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kneelingshadowsalome · 3 months

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The other day I was reading about the “mail-order brides” during the Gold Fever/Gold Rush in USA. Men ordered/purchased a wife via mail, and one of the many reasons some of them did that was because of loneliness, and I couldn’t help but think “yep, that would be König”. Just imagine him living alone in his farm or ranch, he only goes to town once a month to buy essential supplies, hides his face, and barely socializes with folks. But deep inside he is just a lonely man who desires a family, and a woman to call his (and one who can help him with his… needs) But he is socially inept, so he takes the easy route and orders himself a wife, that way he doesn’t have to bother with interacting with other people and gets himself a pretty wife

Oh my god 💞

König wanting to wed and bed her the minute she arrives by train... She thought he would court her for a while before they marry, she thought they would do this decently, that they would get to know each other first, she’d rent an apartment from the small town and then decide if she wanted to live with him…

But he says everything’s settled, he already took care of everything, they’re getting married today and spend their wedding night in the saloon before leaving for his settlement tomorrow.

She’s too bewildered to even speak, so it's no wonder she gets herded to the altar right away, a pretty, meek little bride is just what König ordered! Gets wed to this giant hulking gold digger while still wearing her traveling clothes, the priest only looks drunk and bored as she peeps her vows. The man she's now wed to looks down at her with unbridled affection and curiosity, but soon enough, she catches him eyeing her waistline, her bust, the corset she wears feeling tighter still by his indecent stare.

He's far from a gentleman, and dresses like a weather-worn cowboy, and she suspected as much from the way he wrote and how unpolished his handwriting was. But at least he seems kind. If anything, he's smitten that she’s not some old hag who deceived him by claiming to be an unmarried young lady, that she is everything and more he wished for based on the few letters they exchanged.

The wedding is over in a few minutes, and there’s no coffee and cake, no party under some big tree, no relatives or friends to congratulate her on her wedding day. There’s only this huge, intimidating man who looks at her like she just dropped down from heavens, his eyes slowly sparking aflame with both softness and lust.

He takes her to the saloon to eat, and then she finds herself in a greasy little room upstairs, changing into her white nightgown, getting ready to sleep and only sleep, but her nightmare of a day is not over yet. Her hand flies over her mouth, she nearly screams as she turns around and finds this horrible man of lowly European descent thoroughly naked behind her.

She’s in so much trouble, that much was certain from the minute he saw this man, but seeing his… equipment in the dim candle light of the old saloon is too much after everything she's gone through. She's verily about to faint.

It’s just her luck to dream of adventures and a happy, exciting new life and then find herself thrown into the arms of some barbaric, foreign giant... He said he’s looking for a companion in life and hinted at being a little lonely, but men who wish to court a lady don’t do it like this: by dragging them to the altar and then presenting their cocks to them before even two hours have passed!

The rowdy noise of cancan downstairs is a filthy backdrop to seeing a naked man for the first time in her life, and she never knew male parts could be so... big. Or jumpy. Or leaky... This man is clearly serious about this commitment, and thinks there’s no need to get to know each other, she’s his wife now and they need to consummate the marriage right away.

He’s breathing heavily while grabbing that weeping weapon in his fist, telling her she’s more beautiful than he ever even imagined. He pleasures himself slowly while watching her try to cover herself in her thin, faintly translucent gown, and she still can't find any words – the man is behaving like a scoundrel or a highwayman, not at all like the sharp dressed, eloquent gentlemen she's grown used to in the city. The slick sounds of lewd fapping are accompanied by moans of how she’s the answer to all his prayers, and her hair stands on end, she feels like she’s walking on tar here in the distant frontier with nothing but greedy men and drunken brothel keepers around her, now face to face with a giant, throbbing cock out of all things...

She coldly orders him to sleep on the floor while she takes the bed – she’s not letting this nasty, hairy beast near her anytime soon, not when she still has her wits about her. Defeated when she won’t let him “consummate their love” tonight, the man withdraws to sleep on the floor with a sullen groan and a long sigh.

She never sleeps a wink that night in fear of finding him by her side, groping his way through her dress, but to her surprise this man only snores on the floor as if he's used to sleeping there.

Civilization is far away when he leads her to his shack the next day and shows her the first small specks of gold he has found, apologizing for the state of his abode so unkempt and unclean. She has to give it to him that he's indeed kind and doesn’t want to make her suffer unduly, because the table and the bench are wiped in a hurry before she sits down, as if she’s a queen visiting a humble subject. He makes her a bath next to the fire and washes in the water after her, giving her flirty, promising smiles throughout the whole splashy ordeal.

Before long, the giant cock is presented to her again as the man excitedly waits for permission to take her, telling her he has never seen anything like her, that she makes his heart run wild.

The only thing running wild in her sour opinion is his cock, bouncing up and down from the need to be inside her, nearly leaking seed on the floor she suspects she has to wash and scrub tomorrow anyhow as his wife. Evening after evening, she rejects his advances, but after a week or two, her will breaks.

She tells herself it’s only out of pity that she lets him finally crawl over her and lift her gown, that it’s only to stop the man from spiraling into madness that she allows him to test how nicely that thick, leaky cock glides through her folds.

“You’re wet, Sonnenschein,” he pants with happy excitement when she notices her swollen, sloppy state, then plunges his cock deep into his wet little prize with a filthy moan. He tells her she’s tight and hot, and takes her like she’s some kind of an angelic whore, falls panting all over her breasts when he’s sated and done, says that she’s his salvation and that he’ll do anything to make her feel at home here.

She feels exactly like a desperate mail order bride, lured here with the promise of a good life and gold, but when she starts to wait for him to come home instead of dreading the end of the day, that's when her hell truly begins.

It just won't do to start wanting him, to trick her heart to be content with whatever this is. To enjoy his "love" would be even more shameful than anything else so far. The truth of the matter is that she's tormented by a lustful, wild man who takes her on her knees or on her stomach like an animal while moaning about how tight she is, how soft she is, how he can’t concentrate at work because of her.

But when he groans that he loves her just before he cums, she feels a distant sting near her heart, a burst of a small bonfire somewhere in her gut from his words. Far from romantic, but so authentic and pure they’re ripped out of him with a pathetic, cry-like moan.

And just when her heart is about to turn and grow full with softness, he barges in and takes her standing, needy after work, deciding that she looks far too alluring while stirring the stew over the fire. His sunshine of a wife waiting for him with warm food and a soft little cunt, it's exactly like it was always meant to be in his dreams... He’s kind and attentive, but doesn’t know a thing about ladies and that they’re not supposed to be taken by the fire like this, but the dramatic pout on her lips turns into a helpless grimace before this animal has given her three full thrusts.

And it’s only by accident, she tells herself, that it happens. It’s only a coincidence that she finds herself short of breath and shivering, then crying with pleasure from the way his cock sails inside her, hasty and needy as if she’s nothing but a momentary relief for this man.

But she knows she’s far from that. He always stays after the hurried lovemaking – if you could call it that – swallows and tells her things that are supposed to be sweet, perhaps. He whispers loving nonsense in her ear with a stupid, quivering voice, tells her that she’s so tight he’s about to lose his mind. That she brightens up his life and makes this shack a home, a palace, even. That he wants to give her children and grow old together.

She prays the heavens to save her from such a future, but when she accidentally comes with his cock inside her, the man breaks down entirely. Repeats the awful, pathetic “I love you” until he comes, too, and sounds like a man who's getting his sould ripped apart from his bones. It’s sinful lunacy what he’s doing to her in that shack, and dares to sprinkle it with love out of all things, and she doesn’t know if she hates him, or if she loves him too.

Annulling this marriage is nearly impossible, and the sooner he gets her pregnant, the sooner she’s even more trapped, just like the poor rabbits this man lures into the snares placed around the shack. He spends every little speck of gold to buy her silks, satins and gowns, proper woolen scarves and soft little leather shoes, gives her a gentle kiss every morning before he leaves to wash gold. Every evening after meal, he praises her cooking skills and then takes her on the creaking old bed like she's a common whore. The silly, girlish dreams of being whisked away by a mysterious, romantic gentleman are somewhere far away when this giant spills his seed inside her with a thick, arduous groan, then proceeds to cover her in kisses too sweaty and hot.

“I know you don’t love me,” he whispers between the one-sided sucking and nibbling that’s about to make her cry. “But I will make you happy... I swear it, on my life.”

She can only stare at the ceiling, filled with the dancing flames of the fire as he falls asleep with his cock still inside her, the soft snore on her breasts both happy and sad.

#könig x you #könig smut #könig x reader #mail order bride #gold rush au #könig angst

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 8 months

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Ask, and You Shall Receive

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of female masturbation, slight coercion and degradation, smut. Word count: ~2k

Summary: Daemon's maidservant has been quietly lusting after him for three months, waiting for him to make the first move. Based on this request.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications for updates of when I post fics. Community labels are for cops. Thank you to my boobear @em-writes-stuff-sometimes for giving this her stamp of approving, and beta'ing what my antibiotic addled mind was unable to.

When she’d first been assigned the duty of serving as Prince Daemon Targaryen’s maidservant, a rush of excitement had run hotly through her veins.

There were many names that the King’s younger brother went by, but the one that intrigued her most was Lord Flea Bottom, a moniker earned for how often he was seen in that particular part of the capital. It was no secret that the Rogue Prince enjoyed the company of whores; he frequented all of the pleasure houses within the Street of Silk, despite his marriage to Lady Rhea Royce, and no matter how much nobles and smallfolk alike enjoyed gossiping about his exploits, he was undeterred from this salacious behaviour. Daemon was not a man who concerned himself with the opinions or approval of others.

She had lusted after the Prince from afar for as long as she’d worked at the Keep, and ordinarily she’d never dream that someone of such high standing would give her the slightest bit of attention - she was a lowborn servant, a nobody - yet learning he frequented brothels gave her a glimmer of hope that he might deign to give her the attention she so desperately craved from him. A maidservant was certainly a step up from a common whore, and at the very least he would not have to part with coin in exchange for her company.

Much to her disappointment, it has been three months since she began attending to Daemon and he has not so much as spared a glance her way. He returns each evening from his duties as Commander of the City Watch, and she draws him a bath before helping him from his gold cloak and armour.

She allows herself the briefest gaze of admiration before averting her eyes, feeling her skin grow heated whenever he stands bare before her, tall, broad and godlike. He is the very image of power itself, surely hand-carved by the Seven.

When he reclines in the tub full of steamy water, her eyes roam appreciatively over the breadth of his chest and shoulders as she drags the dampened wash cloth across them, down the length of his arms and the span of his large hands.

The silken strands of his silver hair are impossibly soft against her fingers as she runs them through it, washing away the dirt of the city. The rumble of contentment that vibrates in his throat as her fingertips work against his scalp has desire pooling between her legs. She wonders what else she could do to elicit those sounds from him. Alas, no matter how deftly she washes his body and attends to his needs, he has never touched her. Though he is utterly relaxed in her presence, it seems to be in spite of it rather than because of it.

This frustrates her. She goes to bed each night pent up, her hand slipping between her legs and bringing herself to release, imagining what it would feel like to have his dampened body move against her own.

There is fire in his eyes when he returns to his quarters that evening, his brow furrowed in long spent anger, his jaw set in a way that indicates he is in no mood to talk. The darkened maroon splatters on his breastplate are doubtless dried blood, and not his own.

She longs to ask what has happened, but knows better. It is not her place to question a Prince. She has heard talk of Daemon putting tougher measures in place to deal with the rapists of King’s Landing, a recent development. She suspects that this is likely the cause of his bloodied ire tonight. Her heart swells at the thought of his chivalrous bravery. Longing to reward him for his service to the people of the city, and perhaps a last ditch attempt at gaining his attention, she decides to put extra care into his evening bath.

She ensures the water is slightly hotter than usual, scented with rose and lavender, and sets oils beside the tub, almond to use on his hair, and lemon for his body. Her final action is to strip down to just her shift, stepping out of the dress she wears that identifies her as serving staff of the Red Keep and shedding her smallclothes. She wants him to see her. If he takes offence or queries it, she reasons that she will simply apologise and say that the warmth of his bath was making her too hot. However, somehow she doubts he will be offended.

As she steps towards him to begin helping with the removal of his armour, she notices his eyes drift over her body. Covered only by a thin layer of cotton, her silhouette is illuminated through the material by the soft light of the candles that burn throughout the chamber. He says nothing, standing in silence and allowing her to disrobe him. She places each heavy piece carefully to one side, as always, though this time her hands shake with the effort.

Sweat prickles the back of her neck as he is revealed to her, her mouth running dry at the sight of him, thick thighs slightly parted as he stands with his feet planted. She catches his eye as she glances upwards and her breath sticks in her throat. He is watching her ogle him. The faintest twitch of his brow is his only reaction. She cannot tell if it is amusement or annoyance.

He lets out a low hum of appreciation as he steps into the tub, clearly noticing the difference in both scent and temperature. A small smile of pride tugs at her lips as she steps behind him, preparing to begin their nightly routine.

Carefully she wets his hair, cupping water into her hands and spreading it from root to tip, before coating her palms and fingertips in almond oil and working it through his pale tresses. She takes her time, rubbing tight, slightly pressured circles against his scalp, noticing the way his eyelids drift closed, leaning into her touch. She forgoes the use of the washcloth this evening, pouring lemon essence directly into her hands and massaging it into his chest and shoulders. The tightness in his muscles melts like butter beneath her touch as she works her way down the length of his arms, watching the way the tension he has been clinging onto dissipates with every sweep of her hands across his body.

As she moves lower, about to dip her hand beneath the surface of the bathwater, she lets out a small gasp, caught off guard by the suddenness with which Daemon grasps her wrist - not applying enough pressure to hurt her, but enough for her to know she can no longer move her arm of her own volition. Her wide eyes stare at him imploringly, though his expression is impassive as he regards her carefully.

“Do you wish to fuck me, little maid?” he asks, voice low, the slightest of smirks upon his face.

She feels as though all the air has been sucked from the room. Her heart hammers wildly in her chest as her lips part in shock. She knows that Daemon speaks plainly, but she had never expected him to be so lewd, so direct. It has warmth blooming in her lower belly. A dull, throbbing ache settles between her legs.

She lets out a squeal when, clearly dissatisfied with her silence, he hauls her into the tub with him. She sits astride him, shift soaking wet and clinging to the contours of her body as she attempts to control her breathing. His hands grip her waist, holding her in place to ensure she doesn’t try to climb back out. The hardness of his body against hers, the warmth of the water lapping against her skin, the heady aroma of rose and lavender, it is all too much. Her head swims with the effort to keep her composure.

This is all she has ever wanted. Yet, she knows one wrong move could spoil it all.

Daemon reaches up, tweaking the hardened peak of her nipple that pebbles through the wet fabric, making her whine and clench around nothing. “You didn’t answer me - but I think I already know the answer. I see the way you look at me, the way you prance about my chamber like a bitch in heat.”

She squirms, mewling desperately when he hands push her soaked cotton of her shift above her hips, his thumb dipping between her legs to lightly circle her pearl. She clings tightly to his shoulders for support, wanting to say something, anything, but the words will not come. Mercifully, he is eager to speak for both of them.

“The thing is, little maid, wanton sluts don’t get what they want unless they ask nicely. Did you really think the power of your feminine charm alone would be enough to entice me? I am a Prince. People beg for my attention, not the other way around.”

Her chest rises and falls rapidly with effort it takes her to remember to breathe. Her thighs shake either side of Daemon’s hips as he continues to rub against her sensitive bud. Her brows are knitted together, an expression of both unbridled pleasure and humiliation.

He chuckles quietly. “So, are you ready to ask for what it is you want?”

Resolve crumbling, she nods fervently, hoping he will take mercy on her, but it is not enough.

“Say it,” he commands forcefully, removing his hand from between her legs.

When she eventually finds her voice, it sounds foreign to her, broken and pitiful, not her own. “P-please…Your Grace…I-I want you to fuck me.”

“Good girl,” he whispers.

She barely has time to register the weightiness of his thick cock as it rests against his palm before he is pressing it inside of her, its girth pushing apart her fleshy inner walls with its brutal intrusion. Though she is adequately aroused, it is a stretch to accommodate him. She muffles a squeak into the crook of his neck as he sheathes himself fully within her.

His fingers curl themselves into the hair at the back of her head, gently tugging her back, an air of smugness etched across his handsome features as he looks up at her. “You will not hide from me,” he says huskily. “You wanted me to fuck you, so you will let me watch you as I do it.”

The slight threat that simmers beneath his words sends a shiver of excitement through her. The bath water begins to sway with the undulation of his hips as they thrust languidly up into hers. His pace is lazy, unhurried, yet every stroke is achingly deep as the head of him brushes against the rough patch inside of her that causes her toes to curl involuntarily. He is like a cat playing with a mouse, his eyes never leaving her face, studying every slackening of her jaw and slight scrunch of her nose as he fucks himself into her.

As he coaxes her towards her peak, she feels a familiar pressure building inside of her. It crashes over her in white hot waves, causing her to slump against Daemon’s chest with a cry of ecstasy. She feels boneless, weightless, but he is far from done with her.

Seizing her incapacitation as an opportunity, he grasps her hips, quickening his pace and pulling her downwards to meet each snap of his pelvis, the force of his movements causing the water to cascade over the sides of the wooden tub and onto the flagstone floor as he chases his own end. He grunts in satisfaction as he spends inside of her, and in the back of her pleasure-addled mind comes the hazy thought that she will need to drink moon tea in the morning.

They lay as they are for a few moments longer, as Daemon catches his breath, what remains of the bathwater rapidly cooling around them. When she finally has the strength to lift herself from his chest, she sees fire in his eyes once more, though it is not derived from fury. There is warmth behind his gaze, a fondness that she has not seen before.

He strokes her back absentmindedly, his fingers plucking at the wet shift that sticks to it. “Take this off,” he whispers, “and go to my bedchambers. We shall see if you are as good at warming my bed as you are at making my bath go cold.”

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sky-is-the-limit · 8 months

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+18/ AFAB!reader x Captain John Price.

Disclaimer: I'm not a writer, if you are, feel free to write this!

If there's one manspreader amongst the CoD characters, that is Captain John Price and I take no other answers. This man walks like it's heavy, the confidence that he oozes? The years of experience? I don't care what big masked man you have in mind, the second Price walks into a room, everyone shuts the fuck up and waits for him to talk first.

///

Even the sight of him makes your thighs press together in a failed attempt to calm yourself down, feeling your folds soak up, the new pair of undies that you picked this morning already ruined to solely the sound of his voice.

You can't help but wonder if he knows or if he at least suspects the undeniable attraction you feel for him, everyone else sees it. The curious looks you get every time they all leave the room but you always have to stay behind, confirm it. Sometimes you feel like it's mutual, the way he always asks for you to stay a little longer so you can go over the paperwork together, wanting to know how your weekend was.

He always wants to know the details, could it be the sound of your voice or curiosity eating him alive that you could have someone waiting for you when you're not wearing this uniform. It has come to the point where it's unbearable to even be so close to him. Whenever he hands you over the documents, his fingers lingering a bit longer as they touch yours, eyes observing you closely, trailing from your eyes to your neckline and back.

He has to know, right? Is it your desperate delusions or the fact that he asks for you to read out loud the last reports so you stay a little longer with him. It could be loneliness, you know how a man like him gets to spend most of his nights, alone in the cold room here at the base or getting drunk at the nearest pub, watching people come and go yet never building up the courage to leave with someone. Why is it always you he asks for? If it's just a dumb coincidence that your mind turns into suspicion, why is it always your name coming out of his lips like a desperate need?

Maybe it's the way he purposely asks of you to repeat the same sentence, sometimes twice cause he knows that you'll obey no questions asked. No matter how many reports you have learned by heart at this point cause you know you have his undivided attention, eyes stuck on your lips as meaningless words come out of it, only unspoken desires between the two of you.

The way he sits on that wooden chair, his muscular thighs open wide as he leans back, arms crossed over he chest like he has zero responsibilities in the world, nothing else that matters other than you in that moment. Is it your imagination or does he always pull the chair far away from the desk so you can have the full picture? He's not the most expressive man when it comes to his personal feelings, especially when dealing with someone under his command but the way his stoic manner shifts when he catches your eyes linger a little longer on his thighs.. That's when it changes.

That's when he knows he's fully in control. That a single word from his lips could make you do all the inappropriate thoughts clouding up his mind every time you stand in front of him. He has to know.

"Come closer private, you're barely just mumbling and I can't hear a damn thing." Excuses. Your voice is loud and clear. It's like the cat playing with the mouse, a predator messing with it's prey before it grabs it between it's teeth and swallows it whole. John Price is a patient man. With every mission, every colleague, every obstacle in his way. He knows how to form the best strategy, how to win the enemy, how to complete a mission but right now his well-known patience is running thin.

You can tell from the way his lip part when you nod to his overused command, never asking why, never complaining or even daring to raise your gaze to meet his. Pure submission to his every instruction that makes his imagination run wild. The way his fingers tightly grip onto his biceps when you step closer to his desk, barely blinking like he doesn't want to miss a second from the way your hips sway, your teeth sinking down onto your bottom lip as you hesitantly approach him. Yeah he's a patient man but not a saint.

"Again, private." A slight smirk forms onto his lips when he asks you once again to repeat the last sentence you were reading out. God, it must be a pathetic sight, the way you would never accept this type of sadistic behavior from anyone else but would spend hours and hours repeating the same words if it meant that you'd feel his presence so close.

The smell of his cologne mixed with the scent of smoke intoxicating your brain as you take a moment to take it all in. How would he react if he knew that this familiar scent is your only companion at night when you lay naked in your bed, fingers caressing your clit softly while thinking intensely of your Captain. How his repetitive commands obtain a different meaning when you bring your other hand up to your mouth, sucking on your own fingers before trailing them down to your nipples, feeling the sensation taking over your body while his voice is playing over and over again in your head. "Again, private." Wishing it was his fingers slowly making their way down to your entrance, covered in the outcome of his bare existence. "Again, again, again."

"Eyes up here, sweetheart." Fuck. The recall of your lonely memories cut short as you come back to reality, blinking a few times before you realise that your eyes were stuck on his thighs the entire time. You slowly gulp the saliva that gathered into your mouth from your filthy thoughts, hesitantly trailing your eyes back to meet his. You feel your skin on fire, the blood rushing up to your cheeks as your heart is pounding rapidly in your chest. If it was anyone else, you'd feel ashamed, embarrassed that you were caught staring so desperately at your superior but not him. Not to the sight in front of you.

His head is titled to the side, his form unchanged as if he was waiting for this to happen, waiting for when your eyes would finally drift from that unimportant paper to him. The gaze of a touched starved man who has finally run out of patience making you freeze into place. The prey was finally caught and.. Oh, he definitely knows.

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wntrs0ldier · 1 year

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An Offer · part 05

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 4,4k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.)

<previous part | next part> | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: “It's time for you to go, I suppose. Is that correct, boy?”

You nearly winced at how patronizing Michael addressed Bucky. It was almost insulting, meant to put Bucky back in his place. He, however, looked composed, but you got to know him well enough to be aware that he would rip Michael's head off if the opportunity arose.

At first you saw it as a nightmare, the meeting with John Walker. No matter how many times you told yourself you were fulfilling your duty to the Family, fear, uncertainty and stress were the only things that duty brought you. Yet, given the darkest scenarios swirling in your mind, and memories of the meeting with Brock Rumlow, John seemed like a really decent type.

He invited you to dinner to one of the most expensive, top rated restaurants in the city. To get in, it was usually necessary to make a reservation several weeks in advance. Suspecting that his highly influential uncle had a hand in the whole venture, you appreciated the effort anyway. You were surprised, however, that John didn't give up, didn’t take the path of least resistance, despite the fact that you hadn't shown any interest so far.

Without being gross or intrusive, he complimented the red dress you wore; asked about your work and hobbies, didn't mention business. You felt like you were on a real date, moreover, a nice one. Seeing that jumping from Brock to John wasn't going from bad to worse let you feel at ease. For the first time in, it seemed, an eternity.

Despite everything, there was something missing. You had no desire to throw yourself at John, no curiosity about what his lips tasted like. Essentially, you didn't need that in an arranged marriage, but guessed there will be time for everything. With Bucky, though, time was necessary – all you needed was a single look. But he wasn’t an option.

“Wow, that was… beautiful,” John claimed after you laughed at the joke he told. In reality, you were amused by how unfunny and stupid the joke was. Perhaps the consumed alcohol and the pleasant atmosphere also played a part.

“Well… Thank you,” you said, lifting a glass of wine to your lips. When you emptied it, John immediately came with a refill. “Don't you think we should talk about business?”

“What exactly do you want to talk about?”

“How would that work,” you suggested with a casual shrug. “You haven't mentioned an agreement yet, so I suspect you haven't prepared one. That's a bit…” You hesitated, wondering briefly if you would offend him with your choice of words. “Strange, considering, you know, the nature of our profession.”

John smiled, then hung his head and shook it. “I guess we'll just have to trust each other. Not to sound like an asshole, but I've heard that Rumlows have backed out. At least for now. If not them, your father's business will be ruined, leaving your Family with nothing. I also know that Stark has started to turn his nose at your partnership. You’re in a bind, Y/N. And I want to do this the easy way. No complex agreement, just some basic arrangements.” He raised his hands up in surrender.

You were struck by how honest and straightforward he was. Fair to both of you.

“But… Why?” You asked quietly. “Why are you so nice about it?”

“You don’t know?” He pretended to be surprised. “I've always wanted you, and now I have my chance. I don't want to do it through a system of rules and punishments. Not too bad, right? And taking charge of what your father created will help me strengthen my position.”

There was a moment of silence as John gave you time to process what he just said. Soon, however, he grabbed his glass and raised it for a small toast.

“So, what'll it be? Can I keep trying or are you giving up on me?”

It was clear that he wasn't really offering you a choice – you could only decide how to play it; keep John at a distance, or make it easier for him to approach you, let him court you.

Having clinked glasses, you both drank the wine, but you could barely taste it. Only the bitterness that the future was to bring. At this point you thought you were prepared for a marriage without love or at least friendship, but the closer you got to one, the more panic you felt. Being aware that the whole situation was difficult, you still didn't expect such a burden.

“Don’t worry,” John added, seeing the concern on your face. “Maybe one day you'll love me. Maybe when kids come along.” He shrugged. Your eyes widened, but John didn't mind it. “What? Someone will have to take care of your father's legacy in case we're gone, don't you think?” He smiled sincerely. You wondered if he was already fantasizing about the future with you.

Destroying the atmosphere with the shock you experienced wasn’t part of your intentions. The only right idea was to kill the negative feelings with a little more alcohol, so you asked John to refill your glass again, and he did so with pleasure. While dipping your lips in the wine, your eyes wandered mindlessly around the room until they landed on a familiar face – the last person you expected to be here.

You choked, and the sticky drink dripped down your chin. A momentary, barely noticeable panic crossed Bucky's face as he watched you carefully from his table – as if he was concerned that you might have choked to death. However, he stayed in place; rushing to help you would have exposed him.

“Oh God, are you all right?” John handed you a napkin right away, which you accepted and wiped your chin with a few delicate taps to avoid washing off your makeup.

“I’m sorry. Gone down the wrong way,” you struggled for breath.

“It’s fine. Are you sure you're all right?”

“I’m okay,” you said, still feeling the aftertaste of wine deep in your throat. “Excuse me for a moment.” Grabbing your purse, you got up from the table.

“Of course.” John also stood up from his seat, watching you walk away towards the toilets.

You put your bag next to the sink and focused on your reflection in the mirror. Tears, which filled your eyes as a result of choking, smudged your mascara, and the wine – just as you suspected – ruined the foundation on your chin. Yet, you weren't bothered by the poor condition of your makeup. Your thoughts revolved solely around the fact that you just saw Bucky. You would’ve been tempted to treat it as a mere coincidence, if not for him staring directly at you. It was probably his intense gaze that drew you in that direction.

The door opened, and at this point you were ready to see anyone; you wouldn't be surprised if your father decided to come back from the dead and show up here. But it was just Bucky. Again.

“What are you doing here?” You grated, crumpling a used piece of paper towel in your hand, with which you had wiped the remnants of mascara from under your eyes.

“Are you kidding me? The wine almost came shooting out of your nose, I had to check on you.” His forehead furrowed.

“I’m not talking about the toilet! What are you doing in this restaurant?”

Squinting, Bucky thrust his hands in his pockets, and sized you up.

“So?” You pressed, the tone of your voice impatient.

“You really think I'd let you come out here alone?” He finally let out. Your battle ready attitude had eased somewhat, but Bucky was surveying you sternly. “You gave me your permission to protect you, remember? So I’m trying to do that.”

“But John wanted this meeting to be more... private.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath. “And nobody found that unusual?” He sneered. “You shouldn't drink that much,” he added after a moment, slightly changing the subject.

Your brows snapped together. “I drink exactly as much as John.”

“Yeah, except John is three times your size,” he said unmoved. “Look, I'm not stopping you from anything. Drink yourself unconscious if you want. I'm just saying you should be careful around guys like John Walker.”

The urge to ask him to elaborate on the thought crossed your mind, but you didn't really have the time. You didn't want to arouse suspicion by spending too long in the toilet.

“I’ll be careful,” you promised with a sigh. “See you later..?”

Bucky's face softened with surprise, his eyebrows rose slightly. There was no trace of the earlier toughness. “Sure.”

The corners of your mouth turned up with all the tenderness you had for him. You grabbed your purse, then left.

When you returned to your table, John greeted you back with a smile – but it wasn't a smile that melted your heart, or one that caused the butterflies in your stomach to go wild. It wasn't Bucky's smile.

When the black SUV pulled over near the Barnes' mansion, you thanked the driver and dismissed him, assuring that you would be fine if you needed to get home. You left the car, reached for your high heels, which you had taken off immediately after being picked up from your date with John, and closed the door behind you. Having spotted Winnifred right away, you made your way to her. She must have been tending the flowers in front of the house up to now, as you could conclude from her gloves and knees, dirty with soil.

“Y/N, how lovely to see you again.” The warm tone of her voice and the friendly look on her face didn't allow you to even consider that she might be insincere. And although you didn't get to know George Barnes personally, you presumed that Bucky and Josephine inherited their gloomy, ironic, a bit dark and sassy way of being from him. “What brings you here, sweetheart?”

“I came to see Bucky.”

Winnifred grinned even wider. “He is at the back of the house. In the garage,” she said after a brief quietness, which she spent observing you. That's probably why you didn’t move a step. “Oh, your fathers would absolutely love it.”

Smiling tentatively, you gave her a questioning, slightly confused look. “They would..?”

“Our oldest was a boy, your parents’...” She motioned at you. “a girl. So when you and Jamie were younger, your dad and my George used to joke all the time about pairing you two so that everything could stay in the family. But it was just a joke,” Winnifred emphasized.

Was it, though? Given the world your fathers came from, the environment you and Bucky grew up in, and the situation you were currently in, was it just a joke? Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, but you began to wonder what would have happened if your father was still alive – would he have let you settle down on your own, without Brock or John's presence, or would he have married you to Bucky?

He wouldn’t. Because Bucky didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want you.

There was something else bothering you. You already knew that your families were close, yet you had no memories that would prove it. “Why did you stop being friends? If I may ask…”

“It's no mystery,” Winnifred said lightly, smiling. “You know how your mom is,” she began. You guessed that politeness prevented her from saying directly that your mother tended to be paranoid, but regardless of her choice of words, you nodded. “I think she got scared that our husbands would actually turn words into action. She made it clear that she wanted a lawyer, a doctor or an estate agent for you. But it seems that, despite all the odds, you and Jamie found your way to each other anyway.”

You felt your face turning red along with the heat spreading in your stomach. So you weren’t wrong; it was in your blood – the affection you had for Bucky. No wonder you two clicked the moment your eyes met. However, in this situation, it was like a curse.

“You have a beautiful garden,” you admitted to break the silence and, above all, your own thoughts. In fact, Mrs. Barnes’ garden looked a little bare, incomplete. The flowers were just beginning to bloom.

“It is promising,” she agreed. “But I’m done for the day, it’s getting late. Why don’t you come in? I’ll make us some tea.”

“Oh, thank you.” You shook your head. “I was supposed to see Bucky, so… I should go.”

“In this case, I’m not keeping you.” Winnifred beamed at you.

Keeping in mind the place where you expected to find Bucky, you headed to the back of the mansion. Evening dew had collected on the freshly trimmed lawn; not the most pleasant experience to your bare feet, but you preferred it to uncomfortable high heels, which probably wouldn't have handled this soft ground anyway. There was a peace and solitude that was lacking where you lived – there were no cars, no lights of street lamps, no noise of the city.

The garage was not difficult to locate; especially as there were quiet sounds indicating someone's presence.

Bucky stood in front of a lifted hood of another vintage car. But instead of focusing on the vehicle, your thoughts wandered uncontrollably to Bucky's broad back as he was leaning forward, probably working on the car’s engine. His muscles were clearly visible under the tight fabric of his t-shirt. You felt your mouth watering.

He raised his head slightly, as if listening for something, then looked over his shoulder. He didn't say a word, but returned the favor by fixing his gaze on you – his eyes darkened with the same rawness as when he saw you in your house that night. Beginning from your bare feet and slowly moving up, he scrutinized your whole body, studying the curves of your thighs, hips and breasts. And you couldn’t blame him since your red dress was even tighter than his t-shirt.

Letting out a shaky breath, you got rid of the excess air churning in your lungs. “So, you like old cars.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, keeping his eyes on you. After a while, however, he focused on the vehicle. “That one belonged to my old man. I don't want it to rot here.”

Based on how Bucky responded to Brock's mention of his father, you presumed that George Barnes was a sore subject. So you were surprised, maybe even a little touched, that he was now bringing it up himself. You did ask him, but he could brush you off or say nothing.

Driven by some subconscious need to be closer, you took a few mindless steps and stood not far from the vehicle. It was colder inside the garage than outside, so you instinctively folded your arms, trying to keep as much of your own warmth as possible.

“What car is that, exactly?” You asked genuinely curious, eyeing the cream body.

“Chrysler. From 1970.”

“What about your Mustang?”

Bucky squinted suspiciously, smiling. “The Mustang is a year older…” He answered hesitantly. “You’re into cars, too?”

“Not, but-” You let out a quiet laugh, knowing how you were about to sound. “This era was the sexiest for cars. And it suits you.”

His eyebrows rose with astonishment. He shook his head, then got back to the uncovered engine. “This was the most twisted compliment I've ever heard.”

“You’re welcome.” You grinned, fluttering your lashes.

Having checked out your surroundings, you concluded that the inside of the garage wasn’t interesting enough for you to keep your eyes somewhere. So you dropped them to Bucky's hands. Stained with grease, they appeared to be the hands of a professional; they knew exactly what to do. No accidental, hesitant movements.

“How was it?” He asked. You immediately looked up at his face. “With John.”

“I made a pretty good impression on him, I think. He wants to have babies with me,” you said casually.

Stopping everything he was doing, Bucky tensed at your words, a muscle in his jaw twitched. “And you? Do you want to have babies with him?”

“Looks like a baby-free deal doesn’t exist, so if I have to…” You shrugged. The alcohol in your system kept you from panicking at the very thought. Or was it Bucky's presence that had that effect on you? After all, you felt safe around him, so no prospect seemed so frightening. “Why don't you have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?” The question suddenly left your mouth, because since it popped into your head, you decided to satisfy your own curiosity right away. “You are attractive. Very attractive. Protective, maybe too protective…” You squinted. “But people, especially girls, like it. You can be really funny if you want to, you have money and position. And some pretty cool cars.”

“What’s with all these compliments?” Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“I get flirty after wine.” You waved your hand dismissively, not intending to continue with this particular topic. “I remember you were, well, a ladies’ man.” You pressed your lips together; you wondered if you should have used that term. It's not that you didn't think it was accurate - you just didn't want to offend Bucky, or upset him.

But he looked at you, smiling with a softness that in no way matched the whole situation. “You remember me?” He repeated. As if it was the most obvious thing, you nodded in response, your forehead furrowed. “I didn’t know you were aware of me.”

“Don't change the subject.”

Bucky sighed heavily, but did not answer straight away. “I liked being around women. Still do. But in a different way. I’ve changed, I guess. Matured, realized a few things. I had a lot of time to think over the last two years.”

You listened to everything he had just shared and, despite your drunken boldness, you didn't have the courage to bring up his father's death again or to find out more about the lessons he had learned over the mentioned two-year period. You decided to grab onto something else. “In a different way? What do you-”

“That I don’t try to sweep them off their feet, or wrap them around my finger,” he said calmly, but there was something in the way he was talking to you and, for a second, you felt like a scolded child. “I don't hit on them, I don't flirt, I don't try to be charming or funny. If they want to fuck, we fuck. But I'm not looking for an opportunity to take someone to bed.”

Overwhelmed by the information you wanted yourself to hear, you didn't know where to look. “Mhm…” You murmured, trying to appear completely relaxed, maybe even indifferent. On the other hand, you presumed your cheeks that turned pink gave you away. “And you…” You began, partly to talk about something else, partly out of pure curiosity. “Do you remember me? From back then?”

Bucky loosened up a bit, a smirk crept across his lips. He reached for a piece of cloth slung over his shoulder, and got rid of the grease off his hands by wiping them thoroughly. “Maybe,” he answered, shrugging. It was clear he was teasing you, and you wondered if it was some kind of punishment for bothering him with personal questions. “Watch your fingers,” Bucky warned gently, so you took a step away from the car, then he closed the Chrysler’s hood. “I’ll drive you home, huh?”

When the car finally stopped near the familiar building, you breathed a sigh of relief – you were only a few steps away from a warm shower and a comfy bed.

Before you could touch the handle, Bucky's hand wrapped hastily around your forearm. You turned your gaze to him to see what had come over him, and saw a completely controlled unease painted on his face.

“You know that car?”

Having followed his gaze, you spotted a vehicle; you did not recall it belonging to Michael or anyone in the Family. “Not really.”

Bucky reached into the glove compartment above your lap and pulled out a gun. It was only then that you felt a sprouting anxiety; not out of fear for your life, but at the thought that something might happen to Bucky because he'd decided to get you home.

“Come on,” he said, and there was nothing but calmness in his voice.

You got out of the Mustang and joined Bucky on the other side of the car.

“Stay behind me, okay?” he instructed, and you didn't protest only because you didn't want to sabotage the possible plan he had formed in his mind. You nodded, and just as he asked you to, you kept two steps behind his back.

You cautiously entered the house, Bucky keeping his gun low but unlocking it earlier, his finger close to the trigger. It was dark inside, except for the warm light pouring out of the living room. It was also where the quiet conversation was coming from; you recognised Michael's voice, and it put you a little bit at ease – you didn't think he was in danger, or that you two were the ones who were threatened. You touched Bucky's arm gently to prevent a potential reaction.

As you approached the living room, that’s when Bucky really tensed up. Seeing Michael in the company of John Walker wasn't exactly a delight for you either. No one needed to speak; it only took a few glances for the atmosphere to thicken in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N,” Michael’s displeased tone pierced the heavy silence. “What is he doing here?”

“Making sure she gets home safely,” Bucky asserted before you had a chance to think about who Michael actually had in mind.

“From where?” John interjected; he sounded casual, amused even, but his edgy smile said otherwise. “Should I feel threatened?” His question, thrown around as if playfully, only confirmed your assumption that John was unsure of his position.

“No, of course not,” you protested right away.

Michael could have drilled down. However, you could see that he didn't want to do that – he didn't want to raise doubts about what you were doing with Bucky; to give John a reason to back off. All he cared about was putting an end to the subject as soon as possible and not returning to it – making it seem forgotten at least. “It's time for you to go, I suppose. Is that correct, boy?”

“Correct,” Bucky agreed. He held his gaze on Michael for a while longer, then, a brief glance was everything he got for you, and it felt cold – like when he left you in that pub. You watched him walk away, but Michael's grunt brought your attention back.

You didn’t stay with Michael and John. Hiding behind a long, tough day and pouring honey in their ears by telling them you didn't want to disturb an obviously important discussion that your feminine mind wouldn't comprehend, you got away. Still, there was something bothering you. So, not long after the desired refreshment and making sure Michael was alone, you went down to the living room.

Michael peeked at you, looking up from his newspaper, waiting patiently for you to raise the matter on which you had come here.

You sat down in the armchair next to his, and for some reason, nervousness led you to occupy your hands with the belt of a soft, fluffy robe you wore after the shower. “Why was John here?”

“To speak about business,” he said immediately, still focusing on the paper.

“Right, let me put that differently…” You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Why do you think John was here?”

This time Michael did not answer straight away. Nor did he appear to be thinking about the answer; his eyes roamed over the next lines of text. “I believe he wants to control you. Keep an eye on his investment.” He closed and put the newspaper down on the end table between the chairs, then looked straight at you. “Do you want my advice? You'd better let him,” he said. It wasn’t the content of his words that caused your forehead to crease, but the determination with which he said them. “At least two candidates backed out after Bucky beat Brock. Men are afraid to approach you because you got yourself a guard dog.”

At least two candidates, and you had no idea about that.

“He didn’t beat Brock because of me,” you protested.

“But he did it. They don't know the details, they don't need them. All they need is that it happened at a meeting that should have ended with marriage. Instead, it ended with Brock Rumlow's broken nose. Of course,” Michael continued. “There were those who were encouraged by it. Who thought it must be a game worth playing. But I turned them down right away, because only a fool would think he stood any chance with Bucky Barnes,” he almost spat. Then, he took a deep breath to release the tension. “He would be a perfect candidate, you know?”

Although you had lowered your head somewhere during Michael’s monologue, you now raised your eyes to him. Your heart was racing, gaining a familiar, nearly furious rhythm.

“The friendship of your families, the power and reputation that the name Barnes holds… And it turns out that Bucky Barnes is the only man in New York who doesn't fight for your hand in marriage.” Michael smiled bitterly.

You looked away to avoid having to face Michael. You crushed under the weight of the awareness that his words had aroused in you. Experiencing far too many emotions at once – you felt angry, sad, disappointed and even a little betrayed – you were hopeless as never before.

“I know that this is difficult,” Michael spoke again. “However, we can't lose John. We can't be sure there will be more better candidates, and even if there will be, we don't have enough time. I don't know what you got yourself into with Bucky, but he can't protect you until he becomes your husband, which he has no desire to do. So whatever is going on between you two has to stop. Now.”

“What does that mean? I can’t see him anymore?” You asked, your voice weak.

“You don’t have to run for the hills each time you accidentally meet him,” he clarified. “But whether you continue to be friends will depend entirely on your husband.”

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed 🥰

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky x y/n #mob bucky #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky x reader #mafia bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x y/n

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onestepbackwards · 7 months

Text

Love That Bites Pt. 9

Hiiii! Welcome to part 9 of my Dracula x Reader fic! I hope you enjoy this chapter, though I apologize if it feels kinda wonky. I finally got a new pc built during writing, and a bunch of other stuff has happened. It was hard to piece it all together with so much happening in my life. I hope you all enjoy it though! Just in time for Nocturne to release :D Summary: After arriving in Dracula's castle, you can't help but feel you are in a dream, though you certainly wish it was to avoid the awkward air. Meanwhile, Dracula contemplates his next moves. After all, he's sure he's bound to be the center of the world's gossip mill when they find out he's caring for a Belmont.

CW: Anxiety, references to bad home life, injuries mentioned, blood drinking

Word Count: 4216 words! Like my work? Come check me out here: Link Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Tag List: @Onewiththebeanbag @starrlo0ver @sleepyendymion @dame-sunflowers @sapphicsfordracula @ursamajor17 @maorizon @marshmelloe Wanna be on the taglist, let me know in the comments!

First: Here Last: Here Next: Here! --

Sorting his affairs turned out to be a much more annoying endeavor than Dracula originally intended.

Despite this, he wasn’t all too surprised.

For the past few centuries, despite being the King of the Night, he has had very little presence in paranormal societies.

Every time he had been revived since this cursed cycle began, he had barely been alive long before a Belmont or some other hero would come and battle him to the death.

Even if for all intents and purposes he was the King of Vampires, he has had little or no time to rule.

He absentmindedly swirled his glass, before taking another sip.

There were two probable scenarios because of this.

Vampire covens and supernatural communities were in chaos.

Or-

They were in various communities across the globe, staking territory. He doubted any of them would be happy he was back to rule.

No one liked their own power to be threatened, after all.

Even when he was actively King, vampire covens and paranormal communities weren’t always happy to serve him. Many just did for his power, or the safety he offered.

Some felt the call of power from him and Castlevania itself. Others are uniquely tied to him and his castle. Those ones he hardly had to worry about.

No, he had a feeling his return wouldn’t be as happily accepted outside his usual circles. Most would probably only lend him an ear since he was Death’s master, and Chaos’ champion.

Did not mean they would be cooperative or happy.

He let out an agitated sigh. No doubt being killed over and over made him appear weak. Dracula suspected many would be aiming for his throat and his throne.

Nevermind the fact he was almost always slain just after being revived, before his powers ever had a chance to settle.

And he was sure many underestimated the power of the Belmonts. He may have always just woken up around each battle, but each Belmont still had power beyond belief.

“What a nuisance.” He muttered, downing more blood.

While normally he would handle this himself, he couldn’t afford to sit idly and wait for such pathetic attempts on his life and power from want-to-be rulers.

Dracula had a guest this time. He had you.

Back when his precious Lisa had still been alive, he had been alive for several centuries at that point. Almost every underling knew she was off limits, lest they desire something more painful than death itself.

Even those he knew wanted his head knew better than to go for his wife.

Lisa had been left alone by his servants and other creatures of the night. Ironic how it was the humans that took her from him.

The gall and irony humans had to call him and his own monsters after that. Bah.

The glass in his hand cracked, and he looked at it in annoyance.

Banishing it, another drink was brought to him as he continued to think.

Things were different this time. At least back then, no one dared to lay a finger on his wife. But now?

He had no doubts a target would be on both his head, and the Little Belmont’s.

Dracula was sure word was already spreading across the castle, and no doubt would soon do so to other communities nearby.

‘The Dracula? Taking in another human?’

He can already imagine the gossip.

The scowl on his face darkened.

It would only be a matter of time before word reached across the globe.

He knew you could take care of yourself, sure. You had told him several stories of hunts you had when he had been imprisoned, usually involving the death of a beast hunting innocents.

However, there was no way in hell you would survive in your current state. Whatever had happened, had intended to either permanently harm, or to kill you.

Dracula’s free hand gripped his throne tight, and he felt the arm of it splinter slightly.

How you received those injuries was a whole different issue that he would have to investigate later on. An issue he planned on thoroughly going over.

So for now, you were under his official protection while you healed.

Unless of course, you decided to go against your word. Though, Dracula heavily doubted you would do so.

You really were different then those who came before you.

This would not be easy, but when had it ever been? He was just thankful you knew how to defend yourself, and had the means to do so.

Once word got out, and you were healed, he also had suspicions you would be hunted. Either as a Belmont, Dracula’s human, or a ‘traitor’.

He may not have been privy to any sort of personal information regarding hunters and their circles, but he knew back a few centuries ago, helping out a ‘monster’ was a death sentence. It did not matter if they didn’t wish to harm humans, simply helping a beast was an act against god and humanity itself.

Hunters and the church considered such a person no better than the very beasts they hunted at that point.

Dracula doubted that sentiment was completely gone, even now in more modern times.

Reaching up, Dracula pinched the bridge of his nose in thought.

He had someone making potions for you at least. Hopefully you wouldn’t be badly injured for too long.

After that, he wondered if you would be opposed to staying here at his castle? You didn’t seem disgusted by it, nor did the castle seem to try and push you away like it did other intruders.

Those who were not welcome usually felt such pushes on their mind and body. Only the strong willed could push onwards past it.

Even his castle seemed to see you as a guest.

The castle bent to his will, sure, but it was still a being of Chaos. This small revelation also intrigued him, how such a being seemed not to mind your presence.

Perhaps it was that it also didn’t consider you a threat? It was obvious you currently had no intentions to fight him.

Dracula’s eyes narrowed, a presence pulling him out of his thoughts.

The room grew darker, and a familiar figure rose from the shadows. It flew around his throne, before giving a bow in front of him.

“Good to see you back, Master.”

Death.

Dracula looked over the divine being that had worked under him for centuries. His second in command, his devout lieutenant.

Dracula gave the being a brief nod of acknowledgment, and Death rose.

Even after all the deaths Dracula had endured, Death itself still remained loyal after all these years. He supposed he should count it as a blessing now.

“Report?” Dracula then idly asked, drinking from his glass.

“Things are running smoothly. Everyone is settling in quickly, as usual my lord.”

Dracula hummed.

“Good. Good.” He mumbled, mind still partially elsewhere.

A moment passed, and Death gripped his scythe.

“Master, if I may be so bold…”

Dracula held back a sigh, already having an inkling to what he was going to say.

“Do you think it is wise to have a hunter, let alone a Belmont residing in the castle?”

There it was. He knew his subordinates would be asking sooner or later. He wasn’t particularly surprised Death was the first to make an inquiry.

“They pose no threat. This Belmont is… different from the others. I would like to speak with them properly about our standing with one another as soon as they are recovered.”

He then looked Death in the face.

“They are not to be harmed while under my care. Do I make myself clear?”

Death studied him for a moment, probably wondering if he had a few screws loose, before nodding his head.

“As you wish, milord.”

Death was silent, and a beat passed. Dracula hoped his warning managed to sink into the other entity’s skull.

He was no stranger to the fact Death was his most avid supporter. Although Death had always followed his orders, the entity didn’t shy away from making its own decisions if he felt it was best for his master.

Staying within Dracula’s orders, but bending the rules just enough to do his own thing if he could get away with it.

Typically Dracula didn’t mind. Death was his most trusted lieutenant for a reason.

However, he couldn’t help but feel Death may try and get around this one rule if it felt it was best.

As much as he hated it, he would have to keep an eye on all his close subordinates.

Dracula tried not to focus on the growing migraine building in his head.

“Now, what of the vampire covens across the earth?”

Death gave him a subtle crooked grin, and Dracula had a sinking feeling he would need another drink before returning to see you.

—

Dracula’s castle was far more pleasant than you would like to admit.

Your brain was in and out of a fog, but even then you could appreciate just how nice the guest room and washroom alone were.

You almost felt like royalty with how classy and intricate the rooms were, and how they had convenient modern touches.

Never had you stayed somewhere so elaborate and fancy. All the hotels you have been in couldn’t even come close to compare.

Even now as you laid in the giant bed with its soft, velvet sheets, you couldn’t help but be amazed.

Kinda ironic, the home of your ‘enemy’ was way better than any place you had ever stayed at.

Besides maybe your own home before your step family took over, you supposed, though that was a long time ago.

Slowly rolling onto your back, you winced as your wounds flared and your stomach churned. You continued to admire your setting.

The bed had a beautiful silk canopy around it, and you still couldn’t help but be enamored by it.

Or by it all, really. Even if it was a bit overwhelming.

…Just how long has it been?

You had been in and out of sleep, occasionally slipping into a doze before startling awake. The time was lost to you.

In retrospect, you couldn’t help it. Your instincts were going haywire from… well, everything.

The bed and sheets were nice at least. Almost too nice.

You were used to your old sheets, or stiff bed sheets you’d find in cheap hotels.

Not soft satin sheets and pillows that were as fluffy as a cloud.

There was also the glaring fact you were in monster territory. Despite how nice the decor was, it was something on the back of your mind also keeping you up.

Yes, Dracula said you were a guest, but it was hard to lower your guard when you knew just outside the door were monsters roaming up and down the halls. That this whole castle was filled to the brim with the paranormal and monster kind.

You were also a hunter, and a notorious one from a notorious family at that.

It wasn’t hard to imagine some monsters may go ahead and take a shot at you, regardless of Dracula’s orders.

To some, it may be worth it to suffer Dracula’s wrath or ire if it meant eradicating you from existence. It wasn’t exactly a secret that a lot of the paranormal hated you.

You carefully laid on your side, and looked out the window.

A small comfort. Originally, the window had been covered by thick curtains. However, you had pulled them aside to attempt to relieve your anxiety.

The clouds were dark. You couldn’t tell if it was night or day at this point. Perhaps that was the point.

But you were so tired. Exhausted.

You really couldn’t even sleep if you wanted to, knowing Dracula, or at least a servant, would be bringing you a meal sometime soon.

The hunter in your soul didn’t wish to be taken off guard, even if it was to be fed.

A small part of you wondered if you should even eat. Your instincts whispered in your mind about poisons, warning you of incoming death.

But that was ridiculous. Imagine it, you, a hunter, dying from poison.

No, if Dracula wanted you dead, he would have killed you by now. By his own hand no less, you were sure.

Still, that didn’t stop your instincts from making things difficult.

You curled in on yourself a bit tighter, wincing when some of the stitches tugged. Reluctantly, you adjusted to keep them from stretching.

You reached over, and grabbed the nearby pillow, and hugged it close to your body for some comfort.

It smelled nice.

That was another issue. You were so sleep deprived and struggling with blood loss, your brain liked to bring up such things, no matter how much you were trying to shut them out.

Gripping the pillow tighter, you felt your face form into a sour look.

“What am I going to do…” You mumbled, closing your eyes again.

At least if you didn’t sleep, lying here would be some rest. Better than none.

Though you hated to admit how much you jumped when you heard a brief, but loud knocking against the door. Talk about acting like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs…

You sat up in bed with a wince, and you noticed that no one seemed to enter. Another knock followed the previous one. Your heart pounded in your chest.

“Uh… Come in…?” you called out, uncertain. Were they waiting to see if you were awake, or what?

The doorknob slowly turned, and you felt like the breath was punched out of you when Dracula stepped through.

Right. He had mentioned he would return.

He looked different though. Better, if you had to put a word to it. He wasn’t particularly disheveled to begin with, but now he didn’t look as… Hungry? Irritated? It was hard to figure out the words.

The Lord of the Night had also changed. Similar style, dark cloak and all, though he had on a vest with a dark red dress shirt underneath, and some sort of fancy slacks.

You imagined you probably would have wanted to change too if you had been wearing the same clothes as a stone statue for however many years.

But seeing Dracula again? You hated to admit how he practically took your breath away.

His power and presence were just as intimidating as before, and he wasn’t even angry. How did your ancestors handle him before, when he felt this powerful without seemingly intending to harm you?

Dracula looked you over briefly as he walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. Even if there were no traces of malice on his face, a shiver still ran down your spine, instincts still screaming to run or fight.

You swallowed your nerves down as he walked closer.

He stopped at the side of your bed, and once again, you had to crane your neck just to see him at his full height.

That is, until with the wave of his hand, a chair nearby in the room came scooting forward. It came to a stop behind him, and he sat down without a glance.

Internally, you hoped your awe wasn’t blatantly on your face.

When he sat, he crossed his legs, before holding a tray with some sort of bowl on it. He held it forward, and you blinked at it slowly.

“I hope you are resting well, Little Belmont. I had some servants make you some soup. I fear eating solids may upset your stomach, which would aggravate your injuries if you were to grow sick.” He spoke, his voice low and deep. Even if he wasn’t loud, his voice still seemed to vibrate in your chest.

It took his words a few moments to register, and you looked between him, and the tray. He took in your expression for a moment, before speaking once more.

“If you fear it has been tampered with, I assure you my servants-”

“Oh, no… It’s fine. Sorry, I’m…” You spoke, cutting him off, ignoring how your pulse spiked when you realized you did so.

“S-Sorry… My head is a bit foggy, is all…” You then explained, before shakily reaching for the tray.

Dracula was quick, or perhaps, your brain really was slow. He held out a hand, and quite gently might you add, set the tray down on your lap.

“Of course. You must not exert yourself, and you must eat. I do not know how long it has been since you last ate, but you need something in your stomach.”

As if hearing the conversation, your stomach loudly growled, and you felt your face flush in embarrassment. When was the last time you ate? This morning? Night before last? You couldn’t exactly remember…

It was brief, but you swore you could have seen Dracula’s lips twitch upward seeing you grow flustered. It must have been your foggy mind and imagination. Or not, he could be internally laughing at you. Who knows?

Meanwhile, Dracula knew he had been right to bring you soup. He just hoped you could hold it down.

Though he didn’t want to admit how… endearing it was seeing you grow flustered like that. For a Belmont, you were quite the adorable human.

He would never admit it of course, but hell save him if Death ever found out he had such thoughts. Dracula would never hear the end of it.

Especially considering such thoughts were about a Belmont. Someone he should be wasting no time slaying.

But he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

There was something so different about you, even now, as he watched you pick up the spoon and attempt to eat.

You didn’t stare at him with burning hate in your eyes, but curiosity. There was a sharp mind behind those eyes that asked questions. Someone who didn’t just jump to conclusions.

Was it so wrong he wanted to see more of that, especially in the family of his enemies, who had blindly ran and fought? Killing innocents of his kind?

He was no saint, far from it. But he knew of many others the Belmont clan had killed.

But you… You were so different. He didn’t wish to say it outloud, but he wished to push forward that way of thinking. Perhaps he could even find a middle ground with you.

You weren’t just some ‘scary hunter’. The Little Belmont in front of him showed so much more, showing the better qualities of humanity.

His face almost soured at the thought, but even he could admit every one in a million, perhaps one good human was born. You seemed to be that one in a million exception so far.

Just like Lisa had been.

He decided not to think too much on what that could mean, though he hoped it promised good things in the near future.

It was quiet for a while, and Dracula couldn’t help but study you as you ate. First and foremost, it was to watch and make sure your body could handle it.

But he had his own selfish reasons for doing so.

He could move again. React to you. Speak to you. Touch you.

However, he found it hard to speak. There were many things he wanted to talk about with you, and half of them he intended on waiting until you were a little bit healthier.

Anything he thought of before now though, was suddenly caught on his tongue as he observed.

Perhaps it would be better this way. Dracula prided himself on being charismatic and influential, but that was amongst the supernatural. This was a Belmont, and he knew things were… shaky at best.

However, as he watched you try and consume more of the soup, he found himself managing to say something.

“Are you feeling alright? Adjusting well?”

Briefly, you tensed when he spoke, before you seemed to force yourself to relax. He made a mental note of that reaction, wondering if it was because of him, or if it was a natural response.

Dracula could understand it if it was from him, given the circumstances, but even he could tell there was something off about it. He didn’t like the feeling settling in his gut over the bigger picture.

“It hurts a lot, but I’ll live.” You spoke, your voice still rough, but sounding leagues better than before. For a moment, it looked as if you wanted to say more, but held your tongue.

Interesting.

You were still for a moment, struggling to look at him. No doubt you were still having trouble thinking clearly, and struggling with everything that had happened. Have you even slept?

He had his doubts you’ve even rested. You may not look as manic like before, but you looked completely exhausted.

For a moment, he briefly thought about using his abilities to make you sleep. It was something Lisa would request on occasion if she hadn’t felt well or couldn’t settle.

However, he stomped that idea down. The last thing you needed was him using his powers like that on you, unless explicitly agreed upon. Even though you were… receptive of him taking care of you at the moment, he didn’t want to shatter that small bit of trust.

Given that he had suspicions about your home life, he imagined just the small bit of trust you had given him at all was momentous. Dracula couldn’t afford to lose that. Not now.

Though Dracula hated the odd pain in his chest as he stared at you. He was worried. Something he didn’t think he would ever feel again.

“Thank you, by the way.”

His eyes were on your face in an instant as you spoke.

“I… You didn’t have to take care of me. I do appreciate it.” You spoke, your eyes still on the bowl in your lap.

Your voice was small, and quiet. Dracula could tell though, saying that must have taken strength.

You didn’t see his eyes soften ever so slightly.

“You are welcome. As my guest, I will do my best to make sure you are taken care of.”

Internally you wanted to scream. You hated how much you liked the sound of that. When was the last time anyone cared enough to take care of you? Your mother before she had died all those years ago?

It had been way too long, and it was Dracula who was seemingly wanting to take care of you.

Damn your foggy mind.

A few moments of silence passed.

“I… Um…” You began, unsure on how to word this.

“About when you were a statue…”

You had so many questions, but didn’t know where to begin. Was it even a good idea to ask in the state you were in?

“You could hear and see everything, right?” you asked tentatively.

Dracula was silent for a moment, red eyes staring into you. It seemed he was contemplating what to say, and you tried not to get nervous as the seconds awkwardly ticked onward.

“Indeed I was. I was aware the moment you stepped foot in my castle the first time, though I was not aware it was a Belmont, not at first.”

His voice was still like velvet. No wonder vampires were such good hunters if they could talk like him.

You really needed to force yourself to sleep. Maybe if you smacked your head hard enough on the table, you could knock yourself out before you did or thought anything weirder.

Clenching your fist, you attempted to figure out what to say next.

“Um…”

Internally you cursed yourself for making this awkward. Why did you have to bring this up?

“Then… What now?” You asked, trying to find some semblance of what comes next. Just because he was taking care of you didn’t make everything all happy and cheery.

You couldn’t wash away centuries of history and bloodshed out of nowhere.

Dracula shifted, then reached over to the bedside table, and grabbed a glass of water. You looked at it confused.

When had he brought that in?

Before you could ask, he was gently holding it out to you.

“We can discuss that after you have rested. We have much to go over, but worrying about that and discussing it while you are injured won’t help your healing.”

He looked away a moment, as if contemplating what to say, before his eyes met your own once again.

“You have gained my interest and respect, enough to hear you out and discuss everything. When you are in a state to do so, of course.”

A part of you opened your mouth to speak, as if to say you could do it now, but you froze. Your eyes landed on the glass he still held out.

After a moment, you closed your mouth, and took the glass.

In that moment, you couldn’t help but feel like some sort of agreement or contract was formed, as if your fate was sealed.

As you sipped the refreshing water though, and looked over at Dracula himself, who seemed pleased you accepted the drink…

…You wondered if this would really be that bad?

Perhaps your future wouldn’t be as bleak as you thought.

#castlevania #dracula #vlad dracula tepes #dracula x reader #castlevania x reader #x reader #xreader #reader insert #belmont!reader #vlad dracula țepeș #dracula vlad tepes #tw anxiety #tw injury #tw blood drinking #long post

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pix3lplays · 5 months

Text

Hey! So I’m a little shy about this one since it is DARK but here’s the 1,000 followers yandere!Sunday special!

Shout-out to @fire-lizard-ro for bouncing ideas back and forth with me like an intense game of Writer’s pong.

Notes and cw PLEASE READ! Written before really anything is known about him. Based on leaks and my own interpretation of him! LOTS of DARK YANDERE CONTENT, physical punishments, emotional manipulation, pregnancy, suggestive, implied fem!reader, violence, also I just Made Up a lot of the Manipulation tactics stuff, child abuse

Couldn’t find Any good pics, this man is so RARE-so I drew one myself lol

-Honkai Star Rail yandere!Sunday hcs, 1,000 follower special-

You never suspected a thing.

He was so sweet, so gentle, he always smiled at you and spoke softly to you, and he invited you into his life so warmly…offering his hand…he liked you.

You were sweet and innocent. He liked that. He enjoyed that. He…desired that.

He’s quick to propose that you should start dating. He expresses that he’s really interested in getting to know you, and he could very easily see a beautiful future with you.

How you fell for his pretty words.

He takes you on all sorts of expensive, fun dates. He tells you stuff about himself, like how many children he’d like to have in his future, places he’d like to travel, things he wanted to see…and he asks you many questions so he can get to know you.

It genuinely feels like he actually cares about you as a person.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get married.

And of course your family approved! He really seemed like a gentleman. He had said many things your family liked, for example, about how excited he was to join his family to yours, and of course it helped that he was good with children…

And married life…starts out pretty good!

He is an attentive and loving husband, practically showering you with attention. He’ll give you literally anything you ask for. You lay in bed, his hand on your thigh and he asks you what it is you desire. Just tell him. He’ll have it brought to you on a silver platter.

Something you never noticed about him, though, is just how Manipulative this man is.

It starts out with small things. You didn’t realize it was him testing the waters, to see how much he’d have to work to manipulate you.

The first time it happened, you were sitting at the vanity, admiring a necklace around your neck, when he comes up behind you and kisses the base of your neck and-

“I think you would look So much better in this one~” he says, holding a necklace up to your neck.

“Oh, Sunday…this was my mother’s.”

“Yes, yes and it’s lovely, but~”he rubs his cheek against the back of your neck. You hear him purring a bit.“Trust me. This one will compliment you so much better.”

“Well…”

His hands wrap around your waist. He’s looking at you through the mirror, and you can tell by his expression that he’s being Serious.

“Please~I know you don’t want us to fight…”

Well of course you didn’t want to fight with your husband.

“Alright…” you surrender, and he hums and unclips the necklace you’re wearing and sets it onto the vanity gently, showing he did care that it was your mother’s, and then he clips the new one around your neck.

And as you’re now looking at yourself in the mirror, with your darling husband practically wrapped around you, you had to admit.

Maybe the necklace he picked out looked better.

He did this a lot. Particular about even your pajamas at night.

Before you knew it, you were only wearing outfits that Sunday picked out for you.

Next was your friend and family circle. Slowly, carefully, he convinced you to believe that each friend or family member you had was not good for you. Soon there was only Sunday.

Finally it was time to desensitize you to his business habits.

He figured the best way was to just…show you that he was still your Sunday, even when he was “coercing” or “punishing” people to get his way.

When you learned about the true nature of your husband’s business…it was all orchestrated by Sunday.

You were asleep in bed. It was early in the morning. You heard shouting and screaming, and your husband’s voice-

You get out of bed, wrap yourself in a robe, and tiptoe out of the bedroom, peering over the top of the stairs to see what all the commotion was about.

Only to see your husband, driving a knife into the shoulder of a man. Your husband digs his nails into this man’s cheek with his other hand, gripping his face tightly before throwing him to the ground and looking at the guards, and in that same, sweet, gentle voice you were so used to: “Take him away…”

He is dragged away, knife still in his shoulder, and Sunday is peeling off his bloody gloves when he notices you watching from the top of the stairs.

You’re looking at him wide-eyed. Horrified.

He smiles at you, his amber eyes softening. “My dear, I didn’t mean to wake you…please, everything is okay, and I’ll come up to bed in a moment,” but you’re barely hearing him, you’re staring at the bloody trail left behind from when they dragged that man away.

He can’t help but chuckle a bit at you, before jogging up the stairs and guiding you to bed himself. Here was another manipulation tactic. Associating something with Good. With Rewards. Seeing him at ‘work’ would result in him pampering you all night for not having a mental breakdown or freakout or anything of the sort. Calmness was rewarded in Sunday’s household.

“What’s going on, Sunday?” you ask numbly, gripping his sleeve softly.

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with…just a little business. I’m sure you understand, don’t you? Please try to remain calm…” and the sweet way he traced your lips with his thumb almost melted all your worries away.

Almost. You still weren’t ready for him to just shower you with love and make you forget what you saw. You had questions. He answered patiently. And then he rewarded you for being such a good little spouse to him…

Soon it began to work on you. Soon you were asking less and less questions, and soon you would see him come home covered in blood and you knew a delightful evening awaited you in the bedroom if you stayed good and remained calm.

Soon you just accepted it. Soon you watched it for yourself, more focused on what you were going to get out of Sunday that night than the life being ruined right in front of you.

And now it was time for the next part of the plan, before he could take complete control over you…

Now, Sunday would NEVER force himself on you. That would be cruel, barbaric…no. He’d convince you himself that having his baby would be the best thing that ever happened to you.

It’s even easier than he thought, you’ve become so desensitized to his demands that he almost wonders if he’s broken you already.

“I think I’d love to have a child with you, y/n. And not just one…maybe two. Or three or four…” he says to you one night while you’re curled up against his chest.

“Mm…” you reply numbly.

“Does this please you?” he asks, a little taken aback by your reply. “Do you want to bear my children?”

“I would, yeah…” you say, curling up a little closer to him. “Four…that’s a good number,” you agree, and oh this man is smiling, his little darling was being so Obedient and Good for him. He had done even better than he thought at training you.

Soon you’re pregnant, and at first things don’t seem so bad.

He’s a very doting papa, taking good care of you, making sure you’re eating properly and protecting yourself and the baby, and before you know it nine months have passed and you have a beautiful baby boy with your dear husband.

He’s a great papa, attentive and empathetic…his very presence was enough to make the baby stop crying.

Shortly afterwards you have another little boy, and then another…and finally, your last baby…a little girl…the only one of the batch that resembles you.

That was okay.

You thought Sunday had the better physical traits anyways.

Sunday takes great care of his children. He reads them stories at night. He invites them into his bed when they have nightmares, he’s already prepared a curriculum for them, so that they’ll grow up well-educated, with any path they want to tread laid out before them already.

They LOVE their papa.

But then, once they reach a certain age, it’s time for the desensitization process to begin anew, this time with your own children.

He’ll start with the eldest, of course, and work his way down, introducing them each to the ‘family business’, showing them how it works, maybe even encouraging them to try it themselves, all with that sweet, innocent look on his face, and that gentle voice.

The only one who never really gets it is your daughter. She just can’t. No matter what Sunday tries. But he figures three out of four isn’t bad-he’ll cut his losses, after all, three out of four was better than what he was expecting-

It was fine when you were learning to understand. But seeing your children come home, drenched in blood like their papa, cold distant looks in their eyes…something stirs within you. Call it a parental instinct.

And for the first time in your life, you stand up to Sunday.

Oh~?

He smiles so sweetly at you, tilts his head as you yell at him. It was almost amusing, almost cute to see you Try so hard. Too bad he’d finally have to punish you.

Outbursts will Not be tolerated.

In an instant he strikes you across the face. Right in front of the children.

They flinch maybe, but the boys know what this is. It’s just another punishment. Only this time it’s Mother’s turn.

The next second he’s grabbed you roughly by the hair, with his soft, gentle hands, and shoves you to the floor.

In an instant, a well-maintained shoe is pushing down on your leg.

You yelp in pain, and it sends your daughter running and crying to you, and the little girl desperately tries to push Sunday’s leg off of you.

He sighs with disappointment, looking down at his pathetic daughter trying to protect you.

He had intended to break your legs as punishment for your little outburst.

But now he’d have to break two pairs of legs.

Oh, the way he carried the two of you to bed, shushing your screaming and crying so sweetly…

The pain…it is something unbearable. He doesn’t take it easy on either of you for a while.

Maybe eventually he’ll get his daughter some medical care, so she can go back to school-but you~?

You have no real obligations. No family or friends that will wonder what happened to you…Sunday had made sure of that…so he just keeps you locked in the bedroom, but it’s not like you’re going anywhere with broken legs.

So now you’ve seen him for the man he Really is. Abusive, manipulative, evil-

You need to get out of here.

He takes care of you, eventually, delicately wrapping your legs up himself, smiling each time you flinch with pain-

Of course they’re not going to really heal back proper but…that was kind of the idea, you figured.

He acts so sweet around you, so gentle when he talks to you, but he always manages to get around apologizing for the torture he’s inflicting on you.

You look at him coldly now. Try to avoid letting him touch you, even though there’s only so far you could get away from him with broken legs.

He always snuggles into bed with you, pulling you up against his chest, kissing your hair and cooing and purring his sweet nothings into your ear.

You wouldn’t stand for this anymore.

This…this TORTURE, this MANIPULATION, it was all TOO MUCH.

So as soon as you were able to actually get out of bed again, you tried to escape with your children.

Worst mistake of your life.

And the worst part is he didn’t just take it out on you.

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maple-seed · 3 months

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Thrown - Chapter 47: A Winding Path

Summary: Loki contemplates your past, and his.

Word Count: 1,339

Author's Notes: We've got a lot of mushy feelings to get through before this is over. But I guess if that was a problem for you, you probably wouldn't be reading this fic in the first place.

Thrown Masterlist Loki Masterlist

Loki woke before you, as he often did. He lay on his back, in your bed. You were tucked against him with your head on his shoulder. He took a moment to do nothing more than relish the feeling of your skin on his. Your breath was soft and the sun creeping out from the edges of the curtains was casting a gentle glow to the room. These quiet moments in the morning would likely be his favorites, if the nights before didn't offer such steep competition.

Quiet moments were in short supply. With Midsummer only weeks away the days in New Asgard were marked by an increase in frenzy. Thor would surely be calling on him soon to assist with one project or another. If it wasn't something to do with the construction of the hall or the impending ball therein, then it would be any number of tasks that were still necessary when rebuilding a society. So Loki stole every quiet moment that he could.

He looked down at you resting against him and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His eyes traveled to your arm draped across his chest and his smile faded. Most of the time, when he saw your scar he would be reminded of the stories you told. Ridiculous, absurd tales that ensured a laugh. Morsels of joy. Sometimes, however, he would be caught off guard by the memory of the truth. Fury would bubble inside him and he couldn't help but think of the pain you suffered. He imagined the fear you felt in that moment and he wished he could reach out to you as you were then and pull you into his embrace. He was aware of the shame you carried regarding the situation, even now, and that angered him also. Inevitably he felt the desire rise in his chest to find the one who did this to you, this man who thought he had the right to hurt you in any way he chose, and show him a mirror of his cruelty. You rarely spoke of him, and Loki suspected it was in part to avoid giving away his identity. This was one of the many ways you were wise, because Loki was sure he knew where to find that villain he would set off at once. Though, Loki had to admit that a single word from you would stop him seeking revenge. It wasn't his revenge, after all. The temptation would be strong, however, to leave before your word was given.

Loki stared at the mark on your arm and took another moment to marvel at you. In his past he had always turned hurt into more hurt. Anger, distrust, distance, he would don these like armor in an attempt to avoid further vulnerability. To see you having gone through such treatment and come out the other side so soft and open, it amazed him. It inspired him, perhaps, considering where he was now. Lying in bed with his mortal lover. He came here as nothing but sharp edges, and you had been soft enough for the both of you, until he could find something gentler inside himself.

He reached and traced a finger down your scar. He wondered if he could heal it. It was likely beyond him, but he had never tried such a thing before.

You shifted, and he heard the now-familiar sigh that meant you were stirring. You mumbled something and shuffled closer against him. "I'm sorry, darling." He whispered and pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I didn't mean to wake you." "Mm. It's fine. We should get up." Despite this proclamation, you did not make any movement toward your stated goal. This suited Loki just fine.

He trailed his fingertips over your arm, once again following the line of your scar. He lightly traced the mark upward from your wrist. "Does it bother you?" "Tickles a little." You mumbled. He breathed a laugh. "No, the scar." His fingers wrapped around your forearm now, his thumb ran across the offending blemish. "Would you rather not have it?" You looked up at him curiously, finally properly awake. "What?" "I may be able to heal it." He lifted your arm to examine it. "I can't say for certain, but it might be possible." "Really?" You looked down at the old injury with disbelief. "Possibly." He let your arm rest against his chest again. "Would you like me to try?" You thought for a moment, but only a very brief moment, before answering. "Nah." His brows raised in surprise. "You wouldn't want to be rid of it?" "Hani would be so disappointed." He scoffed. "I'm sure she would understand." "I see what this is. You just want all of her attention on you." He laughed, then gently tilted your face toward him. "Tell me truly. You would keep it? This physical reminder of a terrible pain?" You smiled sweetly at him. "Of course." He laid back and stared at the ceiling. "I may never understand you." You laughed and propped your head on your elbow, to better look at him. "It was a bad night. Many bad nights. Many years ago. I will never be happy that it happened, but it's a part of me now." You raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Is there really a part of me you would change?" "Your impertinence." He laughed and scrambled to catch your hand as you pinched his side. "Alright, alright, I yield." You leaned closer over him, your chest pressed to his as you met his face. "It's not a good memory, but it was a step on the path that led me here. I have to be just a little bit grateful for it. If I hadn't been there then, then I wouldn't be here now." You placed a kiss on his cheek for emphasis. "And I really like where I am now." "Hm. Finally, a sentiment I can share." He murmured as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against him.

Eventually, after several instances of the both of you repeatedly agreeing that it was time to start the day, you reluctantly extricated yourselves from the bed. Loki started breakfast and watched you from the kitchen window while you tended to the livestock. The meal had barely been concluded when Loki's expectations were proven right; a message came to your phone from Thor, requesting his assistance. He bid you farewell and for just a moment he was struck by how routine all of this felt now. It came so naturally, this domestic ritual. It felt secure. Steady. It brought him a sense of bliss that compelled him to sweep you into another kiss before leaving.

As he walked down the road from your home he looked ahead to New Asgard, which was already bustling with morning activity. This, too, brought him joy. Then his mind wandered back to your scar, and your insistence that it stay. He was sure that you hadn't even considered removing it. His thoughts drifted to his own winding path that had brought him here. His father, and the secrets he kept. His captivity with Thanos. New York. The TVA. Each had been a turn he would rather not have taken. And yet he couldn't deny that they had led him to this point, eventually. Each step had brought him to closer you.

Still, he couldn't find it in himself to feel grateful for these events. They may have had a part in making him who he was, but even now it all still felt so raw. Like open wounds. And perhaps that was the trouble. A scar was different. It was a sign that healing had occurred, even if the flesh was not returned to its original state after.

He could hope for healing. Right now couldn't appreciate the wounds that brought him to where he is, even if it is somewhere he wants to be. Perhaps with enough time, one day he could.

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#loki #loki x reader #mcu loki #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #reader insert #loki thrown #oh shit I gotta come up with next chapter's title

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asha-mage · 3 months

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Robert Jordan finished WoT AU 😈

[Send me a potential AU and I'll answer with five things from that story!]

ahahaahahaha, you bait me so zorpi! This is more a 'things I reasonably can guess from my many read through the series' more then anything else, but-

Based on Perrin's portion of the Jordan written ending their was clearly meant to be a moment where Perrin had to choose between Faile's safety and the fulfillment of his duty- and choose his duty, trusting in Faile to protect herself and make her own choices. This is also pretty clearly what Malden and the battle with the Shaido was meant to set up: Perrin realizing that his obsessive desire to protect/love Faile was as much flaw as virtue, and that true love would be trusting her strength and courage. In Jordan's ending I would guess that this would likely have manifested having a choice between leaving the Two Rivers force at the front lines to go rescue Faile, who is carrying the Horn to Mat, or else stay with the Two Rivers Forces and trust Faile- choosing the later. Thus his racing through the battlefield in the aftermath, and finding Faile still alive in the carnage, would be his arc reaching it's conclusions, being rewarded for his trust and faith in her.

Mat was, I suspect, supposed to play a much larger role in the negotiations to get the Seanchan into the coalition against the Shadow, serving as leverage and pressure to get Tuon to the table and to agree to the terms- I also suspect based on his reticence regarding the Empire from when he and Tuon part in KoD, he was supposed to be a lot more reluctant/put off on the idea of commanding the Seanchan forces, and it was originally supposed to be Tuon's idea and/or part of her compromise- she'll join, but her army will follow Mat, not the Dragon appointed supreme commander.

I think we would have gotten a lot more Gabrelle, Toveine, and Logain as our Black Tower PoVs/the counter coup against Taim- Toveine was already being set up in this role in KoD and prior, and it would make sense as a means for her to 'redeem' herself of the Vileness, and it fits with Jordan's usual 'closing of the circle' that one of the Red Sister who helped with the slaughter of the men who could channel, would be one of the first and strongest converts to the Black Tower's cause.

I think we where supposed to also a get bit more thematic conflict/contrast between Graendal and Rand in Arad Doman. In general the political situatuion in Arad Doman feels very....off from how Jordan normally works politics. I think the broad beats (destruction of Natrin's Barrow, failure to stabilize the region, Rand abandoning Bandar Ebon to starve at his lowest moment) would be the same, but it feels very strange things like the merchant council politics and Graendal's broader parallels to Rand (especially in that moment- as she /also/ crumpled under impossible standards and failure to live up to perfection as Rand is currently inthe process of doing) would be far more dug into.

Finally, I think we would have had a least one major reunion scene with the original Emond's Field 5- I know this is something Sanderson wanted to do and tried very hard to manage but didn't quite fit in, which I think is sad. It really feels like their is a missing moment in there, where Mat, Perrin, Rand, Egwene and Nynaeve where all supposed to sit down and reflect on how far they've come and how before the final battle. It especially feels like something that would have been appropriate from either Nynaeve and Rand's perspective.

#WoT #Wheel of Time #WoT Book Spoilers #aMOL Spoilers #rand al'thor #perrin aybara #faile bashere #mat cauthon #tuon athaem kore paendrag #logain ablar #gabrelle brawley #toveine gazal #Graendal #nynaeve al'meara #egwene al'vere

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merakiui · 8 months

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i’m sorry i got stuck at camboy jade

>:) camboy Jade is essentially just like camboy Azul: deranged and out-of-his-mind obsessed with you, but he's a refined level of obsessed. Whereas Azul capitalizes on the cute and frilly and everything else in between (he is an adaptable e-boyfriend hehe), Jade knows his charm points and he sticks with them. He is coy and alluring; he knows very well that he's eye candy. He keeps a well-built figure, and it's a desirable build that hundreds upon hundreds of people lust over. He makes so much money streaming. Not that he really needs it (coming from a well-off crime family definitely helps), but it does feel nice to make his own money.

Affectionately, he is a freak, so he loves stringing his chat along, loves the many eyes on him because he's in a space where he's tailored the entire hour-or-so stream to follow a semi-linear structure and so he has a fair level of control over the situation. Although he does like to surprise his viewers with things that may feel unscripted (but are actually speckled throughout his plan to boost engagement). He hates it when people observe him beyond the webcam, though, but they'll never see his face and he's not very worried. He only films from the chest down, and he'll wear a mask for anonymity's sake. Also because masks are hot LOL. Jade knows what his viewers want and he delivers. <3

Maybe you're obsessed with him and you tune into his every stream, utterly fascinated by how pretty he is, how silky-smooth his voice is when he's practically purring at the camera, how every inch of him is perfection, even down to the sweat that slides down his bare chest when he's working himself towards orgasm. T_T you are down so horrendous, and Jade takes advantage of that. At first it was just to entertain himself. You were given the opportunity to talk one on one in a private chat room with him (as he's begun to recognize your username each time you show up to his streams) and Jade offers to do a private show for you. You pay his price without hesitating.

From there, the two of you snowball into a casual friendship of sorts. He feeds your fantasies; you feed his wallet. It's a good deal, but Jade suspects you're not being entirely honest with him. If you claim to love him so much, why do you seem so against meeting him in person? Are you afraid seeing him beyond the camera will ruin whatever idealized version you've built up in your mind? Or do you not trust him? It's wrong to confess to Jade because he might get attached. It's even more wrong to confess and then stick around. Persistence is so delicious, and your loyalty has him hooked. And maybe you're starting to fall out of obsession just as Jade's falling into his. >_< either way, it's dangerous.

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw #now camboy floyd on the other hand... :)

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sunnynwanda · 10 months

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Done: Part 2

Part 1

Warning: This got more suggestive than expected. Minors DNI.

It was quiet. Alarmingly so. Not a step broke the serenity of the library; not a page was being turned along the long rows of bookshelves, and not a shadow crossed the aisles. Villain let out a content sigh and returned their attention to the book on their lap. They were particularly fond of this secluded spot. They would visit the library every day when they were not yet known as Villain. Now that they had left the criminal life behind, this place seemed the best start for their new life.

To their utter surprise, the citizens were worried for them when they did not show up for the regular battle in the middle of the week. They even started a mob leading to Hero’s headquarters to demand answers. Things were getting out of hand at an alarming speed, so Villain had to make an appearance and announce that the two parties had reached an agreement and would be ceasing their confrontations.

Many still suspect that Hero did something to them. Well, to be fair, Hero did do something to them. More precisely, Hero did them. Except Villain could not get up there and say that. Not when the idea brought vehement colour to their face. It didn’t help that Hero kept teasing them too. When they made the announcement claiming to have reached a consensus, Hero chuckled. They then proceeded to inform everyone there were many disputes to discuss, to which Hero wiggled their eyebrows suggestively. Villain had to cut their speech short for the risk of exposing themselves. Their cheeks were burning brighter than the sun.

“I knew I’d find you here,“ Hero’s voice drags them out of their thoughts. They are standing across the window sill where Villain is seated, meaning they had to cross half of the library to get there. And Villain heard nothing. Shit.

“How?” Villain wasn’t avoiding them. They were not. They might have needed time to think about what happened, because banging the enemy once was bad enough. Spending an entire night with them was worse. Finding it hard to leave in the morning because they crave more... was unthinkable. To say the least.

“I might have noticed you before we started the whole power play, ya know?“ Hero waves their hand vaguely, not pointing at anything. Or rather, at everything. “Back in uni.”

The thought sends a pleasant shiver down Villain’s spine. They shift, sliding their legs off the sill to sit upright. “Not funny.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.” Hero takes a few steps forward, blocking their way out. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” Villain has to squeeze the words out. Their throat feels tight, which has nothing to do with the memory of Hero’s mouth against it. Nothing at all.

“Yeah, right,” Hero shakes their head in disbelief at such a blatant lie. They lean against one of the bookshelves and cross their arms over their chest. “That’s why I haven’t seen you for a week.”

Villain huffs, unamused. They are not prepared for this conversation because anything Hero says will correspond with their desires, and they do not have enough arguments to counter them. Shit. “We agreed to stop meeting, remember?”

“No, we agreed to stop fighting for the city none of us needs,” Hero corrects with a patient smile. “We didn’t agree to stop seeing each other.”

“Hero, we can’t keep doing...” Villain breaks the charade, finally meeting their gaze. Hero doesn’t move, meeting their eyes with determination, “...what we did.”

“Why?” Hero’s voice is calm as they speak, yet they shrink when their nemesis remains silent. They know they are done for and that this idiot is to blame for that. Hero only needs to convey that much to them. “I thought you wanted it as much as I did.”

Villain cannot handle the dejected expression on their face. “I did.” I do. God, I do. They want to say it, and they almost do but stop a second too soon. “God, I... this is insanity!“

“No, it’s not.” Something about the way they speak encourages Hero. They move forward and slide their hands up Villain’s thighs, spreading their legs to stand between them.

Hero is too close for Villain’s brain to function. Yet they make no attempts to distance themselves. “What are you doing?”

“This place always makes me think of you.“ The statement catches Villain by surprise. They are speechless for a good moment, staring at their ex-nemesis in wide-eyed wonder. “Or the things I wanted to do to you here.”

“W-what?” Villain��s breath hitches in their throat. They swallow. Hero’s eyes are locked on their neck as they pull their shirt to the side.

“You were always so quiet, sitting here with your books and those glasses you wore,” Hero’s lips meet their collarbone, feather-light and short as if testing the waters. They pause, lips parted in deep breaths, waiting for a reaction.

“Shit, Hero,” Villain can’t exactly articulate anything at this point. They grab the sides of Hero’s face and lean down, kissing them intense and deep.

Hero lets out a low growl, pulling them closer by the waist. “Let’s see if you can stay quiet now.”

“Fuck it, Hero, the library...” A part of Villain’s conscious mind attempts to reason. But, as another kiss is placed on their collarbone, they find themselves unable to form coherent sentences. “Oh god... It’s... about... to open.”

“You think I care?” Hero whispers into the skin below their ear, then presses a kiss against their pulse. Shit.

“Bad Hero.” Villain’s words contrast the way their arms wrap around Hero’s shoulders, drawing them closer.

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not a dog,” Hero chuckles as their eyes fall shut when Villain’s hands run through their hair. They take a deep breath to steady their mind and add with a crooked smile. “Although I do know how to bite.”

Villain hisses when Hero actually bites their jaw, then proceeds to kiss apologies into their skin. They lean back to look into Villain’s eyes, who finds it increasingly more difficult to focus on anything that doesn’t involve their nemesis on their bed. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

“Fuck, stop with the teasing, will you?” Their impatience earns a satisfied grin from Hero. Smug bastard.

“Mhm,” they look up with such longing that Villain’s head starts spinning. They know they are about to lose it, but what Hero says next is what sends them. “Tell me what you want then.”

With a shaky exhale, they clutch Hero’s collar and crush their lips in a starved kiss. “You. Fuck. You. I want you.” The heated whisper makes Hero’s knees buckle.

They are wrapped in each others arms and panting heavily when the doors swing open, letting the librarians in. Villain’s entire body goes rigid in panic when Hero peels off of them. They struggle to fix their clothes, then escape through the window when someone rounds the corner.

“Now that’s an adrenaline rush!” Hero exclaims in agitated excitement when they land in the safety of the roof.

“You are sick, you know that?” Villain exhales, still processing the implications and possibilities of getting caught. “Fucking bonkers!”

Hero laughs at that, dropping their head back and enjoying the blush creeping up Villain’s neck and cheeks. “You love it. Admit it already.”

“You wish,” Villain retorts, leaning against the chimney for support. Their legs are weak from stress and arousal, but they won’t admit the second one in a lifetime.

“That I do,” Hero confesses with a sly smile, their lips swollen from making out. “Wanna know what else I’m gonna do?”

“If you say me, I’ll punch you,” Villain almost snarls, trying their best to look displeased. The warning earns a chuckle from Hero.

They shake their head at how worked up Villain still is. “That too, but I meant taking you out to dinner.”

Villain’s eyes narrow in suspicion. They watch Hero approach them step by step. “No adrenaline this time?”

“None if you wish so.” Villain knows for a fact Hero is lying. They can’t be over the fact that Villain called their confrontations boring. Hero’s eyes sparkle dangerously as they take the last step. They are going to give Villain a dinner to remember. “But that can wait.”

They press their body flush against Villain’s, nailing them up against the chimney on top of the public library. “I’m not done with you just yet. I doubt I’ll ever be.”

The claim earns a soft moan from Villain’s lips, but before they can process what that promise entails, Hero kisses them again.

Part 1

Masterlist

Tags: @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune

As promised :) I hope you like it!

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morsesnotes · 3 months

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Endeavour seriously does such a good job of showing what a poisonous web of corruption the police are. I think that's ultimately what makes it my favorite crime show.

First you have the wider corruption of guys like Lott, Deare, Standish, and County. What's great about this is that you're never comforted by the presence of the higher-ups or outsiders. It really feels like the main gang are all you have.

There's people like Chard and Box who are the pawns of these guys and directly impact the station.

Morse is prevented from advancing in rank by some unseen force.

There's the cops who are flatout incompetent/lazy, and the many cases of the past which haunt the present due to said incompetence.

Then you have someone like Jago who's operating in his own selfish interests and desire for power.

But it goes deeper than that!

Within the main group - the ones who are supposed to be the good guys against the bad apples, you have:

Bright constantly trying to cover things up for the sake of saving face. He doesn't want to create waves. More innocently he's just less inclined to listen to nontraditional ways of thinking.

Thursday has all manner of demons in his past that get worse the more you learn, and even now he casually engages in police brutality and gets corrupted by the desire to protect his family.

Jakes does whatever he can to blend in, whether that means doing sketchy things or looking the other way when he knows corruption is taking place. He offers to help Morse cheat for his Sergeant's Exam.

Strange falls in with the Masons to advance his career. This influences his decision-making and potentially causes him to mess with evidence. He joins in with Thursday to threaten suspects.

Finally there's Morse. He tries harder than anyone to resist it, but even he succumbs when it comes to protecting Thursday or becoming too emotionally entangled with a suspect.

I'm sure I'm missing something so feel free to add. I just love how you initially expect them to bring it up once and then drop it but no. It's a constant part of the narrative and presents itself in so many different ways.

#endeavour #itv endeavour #endeavour morse #fred thursday #reginald bright #peter jakes #jim strange #thinking thoughts

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dollwrites · 4 months

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𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 — 𝐣𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), in bloom!reader, basic in bloom au warnings like age gap, petite reader, size kink, corruption kink, sex work, oral sex ( f! receiving ), fondling, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗰𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗺𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗼 ∣ @meloguro [ thank you so much for always being such a kind and soft light in my life :3 ]

“Ahh!” a hearty sigh of satisfaction erupts from Jinkuro’s throat, with the soft clink of his empty glass against the surface of the kotatsu following suit. his head thrown back as he thoroughly enjoys the sensation of the sake warming him deep in his belly skin to the smoldering embers of a freshly doused fire. this wasn’t his first drink of the night; in fact, his cheeks were adorned with a subtle rosy hue, but each time his cup tippy tapped on the table in front of you, you would look up with your precious, doe eyes at him, and know what he wanted. setting your steaming cup of tea aside, you promptly refill his drink, and watch his lazy, confident smirk as it pulls his lips upwards.

this time, however, he speaks before you get the chance. “My, my, it’s freezing out there!” he exclaims, with a flippant gesture to his environment, he refers to the sound of the snowy, winter wind beating against the outside of the pleasure house, begging to seep in and send a chill down your spine. resting his face on his palm, his elbow propped on the table, he simpers at you. with his head tilted ever so slightly, you are struck by the visage of his dusky, amethyst eyes, heavily lidded and deep with that same, unyielding desire he always holds for you. it causes your breath to catch at the back of your throat every, single time. “If the whole world freezes after tonight, you and I will be trapped in this room for God knows how many days.” he chuckles, reveling in the way that you seem to fluster when he taunts you. your eyes widen at the thought, attention snapping to the fierce winds outside. it wasn’t that you were afraid to be alone with Jinkuro, in fact, you preferred it, but the idea of being trapped frightened you.

“We’d run out of tea and sake, little hana,” it wasn’t that likely to be snowed in, but if he could, Jinkuro would make it so. just to be able to stay shut in the brothel with you. you hear the faint rustle of the blanket as his feet move inside the kotatsu, and a moment later the warmth of his large foot tickles your much smaller, delicate toes. “I’d have to keep you warm myself. You’re so small and fragile that you get cold so easily~” the lilting of his baritone always became more and more pronounced the drunker he got, brandishing his playful nature. the sole of his foot glides along the side of yours, allowing you to feel the sheer difference in size. both of your feet hardly equaled one of his, and if he wanted to, they could dominate yours easily. pin them down, and they might even hurt.

but Jinkuro never wanted to hurt you.

instead, his foot is gentle, sensual as it caresses yours, back and forth, slow and thorough. you can’t help the cute, sheepish sound that slips from your pout before you can nibble on the lower counterpart of your tiers, feeling warm from more than just your tea, now. there was a heated blush that tickled your face, and only grew when you heard your benefactor croon to you, “What’s wrong, little girl? Squirming in your seat like that, it’s so cute.”

your toes curl up, bashfully trying to hide from his game of footsie that had you so aroused. his own toes traced the shape of your foot, from heel to toe tip, teasing your tightly clenched digits by prodding them open, and you look up at him. your gaze has always been, and he suspects always will be, innocent, however there was no denying the sparkle of desire behind your deep in your eyes, telling him how much you wanted him. how much you needed him.

“D— do you want more sake, Lord Jinkuro?” you ask, trying to distract yourself, reaching for the bottle, but both of his large, powerful hands flee to grasp your wrists, instead. not the least bit painful or tight.

he shakes his head, thumbs running delicate circles over your pulse point. he swoons when he feels how rapid your heartbeat is. “No, I want my woman.” with a gentle tug, more of a suggestion than a demand, he guides you closer to his body. “I want to taste her sweet, soft lips. I want to feel her warm body that is all mine.” you eagerly scoot close to his side, nuzzling up under his kaimaki like a happy kitty that has found her place beside her owner, and breathe in his array of scents. tobacco, sake, musk, spices. it was such a familiar smell, one unique to him that brought you so much comfort that you often nabbed his robing once he left for the night and cocooned yourself inside it, giving you the security you needed to sleep soundly through the night. Jinkuro’s nose weeds through your tendrils, lips caressing the shell of your ear as he whispers, husky and wanton. “I want to make her cry out in pleasure, louder than the storm outside. Do you think I can?”

you could already feel his hands, moving to the knot that held your kimono on, untying it with ease and precision, as his lips travel down to pepper your sensitive neck with adoring pecks. you nod, embarrassed to admit that you could probably be louder than an earthquake and wetter than a tsunami as long as it were Jinkuro that touched you.

he chuckles, both hands enveloping your small, perky breasts once he peels away the pesky fabric and leaves you exposed to him.”We are already well on our way, it seems.” he murmurs in amusement, upon hearing your happy mewling, your back arching in response to his treatment. thumbs and forefingers seek your nipples, rubbing them between each other until they hardened under his touch, teasing them as he groped your chest. his hands were big enough, palms wide and fingers long, to cover from your ribs up to your collarbones, making it easy for him to swaddle you in a thick, firm blanket of warmth.

there’s a tightening in your lower belly, and a tingling, looking between your thighs as you clamp them tightly together, to keep any potential dampness from leaking out onto the floor and embarrassing you further, but Jinkuro notices this and allows one hand to slip down between your legs, urging you to spread them again. “Mm, is my little hanabira already needy and wet?” he teases with a wide grin, his mouth smearing against your pulse point. his teeth graze your flesh, sending you writhing and whimpering for him with a half-nod to his question. “I’ve only kissed your neck and played with your little titties for a few seconds, and you’re already dripping? Is this going to make you cum already, baby girl?”

you didn’t want it to be so, but you knew it was. your body was seemingly hardwired to cum for him, even from something as simple as kissing your neck and pinching your nipples. “Y-yes…” you answer, sheepishly, turning your head to one side. he has your body pretzeled— propped against his chest, your knees bent and spread wide. with one, massive hand on the inside of one thigh and the other still fondling your breast, he tugs at your earlobe with his teeth playfully, and you started to mew his name. “I— I’m—!”

he exhales, pleased with your trembling, excited and stuttering display when you come undone for him, but it’s only the first time. the first time tonight. the first of many, many more. the hand on your thigh tightens, fingers squeezing your silky, warm flesh. “There’s my good girl,” he purrs in delight, shifting to pull his legs up under him. you’re jostled about amidst your sea of pleasure as he gets to his knees, laying you down on the floor in front of him like a buffet table. “Cumming so easy for me, making me want to spoil you, it won’t be hard at all to make you scream tonight.”

on your back on the floor, you can feel the heat radiating off the kotatsu beside you, but the room itself was no longer cold. you were starting to sweat, every joint tingling with electric excitement when Jinkuro pins your thighs back, urging your knees to your chest. “Let me see your adorable pussy, hana. I want to watch her twitch.” you could feel it happening, your core clenching, wishing you could be milking his cock. Jinkuro leans down, so close that his breath was hot and heavy against your slick, and you squirm, reaching up to gently touch his hair. you want to grab on to it, to pull it, and your needy side wanted to try and smush his face into your cunt, eager to feel his tongue drive you crazy, but you would never have the confidence to be that dominant or demanding, so you sweetly pet at his hair and face with your trembling hands, attempting to show some bashful gratitude for the orgasm. “I know what you want, little girl.” Jinkuro chuckles, raspy, upon feeling your pleading caress, and his eyes twinkle with sordid delight as they flicker up to lock on to yours. “And don’t you worry, I’m going to tongue fuck my hanabira until you’re a squealing puddle.”

and he did just that.

starting with slow, long licks, Jinkuro flattened his tongue against your core, slotting between your weeping folds to drag his tastebuds along every inch of your sensitivity. it was a teasing, almost cruel slowness, but he grunted and groaned muffled against your skin with every swipe of his tongue, as if he were enjoying the most delicious meal he’s ever had.

“L— Lord Jinkuro!” you whimper, your small fist clenching on the side of his head, gripping his hair with more urgency. when his tongue would make it to the sweet spot, the tip would flick at your throbbing button, giving you just enough of a prod to have your thighs jump under his hands, and your breath catch in your throat. “P-please…”

“Please?” Jinkuro repeated, pulling his mouth away only for a moment to quirk a brow up at you. “Please what, baby? Let’s hear you use your words for me.”

but there was only one word that fell from your lips. a breathless, hopeful, “More…”

your benefactor smiled in satisfaction at your obedience, and his head dips, now licking and slurping with much more fervency. his tongue swirling around your clit until you’re seeing stars, both of his hands gripping the backs of your thighs to keep you pinned in place so that he may eat to his heart’s content.

it wasn’t long, however, before your hips began to jut forward, desperate for more stimulation, eager to ride to a second release, and you start to grind yourself towards his nose.

“Greedy, greedy girl.” Jinkuro chuckled in a small breath, before rubbing face flush with your cunt. he was willing to give you whatever you wanted, and what you wanted more than anything, he delivered without a care in the world. his nose bumping against your swollen button as he sucked and licked at your netherlips, before prodding your hole with his tongue, gargling happy, husky sounds the whole time.

“T-thank you! I- oh!”

your second orgasm crept up too fast, you didn’t even time to properly warn him before you were grasping at his hair with both hands, wanting something to hold on to, and trembling with excitement as you unravel on the end of his tongue.

“There’s another big one,” Jinkuro chuckles as he gives you a few, good laps with his tongue as a farewell from his mouth to your cunt, and releases your legs to allow them to drop, your feet finding the floor. he’s panting now, just as hard as you are, and when he sits up on his knees between your legs, he grasps your wrist and pulls your hand down the length of his body. “Look at me, little girl. I’m a fucking mess. Just licking your sweet pussy is enough to have me hard as stone.” your fingers loop into the loose knot holding his own clothes together, and as he moves your hand lower, the knot undoes itself and his robing falls away, joining yours like a pile of wilted flowers on the floor.

he wasn’t lying.

his cock was standing hard and proud, the curve in his thick shaft ensuring that the swollen, pink tip was pointed towards the sky. he wraps your hand around it, groaning as he feels the delightful sensation of your soft, gentle fingers trying to wrap around his base. they don’t reach all the way around— another testament to just how big this man is compared to you. “I want you to do it for me, little girl. Slide my cock into that tight, warm cunt of yours.”

your eyes widen, pouting up at him. you had never done this part before, and the last thing you wanted was your clumsy, innocent nature to ruin this wonderfully erotic evening with your favorite man. “B—but—“

Jinkuto reads the apprehension on your face, and chuckles softly, placing his hands on his hips as he grins down at you, cooing as if consoling. “Stop pouting, hana” before he murmurs, “Just scoot into it, hold me steady, and push up into it.”

it took a moment of inching closer, tentatively balancing on the balls of your feet to push your lower half up and towards him. your hand trembles a bit as you hold on to the base of his cock, less so guiding it to you and more so pushing yourself on to him like he instructed. either way, you manage to find the right position after an embarrassing amount of scooting and squirming, and upon feeling the tip worm its way inside, you both elicit a soft hissing noise.

“Good girl…” Jinkuro muttered, his hungry eyes glued on the tip of his cock when it disappears into you. “Now, let your man do the rest.” both of his hands wrap around your waist, nearly joining at your belly button, and he pulls you closer as his hips rock to feed you more of his cock. your body stretched, appreciative to the familiar intruder, eager to caress each and every throbbing vein as he fell into a steady rhythm. “Perfect girl. My hanabira…”

“Do you think you can give me one more, pretty girl?”

you’re already incredibly sensitive, but you can’t say no. not when he feels too good nested inside of you. so, you nod.

“Yes, sir…!”

Jinkuro gazed down at you as he fucked you, steady and eager to find your sweet spots in your tender depths, his mauve eyes full of love and adoration, his lips parted so he can breathe raggedly through his mouth, and his broad chest heaving, diamonds of sweat running down over each, taut muscle pad underneath his flawless skin. “I‘ll never get bored of you, baby. Never get tired of feeling your tight, little cunt take me so hungrily, milk me so eagerly. Oh, I could fuck you like this ten times a day for as long as I live, and I’d still be amazed at how good you feel.” his eyelids droop, a sign that he’s enjoying himself, and he throbs in your belly, each stroke calculated and skillful, his rhythm perfected. “How’s that, little girl? Feel good?”

you nod, your feet struggling to stay planted on the floor, your shoulders rubbing against it as he moves you back and forth. each time his tip pushes in deep, he batters an incredibly sensitive bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body and coaxing your climax to rear its head even faster than you thought. “F—feels good, Lord Jinkuro!!” you cry out, your voice cracking as your hands, desperate to cling to him, latch on to his forearms. you have to sink your nails into them to stay grounded. “O-oh, it feels good!!”

“I know, baby,” Jinkuro moans and nods, leaning over you, to press his forehead to yours, wanting to stare directly into your eyes as he took you so passionately. “It feels amazing, fucking you like this.” he whispered in a heavy breath, as if telling you a forbidden secret. “Loving you like this. Fuck, hana, I’m so close. Will you cum for me, little girl?”

you were already so close that you couldn’t say no. with a flustered, “Uh— Mhm!!” your back arches and you try to press your body into his, wanting to mold to his chest, melt into one, ecstatic entity, and your legs hook around his waist to ensure he was right there to hold you through this most intense climax.

“Come on, baby, that’s it, cum as I fill you up…” Jinkuro’s jaw works, gritting his teeth as he talks you through your orgasm, because he himself is having one, too. he’s putting all of the focus on you, on your pleasure, because that is the source of his own. “That’s it…!”

as soon as your walls fluttered around him just right, and your eyes crossed under the sheer weight of all of the euphoria you were experiencing, he couldn’t hold back for another moment. he erupted with a strangled moan of your name, and a familiar, seeping warmth filled the deepest section of your tummy. “J—Jinkuro!”

for several moments after you both finished, you lay there underneath him, panting. he was doing the same, his hands rubbing against your belly whilst he was still inside, feeling how full he made you, and how he still throbs against your spasming walls. his sweat drips down on to your body, and mixes with yours, but the amount of hot, heavy breath like steam in the atmosphere around the two of you is enough to deter you from being cold.

“L-Lord Jinkuro?” you ask, timidly squirming when he finally adjusts his body weight, sliding on to the floor and pulling you close to his chest, instead. you worked hard to keep his cock inside you while he did so, clinging to him as he kisses your forehead.

“What is it, hanabira?”

you weren’t sure if it was inappropriate to ask, but the memory of how full of love his eyes were only moments ago kept replaying over and over in your mind. you got butterflies every time you remembered how he stared into your eyes— admiring you as if you were the only thing in the whole world he’s ever wanted. so, you blurt out. “I- I love you!” and hide your face in his sweaty chest immediately after, half expecting a scolding for even daring to say such a thing.

but, he doesn’t scold you.

he doesn’t even tease you.

he lets out a tender sigh and kisses the crown of your head, mumbling into your hair. “I love you too, hana.”

you didn’t know it until now, but hearing those words was all you’ve ever wanted.

#jinkuro #jinkuro isarizawa smut #jinkuro x reader #jinkuro isarizawa x you #jinkuro isarizawa x reader #jinkuro x you #jinkuro isarizawa #revenger #revenger anime #revenger x reader #revenger x you #revenger smut

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ravennaortiz · 3 months

Note

Can I make another one? With Tiggy 21 and 23. Thank you!!!!!

You may have as many as your heart desires! Lets see Tig with prompts 21: Like, what you see? and 23: You are more than a one nightstand. Alright as always 18+.

More to Me

"She looks mad" murmured Juice to Chibs as he caught sight of you entering the clubhouse with your medical supply bag. Chibs nodded as he finished putting in a local block into Tigs ass. He had suspected you were upset when he had called you. Normally bubbly you had been cold and distant.

"Tig is there any reason that the only doctor we know would be upset with you?" inquired Chibs as he leaned down to next to Tig. "Not that I can think of. I showed her the time of her life couple weeks before we went on this run" replied Tig right before you opened the door and stepped in.

The men nodded to you but you ignored them as you set your bag down and sat up what you would need. After putting gloves on you examined the wound on Tigs ass. "This is the last time I help. You guys need to find someone else to call when you get shot in the ass" you stated as you continued to examine the wound. Juice nodded as Chibs sighed sending a look to Tig.

"I got this" whispered Tig before lifting his butt and wiggling it. "Like what you see Dollface?" inquired Tig mischievously as he turned to face you. "Stop moving Trager. I get you think I'm a joke but this isn't" you stated through gritted teeth. You wanted nothing more than to be at home. "I was just joking babe. Whats wrong?" asked Tig the smile wiped off his face and replaced with concern.

"It's stupid" you mumbled as you looked away. "Please, just let me do this so I can go home" you added you face turned down to the floor. "Boys can you all step outside" stated Tig as he watched you curiously. "Talk to me" whispered Tig once the others had cleared out. You sighed before speaking your voice cracking as you fought back tears. "The other night meant more to me.... I thought it meant more to you too. Its obvious now I was wrong, just another notch in your belt" you replied as you moved back to the table to start closing the wound.

Tig closed his eyes giving himself a mental kick. How could he have been so stupid. He had taken that call from Clay and hit the road without any explanation. He left you sleeping soundly in that hotel room with the intention to call you. Things had gone wrong on the run and he hadn't had a chance until today.

Tig remained silent as you worked. He didn't want to distract you and he wanted to make sure he had the right words. Once you started cleaning up he moved himself to a siting position. "You are more than a one nightstand to me. I didn't mean to hurt you. I forgot you don't get exactly how the club works, because you make me forget about all that bull shit when I'm with you." stated Tig as he grabbed your arm gently holding his eyes on yours. "I should have been more clear that night. "I want you. I understand though if you don't feel the same now" finished Tig as he gave you a soft smile.

Want more Tig? Click here

Want to see how to make your own request? Click here

#ravennasmasterlist #sons of anarchy #ravennasrequest #soa fanfiction #soa fanfic #alexander tig trager #tig trager #tig trager headcanon #tiggy #tig trager fanfic #alexander trager x reader

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lizandbo · 1 year

Text

Izuku and katsuki crushing on you hcs

katsuki

lawd have fuckin mercy💀🖐

Ohhh boy

Mans is in pure denial at first

Like oh maybe it’s for how admirable y/n is and that’s why I get so giddy whenever I see them lmao katsuki wishes

POOR BABY DOESNT KNOW WHAT TO DO BUT LIKE… WONT GO TO ANYONE???

like he perks up so fast when he hears your name

Or like whenever you said something you like or interested in something he tries to think about what he could do in that category of your interests

Bro I totally think he’s gonna be fucked up tho like…

After a while he comes to the conclusion he may PERHAPS semi really likes your everything about you ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

He’d get so mad at himself for acting like a ‘creepo’ even tho 99.9 of the human population has dealt with thinking and dreaming about a crush

In the worst places too

Maybe while in the shower too many times but we might not need to know that🤡

But like when y’all become friends and actually get to know each other he MIGHT ask you out

BUT BUT I HAVE A FEELING HE WOULDNT WANT TO

It’s like too embarrassing yk? And he also wants cherish the friendship he has with you:(

Sometimes he acts like an asshat but his acts of service makes up for it <3

Speaking of acts of service he would totally do shit without you even knowing

Like putting tape/sticky note writing your name on your leftovers in the fridge so it won’t get eaten

Making your favorite meal

Leaving your laundry folded on your bed while your out doing something

He’s petty enough to not put it in your wardrobe but alrighty

Feel like his bro Kirishima has to be his support dude yk

Always checking up on you through Kirishima

This mans ego…. Dude idek if it can get any bigger when you talk literally anything about him

But man does he get pissy af when you talk remotely anything negative bout em

He’d have this smug look kinda like at the music festival or some shit

like dis bad boi right here

BUT HES SO CUTE WHEN YOU CATCH HIM STARING AT YOU

which isn’t often but broooo he gets so red

Like a damn strawberry

Or a skinned squirrel

Who knows

Izuku

oh mah gah he’s so bad with crushes😫

Like he’s not even trying to crush on you

It just so happens to be crushing on you so hard that izuku might shit his pants whenever he sees you

He just a flustered little baby that’s all

Izuku just wants to kiss you but loses his shit whenever you go near him in a five feet radius

Everyone knows he has a crush on you

Like it’s so fucking obvious

Can’t hide his feelings for shit

Bros kinda a stalker ngl

But in a good way yk

He talks to allmight about it to see if he could help

Tries to point him in the right direction but he’s also a single as a Pringle so he don’t really know what he’s doing lol

He’s like those cheesy parents when having a ‘crush’ conversation

Later on izuku just kinda goes his own way

He takes down notes about you

Sometimes there are really really weird shit he notices

Just the random gestures, reactions and habits makes you wonder how in the actual hell did he learn this information??

One of the seven world wonders

Izuku himself is a world wonder💀

Anyways, he tries to accommodate your unspoken desires by small gestures

Like warming up a towel in the dryer right before you get out of the shower

Gets gift cards for your favorite places

Hands you a water if you don’t already have a drink

He’s just a thoughtful stalker /hj

Izuku doesn’t realize how personal his actions can be or how he mentions something that you do

He snitched on himself one too many times

It kinda made you suspect he had some feelings towards you

And when you questioned it bro went flying

You may never see him again

#lizandbo #mha #bnha #Izuku x reader #izuku #deku x reader #midoriya hcs #midoriya x reader #deku hcs #bakugo hcs #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #deku fluff #katsuki fluff #Katsuki hcs #katsuki x reader

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eclipseiz · 1 year

Text

𝐎𝐡 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐩

pairings : steve rogers/ you (raven)

synopsis : steve was tired of you not following directions

warnings : praise kink, possesive behavior, petnames (cap, baby), fingering, p in v intercourse, raw dogging

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“We have to be sharp tomorrow, this can go many ways, Raven.” Steve, your mission partner said from the other side of your shared hotel room.

Steve and yourself were sent to recon a boat suspected of holding stolen Shield weapons. Much to your distaste it was an overnight mission.

You shook your head clenching your fists before digging in your bag and pulling out a shiny black dress. You had to admit it was scandalous but it's the only party attire in your small closet back at home.

“Where the hell do you think you're going?” Steve asked with a raised brow, taking a seat on the bed.

Moving towards the bathroom you cracked the door so he could still hear your voice, “There's a bar downstairs i'm gonna check it out.”

Steve tried to pry his glare off the door but he couldn't, “We have an early morning I'd suggest otherwise.”

You pulled the door open, stepping out in the new attire, slipping on some old black heels, “I'm only gonna have a few drinks, survey the area.” you snapped at his authoritative tone, “I'll be back in a few hours.” Without waiting for his reply you pushed the door open and left without another word.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Sitting at the bar, one leg swung over the other you looked around at the other guests sitting at the bar and tables. Feeling a presence staring at you, you slowly moved your head to the side coming across a handsome man, “Why aren't you a darling thing.” he smiled, “Can I buy you a drink mam?” he drawled out in a southern accent.

Smirking, you rolled your chair to face his leaning figure, “That would be great. Gin martini.” you winked

Placing the order he sat down in the open seat next to you, “Now tell me what's a girl like you sitting here alone for? No boyfriends I gotta worry about, right?” he laughed.

You gave him a light smile, “Nope, just here on business. Thought id come and unwind a little.”

The man slowly leaned in, “I know some things other than alcohol that can help you relax.” he whispered his whisky breath fanning your face.

You winced, “I'm not really here for that.”

He pulled away, giving you a dirty look, “Then what the hell are you down here dressed like this for? Wanting to lead a guy on? Always the whores like you that-” a hand grabbed his shoulder in a tight grip.

“I suggest you don't finish that sentence.” Steve sneered in between clenched teeth, pulling the man from his chair, “Now what I want you to do is get out of here. Now.”

The man looked like he was going to say something but decided against it after seeing the size of Steve, he had no chance. Throwing cash onto the bar he shot you one last dirty glare before trucking out of the bar.

“Thank y-” you started but was quickly cut off.

“Get upstairs Raven.” he just said before walking back towards the exit. Slowly getting up you met him at the elevator moving inside the confined space

You turned towards him, “Why are you such a hard ass? I was trying to say thank you.”

Steve just shook his head gripping the bars of the elevator tighter, “Maybe if you listened when I told you not to go down there we could have avoided this. Now just shut up for christ sake.”

“Make me Steve,” you said warningly but before you knew it the emergency stop on the elevator was turning on as he caged you against the wall.

He grabbed your cheeks pushing them into one another while the other hand gripped your hip, “Wanna repeat that?”

You clenched your legs together at the desire brewing in the depths of your stomach, “I shad make meh.” you got out as best as possible between your squished cheeks. Steve met your lips in an angry kiss, moving his hands around to grab your ass, in a hard grip, “Am I your first kiss Stevie?” you teased out in a breathful whisper from between your lips.

He let out a dark chuckle, “No but you will be my last.” he smirked before pushing your dress to rest upon your hips, “No panties?” he asked in a raspy tone.

“Maybe I was hoping to get lucky," you joked before gasping out a moan as he used his finger to swirl around the wetness covering your cunt.

He dipped his middle finger into your entrance savoring the way you clenched around his thick finger, “All this for me baby?” he teased, adding a second finger.

All you could do was moan and try to ride his fingers but his hand on your hip didn't allow you to move, “Steve please.”

“Please what baby, cmon’ I know you can say it.” He started pumping his fingers in and out at a faster pace, curling them to hit your g-spot.

“Make me come Cap, please make me come.” you didn't even realize you slipped up before his fingers rushed a white wave around you, making your legs shake as you let out a moan.

“Fuck that was hot.” he said between clenched teeth before undoing his belt and pushing his pants to his ankle, you finished the job by pulling his hard cock from his boxers stroking the length. You went to drop to your knees but he stopped you, “No I have to be inside you when I come.”

Timidly nodding you watch he pushed your legs apart and set the tip of his cock at your entrance making you brace agaisnt the wall, “Fuck me like you hate me Cap.” you smiled from beneath hooded eyes.

“I plan to Raven.” he pushed all the way in making you both let out grunts and moans, “Who’s cock are you drunk off of hmm?” you asked as he began pounding into you, gripping your hips to meet you.

“You, only you Steve.” you moaned.

Steve pressed a finger agaisnt your clit making your pleasure peak as he sped up his thrusts, “That's right baby and as long as i'm around this is the only cock that can get you off.”

“Yes,yes,yes.” you absently squealed out as your second climax approached.

Feeling his balls tighten Steve clenched his teeth, “Come for me baby, you can do it.” you met your lips in a passionate kiss as you both reached your orgasms, letting yourselves to recover with a kiss before separating

He slipped out of you before pulling his boxers and pants back up, helping you with your dress, “Can you walk?” he asked as you wobbled when he clicked the emergency stop off.

You held on the railing but nodded knowing that was far from the truth, in return he picked you up bridal style, “Steve let me go.” you giggled out as he pushed into your room.

“Never baby.” he smiled before kissing you.

Lets just say that was the best mission you and Steve had completed together.

#steve rodgers x y/n #steve rodgers smut #steve rodgers #captain america #tony stark #bucky barnes #marvel smut #chris evans #marvel

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