𝖊𝖕𝖍𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑 [bsd x reader oneshots] ༉‧₊˚✧

𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗠𝗔┊POSSESSIVE HC'S「♞」

⇢ TAGS :| GN!READER. PROTECTIVENESS, POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, GROSS DRUNK PATRONS, IMPLIED/REFERENCED MURDER, MENTIONS OF GUNS, NON-GENDER SPECIFIC SMUT. NOT PROOFREAD.

──────────

⇢ He is both possessive and protective despite the awkwardness that is practically embedded in his personality. Most of those emotions originate from his personal complex with loss and the fear that strikes him whenever confronted with a threat that could take you away from him. A smaller percentage of those emotions derive from issues of his own self-image—he is a "mediocre" man. In his mind, you could do so much better than him.

⇢ However, there are certain situations where that underlying possessive and protective anxiety spurs into something much more confrontational and combative.

──────────

Chandeliers cast crimson carpets in beams of scattered light, illuminating the expressions of dazzled patrons as they chatted between sips of rich wines, danced in steady, sensual waltzes, and gambled in various games of chance. Laughter blended into orchestral strings as they bowed to sweet melodies, perfecting the enchanting atmosphere in a picturesque state of glitz and glamour. 

 You stood to the side with a smile, decked out in your fanciest attire as you leaned against the wall with tired eyes. Despite his protests, you had insisted on assisting Sigma with tonight's event, knowing the pressure had been eating at his mind for days. And to your combined delight, it had been a smashing success, drawing in new customers as money flowed in and out of slippery dealer hands. 

 Your eyes scanned the sights, determined to find a certain Casino Manager, only to spot him watching the event from an isolated balcony, a content smile spread across his lips in relief. You cut through the center of the room, making your way over to the staircase.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone?" a man slurred, his voice sharpened into a sneer as he blocked your path. He towered over you with confidence, despite the obvious traces of alcohol that spilled from his lips, slowing down his system between jumbled consonants. 

You swallowed a groan as you grinned between gritted teeth. "I'm not alone. If you excuse me—" 

 You froze as a hand grabbed onto your arm. "Don't be such a downer." You winched as his grip only tightened, almost bruising as he pulled you towards him. "Whaddya say we get outta here a-and go back to my room, hmm?" 

Without any remaining patience, you yelled out in disgust. "Let go of me, you—!" 

"Is something wrong over here?" 

The muscles of your body eased at the familiar, smooth voice that joined the figure in your peripheral. However, instead of the courteous manager you had been expecting, the face of an irate man — truly a member of the DOA — glowered down upon the scene. 

The strange man only stared up blankly. "I was only having a c-conversation with my date, man. Nothin' to get worked up over." 

Sigma only scowled. "They." He shoved the man away, knocking him to the floor as he wedged himself between you both, a hand gently intertwining with your own. His eyes darkened, bending to level with the man. "Are mine." 

You could not maintain your composure through the flushed heat of your cheeks, peering up at the enraged manager and hoping no one noticed the shudder that traveled down your spine. The stranger scrambled to apologize, but Sigma was having none of it. With a snap of his fingers, the man was lugged out of the room, kicking and screaming. You were about to stir the awkward silence with a question, but he squeezed your hand tighter, guiding you out of the event.

──────────

⇢ The next event can either go in one of two directions, completely depending on how pissed off he became.

⇢ If he's only slightly mad, he'll bring you into a separate room and sit you down. He knows that the situation was incredibly unpleasant for him, and he couldn't imagine the way you felt. So, he'll check to ensure that you're not panicking or hurt. In the case of a panic attack, he'll breathe with you, putting every technique that you've taught him during his own panic attacks to use. And if you were hurt — and God, that man better hope you aren't — he'll bandage and ice your wounds with the utmost care, gentle kisses tracing around the marks as he worships your skin (and he'll have his staff hold onto the fucker so he would have a new test-subject for their new "state-of-the-art artillery collection).

⇢ You'll be enwrapped in a variety of cuddles and kisses, not wanting you to leave the safety of his arms for even a second. The way that man talked down to you unnerved him to the core, treating you like some kind of item instead of a person. It made him sick. He'll whisper sweet words into your ear, assuring you that you are so much more than what that disgusting man implied.

"You mean the world to me, my love."

⇢ Or, if he is very mad, you won't be walking the next morning. He'll pull you into the nearest storage room — or, if you're lucky, bedroom — and fuck the living daylights out of you. Sigma is going to make sure, no matter if you're overstimulated and sobbing on his cock, that he cums inside of you.

⇢ Hickies will scatter across your skin, not an inch untouched as he manhandles every part of your body, aching bruises decorating your skin. He couldn't stand that man gazing upon your perfect body with such a lustful expression, eyeing you with a look only he should give you.

⇢ He'll make sure you know exactly who you belong to, sputtering out jumbled curses and mutters of his name between broken breaths, begging him through tears to let you cum as the sounds of skin slapping echoed into the hallway.

⇢ But, after all of it is over, he becomes the absolute king of aftercare. He will be mortified when he realizes how rough he was, drawing you a warm bath with sweet scents and massaging any of your aching muscles with oils as he whispers apologies for his rashness.

⇢ However, a part of him knows you liked it.