#i hope the combination of words i used for his tone of voice gives you some idea aklsdjfa

[kihyunsflavor]

I belong to you

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x f!reader

Summary: Your house unknown but a high-born and a Bene Gesserit, you get wed to the na-baron of Giedi Prime, Feyd-Rautha. It´s not easy with him and his darlings, but after some time it seems you are much to his liking. Is there a soft side hidden inside Feyd, only for his wife to see or will he treat you the same as any servant?

Warnings: arranged marriage (like all of them lol), smut, violent behavior, breeding kink, pet names, dom/sub dynamics, mentions of knives and blood, size kink

Word count: 3.5k

Authors note: English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes. Hope you like it <3

The bed was comfortable and soft, much different than the room itself with his stony, cold walls and the black interior. You were not asleep, just lying in bed with closed eyes. The current situation making you uneasy and sleep didn’t come easily. Next to that were the people standing in your room. You felt their preying eyes on your body even though the blanket covered you fully. It was Feyd-Rautha, your newlywed husband, with his darlings. There were three of them, being his concubines for quite some time. 

“She is rather ugly.” One girl spoke up, not even caring to whisper her words. They probably wanted you to hear it anyways. “Next to that she is a witch.” The other hissed. Feyd stayed quiet but you knew he had a big smile plastered on his face. You didn’t move nor open your eyes, you wanted to know why they suddenly decided to pay you a visit at this hour. Your husband hasn’t been in your chambers before, not even after marriage did he share the bed with you. He was spending time with his darlings and only having this annoying black teethed grin on his face when you ran into him.

“I think she is awake, Feyd. The witch listened to us since we came here.” 

The room was dark, no light coming through the big windows. This planet was very dim, caused by the industrial pollution and their black sun. One of the reasons why you missed your home planet so much. There you had fields of green grass, blue skies and people were dressed in colorful clothes. It was a warm planet, like spring and autumn combined. 

You opened your eyes and stared at the little group in your chamber. Your expression cold, showing no emotion. Feyd and his darlings kept your gaze, amusement hiding behind their eyes. Slowly, you sat up glancing shortly at the clock next to your bed. It was 2 am. “What is the reason you came into my room at this hour, my Lord?” You asked, annoyance showing through your voice. Again, this grin on his face. He hasn’t shared many words with you since you arrived on Giedi Prime. All you ever dream of is this exact expression. 

“My darlings wanted to take a look at my little present.” Present? No, you were not just a mere gift to him, but right now Feyd sought only to demean you.

He sat down on the edge of the bed to your feet, his eyes never leaving your face. He wanted to drink up every expression you were going to show him. But there was nothing. You had trained long, you were good at it. Instead, you shifted your eyes to his three concubines. They all looked pretty similar, only one of them had a big black bar on her forehead. Their skin was white, eyes fully black and their heads shaved, not a single hair on their body just like Feyd. You had heard they were the beauties of Giedi Prime - and they fed on human flesh. 

“I have been here for two months now. Did they not have the chance to take a look at me yet?” You replied. Feyd shifted next to you and your eyes fell back on him. He didn’t like the tone you were using. “Careful wife, that´s not how you speak to me.” You mustered his face, he appeared to be displeased by your reaction, not expecting you to talk back like this. He was a scary man, unpredictable and violent, but you were not an ordinary girl. Trained in the way of the Bene Gesserit, you mastered the Voice. There was no way you would give yourself that easily to him. “I apologize, husband.” Seconds later, there was a knife sitting at your throat. The cold blade grazed your skin lightly, but still breaking it enough to release tiny drops of blood. You were surprised by his sudden reaction and leaned back. Holding your chin high, you did not break eye contact with Feyd´s dark blue eyes. “You better shut your mouth!” 

It was a command. He wanted you to submit, making it clear he had full control over you. However, you simply stared back at him, not moving a muscle. This made him angry, but he didn’t change the pressure of his hold. “Do you want me to cut your neck, little mouse? I could slice you up right in this moment.” The grin wandered back on his face, making you uneasy. He was enjoying the thought of making you bleed. You replied after a while, choosing your next words carefully. “I will give myself to you completely, but it will be out of my own will, not through force, na-Baron.”

Feyd´s expression went blank for a second. He sensed something in you, something he hasn’t been confronted with before. Now snarling he said “You better do as I say, wife. I won´t think twice about staining these sheets red with your blood.” A soft smile appeared on your lips; it was not to tease him. With a calmer voice you replied “No, you won´t treat me like this. I am your wife, not a mere servant you command. I will submit to you, but you need to earn my respect first.”

During this whole time the three concubines just stood there watching you and Feyd. There was so much tension in the air, that they didn’t dare to interfere. But then Feyd leaned back on his heels and the knife left your throat. You straightened your back and touched your skin where it had been broken softly. Tiny droplets of blood stained your fingers, but it was not much. Suddenly one of the concubines dropped to her knees next to the bed. She looked at your fingers with pleading eyes. “Let me taste your blood, please.” You starred at her confused than back at your fingers. Thinking about all possibilities what could go wrong if you let her do it, you finally decided to let her lick your fingers clean. Reaching out to her, she immediately leaned forward to lap at them. For a second you looked back at Feyd, who carried his usual smile, enjoying the situation in front of him. But in the next moment the girl kneeling on the ground raised rapidly and tasted the fresh wound on your neck. 

“Go away!” Stripped of control over her own body, the concubine moved away from you. She blinked disorientated, trying to figure out what just had happened. 

“How dare you?!” The other concubines hissed, dripping with spite. Feyd was showing not a single emotion in his face. You directed your next words to the concubines. “You ask me how I dare? I don’t think I gave her permission to touch my neck.” Those standing looked to Feyd for help and protection, yet his gaze remained solely fixed on you. “Do you think you are better than us? We have been here for a long time. You are just a foreign girl.” They started to argument, but you interrupted them. “Yes, I think I am better. You may have been in his care for ages, but who is the one that will bear his heir? It will only be me.” Your response silenced them.

The room was quiet, you watched Feyd taking in your words. It appeared as though a realization washed over him, yet he wouldn’t let it go so easily. 

The knife returned to your throat, this time softer, drawing no blood. “I don’t like the way you treat my darlings. You are not yet with child, wife.” His eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. “And why is that?" You retorted sharply. "If you had devoted more time to me after our marriage, I might be carrying an heir now. But instead, you choose to spend your days and nights with them.” If he wanted to play a game, you certainly wouldn't hesitate to participate. 

There was anger and fury dancing in his eyes, yet nestled behind it, timid and faint, was attraction. You almost had him at your grasp. “And why is it that you have an issue with my behavior towards your concubines, but overlook their insults and disrespect towards me? This is not how I imagined Feyd-Rautha, the na-Baron, to treat his wife.” 

Feyd was taken aback by your words and let his hand with the knife sink down. You both held each other's gaze for a while, almost as if engaged in a silent communication through your eyes. It felt as though he had finally comprehended the entirety of the situation. Slowly, you tilted your head to the side, offering your throat to him in submission. It was the gesture he had been seeking - a sign of surrender. In the next moment you heard the knife hit the ground with a sharp clink and his raspy deep voice, dismissing the concubines.

Soft, wet lips immediately left a trail of kisses along your exposed neck. He made a grunting noise while inhaling your scent. You shifted your arms and laid flat on your back, opening your legs so he could just fit nicely in between them. Feyd made a noise of appreciation and continued his assault on your skin. “My dear little wife, being so obedient now.” When whispering, his voice sounded much deeper. It turned you on. His hands found your clothed breasts, squeezing them roughly, but as your hand caressed the back of his head calmly, he softened his touch. He raised his head and locked eyes with you before kissing you for the second time, since you arrived on this planet. 

The blanket was fully gone now, thrown into the last part of the bed. Your nightdress pulled up, so his hands had free access to your naked skin. Feyd enjoyed tracing the curves of your body, savoring every glimpse he could get of you. “Yes, so pretty like that. You like it too, don’t you, little mouse?” He grinned and his face moved closer to your face again to fully capture your expression in this dimly lit room. “I like it very much, husband.” “Feyd. Say my name.” His lips lingered over yours, waiting for it. “I like it very much, Feyd.” You repeated. A growl leaving his throat, he pressed his lips to yours. 

His right hand wandered down to your clothed cunt. He brushed over it, making you whine into his mouth. He grinned, slipping his hand underneath your panties and gliding his fingers through your heat. “You´re so wet, my dear. Is that all for me?” A moan escaped your mouth at his words. Oh how his deep voice and words turned you on. You were sure, he could make you come just with it alone. Not trusting your voice, you nodded. He watched you, as his fingers played with your sensitive area. Gradually, he lowered his lips, planting kisses along your cleavage, grazing over your nipples, and trailing down to your stomach. His fingers slipped under the waistband of your lace panties. “They are so pretty, but unfortunately, they have to go.” Feyd remarked.

After they were thrown onto the floor, Feyd leaned down between your legs, placing small kisses on your inner thighs. You arched your back at the pleasure and quiet whimpers escaped your throat. Feyd made his way to your pussy and gave it a lick, making you shudder. “You like that?” He grinned suggestively at you, revealing his black teeth. But he didn´t wait for an answer, instead he ravished you like a starving man. His big hands were placed on either side of your hips to keep you pressed into the mattress, since it was difficult for you to stay still. Quickly, two fingers entered you, moving slowly. Your moans grew louder, searching hands buried themselves in the black sheets. “I am going to come, Feyd!” Goosebumps spread all over your body, you were so close to your release. “Then come, little mouse!” He commanded and you let yourself go fully. It was a climax like you never had before when touching yourself alone. Your husband was definitely very skilled. 

After you had calmed down a little, Feyd loomed over you. His lips found yours again and he rutted against your body. Even though he was still clothed, you could feel how turned on he was. “Gonna have my way with you now, yea?” He chuckled, leaning back to pull his pants down. Your eyes widened at his length and thickness, as you starred at his dick. You began to worry how it was going to fit inside you. Feyd saw the change in your expression and bend back down, holding himself up with one arm next to your head, while the other pumped his cock slowly. “Don´t worry, dear. I will be gentle.” He planted a kiss to the tip of your nose and you locked eyes with him. His now gentle and tender actions made you wonder, if it was just a tactic to make you trust him. Despite this uncertainty, you didn´t sense any unease in your gut. 

You gave him a shy smile and your hands found his strong shoulders. “Will you put this off as well? I want to see you.” Your words amused him, he enjoyed the way you behaved. “Everything my little wife wants.” He answered proudly, feeling his ego boosted and leaning back to remove his shirt. You mustered his pale skin - it was white like snow. Curious fingers grazed over his muscles, Feyd placed his hand over yours. It made you feel safe. There was no longer anger or violence directed towards you.

You gazed at each other for a while, neither of you feeling the need to break eye contact. It was easier to read his emotions now, and it was clear that he wanted the same thing as you did. You freed your hand out of his hold and placed it on his strongly erected member. Gently, you started stroking him. Feyd closed his eyes and tilted his head back from the pleasure he was feeling. You tightened your grip, precome dripping out of the tip. It was such an arousing view. 

Suddenly Feyd gripped your wrists and placed them over your head. “I want to come inside you, little mouse.” He breathed huskily in your ear. You didn’t mind this at all, finally feeling his touch on your body was exhilarating. You had always desired his attention. 

There was some impatience in his movements now. Feyd stared at your naked body underneath him, while his free hand positioned your hips at the perfect angle. You felt yourself clamping down on nothing, wanting to be filled up by his pretty cock. “My love, you look irresistible. You won´t be getting any sleep tonight.” His husky voice sent shivers down your spine, excitement bubbling in your stomach. Before he entered you, he freed your wrists out of his grasp to support his own weight. You panicked for a second as it seemed like he was going to lean back, and you really disliked not having him close in this vulnerable situation. Feyd smiled, his face only mere inches from yours. “I'm not going anywhere.” He reassured you with his raspy voice and captured your lips.

Kissing him shifted your focus away from the pain between your legs, as he pushed inside your tight hole. “Doing so good for me, doll.” He hushed your whimpers, pressing you closer to his warm body. You felt safe in his arms, being able to relax completely. After he was fully sheathed inside you, he let you adjust to his size.

Blinking slowly, you opened your eyes and looked at him. His eyes were already fixed on your features. Small praises left his lips, before he loosened his hug on you and brought his arms next to your head. You felt so small when he was hovering over you like this. Not long after, Feyd started to move his hips. First, he was gentle and slow but as your moans grew louder, he quickened his pace. Your hands wandered over his wide, muscled back, fingernails causing small scratches to appear. The pain spurned him on. “They gave me such a perfect wife, taking me so well.” Your husband praised and placed a kiss on your forehead. You shuddered and felt your release being close. Feyd´s thrusts started to become sloppy and unsteady as well. He cursed under his breath and bit into your shoulder. You squeaked at the sudden pain. “Feyd, I am close.” You whispered. He lifted his head again and grinned. “Good girl, yea… I am close too.” He growled, his eyes turning even darker. You caught a glimpse of primal instinct in them, like you were his prey. “Come for me whenever you are ready, little mouse.”

Feyd pulled out completely, only his tip touching your entrance slightly. Then in a fast movement, he pushed inside again, going in so deep his dick kissed your cervix. You made a startled sound and in the next moment could only moan. He was hitting all the right places, which made you come hard. Your back arched off the mattress, while moaning your husband’s name in bliss. Feyd had waited for your climax until he let himself go and filled you up with his seed. “So good... so good for me.” He rasped, out of breath, still coming down from his high. 

You had closed your eyes, only opening them when Feyd was moving over you. He had leaned back on his heels. One hand was placed protectively over your stomach, while the other held up your leg. He watched his cum drip out of your pussy. When his attention returned to your face, he grinned slyly. “Not done with you yet.” You were quickly turned around on all fours. “Yes, stay like that.” Feyd´s body was pressed into your back and his dick rubbed on your ass. He was growing bigger and bigger every second. Calloused fingers found their way into your hair and he tugged harshly on it. “Going to fill you up again. That´s what you wanted, am I right, little mouse?” You could hear how much he enjoyed teasing you.

There was no time for a reply, as he pushed inside of you with ease and you couldn’t surpress the moan that escaped you at the feeling of the stretch. The sensation nearly stole your breath away and Feyd immediately set a rapid pace. In this angle he felt significantly larger and deeper than before. All you could manage were small whimpers in response to the overwhelming sensation. 

Feyd´s free hand, that was placed on your waist, landed a sharp slap on one of your cheeks. The pain made you hiss through clenched teeth and you turned your head slightly to look back at him. Pleasure and lust were written on his face and when you caught his eyes, a smirk appeared. “Don’t look at me like this, love. I know you liked it, clenching down on me so tightly.” He pulled your hair back, forcing you to sit up. Your back was pressed against his chest when he whispered into your ear. “Tell me how much you like it.”

A shudder went down your spine and you whined. He was so deep inside of you. With a shaky hand you pressed down on your lower belly to feel the bulge Feyd was creating. “It feels really good-ah!” You answered him. “You like it, when I fuck you like this, little mouse?” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “Yes, yes Feyd.” Seconds later your orgasm approached and you came hard on his cock. Soft lips were gently pressed to your cheek, while you tried to catch your breath. Even though his thrusts were harsh, abusing your insides, he still handled you with care.

His pace didn’t falter as he was hunting his own release. Your body went limp, but he held you up on strong arms, moving you back on dick. And again, he filled you up with a huge amount of his seed. 

He actually stayed true to his word of not letting you sleep the whole night. When a faint light filtered through the windows, signaling the arrival of morning, you had just reached your 5th or 6th climax. You weren't even sure because, at some point, logical thoughts ceased to form in your head.

Feyd laid you down gently as your eyes were closed from tiredness. He had fetched a wet cloth to wipe you clean. The coolness was soothing against your feverish skin. After he finished, you felt the mattress sink in as he laid down next to you. Protective hands wrapped around your middle, pulling you close to his body. "Mine," he whispered softly and placed a tender kiss on your temple. If you weren't going to fall pregnant after this night, you didn’t even know what to believe in anymore. 

#feyd rautha #feyd smut #dune part two #feyd x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #dune x reader #dune imagine #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fic #austin butler x reader #dune fanfic #feyd x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen imagine #feyd rautha smut #feyd-rautha x reader #kihyunsflavor

[samodivaa]

Thrill me, Fulfill me

You agreed to help for one mission—now you are both lustful and carnal, affected by sex pollen—you are flint, he is tinder.

Warnings - sex pollen, smut, rough/possessive sex, Hydra past, breeding kink, choking kink, multiple orgasms

Words - 8k

(the 3D render is for this fic, enjoy :3)

The horizon tips on its side, and slowly, hour by hour, the day spills out and soon the night will spread its darkness—traveling through the countryside is a charming escape and in a chronicle of events, with the light of the days—you feel the light inside too, your human spirit wanders in thoughts as you sit on the BMW’s trunk with closed eyes. It is June, and the world smells of roses, moments like these leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going—in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, Bucky and freedom—your soul feels at peace.

“I talked with Sam, he wants me to help him” There is an endearing nervousness in his voice “I was wondering if you would like to come with us”

In an instant, you reply with an annoyed face “No”

“No? Come on, you need people other than me in your life”

He scolds as he nests between your legs, fingers finding their way on both sides of your hips, drawing soft circles as they travel up towards your waist.

You arch an eyebrow at him, as if the answer is obvious “I don’t need others”

“You will love Sam, I told him about us, I mean-about us living together”

“You did, why?” you clip your words, hissing them into his face as you give a wide-eyed, searching look.

“I used to invite him over to my apartment, he started wondering why I stopped. I wanted him to know anyways”

“What else did you tell him?” you look at him with an arrested expression. His smile fades, and he finds himself staring into your eyes “James?”

It is only a brief moment, but you catch his blink of surprise at your demanding tone before he offers a tentative smile.

“I-I told him about your connections and he was hoping that-” he trails off quietly and you notice a tightness around his mouth and a dimness to his usually bright eyes.

You regard him thoughtfully and he sees the comprehension dawning in your eyes. You know exactly what he is asking.

“Did you miss the part of how I built them?” you ask, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He huffs in annoyance “Well no, but don’t worry-”

“Oh, hey Sam, I am another brainwashed assassin and when I escaped I did it willingly, for money, nice to meet you by the way”

“I get it, but you are changi-”

You snap, pinching your eyebrows close together.

“And this is my former partner who I used to occasionally fuck at Hydra and now that we have reconnected, we are fucking and living together”

“Anything else you want to add?” 

“No, that's all” you finish bitterly, furious with him for letting Sam know so much about you.

“He already met you once in Madripoor, he knows about your past. Trust me, he is a good person, he accepted me”

You let out a hollow laugh

“I am not Captain America’s best friend, James. I am nobody, I don’t even have a legal identity”

You explain in a humorous yet deprecating tone, staring into space.

“Look at me, you need to trust me” he coos, his blue eyes have a doorway to your heart, the place where his care for you resides “I know that you are scared, but you need other people in your life”

It's the caring that he lovingly gives, the passion that he shows—that convinces you every time.

“If I break your heart, I break mine, darling”

Shifting your mouth from a frown into a light-hearted smile, you let out a small chuckle from underneath your breath. His metal hand rests on the small of your back, in that sweet spot that makes you feel feminine and protected—vanity, fear, uncertainty—all such distortions within your own ego—condition you to stay silent about your own feelings. Your programmed mind-pattern still needs to heal, all you need is time, you will get there eventually.

You kiss him on the cheek, which kind of surprises him.

“Хубаво, ще дойда” (Okay, I will come)

His gaze flickers up to your eyes and he can detect no deceit, no mockery. 

There are many circumstances that lead to arrogance: one is when you're wrong and you can't face it—but you decide to face it this time, because you know that your brain relies on the familiar. It is reluctant to experience the unknown, which is the very essence of your human life.

The past should have no power over the present, but it still does sometimes—anger and death are deeply rooted, your emotional thermostat is broken. Everything in you is broken—you view yourself as pieces and Bucky somehow sees you as a whole.

Inside, your soul was so cold that you hated everything. You even despised the sun, for you knew you would never be able to play in its warm presence—you were condemned to stick to the past, working as a hitman for years. Everything changed when Bucky decided to track you down. You knew he was spying on you, because you made it easier for him.

You were afraid of the aloneness that you trusted for so long, but that is the truth that you still store in the granary of your mind. Maybe you will tell him one day. Maybe one day you will let him know that he helps you abandon your corporeal prison.

"Я просто люблю запах страха" (I just love the smell of fear) you whisper—a knife-wielding lunatic.

You face the attackers in a kind of instantaneous flash and see the disconsolate eyes, which remain stamped on your heart like the hot coals of fear, the power of death is then borne out by you—the queen at the bloody carnival, not afraid to spill blood while Bucky tries to prevent hurting, killing people at all cost.

It is easy when you work together, just as in the past—but he is holding back, you are not used to seeing him fight so carefully—Winter’s brutality is non-existent.

You sigh as the last man drops dead to the ground. With a knife in his chest. Or, rather, a pair of knives in the chest.

Yes, you helped them locate the rumored Hydra base, but Bucky’s intense paleness on his face shows regret, because you still don’t mind killing—you give him a pitying smile when your eyes meet before your system is poisoned with something.

It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion that you forget why you are here. And then your eyes meet again, there is fascination in his gaze, menaced by some invisible danger, and you want to succumb the terrible desire to weep when you realize what it is and you look at the mysterious trembling of your hands—your gaze goes up, but Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

He knows he has to go somewhere, he heads back to the apartment and he has feelings of sorrow, regret, directionless rage, a broad feeling of impotence. The horror of this misfortune penetrates Bucky so deeply that he is close to a panic attack—as if reliving the nightmare he sometimes has—Hydra giving him the pollen back in 1990.

He wanders all through the rooms as if walking in his sleep, chewing on his quiet rage.

He knows the theoretical mechanics of the pollen and he can barely stay on his feet because of the weakness of his knees, his skin is burning and he can’t resist the urgent need to palm himself through his pants—it starts slow and will go progressively worse. 

He rubs his hand over his scalp, where his long hair used to be—now shaved very close to his head and bristling against his fingers, he lowers his blue eerily crystalline eyes before closing them. He feels like he should be crying, but he couldn’t summon the tears.

—it’s all his fault. Why did he need to come to your apartment a year ago, on a beautiful August’s evening?

„I knеw that we were following me, Soldat,“ you loudly acknowledge him, drawing out the derogatory term while your back is turned to him.

Stillness wraps Bucky up in a cold embrace, a chill running down his body as he hears you speak. On the string spun of your angel voice, grief and pain drowns him. The tone drawn from memory in his dreams it’s the same, unblinking, robotic as you offer him one spare look before focusing on cutting vegetables on the wooden board.

He exhales, then he slowly enters the apartment. „It is not Soldat, it’s Sergeant now“ his breath hitches and he stops as soon as he enters the room.

There is a crack in his stoic expression, excruciating memories flooding his mind. He knew that somewhere, some day, maybe at a less miserable time, you may see each other again, but he couldn't wait any longer.

The memories are still in his mind and the pain—too ripe in his heart. The more deeply he felt, the less he was able to breath, thinking of grief, and of getting past it.

That's why he came. He needs you in more ways that he wants to confess.

„Oh? What do you want, Barnes?“ your face is carefully blank.

„I wanted to talk to you“ he starts, taking a couple of steps towards.

Shadows lick up the side of his cheekbones, making his skin gold as he slowly walks to the opposite side of the kitchen island, you hear him move the wooden seating.

„And you couldn’t just-I don’t know…have knocked on the door?“

„Sorry, I didn’t know how to-“

He says, a tremor makes his voice uneven. Bucky takes in a deep breath to balance out the embarrassment thrumming through him.

„It is easier to be loyal to past habits, can’t blame you“ you murmur, voice perfectly respectful as you think about it with a heavy heart.

You said it as a matter of fact, without the scorn and mockery, but as an accepted truth before placing the knife you have been using, on the cutting board and finally facing him completely as you step closer to the island as well, leaning forward on your elbows.

But the wintery feeling of the pollen is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring that summer's memory of meeting you.

The memory played in his head, with a hopeless nostalgia that he was completely disoriented—he doesn't care if you are heartless, vicious and vulgar, stupid, grasping with incurable programming and mental problems, he enjoys spending time with you. He would rather have misery with you than happiness with any other person, because it is shared, you have a deep and silent understanding.

He was so happy when you suggested living together four months ago—he was okay with the sleepovers at each other's apartments—never was bothered with the need to rush your companionship.

The key to personal development lies in the daily routine—creating new memories with you stretches out psychological time, and lengthens his perception of both your and Bucky’s lives. When he wakes up from a nightmare he is so relieved, because he wakes to a dream, he enjoys the miracle of living with each other as much at the table as in bed.

Bucky finally lays on the bed, his head aches. He admits that he is still human, vulnerable, and sensitive—but he begins to remember how it had been when Hydra gave him the pollen and his self revolted at this, hates himself for not being able to fight it, hates himself for bringing you here.

He is sick with conflict, destructive emotions festeres in him while this sludge eats away at his insides and Bucky is acutely conscious of the swift passage of time, it will make him become blunt and callous—there is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get for him, but maybe this is what he deserves.

When you push open the bedroom door, you can’t prevent it from scraping against the uneven floor. Suddenly, in the absolute darkness of his mind, Bucky is brought back to reality. He is not surprised, for without knowing, he has been expecting you to come.

You close the door behind you as he stands up on his elbows—wondering why are you such a stubborn, blind, obtuse woman—why are you here?

Your scent carries across the room and paralyzes him with longing.

“Stay away, why did you fucking follow me?”

You stop in shock at the words he utters—they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless.

He is vulnerable, slightly paranoid. Although his voice is broken by uncertainty and his hands seem to doubt the existence of things—he tries to appear composed.

You can feel his eyes traveling up your whole body, staying on your side for a split second before moving up to meet your gaze.

“James, we don’t have another choice, we don’t have time”

You can't blame him—he is scared, scared and frozen, afraid of what he can do to you...the old primitive urge for sex. It's getting harder to control it with every passing minute—every second is lived with terrible intensity. It all flows over you with a screaming ache of pain—as you see him, the need grows even faster...and all you can do is remember and feel—the effects of the pollen—like a disease of the blood, dispersing throughout the body.

He looks like a bundle of past recollections, knotted up in a bundle of flesh.You remember what his flesh has gone through—but you also remember what he put you through that day. You feel the naked fear, the urge of self-preservation, you appear solid in front of him, but you are mimicking nothingness.

“God, I smell you. So hot and sweet”

The blank hell in the back of his mind starts to break through, spewing forth like a dark pestilence, the pollen eats away the pith of his humanity—the chaotic words pour out of his mouth as he gets up from the bed and you self-paralyze, your back hits the door—but this is the only way that will pull you both out of the plunge of—pain, need.

Your sexual attraction to him has been heightened beyond measure, as much as you try to bury it deep down in fear, the lust is getting greater than any other feeling or emotion. Every part of him is heightened to you now...his voice included.

He stops in front of you, belatedly realizing where his feet have carried him. There is no glamor, no attempt to hide it, nothing: his need taking slowly over all his senses. The unwelcomed bubble of intrusive lust, sinking into an even more heavily occluded state—you feel it too as he molds his front to yours and pins your breasts against his chest.

You are mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he looks—putting your mind into a darker cloud of irritation, waiting for him to do whatever he wants.

You feel stuffy, there is not enough air to breathe as he cages you against the door, his consciousness already vanishing and deforms itself in something primal, there is a delicious animal fire in his gaze.

“I want to taste you so desperately, it rages through me-fuck, fuck this-I want to fuck you”

His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning— it’s hard—but not harder than his cock.

“Do it, come on” you gasp out.

“If you don’t get out of here, you know what will happen”

He explains weakly, and when you say nothing, he grabs your waist with both hands, vision already blurring. His bones fill up with foam, a languid fear, and a terrible desire.

Bucky’s control dies a slow death, shedding layers like leaves until—there will be none—he tends to be particularly rough, aggressive and possessive when given the pollen. You remember the feeling of possessiveness he had as the Winter Soldier over you, so intense it transformed into an obsession over your body.

“I'm not leaving, I need this as much as you” you say, tremulous with longing.

Bucky stares at your mouth as you speak—it looks provocative to him when you talk.

“Enough, dammit, leave”

His voice tightens, it pierces your soul—half agony, half lust.

You still have the choice of running away and finding someone else to do it, but leaving Bucky behind—you know there is not a girl in the world that can handle him, no one else has the serum, but you—your brain is ricocheting in between. It all drifts to the periphery of the mind when you meet Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s normal-” you say haltingly, your expression turns guarded.

He is livid, a sad look on his face

“We are not normal” he interrupts with a soft firmness “It’s insane to pretend we are”

You are both aware. Catastrophically aware.

“Stop talking, we’ve been through that once-”

and you look so well-equipped for this that is seems abnormal to Bucky, he is conquered by the obstinacy of you—so docile and willing to help—he wants to be emancipated for the moment from the torment of the pollen, but the guilt is still eating him.

“Do you remember the year it happened?”

"You always ask me whether I remember the stupid years, lets just-” you say with a shrug.

"It matters, it matters to me. I hate that you remember, I hate myself for what I've done to you” He explains, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his human hand.

"James” you whisper his name tremulously “I don’t blame you for anything”

His pain is paramount and you want it to end. His pain, his guilt. You are willing to suffer for the rest of your night so that he can take the easy way out of his needs. You admit it to yourself, without bitterness—you need to sacrifice dearly on behalf of Bucky. 

“I’ll lose control” What you cannot forgive is dishonesty—you would rather know the hideously unflattering truth of his devastating visions than foul evasions “If you try to run now, I will probably chase you down anyways”

With all that waiting you have lost the strength of your legs, the firmness of your breasts, your tenderness look—barely keeping your heart intact. Maddened by that prodigious talking, you shamelessly groan, closing your eyes.

“This is bad,” you whimper “Oh God, this is bad. Please, do something”

The next critical manifestation: the unbearable pain.

“Snezinka-” (snowflake)

“Stay with me” your eyes shone “Play with me, please” like those of a cat.

In that state of hallucinated lucidity—you just can’t take it anymore. Presently the need grows stronger, hesitating then no longer. The attempts to conceal the pollen’s effects don't work anymore.

“At least…give me permission this time” Bucky shakes his head, sadness vibrating through his body as he speaks through clenched teeth.

“Yes, do whatever you want” you moan, shaking, desperate for his touch.

And then you see something possessive wash over him, making your body shiver in anticipation.

“Please, I need yo-”

You say, nodding at the soul-reaching blue crystals, not looking away from him, but Bucky doesn’t let you finish as he kisses you. His lips are warm, his body is heat and muscles against you. He kisses you like a tide, gentle at first, but with the ability to drown, his fingers digging into your waist, urging you ever-nearer to him, even when it’s physically impossible to be. Then his fingers slithers over your chest, hands immediately find your breasts and he starts to massage them for his own pleasure.

His fingers curl around the edges of your soaked blood shirt, pulling and eventually tearing it away from your skin.

There is lust and there is pain, a whirling wheel—not stopping.

He wastes no time, kissing you deeply again, already missing the feeling of your skin.

“I am yours, you know that”

A simple reply, his voice cut into you like glass, his words bleeding into your skin. It isn’t something to be argued against, it’s the truth and you acknowledge that. It’s ridiculous, absurdly sentimental to think that you managed to lay a claim on him like you did in the past. 

You are trying to think of something, coming up short when he presses his hips flush against yours again, the chest harness wrinkling under the tight grip of your fists, pulling him and he hems you up against the door, grinding his cock against you. You slide one hand downwards, wrapping around his hard manhood and squeeze, Bucky moans quietly and involuntarily rolls into the contact, desperately seeking relief.

“Fuck” he says, a bit too breathlessly.

„James-this is not enough“ you undulate your hips against the aching bulge.

His name falling on his ears like that sent chills down his spine, he can hear the beat of his heart, his palms belong on your skin as he closes the gap between you. Nothing is sweeter, nothing else than you—lust is spreading like quickfire in his veins, groaning in the kiss.

“I know, I know” he whispers, a hint of exasperation and affront in his tone, leaning forwards to kiss you yet again, teasingly licking at your lips as he pulls away.

Sexual perversions mix with guilt and adrenaline as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed.

You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs—his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs. The corners of his mouth curve upward when he notices you staring a moment too long as he removes his jacket and shirt.

You remove your own pants and then you spread your legs open, positioned right in front of his standing body—one hand toys with your breast through the bra while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drags them down your legs fast before throwing them in his direction.

His breath stutters as he catches them with his metal arm, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft. It’s becoming more painful. He starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip—even in his large hand, it looks intimidating, the veins in his neck tightening.

He’s quite tall with broad shoulders and an athletic physique that even his leather jacket cannot hide. Your eyes continue their upward travel to his strong square-shaped face framed with short brown hair that falls to his shoulders and deep, blue eyes. 

He then craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten now.

It is the impatience of the way he tears your bra from your body that really scares you: the pollen getting the better of him and you spread your legs wide, exposing your overall and the fragrance of the essences permits in the air, he smells it.

His cock nudges around your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead glides through your delicate folds. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming, this selfish. He is so far in that his balls are right against your pussy lips.

His greedy lips are once again on your skin, devouring everything he can—licking, sucking, and kissing, not holding back his throaty moans. He drags his lips up your throat, along your jaw, back toward your mouth. His lips are usually gentle and loving, promising long days and summer forever—but they soon turn sharp, peppermint, winter.

Animal logic. Prey. Predator… teeth dragging against your neck, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He snarls out gluttonous groans against your skin as you clench and seize, pounding you harder as your body contracts. Pleasure breaks out like a wildfire, reaching around your temples; shooting up and down your spine.

You're perfect when you're underneath him, it's where you belong, beautiful face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his powder-blue orbits—curves cushioning him, your obedient body lush, muscular, but still feminine, your eyes flashing—and all he wants is to ruin you.

It's a sinful sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before.

“Don’t stop, don’t, please”

There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.

He continues to trail his lips down the front of your throat and you realize that he is mouthing words against your skin “Mine. Mine. Mine”

“You feel so good every time, snezinka” he murmurs at your ear as slide to your throat and he tightens his grip on both sides on your neck, reducing the blood and oxygen to the brain. When he loosens, the rush of blood and oxygen to the brain results in an explosion of dopamine, followed by a shamelessly loud moan from your lips “I think that I love you”

“We’re drugged. That’s why,” you gaspe “Did you forget?”

Bucky acknowledges your words, they sink into him—he focuses his attention on your skin. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath, skin breaks out into a pale sweat and your eyes fill with tears. His trusts are ruthless.

“There is no pleasure as good as the feel of your pretty cunt wrapped around me” a dark edge creeps into his tone.

He says as he fills out pounds you, drawing a muffled scream from your throat as he starts to thrust more rapidly, setting a demanding rhythm.

Something strange starts to rage inside him, hearing you inhale sharply as he continues to kiss and bite your neck, leaving bruises deliberately and as he fucks you deeper, wanting to mark you in an entirely different way—he wants to breed you.

And you know you will wear the bruises of Bucky’s hands as you wear the scars of Soldat.

All extremes of the pollen are allied with madness, finally consuming his brain and body.

“You are so beautiful”

He says into your skin, tears welling, confused, mingling in his throat. Old wounds never truly heal, your past will never fully heal anyways. That one tear, that tiny, salty, droplet of moisture is a means of expression—joy, and torment. Although it's just a small tear, it is the heaviest thing in the world. And it doesn't do a damn thing to fix anything in this situation.

“James-” your whole body exhaled a lugubrious lament, your heart breaks for him.

His eyes are always soulful, in some way; they seem to say things that you know he's probably never say out loud.

“I know baby, I know,” he nibbles on the side of your neck “You are so beautiful, I am sorry-so sorry, I can’t stop” his growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length “I need this, I need you”

You’re powerless…utterly at his mercy and that’s what makes you cum—his voice sends shudders through your body, reacting in all the right ways to the words. The orgasm has gutted your vocal chords, and all you manage is a small gasp, tears slipping down the old salty trails as he doesn’t stop, his head lulling on your shoulder.

He leans down, nose brushing against yours as he pants, thrusts never faltering, his mouth hangs open with bliss, his cock plunging into you with skin-slapping speed and he finally reaches his orgasm, cock spurting a thick dollop of cum with each throb. He closes his eyes, because of the volcanic eruptions of fever still goes through his body—his orgasm is long, raw, reaching all his body senses.

Sex is unthinkable without roughness tonight—he is already thinking about his second orgasm—should he just cum in your mouth when he makes you fall to your knees… or if he should take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load. Of the few times Soldat has face fucked you—gagging you to near vomiting—you’ve never miss a drop of cum. He remembers it.

His hand closes around your throat and the grip tightens, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. Your head is spinning, ears are ringing—suddenly, without warning, he withdraws completely, leaving you coughing and gasping for air. As you try to catch your breath, you feel him get up from the bed which urges you to come back to your senses faster.

In his temporary madness, an idea comes to his mind.

In seconds, he is back on top and when your vision finally clears—his lusty orbs descend to your cheeks, detailing your skin before leaning in to lick off your tears—some form of mercy which you don’t need.

He is now in that state of fire that excites you. You want to be burnt.

His eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and he smiles, nova-flare eyes blazing into your own—you look for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, and you find nothing but possessiveness.

But something is not right.

His eyes are cold and dark.And your heart stops.

He is taking you over. Staking a claim.

He slowly thrusts his hips forward, his cock pressing into your front, earning a squeal from you as he ruts back and forth dragging his length across your opening and then slowly plunges into you. You exhale, trembling as you feel the tip pressing against your opening and penetrating you. He is mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

Bucky brings both of your wrists above your head and grips them in his metal arm, restraining you from moving them—and you tremble like a downy rabbit caught in the clutches of a wolf—he seizes you as boldly as Soldat used to capture his favorite prey—you—in the past.

A flash blinds you for a moment and you see him holding his phone—this feels surreal—leaving you breathless with an inexpressible delight of it. Bucky’s inner voice of lust speaks, it is so spontaneous and unannounced. Your mind searches for the logical thought of his action.

“Fuck, I can cum just by looking at it” He musters his primest tone, throwing the device to the side.

You whimper as your abdomen contracted painfully around his hard length at his words. He lets his fingers release your hands as his cold digits swipes back the hair from your face. Cursing, he grips the back of your neck and brings your lips to his while the metal ones grip your hip so tightly you are sure he’d leave a bruise. You whimper as he starts to fuck you, slamming you into the matress.

The usual warmth of his hands is not there. They chill your skin as they hold you close to his body, and you realize he is scared. The extreme joy mixes with the bone-crushing grief—what if you don’t want to be around him after this night? What if you condemn him, consider it with high and unjust resentment and leave him? It pierces his soul, but he can’t stop—he is half agony, half animal...the past beats inside like a second heart now.

Your soft fingers trail his face and continue to attempt a connection that he refuses to acknowledge at first—the past slips and vanishes like sand between the warm touch of your fingers, acquiring material weight, only in its recollection, because the more shared past there is in any relationship, the more present you need to be for each other.

“Let go," you whisper and he loosens the grips—he is ashamed of holding you so tightly "No, not of me," you say smiling.

You look right into his eyes, right into him as far as you can see, because you want him to hear you, you want him to hear you with everything you say—and his chest tightens as if some euphoric drug has gone straight to his nervous system—but it is not the pollen, it is you—reassuring him, leaving a psychic imprint in his mind.

It’s both a blessing and a curse to share the same trauma. And even though you are sometimes harsh, restless and despairing—he is your weak spot, you love him in your own way.

"You can hold on to me as long as you want. Let go of the past, let go of the pain" you say, giving him permission, taking him into your flesh, a clear invitation to madness.

Emotions clamp down on his heart, but he stays terribly silent. Bucky says nothing after that, only your name, as if your name is not a name but a question. He shakes his head and kisses you, long and quiet.

He grabs your jaw in one hand forcing you to look at him, tears coursing down your cheeks as he thrusts into you, making low, growling noises in his throat—a predator purring with pleasure while it devours its prey, picking up a brutal pace once again. Your legs tighten around his waist, hooking over his hip bones as he practically folds you in half, nails digging into his back, surely breaking his skin with your manicured fingers.

He groans at the pain and removes your hands, intertwines his fingers with yours, pins your wrists flat to the mattress on either side of your head. He holds himself up over your body as he fucks into you, supporting his weight on his forearms. His cock is slamming into you, balls bouncing against your clit just right, the sight of his well-muscled body, covered in a thin layer of sweat, invites you to utter depravity, it is what drives you over the edge.

“You look so good taking all of me” he pants against your throat “I will fill you again-so good”

Hard, long, deep trust that forces moans out of both of you.

You whimper and nod dumbly, screw your eyes tight as another wave of pleasure spread throughout your body in orgasmic tingles as he pulls his own climax with you. He presses his face against your neck as his hips lose any and all sense of tempo and when he finally stills, he holds himself deep inside as he leans back—with every breath, your bust heaves, sweat droplets running between them and attracting his gaze.

It pollutes his mind even more, it cripples his morality, because he is infatuated with fucking you like this again—is it the pollen at this point? 

''Bear with me'' He murmurs, gritting his teeth ''I need…more” his cock slowly sliding out of your tight pussy before sliding back inside with equal slowness, sliding through copious amounts of thin lubrication and cum. Your legs wrap around his waist and prevent him from pulling out even if he wants to—your understanding, your willingness is a kind of ecstasy to him.

The blue moons in his eyes are glimmering with an emotion you can’t put your finger on. What is he thinking about?

A part of him cares about you.

But there’s a depravity in his mind right now that enjoys seeing you like this—your hair is in disarray, several tendrils scattered across your face and constricting your view of him, sweat pricks at your hairline and down your back. There is something unmistakably exultant in turning you into a mess—such a mess of cum and tears. Gently, he brushes the tendrils out of your face, tenderness in his touch—that’s the part of him that cares.

“I need you on the floor, on all fours” —that's the part of him that's deprived tonight.

You can feel the desire. The thirst. The absolute beast threatening to tear from his skin.

Soldat loved to fuck you against solid ground. He never truly left, sometimes Bucky is on the verge of cracking and showing the color of the thing beneath, but you don’t mind, you are not scared, you never were. 

All he wants is for you to be filled, marked, bruised from staying up all night, taking his cock into your body until you are depleted of all your strength. Even then, he will fuck you. He doesn’t say more, but he groans as he gets up—what a sinful twist of his lips, watching you slowly get up, your legs are incapable of supporting your weight much longer.

Your cunt hurts, too—you feel his cum dripping down your thighs, making yourself position in doggy style, legs winched apart, everything exposed to his view and he goes to stand on knees behind you, eagerly holding up his cock then he lines up your hole. He twists your hair around his fist and yanks your head back, at the same time thrusting into you from behind as his fingers slide to dig into your ass. 

Bucky grunts as he slams into you “Я без ума от тебя” (I'm mad about you) his balls slapping against the sensitive nub. You choke on your words, this angle allowing him in far deeper than before. You arch your back more and dig your nails into the floor, clawing at the dirty ground as he relentlessly pounds into you. Sweat drips down his neck as he watches himself entering and exiting you.

He grips your hips tightly, slamming into your snatch with ferocity. A wave of pleasure suddenly overwhelms you, and the tingling is growing stronger once more.

“Я предан тебе…ты моя девочка”(im devoted to you)...(You are my girl)

You can only mewl and gasp as you are rocked back and forth on your knees, losing your breath every time his cock hammers into your cunt. You clench around him when you hear your full name spoken in his gravelly tenor.

He molds his front to your back, spearing through your tightening pussy. He grabs your hair and snaps your head back roughly before it travels down around your throat and squeezes tight while his other palm splays across your stomach.

His lips rests on the back of your shoulder, hissing

“Очевидно, что , нас чувства друк к други” (You can’t deny what's between us)

He carries on rutting you like an animal. Your skin slapping together, your pussy squirting around his cock as it invades your snatch repeatedly, making suction squelching noises with every thrust in of his length. It keeps on hitting your cervix, your nubile breasts swing with the force of your body rocking—you know that you will be sore later.

"You fill my heart, I fill your cunt"

But his words strike every inside your body and his honesty brings the euphoria of complete surrender.

“Enough, stop, it is too much”

You plea and nearly asphyxiate on the words as your orgasm bursts upwards from your abused cunt. A sob wracks your throat and he continues thrusting, riding your orgasm until your entire body is convulsing and you are desperately trying to wiggle out of Bucky’s arms with the last of your strength, but it's not enough compared to the strength of his arms holding your hips with renewed vigor, determined to breed you.

You catch sight of him from your peripheral vision, his eyes closed, his lips are silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hands grip your hips, fingers digging in, the way he fucks you. And you thought that he chose that position, because he was embarrassed, but he was not—he wanted to disguise from you how much he was enjoying himself.

You have the strength to kill him, but here you are—so obedient.

His little submissive.

His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind.

“James” 

His name on your lips sooth a place deep inside him, and the urgent need to hear it in again pulses in his heart, making himself guilty of such a secret, he must perforce hold it—

—but he shamelessly let out a loud moan, he never felt so out of control. You are a disease worse than the pollen itself.

“Bucky” 

That makes him groan like an animal, noises coming out of him that you never heard before, he was never this vocal. The groans are desperate, endless, but the sound of his name is unspeakably erotic to him. He can’t get enough of this. He will die without it, without you.

“You look too pretty when you’re getting fucked like that” he blurts out, without even thinking.

There is already a fissure in his mind and madness just rushes through. Praising him puts him on edge, it’s something he never thought he wanted or needed. You wreak havoc on his life.

He squeezes his eyes shut—to utilize the entire spectrum of the other senses, moans of ecstasy crescendos and his breaths come in short instances, each with a slight pause in between as his body is rack with his orgasm, cum is flooding out of your cunt, dripping of you onto the hardwood floor and there is a charm about it that makes it unspeakably desirable for Bucky.

In this stillness, he finally finds serenity. 

All you want to do is crawl back beneath the mound blankets—he gently picks you up and you smile crookedly at him, something about your smile loosening a knot in his chest, because holding you in his arms is more natural to him than his own heartbeat.

Morning came in through the blinds cutting everything into ribbons, but the light can make the most vulgar things tolerable—you are aware of the aching hips, and your whole body hurts like hell as if you have been run over by a train.

Bucky steps out of the bathroom, freshly showered with a white towel around his lean hips. He takes a half step toward the bed, and his jaw works for a moment before he asks

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired, did you tell Sam what happened?”

“No, of course not. He is thankful that you helped us” He says and rakes his fingers through his damp hair, making it stand on end “He invited us to Louisiana”

You barely resists smiling at him “Okay”

He raises a brow “Just like that, okay?”

“If you give me my bracelet back”

You both look at the bracelet around his right hand. Then he bites his lip as he grins.

“Not happening” he says, his tone flattening and he can't help the smirk that tips up the corners of his mouth.

“Guess I need to buy a new one then” You peel back the covers, indicating for him to get in and you watch him climb next to you “With your name on it”

His palm reaches up to wrap around the back of your head, his fingers tangling in the depths of your hair, pulling you closer, his lips hovering over yours. Everything about him pleases you.

Not just his looks, but his patience and his kindness. He is an obsession waiting to happen. Kissing him is terrifying, breathing the same air makes your knees weak, a liquid sensation swooping throughout your stomach—but you've been betrayed, stabbed by every single person in your life, the body heals, but it injures the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime. You are scared of love, scared of these new feelings, scared of trusting anyone, but you are trying—that’s why you gently press a kiss to his mouth.

(Her kisses are deliberate and polished. When she kisses me—she doesn't want me. She has me and knows it.)

Bucky throws himself onto the couch next to Sam, slewing his eyes over to him.

"So you are sleeping and living together, but you are still not in a relationship?"

He takes a long sip of his drink when he hears the words, tips his head back against the couch, and decides he could…maybe live with that.

"Yeah"

Sam’s lips tighten to suppress a smile "That's a bit weird, Buck"

He chuckles, low under his breath "The part where I live with my ex-coworker or the part where we sleep together?"

James takes a deep breath, and Sam can see his blue eyes searching for his, like he is looking for an answer.

”Maybe it is what it's meant to be for now” A frown settles on Bucky’s face as he considers that “She has a lot to experience, too. If you pressure her with anything, you might lose her completely”

“I don't want to be in love, but she is making me, Sam” he sighs, a headache blooming right between his eyes. He rubs at the spot, stalling as he tries to figure out what he wants to say “But you are right, she needs to heal”

Several emotions swirl in Sam’s eyes. Worry, sadness, maybe even intrigue. But not judgment. Never. “Did she agree to go to Wakanda?”

He wets his dry lips and says the most basic truth:

“No, she is too untrustworthy, I can’t believe she even agreed to come here”

Sam sees it as hope—and he wants to put that light within his friend, too “But she did”

They can’t talk about it anymore, not when they hear you, Sarah and the kids coming back, and when your gazes meet, your soft smile and the look in your eyes, they are the best interpreter of your mind—you are truly happy, seeing you like that makes him feel like he can single-handedly vanquish an army.

He has outlasted all family, desires, dreams, his grief alone is left entire—sometimes visiting the lonely desolation of nightmares, they are gleamings of his empty heart—Bucky is a heap of ashes, but meeting you—kindled him back into fire.

Oh my goshhh thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this project!

More of this ex!Asset AU? - MASTERLIST

#IT IS DONE #kinktober 2023 #kinktober bucky #fic with art #do not repost #bucky x ex!asset reader #bucky smut #smut #bucky barnes smut #smut fic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #marvel x you #x reader #smut writing #fanfiction

[darlingdekarios]

the edge of paradise.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 3,682 content: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader, established relationship, fluff, porn with no plot of substance, smut [softdom!Simon, overstimulation, fingering - receiving, unprotected p in v], kink(s) [marking, breeding], soft Simon

even in the middle of the night and at the expense of sleep, Simon is always willing to give you another round.

A quiet whine and a frustrated huff from his bedside partner had him stirring, a quick glance at clock beside the bed confirming that it hadn't been long since the two of you had fallen asleep to begin with. His arms squeezed you tighter, his hold on you having loosened far too much for either of your liking as he had slept.

It was a combination of sounds he was familiar with, the shallow and shaking breaths fighting from your lungs telling his half-awake mind everything it needed to know to snap him to his senses in no time at all.

"Your breathing is agitated."

His observation served as the announcement that he was awake, his gravelly, sleep-filled voice enough to pull another whine from you, your ass rubbing back into his waist. One of the large hands that rested against your stomach slid down to grip your hip as he leaned forward to attach his lips to your neck, a rumbling laugh muffled by your skin.

His cock was already twitching in the sweatpants he'd pulled on before bed, teeth nipping at a slight raised bite mark from one of your earlier sessions. Simon had been gone for months, only just returning to you the afternoon before, and the two of you had found everything in your power to not leave one another…or more specifically, your bed.

To say the two of you were relieved to be in one another's presence again would have been an understatement, because in the twelve hours since he'd returned to you, the only thing that had pulled his eyes from you was the insufficient amount of sleep. But with the insatiability coursing through both of your bodies like a flooded river, he was more than happy to be woken up like this.

Especially when you moaned in reply to the attention you were receiving on your neck by his lips and tongue, grinding back into him in a silent plea again as you reached one of your hands behind you to grasp at the back of his head.

"Oh, you naughty minx," he had that layer of amusement behind his voice that you always loved to hear, his affection for you evident just in how he spoke. "Didn't get enough, huh? Thought you'd be sore, love."

"I am," you whined again, words shaking as you gave his hair a gentle tug, his lips curving into a smile against your skin until he nipped at another older mark. "Need m-more…"

"That's not how to ask," he remarked in a smug tone you were exceedingly familiar with, his lips lightly brushing behind your ear as he spoke. "What do you need? My fingers, my mouth…d'you think you could even take my cock again? You're not using your words."

At this point, you knew somewhere inside that Simon was going to insist on this game until you gave him exactly what he wanted. And yet, your mind was blurred just enough still by sleep and lust that you couldn't formulate anything remotely adequate and free of a desperate whine soaking your tone.

"A-anything."

"Ask nicely."

You took the opportunity to do what you could always muster, what always felt like the most natural thing in the world to you - you turned in his arms, pressing your lips to his in a kiss you hoped communicated how lecherous you felt for him.

The kisses between you two were always easy - your mouths came together in synchrony, you never fought for dominance with him, and the result was a beautiful, perfect exchange of passion without words.

As much as Simon loved to hear you talk, to soak in breathless words as you told him exactly what you wanted from him, you also knew that there was little he loved more than a kiss like this from you, particularly out of need in the middle of the night.

"Need you, Si," you whined against his lips, trailing your soft kisses from his lips to the corner of his mouth to his jaw, inhaling the familiar musk that was him. You brushed your lips feather light over one of the scars on his face, causing the love he felt for you to flare in him, a rush of heat and adoration filling every inch of his body.

One of his hands slipped below the t-shirt you'd slipped over your head before bed that looked much better on you than it did him…in his opinion, anyway.

When your attempt went unanswered you nipped at a sensitive area on his neck before you claimed his lips again, an impatient whimper swallowed by him as he returned your kiss. Another low, short laugh vibrated through his chest as he nipped at your bottom lip again, his attention shifting to your neck again as he lowered his head.

"You can barely talk, love," you'd told him many times that it was unfair for him to talk so lowly right into your ear, and he'd only remembered it and made a point to exploit the weakness at every turn. "Let me take care of you."

A large hand slid to grasp your calf, encouraging you to raise one of your legs and throw it over his hip. The thigh you'd been pressed against had a visible spot where your arousal had soaked the fabric of his sweatpants, he didn't need much more than the moonlight coming through the blinds to aid him in that discovery, and he groaned in appreciation at the sight.

"Fuckin' hell. Already soaked and I've not even touched you."

To no surprise you whined again, grinding your still overstimulated sex against his thigh, desperate for any amount of friction or pressure that would relieve some of the heat engulfing you.

He stopped his movements as he went in to kiss a sensitive spot between your neck and collarbone, his tongue clicking against his teeth in light disapproval before he taunted aloud.

"Desperate, but still hasn't managed to ask nicely…"

He abandoned his attention elsewhere and reached to kiss you again as he pushed her panties to the side, grumbling against your lips about how wet they are as he connected his palm to your clit, his three middle fingers spreading your soaked folds. He smiled against your lips and nipped at the swollen bottom one again, feeling his smile widen briefly - as long as he'd allow it - as you whined out his name.

"You just gonna keeping whining?"

"Fu…"

Your possible complaint or curse was cut off by two of his fingers slipping into your velvet channel with ease, your mouth hanging open as you looked into his eyes, your own wide and pupils blown as you lost your thought.

"There you go, sweetheart," he cooed, rubbing the most sensitive patch of sponginess inside you with expert precision. "I've got you. I know what you need."

"Please, Simon," you breathed out heavily, eyes rolling back slightly as he pumped his fingers into you and watched on in pride as your arousal coated his hand. Accepting he was too transfixed on the show he had created for himself to kiss him you instead leaned forward to kiss his chest, sucking a mark of your own where no one would see it should his return home be cut short.

Even with a hazy mind, you were considerate of every aspect of his life, no detail going forgotten in your memory and your actions always conscious of consequences. It was high on the list of reasons he loved you, a list he ran through when he needed to occupy his mind.

"Much better, darling," he complimented, his fingers slipping from you briefly before he pushed them back in, repeating the action until he set a steady pace with them. "Now you're sayin' please like a good fuckin' girl. I'll give you whatever you ask me to when you ask nicely."

"Please…need you again, Si."

He hummed his approval to your words as his other hand slipped beneath his shirt to cup one of your breasts, his thumb circling your nipple so delicately it only confirmed he viewed you as fragile as a flower.

"Such a nice way to ask," he cooed again, pinching your nipple between his fingers gently before rubbing it again. "You're not too sore?"

It was so like him to be considerate of your well-being, even with his obvious erection pressing into you. He wanted you, and there was never any doubt that he would rather be buried in your pussy than anything, but if your body needed a break he would happily give you the orgasm you needed with his tongue.

But there was no denying the hope he felt that you would give him another round before truly sleeping for the night.

"No," you finally managed out an answer through moans and gasps, his fingers still moving at perfect time and his palm still applying the perfect pressure to your clit to keep you on the edge. He pulled his shirt from you with one hand, needing to have unencumbered access to your body - it was honestly surprising he'd lasted this long with a barrier between you. "Promise, 'm fine…"

"You want another load that badly?"

"Yes," it came out in a choked, broken moan, your teeth sinking into his chest hard enough to give him another mark to communicate physically what you couldn't with words. Simon had always been infatuated with you leaving your mark on him in places only he could see, and the fact that you made a point to remember those details about him only made him want you more.

"Fuck, I'll give you one."

He pulled his fingers from you and raised his hand to his face to lick them clean, an appreciative him rumbling in his chest beneath your lips as you kissed the expanse of his toned muscles. Your affections were interrupted as he moved to his knees, grasping your hips gently to roll you to your stomach, reaching with one hand to grasp his pillow and slip it beneath your hips.

He pushed his sweats down as much as he needed to, grasping his cock and stroking it to the sight of you laying expectantly beneath him, your pussy glistening with your arousal. From behind you you could hear him spit into his hand, smearing his own saliva on his cock to help ease his entry into you.

He leaned forward to press a kiss behind your ear before his gentle words entered your ears again.

"You just lay still and take it like a good girl."

He was already slipping his thick cock into you as he finished his instruction, one of his hands gently gripping you hip as the other ensured your pillow was still beneath your head. He stayed laying against you, conscious not to rest his weight entirely against you but unwilling to stop pressing rough kisses anywhere he could connect his lips to on your neck, back, and shoulders.

A blissful sigh of a moan blossomed from your chest as he bottomed out, his movements stilling to appreciate how your walls clenched around him, welcoming every inch of his cock home into you.

"Thank you," the words were so quiet they'd have gone unheard at any other time, your appreciation genuine in them as you arched your back to improve his angle even more. His hold on you tightened and he pressed his forehead into your shoulder to steady himself, a smile spreading across his features before he leaned to press a kiss to your cheek.

It was that fleeting moment of non-verbal communications of love that he took as his signal to move, his hips rocking against yours in a gentle pace - clearly, his worries about your soreness remained.

"So cute," he muttered against your skin, unwilling to pull his lips away from your skin for even a moment. He reached to press a kiss to the corner of your lips, immediately wishing he had opted to keep you on your back so he could enjoy the full beauty of your face and kiss you properly. "You tell me if it's too much."

"Uh huh…"

It was as if you read his mind as you propped up on your elbows, turning your head in a silent plea for him to kiss you - one he happily obliged. From this angle it was messy, but it was the sort of imperfect harmony between the two of you that helped him set the perfect pace with his hips, his cock slowly pulling completely out of you and pushing back in in a way that made you both feel every inch massaging and stretching your walls again and again.

"You feel fucking incredible," he groaned out, stilling his movements again when he was buried to the hilt in you, waiting for you to give any sign of discomfort before he fucked you properly. In protest of his lack of movement you pulled your hips forward before fucking back onto him, immediately intoxicated by the deep groan that filled the room.

"Need more," you fought out through breaths, the whine returning to your voice as you became more desperate for release as the moments passed.

"'s not enough for you, love?" he questioned, leaning his head closer and running his nose along your jaw until he could nip at the delicate spot beneath your ear, "My needy girl needs more, eh?"

"Please," you gasped out, walls clenching around him tighter as your fingers gripped the sheets so hard you threatened to tear them. With the overstimulation building throughout the night, it had somehow become worse for him to be still and gentle than rough and demanding. "Please, Simon."

"Gonna turn you over."

The warning still wasn't enough to satiate the shock of him leaving you completely, your pussy clenching around nothing at the loss of him and a whine of objection ripping from your throat.

"I know, love, I'm cruel," his voice was gentle yet once again laced with that subtle tone of mockery, his teasing side flaring up no matter how much closer to the edge it drove you. "But I need to see that pretty face."

Once he had you comfortably on your back, your ass resting against the pillow and hips raised at the perfect angle for him you spread your legs without instruction, hands grasping for him to encourage him to come closer faster. He grasped his cock again as he moved between your legs, holding one of your hips in his hand again as he began to sink back into you.

"That's better," he groaned out in a heavy breath, his words less punctual as he allowed himself to find shelter and security in you again.

It was always best like this - when he was buried to the hilt in you, bodies so close your torsos were pressed together sharing an impossible amount of heat as your foreheads came together. He loved to watch your expressions shift - to ensure only pleasure crossed your features as he stretched and filled you, hell-bent on giving you nothing but pleasure.

Hurting you was out of the question, and any way he could avoid it, he would. It was his personal pride that you didn't need to worry about a thing when he was by your side.

"Kiss me," you whispered lowly, eyes adjusting to the briefest amount of light that had begun to form at the new hour to truly look him in the eyes, the tip of your nose bumping into his playfully. "Please."

"My polite girl."

He found the perfect pace again as he closed the distance to kiss you again, incredibly conscious with every movement of how much weight he was putting on your legs and hips as he leaned into you, desperate to close any space between the two of you.

The kiss reflected the relatively sleepless morning - tired and routine yet full of the optimism and vigor of a new day. Your fingers clutched to his shoulders, nails leaving crescents in his skin to silently beg him to stay closer, to plead with him not to pull away - an unnecessary thing as he had no intention of doing so.

When you needed air you pulled away to bury your face in his neck, wrapping your arms around his chest. Between shaking, heavy breaths you pressed kisses wherever you could reach on his neck and shoulders.

"I love you, Simon," you whispered quietly, knowing they were the four words he needed to hear to truly start his day.

His reply was to give you exactly what you needed to send you off to sleep fulfilled with the bliss of another orgasm, a verbal response unnecessary as he focused his attention on showing you his love with precision.

The sounds that filled the apartment were deliciously lewd, the kind he would embed in his memory to use for a quick release when he was away from you. The sounds of you moaning, his name falling from your lips in breathless whimpers, his cock slipping back into your soaked sex…all were embedded into his mind forever.

As much as he'd feigned complaint about your whining, it was no secret that he loved when he'd fucked you to the point where your mind seemed to lose all sense. What he loved more than anything was your response when you knew he was going to cum.

"You want me to fill you again?"

"Yes," the response from you was immediate and filled with desperation, your walls clenching around him hard as he fucked into you harder, his body becoming increasingly desperate for his own release with each passing moment, the temperature building around him so hot the air was heavy in his lungs. "Please…fuck…ah…please, Simon…"

"You're so desperate to be full of my cum," when his voice was somewhat broken like this - when he was forcing out words between grunts and heavy breaths - is when you found him the sexiest, because this side of Simon, free of any exterior walls, was only for you. "If you weren't on that birth control you'd be bred by the time I leave here again."

You cried out his name so loud he wondered how loud he'd have to make you be until the closest neighbors knew he was home, something he was more than willing to put to the test. Your nails dug into his skin again, dragging downward until you were able to grasp his ass, pushing him closer to you to silently beg.

"Oh, you like that, you naughty thing?"

"Fuckin' hell, Simon…"

His lips were on your neck again, a breathless laugh hot against your skin.

"Say it…"

"I do," you finally gave in, head spinning as your heart pounded hard in your chest, so hard you were certain he could feel it in his own. "Fuck, please fill me again."

"Only when you cum on my cock first, love," he breathed out, turning his head to claim your lips in a soft kiss, his teeth catching your swollen bottom lip briefly and as gently as possible before he kissed the tip of your nose. "You know the rule."

"Then fuck me."

This was the most relentless pace he'd set as he thrust into you, one of his hands reaching to rub your clit. When you moaned out his name a bit louder than the last he took it as a continued challenge, straightening up and grasping your hip tightly in one hand as he pounded into you at a bruising pace, accepting that you wouldn't be able to do much of anything outside of the house for the next day as you recovered from the day you'd had together.

He was more than happy to stay inside with you as long as you needed. In fact, it may have been his plan all along.

Your legs started to shake as you wrapped them around his waist to pull him in closer, your vision beginning to blur and the sounds of your bodies coming together and your sounds of pleasure becoming muffled as your brain flooded with pleasure.

Your hands slid down to his abs where you felt them tightening at your fingertips, his own release being fought off as he coaxed yours from you first.

"That's it, love," he breathed out, swiftly placing a messy kiss to the tip of your nose. "Fuck, love when your cunt starts clenching on me. Let me hear you."

The combination of his words, his hands and lips on you, and pure overstimulation finally pulled what he'd sought from you - you screamed his name, hopefully fulfilling his desire to let the neighbors know you were very happily taken. The thought alone made him go faster and harder until his own release was spilling from him in thick, hot spurts, his forehead resting against yours and eyes squeezed shut in focus as he lazily thrust through another massive load that filled you again.

When he had ridden you both through your orgasms he pulled away from you slowly, laying between her legs with his torso on top of you. His head found a comfortable position on your chest to relax, both of you focusing on catching your breath.

Though his eyes were closed and his attention was on his breath you were not forgotten, his hands lightly rubbing and caressing any part of you he could reach, his lips lazily pressing to your chest with no consistent frequency.

Both of you satiated for the night, there was no reason to disrupt the natural peace that surrounded the two of you. Instead, you found your breaths soon mirrored one another and with your fingers carded through his hair, holding him against your chest where your heartbeat served as a lullaby.

It was the fastest Simon had found sleep in weeks, and for the moment at least, everything was exactly as it should be.

masterlist. call of duty masterlist.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod mw2

[moonstrumpet]

I got a request for part 2 of Diavolo headcanons! This is the best I could do, It’s not exactly like the last one but I hope it’s good! It’s more like headcanons with a mix of short stories. Please let me know if you like this, I will continue more if so!

Slightly suggestive

Thank you so much for your interest in my head canons!

-

DEFINITELY keeps constant tabs on you. He needs to know what you did today! Did you hang out with the brothers? Did you hang out with Lucifer? If you hung out with Lucifer, he might get envious!

You might think you would call or text you at night and ask you what you did during the day. But sometimes he is just too busy and would ask Barbatos to give him every detail of what you did that day. He knows you could feel violated, but you don’t need to know. If you are going to be with him as he ascends to the throne, he needs you to be safe! (And because he is curious about everything you do)

-

Although he can’t be with you all the time, you offered him a piece of you, specifically, you guys share those magnetic bracelet heart charms when you combine together it forms a heart. The average demon cannot see it during meetings because his sleeves are covering it, but it’s there, and when he’s in his demon form, it is most CERTAINLY still there, and visible for everyone to see. When he’s feeling lonely, he sighs dramatically and lifts his sleeves to see the bracelet glimmering under the light. He doesn’t know it, but Barbatos always sees him smiling to himself sometimes when he looks at it. It seems extreme, but no average person understands the stress of being the future Demon King, especially so young.

-

Diavolo is very grateful to have someone like you, after all, you see him more than the King of the Devildom. You see his bright goofy smile and his love and curiosity for life. But, don’t let that distract you that he’s still the future king of all demon folk. He’s 100% royal blood, he grew up getting practically everything he wanted. He would practically dance his way through conversations effortlessly using his persuasion skills and manipulation. He knows how to play the game. He sees it in your eyes, you forget, and he takes advantage of that. You won’t notice the way he looks at you from behind when you two are walking together. The way his glowing eyes glue onto your outfit of choice today and the way it hugs all the right places. You might feel someone watching you only for you to turn around. It’s just Diavolo, friendly and kind with his usual, innocent(?) smile.

He’s very good at masking his true emotions, you see. Do you see? Do you see how much he needs you, your voice, your touch, your smell? He can’t live without it. He’s gotten everything and anything he ever wanted, everything except somebody to love, but now he has you, and he will not let go.

-

There are times he does think too hard about you leaving him. When he does though, he will call you with his usual tone of voice asking you to visit him at the castle. Thinking none of it, you gladly go to see your lover. Just know the moment you walk through his office door you're not going out till he sees fit.

Know that he would hold you down tightly against his locked office door and directly tell you the sweetest, tempting words while his hands slowly cage you deeper and deeper. His expensive cologne is overpowering and his body is unusually hot as he pressed his chest onto your back while you feel his hand slowly trail to your face, and lift your jaw up to the side to expose your neck. You yelp in surprise as he bites into your neck line while slowly leaving love bites down to your collarbone. He knows it hurts, he really does, but he just can’t help himself, after all you did tell him not to hold back anymore. He needs to know that you are here, right next to him. He needs to taste you. To feel you and to hold you. The intensity of his presence is practically overwhelming and swallows you whole.

He’s lured you in and you’ve eaten the forbidden fruit, now you're his. Don’t dance with the devil, they all said.

—

No matter how many times he loves to touch you, he loves it more when you touch him. He practically melts under your touch. I bet it surprises him every time too. He’s not used to someone touching him so casually. He doesn’t know how he got into this position, his head on your knees, as you are humming with your hands in his hair. It felt like heaven, ironically.

—

Or when you both were sitting and enjoying tea on the tallest balcony of the castle, enjoying the moonlight. No candles were needed as the full moon lit up the table full of pastries and two tea cups. His beauty was radiating to you and the way his golden eyes contrasted with the moonlight put you in a trance. One thing led to another and you mentioned your curiosity about his demon form. His eyes lit in surprise and laughed so loud you thought the whole Devildom heard him.

“Of course MC!” He exclaimed as he grabbed his chair to move away from the table so both of you are sitting in right front of each other. The feeling of his knee in between your legs made you weak.

He quickly stopped laughing when your hands softly glided across his chest as you admired his demon form in awe. His glowing gold eyes constantly follow your touch.

Your fingers glide against the smoothe black markings on his chest. He melts over your compliments and the touch of your warm hands against his chest. Slowly you lift your hand away from his chest and look up at him pointing to his horns.

He understands exactly what you want, and he will give it to you. He lowers his head for you to touch. The moment your hands reach his horns his hands grasp onto your shoulders. “Be gentle, MC” He breathes out. Taking his word, you slowly feel the smooth and ridged texture of his horns. The golden accents on his horns reflect the silver moonlight. The way you grabbed onto both of his horns sparked dark fantasies in his mind. Although prefers to keep that to himself for now. Diavolo snapped out of it when your hands left his horns. Leaving the ghost of your touch to linger. But, all the sudden, he felt you caress his wings. “MC!” he exclaimed in shock. He shot his eyes back up to meet yours.

Quickly, you removed your hand from his wings but he shot his hand onto your wrist tightly. Both of you staring wide eyed in surprise. He’s never felt like this with anyone before. He breathed, “MC.. your touch is intoxicating, I fear if you continue I would be able to hold back any longer.” He hesitantly lets go of your wrist. He stares at you with half lidded eyes brightening with a lovestruck gaze. His wings expand to his full length and completely block out the light of the moon leaving the only light coming from his gold eyes. “Do you know how much I lust after you, MC?”

..

Are you going to continue?

-

Although Diavolo has a reputation to uphold, every single demon in the Devildom and all the angels of the Celestial Realm know you two are dating. Everyone knows not to touch you or fuck with you. Unless they want to die. No one would dare to disrespect the future demon king like that. His mere presence in a room is intimidating, even his personality doesn’t stop people from fumbling over there words as they try to talk to the 7,0 (?) tall demon king with bright gold eyes looking down at the expectantly. He’s probably the biggest person in the room and JACKED. I mean this man is literally taller than Beel. Just imagine you're in a ballroom, looking for your lover in the sea of nobles, well, you don’t look for long because he’s the tallest one there with the largest wings and horns and covered in literal GOLD. Plus, practically everyone keeps at least 7 feet apart from him out of respect.

Realistically, if I saw him in the middle of my room in the dark at night just staring at me with bright gold eyes you would probably just DIE on the spot. GET AWAY YOU PARALYSIS DEMON‼️

-

I have a feeling that Diavolo will just watch you sometimes. Like when he’s supposed to meet you at a certain time he would come a bit early just to watch you sitting on a bench, waiting for him. It makes him even happier to see you all giddy and excited, smiling ear to ear because of him. It lights a fire in him that he cannot extinguish even if he tried. He loves to watch you get ready for him. He loves to see you try to impress him with your newest shirt or the way you specially color coded your outfit. Love it even more if you dress in red and gold. You're practically showing off to him.

-

One time, You were walking around with Asmo and practically tripped over your own feet when you saw the most beautiful jacket in the front section of Akuzon. You were babbling to Asmo about it only for you to see the price was WAY out of your budget. The next day, Sitting on your bed was the jacket you loved so dearly, with a note thanking you for all your hard work in the Devildom. Signed, Lord Diavolo.

When you're wearing clothes that he got you he will point at you and exclaim with the brightest smile on his face that he got that for you and say look how good you look. The brothers find it extremely annoying, your whole wardrobe is practically from Diavolo. This does not exclude shoes. The brothers stop asking where you get your clothes because all you say is “It’s a gift from Diavolo!” as you spin around for a fit check. It seems adorable on the outside, but the brothers are seething with jealousy that you're wearing clothes that he got you. You practically smell just like him now. (That was intentional on Diavolos' part)

Speaking of dressing up for him, Diavolo would definitely buy you a bunch of clothes, anything from designer to casual clothes. He would love to see you wear clothes specifically gifted by him. He purposely picks clothes that reveal your legs more or your collarbone, but he tries not to make you too uncomfortable, he just loves to examine every inch of your body. He just wants you to reach up and grab something or bend down a bit more. He just wants to see a little more, just a little more. He hopes you won’t notice, but sometimes he hopes you do.

When you go visit him at the castle wearing the clothes he bought you, His touch would constantly linger on your clothes and his fingers would fiddle with the bottom of your shirt, never fully lifting it but never stopping. He would talk to you over tea like usual but his hand would be on your thigh and slowly tracing along the fabric. You guys definitely have to be scooted together when having tea because he HAS to be touching you. Especially with those clothes, it feels like you're teasing him! (He did it to himself, he won’t admit that)

-

Diavolo would deliberately put you in the most compromising positions possible. Completely bending you down over the desk and somehow making it seem completely innocent, though that’s not what his mind looks like. If you're visiting him in his office he would accidentally drop his pen and ask you to pick it up in his casual friendly tone.

He loves it when you are on your knees looking up at him with those eyes, your eyes, your beautiful eyes. He almost feels bad for putting you in this position, almost.

Please look into his eyes when you hug him as he stares down at you. He would MELT. Your head is practically squishing in his chest, the warmth if your body reaches heart, causing him to squeeze you tighter as smiles deeply. He loves to hear you gasp in surprise as he hugs you tighter, it’s like he wants to absorb every part of you! 100% a way of cuteness aggression. He just stares at you and will SQUEEZE YOU. (Barbatos stops him)

Im still a new writer, I hope you like this! And thank you for requesting! 🥰

#obey me #obey me headcanons #headcanon #obey me x reader #obey me lord diavolo #diavolo om x reader yandere #diavolo om x reader #shall we date diavolo #om! diavolo #om diavolo x reader smut #diavolo om #obey me diavolo #om diavolo #diavolo x reader #obey me nightbringer #obey me dateables #yandere diavolo om #diavolo x mc #obey me yandere #yandere obey me #yandere obey me x reader #yandere obey me! #diavolo smut

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Part Two - JJK Men And Reader With A Sensitive Clit

♥ Warnings: Mentions of trauma, sexual themes, clit and vaginal fingering, oral sex, use of toys

♥ Summary: Reader with a sensitive clit. What will our men do to work around this?

♥ Featuring: Geto

♥ Word Count: 1653

♥ A/N: This was originally supposed to be part of the first post but I was struggling to write out the scenario. And looking back, this one on it's own is longer than the other two combined! Well, hope ya'll like seeing soft Geto. Geto Masterlist Reader with a senstive clit part 1

Geto

There’s no question that Geto loves eating you out. Man could spend eternity between your legs, making you cum over and over until you’re begging for mercy. Both of you put in a lot of effort to keep each other satisfied.

Which is why when he pulls out a vibrator one day, you look at him hesitantly. You’ve hated toys. All your previous boyfriends would set it on the highest mode and hold it against you, almost bored, waiting for your orgasm. Your entire pussy would feel sore and not in a good way. You wince as the memory comes back to you. 

“I got it for you. What do you think?”

“What are you planning on doing with that?”

Geto sees your nerves and sets the toy down. “I thought you might enjoy it. Didn’t you say you wanted to try edging one of these days?”

“With your mouth, Geto. Or even your fingers. Not with a vibrator.” Your legs snap closed, leaving him looking perplexed.

“Ok, I’m missing something here. I thought you’d be stoked.”

“I don’t like toys. Did I ever ask you to buy one?”

“No, but-”

“No buts. I hate them. End of story.”

“May I ask why?”

Your voice dies in your throat as you remember how uninterested your past lovers were when it came to using toys. They saw it as a means to get out of doing any other foreplay, and only seemed to want to give you the most basic orgasm in the least amount of time. You would cum of course, but it was a very half-felt orgasm, your clit barely fluttering from the disappointing roughness of the vibrator. 

“They just don’t feel good to me. I don’t like the high settings. It’s too much and I get too little in return.”

“And why would I use the high setting if you don’t like it?”

“Because it takes too long for me to cum from the low setting.”

Geto now looks positively bewildered. “Too long? Are you telling me you use the high setting, which you don’t like, because the lower ones which you do like, take too much time?”

When he says it out loud, you hear how ridiculous it sounds. You shake your head, trying not to feel ashamed. “I just… haven’t had good experiences with toys. They feel too harsh and my orgasm isn’t that great with them.”

“Is it because you’ve never tried a low setting before?”

“I don’t want to give up foreplay for the sake of using a vibrator.”

Geto’s eyebrows raise, almost lost in his hairline at your words. “Why would you not get foreplay if we’re using a vibrator?”

You pause, unsure how to answer his question. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s a stupid thing that happened long ago.”

Geto sighs at your tone. “Ok. So you’re not even a little curious at how this would feel after foreplay, at a low setting?”

The look on his face makes you want to kiss him all over. He’s been very patient and adjusting with you, and you don’t know how to put it into words, your trepidation over using a vibrator. 

“Can we just test it out at a low setting? If you really hate it, I’ll never bring it up again.”

You still look hesitant and he draws you against him, fingers stroking your bare back. “I promise to be gentle. And when have I ever skimped out of foreplay? Miss an opportunity to make my girl feel good before slipping her my cock?”

A heavy blush settles over your face and you playfully smack his shoulder. “Fine. But if I hate it, I get oral whenever I want. No matter the time or day.”

“And how is this any different from what we currently do?” He tenderly rubs your reddened cheeks and chuckles at the small squeak you make. 

“Let me make you feel good…”

He begins with an open mouthed kiss, capturing your lips with his, his tongue mixing with yours, while his large hands stroked your body, coming down the sides of your arms, back up over your shoulders, and down to your breasts, cupping and squeezing the mounds of flesh, thumbs resting on the center of your nipples and nudging them in circles until you whine into his mouth. 

Geto lowers his head, trailing wet kisses over your skin before taking one of your aching tips into his mouth, tongue fondling against it, pulling with his lips while your hands curl into his long hair, moaning, feeling wetness gather between your legs.

When he finally parts them, the soft labia are slick and swollen with arousal, the little bud pulsing as he spreads the moist folds. He presses his nose in between and inhales deeply, that tangy, sweet scent making him harden even more. 

“Geto…” You whimper, feeling the tip of his nose just a little south of where you need it to be. 

“Patience now…I promised I’d edge you this time…and we’re going to do it in more than one way…”

A moan leaves your lips as his tongue swirls over your clit, softly lapping at it. He knows to use it flat to cover the whole bud as it pulses and throbs. 

“Geto… Ngh…” Your legs almost close but he grips your knees to keep them open. Every soft lick against your clit brings you closer to the edge. When you feel the small spasms become more predictable and a particularly pleasurable throb courses through you, you grip the sheets. You seem to have forgotten the whole point and Geto pulls away an inch, watching your core spasm as he takes away his mouth. 

It takes a second for you to realize what's happening and you try to inch down back to him. Geto chuckles, the vibration falling just short of your pussy. 

“I never skimp on foreplay my dear. “ A second later, you hear the soft buzzing of the vibrator and the clicking of buttons as he turns it on to the lowest setting, the buzzing getting softer with each click. 

You stay still but feel your heart beat a little faster at the sound. “Geto…”

Without realizing it you're grasping the sheets again but not in the same way as you were before. His warm, large hand holds yours, loosening your tension on the sheet, entwining your fingers together. 

“It's all right doll,”he says reassuringly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

You close your eyes, waiting for him to spread you apart and place the vibrator on your clit. However, he runs it along your thigh, teasing, then along the edges of the outer lips, letting the soft vibrations affect your core. 

There's a moment where you pause, considering. It wasn't unpleasant, not even harsh. But it wasn't on your clit yet. You wait… Then gasp in surprise as he tilts the tip of the vibrator to go over to the fatty side, pressing the flesh with the toy and pushing over your bud. The vibrations were pleasantly muted yet stimulating and…Enjoyable? 

You shiver softly as the toy does its job on the lowest setting. Geto brings his mouth to yours for a kiss, swallowing your little noises of delight. His wrist starts to move the toy in circles over your lips, clit nestled in between. The soft buzzing fills the air and you start to buck your hips against the ministrations. 

It was deliciously slow, and you could feel yourself starting to relax and take delight in the way it felt, his hand movements bringing you to peak closer and closer… You let out a lewd sound… And he pulls it away. 

A sound of frustration leaves your lips and you look at him. Geto looks back with a smug look on his face. “I thought you didn't like toys,” he teased. 

Your face burns and your body is filled with heat, pussy swollen with need, core leaking and desperate for something more. Geto places his palm over your sex, cooing at you, making soothing noises to calm you down from your ruined orgasm. Once he’s certain, the buzzing starts again, and this time he runs the vibrator over your still hard nipples, the sensation not enough to make you needy but enough to make you give him a look of irritation. 

It just amuses him, before he runs it back down between your breasts, then over the fold of fat...Your eyes roll back into your head as you rest against the pillow, feet planted on the bed and whine. It’s still on the lowest setting possible and you were unwilling to admit it but it felt good. 

A gasp leaves you as one of Geto’s thick fingers enters your slick heat. Combined with the vibrator, it almost felt like he was trying to tease the orgasm out of you rather than build it up. Your core flutters, wet heat gathering as your body is slowly pushed to the edge. He inserts a second finger, tips curling up into that little patch inside you that has your hips snapping forward. 

“Fuck…Geto…” You manage to choke out, teeth clenched. 

“Are you close?”

You nod breathlessly, praying he wouldn’t stop this time. Your mouth keeps making the most wanton sounds as he pleasures you.

“Should I just let you cum this time? Make the edging a little longer next time?”

It takes all the effort in your being to nod once more. So close…

“Let it happen then…”

Your eyes squeeze closed as an intense orgasm grips you, muscles clenching and fluttering with delight, sobbing at the pleasure. When it starts to calm down, Geto switches off the vibrator and comes up to stroke your hair.

“Well?”

You look at him and roll your eyes. 

“Ok, it wasn’t that bad.”

His delighted laugh carries through the room as he starts preparing you for another round. 

dividers by @/cafekitsune

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #geto suguru smut #geto suguru #geto smut #geto suguru x reader #jjk geto #jujutsu kaisen geto #geto suguru x you #suguru geto #jjk getou #geto x reader #suguru #jjk suguru #suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #soft smut

[koisuko]

Hello! Could I request a MK1 one-shot or headcannons of either Tomâs, Kuai Liang, or Bi-Han with a quiet and shy reader who can manipulate water? Maybe the reader is more reserved and prefers to work by themselves but is paired with ^ on a mission and they get closer to one another through different situations they’re put through?

Apologies this took so long, I realized I didn’t know much about Tomas and looked into him some more. Hope you enjoy it!

Gn reader, sfw, hcs

Tw: none, just fluff

You silently approach the doors of Liu Kang’s map room, faint conversation could be heard within. He had called you in for a special favor, a mission, the details still unknown to you. As you lightly knock, you could hear the conversation cease, a soft yet firm voice reaching your ears, “you may enter.” The doors creak open to reveal a rather unexpected sight, three men stand opposite Liu Kang as they surround a long map table. These men were unrecognizable to you, as they all turned to face your small frame. Liu Kang held a soft expression as he addressed you, “y/n, please come in, we have much to discuss.” You smile rather sheepishly, your head low and eyes focused on the wood beneath you, slowly approaching the wooden table. The men continued to stare you down, silently observing you. You kept your distance for the most part, watching Liu Kang’s hands as he guided the symbolic pieces across the paper, detailing the mission ahead:

Bi-Han

At first glance Bi-han would keep you at arms distance, very cold and reluctant to speak to you unless it was required of him.

He would most likely feel distaste in the fact that someone who “isn’t Lin Kuei” will be accompanying him on this mission, let alone just the two of you.

Likely cold and distant at first, only voicing his opinions on your fighting ability. Although the occasional “are you unharmed?” Does not go unnoticed on your end, earning a slight blush to grace your features.

His eyes are very expressive, many years of wearing a metal mask subconsciously taught him to do so, even if he tries to hide it.

His ego and cold demeanor would never allow him to admit it, but he was in fact intrigued by your ability to manipulate water.

He also might feel a sense of protectiveness over your shy and reclusive behavior.

Eventually you will learn that he may not speak words but his actions speak volumes, he protects you when needed in combat, using his ice to aid you where he can.

Despite his words, he does not find your shyness a hinderance, quite the opposite actually. He enjoys the quiet between you two and would much rather focus on the mission than make small talk.

To him, your powers and his combined make a formidable force, enhancing eachother during battle.

He enjoys the power you give him and vice versa, he finds this compatibility admirable, though he won’t ever tell you that. Merely standing by your side and attempting to mix your abilities when the opportunity presents itself.

If he makes you blush one way or another, he will definitely hide a sense of pride rising up in him at making you flustered. Occasionally, feeling confused on what exactly caused this reaction.

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang, much like his older brother, is also not much of a talker. Not because he thinks negatively of you, no, he actually admires your prowess when wielding your aqua abilities.

At first he may keep to himself and keep things strictly business, only really discussing the plans and mission ahead.

Kuai Liang is much more approachable than his brother, offering warm welcoming smiles and gentle hushed tones to make you more comfortable.

He would be more openly protective of your reserved behavior, treating you like a delicate flower but never doubting your self sufficiency.

Conversations would be had if you are comfortable to open up to him, he offers a warm and safe environment, giving off gentle vibes to put you at ease.

During the mission he would be taking the lead, understanding that you’re used to working alone and helping you learn the ropes of working with others.

He often worries if your abilities will clash with his, he’s very capable of working around the differences, however.

He will often check to make sure you’re safe and secure, aiding in any injuries you may have acquired in battle. He would never overstep though, making sure you’re comfortable in his care.

When you blush, a small grin will pass over his features, he finds it cute and will attempt to bring that heat rushing back up in anyway he can.

Tomas Vrbada

Tomas is just as shy and reserved as you, he will keep to himself but not in a cold way.

He will offer an ear if you need it, even comforting you if you show that you’re overly uncomfortable.

During the mission his eyes will shine with awe at your unique abilities, the way you handle yourself filling him with determination and inspiration.

He finds your water abilities to be beautiful, and quite fitting to you as a person. He may even observe the way you interconnect your water and fighting abilities seamlessly.

Much like his brothers, he may feel a sense of duty to protect you from danger due to your shyness. Instinctually pushing you behind him when conflict arises.

He won’t say it out loud, as his nerves would get the better of him, but he actually finds your shyness adorable.

To him, you two are much alike and have much in common. He may look forward to having more missions with you in the future.

He will openly complement your abilities, not without the occasional blush or fumble of the words.

When you blush or stutter, he will also blush, not of embarrassment, but out of admiration. He thinks it’s adorable, watching your expression change to that of embarrassment. He may even subtly tease you, only for you to repeat the process tenfold.

When the blood comes rushing to your face, he can’t help but stare, taking in your features and memorizing the way that light pink dusts your cheeks. This only causes your face to become a deeper shade of red, he smiles and looks away, attempting to hide a blush of his own.

Be gentle, this is my first request! Hope you enjoyed it, hopefully I can learn and get better for the future.

#fanfic #fanfiction #mk1 x reader #mk1 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat1 #request #requests open #bi han sub zero #bi han #mk bihan #bi han x reader #bi han x you #headcanon #mk1 headcanons #tomas vrbada #kuai liang #mk1 scorpion #mk1 smoke #mk1 2023 #mk scorpion #mk smoke #mk sub zero

[kkvqwrites]

You Flinched | 141 Headcannons

Don't mind me, just some 141 boys reacting to finding out reader has a history of abuse or DV. We all know that our boys would never harm a loved one, but I began thinking about them responding to their loved one being triggered. Because trauma isn't rational.

CW: DV mentioned/alluded to (not on-screen), trauma

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,833

A/N: Yes this is self-indulgent because I have my own history and use my comfort characters to help. So I hope it can help someone else in the same way it helps me. Also forgive me, I threw it together on a whim and didn't really edit it.

Simon "GHOST" Riley

Simon is usually very careful with how he presents. He knows he's big, he knows he's intimidating, and most of all he knows what it's like to be vulnerable and scared of someone bigger than you. He knows when to use his voice/stature to his advantage (like on the battlefield) vs when to tone it down (like in private). He never wants to be scary to those he loves, ever. In fact, he wants his loved ones to have the opposite experience from what he had growing up.

That said, we all have our moments. It was, you both could admit, a silly argument over what ended up amounting to a non-issue. He was fresh back from the field and sleep-deprived and you had had a long shitty day and so a small disagreement became an argument. Somewhere in the bickering Simon decided he was over it. He stood, crumpling the paper he was holding into a fist and raising his voice, which he almost never did.

The combination of the fist and the yelling was what did it. He stood up so tall, so fast, and suddenly you were eight again, hiding in the cupboards and terrified to make a sound. Not knowing what would happen if you were found, but knowing for certain it wouldn't be good. When your parents went into their rages, there was nothing to do but hide and wait it out. As if reciting a dance you knew by heart, you shrank back, hands coming up defensively.

Simon noticed instantly, despite your best attempts to play it off. He knew all too well the look of a terrorized inner child and recognized it immediately in your pale face and shrinking posture. It broke his heart; he immediately regretted lashing out as it was, but this was even worse.

He'd step back, giving you space. He'd ask permission before approaching you and before hugging you, and once you gave it you'd be wrapped in an embrace that was both tender and hard as steel. He'd hold you for a long time, not saying anything. If you cracked and it all came spilling out, he'd listen intently. If you didn't want to talk about it, he'd respect it and not breathe a word about it until you were ready. You could feel in his heartbeat his need to make you feel safe warring with his desire to find whoever made you afraid and teach them a lesson about fear.

Simon is a man of actions, not words, and he's never been a fan of "sorry" and instead prefers follow-through. Now, though, the word poured from his lips. Wrapping your arms around him in return, you forgave him wordlessly.

The next free time you both had, he'd surprise you by taking you to a shooting range. Another weekend, he'd teach you basic knife skills and how to throw a decent punch. If questioned, he'd say it was something he'd been meaning to do for a while with a dismissive shrug. But you had a hunch, even if he couldn't or wouldn't verbalize it, that he was sharing with you the ways he'd learned to overcome feeling powerless when he was younger. By learning to defend and fight back, you could take your agency back and walk into the world unafraid. It didn't matter that he'd grind anyone who bothered you into dust, because it was about you and making you feel empowered. Simon wasn't one to give you bouquets of flowers and poems, but he could give you this. And, slowly but surely, it started to work.

John "SOAP" Mactavish

You and Johnny were out with some mutual friends at the pub one night, drinking and having fun. Your boisterous Scotsman was ever the social butterfly, and he never failed to bring the party wherever he went.

You and a friend were laughing at something on your phone, and when you handed it Johnny to show him, you froze as your eyes saw an unmistakable silhouette over his shoulder. You recovered quickly, sure that it was a mistake, but not quickly enough. Johnny's face went serious as he studied your expression, which was suddenly tense.

You'd play it off, not wanting to ruin the good vibe. You'd even double check to reassure yourself that it wasn't him, but your stomach would sink once you looked back. In a corner of the bar, nursing a glass of dark liquor, was your ex. He noticed you at the same time, and the eye contact made you feel sick.

At this, Johnny would take a look for himself, and would pick out the man eyeing you from across the bar right away. After giving the man a once-over, he'd turn back to you.

"Is that who I think it is?" You'd nod. You had told him bits and pieces of how your ex treated you, but left out the worst of it lest Johnny go on a rampage to defend your honor. He's loyal to a fault and would not take kindly to anyone mistreating people he cared about.

The unfortunate thing was, being special forces came with an ability to read people and situations, and your reaction to seeing your ex filled in the gaps well enough for Johnny to understand what wasn't being said. You were scared, and the man seemed to know it by the smug expression he wore as he stared at you.

Rather than cause a scene, as you had feared, Johnny scooted so he completely blocked your view of the other man (and the man's view of you via his broad shoulders). Seamlessly, he'd continue the conversation with the folks around you as if nothing was amiss, despite his hand never leaving your thigh in a move that was at once possessive and reassuring. You leaned into the touch, comforted by Johnny's presence and relieved that the situation had seemingly blown over.

A bit later, Johnny announced he was going to the bar to get another round for the table. On instinct, your gaze shot to where your ex had been sitting, but his seat was now empty. Breathing a sigh of relief, your eyes turned to follow Johnny through the room. You could never get tired of looking at him. It wasn't until he reached the bar and clapped a fellow patron on the shoulder that you realized the individual he was talking to wasn't the bartender, but your ex who had moved seats. Keeping his hand on the man's shoulder, Johnny struck up a conversation like a true natural.

Oh no.

You braced for a commotion, but Johnny's expression and body language stayed friendly and open. You couldn't hear what he was saying to the man, and if asked he'd tell you he was just introducing himself. But when he let go of your ex's shoulder and flagged down the bartender to order a drink, the other man threw some money onto the bar and all but ran out the door.

The place would become a frequent haunt for your friend group, but you'd never see your ex darken the doorstep again after Johnny's talk with him. Good riddance.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

You and Kyle had been going steady for a bit now, and you were excited to introduce him to your family. Well, most of your family. You didn't have a good relationship with your stepdad, and Kyle respected that it was a sore spot for you. He would never pry, but he could pick up on how your tone would change when your stepdad would come up in conversation, how your posture would change when your mom dragged him into the frame to say hello during your video chats.

A big family dinner was the perfect opportunity to introduce everyone to Kyle, and you were looking forward to it. Truly. You had a nice outfit picked out and Kyle bought some fancy wine to bring, hoping for a good first impression. He needn't have worried; your aunts and cousins all fawned over him, and your uncles were endlessly impressed by his stories from his job. Long story short, he was a hit.

He stayed by you all night, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb as he made conversation. At first, you chalked it up to being the new guy in the room, but the ease of his posture suggested he wasn't nervous. Rather, his frequent check-ins started to make it feel like his closeness was for your benefit. You were the one who was nervous, looking over your shoulder every few minutes praying you didn't see a certain face in the crowd. You loved your family, but get-togethers always came with a certain amount of anxiety. Every time your eyes strayed around the room, Kyle's followed, taking in the crowd. Even more frequently, you caught him sneaking glances at you, as if assessing if you were alright.

You were alright, until the front door opened and you heard a specific voice boom in greeting. Your mom and stepdad strode in, late as always, your mom carrying the casserole dish and your stepdad slapping a case of beer on the counter. Your demeanor changed immediately, shrinking yourself as if you could become invisible if you just hunched enough. It didn't work, of course, and they spotted you within seconds. Before you could react, Kyle was in front of you, placing himself between you and your parents with a smile and his hand out to shake.

"I'm Kyle, heard lots about you," he said neutrally, shaking hands with both of them. They turned to you, but Kyle spoke again. "How was the drive? Heard you had to come across that new expressway, have they finished that yet?"

It was like that the rest of the evening. Kyle remained an immovable barrier between you and your stepdad, keeping him engaged in conversation and unable to address you. You and your mom were able to slip away shortly to help set the table and catch up, and every time you snuck a glance at the men out of the corner of your eye, the view was the same: Kyle orienting himself as a physical wall, keeping you out of eyeshot. His body language was at-ease, his smile friendly enough, but his eyes were tight, not like they had been when talking with everyone else.

When everyone grabbed a seat, Kyle pulled a chair out for you before quickly stealing the spot next to you from your stepdad. You looked at him with gratitude and he squeezed your knee reassuringly under the table, all the while maintaining conversations with those around him as if nothing was amiss. If you hadn't already loved him, you certainly would have after that night.

Captain John Price

Ah, spring cleaning.

Well, it was November, but still. It's refreshing to get rid of old stuff and start anew, but it's also essential when you're combining two households. John had finally convinced you to move in with him, so the two of you were creating piles labeled "Keep" "Trash" and "Donate". Upon reaching the bottom of an old box labelled "Miscellaneous," you came upon something that had your stomach churning. Old records: Johnny Cash, the Sex Pistols, the Doors. You hadn't realized you had them, and you weren't particularly fond of who they belonged to.

You didn't realize you had frozen in place until John snapped you out of it, coming up behind you with a hand snaking around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder.

"Whatcha got, love?" He whistled when you showed him.

"The condition those are in, you could get a pretty penny. I didn't know you collected vinyl, I'd have bought a player."

"They're not... mine." You explained, as briefly as possible, that they were your ex's and must have gotten mixed up in your stuff when you split several years ago. He hummed in understanding.

"Right, then. To the garbage with it?"

It was the logical solution. He hadn't asked after them, so he must not miss them that badly. You would rather lie down in traffic than have any contact with him. But John's comment about their value stopped you from throwing them onto the "Trash" pile. Damn your too-kind heart, always causing problems.

It was easy enough to find your ex's contact info; you had changed your number after the split, he hadn't. Soon enough, you had agreed on a time for him to swing by and grab the stuff when he was free. The rest of moving made the days go by in a blur of organizing and unpacking and bickering over where the toaster should go and which wall to mount the TV on. That is, until you looked at your calendar and realized that it was today. This afternoon was the interaction you'd spent the week trying not to think about. You'd stepped around the box of his things all week, mentally blocking out why it was sitting in the front hall. You'd managed to stay busy, and bury your anxiety in the endless tasks that come with setting up a new home.

But time had run out, and in mere hours you were going to be face to face with someone you had once sworn never to see again. The realization made the room feel too small, made the air feel too warm, made you feel like you were suffocating. Suddenly you just had to get out.

"We need... yogurt." You blurted, walking too quickly and too loudly into the foyer to grab your keys.

"Yogurt? Right now?" John called from the kitchen.

"Yes, right now! For... for a recipe," you mustered, hoping you sounded convincing. This had been a mistake, a huge mistake, and your brain was screaming RUN! RUN! RUN! as loudly as it could. Hand on the doorknob, however, you froze. If you left, John would be here when your ex arrived. He'd answer the door, introduce himself, and hand off the items. Shouldn't that be ideal? No contact between you and him, simple and easy. But rather than provide relief, the thought made you sick to your stomach. It felt like a defiling almost, to think of him entering your new sanctuary and meeting the love you thought you'd never have. It felt wrong on every level, and your feet rooted to the spot in agreement.

"Still here, love?" John came into view, the book he'd been reading in hand, finger acting as a bookmark. "I was thinking, I could go if you wanted. Just text me what we need. Don't you have someone coming by?"

Yes - that's it, you thought. Have John go, get him away from here before he could arrive. You'd handle it on your own; you'd done it before.

Nodding, you stepped aside, slipping your shoes off next to the door. John put his book down and approached, taking your place and grabbing his keys off the hook. He turned to kiss your forehead, but stopped short and stared at you. He noticed for the first time that you were fidgety, as if anxious for him to leave when usually it was the exact opposite. His ever-observant eyes spent several seconds taking you in, and you knew as he asked the question that he already knew the answer.

"Everything alright?"

Of course it was! How silly to think otherwise! You began playing it off, the same way you had gotten so good at doing back when you and he were still together and your friends would ask you the same thing. Just hyper, just busy, just this, just that, always an excuse to avoid saying "I'm afraid." Afraid of what mood he'd be in, afraid of what awaited you when you two would be alone later. Fear you hadn't felt in a long time, but could feel now just as bone-deep as it had been back then. As if your body had stored it as muscle memory just in case this day came.

"Are you nervous about something?" It was another question you could tell he already knew the answer to, and you wanted to feel irked about it, but looking into those eyes you suddenly just felt tired. Tired of carrying the fear and the uncertainty alone. So you exhaled for a long time, and slowly told him exactly what you were nervous about.

It felt good to get it off your chest. Until now, no one had ever known the extent of what had gone on. You expected John to explode into some fit of hyper-masculine protectiveness like guys on TV, but he didn't. He listened to you talk, and then he nodded and sat on the couch, reopening his book on his lap.

"What are you doing?" You eyed him suspiciously, unable to believe that that was the end of the conversation.

"Well, I'm waiting right here. And when this lad knocks, I'm going to answer the door and have a little chat with him."

#who would have thought I'd get wordy writing about Price #it's my older man kink #can you tell the writer juices flowed as I kept writing #mwii headcannons #task force 141 #141 headcanons #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #no use of y/n #ghost mwii #soap mwii #gaz mwii #price mwii

[wave2tyun]

cherry wine | ☆

pairing: taehyun x reader

genre: college!au, chef!tyun, fluff, suggestive (it gets steamy towards the end?!)

prompts: - "i can feel how fast your heart is beating right now"

- "here- let me help you"

warnings: none<3

word count: 2.8k

a/n: special dedication to the anon who sent me an ask about this fic, hope you'll enjoy reading this again :D💓💞💘💖💓

☆ = repost from my old blog!!

there were many things that you were good that. cooking, however, was not one of them. when you first got one of your friends to come over and taste one of your dishes, they could barely hold back tears as they tried to chew the food and make it slide down their throat. knowing that you’re not a big fan of takeout, they could barely comprehend how you’ve managed to survive up until now.

the minute your uni opened up a cooking course held by the culinary arts students, your friend made sure that your name would be the first one to appear on that list- without telling you about it, of course. you had a big ego, and you most likely wouldn’t have accepted to sign up for the course yourself. therefore, so as not to risk anything, they only told you about the secret they’ve been keeping away from you one hour before the first class started.

‘stupid course’ you mumbled, putting on the apron that the chef’s assistant handed you. was it really necessary to wear it? you were thankful that at least there weren’t any other familiar faces in the room, otherwise you would have died of embarrassment. everybody else seemed to have, in one way or another, some sort of knowledge in the cooking field. meanwhile, you lacked the skills, and the blue apron you were dressed up in made you feel goofy. you glanced over at your watch: 11:02. if you were fast enough maybe there was still time for you to sneak out of there-

“good morning, everybody” a male voice was heard.

great. your one and only chance to escape slipped away from your hands. the course was officially starting, and there was no way you could back out now. you lifted your head, eyes searching for the source of the voice, and once your eyes landed on him- you couldn’t help but inhale sharply.

you were screwed.

the student that was assigned as the ‘head chef’ was cute- so much cuter than you thought. he was somehow the perfect combination of cute and hot: big shiny eyes that resembled two tapioca pearls, a soft smile that revealed his cat-like fangs, as well as broad shoulders and toned arms, which were exposed by his rolled up sleeves.

“i’m taehyun, a 3rd year culinary arts major” he introduced himself “i will be the one leading you throughout this course. thank you to everyone who has signed up, i hope you will find these lessons useful”

taehyun’s words were met with a round of applause from the other people in the room. he smiled brightly, clasping his hands together “without further ado- let’s get started. we’ll start of easy, with a basic soup recipe”

you glared at the vegetables in front of you. it seemed like your definition of easy didn’t exactly match his. making a sandwich was easy. cutting vegetables? absolutely not. you clumsily tried to follow along as taehyun demonstrated each step, paying close attention to not cut or stab your finger with the knife. these poor vegetables- your cutting board resembled a crime scene. you sighed, looking at the potatoes and carrots that you had yet to handle.

taehyun started roaming around the kitchen counters, making sure that everyone was carrying out the task well. you sensed him stopping right next to your place, and you resisted the urge to hide the mess you created with your hands. knowing that his eyes were on you, you were now feeling even more nervous than before. your hands were now starting to shake as you continued using the knife.

“can you give me your knife for a second?” taehyun asked, interrupting your actions.

 “s-sure” you stuttered, handing him the sharp object. taehyun moved closer to you, grabbing one of the carrots from the basket.

“when you cut these- make sure you get rid of the ends first” he spoke as his hands followed the instructions “this makes it a bit easier to hold the rest of the carrot. then- hold the knife straight, and push it down, separating it into smaller pieces” you watched as taehyun chopped up the rest of the carrot flawlessly, in probably less than 10 second “give it another go” he offered you the knife back, making you gulp.

you breathed in deeply, trying to calm yourself down as you reached out for your own carrot. however, your attempt was in vain. no matter how many times you tried, the pieces you were cutting ended up looking uneven. you could feel your cheeks burning intensely. “i’m so sorry-“ turning to look at taehyun in pity, you were expecting him to start laughing in your face, but you were only met with another one of his sweet smiles.

“you’re holding the knife at an angle. here- let me help you” taehyun walked behind you, his hands hovering right above yours “is this okay?” he spoke softly, waiting for your confirmation to go on.

you nodded, and taehyun took hold of your hands guiding them as he explained again “like this” he whispered, pressing down the knife gently. he was just correcting your mistakes- just doing his job, but god, you couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter.

“think you’ve got it now?” he chuckled.

you almost forgot to reply, too caught up in the moment “yeah- thank you”

“you’re welcome-“ taehyun sneaked a glance at your name tag “-y/n” the words rolled off his tongue softly.

taehyun removed his hands from you, going back to his place at the front to go on with the lesson. perhaps this course wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

the next time you had to attend the cooking course, you put in a little bit more effort in your appearance. for taehyun? maybe. only something subtle though. you did want it to be noticeable, just not too much. he wasn’t supposed to catch on to the fact that he was the cause of this.

the thought of doing mistakes didn’t seem as taunting anymore- not if it meant that taehyun would be the one helping you out again.

no matter how many times you were struggling, taehyun came over to you with a smile, fondness taking over his eyes as you furrowed your brows, paying close attention to his words.

one day, he called your name out at the end of the lesson- asking you to remain for a bit. you waited next to him as the class emptied, and taehyun shily pulled his phone out once it was just the two of you there “if you ever have questions or need help with anything- you can always text me”

and so you did. you used any excuse to talk to him, asking small questions like “how should i prepare this?” “what can i add to this?” “does this look right?” and taehyun seemed to reply with enthusiasm every time. you looked forward to seeing him every saturday at the course. any kind of stress created by college disappeared the moment you were in his warm presence, and felt his soft touch. you couldn’t help but sulk a little bit whenever he helped out other students, even though that was simply what he was supposed to do. maybe you just wanted to have all of his focus on you.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

walking out after your last course of the day, you received a new message:

taehyun :)

[6:34 pm] are you free tonight? there’s something i want you to try

you typed in a quick reply, an almost immediate raise in heartbeat taking place at the thought of seeing him that evening.

you got back to your dorm as fast as possible to drop off your bag, as well as to get changed into something a tad bit more special than just some jeans and a hoodie.

once you reached taehyun’s door, you took a moment to rearrange the flyaway hairs and to make sure that your outfit looked in good condition. ringing up the doorbell, taehyun didn’t take long before opening the door, the smell of freshly-sprayed on cologne enveloping your senses, a breathless ‘hi’ escaping past both your lips at the exact same time.

the only source of light in taehyun’s apartment was the small candles sitting on the elegantly decorated dining table. it seemed like he had everything prepared, except for one single thing: the dish itself. all the ingredients were neatly prepared on the counter, as if waiting for your arrival. those were, indeed, taehyun’s intentions. he did have a special dish in mind that he wanted you to try, but the though of having you in his presence while preparing it just seemed to make his heart flutter a bit longer.

even though you were definitely not as skilled as taehyun when it came to cooking, you still offered to help him in any way you could, not wishing to simply sit around waiting to be served. for your first task, you were chopping some tomatoes for the pasta sauce. taehyun came up behind you, putting his hands on top of yours like he did during your first course with him.

“don’t worry- i know how to do this now” you said.

“really?” taehyun quirked an eyebrow, the tone of his voice both amusing yet also incredulous.

you hummed, proud of your small progress. taehyun didn’t separate himself from you “maybe i just want to stay close to you” he admitted, voice low as if he didn’t know whether it was right to confess his thoughts out loud.

“i wouldn’t mind that” you spoke quietly, letting out a confession of your own as well.

you could hear taehyun softly exhale in relief at your response. his warm chest came into contact with your back, his head coming to rest on your shoulder. it was intimate- way too intimate for those feelings of love to be clouding your heart only. his warm breath on your neck was starting to make you feel almost light-headed, to make you lose focus, and in a moment where your attention had completely dissipated into thin air, you almost let the knife cut your finger.

“are you okay? did you get hurt?” taehyun asked in worry. he brought your finger to his face upon closer inspection “it’s all good, don’t worry” you replied hurriedly, embarrassed by your lack of concentration at the task at hand “i just got lost in thought that’s all” you babbled on further. taehyun nodded as he started guiding you, holding your hand and the knife with slightly tighter grip than before to ensure that there wouldn’t be any more slip-ups “do it this way” he said.

“like this?” you repeated, trying it out yourself. you turned your head slightly to face him. there was a soft pink dusting taehyun’s cheeks.

“yeah, just like this” he answered back in a daze. you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes sneaked a glance at your lips. the thought too tempting and inviting- especially when he was holding you so close. but he had to wait- he couldn’t give in yet. the tension and lingering touches were consuming you whole as you continued to prepare the dish together.

the wine taehyun placed down the table seemed to be the perfect solution to loosen things up, to get rid of all the worries of your unspoken feelings.

“i bought this especially for tonight- it goes well with the dish” taehyun looked down as he smiled shily “i hope you’ll like it” he said as he poured each of you a glass of the sweet cherry wine.

“swirl it around first- then let the liquid touch your lips for a bit to get a small taste” he explained. taehyun already had an interest in alcohol, and the culinary arts programme had only expanded his knowledge in the field further. although it was necessary for him to learn- you found it attractive how he paid attention to even the smallest details.

the wine was more of a sweet kind than dry, intense- yet not overwhelming, and just as intoxicating as him. the pasta didn’t let down your expectations either. you had never tasted pasta with a sauce so creamy and full of flavour before, you couldn’t believe that you had assisted in the preparation and didn’t somehow ruin it.

“this tasted so good” you complimented him hurriedly between bites. taehyun couldn’t control his face at the sound of your words- a cocky grin taking over which he tried to hide subtly by having another sip of wine.

“only the best for you” he replied brazenly, reaching out his glass towards you. meeting him half-way, you clinked your glasses together, giggling at his words.

the wine glasses were filled right after another without a moment of waiting as you got through your dinner. and before you knew it, the expensive bottle was already sitting on the floor underneath the table, not a singular drop remaining in it. to you, taehyun’s eyes seemed to sparkle a bit more now, his smile at least ten times more endearing. and to taehyun? he could barely hold himself back from confessing out of the blue just so that he could finally give your lips a kiss

you clumsily gathered the dishes, bringing them over to the sink. you both agreed that washing them should be a problem for later, since you were quite (very) tipsy and didn’t want to risk flooding the apartment.

turning around after you placed the last plate in the sink, you were taken aback to see taehyun so close to you. he put his hands on the counter behind you, trapping you between it and his own body. his eyes were firmly placed on yours and you noticed how the blush on his cheeks had never disappeared. was it because of you? or just the alcohol?

his head fell on your shoulder, his hands were now on the small of your back as he tried to keep his balance.

“tae- is everything okay?” you asked worriedly. you didn’t know what his alcohol tolerance was, and you didn’t want him passing out on the floor in front of you.

taehyun hummed, burying his face in the crook of your neck. his soft black hair tickled your skin, and you wished you could run your hands through it “can we just stay like this for a bit?” he mumbled.

you opened your mouth to speak, but taehyun interrupted you before you could do so “i can feel how fast your heart is beating right now” he lightly chuckled.

“you’re probably the cause of that...” you replied, the alcohol giving you the slight push to admit it. “is that so?” taehyun lifted his head up slightly, peering into your eyes “every time i get close to you- my heart beats just the same”

your face burned instantly, locking eyes with him for just one moment, before you noticed the way his travelled down to your lips once again. taehyun licked his lips before resting his forehead against yours. his warm breath tickled your lips, and your body trembled in anticipation for him to close the gap. pulling him in by softly grabbing the collar of his shirt, your lips captured taehyun’s in a tender kiss.

taehyun melted into your touch, letting out a small gasp once he promptly parted away from you, only to come back to taste you with even more passion than before. warmth consumed you, breathing heavily as your lips pressed together in a frenzy “your lips taste so sweet” taehyun breathed out “even sweeter than the cherry wine”. taehyun clumsily moved any leftover ingredients out of the way before lifting you up on the counter, his hands trailing underneath your shirt, touching your bare back as he continued to kiss you, the desire flowing through your veins was making it unable for you to stop. it made a chill run down your spine, and you parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside. your fingers got lost through the strands of his hair, pulling at them slightly and emitting a deep hum from him; hot, passionate kisses sending a rush through your whole body as you tasted him. his lips were so soft- so warm, and so incredibly addictive.

in need of oxygen, you parted away for him for a moment, his glistening lips trailing back almost immediately.

“please- will you let me have another taste?”

#wave2tyun #txt #txt fluff #txt x reader #txt fic #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt smau #txt headcanons #txt taehyun #taehyun fluff #taehyun scenarios #taehyun fic #taehyun x reader #taehyun imagines #taehyun headcanons

[fayes-fics]

Canvas

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: An art lesson with a different kind of canvas

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, body painting, oral sex (m to f), cunnilingus, vaginal sex, edging.

Word Count: 5.0k

Authors note: Sequel to Inspiration, but not necessary to have read before this. Unbetaed. This is a double request fill for @oureternalbond HERE and anon HERE. I decided to combine these requests as they were so similar (in essence, Benedict uses his wife as his canvas then smut ensues). I hope you enjoy <3

You find him in his studio, a glass conservatory he has co-opted for his artistic endeavours. He is barefoot and dressed only in black trousers and a white shirt, his braces hanging loosely around his hips, looking handsomely casual as he paints by candlelight, dusk settling in. It's then you spy his subject, the lovely arrangement of flowers you received from his family for your birthday last week. You wondered where the bouquet had disappeared to just now as you had wandered through your home—they previously had pride of place in your hallway.

“Stealing my birthday presents, husband?” you jest airily, leaning on the doorframe with crossed arms.

Benedict twists around and shoots you an apologetic smile. “Only the artistically meritorious ones, my love,” he responds, amusement laced into his tone. “Join me?” he suggests, waving his brush towards the empty easel beside him.

“I'm not certain I have anything close to the requisite skills,” you hedge. You have only ever attended his painting sessions as his subject or simply as a companion, mostly reading quietly nearby as he works—one memorable time, sitting naked upon his cock to provide the requisite inspiration. Your blood runs a little warm just at the mere memory of it.

“Art does not always need to be about skill. Enjoyment of the process is just as important, perhaps more so. Besides, I can teach you,” he smiles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling beguilingly. He never fails to convince you with that look.

“Alright,” you sigh fondly, straightening up and uncrossing your arms, “but you are not allowed to ridicule my attempt,” you argue, waggling a finger as you walk over.

He laughs and leans in to drop a kiss on your cheek as you draw up next to him. “I would never!” he promises in a bemused tone. “Everything you need is right there,” he nods to the supplies, “you have watched me paint enough times to know how to set up.” 

His confidence in your ability seemed a little unwarranted, but you’ll give it a try.

___

“I cannot do this,” you lament about ten minutes later, looking forlornly between the canvas and the spray of flowers, disappointed in your less-than-accurate rendering. All you have managed is some stems and a vague version of the vase, which looks uneven.

“Nonsense,” he dismisses, “you are doing wonderfully for your first time, my love,” he adds patiently.

You twist around with a knitted brow to look at him. “Benedict, please… your flattery is obsequious. This is… not good,” you sigh, scratching your chin with the wooden end of your brush.

“Perhaps I can assist your efforts?” he offers, putting down his brush into a jar of water and placing his palette aside.

“Please…” you request gratefully.

A smile ghosts your lips as he rounds behind you, pushing you closer to the canvas, a hand landing on your hip under the arm you balance the palette upon, and the other curling around yours, holding the brush. His fingers are warm and soft.

“Now then,” his voice is rich and rumbles right next to your ear, “the first thing is to start with the colour there is the most of on the object, and then you can start to add in light and shade… are you quite alright?” he interrupts himself as you fidget slightly.

“All is well,” you reassure.

But it's a lie. The moment he stands close behind you, your traitorous body decides this is not an art lesson at all. No, it’s something quite different. Readying itself for him with quite remarkable speed and absolutely no effort on his part. Quite astonishing, really. You attempt to listen as he sonorously explains the method involved and makes your selection on the palette and brushstrokes over the canvas. But you are half-listening and half-participating at best.

His breath tickles the wisps of hair around your ears as he seems to lean in closer until he surrounds you with his long arms and body heat. He smells of his woodsy soap, and you have to tamp down the urge to twist your nose into his strong neck and inhale deeply. For a few minutes, he guides your hand, and you relax into the motion, enjoying the sensation of being so utterly engulfed by him much more than the act.

“Now, how about you try?” he voices, gently removing his hand from yours.

You stutter, realising you were not taking on board what he was saying, distracted by the striking mental image of him painting a glistening line across your collarbone, a bright golden streak over your bare flesh. You try to remember what he said and make a hesitant dab on the canvas, but there is a disapproving noise against your temple. 

“That is not what I told you to do, now, is it?” he teases lowly.

“I do not know how to do it…” you confess in a breathy whisper. “Please guide me for a little longer, Benedict,” you implore.

“Were you listening to a word I said?” he asks, but it's not a disapproving tone. Not remotely. It’s a liting rumble, his face turning into yours so the tip of his nose nuzzles your earlobe, his breath hot on your jaw.

You suspect your lack of attention to his instruction may have been found out. 

“People pay good money for me to teach them how to paint,” he breathes into your ear, both hands now on your hips, fingers circling over the diaphanous layers of your thin, silk gown. “And yet here is my wife, not even listening to her expert teacher.”

“I am… I…” you give up, knowing it's a pointless lie. You try a different tack. “I should hope you do not treat your other students in this manner?” you throw back, rocking onto your heels so the press of your bodies is greater.

“Indeed I do not,” he murmurs, and you inhale sharply as his teeth graze the shell of your ear. 

“So perhaps this is somewhat unfair to me,” you posit, pouting your lips, knowing his eyes are watching you side on.

He chuckles richly. “Perhaps,” and he gently slides the paintbrush from between your fingers. “There is another method by which I can teach you all about the pleasures of painting.” 

“Oh, and what is that?” you breathe, closing your eyes as warm lips land on your neck, that weak spot which makes you completely pliant.

“It requires a different canvas,” he whispers, his lips catching on your skin.

For a fleeting moment, you consider if he could read where your thoughts had skated only minutes earlier; again, you think of golden paint on your flesh. There is a faint ting as he drops the brush into a glass jar of water and eases the palette from where it is hooked around your thumb, and you do not fight it; just stand still and attempt to regulate your breathing, eagerly awaiting what he will do next.

Your heart rate spikes as deft fingers undo the buttons between your shoulder blades.

“You have such beautiful skin,” he sighs, his lips dropping warm onto the top of your shoulder as your dress relents and falls in a pool around you. “I want to paint you.”

Your breath hitches as he runs a knuckle down the notches of your spine; glad you didn’t bother with a chemise. Your eyes fall closed as he kisses your skin again and plucks open the laces of your stays. When the material slackens, he pulls the structured fabric away from your body and tosses it aside, his hands instantly cupping your breasts and pulling you back into him.

Your moan is wanton as you writhe, his fingers snagging your nipples as they pebble against his palm. One hand sweeps down to the little buttons on your silk underwear and deftly flicks them open as his other hand is busy, making your nipple into a stiff peak.

“Lay down, darling wife,” he murmurs, the tone laden, as your underwear slips around your ankles. 

He gestures to the oversized double chaise conveniently covered in a heavy canvas drop cloth. It’s almost as if he planned for this. You hold his hand delicately as he assists you into a reclined position.

“Will you not be getting naked too, husband?” you coo, watching as he returns for a palette and brush.

“It would certainly make clean-up easier,” he smirks and rips off his shirt, tossing it aside.

Then he walks back to you, a slight swagger in his gait, knowing he has your undivided, breathy attention as your eyes covetously drink in his torso.

“Gold…” escapes your lips unbidden and stops him in his tracks as he towers above you.

“Gold, what?” his query warm, but puzzled as he places the art supplies on the floor next to the chaise.

“When I dream of you painting me, my body,” you confess, “it’s always gold.”

He leans over, his face etched with desire. “You dream of me doing this?” 

“Yes,” you murmur, “Your cool, wet brush swirling over my heated skin….” you close your eyes and bite your lip, lost in the reverie of it.

“Tell me more,” he implores, his breath hot on your cheek, the chaise squeezing as he sits beside you. “Keep your eyes closed if it helps,” he adds, moving back; it sounds like he is fiddling with the supplies.

“You start at my neck….” you sigh, inhaling sharply when a wet ticklish brush lands right on the left side of your neck, then holds still.

“And then?” he prompts gently.

“Then… you do a swooping line over my chin to my other ear,” you breathe, gasping as he does exactly as you describe, the smell of fresh paint filling your nostrils, the feel of it wet and heavy.

“What is next?” his voice is dark and sweet now, goading you into more detail.

“Then you paint a line down the side of my neck, over here…” you gesture at your collarbone, “...then lower,” you end in a whisper, almost reluctant to admit how erotic your fantasies of him can be.

Nothing, however, can prepare you for those errant thoughts becoming a reality—the drag of cold buttery substance, each bristle a damp tickle as he smears a line to the swell of your breast, your eyes flying open to see his gaze heavy and intense on the task in hand. Your nipple pebbles almost painfully, even though he does not stray close to it, surrounding your breast with a golden loop, his pupils dilating, his breath hot on your skin, leaning close. 

“Does that feel good?” he practically purrs.

You nod, feeling the wetness blotting across your neck at your movement.

Without asking you what happens next in your dream, he takes the initiative and traces a line around your other breast, the brush dipping into the valley of your breastbone before continuing. When you tip your head to see his handiwork, the metallic hue shines bright in the candlelight.

“May I use other colours on you too, my love?” his question is almost reverential in tone.

“I am yours, Benedict,” you sigh honestly, “do with me as you wish.”

Those words light an artistic and sensual fire in his eyes; he pushes up to kiss you, plundering your mouth with a possessive kiss. When he pulls away, you feel dazed, desperate for more, but you watch patiently as he reaches for another clean brush on the floor by his feet and selects a new choice from the palette.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.

You do as he asks, aching to know what hue it is. You gasp as a broader brush runs across your skin, starting at your neck and sweeping down, shadowing the path of the other line already drying on your skin.

“What colour?” your curiosity getting the better of you.

“What is your favourite on me?” he teases gently, his strokes seeming to concentrate most on the sensitive skin under your breast, making your thoughts fuzzy, distracted—you know it's intentional.

“You look good in so many colours,” you offer; it's the truth. “I love your light gold cravat,” you add with a sigh, knowing he has already used that shade at your request.

“You are stalling, my love,” he points out with a bemused tone, teasingly flicking the ends of his brush in the spot closest to your underarm.

“Blue? You always look so handsome in every shade of blue, from navy to sky,” you guess.

“Oh, then that shall have to be next,” he lilts, telling you that you have guessed incorrectly.

You mentally flick through some of your favourite of his outfits, squirming slightly at the images you see, his brush still teasing. Then there is a lightbulb moment.

“Burgundy red!” you exclaim, remembering the waistcoat he wore on the day you met, the one that made you lose the power of speech, temporarily tongue-tied, never having seen a man wear such fine silks before.

“Well done, darling,” he compliments. 

You open your eyes to see he has interwoven the harmonious shades in an exquisite arching design, truly using your skin as a canvas. 

“Now lay still; there is much work still to do,” he instructs softly.

You settle into the chaise, your belly fluttering as he slips lower, daubing your diaphragm in intricate loops, trying to keep your breaths shallow for a still surface. He swaps brush again, back to gold, holding the other in his knuckle, the rich red loaded tip contrasting his pale skin. 

When he sinks below your ribs onto your belly, you bite your lip, the light touch tickling you to the point of giggling. You try your best not to move, but when he glides over a sensitive patch, it bubbles out of you on reflex. 

His gaze pings up to your face, a lopsided grin claiming his features. “Does that tickle?” he mocks gently. You can only giggle more in reply as he teases even lighter over that weak spot. 

“Stop it,” you whisper, knowing how much he enjoys the tease.

“Never,” he responds lightly, lowering his face; you jolt as he lightly bites your bare nipple, and you cry out. “I veritably exist to tease you; you are so beautiful like this,” he whispers, pausing in his artistry, pressing you into the chaise with his body weight.

“Look at you,” you giggle as he pulls away again, seeing smears of pain across his chest. 

“That is nothing. I expect both of our bodies will be a riot of colours by the time I am done with you, wife.” His tone is simultaneously light with mirth and dark with promise.

“Perhaps you should speed up,” you answer playfully; it may dry before you have the opportunity.” He laughs, teething your other nipple before refreshing the line.

“Not a chance.” 

Just as your stomach clenches at the idea he will move lower, he grabs your right arm and concentrates his efforts there as if to elongate the burn of anticipation you feel. It's less ticklish until he swipes the crook of your elbow over your veins, making you giggle again, meeting his hazy blue eyes with an intense stare. Wordlessly he kisses your hand before swapping to your left arm, creating free-hand a mirror image of the pattern on your right. It's striking, and somewhat ironically, you wish there was a portrait of you looking like this, covered in his design.

As you are lost in your reverie of that thought, he slips lower on the chaise, and you gasp as he restarts the line at your middle and swirls down all over your belly. He employs a heavier stroke so as not to tickle as much, alternating the two, holding both brushes with ease between his long artistic fingers. You have to bite back a moan when one swoop goes lower, skating along the top of your pubic hair. 

“Open your legs,” his voice low and decadent. Feeling a burning low in your gut, you draw up your knees a few inches and part your legs a fraction, keeping your feet together. “I said…” he grabs your ankle and plants it at the edge of the chaise, out wide, “...open your legs,” his voice dark, making you flush hot.

You meekly move your other foot to match the stance, now lewdly spread before him. 

“Much better,” his voice rough as his gaze is heavy on your core. “Do not move,” he commands.

You pant lightly as he resumes, leaning in so close you can feel his breath on your inner thighs. He paints a line from your belly down over your hip and up your thigh. It's the longest he has done, ending with a flourish at your kneecap. Then he swaps the brushes and traces along the same path in the dark red. 

“What of the navy blue husband?” you murmur, trying to keep your voice even, even though you feel a slight tremble in your body at the contrast of the cool liquid and the warm flush of arousal.

“All in good time. You should not rush an artist at work, darling,” he replies playfully.

“What if your canvas is in need?” you inquire quietly.

“Where does my darling canvas have a need, hmm?” he asks duskily, intentionally acting obtuse even as his breath puffs close to the place you want him the most.

He runs a line achingly slow down your inner thigh, looping under into the crease where your buttock meets your thigh, the odd feeling making goose bumps break out across your surrounding skin, the tilt of his face right above where you burn so hot. 

“Here, perhaps?” he whispers, and you cry out as his warm wet mouth opens wide on your folds.

One of your hands shoots down to grasp his hair as he unfurls his tongue, swiping deep into your folds, lapping the overflowing well of moisture there. You stare down the plane of your body, watching the colour on your inner thigh streak across his clavicle and shoulder as he drinks from your body, pulling your pearl between his lips and sucking so hard you see stars. His eyes fly open and hold yours; his gaze is fiery as he swipes under your clitoral hood. His tongue dabs the most sensitive spot, the one that makes your leg want to kick out and go rigid from the intense sensation. Just as you start to writhe and moan, he pulls back. You pout in disbelief as he calmly returns to painting.

“How can you tease me so?!” you lament, chest heaving, hand falling from its grip on his chestnut locks.

He laughs and continues with his art, your concentration barely registering it, your heartbeat throbbing in your abandoned, swollen clit.

“Please, Benedict,” you appeal, absentmindedly watching him switch to the other shade.

It seems he is ignoring you as his brow knits in concentration, glancing at your other leg to ensure, as with your arms, it is an exact mirror. It's undoubtedly stunning, but somehow your interest in it has waned, all of your thoughts of needing his mouth back where it was.

You plead again and almost want to cry in relief as he seems to huff sympathetically and move so his face is again a fraction from where you want him. After one long, indulgent swipe through your soaked folds that has you gasping loudly, he stops, rears up and quickly climbs over your body, his lips landing on yours, damp and tangy with your desire. Shaking with unsated need, you whimper against his musky tongue as he kisses you deeply. 

“Please,” your voice has a tremulant quality betraying your need, he has taken you to the edge, and the denial makes you prickle hot all over.

“Soon,” it’s a whispered promise, “your skin is too arresting of a sight flushed like this. I need to paint more upon this gorgeous canvas,” he sighs, leaning over to scoop up his brushes again.

“Benedict, please,” you writhe, letting your legs fall closed, hoping to rub against your clit, eager for stimulation.

“Open your legs,” he tuts as he returns his attention to you, parting your knees carefully with his hands, avoiding his handiwork. “If you keep misbehaving, darling, I shall not let you come,” he warns with an arched brow.

“Then I shall have to touch myself,” you sass, squaring your jaw in defiant playfulness. 

“We shall see about that,” he challenges. “Give me your fingers.” Hazy, you allow him to encircle your wrist, only startling when large beads of wetness daub your fingertips. “There we go, navy blue,” he smirks, grabbing your other hand and repeating the action. 

You stare at him dumbfounded, realising you cannot touch yourself now without a mess. That smug crooked smile is still there as you watch him crawl slowly between your legs before diving facefirst into you again, making you scream. You want to grip his hair, but with your fingers now dripping with navy, you feel you should refrain. However, when he loops his arms around your hips, you grab his wrists instead as they frame your thighs. Slathering streaks of dark blue on his pale forearms as he lashes you with his tongue, you calling his name.

He is ravenous, using his whole face to arouse your senses, the stubble of his chin abraiding your labia as he once again teases you, suckling your clit into his mouth, circling his tongue in firm strokes, undulating and spearing it just where you need, as if intuiting what you need at any moment, The tip of his nose is burrowed into your patch of hair, inhaling your scent as if he cannot get enough of your taste and smell, his primal behaviour just making your more wanton for him.

He moans, muffled encouragements into your cunt, the cadence vibrating up into your pubic bone. You stare transfixed at him, decadent, delicious, filthy, a debauched and erotic tableau, the skin pulling taunt over his high cheekbones as he consumes you. Just as your pussy starts to flutter, he pulls up and teases you, pursing his lips and blowing a slow puff of air over your overheated pearl. It's not enough and too much all at once, such a different sensation from his lathing tongue. He chuckles as you groan in frustration and grasp his wrists tightly, fingernails digging blue crescents into his flesh, hoping to incite him back into action.

Instead, he shakes off your grip and swiftly stands up and roughly tugs at the buttons on his trousers, smirking down at you as you turn breathless again with desire, holding your painted fingers on either side of your head as he drops the fabric. As ever, he is without underwear, and even though his straining cock is a familiar sight, every time, it steals your breath and makes you pulse deep inside, just for him.  

He prowls over your prone body, almost cat-like, admiring his handiwork. “You are my masterpiece,” the awed but somehow still achingly seductive tone he employs makes your hips cant up towards him, a reflex, your body seeking his.

Uncaring of the mess it will leave, you run your navy fingertips from his chest to his pelvis, curling a little to scrape your nails into the paint trails. It looks like animal claws—as if you are marking him, possessive. His response is a growl at you, hoisting your legs into the crook of his elbow and with a flash of something primal in his eyes, he surges into your weeping body with one swift thrust.

It makes you call his name. So loudly that you know the staff will hear it throughout the house. You don’t care—don’t care if they come running to check on your welfare and find you naked and decorated, pinned under your husband as he begins to fuck into you, so roughly the whole chaise squeaks and moves across the tiled floor. His body curled over yours, his large hand above your head gripping the raised chaise end for leverage. 

Lost in the carnality of how he is taking you, your walls clinging to his plunging cock, you band your arms around him, smearing long finger trails down the contours of his back until you reach his buttocks and squeeze them covetously, encouraging him to push deeper, go harder, and make it hurt. The glorious, intricate pattern on your skin still tacky, causing your flesh to cling to his and smudge together, the blue on him with the gold and burgundy from you. Blotches and smears that look so vibrant on his pale skin.

“Are you close again, my love?” his question, a touch breathless as he thrusts into you.

You hiss your confirmation, eyes rolling as you grasp his cheeks again and force your legs wider, greedy for him, for more. For him to push so far into your body, it will feel like he’s always there, even when he’s not, like some internal tattoo of him carved into your being. 

“More Benedict… please,” urgent now. It feels like all you’ve done for hours is plead with him, needing to release so badly your mind feels akin to madness, an itch in your brain that needs to be scratched. 

But he slows, and you want to scream in frustration, his movements shallow, delicate, not the onslaught you need to take you over the precipice he has dangled you over what feels like countless times. 

“I love to see this,” his voice husky, breath puffing hot on your face, “when you are so unbridled with need, darling. I cannot resist taking you so close and denying you: the wild look, your untamed desire. All for me.”

You move your hands from his behind and grab his jaw, uncaring that you plaster his face with blue fingermarks. “It's always for you, just you, Benedict, my love, my life,” you affirm, hoping that is what he needs to hear to finally release you from this heightened state of near delirium.

His responding grin is breathtaking, and he begins to plough into you in earnest, his gaze never leaving yours, eyes burning to witness the moment you break for him. The chaise protests loudly, the wooden feet scraping hard on the floor under his unforgiving pace.

You bite your lip and plead with your eyes, wanting his expert touch to push you over.

“Your fingers, please,” you implore, and suddenly three are shoved between your lips, traces of the bitter taste of paint there, along with the tang of sweat and the flavour that is all him. 

“Get them nice and wet, darling,” he lectures, not slowing his pace. You greedily wrap your tongue around his invading digits and slather them in your saliva, drooling around him as his thrusts jolt your entire body. “Yes darling, that's it,” he encourages, and he snarls as you run an edge of teeth over his cuticles, goading him, loving to see him as lost in the potency of the moment as you.

Then with a look that always makes you breathless, he slides the fingers out of your mouth, and they snake between your bodies, finding your engorged clit with ease. You scream his name, and a few harsh flicks are all you need to tip over, clenching so hard around his cock that his hips stutter and he roars into your ear as you fracture around him. Waves of pleasure ripple across your body, almost violent, your muscles spasming, your limbs shaking uncontrollably after being denied.

Distantly, as if through cotton wool, you hear him cursing and growling your name, teeth pressing into the cord of your neck as he curls around you with one final jerk and a loud, guttural groan, he stills, his body stiff, a vein pulsing heavily in his neck and forehead as he empties into you, warmth blooming deep inside you as he spills. Shortly after, he collapses onto his forearms, bracketing your body, mindful not to squash you under his weight as he pants, heaving breaths, his chest bumping yours with each ragged inhale.

You don't say words; just trail the remaining blue paint on your fingers across the skin of his shoulders, connecting the collage of freckles there into a slanted star-like shape. Below a certain point, your bodies resemble a rainbow; the detail he built so carefully now merely a smudge of lively streaks.

“Did you enjoy your painting lesson, my love?” his tone whimsical as his breathing returns to normal.

You giggle and push up to plant a kiss on his smiling lips. “You know I did, Mr Bridgerton; you are a wonderful teacher,” you wink; his responding laugh makes your whole body jiggle under him.

“Now to get clean,” he hums drolly, his grin lopsided and winsome. “I believe we may need to share a bath.”

“Or swim in the lake,” you posit jokingly, rolling your head to look out of the large glass panes, down across the moonlit grass to the water beyond. When you tilt your head back, his look is priceless. His eyebrows shoot up, and that grin grows wider. 

“I love how you think,” he gusts, and you squeal as he scoops you in his arms bridal style, and before you know it, he has elbowed open the French doors and is carrying you to the water’s edge.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau

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[soolh1k]

hi, could you write skz accidentally making you cry?

Skz accidentally making you cry

notes: english is not my first language so apologies for any misspelling or grammar. i hope u like it !! :)))

type: narrated text

genre: angst w fluff

WARNINGS: swearing, a little bit angsty but some fluff at the end, let me know if you'd like to be tagged !! :))

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Bang Christopher

You're at home, eagerly waiting for your boyfriend to return from work. It's been an exhausting day for both of you, but you know you need his support and company to alleviate the built-up stress. Finally, you hear the door open, and your boyfriend enters the room, visibly tired and worried.

You approach him with a smile and give him a warm hug. However, as you embrace him, you can sense the tension in his body. You look at him with concern and ask how his day has been. Your boyfriend lets out a heavy sigh and simply glares at you annoyed. With that look, you knew that things hadn't gone well for him at work.

You understand work-related stress perfectly and try to encourage him, telling him that he's doing a great job and that everything will work out. As you try to uplift him, your boyfriend vents his frustrations, and unintentionally, his tone of voice becomes harsher than usual. The words that come out of his mouth are those of someone frustrated and exhausted, catching you off guard.

"I'm so tired, you know? I'd rather you give me some space, please."

"I know, Chris, but you can always talk to me when you feel like this. That's why I'm here."

"I already know that, but I don't want you around. Your presence annoys me. I just want to be alone, okay? Why do you always make things so difficult? It's like you never understand me, woman. Just go away. I don't want to see you."

"Chris, do you hear yourself? You're being very rude. I understand that you're stressed, but that doesn't give you the right to speak to me like that."

"Just shut up, my god. Your voice is so annoying. If you don't like how I'm acting, why don't you just leave? I told you I want to be alone. Do you not have a brain to comprehend that? Please, go away."

The words deeply impact your sensitivity, and you feel hurt. Sadness clouds your face, and tears start welling up in your eyes. You try to remain calm, but the combination of your boyfriend's stress and the emotional intensity accumulated throughout the day becomes overwhelming.

Realizing that he has hurt your feelings, your boyfriend abruptly stops and looks at you with remorse. His eyes fill with concern and guilt as he sees your tears. Immediately, he sincerely apologizes and embraces you tightly, trying to console you and explaining that he never intended to hurt you in any way.

"Forgive me, my god, I'm an idiot," tears start streaming down his eyes too.

"I didn't mean to talk to you like that. You know stress consumes me, and I know it doesn't give me the freedom to speak to you in that manner. I want you to know that I don't think those things about you. I would never think them, and I don't know why I said them, but please believe me. I love you too much to let my stupid actions ruin us. Please forgive me and try to understand me even though I may seem very selfish. I'm sorry."

As the sincere apologies flow from your boyfriend's lips, you understand that his behavior was unintentional. You know that he's also going through a difficult time, and work stress can sometimes affect his mood beyond his control. You release another sob, but this time, they are tears of relief as you feel his love and genuine remorse.

Your boyfriend continues to hold you in his embrace and assures you that he will always value and care for your feelings. He promises to work on managing his stress better and avoid venting on you in

a way that hurts you. Together, you decide to seek healthier ways to deal with individual and collective stress, such as open communication and mutual support.

This incident strengthens your relationship as you learn to overcome obstacles together and stay connected even in challenging times. Although your tears were a result of momentary pain, both of you understand that it's an opportunity to grow and strengthen your love.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Lee Minho

You're having a fun time with your boyfriend at home. You've been joking and teasing each other for a while, creating an atmosphere of joy and laughter. Both of you enjoy this dynamic and feel comfortable with each other.

In the midst of the fun, your boyfriend decides to play a prank that turns out to be heavier than you expected. He starts making sarcastic comments and teasing about something that you know makes you feel a bit uncomfortable. At first, you think it's just part of the game and try to laugh along with him.

However, as he continues with his jokes, you start feeling more and more vulnerable and emotionally affected. The words he uses no longer seem funny, but hurtful. You can tell that your boyfriend doesn't realize how his words are affecting you and carries on with the prank, thinking everything is fine.

The combination of excessive teasing and your own sensitivity causes tears to well up in your eyes. You try to hold them back, but it's hard to ignore the pain that's building up inside you. Your face reflects a mix of sadness and confusion, as you didn't expect the situation to escalate to this point.

Your boyfriend, noticing your reaction and realizing he has gone too far, immediately stops. His expression changes to one of surprise and remorse as he sees your tears. He realizes that he has unintentionally hurt your feelings and quickly apologizes sincerely.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I was hurting you. I just wanted to play a playful prank, but now I see I crossed the line. Please forgive me," he says with a mix of concern and remorse in his voice. You didn't know what to feel because it's clear that you're not very open about sharing your insecurities with your boyfriend, which caused this unfortunate situation.

It's difficult for you to speak due to the emotions, but you nod your head, letting him know that you understand it was a mistake and that you accept his apology. He quickly comes closer and embraces you tenderly, trying to comfort you.

As he holds you, you allow him to console you and also express how you felt. You explain that although you enjoy having fun together, there are certain topics or boundaries that should not be crossed. Both of you commit to better communication and maintaining a healthy playful environment in the future.

"I'm really sorry, bunny, it wasn't my intention to make you feel this way."

"It wasn't entirely your fault, babe. I don't talk to you much about my insecurities, but from now on, I'll make sure to share my fears and everything that entails."

"We're both going to improve, I promise, bunny."

He promises to be more aware of your boundaries in the future and make sure that the pranks stay at a comfortable level for both of you. He acknowledges that, although the intention was to play, he didn't properly consider your feelings at that moment.

As the emotions calm down, you both use this experience as an opportunity to strengthen your relationship. You learn the importance of respecting each other's emotional boundaries and how to take care of each other.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Seo Changbin

You're at home with your boyfriend, enjoying a relaxed afternoon together. Suddenly, as you pass by the room's doorway, you overhear your boyfriend speaking negatively to someone. Curiosity and concern flood your mind, and you decide to stay silent and listen a little longer.

As you listen, tears well up in your eyes. The words you hear are hurtful and seem to be directed at you. Your heart shatters as you try to process what you've just heard. Without uttering a word, you distance yourself and lock yourself in another room, trying to cope with the overwhelming rush of emotions.

"God, she's so damn annoying. Can't you understand how much her attitude irritates me? Acting all flirtatious, like she's the best person on earth. Someone needs to open her eyes, please. It even embarrasses me to see her," your boyfriend commented over the phone.

"No, of course not. I never want to see her again in my life. Seriously, I hope she realizes the situation and gets that I'm not interested. Well, hopefully things will get better. Talk to you later, Hyun," he ended the call, and you rushed out of the room.

After a while, your boyfriend realizes your reaction and frantically starts searching for an explanation. He looks for you throughout the house and finally finds you sitting in a corner, tears streaming down your cheeks. His face reflects anguish and confusion, not understanding what has happened.

"What happened? Why are you crying?" he asks, his voice trembling, cautiously approaching you.

Looking him directly in the eyes, you share your hurt feelings and tell him what you overheard. You explain how betrayed and hurt you felt, believing he was speaking ill of you. Your voice trembles as you struggle to hold back tears.

Visibly shocked, your boyfriend takes your hands in his and tries to calm you down. He begs you to give him a chance to explain and assures you that he wasn't talking about you. With a sigh, he tells you that he was talking about a girl he recently met, who doesn't seem to understand that he's not interested in her. His words were taken out of context, and he understands how they could have been misunderstood.

"Love, I wasn't talking about you. I'm sorry if you thought that. I would never speak about you like that, and I didn't even want to speak that way about her. But honestly, I've been so bothered by her flirting with me and she had me fed up. I was just telling Hyunjin what was happening because he noticed I started going to the gym earlier than usual. I wanted to avoid her. Please forgive me, I didn't mean to hurt you."

As you listen to his explanation and see the honesty in his eyes, your tears begin to fade away. Slowly, you start to comprehend that it was a misunderstanding, and your boyfriend never intended to hurt you.

"I'm really sorry, sweetheart. I didn't want you to feel this way. I wasn't talking about you, but about that girl. I made a mistake by not clarifying it, and I understand why you felt hurt. I promise I'll be more careful with my words in the future," he says sincerely.

As your boyfriend's words reach your heart, the tears give way to a sense of relief. You know that he cares about you and genuinely regrets the situation. He embraces you gently, seeking to console you and reaffirm his love.

You decide to forgive him, knowing that we all make mistakes, and he has acknowledged his own. Together, you commit to strengthening your communication and promise to openly and honestly discuss any concerns or misunderstandings that may arise in the future.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Hwang Hyunjin

You're having a fun night with your group of friends, laughing and having a great time. Your boyfriend is also there, but as the night progresses, you start noticing a change in his attitude. He becomes distant and increasingly jealous.

At one point, your boyfriend approaches you and starts making baseless accusations. His words are aggressive and filled with unfounded jealousy. You try to calm the situation and explain that there's nothing to worry about, that you're just enjoying the company of your friends.

"What was that?"

"What are you talking about? I don't understand, babe."

"You saw how your little friend was looking at you? It's obvious he likes you, bella."

"What are you talking about? Don't be ridiculous. We're just friends, love."

"I'm not being ridiculous. I'm telling you he likes you. The way he looks at you is the same way I look at you, with love and desire. I won't let this go unnoticed. Let's go, please."

"Are you jealous, love? You know I only like you. I love only you, babe. Please trust that nothing will happen."

"For once, listen to me, bella. Let's go, damn it. I want to go home now. I'm tired of you and them." You were shocked and couldn't respond, so Hyunjin took it as a "I don't want to leave."

However, he persists in his accusations, raising his voice and demanding unnecessary explanations. You feel cornered and attacked, not understanding why he has taken this aggressive stance. You try to stay calm, but his hurtful words start to affect you emotionally.

"I'm tired of it. Do whatever you want, go kiss him if you want. I don't care anymore."

"What are you talking about? Of course not, Hyunjin, please understand."

"Forget it. I'm tired of seeing you not believing me. Come back before it gets darker. I'm going home. Enjoy your night, I guess."

Tears begin to fill your eyes as you try to hold them back. You can't understand how such a fun night took such a drastic and painful turn. Your boyfriend, noticing your reaction and realizing he has gone too far, stops immediately. His expression changes from anger to surprise and remorse as he sees your tears.

"Oh, bella, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry," he says with a trembling voice, approaching you with a gesture of repentance. "I was jealous, and I let my insecurities get the best of me. But understand that I only want to protect you and that you mean so much to me. I didn't want to hurt you. It's just that he's so handsome, and I'm afraid you'll leave me for someone better. You're what I value the most, and you're the only thing that keeps me alive. Please forgive me. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Despite the pain you feel, you understand that his jealousy stems from a place of love and concern for you. However, you also let him know that the way he has treated you has been unfair and hurtful. You express your feelings honestly, explaining how his words have deeply hurt you and made you feel misunderstood.

"It's not fair what you did, Hyun."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, I know you love me and want the best for me. It's okay, but next time you feel like this, tell me, and we'll work it out together, cutie." He simply nodded his head.

Your boyfriend, visibly affected by your words, apologizes once again and hugs you tenderly. He assures you that he will work on his

jealousy and communicate in a healthier way. He acknowledges that his actions have been unfair and that he needs to learn to trust you and the strength of your relationship.

Together, you decide to take some time to discuss your concerns and fears, setting boundaries and committing to supporting each other. You learn that open and honest communication is essential to overcome jealousy and build a stronger, healthier relationship.

As emotions calm down, you realize that although this incident made you cry, it has also allowed you both to grow and understand each other better. You feel comforted by the fact that your boyfriend has recognized his mistakes and is willing to work on them.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Han Jisung

You're at home, enjoying a chill moment when you receive a text on your phone. It's your boyfriend, telling you he's written a song for you and wants to share it. You feel excited and eager to listen to it since you know he's really talented in music.

You open the audio file and a beautiful melody starts playing. As you listen to the lyrics, tears fill your eyes. The song's words express all the love and admiration your boyfriend feels for you. It's a touching declaration that hits you right in the heart.

Overwhelming emotion and happiness wash over you. You're so thrilled to have someone who values and loves you like this. Tears of joy start streaming down your cheeks as you keep listening to the song over and over again. Your emotions are so intense that you can't help but cry tears of happiness.

Your boyfriend, eagerly waiting for your reaction, realizes he's made you cry. He quickly approaches you, concerned and confused.

"Doll face, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" he asks softly, wrapping his arms around you.

"Don't you like it? Should I change something? Is the lyrics weird? Give me a few hours and I'll make another song for you, love. Give me another chance."

With a smile through your tears, you try to explain how happy his song makes you and how deeply it touches your heart. You sincerely thank him for his sweet gesture and assure him that these are tears of happiness.

"I'm the luckiest person in the world, Hannie. I don't deserve you, really. You're an amazing guy, and I love you so much. Thank you for always being by my side and making me so happy. If I could give you the world, I would. Please never leave me. I love you."

"Oh, love, I didn't mean to make you cry. I just wanted to express how I feel about you through music," he says tenderly, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. "I'm so glad you liked the song and that it made you happy. You're the most important person to me, and I want you to know how much I love you."

As he comforts you and holds you close, you feel overwhelmed with love for him. You realize how lucky you are to have someone who understands you so well and strives to make you happy. Although his intentions were pure, and the song was beautiful, tears flowed due to the intensity of your emotions.

Together, you celebrate this special moment and promise each other to continue sharing and expressing your love in ways that bring happiness and a sense of being cherished. It serves as a reminder of the depth of your bond and the beauty of your relationship.

This incident teaches you the power of music to convey emotions and the strength of love to touch someone's heart. From now on, that song becomes something very special for both of you, reminding you of the love and happiness you share.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Lee Felix

You're hanging out with your boyfriend at home, laughing and chatting. But suddenly, you notice a change in his behavior. He seems irritated and distant, and his expression shows that something's not right.

You try to figure out what's going on, but he responds curtly and avoids having a conversation. You try to approach him and ask if everything's okay, but he just tells you he has a headache and needs some quiet time.

"Damn it, I have a headache, can you just be quiet? I don't feel good," he snaps. "Do you want me to bring you tea? Or a painkiller? Should I take you to get checked out? You should lie down for a while."

"What don't you understand!? Just shut up, can't you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut for a second, oh my God, are you a parrot? Stop with the nonsense, now leave me alone, go away," Felix seemed to get a bit worked up, even raising his voice at you.

You feel confused and worried because you don't know what caused his irritation. You try to give him space and time to recover, but you can't help but feel hurt by his distant attitude.

In the meantime, you continue doing your own activities, trying to distract yourself and give him the space he needs. But deep down, it hurts that he silenced you and didn't share with you what was bothering him.

After a while, your boyfriend returns to the room where you are. He comes close to you, looking remorseful.

"I'm sorry for being distant and yelling at you like that. I shouldn't have acted that way, I'm sorry," he says softly, with his eyes lowered. "I had a really bad headache, and I was irritated, but that's no excuse to treat you like that. I didn't mean to make you cry, babe, I'm really sorry."

Tears start filling your eyes as you listen to his sincere apologies. Although it hurts that he was irritated and ignored you, you understand that he also has difficult moments that can affect his behavior.

"I don't want you to apologize for feeling bad, but it hurt that you ignored me and silenced me," you respond with a trembling voice. "I understand you had a headache, but I would have liked it if you had told me. I want to be there for you, even in tough times."

Your boyfriend nods, genuinely remorseful for his behavior. He takes your hands and looks into your eyes.

"You're right, I shouldn't have shut you out like that. I appreciate your support and your willingness to stand by me even when I'm going through tough times," he says sincerely. "I promise to work on communicating better with you and not pushing you away when I feel bad. You're important to me, and you should never feel silenced, let alone threatened by me. God, I was such a big idiot, I'm sorry."

Even though tears continue to flow, you feel a sense of relief hearing his commitment to improving communication and valuing you more in difficult situations. Together, you decide to take some time to openly and honestly talk about your emotions and needs, thereby strengthening your relationship.

As the days go by, you see how your boyfriend keeps his promise and makes an effort to be more aware of his actions and words when he's irritated or going through a tough time. Both of you learn to support each other and communicate effectively, overcoming any obstacles that may arise.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Kim Seungmin

You're excited to go out with your boyfriend and decide to wear a special outfit. You make an effort to look good and feel confident in your clothing choice. When you meet up with your boyfriend, he looks you up and down and starts laughing.

"Wow, is that what you're wearing?" he says, laughing. "I think someone went a little overboard with fashion today."

"Damn, I thought I was the one with bad fashion sense, apparently not."

"Stop joking, Seung, you can't handle how cute I look."

"I'm not joking, are you seriously going to wear that today? I don't want anyone to see me with you if you wear that."

At first, you think he's just joking and you join in the laughter. But as seconds pass, you realize that his comments could be hurtful. Tears start welling up in your eyes as you struggle to hide your hurt feelings.

Your boyfriend notices your reaction and realizes that his jokes were inappropriate. He quickly approaches you with an apologetic expression on his face.

"Oh, blossom, I'm so sorry," he says apologetically. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I was just joking. I know you've put effort into looking good and you look beautiful, seriously."

Tears start falling down your cheeks as you try to explain how his comments affected you. You express how important it is for you to feel appreciated and supported by him, even in seemingly insignificant situations.

"I understand it was a joke, but I felt really bad," you say with a trembling voice. "I put effort into choosing my outfit and I wanted to feel good with you. I need you to support me and make me feel valued, even in small things like how I dress."

Your boyfriend sincerely apologizes and embraces you tenderly. He understands how much he has hurt you and is determined to make it right.

"I'm sorry for making you feel this way. I shouldn't have mocked you like that. I just wanted to joke around, you know how silly I can get with my jokes. It wasn't my intention to make you cry, blossom. You're honestly the most beautiful person my eyes have ever seen. Don't let the comments I made affect you. You're even more gorgeous every day," he says softly. "You're beautiful and precious to me, and I never want to make you feel bad. I appreciate your effort, and I promise to be more aware of your feelings in the future."

As he comforts you and apologizes, you feel a sense of relief in your heart. You appreciate his willingness to learn from his mistakes and improve the way he communicates with you.

Both of you take a moment to openly and honestly discuss how you want your relationship to be, based on mutual respect and acceptance. You agree to be more sensitive and considerate with your words and jokes to avoid unnecessary hurt.

Over time, you see your boyfriend keeping his promise and showing greater care and support in all aspects of the relationship. You learn to communicate more effectively, accept differences, and value each other.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Yang Jeongin

You're having a chill night at home with your boyfriend. You both decide to snuggle up on the couch and enjoy a horror movie together. As the movie progresses, your boyfriend starts telling you scary stories to amp up the excitement.

While listening to his chilling tales, you feel the tension creeping over you. You try to keep your composure and not let it affect you, but your imagination starts playing tricks on your mind.

After the movie, you decide to call it a night. You climb into bed next to your boyfriend, trying to leave the scary stories behind and calm yourself down. However, the dark atmosphere and vivid details of the stories he told still linger in your head.

In the middle of the night, you wake up startled by a terrifying nightmare. Your heart is racing, and tears stream down your cheeks. You quickly seek comfort and security in your boyfriend's arms.

Your boyfriend wakes up to your sobbing and embraces you tenderly, sensing your distress.

"What's wrong, babydoll? Did I have something to do with your nightmare?" he asks, concerned, as he holds you close.

"It was my fault, right? I'm sorry. You know my imagination runs wild, and once I start, I can't stop. I'm sorry," his last words make you laugh a little.

Through your sobs, you manage to explain how the combination of the horror stories and your imagination led to a dreadful nightmare.

"You're such a goof, and so am I. How could I have thought that Annabelle would come along with the nun to invite me to dinner at their haunted house?" Both of you burst into laughter, realizing that while your nightmare might have been silly, it was still terrifying.

Your boyfriend gently strokes your hair and offers words of comfort.

"I'm really sorry, I had no idea it would affect you this much. I never intended to scare you like that," he says softly. "I promise I won't tell you any more horror stories before bedtime if they make you feel bad. I'm here to protect and take care of you, not to frighten you."

You cling to him, allowing yourself to feel his warm embrace as tears continue to roll down your cheeks. Gradually, the sense of safety and love begins to alleviate your fear and sadness.

"Thank you for being here and understanding how I feel," you whisper, voice trembling. "Your support means a lot to me. I don't want you to feel guilty, but it comforts me to know that you're willing to avoid things that scare me. I love you."

Your boyfriend hugs you tighter and whispers in your ear, "I love you too, and I'll do everything I can to protect you and make sure you feel safe. Together, we'll overcome your nightmares and anything else that scares you."

You spend the rest of the night in his arms, feeling his love and support helping you calm down and go back to sleep.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

Tags !!

@albaficaslover

@damselettism

#skz imagines #skz reactions #skz scenarios #skz series #skz x reader #skz changbin #skz bang chan #skz hyunjin #skz angst #skz felix #skz hard thoughts #skz han #skz minho #skz jeongin #skz seungmin #skz smau #skz fluff

[bluebeary-jay]

CONGRATS!!! 1000 FOLLOWERS IS SO AWESOME AND I'M HAPPY FOR YOU!!🥰🩷

For the celebration I'm thinking Joel has lived in Jackson for months and has a bad reputation so people mostly avoid him and he always keeps to himself. BUT reader is the exception, always with a big smile and really polite to him (and he has a terrible crush on her). She always sees him alone at the bar looking around and seeming dislocated and decides to ask him "may I have this dance" cause she likes him too, but he panic and refuses. Later he realizes he's missing his chance with her and tries to fix it. Just some nice fluff (with age gap please🙏)

HIIIII SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT NONNIE

(okay so I'm back-ish, I apologize to everyone for disappearing but i had a rough couple of weeks and had to deal with a lot of stuff. i actually finished this fic some time ago but didn't have strength to post it but i'm more ready now so here you go <3 i hope you'll like it, i had a lot of fun writing it!! and thank you for requesting!! love you 🥰)

Joel Miller was a recluse. Everyone knew that, though not many were aware that he didn’t exactly choose this kind of life for himself.

He really hoped that things would get better after he settled down in Jackson with Ellie, but the residents of the town made it very clear that they didn’t want his company. It stung a little, especially since Joel didn’t think he gave them any reason to be wary of him, but he hid his hurt well. With time he got used to nasty whispers, people giving him a wide berth and basically everyone but Tommy and Ellie avoiding him. It was unpleasant, sure, but he learned to just deal with it.

Well, there was also you.

Joel had no clue what your deal was. Why you weren’t shying away from him like your fellow peers and why you went out of your way to always catch him into a conversation or smile at him whenever you saw him.

“I think she’s crushin’ on ya,” Tommy told him once during a dinner at his house. Ellie and Maria weren’t present, the latter showing the teen some clothes she might want – and thank fuck for that. Joel would murder his little brother if he said such nonsense in their presence.

“The hell you’re talkin’ about?” he spluttered, his eyebrows furrowed when Tommy sent him a smug, knowing grin. The question was completely unnecessary, of course, since they were already talking about you, but still Joel hoped he somehow misinterpreted his brother’s words.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Joel.” He sprawled out on the chair, still with that stupid smirk. “I really think she’s into you. I’d ask her out if I were you.”

“There’s no… I assure you she isn’t.”

“But if she was–”

“She’s not. Now can I eat my meal in peace?” Joel placed his hands on the table, but Tommy shook his head.

“But you like her, right? She’s nice.”

Joel sighed. “Yeah, she is.”

“And pretty.”

That Joel didn’t fall for. He glared at his brother.

“Jesus, Tommy, let me have it. I’m lucky she even wants to talk to me, with all her friends tellin’ her I’m bad news and me being half her age older.”

His eyes became solemn and voice took a lower, quieter tone, which told Tommy the matter was hitting Joel harder than he let on. He sat up straight, getting rid of the teasing smile.

“Alrigh’. Sorry for bringin’ it up.” Joel sighed and nodded, signifying that everything was okay. “I just want you to be happy, y’know. Maybe you should give yourself a chance.”

The older Miller didn’t answer and took a big swig of whiskey out of his glass.

The problem was, he didn’t need Tommy to tell him all that. Joel would have to be blind and stupid not to notice how breathtakingly beautiful you are, and this, combined with your intelligence, passion and sense of humor, was his ultimate undoing. Every time he talked with you, it was all he could do to hide the redness in his cheeks and the weakness in his knees.

But he did. ‘Cause, let’s be real – even though Joel recognized he had a terrible crush on you (though it took him weeks to make peace with this fact) he knew there was no way in hell you’d find him even a fraction as attractive as he found you. He was almost twice your age,  for heaven’s sake, and such a young, gorgeous woman as you would never agree to throw her life away to be with an old man.

But God knew that with each day you broke down his walls, the desire to kiss you was becoming more and more agonizing. Every smile you sent his way worked only to feed his imagination of how soft your lips would surely be if he could only brush his thumb across it, not to mention touch them with his own. He wondered how your hands, so much smaller than his calloused ones, would feel on his stomach or shoulders. How it would be to embrace you with his arms, skin to skin and without any layers in-between.

Those were not the thoughts he should be having, especially in public – yet here he was, several days after his conversation with Tommy, imagining impossible while he watched you laughing on the dance floor with your friend. You looked so carefree, so happy and full of life, your energy only reminding Joel sourly of his own old age.

He noticed you glancing his way several times throughout the evening but he knew it didn’t mean anything, it would never mean anything other than your innocent friendliness. So he just quickly looked away lest you realize he was staring.

Joel took a swing from his glass and looked around the bar, trying to take his mind off you – fruitlessly. His eyes still darted back to you every few seconds, involuntarily roaming over your exposed skin visible under the nice outfit you picked for tonight. It was driving Joel insane with longing and need, and all he could think of was the mental image of how kissing and touching you gently would feel like.

Bet you’d feel so perfect under his palms.

He closed his eyes and propped up his forehead on his fist, trying to tune out the music and all the distracting background noises.

Keep it together. 

He had to remember that he was way too old to be this enamored with a young, pretty girl like you. You would surely be repulsed if you had any clue about what was going on in his head, and some of the thoughts he had–

Then, Joel felt a light touch on his shoulder and lo and behold – there you were, standing right in front of him with a bright smile, as if summoned by his thoughts.

“Hi,” you said, tilting your head in that endearing way that made his insides tighten. “What are you doing here alone, cowboy?”

Joel prayed that he wasn’t blushing, though his hope diminished increasingly when your eyes wandered curiously across his features. Your eyebrows rose slightly and he cursed internally.

Fuck, you were so beautiful.

“M’not…” He cleared his throat and started again. “M’waitin’ for Tommy. He had to sort somethin’ out with… uh, someone.” He drummed his fingers against the table but stopped immediately, not wanting to give you an impression that the conversation with you was boring him. “You don’t have to do it, darlin’.”

You gave him a puzzled look, and he explained. “Y’know. Hang out with me. The people like to talk nasty things and I don’t wanna expose you to that.”

“It doesn’t bother me.” You shrugged with a sweet smile which Joel could kill for just to see it one more time. “And I… enjoy spending time with you.“

It didn’t mean anythin’. You were just bein’ friendly.

But even though he kept repeating it to himself like a mantra, Joel could not take his eyes off you. You were a vision – your profile bathed in the soft lights of the bar, your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked over your shoulder, deep in thought, at the stereo tower. The current song’s notes died down and a new one, much slower and romantic, started to play. You took a deep breath and let out a nervous laugh. “Actually I wanted to ask you something. If you don’t mind.”

“Ask away, darlin’.” He offered you a small smile, hoping to put you at ease, and you wetted your lips – which nearly gave him a heart attack and caused him to almost miss your next words.

“May I have this dance?”

Joel’s world stopped for a moment. He was in the middle of lifting the glass of whiskey to his lips but his muscles stiffened and the tumbler slipped out of his cold fingers. It didn’t shatter, but the rich liquid spilled all over the table. Your eyes flickered to the overturned glass, but Joel didn’t pay it any mind, too stunned to look at anything else but you.

“C-come again?” he stuttered, his voice strained and small. In the corner of his eye he noticed people at the next table glancing their way, alarmed by the noise, but he forced his attention back to you.

“This is my favorite song,” you explained shyly, an adorable blush spreading across your cheeks and neck. “So… may I have this dance, Joel?”

Now the people sitting around them definitely heard that, because they started smirking and whispering, and one person went to another group standing nearby on the dance floor. Joel felt his own face growing hot as he watched them pointing not-so-discreetly in his direction.

It was like the most wonderful dream and the most horrible nightmare come true at the same time.

He couldn’t do it. There was no way, not in front of all the people of Jackson who hated and despised him. He didn’t want to give them a show to gossip about or worse, subject you to their disdain.

But you still stood in front of his chair with an innocent, hopeful smile, though you started to shuffle the longer Joel was silent. The song – your favorite, supposedly – was passing in the background but you kept waiting patiently for an answer to your question.

He had to come up with something. Or just explain to you that he doesn’t dance – the sweet little thing you were, you’d probably understand and not pressure him into doing it. At least he hoped so.

C’mon, say somethin’.

“No.”

Your face fell instantly and Joel’s eyes widened at the mortifying realization of what just came out of his mouth.

Anythin’ but THAT.

You stared at him for a couple of seconds in the silence of the bar before your eyes started to glisten and you averted your gaze. Someone to Joel’s left snickered derisively and in the next second whispers erupted all around you two. You seemed to shrink in yourself, embarrassment and regret marking your beautiful face, and Joel’s heart almost broke when a tear slipped from your eye, and then another one fell down your other cheek.

“Okay,” you murmured, wiping the treacherous tears quickly and keeping your gaze trained on the floor. “Sorry. Sorry.”

You turned on your heel and went to exit the establishment, your step gradually turning into a run when the giggles and whispers around you became louder. The door swung open on the winter wind and just like that, you were gone.

Then all eyes turned to Joel – and the shame Joel felt increased at least tenfold.

He saw Tommy standing up and walking toward him from the other side of the room with worry written all over his face, but Joel didn’t stick around to hear what he had to say. He stood up and left through the same door you did, glaring threateningly at anyone stupid enough to still snicker at the situation they witnessed.

Ten minutes later Joel was standing in front of your door, trying to keep his knocking below the ‘desperate’ level.

He realized that he had to tell you. He intended to keep the feelings he harbored for you bottled up for the rest of his life but you needed to know the reason why he turned you down. You needed to hear from him that he cared about you, that it wasn’t some malicious act toward you but sheer cowardice stemming from the problem that he was madly in love with you.

“Hello? It’s… it’s Joel,” he choked out through his tight throat as he knocked again, a little louder this time. “Darlin’, can I talk to you?”

No response came, though he saw the lights in your house were on, and Joel had to take a deeper breath to calm his nerves. He prayed that he hadn’t completely screwed it up, but for now all the evidence spoke against him.

You wanted to dance with him. You gathered your courage just to ask him for a dance and he said no.

Joel knew he lost his chance. He lost you. You were his only friend in town and he somehow managed to fuck everything up with just one word.

He was so lost in his wallowing in despair that he almost missed the door opening slightly. In the gap of the doorway he caught a glimpse of your iris – and though it was only for a split second, Joel could clearly see that your eye was red. A pang of guilt pierced his chest but once you saw it was him, you shut the door again.

“No, darlin’, please. Please, just let me explain.” A wave of desperation and fear threatened to drown him and Joel’s heart clenched in his chest. “I’m so sorry, I acted like an asshole but I never wanted to hurt you, I just… I-I panicked.”

He was babbling, not even knowing if you were still there on the other side of the door, but the desperate and remorseful words were spilling out of him like a waterfall.

“I’m so sorry. Sweetheart…” Joel sighed, putting his hand on the cold wood of the door and listening for a couple of seconds, but there was no sound coming from inside. “Please. I’m beggin’ you, open the door.”

Then he heard something – a sound like blowing one’s nose. Joel froze for one, two… three seconds, and nearly collapsed in relief when you unlocked the door.

“You can come in,” you said, but didn’t meet his eyes. “You’re probably freezing, no?”

Joel nodded, feeling his throat going dry at the sorrowful sight of you. He crossed the threshold, closing the front door quietly behind him and looked you over. You hadn’t changed out of that pretty outfit of yours yet, although it was now covered by a long cardigan that you draped over your shoulders. In your hand you held a crumpled tissue but quickly pocketed it when Joel’s eyes fell on it.

He opened his mouth with a sharp inhale but before he could apologize, you beat him to it.

“I’m sorry for that,” you blurted out and glanced up at him but quickly looked down at the floor again. “I shouldn’t have asked you to dance in front of all those people and I overreacted because then everyone was looking at me… Look, it wasn’t even that big of a deal so don’t read into it. Everything is fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he said softly and you pressed your lips into a thin line. “You have nothin’ to apologize for. I’m sorry for embarrassin’ you. I panicked ‘cause I–”

“It’s fine,” you muttered again. “Just forget it.”

“I can’t. Listen, sweetheart, I panicked ‘cause I wish I could let myself read into it.”

Your head snapped up and Joel swallowed heavily, realizing how stupid that sounded.

“What I mean–” Fuck, he really was shit at talking so openly about these stuff. “I… I have feelings for ya. Had ‘em for a long time now but I never planned on actin’ on ‘em ‘cause I know I’m too old and you’d never…”

“You’re… really?” you asked with wide eyes, but he tuned your words out, fearing that you were going to kick him out at any second.

“I’m only tellin’ you all this ‘cause I need you to know I care about ya and I didn’t say ‘no’ outta malice or… or ‘cause I don’t like you. I do. Too much, I’m afraid.”

You were staring at him, mouth agape and silent. Joel didn’t move, awaiting your reaction – whether you tell him to get out or scream how disgusting he was, he was going to take it. And then, if you never want to see him again, he’ll accept it. One day. But he doubted his heart would ever recover.

“Let me fix it,” he begged, his voice just above a whisper when you didn’t give any reaction to his confession. “Please, darlin’.”

Your eyes skimmed over his face as you hummed to yourself, almost irritably calm. Joel swallowed, the weight of guilt and anticipation pulling him down – and he was ready to fall to his knees before you when finally you lifted your hand to brush his lower lip with your fingertips, so delicately he could barely feel it. He froze and tried not to breathe, not wanting to cause you to pull away.

“I noticed something when you were rambling,” you said with a hint of reflection. Joel had no idea what was happening or why were you acting that way, but he daren’t move. He briefly entertained a thought that he was dreaming, but then his attention got caught by the sight of the corner of your lips twitching slightly, as if you were keeping yourself from laughing.

His chest expanded with hope so strong, it was almost unbearably painful.

“What is it?” he forced himself to speak, the nerves making his voice weak and raspy.

“Your accent gets heavier when you’re nervous,” you mused, as though to yourself, now trailing your fingertips down his stubbly cheek. “It’s cute.”

His heart lurched at your words. You gazed up at him and absently bit your lip, which Joel found downright sinful.

“Do you have any idea how long it took me to gather the courage to make the first move?” Your words were bitter, but there was a trace of relief in your voice. Joel let your fingers wander across the lines of his jaw and cheekbones, wishing he had enough boldness to touch you like that, too, but suddenly, your hand stilled and your eyes met his again. “Did you mean it? The things you said?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation, his own fingers twitching as he restrained himself from reaching for you. His head was spinning, trying to comprehend the meaning of your actions and words. “But do you–”

You touched his lips lightly again, silencing his question, and your features slowly were overtaken by a large, bright smile, which seemed to lift all the heavy weight of worry from Joel’s shoulders.

“You wanted to fix it, right?” you asked in a teasing whisper. He nodded. “Then just ask me.”

You weren’t angry. You weren’t pulling away.

You wanted to dance with him and you gathered the courage to do so, and now Joel had to do the same. He couldn’t waste this second chance you gave him.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards and he exhaled shakily.

“May I have this dance?”

You pursed your lips to hide your joy and side-eyed him, but your eyes were sparkling with playfulness. “You know, I think I should respond the same way you did. Just to be fair.”

“Sweetheart, don’t play with this old man’s heart,” he whispered and smiled shyly when you giggled at the exasperation but also uncertainty in his voice. Joel still felt kind of out of it, too stunned to trust his mind that this was really happening – but the sound of your laughter brought him right back to Earth, to the place he wanted to be more than anywhere else.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous tonight, Miller.” You took his hand and brought it to your hip, making Joel’s breath hitch in his throat and cheeks grow warm. His reaction didn’t get past you, and you smiled at him so radiantly that his world started to spin. Then your arms wrapped around his neck and you pressed your body against his. “But you’ll have some atoning to do.”

His throat was dry, but Joel returned your shy smile, stepping to the side and guiding you carefully to the thumping rhythm of his heart.

And a couple of minutes later, after more hushed apologies and assurances during your slow-dancing, Joel placed his hand on your cheek, almost letting out a relieved whimper when you nuzzled your face into his palm.

And after another few minutes went by, when he leaned in and you didn’t stop his lips from meeting yours, he knew he was a goner.

He couldn’t get rid of the big smile on his face – perhaps the first real one since arriving in Jackson all those months ago.

#bluebeary-jay's 1k party #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #peepaw needs some love and we need a volunteer #joel miller x you #the last of us #i love writing joel so shy and fumbling over his words #he might be an unstoppable force and ready to kill people without batting an eye but he WILL blush while talking to a pretty girl

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hello! I love all of your Aemond fics. They are 😩👌 I have a request that’s been on my mind. If you’re uncomfortable with the subject, I understand. Could I please request Aemond x wife!reader where Aemond has a breeding kink? Thank you!

Thank you so much! I hope this tickles your pickle.

Warnings: Smut. Word count: ~1300

It has been a week since Helaena gave birth to Maelor and she is finally feeling rested enough to entertain visitors that aren’t either Aegon or Alicent.

Aemond’s wife has been giddy with excitement since the news of the birth, eager to meet her precious little nephew.

She rocks baby Maelor in her arms, cooing softly to him as he gurgles and clenches his tiny fists. Helaena reclines on the couch in the solar, watching on with a smile.

Jaehaera and Jaehaerys run shrieking around the room, hands sticky from lemon cakes and voices shrill with the high of an afternoon of sweet treats.

She laughs as they cling to her skirts, not minding the residue their mucky fingers leave behind.

Aemond stands stoic as ever near the doorway, his expression unreadable. She wishes more than anything that he would interact with the children; play with the twins, even offer to hold the babe for the briefest of moments. However, ever since they began their short visit he has stood like a statue, his gaze not shifting from her the entire time.

Perhaps he doesn't like children? The thought makes her sad. They have only been wed for three months, yet she is desperate to be with child. It's not like they haven't been trying, but she is beginning to wonder if perhaps her husband is going through the motions purely out of a sense of duty and has no real interest in being a father.

"You must be excited to have children of your own soon." Helaena says, oblivious to the tenseness she feels towards her husband.

She gives a tight lipped smile, keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the infant she's cradling. "Yes, if the Seven see fit to bless us, I would love to have children."

The sound of a throat being cleared draws her attention back to Aemond. He stares at her with an intensity that makes her feel peculiar; a combination of guilt, embarrassment and something that swirls hot in her lower belly that she cannot quite define.

Has she said something out of turn? Is he angry with her? Perhaps he is squeamish at the thought of his sister being privy to the details of their marriage. How foolish of her.

“Dearest wife, I think it is time we took our leave.” Aemond says, his voice cool and even.

“But we have barely spent an hour with your sister and the children, can’t we-”

“I said I think it’s time we took our leave.” Aemond repeats, interrupting her. His tone does not change, though there is clear enough indication that there is no room for argument.

She sighs, handing Maelor back to Helaena with an apologetic smile.

Aemond steps aside from the doorway, gesturing for her to exit first before following her out.

They are not ten paces from the solar when she gasps as she is turned and pressed against the wall. She can feel the evidence of Aemond’s arousal pressed against her thigh.

“What are y-mmph!”

Her question is cut off by Aemond pressing his lips firmly against hers, engaging her in a kiss that is far beyond the realm of public decency. She is breathless and wide-eyed when he eventually pulls back. The blue iris of his right eye is almost eclipsed by the dilation of his pupil. She finally sees the way he has been looking at her for the last hour for what it actually is; lust.

“You will make a wonderful mother.” He whispers, his breath hot against the shell of her ear.

She blushes at his words, her skin growing warm, she stares up at him doe-eyed. “What’s gotten into you?”

He raises a hand, fingertips ghosting a trail along her jawline and down the column of her throat. “Seeing you with Maelor today...I want so badly to give you a child of our own, fuck you full of my seed and watch it take root. You’d look so pretty all round and soft, a walking display of what I’ve done to you, what I’ve put inside of you.”

She swallows thickly at the crassness of his words, but there is no denying the arousal that pools between her legs as a result of them. Her only response is a whimper as he continues to loom over her.

Aemond pulls away, taking her by the hand and leading her wordlessly towards their marital chambers.

No sooner is the door closed and bolted than Aemond is upon her, fingers tangled in the hair at the back of her head, kissing her so hard she fears her lips will bruise. He walks her back towards the bed, guiding her down upon it, before hastily bunching her skirts around her hips and plucking at her smallclothes.

Her chest heaves with excitement as she watches him, she has never seen her husband so animated. “Should we not undress fully?”

“I’m not waiting a moment longer to have you.” He responds huskily, working open his trousers.

He runs his digits through the wetness of her folds, before spreading the resulting slick over the length of his erect cock. They groan in unison at the stretch of his intrusion as he pushes inside.

“Gods...your cunt...surely it was crafted by The Mother herself.” He grits out, stilling and allowing her to adjust to the size of him.

She begins to grind her hips against his, desperate for him to move now she is relaxed enough to accommodate him comfortably inside of her.

He takes her completely by surprise when he grabs her by the bend of her knees, pushing them up and back towards her shoulders. For a moment she worries her husband has grossly misjudged her flexibility until he begins to thrust. She has never felt him this far within her before and it sends shockwaves coursing through her abdomen with every piston of his hips.

“I overheard a maester saying that this is the best way to ensure the seed quickens.” Aemond tells her. “Do you feel how deep I am?”

She nods, squealing as he presses his chest flush with the underside of her thighs, driving his hips forward over and over again. The sensation is too much. She clings desperately to his shoulders to ground herself.

“You aren’t allowed to peak.” He growls, gripping her jaw and forcing her to look at him. “Do you hear me? The ceaseless clenching forces what I spend inside of you back out, and I won’t have it go to waste.”

The head of him is battering a spot deep within her that causes her eyes to roll back and her toes to curl, yet she staves off the apex of her pleasure, stammering out a “Y-yes, Aemond.”

“Good girl.” He purrs, his strokes becoming sloppy as he nears his end. “This isn’t about your pleasure, it’s about me fucking you as many times as it takes for you to give me an heir, and you’ll lay there and take it, like an obedient little wife.”

He stills, pulsating inside of her as he fills her up with a low groan.

She is trembling, light headed and legs aching from the position Aemond has kept her in. 

He runs a hand over her lower belly, before pulling out and standing to shed the clothing he has left on. He pauses with a scowl when he notices her try to move.

“You are to stay exactly as you are until I’m ready to take you once more.” He scolds. “I will keep you full of me today, consider any prior engagements of yours cancelled.”

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond stannies #aemond one eye #pro aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fan fiction #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fan fic #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #hotd fan fic #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction

[ceruleancattail]

Hewwo, what about yandere Trey and Cater as kitsune, they just both give me big fox energy

I am so sorry Anon, while I was writing this, I didn't see the Yandere.... I'm a disgrace *screaming in the corner*

We’ll give you sweet dreams until the end,

         So you’ll be with us until then, right?

Trey

Trey is caring. It’s probably ingrained into his very being at this point. Years of guarding a single town would do that to a person… or in this case, a fox.

He used to be a guardian. A soldier, standing at attention at the town’s gates, ready to turn away any foolish assailants would dare to approach.

In this day and age, he’s just another myth to the townsfolk. Nothing more but the little stone figure of a fox. A bedtime story to tell children, something to make them feel safe within the borders of the town.

If you ever get lost in the woods, the Kitsune will come, swinging his lantern. It’s filled with a ghostly blue, will-o-wisps fluttering in between the trees like butterflies. He’ll lead you out, with all his nine tails swaying with the breeze.

So if you ever get lost, Master… Please don’t hesitate to call out his name. Day or night, he’ll come for you. 

Just take Trey’s hand.

Fur brushes over your bare arm, every strand has your skin prickling, goosebumps flaring to life. Tails of emerald snake across your limbs, curling around them. As if they were wrapping you up for Christmas day. 

Shoulders stiffening, you draw it back slowly. Eyes narrowed, focused on the creature that stood before you.

Emerald green hair, cut in a short corp. A pair of fuzzy ears stood at attention, flickering in and out of existence. A pair of glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose, held together by a desperate combination of red ribbons and tape. The glass itself was dotted with stains smeared across the lens. Despite that, the ember of his eyes still managed to shine from within. Piercing into your soul, staring into its very depths. 

An odd shape was painted on his cheek. A clover, like one used to mark a deck of poker cards. Unconsciously, you found yourself staring at its leaves. Counting them silently.

One, Faith.

Two, Hope.

Three, Love.

The fourth was missing, oddly enough. 

Luckless.

A light cough. A polite jab at your attention. He raises his hands in surrender, a disarming pose. Showing you he meant no harm. Emerald tails draw back towards him, releasing your limbs from their embrace.

A moment of silence passed, before he spoke. A low, gravelly voice that carried a certain authority with it. Reminiscent of a tired brother’s tone, exasperated at their siblings' antics, followed by a tinge of fondness. A tender, gentle sort of tone that just sets you at ease. Slowly, you felt your shoulders relaxing, arms dropping back to your sides.

“ Are you lost ? ”

He asks, brows frowning in concern.

Somewhat hesitantly, you shake your head. The fox tilts its head, surprised at your response. He leans forward, forehead barely brushing against yours. You could feel his breath waft over your face. Warm. 

He was warm.

“ Well, that's certainly odd. There’s nothing much to see in these woods. ” 

Chuckling to himself, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

“There’s still you, though.”

You respond.

The fox blinks, eyes widening in surprise. 

“ Me ? ”

Nodding, you give him a sheepish grin. Taken aback by your answer, a faint pink blossomed on his cheeks, spreading to the very tips of his ears. He opens his mouth, yet all the words die on the very tip of his tongue, plunging face first into the silence. His tails sway nervously, swishing from the left to the right.

Eyelids fluttering shut, he takes a deep breath. Calming his nerves. A weight presses itself into your cheek. Fingers edging under your chin, the fox tilts it upwards gently. The warmth of his hand surged into your skin, the blade of his nails grazing your face ever so slightly.

Taking a good look at you for the first time. The little one who wandered into those empty woods in search of him. Despite himself, that made him a little happy.

“ You’ve certainly found me, little one. Trey Clover, Kitsune.

Pleasure to make your acquaintance … Master. ”

Cater

Cater was always wily. Even after all these years, he still found himself craving the attention that came from his heyday as a yokai. Concealing himself as a human was the least of his concerns.

You’ll see him mingling with the townsfolk, laughing away. He’s something of a town mystery, considering the fact that no one really knows anything about him.

He does pride himself as the village matchmaker; pinching someone’s things and slipping it into their crushes’ bag… A meddler for a good cause. Most couples in the town could be credited to him, y’know?

Do ya have someone you like, Master? He’ll pull some strings just for you…

So just take Cater’s hand, yeah?

Sometimes, convenience trumps health. Popping another piece of deep fried shiitake mushroom into your mouth, you marvelled at the flavour bursting onto your tongue. Bless Kushikatsu booths. Fast, greasy food, all speared onto a stick for the consumer’s convenience. 

The wonders of simplicity. 

 Your hands reach towards your bag, unzipping it slowly. At the whirl of the zipper coming undone, a grey blur of motion leapt out of the bag. Grim landed on your lap, paws smashing against your thighs. He lunges for the sticks, seizing another in his jaws.

Gnawing on the chicken, Grim lounges on your lap, making himself comfortable. 

“ Cute cat. Mind if I snap a few photos with him ? ”

A lighthearted laugh, as a hand reached for Grim’s furry noggin, giving it an affectionate pat. 

You turn around, only to come face to face with a pair of sea green eyes beaming at you. A red diamond was inked onto his cheeks, crinkled ever so slightly from his smile. A untruly mop of ginger hair was yanked into a loose hair tie, tugged behind his head.

You stare at the newcomer.

“ You see him ?”

Grim wasn’t exactly what you'd call normal. He was a creature, straight out of a dusty old fairy tale. You weren’t sure exactly which tale he hailed from, and Grim doesn’t seem to remember. Either way, most people won’t see anything, even if he were to stick his furry butt in their face.

This man managed to see him. Heck, touch him, even.

A groan, before he runs a hand through his hair, tousling it up. A sheepish grin plays loosely on his lips, dancing like a mirage.

“ I went and put my foot in it, huh ? ”

Slowly, a pair of ears unfurl from the top of his head. The soft ember hues of a sunset, the very end of the day. Fox’s ears, slanted at an angle. 

Something soft brushed against your elbow. One of his nine tails, spilling out from his back. Each curl into each other, forming an odd sort of cushion for both of you to lean back against.

Raising a hand, he offers it to you.

“ Cater Diamond. Local social media influencer, as well as Kitsune on duty !”

Hesitantly, you reach out. Grasping his hand, before giving it a brief shake. His claws trailed on your wrist, the ends uncomfortably sharp against your skin. 

Cater’s grip grows tighter, his grin wider. A foxy expression, filled with mischief. There was something sinister in that gaze, a predator sizing up his prey.

“ I think we’re going to be having lots of fun together, Master. ”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #mystic #mystic au #trey clover x reader #trey clover #trey #trey x reader #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #cater x reader #cater #lucky potion 🔷

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🗡️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Twelve

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: None.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~3.0k

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The clock hanging on the wall told you that it was just shy of four am, and your eyes burned something fierce to back that up. At this point, Shanks had developed a fever that made sweat drip from his forehead and cold sweats rattle his body. Was this common enough of an occurrence that the men usually just left him to sleep till morning? The thought horrified you because Shanks was clearly suffering. You had suffered from a fever once, your mother had punished you by making you stay outside in the rain overnight after you had made a mistake. The headache alone had left you whimpering in bed and the cold sweats combined with body aches had you all but catatonic. Your mother hadn’t apologized and had even gotten mad all over again because you had been bed ridden for a week.

Blinking away the haze in your eyes, you reached over and placed the back of your hand against his forehead once more. How could he feel even hotter now? Your lips pinched and you reached for the cloth, dipping it back in the bowl of cool water to wipe the newest layer of sweat that had accumulated. You ran it along his forehead, brushing back sweaty red strands and contemplating if you should just go and grab Hongo. Moving to stand up, you were caught off guard when clammy fingers closed around your retreating ones.

“Leaving so soon?” Your eyes darted to Shanks, your face brightening up that he was awake. Sitting back down, you gave him a faint smile while giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.

“I should get Hongo, your fever is only getting worse and I think you might need medicine.” You told him, looking to the door of the cabin. Shanks’ grip on your hand tightened.

“And leave me all alone?” The look in his eyes was pleading, but you could also see something simmering deeper within his dark eyes. Shanks tugged on your hand, pulling it towards his mouth were he kissed your knuckles. “You wouldn’t be so mean, madam.”  Your fingers twitched beneath his hot lips and you swallowed hard.

“I absolutely would,” You replied faintly, tugging your joined hands away from his lips and back to his side. “Your fever is getting worse and I’m concerned.”

“Everything will be fine if you are here,” Shanks said, his voice dropped in tone. His lips curved into a teasing smirk that you had always found rather attractive and you had to count to five in your head. Clearly his fever had addled a few brain cells… or had it? “It’s always nice to have such treasure at my side.”

“Wishful thinking,” You told the man, using your other hand to push his head back to the pillow. “Go to sleep, you need it.” Shanks followed your orders, but his intense gaze didn’t stray once from your lovely face. You were going to pull your hand back, but his grip on your fingers remained firm and strong. “Are you going to let my hand go?”

“Why would I do that?” Shanks shot back, his lazy smile widening. “It fits in mine so perfectly.” You blinked at him and raised an eyebrow. Oh yes, most certainly addled…

“Will you rest if I hold your hand?” You probed, hoping that you could sway him into making a good choice in regards to his health by staying in bed.

“If the madam insists,” Shanks agreed, snuggling back into his bed. You sighed in relief and slumped back against the chair. Observing his face, you noticed that while he had closed his eyes to rest, a big grin was still plastered on his face.

“What is so exciting about holding my hand?” You asked, Shanks didn’t open his eyes but replied nonetheless.

“What isn’t exciting about holding your hand?” He stated with honesty.   “There are a great many things I would like to do with you, treasure, and holding your hand is the least of it.” You rolled your eyes and told him to go back to sleep.

When Shanks woke up after breaking through the worst of his phantom pain fever, he was surprised to find himself staring at the ceiling of his cabin. Last he remembered, his stump had been throbbing as he and the men pushed through jungle and storm to hunt down the devil fruit they had come for. He must have had a flare up. But why was he in his bed when you were occupying it?

“Aria demanded it,” Hongo’s voice was whisper soft, and twisting his head to the side, Shanks saw him packing up a few medical supplies. Hongo eyed his Captain. “The bed. She demanded Benn put you in your bed, put her foot down so I hear.” Shanks eyebrows rose.

“Aria got up when we got back? Did the men wake her?” Hongo snorted, clearly the overnight fever had gotten to his Captain because in what world would you have gone to bed worried?

“You’re assuming she went to bed in the first place, Shanks.” Hongo corrected him. “She never did. Spent the entire day pacing around like a caged animal. I had her do inventory to get her mind off worrying.” Shanks wasn’t happy to hear that. He knew you hadn’t been happy with their decision to follow through with their plans, but you hadn’t tried to stop them. But he hadn’t expected this bad of a reaction! “She said she had a bad feeling, lasted all day and it was making her physically nauseous. Turns out she was right.”

“Job still had to be done.” Shanks rasped back, grimacing from the lingering headache.

“Aye, and you can tell her that yourself.” Hongo agreed before snickering. “After she gives you a lecture about doing jobs in bad weather.” The doctor nodded his chin to the other side of Shanks bed, and that is when the red haired pirate realized he had his fingers wrapped around a hand. Rolling his head to the other side, Shanks was met with the sight of lavender hair spilling onto the side of his bed next to his hand which was enveloping yours quite securely. “Don’t know when she finally passed out but by the looks of it she was up for a while.”

Shanks was not pleased to hear that you had stayed up so late because of him, but he was grateful to have you at his side. Now if he could just get out of this bed and get you into it…

“And don’t even think about swapping places with her,” Hongo called Shanks out. Shanks gave his doctor a glare while Hongo picked up his med box. “You still have a bit of a fever and Aria will not be happy to wake up in bed.”

“Remind me again who the Captain of this ship is?” Shanks asked, grimacing as a shaft of sunlight hit his eyes.

“Not you while the madam is bossing everyone around.” Hongo snorted, making a quick get away before Shanks could toss out a come back. “Stay put, for Aria’s sake.” With that, the doctor was out the door leaving Shanks alone in his cabin with you still blissfully asleep next to him. He didn’t dare wake you from your sleep, not after the night you had. Who was supposed to be watching over who again?

The longer you remained on the Red Force, the more you came out of the shell hardened by your upbringing. It was rather amusing to watch you boss men twice your size around, and yet, there was something so nice about having a company of a female on board his ship. He glanced down at his hand, firmly wrapped around yoursin great indicator of who was holding who’s hand. He could take secret enjoyment in how nicely your fingers fit in his. Perfectly even.

Shanks settled back into his bed and allowed the floral scent of your soap to fill his senses. Lavender. He and the men always made sure that you had what you needed when if came to personal care items such as soap and shampoo. None of them really knew what scent to get you, but they all knew of your hate for roses. They had argued more than any of them cared to admit over the choices of scent before Benn had suggested lavender. It was a nice enough scent, the men would always remember it because of your lavender hair, and you had been looking at some lavender products on one of their stops.

Your fingers twitched in his grasp and you let out a soft groan. Shanks watched as you slowing lifted your head and blearily blinked through lavender strands of hair. Your eyes met his and for a few precious moments, Shanks got to stare into your unguarded eyes. Then it clicked into your mind that Shanks was awake and staring back at you and you jerked into a sitting position, you fingers abruptly sliding from his and eyes re-guarding themselves.

“You’re awake!” You exclaimed, relief flooding your sluggish and tired body. Shanks gave you a small smile before squinting closer at your face. He’d been so taken by your unguarded eyes that he hadn’t even noticed that you had dark marks beneath them.

“And you look exhausted,” Shanks replied, raising his hand to brush his fingertips over the evidence of your exhaustion. You gave him a look in return.

“That tends to happen when one stays up worrying,” You stated dryly. Shanks didn’t miss the light barb in your words and let his fingers trail down your face before reaching for your hand again. You let him take it.

“I know you aren’t happy that we went out in that weather,” He started, observing your eyes which narrowed. “But think about it, bad weather, low visibility… it was the perfect time for us to nab the item we were after and had the least amount of risk.”

“Least amount of risk?” You repeated, hardly believing what you were hearing. “Shanks, Benn had to carry you back to the ship and I spent the night watching your body temperature go higher and higher! I might not be versed in the conditions you suffer from but even I know that the weather conditions you headed out in yesterday habitually worsen your ailment.” Shanks dropped back against the pillow and tried not to groan at your scolding.

“Amputation, stump, call it what it is Aria. No need for you to dance around calling it an ailment.”

“It’s called having tact,” You snipped out with attitude. “I’m finding that many people are without.”

“Aye, and that’s what makes you so special.” He agreed, ignoring the ache his shoulder made at that moment. “I know what triggers flare ups but this trip wasn’t one I could put off.” You still had a sour look on your face. “It is also not the first time I’ve had a flare up, nor will it be my last.” Your scowl deepened and the pirate sighed. He was making this worse, wasn’t he? “Forgive me for putting myself in harms way for the sake of the mission?” An almost unbearable period of silence followed as you thought over his words.

“Considering you will most likely be repeating such circumstances in the near future, I shall acquiesce to your apology.” You finally sighed out. “Such are the perils of pirating and I shall never truly understand it, but it is your passion and therefore I will respect your choices.”

“That was the most passive aggressive response to an apology I have ever heard.” Shanks huffed out, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But if it means you aren’t going to be scowling at me I will take it. Your smile is far too lovely for your face to be etched with worry.”

“Then take the rest you need lying down,” You chided, fussing over him once more.

You were back on dry land, handing over the devil fruit the men had claimed during the storm. Well, Benn was, you were with Shanks exploring the local market. It wasn’t as busy as the one you had been to on Ingles so you were far more relaxed in the environment. Shanks let you wander from stall to stall, eyes shining brightly from the hand crafted goods. You were content to look, preened over the simplest of objects, and never asked for a single thing.

Shanks would have bought you anything you desired, but you didn’t ask for anything. Not for one of the pretty necklaces a craftsman had tried to peddle to you. Nor any of the fancy, decadent pies that smelled heavenly. Not even the delicate taiyaki that were being freshly made despite you setting your eyes on them and not being able to take them off. The hungry look in your eyes became too much and he placed his hand on your back and pushed you towards the stand.

“Come on,” He spoke with a smile and chuckle. “It’s been a few hours since breakfast and I think we’re both due for a snack.”

“You aren’t just saying that because I’ve been drooling, have you?” You probed, eyeing the red haired man scrupulously while patting your lips. His grin widened and pushing you up to the stall, Shanks proceeded to order a batch of red bean taiyaki, handing coins over to cover the cost of the treats. You watched in rapt attention as the fish treats were made fresh, right in front of you. A thought popped into your mind when the treats were being filled with a brown mixture. “I have no idea what red bean tastes like Shanks.”

He gave you a reassuring smile.

“Do you like chocolate?”

“Based on the rare occasion that I had a taste I believe I do.” You answered, thinking back to the last time you had chocolate. That’s right, it had been a tea party for one of your mother’s friends and the cook had made special chocolate tarts. They had looked delicious and smelled divine! But naturally, your mother had only allowed you to eat a few meager bites before declaring that it was such a nice day and you had wanted to show the ladies the garden. So with several approving tuts from the older women you had been herded away from your barely touched tart. Shanks saw your mind disappear on him for a few moments, shrouded in distant pain, but didn’t press what you were thinking about.

“Well I can’t say you’ll definitely like red bean because you’ve never had it, but they have chocolate in the filling.” Shanks told you brightly.

“I am more than willing to try it if my drooling hadn’t clued you in,” You said with a frank look. “At this point in my life I am willing to try everything.”

“Don’t overdo it, I don’t want you getting sick again,” You snorted as Shanks took the bag of freshly cooked taiyaki from the vendor. He held out the bag to you and you peered inside before taking one. Golden brown, the treat was almost too hot to handle as you and Shanks began walking again. You started nibbling on the edge of the pastry, getting a sense of the texture first. Then deciding that you liked how the breaded part tasted, took delicate bite to not burn your mouth. That was all it took for you to take another bite, and then another, and another, until the entire taiyaki was gone and you were reaching for another one. “What did I just say?”

You ignored Shanks’ comment and devoured the next treat, sighing in such happiness that anyone around you might have thought that nothing in your little world could have ever been wrong. Your petulance was amusing and despite the fact that Shanks was worried you might over do it with the taiyaki, he didn’t stop you from demolishing half the bag. Walking around some more, you made several stops to look at fabric bolts, a stall with various trinkets, and even a little shop that sold music boxes!

You took extra time looking at the music boxes, finding one that played a short little piece that reminded you of your childhood nanny. She had been nice to you and a wonderful supplement to the lack of maternal presence in your life. But she had been too nice to you and your mother had gotten rid of her not even a year after she had first come to Bonn Manor. You remembered that she used to hum a song from her home island as she bathed you, brushed out your hair, and tended to your needs. It was, perhaps, the only fond memory you had in your life.

You couldn’t buy it, not when you had to be careful with your Berry.

So you moved on, leaving an observant Shanks to trail after you while  making a mental note to come back and buy the music box you had spent so much time staring at with such a fond expression. It wasn’t something you’d let him buy for you outright, so he was going to have to resort to playing dirty. Grinning at the knowledge that you both would play dirty towards each other, Shanks lounged after you thinking about all the sneaky ways he could spoil you for surely at this point in your life you were deserving of it.

Well, all of his crew, Shanks included thanks to his red hair, had a piece of red on them. For Benn it was a special red hair tie that never came loose or got lost. Lucky Roux had his favorite red goggles, Limejuice a red shirt that he always wore, and Bonk Punch a red vest. All of the crew had some red item, except you. But Shanks didn’t want you to have a red shirt, or a red hair tie, or a pair of goggles. You needed something that fit you. His eyes caught sight of a local jewelers stand and the pirate began sneakily steering you towards it while you happily munched on the remaining taiyaki.

Date Published: 2/28/24

Last Edit: 2/28/24

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#shanks x reader #shanks x you #one piece shanks #red haired shanks #shanks #one piece #opla #opla shanks

[sprout-fics]

Thursday Thot: please…I’m on my knees begging…I need more of the hide and seek gangbang, when Gaz takes reader to Price after he’s done with her

Oh goodie I was really hoping someone would request this. Have interrogation style Price having his way with you

Where Gaz got the blindfold, you have no idea. Where he got the idea of the blindfold, however, is crystal clear.

Price.

When Gaz had draped the fabric across your eyes it had shielded the already dark world around you into nothingness, had forced you to rely entirely on his touch as he guided you on wobbly legs to an unknown destination. His cum still drips down the inside of your thighs, mixing salaciously with the already combined fluids of Ghost and Soap from where they pumped you full. You can still feel the remnants of your climax lurk in your core, tug taut at your muscles, wanting more, more. It shudders through you, sets your breath catching in your chest where you kneel on the concrete floor, hands zip-tied behind your back, the world dark and enigmatic around you. 

Gaz had dragged you off for what seemed like miles, forcing your stumbling feet ahead of him. All the while his voice had been harsh, playing the villain, and yet his touch was gentle, thumb tracing the arch of your nape under his gloved thumb as he directed you.

Now, he’s gone, and in his place you hear footsteps pace around you, circling you, drawing ever closer like they’re circling the drain with you at the center. 

“Should have known better than to run, sweetheart.” Price gravels above you, behind you. He doesn’t touch you, not yet, watches you stay entirely still for him. Patient, waiting, deferent to his command. “I can’t have little mice running around my base.”

His hand settles in your hair then, and you almost want to arch into the touch, bump your cheek against the graze of his palm. Yet you hold back, restrain yourself to the part of the victim, of a hostage helpless to his whims. Instead you offer a little whimper as his hand curls with just a small amount of pressure into your scalp.

“Shhh.” He gentles you, and the hand goes soft again. The air in your chest feels unbalanced, confused, and in this blindness you don’t know what to expect of him. 

There’s a quiet pause from Price then, and you feel rather than hear him circle around you to stand at your front. An ungloved hand catches your chin and tilts you up as if you can somehow meet his eyes. 

“Color, love.” He asks then, the low dip of his voice gentle. 

“Green.” You offer after a beat, a soft murmur in response, and you feel your reward in the form of Price’s knuckles grazing your cheek tenderly. 

“I noticed you sassing my sergeant on the way here.” He tells you darkly, and you straighten a little at that, at his implications at your misbehavior. He pauses long enough to let his words sink in, to let your heartbeat stammer higher in your chest with anticipation.

“The one thing I cannot tolerate is insubordination.”

You choke back a gasp at the sudden downturn of his voice, the tone you’ve only ever heard during interrogations, in the realm of his cold, restrained fury. It’s the same tone that makes you shift where you stand in observance, feeling a forbidden and vicious desire murmur through you, a reminder of this man’s brutality, the force of his retribution. You can’t stem the arousal from hearing him during those moments, and now that it’s turned on you, with his form standing above you, with you helpless at his feet, makes a fresh rush of wetness coat your thighs with your desire. 

Then, the sound of his zipper, and gods above you feel your mouth water at the sound, all but leaning forward and ready for him. Yet Price only chuckles down at you with your enthusiasm, remembering his role. 

“I was going to tell you to find a better use for that mouth, love, but it looks like you read my mind. Needy.” 

You give up on pretending, nodding your head enthusiastically, scooting on your knees forward to try and find him, only for a hand to settle atop your head in warning. 

“Not yet.” He tells you, voice grave, and you want to whine, desperate for the salty, briny taste of him, for the weight of him across your tongue as he slowly pushes to the back of your throat. Instead Price looks down at you, at your disheveled state after the rest of his men have had their way with you, at the wrecked mess of you trying desperately to take his cock on your mouth. 

“Beg.”

The order pulses through you like a gunshot, setting every nerve ending alight with arousal until it simmers downwards, blood rushing south and settling at the aching apex of your thighs. It doesn’t take long for you to comply, feeling need bubble up acutely inside you until it escapes as the form of a plea. 

“Please.” You all but moan. “Please, captain. Let me suck you off. I-I want it.”

Price huffs at you, the sound almost in disbelief with how quickly you caved. Not that you could help it, not with him, not with any of them. 

“Alright love.” He returns gently, and you shiver, arch forward as the tip of him brushes against your parted lips. “Remember, no teeth.”

You don’t need to be reminded, and when Price pushes past your lips you groan around him, feel your thighs clench in a desperate attempt to stem the untamable lust that dampens your underwear. 

“I think she liked that, cap.” An accented voice chimes in from somewhere behind Price, and it suddenly dawns on you that you have an audience. Soap, Gaz, and Ghost watching the proceedings with glinting, hungry gazes as their captain sees to his own pleasure with you as his instrument. 

Price must feel your shock, because he chuckles down at you when you nearly choke on him as he pushes further into your mouth, a low groan rumbling in his chest. 

“You didn’t think this was almost over, did you, love?” He asks, slightly breathless, and you can’t contain a whine at that, at the promise in his dark words. 

“No, we’re just getting started.”

#price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price #x reader #mdni #minors do not interact #thursday night thots #Fuck okay I may have uh;;; gotten myself a little with this god damn

[mydearzero]

Vocal Exercise | E.M. x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: Your band is about to compete against Corroded Coffin in Battle of the Bands and you're way too nervous. Eddie might just know something to take the edge off (hint: it's not drugs)

Smut, Enemies to Lovers.

Warnings: AFAB Reader, Smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), oral sex (f rec), creampie, Exhibitionism, If I missed any warnings please tell me!

2K words

A/N: I wrote something?? How very unlike me lmao I hope you enjoy this once in a blue moon occurrence

You nibbled at your thumb as you stared at the sign-up sheet. It shouldn't be this difficult a decision, so why was it? You had played in front of a crowd before. Your band was always excited about any opportunity to play. What was keeping you from signing up for the annual Battle of the Bands? 

You heard him before you saw him. The bane of your existence. Eddie Munson. The chains attached to his clothing rattled with every confident step he took. 

You had no good reason to dislike Eddie. There was just something about him that got under your skin, and he knew it. He used the fact to his advantage, even if only to get a rise out of you. 

You refused to turn your gaze to him as you continued staring at the sign-up sheet. Three entries so far, and no Corroded Coffin in sight. Tammy Thompson was on top of the list, as always. 

"Unless you've developed telekinesis, can you move?" His voice, though somewhat attractive, was like nails on a chalkboard. It sent raised the hairs on the back of your neck. 

You grumbled as you crossed your arms, took a step back and gestured to the sheet. "All yours, Munson." 

"What, too scared to sign up? Not like you'll win. Why don't you just let the pros do what they do and keep practising in your friend's basement until you're ready, hmm?" He smirked as he all but etched 'CORRODED COFFIN' into the paper. 

"Oh yeah, the pros, like Tammy Thompson? I'm sure she'll get real far. Can't beat raw talent, Munson." You rolled your eyes as you snatched the pen from his hands and wrote your band's name under Eddie's recognisable handwriting. 

Eddie never moved an inch, leaning against the wall. He watched as you scribbled your bandmember's names and what you'd be doing, never taking his eyes off your disgruntled face. 

Usually, you'd try to not let him have the upper hand. His gaze was knawing, screaming at you to return it. You caved and turned to look. His smirk grew as he chewed his gum obnoxiously. "See you there, (Y/L/N)." 

_____

"I don't think I can do this. I think I'm gonna hurl." You fanned your face as the stagehand came over to give you your microphone headset. The loud music faded to a halt as Corroded Coffin finished their set. 

"We'll leave you to it for a bit, yeah? I'll get you some water, maybe. Just calm down, it'll be fine." Your bandmates gave a thumbs-up as they filed out of the room. 

"Y'know... I might know something to take the edge off." Eddie's voice came from the hallway, peering his head around the corner into your dressing room. His bangs stuck to his forehead, sweat covering his skin. Lucky bastard, he'd already gotten it over with. 

"Piss off, Munson. I'm not interested in any of your drugs." You scoffed as you messed with the positioning of the clunky headset. 

The stagehand left you once she connected all the wires and had given you the last rundown of when you'd be on. Three more acts, two and a half before your mic was hot. You had to get the vocal jitters out now. 

Eddie paraded into the dressing room and closed the door behind him, locking it. "That's not exactly what I had in mind. But that offer does stand." He crossed his arms as he leaned against the vanity. You'd never quite noticed how toned they were or how tall he was until now. 

Perhaps it was the adrenaline rushing through the room, your nerves combined with his post-performance butterflies. You couldn't help but be intrigued. You gestured for him to continue. -

He put his hands on your hips and pulled you to stand between his legs. You frowned as he leaned to whisper in your ear. "Nothing more relaxing than a decent orgasm, babe." 

Your eyes widened as you pulled away from his touch, mouth agape. "What the hell, Eddie! That's not funny!" You slapped his bicep. His eyebrows raised in challenge as he watched your thought process. He saw your horrified face change to confusion before it flushed with shame. You hadn't even noticed you'd called him by his first name. 

He noticed your uncertainty. You loathed him, but he was right. And it wasn't like he wasn't easy on the eyes. He knew you'd been convinced when he stroked your arm and your eyes fluttered at the surprisingly delicate touch. 

Your breath hitched as he leaned close once more. "Let me make you feel good." His touch burned your skin, heat soaring straight between your legs. His lips pressed to your neck, breath hot on your skin. 

A soft moan left your mouth when he sucked harshly under your jaw. "Is that a yes?" He questioned, slowly trailing his hand down your side. You nodded breathlessly. 

"I'm gonna need you to say it, princess." He tutted. You were surprised when a barely audible whine made its way out of your throat. 

"Please, Eddie." were all the words you could gather. His eyes met yours. They were polar opposites. You felt yours were pleading and desperate, while his seemed amused, maybe derisive. His pupils were blown. Whether from the adrenaline, drugs, lust, or a combination of all of the above was uncertain. 

He turned your positions around, pushing you onto the vanity table and getting on his knees. The way he looked up at you through his eyelashes could only be described as absolutely blasphemous. You were convinced he wasn't doing this for you as much as he was doing it for himself. 

He placed his hands on your thighs, ever so slowly creeping up under your skirt. He hooked the tips of his fingers into the band of your underwear, tugging it down. You raised yourself off the table so he could slide it down. He barely got it past your knees as he dove forward, using his hands to spread your legs to make room for his head. His grip on your knees was crushing as he licked a stripe up between your lips. He nuzzled for a little before releasing his hands, opting to spread your lips with them instead. 

A sigh of relief left your mouth as your body melted into his touch. One of your hands was on the table to steady yourself, the other tangling itself in his hair. His lips wrapped around your clit. He circled his tongue around it a few times before slowly sliding a finger inside. 

"Knew you'd be so wet for me." He sounded out of breath as he devoured you. "All bark, but the second the offer stands, you're like a little bitch in heat." He chuckled. You tugged his hair harshly, urging him to shut up and continue. 

Eddie complied and returned to pleasuring you. You could feel him smiling against your pussy, as stupid as it sounds. The bastard was enjoying this way too much. He added another finger and curled them in the exact way he knew would get you close. You felt the pressure build up in your throat as you tried to stay silent. Noise threatened to spill with every thrust of his fingers and movement of his tongue. 

Eddie deemed you close enough, judging by the tight grip on his hair combined with the suppressed sounds coming from your lips. He rose from his knees and wasted no time unbuckling his belt. You tried to listen for the stage to estimate the time you'd have. Eddie spread your legs once more as he positioned himself between them. 

"Wait, Eddie. How many songs have there been?" You whispered as you put your hand on his chest to stop him. "Don't know, don't care. Guess you'll have to shut up and keep quiet." He shrugged as he grabbed your wrist, removing your hand from his chest. He pushed his underwear to join his jeans around his knees and stroked himself a couple of times before lining himself up. 

Eddie pushed the head of his cock inside and roughly reached up your shirt, grabbing your right boob and twisting the nipple harshly. An audible yelp left your mouth. "Shut up." He groaned as he pushed all the way in. Air was nowhere to be found, especially not your lungs. 

He barely let you adjust before pistoning in and out. Adrenaline was very obviously still coursing through his veins. He grabbed your hips and pushed you to lean against the mirror. The lights surrounding it shone down on him, almost giving him an angelic glow. 

His grip on your hips tightened as he changed his stance. Small whimpers and breaths left you, still trying to remain as quiet as possible. Eddie pushed inside relentlessly, chasing his release and coercing yours out of you. He's found the right spot now, he knew by your face. He moved his right hand to lean on your thigh, thumb circling your clit. He grinned as he watched your face, eyes shut tightly. 

The light on your headset flickered, indicating it'd just gone hot. Eddie took this as his sign to hurry the fuck up and make you come. Loud knocks on the door, combined with the music from the stage drowned out the banging noise of you against the mirror and his balls slapping against your pussy over and over. 

Your breathing sped up as you neared your peak. Eddie was getting sloppy, putting more and more pressure on your clit, circling it hastily to meet the pace of his hips. He groaned as he felt you tighten around him. You were so close. 

"Y/N! Are you in here? We're on in three!" Your bandmate yelled through the locked door. Their pleas went unheard over your whines and Eddie's rambles in your ear. 

"I'm gonna fill you up so well, baby." Eddie smiled to himself sadistically as he moaned in your ear. He was going to make you scream his name through that headset even if it was the last thing he'd do. You were gonna kill him. 

The knot in your stomach snapped when Eddie pulled out all the stops, flicking your left nipple, circling your clit with the speed of light and hitting the exact right spot to send you over the edge. 

"Eddie!" You screamed as you came on his cock. He laughed and groaned in satisfaction as he followed, hips stilling and pushing as deep as he could. He looked between you with glee as he filled you to the brim. 

Your eyes widened as you noticed you'd not only screamed his name while your mic was on, he'd just cum inside you, and you had to be on stage in less than two minutes. "Better keep it in, princess. Everybody can probably already guess what we did, don't want to give them more proof when you have my cum spilling from that pretty pussy in the middle of the stage, hmm?"  

He smirked as he pulled his dick out and pushed the spilt cum back inside with two fingers. He gave your pussy one last tap before sliding your underwear back up, fixing your top and skirt and letting you down from the vanity. You already felt the cum trickling out slowly and staining your underwear

You could barely give yourself a last glance in the mirror before he was ushering you out of the door and onto the stage, your flustered band members following after seeing you barge out of the dressing room, Eddie hot on your tail. They'd definitely heard. Which means the crowd definitely heard you scream his name through the last band's performance. 

You'd never felt as embarrassed, yet turned on in your life. Your nerves were long forgotten, the only worry in your mind during your performance being to not let any more of his cum spill from inside you. 

At least you were no longer worried about your singing skills. Too bad Corroded Coffin had the menace that was Eddie Munson, or you'd definitely come first instead of second. Or, well, come first again. 

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