Countess. The look on your face forever sealed in his memory. He’d never seen you look so small. Honestly he was surprised that you hadn’t killed Countess that night. If he had walked in on anybody fucking you after the night you shared together, he knew that he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from killing them.

Because you were his.

He thinks about Howard briefly. Ben had almost killed him before you were supes when he called you his at the dance. It was also difficult to walk away when Howard hurt you.

Ben’s thoughts drift back to Countess. Her body had been burned beyond recognition, but her head was no longer attached. It would have taken an extreme amount of force for someone to do that.

Could she still be alive?

Ben thought about your ability. He was the only one who knew what it really was, that you didn't just come back from the dead, that your body was able to take the power of any supe that killed you. It made you incredibly indestructible, more invulnerable than him, even though he didn't want to admit that. He liked the thought that he was stronger than you because it meant that you needed him to protect you. He liked the thought that you needed him.

The day you both figured it out momentarily dances across his mind, making him tighten his jaw.

He remembered the sound of the gun and how you immediately pushed him out of the way to take the bullet for him, because you didn't know he was bulletproof and your gut reaction was to protect him.

Ben remembered how he held you when you took your last breath, watched the fear and pain in your eyes, mirrored in his own body at the thought of losing you, of trying to exist in a world where you weren't there. It was how he felt now.

Purposeless.

He remembered the broken feeling that rose in his chest when he heard your heart beat for the last time and how he begged internally for you to come back to him, because he didn't want to live if it meant losing you. He remembered gently brushing your hair back from your face as relief swelled in his chest when you came back and he clung to you like you had been gone a millennia. Of course after he had yelled at you for being so stupid, for putting yourself in that situation, tried to act like he didn't care as much as he did, but you'd only yelled back and refused to listen to him.

She was just so damn stubborn all the time.

"I don't care. I want to talk to her." Ben grabs the black leather coat that Butcher brought him and changes into a dark t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Take me to her."

Butcher rolls his eyes. "Well, she did call the other day and say that she had some information for me." Butcher shrugs. "Let's go."

"But-" Hughie interjects.

"Oi Hughie. Calm down."

"She lost her mother. I don't think she wants any reminders of that."

"I promise I'll be gentle, cupcake." Ben rolls his eyes and pushes past Hughie to the door, the thought of seeing you again or just someone who shared your face enough to make him feel something for the first time in forty years.

***************************************************

"Oi, Y/n you in there." Butcher presses the call button on the outside wall of the brick apartment building.

Ben looks up and down the street, noting the people who are walking down the cracked sidewalks. It was weird to be back in New York, to be in a city that he lived in for so long and feel out of place. Hughie had tried to explain some things to him about the new century, but Ben was still confused, and honestly he didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was you and the possibility of you living here.

Not you. He corrected. But maybe. He still didn't quite believe that you were dead, that you could die.

A minute passes and Ben is tired of waiting. He confidently walks up to the glass front door, and pulls with enough of his superstrength to break the lock and open it.

"What are you doing?" Hughie whispers following behind him, but Ben ignores the question strutting straight to the stairwell.

"What floor?"

"8th." Butcher says.

When they finally reach your door Ben pauses. He's not sure if he can look you in the eye, not after all of these years, if it really is you. And if it wasn't then what? What would I say to her daughter?

The thought makes the fear that he refuses to acknowledge grip his chest, the fear that you were dead followed by the feeling of purposelessness that seemed to follow him since he heard the news.

If it is her daughter, maybe she’ll tell me if y/n suffered, if she died thinking that I hated her.

The memory of the fight stirs in his chest as Butcher knocks on the door and waits. But nobody answers.

"Must not be home." Hughie shrugs. "We could call her-" He begins to say, but Butcher deftly picks the lock and the door swings open into the darkness.

As soon as Butcher opens the front door of the apartment and Ben steps through, all he smells is you. It's enough to confirm in his heart that it is you and not your daughter. He felt something in his chest stutter to a halt as he inhales the familiar scent of lavender and lemons. It was everywhere, all around him, flooding his senses.

And for the first time in forty years he felt comfort, at peace. For a moment all thoughts of revenge, rage, and justice fades from his mind and he is left with the memory of you.

Ben immediately is transported back to those quiet moments when he settled into bed next to you after climbing through your window. When you would fall asleep before him and curl against him subconsciously, your hair tickling his cheeks and sending the soft smell over him. The nights when he’d wrap his arm around you as soon as you fell asleep because he was afraid to do it when you were awake, afraid that you would reject him like so many others did. Those nights with you outweighed any other time in his life. He remembered that each time he crawled through your window you smiled up at him, were happy to see him, so different than the home he left behind, where his father wouldn't look at him.

He remembered the nights after you took Compound V, when even after a hard day when he was a dick, you still allowed him into your bed, allowed him to sleep next to you. Those quiet moments in the late hours of the morning when you cuddled into his side and muttered words in your sleep that he couldn’t understand all the while he brushed your hair back from your face stayed with him. As much as he refused to admit to anyone, refused to show any emotion, being there with you, felt more like home than anywhere else.

That's why he asked you to come with him in the first place. He couldn't leave you behind. Maybe that was selfish of him, but he would not pretend to be unselfish, not when it came to you.

He thinks about all the suitors that he scared away before him and you left Philadelphia, all his friends who expressed interest in you only to have him drive them away, and of course the one that wouldn't leave. The one that bought you jewelry and finally asked you to marry him, another reason why Ben convinced you to come with him.

The jealousy was familiar. Ben didn't want to leave you behind, the thought that some other man would possess you or love you made his chest hurt. You were his. No one felt the way about you that he did, never would. No one would know you, care about you or understand you like he did, and no one knew you as long as he did. And although Ben had trouble expressing it, he knew that he loved you, he hated himself for being unable to say it. He couldn’t decide if admitting that he loved you made him a pussy or it was his fear of telling you that made him one.

Ben looks around the apartment, noticing the artwork on the walls, the messy studio table, and smiles. He remembered the way you always had a sketchbook with you, he used to tease you about it, but you would only roll your eyes at him and continue to draw. He loved watching you sketch, watching how focused you were as you created something so effortlessly. He remembered watching you paint with the watercolors he got you, feeling a swell of pride that he was the one who started that love. Ben had been afraid to give them to you, afraid that it was too thoughtful, but then he remembered how widely you smiled, how happy you had been.

The apartment felt like you.

And by now again he knows that it is you and perhaps that's worse, because now he has to face you and he doesn't know how to fix this, any of it.

You weren’t like him or anyone else. You didn’t bend under easy promises and gifts like the other women he had been with over the years. Your ability to read him and understand him meant that you were special. And you were. You were special to him.

He moves forward towards the darkened hallway.

"Hey wait-" He hears Hughie say behind him, but Ben ignores him.

Ben finds your bedroom easily and the smell grows when he opens the door. He takes in the controlled chaos of the room before his eyes fall on the suitcase on the large bed.

Where was she going?

Ben pulls your supe suit out of the bag and smiles at the memory of the day you first tried it on. You never wore anything form fitting, hid your shape under shirts and pants, but the day he saw you in this for the first time made his breath catch in his chest. He knew that you thought you were fat, but Ben never believed that. He loved every curve of your body, loved to trace them with his eyes when you weren’t looking and when you finally let him take you to bed, his hands. Seeing you in the suit for the first time was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he kept it together.

He notices the plane ticket on the edge of the bed, beneath the bag, and he pulls out the printed piece of paper, reading the fine print.

She was going to Russia. She was going to come get me even after I-

The emotion that rises in Ben's chest is unfamiliar. He did not like giving in to emotions the same way others did because he believed that made him weak, a lesson his father had ingrained into his mind. But this time he doesn't attempt to push it down. The plane ticket crumples in his hand as his jaw clenches tight. A part of him was relieved, relieved to know that somewhere deep down you still cared about him, maybe that meant that you would be willing to see him.

But he still didn’t know how to fix this. He'd never been good with words or apologizing or, well, love in general. He’d never loved anyone before you. He frowns at the thought of all the meaningless flings he'd had in the past. There was only one relationship with a woman he'd ever been in, with you, and he'd fucked it all up.

He kneels and reaches under your bed, looking for the box he knows will be there. It's a dark rosewood, one from your bedroom when you were a kid, but now it holds a different value. Ben sits on the end of your bed and opens it.

He had caught you with it a few times, usually when you started drinking or on your birthday, always on your birthday. It's why he never let you stay at home, he made sure you came out with him, because your mind would drift when you were alone and Ben didn't like the dark places it took you.

Ben rarely liked leaving you alone. Whenever he was on movie shoots in another country he would call you just to hear your voice, and even when he went to bed with someone else and they fell asleep he would stay up thinking of you, wondering if you missed him as much as he missed you, and wondering if you could sleep without him because he couldn’t sleep without you. Another reason why he pushed you away, believing that it made him weak.

The photo on top is unfamiliar to him, it's newer, and shows you standing with a young brunette woman outside of a college dorm. He traces the lines of your face with his thumb. He hadn't seen a picture of you in forty years, but you were just as beautiful as he remembered. The one that follows is also unfamiliar, you holding a baby wrapped in a pink blanket, the baby’s hand wrapped around your index finger, and you looking down at it like it's your whole world.

The look in your eyes does something to him. He remembered when you looked at him like that, the morning when you woke up next to him and whispered those four little words to him that he always wanted to hear while holding his face tenderly between your palms, "I love you Ben."

When things got bad in Russia he would strain to remember the memory, remember the way you looked at him, the way the words sounded falling from your lips. The words that he always wanted to hear you say. The morning that he wished he could change and the disastrous night he wished never happened.

"We shouldn't be here." Hughie says to Butcher in the living room.

"She ain't home. We'll go when he wants to leave." Ben hears Butcher respond.

But Ben knew that he didn't want to leave, wouldn't want to leave. He had spent the past forty years away from you and he didn't want to spend anymore time apart from you, even if that made him a pussy, he didn't care.

"This isn't a good idea. Y/n didn't want him here-" Hughie tries again

"Oi, look at this. She's looking at flights." Butcher states, when he notices the laptop on the counter.

"What?" Hughie asks.

"If it ain't her, how would she know about Russia?" Butcher says back. Ben hears a rustling like Butcher is going through the trashcan “And take a look at this-“

Ben shuts out their conversation and pulls other photos out, finally pulling out strip of paper from a Photo Booth. It was the day he took you to a baseball game, before you were supes. You’d never been to one before and Ben had only been to the one his father took him to, when his dad got drunk and forgot Ben was with him. Ben frowns for a second but then looks back at the collection of photos on the strip. It was a good day. He had bought you a ridiculous hat, and you'd sat next to him looking radiant in the sunlight like you always did sketching him. Ben loved it when you drew him, it made him happy to know that when you looked through the pages of your sketchbook later that you were thinking of him. He often wondered if you thought of him as much as he thought of you. You'd both gotten drunk on cheap beer and when a woman yelled at you for being unladylike you flipped her the bird and said some choice words that made the tips of the woman’s ears turn pink.

Ben loved that about you, that you never seemed to care what others thought of you, especially your friendship with him. Everyone you knew had told you to keep a wide berth from him, but you didn’t listen.

Ben traces your young face in the photo with his fingertip.

Maybe she should have.

He turns back and pulls out a yellowed photo of you and your mother. Ben frowns at the expression on your face. You were never happy when she was around. He hated your mother, not just because she hated him, but he hated what she did to you. He hated that she made you feel ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that he'd ever seen. Even as teenagers, Ben couldn’t help but notice how pretty your figure was and how you filled out the soft dresses you wore when you went with him on adventures through the city. He never thought you were too fat, if anything he liked your curves. The night you were finally together he worshipped them, wanted you to know that you were beautiful, to understand that he saw your beauty, because he knew that you still thought about what your mother said to you. He hated that she had such a hold on your life even though she had been dead for so long.

He hears a rattle along the bottom of the box and when he picks up the source of the noise he immediately wishes he hadn't. It's a single pearl, and Ben understands what it's from. It's from the necklace he bought you for your birthday, the one that you ripped off your neck when you found him with Countess. He had agonized over whether or not to get it for you, thought that maybe it was too thoughtful or rather was too romantic. But the look on your face when you opened the box made him feel like he’d swallowed the sun.

Ben's teeth clench together as a wave of guilt crashes over him remembering what he yelled at you, remembering what he did to you. He thought that it had been what he needed to do, that he needed to push you away because he didn't want to care about anyone else, at least not the way he cared about you.

He hadn’t thought it would hurt as much to say those things to you, but it had all but ripped his own heart out.

But even before you found them together all Ben felt was guilt. He wasn’t enjoying anything he was doing to Countess, all he wanted was to do those things with you. He thought it was necessary, that by doing those things with her he could somehow clear his head of you, but all it did was make him feel guilty and want you more.

He thinks about the days that followed before his mission in Nicaragua, when he agonized over calling you, over showing up to your apartment, but he couldn't. He couldn't face you. He hadn't been able to sleep those nights before the mission and wanted desperately for you to be there with him. Ben couldn't sleep when you weren’t with him. He hated that he'd finally gotten you and then lost you so quickly.

Ben notices a velvet box, and he sighs when he opens it. It's an engagement ring, the engagement ring that you showed him the night he asked you to come with him.

He briefly wonders if you thought that was his version of a proposal. That you believed, turning your back on your family and coming with him meant more.

I’m such a fucking idiot. I should’ve-

“It really is a shitty ring.” He mutters. And it was, it was all wrong for you. Ben knew what you liked and he couldn’t believe that this was what that asshole got you.

Why did she keep it? Because she wanted to remember what her life could have been like if I didn’t ask her to come?

Ben remembers when he asked you if he ruined your life, before everything exploded. He imagined that after that night you changed your answer, because how could you look at him, let alone want to be around him after what he did to you?

Ben examines the ring again allowing the memory of the night you showed it to him push its way into his mind. He remembered being scared, of course he’d never admit that, he wasn’t a pussy, but he acutely remembered the moment you showed it to him. The fear of losing you that struck him when he noticed it on your finger, as the weight of what it represented settled on his shoulders. He knew that the asshole who proposed would quickly turn you against him, and this time you’d believe it because you loved that dick or-

Ben reconsidered. She didn’t love him because she came with you. She loved you.

He remembers again what it was like to be with you in bed, when you whispered those words so tenderly to him and is struck with guilt all over again.

You had looked almost sheepish when you showed me the ring, like you were afraid to tell me-

Of course she was afraid to tell you. She wanted you to propose but you didn’t instead you fucking ruined her life and strung her along for 40 fucking years-

He never understood how you did that. Survived all those years with him while he fucked his way through everything that crossed his path. How you continued to stand by him when he was a dick to you and so many others. And yet you never let any other man into your life.

He remembers the night after you got between him and Noir, remembers asking you if you wanted to marry Howard, but you said no. The other things you said struck something within him. When you said you wanted someone to come home to, someone who would love you, a family. He remembers how you looked the night of your birthday in the restaurant, how you watched the couples around your table and smiled. He knew what you were thinking, and he had tried to show you that he could be that for you by taking your hand where it rested on the table even though it went against every instinct he had. He wanted so badly to give you those things, to make you happy. Ben didn’t want you to find that with anyone else. He would have loved to have a family with you, to be with you always the way you were always there for him, or were until he fucked it all up. He remembers asking you to marry him, apart of it had been a joke, just to gauge your reaction, but deep down he was curious. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much when you laughed him off.

Ben sighs. When you spoke about leaving Payback he was worried, worried that it meant you would leave him too and then who would he have? No one. It’s why he spent so many nights in your bed, with you curled up beside him. He didn’t want to be anywhere else.

He shuts the ring box with a snap and throws it back inside. The memory of the night you spent together is just on the edge begging to be let in. Ben indulged in that memory many times over the years, letting it strengthen him. Remembered every detail. It was the first time that he actually cared what someone else wanted in bed. He remembered how your cheeks blushed when you told him that you’d never had sex before and how you said that you wanted it to be him. He never imagined that you would want him the same way that he’d wanted you all those years.The exact reason why he drowned himself in so many other women, because he thought that’s what he needed to do. Because you deserved someone better than him, you always had.

The thought is immediately followed by what he yelled at you in the bathroom at the premiere, when he turned something that you believed to be special, one of the happiest nights of his life, into a cheap fuck.

He remembered the broken expression on your face. He'd never seen you look so small. Ben always admired how strong you were, but as soon as he said those things to you, he watched you crumble when he broke your heart.

Worse still was when he grabbed you. He fights the shudder, remembering how he grabbed onto your arms. As many times as you’d stood between him and the source of his anger, he’d never laid a hand on you but that night, he was just so damn frustrated. You were looking at him with those big eyes of yours that always saw through him, understood him, and he was frustrated because he wanted to tell you that he loved you that he always had loved you but he couldn’t. He couldn’t admit it because he was a man and damn it a man didn’t show emotions and he was Soldier Boy he didn’t need anyone-

His jaw clenches together so tight that he hears the click of his teeth.

But he did. He knew that all he needed was you.

I’m such a fucking asshole. Y/n doesn’t need me and I don’t deserve her-

Ben raises his head to look at your bedroom door as he hears the front door of your apartment swing open. And he freezes.

Because why would you want to see him? He had ruined your life.

***************************************

A/N: Alright everybody we made it to the chapter right before the reunion!!! What will happen? Will she forgive him? Who knows?! Even me, honestly. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know. :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126, @simplyfixated @sleepjam, @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts,@onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna

#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys #jensen ackles #soldier boy fic #billy butcher #the boys amazon #hughie campbell #the boys fanfic #jackles #the boys season 3 #the boys series #the boys tv #the boys s3

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monstersflashlight · 3 days

Text

Caught (part 1)

Orc x non-gendered human || Chasing, primal play

Your heartbeat was so loud in your ears it felt deafening. You barely heard your name when the council president announced you’d be the next sacrifice. Mother was crying in the background, the rest of the village avoided your eyes when you looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening. They choose you.

They needed a sacrifice, and they choose you.

It’s been ages since the last sacrifice was made, but the crops died way too early this year. The village was struggling to feed all the people. So the council sent an emissary to the old witch living in the mountain. She made it simple: give the woods a human sacrifice, mother nature would provide after that. Everyone ignored what you already knew: mother nature wouldn’t answer their sacrifice.

But the monsters in the dark forest would be glad to get you.

The council didn’t say anything as they led you through the forest, leaving you in the middle of what long ago was a field of flowers. Long dead, the only thing remaining was a patch of dirt and some fallen leaves.

You felt hyper-aware, the councilmen were talking but you couldn’t hear anything, you didn’t care. They didn’t care. You were just a sacrifice, not part of the village anymore. They weren’t expecting you to return, they weren’t expecting you to run. You were there to be devoured by unknown beasts.

First you couldn’t hear a single sound over your heartbeat, but as the men disappeared in the distance, the darkness became alive. You could feel everything. The sound of little animals, the sound of breeze through the leaves, the smell of humid dirt and dead flowers under your feet, the coppery taste of your fear. Some owl in the distance, maybe a dog if you listened closely… Then silence. Complete and utter silence.

Tales as old as time ran through the village, tales about green giants living deep in the forest. Tales of unsuspecting victims being caught by them. You didn’t believe in those stories. Not back then. But now, in the middle of the woods, the darkness consumed you. Maybe… Maybe those tales were true.

And then you felt it, profound fear blooming inside of you. You were supposed to be quiet, to be still, to let them, whoever or whatever they were, to catch you.

A branch broke at your right, the clouds disappeared and a ray of moonlight shone through the leaves, illuminating something. Someone. A tall figure not far from you, you couldn’t make out their features, but they were at least twice your size. The old tales were true, there were monsters deep in the woods. Some primal part of you could feel the anticipation running through their veins, as your own anticipation rose to match it. You expected the world to stop, to feel something as your life passed behind your eyes in a blink. But you didn’t.

You were supposed to be quiet, to be still… but deep down you knew they wanted you to run. So you did. You bolted from there and started running, not knowing where you were going. Something inside of you urged you to escape, to survive. You ran for what felt like hours, but were probably just minutes. You pushed yourself, but it wasn’t enough, they were close. So close. Their steps way too fast for you to have even a chance of running away.

You knew it was a bad idea, probably the worst idea you ever had, but you did it anyway. You looked back. The first glance at the big orc chasing you made your body react, almost tripping over your own feet. You expected to feel scared, to fear for your life. But one look at them and fear wasn’t the only thing pushing you. Arousal joined your conflicting emotions, filling every cell of your body with adrenaline, making it hard to breathe as you kept running.

You knew you liked the fear, that peak of anxiety and anticipation that made your adrenaline flow and your body fought for survival. In the dark nights, you imagined being chased through the forest, a presence behind you. And you felt scared, you felt like a demon was coming after you for your impure thoughts… But over that, over all that fear, was a deep desire to be caught.

Your heart was beating so hard you feared they could hear, but other parts of you were awakened. The deep secrets you were hiding weren’t so scared of the monster behind you. The deep secrets were burning you from inside out, trying to escape as fast as you did. The deep secrets made arousal overpower your fear, a wave of heat crashing on you like a tsunami.

“I can smell your fear, little human.” You could hear him inhale, an appreciative hum leaving his mouth. “And your desire.” Your face flushed, you couldn’t stop running, you knew you couldn’t. But the heat racing through your body, pooling at your abdomen, was really hard to ignore. They would catch you. And you didn’t want that. Did you?

You couldn’t answer your own inquiry before you tripped over a root, your body propelling forward. You barely caught yourself before you hit the floor, your palms stopping the worst of the impact. Your body was hurt, your hands were probably scratched. You could smell the blood in the air, and something else. Something different. A deep woodsy scent so similar but so different, spicier, than the woods surrounding you.

“Well, well… You, my little morsel, are a treat.” A deep voice said behind you, making every hair on your body stand up. Shivers ran down your spine as you tried to get up and run again. But you didn’t have time, a big green figure towered over you, grabbing you and throwing you over their shoulder. You screamed, they laughed. “It won’t be long before you are screaming in pleasure instead of fear, little morsel.”

It was too late, they caught you.

To be continued...

#monster x human #monster #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #orc #orc x human #monster x reader #monster kink #monster imagine

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cozage · 8 months

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hii!! can i request for the event?? had this weird little scenario where a little kid goes up to reader, completely in love and confessing their love (even tho reader doesnt know who this little kid is) and the op men just look at what's happening with either a "😬" or "😠" reaction. any characters for this scenario would work but if you could put zoro as part of the 3 that would be great

Child Crushes Send me an event request!

Characters: fem reader x Zoro, Sanji, Shanks Total word count: 600

Zoro

“You are so beautiful!” A child screamed, slamming into you and wrapping his arms around your midrift tightly. “I love you!”

“Hey!” Zoro shouted, reaching for the kid. “Get off her!”

“Zoro!” you chided, shielding the kid from your boyfriend's wrath. “It’s okay!”

“You are the most amazing lady I’ve ever seen! Your smile is radiant, and you are kinder than anyone I’ve ever met!”

You laughed, slowly prying the kid off of you. You were about to bend down to talk to him, but Zoro beat you to it.

“Listen brat,” he hissed. “Go find another beautiful lady! This one is mine.”

The kid stuck his tongue at Zoro. “If you keep being so mean, she’ll leave you for a real man like me!”

“What did you-!”

“Zoro, stop!” you giggled, pulling him away. You looked back at the little boy, giving him a wink. “It was nice to meet you!”

“I’ll see you soon, lovely lady!”

You intertwined your arm with Zoro’s again, laughing at his outburst. “Wanna tell me what that was about?”

“He reminded me of that stupid cook,” Zoro groaned. “Besides, that kid needs to buzz off. You’re already taken.”

Sanji

“Excuse me miss,” a small voice came from behind you, and you turned around.

He was young. Probably around 6 or 7, with caramel brown hair and clear blue eyes.

“Hi there,” you said, breaking away from Sanji’s hold so you could squat down so you were at eye level with him.

“I just wanted to tell you are the most beautiful woman alive.” He held out a wildflower with small white petals. “Will you marry me?”

You giggled at his request. His bluntness reminded you of someone else you knew.

“I’m flattered. How about you come find me when you’re older?” you challenged.

He pushed the flower into your hands. “I will. I’ll never forget you! Until then, here’s something to remember me by!”

He took off, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. You laughed and stood up, your hand returning to Sanji’s.

“You have competition,” you teased.

Sanji hummed pleasantly, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. “He has good taste in women. Can’t argue with that.”

Shanks

You unfolded the note the little boy had given you and read the scribbles across the paper.

Please make my day and kiss me. You are so beautiful and kind. I love you.

Shanks peered over your shoulder, looking at the note, and burst out into laughter.

“Shanks!” you scolded under your breath. “Don’t laugh!”

“Look kid, only a real man gets to kiss this lady.” He planted a messy kiss on your cheek to prove his point.

The kid looked at you and him, and then ran off.

“Shanks!”

“He’ll be back, don’t worry.”

Shanks was right. A few hours later, the kid was standing at the end of the bar, peeking out and watching you from afar.

“You wanna impress her?” Shanks asked, creeping up behind the boy. “Give her a rose and ask her for a kiss. To her face. Like a man.”

“Will that work?” the boy whispered, glancing back at you nervously.

“That’s how I got her to kiss me,” he admitted. “Good news for you, I even have a spare rose.”

The little boy walked up to you, his knees visibly shaking as he gripped the rose in his hands.

“I got this for you,” he said softly. “Will you kiss me?”

Your eyes darted to Shanks, a smile dancing across your lips.

“Thank you,” you said, taking the flower from him and giving him a small peck on the cheek. “I’d be honored to kiss such a polite young man.”

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luveline · 3 days

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Hiii!! Could I request a bombshell reader x Spencer where someone (a local police maybe) says something rude to her about her appearance or something and normally it doesn’t really get to her, but something snaps and she kinda shuts down/is rude to Spencer until he coaxes it out of her? Sorry it’s long I had an idea and ran w it loollll

ty for requesting angel! confident fem!reader, 1k

Spencer shouldn’t expect his colleague to hold his hand, especially one so confident. What sense would that make, a woman as established as you are, who smiles without a lick of worry nor smugness, wanting to hold his hand?

But you do it all the time, is the thing. In the car on the way to crime scenes, in the hallways of the office, under the round table. It started as a tethering for his distractedness, when one day he’d wanted to talk but hadn’t had the presence of mind to walk at the same time, so you’d taken his hand and led him to the office. You’ve been taking it at your discretion ever since.

Spencer knows something is wrong —you haven’t tried to hold his hand all day. And even if you aren’t interested in him romantically, Spencer has come to crave the touch. He’ll accept platonic hand holding. Anything, really.

“You’re staring very deeply, Dr. Reid,” you mutter, shades from your usual lightness.

“I’m thinking.”

“Aren’t you always?”

“About you.”

“Well,” you smile fleetingly. “You should always be thinking about me.”

“You’re truly humble.”

His joke doesn’t land, it crashes and burns; your smile fades completely into a short, sharp line. Your gaze moves back into the restaurant, waiting for the team's food order in silence once again.

Spencer’s pinky finger twitches across the gap.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

“Fine.”

You stay quiet, Spencer worries. He takes the bags before you can when they bring your food to the collection desk, two lumps of heat he holds to his thighs as you begin the walk back to the hotel. Tonight, the team will pick at their food together and rehash the same arguments they’ve been making all day, filling in each other's gaps, and tomorrow the work will start again. He can’t have you this unhappy again tomorrow.

“You’re amazing,” he says, watching you turn to him from the corner of his eye, “you know you are, we all do, everyone who meets you. I know you don’t need me to tell you that, or to feel better, but… I’m here for you. If you want to talk. It’s been a hard couple of days, and talking about traumatic events as they happen and directly afterward make them easier to recover from.”

“I’m not traumatised.”

“Upsetting,” he corrects. “Having a shoulder to cry on is good for you, and I can be that shoulder. You know, if you need me to be.”

He can’t know this in the moment, though maybe one day you’ll tell him, further down the line when the hand holding is better defined, but you look at him and you love him. To know Spencer is to love him. Or at least that’s how you’ve always felt. You’d love to cry on his shoulder about what transpired that morning if it weren’t embarrassing to think about, you’re upset over a throwaway comment made by nobody important.

Spencer offers his company earnestly. He stammers. It’s amazingly sincere, as he usually is. He won’t mind if it’s embarrassing, he’ll just listen.

You clear your throat. “I know I’m not to everyone’s taste. I know that the way I… present myself isn’t what most men like. People love confidence, but not when it’s bossy, not when it’s– when it’s vain. And I am vain. I think about my appearance a lot, I think I’m beautiful most of the time, I try so hard to have that be true.” You eye him thoughtfully. “Do you realise that?”

He shakes his head gently, one ear toward one shoulder and then the other, as though balancing. “Sort of. I know you put effort into your appearance, but I also assume a lot of it to be natural.”

“Right, well. It’s not natural. Not really. My natural beauty wouldn’t be all the beautiful to most people. And I’ve accepted that, I know what I like about myself, and–” You’re losing the thread of your point, an upset creeping into your melodic tone and turning it ragged. “When people tell me they don’t like how I look now, I guess it hurts because I know they wouldn’t like me before, either, and I feel defeated because I know I can’t win.”

“Who said they don’t like how you look?” Spencer asks, confused, on his way to annoyed.

“Officer Friendly.” You look to your shoes, watching the steps you take. “Guess he wasn’t as nice as we thought.”

“What did he say to you?”

You shrug. “Same story. He doesn’t like girls who wear makeup. Doesn’t like uppity women.”

“Did he call you that?”

“What are you gonna do if he did?” you ask without malice.

“Morgan’s teaching me self defence for a reason.” You smile at his light joke, though it doesn’t last. He transfers the takeout bags into one hand, the other held out to you, his fingers sliding down your arm to your wrist. “You know you’re beautiful, with or without makeup. And you’re not uppity, you’re out of his league. There’s a difference.”

“You’re flirting with me.”

“No.” He wishes he had the wherewithal sometimes, but this isn’t flirting. “I’m being honest with you. Men like that don’t like you because they know they’ll never, ever have you, or anyone like you. There isn’t anyone like you,” he adds, sliding his hand into yours.

He squeezes all your fingers together twice in quick succession.

“Don’t let a jealous chauvinist halfwit make you think you’re not good enough,” he says.

You curl your fingers around his before he can take his hand back. Slowly, you squeeze his hand. Then, smiling, you let him go.

“I’ve never heard you say something mean like that,” you say. “Halfwit. That’s crass.”

“I was going to say he’s an asshole, if that’s better.”

Your laugh echoes off of the sidewalk. “That’s perfect. Say something meaner.”

The insult he uses next doesn’t bear repeating.

#spencer and bombshell reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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rynwritesreid · 5 months

Text

Mine, all mine| Spencer Reid

Request| I love your writing and if you're interested of course, I'd really like to read something with jealous Reid x bau!reader . Maybe some angst at first where Spencer is a bit insecure and then it ends in fluff or smut, whatever you decide.

Summary: Spencer starts to feel jealous after realising how many men flirt with you. You try to reassure him, that you don’t want them, and you only want him.

Content: Fem!reader. Some angst, fluff but mainly smut. Jealous Spencer. Dom!Spencer. Sub!reader. Marking/spanking. no mentions of contraception. Pet names (Princess and sir) 18+

Masterlist|Requests are open|Navigation

Spencer Reid had never been a jealous man before, insecure certainly, but jealousy wasn’t his thing. However, lately, a peculiar feeling had been creeping into his thoughts, catching him off guard. It was an unfamiliar sensation that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He saw how other men in the FBI looked at you, or when you were out in the field, how the police would flirt with you. He knew you wouldn’t cheat, you barely entertained the men that talked to you, but he still hated it and thought one of them may take you away from him.

He trusted you though; he had never once doubted your loyalty or intentions. The people Spencer didn’t trust were the men who would watch you like hawks, or flirt with you any chance they got.

You had noticed how he was acting. Though you liked it when he was possessive over you, you wondered if you had giving him any reason to act this way. So, while the rest of your friends were either dancing or getting more drinks, you asked; “Spencer, are you okay? Have I given you any reason to be jealous because that’s what you’re acting like.”

“I’m not jealous. It’s just… you’re mine” Spencer said through grated teeth, while placing his hand gently on your thigh. “Say it, say you’re mine Y/N.”

“Spencer, you know I’m yours. Why are you being like this?” While you knew Spencer could get possessive, he had never once asked you to proclaim to the world you belonged to him.

“I want to hear you say it. I see how other men look at you and hear how they flirt with you. So, say you’re mine. Tell the world you belong to me.” His hand was now gripping your thigh, you knew it was going to leave marks.

“Why are you acting like this Spencer. Do you not trust me?” Spencer's grip tightened, making you wince. His eyes bore into yours, his jaw clenched. “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s them. God, they look at you as if you are naked in their bed.”

You could sense the anger building up in him. You put your hand on top of his, trying to calm him down. "Spencer, please. I'm not going anywhere. You have nothing to worry about."

“Okay. Well just say you’re mine then, that’s all I want to hear.”

You took a deep breath, trying to think of the right words to say to Spencer. You knew that he was just afraid of losing you, but he needed to understand that you were in this relationship because you wanted to be, not because someone was forcing you to.

“I’m yours, Spencer. I belong to you and no one else. I love you and only you,” you said, looking into his eyes and trying to reassure him.

He let out a deep breath, his grip on your thigh loosening. “Thank you,” he said, leaning in to kiss you. His kiss wasn’t gentle, or soft. It was full of passion and possessiveness, devouring you completely. His hand moved to your hair, gripping it tightly as he deepened the kiss even more. You could feel his need for you, his fear of losing you, and his desire to claim you as his own.

As he pulled away, he looked deep into your eyes once again. “I love you, Y/N. But I want to ruin you. Ruin you for other men.” He leaned in, speaking the last part in your ear. “Because you are mine.”

You were left speechless; all could let out was a little whimper. You loved this new side of Spencer.

“I think I’m going to take Y/N home.” Spencer's voice was firm, possessive, and brooked no argument. He pulled you up from your seat and led you out of the bar, his hand gripping yours.

The drive back to his apartment was silent, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turning white. You still hadn’t found your voice, and even if you had, you knew there would be no use in arguing with him.

As soon as Spencer opened the door to his apartment, he pushed you inside and slammed the door shut behind him. He locked the door and turned to face you, his eyes smouldering with intensity.

“You look so beautiful; I can’t really blame those men for looking at you. But maybe I should do something to show them that you’re mine.” He moved so close to you; you could feel his hot breath against your ear. “Leaving little marks on you won’t do it.”

He seemed to think for a while, but you knew he had already thought about what he was going to do. Suddenly, his lips were back on yours, devouring you with a fierce hunger. His hands roamed your body, pulling you closer to him until there was no space left between you.

“I’m going to mark you, Y/N. Show everyone that you’re mine.” Spencer's voice was low and husky. “But my marks aren’t going to be little hickeys. No, my marks are going to leave an impression.” He pulled away from you, leaving you slightly dazed.

You wanted to ask him what he was planning on doing to you if it was going to hurt more than usual. But he didn’t let you speak, before he started talking; “Princess, I’m going to need you to go to the bedroom and wait on your knees. Is that okay?” His voice was soft and gentle, but you could tell it was a command.

You turned around, and started walking towards the bedroom, his eyes never leaving you. You kneeled on the floor, crossed your legs, and placed your hands on your knees. You had done this many times before, but this time felt different.

As you waited for him to join you in the room, you wondered what exactly he was going to do. You had seen what he was capable of, so you weren’t afraid. You saw him walk into the room, his presence didn’t bring much comfort, you saw a look in his eyes, one of annoyance, almost anger.

“You know I’ve noticed how you act when other men give you attention. You like it, don’t you? Am I not good enough?” While he asked a question, one he expected you to answer, you knew he already knew he was good enough.

“Of course, you’re good enough, you’re more than good enough”, you replied softly.

Spencer looked at you, his eyes darkening. He started to take off his belt but hadn’t told you to get up or to start to undress yourself.

“I want you to show me how much I mean to you.” Spencer looked at you as he spoke, his eyes full of desire as he watched you obey his command.

Spencer was standing in front of you, his cock already hard and ready to go.

“Suck it” he growled.

You did as you were told, knowing this is what he wanted. His hands gripped the back of your head as you deepthroated him.

"That's it princess, take it all" Spencer grunted. You felt tears start to well up in your eyes, but you enjoyed this, and you knew he did too. As you looked up at him, you saw the pleasure that was his face, the moans leaving his mouth.

His hand gripped your hair faster and faster, and finally he just yelled "Fuck" and emptied his load down your throat. "Beautiful" he whispered, out of breath.

He sat on the bed and motioned you over. As you went to him, he began to undo your buttons on your shirt. "I'm going to punish you for allowing those men to flirt with you." You nodded, and he let you remove the shirt, taking off your bra in the process.

"Who do you belong too?" Spencer asked.

“You, sir.” you whispered.

“That’s right. And you’re going to feel the pain that you deserve for having me worried all night.” He ran his hand down your bare skin. “Now lay across my lap.”

You got over his lap, and he began spanking you. This wasn’t new, you knew it’s something Spencer enjoyed. It hurt more than usual, but you knew that was because he was angry with you. He spanked you harder and harder until your ass was bright red.

“Have I made my point, princess?” Spencer’s voice was thick.

“Yes, sir.” you said, tears still streaming down your face.

Spencer placed his hand on your ass, rubbing it gently. “Princess, I love you. I just don’t want to see other men trying to take you away from me.” He kissed you, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m sorry, sir.” you whispered.

“Don’t be sorry, just don’t let it happen again.” He pulled your hips closer to him. “You’re going to make me hard again, aren’t you?” He asked with a smirk.

“Yes, sir.” you said softly.

“What are you going to do about it?” He growled.

He looked at you with a smirk before he reached between your legs and started rubbing your clit. "Fuck, you're so wet. Do you enjoy been punished?”

"Yes, sir." you whimpered.

Spencer started rubbing your clit, pinching it, making you moan. He smiled and just watched you, and when he saw the pleasure written across your face, he pushed his fingers deeper inside you, curving them up against your g-spot. He leaned closer to you, your body still moving against his fingers. He licked your neck and whispered "You're mine."

You couldn't say anything, just moved against his fingers. He bit down on your shoulder, then ran his tongue up your neck.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum." You moaned.

"Cum for me, princess." Spencer panted.

You were shaking harder and harder as the pleasure built up inside of you. Spencer started rubbing your clit again, and you came harder than you ever had.

Spencer took his fingers out of you and moved you off his lap, gently laying you on the bed. He stood up and took the rest of his clothes off. He climbed on the bed next to you and leaned over to kiss your lips. He whispered in your ear "You're so beautiful." You could see the lust and love in his eyes. He kissed you again and pulled you closer, pressing his body against yours.

You felt his cock against your legs, and in one quick move he entered you. You moaned against him as he thrust into you. He whispered in your ear, "Fuck, you're so tight."

He wrapped your legs around him as he moved in and out of you. "Such a good girl. You're dripping wet. You like it rough, don't you?" Spencer whispered into your ear. You could only let out a moan in response.

He started thrusting into you harder and harder, until he had no more to give. He pulled out of you and pulled you close to him. He kissed you deeply and said, "I love you." You smiled up at him and said "I love you too, Spencer." You fell asleep in his arms.

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#spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #mgg #mgg x reader #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid angst

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ghouljams · 3 months

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So there’s the Ghost Distribution System but I also like to think there’s the 141 Distribution System. You kind of just ‘acquire’ this hoard of big burly men one by one until you’ve collected the whole set

It's interesting how similar all these men are, how each of them would see you and go, "that's mine" and not wait for an answer.

Price decides he's going to take care of you, make you his the way he'd keep a pampered pet. He sees you, he likes you, you're his. There's no room for argument, and you know it by the way he touches you, the way he moves you and speaks to you. He leaves no room for you to talk back, no reason for you to think you won't give in. He doesn't bother with moving himself into your space, he moves you into his. It's the one night stand that never ends, he keeps finding new reasons to keep you around. You'll never get further than the mailbox, but that's alright. You're well taken care of, he'll give you everything you could ever need. All you have to do is be his.

Soap decides he wants to fuck you. He's not really in the market to take care of someone, but he can't help sticking around afterwards. He can't help reaching to pull you into his lap when you try to leave, can't help curling around you in bed, can't help how his skin itches for you. He needs someone to balance him out, someone to make him feel human again, someone to make the world seem worth it. He's getting callous, you make him feel soft again. He can't let you go. He's yours, and he begs for you the way a dog on death row begs for a hand to touch it gently. You'll never be rid of him now that he knows what he can get from you.

Gaz decides you're who he wants to come home to. He falls for your smile from a distance, watchful for your tastes and hobbies. He falls for the little things about you, the things he can observe and reflect back to you. He sets himself on your doorstep, knows how much care you need and how much you want to care for others, he makes himself what he knows you'll fall for and slowly starts to shed the mask. He pulls you against his chest and coos at you, his pretty baby. He settles his head on your lap and lets you mumble your sweetness to him. He's the perfect man, he's the perfect trap. You're married before you know what's happening, and Gaz couldn't be happier.

#ghoul speaks #x reader #cod x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #captain price x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #the ghost distribution system #manipulative little fucks aren't they?#I would fold for any one of them

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findafight · 2 years

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When someone comes out Steve's immediate gut reaction is to drag their taste in romantic prospects. Robin rejected him and came out and he went full "okay fine but please like BETTER girls oh my god" like the Mean Girl he is. God bless.

When Will blurts that he's in love with Mike (which... Yeah Steve knew that one.) Steve goes "okay there's nothing wrong with liking boys but why wheeler?? You can do so much better Will. Seriously. Literally anyone else." And will is just ?????? He just said he liked boys and Steve's biggest issue is that it's Mike?! "Mike is being a jerk!! He's ignoring you!! Dump his ass, Will!" Most confusing acceptance ever.

Eddie confesses to Steve and the man blinks at him like "but...I'm a prep?? And bitchy? And have had, like, five concussions?"

And Eddie is like "what the fuck are you talking about"

"I'm just saying I doubt I'm your usual type! Obviously I like you back but you could probably do better"

"Steve are you saying my feelings are reciprocated while also being self deprecating n order to insult my taste in men?"

"oh. Yeah. Oops."

Lucas and max come out without specifying crushes (except on each other) so there is no need to drag them for their taste in men or women.

Dustin is like "I literally only like Suzie" and Steve is like "I know this and I love you (and her)" BC Suzie is amazing and helped save the world too. And grey ro/ace Dustin.

The only person whose taste he doesn't criticize is Mike and that's because when he says he's in love with will Steve just goes "he's too good for you" and nothing else.

#stranger things #steve harrington #the party #will byers #mike wheeler #eddie munson #byler #steddie #let steve be a bit of a judgemental bitch!! its canon!!#finda's rambles

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chrollohearttags · 2 months

Text

blerd!ony…💭

been wanting to write about my sweetheart + I needed something self indulgent today so here we are! 🩷

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══ ══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖

you never really liked talking anime or nerd culture with men!…a strange thought but a true one nonetheless. It was always one exhausting conversation after the next. From being giving random pop quizzes about this series or a lecture about how that one doesn’t measure up to the solidified greats. That was until you met blerd!ony…the gentle, kindhearted cashier in the store you frequented on a daily basis. Blerd!ony, who recognized the t-shirt you were wearing immediately from that very obscure yet classic anime you loved so much, became absolutely ecstatic to talk to you from that day on. The tall, gorgeous male with a smile like the stars, the most beautiful complexion you’ve ever seen and a voice like honey had given you even more of a reason to gush over him. “You gotta give me your top five right now. I always see your keychains and shit. You got good taste..” you were a bit hesitant because this was always the point where things went left but blerd!ony surprised you by praising your choices and even saying he’d check out the ones you’d put him on to. blerd!ony, who had a sleeve full of video game themed tattoos took pride in showing off his pieces when you happened to catch him outside on smoke break one night. Telling you how he played all the time and even streamed a bit in his free time. “I do alright, you should check me out.” blerd!ony, who was always holding up the line just to chat with his favorite customer about the new series he just started. “I’m talking to my girl, y’all can wait—anyways, did you see that new episode? Shit was crazy.” it wasn’t long before he was asking for your socials and hoping to keep the communication going on days even when he couldn’t see you. blerd!ony, who couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the girl who came in his store with sweatpants and a DBZ shirt all dolled up in your cosplays..some a lot more revealing than others. blerd!ony, who’d always wanted to try the hobby but was afraid had some questions..among other things the next time he saw you. “I see how it is, best friend. You be putting that shit on.” you were infatuated with his humor and laid back personality so naturally, when he invited you to an anime cafe in your city, you accepted. blerd!ony, who was the perfect gentleman ensured that you had the best time as you two chopped it up about all things nerdy, making you laugh more than you had in a long time.

blerd!ony, who confided in you that he didn’t have many friends and especially ones into the things he was, told you how happy he was to have met you. “You cool as hell, we gotta do this more often.” a sentiment you agreed with heavily agreed with. Some time had passed and you two spoke nearly everyday. That’s when he revealed that he was not only interested in attending his first con but cosplaying as well, asked you accompany him..and pick a character! “I trust you, ma. Make me look good..” it was a no brainer as the two of you were huge fans of the Mortal Kombat series and decided to dress as Sindel and Shao Kahn. So the two of you spent days going to the fabric store and ordering materials to build props in your spare time..blerd!ony, who was turning heads the entire time when he revealed that Adonis like figure that had been hiding underneath that company polo everyday..you were nervous and even a little embarrassed walking beside someone so fine. but blerd!ony couldn’t keep his eyes off of you or hands..holding your left one, keeping you close and grasping the small of your back as he guided you through the crowds. Even carrying all of your bags and letting you rest your tired feet on his lap. blerd!ony, who had been eyeing you all day couldn’t help but to be entranced when it was time for the after party and the two of you were dancing with liquor in your system. “You full of surprises, huh mama?” “Try me and you might find out just how many.” blerd!ony, who couldn’t wait to get back to you guys’ hotel room, tore that costume open quicker than you could get the door open..leaving a trail of warm kisses down your neck as his fingers delved into your core, pinning you against the wall in the process. “You so fucking sexy..” muttering in your ear as he hiked your leg up and tugged his bottoms down. blerd!ony, who fucked you like a man starved that night had you grasping at things that weren’t even there..taking you from the mirror, to the dresser and eventually the bed, where he gave you deep backshots; grasping that platinum gray lace front on your head as he did so. “You don’t know how long I been wanting this..fuck..” blerd!ony, who had you fucking up the sheets all night, getting stretched by that thick cock with the curve, absolutely depleted you, so much so, you two barely made it around the convention the next day but he was glad that he had met the girl who loved the same things he did and the one of his dreams. <3

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norrisleclercf1 · 14 days

Note

For Mafia!Carlos, the “you came” “You called” trend where she calls him as a last resort, not really knowing what to expect from her new husband and him being all like “I would die for you, I thought you knew?”

A/N: I'm a sucker for this trope but also for the overprotective arranged husband whose secretly always been in love with reader, and who touched you too so yep yep loving this

He was the last person you wanted to call, but right now sitting inside the police station with a busted lip and eyebrow, your jeans shredded at your knees, and shirt with blood, with purse, phone, and your wedding and engagement ring completely gone.

You couldn't call your father, he sold you to your husband, couldn't call your mother she was a useless shell of herself. No siblings to call, and no friends as they'd tell him anyways. "Ma'am, do you want to call someone?" This kid of an officer sits down next to you, hanging you an ice pack. "Can you call my husband?" You whisper, tasting iron from when you spoke. "Okay, what's his name?" The officer was kind, but young.

"Carlos Sainz," The color in the poor officer face drains hearing that and gives you a wobbly smile. "I know, I know, it'll be okay," You pat the boy's arm and he stands going right to the phone and picking it up, dialing the number. You don't listen but you can see the blood draining his entire body before he hangs up and sits down next to you.

"Here," You place the blanket on his lap and he smiles, the two of you making small talk. "Is he coming?" A part of you fully believing he didn't care one bit about you being here. You don't get an answer as the police station door swings open and men swarm the place. The young boy moves the blanket onto your lap and stands as Carlos storms in.

He was wearing an all black suit and stops seeing the officer and then seeing you. "Why the fuck aren't there medics here?" "Carlos, stop, I just want to go home." He stops, and sighs running his fingers through his hair. "Okay, okay mi corazón." He whispers and moves to your side and tries to control his rage seeing the dried blood all over you. "I fought," He looks down at you, as you wrap your arms around his waist, standing on wobbly legs.

"What, baby?" "I fought them, that's why I'm hurt. They wouldn't have hit me had I just given them, everything, but the rings..." Looking down at your bruised fingers. Carlos scuffs, "I don't care about the rings, mi corazón, I care about you. Let's go home and get you cleaned up.

"I didn't think you'd come," You whisper taking small steps as they had kicked you in the ribs. "Of course, I came, you called. We'll not really but you know what I mean," You giggle, stopping your smile when you feel fresh blood pool in your mouth.

"Thank you, Dad would've.....nevermind." Carlos hums and moves you to the back of the car and helps you in, before joining you in the back. "Carlos?" You hated to ask him this, but right now you needed comfort. "What is it, love?" Wiping the blood away you look at your husband. "Can, can you hold me? And stay with me tonight?" Carlos's eyes grow wide, but he quickly schools his face and nods.

Unbuckling you, he pulls you into his lap, where you rest your head on his shoulder, hiding your face in his neck. Carlos sighs, holding you softly yet, securely as he refused to let anyone else but him touch you.

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miguel-ohara-wifey · 9 months

Text

Spiderverse men when they’re sexually frustrated

Rating: 18+

Peter B Parker

-He’s the best at hiding it, he gets quieter. And when he does speak his on brand dry deflections get notably bitchier. Before you porn was how he got off. It was a means to an end, there wasn’t anything sexy he found. He just needed a release then he’d go about his day.

-But you, you are sexy. With you it’s a delicious spiral of physical and emotional intimacy only you two shared. And when he wanted more he needed more.

-His pants would get tighter just being in the same room as you, his eyes would fall to his favorite parts of you to grab onto during the act. He’d press his touch to linger longer on your skin. Peter would tenderly dry hump you when you’d let him get that close. Sending every wordless signal in the book that he wants you, he needs you.

-If that doesn’t send the message, he’ll cheekily say hes got something to show you in your bedroom. Tenderly leashing his grip onto your hend as he leads you. Once that doors closed. He kisses you with a fervent hunger.

-Violently rubbing his fingers against your skin, aggressively hammering his hips into yours. Eating away at your lips, and in between gasps he’d say.

“Jesus baby, you gonna tease me without even trying?…do you have any idea what this body does to me…?”

Miguel O’Hara

-This man isn’t the least bit subtle, it would just take him a while to realize. He’s not a man who lets his guard down easily. Even when he’s in a committed physical and emotional relationship. His baggage often intersects between every milestone of your relationship.

-However when the itch in his mind and dick isn’t scratched for enough. He acts, he gets grabby. Massaging the flush of your ass and even getting hold of your pussy. He doesn’t need to ask when his fingers do all the talking for him.

-If you playfully deny him, he’ll get even angrier. Lashing out more at the spider society members, refusing to eat or drink. Zeroing in on his work praying the audio cues of his holographic computers can drown out the scream of sexual fantasies his head is playing. How desperately he needs you more than sleep and air.

-When you do finally let him hit, foreplay is the name of the game. He just needs to satiate the surface level lust of his fangs tasting the flesh of your throat. Your whimpering and cries for his cock when you denied him earlier.

-Its his payback time as what you done to him he does back ten fold. Denying you his length exploring your insides. Even to the point of you crying, he’d laugh as he humps you with the same fervor he preforms during sex.

“What happened?…thought you didn’t want this…thought my cock rearranging your insides as my tongue takes control of your mouth wasn’t what you needed? Beg for it more and I’ll consider it…”

Hobie Brown

-Hobies in tune with himself, he knows the burning sensations weaved into his muscles for your touch is cause you two haven’t had much alone time lately. Even if you’re casual, he could go out and fuck someone else whose down. It wouldn’t be the same.

-Like his hands tightened around his cock, crafting friction with his violently shifting grip. His length has a mind of its own, it belongs to you and only you.

-He doesn’t sexually initiate usually, he lets you take the lead in the bedroom department. It’s not all about him and he takes no risks in potentially coercing you into sex. So weeks could pass when nothing happens between you too. And he’s trying to jerk himself off every other night.

-But when you finally go down on your knees, trying to undo his jean zipper. Is when he can finally relent. Tenderly combing his hand into your hair, massaging your scalp as you choke on his cock. He has to resist not giving out right when he feels your tongue on his foreskin.

-Your blowjobs are a thing of art, he creates new rips in his sheets by the violence of his fingernails digging into the fabric. Cause of how good the inside of your mouth feels around him.

“Christ love, Jesus Christ….you’re too good…fuck too good.”

#18+#miguel ohara #spider punk #Spider-Man 2099 #Spider-Man #peter b parker x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #Hobie brown x reader #Peter B Parker x reader #hobie brown x reader #headcanons #spiderverse hcs #spiderverse #hcs #hobie brown #Peter B Parker #miguel O’Hara

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holylulusworld · 2 months

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TOL - Like a virgin (1) - Bucky Barnes

Summary: You need money. Hansen’s agency offers the right kind of trade.

Pairing: DBF!Bucky Barnes x Virgin!Reader

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, unnamed other reader (Hansen’s girl)

Warnings: money problems, sex for money, selling your virginity, blindfolding, sex with a stranger, groping, oral (fem rec), fingering, teasing, dirty talk, loss of virginity, slow sex, smut, unprotected sex, possessive Bucky, undefined age gap, dad’s best friend trope, Lloyd being Lloyd, language, mentions of past death of a loved one, fluff

A/N: This story is part of my: Traders of love (lust) masterlist

A/N2: It's also a request fill for my 16.666 followers celebration masterlist. Sorry, this took me so long. I'm working on all the requests left for this celebration.

Words: 3,9 k

“Do you know what you get yourself into if you sign this contract?” Lloyd Hansen, the devil with blue eyes asks.

“I need to money and uh…I tried anything else. I worked my ass off and even sold my car. It’s no use,” you exhale deeply to calm your racing heart. “The debts are eating me alive, and the only thing left that I could sell is my…virginity.”

He watches you squirm in your seat, amused, and aroused at the same time. “Aw, you’re a cute little cupcake. I’d love to have a taste of you myself, but I don’t shit where I eat – you know.”

Lloyd cocks a brow when you reread the standard contract he handed to you. “So, you will put me on your website and your customers will buy me?” You blink a few times to not cry. This feels so surreal and wrong. How did you stoop so low that you sold your body to a stranger?

“Kinda,” Lloyd gets up from his chair to show you his iPad. “We don’t sell you off to a random douche. I don’t want a cute muffin like you to end up under a sick bastard. All my clients are gentlemen.”

You nod slowly and try to remember every detail he tells you. “Okay.”

“You can choose ten out of my clients and, if you want to, a wild card.” Lloyd hands you the tablet. “If you choose only ten out of my clients one of them will have the honor to fuck you first.”

You fight the urge to scrunch your nose up. “What’s the wild card?” You look up from the iPad to meet Lloyd’s eyes.

“If you choose ten men and the wild card, you will get more money,” he explains. “The start offering will be one million dollars. You’ll get six hundred thousand dollars, and I’ll arrange everything for your safety.”

You gasp loudly. This amount of money would save you and allow you to live a better life. You don’t care Lloyd will have almost half of the money. He provides the hotel suite and will make sure that you’ll come home safely.

“The men will attend an online auction. They will bid on you. If you get lucky, they will pay more than one million bucks.”

“Wow!” You exclaim. Even if it’s the worst thing you’ll ever do, this arrangement will help move on from your past and pay your debts.

“Now, I’ll tell you about the wild card,” Lloyd sits next to you. “The wild card is special. You cannot choose this man, but you’ll get two hundred and fifty thousand bucks more. No matter who wins the auction. You’ll get eight hundred and fifty thousand bucks.”

“He’s not a creep, right? I don’t want my first time to be with someone hurting me or ignoring my safe word,” you wring your hands.

“The wild cards are my special clients. These men have my trust, sweetness,” Lloyd says. “The inner circle of my organization. It consists of ten men. You will find none of them in my files.”

“I could need the extra money,” you ponder. “You promise that they are not crazy or shit?”

“I’m the craziest guy in this organization,” he flashes you a smile. “And you are not scared of me, right?”

“You’re intimidating,” you shyly admit as you glance at Lloyd. “But you didn’t hurt me or scare me. You were nice.”

“Hah, did ya hear that, sunshine?” Lloyd yells, making you flinch. The door immediately flies open, and his assistant walks inside. “See, she thinks I’m nice.”

“Yeah, because she doesn’t know you like I do,” she puts her hands on her hips and glares at Lloyd. “Sweetie don’t let him talk you into this wild card shit. His buddies are the worst, and he’s the king of shit!”

“Darling don’t be rude,” he gets up to wrap his arms around her waistline. She squirms in his hold, giggling while pushing against his shoulders. “Give your man a kiss.”

“Not until you get rid of that mustache!”

“You love the mustache. It makes your clit all tingly when I go down on you,” he steals a kiss, and gropes her plump ass. “If not for my new client, I’d fuck you right here and now to put a little Lloyd inside of you.”

“You’ll take care of the sweet girl first. You better not pressure her into this shit,” she grunts and pushes Lloyd off her. “I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

She walks back outside and closes the door with a loud thud.

“A hell of a woman,” he hums and adjusts his pants. “I found her—” Lloyd clears his throat. “Never mind. That’s a story to tell later.”

“Can you tell me what the men will expect? I mean, aside from having sex with me.”

Lloyd smirks. “You don’t have to worry about kinky shit. The contract includes vaginal sex - missionary, or doggy style. Maybe a blow job. Protection is a must. If you want it to be pleasurable for you too, play with your pussy, or think of something nice.”

“I’d imagine Bucky,” you blur out. “I—fuck.” You curse when Lloyd cocks a brow. “He’s my dad’s best friend, and a little older than me. Not a gramps or something.”

“Bucky, huh?” He nods thoughtfully. “That’s an interesting name.”

“It’s a nickname,” you hastily say. “His real name is James Buchanan Barnes.” You swoon now. “He never looked at me twice, but if I want to get off, I always imagine him.”

“As long as you don’t moan his name, I don’t care what you do to get into the mood,” Lloyd says, but there’s something in his eyes you can’t quite put a finger on. “Back to the options. Wild card yes or no?”

You look at the iPad again. What is one more stranger, right? “Yes.”

“Barnes,” Lloyd grins like the devil. “Hey, no swear words, sunshine. I got a nice little deal for you.” He grunts and mutters into the phone. “Would you just listen for a moment? A nice little bird came to me. I think you know her…”

“Y/N!” Your dad’s best friend jogs next to you. “Hey, long time no see.”

“Uh-hi,” you squeak when he wraps you in a hug. “Nice to see you, Bucky.”

“How have you been?” He releases you to lock you up and down. “You look a little stressed. Is everything alright? You know that you can always come to me. I’m like an uncle to you.”

“Uncle,” you wrinkle your nose. “Right.” You shake your head at the naughty thoughts wanting to force their way to the front of your mind. “I’m good. Really. Nothing to worry about.”

“You sure?” He presses on. “If you are scared to tell your dad, tell me. I won’t say a thing.”

“I said that I’m fine,” you snap at him as a woman gets out of his car and calls his name. “How about you go back to your arm candy and leave me alone? We haven’t heard of you for two years.”

You twirl around and storm off. You don’t need anyone to help you. Lloyd offered more money than you’ll need to pay the debts your dad left you when he passed away.

Bucky didn’t even know about it because he just doesn’t care…

“Pumpkin,” Lloyd claps his hands as you walk inside the expensive penthouse suite. “You look stunning.” He grins as you squirm under his gaze.

He walks toward you to hand you the iPad. “The wild card won the auction,” he casually says. “I transferred the town hundred and fifty thousand bucks to your bank account. This is the point of no return. If you want out, say it now.”

“I know,” you released a shuddery breath. “I don’t want to do this, but I need the money. It’s one night with a guy you trust. So…let’s get this over with.”

“On the bed is something the wild card got for you. OH, and he wants you to put the blindfold on. It’s his special request,” Lloyd gently pats your shoulder. “I promise he’s a good guy, and won’t hurt you, pumpkin. Just remember the only two rules. Never ask why they pay you for sex, and, never let them do anything you don’t want to.”

“Thank you—” you close your eyes and take deep breaths. “I can do this. Please leave me alone now. I need to get ready.”

“If he crosses a line,” Lloyd says. “You say Lloyd, and I take the door down.”

“What? I don’t understand.” You furrow your brows.

“Just say Lloyd.” He whispers in your ear.

“Lloyd,” you say, and the lights in the room turn red. An alarm shrills and you need to cover your ears. “Oh…wow.”

“See, I take care of my girls. Do not let him gag you, though,” he warns. “If he tries anything you don’t agree to, yell my name and I’m there in a split-second.”

You nod and give Lloyd a shy smile. “Thank you.”

“I make money with my girls. I don’t want them to get hurt or worse,” he says. “I’m not a saint or a good guy. But no one hurts my girls.”

You watch him leave the room and release another shuddery breath.

He’s right. This is it. The point of no return…

The gift from the wild card is a silky nightie dress in your favorite color. Midnight blue. It has a plunging back and lace-lined cups. It fits you like a second skin.

You close your eyes and count to ten to calm your racing heart as you put the blindfold on. It’s the wild card’s special wish, and you don’t want to piss him off right away.

Maybe the blindfold will make things easier. You can imagine any face, while the stranger is inside of you.

“You look breathtakingly beautiful.” You shudder as his voice is deep and rough. He entered the room without making a noise, and now he’s already so close you feel his breath fan over your neck. “I see you are wearing my gift.”

“Yes…Sir…” You breathlessly reply. His hands ghost over your arms, touching you gently. “Or do you want me to call you something else?”

“Hmm…” He hums. “We will see, doll.” You whimper at the pet name. “Can I call you doll? Is that alright with you?” His lips press against your neck, he nips at the sensitive spot behind your ear. “I need you to answer me.”

“Yeah, that’s alright with me,” you are already enchanted by the stranger. His scent is intoxicating, and his voice goes straight to your core.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, doll,” he wraps one arm around your waistline to bring you close to his body. His chest is bare, and you feel his skin pressed against yours. “I dreamed of doing this with you.”

“You did?” You purr and lean your head against his shoulder. “What do you want to do with me?”

“You’ll see,” he chuckles as you press your butt into his crotch. “You’re eager to get me going, huh? Don’t worry. I’m already so hard for you it hurts.”

He releases you and steps away to admire your wrecked state. You’re a panting mess, and your legs quiver. “Beautiful and so responsive.” He’s back on you to slide the thin straps of the nightie down your shoulders. The stranger nips at your neck, leaving little love bites on his way. “I can’t wait to have you.”

“You have me,” you move your hand behind you, blindly grasping for his hair. He’s a stranger but feels so good against you. “I want you to have me.”

“I know, doll,” he whispers in your ear while shoving the nightie down your shoulders. The fabric drops to the ground and pools around your ankles. “I love how you feel against me. I bet you feel even better around me.”

His hands cup your breasts. One warm and soft, the other cold and a little rougher. He gropes your soft flesh and pinches your nipples. This stranger plays with your body and pulls all the right strings.

You don’t have to imagine someone else. His lips nipping at your earlobe, and his hands, those skilled tools press moans and whimpers out of you. “Sir…”

“It’s alright, doll. Be as vocal as you want to,” he smirks against your skin. “Relax and let me take good care of you.”

“Yes—” you hiss when he meaningly tugs at your nipples. “Ouch.”

“You are a big girl and can take it, baby doll,” he grinds into you to rub his aching cock against your butt. “I bet your pretty cunt is wet for me.”

Your voice fails. He’s moving one hand between your legs and pinches your clit through your soaked panties. “I knew it.” He teasingly pinches your clit, igniting another spark deep within you. “You’re mine now. Only mine. After tonight, you’ll never want another man. Say it!”

His other hand rips your panties off of your body, taking you by surprise. You squeak and giggle as he twirls you around. “You’re all I imagined you’d be,” he cups your face and presses his lips to yours.

You’ve been kissed before – but not like this. His lips are soft and tender, but the kiss gets heated when his hands move to your ass to hoist you up.

You end up in his arms and sling your legs and arms around his body out of instinct.

“Your lips taste like heaven.” He purrs while walking toward the bed. “I bet your sweet pussy tastes like sin.” You end up on the soft mattress, the stranger on top of you.

He kisses you again, slowly, and sensually this time. “I’m gotta have a taste, doll.” You wish you could watch him kiss his way down your body. It feels like his lips and hands caress every inch of your body they can reach. “It’s alright. You don’t have to be afraid.”

The stranger moves lower, kissing you right above your belly button. He moans against your skin, making you shiver at the slightest touch.

His hands move over your thighs, spreading them wide so he can settle between your legs.

“Let me have a taste of heaven,” he presses a searing kiss to your pussy. “I’ve got you, doll.”

You shudder feelings his nose brushes your clit. “So pretty down here too,” he murmurs against you. His breath tickles your folds, leaving you wanting more. “Shhh…” He shushes you. “I only want to eat this sweet cunt out.”

He spreads your pussy lips, to look at your clit. “Ah…S-ir.” You stammer. “What are you doing?”

“Did no man ever put his mouth on you?” He looks up at you from between your legs, groaning loudly when you shake your head. “Good. I’m your first for everything then.”

Your mouth falls open. Why would he want to do such a thing? Isn’t this night all about him, not you? “Why?”

“I love eating pussy, doll,” he laughs. “And I want you slippery wet so I can shove my dick right into your tight little hole.”

You grab your tits, squeezing your flesh to do anything but lie there and wait for the stranger to rule your body.

He teases your pearl with the tip of his tongue, eager to please you. A shudder runs through you. You are so lost in his touch that you nearly forget this is about him and that he paid you to touch you.

This is not love-making, but a business transaction. “Please just fuck me…”

“Not yet,” he slaps your pussy lips. “I want you to be a good girl and let me enjoy every moment. “This includes tasting your cunt.”

“Oh-“ It never crossed your mind that a man could be interested in eating you out before getting off. “Be my guest.” You sass and spread your legs wider. “I’m on the menu tonight.”

“That you are,” he kisses the inside of your left thigh, caressing the soft skin with his lips and tongue. “But only for me.” He turns his attention toward your right thigh.

He wraps his arms around your legs and pulls you closer to his mouth. “Fuck, you smell so good, doll.” You gasp the moment he licks up your sex. It’s a new sensation and you already love it. “Use my face, come on.”

You bite your lower lip. Can you do this? Lloyd said this is all about the man’s fantasy, but he wants to give you pleasure too.

“Fuck,” you nod and start grinding your pussy against his mouth, hoping to get more of this new feeling. “Please.”

“Soon, baby doll,” he purrs and flicks his tongue to play with your little nub. You wiggle on the bed, grinding as he uses his mouth to send sparks of pleasure through your body. You don’t think, just feel.

You whimper and moan hearing him groan against you. He throws your left leg over his shoulder, spreading you wide as he teases your soaked hole with the tip of his index finger. “Oh God, yes. Please just put it inside,” you become impatient. “Fuck…please.”

He laughs but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pushes one finger inside, curling his digit inside of you. “Relax, doll. I’m gonna give you my cock soon enough.”

“Y-es…p-lease,” you can’t think straight. Your body is on fire, and you need release, or you’ll lose your mind. “Please I want you to…”

“Baby,” he purrs while slowly starting to fuck you with his finger. “Soon…I’ve been waiting to have you for so long.”

He adds another finger, now pressing his fingertips against your sweet spot. “Fuck,” you exclaim loudly. “Ah, there…I need… I want…”

“No,” you don’t get to cum. He scissors you open, ignoring that you beg and plead. “Not yet. You’ll cum on my cock only. I want to feel you fall apart for the first time while I’m inside of you.”

“Fuck!”

“Oh baby doll,” he coos when you sniffle, and slam your fists into the mattress. “I don’t want to be cruel, only to make it easier for you to take me.”

“Please, I only want to feel you,” you hold out your hands, sniffling louder. “I need you to do it now before I get scared.”

“Shit,” you feel his fingers slip out of you. He crawls up your body and kisses you slowly. “Baby doll, tell me if you want me to stop. We don’t have to do this.”

“You pai—” He silences you with his lips and makes you forget that you are only here for him to get what he paid for. “I want you.” You don’t know why, but it’s true. All you want is to feel him inside of your body.

“Are you sure?” He asks against your lips. “Baby doll?”

“Yes,” you blindly grasp for him. “Please fuck me. I don’t want to wait any longer.” You don’t tell him that the man you wanted to be your first would never even look at you twice.

“You don’t have to beg me.” He angles his hips to run the tip of his cock up and down your folds. “I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and a high-pitched shriek escapes your throat feeling his length slide slowly into you. He stills his hips, groaning loudly as your walls strain against his intrusion.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby doll.” He buries his face in your neck, murmuring your name as he moves back and forth, always pushing a little deeper. “Open up to me, pretty doll.”

It hurts a little, and you hide your face in his shoulder, whimpering any time he tilts his hips. “I know, baby doll. It will feel good soon. Let me just,” he breathlessly whispers in your ear. “I’m gonna make love to you, Y/N.”

You bite his shoulder when he slides all in with the next thrust. A whimper escapes your lips, and you claw at his back. “Shhh…you are doing so good for me, baby. I’m proud of you, my sweet princess.”

He wraps one arm around you and removes the blindfold with one swift motion. You gasp and dig your nails into his back. “Bucky?” You can’t help but whimper his name. “What?”

“I couldn’t let you do this. I wanted you for so long.” He claims your lips in a soft kiss. “You refused to take my help so I…”

“It’s you,” you cling to Bucky. “Not some stranger…it’s you…” you sniffle. “You’re here…”

“Yeah,” he breathes against your lips. “Do still want to…”

You wrap your legs around his waistline. “Yes…hell yes…” You grunt. “Please don’t stop now. We can’t stop now.”

He nuzzles his face in your neck and digs his knees into the mattress. You melt into his arms, knowing it’s not a stranger, but the man you adored and loved for years.

“We already broke all the rules, Y/N,” he slowly starts rocking his hips. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Bucky curses as you claw on his back. “My doll.”

He’s pushing harder into you with every thrust. It doesn’t matter that you feel like you are in a limbo of pleasured pain, or that you forgot the condom. All you are capable of is to stare up at Bucky as he takes you apart.

Your body belongs to him and opens up to Bucky like a flower finally deciding to bloom. Your core burns with desire for more of him. “Please.”

“I’ve got you, Y/N,” he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, causing you to cry out loudly. Something drops to the ground in the room next door, but you don’t care.

You rock your body in sync with Bucky, urging him on to claim you, and your whole being. Even if you should be mad at him for tricking you, you can’t. Not when he pushes you over the edge, his name on your lips nor when he spills into you, cursing your name.

“Baby,” he worriedly looks down at you. You are panting heavily and are unable to open your eyes. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah…I’m good…”

Bucky slowly pulls out to lie next to you. He opens his arms and watches you lie on his chest.

“Why did you never come back?” You run your hand over his sweaty chest. “Bucky?”

“Your dad found out that I had a thing for his beloved daughter,” he runs his hand over your head. “I’m sorry. He left me no choice but to stay away from you. I had to keep my distance.”

“You could’ve come to his funeral,” you sniff. “Why did you leave me all alone?”

“I had problems with the law, and I was in the middle of a divorce. You didn’t need a drunk wreck longing for you,” he whispers. “I had to wait until I’m better and then Hansen called, telling me about your problems.”

“That fucker,” you grumble. “I knew he was going to trick me!”

“Don’t worry, baby doll,” Bucky softly says. “I paid all your dues before coming here. I just couldn’t resist you any longer. I had to have you.”

He lifts his head to look you in the eyes. “Can you forgive me, Y/N?”

“I’ll consider forgiving you if you explain everything to me later. Like – how do you know Lloyd Hansen? And what is going on with his assistant?”

“You will get to know everything.” He pecks your lips. “For now, all you need to know is that I love you…always have…”

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mobster!bucky barnes x reader #smut #virgin reader #bucky barnes x female reader #dbf!bucky barnes #16.666 followers requests #TOL - Like a virgin (Bucky Barnes)

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some-bunniii · 12 days

Text

Lucifer saves you from a cult

・❥ You’re about to be sacrificed for a satanic ritual, until a handsome, charming stranger comes to your rescue.

~9.5k words

x: reader is g/n, no use of y/n. wanted to play around with the cult concept again, but this time much less angsty. had fun with this one, hope you enjoy!

warning: sexual themes, cult stuff

The first thing you remembered when you awoke, blind and dazed, was the thick, musty scent of damp earth.

The air tasted stagnant on your tongue, as you parted your lips to wet the cracked, delicate skin. Throat dry, quenched of thirst, and stomach growling softly, you lifted your cheek from the cold dirt.

Where were you? How did you get here?

The fabric against your eyes prevented you from recognizing anything in your surroundings, the only object visibly present was the warm, orange glow that peeked through the blindfold tied around your head. It flickered with life, a dancing light that you could only guess was a lamp of some kind.

Thin, plastic restraints kept your wrists bound tightly behind your back, dull pain radiating from where they dug into your skin.

Dull pain radiated from where they dug into your skin. For a few moments, you laid perfectly still, using your remaining senses to listen for anyone or anything in the vicinity. Still, you were rewarded with nothing and no clue of your whereabouts.

Slowly, you rolled onto your back and awkwardly shifted to sit on your knees. You turned your head, facing the dull light flickering softly behind the cloth against your eyes. What now? Head towards the light, or away from it?

Your breath quickened, heart pounding as the situation began to settle in your mind. Someone kidnapped you, bound you, and then left you here in the dark for whatever gruesome fate was coming. Unless this was some kind of weird surprise party pulled by a friend, there was no way whoever was near had good intentions.

Almost on cue, footsteps echoed somewhere far off to your right, closing in on your location. You tensed, holding in a breath as you shrunk to the ground. Then, a second set of footsteps entered the vicinity, closing in on your location.

They seemed to have arrived somewhere right in front of you, but were obscured by something, perhaps a wall as the footsteps halted.

“Hail Satan,” A low, masculine voice echoed into your ears.

“Hail Satan,” the other replied, as if in greeting, “Is the sacrifice ready?”

What did he say? Satan? Sacrifice?

“Yes,” the other hissed with delight, “Once we finish the preparations at the main chamber, we will deliver them cleansed and ready to the prophet.”

Were they talking about you?

“Let's hope this year turns out to be successful, we’ve already sacrificed the lamb already” the other grumbled, shifting beneath a large “Good job keeping an eye out all night, but Brother Erik has requested your presence. He is waiting for us near the goat pen.”

“Of course. The sleeping agent we used was highly potent, they shouldn’t awaken for another couple of hours,” the man replied, and you heard footsteps receding from the scene, the shuffling of gravel fading in the distance as you exhaled a breath of relief.

This was bad, really bad. You needed to get out of here, now.

Leaning forward, your forehead hit the ground as you dragged your face across the dirt. The blindfold was forcibly peeled off your eyes, and they flew open as soon as you rose back onto your knees. You blinked, turning your head to observe the strange scene, heart pounding.

Rough, stone walls encircled you, the small torch attached to the wall cast orange light across the room, revealing a row of large barrels and wooden boxes marked with strange symbols. You were in a cave, these strange men dragged you underground?

There didn’t seem to be anything to break your bindings, and the only way out was a small human-sized gap in the rocks that glowed softly with the same orange light as the torch nearby. Maybe, if you were careful enough, you’d be able to slip away undetected and find a way out.

Slowly you rose unsteadily to your feet, taking a final, deep breath as you took a step toward the cave's exit. There were definitely torches outside, and from what you could see the walls were still rocky. A tunnel? It would be difficult with your hands bound, but at least it would be lit and you could use the torches as a guide.

Right as you crossed the threshold, your body connected with another equally firm, but squishy being as they ran into you with surprised oof.

You froze for a moment, your brain kicking into survival mode and your body instinctively using a leg to shove the stranger backwards, before reeling away.

“Don’t come any closer!” You shouted, and the hooded figure jumped at your outburst, raising his hands towards you and shaking his head vigorously as you stumbled backward.

“Shhhhh!” He hissed, his yellow gaze practically glowing from underneath the dark hood as he advanced on you quickly, “They are going to hear us!”

Your back hit the wall, and you winced in pain as jutted rocks dug into your back. That was the least of your concerns though, as you opened your mouth to scream again right as the robed man reached you, before he lifted a hand to clamp around your mouth.

His palm was warm, hot to the touch even as they were planted firmly against your lips. His face was inches from yours, but in the barely lit room, it was just his usual-colored eyes that you could make out underneath the hood.

“Just keep quiet while I—”

You didn’t give your attacker time to get any closer, before you parted your lips and jerked your head harshly to the side. You chomped mercilessly down onto his skin, his fingers in between your teeth as you thrashed.

The hooded figure yelped, pulling his hand away from your face with furrowed brows as his gaze flicked from his hand to your angry figure.

“You bit me!” He cried, rubbing his fingers with a small frown as you rose to your feet, arms still bound behind your back as you glared at him with ferocity.

“And I’ll do it again!” You retorted, straightening your posture as you rose to full height.

“Quiet! I’m trying to help you!” He whispered, turning his head to check the open doorway before meeting your gaze again.

“Help me? Dressed like that?” You laughed, your eyes lowering to the upside-down cross tied around his neck and the pentagram sewn on the sleeves of his robe.

“I know, I know, it looks bad,” The stranger growled at himself, backing away closer to the torch to give you space, “But, if you turn around so I can get those bindings off you, I can prove I’m here to help.”

“You really expect me to turn my back to you?” You laughed in disbelief.

“If you don’t want to, I can just… leave,” He finally shrugged.

“Leave?”

“Yep, out that doorway right there,” he pointed behind him, and the glow from the torch nearby was beginning to reveal his features, and you could see the hint of a smile on his face.

Was he really being truthful? Fuck, it was a 50/50 shot. You bit your lip painfully, deep in thought. Finally, you sighed, facing the rock wall away from the stranger, your wrists exposed to him.

You felt the hairs on your forearms raise like static, before you felt its familiar, painful tiny shock against your wrists. You flinched just as the bindings snapped, slipping from your raw skin onto the ground beneath.

You gasped softly, freedom finally in your grasp as you lifted your hands to rub at the stinging marks rubbed into your skin.

He was closer, now, but not close enough to cut your restraints. That was odd, did you bite him that hard he backpedaled as soon as you were free?

“See? No harm done?” He smiled innocently at you, before he backed away to the cave’s entrance.

Slowly, you followed, taking closer and closer steps towards the figure, mind racing.

What if you bolted? Pretend to follow the man and make a mad dash for the exit as soon as the chance arose. You could outrun a couple of satanic-worshiping old geezers, couldn’t you?

Except, he promised to help you, and seeing as you took a nasty chomp at his hand and he was still trying to free you… maybe, sticking close to this guy wasn’t too bad of an idea.

As you neared the entrance, the stranger turned to you, and the torchlight finally lit up his face. You almost stopped dead with shock, as your eyes traced over his features.

His porcelain skin practically glowed in the dim environment, like starlight on fresh snow. You’ve never seen a man so white before, and never so gorgeous either. His supple, plump lips curved slightly at your reaction, a hint of amusement in those odd, yellow eyes that seemed to suck you in without resistance.

A few strands of sun-kissed hair stuck out from the hood of his robe, and they curled delicately against his forehead, splayed messily. Have you ever seen such blond locks either?

And, was he wearing makeup? Those rosy-red spots on his cheek looked like a bad application of blush, as they stuck out like twin targets from his pearlescent complexion. Even with those odd cheek spots, it only accentuated his ethereal, otherworldly aura.

“Are you okay?” Pretty Boy’s words broke you from your thoughts, and you stopped mindlessly rubbing at your wrists. You halted right in front of him, his small figure blocking the way as you met his gaze.

“Sorry?” You finally asked.

Slowly, he lifted a finger and reached it towards the painful, thin outline of the tight binds that had bound you for most of the evening.

“Does it hurt?” He whispered, his brows furrowed with an unreadable expression. Anger? Pity? You weren’t quite sure as you stood there frozen, his finger just about to brush against your skin.

You could practically feel the warmth radiating off his figure, a wave of serenity washed over you, and you made no move to pull away. Your savior didn’t make it very far before he hesitated pulling back his hand before exhaling a deep breath. He reached into his robe and extended a neatly folded twin outfit towards you, beckoning for you to take it.

“Here, put this on. It’ll keep your face hidden as we move.”

You wanted to open your mouth, ask him about his hesitancy, but instead you silently took the garment from his frame and slipped it on. The robe was scratchy, but you weren’t going to complain as you lifted the thick hood over your head and pulled it forward to settle right above your eyes.

“Perfect,” The stranger smiled reassuringly at you, before turning towards the doorway, “Now come on, let’s get going before they notice you’re gone.”

“Who are you?” The words left your lips as you stayed frozen in place, watching the man intensely as he halted in his tracks.

“Oh, right, let’s rewind here,” he laughed, pivoting on his heel to face you, bowing slightly, “My name is Lou, not short for anything, just Lou.”

Lou. That was a cute name.

“What about you?”

“Get me out of this hellhole, Lou, and I’ll give you my social security number,” you responded dryly, brushing past him to poke your head out of the gap of the cave's entryway.

“Feisty, aren’t we?” he quirked a brow, his lips curving into a playful smile, “I respect your determination to live.”

You turned your head slightly to shoot the handsome man a glare, before you strained your ears, listening for any of hints human activity.

The tunnels were dimly lit, save for the glow from the torches nailed to the sides of the tunnel. You could hear conversations in the distance, echoing against the tunnel's walls as they reached your ears. Lou stuck his head out next to you, glowing eyes squinting as he stared down the darkened pathways.

“I think we’re good, let's go,” He whispered, before slipping past you and into the tunnel. With one last, shaky breath, you followed Lou out into the cavernous hall.

“Why are we going toward the voices?” You questioned quietly, inching closer to him for comfort as the two of you strolled down the tunnel.

“Your prison is on the farthest side of the main cave’s entrance,” he replied, turning his head to meet your gaze, “We’ll have to cross through a couple of crowded rooms before we can get out of here, but don’t worry, I know how everything works around here. We’ll be fine.”

You didn’t reply, instead lifting your gaze towards the cave’s ceiling. Jagged, branching rocks hung like icicles above your head, glowing faintly with orange light from the torches below. How easily could these things break off and fall? Would they bring you a quicker death than at the hands of the cultists?

“The cave system goes way deeper than just these smaller tunnels, ” Lucifer continued as he kept pace beside you, “These guys basically hit the jackpot when their founder first discovered the place an odd hundred-something years ago, haven’t let go of it since.”

“They’ve been doing this for a while?” you whispered hoarsely.

How many people have been murdered inside these tunnels, forced to endure such pain and torture just to please some make-believe goat-man that frolics around in a pit of fire and death? The delusion was unmatched, and the inhumanness even more.

“Oh, yeah!” Lou nodded, recounting the memories of his past attendings, “It’s like Coachella, but for cultists. They gather from all over the place to worship beings of indescribable evils and partake in all different kinds of rituals. Much more than just the human sacrifices, like the–”

“–you’re telling me you come here, again and again, to witness these human sacrifices?” Your head snapped in Lou’s direction, an icy glare meeting his widening eyes as he clamped his mouth shut.

“Well, yes—but no!” Lou shook his head vigorously, taking a step backward as you strode forward, anger reignited in your gaze as you bared your teeth.

“How do I know you’re not going to kill me?” You continued to advance towards Lou, pointing an accusatory finger towards him.

“What?!” He sputtered.

“For all I know, you could be leading me to my death!” Your voice was shaky, the weight of the situation dawning on you with the realization everything here was real, not some crazy dream.

“B-but I saved you!” Lou pressed himself flush against the rock wall as you closed the distance, practically chest-to-chest with the man. He tensed at your proximity, breath hitched with wide eyes at your looming figure.

“So?” You growled, taking a finger and jabbing him in the chest, and his frown deepened, “This could be one final cruel, sick joke to bring my guard down before you tie me to a stake! Can’t slaughter the cattle when they're scared, right? Or else it poisons the meat!”

God, he was so good-looking up close. It distracted your verbal attack on Lou just for a moment as you felt the temptation to see how much better it would get if you ripped that stupid hood from his head.

It felt like some otherworldly power was pulling you to stare dumbly at his perfect features. As if he was some kind of siren beckoning you to take a closer look. If you did get any closer, however, you’d practically be lip-to-lip with him. Which, if you were being honest, didn’t sound like such a bad idea…

An invisible hand lifted to slap you hard across the face, before waggling a finger at your lack of self-respect. Why were you thinking about this?! You were about to die and the only thing on your mind was how good-looking this guy was!

“I know you’re scared,” Lou’s soft words broke the silence. You tensed, finger still mid-jab against his chest as he met your gaze.

“This must be a lot for you to take in,” he continued, taking a small step forward from the cavern wall, his brows furrowed in anguish, “But I promise, I don't come here to party with these sickos. I sneak in here to save the people that they kidnap, like you.”

Is that why those cultists were hoping the sacrificial ritual would go smoothly tonight? Had Lou been sabotaging their plans year after year?

The anger drained from your face, and you took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You needed to pull yourself together, lest you wanted some cultist to find you having a mental breakdown or murdering someone out in the open like this.

“I’m here to help you. Please, just let me help.” Lou continued, and you met his gaze again.

Slowly, he lifted a hand, a gesture of peace, a physical promise that you would live to see morning. You looked at the much darker appendage with hesitation, your eyes flicking to Lou and then back to his hand.

“Trust me?” Lou pleaded, the tone in his voice sounded genuine, and kind as he stared at you with round, puppy-dog eyes. It was becoming increasingly hard to deny such a pretty face, and you sighed softly in defeat.

Slowly, you reach out and slip your fingers into his palm. His thumb lifted to grip your wrist softly, and you flinched slightly in pain. Lou withdrew his digit instantly, growling softly to himself at your reaction before his fingers wrapped around your thumb and forefinger in an awkward, clumsy handhold.

That familiar, soothing warmth from his touch was welcoming, as it seeped into your skin and sent you another dose of serenity. Your racing heart began to slow as Lou tugged you moving again.

Then, you heard voices growing louder at the end of the tunnel, near a large crack in the wall that seemed to be an entrance to another cave. Two shadows loomed around the small corner, and you held your breath, head lowered as they came into view. Lucifer squeezed your hand reassuringly, before two matching robed figures strolled past.

“Hail Satan,” the men greeted in unison.

“Hail Satan,” Lou replied in a deepened, masculine tone. Even in such a tense moment, the surprise at how dorky he sounded had you smiling underneath the hood.

The cultists passed by with no suspicions, and you sighed softly with relief, confidence slowly gaining. As long as you keep your head down, keep your identity concealed, the rest of the cultists won’t question a thing. Not to mention, if Lou was telling the truth about coming here for years, he knew how to best placate these freaks if the time came.

Soon, the two of you came upon a large opening, an entrance to another, much larger cave than the one you had been held in. You could see large flames flickering inside the room, voices reverberating against the rock. A few figures sat near the entryway, but slowly slipped inside the cave as you and Lou rounded the corner.

The voices grew louder, speaking in an ominous, strange tongue that made goosebumps erupt across your skin. Prayers of some kind as you saw bodies bent low to the ground, all facing something hidden behind the cavern’s walls.

Sweat was pooling in your palm, and you began to breathe heavily at the proximity of such a large group of robed men chanting softly inside. Their synchronized, baritone prayers rang in your ears, and your heart only quickened its pace.

An entire room full of these guys? This was a little much. You imagined just sneaking down the tunnel and being home free, not coming face to face with the entire cult. Could you really keep up a believable act that you were one of them?

Lou’s head twisted to watch you hyperventilate softly, your eyes zeroed in on the entryway as your thoughts raced. His brows furrowed, and his free hand began to dig inside his robe. After a few moments, his fingers wrapped around something small as he pulled his hand out and lifted his head to meet your gaze.

“Here, take this,” Lou extended an enclosed fist towards you, and your brows furrowed just as he revealed the object snug in his palm.

It was a yellow rubber ducky, like those old toys you used to play with in the bathtub. It stared at you with a permanent, frozen-beaked smile, innocent to the dark, sinister atmosphere circling the trio.

“... What is that?” You tilted your head, smiling slightly at the odd reveal.

“Just a little trinket of my creation,” Lou replied, holding it farther towards you, “I always bring this little guy along with me on trips up here, but I think you need it more than me right now.”

Your eyes widened slightly, gaze flicking from Lou’s large, shark-like smile–which was weird, but not the weirdest thing you’ve seen tonight–to the rubber duck in his hand.

Slowly, you reached forward, wrapping your fingers around the toy. Your skin softly brushed against Lou’s as you retracted your hand, before inspecting the little yellow duck.

Did he notice your anxiety about going inside? You were surprised Lou was being so caring, giving you something personal of his to help ease your nerves. Why would he bring this with him to places like this? Did he bring them for people like you, or him?

You squeezed your fingers around the duck’s little body, and as the air expelled from out of its mouth, it quacked softly, barely echoing against the rocks. You squeezed it again right as you inhaled, and released the duck when you exhaled. Slowly, you began to control your breathing and settle your racing heart. You pushed the negative thoughts out of your mind, before looking up to Lou.

“Did you say you made this?”

“Yes, It’s no big deal, though,” he shrugged bashfully, averting his gaze, “Just something I tweak on whenever I’m bored, nothing special.”

“Well, I think it's… cute.” You said slowly, brushing a thumb over the duck’s head.

“Really?” His lips curved upward, his eyes moving from your hand to meet your genuine gaze,

“Yes, and impressive. I could never do something like this, especially making the squeak sound so similar to a quack.” you nodded, matching his smile.

“It does more than just quack!” He said excitedly, a playful glint in his eye, “But first, we have to get out of here.”

You nodded, tucking the ducky underneath your sleeve as Lou turned toward the entryway. You followed him up the large crevice, before slipping inside.

Tall fires licked at the air on either side of the large cavern. Robed men sat in neat, organized lines, their bodies lowered to the ground, heads bowed submissively towards the large painting on the wall.

It depicted a white-furred goat, standing on two hooves, overlooking a sea of fire that expanded out into the distance. His horns were large, and they wrapped around his ears like a ram as his sinister red eyes stared into your soul.

Your fingers wrapped tighter around the rubber ducky inside your sleeve, and you tentatively squeezed it. It barely made an audible noise compared to the chorus of voices, and you began to use it as a fidget toy to calm your rising nerves.

You averted your gaze from the painting, head lowering slightly as you scooched between kneeling bodies along the back wall, hand still entwined with Lou’s as he slipped past the robed figures.

“Is that supposed to be Satan? The guy that rules Hell and everything?” You whispered to Lou, who stopped in his tracks to face you.

“Well, no. Satan doesn’t rule Hell, Lucifer does,” He sighed, shaking his head, “I mean, I understand these people choosing the ugly one to rule a place like that, but seriously, if you’re going to dedicate your entire life to worshiping a guy, make sure you’re at least getting the name right.”

‘I wonder what Lucifer looks like in comparison, but I'm sure anything would be better looking than that thing,’ you thought, glancing back at the demonic goat-man wall painting with a quirked brow.

“Satan would also make a terrible ruler,” Lou continued, turning away from you to continue sneaking through the worshippers, “It would be like putting a pyromaniac in charge of a fireworks facility, chaos ensues… and not the fun kind.”

You weren’t going to question why he seemed so matter-of-fact about that, as the two of you made it to the other side of the cavern, near another exit.

A small group of robbed men were passing by, and as you scooted over to give them room to pass by, one of them rammed into you, shoving you back by your shoulder to make room.

You were about to turn on your heel and snap at the man, before you felt Lou tug you faster through the remaining crowd.

“Watch out,” he teasingly called to the man behind you, but quiet enough for only you to hear, “They bite!”

You resisted the urge to elbow Lou in the side, and instead shot him a playful glare, trying to hide the upward curve of your lips. He only snickered softly, pulling you through the exit and out of that dreadful cave.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, right?” Lou turned to you, smiling softly as he released your hand.

That comforting warmth left your skin and something deep down whined for his touch again. You shook those thoughts away as you met his gaze, nodding in agreement.

“Yes, I thought they were going to be much more suspicious. Is that the last cave we have to go through?”

“We have like.. two more?” Lou said, partially to himself as he recalled the route, “It shouldn’t be much longer, don’t worry.”

You groaned internally, adjusting the hood around your head before following Lou down the tunnel. At one point, he had taken one of the torches from the wall, holding it in his hand as the two of you walked along the quiet path.

“Do you make anything else than these ducks?” You filled the silence, your thumb absentmindedly brushing against the plastic body of the toy in your sleeve.

“I used to,” Lou replied after a moment, his chipper tone dampening slightly, “More than just silly toys. I once created great things that benefited the entirety of humanity, until…”

“Until?” You prodded gently.

“Let's just say some things don’t turn out how we expect them to,” he replied somberly.

You couldn’t see his face, but you were sure he was frowning underneath the hood. If you would have known that topic was a sour spot for him, you wouldn’t have brought it up. Lou’s face was so handsome with a smile, your brain was prodding for you to do something about it.

You opened your mouth to speak, to say something at least. Words weren’t able to leave your lips before another large crack in the wall, followed by the sound of deep voices once more came into view.

The opening was glowing a bright orange, a much larger fire flickering inside the cavern as Lou slowed right before the entrance. Thunder erupted from the cave, and you jumped. Listening for a few moments longer, you realized the sound was emanating from large drums inside. They boomed in rhythm with the strange chorus reaching your ears from the entrance.

They were so loud the floor was vibrating softly beneath your feet, and you struggled to understand Lou when he turned to you, speaking something before slipping into the cave. Hastily, you followed him through the crevice, slipping past the jutting rocks that pulled against your garment.

“Wait!” You wrapped your fingers around the fabric of Lou’s robe, halting his movements rights you passed through the threshold.

As you stepped into the cavern, the heat from the large fire washed over you, and the rhythmic beat of drums pounded in your chest. The air was thick with the scent of burning wood, and something else indescribable, something primal that made the hair along your arms rise.

Before you was a scene straight out of a horror movie. Robed figures swayed and danced around the towering flames in the center of the cavern, their movements erratic yet somehow synchronized. Their robes, adorned with demonic symbols and intricate patterns, billowed around them as they moved.

There were so many cultists partaking in whatever weird, dancing ritual they were performing that the moving crowd stretched to the walls. There would be no slipping by this time, and you gulped softly at the sight.

Lou watched you silently, an unreadable expression on his pretty face as you turned to meet his gaze.

“The fastest way to get through here is to join them. We should hurry, I’m sure they’ve noticed you’re gone by now.”

Join them? As in, dance with these weirdos until you reach the other side of the cave?

You were about to laugh, pat Lou on the shoulder for the good joke, until you saw his face. It was dead serious, save for the way his lip was beginning to curve upwards into a playful smirk.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I can’t dance,” you shook your head with a humorless laugh, slowly backing towards the mouth of the chamber, “This is crazy, I’m not going out there.”

The chanting of baritone voices filled your ears as spinning, cloaked figures circled the large fire, completely entranced in their satanic waltz as Lucifer’s smirk widened.

“Don’t worry, I got this,” he spoke confidently, wrapping gentle fingers around your hands as he tugged you forward, closer to the dancing circle.

For a moment you thought of fighting back and ripping your hands free from his grasp, bolting out of the cavernous room and far away from any robes for the rest of your life. Except, you probably had zero chance at getting out of here without Lou, the handsome man dead set on joining whatever kind of hellish scene was in front of you.

That playful glint in Lou’s eyes only made the adrenaline pump harder through your veins. Something deep inside of you was willing for you to follow the handsome stranger’s command, to prove to him that you weren’t a sack of potatoes he had to heft all the way to the exit.

“You’re going to regret this,” you frowned, your face as serious as possible as you finally relented to his tugging.

“Is that a promise?” Lou smiled mischievously, fingers gently intertwined with yours as he pulled you into the mass of robes.

As the pulsating rhythm of the chanting engulfed the chamber, Lucifer and you found yourselves swept into a whirlwind of movement. The flames leaped high, casting eerie shadows on the walls as the cloaked figures spun around the fire.

With a twinkle in his eyes, Lou guided you effortlessly through the dance, his movements fluid and graceful. Despite your initial reluctance, you couldn't help but be swept up in the energy of the moment, your body moving in sync with his.

It was as if whatever spell the rest of the dancers were under finally had you in its grasp, beckoning you to enjoy the sacred dance.

Around you, the cultists swirled and twirled, their voices rising in fervent devotion to their dark deity. You ignored them, your attention solely upon the pearlescent face that was only a few inches from your own, as he spun with you like two seniors soaking up their last high school dance during prom.

A loose rock resting on the dirt floor caused you to stumble on your feet, and you fell backward with a yelp. A firm hand caught you, fingers splayed across the middle of your back as you lifted your eyes to meet Lou’s handsome features.

“Don’t worry, I gotcha,” He winked, pulling you back onto your feet after a moment. You rolled your eyes playfully, before continuing your rhythmic swaying around the fire.

As you danced with Lou, laughter bubbled up from deep within you, a sense of exhilaration coursing through your veins. His hand in yours felt warm and reassuring, anchoring you to the moment as you lost yourself in the dance.

Your steps may have been clumsy and slow, but Lou didn’t take notice, his features alight with amusement, as he pulled you closer toward him.

“See? Not too bad.” He grinned, his chest bumping against yours as he spun you again, and that laughter finally left your lips with a shake of your head.

You lifted your head to stare into those golden orbs of his, a wordless siren’s song taking hold of you again as your eyes lowered to those soft, supple lips of his.

If the atmosphere around you wasn’t whispering your demise, you might have done something brazen like capture his lips in their own dance.

“Only because you’re doing most of the work,” you teased instead, a genuine smile gracing your features.

Lou must have noticed your lightning demeanor, because his eyes only softened and he matched your smile. One of his hands lowered to your waist, and this time you felt you were dancing with your prince charming across a ballroom as he slowed his pace to let you drink in the moment.

For a brief minute, all thoughts of danger and fear were forgotten, replaced by the pure joy of movement and companionship. As the fire crackled and the chants reached a crescendo, you and Lucifer danced on, united in a shared moment of defiance against the darkness that surrounded you.

Your eyes lifted to the other crevice in the cave, the two of you having successfully danced to the other side of the room, one step closer to making it out of here alive. You perked, joy overcoming you as you pulled Lou along out of the crowd and through the exit.

The much narrower tunnel was empty save for the two of you, as your hands hesitantly released each other. Lou walked over to the wall, a torch flickering softly attached to the jutting rocks as he lifted a hand and pulled it free from the tight clasp.

“Shall we continue?” He smiled, raising the torch slightly above his head to light the way as you caught up to join him.

Your pace was faster now, the night growing darker and the urgency growing every minute you stayed in this underground base of cultists.

The two of you crossed through a few winding tunnels, passing other caves on the route. Some were dark, quiet just like your prison had been, while others were filled with voices and laughter. Thankfully, there was only one cave left you’d need to get through before you could be home free.

All that was on your mind was to wrap yourself in the soft covers of your bed and hibernate the rest of the week away. After this, you could live without any human interaction for a couple of months, maybe forever. Except... The only company from tonight you wanted to hang on to was Lou’s.

Would it be weird if you asked for his number? Invited him for some coffee at a later time? No, that was weird. He was your savior, not some Tinder match waiting for the first date.

These cheek-flushing thoughts kept you busy for the next few minutes, as Lou guided you through the rocky maze. He was quiet, his eyes darting to every cave opening and corner, his ears straining for any footsteps or lone wanderer.

The silence between the two of you was peaceful, giving you time to think about recent events.

“Why do they want to sacrifice me?” You said after a few moments.

“It’s pretty simple, actually,” Lou started, scratching his chin, “First, they sacrifice a newborn lamb, which is supposed to create a portal from Hell to the living world, so that a demonic spirit can pass through. But, it's the human sacrifice that gives said demonic spirit their powers, enough for them to grant whatever the summoner wants.”

“Have you ever seen them actually summon the Devil?” You tilted your head curiously.

“..No,” Lou responded slowly, as if he was planning his next words carefully, “But, I’m sure if the exceptionally charming figure were to be around here somewhere, he wouldn't reveal himself until necessary”

“Doesn’t the bible say he was God’s prettiest angel? Unless Hell turned him into some kind of monster, he’s probably still fairly good-looking, especially since he convinced all those other angels to fall with him.”

“Couldn’t be any better than what’s right in front of you, eh?” Lou turned, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You only laughed softly, shaking your head at his antics. You weren’t sure how Lou would compare to the real deal, but you had an idea of who you’d choose as the winner in such a competition.

A few more minutes, and the two of you came upon a tunnel that split off into two different directions. Both seemed identical, and even Lou seemed to be having trouble figuring out the next steps.

He stood there, eyes flicking from one path to the next, as he bit his nail in thought.

“Are you lost?” you finally questioned, crossing your arms as he pivoted to face you.

“Me? Ha! No,” He chuckled nervously, lifting his hood slightly to rake back his hair.

The small glimpse of those shiny, silky strands had you wishing these cultists chose something more revealing as an outfit choice.

“Okay… so which way?”

“I—um… let’s see. I think we go… right, yeah! That’s it, we go right.” Lou nodded his head, confidence regaining as he turned toward the right branching route.

You quirked an eyebrow but made no comment as you followed him down the path. A few more cultists passed by, but they didn’t pay any mind to the two of you as you continued down the tunnel.

It wasn’t long before you rounded the corner, and the final cave’s entrance loomed ahead. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you practically skipped to the large opening, giddy with joy.

Lou took place in front of you again, his back brushing against the jutting rocks as he slipped through the gaping crevice, strange noises echoing from the other side.

“Alright, this is the last one, right through here—”

Lou stopped dead in front of you, his mouth dropping in surprise at the scene before him. You slid through beside him, lifting a brow at his strange demeanor before turning your head to the strange noises in front, before your mouth dropped as well.

Inside the much smaller cave, was what seemed to be a small crowd of… exposed individuals. They stood and bent around the room, encircling a pile of naked bodies.

At first, you thought they were dead, until you saw a woman lift her head from the mass, eyes drunk with pleasure and a dopey smile on her features.

Oh… my… god.

Moans erupted, louder now, as you watched a naked man, ass exposed for all to see, kneel in front of a similarly undressed man, his mouth moving forward to clasp around the other man’s….

Your hand shot up to your mouth, and you swallowed down the bile building in your throat.

These guys were having orgies, too?!

“Wrong tunnel…” Lou finally spoke, eyes wide at the explicit scene as you turned away with a gag.

“I’m guessing this is one of the fun little activities you like to join sometimes?” You grumbled, pulling the hood completely over your eyes, hiding from the moaning mass.

The sounds emanating from inside the room were pleasurable, joyous, and everything a nymphomaniac could dream of.

“It’s gotten bigger since last time,” you heard Lou laugh awkwardly, rubbing his neck as he turned to you with a sheepish smile.

“Maybe, we should turn back. Go down that other tunnel?” You hoarsely pleaded.

“The cave's main entrance is right on the other side, we can't turn back now.” He whined, gripping your shoulder and spinning you to face him.

“I am not partaking in this!” You growled, your eyes glancing at all the exposed skin before squeezing them shut with another gag.

“I’m not asking you to!” Lou shot back defensively, “But, we just need to sneak through here, and you’re free!”

Freedom. You were almost there, almost home. A bunch of naked strangers weren’t going to stop you from making it out of here alive.

“Fine,” you relented, “But, you go first.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Lou replied sarcastically with a huff, before he turned, straightened his shoulders, and stepped further into the cave.

Before he could make it any farther, your hand wrapped clumsily around his as you yanked the hood further over your eyes and followed him in.

You steeled yourself, tense as the view directly at the ground gave you a little peek into what was going on around you.

Bodies rolling together, in all different positions, some you didn’t even know existed as you bumped into naked man after naked woman.

“Nothing like debauchery to proclaim your love to the Devil,” you grumbled internally as you stepped over someone’s bare foot that was tangled with another.

“Ah, pardon me… just gonna squeeze through here,” Lou said, as he pushed past a pair of strangers practically eating each other’s faces.

You were halfway through the cavern, before you felt sweaty fingers wrap around your ankle.

Your head snapped to a very beautiful woman, a placated smile on her face as she stared up at you.

“A pretty face like yours deserves some love, why don’t you come and join me?” She sent you a sultry grin, and your frown deepened.

“No thanks, I'm good…” You started, shaking her hand off your ankle.

You barely took another step before a second pair of hands brushed against your other ankle, a large hand grazing up your skin and underneath your robe.

“What’s the rush?” The strange man called to you, his hand sliding farther up your robe.

“Hey, get off!” Lou growled warningly, before protectively pushing you behind him as he ripped the man’s fingers from your leg.

The stranger only held up his hands in surrender, before slinking back into the naked mass. Lou nudged you to get moving again, as you listened.

Then, two identical women, twins you assumed, blocked your path. Their large breasts bounced against their chest as they strolled forward, large grins on their faces.

“A new face!” One of them gasped with glee, “Finally, things won’t be so boring around here.”

“Umm…” you started, until the second woman cut you off with a laugh.

“You’ll need to undress first, honey. That’s where the real fun starts.” The lady licked her lips, eyeing your figure hungrily.

“Woah!” Lou cut in, pulling you closer to him, “Sorry, ladies, but we’re just passing through.”

“Is that so?” One asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“That’s right,” he responded, his tone serious as he tugged you along, and you stepped around the two naked individuals, your eyes set on the cave’s exit only a few more meters away.

Again, you felt hands on your robe as you turned to see one of the women trying to get a peek underneath. You wrapped your fingers around the fabric and harshly pulled it from their grasp, sidling closer to Lou as the two of you zigzagged through.

Your breathing was becoming heavy, as panic set in with all the sweaty, disgusting hands practically groping you, tugging at your robe to remove it.

If Lou lost his grip on you, would you be dragged into the mass with no way of escape? This was never how you imagined you were going to greet death.

Lou turned to meet your gaze, and he must have felt the way your hands began to shake as he growled again, pushing past you to kick at another man’s grip on your garment.

“I said get back!” He boomed, and you winced slightly at the authority in his voice. It was strong, and it had you wanting to submit to him instantly, like some kind of other-worldly power.

The others around you also lowered themselves slightly at his tone, but soon they were even reaching towards Lou, who was practically beating them off with bare hands as the two of you backed away.

“Okay, we’re done here,” Lou huffed beside you, before you felt strong hands reaching underneath you and hoisting you into the air bridal-style.

One hand went to hold you firmly underneath your back, while the other wrapped around the back of your knees, and your eyes widened.

Lifting your head, you met Lou’s gaze who smiled reassuringly at you, as he began to practically hop across the cultist’s backs to make it to the other side.

You didn’t mind being carried around for the rest of the escape, especially by such a handsome face. Being so close again, you could smell Lou’s scent against his chest.

Apples and the faint scent of cinnamon. Your nerves began to settle instantly as you deeply inhaled the scent, pulling the hood over your eyes again to shield your poor mind from the rest of the grizzly sight.

You felt Lou take a couple more steps on solid ground, and the brushing off rocks against your legs as he slipped through the threshold and out of the cave.

He took a few more steps, and the orange glow from the torches faded, and fresh air hit your neck.

“Phew, looks like we made it out in one piece!” you heard Lou exclaim, and you perked from his hold.

Your head lifted, and your eyes met moonlight. Without a second thought, you scrambled out of Lou’s grip as he hastily tried to set you down beside him. You ripped that itchy hood off your head, that cool breeze brushing against your cheeks as you took a deep, refreshing breath.

You were outside, hidden amongst the shadows a few feet away near the small opening in the ground that held sinister, demonic secrets.

You extended your arms, taking in the full moon’s light as it basked you in a pale glow.

Lou watched you, smiling softly as you greeted the familiar sights of towering pine trees, the overgrown grass, and the distant calls of the owls and other nightly sounds.

The sounds of freedom, of safety, of home, sweet home.

“Congratulations,” Lou strolled up to you, and you turned to face him with a large smile, “You made it out alive, with barely a scratch on you!”

“I almost didn’t with that last stretch,” you laughed, stepping closer to him, “Thank you, for saving me from those… people.”

“I’d never let anything happen to you under my watch,” He responded, nudging you with his elbow, “They were just all enamored by your face, it’s hard to think straight staring into it for so long.”

Your cheeks heated at his compliment, and even Lou seemed surprised by his own words as he averted his gaze, a tint of red mixing with that porcelain complexion.

“So… this is it? You’re going home now?” You asked softly, desperate that the answer wouldn’t be what you expected.

“Yeah… it’s about time I head out,” Lou nodded slowly, trying to do everything but meet your eyes as he fiddled with his robe’s sleeves.

Your heart sank a little, your lips curving into a frown at the realization that this was goodbye.

This stranger, who wasn’t exactly a stranger anymore, lept into the dragon’s lair to pull you out and guide you to safety. You had never met anyone selfless like that, nor had you met anyone so good-looking.

Lou was like your… guardian angel. An ethereal figure who appeared during your darkest moments to lift you, physically and mentally, up from the depths. And now, he was leaving you to flap those wings and disappear into the night.

‘Please stay,’ you wished, as he finally turned his head to meet your gaze. Could he see the desperation behind your eyes?

You weren’t sure, as Lou stood silently for a few moments, before he lifted his hands and pulled the hood down from his head.

You held in a gasp, the way those blonde strands curled messily around his face, as they practically shimmered in the moonlight. He was drop-dead gorgeous now, and you felt your inner thighs beginning to heat against your will.

Holy moly… could this guy get any hotter?

Lou watched you for a moment, before his brows furrowed, lips pursed slightly in hesitation as if he was fighting the urge to say more.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ you wanted to tease, give the handsome, snow-skinned man a taste of what you could offer if he snuck around just a teensy bit longer.

The words never left your lips though, divulging into another missed opportunity that you’ll most definitely regret later when you were trying to sleep this traumatic night away.

Lou’s smile faltered for a moment, before they curved back to that charming, heart-fluttering grin.

“Well, looks like you better get going,” he sighed, “Even though tonight was pretty crazy, I enjoyed spending it with you.”

“I could say the same thing. But… how do I get home?” You frowned.

Lou lifted a hand to point somewhere behind you, and you turned your head to follow his finger. Off into the distance, strobes of multicolored lights lit up the city only a mile or so down the dusty path before you.

Your eyes widened at the familiar, towering buildings that dotted the cityscape. The neighborhood you turned down every afternoon to go home every evening practically screaming at you from down the mountain.

“Wait, we’re this close to my house? That’s crazy, I though—”

The words died in your throat, when you turned to find the spot before you empty. No hint that there was even a man beside you at one point, as the grass swayed softly around you, and the breeze tickled the hair on your skin.

Where did he go so fast? You twisted your head, trying to find a glimpse of the pale figure, to no avail.

You were left alone, with Lou nowhere in sight. Your fingers tightened around the rubber duck in your pocket soothingly as your heart sank even further.

Slowly, using the moon to light your path, you turned away from the spot Lou had vanished from, and began to trek down the dirt path.

Finally, you were going home. Although, you weren’t sure whether you’d be able to forget this night any longer, not with that dashing face at the forefront of your mind.

It had been exactly one year since you were kidnapped and taken to that hellish cave. The events replayed in your mind as you entered the large cave opening underground, surrounded by hooded figures that brushed past you as they crowded around a large stone table.

You had kept the robe Lou had given you, washed it a hundred times, before hiding it deep within your closet, never to see the light of day.

Until tonight. When you had risen from your bed, brows furrowed, mind set on one, idiotic plan of action.

You were going to go back. Back to those twisting tunnels, the smell of damp earth mingled with sinister intentions, and the hypnotic chanting of prayers.

And, back to that handsome face.

You didn’t remember when you had become dead set on going back, part of your mind begging you to turn on your heel and leave as you joined the large gathering inside the cavern.

The first ritual of the night was the sacrificial lamb. It cried out helplessly, bound on top of the stone table, surrounded by what seemed to be the leaders of the cult.

Their robes were much more fashionable, tinted with gold as one man in the center raised a large knife, chanting an unknown tongue as the rest of the crowd joined in.

“Satan!” One of the leaders bellowed, “Take this offering as a token of our devotion, and rise to join us from the depths of Hell!”

You lowered your head, averting your gaze at the painful bleating of the lamb as metal met soft skin, the knife digging deep until it twisted the little creature’s heart open from inside its chest.

The small animal’s cries died as blood seeped onto the stone table, a dark red river that flowed across its smooth surface before cascading onto the dirt floor beneath.

As the cultists around you sang praise and talked amongst themselves, you slowly backed away, pushing through to the back of the crowd.

“Dale, good to see ‘ya! How are the kids?” You heard one merrily ask to another.

When you exited the mass of robes, you inhaled deeply, settling your nerves as you twisted your head across the room.

Since it was the beginning of the night, the cultists were busy catching up with each other. They chatted away as if they were discussing the weather, instead of their next sacrifice.

Sneaking along the wall, you slipped out of sight and towards one end of the room, multiple paths branching out into dimly lit tunnels.

You stopped, craning your neck to try and find anything to gauge your memory.

This tunnel seemed familiar… was this the way back to your prison? If Lou was right, and they did this every year, then there would be some new, terrified face waiting for death somewhere around here.

You shook your head. No, it must be the tunnel on the other side of the room. The stalactites on the cave’s ceiling were much longer than the ones you had remembered from last year.

Turning, you took a step forward to check out the other route. Right as you twisted your head, you ran straight into another cultist, and you stumbled back with an oomph at the force.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” you growled, as you looked down to adjust your robe.

“Woah! Sorry about that, just got lost in my thoughts,” the familiar, male voice responded, and your eyes widened with shock.

You didn’t say anything, instead, you lifted your head, frozen in place as the pale figure brushed dirt from his chest as he met your gaze.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just heading to the bathroo—”

Lou stopped, his mouth agape, as your familiar features dawned on him.

“It’s you!” his eyes lit up instantly, a soft smile dancing across his lips as he skimmed down your figure, covered with the same robe he had given you exactly one year ago.

Oh, how you missed those pretty eyes of his, and the cute red spots framing his lips.

“What are you doing here?” He looked at you funny, as if you were crazy for coming all the way back here.

Which you were.

“You forgot to say goodbye, last time we spoke,” was your reply, as you tilted your head at the man.

“Oh… right. I’m sorry, goodbyes are just not my kind of thing. I wasn’t trying to be rude! I just thought you would be better off if…” he stumbled over his apology, as if you’d turn around and leave forever if he couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse.

Your smile only widened, and Lou’s frown dissolved as you stepped closer to him.

“Ready to go save some poor, wayward soul?” You whispered, extending a closed fist towards that handsome, pearlescent face.

You opened your hand, revealing that familiar, yellow rubber duck that smiled innocently at Lou.

He reached a hand forward, fingers reaching towards the toy in your palm. Instead of taking it from you, he curled your fingers back up, closing your hand into a fist once more.

“I think whoever we meet will need it more than me,” Lou smiled at you, eyes soft as he drank in your presence.

“Let’s not keep them waiting, hm?” You shot him a grin, reaching your other hand forward to entwine with his, before pulling him away from the crowd.

Lou only chuckled, keeping pace as the two of you sneaked down the tunnel, towards that familiar, sinister prison you had called home only a year ago.

You were praying the dance lessons you had taken during the year would impress your new handsome, blonde, partner in crime later tonight.

If not, there was always next year.

y’know i keep saying “this next fic is gonna be short” but it’s obvious my brain doesn’t know wtf that means 😭 like i’ve literally tried to sit down and right plain ol’ headcanons before but i just don’t have a bone in my body for that kind of stuff lmao

but i just thought the idea of lucifer getting summoned to commit evil acts, to then just do the complete opposite and save people is funny af bc my boy is not cool with straight up murder like that.

let me know your thoughts! have a wonderful day 🦢

tags 🏷️

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0 @yourlocalgoldenretrieverboy @wpdarlingpan @halo-balo @chipper-chip @lvstyangel @acrazyartist @midorichoco

#hazbin hotel #hellaverse #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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chronically-ghosted · 2 months

Text

i wonder if you stopped his world like you did mine

rating: teen

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 5K

summary: watching the woman he loves be with someone else is killing him, but for your sake, he manages. But when Benny's birthday loosens him up, he can't help but bear his soul over a phone call. Too bad you don't pick up and he's forced to leave the evidence in a voicemail.

tags/warnings: pining, light angst, idiots in love, country music as a catalyst, romance, tw alcohol, tw drinking, hangovers, ultimately very fluffy

a/n: Happy Valentine's Day @toomanystoriessolittletime! I hope you receive and give all the love you need and want! I've had this idea for a while, but once I saw that Frankie was your fave, I knew I had to do it!

one day i’m gonna do the series of all of my favorite country songs with a Pedro boy. This is one of them: Singles You Up by Jordan Davis. Had thoughts of Me and My Kind by Cody Johnson for our ever-fantastic Jack Daniels and Hurricane by Luke Combs for Joel. One day, my loves, one day.

🤍Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Frankie Morales has a problem.

Given the life expectancy in his line of work – all things considered – it really wasn’t that bad of a problem. Sure, his knees were busted, his shoulder aches when it was cold out, and his ex keeps hounding him for money he doesn’t have. But on the flipside, his little family unit of friends and brothers united by combat are (mostly) all alive and healthy. He has a steady job and his little girl, whom he loves and adores, thinks the sun shines out of his ass. All things considered, there’s not much else he can ask for. He’s far better off than some of the men and women at Will’s talks, or in Santiago’s field teams.

So – really, truly, seriously – all things considered . . . he can’t classify this as a bad problem.

In fact, this is a problem he would willingly have. Gladly even. Not quite joyously, but if it’s a choice between this problem and not having the problem at all, he will choose having this consistent, thorny, kind-of-hurts-to-breathe-sometimes problem every single time.

And right now, it’s wearing a dress.

Uh, well, you’re wearing a dress. An off-white, hinging-on-cream, dress that sits above your knees, cuts flat and wide across your chest, and puffs out into cotton sleeves that remind him of those conchas his abuela used to make. Sweet, fluffy, and absolutely forbidden.

Until the time is right, at least. His abuela always made him wait to eat until the time was right.

He calls it – you – a problem, when in fact, it’s the opposite of a problem. There is nothing he would ever want to change about the warm, engulfing feeling that starts somewhere in his stomach and rises like conchas up his spine until it’s somewhere in his ribs, then under his breastbone, right by his –

He would kill anyone who tried to take that feeling away from him. It’s when he feels most alive, most present, most out of his head – like these things in the dark and sleeping corners of his mind that nip and bite at him can’t find him. He’s thrown them off his scent in his search for you and, even for a brief moment, he can step into the light.

There is no problem, in how you look tonight, how you look every night, with your bright shining smile, sweet-smelling hair, cowboy boots, glass of whiskey – you had such a fantastic taste in –

Wait.

That’s not whiskey. Not even a whiskey glass.

That’s –

“White wine?” Benny yelps as he leans forward and his chair legs clatter against the concrete floor. “If that’s Moscato, I’m calling the cops because you’ve been replaced by an equally hot body double.”

You roll your eyes as you sit down and take a long drink from your glass, as if to make a point. Frankie’s eyes are drawn to where your dress hangs over your crossed legs, exposing the curve of your thigh.

“It’s not fucking Moscato, Benjamin,” you say, eyes narrowed, completely side-stepping his compliment, like you always do. “It’s Chardonnay. Nick recognized the vineyard on the menu so he recommended it. Thought I’d give it a try, because I like trying something new, Benjamin.”

He rolls those beautiful blue eyes and leans forward towards you at the table, that grin that brings grown women to their knees plastered across his face. He knocks back his cowboy hat with a tap of his knuckle.

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me.”

“The fuck outta you is excused.”

You tug his hat back down over his face, smirking back at him, just as Nick saunters over – with what looks to be a wine glass of his own.

Okay, in hindsight, you’re not the problem.

His real fucking problem is Nick.

Your boyfriend.

Frankie, who has decided to only drink beer around you since The Almost Incident, takes three long pulls so he doesn’t have to watch Nick and his stupid hands slide across your exposed back and sit down in Santi’s empty chair.

“Happy Birthday, man, thanks for inviting me out.” Nick says briefly, raising his glass to Benny. “But I gotta say, I was a little worried when my girl here said your party was gonna be at a country dance hall. I’ve never been to one of these. I had to buy cowboy boots just for the occasion.”

He sticks his leg out, and rotates his gator-skin boot back and forth as if to illustrate how important to him this whole thing is.

But Benny doesn’t look down, doesn’t approve the boots, or Nick’s attempt at fitting in. Instead, he just smirks, his smile growing fat and lazy, a bit of the warmth fading from his blue eyes.

“Your first time at a cowboy hoe-down? I had no idea.”

Nick grins, because he doesn’t know Benny well enough to see the dig for what it is. But you do. You know him and you know he’s ragging on your boyfriend. You narrow your eyes and shame coats Frankie’s chest. Because he knows also Benny and he knows why he’s giving Nick such a hard time.

See, the problem isn’t you, or even your boyfriend – not really.

Nick is actually a decent guy. He treats you right, if a little delicately, but he buys you drinks, takes you places Frankie could never afford, in a car Frankie could never ever afford. Sometimes, you’ll say something, or tell a story and it’s obvious Nick doesn’t really understand you or your jokes, but he smiles along anyway. He makes good money and supposedly he keeps in touch with his mom. Nick is the kind of guy any brother would want his sister to date.

So the problem isn’t that Nick is a bad boyfriend, but that he’s your boyfriend.

The problem that Frankie Morales has is that he is painfully, achingly, in love with you.

And he’s your friend.

Maybe that would change, if he ever could work up the guts to say something. For fuck’s sake, he’s killed people – asking you out can’t be that much worse (as Santi often reminds him). But if the guys you’re into are like Nick, or even Nick-adjacent, then what fucking chance does he have? He never thought money was important to you, but apparently it is and that’s something he definitely can’t give you.

Or maybe you like the stability of a high-paying job with fucking miraculous health-care. And that’s two things more he can’t offer: stability and health-care.

So, maybe, maybe his problem isn’t with you or Nick or the fact that Nick is your boyfriend. It’s that he never could be. He, with one failed marriage already behind him and a coke rap sheet, has nothing to give you . . .

And you deserve the world.

You deserve more than he can offer you. You deserve better than him.

That’s his real fucking problem. And one he can't ever fix.

Will couldn’t get off work to come to this, so he owed Benny a beer and a nice steak dinner – according to Benny. Santi, despite absolutely swearing up and down for a week he wouldn’t be caught dead in cowboy boots and a hat, showed up tonight in full gear, belt-buckle included because he lost a bet with Benny over the Thursday night game. Santi, like everything else in his life, researched the hell out of the two teams, their past history, older statistics of both the players and the coach. He was confident, so confident, that he put his pride on the line.

Never a good idea with Benny Miller.

I don’t know, Benny said at the sports bar when his team was whooping Santi’s team’s ass, I just had a good feeling. Presumably, Santi did three shots before leaving and with another two in his system at the bar, all anger and frustration and embarrassment and inhibition had melted away and now Santi was doing what Santi did best, especially when drunk: dancing with beautiful women.

“The son of a bitch can dance, I’ll give him that. ” Benny muses as the three of you watch Santi, who despite having been taught the moves three minutes ago by two gorgeous blondes, complete a perfect line dance of Copperhead Road.

“Oh, shit, I could never do that.” Nick shakes his head. “Not even after a hundred classes.”

“Ah, I find that hard to believe, Nicky Boy. You seem like a natural,” Benny smirks over the lip of his beer bottle. He finds Frankie’s eyes and winks.

You are not amused. You glare at him over Nick’s shoulder for the second time tonight.

“It’s really not that hard,” you smile tightly and squeeze Nick’s shoulder. “I can teach you.”

“Oh, yeah, don’t you know your girl here?” Benny leans back in his chair, balancing against the rung of Nick’s chair by the ball of his foot. “She used to put all of us to shame. Dancing the night away, leading the crowd in line dancing. In fact, if I remember correctly, she and Frankie used to get into all sorts a-trouble on the dance floor. Isn’t that right, Frankie?”

Now he drew a glare from you and Frankie.

Don’t, man, just don’t.

Benny shrugs, swallowing his smirk with another sip of beer, hands raised. Just trying to help out.

Over the speakers, the song winds to a close and the crowd does their final spin. Across the dance floor, Santi bows, his hat sweeping the floor, to both of the girls who giggle like high schoolers.

“I’m gonna go get Boot Scootin’ Boogie over there some water before he up-chucks all over those nice ladies.” Benny stands and fixes his hat. “You guys want anything?”

Frankie shakes his head, his own hat that Benny insisted he wear, making the line of sweat across his forehead itch. You and Nick decline as well. You’ve barely even touched your drink, Frankie notes with a certain level of satisfaction.

As Benny walks towards the bar, the next song starts up and you let out a squeal. Bring on The Good Times has been one of your favorite songs since college. And Frankie should know – he introduced it to you.

“This one is the best! A classic!” You grab Nick’s forearm, but he almost immediately pulls it back.

“Ah, babe, my first line dance is not gonna be in front of strangers! I’ll embarrass you and me. Why don’t you ask Frankie?”

Fuck, why could Nick just be a raging, flaming asshole? This would be so much fucking easier.

Frankie swallows his beer empty, an excuse for a refill prepped. He hates cowboy hats, but he’d fucking set fire to the sky for Benny – he just hopes he immolates himself in the process. The giant brim makes him feel like he’s got a neon sign over his head that blinks, I Am A Giant Dork. Only further proven if he gets anywhere near that dance floor with his two left feet.

Your eyes are unreadable as he tries to coax your boyfriend into taking you dancing.

“Nah, man, you got this. Your girl’s a great teacher.” By some cowboy miracle, his voice is steady as he says those two words. On the table, your fingers curl in, your wine glass still untouched.

Nick makes a face, eyes flitting back and forth to the dancers as they start the dance.

“My feet are already killing me in these new boots. Besides, this isn’t really my song.”

Over his shoulder, you find Frankie’s eyes. He knows that look on you – he knows everything about you – and you’re trying to hide how hurt you are.

He’s on his feet before he knows what he’s doing.

You and Nick stare up at him, surprised by how he practically bounded to his feet.

The sweat at the ring of his hat runs down the back of his neck. Frankie does the only thing halfway-normal and extends his hand.

“Alright, princesa, I’ll fill out your dance card.”

He doesn’t care, or even really register, the darkly confused frown Nick sends him when you stand up, take his hand, and smile at him. He feels warm all the way up to his chest.

“Thanks, Frankie. Let’s boogie.”

That was a mistake.

This whole fucking night is a mistake. God help him, he loves Benny like a brother but he should have just said no and promised to take him out later like Will. He would have bought Benny any drink, any ridiculous chicken wing plate he wanted if Frankie didn’t have to be here, right now.

Because right now, right now, that wall of self-control that he uses to stem the reservoir, to stem the flow of whatever you cause to pour out of him, it’s leaking. It’s busted holes and now he’s drenched with it – with the scent of you, with the memory of hair down the length of your neck, the heat of your skin overworked and flushed, the sweet taste of your breath in his mouth when you leaned forward, into his space, his senses, and whispered,

“C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this.”

But in his defense, he couldn’t feel his feet, much less make them move when he watched you with your skirt rucked up high in your fists, your cowboy boots kicking like fish in a stream, and that smile – that fucking smile – brighter and sweeter than all the whiskey in the world.

C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this

C’mon, Frankie, you’re better than this.

C’mon, Frankie, tell me you love me.

Kiss me, Frankie. Kiss me now.

His restraint, his resolve that he will never, ever have you – he can feel it throb beneath his palms. Shudder and wobble under the thundering of his heart. It’s so close to breaking. Too close. This is why he doesn’t drink anything harder than beer around you. This is why he rarely drinks around you at all.

When Nick finally calls it a night because he’s already got a blister from the new boots, you don’t put up much of a fight. You’ve danced with Benny, you’ve danced with Santi and his gaggle of girls, Nick himself went up for a slow dance or two.

Frankie only ever asked for one.

He knows he disappointed you, has been disappointing you because you can feel him layering you away, brick by brick by brick. One of his oldest and longest friends, barely visible now, and he’s going over it with caulk to make sure you can’t touch this fragile, weak, emaciated thing he calls a heart.

The instant you walk out of the bar, Nick’s arm across your tense shoulders, he all but rushes for the bar.

“Six tequila shots, please.”

You wake up where you went to sleep: curled up on your couch, your giant Florida Gators blanket wrapped around you like a mentally-supportive straight-jacket, with Golden Girls reruns on the TV. The empty bottle of 19 Crimes explains the sticky, dry feeling in your mouth and the thundering headache accompanying swollen eyes and cheeks. You’d rather get hit by a train than have to move out of this position, but Nick has always been punctual.

Which, you assume, extends to picking up his stuff from your apartment first thing in the morning, his final threat that ended your conversation last night.

The sooner, the better, you mother fucker.

You blindly grab around for your phone, knowing that it’s most likely shoved into the deepest cracks of your couch, hoping against hope Panera delivers on a Saturday morning. There’s a distinct possibility you might start swinging if Nick shows up before you get a baguette and a coffee into your system.

The things he said about Benny and Santi last night on the drive home. This break up was a long time coming, but fuck, if this is what he’d been sitting on about your friends, what the fuck did he actually think of you?

And the things he implied about Frankie – how Frankie was in love with you and you were willingly not seeing it – ridiculous.

You fight the rancid taste of hope that anything Nick implied about Frankie might even remotely be true when you close your fingers around the shape of your phone at the far end of the couch.

22%

Just enough to order then yeet this fucking thing into another room because there is no way in hell you are answering Nick’s calls.

But, as you scroll through your notifications, maybe you should have answered Frankie’s.

He had called sporadically, starting about two hours after you and Nick had left the dance hall, all the way until four in the morning.

One text at 1AM: com e hang out wit us.i mis s you u

You smile, despite the obviously drunken text. Frankie rarely texted, only if it was dire need – and apparently, you continuing to party with the boys at 1AM was very, very dire. Judging by the eight missed calls.

Eight missed calls, but only one voicemail.

Like you’re about to settle down for some good TikTok scrolling, you lean back into the pillows, rubbing your eyes to clear the hazy fog, and press play.

First, there’s noise. Lots of it. Country music and people laughing and singing. Clearly still at the dance hall. You wish for a minute it is a video instead because you’d pay hand over fist to see those guys falling all over each other.

But then comes Santi. Over the years, you’d picked up some Spanish here and there, mostly enough not to embarrass yourself if you ever went to Miami.

But whatever Santi is saying, you’re not entirely sure it is Spanish, or any human language.

“Comotuamiga, teruegoqueselodigas porfavornopuedo hacerestopormucho mástiempo. Estaríasmásfeliz y ellaestaríamásfeliz. Nomemiresasí, sabesqueloúnico quequiereesqu labeses y la beses y luegohagasotrascosas – ¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste?”

There’s a shuffling, hushed voices, the music still far too loud to make anything out.

“Déjame en paz, dude.” Frankie. Frankie, very very very drunk. “I’m gonna – I’m gonna say – voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. She’ll get it. I know–,”

“Then say something now because you’re leaving a voicemail!”

“Ah, mierda – um, baby?”

In two words and two filler words, Frankie’s whole demeanor changes. You can almost picture him curled around the phone, his hand cradling the phone to his ear as he rests his head against a wall.

“Baby, listen – fuck, sorry, I’m starting all wrong. I shouldn’t even call you that – I shouldn’t call you ‘baby’ because you’re not mine. You’re not my baby or anyone else’s because you’re so fucking independent and I love that about you but I wish you were. Mine, I mean. Not a baby.”

You don’t even remember sitting up, but your feet are on the ground. You’ve dropped the phone onto the table in front of you, staring at it as if it’s been dripping poison into your ear. Your heart is pounding.

There’s silence from Frankie for a second, the music still loud, but it’s dampened. You can hear Frankie breathing, swallow, and start again.

“You looked so fuckin’ good tonight. You look good every night but fuck, baby, that dress. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Even for a second . . . he doesn’t tell you that you look so fucking good enough, you know? You should hear it all the time. I wanna tell you – tell you all the time – he didn’t say it once. Not once and that’s a fucking crime. He makes you drink white wine when I know you fucking hate it – I know you, baby. I know you more than I know myself because you’re all I fucking think about. You’re in here, all the time, all up in my chest, my throat, my gut – and you can have it. You can have it. You can have all of me, if you just . . .”

His voice breaks and your fingers clench around the edge of the cushion.

“If you just . . . look, I know this is so fucking outta line and I wanna say it to your face and I’m gonna but . . . when that fuckin’ moron forgets how good he has it, I’m gonna be there. Gonna be right there. Because –,”

And then like someone shoved a speaker right up against Frankie’s phone, as clear as day, you hear Benny yell:

“IF HE AIN’T HOLDING YOU TIGHT, IF HE AIN’T TREATIN’ YOU RIGHT, I’MA BE THE FIRST ONE CALLIN’ HIM CRAAAZY–,”

“Benny, fuck off!”

And then the call drops, along with it your stomach. In fact, it slides out of your body, slouches off the couch and melts into the floor.

Oh, Frankie, do you even mean a word of it?

The hangover rubbing your nerves raw, tears spring into your eyes, the silence and fear and terrible hope tightening like a band around your head and infinitely increasing the pressure in your temples. You want to cry but your eyes already feel too puffy.

You’re stuck, frozen by every single possible outcome or single next step spinning out like chaotic webbing you can easily catch yourself on.

This was a mistake, it had to be. He didn’t mean to call your phone. He had accidentally called you when he meant to call another girl . . . also with a boyfriend named Nick. Frankie, sweet Frankie, who you’ve all but outright begged to take an interest in you – said it with your eyes hundreds of times – Frankie couldn’t actually have feelings for you.

Not like you had for him. Not like the ones you’ve slowly plucked out of your ribs over the years because god, even just looking at him seared a scar across your heart.

Fuck. Fuck!

You snatch up your phone, wiping your teary eyes and frantically hoping he might have said a name or anything – he couldn’t possibly have meant you – when three loud bangs on your front door sends your phone into the air and your heart into your throat.

The way he calls your name is frantic, verging on hysterical. In a daze, you glance at the clock. 9:04. Frankie’s had about four hours of sleep, if any at all.

“Please, open the door! We gotta talk – there’s something – there’s something on your phone you shouldn’t hear – please, baby, open up –,”

You stare at the phone on your floor.

Don’t they always say you can’t tell the moments that irrevocably change your life until after they’re gone?

Not this time.

You open the door and either way, everything changes.

“C’mon, please, let me explain.” His voice has quieted, no longer shaking, softer as though wounded. “Just five minutes and I’m gone. I swear. We can forget the whole thing –,”

You open the door to a hungover Frankie Morales, still in the same outfit you saw him last in, but his eyes are rimmed with black circles, his patchy beard even more patchy as if he had rubbed the bristle clean off. He reeks of beer, peanuts, and cigarette smoke. His shirt is loose, wrinkled, his belt isn’t even on all the way, and he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“What if I don’t want to forget it, Frankie?”

You see the realization strike him through the eyes, the throat, the chest, his gut, his brown eyes swimming with shame and horror. He leans over as if kicked and presses a hand against your doorway. His thumb rubs the corner and he swallows.

“So you listened to it already?”

“Yeah, I did.” He closes his eyes briefly, hanging his head, every apology in every language he knows sitting right behind his teeth. “But did you hear what I said?”

He frowns at you through those thick eyebrows. “What?”

“When I opened the door, did you hear what I said?”

“You said –,” that beautiful bottom lip parts from its sensual top and Frankie blinks at you. The oily blackness of shame has evaporated from his eyes, but that stormy fear rages on.

You inhale, breath getting caught on every knot in your spine, and step back.

“We need to talk.”

He glances once over his shoulder, as if taking in the hallway to your apartment for the last time, and he steps inside. Immediately his height and broadness fill out every empty space in your tiny living room and you’re launched back into the memory of when the boys came over for Christmas and there was hardly enough room for anyone, but somehow you all made it work and after four rounds of DDR, everyone was so tired and drunk, you passed out pillows and blankets and you spent your first adult Christmas at what could have been mistaken for a thirteen year old’s slumber party. It was one of the happiest times of your life.

His thick fingers clench and unclench when Frankie spies your phone on the floor, like a bomb waiting to go off.

Your brain struggles to default to hostess mode because you can’t think of anything to say.

Do you want coffee?

Do you want some cereal?

Do you want to–

“Tell me what happened last night.” You surprise yourself, Frankie, and your whirring brain by cutting right to it. As with the first question when you opened the door to him, there’s something inside of you that has taken on wings, spread them wide, and threatens to soar out of your body. Frankie’s here, he’s here, and he said he wants you –

He called you baby.

You breathe in, trying to scrape up some courage from the bottom of your lungs, wishing in the back of your mind under everything else that you’d chosen literally anything else to go to bed in than your Tweedie Bird shirt from Six Flags.

“I don’t understand, Frankie. Please help me understand.”

With a monumental sigh, he rubs his wide hand across his face and up into his hair, his other hand lifting his cap up off his head so his fingers can dig into his curls. It’s only then that you realize Benny’s cowboy hat he wore last night is gone and his tried and true Standard Oil ball cap is back. Meaning he must have gone home at some point. When did he realize (or remember) that he’d left you that voicemail?

“I’m gonna get my ass kicked,” he murmurs, eyes darting like a fox to your bedroom door. “Maybe that’s exactly what I deserve.”

“He’s not here.” This great thing arcs between you, the emptiness a presence and clarity all at the same time.

“What do you mean? Where is he?”

“We broke up.”

“When? Why?”

“Last night, after we left the bar. We got into an argument. He doesn’t like the way . . .”

Frankie – physically, mentally, emotionally, fundamentally – overwhelms you. He’s across the room in an instant, closer than you think he’s ever been before. But maybe this is the first and only time you’ve ever allowed yourself to enjoy it. Revel in his closeness and let this caged feeling in your chest break free. You touch his chest with the flat of your palm, the size of it, the breadth of him, staggering. You literally feel weak at the knees.

“He doesn’t like the way what?” His voice luxuriates in his throat – warm, deep. He sounds like what you imagine a hot spring feels like against your skin.

“He didn’t like the way I looked at you.” Your fingers make circles where they did into his shirt. His hands have found their way, after all this time, to your waist. “The way I always look at you, Frankie.”

His breath, subsequent to the ghost of his lips, across your forehead is so gentle it makes you close your eyes, to block out one sense to encourage another.

You feel him swallow even though he’s a foot away from you.

“Why –,” he stops, and starts again, just like on the phone call, “why do you look at me . . . when you have him?”

“Oh, Frankie.” His grip on your waist tightens as if you’re about to disappear forever. “I took him because I can’t have you.”

You blame the tears on the hangover, the headache, and the way he takes your chin between his thumb and knuckle.

Grateful.

He’s looking at you, eyes soft, mouth curved into a disbelieving smile, with gratitude.

“He’s the furthest thing from you because I tried to get you out of my system – I did – I promise. I can’t lose our friendship, Frankie, but it’s killing me . . . not having you. Nick said it was obvious the way I felt about you and that was a problem for our relationship, so he tried to make me choose between you and him and every time, without a doubt, I’ll always choose–,”

This is the right time, he supposes.

Hand over your cheek, he holds you still in silence to press his mouth to yours. The final word of your sentence dies on his tongue, muffled by a soft groan of surprise. Your breath is terrible, your skin is oily and damp, he knows he stinks like the bottom of a wet bar, but he can’t find himself to care. Your mouth opens to take him and the hand on your cheek sinks to your neck as you both move past the initial shock of I’m finally getting to do this and you’re not pulling away and into an actual, proper, deep kiss that sends sparks into his toes. Your tongue marks the bottom of his mouth, your arms going around his neck like you want more – you need more – and Frankie pulls back.

Not only because he’s slightly dizzy but because he a) won’t fuck you for the first time on your living room floor and b) absolutely will not do it hungover.

“Breakfast. Do you like . . . uhm, breakfast?” He can’t quite focus on a single spot on your face, eyes half-lidded and gaze blurred.

You giggle, letting his beard tickle your nose as you sneak your face into his neck. He sways a bit with you, his arms around your back, and you don’t think he’s even realizing what he’s doing.

“Yes, Frankie. I like breakfast. I eat it almost every day, in fact.”

He grunts, neck suddenly flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry, I mean –,”

“I know what you mean, baby.” You lean back and run your fingers through the thatch of curls at the back of his neck. Both of you are so grimy but you can’t care. “I’d love breakfast.”

Frankie smiles his Frankie smile and the thing in your chest is illuminated in gold.

“How do you feel about conchas?”

Translations:

Como tu amiga, te ruego que se lo digas. Por favor, no puedo hacer esto por mucho más tiempo. Estarías más feliz y ella estaría más feliz. No me mires así, sabes que lo único que quiere es que la beses y la beses y luego hagas otras cosas. = As your friend, I beg you to tell her. Please, I can't do this for much longer. You would be happier and she would be happier. Don't look at me like that, you know all she wants is for you to kiss her and kiss her and then do other things.

¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste? = Idiot! Did you call her?

Déjame en paz. Voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. = Leave me alone. I am going to tell her. She will know.

#SpaceSistersSecretValentine #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #frankie morales x you #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco morales #pedro pascal characters

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taintedjeon · 8 months

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──★ ˙ ̟ 𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 - jjk (m)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: rockstar-vocalist!jk x groupie!reader (afab/she/her) 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞: rockstar au 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 18+, smut, porn-with-little-plot 𝐰𝐜: 4.1k 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: omg here we go... bigdick!jk, bigsize!jk, dom!jk, sub!reader, she isnt bratty but she pushes the right buttons, strong language ie swearing, use of nicknames (princess, babydoll, baby, slut, good girl), now for the gewwwd stuffs ;; kissing, making out, nipple sucking, spit kink, size kink, light petting, reader goes into sub space, choking/asphyxiation, jk has not 1 .... nOT TEW not T H R E E ;; but ✨ fOuR ✨ dick piercings jahsgdfjshdh!!! (1 prince albert n 3 foreskin piercings) — n for the sake of this story he isnt circumcised since plenty of ppl on this app like to make things like that a big deal… if u do; theres the block button ok thank u bye. —the use of piercings for sexual pleasure, multiple orgasms, jk comes inside, unprotected sex, standing sex, dirty talk, fingering (oc receiving), oral (oc receiving), face ridddding, she uses his nose to stimulate.

Backstage of the venue is cold, a juxtaposition to the warmth of the crowd you had been swarmed in moments ago. Now, your body ignites in flames as Jeongguk drags you through the commotion of people; his palm wrapped around your wrist tight. From sound engineers, lighting operators, bodyguards and technicians of all kinds, Jeongguk manages to skillfully weave you both successfully to the end of what felt like a never ending corridor before opening the last door on the left and pulling you inside.

You’re not given enough time to make aware of your surroundings before Jeongguk shakes off his leather jacket and pulls his vintage 1991 Skid Row band shirt over his head in that sexy manner men do — arms crossed, gripping the hem and effortlessly off his body. Removing the shirt messes around with his already sweat soaked mid length bob that he has been growing out. But yet, as the strands fall in disarray over his face, it still manages to make him effortlessly fuckable.

You can’t ignore either his body and the way it bulges in the correct places and curves and dips in the rest. It might have been only six months since you had seen Jeongguk last, but in those six months, he has filled in his body finely — both physically and visually.

Tattoos litter his right arm in pretty shapes, swirls, designs and lettering. Beautiful colours striking against emboldened blacks and whites. He sports two barbells on either side of his chest and you bite your lip as images from the last hook up fills your mind from when you had the opportunity to enjoy them in person.

Jeongguk isn’t oblivious to you taking him in; top to bottom, head to toe, and finally he does something about it. Your back is pushed up against the door and the sound of the lock latching behind you. Jeongguk’s mouth is on yours in an instant, his pillowy lips slightly chapped from the singer being on stage for the last hour and a half but that doesn’t stop you from melting into him.

Your arms wrap around his neck, giving you ample opportunity to deepen the kiss. The metal of the metal hugging is lip is cool against your warm skin. Your tongue runs along the seam of his bottom lip and he grants you access to tangle your tongue with his. The after taste of cheap beer and spearmint gum is welcomed as the pair of you turn the kiss from passionately soft to fierce, a sense of urgency creeping into the mix as you’re both aware that you both need to get off before someone comes searching for Jungkook for his encore set.

“Couldn’t help but notice you starin’ at me through the set,” Jeongguk smirks sexily, knowing he has you exactly where he wants you. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

His hands roam all over your body as he kisses you hard. He starts at your shoulders, swiftly pulling down the thin straps of your tank top past the cups of your white lace bra before tugging the cups and feels as your tits release from the lace.

“M’sure plenty of girls were,” you’re quick to reply, voice airy with lust.

Jeongguk breaks the kiss, saliva keeping your mouth connected before he snaps it with his deft fingers and then using them to run light, teasing circles over your hardened nipples.

“Maybe, but none that I actually want. Thought you were so fucking pretty…”

You shiver and you know it’s not from the temperature of the chilly room you’re both currently occupying.

Before you’re about to remind Jeongguk about the lack of time you both have, the dull hum of intermission music vibrates the tiny closet and his lips are on your throat and all words die on your tongue as you hiss out in pleasure.

“Sensitive, yeah?” He asks, his breath warm against your skin as he decorates your skin in tiny nips and sucks.

“Oh…yes,” you confirm, your lids fluttering shut as he continues his assault on your neck.

With shaking hands, your arms trail down to the belt loops of his leather pants and you hook your fingers through and use it to your advantage to tug him closer to you. The feeling of Jeongguk grinning against your skin at your obvious desperation for him urges him on. With ease, he slots his thigh in between your legs and uses his stance as an advantage to pry your legs further apart.

Working your own fingers on the heavy buckle of his belt as Jeongguk continues his teasing on your cunt, you manage to pull the leather in between your fingers to open him up. Jeongguk tilts your chin with his palm to continue his assault on your neck and you retaliate by slipping your hand underneath his pants. Your fingers come in contact with his hardened cock and Jeongguk bucks his hips further into your touch.

Your heart thrums against your ribs when you feel his fingers inch their way below the hem of your pleated skirt to press into the warm of your cunt.

“Warm and wet,” he whispers against the shell of your ear; his voice is enough to cause the small hairs on your arms to rise. You don’t stop the whine that falls from your tongue as he presses two digits harder against your pulsing clit. “And so fucking sensitive, just for me, pretty girl.”

You get lost in the sensation of him starting to rub you over the flimsy cloth at your cunt.

All your inhibitions are lost as your want for the vocalist grows. “Jeongguk, please,” you beg for more…beg for him.

“Fuck, yes, plead for me,” Jeongguk almost starts begging with you. “Plead for me just like you did in your videos you dirty girl. You’re so bad, huh? Sending videos of your creamy pussy whilst I’m rehearsing. Tell me, did you satisfy yourself? Or am I just too good at pleasing you?”

“No, Jeongguk, I-nothing c-could ever compare to you at all. I was only mmm-missing you, ahhh,” your voice trails off when you feel his thumb and pointer finger pinch at your clit, lightly twists.” Your body grows hot and electrified, sweat building a glistening sheen on your body at the tirade your body is going through.

It only lasts for the briefest of moments before Jeongguk stops playing with you and instead pulls your thong to the side and tucks it in between the juncture of your groin and thigh before running his fingers between your now exposed folds, feeling how soaked you are and slides a thick finger into your soft core.

“Fuuuuck, you’re treatin’ me fucking good tonight, doll,” his voice rasps and you watch as he sinks to his knees in front of you. With ease, Jeongguk props your leg over his shoulder and buries his head in between your legs and his tongue is quick to drag through your pussy.

“Jeongguk, fuck, ohmygod,” the cry is muffled as he brings a big hand up to your lips and covers your mouth. Your eyes can’t help but roll back as your cunt flutters over the thick, long fingers that help place stars behind your closed eyes.

“M’gonna need you to be quiet, babydoll. I’ve still got more to give you... going to push a couple more fingers in ‘till I’m satisfied, okay?

Jeongguk makes quick work of his tongue on your cunt. A litany of fast strokes, skilled pumps of his tongue in your messy leaky hole and now with the added addition of two more fingers, now counting three. You feel full of him as he preps you for what you hope is yet to come. It’s almost second nature for him to know when to curl his digits inside of you, a skill you’re more than aware has come from the copious amount of women he’s had in his bed. But for tonight, he’s here with you and that’s what’s important. You moan when he gets knuckle deep and causes your breathing to become erratic as both your hands tangle into the messy roots of his shaggy locks.

It’s frightening how fast your orgasm approaches you. It’s almost like he's known your body for years, and in some way, he does. Whenever his band finds their way to your town, the tirade of sexting continues from where it left off from his last visit.

“Yes babydoll, just like that, use me.”

He fucks his fingers into you and his tongue flicks your clit, drinking down your honeyed slickness. You don’t stop your hips from chasing your high, letting your pussy grind further into his face, nudging at his nose and then stopping to fuck yourself on his pretty button feature.

Out of the corner of your eye, you find a mirror tucked away in the corner. With the closest bathed in darkness, you’re unable to see clearly in the mirror, but it’s clear enough that you can make out the both of you — your hips fucking Jeongguk, using your hands to guide him into delicious positions for your tongue.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t realise Jeongguk has removed a hand from your ass, his black chipped nail polished fingernails rakes down the skin of your thigh, hard enough to leave a sting of pleasurable pain as he continues down to the knee over his shoulder.

With shaking legs, your climax reaches its tipping point and you feel yourself come at an impressive force. Your body curls over in euphoria, fingers tightening its hold in his hair as a litter of curses fill the space between you both. Your head rolls back and your eyes tighten as nothing but black and speckles of white fuzzy stars to appear behind your eyes.

Jeongguk stands up, face wet from your cum coating his pretty features and he can’t help but swipe his tongue over his chin, making a scene of tasting the remnants of your arousal that he gave you.

“Aw, did my fingers fuck you dumb, hmm babydoll? Tell me how good it makes you feel,” Jeongguk demands from you as he practically laughs at your disorientation.

It isn’t fair, you’re still trying to come down from such a powerful climax that the best you can offer him is a string of useless babbled broken words.

His laughter continues and embarrassment settles in your chest. Nobody has ever made you come like that with their fingers alone and you’re both well aware of that fact.

“You look so fucking pathetic and pretty for me, pussy stretched over my bare fingers, making the sweetest sounds. Fuck, I should record you and put you on my next record and release it for the world to hear; you’d be my next breaking hit.” Jeongguk admits and lands a slap against your asscheek, the bite of his skin against yours causing you to hiss.

Eventually, you’re able to prop yourself up on your elbows on top of a stack of black equipment boxes that are kept behind the stages and cock your eyebrow up at him.

“Jeongguk, is that the best you’ve got?” You smirk, knowing you’re pouring gasoline all over an already raging fire.

Jeongguk walks towards you and traps you in between his body and the boxes you're using as a support beam. He lifts his hand in the air and the next thing you know, a dim light flicks to life and lights the closest in a warm yellow glow.

You’re able to take in the sight of the man in front of you for the first time since entering together. His once precise eyeliner and eyeshadow is smudged down his cheeks but in a way that makes him look fucking delicious. His chest is heaving with every shallow breath he takes and you’re awestruck at the beauty of him.

“Tell me what you want.” His eyes are darkened with unbridled lust as he wraps his tattooed hand around your throat and squeezes at the sides, watching your eyes roll back. Jeongguk truly does know your body like a well versed chorus and it makes your body thrum with want. “Good girls use their words.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

He towers over you easily as he stares down at you. His thumb glides over your lower lip and you open your mouth at his silent request. A train of spit is released from his mouth as he watches it slowly pool at the back of your mouth. Jeongguk follows his fluid and presses his lips to yours in a languid kiss, his tongue instantly twisting with yours nastily. You’re still able to taste your cum on his tongue and your pussy throbs for more of him.

It’s effortless how he breaks your lewd kiss and is able to manhandle your body, twisting you around so your back is facing him and he kicks apart your feet like he had done earlier.

“How badly do you want me to fuck you?"

You back your ass into the crotch of his leather pants as you feel him rustling behind you to remove his clothing just enough to release his cock. You move your hips against him, feeling his cock in between your asscheeks as you move to sensual rhythm. “So fucking badly. Remind me what your cock feels like.”

He grabs at your arm and pulls it towards his covered cock. You take the hint and wrap your hand around his twitching length, giving him a teasing squeeze when you feel it. You’re back at standing straight and you turn back around to face Jeongguk, peeking down towards cock.

“What is that?”

“This?” he pulls his boxers down by the hem just enough to reveal the blue jewel piercing. “I’m so glad you asked. I did this for you.”

“You got your dick pierced for me?”

He laughs. “No baby,” this time he pulls his black Calvin Kleins to his mid thighs and reveals one by one a new piercing decorated with a different colour gemstone until he reaches his tip, decorated with a prince Albert with pink gemstones on either side of the bar. “I got my dick pierced four times for you. Each one a favourite colour of yours so when I fuck you, you can watch as the colours disappear inside of you.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth waters at the thought of how they’re going to feel as he fucks into you and you moan pathetically. You can’t look away from them. The pink prince Albert sits prettily at the top of his cock as a puddle of pearlescent precum allows the pink to look vibrant. Following that are three foreskin piercings, again all different coloured stones locking the metal bars in place. There is a purple set first, a green set in the middle and then your favourite colour at the end, nearing the base of his cock — blue.

He is so close to you that you can feel the warmth of his breath against the shell of your ear. “Now, let me use these how they were intended to be fucking used — to feel you wrapping yourself around my cock like an obident slut.” He presses a kiss against your shoulder and manhandles you back in place. “Bend over and spread yourself open,” he growls.

Doing as you’re told, your tits press into the cold metal boxes as you bend yourself to his liking before reaching behind you and spreading your ass open for Jeongguk, displaying your pussy, showing how wet and ready you are for him.

He uses this as an opportunity to bend down to your cunt and spits directly at your hole, watching as you clench around nothing in anticipation for his cock. You looked behind you to see him grab at his cock, lining himself up to your quivering cunt.

“Before I fuck you, there’s one rule you follow,” he groans.

“W-what?” You ask, your breathing all over the place as you wait somehow impatiently for the one thing you have waited six months for.

Jeongguk prods his tip at your entrance and watches as his cum coats your entrance, but never quite pushes himself in yet. “Every inch I fill you with, I want you to count every piercing you feel on my cock—”

“Fuck, Jeongguk!”

“There’s four in total, princess. Once you’ve counted the forth one, then you’ll know you’ve taken all eight inches of me. If you fail to count, I’ll pull out and he can start again until you get it right. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” you tell him.

Jeongguk places a hand at your hip and lines his cock up to you one more time. Slowly, he eases into you and your head falls forward against the boxes. The feeling of his prince albert piercing intruding your small hole causes goosebumps to rise and your breath to falter.

“Count. I’m not going to tell you again.”

With a shaky voice, you obey. “One.”

He stops for a moment, catching his own breath as the reality of the situation catches up with him as he takes in the fact he is back burying himself in his favourite pussy. Definitely one of the greatest parts of him touring the world is your cunt.

Jeongguk manages to compose himself and ease himself further into you, watching as he’s coming up to the first piercing on his foreskin. Just like the first one, he nuzzles the piercing over your clit and moves his hips in a way where it rubs over your clit. Your fist clenches as you feel him tease you and just as you’re about to urge him to go faster, he finally sinks the second bar into your snug core.

“T-two.”

This time, Jeongguk doesn’t waste any time and continues to sheath himself, feeling you wrapping around him. He can’t see you but he knows by how boneless your body has gone that you’re experiencing a whole new high. Better than any drug could give. He reaches piercing three, the green gem glinting from the small lightbulb above before disappearing fully.

He’s only three piercings in and you feel full already, unsure of how there can be any more of him for you to take. His cockhead already feels as if it’s touching your cervix. You know already that by the time the last cock piercing is in you that your tummy will be bulging from his size.

“Shit, there’s just one more. You’re doing so well for me, such a good girl for me,” Jeongguk purrs his affirmation and you perk up at his approval. “Wan’ you to touch yourself.”

You’re too blissfully fucked out already to be bratty, your mind too far in subspace. Your hand wanders in between your legs, towards your cunt. Pressing two fingers to your clit, you begin to rub in a near perfect circular motion.

“Please, Jeongguk, wanna be your g-good girl,” you hiccup.

Jeongguk uses your distraction as his opportunity to sink the last remaining piercing into your poor pussy, feeling you release more of your honey onto him, helping ease him into you just the way he likes.

Not even your favourite dildo can replicate the feeling that this is giving you right now. You have never felt pleasure like this nor do you think you ever will again until the next time you see him.

“F-four…”

He bends down over you to give you a moment to recuperate. His chest is against your back and he presses a kiss to the back of your head.

“Gukkie, move.”

With both of his hands now situated at either side of your hips, Jeongguk pulls out of you and you're forced to feel the jewellery leaving your cunt before he drills back into you, the metal piercings acting as ridges against your soft walls.

Wails and whimpers fall from your lips like a sinful prayer and right now Jeongguk truly did wish this was something he could record. Not for a record as he previously mentioned but for himself.

“More,” Jeongguk moans at your pleas and thrusts forward roughly.

Your heart beats in overtime to keep up with the excretion that your body is going through, sweat clinging to your skin and eyes rolling backwards as he begins a pace that has you seeing stars. His cock rubs so deliciously at your g-spot, every inch he pulls out of you is covered in a bubbly white consistency of your mixed cum.

“Wish you could see what I see, babydoll. Your cunt is such a perfect fit for my big cock.” He punctuates his words with a slap to your ass as he continues to fuck himself in and out of you at a ruthless pace.

You turn your head to the side to catch a glimpse of Jeongguk, and you don’t regret the image. His head is thrown back as he uses one hand to run through the strands of sweat slicked strands from his forehead as they merge together with the hair at the crown of his head. His face has darkened and his eyes are screwed tight in pleasure. You clench your cunt around him, enticing a sinful beautiful moan from him.

“I can take it, Jeongguk! Have always been able to look after you!” Your words aren’t lost on Jeongguk as he chases his high, taking you along for the ride too.

“Jeongguk, please, ohmy—, I’m gonna cum for you,” the words spill from your lips in a high pitched cry as your fingers work once more to rub yourself further to your hight. That’s all Jeongguk needs to hear. He places a hand on the centre of your stomach and the next thing he knows, he’s spilling his own seed into your spent cunt. Ropes of white fill you up and he feels as your stomach bloats just ever so slightly at the load he’s disposed of inside of you.

It doesn’t take you long to feel the frantic burning sensation inside of you snap at the feeling of Jeongguk’s cum filling you up completely before you’re now coming around his cock that is still snuggly stuffed inside of you to the hilt. Your body shakes and your legs are on the verge of giving out at the power of your orgasm that you quickly throw a hand around Jeongguk’s neck to pull at the strands to keep yourself upright.

Time passes as you stand there together, basking in the afterglow of rough sex that has definitely now made him late to the stage for his encore set. It doesn't look like Jeongguk is in any rush to go anywhere though as he whispers quiet little ‘shushes’ in your ear, knowing that you enjoy the little sounds of endearments he feeds you as you come out of your sub space.

Pressed against his soft, warm chest, you're able to hear the beating of his heart under his skin and your mind silently counts in time with every beat. He still has his arm around your waist as both of you still pant from your recent orgasms.

“You should go, Jeongguk, you have a show to finish,” you whisper, knowing he should leave you to finish what he started but you still don’t untangle yourself from his arms.

“I know. But I don’t want this to be the end. Once I get on that stage and finish my set, I’ll be dragged back into a van and taken to the next place when all I want is to be here with you.”

Warmth blossoms over your body at the admission and you can’t help but want more of him too. However, when you both started this, you knew of the implications and the risks.

Jeongguk eventually sits you down and reaches for his discarded band tee and dresses you in it, knowing you’ll keep it until the next time you see each other again. He dresses himself back up, pulling his pants up and redoing the buttons. He picks up the leather jacket and hands it to you with a kiss on top of your forehead.

His lips linger longer than any previous kiss like this he’s given you.

“Jeongguk, please go and finish your set.”

“I’ll see you next time, yeah?” And you nod your confirmation. You’ll always see him again.

He eventually pulls away from you and clicks open the door, slipping out and leaving you in the closest on your own.

“Jeongguk, where the fuck have you been? You’ve kept us waiting!” The voices dissipate the further they walk away. In your hazy, lust clouded mind you decipher that the voices to be his managerial staff or his fellow band members.

You sit by yourself in the small space which now feels too big with just yourself inside. The dull sound of drums and an electric guitar vibrates through the backstage area and you sit in your own company and listen to what you can of the music.

“Until next time.”

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