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nothingbutsweetwords · 7 hours

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ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ᴡᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʙᴜɪʟᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴀʟʟ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ…"

Word count: 4000.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

HOLDING — 5. Her.

In the turbulent landscape of her mind, revelations unfurled like a shadow play, eclipsing all other thoughts, making it impossible for her to consider the idea of claiming a dragon. The cruel and harsh circumstances of the moment left no room for such a notion. Even in a different world, she would not have felt ready. Her respect for family transcended her own desires.

She could see the urgency in every word Aemond spoke, the need shining in his eyes. She felt immense gratitude toward him for his consideration, but this gratitude was accompanied by an unexpected anger, for now she had a new fear to face. A fear that grew with each of his insistences, a fear of not measuring up, of not being good enough.

The disappointment on Aemond's face as he headed for the door wounded her deeply. Her mouth twisted in a gesture of frustration, regretting not only having disappointed him but also herself. She had always believed in her courage, in her capability, until the moment came to prove it.

"I won't sit idly by" Aemond declared before leaving, his words echoing in the emptiness of the room. Her stomach sank, a knot of anxiety forming within as she recalled Helaena's words.

Quickly, she threw her cloak over her shoulders, not caring that it barely covered her nightgown. There was no time to dress properly. She rushed out of the room, her hurried steps filling the dark and silent corridors. The night's chill seeped through the castle windows, she could hear the murmur of waves crashing against the shore, and the echo of her steps resonated against the stone walls, heightening her sense of urgency and desperation.

Upon reaching the balcony, she spotted Otto and Aegon entering the castle, although their gaze was fixed elsewhere. As she was about to step outside, with her eyes on Aemond's back, Diana, her mother's lady-in-waiting, appeared carrying Joffrey in her arms. At the sight of her, Diana frowned.

"My princess, what are you doing out of your quarters at this hour?" Diana asked, concerned.

"I need to..." she began.

"You cannot leave your quarters dressed like this, so inappropriately, princess, come with me" Diana insisted, shifting Joffrey to one arm and taking her by the shoulder with the other, guiding her back.

"I need to find Aemond" she explained, her words falling on deaf ears as Diana led her further into the castle.

"You can look for him tomorrow, my princess" Diana concluded, opening the door to the room she had left just minutes before.

"Diana, please, listen to me" she begged, feeling the desperation in her chest and a bitter taste filling her mouth. Both entered the room, and seeing her urgency, Diana put Joffrey on the bed and knelt to be at her level. Diana had been like a mother to her, and she had never seen her so upset, so her distress made the lady-in-waiting pay more attention.

"I have a bad feeling, Diana, please, I need to go" she pleaded, nervousness evident in every word. Diana took her trembling hands, trying to calm her.

"Princess, tell me, what is happening?"

"I feel that something bad is going to happen, Diana, let me go to him."

"Princess, I cannot let you leave at this hour, your mother would not approve. I assure you that nothing will happen, we are all safe here, yes?"

Tears began to stream down her cheeks as she realized it was futile; the woman did not understand. Joffrey began to cry, demanding attention. Diana moved away to console him, picking him up again and casting a worried glance at her.

"What if I call your mother, princess, would that be better?" Diana proposed. She nodded, knowing that her mother might comprehend her better. "Very well, but wait for her here, princess, please." Although she still wanted to go after Aemond, she agreed.

She grappled with an unfamiliar sensation, something she didn’t know how to describe, like a tightening grip around her ribs that boded ill, and she knew it could not mean anything good. Seated upon the bed, she endeavored to steady her breath, yet with each passing moment void of news from her mother, the task proved more arduous. Rising to her feet, she commenced pacing, impatience fueling her, her mind besieged by an unyielding tempest.

Then she felt it, as if the ground trembled beneath her soles. She hastened to her window, and there she beheld it. From her elevated position, she had a clear view of where Vhagar lay, her giant dark silhouette standing out against the golden sand. Though unable to discern Aemond's diminutive form, she watched as the dragon turned its gaze in his direction and opened her mouth. A chill ran down her spine as she witnessed the scene, her heart racing wildly.

A deep roar, vibrating through her very core, thundered forth from Vhagar's throat, enveloping the night in its imposing echo. Admiration and fear danced a precarious duet within her, emotions entwined in conflict as she beheld the majestic creature ascend from its resting ground. Helaena's cautionary words reverberated still in her mind, stirring a burgeoning anxiety within her.

She bit her lower lip, her trembling hands gripping the window sill. The tension was unbearable. She wanted to scream, run to him, stop him, but she was paralyzed by fear and worry.

The scene unfolded like a dream. Aemond mounted the dragon, and for a moment that seemed eternal, both remained still, as if time itself had stopped to witness that momentous instant. Then, with another thunderous roar, Vhagar spread her colossal wings and, with a powerful flap, majestically lifted off the ground. The wind generated by the takeoff shook the window glass, making it tremble.

She could not look away, her eyes filled with tears. It was a sight both awe-inspiring and terrifying at the same time. She felt pride, but also a deep and visceral fear for Aemond's safety. Vhagar was a formidable battle dragon, and only the most capable and daring individuals could hope to claim her. The dragon ascended higher and higher, her powerful wings slicing through the air with lethal grace. Soon, they became a shadow, fading into the distance and the darkness of the sky, joining their fates in a defiant flight and leaving her with a sense of emptiness and an unanswered question: Could Helaena have been wrong, or did her prophecy still await?

After an agonizing wait full of uncertainty, the moment she waited for finally arrived. From her position at the window, she saw the great figure of Vhagar soaring through the night sky. Her heart leapt with relief at the sight of Aemond's familiar silhouette, unscathed and returning safely from his daring flight. With her heart in her throat, she watched as he descended from the dragon's back with grace and determination. Every stride he made towards the castle was a melody of triumph and bravery. Illuminated by the moon, his figure glowed with a quiet radiance.

She could barely contain her excitement when she saw him disappear below. Each step Aemond took towards her echoed the victory in her chest, like it was her own.

She ran to her door, her sweaty hand on the knob, ready to open it before he even knocked. A smile adorned her face, her lower lip between her teeth as she waited, expectant. She could not wait to see his sweet look, revealing exhaustion and satisfaction from his feat, when they were face to face. She was about to go out in search of him again when she noticed how long it was taking him to return, but at that moment, she heard a deafening noise coming from the beach and stood rooted in place. It was a roar from Vhagar, a raw and primal cry of pure agony.

Everything had gone too well considering the luck they both had, and she knew Helaena was never wrong.

Her lady-in-waiting, Lyra, had rushed in some time later, her face appeared ghostly pale, as if every drop of blood had been drained from it, terrified, and when she saw her, there was no need to ask any questions. She approached, sitting beside her, and she simply rested her head on Lyra's lap, curling into a ball. Lyra covered her with blankets, feeling the chill of her cold body, and gently stroked her hair, humming a sweet melody, while madness reigned in the hallways. The clinking of metal armor could be heard as guards ran, frightened and condemning whispers from everyone present in the castle, yet she remained in place, pinned, unable to react. She was not ready to face whatever was happening, but there was only one thing she needed to know.

"Is he okay?"

Lyra did not ask who she meant, for she had seen her princess's face soften every time she saw him pass by, she simply replied, "He will be, my princess."

The sun barely hinted at itself behind a shroud of gray clouds that darkened the dawn. Throughout the long night, she had been unable to close her eyes, despite Lyra's careful attempts to tuck her in. Lyra had stayed by her side, fulfilling the order Diana brought from Rhaenyra, and her presence had been a small but insufficient source of comfort.

With the first light of day, the gravity of the events became apparent. Lyra had gone to fetch breakfast a few minutes ago, and she, unable to keep waiting, decided to step out. The castle hallways buzzed with frenetic activity, guards stationed at the door of Aemond and Aegon's room, and servants hurrying by with luggage. When she tried to enter to see Aemond, the guards stopped her. Only a maester, carrying a tray full of instruments and herbs, was granted entry. The door closed swiftly, and she only managed to glimpse a silhouette resting on the bed in the dim light.

Desperate, she headed to her brother’s room, finding it empty. She decided to go to her mother's chambers, where the guards immediately let her pass. Inside, she found her brothers with bowed heads and Laenor with loose dreadlocks, disheveled and with swollen eyes. Rhaenyra maintained a grave expression, despite her serene face.

"Mother" she called, running to her side. Rhaenyra took her into her lap and kissed her forehead. Luke looked up, revealing a swollen nose and traces of blood, while Jace remained unscathed except for his reddened knuckles. He seemed uninjured otherwise. She opened her mouth to question what had happened, but her mother spoke first.

"Leave us. You've already caused enough trouble today" Rhaenyra commanded. Her brothers left without protest, leaving her searching for answers.

"Prince Aemond was… injured last night" Rhaenyra began softly, a tremendous weight settling on her shoulders, crushing her in place. "He has lost an eye."

Her world crumbled at that instant. Tears began to well up as she backed away, bringing her hands to her mouth. Rhaenyra hurried to take her by the shoulders, trying to calm her.

"He will be fine, he was attended to quickly" her mother assured.

"How...?" The question died on her lips, terrified and confused.

"It was a... regrettable accident. They did not wish him such harm."

"They?" she asked, feeling a knot in her stomach as she recalled Luke's injured face and pieced it together. "How could they..."

"Your brothers were forced to defend themselves" Rhaenyra firmly said.

How had things escalated so far? Had she misjudged the situation? It seemed that the jokes, taunts, and blows were the result of something much deeper.

She felt the breath escape her, her mind swirling with guilt and fear. Guilt gnawed at her conscience for failing to intercept Aemond before his departure from her chamber, for not standing by to shield him, for delaying her departure from the solace of her quarters, and for not being by his side at that pivotal moment, holding his hand.

"Defend themselves from what?" she asked, desperate to understand.

"Aemond insulted them, and by extension, us." The pain stabbed her as she understood. Aemond, her dear Aemond, had said terrible things. Surely there was some explanation, he would never say such things just to hurt. And still, nothing justified him losing an eye. Shaking her head, she tried to move towards the door, but her mother's hands stopped her.

"They won't let you near him, not after last night."

"But I did not do anything."

"They won't care." Frustrated, tears streamed from her eyes. Defending their honor had been what drove Harwin away from them, and now it was keeping her from her sweet prince, her best friend.

Her mother's voice cut through the mental cacophony with a statement: "His family will soon sail back to King's Landing, and we will go to Dragonstone, like it was planned."

"He is our family too, we can't leave him alone after this, mother, please, we can't go to Dragonstone" she said, suspended in a liminal space between incomprehension and denial.

"We are not living in a castle where we are not welcome anymore. There is no discussion."

"I need to be with him," she pleaded, "he will need me by his side. I need to take care of him."

"He will have the best maesters at his disposal, ensuring his safety, I promise you that, my child" Rhaenyra said, in an effort to soothe her distress.

"That is not enough!" she replied angrily. "Please, let me stay with him."

"I cannot leave you alone with them" her mother’s voice began to rise.

"Why not?"

"What if something happens to you? I could never forgive myself."

"Nothing could ever happen to me in the Red Keep. They will continue to look after me, I am part of the family."

"You are part of our family."

"It is just one family, Mother, I beg you" she said, taking her mother's hands in hers and looking her in the eyes. "Do not separate me from him."

"Let her" Laenor intervened, surprising both of them. Rhaenyra looked at him, uncertain.

"I cannot leave her alone."

"I will have Aemond, Helaena, and my grandsire" she insisted.

"And I will ensure the best men guard her doors day and night" Laenor added.

"She belongs at our side, I can't..."

"Then let her return to you" Laenor said gently. Rhaenyra sought more reasons to refuse, but she interrupted her.

"Please, Mother" she begged. "At least until he heals, please."

Rhaenyra finally relented, her nod almost unnoticeable. "Only until he heals."

Tears streamed down her cheeks, a blend of joy and sorrow as she enveloped her mother in a tight embrace. They wept in unison, their tears mingling as they shared their burdens. With a turn towards Laenor, she found his outstretched arms, welcoming him into their embrace. Grateful for the familial warmth, for the embrace she had lost.

Days at sea dragged on with the patience of a shadow that refuses to move, passing with an awful and annoying slowness. She waited patiently by the door of Aemond's cabin, where the maester and Queen Alicent seemed to weave a cloak of excuses to keep denying her the access. Nevertheless, she remained there, waiting, clinging to the hope that her presence, perhaps even separated by the wood between them, might bring some comfort to the prince.

Occasionally, a specter slipped into her thoughts, whispering questions. Had it been a mistake not to travel to Dragonstone? Was Aemond choosing not to see her, holding her responsible for her brother’s actions? She couldn’t blame him if that was the case.

In those moments of uncertainty, her heart found solace in the smiles of Lyra and Helaena. Saying goodbye to her family turned out to be an even more heartbreaking experience than she could have ever foreseen. The only thing that kept her upright was the intense fury she still felt towards her brothers. Luke, with tears streaming down his eyes, hugged her with palpable desperation, and though she tried to remain impassive, she couldn’t stop a few tears from slipping down her cheeks, especially upon seeing the wound that scarred her brother's face. On the other hand, Jace showed a clear reluctance to a farewell. He only appeared due to Rhaenyra's insistence, but even that pressure wasn’t enough to elicit a genuine hug.

Returning to King’s Landing brought a glimmer of relief, a fresh breeze that caressed her face with the promise of the safety and comfort in her own room. She dedicated that first day on solid ground to rest, to clear the fog that had clouded her mind and made her body seasick during the days of the voyage. And although she allowed herself to enjoy the momentary peace, her mind remained anchored at the prince’s door.

The following days flowed in a serene routine, marked by Lyra’s warm voice announcing the dawn. Amid laughter and trivial conversations, she avoided mentioning her family, afraid that the echo of nostalgia would turn into an insurmountable abyss. Then, she attended her classes, engaging in relaxed conversations with the septa and Helaena while they embroidered. While Helaena embroidered an impressive spider, she made circles in different shades of blue and violet, or tried to. Later, in the sanctuary of her room, after a warm bath with rose oils, she immersed herself in reading, as the prince's absence had stolen the shine from all the words in the books inside the library.

Until one night, tired of the guard’s persistent refusals, and determined to defy the prohibition that tormented her, she locked her door with determination. With a flickering candle illuminating her face, she ventured through the corridors toward Aemond's chamber, ready to challenge any obstacle that stood between them.

A dim light in the middle of the hallway, like a tiny star in the dark, guided her path to the room. The slightly open door seemed to whisper a silent call, inviting her to cross the threshold into Aemond's refuge.

As she entered, her gaze met the prince's figure, bathed in the silvery moonlight streaming through the window. He lay in bed, wrapped in sheets with his arms outstretched over the covers. With barely perceptible steps, she approached, afraid of disturbing his sleep, but urged by the need to be near him. Closing the door behind her and placing the candle on the bedside table, her eyes settled on the prince's face. One side covered in white linen bandages, and the other marked by bruises, a painful contradiction of wounds and scars on his silk like skin. When their gazes met, a flicker of complicity lit up the darkness, though tears threatened to blur her vision.

"I thought you wouldn’t come" Aemond whispered, a trembling smile curving his lips as his sapphire eye met hers, now clouded. She wanted to return it but couldn’t. "Do not fret, I’m better now" he tried to console her, but she gave in to the emotional storm she had kept at bay for so long. Tears flowed freely as she collapsed onto the bed next to the prince, messing up the sheets. Her hands found his, a contrast between the violence of her tears and the softness of her touch.

"I’m so sorry" she murmured between sobs, overwhelmed by the weight of guilt that had consumed her since that fateful day.

Aemond gently squeezed her hands, whispers of comfort escaping his lips in an attempt to calm her inner turmoil. "Quiet, there are guards at the door, they must not hear you or they will come."

She nodded and began to inhale and exhale, trying to relax. "I’m so sorry" she repeated in a lower voice, a litany of regret that threatened to drown her.

"You must stop apologizing for things you did not do" he interrupted her, his voice soft, yet firm.

"I should have been there, I tried to follow you, but Diana took me back to my chambers and-and" her words were cut off, caught in a whirlwind of uncontrollable emotions. "I tried to visit you every day, Aemond, I swear this to you, but they would not let me see you."

"I’m glad you’re here now" his voice was barely a whisper, but it resonated with a tenderness that melted the walls of pain inside them. An unexpected request broke the silence between them, a gesture of vulnerability that transcended all barriers. "Could you come to the other side?"

A blush of embarrassment tinted her cheeks as she realized her mistake, but her response was a gesture of silent obedience as she circled the bed to take her place on the right side. Her tears continued to fall.

"Could you pass me my tea?" Without saying a word, she reached for the adjacent table and took the small golden cup filled with liquid. Carefully, she brought it to the prince's lips, who drank slowly, seeking relief in the bitter and now cold brew. When he finally set the cup aside, his words once again stirred the torrent of feelings within her. "It helps with the pain."

A heart-wrenching impulse flooded her at Aemond's exposedness, silently struggling against the torment consuming him from within. "Does it hurt terribly?" she asked, though she knew the answer lay beyond mere expressions. However, the prince responded with nothing more than a press of his lips, a silent refusal to lie to her, and also to tell her the truth, which spoke more than a thousand words.

"I wish I could take all your pain and bear it myself instead" she whispered, longing to feel the weight of his suffering crush her heart if it meant giving him a respite.

Aemond looked at her, his face full of gratitude and determination. "I would never allow that" he assured her, with the firmness of one who has made an irrevocable decision. And she knew that it was true, he held a sincerity that moved her heart, and was like a balm for her wounded soul. The prince's next request flowed in the air, laden with longing and need. "Could you stay with me? The maester won’t come until the sun is up." She nodded, relieved that her presence was welcome. She shed the cloak that covered her and slid under the sheets, feeling the comforting warmth of the prince’s closeness. "Would you hold me?" he requested, setting aside shame thanks to the effects of the poppy milk beginning to take hold.

With tenderness and care, she moved closer, seeking refuge in his chest while her arm wrapped around his waist in a gesture of mutual comfort. In that embrace, they found a haven of peace, an oasis of calm amidst the storm, where pain dissolved in the warmth of their shared love. Her heart beat in unison with Aemond’s, united in an indissoluble bond that transcended the wounds of the past and the uncertainties of the future, while her tears continued her lament, reflecting the pain that had taken root in her heart not only for the prince but also for the acts perpetrated by her own brothers. The disappointment and anger intertwined, tearing the veil of trust she had once placed in them. That darkness, deceitful and treacherous acts seemed alien to the image she had built of them, even in the darkest corners of her imagination.

It was the prince’s caress among her scattered curls that brought her out of that abyss of murky thoughts, reminding her that, despite everything, there was still light and comfort in the middle of the night. "I’m glad Helaena told you. For a moment I thought that she hadn't heard me" he confessed, a hint of relief in his voice.

"Told me what?" she asked, confused by Helaena's mention.

"To stay" Aemond replied, as if it were obvious. However, her response came in the form of a profound silence full of meaning. She knew it wasn’t necessary for Helaena to ask, for her commitment to remain steadfastly by his side was unwavering.

@callsignwidow @helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @fics-i-love-and-recommend @scarletbedlam @squidscottjeans @woodlandwrites ♥

#aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic

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neet-elite · 2 days

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↳ EVENT 28. C!M!Sydney (Worship & Yandere)

Pairing: C!M!Sydney / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,462 Warnings: worship, yandere, kidnapping, gagging, drool, drinking drool, handjob, rope, religious contexts, surprisingly soft?, somnophilia, dubcon (consent is not stated, assume noncon to be safe, but it depends on how you want to read it.) Prompt(s): 05 — worship + 18 — yandere Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: also very nasty. god im sorry for exposing yall to my secrets LMAO.... i went for something not PIV to keep myself sane, so i hope its at least still enjoyable <3 sydney has so much yandere potential!!! mixed with the religious themes and god <33 big fav ty for letting me ramble a lil!

Heavy footsteps thump through the dark basement, creaky steps announcing his arrival within the dungeon, though soon are overtaken by the buzz of fluorescent lights, flicked on for his own comfort rather than anything as kind as your sight. Humming with his steps, seemingly without a care in the world as he makes his way towards your limp body slowly. Carefully calculated footsteps so as to not frighten you too much— he'd hate a repeat of last week. You were so loud with your wailing, God, barely allowing him to scrape by with a half-assed excuse for his fathers concerns.

That's why you've got the gag now, see? Oh, but he made sure to buy you the softest material, painstakingly picking the prettiest fabric to shut you up with, because you deserve only the best.

"Love?" His voice croaks upon reaching you, your head hanging low for him to tilt at curiously. Asleep? Well, even unconscious you're still the prettiest thing he's ever seen, a sick smile beaming down at you when your drowsy frame refuses to respond to him in any meaningful manner. No matter, he still loves you even when you're not awake. In fact, perhaps a little more than usual, only because you're so easy to dote upon!

Absentmindedly, he kneels before you. Cupping his legs with his arms wrapped around them, simply doting down at you from above. How long have you been down here again... God, he can't quite remember. But love does that to you, doesn't it? Melds all the happy days together, an amalgamation of sobs and kisses in blended days; it's got to have been some time, though. The ropes that bind you to the pillar in the basement have been digging into your skin enough to leave bruising, prompting him to wince down at you. "If only you had listened better..." He tuts to himself, running his thumb feather light over where the rope has slipped a little to reveal your wounds.

He'll have to tighten them later. At least until you can be trusted to roam the basement without supervision.

You know, he's spent his whole life in worship. Praying, begging to a false God for any sort of recognition. Doing his best to live life by the book, avoiding all that threatens to tempt him— but then you came along. Ethereal and blessed in his eyes, just begging to be followed. And so it's no surprise that he was immediately cast aside by the place he once called home, now finding refuge in your doe eyes and tear stained cheeks.

A temptress in your own right, worming your way under his skin so easily; it's no wonder that he soon switched religion. And, determined to prove his worth as a loyal follower of his new God, you, he could think of no better way than to hole you up in the dark dank so as to hold private sermons whenever he so wishes. His affections were already strong to begin with, something akin to fated obsession, right? From the moment you had first spoke to him, setting butterflies ablaze in his tummy— the feeling he's came to understand as love once resembling upset to his sheltered mind. But his feelings only grow the longer he holds you against the pillar, resolved to make you deeply feel just how much he loves you, how strongly he believes in you above all else, until you believe in him too.

But, he's not quite there yet. He can feel it, staring down at you with the kind of intrinsic understanding that only lovers share. That's how he knows he's doing the right thing when he settles on his ass with a soft oof in front of you, taking advantage of your crossed legs to wrap his own at either side of you, scooching closer only to brush stray strands of hair from your pretty face.

Ah, the face of a God. How honoured he feels to be touching you right now, ignoring the twitch in his pants from the scent of you in favour of caressing your cheek. Thumb stroking along it, teeth biting down on his bottom lip to keep his breath contained— you look so sweet right now, all fatigued and sleepy. He'd hate to disturb you too much, and, given how exhausted he is from keeping up appearances in that heathen church, he can scarcely find the energy to do more than stare. Touching you so gently, so delicately, as if he were afraid that any more pressure would prompt you into breaking before him. He loves you so much, enough to kidnap you and keep you hostage in his lonely basement for all eternity, it seems.

Somewhere in his body he knows his actions to be wrong, but the way your bottom lip wobbles before him easily coaxes him out of his rationality, his voice a hushed whisper with:

"Are you dreaming of me? Can you feel the way I touch you? Do you yearn as much as I do?"

The answer, inevitably, is no. No one, including yourself, could ever hope to match his state of desperation, prepared to live through a lifelong battle consisting of solely proving that very same fact to you. The life of a follower, a devout worshipper of all that you are, were, and will be.

When contained within the four walls he's caged you inside, that is.

He'll dress the place up for you, eventually. Gifts and favours, all meant to appease his God. But that'll come later, when you learn to accept his followership the way a God should. You're new to the whole divinity ordeal, so he's cutting you some slack.

But the longer he stares at you lovingly, the harsher his thumb digs into the fat of your cheek, the more his cock twitches with need to prove himself to you. Whether you're awake or not doesn't matter to him, he doesn't need your sobbing to confirm his place by your side— though you do sound oh so pretty when weeping his name. It's just that, well, any time spent with you is time well spent, he thinks. And tonight, he intends on revering you as he does much the same any night.

Free hand hovering over his cock, he settles into the cold stony flooring under him. Shuffling ever closer to you, he's found quite intimately that he can never be too close to you. But he needs only get close enough to reach your fingers right now, interlocking the hand that was on your cheek with your own in a tender display of followship. Of afflicted affection, feeling unable to do anything but cherish your existence.

"My love," He whispers to the lifeless body before him, drinking in the sight of your steady breaths. It's the calmest he gets to view you, so he keeps his touch careful in hopes of stealing more glances. "Allow me some alone time, please.." He huffs, cock already rock hard before you simply from slight touch. Doesn't this mean that you were made for him? Made exclusively for his gratification, for him to abide by, to keep an eye on you to make sure that you're forever safe?

Don't you think he deserves a little repayment in the form of the aforementioned alone time every now and then?

It's not like he's asking for much, lovingly lifting your flaccid hand only to place it against his hard cock, immediately letting out a shaky sigh at the heavenly contact your fingertips offer his bulge. A secret mass, forced upon his sleeping deity in such a perverted way, making your fingers caress his throbbing length because he can, because he knows that deep down you'd want to, right? You'd look upon his soft pout, the way his chest heaves with deep breaths every time he manhandles your fingertips against his own leaking tip, and you'd want to help him like the good little God you are to him, right?

And if not, well, he's very willing to help teach you the right way to behave. He's only been studying Gods his entire life; you had better trust him by now to know what's best for you.

Gradually, he applies pressure on your wrist. Aiding your motions, helping you stroke along his hard cock outline as a means to bond together. "Feels so good, love..." He huffs out against you, voice a tad bit louder due to the sheer amount of pleasure pooling in his tummy, throwing caution to the wind the more you play with him. Even if it's more so his doing, part of his worship is to help, is it not? Assisting your eager fondling by grinding his hips up and against your palm, relishing in the gentleness of your hand contrasting against each harsh throb of his cock. Taking private enjoyment in how good it feels to be so dirty with you, how the act of humping into your palm is not shamed by you, unlike his previous faith. But instead, he feels hedonistic pleasure in every roll of his hips, ass bucking up off the ground once or twice to really dig his leaking tip against your willing hand.

But it's all a bit too good to be true, he thinks. God, the way he could just stay here forever with you if it were possible— but alas, he has a life to live, too. Jealous as he is of your perfect position, able to remain unseen and unnoticed by many, hidden away with your palm on his cock, he stays mindful not to complain too much. After all, if not for his trips outside of such a sacred space, he'd never have been graced by the sight of your pretty gagged face. Cooing softly down at you, still yet fucking his bulge against your unknowing palm, he thinks something that feels so good could never be bad, right?

Not in the least because it's you who's causing his hips to stutter, a broken little whine escaping him at the way you so easily help him feel euphoric, not even needing to be conscious of your efforts to have him a panting mess before you.

"Angel..." Escapes him, and he fucking means it too. His little angel, clipped wings behind your broken back, doing your utmost to make him smile, to keep him happy. He can't help but to shiver into your innocent touch, letting your wrist turn limp once more for but a brief second. "Missed you so— ah, so much—" He ends up moaning, unbuttoning his pants and tugging on them enough to have his cock spring free before your sleeping body. Maybe he played with you a little too roughly the other day...

It's just that he wants to worship you so bad! And so well too, making sure to be so thorough in his prayer sessions that you end up exhausted the next day. But it's okay, he doesn't mind the weak grip of your hand as he instructs your fingers to wrap around his now exposed cock the way he likes, letting you simply feel how hard he throbs for you for a minute or so.

That, and he doesn't want to blow a load immediately. Calming himself down with shallow breaths, idly stroking at your fingers with his own until he feels like he can safely move your hand up and down— slowly. Lazily, almost, leaning back on his free hand so that he has a good view of your body as you're made to jerk him off.

And you feel so good. Too good, really, an uncomfortable weight resting in his chest when he tries his best to live up to the self imposed expectations he holds for himself. Is he even worthy of your touch right now? Hips bucking into your hand turned fleshlight regardless, because he's obsessed with your very existence. How you just feel so right when loosely gripping his cock like that, dozing away to yourself and still offering him such innocent pleasure.

You're down here fisting him off because it's only you who can make him feel this way. So choked up with moans, threatening to tumble from his bitten lips and wake you up with every idle up and down he flicks your wrist into, matching your strokes with little thrusts of his own, head thrown back in sheer enjoyment for the satisfaction you give him. Measly little fingers around his fat cock— it'd be embarrassing if he wasn't already head over heels for you, unashamed of just how much he constantly wants you, enough to use you like some sort of sex toy as a twisted means to honour your presence. See, do you see how good you're making me feel? he wants to whimper. You can't blame me for keeping you all to myself, right? Not when your barely there touch feels this good, God...

But he refrains, if only to practice future prayer sessions with you. His cock pulsing against your fingers, leaking precum onto your knuckles as he tightens his grip around your hand. Instructing his God perfectly to get him off quickly, struggling to catch his breath as his balls brow tight and taught under you.

"Ah— Close—" Is all he gets out before he's humping your hand faster, cursing under his breath at the high pitched whine that falls from his open mouth, eyes squeezed shut as he continues to fuck upwards as his load shoots with him. Up and forward, fat strings of his seed covering the top of your head, dribbling down your front from just how much your hand strokes out of him. Because he doesn't stop manipulating your wrist as his orgasm washes over him, making sure you milk every last drop of devotion out of him until you're left a sticky, unaware, sleeping mess.

But he can't just stop there, no! Driven to prove himself some more despite the daze settling into his lust addled mind, he leans forward. Your hand still loose on his tacky with cum cock, in one swift move he tilts your chin up for him to kiss your lips over your gag. The low rumble moan in response letting him know that you're waking to his greedy action, but he doesn't have it within him to stop. Licking over your gag, sucking on the drool you've inevitably spilled from having the item permanently fixed to your maw. He won't let a single drop go to waste, do you see how much he loves every part of you?

Any way to get any part of you inside of him, licking his lips selfishly as he pulls back to greet you.

"Afternoon, love."

#500 event!#dol smut #degrees of lewdity smut #sydney the fallen #sydney the fallen smut

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midnightshaze13 · 2 days

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I must say something because since I attended the Eras shows I feel this and I need to say it.

I've been a fan since crazier came out and she appeared on the cover of a disney magazine that my mom got me because I liked the song and wanted to know more about her, around 2010. Since then I've respected her and her work and came more and more in love with her writing and music.

Lately, I've seen on social media and at the shows of the eras that many people who attended recognized to have had hated on her in the past, but they now "adore her". Something about this feels wrong to me.

Literally, "the old taylor is dead" was made to win over the general public. She had to metaphorically kill all her previous versions that people didn't trust or tolerated; these versions of herself with which she managed to make her name in the music industry AND those are the same ones they all rejected and now they sing with their mouth full.

She was FORCED to get the approval of people like these who pointed and criticized every little nonsense*¹ about her in order to be able to do what she does now: succeed, fill stadiums with thousands of people and create a legacy which will be in the music History books.

What I want to get at is that Taylor Swift, in order to continue growing in the industry, has had to overcome and prove wrong all of you who were at hater position 2, 3, 10 years ago.

In order to be valued and respected for her job which is creating music and for her is specially writing her own songs, she was forced to learn how to dance better to beat the "she doesn't know how to dance" allegations; she had to change her dressing style and many other things like that to be what people wanted her to be so she can have the recognition she deserved previously and all.

To this day I think many don't like Taylor Swift for what she is and has been. Many people attending the Eras are people loving the results of her growing into something different to earn that respect and admiration. And most of those love the performance of a (now considered) cool girl on stage that she puts on every night on the Eras more than her for what she is and more than the music.

But to all those I must say, she's on the bleachers. That's how it was and that’s the narrative most of them rejected her for. It's not okay to me that they love her now that she's cheer captain.

If these people would have known taylor swift at that age when she wrote those and wasn't "cool" they may would've bullied her for the same things they claim to love her for now.

These are the same people who have bullied me and my other Swift's fans friends for decades just for us liking taylor's music. I had to battle and fight for tickets & a seat at The Eras Tour against people who used to bully me at school for liking her music.

In her own words: maybe you've reframed it and in your mind you never beat my spirit black and blue. But I don't think you've changed much.

I welcome those who discover her recently with open arms. But to the "haters to fans" that "now I can see how good she is" no thanks.

I've been here through a lot watching from a distance (tumblr, youtube) and I always dreamed about going to a Taylor Swift's show. I watched the videos of the speak now world tour when my parents wouldn't let me go because I was 13 years old. I watched the Red Tour while experiencing my first romantic heartbreak and the 1989 world tour when I was 16 and decided to not have boyfriends for a long period of my life. When I started uni and had the clean speech tied to my folder binder to see it every day, these people looked at me like if I was GREEN. And then at the Uni I watched the reputation stadium tour every late night before falling asleep wondering what it must felt like to be a part of it and I grew more into the desire of traveling to a show but couldn't afford it back then. The Eras Show was amazing, it absolutely blew all of my expectations, it truly is my once in a lifetime experience that I'm so grateful for. To have been able to experience all the past eras that I dreamed of in my past.

It feels wrong to see every person who once bullied me for dreaming about it out loud back in the day standing there making their own of the lyrics that for so many time were mine to scape real life and dream.

*¹nonsense: there was this time when every day we had a battle on twitter and other social media of people attacking taylor for the absurd fact that she was blonde, rich and famous and also thin. It was like that back then, they didn't had anything else to attack her for.

#taylor swift #the eras tour #ttpd #the tortured poets department #lyrics #ts the eras tour film #eras tour #haters #fans #swifties #eras attendees #conclussion #thank you aimee #no i don't like you

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jewish-vents · 1 day

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Constantly visiting this blog and reading the rants of other Jews suffering like me....I cannot stop crying all the time. So much of us in pain and no one listening. I'm scared. Will it take something huge for everyone else to listen? How far will their hatred go? I can't stop thinking about that post on R/Jewish titled "Be ready this time." Will they still gaslight us even when the hatred becomes so big even they cannot deny or ignore it?

As a South Asian, I saw how brown people were lumped together and suffered after 9/11. To this day, everyone still makes 9/11 jokes but it was us who paid the price. How bad will the world punish us for this? I can't stop feeling suicidal. We will always be blamed for everything wrong in the world. We will never have allies, even our own people turn their backs on us in order to secure that "Good Jew" spot to avoid the dire consequences of being a "bad one".

I hate how betrayed I feel. It was so predictable, yk? The switch up. For the past few years, I couldn't stop feeling like antisemitism was gonna be back in style soon. My family thought it was just paranoia. Then it happened and yet I don't think I could ever get over it or stomach it. How do we even begin to process how quickly everyone embraced extreme, conservative levels of antisemitism? The moment they all took the stance that "Antisemitism isn't real/nothing is antisemitism not even antisemitism is antisemitism" against Israel's "everything is antisemitism", everything went to shit.

Watching the antisemitism happen in real time haunts me too....I can barely sleep. October 7th was already such a horrible day on the internet, don't get me wrong but on my side, at least I saw some people trying to push the "peace for all sides" stance. But after a week or so (maybe a few days tbh), I saw the antisemitism take over everywhere and it replays in my mind, making me sick. They couldn't wait to hate us. They were so happy that they no longer had to care about Jews or antisemitism (They never even spoke about us or our oppression anyways but now they can finally talk about us like the conservatives they oh so hate while also gaslighting us!)

And it sucks to admit but it hurts even more that my fellow people of color and queer people see us as such threats. We're just supposed to take it. We can't ever talk about how Muslims have oppressed us....When Kanye went Nazi, I saw a lot of people fall into antisemitic conspiracies and put the blame on us as well as all their anger and frustrations because somehow it's our fault he never got deplatformed for his "slavery was a choice" remarks and we always have "an agenda". We're just the perfect punching bags because there's so little of us and most people in the world have never met a Jew and yet think they know us through "The Jews killed Jesus" and "The Jews own the world".

I love you all. Everyone who posts on here and of course the person or persons who run this blog. I know we will survive this. We are so strong....we shouldn't have to be but we are anyway and I'm so proud. We've been here before and we will probably be here again over and over. But I'm so honored.

They can try to run over random Jews and shoot our schools and get the world to turn against any Jew by simply calling them a Zionist (which starts a serious isolation of Jews from the world as many Jews get boycotted in the name of antizionism) and attack our elders as they leave synagogues and leave antisemitic flyers in our neighborhoods saying we are the one true evil and do everything you can possibly imagine to harm us and we'll always be here. Everyone finally gets unity through Judenhass but what's new?

Thank you for this blog. It's so easy to feel like we're so alone but we have each other 💕 Sorry for this really long rant. I came here feeling extra hurt because I lost another friend recently. She came to me to have a long antisemitic rant about this white Jewish girl in our circle. Then a concerned friend sent me screenshots of a thread laughing and mocking us on 4chan (🤢🤮) about how Leftists hate Jews more than 4chan now. I can't take any of this anymore. But I am truly grateful for this blog and this space to yell and scream 💕

#jewish vents #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism

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cherry-romper · 3 days

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S. Todoroki - To the moon, from the stars

Warnings: mentions of readers deceased mother.

Contains: GN!reader. fluff, comfort for loss.

This time if day was always bittersweet. The summer sun had begun to set, and the sky had been painted with a myriad of colours. Purples, pinks and oranges all dusted the clouds, contrasting the skies darkening blue sheen.

Perched atop the Endeavour agency skyscraper, … lent against the roof’s ledge. Letting out a content sigh, a light breeze sweeping through your hair. Gazing up to the colour shifting void, you searched for the moon. A candied smile grew at the sight of the floating rock. Just to the side of it, a shining star could be seen, dancing away in the beginning of night. A wave of nostalgia washed over you but inside, a sadness grew. I hope you’re proud of me.

A creek from the door shook them from their thoughts. From the noise emerged a vexed Todoroki, white store bag in hand. “Fancy seeing you here,” you greeted teasingly.

“Hey,” blunt as ever, Todoroki trudged toward his friend. He was clearly in a mood. As he neared, he lifted the bag to you, “Here, I bought us dinner.”

Us? you thought. Eyeing the bag cautiously, you took it and peeped inside. Black bean buns and an assortment of storebought sushi stared back at you. “Shoto, you didn’t need to buy me anything, I could have sorted myself out on the way home,” you always felt guilty when people bought you stuff. Todoroki huffed in response, “It was nothing. You haven’t eaten all day, so I wanted to make sure you had something before you left.”

Sweet. “Thank you,” you said greatfully, offering him a bun which he happily took. Together you munched on your food, not saying much, just enjoying each other’s company and taking in the sight of the setting sun. It wasn’t often the world seemed this peaceful given your line of work, but time always seemed to stop when you and Shoto were alone together.

“Are you doing okay?” You broke the silence. As much as it pained you to do so, you felt rude not asking if he was alright considering how irritated he’d look earlier.

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Ever the man of many words.

“I mean, when you came in earlier. You seemed annoyed, is everything alright? what happened?”

Todoroki sighed. He stared down at the ground below for a while, watching people go by. “My old man,” he began, hesitant, “he was being pushy again. Kept insisting I eat with him today, wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you?”

“Because I know what today means to you.”

Taken aback by his words, you faulted on a response. “I-I-I didn’t know you knew,” was all you could breathe out.

“You’d mentioned your mum to me once, said she’d died on this day a few years back. I’d made a mental note of the date in my head. So, when you asked to go on patrol with me today, I assumed you wanted to take you mind off it, or maybe you just wanted the company, I couldn’t tell. Then I noticed you weren’t eating, so I decided I’d eat with you. I should have asked first, for that I apologies.”

If you weren’t sure whether you loved him before, now you knew. Todoroki cared for you in his own way. Sure, sometimes he could be a bit dense and vague, but he cared so deeply and so truly that it caused ripples in your heart.

“Don’t be silly, you never have to ask to eat with me.” You chuckled, doing your best to hold in the sobs that threated to escape your throat. “Thank you, Shoto. I needed this more than I knew.”

Uncharacteristically, Shoto placed his hand atop your shoulder. “I’m here for you. You’re very dear to me, … . I didn’t want you going through today alone.” With that, the sobs broke through your defences. They were soft, almost happy tears.

Though your beacon had been taken from you, the loss of your mother had blessed you with new beginnings.

Turning to the stars, now far more visible than before, you found the one that danced next to the moon. “Before my mum passed, she used to tell me that stars were gifts to the moon from the galaxy, because without them, the moon wouldn’t shine the way it does. She was my star, and I was her moon. She told me to look for her in the night. She said though it might all seem dark; she’d always be there to guide me.”

Shoto tensed at your words, his hand gripping you a little lighter. He examined you carefully, making sure you were comfortable with his touch. You leaned into it, relaxing a little at the contact. He took that as his sign, his heart pounding in his chest and a million questions racing through his mind, still he pulled you into a hug.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his back, pulling him in tighter. A feeling of familiarity fell over the two of you. Choking back your sobs, you relaxed into the embrace, as did Todoroki, who rested his head on top of yours. You stayed there, holding each other, for what felt like an eternity, and still you both subtly groaned when you pulled away.

“You’re too good to me, Shoto Todoroki.” Still standing close to him, you looked back over to the star to see it had faded. Looking back into his heterochromia eyes, you saw a familiar twinkle. Then you exactly what your mother had been leaning you too.

#shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #bnha x reader

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staytinyville · 12 hours

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Stay Alive (44)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: none

A/N NOT BETA. Y'all I am trying my best to literally finish up the last four chapters. I just want to finally finish something lmao. But Just to let you know I am so happy to reach this part and get to the ending. As well as start new fics within this world. I quite like it honestly.

There was a melancholic feeling within your chest that made you ponder about the actual aspect of the world you were in. It was beautiful–something you could only ever think of as a utopia for the world you actually came from. It was wondrous, excelled in places the human world could never reach. But just like there were people who wanted more in that world–they were much worse here.

You watched as the creatures who were able to fly travel around in the sky–dragons flapping their wings or fearies swerving their way through buildings, had you astounded. Things you thought were made believe in stories or movies were in front of your eyes. It was a childish wonder you seemed to have within you that caused those feelings.

However the more you thought about what brought you to that place made you realize that even if things were magical–it won’t stop evil from taking root. No one would ever be safe from those kinds of things.

You smiled sadly as a group of sprites began to pass the balcony patio you were waiting outside of. A tiny one stopped when they had spotted you. It grew closer to your nose, stopping right between your eyes. You flinched a bit as some of the dust that seemed to fly off it made your nose tickle. You sneezed without wanting to, blowing the sprite away a good distance.

You looked at the mad creature wide eyed, the humanoid sticking its small tongue out at you. You sighed again as it flew away to join its group once more.

“Is everything alright, Little one?” You turned around from the railing, finding Namjoon striding his way over to you.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” You smiled softly.

“I can see your head working a mile a minute.” He spoke quietly, pressing his chest to yours as he leaned in to place his forehead against you.

“Please don't shut us out.” He whispered.

“I'm not trying to. I just want to process some things.” You sighed, turning around to face the city once more.

“Can I join you?” He asked, moving to your side to take in his home.

“Always.” You leaned against his arm, allowing yourself to fall into his warmth.

He had his arms out in the open, his skin on display. Your fingers softly rubbed at his scarred skin, feeling the bumps from the cells that had healed over. You were glad to know he was no longer in pain or that his lesions were open. You figured now that he was back home his healing was much better than they were.

“It felt like just yesterday you were walking into my room to take care of me.” Namjoon began to speak.

“I remember that day because it was the day I met someone who told me for the first time in years to have a good day.” You looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, a bit unsettled that no one had bother to do that before.

“Someone who didn't know what they had gotten themselves into but still chose to help those in need.” He turned to you, sliding his hand down your arm to hold you own.

“I'm sure lots of others tried before me.” You spoke quietly, watching as his warm fingers encased your own between his.

“But none of them were you.” Namjoon placed his forehead against yours, smiling at you as your nose bumped with his.

“You make our coven feel complete. Like everything we went through could not compare to what we would have now.”

Everything they went through? The pain, the sorrow, the idea of them having spent 10 years against their will being underground made you want to throw up. You knew there were more people out there who faced the same problems they did–magical creatures or not–but knowing it was you who brought that upon them made things worse.

Nothing would ever change what you had done–what had happened to you in the past. You had grown up innocent from what you went through, having no memory of what they had done to you. To this day you still don’t even remember, Bang telling you that while he did give you your memory back your own brain has those memories locked away for your well being.

“You shouldn't have to have felt that way though. Because of me you guys were kid—”

“Lead to you. Even if we stayed there forever we still had you.” Namjoon cut you off. “And we weren’t the only ones who went through something terrible. Even if you might never really remember what happened to you, you were on the verge of death. You could have died and we never would have met.”

“Nabi–”

“Protected you. Led you to us. Call it what you want. But you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her.” He tried to tell you.

You would never be able to know what she had been thinking since the moment she had passed. You didn’t even know what she might have been feeling at the moment–only those with magical powers could really figure it out. You wanted to have the chance to know her more. Figure her out the way you might have when you were a kid but you didn’t know how things worked in this world.

“I can't imagine you staying there for so long.” You went back to rubbing at his arm, feeling the planes of his tanned skin. “You're getting better.”

“The magic in our home helps us heal better. Hobi has been helping with our physical wounds and learning more.” Namjoon explained, a smile slipping onto his lips. “It's what we have to do to prepare ourselves for the fight. Hanseol has an army behind him now. Especially with Kang on his side. But we have to try and save everyone.”

You began to frown again, thinking about having the boys go back to that place all over again. There was something in the back of your mind telling you it was the right thing to do. All those children who were taken from their home at a young age and the older people who were taken from their families.

You wanted to stop them–you tried to. But you knew who they were and what they wanted to do from the beginning. As Namjoon said, you were the reason he found hope again. The reason they all did. So who were you to take it away from them to continue hoping for a better future for everyone they had come to care for in that facility.

“Namjoon?” The both of you turned, finding Yoongi waiting at the door of the patio.

“There you are, Princess.” He smiled softly, gums on display as he grew closer to the two of you.

“Everything okay?” He asked you, placing a hand on your cheek to pull you into him.

You gave him a smile, pulling your lips in for a small kiss. “Yeah. I'm fine, Yoongi.”

“Everyone is waiting for us. Let's head inside.” He spoke up when he pulled back, looking up at Namjoon who gave him a nod in understandment.

All the other boys were waiting for you in the meeting room along with your grandfather. When you entered you gave the younger boys a smile, feeling content with the way they huddled around you to make sure you were okay.

“Are you sure you boys are ready to go back? We can always send someone else.” Bang questioned.

“We were there the longest even if we weren't the oldest. The only reason we made it out was because of (Y/N).” Seokjin answered.

“It could've been anyone.” You muttered to yourself, trying to make yourself feel better about the kind of staff Hanseol had in his personnel to not want to take the people out of there.

“Besides, we're the only ones who know that facility inside and out. You'll have a better chance with us joining.” Hobi added, crossing his arms.

There was a sudden knock coming from the door which made all of you turn.

“Come in.” Bang called out.

You watched as the four Valkyries from Jin’s home walked into the room along with the swan maiden, IU. It seemed there was more people coming in behind them as well as more and more people shuffled in to fit in the large boardroom.

“Are we late to the meeting?” Wheein smiled brightly.

“We heard there was going to be a fight. We'd like to join in on the fun.” Solar laughed, smiling as all four of the valkyries stood with smirks.

“Count my boys in as well.” A man with a deep voice called out, arms crossed as a group of 12 other men followed behind into the boardroom.

“Seungcheol.” Namjoon began to grin, taking in the small army that had formed ready for orders.

The leader of BTS walked up to the man, pulling him into a hug as the clapped each other on the back.

“Mingyu told me about your return.” Seungcheol smiled, patting Namjoon on the back. “It's a great thing to see you home. As for the fight, there's more than enough of us.”

He turned to look at his boys, all ranging in different species from what you could tell. You weren’t able to determine much of who they were but you knew they had a faerie in their midst and some kind of animal that had cat like ears. You spotted the boy who was close friends with Jungkook, allowing the boy to let go of you as he seemed to get into a tussle with the other one again.

You began to laugh as the way everyone seemed to be relaxed but ready to fight at a moments notice. You were glad people like them were willing to go to the trouble of bringing the others back. It didn’t make you worry any less about your boys but you knew they had others who were going to help them.

Bang stood from his chair. “Then let's start prepping. The faster we save everyone the faster we can bring them back home.”

Series Masterlist

@h3arteyes4mingi , @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh , @rinkund, @rln-byg , @singukieee , @hoshi-is-ult-bbg , @ldysmfrst , @juju-227592 , @alienchickenpoop , @dreamerwasfound , @afangirl91 , @psiphidragon , @puppyminnnie , @shyloh-the-cornsnake , @ollyoxenfrees , @whynotlarene , @beeltsumu , @cryingpages , @milopenne , @belikejk , @thatonedemigodfromseoul , @woozixo,

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autismserenity · 2 days

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I'm so fucking done right now

I have a friend. We're going to call her "AAAAAAA!!!!"

AAAAAAA!!!! and I have been friends for more than twenty years. LONG before I started converting to Judaism.

She grew up in an area Jewish enough to get the high holy days off. She has as many Jewish friends as I do. She is more knowledgeable about Jewish stuff than anyone else I know who isn't Jewish. To the point that I've sometimes thought about asking her why she doesn't convert.

Sure, she's a staunch atheist. So nu?

I don't think we'd ever had occasion to talk about I/P politics before a couple of years ago. We immediately discovered we had uhhhhh. Very opposing views. We both backed off of what was clearly going to be a charged and messy discussion.

I didn't know enough yet to try anyway. All I knew, mainly, was that (1) Jews are the indigenous people of Israel and (2) both Israel and Palestine have Done Bad Shit!

That's a very, very, very inadequate understanding. But I did feel pretty confident that point #1 contradicted her apparent stance, which was more "Israel is the one that has Done Bad Shit."

We backed off for a couple of years. She would occasionally mention how much she wished I would read Edward Said, so we could talk about him.

She is, to her credit, totally against Hamas's attack. But we conflict on most other issues. And they're so charged for her that we can't really talk about any of them.

It turns out that the reason they're so charged is that her niece got yelled at and called out for "being an antisemite" for supporting BDS in college, and it was traumatizing for her.

In other words, she and her family stopped at "I had really really big feelings of shame and fear about this," and chose not to see "and I tried to find out why this marginalized group was saying that" as an option.

And also, AAAAAAA!!!!'s sister, a local elementary school principal, went through a stressful time recently for similar reasons: Jewish families were accusing her and/or her school of being antisemitic, and one (1) family left.

AAAAAAAA!!!! set the boundary, with me, that we should not talk about the definition of antisemitism, or antisemitism related to the protest movement, after I posted a list of things on Facebook that the ADL is charging the Berkeley Unified School District with.

Including that K-12 students have been saying and/or writing, "Kill the Jews," "Jews are stupid," "Of course it was the Jews," and telling Jewish peers, "I don't like your people."

My friend is angrily convinced that "such accusations are a flood of SEWAGE smeared on protesters, professors, etc. I am not saying there is no antisemitism, though Berkeley is a very weird place for it to crop up in the from-zero-to-a-thousand way it is described. Of course there can be a) isolated incidents that hit fucking hard in these circumstances, and b) deliberate elisions between, again, being against what Israel is doing, and having that portrayed as being antisemitic."

/looks at the camera/

All of this is just context for what I came here to say 😅

I WAS TONIGHT YEARS OLD WHEN I FOUND OUT WHAT EDWARD SAID WROTE, AND WHAT THE ENTIRE FUCK. FUCK THAT DUDE TWICE.

Constantine Zurayk's fiction that the “Arab nation” suffered the Nakba didn’t survive for long. [By 1967,] the meaning of the Nakba had already changed as Palestinian activists and historians began depicting the events of 1948 exclusively as a tragedy for their own people.

...The most influential of those [new books that framed it that way,] particularly for audiences in the West, was Edward W. Said’s The Question of Palestine, published in 1979.

Said, a popular Columbia University English professor [OH HELLO] and a member of the Palestinian National Council, was something of an icon in liberal intellectual circles because of his earlier book, Orientalism. In that work, Said framed the history of colonialism in the Arab and Islamic world within a system of Western racialist thought.

I'm just gonna guess that he didn't go back farther than 50 years. Because before that point, you get 1,300 years or so of Arab and Islamic colonialism, and I don't know how it would make sense to frame that within a system of Western racialist thought.

In The Question of Palestine, the author argued that the game was stacked against the native Palestinians in favor of the white Zionists, because of the same dominant racist ideologies.

THAT'S HIM, OFFICER. THAT'S THE GUY.

That's what my friend has been trying to get me to read for three years? An ahistoric mess that pretends Jews were actually white supremacists at the time that white supremacy was actively trying to wipe us out?

I'M SO TIRED, YOU GUYS.

Said denounced “the entrenched cultural attitude toward Palestinians deriving from age-old Western prejudices about Islam, the Arabs, and the Orient. This attitude, from which in its turn Zionism drew for its view of the Palestinians, dehumanized us, reduced us to the barely tolerated status of a nuisance.”

Yeah, THAT'S what happened.

“Certainly, so far as the West is concerned,” Said continues, “Palestine has been a place where a relatively advanced (because European) incoming population of Jews has performed miracles of construction and civilizing and has fought brilliantly successful technical wars against what was always portrayed as a dumb, essentially repellent population of uncivilized Arab natives.”

This was a harsh and distorted view of the Zionist movement.

I said I was so fucking done, and what I MEANT was that I was so fucking angry, and NOW I'M TEXTING HER SUPPORTIVELY ABOUT OTHER STUFF WHILE I WRITE THIS.

I just.

Please drag Edward Said for me or otherwise Go Off. Thank you

#jumblr #i just never have an opportunity to say 'so nu' and it's been in my head for most of my life #she's supposed to care about history and accuracy but family shit overrides all that #she said if something antisemitic happens to me or my kid i SHOULD tell her and i was like WHY #and you know what? never got a response #wall of words

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theheadlessgroom · 1 year

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https://www.tumblr.com/beatingheart-bride/710855385566920704/theheadlessgroom-beatingheart-bride

@beatingheart-bride

At her quip, Randall smiled and pretended to pull the cake away-similar to how a gambler would proudly pull in all the chips they’d won-but he stopped, chuckled, and instead grabbed a knife and cut them a slice each, passing one to Emily before tucking into his own, which was rich and delicate and creamy all at once. He didn’t know how the wizards down in the café did it, but this truly was a job well done, and he’d be sure to leave a generous tip, as a “thank you” for making this grand night of celebration for his angel something special.

His stealing of food and leaving generous tips from his equally-generous salary quickly became a part of the Opera Ghost mythos, once he arrived there: Although there was a lot of debate early on over whether or not ghosts could really eat or if there was somebody else sneaking around stealing food, that was all put to rest when he’d left them a note, complimenting a lunch he’d had (he’d heard someone in the dining room of the café say “my compliments to the chef!”, and so he thought it’d be polite to do the same). From then on, they knew it was the Ghost, who came to dine fairly regularly, and could expect a nice tip in return.

(That was how they could tell when someone else was stealing food-the second party, when they did work there, did not tip when they absconded with things like desserts and fresh baked goods. Needless to say, said second party did not last long there, and was let go after being caught trying to run off with a whole fruit pie the cooks had labored over that day. Good thing too-it was a strawberry pie, and Randall himself had designs on it!)

#((they do deserve it! they especially deserve to have a little genuine peace and quiet; as you said; the calm before the storm!))#((they had a hell of a time when it came to just getting to leroux and dealing with the whole little leota situation))#((and they're gonna have ANOTHER hell of a time once the circus comes to town and turns everything upside down))#((so for now they more than deserve a little domesticity: a quaint village to live in; a quiet little house to call their own))#((two children playing underfoot...they more than deserve the chance to savor all of that before all hell breaks loose!))#((and true; it is VERY good that constance isn't the main antagonist here!))#((i could see her *maybe* considering it...but then deciding against it; too much risk of exposing the truth; y'know))#((so she'll keep her ax tucked away...for now!))#((and YES to randall and emily being playful little nerds! i've long felt the banter between these two))#((has been one of my favorite elements of their relationship to write and i stand by it! i love scenes like these))#((when they're just bantering and being playful without a care in the world!))#outofhatboxes #beatingheart-bride #V:Phantasm of the Mansion

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mochikage · 1 year

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#happy hearts day #I wanted to post something today but work has been so sickening #I’m ready to retire #I just can’t believe animals are out here living and enjoying life for free #and I just came into the world against my own will and now I have to pay bills?#cut the cameras #deadass.#mochi talks #mochi moodboard #anyways #happy Valentine’s Day <3 #I love you guys for interacting with me and I promise I’ll get to some of your requests the second I have free time #for those of you single Pringles like me #I’m asking you to be my Valentine 😘#I’m eating chocolates for two today <3

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satorena · 9 days

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༊*·˚ D!CK OFF LIMITS !?

bad ☆ summary. why won’t he let you suck his dīck?

warnings. explicit content. 18+. foul language. cunningulus. fīngerīng. premature ejacūlatīon. semi public sēx. usage of toys. facials. mirror sēx. dom/sub undertones. preestablished relationships. reader is a fiend for his dick. afab!reader. could be angsty at some point ? fwb to . . . lovers ? 7.4k words (kill me now).

rena's ☆ note. this idea came to me while i was drunk.

you wonder if gojo thinks you have gingivitis.

that thought was unlikely, as he was always eager to shove his tongue down your mouth, tongues sloshing and secreting saliva as his hands roamed between your thighs, knuckles deep into your cunt.

then maybe he assumed you were a biter— which would be highly hypocritical of him, as he’s known to get on his knees in the nearest bathroom stall and flip your skirt up, push your panties to the side and plunge his canines into the flesh of your ass before tongue fucking you.

well, maybe he simply didn’t get off on pleasing you— yeah you knew it wasn’t that one, if the way he thrusted his bulge in the air whenever your thighs wrapped around his head for relief every time he ate you out said anything.

you simply didn’t understand— what man would refuse receiving head after giving the nastiest of it?

your fingers clawed at a snowy pile of hair, back arched as you ground your hips into his mouth. he ate your pussy like a starved man, sloppy and coordinated, as his lips latched onto yours as if he’d die without your taste in his mouth

his tongue swiped up your juices as he lapped at your folds, dragging the top of his wet muscles against your core, nibbling at your puffy clit. gojo was on his knees, moaning like a slut in between your thighs as you used him to chase your orgasm.

“ngh, fuck— right there baby,” you mewled, toes curling as your back hit the cold wall of the bathroom stall. his hands gripped at your ass, caressing and squeezing the mounds to pull you in tighter than you’d already been. your mind felt hazy, so overcome with lust that you were ready to burst your dam down his throat. “oh m’ goddd, so fuckin’ close toruuu!”

“give it all t’me pretty baby,” his words come out muffled, only pulling away just slightly. his rosy lips are glossed your arousal and his saliva, a consistency so thick it connects a strand of fluid from your bottom lips to his own. his skin is blotched in lust, cerulean eyes dazed in awe. “cum in my mouth princess, needa taste you.”

your orgasm washes over you before you can even register it, a sensation so powerful you cry out as your dam erupts. splurges of your essence shoots from your cunt down to his mouth, and as you roll your eyes to the back of your skull, you notice so does he. his fingernails dig into the flesh of your skin, pinning you down as he humbly welcomes your cum.

“s’gooddd, shit toru!” you feel your bottom lip quivering, limbs twitching from overstimulation as he continues to ravish you. your groin tingles in heat, body weak as it succumbs to the pleasure gojo gives it. you feel weak, a feeling you’re never able to adapt to no matter how much he attempts to prepare you for it. “uhn uhn— too much, can’t take it!” your head shakes from side to side, nails clawing at his scalp as you attempt to push him away.

the pad of his fingers slip from your ass to snake in between your legs, spanking your wet pussy thrice to keep you in check, and your knees crumbles. gojo latches his lips at your clit once more, and you feel the world blackout. “stop that— fuckin’ take it baby. i know my good girl can take it.”

he leaves you no choice, eyes trailing upwards to land on your figure, the dip in your back so sinful that you feel as though both your bodies have merged into one. his tongue works so deep into you, it feels as though you’re both puzzle pieces that were made to connect to one another. your thighs are quivering around his head, and you feel your back slipping against the wall. shit.

“mmhm, nooo, ‘m gonna cum again!” you pout, tears built at your lash line now streaking down your cheeks. it’s all too much— the sensation so raw that you look for an escape. you want to push him off, to take a breather and regain your composure. but he’s looking at you with such expectations, eyes shimmering with eagerness as he lifts both your legs onto his shoulder for support.

he manhandles your body like it’s nothing— like you weigh nothing. your limp body now slides upwards, higher up in the air than you’d been a second ago. gojo rises to his full height and motorboats into your dripping cunt.

you wail out, head throw back against the stall as a desperate mouth gnaws at your folds. you’re sure he’s dripping from his mouth to his chin, a mixture of fluids so prominent that it dribbles down to the marble floor. “haaah, oh shit— baby, i can’t— fuck, y’eat my pussy sooo fuckin’ good!” the praises flow past your tongue so naturally, hands torn between pushing and pulling away from the painful pleasure. “nghhh, i— ‘m gonna— holy shit!”

your back hits the wall in waves of full body twitches, your cunt clamping down on his tongue as you weakly splurts drops of more cum. fat tears stain your cheeks, blood rushing hotly from head to toe, spraying gojo’s face in your essence.

“atta fuckin’ girl.” he groans into your pussy, almost more drunk on the taste of you than you are. he flicks his tongue up and down, dragging your orgasm as far as he can, completely enthralled by the desperate thrusts of your hips into his face. you’re smearing his face with your fluids, and from the fucked out look on your face— eyes crossed and tongue lolled out, he decides this might be the best way to go. “there we go— yeah baby, jus’ like that, mhmm.”

the timeline from your coming down to actually coming down to the floor is all blurry, but you’re barely able to stand on your two feet when you feel his hand cup at your chin tightly. his index finger raises your face to stare up at his, all moist from fluids and humidity but you don’t think he’s ever looked prettier.

his lips meet yours desperately, lips sloshing over one another as the taste of your cum now sits atop your taste pallets. his free hand snakes around your waist, holding you still as you lazily loop your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

he’s so good at it all— the nibbles of his teeth at your bottom lip making your legs go weak, stomach churning in more lust. he smells like a mixture of you and his expensive cologne— so satoru like, that you’re positive if this keeps going, you may blackout on the cold floor of this bathroom stall in the club.

he kisses you like he’s got something to prove, and eventually your lungs are filled with his provided oxygen, and you truly believe you’re going to pass out. you pull just slightly away, much to his disdain. he whines, tip of your noses just barely an inch away as you pant over his cupid’s bow. “fuck.”

“mmhm, that good?” gojo teases, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk you’re too familiar with. you don’t have it in you to flick his forehead.

instead, you opt with sighing. “that good.” your hands trail down his nape, nails grazing at the sensitive skin beneath his undercut, scratching and lightly pulling at his locks. he shudders at your touch, leaning forward to rest his sweat forehead against yours.

your touches lower from his shoulders down to his chest, grazing your fingers over his perky buds, teasing his nipples. he’s so touch starved, jaw slackened as he moans— breath warm as it fans your face. your hands begins to lower down to his hips, seductive touches that has him biting his lips, hips instinctively jerking to meet with your light grazing.

you keep steady eye contact with him as your hands finally land at his raging bulge. the material over his hard-on is damp in his pre cum, and it feels hot beneath your touch. with a slight tilt of your head, “lemme take care of you, toru.”

you can see him battling his own thoughts. his pupils widen in lust, orbs swimming in excitement as you palm his erection more precisely. he’s twitching beneath your cupped hand, humping against your palm as his throat erupts a desperate pant.

you wonder if today’s the day he’s finally going to let you see his dick— to let you swallow him whole and please him just as he does with you. you want to get on your knees and take him so far down your throat that tears build and you force gags back down. you’re sure he’s all pretty and pink, a length to match his abnormally tall height and girth ready to stretch your throat muscles.

but as always, just like the night before, he chuckles and shakes his head. he’s refusing you again, hands gripping at your waist to push you away from him.

“you know i can’t do that baby,” he sighs, a small smile appearing on his wet lips. you can tell he’s frustrated with himself, so unsure as the pad of his thumbs rub the bare skin of your waist. you jut your bottom lip in annoyance, although expecting his refusal. “maybe next time, yeah?”

you’re annoyed as you push him away, pushing your skirt back down so it falls down your ass. and you’re sure he notices too. you don’t object when he grabs the toilet paper from the stall to clean the left over mess between your thighs— though your arms do cross over the flimsy material of your tight top over your chest.

“mhm, sure.”

☆ ☆

about a week later, you’re on all fours on his annoyingly large king-sized bed, hands clawing at his sheets as you push your hips back into his fingers. he’s scissoring your cunt open, knuckles-deep in and every precise thrusts has you seeing stars.

“yesyesyes!” you nod your head feverishly, babbles slipping past your tongue and dribbling down the damp sheets beneath you. “oh m’god, feels sooo fuckin’ good, ngh!” there you sat naked and exposed, getting the life fucked out of you by his fingers alone, a length so impossible that you’re convinced his index and middle finger eventually bump your cervix with how deep he works himself into you.

gojo lands a few kisses at the back of your thighs, kneeled down at the edge of his bed as he twists his fingers into your cunt. he’s enamoured by the sloppiness of your tight pussy gripping at his digits so desperately, a squelching sound so harmonious it has him rubbing his own thighs against one another.

“face down, baby.” gojo commands, his free hand coming up to press at your lower back. you obey his order, pressing your cheek down against his sheets, arms silently thanking the man for the break of supporting your body up. you mewl when you feel him plunging his teeth into the soft skin of your ass, before running a wet tongue over the stinging pain. “there’s my good girl. heh, such an obedient lil’ thing.”

you lay pressed against his bed as you take his ruthless pounding, the tip of his fingers reaching the gummy spot that has stars dancing at the back of your eyelids. god, he always knew how to make a mess out of you— your body his temple, a book he’s dead over a million times and has learned to memorize.

“cute lil hole jus’ seems sooo enticing,” you feel the warmth of his breath fanning against your twitching rim, waves of warm air tickling the muscle. it doesn’t surprise you when you feel his wet tongue caressing your tight hole with light touches, just pushing slightly past unspoken boundaries. your stomach tightens the more relaxed he becomes, lapping from the bottom of your cunt up to your asshole, savouring you whole as he works himself into your clingy pussy.

“t-toru, oh yes baby— ‘m gonna cummm!” you whine, sobbing when your orgasm finally does catch up to you— as if he hadn’t already known. you walls clamp down on his fingers for dear life, folds twitching as they secrete your honeyed essence all over his hand and down to his sheets.

gojo never lets up, stringing along as he encourages you even further, “that’s it babyyyy, there we go.” drool slips past his kiss-bitten lips and down to your sopping wet cunt, tongue still working its way at the tightness of your forbidden hole. you look so fucking cute all shaken up, barely keeping yourself together as your moans echoes off his walls and fade into the stillness of the night.

he’s so fucking hard it hurts, but he’d take seeing you wrecked and ruined by his hands alone over the selfish tendencies of asking you to take care of him back. and he knew you’d known that already, if the way your body immediately lurches forward to melt into the sloth ess of silk sheets beneath you said anything.

you feel large hands grip at your thighs, trailing up before landing on your ass. he spreads apart your cheeks, sticky residue spreading your pussy lips with a sinful sound. you shiver, the cold breeze hitting your cunt a mix of overstimulated senses hitting at once.

he collects your liquids at the pad of his fingers, before wrapping his tongue around the digits. he nearly cums at your taste alone, “fuckkk, y’taste so fuckin’ sweet, princess.” and he pushes forward to drag his tongue along the evidence of your orgasm on your thighs, trailing up to the cleft of your ass and to your cunt, cleaning up after his mess.

you know better, and yet you still try anyway. with a shy tilt of your head, you look back to the starved man between your thighs and offer the prettiest smile you can, cheeks flushed in heat and lips glossed in saliva. “y’gonna let me take care of you yet?”

it doesn’t surprise you when he chuckles, releasing the fat of your cunt from his mouth with a nasty pop! to rise up to his full height, bending over your body to entrap yours within his arms. your back arches as you tilt your head backwards to meet his gaze, boobs pressed up together.

he stares at you with an unreadable expression, though the prominent dimple sitting in his cheek pops. “this was more than enough for me, ya little minx.”

☆ ☆

“if we get c-caught, i’ll fucking kill you.” you whisper, hands curling at the edge of his office desk. your eyes repeatedly darted towards the unlocked door, right before you, where anybody could walk into his office and see their boss on his knees for you during his lunch break, eating you out.

he pulls away with a dreamy sigh, a firm grip on your ass jiggling the cheek. “a man can’t enjoy his lunch in peace? not my fault ‘m starving.” there’s a filthy string of your essence and his saliva that connects from his lips to your lower ones.

“get real!” you hiss at him, despite the familiar feeling of heat licking at your limbs. “you asked me to bring your lunch and— ohhh!” your words soon die in your throat as your head rolls forward, and your bottom lip now tucked beneath your teeth. the warmth slide of his tongue at your clit has your nails scratching the surface of his desk, and your back curves into him.

“you worry too much,” gojo mumbles, before pressing a kiss to your pussy. he feels it throb against him, as he hums and runs the pad of his fingers against your messy folds. you shudder at the stimulation, your hips subconsciously grinding down on his fingers to follow his wavelength. with a smug smile, “see? at least yer pussy’s honest wimme— just lemme take care of her.”

“f-fucking bastard.” you grit through your teeth, though you make no objections. you could act high and mighty all you wanted, you never pushed him away whenever he offered to please you. it was almost like he solely got off on it— your pleasure alone. “i h-hate you.”

“love you too, princess.” he smirks, and you decide to brush off the tight squeeze at your heart at his words.

his tongue fucked into your hole yet again, and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. you really couldn’t get enough of this— of him. you’d repay him your gratitudes if he’d let you. you’d push him back, lay him down and suck his dick eagerly if only he’d let you. you wonder the length of his cock, if it curves, how flushed his tip must get or how much pre leaks from his slit. you want it so bad, and fuck if only he’d let you. but,

he doesn’t.

he gives and gives but never takes. he’ll call you and tells you he’s in dire need of eating you out— of making you cum, and the minute you return the same energy, he finds an excuse to walk away. you’re slowly losing your mind— you crave the taste of him on your tongue, to hear how whiney he sounds once his tip hits the back of your throat, or how pretty he’d look with his eyes rolled to the back of his skull and hips thrusting uncontrollably into your mouth.

“toruuu,” you whine, tilting your head back. tears build in your eyes as they accumulate at your lash line. your bottom lip juts, a soft pout resting on your lips as you flutter your lashes at the man behind you. even with a mouth full of your pussy, his eyes never lie. “c’mon, lemme return the— ngh, favour,” you feel a beat of a pause at your words, and you egg it on further. “i know you’re rock hard. . . you c-can put it in, i won’t, mmhm—mind.”

he swears he cums. he swears he feels his balls tighten and release hot and thick strings of cum in his slacks, briefs tainted white with shame. you were going to be the death of him— you and your doe eyes, glossy lips and perky ass. it grows sticky between his thighs, but his hips twitch as his throat erupts a guttural groan.

“you can’t just fucking say that,” gojo whines, nuzzling his nose into the cleft of your ass. he’s whimpering against your skin, breath warm and moist as his panting grows heavier by the second. you shake your hips against his face, batting your full lashes, and he groans even louder. “you have no idea what you do to me—fucking hell.”

“enlighten me then.” you reach your hand out to fluff his pile of damp hair. he instinctively leans into your touch, peppering kisses all over your skin. you’d never thought you’d have the gojo satoru on his knees for you, demanding you let him please you. “let me suck your dick toru, ‘m real good at it.”

his breath hitches in his throat and you’re positive you’ve finally got him. he’s going to cave in and sit on his office chair, pull his pants down and let you handle his mess. he’s going to realize he’s wasted plenty of time pushing the idea away the second you swallow his length whole and—

“i’m sure you are,” gojo speaks, but you can tell there’s a but following. you sigh, and he offers a sheepish smile in return. “but you know ‘m good here. just wanna make you feel good— your pleasure is mine, i promise. trust me on that, yeah?”

all arguments are thrown out the window the instant his lips latch back onto your sloppy ones.

☆ ☆

“uhn uhn. . . ‘s too muchhh!” you whine, squirming in his lap in attempts to run away. your clit ached almost painfully, repeatedly abused by the vibrations of the toy gojo had stimulating. the soft hums of the vibrator echoed in the room in harmony with your pleads, but gojo was a sadist and unfortunately you might’ve been a masochist. “c-can’t cum anymore!”

“aweee, but of course you can!” he kisses the sensitive skin on your neck, before nuzzling his nose into the crook. his legs spread wider to further open your shaky ones, and his free hand cups at your breast. “you pussying out on me, baby?”

no, you were not. “of c-course not,” you muster to glare at him through the reflection of the mirror before you both. piercing blue eyes never left your body for a second, drinking up every reaction you had to offer him. you nearly felt . . . shy at his gaze. “just hurts a little, fuckkk, you mean b-bitch.”

“mmhm.” gojo nods, fingers tweaking at the buds of your stiff nipples. he rolls the bud between his knuckles, drawing out broken moans out of you as the consistent buzz of the vibrator at your pussy doesn’t let up. he presses another kiss, at your temple, “you’re my good girl, i don’t expect otherwise.”

you bite your lip, cheeks flushing in what feels like embarrassment. him and his damn praises. he knows what he’s doing to you, rosy lips tugging into that smirk as his facial expression scream smug. you wish you could punch the bastard right in the face, but that thought is quickly gone when he pinches hard at your tits.

“shittt,” you mewl, grinding your hips down on his. you feel his bulge poking at your ass— so hard and prominent, proof of his arousal. his lap is drenched in your juices, evidence of multiple rounds seeping into the material of his sweatpants. “so fuckin’ good, hnng, you’re sooo fuckin’ good to me.” you raise an arm to grab at the base of his neck, threading your fingers through his soft locks.

you ooze sex appeal, everything you do and say so erotic, and gojo is easily your slave. “yeah?” he mumbles into your skin, though he looks at your reflection through snowy lashes. your back arches sinfully, ass pressed so snuggly against his lap and your pussy leaking buckets worth of cum. “tell me, what else am i?”

the vibrator attacking your clit has your left leg shaking uncontrollably, the knot in your stomach quickly tightening. you chew on your bottom lip, eyelids resting shut as you focus on spewing your next words, carefully selecting them. you can’t help the chuckle that reaches your mouth instead of a moan, “a bitch.”

“oh?” gojo cocks an eyebrow, another chuckle now audible despite it not coming from you. he drags the vibrator down your slippery folds and all the way back up to your clit, and you tighten your hold on his hair. “those weren’t supposed to be your next words, sweetheart.”

“y-you’re a bitch,” you continue regardless, and gojo can’t deny he’s attracted to you for your sheer audacity. he’s always been a fiend for a good challenge. “won’t even let me give you head— ngh, thought i was the one with a pussy.”

“you’re wounding my ego here,” gojo slides his hand from your tits and trail it all the way up to your mouth. he spreads your lips with two fingers, before hooking them at the corner of your mouth. “callin’ me a pussy? that’s a low blow, baby.”

you squint at him through the foggy mirror, applying pressure to the bulge poking at your ass. you smile when he groans into your ear, “you got a small dick or somethin’? gotta say— fuck, s-sure doesn’t feel like you do.” you throw your head back onto his shoulder, lips grazing over the shell of his ear, “should i check for myself? hnng, see if satoru owns a pussy?”

there’s a click in the air and suddenly the humming of the vibrator stops. finally. had you finally blown his fuse? ironically, your clit secretes more liquid as the idea of him finally pulling his pants off and dicking you down comes to mind. once his pride deflates, he does whatever he can to prove otherwise.

you’re sure you’ve got him.

“heh, you’ve got some nerve.” gojo snorts, and you don’t register how he’s manhandle you to the floor, hands holding your entire upper body steady as your thighs now wrap around his shoulders. the position has your back arched like a cat, and you raise your head up to watch him confusedly through the glass mirror.

two firm hands grip at your ass cheeks, spreading them apart as he licks his lips hungrily, “it’s lookin’ like you’ll never know.” he bares his fangs at you, and you sigh before he feasts again.

☆ ☆

it doesn’t feel right. none of it does. it’s nowhere remotely near cheating, and yet, as this man litters your neck and chest with loving kisses, you feel your stomach churning in guilt.

here he is, offering himself to you, willing to give you what you’d been deprived off since you’d started your arrangement with gojo— willing to rock your world, bump hips and coax an penetrative orgasm out of you— but all you could think about was how wrong this all felt.

though a pleasant smell, these sheets don’t smell like him. they don’t feel like him either. instead of wide cerulean eyes and untamed white hair is stern brown eyes and kept blonde hair. where should be blotches of red on flawless skin is stress lines infused skin.

you felt awful, burning touches trailing between your thighs instead of that electricity that had your stomach twisting with butterflies.

“is everything alright?” the man pulls away from your legs, and questions. he’s so kind, willing to ask how you’re feeling in the midst of it all, and all you can think about is gojo.

no, nothing’s fine. “yeah, i’m good.” you lie, offering a smile. you’re a good liar, and it seems he falls for your words as he proceeds, pushing your panties to the side and works his tongue into you.

his movements are calculated and measured, paying attention to all areas of your cunt. he eats you out good, there’s no denying so, has your toes curling and back arching off his mattress. you lower your hand to tighten his locks, but even that feels wrong— it’s not as fluffy as gojo’s. you think you feel hair gel between your knuckles.

your mind runs a mile an second, overwhelmed by the sole idea that you were offering your body to another man. gojo wasn’t yours— not in the slightest, and yet, as he sucked on your clit and gripped at your thighs, your chest felt unreasonably tight.

you couldn’t do this any longer.

“wait— wait, please stop.” you push his head away, bottom lip quivering. he pulls away instantly, a string of saliva connecting from his lips to your cunt. you feel sick at the confused look on his face. “i can’t— i can’t do this. i’m so sorry.”

the man stares at you for a moment, though never maliciously, and you feel like wanting to crawl into a hole. he nods his head, before pushing your panties back to where they belong, and pushes himself up. silence fills the air for a while, and you’re holding back tears. you’re not sure why, though.

“it’s gojo, isn’t it?” he asks, though he’s not posing a question. he knows, surely everybody knows that you belong to him in both body and soul, but this has only been a recently found discovery for you.

your silence speaks volumes, and the man nods once more.

“yeah, that’s what i thought too.”

☆ ☆

to say he was surprised was definitely an understatement. he wasn’t expecting you to show up at his place, despite already having given you a key to his apartment.

you barged through his bedroom door, a location you were already too familiar with and unknowingly had become so accustomed to. your chest is heaving as if you’d ran a marathon before showing up here, and he wants to kiss the pout off your lips. “pants off, now.”

gojo rises from his bed to stand at his full height, a surprised smile stretching onto his face. “woah, at least take me out on a date first! i’m not just some whore.” his hands comically rise up in surrender, and your frown deepens.

“why won’t you let me give you head?” you ask him before you can even process your choice of wording. when his brows jump to his hairline at your boldness, you feel your face warm in embarrassment. “i mean seriously— am i the problem?”

“what?” gojo blinks, taking quick strides towards your fuming self. he shakes his head feverishly, “no, that’s not it at all—”

“then why do you keep rejecting me?” you cut him off, crossing your arms over your chest. you probably look and sound desperate, but the truth is you were. the first few times could be deemed funny, but there’s so much rejection a girl can take before it starts to become an insecurity. “why do you keep pushing me away? am i that unattractive to you?”

you’d never seen him look so panicked in his life. had it been under any other circumstance, you woulda laughed at the way his pupils blew widely and how his hands started waving all over the place, “no! jesus, are you kidding me— have you seen yourself? what sane man would think that—”

“what sane man wouldn’t want sex?” you bite back, and he’s taken aback. you see it in the way the words in his mouth die down, the way his body stills just slightly, the way his arms drop to his sides. you continue, “what sane man wouldn’t want head? what sane man solely focuses on pleasing a woman and not himself—”

“hey,” gojo frowns. “any sane man would aim to please his partner first and foremost.”

“well usually sane men accept the favour when offered back to them!” you counter, and once more, gojo was cornered into the wall. he remained quiet, an ideaology uncharacteristic to a man like himself, and waited for you to get it off your chest.

“it’s just. . .” you sigh, licking your lips. and he watches you, intently. you’re almost too embarrassed to say it, but enough was enough. “i just don’t get it! i’m thinking it’s because i’m unattractive to you but—”

“i’ve literally came in my pants from eating you out.” he interrupts, raising an eyebrow. your face deadpans as does his. he’s dead serious too. oh that bastard, “multiple times, may i add. try again.”

“then it has to be you think i’m dirty.” you assume, and he tilts his head to the side with an expression that screams ‘seriously’. your annoyance builds up the more he looks at you like you’re crazy for him denying you of his pleasure. “i can assure you i’m clean— i’m not some fucking whore.”

“and i can assure you that thought has never once crossed my mind.” gojo snorts, body language now looser. his hands sit in the pockets of his sweats, a taunting smile on his lips. “what’s the next excuse?”

“oh that’s rich coming from you,” you sneer, poking your finger at his chest. he snorts again, and you feel like you’re about to lose your mind. “what else could it possibly be? you’re so fucking confusing, toru, i have no idea what goes on in your mind!”

“you, all the time.” gojo shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing. he says it as if you asked him if the sky was blue or if grass was green. “you go through my mind all the time. it’s that simple, really.”

“stop the bullshit, satoru.” you frown, pinching the bridge of your nose. your head was starting to ache, and you’d come for closure on this torment, but of course he had to stretch it out.

“but i’m being so serious?” he tilts his head. “it really is just you. you don’t think i want your lips wrapped around my cock? to feel how tight your pussy would be around me? seriously?”

“then why don’t you let me?!” you sigh exasperatedly, throwing your arms in the air. you didn’t understand this at all— you were both on the same page here, so why didn’t he let you? was he ashamed or something?

he goes quiet again, and you’re contemplating on storming out of his room. you give him a few seconds to collect his thoughts, to decide on whether he wants to finally tell you the truth or find another plausible excuse that would have you drive back home.

there’s this look of embarrassment all over his face, his eyes unable to look at you. he scratches the corner of his mouth, lips tugging into a sheepish smile. “i’m. . . scared. kinda.”

you blink at him. “wait— are you a virgin?”

“no!” he immediately defends himself, and you raise an eyebrow at his sudden eagerness. he waves his hands around again to affirm his statement, “i’m not!”

“so. . . you’re a slut?” you ask instead, and he face palms himself. the nerve he had, to face palm himself when he’s giving you the faintest of clues. what were you supposed to understand from that alone?

“y/nnnn!” he drags out your name childishly, the skin of his cheeks flushed a bright pink. he hides his face in the palms of his hands, as if to cower himself away from this discussion. you think the sight is cute actually— a grown man shy about his sex life. how ironic.

“just spit it out.” you tut and he peels his hands away from his face. your eyes narrow as you wait on his answer, watching him fidget with his fingers and shy his gaze away from you. the wall at your side had to be so damn interesting if he couldn’t hold eye contact with you.

you sigh, “i promise i won’t make fun of you.”

your word alone seems to offer some sort of comfort. his lips part to speak, but it feels like an eternity and a half before words finally come out. “i. . . i don’t wanna embarrass myself in front of you.”

now you’re confused. “whadya mean?”

he grumbles, lips falling into that pout he does whenever he doesn’t get something done his way. there’s a crease in his brows, a frown so deep you’re worried you said something wrong.

“i didn’t want to give you the ick, okay?” gojo finally sputters, the blush on his cheeks now spreading down the base of his neck. he can feel his heartbeat thudding excessively loud against his rib cage, and his hands are starting to get moist.

woah, he must be really embarrassed. but about what? was he insecure about his penis?

“why would you give me the ick, toru?” you speak slowly, not wanting to scare him off. you take a step closer to him when you notice he took one back, resting a gentle hand on his bicep. your thumb rubs at his skin in what you hope is a soothing manner.

his eyes shift from the wall to your gentle touch. his bottom lip quivers and he takes in a big breath, before redirecting his gaze on you.

“because you’re you and i’m me!” he starts off, as if ready to confess everything. you take it as a good sign however. “it’s you we’re talking about— god, you’re so pretty and sexy and kind, and so attractive it fucking hurts— i’ve literally busted to your taste alone! i’m so fucking whipped it’s embarrassing. i literally think about you all the time— in bed, in the car, in the shower— i think about how good you smell and how sweet you taste and how addictive your smile is! all i have to do is think about you and i’m instantly hard— i’m like a fucking dog you trained!”

for once today, you’re left speechless.

“and- and,” he continues, “i had to master self-control. me, satoru gojo, had to learn to hold myself back. do you know how many times i’ve nearly folded? hm? how many times i almost caved in and damn near ripped your clothes off with my teeth? you’ve turned me into an animal! i’ve wanted you for an eternity, but i know myself— i wouldn’t last a second with my dick in your mouth! that’s what i’m scared of, i’m scared of embarrassing myself to you and you’ll run off or something and i’ll end up rotting and dying alone from embarrassment and—”

“okay, okay.” you hold a hand up to cut off his rant. he was starting to babble, and soon he would flow into an inescapable hole of self-wallowing. “i think i get it now.”

he’s breathing heavy, pupils blown wide. his lips are quivering and you can tell he’s really anxious of your answer. you’d never seen him so shaken, as if your next words would make or break his entire world.

well, here goes nothing. “i hooked up with another man.” you think you heart his heart shatter in his chest. his face goes slack as does his body, and he immediately reverts his eyes away from yours.

“oh.”

you realize you could’ve started a bit differently. “it didn’t really go far, because i was so preoccupied thinking about you.” you sigh shakily. “everything felt wrong, even when i tried convincing myself it wasn’t, but i couldn’t help but think of you, even with another man around.”

gojo remains quiet, and you’re not even sure where you’re going with this. what are these feelings you’re feeling?

“listen, i don’t know what that guilt was but i know i never want to feel it again.” your hand proceeds to run at his skin. he hasn’t pushed you off yet, so you’re hoping it’s working. “this whole time i was thinking i was unappealing to you, and you’re afraid of flattering me?”

gojo shoots his head up at that, “flattering you?”

you snort, loving the dumb look on his face. he didn’t have a fucking clue, did he? “do you have any idea what that would do to my ego? knowing i was able to make you nut off of head alone?”

“heyyy, don’t go using it against me!” he whines, pouting. “’s your fault anyway— how is somebody that perfect? i don’t get it, you’re genuinely unreal. i almost don’t like it.”

well he surely knew a way around with his words. you giggle, sliding the hand around his bicep up to the back of his neck. your other arm mimics, as your fingers card through his undercut. you can feel him shuddering beneath your touch, and he instinctively cups at your waist.

“now that i know your reasoning, i’m not gonna pressure you into anything you don’t wanna do.” you stare him up through your lashes. you weren’t sure how you didn’t see it before, but now they everything is clear, you swear you see hearts swimming in his orbs. cute. “but, you wouldn’t scare me off, toru. i can’t believe i’m saying this but i might be stuck with you— you say you’re a trained dog, then what does that make me? thought about you while another man ate me out.”

he frowns at that. oops. “he wasn’t better than me. . . was he?”

“never.” you shake your head, and feel the way his shoulders sag in relief. “and if it makes you feel better, we didn’t kiss and i never gave him a blowjob.”

he’s still pouting, but his nose scrunches in the way he does when he wants you to drown him with attention. when had you start noticing these details? “it does. . . i guess.”

“toruuu, you have to forgive me.” it’s your turn to pout, nails scraping at his scalp as your lashes flutter. you rise to the tip of your toes to plant a soft kiss on his lips— lustless. there’s a soft smack that separates both your pair of mouths, and you see the corner of his mouth threaten to twitch into a smile. his hold on your waist tightens and pulls you in closer. “want me to show you just how sorry am i?”

“mhm,” he mumbles, eyes stuck on the plumpness of your lips. he wants them back on his, and that’s exactly what he does, leaning forward to seal another chaste kiss. when he does pull away, it’s just slightly, tips of your noses still grazing one another. he bumps noses with yours, “prove it t’me.”

your cheeks feel like they’ll split with how widely you’re smiling, but that ends as soon as it came, when he lunges forward to kiss you again.

his jaw slacks as he ravishes your lips, tongues sloshing as he releases pretty moans into your mouth. you fed him everywhere— his tongue dancing at the roof of your mouth, his hands caressing your ass, the rhythm of his heartbeat through his chest vibrating against your own.

you walk forwards, lips never leaving his, as his steps move backwards. he tastes as sweet as always, a faint cherry flavour resting on his taste buds. soon enough he’s laid on his back on his own bed with you hovering him, your thighs resting at his sides. his hands grip at the meat on your legs.

“‘m gonna make you feel so good,” you pull away from his lips and trail your hand down his torso, all the way to his briefs’ waistband. “you’ve never had anything like it.” surely enough, he’s harder than he’s ever been, the outline of his cock seeping through the material of his pants. your hand slides lower to cup at the bulge, feeling up on his dick through your fingers, and he whines into your mouth, hips thrusting up into your touch.

“p-please, i’m— oh fuckkk,” he begs, moans croaking out of his throat as you slip your hand into his underwear. your touches are light, wanting to tease him as you collect endless beads of pre cum at the tip of your fingers. his hips never cease to buck into your palm, desperate for more.

“enough waiting, hm?” you tug down at his undergarments, and immediately get slapped in the face. his dick is nothing to scoff at— you’d only seen and felt it through the material of his pants, but now that it was bare and right before your eyes? his length had nothing on your imagination. with a pretty pink mushroom tip, vein throbbing on the underside, heavy balls and a cute curve to the left, his dick undoubtedly had your mouth watering.

he’s twitching sans cease, as if it had a mind of its own.

“can’t believe you were holding out me, toru,” you lick your lips, laying flat on your own stomach, between his legs. he’s pushed up on his elbows, watching as you stroke his cock languidly. “you’re so mean.” your fists tightens at the top of his cock, thumb rubbing at his oozing slit, before loosening your hold as you lower to the base.

he gulps, hands scrunching at the duvets beneath him. you’re giving him these eyes, and your fleeting touches on his dick will surely have him lose his mind. “stop teasing meee, i’ll—nghh!” you kiss the tip of his cock,

and in the blink of an eye, he cums. your eyes shut as ropes of hot, white cum shoot at your face, from all different kinds of directions. he cums, and it’s a lot. it almost feels never ending, as does his cries. his back arches and his hips hump the air, cock twitching uncontrollably as it erupts.

“oh nooo— shit, ngh, fuck— can’t help it!” veins bulge in his forearm with how intensely he’s gripping onto the covers. you think it’s rather adorable, how easily overwhelmed he gets.

it takes a lifetime for his high to come down. and through it all, you’re pumping at his cock, milking him for what he has to offer. silently of course, you’re not even sure he’d be able to hear anything you have to say with how vocal he is.

when it all becomes too much, he starts shivering from oversensitivity, and his cock jumps weakly. you pull your hand away, and his dick falls onto his lower stomach. he’s breathing heavily, head thrown back as you clean the cum off your face. you pop a finger in your mouth, he tastes sweet. “hm.”

“just,” gojo pauses, taking another deep breath in. the ceiling must be real interesting for him. “just go on with it. but don’t say i didn’t tell you so.”

you smirk, now popping the finger out of your mouth with a wet plop! “you really weren’t kidding.”

hmm can anybody guess who the “mystery man” you hooked up with is ? 🌚

#rena☆star.#jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo headcanons #gojo thirst

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sinner-as-saint · 5 months

Text

run for your life

Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: He was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with.

Themes: slight stalker!bucky, possessive!bucky, mild degrading kink, smut, FLUFF, opposite aesthetics, mild daddy kink (nicknames only), cosy little town vibes

a/n: some fluffy mob!bucky to end the year <3 Thank you so much for always supporting my silly little fics. Merry Christmas my darlings, and happy New Year!! See you soon ;)

He didn't know where exactly he would end up locating you, but finding you in a cosy, small, coastal town in the south of France was not on his list.

You being the owner of a gourmet bakery was not on his list either. Bucky was confused, surprised, but mostly confused. How did this happen? At first, when Sam came to deliver him the news of your location that morning, Bucky didn’t believe him. Had Sam not been Bucky’s oldest, most loyal friend Bucky would’ve never believed him at all.

“I’m gonna need you to stop being a dumbass and go find this girl!” Sam, ever the voice of reason yelled at Bucky who had been drowning in his sorrows. “It’s been months, and I can’t keep covering for your ass. I have my own shit to do, my own men to command.” He used that cool, authoritative voice of his. “Pull yourself together, Buck. Go find her.”

Sam was right. Of course he was. He always was. And it had really been months since that damned night…

—

Bucky couldn’t wait to get out of his plane the moment it landed. It was late at night, but the perfect time to go to the club. He had missed it. Well, not the whole club really. Bucky had missed you.

He had a… special connection with you. His girl. His only girl. His favourite girl.

This time, he thought, he would do whatever he can to solidify whatever was happening between the two of you. Maybe he’d even get you to go on a real date with him. Maybe that would lead to something more. He was smiling to himself just thinking about it.

He often thought back to the night you met. He was at the club after a long day of being the dark ruler he was. All he wanted was a drink and a pretty woman on his lap. That’s when he found you.

Right as he walked in, you caught his eye. Walking around serving drinks, wearing a little see-through red dress that brought every man you walked past to his knees.

Once he got to his booth, Bucky called you over. You walked towards him sheepishly.

“I’ve never seen you around here before, beautiful.” He said, patting his thigh. He noticed the way you hesitated. Must be new, he thought.

You carefully perched on his lap, holding your empty metal tray to your chest. Bucky smirked as he looked at it, like you were putting a makeshift barrier between the two of you. When you remained quiet and squirmy, Bucky spoke up again.

“Come on, babygirl. Talk to me, it’s okay.” He whispered at his nuzzled your neck. “I don’t bite. Unless you ask nicely, then I might.”

His warm breath against your skin tickled. You chuckled as you pulled away to look at him. “Um, I’m just a waitress. I’m not supposed to…” You trailed off. Both of you were aware of the no-contact ‘rule’. But there was a natural, unexplainable spark there that neither of you could ignore.

“Hmm,” His chest rumbled. “How about we go somewhere private?” He whispered into your ear and noticed the way you shivered.

You hung your head, clutching your metal tray. “Waitresses aren’t supposed to go into the VIP rooms, sir.” You said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear you above the sensual music.

Bucky smirked. Then leaned in and whispered, “I suppose I can bend the rules a little given I co-own the club.”

You froze and went to stand up immediately, already apologising but he wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you on his lap.

“It’s okay, babygirl. You’re not in trouble, I promise.”

The two of you ended up in one of the VIP rooms. Nothing happened, you just kissed and talked and kissed some more. Bucky promised to come back. And he did. For months. Again and again and each time he did, you were drawn to him like he was gravity from the very moment he walked into the room.

And that night he landed after being away for weeks, he expected you to run right into his arms the moment he’d enter the club like you always did. He even got you a nice little gift to make up for the time that he’d been away. It was a rare, red diamond choker. He could already imagine how it would look around your neck. Like a brand. His.

But then he got to the club. And he noticed everyone was avoiding his eyes almost anxiously. And his girl was nowhere to be seen. He searched for you in the main area for a while, then even searched the VIP rooms, vowing to commit horrible crimes if he ever found you in there with another man.

But no.

He called Sam, who co-owned the club, and Sam had no idea who he was talking about. Bucky asked the staff members, and one bartender finally told him that you’d resigned a few weeks ago. And no one knew where you went. He asked for your full name, but no one knew that either.

Not even Sam. “I didn’t even know we had a new waitress, Buck. I have more important shit to worry about.” He’d said, adding to the burning sensation in Bucky’s chest.

“She left me.”

Sam had no idea what his best friend was babbling about. And during the many months that followed, Bucky was a mess. A mess like Sam had never seen before. Frantically scanning country after country, searching for a girl with no name. He was in love, and he wasn’t giving up. He would find his girl come what may.

—

But now Bucky knew where you were.

And he was more confused than ever. He had even more questions.

Bucky spent a whole week in that little town. Watching you, learning your routine, observing and questioning. He disguised himself as a local and always kept his distance even though his hands itched to touch you.

At first he was bothered by how you were fine with living the same day everyday. Your routine seemed boring at first, but the more he watched, the more he realised it was sort of therapeutic. The normality of it all.

He rented an apartment on the other side of the street from your bakery, and he spent hours watching you.

You lived right above the bakery. A quaint apartment, with flower pots all around the french windows. Sometimes when you forgot to turn the lights off at night, Bucky spent the whole night spying on you, counting your breaths as you slept on your couch in front of the TV.

You’d wake up at the crack of dawn, then you’d feed your dogs. He noticed you had two. Lazy, both of them. Then you’d get downstairs and within half an hour, the cool air that entered his apartment carried the smell of the sea and baked goods.

All he wanted was to cross the cobblestone street and drag you to his bed, demand answers while fucking some sense into you. But the more he watched you, the more his anger diminished. Temporarily.

The genuine smile on your face as you served your loyal customers all day, especially the ones who always came early in the morning on their way to work. The occasional sound of your voice or your laughter that slipped past whenever someone didn’t close the door right. The sound of children squealing and laughing whenever you gave away leftover baked goods or donuts in the evenings. How you knew almost everyone by name. How sometimes you invited neighbours over for wine nights. How you went on little walks in late, cool evenings, forcing your lazy pets to walk but then ending up having to carry them on the way back. They were spoiled, he realised. He hated to admit that he was jealous of the damned dogs who got so much of your attention while he starved for it.

He wasn’t angry by the end of that first week of spying, he was just hurting. How dare you live a whole new life without him? How dare you laugh and seem like you don’t miss him? He’d just spent months looking for you and here you were, just going about your day like you didn’t care? Like none of those nights you’d spent together mattered?

Meanwhile he was shaking just reminiscing the way your touch felt across his skin. He remembered the first time the two of you crossed that line in one of the VIP rooms…

You were wearing that red dress again. Fucking tease, he hissed each time you moved or squirmed on his lap.

“Baby, please,” He groaned. “Just… let me touch you. Daddy will make you feel good, so good babygirl, I promise.” He pleaded, hands caressing your soft, warm thighs.

You shook your head, popping another one of those chocolates he brought you into your mouth and sucking your fingers after. Torturing him.

“We can’t,” You insisted, with nothing but mischief in your eyes as you looked at him. “You made these rules yourself, remember?” You chuckled when he groaned again when you straddled him properly.

“I don’t give a shit about rules.” He hissed, nuzzling your neck. Slowly, he kissed up and down your neck. “I just wanna taste you. That’s it. Just a taste.”

That’s how he found himself on his knees, face in between your thighs. His skilled tongue making you whine and whimper as you tugged on his hair. Bucky hummed in appreciation the more he tasted you.

“Come on daddy’s face, baby…”

That’s it.

Bucky decided he would go see you the next morning. He would drag you back home if he had to, but he wouldn’t spend another day without you. Who did you think you were? No one just tosses him aside like this. He’d remind you who he was and then you’d both go home right away.

—

Bucky woke up to a thunderstorm. Weather around here was unpredictable. He got out of bed and immediately looked outside to find your bakery empty. No customers in sight because of the heavy rain, lightning and thunder. The golden light was on though.

He decided it was time to go have a talk with you. He promised not to lose his temper. He would go in there calmly, talk it out with you. Ask you what the fuck you are doing here, and then he’d take you home.

But that ended up not happening.

Bucky crossed the slippery cobblestone street, walked into your comforting, sweet smelling bakery and froze. He froze right there at the entrance.

As did you. Standing there behind the wooden counter, oven mittens in your hand and apron in another, you stared at Bucky with nothing but pure shock and surprise on your face. A thousand thoughts, mainly questions, crossed your mind.

What is he doing here? How did he find you? Why is he dressed casually like a local, wearing soft colours instead of his usual suits? How long has he been here? What is he doing here?

You let out a little gasp. “Bucky?”

Wrong move, apparently. Because his demeanour changed in a nanosecond. His calm and collected-ness was forgotten instantly. Jaws clenched, with a murderous look in his eyes, he walked closer, more like charged at you, and around the counter before you could even get a word out.

He had you pinned to the nearest wall before you could process it all. Knocking down a framed picture in the process. Towering above you, he looked like he was beyond pissed.

“Bucky, I—,”

“Shut up.” He hissed, voice cold with bitterness and anger. He watched how you shivered when he pinned your wrists to the wall on either side of your head. “Shut the fuck up.”

He leaned closer, chest pressing against yours leaving no space in between. He closed his eyes and sighed for a moment, trying his hardest to see reason but he was angry. So angry he couldn’t think.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He spoke with such a low voice that you trembled against him, causing him to tighten his grip around your wrists, surely bruising them. You didn’t care.

You winced, “I can explain.” Fuck, you’d missed him too. It had been months since you last saw him. He was just as handsome as you remembered. His hair was a little longer now, his beard a little thicker. But he made your heart race just the same. “Please Bucky,” You whispered, “let me explain everything to you.”

“No.” He growled before pressing his mouth to yours, angrily. Like he wanted his kiss to hurt. And it did.

His rough facial hair scratched your skin, his teeth nibbled on and bit your lips. His hands damn near crushed your wrists in his strong grip. And he didn’t give you even the briefest second to breathe. He kissed you just like how he imagined he would do once he found you. Ravenously. Pouring everything he felt into it. Desperation, anger, hurt, obsession. He couldn’t get enough.

“Bucky…” You gasped against his lips when he finally pulled away. Breathing fast, you tried to get a look at him but he just seemed even more angry.

“Turn around,” He mumbled, forcing you to turn around anyway. Fuck, the sight of you in that long, flowy, sundress was doing things to him. He was never this bothered when you used to parade around in your little see-through dresses, but somehow the sight of you in this pink, floral dress was making him act like a caveman.

His movements were rash and angry. He almost tore your dress off of you while he shoved his rough hand in between your legs and touched you where you desperately wanted him to. You whined and trembled against the cool wall when he slid a finger in, fucking you with it while he hissed into your ear.

“I should punish you for what you did to me,” His deep voice made his chest rumble against your back. “I should tie you up and fuck you however I want.”

Your dress was partially off, bunched and only hanging on around your waist. Being so dishevelled made this even dirtier. You were moaning by now, hoping the heavy rain would blur your actions from anyone who walked by the shop. Or god forbid, walk in.

“How dare you think you can just leave me?” He demanded, sliding another finger inside you and making your body come alive.

You were embarrassingly wet at this point, and the sounds your body made as he finger-fucked you were lewd. But you couldn’t get enough.

More, more, more. You mentally chanted.

Bucky wasn’t having the silent treatment, so he smacked your thigh to get your attention. You yelped. Your skin stung as he smacked it again, on the same spot. Harder this time. You cried out even louder as he kept taunting you. “Answer me, you fucking brat!” His lips brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke. “Why did you leave me?”

You cried as he kept fucking you with his fingers you even as you came. His fingers sliding in and out with ease now. The sounds you made were wanton. “You… you left first.” You tried to argue. But failed miserably.

He chuckled in that dark and dangerous way of his. “I left for work.” He said, “And I promised you I’d be back.” He reached deeper inside you, curling his fingers just enough to make you mutter incoherent things. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Please, please, please…” You begged. “Please I need to come, Bucky please.”

“Oh?” He chuckled again, slowing down his movements purposely. “No one touched you, huh?” He playfully bit on your exposed shoulder. “You’re so fucking wet it’s dripping down my hand, babygirl.” He boasted. “Is it because no one has touched you these past few months? Hmm?”

“Yes…” You had tears streaming down your face, and you nodded breathlessly. “Please…”

But instead of making you come all over his fingers, Bucky pulled away for a brief moment. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear him undoing his trousers. And moments later, he was rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds. You shivered in pleasure.

“I’m gonna teach you what happens to people who think they can run from me, babygirl.” He growled as he pushed his cock into you, making you cry out loud as he stretched you out.

After months of not having him, right now he felt huge inside you. Just like that, memories of nights spent with him came flooding back in. You moaned as his fingers found your clit again, rubbing it in sync with his thrusts.

His hand gripped you by the hips, holding you against him as he sped up into you, fucking you like he hated you. Like it was punishment. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and licked, and bit on your skin as he fucked into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls.

“Did you think I’d never find you?” He asked, fucking into you. “I bet you thought you’d gotten rid of me, hmm?”

You’d missed him too. He could tell by the way you were starting to clench around him already. Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how good he felt inside you.

“See, it didn’t have to be like this, baby…” he mumbled angrily against your skin while he fucked you like an animal, “I could be nice and gentle with your body, but you just had to be a fucking brat and leave me with no warning.” He spat, growling in your ear as he pounded into you, your chest slamming into the wall with each thrust. It hurt in the best way.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” He moaned against your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace, pounding into you mercilessly.

The pleasure, the pain, the heat of him… was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Bucky–,” You choked on your words as you came undone, walls clenching around him, and a loud moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. It was almost blinding.

His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls, moaning out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He came while biting down hard on your shoulder. So hard that even you cried out, still coming down from your high as you felt him spill deep inside you.

That bite on your shoulder hurt. And like a chain reaction, everything began to hurt. Having him here hurt. Memories of being with him in the city, in the dark rooms of that club hurt. Realising how fast your life changed hurt.

You didn’t realise you were sobbing quietly until you heard Bucky apologising profusely. Suddenly no longer angry. No longer feeling betrayed.

“Fuck, baby. I’m so sorry.” He kissed that sore spot softly, his bite mark on your shoulder repeatedly as he wrapped his arms around you, securing you in the comfort of his embrace. “I don’t know what came over me, babygirl. I’m so sorry, please look at me. Hey, hey,” He pulled away and turned you so you faced him, still with tears in your eyes. “Babygirl, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, wiping your tears away, then kissing your face repeatedly.

You remained like that for a few minutes. Arms wrapped around one another, standing there against that wall while it rained like hell outside. Bucky didn’t stop apologising.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been an animal like this with you, I—,”

You cut him off finally, “Shh, it’s okay.” You pulled away from his warm chest to look up at him. “I needed this.” You said, sniffling as you gently cupped his rough cheek, caressing his face with your thumb. “I needed you like this.”

He just hugged you close again, kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry.” He apologised one final time. “I’ll listen, I promise. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

You smiled faintly at him. “Then I should lock up down here and we can go upstairs. I don’t want to scare my neighbours by risking them finding us like this.” You looked down at your partially torn dress and Bucky’s unbuttoned trousers.

Much to your surprise, Bucky said, “You go ahead, I’ll close and lock up.”

You frowned at him even as you desperately tried to get the top of your sundress to cover your chest. “You wouldn’t know how to…” You trailed off as realisation set in. He was a calculated, smart man. He didn’t just apparate on your doorstep with no planning. “You’ve been watching me.” You stated, raising an eyebrow at him.

Bucky gave you a rare, guilty look.

You sighed and shook your head. “I guess I chose this life by getting involved with you.” You gave him a faint smile. “Alright then, lock it. Leave the key in the little basket by the door.” You started walking towards the stairs, then turned around again and said, “Make sure the windows are properly locked too, because of the rain and stuff.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded.

You smirked at him.

With that you took the stairs and Bucky watched you go with a fond smile on his face. No one ever ordered him around. He hated it. But coming from you, he quite liked it.

Bucky chuckled at himself because never in his life had he ever imagined he would one day be closing up a bakery in a small town, all for the woman he’s obsessively in love with. But he didn’t mind it one bit.

After following your instructions and double checking the windows, he made his way upstairs as well. Again, he didn’t know what he expected your place to look like – and all that spying only allowed him glimpses of your apartment – but he never expected your space to look so…

Pink. With occasional gold accents. Pale pink couch, the one you often fell asleep on while watching TV, and fluffy white pillows and rugs to go with. Paintings hanging on even paler pink walls. The kitchen he couldn’t quite see but he assumed it’d have to be all white. Pink dog beds, with fluffy balls of brown fur sleeping on them – wearing pink collars no less.

He couldn’t see your bedroom from the living room given the door was closed but given the pink, fluffy robe and socks you wore he could imagine just how pink it must be.

“It’s so girly.” He commented, as if surprised. Maybe he was a little. After all, he knew you as the seductive goddess he met almost every night at the club. He never realised that it was all just a show, that it was all just a persona at work. In a way, stepping into your space felt so intimate. He liked it.

You chuckled. “Coquette, please.” You corrected as you handed him a glass of red wine while he took a seat beside you. He did look a little out of place in your apartment, a dark and broody man like him. But then again, he was here and that’s all that mattered.

He turned to look at you and couldn’t resist holding your hand and pulling you onto his lap again. “Come here,” He said, “I’ve missed you.”

As you straddled his lap, your robe exposed some of your shoulder and Bucky saw the very noticeable bite mark he left on you. He grimaced when he saw it. He placed his wine glass to the side and traced the bite mark with his thumb carefully.

“I’m sorry, babygirl.” He whispered, leaning in to nuzzle your neck and kiss the bite mark. And breathe in your scent. Fuck, he’d missed it so much. “You smell a little different. Fruitier.”

You giggled when his hair tickled your skin. “I made blueberry compote earlier this morning. Perhaps that’s why.”

You could feel him smiling against your skin. Then he pulled away to look at you. His hands shamelessly slid under your robe, eager to touch your skin. Relishing it this time, not in a feral hurry like he was earlier. He seemed visibly calmer too.

“We used to spend hours like this at the club, remember?” He spoke, and immediately you were overwhelmed with nostalgia.

Hours, days, weeks, months. Some days back then you would wake up in the morning already excited to see Bucky in the evening. And it wasn’t because it was all sexual. So many nights all you two did was drink, laugh and talk about everything. He once told you that apart from Sam, you were his only real friend.

Bucky kissed you, breaking you out of your reverie surely thinking of the past as well. It was a slow, gentle kiss. It was consuming you. His hands caressed your thighs which were still a little sore from earlier. You winced in pain when he massaged the spot where he spanked you.

Bucky pulled away from the kiss, apologising again as he kissed down your chin. “I’m sorry, babygirl.”

You smiled at him after taking a sip of your wine. “Stop pretending as if we were always vanilla or that this is scandalous in any way shape or form.” You chuckled as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “We both know this was nothing compared to how we used to be.”

Bucky smiled, a little sadly. “I missed you.” He repeated. “Tell me,” He said, “Tell me everything.”

You finished your wine. “What do you want to know?”

“Why did you start working at the club?” He caught the look of sadness that suddenly appeared on your face upon hearing the question.

“I… I had to drop out of uni because my grandparents fell sick.” You explained. “Mom and dad were travelling for work at the time, and I was the only one who could take care of grandma and grandpa. The treatments and all ended up costing a little more than what we had so I needed a job that paid well, I also needed one that would allow me to be flexible with my time so I could take care of my grandparents.”

Bucky nodded, “Hence the club.”

You nodded in confirmation.

“Your parents never intervened? So you could finish your education?” He questioned.

“No.” You said, almost emotionless. “When they found out what I was doing, where I was working to earn the extra money we needed… they kind of disowned me. And vowed to never talk to me again.” You chuckled, humourlessly.

“They don’t deserve you.” Bucky said quickly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you close. “You were so brave baby, I wish you would’ve told me all of this.”

You slid your fingers into his hair and massaged his scalp gently. “You were already taking care of me.” You said, “You mended my heart a little each night when I saw you.”

“I wish I could’ve done more.” He kissed along your collarbones, then froze again as if he remembered something. “I almost forgot,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a sleek black box. “I got you something.” Then clarified, “Well, I got you this months ago. I would’ve given it to you had you not run away from me.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “I didn’t run from you, I–,”

He cut you off with a finger on your lips. “Tell me about that part in a minute,” He opened the slender black box to reveal the red diamond choker inside. “I had this made for you.” He watched your face intently.

“Bucky…” You hesitantly reached for it, running your fingers over the beauty of it. It was a simple design. Elegant, timeless. Way too expensive. “I can’t take this,” You began protesting, “It’s too much.”

Bucky made a face and said, “Oh shut up.” He was already clasping it around your neck before you could protest any further. “It’s a gift from daddy,” He whispered against the corner of your lips. “You deserve it, babygirl.”

When he pulled away to look at you, his heart almost broke again at the sight of the tears in your eyes.

“What is it?” He asked, wiping your tears away for the second time today. “Is it that ugly?”

You laughed through the tears. “No, it’s the prettiest thing I own.” You sniffled. “The only piece of real jewellery in fact.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Remind me to get you a whole collection.” Bucky pulled you closer and kissed you deeply.

Then it turned into something more and by the time the afternoon rolled around, the two of you had lost count how many times you’d made love on your pink couch. Slow touches and cuddles, and soft kisses always resulted in the two of you fucking again.

—

In the late afternoon, while snacking on random things Bucky realised you still hadn’t explained how you ended up here.

“Grandma and grandpa’s bakery.” You explained, watching the rain pour outside. “They left it to me. They died within weeks of each other,” You said with a melancholic smile on your face, “I always knew that would happen. They loved each other too much to live without one another for too long.”

You turned to look at Bucky who pulled you onto his lap again and held you as tightly as possible. You weren’t crying this time, but being held felt nice.

You continued, “I had funerals to plan, I had to pack up my life and move all the way here, I had to take on the responsibility of the bakery and renovate this apartment. And you were already gone at the time so…” You sighed. “I didn’t know if I should leave a note or not. I didn’t know if you were actually coming back or–,”

“I would never abandon you. I thought you knew that.” Bucky said, a little annoyed at that. “I made you a promise, did you not–,”

You couldn’t help but argue, “Yeah well, I didn’t know if what we had was real enough for you to come back to.”

Bucky frowned. “Baby…”

You gave him a small smile, and pressed your forehead against his, rubbing your noses together. “I know now. It is.”

When you finally pulled away from his addicting embrace you said, “I’m gonna get started on dinner. You can shower in there,” You pointed at your bedroom door as you got up from the couch. Bucky tried to grab you again but you pulled away laughing. “The weather is clearing up, we can have dinner outside on the patio.”

You threw him a wink and made your way into the kitchen.

Bucky finally got up and walked into your bedroom. Just as he imagined, the place was all white, gold, and pink. He actually laughed when he walked into the bathroom and found it pale pink as well. He’d grown to love it too by now.

–

You were busy at the stove, making your best seafood pasta, when you felt strong arms wrapping around you from behind.

“How’d you like my bedroom?” You asked, smirking already as you pictured him in your very girly space.

“It’s very pink. The bed looks comfy,” He whispered into your ear, “I’m gonna fuck you in it later.”

You chuckled and passed him another glass of wine. As you turned to face him again, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. There he was, one of the scariest men you knew, standing in your grandma-core kitchen, wearing a fluffy white robe with pink clouds on it.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t comment on it. I can already hear Sam laughing his ass off and he’s not even here.”

You laughed even harder before you kissed his cheek. “It suits you.” You said. Then you handed him a couple of plates and pointed at the patio which could be seen from the kitchen window, “Can you set the table?”

He finished his wine and then mumbled on his way out like a grumpy old man, “First close the bakery, now set the table,” He shouted from outside, “You know, if this whole thing was your elaborate plan to hire me as your domestic helper, you could’ve just asked, babygirl.”

You laughed at him from inside the kitchen. You shook your head as you watched him. Wearing your fluffy robe, setting the small table on your patio. The view of the ocean from that patio was to die for, and the setting sun was just sublime. The golden lights you’d hung above the cute little dining area added to the cosy atmosphere. Now with the weather a lot nicer than it was hours ago, you could hear the small town coming alive again. Voice and laughter, children cycling down the cobblestone.

And Bucky. Bucky was here too. Winking at you from the patio. And you thought your life had ended when your parents disowned you. You scoffed at the thought. Then you thanked whatever god was listening for bringing Bucky back to you.

—

During dinner, Bucky filled you in on what he was up to while you were gone. And you did the same. One bottle of wine turned into two, then you and Bucky laughed at random things while you did the dishes.

Then you found yourselves in your bed. And like he promised, Bucky made love to you there as well.

His muscular body hovered above yours. He looked down at you with nothing but love and desire in his eyes as you undid the ridiculous robe to let his cock out. He was hard already.

“Think I like you a lot in this robe.” You teased.

Bucky laughed before leaning in for a kiss again. He nibbled along your skin, from your mouth to your neck as he parted your legs and slid into you.

You gasped as your walls welcomed him perfectly. He was nice and snug inside you, stretching you out in a way that had you whining and whimpering under him in no time.

Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head on your pink covers as he sped up into you. Your eyes rolled back once he started moving in and out of you. Taking his sweet time, loving the way his warm skin rubbed against yours.

He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly. “I love you.” He breathed against your mouth. “So fucking much.” He kissed along your skin and moaned into your ear as he sped up. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

“Oh Buck,” You smiled up at him, “I love you.”

“You’re mine.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you as he made you come again.

“And you’re mine.”

—

You woke up some time in the middle of the night, thirsty after all that wine from earlier. But the moment you sat up to get out of bed, Bucky woke up too. Asking in his groggy voice, which you had never heard before but concluded that it was kind of hot, “Where are you going? What is it?”

You smiled and kissed his forehead while getting out of bed, “Just thirsty. I’ll be right back.”

Bucky got up after you, getting out of bed as well. “I’m coming too.” He said, “I worry this girly room might engulf me if you leave me here alone.” He joked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he followed you out and into the kitchen.

Truth is, he didn’t want to be apart from you for even a second.

You handed him a glass of cold water while you put some water to boil to make tea. Some green tea should put the two of you right back to sleep, you thought.

So there you were in your cosy kitchen, wrapped in a soft blanket. Bucky leaned against the counter watching you. He was shirtless, just in some white, cotton pyjama pants that you lent him. They didn’t fit him at all but something about him in your clothes made him seem adorable.

You were both quiet. But you could feel Bucky thinking. He looked like he was trying to find the right way to ask you something. You didn’t know what. But he had that little frown on his forehead. You wanted to kiss it away.

“What is it?” You asked.

Bucky avoided your eyes, choosing to stare at the floor instead as he asked, “Do you think… I mean, would you ever come back home?”

Ah. The few moments of silence which followed were heavy. You didn’t like how that question put some kind of metaphorical distance between the two of you.

So you took a few steps and leaned into him. You placed your hands on his muscular, toned chest and said, “This is home, for me.” You gave him the truth. “That city was never home now that I think about it.” You smiled faintly, “The only good part was you.”

Bucky nodded. “So,” He began, then stopped to clear his throat and spoke again, “You won’t ever leave this place?”

You slid your hands up across his skin, feeling the warm, strong muscles underneath your palm. You traced his collar bones, then his neck and finally cupped his face in your hands. He wrapped his arms loosely around your middle.

“I love it here, Bucky.” You stated. “It’s quiet, and peaceful. It looks boring at first but it’s what I’ve always wanted.” You said. “Plus my grandparents left me this, it’s all I have of them.” You paused for a while, hating that look of hurt in his ocean blue eyes. “I won’t leave. This is my home now.”

Bucky was quiet. Even his breathing was slow.

You let go of him, took a step back and said, “Maybe you should head back.” It felt like the words sliced you from the inside. It hurt to even utter them. “You have a life there.” You gave him a sad smile. Followed by a faint chuckle. “Unless you want to take up fishing then I’m afraid there’s nothing for you here.”

He scoffed. “There’s you.” He said as if that was more than enough.

“Bucky.” You warned.

He shook his head, then reached for his phone which he’d forgotten in the kitchen earlier tonight. “Sam will probably fly out here to beat me up when I tell him.” He spoke, none of what he said made sense to you though.

“What are you–,”

“And he’ll have to work twice as much. But he’ll do great, I know. He’s Sam after all, strongest man I know.” Bucky carried on, ignoring your questions as he typed away on his phone. “I’ll do as much as I can from here, maybe fly back to the city once or twice a year to show my face.”

“Bucky,” You warned again, “What are you talking—,”

Bucky continued, cutting you off each time you tried to get a word in. “I’ll have to call my people, actually I have a lot of phone calls to make if–,”

You cut him off this time, stepping closer to him again and grabbing him by his broad shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky gave you a lovesick smile. “Well if you’re not going back to the city, neither am I.” He answered. You froze. He continued. “I’ll have to buy us a bigger home somewhere around here. We’ll keep the apartment and bakery of course, but maybe we could use some staff to help with maintenance and to keep the bakery running.”

He made a mental, makeshift plan while you had silent tears streaming down your face.

He continued, “We’ll get you back in uni, whichever one you want and whichever offers distance learning because there’s no way I’m letting you live on some campus away from me.” He paused, then said, “I’ll have to actually take up fishing. Maybe I’ll buy a few boats, you know I always wanted to be a yacht broker.” He sounded almost… hopeful. “Retirement sounds nice.”

You sniffled. “Buck…”

Bucky kept talking while he gently caressed your back. “I’ll have to learn French,” He groaned, “At this grown age.” He added. “I’ll have to know what's a chocolate croissant and what’s a pain au chocolat if I want to occasionally help out with the bakery. I can’t be uncultured while my wife is this connoisseur, you know? The locals will laugh at me.”

“Wife?” You questioned through tears and a faint, barely there smile.

He rolled his eyes. “Baby, I’m wearing your clothes, sleeping in your girly room, eating off of your floral plates.” He explained, “If you don’t marry me, I will lose my reputation.” He joked.

You laughed, and sobbed as you threw your arms around him, hugging him as tightly as you could.

“You don’t have to do this.” You spoke through tears. Your heart felt so full, you didn’t know how to handle a man like Bucky changing the course of his life for you. All for you.

Bucky hugged you back, kissing the top of your head. “I want to.” He said, “I have to. Otherwise you’ll run away again.” He teased.

You laughed quietly. “I won’t.” You said firmly.

“Good,” He sighed, squeezing you tightly in his arms before letting go. “Now I have to tell Sam.” He looked genuinely worried.

You giggled, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Tell him in the morning.” You whispered, your hands already trailing down to the waistband of the pyjama pants.

Bucky chuckled before leaning in to kiss you, deeply. “Okay baby,” He whispered, forgetting everything else as he got lost in you all over again.

He made love to you right there in the kitchen, sliding in between your legs as you sat on the edge of the counter. Slow and gentle. Kissing you softly, making a mess of you as he made you come over and over and over again. Whispering against your heated skin, your wet, open mouth, “You’re mine…”

“All yours,” You answered, holding him tightly. Your nails scratching down his back, your skin burning in all the best ways as his beard scratched it each time he kissed you.

This time, he made you a different promise.

“If you chose to run again, you better run for your life and pray I never find you, babygirl…” He whispered into your ear as he slid inside you again. His cock made it hard for you to focus on anything else but you tried your hardest to hear him out. “Because I won’t be this kind if I ever have to hunt for you again.”

You laughed, but ended up moaning as he bit down on your other shoulder this time. Marking you as his again.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader

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ozzgin · 3 months

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Yandere! Demon King Headcanons

You have accepted the Demon King’s marriage proposal!

I wasn't planning on writing a second part, but some of you gave me ideas and I decided on short headcanons instead. The image of a big, buff, evil Overlord lovingly doing house chores for their human was too tempting.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance

[Main Story]

The proposal, as you quickly found out, came as a surprise to everyone. Not even the King’s loyal butler knew of such intentions; he’d assumed they were finally going to destroy everything and everyone at once. To him, the dramatic scene of you and his Lord enveloped in flames was anything but a romantic confession. It was your final battle. So one might imagine the poor lizard’s confusion when the Demon King returned with you following behind. “S-sir?” He questioned meekly. The armored creature nodded at his servant. “It has been done. We’ll plan the wedding upon our arrival home.” The what? His baffled expression must’ve given him away, because the Demon continued: “What’re you gawking like that for? Didn’t I ask you earlier how humans forge a bond?” The butler stumbled to search for his words, swallowing dryly. “Well y-yes, your Majesty…I just didn’t expect it to be anything more than curiosity.”

The same speechless reaction repeated itself all the way to the Kingdom. Soldiers, diplomats, other monstrous entities of the unknown Land, they all greeted you in disbelief. So much, in fact, that you began to poke fun at their hesitant response: “I am his mortal enemy”, you’d announce with a dramatic bow. “Spouse! We talked about this!” the Demon Lord would quickly correct you, flustered.

Truth be told, you're not quite sure what made you accept this ridiculous offer. Perhaps a mixture of intrigue and disillusionment. The city you've dedicated yourself to stood no longer, burnt to a crisp along with its corruption and crookery. In a way, the monster had unshackled you from a responsibility you no longer wanted to bear. And if that wasn't enough to convince you, well, the sight of the Ruler himself kneeling before you certainly sealed the deal.

Although it may take a while for you to accept the idea that your worst adversary had actually been infatuated with you this entire time. Were there even any hints? During your last battle you nearly died. You'd crawled out of an enormous crater on your fours, bones shattered and ligaments torn. When you pointed this out to your groom-to-be, he stared at you in horror. "I had no idea humans were that fragile. I was trying to adjust my strength so as to not do any harm." You could only nod, patting away the sweat beads forming on your forehead. Uh huh. Maybe it's better you didn't experience his full range of attacks.

Ever since the devastating revelation, he's been extra careful when handling you. Sometimes he'll awkwardly hover his large hands above you, with a concentrated frown on his face. "What the hell are you doing?" you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. "I'm trying to be gentle." he'll answer. "You're not even touching me." Fair point, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

The Demon King will often ask you about customs from your world as a way to make you comfortable, just in case you get struck by the occasional homesickness. His Realm is very different from what you're used to, after all. Lamentably, his own years spent in the human world were not too fruitful from a cultural point of view. He was either busy stalking you or devouring the souls of the innocent. Now that he has nothing else to worry about, he will gladly listen and even do his best to actively participate.

You wake up shrouded in thick smoke. Overwhelmed by heavy déjà vu, you rush down the grand stairs, searching for the source of the fire. Are you being attacked? Enemies of the Demon King? You elbow yourself against the kitchen door, similar to when you left your home to find the city ablaze. The Demon Lord turns to face you, visibly overwhelmed and exhausted. You gawk at the scene unfolding before you and remember to close your mouth, mainly out of politeness. "It's too small. I'm afraid I cannot use it", he reveals timidly, holding a human spatula between his fingers to showcase the impractical size difference. You glance at the disastrous attempt behind him and manage to deduce he'd been trying to make breakfast. In an unspoken agreement, he steps back and allows you to take over.

"I'm surprised you let him burn down the kitchen", you mention to the butler once you get a moment to yourself. The scaly servant sighs, and theatrically lifts his clawed hands in hopelessness. "Pointless to argue with him when he's like this, (Y/N). In my entire life serving the Family, I've never witnessed a more stubborn leader." He points to the lavish portraits adorning the walls with a faint smile. "And, to put it frankly, he's obsessed with you. I've never seen him in a more deplorable state. Marrying a human?! The shame, the outrage!” he cries out. “No offense intended to you, of course. You must understand." You hum in agreement, a tad uncomfortable, yet sympathetic. "M-maybe it'll tone down after the wedding?" you suggest as encouragement. "Oh, no, I suspect it will only get worse", he bemoans in return. Then, he promptly straightens his back and resumes his duties.

You go on your own way, not wanting to burden the lizard in his work. As you cross the hallway, you find the Demon King himself scanning each room, somewhat agitated. He notices you and his features soften. "I was wondering where you'd vanished." You approach him with the words of the butler still ringing in your ears.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #yandere demon king #yandere male x reader #gender neutral reader #monster romance #monster boyfriend #yandere oc

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yandere-daydreams · 4 months

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Title: In The Serpent's Den.

Pairing: Yandere!Suguru x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 4.7k.

TW: Non/Con, Hybrid AU, AFAB!Reader, Cobra!Suguru, Rabbit!Reader, Biting, Aphrodisiacs, Heat Cycles, Oviposition, Manipulation, Biting, Breeding Kinks, and Predator/Prey Dynamics.

“It’s time to come out, little rabbit.”

His tone was sickly sweet, lulled into something saccharine and tempting, only slightly distorted by the uncommon shape of his tongue. Despite his melodic coaxing, you curled further into yourself – pulling your thighs flush to your chest and burying your knees in your face, doing your best not to breathe, not to cry, not to make a sound. The temptation to uncurl yourself entirely and run, run, run until you found somewhere small and dark and safe gnawed on the back of your mind, but it never would’ve worked. You were in Suguru’s enclosure, Suguru’s territory, and there was nowhere to run where he wouldn’t be able to follow.

“I’m losing my patience, little rabbit. If you come out now, I promise I’ll try to hold myself back.”

Why was he even looking for you? It’d been weeks since his eccentric, white-haired owner forced you into the sprawling greenhouse that made up Suguru’s enclosure, and he’d never paid you a second glance. You did your best to avoid him, to make sure you never crossed his path while he was prowling for a meal. You could count the number of times he’d acknowledged you on a single hand, and he’d never so much as lunged at you. You couldn’t imagine why he’d decided you’d make a good meal now, after weeks of relatively peaceful cohabitation. Maybe he’d gotten tired of keeping you around, of having to share his territory with another hybrid – one so far below him on the food chain. Maybe, this was just the first time he’d gotten hungry enough to hunt you down.

You heard branches shift, twigs break, and instantly, all of your thoughts (rational and otherwise) were replaced with a frantic, buzzing static. “You’re only making this worse for yourself,” Suguru went on, and his voice was too loud, too close. You’d tucked yourself into the densest patch of foliage you could find, but your white ears and cottony tail stood out like blood on snow against the vivid greens and blacks of the flora. Suddenly, trying to hide at all felt stupid. Rabbits weren’t supposed to hide. Rabbits were supposed to die and get eaten by the big, mean snakes who preyed on them. “I’m going to find you, and when I do, you’re only going to be sorry you made me wait as long as I have.”

You could hear the dull drag of scales moving over rough stone, the ebbing ‘hiss’ that formed a slight lisp at the end of each sentence. You raised your head just far enough to see a large, black shape move in front of you, and something buried deep inside of you cracked and spilled open.

Running wasn’t a choice – it was the only option. You were on your feet in a second, sprinting deeper into the greenhouse in another. The direction didn’t matter. As long as you got away from him, nothing else mattered.

Blindly, you vaulted over fallen branches and overgrown roots, rotting leaf litter threatening to steal your balance as you veered away from the beaten path and threw yourself into the tangled wilderness. If Suguru was chasing you, you couldn’t hear him – the world little more than a blur of color and your own racing pulse. You just needed to find somewhere better to hide, somewhere he’d forgotten. A tunnel, or a tree hollow, or a cave dark enough to hide your snowy pelt from prying eyes. You just needed to—

Your trek came to an abrupt end as your collided with a pane of thick, emerald-tinted glass and were sent crashing to the ground. It took you a second to process what you’d run into – the wall of the greenhouse, the edge of Suguru’s enclosure – and another to remember that you weren’t in the wilderness, anymore, that you wouldn’t find a tunnel or a cave or anywhere else to hide that hadn’t been created deliberately to trick animals like you into to think they were safe. You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so desperate. You might’ve gone looking for Suguru yourself, if you hadn’t been too scared to remember what it meant to be caged.

Fighting back tears, you started to scramble onto your feet, but it was already too late. There was no sound, no warning, just a sudden pressure against your back and an agonizing pain burrowed into the side of your throat. His fangs were planted in your neck before you could so much as scream, his strong tail wrapped around your legs and his arms crossed over your midriff, keeping your body locked against his as he pinned you to the ground. You expected his venom to burn, to be able to feel death as it flooded into your veins, but instead, there was only a slight numbing sensation around the point of insertion, a distant fog over your senses that might’ve just been your own fading adrenaline. If anything, you felt…

You felt warm.

Suguru took his time pulling away, his ribbon-like tongue flickering over the skin of your throat before he lifted his head. You weren’t facing him, one of your cheeks pressed into the dirt, but you could just barely see him out of the corner of your eye, make out the dark hair tucked behind his shoulders, the pitch-black scales littered over his face, his chest. You knew he was a snake, but you thought you might’ve heard his owner call him something else, once or twice. A ‘cobra’, maybe, but you’d never met a cobra before. You felt safer thinking of him as a snake.

He opened his mouth, but you were already babbling. Trying not to cry had been useless. Tears poured down your cheeks unabashedly, blurring your vision and making it that much harder to spit something coherent out. “P-please don’t eat me – I’m really small for a rabbit, and I promise I won’t taste very good, and I—”

“Quiet, little rabbit.” You’d been wrong, before. You didn’t feel warm, no, you felt hot – something deep inside of you beginning to smolder at the sound of his voice. Immediately, you shut your mouth, and he rewarded you with a raspy chuckle. “You thought I was going to… to eat you?” You nodded stiltedly, and he went on. “Ah, no wonder you were so afraid. And here I thought my timid little bunny just didn’t like me very much.”

“…’m sorry.” You must’ve run farther than you realized. A few minutes of sprinting shouldn’t have left you this breathless, this dazed. “You… You aren’t going to eat me?”

“No, bunny. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“But, you bit—”

“I gave you a present.” Another dry chuckle, his tongue flitting over the back of your neck. “Just a little something to make sure you wouldn’t be so shy. You should already be feeling better.”

You weren’t sure that you felt better, but you didn’t feel scared, either. A different feeling had taken the place of your fear – the sensation viscous and churning and prone sending pangs of dull, burning pain to the pit of your stomach. You had to make a conscious effort to move your lips, and even then, it was hard to get any sound past your suddenly dry throat. Suguru waited patiently, seemingly more than happy to watch you stumble over your own tongue. “It’s really warm,” you managed, eventually. “I think I might be… tired?”

“Oh, of course. I forgot how easy it is for prey animals to wear themselves out. I’ll take you back to my nest, where you’ll be able to rest safely.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded eagerly. Safe. You wanted to be safe. You couldn’t remember what you needed to be safe from anymore, though.

He uncurled, but didn’t pull away from you. Rather, your smaller body was pulled against his broad chest as he took you in his arms and carried you through the greenhouse. His destination was a raised loft – set above the wild foliage of his enclosure, accessible only by a sparsely wrung ladder you never would’ve had a hope of climbing on your own. His nest wasn’t at all like a rabbit’s nest, either. Rather than a deep, dark tunnel padded with fur and leaves, he’d taken you to a mess of tangled roots and woven blankets, all piled onto one another to form a box-like bed. Your form, limper than you would’ve liked it to be, was laid on a relatively soft patch, and Suguru positioned himself above you; upper body supported by his forearms, his never-ending tail taking up whatever space you left unoccupied. You wanted to sleep, to do what he said you should, but he was still touching you – dragging a single, clawed finger down your chest and over your midriff, only pausing at your waist to draw slow, swirling patterns into your hip. “My venom has a unique side-effect, you know,” he muttered, his voice low and soothing, the tapered tip of his tail lashing from side to side as he spoke. “A full dose would be fatal. It’d be fast, too – a few seconds of screaming, a few seconds of twitching, and then—” He paused, clicked his tongue. “—dead, just like that. It’s a little anti-climactic, to be honest.”

Something deep inside of you began to throb. You shrunk into yourself, trying to relieve the pulsing ache, but Suguru mistook your agony for fear. “In controlled portions,” he continued, splaying his open palm over your hip. “The symptoms are much more pronounced. Humans tend to get all feverish and clumsy, but hybrids—”

Again, he paused. His hand drifted lower – first to your thigh, then your cunt. You didn’t realize you were dripping until his cold fingertips skirted over your slit, gathering up the slick already staining the inside of your thighs.

“Hybrids go into heat.”

A cold wave of dread washed over you, and Suguru’s smile widened.

“…heat?”

“Heat, little rabbit.”

His hand lingered on your pussy, two of his massive fingers splitting apart your lips and making room for his tongue to lap gingerly over your entrance. The sensation was strange – not good and not bad, a little ticklish – but your hips bucked as it flickered over your clit. You knew better than to get so close to a snake’s mouth, but you couldn’t seem to move, to think about anything but getting closer, closer to anything that could touch and poke and lick you. “Is heat—” You started, only to be cut off by a cracked whimper as the throbbing in your core intensified. “Is it supposed to hurt?”

“Only for a while.” His deep voice reverberated against your cunt, and you couldn’t stop yourself; attempting to rock your hips against his mouth with a high-pitched whine. It was embarrassing to be so needy, so desperate, but Suguru didn’t seem to mind, only ghosting his lips over the inside of your thigh as he pushed you back down. “But, you’ll need a mate to help you through it. Do you want a mate?”

“Y-Yes! Mate!” You’d never felt this empty, before. It was a little like hunger, but not as jagged, not as desolate. It was more of an absence than anything more tangible; a total and complete vacancy that had to be filled. You tried to roll onto your stomach, to scramble onto your hands and knees and present yourself, but Suguru held you in place with minimal effort. Your protest came in the form of a drawn-out whine, a waving sound Suguru mocked with a low coo and an airy laugh. “Please, please, it hurts, Suguru, I can’t— I need—”

“You need cock,” he finished, his tone one of pure, undeniable satisfaction. With a sigh, he picked himself up, straightening his back and towering above you. You felt saliva pool at the bottom of your mouth as the junction between his upper body and his tail came into view – pale skin slowly giving way to ebony scales, the sculpted muscle of his chest meeting the plated armor below his hips. His hand fell away from you, but you couldn’t mourn the loss of contact, not when your attention was so fixated on the thin, almost invisible slit just below his pubic bone. His fingertips slipped shallowly inside of it, and his gaze shifted back to you. “Come, little bunny. I think you’ve earned another treat.”

The encouragement was appreciated, but unnecessary. You were already crawling towards him, your limbs uncooperative and your movements jolting but your resolve absolute. There was still a throbbing emptiness inside of you, getting worse and more demanding with each neglectful second, but all you could think about was settling onto your knees in front of Suguru and drooling at the sight of his fluttering slit. You weren’t sure what to do, whether to use your hands or your mouth, but Suguru didn’t leave much time for indecision. His free hand found its way to the back of your head, nudging you forward until your mouth was pressed against his slit, just starting to leak thick trails of translucent slick over his dark scales. Your tongue darted past your lips hesitantly, at first, but your trepidation didn’t last very long. It couldn’t, not when you had a hollow pit inside of you still begging to be filled.

Suguru’s fingers carded through your hair as you lapped and sucked at his slit. The taste was mildly acidic, but surprisingly sweet – your eyes quickly falling shut as you sank into a pattern of wet sounds and strange textures and point claws grazing over your scalp, scratching at your ears. Throaty moans (the loudest noise you would ever hear Suguru make, in hindsight) and mumbled praise trickled past his lips as you worked, letting you know that he liked the way you were curling your tongue, that the spongy spot you could just barely reach inside of him was particularly sensitive. It wasn’t long before a mix of your saliva and his arousal dripped past the corners of your mouth, before the end of his tail was lashing violently within the confines of his nest. Maybe Suguru was in heat, too. You hoped he was. You didn’t want to be the only one in so much pain.

You felt the tapered tip of something smooth and stiff against your tongue, and Suguru buckled forward, a ragged gasp tearing past his lips as he took your head in both hands and pressed you flush against his abdomen. Confused and panicked, you tried to pull away, but his grip was iron-clad and it was all you could do to whimper, to sit there helplessly while something filled your mouth – hard and ridged and hot enough to burn. Cock, the pulsing in your core filled in, but it couldn’t be. Suguru had made it sound like something you needed, something you were supposed to want, but you didn’t like the way the blunt head prodded at the back of your throat, the way the ridged underside ground against your tongue. For the first time since he’d caught you, your instincts agreed with your better judgement, both urging you to get away, to run, to put distance between yourself and this newfound threat.

Your pussy, though, couldn’t seem to do anything but chant mate, mate, mate.

You could feel something else, too – not in your mouth, but pressing into your chin, your throat. Reflexively, your hands shot up, wrapping around the thick intruder, and this time, Suguru let go of you entirely, biting back a half-choked groan as he pushed you away, leaving you sprawled out and alone in the center of his nest. The hollowness inside of you was nearly unbearable, and rubbing your thighs together only seemed to make it worse. You tried to look to Suguru, to ask him to do something, but instead, your eyes caught on the long, pale appendage pressed into his lower stomach. His cock. Or, his cocks, you guessed.

You hadn’t expected there to be two of them.

You hadn’t expected them to be so big, either. Even at a distance, it was clear they weren’t meant for a rabbit. Just one would’ve been more than you could handle – as long as your forearm, as thick as your wrist, the end tapered to a steep point but the base absolutely massive before they disappeared into his slit. The color was strange, too – the tip flushed a dull pink while the base was nearly as dark as his scales, creating an ombre that might’ve been pretty, if you weren’t so terrified. You couldn’t see any veins, but both were sculpted with pronounced, perfectly spaced ridges. You couldn’t imagine having something like that inside of you, but you couldn’t imagine not having anything inside of you, either.

You couldn’t be sure how long you spent staring up at him, trying to wrap your head around his size, trying to decide if you’d rather be torn apart by his cock or your own increasingly demanding needs. In the end, it wasn’t really your choice to make. His eyes darted from your clenched thighs to your heaving chest to yours, wide and watery, and a grin found its way back to his lips. For some reason, his smile wasn’t as comforting as it’d been, the first time you saw it. “I’m sorry, little rabbit. Did I startle you?” The tenderness in his voice was almost cloying. You didn’t move, didn’t respond, but he didn’t seem to need you to. “I didn’t mean to. Why don’t you spread your legs nice n’ wide for me, and I’ll make it up to you?”

Your gaze fell back to his cocks. One of his fists had wrapped around both, pumping idly while he stood above you. “Are those supposed to…?” You trailed off, shrinking into yourself. Suguru hummed, and you took it as confirmation. “But you’ll only use one, right? I don’t think I can— I mean, it won’t fit if you—”

“Really? I could’ve sworn you were begging to be fucked properly just a few minutes ago.” You stiffened, but he only laughed. “Fine, fine. If that’s what you think you want, I’ll only use one.”

You didn’t think you could trust him, but you could feel yourself getting hot, again, a haze forming over your mind. You could leave when he was finished, you figured, even if you weren’t entirely sure how to get out of his nest, or where to go once you’d escaped back into the greenhouse. After you got over your— your heat.

Hesitantly, you started to listen to the negging mantra still playing in the back of your mind, to obey the near-deafening voice in the back of your head urging you to get on your hands and knees and make him fuck you, but Suguru must’ve decided you weren’t moving fast enough. His tail shifted underneath you, a thick coil catching your side and leaving you bent over one of the thicker lengths, your stomach pressed into his cool scales and your feet barely able to reach the tangled roots of his nest. You scrambled for purchase, but Suguru was there to steady you – his hands finding your hips, his cocks pressing into your ass. The calloused pads of his fingertips pressed into your waist as he aligned one of his cocks – the upper one, you thought, just a little thicker than its twin – with your entrance. He was kind enough to give you a long, slow second to breathe before his hips rutted forward and he inside of you.

Immediately, it felt wrong.

You’d been right when you decided he was too big for you. He was only half-sheathed, and yet, the tip of his cock pressed into the floor of your cervix, the head of his cock alone enough to stretch your pussy as far as it could go. Thankfully, he didn’t try to force himself deeper, but feeling the smooth ridges of rub against the walls of your pussy as he pulled back wasn’t much better. Still, your cunt clenched around him eagerly, doing its best to suck him in despite your physical limitations. Suguru, of course, seemed more than happy to indulge you. His thrusts were slow and lethargic, as gentle as they could’ve been but still forceful enough to leave you pinned to the curve of his tail. You weren’t in control of your body, anymore. As he rolled his hips against your ass, you ground back against him, your greedy cunt never warm enough, never wet enough, never full enough. You tried to dig your blunt claws into his tail, to ground yourself, but it was a futile effort; a limping dear attempting to evade a wolf who’d already tasted its blood. Suguru’s only response was a stifled groan, a new roughness to the way he fucked into you. You felt his chest against your back as he bent at the waist, draping himself over you, his dark hair falling from his shoulder and replacing chunks of your vision with a curtain of thick, endless black. It didn’t matter. A fresh wave of tears would’ve left you just as helpless, not that Suguru seemed to mind the way you sniffled and sobbed between moans.

“They say— fuck, you know what they say about rabbits, don’t you, bunny?” His voice was barely audible, but it seemed to echo on and on and on in your overly sensitive ears. His cock ground against something softened and vulnerable inside of you and your back arched, your pussy clenching impossibly tighter around him. “That’s it,” Suguru encouraged, as you tried to pry yourself away from his freezing tail and chase the gentle warmth of his chest. “They say bunnies make the best sluts. Knock them up once, and they’ll never stop begging for it.”

Kits. A strong mate. A safe nest. The thought alone had you crying out for nothing, your convulsions growing that much more erratic, and Suguru chuckled in-turn. “Like that? Want me to make you into my little mate-whore?”

“Want it, please, w-want it so bad.” It was all you could do to force yourself to speak, to spit something out through the daze of lust and exhaustion and total, unrelenting fullness. You’d never been more sure of anything than you were in that moment, never knew something as deeply as you knew that you wanted Suguru’s kits inside of you. “Please, wanna be you mate, wanna—Suguru—!”

One more thrust, one more scape of his sleek scales against your clit, and you were coming undone around his cock in jolting, erratic convulsions. Suguru let out a ragged grunt and straightened his back, but the distance was short-lived. Strong arms snaked under your knees, spreading your legs and hauling you up to his height. Your back remained pressed against his chest as he pulled out of you entirely and slammed back in. Even through the overstimulation, the wrongness hit you immediately. His cock was too big, too thick, and—

And he was inside of you.

Completely inside of you.

You forced yourself to open your eyes, letting your head fall forward limply. The shock was minimal, but still devastating – both of Suguru’s cocks buried inside of you to their pitch-black bases, their outlines just barely visible against the plush flesh of your lower stomach. “You—You promised you wouldn’t—”

His face was buried in the dip of your shoulder, his lips parted as panted against you. You felt his teeth catch on your skin before sinking into you, had time to process the pure heat of his venom seeping into your veins. Instantly, anything you might’ve said died on your tongue, your mind going utterly, entirely blank save for a single thought: mate.

Your mouth fell open, your thighs spreading that much farther. Suguru pressed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss into the injection site, then pulled away, grinning wildly. “A few drops, and you’ll want everything I have to give you,” he muttered. “That’s better, isn’t it, bunny?”

Much better. You could feel something swelling at the base of his cock, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge anything other than the utter bliss as a small, round shape was milked up the length of his cock and emptied into your core. Kits, you thought, and did your best to settle onto his twin cocks, to hold still as another egg was forced through your tight pussy. You stopped trying to count after the fourth – giving in completely to the shuddering, splintering euphoria every new member of your little family brought you. By the time the final egg was safe and snug inside of you, you were limp, twitching, and so full, it was hard to imagine ever feeling empty again.

As the last aftershocks started to fade, Suguru sucked in a stilted gasp and pulled you flush against his chest. You felt his second cock twitch once, then twice inside of you before something warm and thick flooded into your pussy. You whined miserably as he pulled out of you, but he didn’t stay gone for very long. Your pliable body was turned around in his arms, his cocks slid back into your leaking cunt as he carefully lowered himself onto the floor of his nest – your body laid on top of his. You strung your arms around his neck and pressed yourself against his chest, closing your eyes and giving in to your well-earned exhaustion.

You lasted just long enough to hear him mutter something about mates and clutches before your consciousness faded entirely and your mind went mercifully, blissfully silent.

Hours later, you woke up to the sound of a low, long whistle. “Really did a number on the poor thing, huh, Suguru?”

It took you a second to blink your eyes open, to raise your head and glance toward the man standing at the top of the ladder that led to Suguru’s nest, and another to recognize him as Suguru’s owner. His white hair was in a state of disarray, his eyes hidden behind circles of tinted glass, and for some reason, he was looking at you. You shrunk further into Suguru, but he only laughed – the noise loud and piercing to your foggy senses.

Suguru’s cocks were no longer inside of you, the flushed tips just barely visible at the base of his slit. You were still on his chest, and his arms were wrapped around your waist, his hold loose but possessive. There was a small bump over your lower stomach, and you weren’t sure whether to grimace or beam at the feeling of Suguru’s eggs shifting inside of you with every little movement. He was already awake – had been for some time, judging by the unimpressed scowl pressed into his lips. Something sharp and icy lodged itself into your chest, but his glare was directed towards his owner, not you, and the very tip of his tail curled around your ankle protectively as his owner stepped into his nest.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to walk into a serpent’s den?”

“I don’t think it counts if I own the den.” He straddled the bulk of Suguru’s tail, then gestured to you. “Turn the pretty baby around. I wanna see the damage.”

You shook your head vehemently, clinging to Suguru’s neck, but his own response was an exasperated sigh, a fleeting hiss to your cheek as he flipped you over; leaving you slayed across his chest and exposed to his owner’s prying gaze. “Five minutes,” he said, as his owner shrugged the waistband of his pants down just far enough to free his cock, already half-hard, already enough to send a bolt of pure dread from your heart to the pit of your stomach. “I don’t want your scent on my mate.”

You opened your mouth, ready to whine that you were sore, that you were tired, that you didn’t want anyone but Suguru and your kits inside of you, but the words withered into nothing on your tongue as his owner eased himself into your dripping pussy, as Suguru caught you by the chin and pulled you into a shallow, lingering kiss – the points of his fangs just barely scraping over your bottom lip. Looking back on it, it had been silly to ever worry that he’d eat you.

You should’ve been worried that he wouldn’t.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #hybrid au #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #yandere jjk #jjk imagines #yandere geto suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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grugruel · 17 days

Text

The Artist and the Flower

Pairings: Benedict bridgerton x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Sexpollen

Masterlist

Summary: A mysterious flower brought back from Colin's travels put you and Benedict in a curious predicament. Resulting in sex and other things.

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: sexpollen, friends to livers, passionate sex, pinv sex, oral sex (female recieving), rough sex (blink and you'll miss it), choking, praise, pet names (princess, girl, woman, lady.), "I love you", mating-press, missionary, creampie. (Think that's all)

AN: not yet proofread! Hope you guys enjoy!

Approaching footsteps roused my mind. They thudded dully against wooden floorboards–pausing only to whisper mutely, 'This is not funny. Where are you?'

I tried to focus on my breathing, fingers working sluggishly as they wiped themselves clean against the bottom hem of my dress.

'Woman!' The voice was shrill and urgent this time, ringing terribly in my ear. The sounds of it's accompanying steps diminished as they hurried past my position on the floor, all dizzy on my knees.

'Benedict!' I hissed. The bright interior blurring as I made to stand up, legs wobbly beneath the unsteady weight of my torso.

There was a muffled squeak through the wall, shoes whirling against polished wood. Indicating him turning on his heel. 'Most, esteemed woman?' He tried again, punctuating the words as he half joked, half not. Simply hopeful hollow flattery would spur me into giving further clues to my whereabouts.

'Get in here at once!' I threw my finger toward the floor, as if he could see me do it and I'd sucesfully conveyed the sense of urgency. But the world spun suddenly, and I staggered a few steps until I caught myself on the nearest wall. The window I'd opened wasn't doing much except chilling my damp skin with the occasional draft.

With a last few steps, he darted to the door that separating us and four quaint knocks rapped aginst it. I gritted my teeth, annoyance taking over the hand. 'Yes, come on in.' Still, I willed my voice into the least irritable tone I could muster. This was not his fault, after all.

'Ah–' he sighed and pushed the door open. '–godess. . .' There was a mocking tone to the word and a satisfied grin on his lips, but it quickly fell as his eyes scoured over my appearance and utter devastation replaced it.

I wiped my forehead free of the beading sweat, and it too, began to tingle just like my fingertips had–to my horror, I realised–I'd probably just added more of whatever that dust was into my system. Now seeping through my skin and diluting my blood, impairing my usually keen senses with whatever toxins it provided.

He hurried to my side in big, worried strides to lay and arm around my back, steadying me when I couldn't steady myself. 'Wha-' He couldn't even form a word of surprise, his jaw slack as he gestured with his free hand to my dishevelled appearance. 'Why are you in Colins room? In this, state?' He quickly added. If I wasn't mistaken, which I might very well have been considering I didn't have full use of my mind. But, I could almost detect jealousy in his tone.

He would get the wrong idea, about Colin. 'Well,' I tried being nonchalant, tried to act like the places he made contact with my skin did not burn for him. I screwed my eyes shut and pulled all my focus into an answer. 'The wine got to my head, and I realised,' My words came out sluthered and slow. 'I hadn't been in here before, and. . .' My head began nodding of its own accord, already finding my unsaid words agreeable. '. . .it had to be remedied.'

'Of course, of course it did.' Benedict sighed, his shoulders shrugging in exasperation as he began looking around, presumably to find something for me to sit on, but his eyes fastened on something else instead. I cringed, for his eyes darted from the open rucksack, then back to me. The look he gave me was nothing but disapproving. But goodness, he was stading so close. His breaths warm against my cheek and mildly stained by alcoholic bevrages, much like mine must've been. But oh, the fire in his eyes gave me quite a start, not that I was fearful of it. In fact, I found the opposite to be true. It almost felt as if I had abaorbed it, and it traveled downward. . . 'You went through his belongings?'

My mind froze, the newfound aching in my body too distracting. 'I. . .' I felt my eyes narrow and forehead furrow, my dull reflexes attempting a poor pretence of thoughts. 'I couldn't help myself. I'm sorry. But there was this box, with some strange flower inside. . .' I trailed off. An amused, tipsy smile making it's way onto my face as I noted his incredulous expression.

His hands slid down my arm, and the sensation traveled straight to my core. Causing the need to stifle a moan arise.

'And you thought it a good idea to touch a foreign plant of which you know nothing of?' He spoke fast, too fast for me to keep up. Especially when goosebumps ran rampid in the wake of his touch, when my core ached for him to continue, to push his body further into mine. My heart beat too fast, his hand too close to the pulse point on my wrist.

My hand found it's way beneath his jaw, a wide grin splaying across my face. 'Wine will do that to a gentlewoman.' I explained, sluthering slightly. But feeling no more explanation to be necessary.

He screwed his eyes shut and stood completley still for a moment, I could almost see the thoughts swirling in the crammed space of his mind. 'Well,' he looked at me once again, searching my eyes. 'What gentleman would I be to leave a woman in need to her own devices?' He opened the box and grabbed the flower without hesitation, feeling its vevelty petals, rubbing the dust between his fingertips and then- tasted it.

Currents of static electricity zapped beneath my chest, spreading throughout me body. Everything happened so fast. And all I could do was watch, very intently, as the pads of his middle- and index finger made contact with his tongue, swiping clean against it. Lips then closing around them to suck whatever remained off. The heat building in my body was nothing short of sinful, and the thoughts–my thoughts–were even worse.

'Let's go.'

'Pardon?' Precious air left my lungs, leaving me breathless.

'Dinner with the Bridgertons.'

'I figured it to be out of the question.' My expression confounded.

'Colin is already downstairs, and we must find out what exactly that plant is-' He stopped. Eyes all of a sudden distant as they grazed over my features, landing on my lips. He still held my wrist, stroking the inside with gentle circles.

'Ben?' It was summer in the country, this much I knew. But surely, the temperature could not rise as fast as it just did. Sweat was pooling at my back, beneath my bust. And I began to wish, that he would simply. . . Lick-

'We must go.' I declared, clearing my throat. Hoping the words would snap us out of our trance.

'Right, of course.' He nodded, a blush sweeping across his cheeks. His eyes suddenly keen to examine the floor. But he kept his han his hand on the small of my back, urging me down the halls of the big house. Ocassionally, he'd scrunch the fabric of my dress, feeling the flexing of my back beneath the tips of his fingers. It pulled my attention to the sensitivity of my skin, and the pleasure his small, simple action gave me.

The next thing I knew, I was being helped into a chair at the center of the dining table. Benedict laid a hand on my shoulder that was meant to be reassuring, but it had an impact much more wicked on me. He took the seat across from me, and oh so conveniently placed himself next to Colin. Conversation grew heavy as Violet became quite inquisitive with her children. Eloise's debut, Anthony's proposal plans, and who he was planning on the recieving end. I would usually have been elbow deep in the gossip and drama, but my mind was elsewhere, muddled or perhaps tainted, as I couldn't focus on much of anything. Their voices grew sharp in my ears, the candlelight too bright for my eyes.

Ben leaned in to whisper in Colin's ear, who's eyes grew wide. Looking at me with growing worry, in fact, he almost looked like he would be sick.

I could understand why. Slouched in my seat, looking generally ill and doing more drinking than eating. Which was most likely only adding to the growing problem rather than subduing it. But oh, was he handsome. Flushed, he combed a hand through his hair. Slicking it with the dampness from his forehead, his eyes darting over my figure every now and then. Whatever that flower was, it seemed to be getting to him too. Colin opened his mouth to answer Ben.

'How are you dear, you look a little I'll.' Violet asked with genuine worry, interrupting the boys hushed conversation and turned them onto me with anxious eyes.

'I'm well.' I smiled, feeling as though my own voice was not mine.

Ben's eyes creased, a grin spreading over his lips, and then began giggling.

The conversations cut, and everyone stared at him. 'Are you quite alright, dear?' Violets eyes were full of concern, now placed upon him instead. I didn't yet know if it was warranted or not. But I was glad he pulled any lingering eyes from my current state.

'I apologise.' The words were strained as he pushed them out between more fluttering giggles, leading him to cover his blushing face. 'Her lady just told me something stunningly funny, that is all.' Benedict gestured to me, his eyes glinting with mischief. That little-

'Truly?' Violet smiled expectantly, something like understanding in her eyes. That cunning look she always gave her children when she knew something they didn't. Perhaps she'd taken my demeanour as that of a girl with a hidden crush, only anxious under the gaze of her love. She wouldn't be entirely wrong. Long had I known the Bridgertons, and even longer had I liked Ben.

I cleared my throat, blinking away the haze in my eyes. 'I'm uncertain of its propriety. . .' I tried to redirect, a drop of sweat sliding down my temple as I nervously glanced around at the members of the family. And ufortunately, I felt a bubbling up inside my chest, a composition of my own laughter. 'It was, uhm. . .' I paused, working hard to keep a smile from creeping onto my lips. Trying desperate to think of something to say. Anything, really.

'Well, let's hear it.' Anthony said with a grin, and the rest of the table agreed. Eloise being little more than a heap of snickers, Colin seeming to be the only one who gained little to no amusement from the situation.

Watching my struggles and deeming them incredibly funny, Benedicts giggles evovled and he burst out laughing. I was second behind him, but the table quickly joined in with a chorus of incredulous chuckles and wild looks of incomprehension. 'What is the matter with you two?' Eloise asked, her eyes watery as she clutched stomache.

We locked eyes, Ben and I. Both now scorching, judging from the trickling sweat on his neck and the tickling down my back. Warmth spread throughout my chest, and something fluttered in my stumache. Something was terribly wrong with the flower for me to feel so deeply, so suddenly.

Colin took his chance when Benedict had calmed himself, leaning in to whisper in his ear. Ben's face offered an array of reactions ti every word spoken. Confusion, surprise, anger. It was enough for me to conclude that something was not right, and that was when his eyes went wide. 'Then why would you not keep a lock on it, brother?' He shouted, his voice much louder than anticipated. Worry grew in me as I carefully studied their expressions, replacing all my previous feelings of joy. Colin whispered again, his lips moving eratically as he shook his head, clearly distressed and displeased. Ben's eyes locked on mine a second time, again, they were full of fire. However, something told me it was not of the same sort I'd seen earlier today, this was not anger. No, it was something else entierly. 'Pardon us, drar family. But the lady and I must be excused.' He claimed suddenly, turning to his mother and Anthony. 'We have urgent business that need tending to.'

'–my parents estate. . .' I cut in, sensing the graveness behind his words. It cant be good if his mood had changed so quickly. The family gave me an odd look, and I scrambled further, not wishing for them to get the wrong impression. 'The art- the art in their estate. We had a Lively discussion before dinner. . . Hence the art. Because he's an artist.' I paused my rambling lips, they did me more bad than good. I stood hastily, the rich pulsing around me as I did so, almost knocking the chair to the floor. I smoothed my dress out and exited the diningroom with an "excuse me" and a unecessary curtsy.

Rushing down hallways, I brushed my hand along the wall for support. Benedict's footsteps only a pace behind my own. He placed a hand on my hip, to brace me or simply because he wanted to fell me, I did not know.

Stopping outside my rooms, I urged him to explain. 'Apparently,' he began, rubbing the nape of his neck. I knew that tell. 'It's not, good news. . .'

I leaned back against the doorframe, my body drenched in sweat. The wafting of my fan doing nothing to help. 'Benedict Bridgerton, tell me immediately.' I growled.

'Its an aphrodesiac. It means-'

I expelled a strained breath. 'I know what it means, Ben. Continue.' The air blew against the exposed skin of of my chest, cooking it effectively.

Benedict hesitated, none of this was proper. Yet, his eyes lingered on the growing goosebumps over my breasts. His gaze sliding to my throat, watching it bob as I swallowed a big breath of air. 'We are friends Ben, discussing such things educationally does not betray social rules.' I tried to convince us both.

He nodded absentmindedly, his eyes snapping back to mine with a newfound reverence. He himself staggering as his balance perception had been knocked down a peg. It was really starting to get to him, so I grabbed his jacket to steady him. 'Its pollen is poisonous in large amounts, If consumed and left untreated, lethal.'

I swallowed again, the world spinning as my mind fumbled his words, turning them over and over in my head. 'Considering the side-effects,' I gestured with the fan between the two of us. 'I gather we have large amounts in our blood.'

To this he nodded, the uncertainty in his eyes replaced with a wicked smile spreading across his lips. 'Clever girl.'

His praise felt like a punch to the gut. Although not knocing the air out of me, it did leave me in pain. 'And how do we cure it?' I tried to distract myself, my breathing was growing uneven, my thoughts a haze. And Benedict Bridgerton, looking more and more like something I'd like to devour.

His hand braced against the doorframe above my head ti stabilise him, his tall frame nkw looming over me, our faces stopping only a few inches appart. 'By working it out of our systems, by executing certain activities,' he murmured, studying me under hodded eyes and parted lips. 'The burning needs to be sated. If not, it will develop into fever, the throat will close and-'

'Alright, that's quite enough.' I gestured for him to stop. My lip trembling, my body burning as I looked at him through my lashes. 'What exactly are these activities?' I had a feeling, a hunch, where this was going.

'You must forgive my crudeness.' He took my hands in his free one, managing to wrap his considerably larger one around both of mine. 'By love making.' He was even closer now, his nose touching my cheekbone as he whispered in my ear. 'Sex.' His breaths were ragged, on edge. His tongue darting out to wet his lips. He stopped himself, closing his eyes. His forehead lulling against mine. Most likely taming himself jusy like I had to, trying not to think of the multiple worst case scenarios.

'We cannot stay out here, somebody will see us.' I warned, my nose rubbing against his. My body so taunt, tense, it needed desperate release. My spine was still recovering from that word. It had shaped a ball of anticipation in the pit of my stumache. It could ruin me, my prospects. I only just debuted. But- sex. . . That was all I wanted in this moment, and I wanted it with this man.

I looked him in the eyes and opened the door to my bedchamber. 'I love a tragedy, an epic story of true love ending in death.' I whispered, moving my hands around his. 'But we are not lovers.' Taking a few steps back, I led him inside. 'So, lets make this count.' He followed me willingly, his eyes loyal and round like a puppy's as he gazed at me with adoration. And the door fell shut behind him.

'What if we were?' His voice was low and burdened with lust. One hand coming to stroke a few strands of hair from my cheek.

I blinked, barely comprehending his touch. 'We shall not perish, Benedict. I refuse.'

'No, but we could love.'

'What?' My brows furrowed.

'Perhaps, you could find it in your heart to love me, as I have always loved you.' He paused. The next words were heavy as they hung from the tip of his tounge. 'Let me make love to you.' His voice vibrating from the strain of on his chest. He took a step closer, his chest pressing flush against mine. 'Let me teach you.' His voice was pleading, and I had to crane my neck to keep his eye contact. 'Marry me. . .' His hands cupped my face. '. . .marry me.' he leaned in, whispering the words against my lips.

I nodded slowly. 'Teach me.' And our lips clashed together.

Years worth of structural limitations evaporated, society and politics a thing of the past as Benedict raised my skirt, found purchase under my thighs and pulled me into his embrace. His skilled tongue finding its way into my mouth with ease.

He walked us backward, gently laying me down on my bed despite the urgency of our lust. 'What do you need?' He asked through muffled moans, his lips busy with mine. I could not think, nothing about my being would work with me. 'Talk to me, what do you need?' He breathed, voice almost a whimper as his hands squeezed my hips, urging me to answer.

'You,' I managed. 'I need you.' I could feel him smile against my lips.

'Do you trust me, love?'

'Always.'

He pushed off me, hooked his hands under my knees and pulled me to the edge of the bed.

Then kneeled.

Benedict, the man that he is, stood on his knees before me. Between my legs, he smiled a wicked smile. My body was limp in his touch, completely at his disposal. The aching cravings of my core did not care what he did, as long as it was he who did it.

His hands dove under the hem of my skirt, tracing my legs upward, hitching the fabric on his wrists. He stopped above my knees, kneeding them thoughtfully as his eyes searched mine. It took my mind a second to wrap around his request, it was already so painfully clear to me that I would agree at any given moment of our time together that I could not fathom him wanting further confirmation. 'Yes. . . Please.'

He wasted no time. He was hungry. He flipped the skirt over my abdomen and got to work. Immidietly lowering himself onto my mound, lipping a stripe from my core to my clit and he moaned.

A shuddering whimper left me, if it was from his reaction or the sensation of his tongue I would never know. Proudly, he wrapped his lips around me clit and vegan sucking, licking and nipping. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, my fingers could never compete with his expertise. My body wriggled involuntairly, compelling him to hold my hips down with one hand, and taking it as a sign to slide the other along the inside of my thigh and burry a finger inside me, pumling it in an out.

I cried out, covering my mouth as my free hand dove into his hair. Pulling and scratching, I urged him to continue. But somewhere inside me, worry built. What about him? My eyes glanced over the still beading sweat on his forehead, afraid it might be the fever Ben had spoken of. 'What about you?' I whimpered, stroking his hair in a gentler fashion as he continued his contrasting assault on my mound.

'What about me?' He moaned, voice muffled by my skin and shrugged, sliding another finger inside me. His eyes studying my reaction, the way my body moved. I cried out again, biting my lip this time to stifle it as my other hand entwined with the one he held at my hip.

'Is it enough for you?' The words were expelled on an exhale, my voice pitched from continously pleasure, but beneath there was worry. And he noticed.

He chuckled breathely against my clit. 'I do not care about me.' His eyes met mine, and a strike of lighting shot through me, a whimper escaping me with furrowed brows. And he continued with a groan. 'Giving you pleasure is all I need.' And added a third finger, curling them inside me. Their size was admirable, especially as they hit some special spot inside me.

My back arched and a tidal wave of pleasure rolled over me, the pressure that'd been builing in my stumache finally released.

He watched me intently. 'Let me hear you.' He requested, continuing to move his fingers as he helped me through my orgasm, palming himself through his pants with his free hand. I obliged him. A string of curses unbefitting of a lady left my lips in whimpers.

'It takes talent to make such vulgar words sound pretty.' He licked another stripe along my folds, gathering my orgasm on his tongue and swallowed greedily. A strained grunt left him, and he collapsed into my lap, a shiver running through his body. My hand left his to brace myself on my forearm, gathering a better view of him as I combed my hand through his hair soothingly, and that's when I noticed the wet spot on his pants. I gasped. 'It was truly enough for you?' I ovserved him in awe, the aching beginning to roar inside me yet again.

'I told you,' He panted, sucking his fingers clean between his attempts to catch his breath and tilted his head to look up at me. Such a sinful act embedded so innocently. 'You are enough for me, pretty girl.' Now it was not only mor core which ached, but my heart also. Still on his knees, he let himself regenerate in my lap whilst his adoring eyes romaed my face. A show of devotion, of resignation, of love.

I moved to sit, his head still in my lap as he circled his arms around my waist, gaze still locked on mine. 'I love you.' I whispered, brushing the damp hair from his forehead.

His eyes softened impossibly more. 'I've always, always been in love with you. Since the first week of our meeting.'

My chest ached. 'Why have you never told me so?'

'Throwing our friendship away based on chance was not odds I was willing to risk.' He hugged me tighter, then stood up. 'But im afraid, that were not out of the woods yet.' He said, un buttoning his shirt and pants. 'Im feeling quite feverish.' His eyes glistened with mischief, and let the coat fall from his shoulders.

'If you want me again, you need only say so.' I smiled, now it was my time to look up at him with loving eyes.

'I want you again.' He removed his shirt, and I hade to collect my breath for a second. 'Stand, my love. We will do this properly.' He took my hands and helped me to my feet, turned me around and undid my dress and corset. Again, It made me realise just how much experience he had.

When I stood in only my chemise, feeling naked and vunerable. He stood in only his breeches. Nothing my nervous state, he said. 'We can leave it on, love.' Searching my eyes.

But I shook my head, if I was to have all of him, he was to have all of me. 'Please.' I whispered, motioning for him to take it off me. And he did, it slid down my body easily. Gradually exposing every inch of skin only me and most likely my maids had seen.

He stood struck for a moment, unmoving, unspeaking. Until- 'I do not deserve you.' He awed, 'Beautiful, beautiful woman.' Reaching his hand out to stroke my biceps, my abdomen, eyes searching mine before they traveled further up.

'You do, if any man ever was to. It would be you.' I promised him, and at this he blushed. I grabbed his hand and laid it atop my breast. With a groan, he stepped closer. His free hand cupping my face as the other massaged my breast, and his lips met mine. Softly, his hand slid around my back, guiding me back knto the bed, laying me carefully down on the pillows. 'Princess.' He breathed, sat back and removed his breeches. I did not have time to fawn over his size until he was on me again. Hooking my leg on his knee, he spread it wide. Bracing on a forearm, his face was inches from mine as he lowers himself on top of me. His thick length grazing my clit. Sensitive and burning, still–I noticed. The polled had yet to leave our system, perhaps it deadliness had subdued, but it's symptoms were yet in full effect.

Benedict nuzzled my cheek. 'Tell me what you want.' He whispered in my ear.

'You, all of you.'

'Be more specific, dearest.'

I swallowed, my breathing growing heavier. 'Sex.' I murmured, and his lips formed a smiled against my jaw. 'I want sex.'

'I would want nothing more than to give it to you.' He breathed, and lined himself up with my entrance. Then pushed himself in, gently, but consistently. My whimpered only spurring him on, not stopping until he reached the hilt. He'd done his job well, since I easily adjusted around him. 'Good girl.' He whispered, tracing kisses from my lips to my neck. 'Taking me so well.'

I ached, arching my back, I needed more. My skin was growing more and more sensitive. 'Please, Ben. . .'

That was all he needed to hear. He pulled out and thrusted into me again, moving my entire body with each stroke and it was like nothing I've ever felt before. 'Holy-' I interrupted myself with a moan.

He chuckled, but truthfully it was more of a moan. 'Feel so good.' He murmured against my skin, kissing the tender spot between my shoulder and throat. 'Like I imagined.'

Pause. He's thought of me? In this way? With. . . women, by himself?

'When, tell me when.'

'Always. I thinn of you when I lay with other women, I think of you when I touch myself.' His hand ran down my body, squeezing my breast as he drove himself deeper. And I had to wonder–were those acts specific details of his dreams, desires? 'You occupy my mind, always.' He said quite breathlessly.

'Show me, show me how you want me.'

He pulled out if me, hooked my legs over his shoulders and thrusted back in. Every rut of his hips hitting that sweet spot inside me, wrecking me over and over again. Strained breaths against my throat became the outcome of his efforts, as the power behind each thrust pushed me deeper into the mattress. 'What else, show me what else. I'm yours.' I moaned.

His lips found mine, and his hand my throat. Gently, he enveloped it. Softly, he squeezed. 'Say it again.' His lips murmured against mine, kissing them between every breath he labored.

'I'm yours.' I whispered, and he groaned. A particularly forcefull thrust was made into me. He was never rough in anything he did, but he put his back into it. Always the gentleman, never the brute. I've never been happier for a man to be so contrasting.

The burning, the aching, the pressure. It was all towering, waiting to be pushed over at any second. 'Mine,' he moaned. 'My love.' His pace quickened and ruts hardened. He was as close as I was. 'I love you. . .' He whimpered and spilled himself inside of me. And I came a second later, irregular thrusts carrying me through my blinding orgasm. 'I love you.' He told me over and over again as he let my legs fall to his sides, and collapsed onto my smaller figure. With his head on my chest, I held him. 'I love you too.'

'Marry me, then.'

'Give me a ring, then.' I giggled. He made to stand up, to slither out of my embrace. 'Not now!'

'Tomorrow, then?' He laid back down, this time wrapping his arms around me and pulled me close.

'Tomorrow, then.' I confirmed. Id never been so happy as in that moment.

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