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gingersnap-17 · 8 months

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Unexpected (Sukuna x Female Reader)

Hello everyone! Okay, I know that Sukuna literally reigned terror over practically everyone when he was a human in his human form. BUT, I feel like he is just a softie towards his lover and child. So that is pretty much what I wrote today! I also tried to find the artist to give them credit for the cover art, but I couldn't' find anything. Full credit goes to the artist of course! I hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: After being Sukuna's preffered concubine for almost a year now, Y/N starts to notice some changes going on with her body. She knew what this meant, and knew she had to tell Sukuna about what is going on.

Word Count: 2052

In the dark and twisted world where sorcerers and curses roamed, Y/N found herself in a peculiar and perilous situation. She was a concubine, living a life of luxury within the grand, ominous palace of Ryomen Sukuna, the king of curses. Sukuna was feared and loathed by all who knew of him. With his two faces, four arms, and a mouth on his stomach, he was a symbol of terror on Earth, known for his merciless cruelty.

Yet, Y/N was different. She was his favorite, though no one could ever understand why. Sukuna would often call her to his chamber, spending hours in her company. It was as if a glimmer of humanity remained buried beneath the layers of his demonic exterior. Y/N knew better than to resist her role as his favored concubine, for disobedience often meant death. But as the weeks passed, Y/N felt a strange and sudden unease.

The first sign of change came when she realized her body was not quite as predictable as it had been. The morning sickness, the fatigue, and the subtle changes to her body all pointed to one conclusion – she was with child, and the father was none other than Sukuna himself.

As she ventured into his chambers one evening, her heart pounded with anxiety. He sat on a lavish throne, crowned in arrogance. His red eyes met hers, and he noticed the worry etched across her face.

"What troubles you, my dear?" Sukuna inquired, his voice as cool and dangerous as ever.

"I... I have news, Lord Sukuna," Y/N stuttered, attempting to maintain her composure. "I am with child." Sukuna's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his monstrous features. The room seemed to grow colder as an eerie silence settled over them. Y/N couldn't help but feel a shiver run down her spine.

For a moment, she feared the worst, that his anger would flare up like an inferno, that he would blame her for this unexpected turn of events. But then, something unexpected happened. His lips, both the one on his face and the other on his stomach, twisted into an unsettling smile.

"You're carrying my child?" Sukuna's voice held an inexplicable mix of amusement and curiosity.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yes, my Lord. It is your child, a gift from our time together."

Sukuna's laughter echoed through the chamber, a haunting sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Well, well," he mused, "this is most intriguing. It seems fate has woven a different path for us, my dear concubine."

She couldn't fathom his reaction. What did he mean by "a different path"? Did he intend to harm her or the child? The rumors about his cruelty raced through her mind, but his next words caught her off guard.

"From this day forward," Sukuna declared, "you shall no longer be just my favored concubine. You shall be the mother of my heir, and my wife. I will get rid of the other concubines as soon as I can."

Y/N was stunned, her mind struggling to grasp the magnitude of what Sukuna had just said. Becoming his wife and the mother of his heir was a fate she could never have imagined. She had heard of the power and ruthlessness of the Cursed King, but this turn of events was beyond her wildest dreams, or nightmares.

"Lord Sukuna, I... I am honored by your decree." Y/N managed to say, her voice quivering. Her thoughts raced, and she couldn't help but wonder what had brought about this dramatic change in the notorious sorcerer.

Sukuna's demeanor shifted as he looked at her, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. "You are different from the others, Y/N. You possess a unique strength that intrigues me. You've not only survived but managed to capture my heart in your own way. I am curious to see how this new chapter in our lives unfolds."

As Y/N tried to wrap her mind around the astonishing twist of fate, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. Fear still lingered in her heart, for Sukuna's reputation was not one that could be easily forgotten. His sudden declaration to make her his wife and the mother of his heir was both a blessing and a curse. She knew she had gained a measure of protection, but she also recognized that her life had become infinitely more complicated.

Over the following months, as her pregnancy progressed, Y/N's relationship with Sukuna underwent a gradual transformation. He showed a surprising tenderness and protectiveness toward her, which left her both relieved and confused. The other concubines, who had once been her rivals, were swiftly removed from the palace, their fates unknown. Sukuna's sole focus was on Y/N and their unborn child.

Not only did she recognize his change, but she noticed a change in herself towards him. She had fallen for the strange man. Obviously before she became pregnant she had some sort of feelings for him, but this was different. She felt that this could have been love. Was it even possible to love the king of curses?

As the months passed and her belly grew round with the child of Sukuna, Y/N's feelings for the Cursed King deepened. She found herself captivated not only by his power and enigmatic nature but by the glimpses of vulnerability he occasionally revealed. Despite his terrifying reputation, she saw in him a complex soul, and she couldn't help but empathize with his struggle to balance his monstrous identity with the spark of humanity that still flickered within him.

Their relationship became more than a mere arrangement of convenience. They spent hours talking, sharing their hopes and fears, and gradually, the walls that had separated them began to crumble. Y/N saw moments of gentleness in Sukuna, moments when he would softly caress her growing belly, whispering endearing words to their unborn child. She realized that, like anyone else, he longed for connection and love, something that had been denied to him for so long due to his horrifying appearance and terrifying powers.

Y/N's once-terrifying life as a concubine had turned into something unexpected and complicated. She was no longer just a plaything of the Cursed King; she had become his confidant, his companion, and now, the mother of his child. As she considered the strange turn of events, she wondered if her love for him was mutual. Did Sukuna truly care for her beyond their unborn child, or was this newfound affection merely a consequence of her pregnancy?

One fateful night, as they sat together in his chamber, Y/N decided to broach the subject that had been weighing heavily on her mind. She watched him, her heart racing, as she gathered the courage to speak. "Sukuna, I can't help but wonder about your feelings for me. This change in our relationship, it's... unexpected. Do you love me, or is this solely because of our child?"

Sukuna, the Cursed King, regarded her with his distinctive dual gaze. His red eyes bore into hers as if searching for something deep within her soul. The room was bathed in an eerie silence, broken only by the distant howling of the wind outside.

Finally, he spoke, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity that she had never heard from him before. "Y/N, what we have is complicated. I am not like other men, and you know that. But since the moment you told me you were carrying my child, something has awakened within me. I can't deny that I feel a connection, a bond, that goes beyond mere duty or convenience."

Y/N's heart leaped at his words, her eyes glistening with a mix of hope and uncertainty. She had never expected to hear such vulnerability from the feared sorcerer.

Sukuna continued, his voice softening even further. "I may not fully understand what love means, for it is a concept foreign to my nature. But I do know that I care for you deeply, Y/N, and I want to protect both you and our child. That much, I am certain of."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she heard his heartfelt confession. In that moment, she realized that the man known as the Cursed King, feared by all, had a heart that could feel, even if he struggled to comprehend it fully. She leaned in, her hand gently reaching for his, and their fingers intertwined.

"Thank you, Sukuna." she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "I care for you too, and I want to be with you, not just as the mother of your child but as your partner, your confidant, and your love."

Sukuna's dual-faced smile returned, a rare and genuine one. He brought her hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on it. "Then, my dear Y/N, let us navigate this strange and perilous world together, as partners, as parents, and perhaps one day, as lovers. If that is what we become at some point." Those words gave Y/N hope for the future with him.

As the last few months of Y/N's pregnancy approached, the bond between Y/N and Sukuna only deepened. Their love was a complex, extraordinary force that defied the dark and twisted world they inhabited. Their child was a symbol of hope, a testament to the possibility of light even in the darkest of places.

On a stormy night, Y/N went into labor, and the estate was in chaos. Sukuna, who had never witnessed such an event, stood by her side, both anxious and determined. The sound of her painful cries filled the room, which worried Sukuna as her labor progressed. He was used to the sight of death, but the sight of life happening before his eyes, made him awestruck at the beauty of labor.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N sighed in relief as the cries of a newborn filled the air, echoing through the chamber. Y/N held their child, a tiny being that was so fragile and new in the world.

She looked up at Sukuna who had stayed almost silent during the whole thing, hoping he would say something.

Sukuna, the Cursed King, gazed down at the child in Y/N's arms with a mixture of awe and tenderness. His four eyes, were fixed on the newborn, and for a moment, it seemed as though the world had disappeared, leaving only the small family in that chamber.

For all his terrifying power and monstrous appearance, Sukuna was utterly captivated by the sight of his child. He carefully reached out to hold the child, and Y/N gently handed their son to him. The baby grasped one of his father's finger with a tiny, delicate hand, and the Cursed King's lips curled into a rare and gentle smile.

"He has my extra pair of arms." Sukuna said, releasing a soft chuckle, his voice filled with wonder. “He does seem to have my hair, but he does have your face.”

Y/N watched the father and son with tears of joy in her eyes. It was a moment of profound beauty in the midst of their dark and twisted world. She had never imagined that she would be sharing such an intimate and heartwarming moment with Sukuna, the most feared sorcerer of their time.

As the hours passed, Sukuna and Y/N took turns cradling and caring for their newborn. Their love for each other and their child grew stronger with each passing moment. They named their son Kaito, signifying a new beginning, a departure from the cursed legacy of the past.

As the two raised their child overtime, Sukuna was technically a changed man… for them at least. He still killed and reigned terror as he pleased, but the second he would return home to his wife and son, he showed his deep care and genuine love (as much as he hates to admit it) to them. Sukuna might be the king of curses, but he has a special place in his heart saved for who he calls his family.

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queenshelby · 4 months

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The Basement (Part One)

Pairing: Dark Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Dub-Con, CNC, Smut

It was a Thursday evening when you found yourself standing amidst the artfully crafted chaos of your new exhibition opening in Dublin. The scent of expensive cologne and the hum of excited chatter filled the air, accompanied by the occasional clink of glasses raised in celebration.

You had been working there for a year now and your heart raced, palpitating with the anticipation of meeting your favorite actor tonight who was said to appear at the event according to one of your acquaintances and fellow artists.

As you surveyed the crowd, you couldn't help but feel giddy at the thought of finally meeting him. It was a dream come true and you wanted to shake his hand, look into those icy blue eyes, and express how much his work meant to you ever since you began watching him in Peaky Blinders.

But the crowd seemed to grow thicker, and you began to lose hope of getting close enough for a proper introduction.

That's when you saw him standing across the room, wearing a black suit. His slightly greying hair framed his face like a soft halo and those striking eyes were unmistakable, even from meters away. And then there was his smile, slightly crooked, as if to suggest a naughty secret just waiting to be told.

The moment your eyes met, he locked onto you, his gaze penetrating straight through to your soul.

He had obviously noticed you starring at him like some obsessive little girl, unable to take your eyes off his enticing form.

It was a strange feeling, being seen by him like that; it felt like he could see right through you, past every layer of facade you hid behind.

Taking up the courage to introduce yourself to him, you carefully made your way over to where he stood.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," you offered hesitantly, holding out your hand in greeting. "I work here and I am a huge fan of your work," you quickly added, hoping to sound professional enough for the occasion but failing miserably in doing so.

Cillian took your hand gently, his touch sending goosebumps racing up your arm. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N," he said warmly, his voice deep and soothing. "I've heard great things about this place. It's truly inspiring work," he complimented, gesturing towards the stunning art pieces surrounding you both.

You blushed at the praise, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"Are you one of the collaborators?" he then asked and you nodded awkwardly. "Yes, I do the photography," you answered shyly, pointing to a series of surreal landscapes adorning the walls nearby. Cillian's eyes widened with genuine interest upon seeing your work hung proudly beside the paintings of renowned artists.

A gentle smile crept across his lips as he studied each image intently before offering a genuine compliment. "Beautiful," he murmured softly, looking up at you with admiration in his eyes. "I can only imagine what inspired you to create such ethereal visuals."

Your cheeks turned a rosy pink, your nervousness intensifying under his praise. "Thank you," you stammered, struggling to muster the confidence to continue speaking so you took a big sip of your wine instead.

Cillian smiled down at you encouragingly, watching you as you nervously toyed with the hem of your dress. "How long have you been working here?" he asked conversationally, moving closer to you.

"About a year now," you replied, taking another swig of your drink. The alcohol gave you a bit more courage to speak freely while he reached for another glass of wine from the waiter walking by and handing it to you.

"And do you enjoy it?" he then questioned, turning back to you with curious gleam in his eye.

"Working here? Well, sometimes it feels a bit overwhelming, but yes, I do," you admitted truthfully, shrugging sheepishly.

"It looks like a lot of hard work goes into it," he acknowledged, nodding appreciatively.

"It does but it is fun too. I get to meet a lot of interesting people, like you," you responded, smiling nervously.

Cillian chuckled quietly, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Well, I don't think I am that interesting, but thank you," he said as he leaned in closer, his hushed voice.

"Well, I think you are and you are, uhm... well I really liked you in Peaky Blinders," you stammered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Tommy has this kind of darkness about him and it is very attractive I think," you laughed self-consciously, suddenly realizing how much you had to drink.

Cillian's eyes sparkled with mischief as he grinned knowingly. "Oh, so Thomas Shelby is attractive to you, huh?" he teased, his voice dropping low and seductive. "Well, I guess I should be flattered then, shouldn't I?"

"I didn't mean it that way!" you gasped, shaking your head suddenly.

"No?" he drawled, his tone dripping with teasing malice. "What exactly did you mean, then?" Cillian wanted to know.

Your cheeks reddened further as you glanced around, trying to hide your mortification. "I just meant that you portray Tommy so well that I find myself drawn to him," you muttered under your breath.

"Interesting," Cillian mused, studying you carefully. "So, does that mean that you feel drawn to me too?" Cillian teased playfully, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no, not at all!" you sputtered, laughing nervously.

"No?" he asked mischievously. "That's a shame," he teased, winking slyly. "Because I wouldn't have minded having someone like join me at my hotel room later tonight," he suggested nonchalantly, leaning in closer until his lips brushed against your ear.

You gasped, stunned by his bold proposition. "What?" you spluttered, jerking back from him in shock. "Are you serious?"

Cillian smirked, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Yes, although you would have to agree to sign an NDA before I take you there," he added, winking slyly.

You stared at him, wide-eyed, processing his offer. It was like a dream come true and even though you had never slept with anyone before, you agreed to his proposal.

The idea of spending the night with Cillian Murphy was irresistible, intoxicating even. You knew the risks involved, but at that moment, nothing mattered more than fulfilling the fantasy you had nurtured inside you all these years.

"Alright," you managed to whisper, swallowing hard as you watched Cillian finish up his drink.

"Good then lets get out of here," he whispered back, flashing you a wicked grin and, soon after that, you stepped outside, the cold night air hit you, instantly sobering you up. You couldn't believe this was happening. You were going to a hotel room with Cillian Murphy. But as the reality sunk in, you started to feel anxious about losing your virginity to someone you didn't even know.

When you arrived at the hotel room half an hour later, Cillian made you sign the NDA and, soon after you did, you found yourself pressed against the door, his hot breath fanning your neck and his hands already starting to explore your body.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," he murmured reassuringly, kissing your neck tenderly as he sensed your nervousness.

"You want this, don't you?" he whispered, sliding his hands beneath your shirt, caressing your skin. "Just say the word, and we can stop," he reassured you but you simply moaned softly, arching your back as his fingers touched the sensitive spot between your shoulder blades.

Despite the lingering doubts in your mind, you couldn't deny the intense desire coursing through your veins. You wanted him, needed him.

"I don't want to stop," you whimpered, clutching at the fabric covering his chest.

Cillian smirked down at you, his eyes dark and glittering with lust.

"Good girl," he cooed, running his thumb along your jawline. "Now, tell me Y/N, will you let me do whatever I want with you tonight?"

You swallowed thickly, your pulse thrumming wildly in your throat. "Whatever you want, Cillian," you breathed, clinging tighter to his shoulders.

"Really?" he murmured, trailing kisses along your jawline.

You shivered, feeling a thrill of excitement course through you. "Yeah, whatever you want," you assured him, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his soft hair.

"Good," Cillian groaned as, with a devious grin, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and hungry for more.

"Now I want you to undress for me," he commanded, his voice soft yet commanding. His eyes held a playful glint that belied the power they exuded.

Slowly, you slipped off your heels first, letting them fall silently to the floor. With every step you took back, you became spellbound by his gaze, entranced by the magnetism oozing from his presence.

Your heart pounded in your chest, as you untied the knot holding your dress together, allowing it to slip gracefully from your shoulders.

The thin fabric pooled around your feet, leaving you standing naked before Cillian. Your bare skin prickled with anticipation, knowing that he had complete control over you.

"Your panties too," Cillian purred, the edge of his mouth curling into a devilish smirk.

Eyes fixed on his mesmerizing gaze, you hesitated for a brief second before pulling away your panties. The feeling of utter vulnerability washed over you like a tidal wave, yet something within you embraced the sensation.

"Perfect," Cillian murmured approvingly, his eyes raking over your nude form hungrily. "Now, stand still for me."

You obeyed, standing stiffly as he circled around you like a predator assessing its prey.

Cillian traced his index finger along your collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth.

"You're beautiful, Y/N," he murmured, his eyes traveling downwards to admire your curvy hips tapering into your waist. "So fucking gorgeous."

His words ignited a fire within you, and with each passing second, your nerves began to calm down. This was it. The culmination of everything you ever fantasized about.

Cillian stepped back to take off his shirt, revealing a lean torso.

The sight made your mouth go dry, and you almost forgot to breathe.

He moved closer, running his hand up along your inner thigh, sending shivers down your spine.

"Drop to your knees Y/N," he ordered, his voice low and gravelly. You hesitated for a moment, but his insistent gaze compelled you to follow his command.

Once on your knees, you looked up at him, his eyes burning with desire, his erection straining against his pants. You reached out, unbuttoning his jeans.

He groaned softly as you slipped the zipper down, freeing his cock from its confines. You gasped at the sight before you - thick, veiny, and throbbing with need.

"Look at me," Cillian demanded, placing his hands on your shoulders roughly. Your eyes lifted towards him, meeting his fiery gaze. "Tell me how much you want this."

"I want this. I want this a lot," you managed to utter, biting your lip nervously.

"Good girl," Cillian praised, his grip tightening on your shoulders. "Now, show me. Take my cock in to your mouth," he demanded and you hesitated for a moment, staring at the swollen tip of his cock. The urge to wrap your lips around it was overwhelming, but you also felt uneasy about the unknown territory you were treading.

Still, the prospect of pleasing Cillian thrilled you, and you leaned forward, your tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock.

Cillian groaned loudly, his grip tightening on your shoulders. "That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice hoarse with raw lust. "Take your time, taste me."

His request spurred you on, and you opened your mouth wider, taking the head of his cock between your lips.

You sucked lightly, savoring the taste of him, your heart pounding in rhythm with the intensity of the moment.

"Suck me harder," Cillian growled, his hands grasping your hair tightly as he thrust deeper into your mouth.

You complied, applying more force, reveling in the sensation of his cock pulsing against your tongue. You felt empowered, desired, and utterly submissive. The combination was intoxicating.

Cillian continued to guide you, coaching you through every stroke, praising your efforts with guttural moans and sighs of pleasure.

"That's it, Y/N," he coaxed, threading his fingers through your hair. "Fuck, you're good with your mouth."

You struggled to catch your breath, your lungs heaving in the silence of the dimly lit room. Each word, each gesture, served to fuel the growing tension between you two.

You tasted Cillian's precum, tangy and salty, arousing you further.

Your inhibitions vanished, replaced by a raw hunger for his approval.

"You're doing great," Cillian murmured, his grip tightening on your hair. "I want you to take me deeper, okay?"

You eagerly bobbed your head, engulfing his length greedily. The heat building between you threatened to combust.

"God, you're amazing," Cillian groaned, bucking his hips.

"Open wide for me now, sweetheart," he instructed, gripping your hair tightly in his fist.

You followed his order, parting your lips and sucking harder.

As you deepthroated him, Cillian's hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against your lips.

The smell of sweat combined with the faint smell of alcohol, created a unique scent that aroused you further.

"Ah, fuck," Cillian cried out, his hand tightening on your scalp.

"Keep going," he encouraged, his voice strained with effort.

You obliged, loving the taste of him.

Cillian's cock grew thicker in your mouth, his hardness becoming even more pronounced. You could sense his pleasure and it drove you wild.

"I will cum down your throat now and I want you to be a good girl and swallow it all," Cillian declared.

His voice had a stern authority that sent shivers down your spine.

Nervous excitement surged through you as you prepared for the inevitable.

"Okay," you managed to whisper, your heart drumming in your chest.

Cillian placed his hands on your cheekbones, his thumbs stroking your temples soothingly.

"Relax," he urged, his voice softer now. "Let it happen."

You took a deep breath, clenching your fists tight, readying yourself for the sensation.

Cillian's breathing became labored, and you could tell he was on the brink of release.

"Here it comes," he warned, his voice strained. "Swallow every drop baby."

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest.

With a final warning glance, Cillian exploded, filling your mouth with his seed. You gagged reflexively, but you remembered his warning. Swallowing hard, you forced the semen down your throat, tasting the bitterness of his essence.

Cillian sighed heavily, releasing your hair and caressing your head tenderly.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice laced with satisfaction. "You handled that beautifully."

You sat back on your heels, panting heavily, your senses reeling from the intense encounter. "Thanks," you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "I tried my best."

Cillian smiled down at you, his eyes sparkling with pride. "You exceeded my expectations," he praised, cupping your chin before pulling you up to stand on your feet again. "Now it is time to see how tight you are," he announced, his voice husky with anticipation. "So why don't you climb on to the bed for me. I want to fuck you from behind so that I can watch my cock slide in and out of your pussy," Cillian murmured huskily, his gaze burning with lust.

You hesitated briefly, unsure of what to do. You'd never done anything like this before and the fear of not being able to match Cillian's expectations loomed large. However, the thought of experiencing something you'd only dreamed about pushed you forward.

"Okay," you responded, climbing onto the king-sized bed. The mattress sank beneath your weight, enveloping you in a cloud of softness.

You turned around, facing the mirrored wall opposite the bed, watching yourself in the reflection. The bedside lamp cast a soft glow on your skin, illuminating the flush of arousal creeping up your cheeks.

Cillian climbed onto the bed behind you, his movements confident and assertive. You watched him pull a condom from the bedside table drawer, expertly rolling it onto his erect cock before discarding the wrapper on the floor.

He then reached forward, assessing your wetness with a fingertip. You arched your back in response while Cillian gripped your hips firmly.

"I want you to stay like this," he instructed, positioning your legs apart. "Ready for me?" he asked as the anticipation built within you, your heart pounding with trepidation and excitement.

"Yes," you managed to squeak, biting your lip as you waited for him to enter you.

You could feel his heated breath on your neck, and the anticipation of his entry filled you with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

Cillian positioned himself behind you, aligning his cock with your entrance. You braced yourself, anticipating the invasion of his massive member.

"I am going to stretch you open now, Y/N," Cillian murmured in your ear, his words vibrating against your skin as you felt his hands grip your hips firmly, anchoring you in place.

Then, with a single swift motion, he thrust deeply into you, stretching you open, causing tears to spring to your eyes from the sudden intrusion. You suppressed a scream while pushing your face against the pillow while Cillian pumped into you.

"You're so tight," he groaned, thrusting faster, deeper, relentlessly driving into you, his cock burrowing into your core, filling you completely.

It was painful but knowing who he was and that you were pleasing him somehow numbed the discomfort.

"Does it hurt?" he murmured, sounding genuinely concerned, his voice cracking slightly.

"No," you lied unconvincingly, your voice quivering. "Not really."

"Good," he grunted, continuing his relentless assault on your body. "Because I'm enjoying this and I am going to make you mine," he declared, grabbing your hips more tightly, guiding your movement with his firm hands. You gasped as he slammed into you, his cock hitting the deepest parts of you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You fought the urge to cry out as he mercilessly fucked you, his thrusts deep and unrelenting.

"Good girl. Keep taking my cock," Cillian groaned, his voice muffled.

He grabbed your hips roughly, forcing you to arch back against him, and you moaned softly, unable to resist the pleasure he offered.

"So tight," he murmured, pumping into you harder.

"Can you feel my cock stretching you open?" Cillian murmured, his voice heavy with lust.

You winced, your muscles tensing, but nodded weakly, unwilling to break the spell that Cillian had woven around you.

"Good," he groaned, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back into you with renewed vigor. "I want you to cum for me, Y/N."

His words jolted you, stirring a strange sensation within you. You'd never experienced anything quite like this before, overwhelmed by the mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through your body.

The fear of disappointing Cillian fueled your determination to satisfy him, despite the discomfort.

"Do you like that?" Cillian murmured, his voice deepening as he buried his cock inside you multiple times. "Feel my cock stretching you open."

Your heart raced, pounding against your ribcage like a frenzied beast. You moaned softly, struggling to contain the mounting desire raging within you.

"Yeah, that's right," Cillian growled, punctuating each thrust with a sharp yank of your hair.

"Scream for me, baby."

You whimpered, your cries echoing in the silent room. Every brutal thrust of his cock stretched you open, driving you toward the precipice of orgasm until, finally, you could not take anymore.

You screamed, your voice reverberating through the room as your orgasm washed over you, consuming you whole.

"Yes, that's it," Cillian murmured, his voice strained and desperate. "Come for me, Y/N."

You thrashed beneath him, writhing uncontrollably as he pummeled your depths, milking your release. Your screams echoed in the silence, as the sheer force of your orgasm shook you. You cried out, your voice raw and hoarse.

The pleasure consumed you, obliterating any lingering fears or doubts.

Cillian continued to pump into you, his cock relentless as it plundered your depths. You clawed at the sheets, your nails digging into the fabric as you surrendered to the exquisite torment until, suddenly, he withdrew and quickly removed the condom.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice strained yet commanding as he pumped his cock with his hand.

You complied, turning to face him, your chest heaving with exertion.

"Open your mouth," Cillian said, his voice low and gruff. You parted your lips obediently, exposing your moistened flesh beneath his scrutiny.

"I will cum inside your mouth again, so open wide," Cillian murmured, his words laden with intent.

With a practiced twist of his wrist, he aimed his pulsating shaft directly at your waiting mouth. The head of his cock swelled, eager to be welcomed inside.

"Good girl," he groaned. "Here it comes," Cillian jerked his hand, unleashing a stream of cum straight into your mouth. You gagged, choking on the warm liquid as it filled your mouth.

"Swallow it," he barked, his voice strained with lust. "Every last drop."

You coughed as the thick substance filled your mouth, and you wondered if you'd ever forget the flavor of Cillian's essence as you gulped it down.

Your heart thumped erratically in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins like a drug. As you lay on the rumpled sheets, the remnants of ecstasy and exhaustion pulsed through every fiber of your being.

"That was quite something," Cillian murmured, tracing light patterns on your arm with his fingertips. "But I must admit, I'm surprised by your eagerness to please me. I did not expect such obedience from anyone really."

You shrugged uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. "Well, I must admit, I had my fair share of wet dreams about you so I really wanted to please you," you replied, hoping your answer sounded casual enough. "And it's not everyday you get to sleep with a famous actor."

Cillian chuckled softly, leaning in close to kiss your cheek.

"Hmm, you know what I have been fantasizing about?" Cillian mused, brushing some hair away from your face and kissing your forehead lightly. "I've been fantasizing about keeping someone like you at my house for a few weeks. Someone who agrees to let me do whatever I want to her. Someone I can use every day for my pleasure," Cillian explained as he traced a gentle pattern on your arm with his fingertips, his eyes locked on yours. "Would that interest you?"

You hesitated, your heart fluttering at the idea. "Well, I don't know..." you trailed off, trying to sound nonchalant. "I mean, I guess I'd consider it."

Cillian smiled mysteriously, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous sparkle. "Good," he said, his voice dropping low and seductive. "I get my assistant to send you a contract then. You can read it, see if you are okay with thee terms and then we can make arrangements," Cillian suggested, his tone hinting at an excited undercurrent.

You blinked, your mind racing with possibilities. The idea of spending a few weeks with Cillian, submitting to his desires, seemed both terrifying and thrilling. "Sure, I'd love to see the contract," you agreed meekly, secretly yearning for the opportunity to spend more time with him.

"Good," Cillian grinned, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Although, you better think it though thoroughly, Y/N. It involves me doing things to you which you may not necessarily enjoy," Cillian said, his voice deep and resonant. "I won't ask for your consent or permission during every encounter. You will be in some pain and you will most defiantly be sore. And most importantly, you'll be in my house, with no contact with the outside world whatsoever during our arrangement," Cillian told you matter-of-factly, as he ran his fingers gently down your arm.

Tags: @ietss @thorins-queen-of-erebor @cilliansbabe @calmingmelody96 @lavender-haze-01 @febris-amatoria @cursedalchemist

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

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chuuyrr · 3 months

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𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 LET THE FEAR YOU HAVE FALL AWAY, I'VE GOT MY EYE ON YOU — FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY .ᐟ

𐀔·˚ CW(s): f! reader, bsd chapter 112 & 113 spoilers, religious themes, angst/comfort, reader is hinted to have an angel-like ability, poetic-ish writing

𐀔·˚ SYNOPSIS: like lucifer's descent from heaven's height, he fell and you followed

𐀔·˚ NOW PLAYING: say yes to heaven by lana del rey

in the grand halls of the museum, where the walls were adorned with masterpieces of art from centuries past, you first caught sight of him—fyodor dostoevsky, with his magnetic presence and mysterious aura, stood before a painting, his gaze fixed on the canvas as if it held the secrets of the universe.

amidst the splendor of renaissance masterpieces and timeless classics, you stood, a vision of innocence and wonder, your eyes drawn to the enigmatic figure across the room.

despite the warnings whispered by your intuition, you couldn't resist the urge to approach him, couldn't ignore the magnetic pull that seemed to bind you to him amidst the strokes of paint and layers of history.

fyodor continues to gaze upon the famous religious painting that hung on the far wall, depicting the fall of lucifer from heaven's height, "it's a hauntingly beautiful piece, isn't it?" you muse, your eyes lingering on the intricate details of the canvas.

he nods, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips, his eyes not leaving the painting, "indeed, it is. it captures the tragedy of lucifer's descent, his fall from grace immortalized in paint and canvas."

"and yet," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, "i cannot help but feel a strange kinship with him, with the fallen angel who defied the heavens for love."

fyodor's gaze shifts from the painting to you, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of curiosity and understanding as you continue speaking, "you know, love has a way of defying the rules of the universe."

he murmurs his response, fyodor's voice carrying a weight of experience beyond his years, "it can lead us to places we never imagined, make us do things we never thought ourselves capable of."

you nod, captivated by the intensity of his gaze, "and yet, it can also lead to our downfall," you reply softly, a hint of sadness tingling your words. "like the fallen angel, we may find ourselves cast out from the heavens, destined to wander in the darkness for eternity."

"but perhaps," fyodor muses, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet carrying something heavy in it, "it is in the darkness that we truly find ourselves; in the depths of despair."

you are silent for a moment, lost in thought as you contemplate his words, "say, do you believe that we can find redemption, even after falling from grace?" you ask, your voice hesitant yet hopeful.

your question hangs in the air, a weighty silence settling between you and fyodor. his gaze, once warm and reassuring, now holds a hint of uncertainty, as if grappling with the complexities of your inquiry.

"redemption," he repeats, the word tasting bitter on his tongue, "a concept that eludes even the most devout of believers. for who among us can claim to be free from sin, to be worthy of redemption?"

you listen, your heart heavy with the weight of his words. there is a darkness in him that you cannot ignore, a shadow that clouds his every action and motive.

"and yet," fyodor continues, his voice softer now, almost pleading, "i cannot help but believe that there is hope for us yet. that despite our flaws and failings, we are capable of finding that salvation.. don't you think so, dear?"

you want to believe him, to cling to the flicker of hope that he offers, but doubts linger in the recesses of your mind. can redemption truly be found in the embrace of someone so steeped in darkness?

as you wrestle with your doubts, fyodor reaches out, his hand gentle against your cheek, his touch cold as ice, yet inviting like snow, "together," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil in your soul, "we can redeem ourselves, and find peace."

his words are a siren song, luring you deeper into the abyss. and though a part of you knows that following him will only lead to further darkness, you find yourself unable to resist.

for in the presence of this stranger, you feel a sense of purpose, and so, with a heavy heart and a mind clouded by doubt, you choose to follow him into the unknown, clinging to the hope that somehow, you will find the light at the end of the tunnel.

fyodor knew, as he gazed into your eyes, that you possessed a power beyond measure. it was an ability born of innocence and purity, yet tempered by the trials of the world. he saw the light that radiated from your soul, a beacon of hope in the darkness that surrounded him.

and you, in turn, sensed the darkness that lurked within him, the shadowy depths of his being that he kept hidden from the world. but despite the warnings whispered by your intuition, you couldn't resist the pull of his presence, couldn't deny the longing that stirred within your heart whenever you were near him.

in shadows deep, where whispers weave,

two souls entwined, in love's deceitful sieve.

you, the angel with wings of gold,

he, the fallen, his secrets untold.

despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, you find yourself inexorably drawn to fyodor, like a moth to a flame. his charisma and conviction are like a siren's call, beckoning you deeper into the abyss of his twisted ideology.

as he speaks of blessings for the children and happiness to the world to your ears, you can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine. his words, laced with honeyed deceit, cloak the darkness of his actions in the guise of righteousness.

and yet, when he speaks of god and his desire for perfection and harmony, there is a fervor in his voice that is hard to ignore. he paints himself as a righteous crusader, a chosen vessel for carrying out the lord's will in a world plagued by sin.

but beneath the facade of piety lies a darkness that you cannot reconcile. you see the cruelty in his actions, the pain he inflicts on innocent souls in the name of his twisted version of salvation—from the rats in the house of the dead to the decay of angel. all of it.

his words offer a glimmer of hope in the darkness that surrounds you, but deep down, you can't shake the feeling of unease. you've witnessed the cruelty he inflicts upon others, the pain he causes in the name of his twisted vision of righteousness, along with the lives he took from others.

"what about those who suffer because of your actions?" you press, your voice quivering with emotion as your feathered wings of an angel folded behind your back, red splattered on white as if it was red blood and white snow, "do you believe they can find redemption too?"

fyodor's expression darkens for a moment, a shadow passing over his features before he regains his composure, "sometimes, sacrifices must be made for the greater good," he replies, his voice cold and distant, "it is a small price to pay for the salvation of humanity."

you recoil at his words, the weight of his callousness pressing down on you like a leaden blanket. despite your doubts, despite the whispers of your conscience urging you to flee, you find yourself unable to turn away from him.

feeling the weight of your doubts and fears, fyodor's expression softens, and he reaches out to gently take your hand in his. his touch is cold, a strange yet comforting contrast to the warmth that had settled over your soul.

"my dear," he begins, his voice gentle and reassuring, "i understand your concerns. it's natural to question, to doubt, in the face of uncertainty. but trust me when i say that everything i do, i do with the utmost conviction, with the belief that it is for the greater good."

his words soothe the turmoil in your heart, if only for a moment. you find yourself drawn to the sincerity in his eyes, the earnestness of his conviction. despite the darkness that surrounds him, there is a flicker of something genuine within him, a spark of humanity that refuses to be extinguished—his love for you.

"and as for those who suffer," he continues, his voice filled with compassion, "know that i carry the burden of their pain with me always. it is a heavy cross to bear, but i do so willingly, in the hope of bringing about a better world."

as he speaks, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, a quiet acceptance of the path that lies ahead. in his embrace, you find solace, a refuge from the storm raging within your soul and as he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, you feel a warmth spread through you.

as the warmth of fyodor's embrace envelops you, you can't shake the nagging doubts that linger in the corners of your mind. despite his reassurances, you still can't help but wonder if the path you're on truly leads to redemption or if it's veering dangerously close to damnation.

and then, just when you least expect it, fyodor's gaze locks onto yours with an intensity that takes your breath away, "do you love me?" he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, but it reverberates through the depths of your soul like a thunderclap.

his question catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. you find yourself drowning in the depths of his gaze, lost in the swirling currents of emotion that swirl within you.

it's as if he's pulling you in, drawing you closer with an irresistible allure that you can't resist. like a fallen angel tempting a pure soul yet to succumb to darkness, he wraps you in his embrace, his touch setting your heart ablaze with a fire you can't extinguish.

speechless at first, you find yourself caught in the gravity of fyodor's deep gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from his. his words echo in the caverns of your mind, stirring a whirlwind of emotions that threaten to consume you.

but fyodor doesn't wait for your response. instead, he continues, his voice a soothing melody that wraps around you like a comforting embrace.

"let your fear fall away, my love," he whispers, his words a gentle reassurance against the storm raging within your soul, "i am here for you, always. trust in me, trust in our love, and together we will rise above the darkness that threatens to engulf us."

his words are like a lifeline in the midst of a tempest, offering you solace and strength when you need it most. and as you gaze into his eyes, you feel a sense of calm wash over you, a quiet acceptance of the path that lies ahead.

"do you love me?" fyodor asks again, his voice filled with a raw vulnerability that pierces through the facade of his confidence, "say yes to heaven, to us. say yes to me, my love."

his words hang in the air, a silent plea that tugs at your heartstrings. and in that moment, as you stand on the precipice of uncertainty, you know that you have a choice to make. you can cling to the safety of your doubts and fears, or you can take a leap of faith into the unknown, guided by the hand of the one you love.

with a trembling breath, you meet fyodor's gaze, your voice barely above a whisper as you utter the words that seal your fate.

"yes," you say, your heart pounding in your chest, "i love you. i say yes to heaven, to us."

beneath the moonlight's gentle glow, fyodor draws you close, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that ignites a firestorm of passion within you. it's a kiss that tastes of forbidden desires and whispered promises.

as his lips press against yours, you feel a surge of electricity coursing through your veins, a sensation so intense it threatens to consume you whole. it's a feeling you've never experienced before, a heady mix of longing and surrender that leaves you breathless and wanting more.

in that moment, you realize that you are no longer the innocent angel you once were. the blood of the lives you took stains your feathery wings, a reminder of the sins you've committed in the name of love. and yet, as you wrap your wings around fyodor, drawing him closer to you, you know that you wouldn't have it any other way.

for in his embrace, you find redemption, a sense of purpose that transcends the boundaries of morality and reason. and as you lose yourself in the intoxicating embrace of his kiss, you know that you have chosen your path, for better or for worse.

like a fallen angel corrupting a pure soul, fyodor has led you astray, tempting you with the forbidden fruit of his love and yet, as you surrender to the darkness that consumes you both.

as the helicopter carrying fyodor descends towards the building, panic grips the air. dazai and chuuya watch in horror, their voices drowned out by the deafening roar of the crashing metal.

nikolai, the ally of your love, tasked with keeping you restrained for your own safety, struggles in vain to keep you chained, but his efforts prove futile against the strength of your resolve.

with a defiant cry, your white, feathery, angelic wings unfurled with a majestic flourish. the chains that once held you captive fall away like brittle twigs, unable to withstand the force of your determination.

with a powerful flap of your wings, you launch yourself into the air, soaring towards the burning wreckage with a sense of urgency that borders on desperation. the wind rushes past you, whipping through your hair and stirring the feathers of your wings as you race against time to reach fyodor.

as your heart heavy with determination, you set your sights on him, your angelic wings carrying you towards the helicopter where he lies bloodied and impaled.

fyodor's surprise is evident as he sees you, freed from the chains that once bound you, rushing to his side. but as you reach out to save him, the flames engulfing the helicopter grow stronger, fueled by the chaos of the moment.

as you rush to fyodor's side amidst the chaos and flames, his surprise is palpable, "what have you done?" he gasps, his voice laced with disbelief and a hint of desperation, "why did you come after me?"

but you meet his gaze with unwavering determination, your voice steady despite the turmoil surrounding you as tears blur your vision, "because i'm longer afraid," you reply, your words a declaration of your unwavering love and loyalty, "and i said yes to heaven, to you. i love you."

fyodor's expression softens, a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes as he takes in your words.

the flames of the crashing helicopter engulf you both, fyodor's mind races with disbelief. never in all his years, through all the eras he has traversed, did he imagine that someone as angelic as you would follow his descent into darkness until the very end.

despite your efforts, you realize with a sinking heart that it's too late. the flames rage around you, the turbulence of the crashing metal making it impossible for you to fly any longer. and in that moment of desperation, you know that your fate is sealed, bound together with fyodor's in a tragic twist of destiny.

dazai, chuuya, and nikolai can only watch in horror as the helicopter, carrying the two of you, descends into the inferno below, and it's a scene straight out of a nightmare, the fall of lucifer from heaven's height mirrored in the downfall of fyodor with you.

but in that fleeting moment before oblivion claims him, fyodor felt a surge of gratitude mixed with sorrow. gratitude for the love and loyalty you showed him, despite the darkness that consumed him.

sorrow for the tragedy that befell both of you, a consequence of his own actions and the twisted path he had chosen.

the world around him fades into darkness, but fyodor's thoughts still linger on you, his angel who chose to follow him into the depths of hell. and in that final moment of clarity, he finds a small measure of peace, knowing that even in death, you loved him, and he loved you.

as the heavens wept with auburn for your tragic tale, you danced on where shadows prevail. for he was both god and devil, intertwined, and you, his angel, forever confined.

and in the echoes of your love's demise,

you cherish the moments, beneath starlit skies.

for in his darkness, you found your light,

a love that burned, fierce in the night.

𐀔·˚ TAGGING: @aureatchi @soleelia @little-miss-chaos @cheriiyaya @himikoslove @atzuhi @enjisthings @chizenn

𐀔·˚ A.N.: this is my first ever fyodor fic, hopefully he wasn't too ooc, and as for the plot? the start where you and him meet was inspired by @/aureatchi or reverie with her fondness for fyodor and museums. it felt so so fitting !! also the angst and comfort of the plot was very intended ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

#fyodor x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x you #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #bsd fyodor #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bungou stray dogs x reader

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drchucktingle · 1 year

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Being trying to describe your works to other people, and I think I finally found a good one, want to know what you think of it: The Monty Python of short-form erotica.

first of all this is very kind of you and i appreciate the love and thought you have put into this. it is good question and i am glad you see my trot this way so right off that bat just want to say thank you for proving love to me.

that being said i very much disagree buckaroo BUT THAT IS OKAY

please take this as KIND DISCUSSION that it is intended, because i think this is great opportunity to chat. after all you directly asked what i think of your analysis so i will say this:

what i write is joyful and wild but it is not a joke. YES i know how to be funny sometimes and i can lean into this trot, but my belief in my art is genuine and sincere. i understand way of irony has soaked through the layers of the internet into the absolute depths, but i am telling you the truth.

there are a lot of 'knock off chuck tingles' out there who see that i am very popular for writing the erotica that i write, and they try to get in on the action. they think my formula is just 'make some kind of silly combination of mad libs erotica that is ridiculous so people will laugh at it.' but those who try this never ever succeed because that is actually NOT MY FORMULA. if you take a moment to go below the surface you will see that the tingleverse is nothing without a genuine belief in love and the celebration of diverse sexualities from across all kinds of timelines.

all that being said, it is OKAY if you laugh. i KNOW buckaroos laugh both at and with my way, and sometimes i even try to be a funny jokerman, but that is not my central intent. comedy is not the drive behind any of this, therefore i do not think i am much like monty python.

i think my work is about bold SINCERITY in face of those who will see you as strange, and about how maybe strange is a good thing and not really that strange at all. it is about queer joy and neurodivergent joy and just plain old JOY joy. and even if others think this is some kind of long form satire, that is okay. but that is not the truth.

thank you for writing LOVE IS REAL buckaroo this was good question

#love is real

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colleendoran · 1 year

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The Secret Language of a Page of Chivalry: The Pre-Raphaelite Connection

Adapting Neil Gaiman’s Chivalry is a decades-long dream fulfilled. The story as text can be enjoyed on multiple levels, and so can the art. You look at the pages and see the pretty pictures, but the pictures also have meta-textual meaning. Knowing this secret language adds to the experience.

Some people pick up the references quickly, but I’ll share with you some more of what’s going on under the surface.

In Ye Olden Days of Art Making, most painters made pictures that contained visual narrative cues. Flowers in a picture might be heraldic signs that signaled political affiliations, or could indicate purity, anger, or love. Purple was the color of kings. A dog in a picture might represent faithfulness, and butterflies could represent the soul.

There are Pre-Raphaelite paintings with so many symbols and ideas in them that you need a deep working knowledge of Victorian and Edwardian social mores to understand what’s going on.

For example, Ford Madox Brown’s Work, a painting which took some 13 years to complete, was first exhibited in 1865 with a catalogue explaining all its symbols and elements. There is nothing in that picture that doesn’t mean something.

I brought some of that visual meta-textual sensibility to Chivalry, (and I’ve written about the symbolism and meanings in the work in other essays.)

I also brought into the work direct Pre-Raphaelite art references.

From 1868-1870, Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones created four paintings illuminating the tale of Pygmalion and Galatea, entitled Pygmalion and the Image, and wrote a poem with each line titling one painting:

The heart desires

The hand refrains

The godhead fires

The soul attains.

A perfect little poem for Chivalry, and I think of it often when some people present me with what I think is a very strange question: why didn’t Galaad just take the Holy Grail from Mrs. Whitaker?

It kind of breaks my heart that people would even ask that.

Burne-Jones painted two versions of this series of which this is the second.

In the first panel of this page, Sir Galaad kneeling before the Grail is derived from the figure of Pygmalion kneeling before Galatea: The Soul Attains.

Sir Galaad’s restraint even in the face of his greatest desire makes him worthy of his prize.

There are two Pre-Raphalite references in this page, the most obvious being in panel 2: it’s Sir John Everett Millais’s 1857 work A Dream of the Past: Sir Isumbras at the Ford.

The painting was very poorly received on first exhibition, compelling Millais to redo significant portions of it. It was caricatured and ridiculed, and then ended up becoming influential and popular, and isn’t that the way it goes.

That’s an art career in a nutshell, really.

The Sir Isumbras image also influenced John Tenniel’s illustrations for the Lewis Carroll Alice in Wonderland novels.

Sir Isumbras derives from a 13th century Medieval romance poem about a good knight whose pride causes him to fail in his Christian duty. He is presented with a series of difficult challenges before he can find happiness again, reunite with his family, and be forgiven his sins. The painting by Millais is based less explicitly on the poem than it is on a later parody of the poem. (It’s complicated.)

My using Sir Isumbras as the base for the shot of Galaad with the children is obvious here. In the Millais painting, Sir Isumbras carries a woodcutter’s children across the ford. In Chivalry, Sir Galaad carries the children of Mrs. Whitaker’s neighborhood down the street.

While Sir Isumbras spent many years learning humility and Christian duty, Galaad has a long quest to fulfill before he can achieve his goal. And on the way to that goal, he’s humble and nice to children, too.

That the Millais painting was such a huge influence on many a depiction of knighthood over the years made it a perfect reference point here, and the story behind both the painting and the poem give it further layers of meaning.

The next panel has a far less obvious reference, but the source is Arthur Hughes’s painting The Rescue.

Arthur Hughes is one of the lesser-known Pre-Raphaelites, but his art is widely seen and influential. He’s certainly been a big influence on me, as many of his paintings appear again and again in Arthuriana references, as he was a prolific King Arthur picture tale teller.

The Rescue (1907-1908) was originally part of a diptych which was separated and sold back in the 1920’s. His style was becoming unpopular by the time Hughes painted the work, and little is known about this work except that one panel was in the collection of Andrew Lloyd Webber at some point. Maybe still is. Dunno.

Anyway, the diptych depicts a little child kneeling in prayer menaced by a dragon in one panel, and in the next, safely trotting away with a knight on horseback. I like that this is a diptych, a kind of proto-comic art form common in medieval religious art, so this was perfect to use here.

Another reference to Arthur Hughes is in this double page splash from later in the book as Galaad on his quest encounters the Hesperides.

I didn’t set out to reference this Arthur Hughes piece at first, but it’s one of my favorite paintings. When I realized my sketches for this scene kept echoing the Hughes composition, I went with it. The Hughes painting of Galahad is one of the most famous depictions of the character, so it makes me happy to have this referenced in Chivalry.

Kindly ask for CHIVALRY, published by Dark Horse Comics in the USA and by Headline Books in the UK at your local comic shops or bookstore. Written by Neil Gaiman. Adaptation and art by me.

For further reading on this project, go HERE.

HERE.

And HERE.

Thank you to my Patreon patrons for sponsoring my work and this post.

Colleen Doran Illustrates Neil Gaiman will be a solo exhibit at the Society of Illustrators in New York City this spring. Watch this space for updates.

Have a wonderful holiday season.

#neil gaiman #dark horse comics #king arthur #Sir Galahad #Comics #graphic novel #fantasy graphic novel #watercolor #pre raphaelite #pre raphaelism

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arealphrooblem · 1 year

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Mutually Assured Destruction Part 4

Synopsis: Villain x Civilian. Civilian can sense other people's powers through auras but hides this ability. They are terrified of the most boring person at their office job, who hides the most powerful aura Civilian has ever felt.

“How is this art?”

Civilian had never heard of Rothko before this date, but they had assumed they would be looking at normal paintings — portraits and landscapes.

Not squares of color on a rectangle canvas.

Sure they were impressive in their size. But their simplicity clashed against the other paintings in the museum, full of intricate details and delicate brush strokes.

It definitely clashed with their idea of art. But also part of them wanted to get under Jonathan’s skin.

“Did you grow up under a rock?” Jonathan grumbled. “How are you so uncultured?”

“It’s literally two squares of color. I could paint something like that,” Civilian argued.

“Yes, but you didn’t,” he pointed out peevishly. “And even if you did, these are so much more than squares of color.”

“How so?”

Jonathan guided them closer to one of the paintings, his hand gentle on their shoulders. He positioned them directly center of one of the paintings and then stood behind them, close enough for Civilian to feel his breath stir the hair at the nape of their neck.

“To understand and appreciate this painting takes time. You have to really look.” His voice, so soft, so close, sent a small shiver down Civilian’s spine. “Rothko uses simultaneous contrast in his colors to create the illusion of light. If you stare long enough, you can see the color shimmer and move.”

Civilian squinted at the painting, trying to see what he described. At first they just remained a block of color. But, true to his word, after a few minutes, they began to see the shimmer, the glow, of the paint. Faint hues appeared in the black — red-black and dark dark blue-black. They shifted into one another, almost like a dance. It was hypnotic.

“Do you see it now?” Jonathan whispered.

“It’s . . .surprisingly beautiful,” they murmured.

“Just like you.”

The spell between them snapped. Civilian jerked around only to be met with his wicked smirk.

“So the unrefined can be taught,” he said. “You should be proud.”

“Shut up,” they snapped, cheeks hot.

He gestured to the next room. “Shall we continue?”

As they coasted to a stop on the third yellow light in five minutes, Civilian side-eyed Jonathan.

“I think this is your power — getting every yellow light.”

“That’s not a power — that’s a curse,” he muttered.

It had become a game between them. A strange, fucked up game where Civilian guessed intentionally wrong answers about the power behind his aura and he neither confirmed nor denied it.

Downplaying such power made it easier to bear sometimes, but also . . .it was dangerously easy after a month of “dating” to forget that he even had a power. The aura had turned into the background noise of their life, the way people who live by train tracks learn to tune out the noise of the trains.

Jonathan treated them to lunch every day at work, and once a week he took Civilian on a proper date — dinner and bowling (he got a perfect score compared to Civilian’s five gutter balls) or trivia night at a local bar (they both lost miserably in the sports category) or an afternoon trip to the aquarium in the next city over (their favorite date so far).

Civilian did not have any choice in the activities or any knowledge of what each date would bring, but underneath the constant layer of anxiety and frustration that coated every interaction with Jonathan was genuine enjoyment.

The dates were the only real social interaction that Civilian had outside of run-ins with neighbors and coworkers. A fact they tried not to dwell on too much.

Tonight they pulled into the parking lot of the movie theater. Civilian raised an eyebrow when Jonathan bought two tickets to Blood in the Stone but said nothing. Refined Art Museum Jonathan didn’t seem the type to like supernatural horror movies, but so much of him stayed shrouded in mystery that predicting anything about him was impossible.

Civilian, on the other hand, did not like horror movies. But they refused to let Jonathan see their trepidation. Instead, they watched the screen stone-faced and ripped the napkin in their lap to shreds. Something warm and ticklish slide down the delicate skin of their wrist just as the movie protagonist got caught up in some horrific tentacle monster and Civilian could not stop the scream from bursting out.

Jonathan’s warm breath brushed against their ear as he chuckled. His fingers slid down to detangle the twisted remains of napkin from their hands.

“Should we leave early, before you wet yourself?” he whispered.

“Why did you pick this movie?” Civilian hissed, refusing to look at him.

“Maybe that’s my power — I’m not afraid of things that aren’t real.”

“Maybe your power is being an obnoxious prick.”

He chuckled again, a low rumble in their ear, and Civilian had to bite their lip against the strange shiver that rippled down their spine.

A jump scare burst onto the screen. Civilian yelped, their fingers reflexively squeezing Jonathan’s hand. They expected him to pull away the second their death gripped relax, but his hand stayed throughout the rest of the movie, fingers casually interspersed with theirs.

Part five here

Tagging: @those-damn-snippets, @heroes-villains-side-blog

@anonymousewrites @follow-me-into-the-fog @sunnyside-world @rivalriotrenegade @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room

Let me know in the comments if you want to be tagged!

#hero x villain #villain x civilian #civilian x villain #enemies to lovers #my writing #not a prompt #mutually assured destruction

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

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God Bless the Inventor - 40’s AU series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3,268

Synopsis: Howard comes up with a…new invention for his adventurous pals to try. Bucky’s devious wife has plans. Bucky is questioning his life choices.

Tags: 3k of femdom filth, anal play, fancy vibrators were invented by Howard I know, Subby baby buck, chubby bunny buck, man tears, oral (f!receiving), humiliation kink, weight gain TW if that’s not your thing, men in panties, overstim, SSR GANG, Peggy should’ve been gay and not a dumbass plot choice I loved agent Carter and stand by that, We Stan Dum Dum Dugan, Bucky and him wife are very much in love and supremely horny, praise kink, slight sub space

A/N: I wanted a thicker man in lingerie smh

Howard sat on the other side of his Art Deco living room, newly furnished from what you could tell. Bucky was next to you, a question furrowing his brow. His flesh arm was around your shoulders, the cutie would get touchy around Stark’s flirty demeanor. Regardless if they were best of pals.

You smiled and asked, “So what’s this new invention you want to pitch to us of all people?”

Howard’s dark eyes gleamed with mischief. He grinned and sat forward, extending his hands. The genius elaborated, “Well- it’s a bit of a strange idea, brought to my attention after seeing a housewife in dire need of,” he winked, “companionship.”

Bucky barked, “What the hell Stark? You comin’ onto us or something?”

You shushed him and gestured for Howard to continue his pitch. He laughed airily, pulling out some sort of sleek oblong thing— faintly in the shape of a prick with a ring on the end. Your eyes widened when it dawned, you gasped, “Howard! You made one of those sex toys?” Bucky rolled his eyes with a groan, thoroughly displeased.

Howard wagged his finger, “Nuh-uh-uh! It’s a ‘massager’! Good for working out sore muscles.”

You and Bucky shared a dubious look, then turned back to Stark. He slapped his knee and guffawed, “Yes of course it’s a vibrator! But the magic here is that it’s battery powered and,” he winked, “remote controlled for the partner!”

Bucky snorted, “What about the damn flying car Stark? Been waiting on that one since 42’.”

“It’s still under work!,” the man snapped.

You interrupted, “What then? You want us to try it out for you? Why can’t you do it on one of your two million dames?”

Howard slyly smirked, responding, “If the inventor says it’s good then what proof is that really? Just take it home, lube it up, come back to me so I can sell the patent. Stark Industries wouldn’t look good selling hysteria machines.”

Bucky sucked his teeth. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, ‘can’t get a goddamn break with these SSR loons.’ You were already hooked by Howard’s pitch and toy. Poor Buck was going for the ride of his life sooner than later. You held out your hand and hummed, “I’ll bite, be back in a week. Hopefully I can leave you a glowing review, Howard.”

The excitable man jumped up and cheered, “Fantastic! You two will love it!” You grinned and let Howard peck your cheeks to Bucky’s consternation. Calling over your shoulder you joked, “Make sure Peg and her ‘roomie’ get a pair too huh Stark?” All three of you burst in to giggles after that, Bucky leading you out with a big hand on your waist.

Once strapped into the car Bucky had a strange look on his face. You purred, “Scared baby? This thing is preeeetty hefty.” He grumbled and turned the key into the ignition, ignoring your comment. You squeezed the plush layer over his strong thigh and said, “Poor Howie doesn’t know the trap he put you in Bucky-bear.”

“Tell me about it, sweets,” the brunette huffed.

Couple o’ days later

Bucky was sweating through his blazer, even in the chilly temperatures. You could see the perspiration beading on his upper lip, collecting on his temples. The man couldn’t stop shifting, tapping, grinding his teeth. Conversations went around the SSR members and their plus one’s, usually other significant others. Peggy had brought that sweet but brutally New Yorker ‘friend’ of hers, Angie.

Ray and Johnson kept away with nervous looks after the debacle at the last get together. You fondly remembered fucking Bucky into sweet submission that night. There would probably be a rehash soon if your poor husband didn’t cum all in his slacks. Which he probably would anyways, but that was okay.

Bucky was currently shoving his face with food to stop the nonsensical little noises he couldn’t hold back, passing them off as enjoying the meal. You smirked at the thought of the vibrating toy in his ass. Howard and oh goody, Dugan was in town! They ambled over greeting folks. Bucky’s eyes opened wide in fear. You knew that he knew Dugan was going to zero in on his bootcamp to field buddy.

“Barnes!,” Dugan boomed. Bucky dropped his food to sheepishly smile and get up on shaking legs. The mustachioed soldier pulled your husband into a hug, slapping his back heartily. Buck made a choking noise, rasping back a hello. Dum Dum manhandled Bucky backward to get a good look.

He patted Buck’s side and peered over a wide shoulder to joke, “Hello Missus Barnes! A sight for sore eyes! What’cha been feeding Sarge here? Lookin’ like pre-bootcamp dough boy Barnes!”

You could almost feel the mortification radiating off of your other half. Bucky’s face was a deep flush, him turning to look at you pathetically.

Down the vibrator went to zero in your pocketbook. Poor bear.

Dum Dum smiled happily, hugging the brunette again, whispering, “I’m so happy you’re okay man. Blessed, really.” Bucky gave a less strained smile at that, relaxing into the big man’s arms. “Missed ya’ too Dugan, lots.” Howard cooed, “How adorable! Let’s get the whole team together over in Europe.”

“I like New York thank you very much,” Buck deadpanned to a raucous of laughter. You sidled up to your husband, beaming. Dum Dum teased, “As long as she gets to go, gotta have some guts to keep Barnes tied down.”

Your lips quirked up, a hand sliding to palm Bucky’s ass while you purred, “I’ve got some steel under my frilly apron.” Bucky flushed and looked down, lamely replying, “She does, she does.”

The party went on a bit longer, people getting rowdy. You let Bucky get some much needed catching up with Dum Dum. His cheeky smile made your heart skip. Later on, Chief Dooley had to disperse the drunken men and Peg howling war songs. You laughed and clapped along with Angie, sharing a warm look.

Bucky was sweaty and disheveled by the time he was launched out of the circle into your arms. You caught his bulk, laughing and batting at your husband as he peppered you with wet kisses. He laughed, “C’mon you don’t want some lovin baby?” You scrunched your nose and giggled, “I always want your lovin sweetie, let’s get home Hm? Then we can take Stark’s toy for a real test drive.”

Bucky’s pupils blew at the implication, body going woozy in your arms. You eyed his needy expression, pushing back some fallen strands of dark hair. Nipping at his earlobe you hummed, “That was only level one baby, and you couldn’t sit straight.“ Bucky’s breath left him in a punched out groan, slumping into your smaller frame.

You gave his ass a tight slap and hollered, “I got the wheels this time Sarge!”

Making the rounds of goodbyes, Bucky was definitely rushing to get back home. Stark had a knowing gleam in his eye, giving you a wink behind your husbands back. Hugging the genius you thanked him.

Bucky, resigned and so, so horny followed behind like the pet pup he was. You deviously cranked the remote up another level, eyeing Bucky for the inevitable reaction. He yelped, legs spreading, arms flailing. You could hear the crunch of his metal hand on the door. Bear could hardly climb into the little two-door, so wracked with pleasure.

You cooed, “How’sit feel bear?”

Bucky’s cute nose was scrunched up as he whined out, “S’fulll m-my god, s’fuckin me up baby.” He was now rutting back against the car seat, whimpering needily. Bucky moaned, “So good, so good, fffuck!” You pulled the car forward, grinning helplessly. Oh how you loved your submissive little big boy. Bucky mewled and made to palm at his swollen cock, probably painfully smushed in those tight slacks of his.

He was too prideful to admit it, but you’d ordered some more clothes so Bucky would stop looking like he was shoved into his work suit. Stubborn bastard. You slapped his hand away and tutted, “We have to test out Howard’s device correctly dear.” You patted his plump cheek and added softly, “Can’t have your slutty dick get in the way can we now hm?”

Bucky’s tears were getting worked up but he dropped his dark head and whinged, “Yes ma’am.”

“Good boy,” you crooned. Bucky shivered and seemed to relax at the praise. Bear loved his praise and coddling almost as much as he liked the humiliation. You’d get to that later.

Bucky was going mindless, humping and sucking on his bottom lip as he bounced in the seat. To be a bitch you taunted, “Had alot to eat tonight, don’t wanna bust your nice slacks dear.” He thinly whined and blushed, curling in but didn’t stop the movement.

Pulling into the garage Bucky ungainly hopped out and staggered over to you, opening the car door. You simpered, “Sweet boy, thank you, earning a lot of treats tonight.” He blubbered, “Really?” Thumbing his swollen slobbery lips you nodded, pecking them one time.

Bucky led the way, albeit slowly due to the vibrations dragging across his ass and the heavy weight of the plug on top of the prostate. You came from behind, like a jungle predator. From the gloom of the hallway you crooned, “Special drawer’s calling your name, bear!”

Bucky moaned frustratedly. You didn’t like that insolent tone, cranking it up to the highest power. There was a clank of his arm and throaty wail emanating from the darkened bedroom. You sped up to the scene, and my- what a scene you saw. Bucky was on his knees, blazer discarded and his fingers digging into the chest. You knew that was to keep him from touching his cock.

Bucky sniveled, “S’too much, baby baby, ah fuck baby! Can’t stop l-leaking mmmgh!” You moaned softly, clambering behind your shivery husband. Slowly you discarded his clothes, baring that adorable fluffy flesh to your eyes.

“Pretty baby,” you sighed.

You could hear the vibrator assaulting Bucky’s ass, pounding his poor sensitive prostate. Your sarge whimpered and mewled, definitely getting overwhelmed. You shushed him, pressing sweet kisses and praises to relax Buck. Your nimble fingers undid his belt and unbuttoned the pants. You bit your lip bloody at Buck’s fat cock swollen and leaking all over his slacks and panties.

“Oh my, s’it milking you out sweet boy. You feelin’ sweet baby?”

You sucked in a breath, your pussy causing a slippery mess in your panties. You adjusted the sticky fabric with a strained whimper. God your husband was a work of art.

He nodded jerkily, leaning back onto your slim shoulder. Your hand caressed his damp chest and cheeks, pressing a kiss to his temple. In slow terms you asked, “Buck, you got me?” Bucky was approaching fast if not already in that foggy space. He nodded slowly, blue eyes wearily opening.

You flipped his bigger frame around to back against the drawers. Bucky was so pliant it was like moving a rag doll, albeit a heavy one. He mewled upon seeing your face, “W-wan you so bad baby.” His cock spurt out more pre. Instinctively you slid your fingertip across the milky bead and sucked on it, Bucky crying your name.

Undressing the baby was an easy affair. Surveying his flushed skin, you figured a pink set would compliment the blush, pale stretch marks, his lips, and pretty pink nipples. Shaking yourself out of the horny catalogue you moved to open the drawer, snatching around until you found the lacy baby pink set. Bucky sighed and watched with hazy eyes.

You held it up to the befogged Bucky, watching his lax body begin to tremble in excitement. You teased, “Yeah pup, you’ll look like a dream.” One leg went in a hole at a time, Buck weakly lifting up his hips to slide the thin panties on. He cried out at the fabric caressing his full balls.

Next came the garter, Bucky’s least favorite part. You relished in it, watching the softness of his belly tighten and struggle to fit under the unforgiving straps. You snapped the waistband across his belly, Bucky whining and shaking his head. Palming his tummy you questioned, “Did you get get hard when Dugan mentioned you’d packed it on?”

Bucky’s red cheeks grew wet with tears as he sniveled, “N-no! God no, I w-was so embarrassed!” You surveyed his twitchy blues while you slid up the stockings and clipped them to the ill fitting garter. He kept looking down and away as if he was going to escape. You knew what that meant. Liar.

“Uh-huh baby, just say you like being my greedy plump housewife and I think you’d feel better.”

Click click.

The buzzing grew louder.

Bucky’s legs snapped open as he howled in ecstasy, hands pulling and ripping at anything in grasp. He sobbed, “S’not tr-true! M’gonna go train with Johnson.” He shivered and mewled again at the sensation of the vibrator. You cocked your head in amusement, crawling to sit between his thick thighs.

“I know you will baby,” you teased.

You upped the vibrator to the final setting, watching Bucky seize and wail helplessly. Your own pussy tightened more and leaked at the sight of the brunette’s panties growing a darkened stain. Your belly was awash with heat, could you actually cum from watching this? Poor Buck was huffing and squirming, unable to do anything but take it. You nibbled at his chest cooing, “S’that feel good? Color baby?”

“Green mmmm- oh god yes,” he yelled.

You didn’t want to give that unspeakable German bastard any credit but whatever he dosed Buck up with in Azzano did make your husband eager to cum as much as possible. Rolling with the punches, one would say. You cleared the thought by rambling dirty nonsense.

Detaching your mouth from a puffy nipple you cooed, “What’s gotten into ya’ baby? Being so good for me. Such a good little slut, lovin’ Howard’s fun toy up your whore ass like that.”

Your husband was too busy drooling and agreeing in sloppy disjointed ‘yesses’. He was far gone, maybe had one em’ before the overstimulation took over. You crowded closer into his bulky frame, breath fanning over heaving lips. Bucky mewled and chased your lips, hands twitching at his sides, obedient as ever.

You indulged the needy slut and grabbed a full cheek of his while taking his mouth. Bucky cried out, “Oh! Mmph!” You licked into his open mouth, twirling your tongue with Buck’s while swollen wet lips caressed your own. Your husband shuddered and shoved himself closer, rubbing his tits against your silky negligee.

You smoothed your hands down the brunettes plush sides, purring, “I know you’re feeling s’good baby, you loving all this? I mean lookit’chu, you’re a mess baby.” Bucky made an indignant noise, squirming underneath you. He managed to pant, “Luh’ it. M’so horny.”

Sweet Jesus you’d lucked out. Bucky was the perfect whore, all for you. His watery blue eyes, achingly wide- watched yours. Cheeks red, trembly lips, sweet belly twitching. The cherry on top was his cock just pouring rivers of cum. You palmed his bulge, gasping at how soaked it was.

In a frenzy you unclipped the garter, Bucky gasping in shock. He made an inelegant, “whuh?” Flipping the garter up, your shaking hands yanked down the ruined panties. Mouth running overtime you rambled, “Baby is wet, so wet, gonna give me one big one Hm? Gonna cum all over your wife like a good slut?”

Bucky nodded frantically, eyes scrunching shut. He cried, “Wet for y-you- ah! Touch my balls, pluh-please they’re so heavy for you! Hngh!” You nodded, biting your lip in ecstasy, the buzzing of the toy echoing on and on. You palmed and held onto the swollen sac.

“Jesus fuck baby!,” you swore.

He was all hot hot hot and swollen. That wouldn’t do. You squeezed and rolled them, thumbing down the seam. Spurts of cum hit your belly, Bucky throwing his head back with a wail of your name. The Sargeant babbled, “Thankyouthankyouthankyou G’nna cum so hard for you ma’am!” He sucked in a wet sob and violently trembled.

“Yeah babydoll, I know you’re full up, c’mon Buck, be my good houseslut and paint my fancy clothes, ruin me, pretty baby,” you rambled breathlessly.

Bucky’s balls tightened and drew up under your palm, cock shooting load after load onto your negligee. You cooed and praised him through it, your own orgasm coming out of nowhere. You gripped at the soft flesh on his belly, panting through your nose. Simple excitement from the show that was your husband. Fat tears and hefty sobs tore Buck’s throat as he emptied.

You scrambled to turn off the vibrator, Bucky’s crying already growing frantic. You eased it out of him and tossed the device across the wooden floor. Bucky cried and mumbled nonsense, itching to touch you. You purred, “S’good, c’mon and touch me Buckybear. Good damn boy.” The supersoldier wrapped up tight around you, strong fingertips embedded into your flesh.

Teary eyes searched yours as he begged, “Baby, sweets, oh, lemme’ eat you out please! Want you on my face!”

You grinned, a complete mess, and nodded. You rasped, “Yeah, yeah, that’s a good boy, you deserved it.” You leaned back, bracing your elbows and spreading your legs for your needy husband. Bucky moaned, clambering onto his belly, big hands swallowing your thighs. He croaked, “Smell so good, my angel baby!”

“Have a taste Buckybear, sweet Jamie.”

Bucky lapped eagerly at your soppy pussy, eyes rolling at up the taste. He ate and sucked like his life depending on it, thick hips and thighs flexing against the hard floor. You threaded trembling fingers through his brunette locks, tossing your head back with a wanton cry. You blabbered, “S’good, keep it up baby.” Bucky shoved his tongue into your cunt, slurping and whining rudely.

So soon after your surprise orgasm, this was intense. All you could do was moan and whine your husbands name, riding his pretty fucking face. Bucky’s hands squeezed your thighs roughly, spreading you even wider. You cried, “Fuck sweetie! Yeah yeah that’s it!” He rutted harder, whining into your swollen pussy.

He suckled on your clit, interchanging with flicks of his tongue. Baby knew you like the back of his hand. Bucky looked up, adoration in his glossy eyes, slurring, “Love ya’ baby, pretty mama please please!” He slid a thick finger inside you, crooking the digit in quick motions. Your body arched and shivered, pussy convulsing and pushing out more and more slick.

Bucky gasped into your cunt, wordlessly wailing.

He’d cum— again. You curled around your husband, legs caging in his dark hair. Pleasure and overspent nerves overtook your flesh, making reality fizz away for God know’s how long.

You came to, cuddled with your baby in a heap on the floor, Bucky laying reverent kisses on your jaw. You gripped his soft cheek and pulled the sweetest man alive to your lips, moaning a raspy, “Love you.”

Later that night

“Yeah, so, Howard- I will give a glowing review.”

Howard’s brash laugh echoed on the other end of the line. He purred, “I take it Barnes enjoyed the treat?” You grinned and looked over to your husband, diligently rearranging and cleaning his gun. You giggled, “Oh very much so Stark.” Bucky barked from across the room, “What does he want?”

You laughed, “Sorry gotta go Howie, talk to you later, you scoundrel!”

Suspicious blue eyes stared at you, making you fall into a fit of giggles. Poor baby bear.

#40’s au #chubby!bucky #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #Bucky barnes x reader #sub!bucky #Bucky barnes smut #the Other Kink slipped thru again maybe I’ll convert someone today #I love Howard Stark he’s my manic baby

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 2 months

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Sugar Mama Chapter 2

Summary: Bucky is overworked and struggling to get by. The bills are piling up and he’s consistently in the red with no end in sight. Y/N is a billionaire’s daughter, entrepreneur and philanthropist having a hard time finding true friends or love. She has a proposition for him.

bucky barnes x curvy!reader

Warnings: eventual smut, sexual assault (not from Bucky)

The next day he called the number on Y/N’s business card. A woman named Pepper, her assistant, answered and made an appointment for him to come to her penthouse apartment on Sunday at 7 p.m. He had that day off from his multiple jobs for once, but instead of resting he was stressing about the meeting all day. He barely slept with how nervous he was, going through his closet over and over again to figure out what would be best to wear and pacing around his tiny studio apartment.

When the time came to leave he got a text from an unknown number saying a car was waiting for him outside. He peered out his window to find a black town car at the curb. He laughed at just how strange this all was. The ride was awkward and quiet, and once they reached her building the driver instructed him where to go. He followed their instructions until he found himself leaving the elevator and entering into a large sitting room with a wall of windows showcasing the Manhattan skyline. He gaped at the sunset hovering over the buildings, brilliant oranges and pinks peaking through the windows and streets. He looked around the room at the high end furniture and art pieces on the wall. Whoever designed the apartment had obviously been given an open budget as he recognized some of the items that he could only dream of using on his design boards.

“Bucky! Good evening,” Y/N’s voice rang out around the corner. Bucky followed her voice until he entered the kitchen. It was huge, with appliances that a Michelin chef would die for. Y/N was standing in front of the island in the middle, making sandwiches, dressed in a sweater and sweatpant set that was black and spotted with yellow smiley faces and matching slippers on her feet. She looked so small and casual compared to all the other large and grand things in the apartment that it made him smile through his nervousness.

“Hello, Miss Y/L/N, good evening,” he greeted her back, standing awkwardly at the entrance to the kitchen.

“None of that, just call me Y/N. You’re not allergic to anything are you?” she asked suddenly, her hands stilling over the food.

“No, nothing that I know of, anyway,” he quickly assured her.

“Do you like chicken or ham?” she smiled and turned back to the sandwiches, cutting a tomato and layering meat and cheese on one.

“Ham is fine, thank you,” he answered, smiling back at her. She finished the sandwich and slid the plate over to him, gesturing for him to sit down on one of the stools by the island. He caught it and gave her a quiet thanks as he sat before taking a bite. She watched his reaction, and when he hummed in satisfaction she smiled again and went back to finishing her sandwich then hopping up on the counter to sit.

“There’s all kinds of drinks in the fridge, you’re welcome to whatever you’d like,” she gestured towards it behind her.

“Oh sure, thank you,” he said around another bite and walked to the fridge, opening it to find what looked like a full grocery store inside. He quickly chose a water bottle and went back to the island.

“Did you like the crab cakes and risotto?”

Bucky’s eyes rolled back dramatically, making her laugh. “Oh yeah, still definitely my favorite, best thing on the menu there, in my opinion. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, giving him a lopsided grin. “So, I’m sure you’re just dying to get this weird conversation over with,” she teased him as she took a bite.

Bucky chuckled as he finished chewing. “Honestly, yes. I’ve been very nervous all day.”

“Let’s just dive right in, shall we? Have you ever been a sugar baby before?”

Bucky took a sharp breath and huffed it out. “No, I haven’t. Um, what exactly would it entail, if I said yes?”

“What are you hesitant about?” she queried, watching him intently.

“Uh, I guess, um,” he cleared his throat and decided to take a quick drink of water. “So, I give you, what, companionship? And you pay for things for me?”

“In a nutshell, yes. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship,” Y/N answered matter-of-factly.

“So what kind of companionship are you, uh, looking for?” he asked hesitantly. “I’ve heard of these kinds of things starting out okay but then becoming, um…”

“Sexual?” she finished for him. He nodded. “I don’t expect sex from you, Bucky.” He let out the breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. “I also wouldn’t be opposed to it, if the relationship organically led to that, but otherwise no, I don’t expect sex or sexual favors from you.” She set aside her sandwich for a moment as she faced him.

“My reason for doing this is because I have friends, plenty of friends, but those friendships have all been born out of those people wanting something from me. Money, connections, for me to invest in their business, using my name as a way to get ahead, get in contact with my father, and so on. It’s very hard to find real friendship, let alone anything more romantic. And I know buying someone’s time isn’t exactly normal or the best way to get it, but it’s my last resort, really,” she finished, her eyes looking sad as she took another bite of her sandwich.

Bucky felt bad for her. She had all the money and resources open to her and yet she was still lonely. This big fancy apartment with just her in it.

“Anyways, I’d like companionship. Someone to come home to, to take with me as a date to events, spend time with on the weekends, go to parties with, maybe get a good cuddle or some hugs, just a friend. And if something more were to ever grow from that, then great! But that’s what I’d like. You would of course be free to go spend time with other friends and family, I wouldn’t keep you prisoner here,” she joked.

Bucky snorted at that as he finished his sandwich. “Okay, and what about my jobs?”

“Jobs? How many do you have?” Y/N’s head jerked up at the question, a look of concern in her eyes.

“Three right now,” he answered nonchalantly.

“Three?!” she sputtered. “Jesus, Bucky, no wonder you look so tired.”

“Tell me about it,” Bucky sighed as he took another drink.

“Do you want to keep any of them?”

“Um…I’d like to keep my main one. I went to college for architecture and interior design, and during normal working hours I work for Joaquin Torres in Soho, so I’d like to keep doing that,” he explained.

“Oh yes, Joaquin! I worked with him a few years back. Architecture and interior design, huh? I’d love to see your work,” she said excitedly, her eyes brightening.

“I’d love that,” he smiled genuinely at her interest. “But yes, I’d like to keep that one, if that’s okay?”

“Of course.”

“Alright, um…and money?” He felt so strange asking for money.

“I’ll need a list of your debts, and I’d like you to break your lease and come live here. I’ll cover any fees that come with that process, including for movers if you have anything big needing to be moved. You’ll have your own room, your own space. As for payment, you’ll get a weekly allowance of $5000 that you’re free to spend or save however you want, and if you need or want anything else or more, we can talk about it,” she rattled off. “I’d like to take care of you, Bucky. I’d like you to feel comfortable, and hopefully help make your life better.”

Bucky could feel the tears welling up in his eyes as she laid out the benefits to him. His debts paid, living in this beautiful apartment, with a beautiful woman, getting paid $5000 a week, getting to keep his job and possibly get new opportunities just for being in her inner circle.

“Oh Buck, don’t cry,” she jumped down from the counter suddenly and walked over to him, her hands reaching for his face and brushing away the tears that fell. “Please tell me those are at least happy tears?” she pleaded as her fingers stroked the sides of his face.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he sniffled, “it’s just, really generous, Y/N. I feel like all that just for my company and friendship isn’t fair.”

“It is an unbalanced dynamic, I agree. But I promise that’s all I want from you, Bucky. All the money in the world means nothing without having someone to share it with,” she gave him a smile then let go of his face and reached for his hands. He gave them to her to hold and she rubbed his knuckles with her thumbs. “So…is that a yes?” she asked hopefully.

Bucky scoffed, “Well yeah, I’d be pretty stupid to say no, wouldn’t I?”

“Not necessarily,” Y/N scoffed back at him. “I want this to be an enthusiastic yes, with no hesitation or reservations. So I’ll ask again, is that a yes?”

Bucky took a moment to look at her, really look at her. She was sincere, with hopeful eyes and a determined set of her lips. He would be dumb to refuse, but he also didn’t want to refuse. He had no reason to. He wanted this. There was a small part of him deep down that hungrily thought, I want her. He pushed that away as he nodded his head.

“Yes, I say yes.”

“Yay!” Y/N cheered, jumping up and down a little and shaking his hands in hers. He laughed at her and squeezed her hands.

“Would it be weird if I hugged you?” Bucky asked.

“I’d love a hug,” Y/N said, opening her arms up to him.

He stepped into her embrace, her arms around his waist and his arms around her upper body. She nuzzled her face into his chest, breathing him in as he squeezed her. He felt like he was taking a breath of fresh air as she held him, one of her hands rubbing up and down his back. They stayed like that for a few long minutes, neither of them seeming to want to let go.

“So when can you move in?” she murmured against his chest.

“Maybe this Friday? After work? That way I can pack and get some things in order…quit a couple of jobs.”

“Yes, quit those jobs,” she agreed as she turned her face up towards him. “We’ll get you moved in on Friday night and then binge watch a show and eat all the pizza we can. Get to know each other. Sound good?”

He could just kiss her with how sweet she was being. “Sounds perfect,” he agreed.

***

The week seemed to trudge on for Bucky. He and Y/N had exchanged phone numbers and were constantly texting each other. She would check up on him, ask him how his day was going, if he needed help with anything, getting the list of his debts and lenders, making sure he ate and would randomly have food and drinks sent to his apartment. He had packed his small amount of things within two days and put his furniture up for sale on a local apartment sales site, making a few hundred dollars on the side. Y/N had called his landlord and figured out the fees for breaking his lease early, so all he had to do was go to work, come home, pack whatever he had left, and wait for Friday. Quitting his other two jobs had been incredibly freeing, and he wasn’t sure what to do with himself with all the free time he now had after 5 p.m.

On Thursday night he invited Steve over for one last hurrah in his apartment. “I can’t believe you’re moving. What was this job you got again? Wanda was being really weird about it the other day and told me to talk to you,” Steve questioned him.

“I’m still working at the interior design firm, I just don’t have to work the other two now,” he was mum about it, not sure how Steve would react.

“That’s not actually answering my question, Buck,” Steve exasperatedly sighed. “What’s going on?”

“Okay, just don’t judge me,” Bucky warned him. Steve gave him an unimpressed look and sat on the floor where the loveseat used to be. Bucky sat across from him as they ate the Chinese food Y/N had delivered to his apartment. “I served some pretty wealthy people last Friday night, when I covered your shift?” Steve nodded. “One of them was Y/N Y/L/N.” Steve’s eyes widened. “Yeah! She was super cool. When it came time to pay she wanted to talk to me. She asked me to, uh…to be her sugar baby.”

“She asked WHAT?!” Steve started laughing uncontrollably, clutching at his chest and falling over.

“I said don’t judge me!” Bucky yelled at him, throwing a dumpling at him.

“I’m not, I just, ha! And you obviously said yes, cuz you’re moving, and quit two of your jobs! Haha!” Steve was rolling on the floor as he started crying from laughing so hard. “No no, Bucky, I mean it’s weird but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do, right?” He kept giggling.

Bucky glared at him. “She’s going to be paying me $5000 a week.”

Steve immediately stopped laughing as he gawked at Bucky. “What?”

“She’s moving me into her penthouse apartment. She’s going to pay off my debt.”

“Uh…what are you doing to get these kinds of benefits Buck?” Steve was suddenly serious, his eyebrows hung low over his eyes as he sat up.

“Keeping her company. Literally giving her companionship. Friendship. That’s it.”

“Oh come on, Buck, that can’t be it.”

“That is it.”

“No way, dude, she’s gotta expect something more in the end,” Steve accused. “Did you already have sex with her? Now she’s gonna keep you as her plaything?”

“What? Ew, Steve, god no,” Bucky grimaced at his friend. “Look, she’s hot, I like her, but no I haven’t slept with her. If it happens in the future then hey, why not? But she doesn’t expect sex from me. This isn’t that kind of thing,” he promised him. “She literally just wants a friend.”

Steve analyzed him, trying to see if there was a lie hidden in his explanation. When he didn’t find anything he sighed again. “Okay, man. Look if you feel good about it and think it’s a good idea, then go for it. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I won’t,” Bucky said resolutely. “It’ll be okay. Hey, I’ll see if I can get you and Peg to come with us as a double date or something. She mentioned having season tickets for the Yankees?”

Steve brightened at this news. “The Yankees, huh? Double dating with a billionaire’s daughter,” he mused. “Peggy’s kind of a fan of hers.”

“It’ll be great, Steve. You don’t need to worry about me,” Bucky said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “But I appreciate it.”

***

Bucky practically ran home after work was over that Friday. He was ready to go, not needing any movers, with just a couple of bags of things he owned. He grabbed his stuff, left the key in the slot of the landlord’s mailbox, and walked outside to the already waiting town car. The driver helped him load his things in and sped off towards the penthouse.

He took the elevator ride back up to her place. The doors opened and revealed Y/N standing there, her arms crossed, shifting from one foot to the other and fighting a smile on her face.

“Honey! I’m home!” Bucky announced as he stepped in with a wide smile on his face.

Y/N laughed as he dropped his bags at their feet. “Welcome home, Buck,” she greeted him, opening her arms for a hug. He happily accepted it and gave her a tight squeeze. “Come on, let’s get you settled in.”

They spent a good portion of the night getting Bucky unpacked into his room and making a list of anything else he may need to get fully moved in. Afterwards she ordered pizza and drinks and pulled out all the snacks she had in the pantry. Once the food arrived they binge-watched a few different shows, talking about their favorites, then altogether forgetting about the TV as they got to know each other better.

“Steve is my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were little kids. When his parents died my mom took him in and then when she died, he helped me get through it,” he shared.

“What about your dad?” Y/N asked.

“Oh, he was in and out of the picture. Always nice enough, but he just wasn’t the fatherly type. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since mom died, and it’s better that way,” he said, looking away from her intense gaze. “But what about you? Any traumatic childhood experiences?”

She chuckled at his dark humor. “It was just me and my dad. My mom was only in it for the money with him. I was her pretty doll to dress up, her pawn to get as much child support and alimony as possible. Once I turned 18 she had a mental breakdown knowing she’d lose a big portion of the payout she’d been getting, and I’ve kept my distance since then,” Y/N looked away as well. “She’ll call me sometimes, always asking for money. The alimony would last her the rest of her life if she’d stop gambling and hoarding.”

“Jesus,” Bucky murmured. He reached a hand out and intertwined his fingers with the hand closest to him. She gave him an appreciative smile.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” she reassured him. “It is what it is.” They sat silently for a moment, digesting the not-so-fun topic. “Anyways, I’d love to meet Steve, he sounds great.”

“Oh yeah, I told him we’d have to double date some time. He and his girlfriend Peggy went to that new burlesque club and loved it.”

“Did they? Oh good, I’m glad. That place was a labor of love, I tell ya,” Y/N giggled. “But I love the art of burlesque. Have you ever been to one?”

“No, I haven’t. I’d like to,” Bucky said truthfully.

“We’ll go tomorrow. You should invite your friends. I’ll get us all in. It’ll be fun,” she smiled again, patting his hand and then standing up and cleaning up some of the trash.

“Let me help,” Bucky said as he stood and grabbed the pizza boxes.

The night wound down and they talked some more until it was nearly midnight and Y/N’s eyes began to droop. “Y/N, you gotta get to bed,” Bucky poked her arm as her head began to loll to the side on the couch.

“What? No, I’m fine,” Y/N said groggily.

“Come on…let’s get you to bed,” Bucky coaxed her, standing up and pulling her up by her arms.

“Oh, alright,” she agreed, then wrapped her arms around his waist. “Guide me.”

“Oh god,” Bucky laughed, then started waddling his way towards the bedrooms beyond the kitchen. Y/N was walking backwards, keeping a firm grip on his waist so as not to trip and fall, giggling every once in a while as they swayed towards her room.

As he walked into her room he led her over to the edge of her bed. “Come on, you, we made it,” he said as he tried to push her off.

“But you’re so comfy,” she complained, her hug tightening on him again.

“And so are you, but you’re falling asleep,” he tried to pull her arms apart from behind him. In the process they lost their balance and both fell onto her bed, Bucky catching himself on his elbows at the last minute before he squashed her. She laughed as her hands flew up to his chest to help stop him. He laughed as well, his head falling to her shaking shoulder. As the laughter died down they stared at each other, their faces within inches of each other, the air around them shifting quickly.

“Sorry,” Bucky blinked, breaking the spell.

“It’s okay, it was my fault,” Y/N whispered as her eyes looked back and forth between his eyes. “You know you have the prettiest eyes?”

Bucky huffed a laugh, his breath fanning her face. “That’s funny, cuz I think you have the prettiest eyes.”

“I’m being serious, Buck,” she whined, then held back a yawn.

“Yeah, okay, time to sleep,” Bucky said as he lifted himself up. Y/N sat upright on her bed as he stood before her. “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Bucky. If you need anything I’ll be here,” she reminded him, giving him a sleepy smile.

“Alright, sleep well.”

“You, too.”

Bucky gave her one more smile before turning and leaving for his room next door. As he got ready for bed and settled into his new bed he sat and looked around him. The room alone was larger than his previous apartment. He was in a king size bed, his clothes in a mid century modern dresser that cost more than his rent inside a walk-in closet and a full bathroom with all the amenities one could ever want or need. Another smile spread across his face as he tried to accept that this was now his life. He didn’t know how long this was going to last, or what this weird relationship would be like even a year from now, but he was extremely grateful to Y/N for helping him at his lowest.

**I'm not sure the best way to tag people who requested to be tagged? I'm still pretty new to posting like this on Tumblr so please be patient with me. But I'm happy y'all are liking it so far!**

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #sugarbaby!bucky barnes #sugarmama!reader #sugar mama #sugarbaby #chapter 2 #curvy reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader

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aqua-the-smiter · 2 months

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✦•······················•✦•······················•✦୨୧✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ ℑ𝔯𝔬𝔫 ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 Ferrus Manus x female oc (Argena Seeva) Other parts in the reblogs Ferrus, in a bid to one up his pain-in-the-ass brother Fulgrim, takes up drawing. Gets some reference help from his long suffering friend and senechal, Argena. Part of my AU I have cleverly called the Primarch Wife AU. Happy endings, the boys get the help they need, Big E is a good dad and, most importantly, everybody gets a wife. Because big husband and small wife makes brain go brr

Sexual content/NSFW after the cut - Very lewd-but-not-lewd touching, Ferrus jacking off to his future wife while trying to get work done, idiots in love. @thevoidscreams @pringles-plaguehaus ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦୨୧✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊ “Gena?” Ferrus asked, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. “I have a…strange favor to ask of you.” Argena put down the loop of silver she’d been polishing and turned around on her stool to face him as she heard him out. Throne, he even looked uncomfortable, and she wondered what exactly he needed that he was looking so hot under the collar. Ferrus Manus was many things, but wavering was not one of them. Actually he was kind of cute like that. She mentally slapped herself almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind. HE. IS. YOUR. BOSS. She’d been with him for over a year and half at this point. It felt like it should have been longer. Falling into the role of his senechal had been so easy after a while. Especially after they’d started spending more time simply enjoying each other’s company. He was a surprisingly layered man once he opened up enough to show it. And, she heavily suspected, a lonely one too. So they’d gotten close more easily than she would have first thought. It even showed in the way he addressed her. Gena, a more tender nickname than her given. “Does it have anything to do with your ongoing attempts to one up your brother?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It does, yes. Look, I can’t help it. Fulgrim has been driving me mad recently, so I want to pay him back in kind.” “I know, I know. And if you pull it off you’ll make him absolutely seethe.” “It” in question was Ferrus putting a serious effort into learning how to draw. He could already, but it was an entirely different kind. Technical drawings, machine blueprints, weapon schematics. Nothing really artistic, although it could be counted as a form of art in its own right if you asked her. Watching him work was hypnotic, the movement of the pencil or stylus in his metal hands impossibly graceful. Elegant even. But most people didn’t see it that way. Resident artsy fuck, Fulgrim, certainly didn’t. Constantly making little jabs and jokes at his best friend’s inability to produce anything else than purely practical drawings. Finally, Ferrus had enough and announced to her in private that he was going to produce a piece of actual art better than anything Fulgrim could do (and he wasn’t as good as everyone thought he was, including himself) out of pure brotherly spite. The early results were rough, but promising. Argena herself had quite a bit of skill, picked up from her goldsmithing hobby, and he’d come to her with practice sketches, rudimentary shapes and simple three dimensional objects. It took him a while, but he was definitely getting it. His talent for technical drawings was beginning to shine through with the clean linework. In short, it seemed he might actually do it. “That is the goal.” He said, just a little smug. “So what do you need me for, pray tell my lord?” She prompted. The Primarch seemed to steel himself for a moment. “Well…I feel I’m ready to move on to…organic materials now. I can only draw my own tools so much before I cease to learn any more from the exercise. I was going to ask if I could study you. Your anatomy, I mean.” And it already sounded like that would involve less clothes than she started with that day. “...Study my anatomy? How so? Moreover, why?”

“Feel up your body. Your muscles, skeletal structure, general build. How everything connects and moves together. I find that I learn best when I am up to the elbows in it so to speak, so being able to touch it would be the best thing. You are the only person I feel comfortable coming to with this. It is, ultimately, quite a petty thing I’m after. You have been very understanding of me. More than I thought would be possible.” Ferrus paused for a moment, wondering if what he had to say next was even a good idea before deciding he’d take that chance. “Also, you are objectively a very beautiful woman. Whatever someone’s personal tastes may be, nobody could look at you and deny it. And subjectively, I think you are a beautiful woman. For those reasons you’d make the best subject for what I’m trying to accomplish. If the goal of art is to create something pleasing to the eye, something that captures the beauty of the world and the enthusiasm of the creator in a still image, you would be a perfect basis. Not like the mess of colors and lines Fulgrim throws on his canvases.” He spoke so frankly. Ferrus was always a very no-nonsense type of person, but to have that direct, blunt nature used in such a glowing description of her was something else entirely. Because you knew for a fact when he said something, he meant it. It made her feel very warm inside. “And this is purely for research, right?” She asked tentatively. “Purely objective.” He swore. “And I won’t go any farther than you want or touch you anywhere you don’t want to be touched. I’ll fill in any gaps in my knowledge with an anatomy book. Just tell me where to stop, and I will.” Somehow a Primarch who’d grown up in the wilderness eating sand had a better concept of boundaries than many people. “Well...I trust you, so I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.” She said after a moment, rubbing her upper arm. “I’m willing. Let’s do it.” He gave her one of his rare smiles (that seemed to be becoming less rare nowadays come to think of it), genuinely grateful. It made her feel more at ease with the agreement. Who knows, it might even be fun. ₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #warhammer 40k x oc #primarch x oc #primarch x female oc #mating press march #ferrus manus #ferrus manus x oc #ferrus manus x female oc

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terresdebrume · 7 days

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There is a dull knock of wood against the door when Edwin tries to make his way into his bedroom, and he sighs. The discovery is not strictly speaking unexpected. He and Charles have been sharing the Fridge since last November, after all. Edwin has had some time to get used to his friends' general habits.

"Charles," he calls out, keeping his eyes on the ground so he can sidestep Charles' cricket bat, some of his math equipment, his broken alarm clock, and what looks like the gutted content of his art box.

Charles is sitting at his desk, the one closest to the window. He is already in his pyjamas, his socked feet firmly perched on the seat of his chair. The long line of his back, vanishing into his long-sleeved shirt, curves forward so he can bend over his latest art piece, his legs framing him like a pair of red checkered wings. From the window outside, the pale light of late afternoon splashes against him, highlighting his curly hair, the shape of his jaw.

There is a purple stick of chalk in his hand, the tips of his fingers coated in it. There is a long line of turquoise along the curve of Charles' nose, as if he had scratched an itch with another piece of chalk. He is wearing an expression of profound focus that only ever seems to take him by surprise, and Edwin indulges in the sight for a moment, heart full to bursting.

After a while, Edwin knocks on the wall, calling Charles' name again. Charles takes the sort of deep breath Edwin gets after a long study session, then turns to him with a smile. Edwin, as usual, cannot resist answering with a quirk of the lips, even as he tries to scold:

"If Mr. Hampton sees this you'll be scolded again."

"I'll sort it out before dinner," Charles says without any sign of concern. That only leaves him about twenty minutes to get half his belongings off the floor of their room, but Edwin elects not to point that out.

Instead, he finds a path through Charles' explosive organization system to stand behind his chair. On an A3 sized sheet of paper, Charles has drawn dozens of flowers: pale blue lilac and darker hydrangeas, purple lavender and forget me nots, turquoise-looking mint, and even a few unnaturally blue daisies. In the middle, in blinding white, large letters, a single word: ਮਾਣ.

"Do you like it?" Charles asks.

Edwin looks back at the piece. He finds the color scheme soothing, if occasionally unrealistic, and familiar in a way he can't quite place. The motifs are uncharacteristically neat for Charles, who enjoys playing with the abstract, but pleasing nonetheless. And blue or not, daisies are Edwin's favourite flowers.

"I love it," he says sincerely.

Charles beams, and Edwin feels it like sunshine on his skin.

"Brills!" Charles exclaims, "I made it for you!"

Edwin turns around before he can help it, but no: the door to their room is firmly shut, and no one made their way in behind him. When he looks back to Charles, his grin has taken an amused, almost fond quality.

"For me?" Edwin asks, just to be sure. Charles laughs.

"Yes, you. It's your going away present."

He extends the paper to Edwin, who holds it gingerly with the tips of his fingers. He tries to take the whole piece in again at once, gaze flickering from one flower to the next, to the detailing of a leaf, to the bottom left corner, where Charles signed his name. He wishes he could say something—knows that he should, at least—but his throat is closed up, and his eyes strangely warm. He has to swallow several times before he can croak out:

"It's beautiful, Charles. Thank you."

"You're my best mate, you know," Charles replies, easy as breathing. "I just wanted to give you something special."

"It is," Edwin promises, clearing his throat to keep the tears threatening to spill contained to his throat. "Thank you." He sniffs as discretely as he can, and Charles generously pretends not to notice. "Is this Punjabi?"

Charles nods, a new layer of pride entering his expression. From what Edwin understands, Charles has received a lot of remarks on his penmanship from all his teacher except for Mr Madan. If his handwriting in Punjabi class is as neat as the painting, Edwin can understand why.

"What does it mean?"

"Pride," Charles says. "For everything you've accomplished this year. Also because you're a bloody brilliant friend, and I'm real proud you picked me."

"It's 'really proud'," Edwin points out, looking away from Charles as his cheeks and neck heat up.

It comes out snippier than Edwin intended, but Charles simply rolls his eyes.

"Well I'm really glad that you're my best friend," he says, giving Edwin's shoulder a gentle shove. "There's not a part of you I don't like. Consider this my encouragement to be as proud of yourself as I am of you, yeah?"

The warmth spreads over the rest of Edwin's face, and he diffuses by pointing out they won't leave the school until the end of the week, and Charles is being dramatic. Then, when that doesn't work, Edwin nags Charles into dealing with his things before the dinner bell. They spend the entire evening bickering around, and Edwin thinks he's the lucky one.

Much, much later, he realizes why the color scheme on the painting seemed familiar, and cries happy tears again.

This snippet is more of a laying down of concept than a proper fic and will eventually be edited (probably added to) and crospposted on AO3.

#Matt writes #dbda fanfic #dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #s: I'm down on my knees #20n

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rach-amber · 3 months

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Me again!

Do you think that Rachel and Max had a spiritual connection with one another? They’re completely different as far as their personalities and outer appearances. Yet, they both have one thing in common:

Their love for Chloe.

Plus, the fact that Rachel appeared as Max’s spirit animal (the doe) somewhat shows me that they were connected to some degree. What do you think?

You always ask great questions! I must admit I'm not as well versed on Max's side of the story as Rachel's, so there definitely are people who can give a more comprehensive answer than me. But imma just try and write what comes to mind :)

For 2 people that have never met, their spiritual connection, chemistry, "fate entanglement" as I liked to call what they have are the strongest across the fandoms I've seen. When Max returned, we as players felt Rachel's presence all over Arcadia bay. In the original there was even a line to the effect of "I feel like everything in this town is connected to Rachel Amber somehow". Max was able to "see" Rachel through different people in Arcadia bay. Everyone had something to say about her, even a random trucker. It can be said that she really had an effect on the people of that town, if we put the fire aside. This town being Max's hometown adds another layer to it, it is so much different due to Rachel's existence.

left pic from a fan made Rachel DLC | Yes, their love for Chloe is the key link that transcends through time & space, allowing them to see each other in some way.

Like the town, Max is also very different from her past self. While she didn't have such a strong presence back when she was growing up in Arcadia, Max eventually became the decider of the town's (including most of its people) fate. Whether Rachel is the root cause to Max's powers is very much a mystery and up to interpretation, just like many things in life is strange.

If we acknowledge that Rachel is the cause of the fire, there could be another parallel: this girl who tried to leave this town nearly destroyed the town; meanwhile another girl who came back actually have the power to do that, or stop it from getting destroyed. Even though both never meant to. (Not expanding on Rachel being the storm here cuz it's really not definitive & personally I think if Rachel's got powers she'd just use them on those who did her wrong, not the entire town)

Personality-wise, especially on the outside, they are almost opposites. But somehow I get the feeling that they'd really understand each other, because on the inside, they may not be that different. I've seen a Tumblr post saying Rachel using her people skills to get on people's good side is mirrored by Max using her rewind powers to fix her responses. (When you've got such an ability, of course you use them! Which is different from being manipulative, might I add.)

Rachel with her sensitive, vulnerable side, which she guarded & masked with so much effort and painted with her smiles & godly social skills, is definitely able to understand & empathise with Max and not judge her. And Max being pretty perceptive herself, having quite an astute understanding of Rachel just from photos she found, is definitely able to see more than Rachel lets on. Both are powerful smartasses and fiercely protective of Chloe. (& both bi x)

Max sees, Rachel shows. The photographer & the muse. Built for an "electric combo", as Love is Strange says, even though they may not hit it off well at the start due to awkwardness or slight jealousy from both sides, eventually they're gonna realise that the other is beneficial for them. Max is able to ground Rachel and give her heartfelt & real advice that she needed; Rachel's able to help build Max's confidence, socialise better (back off V, she's with me), share insights about art & photography.

I'd even say Max & Rachel may complement each other more than Max and Chloe, OR Chloe and Rachel. (If there are more content on these 2, AmberPrice in my heart might be challenged. Yeah. It's scary.)

Some say they share the same spirit animal, which is really possible (bts putting that "doe see doe" photo on Rachel's bed frame), or it could mean that as Max's spirit animal, Max sees all spirits in a doe form. Another possibility is that Rachel have the doe as her spirit animal, and everyone who can see her spirit sees the doe. Nonetheless it's incredible that Max seems to be the only person to be able to see the doe, or that Rachel chose to present herslef to only Max. Definitely a connection there. 🦌

Looking at their personalities through enneagram (Rach 4, Max likely 9) we see that they can be similar but in different ways (9 & 4 can be mistyped):

"The difference is that Nines are detached both from the external world and from their emotions (not keeping in touch w Chloe in Seattle & delay on reaching out to her?), whereas Fours withdraw from whatever has caused them pain (delaying telling Chloe about her messy relationships cuz it causes her pain? + her immediate reaction to finding James making out with another woman). Nines see the world through rose-colored glasses, and their view of it is comforting, whereas Fours see the world from a garret window as outsiders and are not comforted: everyone else seems to be living a happier, more normal life."

Thanks for the question! I've no idea I was gonna write this long. You guys can see a few of my blogs or reblogs that I've mentioned these 2 via the tag "Rachel and Max" or "Amberfield" if interested :) Feel free to reblog/ add on!

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darkstar225 · 10 months

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Twice's 10th member is shy with IVE members

A/N: Heyyy, my apologies for taking so long to post but the semester started and I'm currently dying- :D I hope that my friend ECKEYYY that gave me this idea on Wattpad likes it! :)

The request: Introverted + Super shy Reader. What do you think about 4th gen girl group (IVE) want to meet Reader and ask Reader to do dance challenge with them? When the girl group finally met Reader, they use "Sunbaenim" to Reader? but at the end Reader get along with all of them and told them to call Reader by her name instead of "Sunbaenim"

PS: Tysm for everyone that reads what I write, I hope I can bring a smile to your faces every time I post! I'd like to thank whoever sent me this idea 'cause I loved to write it <3

__________________________________________________________

In the heart of bustling Seoul, a city of contrasts where neon lights painted the sky and quiet alleyways whispered secrets, lived a girl named Y/N. She was an enigma, an introvert wrapped in a veil of shyness, existing in a world that thrived on boldness and brightness. At just seventeen years old, Y/N held the unique position of being the tenth youngest member of TWICE, a globally acclaimed girl group that had claimed the hearts of millions with their melodies and performances. Yet, behind the spotlights and cheers, the girl was a quiet soul.

Her days were a symphony of solitude, a peaceful dance between her thoughts and the pages of her books. Her apartment, adorned with art and the tender presence of her cat, Mochi, was her sanctuary. Interactions were short, often limited to her tight-knit group of TWICE sisters, her family, and a few cherished friends who understood her gentle ways.

On a crisp morning that carried promises of change, the maknae's serene world was shaken. The management of her agency divulged an unexpected proposition: IVE, the newborn rookie girl group, wished to meet her. IVE was riding high on their success, and they had an audacious idea... A dance challenge collaboration.

The idea of performing in front of unfamiliar faces made Y/N's heart flutter like a caged bird. She was well-versed in intricate choreography, but the thought of dancing in an intimate setting, confronting the eyes of strangers, was a nightmare she never wished to live. The days that followed were filled with restlessness, her doubts and hopes waging a battle within her.

Y/N murmured to herself, fingers twisting nervously at the hem of her cosy sweater.

Y/N - Maybe I can decline politely.

But beneath the layers of apprehension, a small ember of curiosity glowed. The notion of stepping beyond the safety of her cocoon, of challenging her self-imposed boundaries, was strangely alluring. With a deep breath, TWICE's angel responded, expressing her tentative interest in the collaboration.

Weeks sprinted by in a blur of rehearsals and nerves. Y/N decided to keep this experience concealed from her TWICE unnies. She didn't want to burden them with her anxieties. As the day of the meeting inched closer, her stomach felt like a carnival ride of excitement and dread. Finally, the moment dawned. TWICE's maknae stood before an elegant building, its modern facade a stark contrast to her fluttering heart. The glass door whispered open, and Y/N crossed the lobby. The agency's waiting room exuded minimalist charm, and the air hummed with creative energy. She was led to a snug lounge area where the IVE members were lounging, laughing and talking.

The youngest member of IVE, Leeseo, was the first to spot Y/N. Her eyes widened, and she practically bounced over, a radiant smile illuminating her features as she extended her hand.

Leeseo - You're Y/N from TWICE, right? It's such a pleasure to meet you!

Y/N blushed, her hand quivering as she tentatively shook Leeseo's hand and spoke softly.

Y/N - Y-yes, that's me. Nice to meet you too.

The rest of the IVE members gathered around, each introducing themselves with warmth and excitement. Y/N's heart warmed at their reception, but her shyness sealed her lips shut. Throughout the meeting, she was addressed as sunbaenim, a term reserved for senior artists. This only widened the gap between Y/N's introverted soul and the role of a "senior."

As the discussion moved to the collaboration, TWICE's youngest's nerves resurfaced, a tide of worries threatening to engulf her. What if she stumbled in front of these talented girls? What if her dancing fell short?

Just as the anxiety threatened to consume her, Leeseo leaned in, her eyes brimming with empathy.

Leeseo - Don't worry too much, sunbaenim. We're all in this together. And you're an amazing dancer, we've watched your performances with TWICE!

A small smile tugged at Y/N's lips, Leeseo's words touching a chord within her. Perhaps, amidst the labyrinth of her fears, she could find the strength to stand on that dance floor.

Days melted into nights, the rehearsal studio their second home. In the company of IVE, Y/N discovered uncharted territory within herself. The members were patient and encouraging, fostering an environment where she could express herself without judgment. Gradually, Y/N's defences crumbled, and she shared fragments of her life and passions.

As the day of the dance challenge drew near, TWICE's sweetheart was taken aback by the growing friendship. Laughter flowed freely, stories intertwined, and dinners became a ritual after rehearsals. The walls that had shielded Y/N's shy soul were slowly giving way. The day of the challenge arrived, and the venue was a canvas of light, the stage aglow with anticipation. Y/N stood backstage, heart pounding to the beat of the music. Her fellow IVE members stood by her side, their encouraging words like anchors in a sea of uncertainty.

As the music surged and the lights dimmed, TWICE's maknae stepped onto the stage, her body a vessel of the music's energy. Her movements flowed, expressions intertwining with the melody. The audience was mesmerised, and as the performance reached its peak, the IVE members joined Y/N onstage, a shocking synch on their motion.

The applause that followed was thunderous, and Y/N felt tears pricking at her eyes. She had triumphed over her fears, unearthing a facet of herself she never knew existed. Backstage, as she caught her breath, the IVE members huddled around her, pride emanating from their smiles. But this time, they didn't address her as sunbaenim. Instead, they affectionately called her by her name. Leeseo enveloped her in a hug as she spoke first.

Leeseo - Y/N unnie, you were amazing!

Y/N blushed, her cheeks painted with a happiness that surpassed shyness.

Y/N - Thank you, Leeseo. And thank you all, for believing in me.

The bond that had blossomed between Y/N and the IVE members solidified that day. With time, TWICE's child embraced her newfound self-assurance, and her introverted tendencies transformed into a unique strength. The fortress of solitude she had erected morphed into windows of connection. And so, Y/N discovered that venturing outside her comfort zone could help her get unexpected friendships. Amidst laughter and melodies, she learned that even the quietest hearts could radiate their brilliance. And that made the unnies that were all looking at her along the way have only one thought:

We are proud of our dear maknae.

A/N: I apologise for any errors, English is not my first language. Pls, let me know if there's something wrong, ty for reading <3

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elgatt0 · 18 days

Text

@dragkbluire OMG how I love this art, it inspired me to write this lil horror fic :3

I hope you enjoy ^^

Ao3

=================================

Warning for horror

=================================

Legend pov

“A little louder, please. I don’t think the guests below have woken up yet.”

Breathing stops with his agitated footsteps. Cold sweat runs down his spine, and the bastard has the audacity to look at me surprised that I woke up. I couldn't even sleep to begin with; a horse with iron hooves is quieter.

“I thought you were sleeping…” I feel my neck crack as I turn my head to face him. My eyes bore into his with all the anger and disbelief that exhaustion allows me. No words need to be said: the “really?!” is so obvious in my eyes that I can almost feel the pride emanating from the old man, even though he is rooms away.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers, looking away embarrassed, and returns to sit on the bed on the opposite side of the room. I turn my eyes to the ceiling, silently asking the gods what I did to deserve this. I hear him breathing slowly in a futile attempt to calm down, but I know this moment of peace won’t last. After all, it’s the fifth time he’s done this, and the night has barely begun.

Why so much fuss? Was he worried about others? It would make sense for the damn mother cucco that he is, but I feel like that’s not it. Since we got here, he hasn’t really seemed interested in anyone… not even himself. It was like the smith said; he seemed a bit off, so much so that he didn’t even take off his layers to rest. The battle is over…

Or maybe not.

Now it’s my turn to breathe to calm down. If I opened my mouth at this moment, nothing good would come out. I close my eyes. The idea of trying to sleep and ignoring everything is tempting, but worry screams in my head and hammers at my heart. I feel like something very bad is going to happen, and the guilt would never let me rest.

A strange silence reigned in the room. Perhaps it had only been a few seconds, but the stagnation of sound distorted time, giving the sensation that hours had passed. I sit up slowly: the creaking of the bed makes time and sound flow again. I don’t look at him, not yet, but I feel like my action has made him uneasy again. But why?

"Rancher…"

"No"

"Common man…"

"It's none of your business…"

“Then I will make it be”

A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I close my eyes once again. My bones ache, my wounds burn, bruises marking both body and soul are my souvenirs from today’s battle. Every movement is slow, every word heavy on my tongue, and the desperation to rest grows stronger, but I can’t give up, not yet.

Guided by courage, I slowly turn in bed, placing my feet on the floor, facing him once again. But apparently, he finds the floor more fascinating at the moment.

“Please… no… not now,” my mood sours as usual. I think about responding, but I realize that these words weren’t directed at me. It’s as if he’s talking to himself, begging… for something… or someone. Once again, I’m not here, not for him.

A wave of worry extinguishes the flames of exhaustion. He isn’t well, and I don’t know how to help. I’m not good at comforting people… My words are deaf to him... it’s agonizing. I feel useless, and my heroic nature hates that. I want to comfort him with my touch, but a primitive instinct warns me: stay away. The only thing I can do now is wait, an uncertain and painful wait, as I watch my companion, my brother, succumb to the darkness in his mind.

I should get off my ass and go warn the others...it’s the right thing to do, yes. The champion knows him better than I do, they have a story… or will have one? Time travel be damned.

"I-"

Creaks, whispers, and growls put me in a stupor, freezing my eyes on the rancher in front of me… or what should be him:

Embracing himself, nails cruelly dug into his arms, the crack of breaking bones harmonized in horror with the grinding of teeth that no longer seemed Hylian.

Black pulses emanated, taking with them the blood and soul, turning the skin pale, stealing the light that once had lived there.

The bones ripped through the skin, becoming more prominent, demonic, the thin line between man and beast slowly disappeared before me.

His empty eyes stared into mine, full of despair.

He finally gets up, his steps silent and calculated, in contrast to the heavy and noisy ones from before.

Slowly he advances, his eyes never leaving me, the melodic and morbid whispers getting louder the closer he gets. The temperature drops, my breathing becomes heavy, and the whispers are now deafening. I can’t move…

Is cold…

Stop…

I can't move...

I can't move

I can't move I can't move

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I CAN'T MOVE

please…

someone…

help…me…

The mention of a smile is the last thing registered in my mind before I fall into darkness.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe fanfic #lu fanfiction #lu twilight #lu legend #linked universe legend #linked universe twilight #body horror #horror #tw body horror #tw horror #no he is not a werewolf #he is....something more >:3 #i'll explain later #in chapter 2

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honeyed-poet · 1 year

Text

Musings of a Digesting Poet

The End of the Honey Boy

written by Honeyedpoetprey

Art credit goes to Izumy and mementomori

WARNING: Implied willing fatal Vore and lots of digestion talk ahead

Wow, there I was adventuring along as always… seemed like any other day, and now here I am packed in a tummy just stewing and churning… I had a dream it would end this way.  From the satisfied belch up there… I’m glad you enjoyed me! The accommodations are very warm and wet and soft, with just enough dim reddish light to watch the fluids secrete and drip their way down through all the little folds and crevices. Kinda mesmerizing, and I intend to just relax and enjoy myself while it lasts. You can only get eaten once, after all.  As for what to do with the rest of our time together? Well, if you’re lonely, we can chat. Maybe find a nice wine to compliment what’s left of my flavour in your mouth. When you’re ready though, do go ahead and digest me all up. As much as I enjoy it in here, it would be greedy of me to keep filling this space in your belly when I’m sure there are many more who would like to follow. Speaking of, you can feel free to go ahead and burp up my phone when you’re done with me and use my contacts as a menu, if you wish.  If there’s anything I can do to make the afterglow of your meal more enjoyable before I become a nutritious human smoothie and a layer of pudge, do let me know, and if you should hiccup and feel a light, sweet taste of honey in your mouth, that’s just me saying hello. Or displacing air as I roll over to get more comfortable… either one of those.

What’s that? If I dreamed about this in advance… and that must make you the girl of my dreams? Huh, yes, I suppose that’s true. By all means do take it as a compliment! 

Might explain why the idea of being eaten always mingled with the erotic for me but.. bah. That would be a crass direction to take this lovely discourse. Speaking of which, I would be a poor and ungentlemanly one-time dinner host if I didn't also buy you a drink. I recommend a nice Merlot to pair with sweeter meats like myself.

If my jacket is still nearby, there should be ample cash in my wallet for you to nab a celebratorybottle while I'm still relatively solid and fresh on your palate. Moreover, I happen to quite like the scent, so melting away as it showers down over me just sounds heavenly.

Mmf! Oh my! Was that a possessive, proud pat I just felt? You naughty girl teasing me like that!

Hmmm, your strange pride in having me in your tummy and my strange contentment with my fate may well be a sign that this was just destiny and a fulfillment of my purpose…

Kind of mind boggling to think about, really. My family line going back hundreds of years (many of their obituaries more resembling food reviews) until finally, my parents produced me with the correct flavour profile and feel to just to go through life waiting until the moment you got to taste and feel this well-bred meal glide over your tongue and plop into a tummy made to fit it and squeeze and churn it just right.

l used to like to play games with predators (it was my way of reconciling my survival instinct with my strange attraction to being eaten). Give them hints as to my location, tease, them, and lead them on a merry chase before finally escaping and wishing them better luck next time…

Every narrow escape, every predator I left hungry without so much as a lick, and here, there was no such struggle. You saw me, decided I belonged in your belly, and gobbled me down. No more running, nothing complicated, I was caught, and it was time to fulfill my purpose as a delightful dinner.

And now, my survival instinct isn't screaming at me like it always did before. I'm here. And I'm content… even as I contemplate how much longer I have until I sink into the soupy slurry that will soon be forming beneath me.

Would make for a nice parody of a destined love story with a cliche title like "Love At First Bite", I'd consider writing it if it wasn't for….. Well you know, your tummy walls and stomach acids getting right to work on lovingly caressing and churning me into Cream-of-Me soup.

But perhaps that's why I'm okay with ending up in the belly of a uniquely talented writer and deep thinker like yourself. I may be ending, but rather than leaving my own legacy behind, by digesting inside you, nourishing you, contributing to your body, and energizing yourmind will make your future accomplishments, the dreams you will fulfill, in some small way an extension of myself. It's a nice consolation whether you forget me completely after I melt into more of you, or think back occasionally on that dinner conversation so long ago.

Personally, I hope I'm brain food (can't know for sure. I wasn't really born with an index of nutritional facts) so I can motivate your talented mind to produce yet more fantastic writing! After all the stories I've written… having she who ate me carry on writing long after I’m just her pudge sounds so fitting!

l apologize for rambling. Destiny, purpose, and legacy are heady chit-chat topics to have with someone you are currently digesting. (The acids are accumulating and rising quite nicely, more of a chest-deep hot tub than a sauna at this point).

I'll wriggle and squirm for a bit, and I do hope you enjoy the feel of my movements until my form rounds out into a bellyfull of pleasantly bubbling and groaning mush slowly being moved along and put to use. Hope your digestive system is efficient! I would hate for too much of me to go to waste.

Glad you found me delicious, hopefully you'll leave a five-star review for my relatives and failed predators to see, and don't feel too bad about me missing out on your future writings. It is a fitting end to just be part of your story... Whatever comes next that I miss once I'm offering a little padding beneath you upon your writing chair, I will always have my own little chapter. This moment just for me~

~GGGRRRRRGL CHRRRRN~

~Glorp Glorp~

~SCHLO00000Rpp~

*.blup.*

URRRRRRRRP~

"Oh! He DID taste like honey~ yummmm~"

And in that instant… the Honeyed Poet was gone…. and only a satisfied pred, looking forward to healthily digest the rest of him away remained.

~THE END~

#female pred #male prey #vore belly #fatal vore #vore digestion #same size vore #vore rp #giantess vore #vore writing #willing vore #oral vore #vore prey #vore pred

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