#& also maybe i enjoy punishing him whats wrong with that?' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wholoveseggs · 1 year ago

Note

Also I need a major size difference one shot. I’m talking princess treatment, belly bulging, Elijah just being able to pick up the reader like it’s nothing. Maybe standing sex

Princess

... BRB DROOLING

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

You and Elijah have a night of kinky fun.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @elijahmikaelsonsboy !! & anon(s) - this is the wildest thing I've written (except maybe any of my poly works) - this also goes out to the anon who asked for spanking! I see you and I appreciate you! enjoy ♡♡

5.1k words - Warnings: this is pure 100% pulp free smut, dom!elijah, sub!reader, size!kink, daddy!kink, choking, some serious spanking, lots of praise & a little punishment, tinsy bit of bdsm, ice play, oral sex, face fucking, squirting... Elijah being sweetheart even while being dom ♡

"Eli- I don't know," you whispered as his large hands gripped your waist tightly, keeping you underneath him. He was so big and broad that when he held you, there was no way you could squirm out from under him, even if you wanted to.

"What's wrong?" his warm breath fanned across the nape of your neck, eliciting goosebumps in their wake. He slowly pulled off the delicate bra you had put on that morning, exposing you completely for him. He loved it when you were bare underneath him; all shy and submissive.

You gave him a nervous look, all wide eyed and fidgety. "My-" you cut yourself off and your cheeks blushed in a fiery red blush. He took your hand and gave it a squeeze, encouraging you to speak. He knew how hard it was to sometimes get a sentence out. You were so shy and sweet, new to the whole submission thing. But Elijah, the softie that he was, loved to shower you with so much attention and care. So he kissed along your collarbone and rubbed along your sides, making you giggle shyly.

"It's okay, princess," his voice cooed along your sensitive skin, the pet name doing wonders in giving you an extra bit of encouragement. "I just wanna know what you're worried about."

You pushed down the urge to bury your face in his neck to avoid the topic completely and spoke up a little more confidently. "Your um... you're really..." you sighed in mild frustration at how bad you were at this whole talking thing. The fact that his intense eyes were watching your every move didn't help you either. But, with a soft, warm hand placed at your thigh, he helped ground you again, calming your mind enough to actually talk.

"You're just... so big... a-and I-" his eyes widened at what you were implying. This would definitely be fun.

"Is my love worried I'll be too much for you?" he questioned as his fingers grazed against your wet panties. "Hmm? My fingers are a lot thicker than yours, baby."

You whined as his fingertips rubbed back and forth so gently along the material. It wasn't nearly enough friction to get you off. "Yeah," your chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. "You're the biggest I've ever had."

He leaned closer, his fingers moving the flimsy material aside. "Are you afraid I'll be too rough? Or hurt you?" His voice was so low and hot against you that the small vibrations of his deep voice were enough to make you arch against him. But Elijah kept your back against the bed, trapping you so you wouldn't wiggle too much.

"Just a little," you confessed. You're never had rough, really kinky sex. So it was a pretty big jump.

"If it gets too much, just say stop." His smile was warm and kind, giving you all of the comfort in the world. It's not like you didn't trust him completely and fully, you were just nervous about having his entire cock in your tiny little pussy.

You gave him a timid little nod, urging him to keep going. Your chest felt light and fluttery, and the dull throb in between your legs was getting stronger.

"I'm going to take my time, just for you," he peppered warm, soft kisses along your tummy, stopping at the waistband of the thin, silky thong you decided to wear just for the occasion. "No rush whatsoever. This is all for you and no one else.”

He slowly stripped your bottoms off until there was nothing left to take off. Then he pulled back and stood up, you reached out towards him but he only smiled reassuringly.

"Be right back, keep your legs open," his demand was quiet but very effective as you obediently spread them apart so he could have a full view of what belongs to him and only him.

Once he left his bedroom, you began to relax once more, trusting Elijah to take care of you. He wouldn't dare leave you unsatisfied; and if something got too much, he would know, even when he was giving you commands.

You laid still, wondering what was taking him so long until your head picked up once more at the sound of the door opening and closing. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip when his form reappeared, holding something in his right hand.

A bowl of ice.

"Eli?"

"Yes, angel?"

His endearing nickname made your chest tighten with so much warmth. It also brought another kind of heat to the space right in between your thighs.

"Ice?"

Elijah kneeled, one hand caressing your right thigh as the other grabbed a cube and began to slowly roll it along your navel, eliciting shivers to travel across your back at the cold sensation. He simply smiled and continued to let the freezing cube trace along your stomach, enjoying every movement that made you squeak and twitch.

He put it back in the bowl and slowly pulled off his tie, looking as breathtakingly attractive as ever. You knew what this meant and you immediately put your wrists above your head, grinning up at this beautiful man you were so lucky to call yours.

Once he had tied your wrists and made sure they weren't too tight and you weren't uncomfortable at all, his thumb brushed along your lower lip. His touch was warm and careful, the way you liked it the best.

"Look at you," he sounded absolutely entranced by you; eyes gazing all over your form. The bed dipped a bit under his weight as he rested over you once more, his body casting a shadow that almost covered all the light. "So gorgeous... so amazing," his praises filled your head with pure honey, turning everything warm and lovely.

"Keep your eyes closed," he pressed an ice cube along your breasts, leaving a burning trail behind it. You whimpered and shuddered as the cold made goosebumps rise on your body and caused your nipples to pucker into little, sensitive buds. It was quickly warmed by his mouth, but the sensation still shocked you, causing a rush of pleasure to flood between your thighs.

The ice was melting with all of the body heat. Droplets of melted water rolled down along your sides and soaked into the blankets beneath your naked body. More water dripped right down the center of your neck, his lips trailing after it and slowly lapped at your skin. His lips were warm, soothing the sharp sting from the frozen cube.

You struggled in your restraints, the sensations a little overwhelming and just- so damn good. You had never been teased and played with like this before, it made you feel a sort of freedom that you had no idea you were missing. You wanted him so badly that it made your legs tremble. And the fact that your eyes were closed just heightened everything else. You could feel him smiling against your skin, loving how responsive your body was to his touches.

The hand not holding the melting piece of ice traced along your right side, skimming down the curves of your body until it reached your lower stomach. Making you squirm a little at how ticklish your lower stomach was.

The ice cube rested above the apex of your thighs, the water dripping down your pussy lips until it touched along the entrance of your slit.

"Eli," you whispered, trying to keep your eyes closed just like he asked you to. It was so tempting to open them, to see him looming over you while using the freezing ice cube against your burning and needy body. "Please... stop teasing.."

He seemed satisfied at the desperation lacing your sweet voice, chucking the ice back into the bowl so he could move on to the next phase.

"Look at me," the deepness of his voice snapped your eyes open and you could hardly breathe at the raw desire swirling in his dark eyes. They looked absolutely glazed over with want, yet still maintaining their sharp edges.

"Eyes on me the entire time," he whispered, his middle finger eased into you, not stopping until he was completely buried in your heat. You pulled on your restraints, wanting to wrap your arms around his shoulders but he tied them well, just how he likes them.

He chuckled at your struggle, moving his fingers agonizingly slow in and out of you. "Something tells me that if I untied your wrists right now," he continued to pump them in and out, watching intently at how you couldn't stop your tiny cries from escaping. It was clear that he was driving you crazy, you couldn't hide the trembles or the tugs at his restraints. "You would reach down and start touching yourself... would you like that?"

Your face turned so hot it made you feel dizzy. Your legs bent up, feet planted on the mattress, he didn't like that, forcefully spreading them wider apart, his eyes stern. "Would you?"

"Y- yes-"

"Hmmm?"

"Yes... daddy," the last part was said just above a whisper, your words coming out a bit fast and shyly. It made you so embarrassed how much the name excited you. It didn't help that it fit Elijah so well, he was always taking care of everyone else that it made sense for you to give him the title.

He reached up and untied your restraints, eyes intently watching as you reached right in between your thighs. "Good girl... keep those legs open,"

You rubbed your clit slowly, your eyes locked on his the entire time. Your fingers moved quicker as your hips ground in little circles, desperate for some sort of relief. He hummed in approval, adding a second finger that stretched you wonderfully.

"Such a dirty little princess aren't you?" his palm curled upwards against that spongy spot inside you as he spoke, causing you to shake so hard you almost forgot his question.

His eyebrows arched, mirroring your expressions as your eyes went unfocused. You tried to form coherent words but it was hard when the only thoughts going through your mind was how damn good his fingers felt, so much bigger than your own.

"Answer my question,"

You swallowed past the lump in your throat and shook your head. "I'm only dirty when it comes to you,"

Your heart almost swelled right out of your chest at the blissful smile he gave, he leaned down and kissed all along your cheek and neck, whispering just how proud of you he was. His words pushed you a little bit over the edge, making your walls clench desperately around him, not wanting the pleasure to fade away.

"That's it, cum on my fingers," he growled against the shell of your ear, biting softly.

His voice was so primal that you couldn't do anything but obey, falling completely into his world while the heat in your tummy erupted like a bomb, pleasure tearing through your muscles, and you saw bursts of white across your eyelids.

"That's it," he cooed as you continued to moan, his fingers gently working you down from the high. "There's my sweet girl,"

His lips met yours and you immediately pulled him closer, his body blanketing you comfortably as he kissed you like a starving man. His hands gripped your waist, holding you still while his hips rubbed his hard bulge right against your wet slit. You whined into his mouth, feeling his erection slide back and forth, rubbing against your clit.

He pushed your thighs a little wider, pulling his lips away from yours so he could lean over you. His forehead rested against yours, both of you trying to catch your breaths. He continued to grind against you, his eyes closing and jaw clenching as he groaned, his sounds deep and rough. You could tell he was holding himself back, trying to be as gentle as possible, but you were so turned on, you just wanted him to unleash himself on you.

"Daddy," your small hands tugged on his hair, making his hips stutter a little bit. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, lips brushing his ear. "Fuck me."

He growled at your words, the vibrations from his chest traveling through his body. He wasn't the kind of man that needed to be told twice. His hands hooked underneath your knees, pushing them up and out as far as they could go.

"Keep them open," he commanded, pulling back just a little to unbutton his shirt. He slipped it off his shoulders and undid his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. You bit your lip, subconsciously rubbing your thighs together in anticipation.

He raised his eyebrows, giving you a disapproving shake of his head.

You giggled, but did as he said and opened them, keeping them as wide apart as you could.

His eyes softened just a little, his fingertips trailing up and down your soft skin. His other hand undoing his belt, slowly pulling his pants down along with his briefs, letting his thick cock spring out and brush against the smooth skin of your tummy.

"You've been so good," he praised, lining himself up with your entrance. He slowly rubbed his head in a circle along your slit, gathering your wetness.

He kept his eyes locked with yours as his hands slid down, holding your hips steady. You were already starting to feel a little nervous, he was definitely the biggest you've ever had. He eased in slowly, his breath hitching as he felt just how tight you were.

Your heels dug into the sheets, your hands scrambling for something to hold on to. Your body instinctively tried to pull away but he held you down, keeping you firmly in place. He pushed deeper, groaning lowly at the feeling of you surrounding him.

"Daddy-" your voice cracked, your legs closing automatically, the sensation almost too much for you to take. But Elijah held you tightly in place, leaning down so he could whisper into your ear.

"Relax," he kissed right underneath the shell of your ear. His soft lips felt good against your heated skin. "Don't fight it."

Your toes curled and your fingers clenched, but you managed to take a few deep breaths. Once he was completely sheathed, you felt so full it was a little hard to breathe.

"So damn tight," he groaned, his grip on your thighs bruising, his eyes locked on the sight of your stomach bulging slightly with the girth of his cock.

"You fit me so perfectly, baby girl," his hand running over the bulge, his words making you blush so deeply. "It's like you were made for me,"

His hips pulled back before snapping forward again, making you cry out and dig your hands into his strong shoulders. His pace was slow and deep, letting you feel every inch of him, the stretch of his cock was addicting.

His hands ran all over your body, caressing your sides, kneading your breasts, tracing along the column of your neck, just touching and exploring every inch of you. You barely registered these touches, so distracted by the pleasure between your legs.

"God- you're so big," you panted out, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

"You like it don't you? Being split open by me?"

His hand wrapped around your throat, not choking, just applying enough pressure to make your head spin.

You swallowed against his hand, finding it hard to even form any sentences at the moment. Your eyes rolled back into your head, your legs spreading as far as they could, wanting to feel him even deeper.

"Say it," his hips snapped harder, making a strangled noise rip from your throat. His grip tightened a bit more, causing everything to feel even sharper.

"I love it Elijah," you whimpered, your eyes rolling back. "Fuck-"

Your body felt like it was floating, his hands the only thing grounding you. He could tell you were close, your little body shaking underneath him and your whimpers getting louder and higher in pitch. You were such a vision. So beautiful. But he didn't want this to end so quickly, not when he had waited so long to have you like this.

"Cumming already?" his hips slowed, making you groan and claw at his forearms. You could tell he was close to, the restraint in his tone was a dead giveaway.

You shook your head, clearly lying, and his expression hardened a little. His hips were torturously slow, his fingers tracing along the side of your neck.

"Liars get punished," his thumb and forefinger pinched your chin, his eyes dark and intense. "Do you understand?"

His hips stilled and he pulled out, his hardness laying heavily against your lower stomach.

"Y- yes," you stuttered, your entire body buzzing with the need for release. Your pussy felt so empty, clenching around nothing.

He stood, pulling his pants back up, making sure to not be too obvious about the large bulge pressing against the front of his pants.

"Up." he held out his hand, waiting patiently for you to gather the strength to move.

The moment you sat up he grabbed your hair, yanking you up until you were standing. You stumbled forward, he pulled your face to his, his breath ghosting across your lips.

"On your knees,"

You didn't even hesitate to sink down, his hand guiding you to where he wanted. The hardwood floor was a little uncomfortable, but the way Elijah was looking at you, it made everything worth it.

You opened your mouth, your tongue lolling out, just waiting for him. He smiled, running his thumb along your lower lip.

"That's a good girl," he murmured, his voice rough and deep, filled with pure lust. His cock was shiny with your slick, a small drop of precum leaking from the tip. You couldn't help but lick it off, tasting yourself on him. He groaned, his grip tightening a bit.

"Open wide,"

You did as he said, looking up at him with innocent eyes, the sight made him growl, his cock twitching right in front of your lips. You smiled and opened your mouth, his hands resting on top of your head as his hips jerked forward, sliding into your mouth.

You loved when he fucked your mouth, feeling him lose control like this, it was so sexy. Your eyes were watering, a tear falling down your cheek as he hit the back of your throat. He wiped it away, still the gentleman even in the most carnal of moments.

You relaxed your jaw and bobbed your head, trying to fit as much of his thick length as possible, but failing a bit, gagging slightly. He groaned loudly and pulled you off of him by your hair, the sting making your head swim with need.

"You can do better than that," his tone was playful and teasing, making you blush deeply. He was so big, his girth was almost intimidating, you could hardly fit him in your mouth. But his tone made you try harder, opening wider and swallowing down, the taste of him making your thighs clench together.

His grip was bruising, holding you in place while his hips rocked back and forth, using your mouth and throat for his own pleasure.

His eyes were hooded and his breathing was uneven, but he was still composed. That's what you admired about him, no matter the situation, he was always calm and in control.

He was Elijah Mikaelson after all, and you were just a little human, yet you held so much power over him. It was thrilling. You wanted to see how far you could push him, to see just how deep his possessive side really ran. Just a tiny bit. You wanted to see what it would take to make him crumble.

"What a perfect princess you are,"

Your eyes snapped back to him and you smiled a little, the corners of your mouth turning upwards around his cock. Your tongue pressed flat against the underside, your head starting to move a little faster, taking him a little deeper each time.

You were being so good, doing everything he asked, and it was turning him on to no end. You could tell from the way his jaw was clenching and the little noises coming from the back of his throat. The way his eyes couldn't look away from your lips, his hand holding you in place.

He was starting to get a little rough, his hips rocking in and out, making your eyes water again. He groaned as his cock slid to the back of your throat, his other hand joining the one already tangled in your hair, both holding you still as he thrust deeper. Your tongue flattened against his shaft and he started to fuck your mouth with earnest.

His grip on your hair turned painful and your nose was pressed into his dark curls. Your eyes began to water as you gagged, the head of his cock buried deep in the back of your throat.

He didn't let you pull off until he felt you really struggling, letting you catch your breath before pushing you down again. He was a little rougher, his hips giving short and hard thrusts.

"You're doing so well," he sounded a bit wrecked, his breathing uneven and his voice deeper. His hips were moving a little faster, chasing his own high.

"Just like that,"

You moaned around him, his hips starting to shake a little, and that's when you decided to act, you wanted to make him cum.

You reached behind him, grabbing his ass to pull him impossibly close, taking him to the back of your throat the final few times. The sudden action startled him a little and his self control slipped. Your name was choked out from deep in his chest. The sound sent a hot spike straight to your core, the primal desperation in his tone made your heart race.

The noise went straight through him, his self control shattering like glass, his grip tightening around your skull. You couldn't breathe, couldn't pull away, so you took him down as deep as you could, feeling his release shoot straight down your throat.

His body was shaking, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his breathing was uneven, but it didn't last long. He looked down at you with a stern expression.

"Did I say you could do that?"

He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him, his thumb brushing against your lips. "No... I didn't."

You couldn't help the smile that crept up, his eyes were practically black with lust. He was surely going to punish you now.

"On the bed." he growled.

You didn't waste any time, hopping onto the plush comforter, kneeling in the middle and waiting for his next command.

He grabbed his belt from the floor, slowly walking towards the bed, his eyes locked on yours.

"Turn around and bend over,"

He watched intently, his belt folded over in his hands.

Your cheeks flushed as you moved to get on all fours, arching your back a little, swaying your hips a bit, showing off your curves.

You glanced over your shoulder, making sure he was watching, and the sight made you whimper. His eyes were hooded and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth, the belt was held tightly in his fist, a little vein protruding from his hand.

"Eyes front." he snapped, the sound of the leather sliding against itself made your heart race.

The anticipation was almost too much. You had never done this before, had no idea how it would feel, but you were aching to find out.

"How many do you think you deserve?" his hand ran along the curve of your spine, his touch light and warm, making you shiver.

"F-four?" you questioned, your voice was soft and hesitant, you could practically hear him smile.

"I'll give you eight, and you're going to count each one."

His hand smoothed over your backside, squeezing and rubbing softly. You could feel his cock resting on the curve of your ass, heavy and thick, already half hard again.

He raised his arm, the belt folded in his hand. The anticipation was killing you. You could barely breathe.

His hand caressed the swell of your ass one last time before raising the belt, a sharp crack rang throughout the room. You cried out, your body jerking forward, the pain seared right across the soft skin.

"Count." He snapped, his tone sharp and impatient.

"O-one."

Another hit.

"Two,"

A third.

"Three."

By the fourth hit, you were shaking, gripping the sheets to keep yourself grounded, but his next hit almost knocked you over.

"Four!" you squeaked out, your voice cracking as tears stung the corners of your eyes.

"I'm not even using my full strength," he sounded amused, his tone gentle and soft. His full strength would probably send you flying into the next room and you giggled at the thought.

"Don't laugh." he scolded, the belt slapping down on your skin, the sting even sharper.

"F-five!"

Another hard hit and you were whimpering, but you still tried to be as good as possible.

"S-six."

You could feel yourself growing wetter, the pain was so sharp, so searing, it almost felt like it was turning into pleasure.

"Seven!" you cried, burying your face in the sheets, the pain was starting to blur.

The belt came down one last time, leaving a dark red line right across the backs of your thighs.

"Eight," you sobbed, your entire body shaking.

"You did so well." He cooed, his fingers running along the welts, soothing the ache. "I knew you would."

You were trembling, his fingers dipping between your legs, gathering the slick that had collected on the inside of your thighs.

"So wet." he sounded amused. "You like being my little slut, don't you?"

You whimpered, unable to answer. His finger was circling your clit, sending hot sparks through your veins.

"Tell me," his hand landed on your ass again, the sting even sharper. "Tell me you like being my little slut."

You gasped, your body writhing. "Y-yes daddy, I love being your little slut,"

He chuckled, his other hand running along the curve of your spine, his fingers tangling in your hair again, pulling you towards him so your back was arched.

"That's what I thought," he let go of your hair and turned you around, scooping you up into his arms.

You gasped and wrapped your arms around his neck, a little surprised by the sudden change. Your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands gripping your ass tightly, his lips pressing against the soft skin of your neck.

You could feel his hardness pressing into you, and your legs clenched around his hips. You could feel every muscle shifting underneath his skin, his strength and power was thrilling. He was one of the most powerful creatures in the world and here he was, holding you so gently.

You kissed him softly, running your fingers through his dark hair, his stubble scratching against your skin. He lowered you down onto his cock, your nails digging into his shoulders, letting him swallow up your gasps and moans.

His pace was slow and deep, savoring the moment, letting you feel every inch. His strong hands supported you, making sure you didn't fall, lifting you up and down his length.

You were a mess. Whimpering and clinging to him, so desperate for release. He was using you just how he wanted, holding you tight and fucking you hard. You were both so close, so on edge, his pace started to falter and his breath was becoming more uneven.

"Eli," you gasped, burying your head in the crook of his neck, your hands in his hair, his arms tight around your waist.

He pressed you back down into the bed, his hands intertwining with yours, pinning them above your head. His hips snapped forward, and his pace became brutal, pounding into you hard and fast, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your legs shook around his hips, you couldn't stop the whimpers and cries from pouring out of you. His forehead was pressed against yours, his eyes closed and his brow furrowed.

Your back arched off the bed, your legs trembling uncontrollably. Your orgasm came crashing down, making you cry out, your pussy gushing and clenching so tightly that it pushed his cock out. He groaned at the sight, spilling his release all over your pussy and stomach, watching in awe as your walls clenched around nothing, soaking the sheets.

Your body went limp, your eyes fluttering closed, your breathing labored and uneven. You were exhausted, sore and spent.

He leaned down and kissed you, so sweet and gentle, his hands cupping your cheeks.

"Are you okay? Was I too rough?" he looked a bit worried, his thumb brushing along your cheek.

You giggled and nodded. "I'm fine, more than fine." you leaned into his touch, pressing your lips to his palm. "That was perfect."

"Good," he sighed, a smile spreading across his lips. "You did so well,"

"Thank you,"

"Do you need anything? A drink or-"

"I'm fine Elijah," you cut him off, giggling again. He was so sweet, so considerate. "I promise."

He smiled, leaning down to kiss you again, his hand cupping your jaw. "Let me clean you up,"

"Okay," you whispered, a content sigh escaping your lips. He pulled back, his hand smoothing across your forehead, moving the stray hairs from your face.

"Stay here,"

You nodded and relaxed into the bed, your limbs like jelly, your eyelids starting to droop.

By the time he returned you had fallen asleep, curled up in a ball, snoring softly. He smiled and gently cleaned you off, pulling the blankets over you, watching for a few minutes, admiring the way your chest rose and fell with each breath.

He kissed your forehead softly, "Goodnight princess, you were perfect.”

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡

♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please ♡ complicatedandconfusing-25 @hamiltimes ♡ @akala6670229 ♡ @yeaiamme2 ♡ @itsjulzandmydiamonds ♡ @spideysbabe ♡ @witch-of-letters ♡ @elijahmikaelsonsboy ♡ @rosecentury

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

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lilyswritings · 4 months ago

Text

hatchet.

synopsis: my own iteration of the split-second glimpse of frank we got in the 'daredevil: born again trailer' — some angst, some reunion fluff, some heat... enjoy! author’s note: saw frank castle on the screen for the first time in years and... yeah. wow, i've missed my man. this is obviously inspired by the glimpse of him we get in the new daredevil trailer, but as we obviously don't have any context for it, i put my own little spin on it. does it make any sense? probably not, but when have i ever let that stop me. i got a little carried away, oops! wordcount: 2,988

Frank Castle x Reader

Ever since your vigilante boyfriend had to drop off the face of the Earth, you've become something of a social recluse.

Yeah, sure, you still keep in sporadic touch with Matt, Foggy, and Karen, but having to say goodbye to the man you love the most in the world and never see him again definitely dampened your appetite for social interaction.

It also made you paranoid, said Karen over a late-night drink, and though you'd disputed that fact at the time, she had a point. You glance over your shoulder everywhere you go, tuck your body into the corner-most seat at every restaurant as your eyes scan the crowd, and spend hours each night browsing the web for sightings of the infamous 'Punisher'.

That's not paranoia, you muse to yourself. It's desperation.

You look for him everywhere. But you know he's too good at what he does to be found by happenstance, and that when it's safe — for you, that is — he'll resurface.

"You're not safe." The two of you had been arguing for what must have been an hour at that point, with him reiterating the same stupid point over and over again.

You had planted your hands on your hips at that point, sick of feeling told what to do, and not even considering his ridiculous idea of disappearing. "You're not listening to me. I can fend for myself, and, honestly, I don't see how you leaving me will make me any safer than I am when you're—"

"Because they'll be coming after me, and if they figure out that they can get to me through you, then you'll become a target to them—"

"We've been over this already," You throw your hands up in exasperation, sick of feeling coddled. "I don't care, I—"

"Well I do!" Frank's voice had just erupted then, rising to a shouting volume for the first time all night, and you'd held back the retort poised on your lips, recognizing the severity in his expression. "I care if you disappear, or get hurt, or..."

Neither of you need him to finish that sentence, you both understand exactly what he's afraid of.

"I will not let them take you too." His voice cracked, and the anger in your body dissipated immediately, replaced by tears brimming in your eyes.

"So what, I just never see you again?" Your brows tug together, face crumpling as the reality of his plan sets in.

"Hey, no, c'mere," He tugs you into his arms, pressing your head against his chest, and you burrow into him, latching your hands around his torso as if maybe, just maybe, the harder you hold onto him, the less you'll have to let him go. "It's not never." The rumble of his voice in his chest has always been soothing to you, but his words set you on edge.

"But you don't know how long." You keep your face pressed into the worn grey fabric of his shirt as you speak, hoping to hide the devastation on your face. It's not a question. He doesn't answer, and your heart shatters on the spot, tears seeping into his shirt as your world falls apart.

Frank was gone before you even woke up the next morning.

You shake yourself out of the memory of that day, glancing over your shoulder as you turn down the street towards your local gym. Part of your coping mechanism for Frank leaving was proving him wrong, proving that you don't need him to protect you — that you can protect yourself.

That he doesn't need to leave again.

You're grateful for the silence in the gym, having paid the gym owner to let you in after hours, so you don't have to worry about seeing other people while you work out — a pet peeve of yours.

You lose yourself in your routine — focusing on strength, on combat, hitting the sandbag until your knuckles ache and kicking the mannequin until your shins turn red — until finally, red and sweaty and panting, you decide to wrap up for the day.

You've just opened your locker when you hear it — the quietest creak of the door closing, deliberately quiet, like someone is trying to sneak in. Your breath catches in your chest, slipping your hand into your gym bag and wrapping around the handle of one of the weapons you'd brought with you.

Yeah, okay, maybe you'd gone a little overboard bringing a hatchet with you to the gym, but you're grateful for it right now. You spot a dark shape move in the reflection of the metal locker, and you grit your teeth.

This is it, the people Frank were running from have found you. Fear builds in your throat, cloying at your windpipe, but one thought rings through your head that steadies you. He can't lose you too.

And with that, you wheel around, weapon swinging through the air as you go. A strong hand catches your forearm, pausing your attack, and you drop the weapon into your other waiting hand —

And freeze when you catch a glimpse of your so-called attacker.

It doesn't feel real, and for a moment, you panic, stumbling a step backwards in fear that this is some kind of trick, that it's not him, but then he steps into the light from the window, hands raised in a placating motion, and you gasp.

"You gonna put the hatchet down?" The deep rumble of Frank's voice runs through you, achingly familiar, and the weapon slips out of your hand and clatters loudly against the concrete.

"...Frank." You breathe out, the word barely audible in your state of shock, and watch as his dark eyes run over your features, as if mapping out your face. The moment stretches out seemingly infinitely — the only sound in the room your intermingled bated breaths, eyes drinking in the sight of each other ravenously.

"Hi sweetheart." A tentative smile tugs at the corner of his mouth — his facial hair is longer, the rugged look suits him, you've always liked the beard — and as your mind runs a millions miles a minute, the spell is broken, and you catapult into him, your bodies colliding as you fling your arms around his neck and sob against him.

His strong arms — tree trunks, you'd called them once — wrap around you in a way that feels like home, and you breathe in his scent of leather and coffee and gunpowder. The embrace is grounding, as you feel the quickened rise and fall of his chest between your arms and your torso.

"You're real." You whisper into his neck, barely able to believe it.

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm real." The roughness of his voice feels even thicker, wrought with an emotion you can't quite place — relief, possibly. Regret, maybe. Both, most likely.

You fist your fingers tighter into his shirt, still unwilling to let go of him as your own wave of emotions cascades over you. "You left."

Frank's sharp exhale breezes over the top of your head. "I know."

“I looked for you— I looked everywhere—”

His grip tightens as you speak, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head. “I know, baby. I know. You know I never wanted to leave you. You know that.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you out of your skin, and you break the embrace for the first time to dart down to pick up the hatchet you'd dropped, whirling around to face the noise.

"Matt." You gasp when your eyes land on him, and the lawyer smiles sheepishly in return.

"Just wanted to remind the two of you that you're not alone." He punctuates his sentence with a tap of his cane on the ground, and you sigh out a shaky laugh.

"What're you even doing here?"

"How do you think Frank knew how to find you?" He cocks his head, readjusting his red glasses, and you spin to find Frank.

Frank rubs a hand over his jaw as his eyes flicker between you and Matt, shifting his weight slightly — you can tell he's uncomfortable. "Called in a favour," He admits, eyes falling down to bore a hole into the concrete floor. "Didn't know how to—" He stops short, eyes darkening as he exhales, finally rising to meet your gaze again. "Didn’t know if you'd want to see me again."

Your heart clenches at his words, and you glance over at Matt, who gives you the smallest, knowing smile. "Thank you." You utter, barely a whisper, aimed so only Matt will hear it.

“I’ll, uh, give you two some time alone," Matt says, nodding at each of you. "I'll see you around."

And with that, he turns, cane tapping against the gym floor as he walks away, leaving you and Frank standing in the silence.

This is the time when you should get angry. Yell at him, shove at him, make him truly understand what it felt like to be all alone for all this time. But when you take him in, the lines on his face, the way his eyes dart around the room, you know he felt it all too.

Instead, you sigh, reaching for your boyfriend's hand, and say, "Take me home."

And he does.

The walk home is quiet. Frank keeps a hand on you the whole way, though — his fingers grazing your wrist as you step onto the sidewalk, resting on the small of your back as you wait at a crosswalk, a gentle weight on your forearm as you go to unlock your apartment door. A reassurance — you're here, he's back. The constant reminder is necessary for the both of you, you imagine.

Inside the apartment, the air feels thick, hanging with the unspoken — a possible argument looming on the horizon, the potential reunion of two lovers who've spent time apart, the hazard that this is a relationship ruined beyond repair — you can feel every scenario run through your brain at a mile a minute, and it's making you sick.

You lock your door behind you, fingers lingering on the deadbolt before you turn to find Frank standing in the dim light of your living room. His shoulders are tense, like he’s waiting for you to chew him out, like he wouldn’t blame you if you did.

Your anxiety melts, realizing he's having the same train of thought you are.

“You hungry?”

A flicker of surprise passes over his face, and he nods once, glancing towards your kitchen. “Uh, yeah.”

"Don't get too excited, it's just leftovers from last night." You warn as you pass him, moving the takeout containers from the fridge to the microwave while Frank leans against the counter, watching you.

His presence is heavy, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache. You hand him a container and a fork, and he takes them with a quiet thanks.

The two of you eat in near silence, sitting in close proximity on your beat up old couch. You don’t ask where he’s been, what he's done, and he doesn’t offer. Not yet.

You lean over and place your empty container on the coffee table, watching as he does the same, before turning and capturing his lips with yours, sick of the mutual silent treatment you had both endeavoured upon.

He meets your kiss eagerly, hungrily, getting over his initial shock in record time. You both lose yourself in the embrace, pausing briefly to squeal against his lips as he lifts you up and places you in his lap, straddling his waist, your cheeks blazing at the sudden change in position.

Eventually, the two of you come up for air, foreheads pressed together as silence settles back into the space of your apartment and your heart stops thundering against your eardrums.

“You should get some rest.” You say, softer than you mean to, and he chuckles under you.

"If you want to get me into your bed you can just say so, sweetheart." The rumble of his laugh deepens as you roll your eyes and smack him on the chest, standing up from the couch and placing your hands on your hips.

"I mean it," You raise an eyebrow. "I'm sure you're tired, and we can resume... This, later."

Frank stands with a sigh, smirk toying at the corner of his lips, and you roll your eyes again, suppressing your own wide smile. "Alright, alright." He holds his hands up in surrender, moving toward the bedroom.

You toss the empty containers, taking a moment to compose yourself and tamp down the giddy feeling in your chest at Frank's return. You rifle through a cabinet in the living room, finding the basket of Frank's clothes you'd stashed away, and pull out a worn t-shirt and pajama pants before heading into the bedroom.

When you enter, you frown at the empty room. Glancing into the bathroom to find Frank also not in there, your heart begins to thunder in your chest. He wouldn't, you tell yourself, but doubt begins to gnaw at you.

Suddenly, a hand clamps down on your shoulder, and you wheel around and press your arm to the throat of your attacker.

"We have got to stop meeting like this." Frank's amused smile greets you, and you gasp.

"Jesus, Frank!" You exhale, eyes wide. "You're such an asshole!"

"I'm impressed, is what I am."

"What, you wanted proof that I can beat your ass now?"

"Is that so?" He raises one dark eyebrow, smirking slightly, and your stomach drops.

Before you have a chance to react he's latched a foot behind your leg and sweeps you off your footing, following you down as you crash back onto the bed, his hands encircling your wrists and keeping you down. A breathy laugh bubbles out of you, caught off guard, before you roll your eyes.

"That wasn't fair." You complain, trying very hard not to think about how little you mind being stuck in this position.

Frank makes a 'tsk' sound, leaning down into your space. "You let yourself get distracted." You make a humming sound, lifting your head off the bed to press your lips against Frank's, smiling when he reciprocates, one of his hands coming up to cup your jaw.

Success.

You pull a knee up, tucking it between your bodies, before swinging your weight sideways and causing him to tumble sideways onto the bed this time. You scramble to get on top of him, thighs on either side as you press your hands to his wrists.

"Ooh, don't get so distracted, Castle." A cocky smirk alights on your face, peering down at him, and your heart flutters as a broad smile cracks open his mouth.

Frank huffs out a laugh beneath you, causing the entire bed to shake lightly as he shakes his head. "I'll give you that one." He admits, his eyes gleaming with emotion — something like pride, but softer, heavier, and your heart melts in your chest.

You lean your weight forward, pressing your palms harder against his wrists to keep him pinned (though you're both aware he could break free if he really wanted to) but he doesn't. He just lays there, raking his dark eyes over your face, his expression unreadable now.

The air between the two of you shifts, and then slows.

You swallow thickly, increasingly aware of the warmth and solidity of his body beneath you, of his eyes on your face, tracing a path from your lips back up to your eyes. Your breath catches in your throat, pulse hammering, and you're grateful when he speaks first.

“You missed me.” His voice is lower, impossibly gravellier than usual, and definitive. It's not a question.

You nod, throat tightening. "Yes," You breathe. "I did."

His expression softens, the sharp edges of him melting away as you both take each other in — like earlier in the gym, but with less desperation, less shock. He shifts, tugging one of his hands free from your grip with alarming ease, but instead of pushing you off of him, he reaches up and traces the edge of your cheek with the back of his fingers, leaving them to rest against your skin, rough and warm.

You lean into his touch, exhaling shakily. "You're back."

Frank nods, his fingers drifting down to cup the back of your neck. “Yeah. I’m back.”

For how long, you don’t ask. You don’t want to know.

Instead, you lean your torso down, tilting your head as you slot your mouth against his in a kiss that's slower this time, less teasing, releasing his other hand and placing both of yours on either side of his head. He takes his newly freed hands and rests them against your waist, pulling you down even closer against him.

You're not sure how long the two of you remain tangled up in each other, pressing kisses against skin as if trying to make up for lost time. Eventually, reality seeps back in, and Frank pulls away to gaze at you with the softest darkest eyes you've ever seen.

“You ever gonna tell me what the hell you were doing in that gym with a goddamn hatchet?” His voice is gruff, teasing, but there’s something else there, too — concern.

You huff, rolling your eyes but not pulling away. “I was proving a point.”

Frank lifts an eyebrow. “That point being?”

“That I can take care of myself.”

His expression flickers, something unreadable passing through his eyes. Then, finally, he nods. “Yeah,” He murmurs, thumb brushing against your jaw. “I can see that.”

A beat of silence. Then, his lips twitch. “A hatchet, though? Really?”

You groan, smacking his shoulder as he laughs, deep and warm, and you can’t help but think — yeah. He’s back.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle #frank castle one shot #daredevil imagine #daredevil born again #daredevil x reader #the punisher x reader #the punisher imagine #the punisher

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glasvera · 4 months ago

Text

Stoicism and Gratuity

Winter Soldier x Fem!Reader x The Punisher

Description: You're always healing them so that they can let loose on the battlefield. Now it's your turn to let them do the work.

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), cursing, clothed sex, minor mentions of alcohol, Bucky's arm tentacles, choking, spanking, rough sex, threesome, double penetration, vaginal sex, anal sex, light bondage??? if you count the tentacles?, Frank's kind of an ass but means well, one (1) terrible pun

A/N: Fulfilling a request for Bucky or Frank wasn't something I ever thought I'd do, but my interest was piqued and I decided to give it a shot. And then it turned into a light novel. Also... gods it feels SO weird calling him Frank.

Word Count: 5k

When Frank and Bucky invited you over, you thought it was just a casual meet up between colleagues, no, friends to enjoy what little downtime you had between missions. Order some take out, maybe drink a few beers… you know the drill.

Even so, you couldn't help taking the chance to dress up a little bit. It was so rare that you got out (outside of work, at least) so you tended to go a little over the top when the opportunities presented themselves. Surely you couldn't go wrong with a cute dress and tights.

Plus, who doesn't want to look this good in front of two absolutely gorgeous men?

It was hard enough that you were attracted to both of them. Flirting with one felt like some unspoken betrayal to the other, so you usually just tried to push those feelings down. But you weren't blind; unlike their more practical clothing and tactical gear, your hero suit hugged you in all the right places, and you had caught them both staring multiple times. You'd even teased them on more than one occasion about finding better partners if they were going to keep getting distracted on the job.

So why not throw caution to the wind while you can and give them a little more to look at?

Despite your original confidence, when you rap your knuckles on the door to Frank's apartment, you couldn't help the flutter of butterflies that burst forth in your stomach. What if your neckline plunged too low? What if they got the wrong (right?) idea about you from the fishnets that hug your hips just as tightly as the skirt of your dress?

You're unable to dwell on those thoughts for long before the door opens, and you're face to face with Bucky in a wife beater and joggers. His calm and collected demeanor slips for just a second, and his eyes are devouring your figure before he realizes what he's doing. He clears his throat and presses his lips shut into a thin line.

“Y/N. Good. You made it.” He blinks, scratching the back of his head with his organic arm, and steps back to allow you inside. “You… You look good,�� he adds with a curt nod.

“Close the damn door. Air conditioning isn’t cheap, you know,” you hear Frank’s gruff voice call out from further in.

“I’m offering good company for free. Think that’ll cover it?” you retort with a cheeky smile as you round the corner into the living room, your heels clacking on the wooden floors.

To his credit, Frank doesn’t even try to hide the once-over he gives you. All you get in return is an amused snort. He looks good, you think, in a simple t-shirt and jeans. The denim has a few oil stains and the shirt is probably a size too small, but it suits him. You certainly can't complain about being able to see his strong physique on full display. Honestly, the two of them just look the same as they usually do minus all the extra equipment. Now you really feel overdressed.

“You heading out to the club after this or something?” Frank quips while gesturing to your outfit.

Before you get the chance to be terribly embarrassed or even defend yourself, Bucky returns the Punisher's snark. “She can dress how she wants, old-timer. And don't think I missed the way you looked at her.”

You flash Bucky a smile of thanks. Frank grumbles something about being called “old-timer” by the guy who's older than him, but otherwise drops it. Bucky disappears into the kitchen for a minute, followed soon after by the sounds of bottles clinking in the opened fridge.

Frank pats the seat next to him. Once you oblige, sinking into the poor, abused couch that threatens to swallow you whole in its cushions, he heaves a big sigh.

“You do look good. Just had to tease you,” he explains himself before Bucky reappears behind you with three beers in hand. “But Winter Princess over here had to get his panties in a knot over it,” he adds with a pointed smirk.

“If this weren't your place, I might smash this bottle over your head,” Bucky taunts back even as he hands him one.

He vaults over the back of the couch, throwing himself back into the cushions without much grace and landing next to you with an audible oomph. It launches you up a little in your seat. That, coupled with their banter, draws a lilting giggle from your lips. Bucky shoots you the softest of smiles. Ah… you were wondering when the butterflies in your stomach were coming back.

He hands you the last beer, and you see the metal plates of his arm open and shift about before a tentacle reaches out and pops the cap off for you.

“Nice Swiss Arm-y Tool you got there,” you can't help but say with a shit-eating grin as you catch the cap in your other hand. Frank snorts again and Bucky sighs, losing his smile immediately and shutting his eyes.

“I will take yours back,” he threatens half-heartedly.

The tentacle that slithered about after opening the bottle lingers for a moment, and you pull back with a start when the cold appendage brushes against your wrist. Bucky's eyes widen and he quickly withdraws, metal clanking and shrieking against itself as he returns his arm to its usual state.

“Sorry. They have a mind of their own sometimes. Been meaning to see Shuri about that,” he explains apologetically. He can’t seem to look you in the eye.

“I-It’s okay,” you manage to eke out, absentmindedly rubbing the spot where it had touched you. You knew about them, fighting with him as you so often did, but that was the first time you'd felt them. It was so alien, and you shudder at the thought of what they could have been if Hydra had their way.

“And I thought I was a buzzkill,” Frank finally chimes in as he starts flicking through channels with the TV remote. It earns him a glare from Bucky, but he ignores it. He settles on some random sci-fi movie for background noise before setting the remote onto the arm of the couch. That'll probably get lost between the cushions later.

Despite his intent, you find yourself trying to focus on what's on the screen instead of the awkward silence building between you three. You hadn’t seen Fifth Element in ages. Trying (and failing) to ease your nerves, you lean back in your seat, crossing one leg over the other as you take a swig of beer. Eugh. Frank definitely wasn't breaking the bank for this brand.

After a little while, you all settle into what is at least a slightly more comfortable silence. Fifth Element just has a way of bringing people together, you suppose. Bucky props a foot up on one knee, and you don't miss the way he rests his mechanical arm on the back of the couch behind you. Frank leans forward and leans his elbows on his thighs, and his repositioning leaves his leg pressing against yours. The scratchy denim catches a bit on your fishnets, and even through the thick fabric you can feel the heat of his skin.

It continues like that for several minutes. Your eyes, as discreetly as you can manage, keep finding their way to the men on either side of you. You notice the steady rise and fall of Bucky's chest, the way his shoulder muscles twitch every once in a while when he adjusts his metallic arm. You see Frank's fingers tense a bit around the neck of the bottle he holds, and suddenly a part of you wonders how those fingers would feel around your own neck…

Korben Dallas and Leeloo just aren't capturing your attention anymore.

“Met Bruce Willis once. Weird guy,” Frank suddenly pipes up. It takes you by surprise and you actually jump in your seat, granting you raised eyebrows from both of them.

“You okay, Y/N?” Bucky asks as he turns his body to face you better.

Warmth rushes to your face. “I-I'm fine! I don't know why that startled me. Guess I was just lost in the movie,” you lie as you run a nervous hand through your hair.

Frank places a hand on your bare shoulder and squeezes a bit. His palm is searing, no, branding on your skin, the ghost of it lingering even when he pulls away.

“You're tense, doll face. Somethin’ the matter?” he asks.

“Probably working too hard. Come to think of it, this is the first time I've seen Y/N outside of work,” Bucky comments with a hint of genuine concern. His metal hand finds the back of your neck and massages it gently, and you feel your face flush even more at the sudden contact. “You can loosen up, you know,” he teases.

It does feel nice, you can't deny that.

“Yeah… loosen up…” you murmur, trying to sound thoughtful. Your head bobs a bit as Bucky continues, and you see a slight smile return to his face.

You can also feel the tension in the room shift… but you don’t see the way Bucky and Frank look at each other as your eyes flutter close. A wordless exchange occurs between them unbeknownst to you, and they both nod in agreement.

It was something they’d discussed before, after all.

“You’re always taking care of us, you know. And I don’t just mean on the battlefield,” Bucky mutters in your ear. When had he gotten that close? “You’re always checking up on us, calling or texting us to see if we’re doing okay…”

“We invited you over to let loose, sweetheart. And you’re not doing a very good job of it yet,” Frank adds gruffly.

“I… I’m sorry?” you finally respond with a slight laugh in your voice. You’re not sure if you should apologize or not, really.

“Maybe you should be,” Frank grunts as his hand rests on your knee.

Bucky chuckles. “Don’t be sorry.” He’s practically leaning into you now, and you can feel his breath on your ear. It sends shivers across your skin. “Just let us take care of you… if you want us to, of course,” he adds.

“What is…?” You want to say “happening,” but words seem to fail you when Frank cups your jaw and forces him to look at you.

“I said you looked good. But I think you’d look even better without that get-up,” he almost growls. His eyes are dark with something you’ve never seen in him before, and a shuddered breath slips from your lips.

“O-Oh…”

It’s all you can muster.

But that’s all it takes.

You don’t have to wonder what Frank’s fingers feel like on your neck anymore as he grabs the back of your head and tugs you into a possessive, devouring kiss. His lips are rough, a bit chapped, but that doesn’t matter when his tongue delves eagerly into your mouth. The hand on your knee grips you harder.

“Should have known you’d be the impatient one,” Bucky chides before pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the crook of your neck. The stubble on his chin scratches against your skin in the best way. A broken moan gurgles in your throat.

Well. This was not how you were expecting the night to go at all.

You hear metallic tings and clangs behind you, and that’s all the warning you have before tentacles are slithering down your back and sides. It’s a little cold and it certainly catches you by surprise, but the way they slip under your dress is undeniably erotic. Bucky freezes. Ah, so he hadn’t meant to do that.

Breathing heavily, you break the kiss with Castle to face Bucky with lust-darkened eyes. “N-No… it’s okay,” you breathe. He looks at you like you’ve grown another head, but once his eyes flicker down to your panting and kiss-bruised lips, desire wins over. He nods, dumbfounded, before claiming his own turn at kissing you.

Frank, a bit perturbed at having his make out session interrupted, takes out his frustrations on the opposite side of your neck. Where Bucky was passionate and intense, Frank is angry, biting hard and sucking dark hickies into your skin. If you were standing, you know your knees would be wobbling. His hand travels higher, roughly massaging your inner thigh with callused fingers.

Tentacles squirm down the front of your dress, curling underneath your breasts and squeezing them. You gasp into Bucky’s mouth and he bites your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth. Even more tendrils travel lower, cold shocking your feverish skin, and you feel them toying with the elastic band of your panties. Bucky’s hair tickles your nose when he presses his forehead to yours, panting slightly.

“Been wanting to do that for a while… you sure you’re okay with this?” Bucky asks even as his body is clearly trembling with unsatiated lust.

When you open your mouth to answer, Frank bites down hard on your neck, and you’re seeing stars as he draws a cry from your throat. You can feel him smiling against your skin.

“Twenty bucks says she’s soaked through. You’re enjoying it just fine, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“I-I…” you start, but only a low groan follows when he nibbles on your earlobe. Their lips occupied everything from your neck up while tentacles lavished you with attention beneath your dress. Frank was right: you could feel the wetness pooling between your legs already. His hand teasing at your inner thigh and dipping beneath the hem of your skirt certainly wasn't helping.

“She can't even think straight. I think it's working,” Frank snickers. He palms your breast roughly through your dress, finding the hardening nipple and tugging on it through the fabric.

“F-fuck…” you stammer breathlessly. You're still facing Bucky, and he's drinking in every delicious expression of desire that crosses your face. He adjusts himself in his pants, but the tent forming there is obvious. Your mouth waters when you catch a glimpse of it.

Bucky’s hand finds itself on your opposite thigh, spreading your legs apart as tentacles dip lower. Your breathing stops in anticipation. Part of you wonders if he can feel everything that they feel. The groan he utters when he swipes a tendril up your clothed slit answers that question, and you answer him in kind with a throaty whine.

“She's drenched, Castle,” he growls before kissing you again.

“And we're only just getting started,” Frank adds as his hand yanks down the front of your dress. You let out a soft gasp as those rough fingers grope at your bare skin. His teeth and tongue work their way down your chest. When his lips close around your nipple and his tongue flicks back and forth rapidly across the bud, your legs try desperately to clamp themselves shut. But their hands wouldn't allow that. In fact, Frank slaps the tentacle out of the way before cupping your sex to feel just how wet you are. His approval hums through his lips, and the small vibrations of it against your sensitive flesh have you bucking into his hand.

Speaking of hands, you've been at a loss at what to do with yours this entire time. It was difficult to focus on any one thing. Your palms smooth along their biceps, or you feel your fingers clutching desperately onto their shirts and wrinkling the fabric. Every ounce of your concentration is spent processing each source of pleasure and simulation they give you.

Bucky's lips leave yours to travel lower, nipping at your collarbone. He gazes up at you with no small amount of anticipation, practically begging you to continue moaning for the two of them. Your head falls back against the couch as you gasp for air.

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” Bucky praises as he massages your thigh.

“Mm… I… it feels… fuck…” you groan, your fingers finding the back of Frank's head and holding him to your chest. Your legs are quivering as he continues pleasuring you through your panties.

“Feel even better when you've got our cocks stretching you out,” Frank adds bluntly as his breath ghosts over your nipple.

You feel like a whore when you moan at those dirty words. The idea makes you impossibly wetter, and you feel your walls clench around nothing. Bucky seems affected by it too, because now he's the impatient one trying to free himself from his pants.

You barely catch a glimpse of it before you feel his tentacles wrapping securely around you and lifting you up, settling you on his lap. Those same tentacles rip open your fishnets and tug your underwear to the side. A surprised gasp escapes you at the sound of torn netting, but you don't have time to be offended. He's hovering your slick wetness over his achingly hard cock, grinding it up against you while his free hand grips your ass and guides you back and forth.

“Oh fuck… Bucky,” you whimper. They weren't kidding about taking care of you. You didn't move a muscle as those cold tendrils held you aloft.

“Who's the impatient one, now?” Frank accuses with no small amount of annoyance. He's standing up behind you now, lifting your dress up around your hips and groping your ass. In his frustration, he gives it a hard smack, but that sting only drives you crazier and you let out a staggered keen.

“Like that, do ya?” he asks with a malicious smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He gives you a few more smacks, enjoying the sounds they pull from your lips. “We talked about taking turns, but maybe what you really need is to be stuffed completely. Want us to use you like our doll, doll face?”

You can see the flicker of worry in Bucky’s eyes, thinking that maybe this was going too far, but you're practically gushing at the idea. You nod with a pleading whimper.

“Fuck, yes. Please. Ruin me,” you respond. Despite his hesitation, your words cause Bucky to twitch against you. You want so badly to guide his cock into you and start bouncing on it, but those tendrils wrap around your wrists and keep your arms in place behind your back.

Bucky's breathing grows ragged, and he gives you a warning look. “Keep saying shit like that, and you're gonna drive me crazy.”

“Why don't you shut your mouth and keep putting those tentacles of yours to good use? Stand and hold her up so we can both fuck her,” Frank commands with a snarl. You hear the clink of his belt buckle and the growl of a zipper soon follows, and even before Bucky has complied you feel a thick, hard cock pressed against your ass.

Bucky gives the other man an indignant huff, wanting nothing more than to fuck you right here on the comfort of the couch. Not to mention that using his tentacles like this was completely uncharted territory; they seemed affected by his desires and impulses, but even he doesn’t trust those all of the time.

Unfortunately for him, those sweet lips of yours pout irresistibly at him. And when it comes to you, his resolve crumbles in an instant.

“You want this?” Bucky starts, standing upright as his arm tentacles lift you higher. Your arms are above your head now, and a tentacle slithers down further until it teases at your neck. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me if you get overwhelmed,” he tells you as he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His lip curls ever so slightly, almost disgusted at himself for giving in so easily. But even he couldn’t deny just how wet and ready you seemed to be. And the way your hooded eyes look at him, the way your pupils swallow your irises completely, draws a soft growl from his throat.

Your only response is to lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, tugging him closer, smirking and daring him to continue. Tentacles meet those quickly, binding your ankles together and pinning you to his body.

“Nice try, sweetheart. But we’re in control here,” he mutters as his lips brush against yours. You try to meet them properly, but he holds you in place by your chin as he pulls away. A low whine chokes from you, and he shakes his head. “You signed up for this.”

While your heated exchange continues, Frank strokes his cock behind you, readying himself with lubricant. Bucky would have the easier job of it, but that doesn’t bother him. He’s not called the Punisher for nothing. Since he doesn’t have to worry about holding you up (though, he most certainly could), he rips your panties off of your body with one hand while the other presses two slick fingers against your anus. You yelp at the sudden intrusion, completely ignoring the second aggression performed against your clothing for the night. No, you can only focus on how thick his fingers are as they press against the tense muscle. You’re breathing heavily as he eases the first digit inside.

Bucky finally releases your chin, instead taking his own length in hand and teasing it up and down your slit. He spreads your wetness over the tip, watching your face carefully as your lips part into an “o” shape. You were being teased from both sides, never fully getting what you wanted, and it leaves you a whimpering mess. Frank chuckles from behind as he inserts a second finger.

“Yes… more! Oh gods, please…” you beg as you buck against them.

“Like a bitch in heat,” he grunts while scissoring the digits inside you.

A breathy chortle of agreement drags out of Bucky’s lips. The tentacle that teased at your neck before now wraps around it fully, constricting slightly. Your eyes go wide at the sensation, but Bucky doesn’t miss the way your thighs clamp around his waist. The end of the tendril brushes tenderly at your lips like it’s trying to map them out by touch alone. The tip of Bucky’s dick finally pushes inside you, slipping through easily as he slides inch after inch into your beckoning heat. His head falls forward with a groan, his brows knitting together as he waits for you to acclimate to the stretch of him. Strangled curses force their way from your throat, words of praise bubbling at your lips as your velvety walls suck him in. You already feel so full, and if they continue, then that means…

“So… tight,” Bucky manages as sweat beads on his forehead. “Dunno how she’s gonna-”

“She’ll be fine,” Frank interrupts, speaking for you as he withdraws his fingers. He grunts in amusement at the small squeak you let out. You don’t even have time to mourn the loss before the head of his cock pushes insistently against your prepared hole. “Relax, doll face. Breathe.”

Well, that’s easier said than done when you’re being gently choked by an eldritch tentacle.

Thankfully, the appendage relents, and just as you take in a deep breath of sweet, sweet oxygen, Frank shoves the entire tip into you with one push. Your breath catches in your throat. He thrusts that little bit in and out, sinking further and further each time. It rocks you against Bucky. He’s having a hard time keeping himself restrained from moving as is, and those little bounces are testing his resolve. His hand grips your waist almost painfully.

And then, without pomp or ceremony, Frank sheathes himself to the hilt. You cry out loudly, tossing your head back, but he’s done waiting. You’re lucky he took the time to stretch you out a bit in the first place, he thinks. His cock pistons in and out of your ass rapidly, his broad arm wrapping around your front to paw at your breasts as they bounce with his movements.

Bucky can feel the other man’s cock through that thin wall of skin, making you impossibly tighter. It’s an effort when he begins thrusting. Once he’s able to match Frank’s rhythm, they alternate, never leaving you empty. Your eyes roll back into your head and your jaw hangs slack as moans pour from your lips.

“Atta girl,” Frank grunts before he starts biting and sucking at your neck. He’s fucking you aggressively, possessively, wrecking you completely as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. Your nails dig into the tentacles that hold you aloft, and Bucky hisses. You feel yourself being choked again in retaliation. He wasn’t expecting you to tighten around him when he did that, though.

Gods, you really were the perfect little fuck doll, weren’t you?

Bucky doesn’t know where to focus his gaze. Frank’s hand squeezes one tit while the other bounces with their thrusts. Your neck looks so beautiful with his tentacle wrapped around it. Your lips part so sweetly as you desperately gasp out your sounds of pleasure. He looks down to where your hips meet, and you’ve already ruined the front of his pants where they sit beneath his cock. Fuck. He reaches down, pressing his palm against your stomach as his thumb flicks circles on your clit.

Your mind is going blank. You don’t even form actual words anymore, simply babbling incomprehensible sounds as your mascara runs in lines down your cheeks. Pressure builds in your core, amplified by your lack of oxygen, and your thighs tremble around the Winter Soldier. Frank pauses in his thrusts, and before either of you can question why, he’s timing his thrusts with Bucky.

You feel full to bursting. Your moans are sobs now, and your body hangs limply in the tentacles’ grasp as they fuck you in tandem. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth, and a tendril presses against it before snaking between your lips. In your fucked-out state, it only feels natural to suck on it.

“Sh-shit…” Bucky curses as that causes his thrusts to falter for a second. “How do you keep getting sexier?”

Frank sucks mark after mark into your skin, angling his thrusts to the side slightly so he can spank your ass with his free hand. You scream around the tentacle in your mouth. So much pressure, so much euphoria. You’re going insane, absolutely cock-drunk. It builds in you, with electrical currents zapping straight to your core with every thrust, every bite, every slap. Your walls flutter around them, and Bucky redoubles his efforts at playing with your clit. So close. So close.

They’re not faring much better than you. You’re a feast for the eyes from the front and the back, and those gargled moans and strangled cries you keep making only spur them on more. Their pace quickens, muscles straining as they fuck you into utter oblivion. Bucky’s eyes close and he grits his teeth. Frank only gets even more aggressive with his affection, nearly bruising your breasts with his squeezing and making sure your ass has a permanent sting.

“Take it, doll face. Fuck,” Frank curses. You can feel him swelling inside you with his impending release.

“Y… mmhh… yeth, oh f…fuck,” you stammer around the tentacle in your mouth.

And then Bucky angles his thrusts just a little bit to the side. You gasp with a shrill cry.

Bingo.

He hammers into that spot, never relenting on your clit. The tentacle around your neck squeezes tighter, and for a moment you wonder if you might black out. But it’s all too good, too intense, and you feel it rising, rising--

Your walls spasm around them and Bucky releases the tentacle around your throat in the same instant. A hoarse cry pours from your lips as you experience an earth-shattering orgasm, oxygen rushing to your head and your entire body convulsing in the tentacles’ hold. Wave after wave of gooey warmth washes over you. Both men watch you in awe as you let go completely, falling limp, and fuck you even faster to chase their own release. You fade in and out of consciousness as your orgasm fades, but you’re brought back to reality when Frank grunts and growls animalistically before stilling, pumping load after load into your ass. His softening cock slides out of you as he steps back and falls against the couch.

Bucky is gasping, his muscular frame glistening with sweat as he takes over, his tentacles retracting back into his metal arm as he catches you. You yelp in surprise as your arms wrap around his neck to steady yourself. His eyes bore straight into yours with an undeniable ferocity, and then he’s kissing you hungrily. Your fingers thread into his brown locks, and he continues fucking you as he holds you aloft in his arms. He groans into your lips as his hips pick up the pace and you feel yourself moaning along with him. He lets out a long, drawn out growl when he finally stiffens, thrusting a few more times as you feel his seed paint your walls. When he breaks the kiss, he’s panting, and he too falls back against the couch. He’s still holding you, and you let out a giggling yelp as you fall onto his lap.

It takes some effort to control your trembling limbs, but you manage to extract yourself, returning to your original seat between them. All three of you are a mess, panting, sweaty, and half-dressed.

When you happen to glance over to the TV, you’re surprised to see that they’re still playing Fifth Element. These commercial breaks are getting ridiculous. Frank absentmindedly looks for the remote, looking to turn down the volume, but can’t seem to find it and gives up. Probably between the couch cushions, but he’s a bit too lazy to look that hard right now.

Bucky’s arm finds its way behind you again, but this time it rests on your opposite shoulder. “So… feeling good, Y/N?”

You hum, lolling your head back and forth to look at both of them. “Mm… I think I can’t feel my legs,” you joke with a chortle. “And… I definitely think we should do this more often.”

#marvel rivals #the punisher x reader #winter soldier x reader #marvel rivals x reader #bucky barnes x reader #frank castle x reader #marvel rivals fanfic #marvel rivals the punisher #marvel rivals winter soldier #glasvera writes #smut #marvel rivals smut #writing request

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fanfictiongirlie · 5 months ago

Text

Marvel: Corruption

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Description: Bucky Barnes is a priest. Reader will do anything to tease him, break him, corrupt him. Bucky snaps and they have wonderfully rough sex inside his church. And then run away together.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut, its filth, Teasing, Priest Kink, Corruption of a Priest, Choking, Spanking, Daddy Kink, punishing, Degradation, Readers a bad girl, She's do anything for Bucky, including crawling across the floor, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a Church, Rough Oral, SexOral Sex, Cunnilingus, Top Bucky Barnes, Dominant Bucky Barnes, Light Dom/sub

Words: 9,551

Completed One-Shot

Read on ao3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

So I read Crossed by Emily Mcintire the other day, and I may or may not have a serious corruption kink. And then I thought, ooo, I like Bucky Barnes. Mix the two and boom, we have this. I feel like maybe I could have gone rougher, but I'm happy with the final product. I hope you enjoy it.

Okay - So this is smutty. And a little kinky, a lot kinky. But I'd also like to have to said, I am not religious, so if I get any of the religious bits wrong, I do apologies, but yeah. I did a bit of research, but honestly, I'm here to write smut, not to fact check xD

READ THE TAGS! Don't read it if it's not something you'll like.

Bucky Barnes was in his church, stood up on his stage running his session. It was sunday and it was a beautiful summers day outside, his favourite days to run a sermon. He was new to the village, but everyone had welcomed him with open arms and he knew everyone. So when he noticed you, a girl he had never seen before he was a little intrigued. You were sat in between two people he did know, a man and woman who must of been your parents.

He thought you were beautiful. And it stressed him out, he was a priest, he shouldn't be thinking that you were beautiful, or anything of the sort. But you were beautiful, you stood out in the crowd, Covered in tattoos, you weren't showing much skin, but from what he could tell, yes you were a tattooed individual. He could also see you had a few piercings in your ears. He could feel himself become less enthused as he kept staring at you, so he coughed and tried to bring himself back to his sermon.

You sighed heavily as the sermon carried on, your parents had, of course, forced you to go to church with them, like they had every year you lived in this pathetic town. When you had turned eighteen you moved far away, deciding you were going to become a famous musician, that didn't work out, so you had to move back home with your parents, they were happy to have you home. Unfortunately them, and everyone else in this tiny town were incredibly religious. And truly, it wasn't religion itself that annoyed you, it was having it shoved down your throat your entire life.

At least the priest was cute, you thought to yourself as you drown out the words coming from his perfect pink lips.

As Bucky continues the sermon, he would glance over to you occasionally, he was finding it hard to not look at you, he was a priest, he needed to shake it off. He knew it was wrong and yet here he was, staring at you.

You smirked when you noticed his eyes on you. Though once the sermon was over, finally, your parents dragged you over to the stage he stood on to meet him. Saying that meeting the new priest would bring you closer to god, they hoped.

Bucky climbed down from his stage, it was only a tiny stage, only reaching his knee when he stood next to it. He straightened himself when you and your parents reached him, and his voice was deep and smooth, as he spoke in his proper priest voice.

"Hello, you're the daughter?"

He asked, looking at you. His eyes couldn't help but quickly move down looking at your body, he hated himself for the movement.

"That would be correct" You smirk, holding your hand out to him, you had had tattoos littered over your arm trailing down to your fingertips. Bucky shook your hand, and smiled softly at you. You watched as he looked at your tattoos.

Bucky found himself wanting to see the rest of them. He mentally slapped himself for thinking like that.

"Good to meet you...Mr...?" You ask, your voices trailing off slightly. He quickly snapped himself out of his inappropriate thoughts of you. Realisation kicking into his brain that he was staring too much. He felt like a creepy priest.

"Barnes. Father James Barnes"

"Father Barnes" You repeated, the smirk still on your lips.

"Yeah, that's me" He says softly, his stomach flipped at hearing you say 'Father Barnes' he hated himself even more for the thoughts that went through his head as he looked at you.

"Come, let's not waste more of the father's time" Your father says, pulling at your arm.

"Aw and I thought you wanted me to be closer to god?" You ask your father, a little winey.

Bucky watched as your father dragged you away, he frowned a little, he found himself not wanting you to leave, he wanted to keep talking to you, he wanted to see more of those tattoos...

As you were dragged out, you turned just at the last minute to look back, and he saw just how pretty you were from the back and he felt awful, he didn't want you to go, and at the same time, he was glad you were going because his dirty thoughts weren't good.

The next day you were wondering through the only grocery shop in the village, slowly moving your shopping cart as you looked at the list your mother had given you. Already you were getting dirty looks from the other shoppers, you smirked knowing it was because of your outfit.

Your dress, it was short and showed so much skin. A cute little black dress with strappy straps on your shoulders, the dress was backless, showing off the magnificent tattoo you had on your back, though not finished yet, it was still amazing and to top things off, the dress was short, ending a few inches past your arse cheeks. It was one of your favourites, pureply because it pissed everyone in this little village off, and you loved that.

Bucky was in the grocery shop with a small cart of his own. He hadn't been able to get you off his mind and just as he was about to turn the corner, he saw you.

His jaw almost dropped as he saw you. His mind was screaming asking if it was you, and once he realised it was actually you, he couldn't help but get excited, but he didn't know if you would even want to speak to him. He was shocked and slightly aroused by your appearance. He swallowed, he tried to distract himself from thoughts of you. He was a priest for goodness sake!

He slowly walked over to you, hoping you wouldn't realise the growing bulge in his jeans as he approached, he wanted to talk to you. No matter how much he knew he shouldn't.

"Hello" He spoke softly as he stepped closer to you, forcing himself to look into your eyes.

"Father Barnes, we meet again" You say, smirking as you saw him. As he heard you speak, he swallowed, the way you said 'Father Barnes' caused a whole range of thoughts to enter his brain. He couldn't help but look at your outfit.

"We do" He says in a soft deep voice, he was trying so hard to focus on the face that he was a priest, but his mind kept betraying him.

"How are you?" You asked, leaning forward a little to lean on your cart, your dress, surprisingly hid the most of your chest, but a small slither of cleavage was visible.

Bucky swallowed deeply, trying not to stare at your bare skin. He couldn't control himself as he stared down at your body. He forced himself to tear his eyes away and meet your eyes again. God he despised himself for thinking like this.

"I'm good, thank you" He says in a deep, soft voice. He hated how good you looked.

"Good" You say, smirking a little. He swallowed again, he could tell you were acting a little teasy towards him, and it was driving him insane. He wanted to touch you so badly, but he couldn't, he was a man of God and he kept reminding himself that, over and over, until his mind wandered once again.

"So..." He says, his eyes drifted down again "What are you doing here?"

"Well, it's a shop, Father Barnes...Take a guess" You say playfully.

Bucky swallowed again, as his thoughts continued. He knew that it was just his mind, but he thought he saw you looking at his bulge once, and he didn't know it that was just in his mind or not. He looked back into your eyes, trying to distract himself once again.

"You're shopping?" He asks.

"That's a clever boy" You answer with a grin. As he heard you say that, every part of him wanted to shove you against a wall and kiss you, it make him feel more flustered.

"Well...what are you shopping for?" He asked, trying to look anywhere other than your body.

"My mother has sent me in with a list" You say with a shrug. Bucky looked down again, taking a quick peek at your body once more, hating himself again as he did. He hated this part of himself, he knew he had to ask something, but he felt so nervous.

"Can I ask you a question?" He asks.

"Sure" You purr, rolling your 'R's.

He swallowed again for what seemed to be the hundredth time. He didn't know how he would react if he got the answer he so desperately wanted, but he had to try.

"Do you..." He swallowed again, he hated asking this question. "Do you always wear short dresses?"

"Usually yeah...Do you disapprove, Father?" You ask, looking down at your dress. Bucky's mind was screaming at him again. He loved it, and he did not disapprove, but he was a priest. He wanted to tell you the truth, but what if that scared you, he swallowed again as he tried to form a sentence.

"No...I...I like it" He says quietly, looking down to his feet.

"You do? Naughty priest" You answer, smirking widley looking him up and down. He was dressed in his usual pricesty clothes, fully black and fully covered, and boy did you wanna see what was underneath. As Bucky heard those words from you, his mind went crazy.

"Don't say things like that..." He said, his voice was slightly shaky. He hated that he liked how naughty it sounded. He looked around to see if there was any people nearby, when his eyes met yours again, he felt like he couldn't control himself.

"Oh...Sorry" You say giggling a little. As you giggled, he was slowly being driven more insane. He hated how your voice sounded, the way you acted, the way you dressed, he wanted to do things so badly, he tried to control himself.

"Don't apologise..." He said in a shaky voice, he was getting flustered so easily and you were noticing that. His neck was flushed red, from what you could see, his brow was sweating slightly. His eyes were darting all over the place, it made you want more, you wanted to keep pushing him, see how far you could get. Maybe not in the middle of the shop.

"Am I allowed to do anything?" You ask playfully, having him tell you not to do something opening a fun teasing window for you.

"It depends..what are you wanting to do?" He asks.

"Oh, you do not want to know" You answer smirking, the ideas in your mind currently were enough to make you burst into flames if you walked into the church.

Bucky took a deep breath, trying to ignore the fact that he did want to know, he hated that he wanted to hear all the things you wanted. He hated the fact that he wanted to do all the things to you that he had thought of.

"Tell me..." He says in a lower voice, trying not to get aroused from all of this thoughts and from you in general.

"Oh, Father. The things I've been thinking, they would make you blush" You say carefully, not wanting anyone in the store to hear you. You hadn't thought he would talk to you like this, from the moment you had seen him in that church you wanted him, wanted to corrupt him, but you never thought you'd get this far, you were loving it, you wanted more.

As Bucky heard your words, his mind went to places he shouldn't be, and his heart race increased. He swallowed once again, hoping you didn't notice how much he was swallowing, and how flustered he was feeling.

"I can handle it" He finally says, his voice still as shaky as before.

"We've only just met, father...What kind of girl do you think I am?" You asked, faking a gasp.

"Well... you're definitely a bit naughty..." He says carefully, knowing he shouldn't be saying those things to you. You nodded and smirked hard, not even blushing, he envied you.

"I am, it's why I originally fled this annoyingly religious village" You say, muttering your words, you then realise what you said, and muttered a quick sorry, forgetting he was a priest. He chuckled softly at your words.

"Yeah...that makes sense" He says, his mind still going places it shouldn't of. He hated himself for thinking like this. He was supposed to be a religious man.

"So, I guess you dislike pricests, huh?"

"No, definitely not, I just hated growing up in a religious village, it never suited me" You say, as he heard your words he nodded in understanding.

"I understand that" He says quietly "So, where do you live now?"

"I did live a few hours away, but I had to move back, so I live with my parents again" You say, the annoyance in your voice evident. He looked back over you once again, his eyes drifting for a moment to look at your curves again, before he looked up to your face once again.

"And how do you feel about moving back?" He couldn't help himself, as he spoke his eyes slowly drifted down to look at your outfit again.

"Miserable, thought there's definitely something here now that could provide me with some excitement" You say smirking, looking him up and down. Enjoying how flustered he was at your presence. Bucky's cheeks were bright red as you say that and his mind went crazy. He hated that part of himself, which loved how you talked, so freely, he hated himself for being so weak for you already, he didn't know how to resist.

"Oh? And what could that be...?"

"Oh Father Barnes..."You say giggling, unsure if he knew exactly what you were talking about, or if he wanted you to say it out loud, you guessed the first one truthfully "I'll see you around"

You say, and then you grab your cart and start walking away down the aisle. You had hoped when you walked he would look at your bare back, and arse as you walked away, making sure your cheeks jiggled for him.

Bucky's eyes were wide.

"See you-" He called out, his words shaky as he speaks. He was speechless as he watched you go, unable to keep his mind off you. Just before you turned the corner, you turned around and blew him a kiss.

He was shocked as he watched your movements. This just caused his feelings to grow stronger, he felt himself blush deeper. He stood there, in shock, staring into space where you had just walked. He had never been this flustered in his life. He felt bad for feeling this way, but he wanted, no needed, you so badly.

A few days later, it was Saturday and beautifully sunny, you decided to head down to the beach, no one in your little village ever went to the beach, it was strange but it meant you could go there, wearing your cute little bikinis and no fucker would say a word. With your bag over your arm, within in your towel, sun lotion and a book, over you bikini you wore a cute flowy white dress that travelled down to mid thigh, the sleeves were a little poofy on your shoulders and the edges of the material had cute little patterns with tiny holes traveling along the edges.

Bucky had woken up early and after getting ready for the day, he decided to go for a walk. He found himself walking along the hot sand of the beach. He happily walked, breathing in the fresh air and enjoying the clear thoughts and then he saw you. He stopped in his tracks. He knew he should leave, but he found himself walking towards you.

You laid down your towel on the beach, setting up your little section, ready to relax. Bucky walked towards you, he saw your body in that short cute, white dress, he felt himself get aroused, but he tried to fight it. He was a priest after all. He swallowed as he got closer to you. You turn around seeing him, you smile widely.

"Father Barnes, how nice to see you"

He smiled back, trying to ignore his thoughts. Seeing you out here under the sunlight, in that dress, looking so beautiful, was driving him insane and he hated that he liked it. He tried to find his words, but just seeing you was causing his brain to go crazy.

"It's very nice to see you too" He says quietly, trying to keep himself calm and control in his word, as he stared at you in that white dress, that showed off your body so much.

"Are you here to enjoy the sun to?" You ask, smiling sweetly at him. He nodded, his mind was begging to think of all the things he wanted to do to you. He was close to snapping.

"Yeah, I am" He say in a quiet voice, as his eyes kept wandering down to you, taking in your curves once again, you were now sitting on the towel, looking up at him.

"Join me?" You ask, smirking, you had a teasing look in your eyes. He swallowed as the words left your mouth. He wanted to, more than anything. But he was a man of god, it was so wrong, but god you looked so good.

"I don't think I should" He says in a low voice, although his mind was begging to yell and scream that he wanted to, he wanted to do way more than just join you.

"Oh" You say a little disappointedly "Well, that's okay, I was going to sunbathe anyways"

You say shrugging, you stand once more and grab the bottom of your dress, dragging upwards across your body, slowly, just to tease him, you pull your dress over your head leaving you in your dark pink bikini. Bucky froze as he watched you take it off, he didn't expect that, which wasn't a bad thing at al. He stared at you in your bikini, his eyes trailing every curve you had. He wanted to pull you against him and hold you so badly, but he couldn't. He was a man of god, he reminded himself.

You laid down on your towel, sighing happily as you felt the sun shine down on your body completely. Bucky watched as you laid down, he couldn't take his eyes off you, as you displayed your body to him, his thoughts were running wild. He had wanted to lay down next to you and hold you, so badly, his mind was begging him to do it. Despite that, he forced himself to sit down next to you, and tried looking at the sky, and not you.

"Oh, you decided to join me" You say, smirking. He bit his lip and looked over your body, he nodded.

"I did" He said in a low voice, his mind screaming at him, begging him for take you. You grabbed your sun lotion and began rubbing it over your legs, and then your arms and then up to your stomach and to your chest, rubbing the lotion all over, knowing he was watching your every move. Bucky was watching, and he was watching closely. His mind went crazy as he watched you, the right of your body making it hard for him to breath.

"Hey, would you mind?" You ask, breaking him from his trance. He looked up to your face, giving you a confused look.

"Sure, what do you need?"

"Rub lotion on my back?" You asked, biting your lips and holding the bottle out to him "I can't reach"

His eyes went wide, he nodded, not trusting his voice currently. He reached over and took the bottle from your hand. He had to fight his mind as he thoughts screamed, begging to run his hands over your body.

"A...alright" He said, in a surprisingly soft voice.

"Thanks Father Barnes" You say with a smirk, turning over to lie on your front. You knew what you were doing to him. He hated how you could just make his mind go crazy. Even just calling him 'Father Barnes' was turning him on so badly. He put some of the lotion on his hand and went to touch your skin, when you stopped him.

"Oh, wait"

He stopped instantly, his heart was racing.

You reach behind you and undo the string of you bikini leaving your back completely bare to him, you lie your head on your arms and try not to giggle, wishing you could see his face. He wanted to touch more than your back, but he couldn't....he couldn't. He was fighting with himself, he couldn't. He was supposed to be a man of god. But god, he wanted to break that rule so badly right now.

You sighed happily when his hands touch your back, rubbing your skin so gently with his big, soft hands. Bucky was breathing rather quickly as he continued, his mind begging to break his rules, but he couldn't let himself do that. He had to control himself, control his desires.

"Mmm" You moan softly "Thanks Father Barnes"

He froze for a moment when you moaned, he felt himself getting more and more aroused as he touched you.

"P..please don't call me that"

"But that's your name" You say with a giggle. He continued to rub the lotion into your back, he swallowed and spoke in a low voice.

"I know that...but it's my title. You calling me that like that...is making it harder for me to control myself"

"Oops, sorry" You say quietly, but you weren't sorry.

"N...no need to apologies...I just.." His hands stopped rubbing your back for a moment, as he paused, trying to control himself again.

"Sorry, I know I'm a little bit of a bad girl" You say grinning, you move, holding the front of your bikini, you moved to do it up and sat in front of him, crossing your legs. Bucky's heart was racing as you watched you. He was struggling to ignore how you made him feel.

"You...are definitely...a bad girl" He said quietly, but he didn't mean it as an insult, just a fact. You giggle playfully at his words.

"Will god punish me?" You asked, fearing you'd pissed him off.

"Yes...he will...he definitely will"

"Good thing I like punishments then" You say smirking, watching for his reaction. He swallowed, wanting nothing more than to give you those kinds of punishments, he knew that was a bad thought, he wanted to give them to you, he could think of a few in his head right now. He tried to calm down.

"Are you saying you want to be punished...?"

"Are you offering. Father Barnes?" You ask, biting your lip, you even went as far as to clasp your hands together, making sure your arms pushed your chest together, giving him a view. Bucky bit his lip as he heard your words, he knew he shouldn't of answered, but something in him snapped and the words left his mouth anyway.

"....yes, I am"

"You should be careful, giving me all kinds of ideas" You spoke, and he was. Ideas and ideas went through your mind, imagining his spanking you, tieing you up, gagging you. The ideas were enough to make you feel wet in between your legs. Bucky wasn't being careful anymore, he wasn't thinking straight, not when he wanted you so badly. He hated how weak for you he was, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't resist you, even though he was suppose to, he couldn't fight these feelings when they were so strong for you.

"What kind of ideas...?"

"Who's being naughty now?" You asked him, shuffling a little closer to him, careful not to get any sand on your skin. Bucky found himself wanting to give into his desires, wanting to hold you, kiss you, tell you all sort, his body felt heated.

"I am...god, I'm being naughty" He said, shocked at himself, he should of walked away and never spoke to you again, but he didn't. He stayed. And when you giggled, he felt his heart burst.

"Yeah you are, whatcha gonna do about it?" You asked, your playful tone now more serious. He looked you up and down and finally spoke.

"I'm going to...punish you" He said, his voice low and dominant. "You are you? Wanna take me back to your pretty little church? Bend me over that stage" You say, grinning, his blushed harder with every word, you spoke again, wanting to see his reaction "Spank me?"

Bucky's eyes widen, he could picture it so clearly. The image in his mind turning him on more.

"Yes...I do" He says quietly then slowly he stands up and looks down at you.

"Get up, we have somewhere to go" He adds.

"Holy shit, really?" You asked, shocked, you hadn't thought he was being serious. You stood up and brushed down any sand on your body.

"Yes...really...right now" He says, his voice low and dominant.

"Gods, fuck" You whisper, you grab your dress and put it back over your body. Bucky smirked as he watched you, his mind was going crazy, he wanted you so badly, once you were ready he started to walk, and you followed close behind him.

"Walk a little quicker" He orders, his voice still soft but dominant.

"Yes Father Barnes" You respond, reading for this dominant side of Bucky. Your body was warm, and tingling. You picked up the pace, and walked toward until you reached the church, Bucky unlocks the doors and hurries you in, locking the door behind you. He grabbed you by your shoulders and pushes you against the wall, pinning your wrists against the wall, keeping you held against the wall.

"You're about to break so many rules" You say grinning "You sure you wanna do that?"

Bucky swallowed as you spoke, he felt how close you were, his body pressed against yours. He looked into your eyes and replied in a low dominant voice.

"Oh yes....I want to.."

"Naughty, naughty priest"

He chuckles softly as you spoke, he leaned down to your ear and whispered very quietly.

"I want you so badly....I shouldn't...but I want you so badly"

You giggled at his words, enjoying him, enjoying being pinned against the wall by your naughty priest. You thought to yourself, your parents were wrong, you couldn't be made into a good girl, being bad was too much fun.

"Punish me" You whisper. Bucky bit his lip, he liked that you were enjoying this.

"You're going to across my lap, and I'm going to spank you"

"Fuck...yes sir" You whispered. He let go of your wrists and moved back slightly, he walked over to a pew and sat down, he looked at you and pointed down next to him.

"Come here then" He said, using that dominant tone. You walked over to him and climbed onto him, resting your front over his lap, you pushed your hands against the pew, holding yourself up.

Bucky smirked, he wrapped his large firm hands around your waist keeping you still over his lap. Once you were comfortable, he reached down and started moving your dress up your legs, pulling it over your behind, bunching it up at your lower back.

"Ready?" He asks.

"Yes, Father Barnes"

Bucky's eyes trail over your bare legs as he raised his hand up into the air, he swallowed as he held it there for a moment before swifty bringing it down on your bare skin. He could hear the sound of his hand smacking your flesh as it echoed around the empty church.

"One" He said in a low voice, still keeping his hand against your skin. You moaned loudly the second his hand came into contact with your skin. He slowly removed his hand from your skin, and took a second to look down, he was able to see the red mark on your skin and he found himself wanting to see more.

He brought his hand up again, and brought it back down on your skin, this time a little harder.

"Two" He said in a low voice, his hand resting against your skin for a few moments before being lifted again, then he brought it back down, once more a little harder. You wiggled a little on his lap as the slaps echoed through the church, you kept your eyes closed and moaned each time.

He repeated the process, each smack getting harder. He swallowed as he slowly started seeing more, and more red marks appear on his skin. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter in your bikini bottoms, you wanted Bucky to know, so you had a little idea.

"May I do something, to make it easier for you?" You ask sweetly. He stops spanking you for a moment and looks down to you, his hand was still resting on your arse whilst he raises an eyebrow at you.

"What...what is it?" He asks in a low voice. You carefully climbed off his lap and moved your hands to shimmy off your underwear, you dropped them on the floor and then climbed back onto his lap in the previous position you had been in.

"I'm all yours" You purr.

"Just remember, you asked for this" He says calmly, he could see you now, your naked arse cheeks, if he spread them he'd see both your holes, ready to be used by him. He didn't, he needed to punish you first, and not get distracted by your perfect little holes.

"Oh, I know baby" You say grinning. He swallowed as he heard you call him 'baby' he found himself liking how you sounded so sweet.

"I want you to count them" He says bluntly.

"Yes, Father Barnes" You say. He brings his hand down to your arse again and you count, starting again from one.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

You could feel yourself dripping from your clearly needy pussy onto his trousers, you had hoped he could feel it also. Bucky could, your wetness had dropped down onto his thin trousers and soaked through onto his skin, he bit his lip and stifled a groan.

"You're doing so well" He whispers.

"Am I being a good girl for you?" You ask playfully.

"Yes, you are being a good girl...for me" He admitted in a low voice.

"If you keep going, I'll only ever be a good girl for you" You whisper, meaning the words as you say them. You may have only met the man a few days ago, but you felt it, wanting this feeling forever. Bucky smirked, he loved it, loved that you were going to be good for him, it only turned him on even more.

"Oh really? You'll only be good for me, no one else? Just for me?" He asks, wanting to hear you confirm it again.

"Just you, I promise....Father Barnes" You say, adding his title just to tease him a little.

"Good girl, you're mine now, aren't you?"

"Yes, Father Barnes" You repeat his title, smirking.

"Good, I like the sound of that" He said, the tone of his voice giving you away all he was feeling for you, all the things he wanted to do to you. You giggled softly, and sighed happily as he rubbed his hand over the red mark in the shape of his own handprint on your skin.

"Can I make a suggestion?" You ask.

"Yes... what is it?" He asks, his mind running wild at whatever you could be thinking.

You move off his lap, your legs feeling a little wobbly as you do and then you stand in front of him.

"I'd like it if you would fuck me, up there on you little stage" You say, smirking and pointing to the stage at the top of the church. He swallowed hard, he never thought he would hear you say something like that.

"Are you trying to be naughty?" He asks, in a low dominant voice.

"Always" You say with a giggle.

"That's not very good, being naughty on purpose...I will have to punish you more for that then" He says, smirking darkly.

"Punish me how...daddy Barnes?" You ask innocently. Bucky's mind was going crazy and he knew if you carried on like this he would lose it.

"That would be telling..and good girls trust their daddy's don't they?"

"Fuck, yes they do" You whisper, happy he played into your kinks. He loved how you responded, it only made him want you more.

"Good girls obey their daddy's, don't they?" He asks, taking a step closer to you.

"Yes sir" You say quietly, looking up at him through your eyelashes. "You know what good girls do?"

"What do good girls do?" He asks, still trying to control himself.

"They crawl on their hands and knees up to the pretty stage where their daddy will fuck them" You say innocently, a sly grin forming on your lips. Bucky felt his arousal instantly fill his body even more, his mind full of scenarios and thoughts less tame than before. He wanted you so badly, you were so bad, so naughty, and he loved it.

"You're being a very naughty girl, right now"

You nodded and slowly slide down to the ground, resting on your knees, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Am I?"

"Yes, you are..." He said in a low voice as he watches you sink to your knees, his cock was painfully hard now, still confined in his trousers, he got harder when he looked down at you, knowing you weren't wearing panties under the dress.

"Yes, you still want me to do it, don't you daddy?" You asked, you were so wet, this was exactly what you needed, deprived, messed up foreplay, leading to passionate and hard sex. And you didn't think the village priest was going to be the one giving it to you. Bucky's cock got harder every time you said daddy, it wasn't a kink he was aware he had. But here you were. He was losing control of himself, he nodded before he answered.

"I do want you to do that...so much" He said, his voice barely above a whisper, he couldn't believe you were going to crawl across the floor for him, he couldn't believe you let him spank you. He was shocked that he even had it in him to do this, but he liked it. You smirked and moved so you were on all fours, making sure your dress was resting on your lower back, giving him a peek of your dripping wet pussy. And then you started to slowly crawl to the stage, the ground was cold and it hurt, but you could hear Bucky's heavy breathing and knew this was affecting him and that was all that mattered. He moved with you, walking behind so he could see you, his mouth watered as he looked at your wet centre, he wanted his mouth on you, his tongue deep within your folds.

"Such a good girl" He murmurs in a low voice, his eyes following your every move.

"Imagine if I had a little leash, you could lead me by the throat" You say quietly, the idea causing a shiver to run through you. Bucky's breath hitched, he loved the idea.

"Oh yes, imagine that..." He said quietly, his eyes trailing over you, thinking about how it would look with a little leash, following you. Once you reached the bottom of the stage you sit back on your knees, facing him.

"Use my mouth?" You ask, giving him wide innocent eyes as you look up at him. Bucky loved this, he loved how submissive you were being, all for him. He had started rubbing his cock through his trousers, he had never been so hard before, it ached, he needed his cock inside of you. He looked down at you, sitting on your knees, and he know what he wanted to do with you...now it was just about getting you to beg for it.

"How badly do you want that?" He asks calmly.

"Bad girls don't deserve opinions, they have their mouths used, whether they want it or not" You answered, you had hoped this answer showed Bucky you weren't playing, you wanted this, and you wanted everything and anything he was willing to give. He swallowed once as he heard you say this, he liked the way you talked to him right now, the control he had over you, it was driving him crazy.

"You are a bad girl, aren't you?" He replies. You nodded and opened your mouth, your tongue bar shining as you stuck your tongue out. Bucky felt his mouth go dry in that moment, he never thought he had a tattoo and piercing kink, but today he knew for sure, he did. It took all of his composure not to grab you and kiss you.

"God, you're so good" He mutters, finally he unbuttons his belt, throwing it somewhere, he had a little thought that next time, he was going to use that belt on you. Though he did really like seeing his hand print on your skin. Your mouth watered as he pulled down his trousers and boxers, he stepped out of them, and kicked them aside. His hand was now around his cock, his hard cock, he pumped his hand around it a few times, stepping closer to you. Your mouth was still watering, he was large, thick and veiny, you squeezed your thighs together imagining it stretching you out.

Finally Bucky grabs the back of your head and thrusts his cock into your mouth, doing as you requested, using your mouth. He groaned loudly at the feeling, sure he had done things like this before...before... but it had been a long time since, but nothing compared to this, your mouth was perfect and Bucky found himself thrusted hard into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, all whilst he was muttering a string of 'fucks' and 'gods' your sweet, hot mouth enough to make him take his lord's name in vain. He didn't care. You kept your mouth open for him, closing your lips around his cock, moving your tongue best you could, but he didn't leave much space inside of your mouth. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, your mascara stained and in streaks down your face, you didn't care as you moaned loudly for him, you moved one of your hands down your body to your wet untouched pussy, your fingers slick as they pushed through your folds and down to your hole and then back up to your clit, you expertidly pressed against the little bundle of nerves moaning loudly, you hoped Bucky would see what you were doing and punish you more.

Both of his hands were on either sides of your face, he held you as he fucked your mouth, he was very aware of your breathing, making sure to check on you in the midst of him face fucking you. He stroked the tears away, slowing his movements down when he sees your hand moving fast against your own skin. He stops moving holding his cock in your mouth for a moment, gagging you until he moves away, you take a few deep breaths and then look up at him, your mascara was no longer on your eyes, now completely streamed down your face, you had drool around your lips, your puffy red lips. Bucky thought you looked beautiful.

"Why are you doing that?" He asked, pointing down to your hand, still moving slowly through your slick core.

"I'm a bad girl, remember?" You ask, your voice a little scratchy.

"Yes, you are a bad girl" He says, his voice still dominant. You giggle and keep your hand moving, sitting more on your bum now, spreading your legs a little, though your dress hid you mostly.

"Don't you like watching me?"

He swallows as he watches you, his eyes were trained on your hand, wanting to see more.

"I do like watching you" He admits.

"I can keep going?"

"Yes...yes you can" He says in a low voice, loving this too much.

"Anything for you" You whisper, you stand up from the ground and hop onto the stage, sitting on your bum. You raise both legs and rest them on the edge of the stage so you were spread out completely for him, the air hit your pussy and it felt great, and knowing it was the only place where Bucky could look right now, made you feel warm inside. You lifted your dress and moved your fingers back down, spreading your lips further for him, letting him see your tight hole. You watched as Bucky licked his lips, his hand was around his cock again as he stepped closer to you, watching you completely expose yourself to him.

"Good girl" He whispers, taking another step closer, he was stood at the edge of the stage now, his body a teasing distance away, he kept watching you pleasure yourself, gasping when you pressed two fingers into your hole, you were wet, so wet that you could hear the noises your body was making with each movement from your fingers.

"Why don't you come for me... come for me" He says in a low tone, he swallowed as he stayed still watching your fingers sped up, he licked his lips, wanting nothing more than to taste you, but he didn't, wanting to see you finish, just for him. Your fingers move perfectly against your skin, just how you liked it until you were coming hard, calling out his name as it echoed throughout the church. Bucky loved it, he wanted more, wanted you to moan his name over and over. He couldn't take it anymore, when your legs flopped slightly, he pressed both of his hands to your waist, needing to feel your skin.

"Take me Father Barnes, right here, on your stage" You say, feeling a little lopsy. Bucky smiled as he heard your words, you were begging for him, and he loved it.

"Oh, I will"

"How do you want me? On all fours? On my back? Bent over your little stage?" You asked, giving him ideas. Bucky pictured all the options and more, and he needed them all. His mind was going crazy with thoughts again.

"All of them...I want you in every position imaginable" He says, his voice still dominant, full of want and need for you.

"Oh you sweet man" You say with a fond giggle "Careful, or I may fall in love"

Bucky froze for a moment, he found himself liking the sound of you falling in love with him, he wanted you to be his, and only his. He takes another step towards the stage, now very close to you.

"Oh I want you to be in love with me" He says in a love, dominant voice, as his eyes roam over your body, he wasn't able to hold back his feelings and desires any more, he needed you so badly.

"Show me what that cock can do, and maybe I will" You answer, a foreign feeling in your chest, though you tried to ignore it.

Bucky climbs onto the stage, climbing over you body, hovering over you, his hard cock bounced against his stomach.

"I'll show you..." He says in a low voice, his breath tickling your lips now. You grin and wrap your arms around his neck, laying your hands flat against half his neck and half his jaw.

"You're mine...you do know that, don't you? You belong to me" He murmurs, his breathing becoming faster, his mind full of lust and desire.

"All yours, take me you naughty priest" You say quietly, his cock was dragging across your lower stomach, leaving a wet stripe of precum and it made you want him even more, you opened your legs wider, a silent beg for him. Bucky looked down, seeing you pinned underneath him.

"Mine to take" He says quietly, his hand moved down to grip his cock, slowly he rubbed his head through your very wet folds, both of your breaths hitched, and you moved your hands to grip his shoulders.

"Make it hurt" You say playfully, done with the slowness you needed him, deep inside of you.

Bucky swallows again, he was shocked by the request, but excited and aroused by it at the same time.

"You want it to hurt?" He asks, just wanting to confirm what you mean, wanting to hear you say it again.

"I want you to fuck me so hard the walls shake, put your hand around my throat, so I feel dizzy as I come hard squeezing your cock" You say in a low, filthy tone. Bucky's mind ran wild, he pressed the head of his cock inside of you, groaning loudly at the tightness of you just around his cock. He couldn't imagine how you'd feel fully around him.

"You're a bad girl, a very bad girl" He says quietly, you nodded and wiggled your hips, moaning softly when he went in a little deeper. He grinned, knowing he was teasing you and enjoying the feeling. He felt himself grow harder within you, if that were possible, he knew he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Such a naughty, impatient bad girl. I'll have to punish you even more, even harder..."He says, in a low dominant voice, as his mind got wilder.

"Punish me, take me...please Bucky" You begged, hoping that using his actual name would be enough. He finally pushes deep into you, slowly stretching you, you both moan loudly, your nails dug into his shoulders whilst his hands balled into fists on either side of your head.

Bucky felt himself going crazy, it felt...better than anything. He loved it, so much and he wanted more, wanted to hear you moan, again and again. He began to slowly move, his body on top of yours, pinning you to the church stage, he moved one hand down to your hip, holding you so hard it would surely leave bruises, or at least you hoped.

"Hold my neck...please" You begged.

For a moment Bucky worried that he would really hurt you if he did, but he was past arguing, he was going to do anything you wanted. He slowly moved his hand from your hip and slowly trailed it up the side of your body up to your neck. He wrapped his large, strong hand around your neck, keeping a good firm grip on it. You moaned loudly, his thrusts got harder and deeper, and with his hand on your throat it didn't take long for the pleasure to rip through you, you moaned loudly, enjoying the echo through the church, as you came hard, squeezing his thick cock. Bucky groans loudly and fucks into you harder, he closed his eyes and moved to rest his forehead on your shoulder, his hand still firm on your neck as his hips fuck into you.

"Do you like it, me having my hand around your neck like this...?" He asks.

"Y..yes! Wanna know what I love even more?" You ask, your voice strained under his grip.

He lifted himself from your shoulder, slowing his thrusts.

"What do you love more than this..?"

"I love that I corrupted you, Father Barnes" You say with a smirk. He swallows, he couldn't deny that you did. You made him break his vows, he was acting against everything he had swore to do.

"Yes...you did corrupt me" He said, his voice dripping with desire for you.

"I'm a naughty little sinner"

"Yes you are... you're a naughty little sinner, but you're my naughty little sinner. My bad girl, and you're mine to do what I want with you" He said, his dominant tone having a underlying care to it. His thrusts were hard and deep, the slap of his hips against your hips loud and wet.

"Gods yes...Are you gonna finish inside of me, daddy?" You ask smirking, your back was arched and your legs lopped to the side of his hips as you struggled to hold them up.

"Yes, I want to...Oh, can I?" He asks, his tone sounding more pathetic by the second. His forehead was against yours, his hand tightened against your throat as his thrusts got messy, you were so tight around him, he was euphoric.

"Do it"

"Are you going to be a good girl for me...and take it all?" He whispers, his thrusts sloppy and fast as he pounds into you.

"Yes sir! Oh yes...daddy! Yes..Father Barnes" You whine as you feel yourself finish again, clenching around his cock "I'll take it all for you"

Bucky sped up, his hand tightened as you wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing him fuck into you deeper, you both moaned loudly as you felt him finish inside of you, he groaned and slammed his hips against yours, keeping himself fully into you as he pulses, filling you with his seed.

Your vision went spotty as his hand gripped you, the pleasure overwhelming you, you gripped hard on his shoulders.

He slowly let go of your neck, moving his hand down to your hip, holding you close to him, wanting you to never move.

"How do you feel, my little sinner?" He whispers. You take a large breath and giggle.

"I'm great...are you...okay?" You ask.

He swallows and rests his head against your shoulder, breathing slowly as he tried to process what he had just felt with you.

"Yes...yes, I'm okay...that...that was incredible. You're incredible..." He whispers, his mind still feeling wild with everything he felt, but also beginning to slowly return to a calmer state from before. You held onto one another for a while, not speaking just breathing and existing together.

"Can't believe we did it in a church" You say, with a giggle.

He slowly sat up, removing himself from you. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked at you, his eyes still full of desire, but also full of something else, he was in awe of you.

"I know..I never thought I could do anything like this..least of all in a church. But I don't regret it, I don't want to regret what we did...I'm glad we did" He says, his eyes still roaming over your body, he couldn't help himself.

"You don't regret it?" You ask carefully, a small part of you worried, he would. Maybe he'd get angry at you. But he shook his head, looking into your eyes.

"No...I don't regret it, not even a little bit. I don't regret doing that with you, not after what it felt like...not after hearing you like that. It's something I will never forget. I'll never regret doing something I wanted to so, so badly"

"You just threw away a life to god, for a girl, you just met" You say quietly. He did feel horrible for it, forgoing his life goals, but he knew from the moment he had set his eyes on you, that he could never resist you, he could never resist the temptation...

"I know...I know I sacrificed something I swore my life to...but it's something I wanted to do. I wanted you, you won over god"

"Bucky...you...you don't even know me" You whisper, the guilt suddenly settling in, surprising you, you hadn't thought you would feel guilt, but when you looked into his blue eyes. "I can't believe I did this to you"

Bucky shook his head, not knowing what to say, but he knew he wanted to say something to make you understand.

"It's not your fault, don't put this on yourself...I'm the one that threw my life away. Don't feel guilty. You're innocent in this. This is my doing, it's my fault, I wanted it too" He explains, though you wanted to giggle, you definitely were not innocent.

"I...I don't even know why I'm feeling guilt, I never do...What makes you, so different" You say, wiggling a little, still lying underneath him. He was staring at you, his eyes roaming over your body like you were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He wasn't sure of the answer himself, but he had to explain. At least try to explain why he felt the way he did and why he felt like he couldn't resist you, and what was different about you.

"I don't know why either...You make me feel powerless" He whispers. You smile softly, feeling the same about him, you reach up and press your lips against his ever so slightly. You both sigh contently into the kiss for a moment, before you move away and ask.

"What do we do now?"

Bucky swallowed as he wondered the same thing. He knew that he had given up everything he had sworn to do. He could never be a priest again, ever. He was lost and he really had no idea what to do.

"I...I don't know...What are we supposed to do. I'm lost. I feel like I should have a plan, but I don't...I really don't have a clue on what the hell I'm going to do now" He whispers, feeling lost. And you felt the same. Neither of you belong here. Maybe he never did belong here.

"Fuck.."You whisper, then thinking of an idea. "We could run away together"

Bucky thought about it for a moment, nodding his head slowly, the idea beginning to make sense to him the more he thought about it.

"Run away together...I like the sound of that...yes. We could run away together, we'll go somewhere we won't be found, we start over and we stay together"

"We could...I have no money...but I'll get a job, we'll drive away, get money, move into a quiet little cabin, away from people"

Bucky smiles slightly as you talk, imagining the scenario in his head. He loved it, the idea of running away together to somewhere no one would know know of. He loved the idea of being alone, with you. And only you.

"I have money, I have enough to last us for a long time, we could live for months, maye a year. But yes, we can live somewhere away from everyone. Somewhere quiet and away from any prying eyes"

"And you're sure?" You ask quietly. He nodded, more confident than ever that he was making the right choice by choosing to run away with you.

"Yes...yes I'm sure. No hesitation, I know what I want, and it's you. I'm sure of it, I want to run away with you" He says quietly, his nose bumping yours slightly.

"Let's go then" You say smiling. He smiled and nodded, leaning down to give you a kiss.

"Alright then, we'll pack, and get out of here as soon as we could" He says quietly,

"We need to get up and get dressed and go" You say, smirking, the idea was mad, completely crazy. But you never felt like you belonged in this village. You never felt like you belong anywhere, but with Bucky, you could belong. He stood up first, helping you onto your feet, you dress quickly and take both his hands in yours, standing in front of him.

"I'll go to my house, and then we meet here, in an hour?" You ask, rubbing your hands over his palms and up his arms.

"Perfect, I'll see you in an hour" He says with a smile.

"See you soon handsome" You whisper, reaching up to peck his lips lightly.

Bucky kissed you back, feeling himself blush at the compliment, a smile appearing on his face. He looks down at you, meeting your eyes, feeling new feelings wash through him.

"I'll see you soon beautiful" He whispers, kissing you again, before he slowly released you from his arms, watching you leave his church. Soon you'd be together, away from this town, and together. Where nobody knew you. You couldn't wait, you packed the very basic things, leaving a note for your parents, before you met Bucky back at the church, he was ready with his car. And with one more kiss, you got into the car and drove away from the village where neither of you belonged. Both scared and terrified for the next step into the adventure, but you'd be together.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel smut #bucky barnes smut #fluff #bucky barnes fluff #Priest Smut #bucky barnes fanfic #Bucky smut #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fluff #james bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky smut

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seungfl0wer · 5 months ago

Text

*Daddy Jeongin*

Daddy Series:

Contains Smut

-💜

•Protective.

•Very protective over you.

•I don’t think he’s a very confrontational person.

•However someone so much as looks at his baby the wrong way and suddenly he’s ready to go to jail.

•Likes to do the whole sharing location thing.

•Not in a controlling way, more so he knows if something happens he can help.

•Or especially when he knows you’re home he can send you stuff.

•Loves surprising you with little stuff like sending you lunch.

•Although he’s not a big touchy person I feel like with you he’s the complete opposite.

•You’re one of the only people that he craves touch from.

•Sitting on the couch? He wants you in his lap.

•Out on a date? He’s got his arm snug around you.

•Loves to match with you too.

•Has a whole arsenal of matching PJs, and Shirts.

•He also absolutely loves picking outfits out for you. Putting you in all sorts of cute things.

•Anytime you’re giving him attitude he’ll put his pretty hands under your chin.

•Making you hold eye contact telling you “Bring back my sweet baby”

•If you continue he’ll withhold cuddles from you.

•Or on the rare occasion that you’re being extra bad he’ll pull you away bringing those pretty finger back to your face.

•He’ll apply a little more pressure and give you his scolding voice telling you that you need to behave.

•Doesn’t like to do spankings as a punishment.

•He’s one that rather talk it out.

•He’s definitely the kind to push his fingers into your mouth to shut you up too.

•He’ll leave you little gifts too, he loves spoiling you so much.

•He definitely is the type to get you a necklace with a J as a way to say who you belong too.

ੈ♡˳Smut Below

•He’s a menace.

•Likes to toy with you a lot.

•Overstimulation, Orgasm denial or his favorite temperature play.

•Ties you down put an ice cube in his mouth and running it over your body.

•Enjoys the little whines that come from your mouth because it’s cold.

•He’s even tried a glass dildo he stuck in the freezer to see how you’d react.

•Daddy jeongin has this certain look he gives you.

•It’s a wild feral look that you know you’re in for it.

•Although he doesn’t like spanking as a punishment he’ll definitely use a sexual one.

•Like keeping you tied down having a vibe on low and just leaving you.

•Things he says a lot are

•“Maybe you’ll learn some manners hmm?”

•”See what happens when that pretty mouth turns bratty”

•“Daddy wants to play with what’s his”

•Aftercare is always filled with soothing breaths.

•He’ll bring you one of your most comfy PJs dressing you.

•He’ll reassure you a lot and ask if you’re alright.

•Soft I love yous as he’s kissing over little marks he’s left.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @0omillo0 @jellymochii @stilltrynafuckingtumble @catlove83

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satorucci · 26 days ago

Text

big bro satoru <3

♡ cw: incest, vouyerism, pining, possesive satoru, doting, protective older brother to scumbgag older brother pipeline, older brother satoru who realizes he likes his little sister and feels dirtyyy :o

♡ currently listening to: r u mine? - arctic monkeys

♡ author's note: remember kids, this is all fictional! <3 would also like to note, satoru's feelings for reader are 1000% familial when reader is growing up - be kinky, don't be gross <3

MDNI

♡ big brother satoru, who has doted on you since the day you were born. you were his sister, so of course, you were the cutest kid around.

♡ big brother satoru, who defends you from the neighborhood bullies as you grow older, because, to be quite honest, you are kind of weird. but you're his little sister, and he's the satoru gojo, meaning everyone who even looks at you wrong gets a black eye as a parting gift.

♡ big brother satoru, who doesn't quite understand why you start to drift away from him and become so moody once you enter high school. no more ice cream dates or sneaking into movies you didn't pay for - oh no, you'd rather spend your time with the mean girls who satoru sees right through. the ones who call you their friend, but in reality they only keep you around to fuck with your self-esteem. he wants to kill them, but he's been raised to never hit girls. still, he contemplates it because you're his little sister.

♡ big brother satoru, who cries dramatically on your 18th birthday, thinking of the little sister whose been glued to his side since birth (apart from your high school years, ugh). he can't stand the thought of you running off to a college different from his own, no matter how much he begged you to "just apply! what's the worst that can happen?", to which you vehemently declined, wanting to be more than just "satoru's little sister".

♡ big brother satoru, who finds himself brooding over the fact that you'll inevitably find your first boyfriend in college. brooding? hm, yeah. brooding. he rolls around in his bed, room dark and moody the night before you disappear off to college for your first year. how could he not brood over it? he knows what guys that age are thinking - he knows what he's thinking when he sees a hot girl on campus! a hot girl? would his sister qualify as hot? a not-so-small part of him sure hopes not.

♡ big brother satoru, who finds himself thinking of you all too frequently at college. the once prince-of-campus becomes a cloud of dark moodiness as he sits in the deepest corners of the parties that he suddenly hates going to. "i wonder what she's doing right now..." he sends you text after drunken text, asking what you've been up, if you're enjoying your first year, telling you how much he misses you, asking if you've been having any issues with boys.

♡ big brother satoru, whose mood, if not already ruined, was absolutely destroyed after you text back saying you've found a nice boy in your first three months of college and you'll be bringing him home to meet the family during winter break. why the fuck would he want to meet this douchebag? maybe to scare him. maybe to kill him. these are the only two options he can think of when it comes to assuring that his perfect little sister with her perfect little lips and her perfect perky tits, and... and... and he's still thinking about his sister, right?

♡ big brother satoru, who tries so hard to convince himself that he's just having intrusive thoughts before going home for winter break. that the thoughts of his little sister's perfect ass and perky tits are just some sort of cosmic punishment for the less-than-gentlemanly way he's treated women in the past. still, it doesn't help when he only gets hard late at night as he thinks of you, the things you've been doing on your college campus, who you've been doing them with. is his little sister still perfect? or has she changed? does she understand what all those campus boys want from her - what her boyfriend wants from her - and does she give it to them? most importantly, when did he become like this? and why?

♡ big brother satoru, who finds himself steeped deep in thought all too often, trying to reckon with the fact that he is no longer thinking innocent thoughts of ice cream dates with his little sister. he's only ever seen you as his little sister, nothing more. not until you ran off to college. his sister, his pride and joy, his possession, likely being manipulated and cheated by the stupid, stupid fucking boys on your campus. when did he start imagining himself being the only one to comfort you? to hold you? to fill you up in every way imaginable? satoru, who used to rag on guys that seemed like they wanted to fuck their sisters, has now become one. but he'll keep that secret to himself.

♡ big brother satoru, who begins browsing through your social media, dick in a vice-like grip as he sees the pictures you post of you and your college friends. you, his perfect little sister, in low-cut tops and slutty halloween costumes that show off the perfect rounds of your ass. he completely ignores the other girls in the photos, keeping attention only on you, his perfect, perfect little sister who, he's coming to terms with, might be quite the minx. he strokes his cock while he thinks of your lips wrapped around him, and - around him? no, no. around someone else. yeah, your lips wrapped around someone else's cock. and then he's soft again.

♡ big brother satoru, who can't stop glaring at the boy you bring home for winter break. he's such a loser. he looks like your typical andrew-garfield-wannabe nerd. why would his little sister ever go for someone like this? he doesn't even look like he could protect her, let alone fuck her like she deserves. ah. he slaps his cheeks, plastering a smile on his face as you and the rest of the family look at him like he's crazy. he hates how you stand there, big doe-eyes looking dazed and confused as you shift uncomfortably in your too-tight dress. it's winter, why are you in a dress? to impress your boyfriend? it hurts too much to think of it that way, so satoru convinces himself that it's all for him. that everything's for him. because he's your big brother and it's always been the two of you.

♡ big brother satoru, who gets left home alone with you and your boyfriend as your parents go out grocery shopping. they had insisted that all of you stay home and rest after making long trips home. satoru doesn't argue, he's never been the type to go above-and-beyond when he doesn't have to. if he has an excuse to lay in bed and do nothing, he's going to take it. but he can't deny that he's incredibly annoyed at how you and your boyfriend pranced off to your room as soon as the door shut behind your parents.

♡ big brother satoru, who walks into the kitchen to find a sweet treat and swears he hears you whining from your room. he's ready. totally ready to bust down the door, question your boyfriend, beat his ass, because what is he doing that could be causing his little sister to make such pathetic noises?

♡ big brother satoru, who, as he inches closer to your bedroom door, finds himself picking his jaw up off the floor. the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin that he's all too familiar with, the faint smell of desire and sex seeping from the small crack under the door, the way you're whining and begging your boyfriend "harder! please, please keep fucking me!" the way you're thanking him each time his cock sinks deep inside you.

♡ big brother satoru, who realizes that you, his perfect little sister, truly have become a little minx. one not for him, but for some fucking loser freshman at some loser college he tried to convince you not to go to.

♡ big brother satoru, who carefully, quietly, pulls his rock-solid cock from his pants, leaning against the wall outside your door as he listens to your cries and coos. wrapping his hand around his cock, he imagines that all of it is for him. that you know he's outside your door, and your whines and moans are all for his pleasure. satoru, who bites his shirt to keep his own moans from escaping as he listens to you chant religiously, "keep fucking me! keep fucking me! i love you, i love you so much!" the rhythm of his hand keeps up with the rapid pace at which your boyfriend is stuffing his cock inside of you, and satoru's groans can be barely be concealed through the cotton of his shirt. he just knows your perky tits are bouncing around, nipples hard, and cunt soaking wet. he can hear it. he can hear how wet you are, the squelching as your boyfriend's cock sinks in and out of you at a breakneck pace.

♡ big brother satoru, whose cock is red and weeping as he listens to his perfect little sister getting turned the fuck out. as he listens to you beg and plead for more and more and more, and ohmygodwhycantitbehim. your boyfriend doesn't actually know how to fuck you right, but satoru does. satoru is a god. he's the man everyone wants to be or wants to be with. the twitching of his cock is incessant, non-negotiable as the pitch of your voice raises. you're so close. you're so, so close, princess. satoru just wants you to cum for him. the slapping sounds grow more chaotic, less controlled as you and your boyfriend near the end. satoru's face is flushed, his cock leaking so much he thinks he might've cum once already.

♡ big brother satoru, who absolutely blows his load when he hears you say, "cum inside, wanna have your babies" in a desperate plea. his perfect little sister, begging another man for his cum. his perfect little sister has turned into a cumdump with the potential to fuck men to their graves. satoru is near his own climax, barely able to catch his breath, grinding his teeth on his shirt as sweat sticks to his forehead. his cum drips freely from his hand as you peak, screaming like a woman possessed.

♡ big brother satoru, who struggles to collect himself and quickly clean the remnants of his cum off the floor before you or your boyfriend exit your bedroom. satoru, who feels both euphoric and disgusted because you're his perfect, sweet little sister and it should be him using you as a breeding cow, not this loser you picked up from god-knows-where. satoru, who is stuffing himself back into his pants when he hears you say, "send me that video", and suddenly he's his cock is stiffening again. when did you get like this? when did you become the most perfect slut?

♡ big brother satoru, who barely makes it back to his room in one piece. who spends the rest of winter break finding any hookups he can in his small hometown, fucking in and out of girls and thinking only of you and your sweet cunt. he'd beg you just for a taste. he'd die for it if you asked him to because you're just so perfect. his sweet little sister. satoru who is so glad when you send your boyfriend off for for the last few days of winter break. satoru, who prays to god that maybe, just maybe, you'll stumble into his room, pupils blown and face flushed, and beg him to fuck you like a real man should.

♡ big brother satoru, who remembers he is a god, he is a miracle-worker, and something as perfect as you won't just fall into his lap without divine intervention.

♡ big brother satoru, who on the last day of winter break, sends you an ambiguous text message, cock already hard and leaking, "you should send me that video you made"

#jjk smut #satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #dead dove do not eat #dark content

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adelliet · 27 days ago

Text

Joel Miller x f!reader

TEACHER'S PET

Summary: You, as always, didn't do your homework, so you got detention. But, what starts as a punishment turns into a secret, obsessive game of power and lust, that you will not forget.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, teacher/student relationship (both characters are adults), dominant/submissive dynamics, nicknames (slut, sweetheart, …), fingering, multiple orgasms, oral sex (male receiving), praise kink, unprotected sex (piv), creampie, school-setting tension, little angst!Joel

A/N: Hii! I hope you'll like this story/smut! If you have any ideas, suggestions, or anything else, feel free to text me. Also, I apologize for any grammar mistakes or phrases that might not make sense—English isn’t my first language :3 But I hope you enjoy the story! <3

Masterlist

It’s just another school morning.

You’re walking down the hallway with your best friend Maya. She’s grinning like an idiot, nudging you with her elbow as she sips iced coffee from a reusable cup.

“Try not to cum the second he walks in, okay?” she teases, half-whispered, half-laughing.

You roll your eyes with a snort, cheeks warming instantly. “You’re so dumb,” you mumble, but the corner of your mouth can’t help twitching into a smile. Because yeah… she’s not exactly wrong.

Joel Miller.

Your new literature teacher. Only two months in, and you’re already a mess. He teaches with that deep, Southern drawl, his voice rough like gravel and honey, and God help you, the man reads poetry like it’s a sin.

Every class with him feels like you’re being edged intellectually and emotionally. And maybe a little physically too. You walk into the classroom, and it’s all downhill from there.

You drop your bag by your desk and sit down, already distracted before class even starts. The room is buzzing with chatter, people rustling papers, unzipping backpacks, getting ready. You? You’re just staring at the door, waiting.

And then it happens. The bell rings and the door opens. There he is.

He steps inside with that signature calmness, a worn leather messenger bag slung across one shoulder, sleeves rolled just past his elbows, revealing strong, veined forearms dusted with dark hair. The cotton of his shirt clings to his chest in all the right places, and the way he adjusts his glasses as he looks around the room? Unholy.

Your core pulses. Just from looking.

He walks slowly to the desk, every step like a magnetic pull. His boots hit the floor with a muted thud, his posture relaxed but confident. That salt-and-pepper beard is trimmed perfectly, shadowing the line of his jaw you’ve stared at one too many times during his lectures.

You don’t hear a single thing he says. Because you’re not listening.

You’re watching his fingers. Those thick, skilled fingers, uncap a pen and jot something down on the board. You wonder what they’d feel like tugging your hair or gripping your thighs or—

You blink, cheeks burning.

“Okay, folks. Take out your homework,” Joel says, his voice a velvet command.

Only when zippers and rustling bags start echoing around the room, you snap, blinking back to reality. Shit.

You turn toward Maya, panic flashing in your eyes.

“You did the homework, right?” she whispers, pulling her sheet from her folder.

“I—” You hesitate. You had every intention of doing it. You thought about it, you really wanted to impress him, wanted to do well in his class. But something came up and then it slipped out of your mind.

You’re fucked.

Your fingers fidget. You chew the edge of your nail. Your leg bounces nervously beneath the desk. He’s making his way around the room, collecting the papers one by one. And then he’s at your desk, right in front of you.

He reaches for Maya’s assignment without a word, his body angled slightly toward you, and you can smell him—woodsy cologne, leather, coffee. Something warm and addictive. He leans closer.

“Y’got yours?”

You look up at him, eyes wide, your mouth suddenly dry. He’s so close. Close enough that your skin prickles, close enough that the heat of his body almost brushes your cheek. His gaze stays neutral, unreadable, but his jaw’s tense.

“I… I’m sorry. I meant to do it but something came up and I forgot.”

He exhales through his nose, gaze flicking toward the classroom window like he needs a second not to react. His voice is calm, but tight.

“That’s not the first time, is it?”

You flinch a little. It’s true, you've forgotten a few homeworks lately, too caught up in him to function properly.

“You’ll stay after. Detention.”

Your jaw drops slightly. “W-What? I’ll do it tonight—I’ll hand it in tomorrow, I swear, just—please, I have plans after school—”

He’s already moving on to the next desk without reaction, without argument, just: “Detention.”

You slump back in your seat, humiliated. Maya covers her mouth, trying not to laugh.

“Someone’s gonna be suckin’ Miller’s cock,” she teases under her breath. You elbow her, cheeks burning. “Shut up.”

But even through the sting of frustration and embarrassment, a little part of you, the part currently wondering how he’ll look at you when the classroom is empty and quiet and the lights are low, kind of… doesn’t mind.

Time alone with the hottest, most captivating teacher in the whole damn school? Doesn’t sound so bad.

You didn’t hear a single word for the rest of the class.

Not because the room was quiet—Joel’s voice still echoed, low and steady, through the lecture hall—but because your focus was completely consumed by him.

Every movement he made felt deliberate, magnetic. The way his broad shoulders moved beneath the fabric of his shirt. The subtle flex of his fingers as he turned a page or tapped chalk against the board. Even the faint lines at the corners of his mouth as he spoke, as if every sentence was backed with some deeper thought he wasn’t sharing.

Your thighs pressed tightly together beneath your white summer dress, a subconscious attempt to anchor yourself, to not let the heat building between your legs take over your mind completely.

The fabric of the dress, light and barely grazing your skin, didn’t help. It clung in places it shouldn’t, and the warmth of the room—or was it just him—had your skin tingling, oversensitive, alert.

You shifted in your seat, squeezing your legs together again when you saw him adjust the cuff of his sleeve, revealing more of his forearm.

Something about that simple act made your breath catch. It wasn’t just attraction. It was need, raw, irrational, impossible to ignore. Your chest rose and fell in shallow waves, your core pulsing with every stolen glance you dared to take. There was something primal about the way he commanded space. And you felt it everywhere.

When the bell finally rang, it startled you back to the present like a sudden jolt. The rest of the students began to gather their things, rustling bags and murmuring to each other. You blinked, hands reaching for your notebook in slow, distracted motion. Your pulse was still racing.

You and Maya were halfway to the door when his voice cut through the air like velvet wrapped in iron.

“Don’t forget—detention.”

You stopped dead in your tracks.

His tone wasn’t raised, but it held an edge. Stern, direct, laced with authority. But it didn’t scare you. Quite the opposite. It hit something deep inside you, something that made your knees go weak and your breath hitch in your throat. The heat that had been simmering all class long flared suddenly, dangerously. You could barely look at him, not with the way his eyes brushed over you, steady, unreadable, as if he already knew what kind of thoughts were spinning in your head.

Beside you, Maya let out a soft laugh and nudged your side. “Girl, get your face under control.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, but you weren’t. Not even close.

Later, at lunch, Maya sat across from you at your usual table, smirking into her salad.

“You’re gonna combust,” she said, pointing her fork at you. “I swear, you looked like you were about to pass out when he said ‘detention.’ You okay?”

“No,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m not. I’m—”

“Thirsty,” she offered helpfully.

You peeked at her through your fingers. “Do you think… if I actually had a shot—like, a real one—to blow him, should I take it?”

Maya choked on her water.

“Oh my god,” she coughed, laughing. “You did not just say that.”

You leaned back in your chair, flushed and breathless. “I mean, I wouldn’t actually do it. Probably. Maybe…I don’t know! It’s just, he’s Joel Miller. Have you seen his hands? The way he talks?”

“Yeah, and the way he gives you detention,” Maya teased. “Which, by the way, I think you’re secretly looking forward to.”

You stared down at your tray, heart still fluttering like it hadn’t quite caught up with the rest of you. Because truth be told… she wasn’t quite wrong.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Every class felt like static noise in the background—your mind already stuck on what awaited you at the end. Detention. With him.

By the time the halls emptied and the last bell rang, your heart was racing like you were heading into something forbidden. You walked slowly, deliberately, each step echoing down the corridor, your palms slightly clammy as you pushed open the classroom door.

Joel was already there, seated at his desk with a few papers in front of him. He was reading something, brow furrowed, his fingers absently rubbing against his lower lip—a gesture so casual and yet so… distracting.

The door creaked as it closed behind you, and his head lifted. His eyes found yours in an instant, dark and unreadable, and he gave a slight nod toward the desk closest to the front. “Sit,” he said simply, and you obeyed.

You didn’t say a word as you settled into the chair, trying not to let your dress ride up too high. It was hot today. It wasn’t your fault that the short summer dress made your skin feel electric, or that your thighs kept brushing when you crossed your legs.

Joel stood up, approached slowly, and stopped at the edge of your desk. He looked down at you, voice calm but firm. “Do you even know what the assignment was?”

You hesitated, already knowing the answer was no. Your mouth parted to form something, anything—but he exhaled, frustrated, and slapped a sheet of paper onto your desk.

“The prompt,” he said, “was to write about your greatest desire. In poetic form. Minimum of two hundred and fifty words. You’ll sit here until it’s finished… and until I think it’s good enough.”

You blinked, startled. “What?”

He arched a brow. “You heard me.”

Then he turned and returned to his desk, sitting back down with a controlled calm that made your stomach clench.

You stared at the blank page for a while, your mind swimming—not with words, but with him. Then you looked up at him and thought about his voice. His scent. The way his forearms looked with those sleeves rolled up. The veins in his hands. The line of his throat when he tipped his head back.

And then it hit you.

Words started flowing faster than you could think. Line after line, vivid and raw, filled the page. You didn’t filter. You couldn’t. It was as if something had broken loose in you—this quiet, desperate longing you’d been carrying for weeks, now shaping itself into metaphor and pulse-heavy confession.

Every so often, you looked up, and sometimes his eyes were already on you. Not for long. Just fleeting moments, but they ignited sparks all the way down your spine. And when your eyes locked, you had to squeeze your thighs together beneath the desk, trying to contain the wave of warmth rushing through you.

Finally, when you’d scrawled the last word and your hand trembled from how fast you’d written, you stood up, gripping the paper tightly. Every cell in your body screamed that this is insane, and yet… you were already crossing the room.

Little did he know, that you wrote about your sexual desire for him. You described it in detail, poetically, what would you like to do to him and how, as well as what would you like him to do to you.

He looked up as your shadow passed over his desk. His brow arched again. “That was quick.”

You didn’t answer. You just handed it to him.

Joel leaned back slightly, eyes shifting down to the paper in his hand. He lifted it slowly, his fingers brushing over the edges, and brought it closer to his face. He didn’t read aloud. But you watched, his expression change with every line. The tightening of his jaw. The flicker in his eyes. The stillness that suddenly overtook him.

Then… his gaze lifted to yours.

And it was different now. Heavy. Tense. You felt the weight of his stare everywhere—on your skin, in your breath, between your legs. It was first time he saw your outfit and he really scan you.

“This,” he said lowly, voice edged with something he was trying hard to suppress, “is inappropriate.”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to cross a line…”

He stood up. Slowly. The scrape of the chair against the floor made your whole body flinch. He took a step toward you—close, but not quite touching.

“Stand there,” he said.

His voice had dropped an octave. Controlled. Commanding. You moved around the desk to stand where he’d pointed—his spot. Joel placed your paper on the desk, smoothing it with his palm.

He didn’t say anything for a moment. And neither did you. The air between you was charged, electric, so heavy it felt like gravity had doubled.

His expression was stern, serious, eyes narrowed with a fire that made your knees feel weak. He set a pen down on the desk next to your writing and said in a low, firm voice, “Cross out anything inappropriate.”

You nodded, swallowing hard, and leaned over the desk. Your white dress brushed softly against your thighs as you bent forward, exposing just enough of yourself to feel the shift in the air behind you. You knew he was still standing close—too close. You could feel the weight of his gaze pressing into your back, burning through the thin fabric like sunlight.

You feel him before you even hear him—his hand brushing against the back of your thigh, slow and deliberate. Goosebumps rise instantly, your spine tensing as heat coils low in your stomach. The pen trembles slightly in your hand.

“C'mon, keep going” Joel mutters, voice low, rough, but there’s something else in it, something darker. Teasing. Dangerous.

His fingers trail higher, grazing the hem of your dress, then slipping just beneath it. Your breath catches, and you grip the edge of the table harder.

Your eyes locked on the ink-stained paper in front of you, even though the words blur under your gaze. His hand slides between your thighs, calloused fingertips moving up your inner thigh slowly, torturously. “You’re too distracted. Maybe I should teach you how to really pay attention.”

You bite your lip hard as his fingers press gently against your underwear—just enough to make your hips twitch, not enough to satisfy anything. You can feel the smirk in his voice without even turning to look.

He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “You gonna cross that out or keep pretending you’re some innocent little thing?”

Your hand moves shakily, red pen dragging a line across the paper, but your mind isn’t on the words anymore. It’s on his fingers, teasing at the edge of the fabric, sliding it to the side—just enough for him to slip between.

When he finally slides your panties aside, the first brush of his fingertips against your bare heat pulls a sharp breath from your lungs. You tense, the sensation electric—like a jolt low in your belly that travels down to your thighs. His touch is light at first, teasing, as if he wants to savor every second of this new power he holds over you.

“Already wet for me,” Joel murmurs, almost to himself, but loud enough that you hear it—and feel your face burn with heat. You don’t move, don’t speak. You’re completely frozen, except for the way your hips shift back just slightly, begging without words.

His index finger slides on the surface of your folds, slow and deliberate. He traces you from bottom to top, gathering your slick, then circling your clit with just enough pressure to make your knees tremble. He doesn’t rush. He wants to feel every twitch, every reaction—wants you to know you’re under his control.

You whimper when he presses down more firmly, rubbing slow, torturous circles. Your hands grip the table harder, knuckles white, breath shaky. He watches the way your body responds—the way you arch into his hand without even realizing it.

Then he slides a finger inside you.

The stretch makes you gasp. He moves it carefully, deliberately curling it just enough to brush against that sensitive spot deep inside. Your legs shake as he sets a rhythm—steady, unrelenting. Then comes the second finger, thicker, deeper. You moan, softly, head dropping as your body clenches around him.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his free hand gripping your hip to hold you steady. “You’re squeezin’ me so tight.”

Each thrust of his fingers is slow but deep, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The wet sounds between your legs grow louder, obscene, echoing through the quiet room. His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing tight circles in sync with the rhythm of his fingers plunging in and out of you.

Your body is fire—hips jerking, thighs quivering, mouth open with desperate little gasps you can’t hold back.

“You close?” he mutters, leaning in so his voice rumbles right against your ear. “Gonna come all over my fingers, sweetheart?”

You nod helplessly, barely able to form words.

And then he speeds up, fingers moving faster, thumb harder, and it’s too much. The pressure bursts all at once. You cry out as the orgasm rips through you, your muscles tightening around his fingers, your body shaking uncontrollably. Joel doesn’t stop, not until you’re whimpering, oversensitive and breathless, collapsing against the table, legs barely holding you up.

He finally pulls his fingers out, slow and dripping, and brings them to his mouth—sucking them clean with a low groan.

“You taste even better than I imagined.”

You’re still trembling when he steps back, his belt already undone, jeans pushed down just enough to free his cock—thick, flushed, already hard from watching you fall apart under his touch. He’s looking at you like you’re a feast, like you were made just for this.

You straighten slowly, legs shaky, and turn to face him. Your eyes drop to the way he strokes himself lazily, precum glistening at the tip. You swallow hard. He raises an eyebrow at you, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

“You starin’, sweetheart,” he mutters, voice thick with arousal. “You want it?”

You nod, stepping closer, sinking to your knees without breaking eye contact. Joel hisses through his teeth when you do.

“Good girl,” he says lowly. “Knew you’d look perfect down there.”

Your fingers wrap around the base of him, and he’s so hot and heavy in your hand that it makes your core clench again, already aching for more. You run your tongue along the underside, slow and teasing, tasting the salt of his skin. He groans, hand falling to your hair, not pushing—yet—but guiding.

You swirl your tongue around the tip, licking up the precum, and then you take him in—just the head at first, letting your lips stretch around him. He growls softly, head tipping back.

“Fuck, feel so good.”

The praise makes your thighs press together instinctively. You take him deeper, slow but hungry, feeling him stretch your throat. He’s big—almost too much—but you want it. You need it. His hand tightens in your hair when you hollow your cheeks and start to bob your head, setting a steady rhythm.

“Atta girl,” he grunts. “Doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

You hum around him, sending vibrations down his shaft, and he groans, bucking his hips forward just slightly. Your eyes water, but you don’t stop—you want him to use you. His breathing turns ragged as you take him deeper, faster, spit dripping down your chin, your hand stroking what your mouth can’t reach.

“Look at you,” he growls, gaze locked on yours. “On your knees, takin’ my cock like a good little slut.”

That makes you moan—so much so that your eyes flutter closed, overwhelmed by the need to please him. He twitches in your mouth, and his grip tightens.

“Shit—keep goin’. I’m close,” he breathes. “Gonna come down your throat. You want that?”

You nod with him still inside you, eyes wide, desperate.

“Then take it,” he snarls. “Take every fuckin’ drop.”

With a final thrust of his hips and a broken groan, he comes—hot and thick, spilling onto your tongue. You swallow quickly, not wanting to waste a single bit, your lips still wrapped tightly around him until he jerks from the overstimulation.

When you finally pull back, breathless and flushed, he’s staring down at you with a mix of hunger and admiration.

Before you can even wipe your mouth, Joel grabs you by the waist and hauls you up like you weigh nothing. You gasp, caught off guard, hands flying to his shoulders as he turns and slams you down onto the table. Papers scatter everywhere.

“You think you can just sit there in that little dress,” he growls, pushing your knees apart with rough, determined hands, “actin’ like a tease, not do your goddamn homework properly—”

He yanks your panties down your thighs and tosses them aside.

“—and not get fucked for it?”

You don’t get a chance to answer.

He lines himself up and pushes in with one hard thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The stretch makes you cry out, your nails digging into the wood of the table as your body adjusts to his size. He doesn’t give you time. His grip on your hips tightens as he pulls back and slams into you again, the force jolting the table beneath you.

“This what you needed, huh?” he grunts, voice sharp with control. “A hard fuck to teach you how to focus?”

“Mr. Miller—fuck!” you moan, your words barely coherent, back arching as he pounds into you, fast and brutal, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the room.

“Yeah,” he breathes, leaning over you, his mouth at your ear. “You take my cock like a goddamn champ, baby. So tight—so fuckin’ wet for me.”

Every thrust hits deep, dragging against that sensitive spot inside you, making your thighs tremble, your breath coming out in frantic, broken gasps. He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head against the table, fully owning every inch of you.

“You gonna be a good girl next time?” he growls. “Do your fuckin’ homework when I tell you?”

You whimper, nodding, barely able to speak. He smirks, slamming into you harder.

“Say it.”

“I—I’ll be good,” you gasp. “I’ll do it, I swear—”

“That’s more like it.”

He releases your wrists and lifts one of your legs higher over his shoulder, changing the angle—and suddenly he’s even deeper, hitting spots that make your vision blur. You cry out, eyes rolling back, fingers clawing at the table’s edge as he keeps going, unrelenting.

“You feel that?” he hisses. “That’s me teachin’ you a lesson.”

You can feel your orgasm building again—hot and fast and uncontrollable. Joel sees it in your face, in the way your body clenches around him, and he grins darkly.

“Gonna come again, aren’t you?” he mutters. “Such a desperate little thing. Come on, baby. Come all over my cock.”

And just like that, you shatter—legs shaking, mouth open in a silent scream, your body pulsing around him. Joel groans low and guttural as you tighten around him, and a few rough thrusts later, he’s coming too—filling you with a hot rush of release, staying deep inside as your bodies collapse together on the desk.

He rests his forehead against yours, both of you breathless, sweaty, completely spent.

“Now that,” he mutters with a smirk, “is how you learn.”

The next morning, your thighs are still sore.

You try not to limp into class, but Maya clocks you the second you slide into the seat next to her. She leans in, eyes narrowing.

“So…” she hums, “how was detention?”

You glance at her, trying for casual—but the moment your lips twitch into a smile, it’s over. Maya gasps so loudly that a few people in the rows ahead of you turn their heads.

“Oh my god. YOU FUCKED JOEL MILL-”

You lunge across the desk, clapping a hand over her mouth.

“Are you crazy?” you hiss, eyes wide. “Do you wanna shout it louder, maybe let the principal know too?”

Maya yanks your hand away, but her eyes are dancing, her voice lowered now to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t you dare lie to me. I saw your face. You’re glowing. Like post-orgasm, wrecked-for-life glowing.”

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin. “Shut up.”

She gasps again, this time softer, leaning even closer. “You fucked him! You totally—oh my God. You and Professor Tall, Dark, and Growly?”

You’re already blushing. She fans herself dramatically.

“Okay, details. I want everything. Was it hot? Was he rough? Does he growl the way he does in class?”

Your cheeks burn hotter. “Maya—”

“He totally does, doesn’t he? God, I knew it. That man is sex personified. Did he make you come with just his—”

“Jesus Christ, Maya!”

She stifles a laugh. “Sorry, sorry! I’m just… I’m happy for you. That’s like… forbidden fantasy dreams fulfilled. You’ve had a crush on him since the first lecture, babe.”

You look down at your desk, smiling like an idiot. “Yeah. And now I can’t stop thinking about it. About him.”

Before Maya can reply, the classroom door opens. And there he is.

Joel Miller. Same flannel, same boots, same deep, intimidating presence—but now all you can see is yesterday. His fingers buried inside you, your knees on the table, the weight of him pounding into you like he owned your body. Your thighs press together involuntarily.

He strides to the front of the room, placing his notes on the desk. Your eyes trail over his hands, remembering how rough they felt on your skin. You’re so deep in the memory that you barely hear him start to speak.

“Alright. Let’s get started.”

But then, then he looks at you.

Just a flicker. A glance that lasts a half second too long. And the corner of his mouth twitches.

It’s not a smile. It’s something darker. Wicked.

Maya turns toward you, oblivious, scribbling something in her notebook. But you’re frozen, breath caught in your throat.

Did he just wink?

You can’t be sure. It was so fast, so subtle—but that little spark in his eye… it wasn’t nothing. It was intentional. And it was meant only for you.

He turns back to the board like nothing happened, like he didn’t fuck you senseless on his desk the night before. But your heart is racing, and your whole body feels like it’s on fire.

And now you have to survive the next hour trying not to squirm every time he says your name.

Hii! Thank you so much for reading!

I hope you guys enjoyed it! If you have any suggestions, don’t hesitate to let me know! I’d also be super happy for any feedback; whether it’s a reblog, comment, like, or even a follow.

Have a lovely day!

BYEE!!! 🎀🌷

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flamingpudding · 1 year ago

Note

I love your writing so much but I'm here with a crack idea just imagine deage Dan is Klarion.

Dan was able to find out who he is outside of Danny then he was able to change his name Klarion Jackson Fenton/Nightingale he is still a little villain boy also now a mom boy.

Ghost King Danny is his mom young justice was so confused when Klarion you're the best gifts get your mom after not talking to him for a while to also begging them to pretend to be his friend . Justice League dark is panicking in the background about the electric being that just shows up.

Danny in full ghost king attire standing there with a plate of cookies ready to meet his son's new friends.

Thanks so much! I am glad you enjoy my writing!

Also thanks because I absolutely love this Idea/Prompt! Sooooo please enjoy this piece inspired by it! Also I haven't consumed a lot of DC material lately so i am basing this all on my memories. In other words.... I went with Tim's little team here.

Hope that's okay and that this won't disappoint.

-------------------

Dan, who was going by Klarion for some years now, had a massive problem. It was the huge kind of problem build on small bubbles of lies that then turned into this one giant bubble that was about to pop just because of one little question asked by his mom when his sister decided to throw him under the bus to deflect from herself and the fact that she was dating a demon. Don't get him wrong he still loves her, but man did he want to strangle Danielle right now.

"So Klarion, Ellie is right. When will I get to meet your friends you told me so much about?"

It was such an innocent question from his mom. And while his moms titles don't scare him, cause at some point in time they could have been his too, the happy dopey smile like nothing was wrong in the dimensions with little expectations directed at him was the scariest thing his mom could ever direct at him when he had asked THAT question.

So now Klarion was in need of a quick solution. When his mom had asked he had mumbled out a quick: "Next week maybe. We won't be busy with hero stuff then." He had started to form a plan. First of all, he needed to remember what all he had told his mom about his new and redeemed life on Earth 43 he had build for himself with the name Klarion Jackson Fenton-Nightingale.

Which fuck. There was a lot he had told his mom just so he wouldn't worry.

Cause now he also remembers that whenever he had gone out to cause some chaos he had made it seem to his mom like he was going out to bond with his new friend or help them with their hero duty. Well, in a way maybe his chaos causing could be seen as bonding. The ghostly kind, that is. And as for helping with the hero duty... he did give them work, something to do with their hero status. Anyway Klarion tried to remember all possible names he had dropped. Shit why did he also mention to his mom that he was working with heroes to make her proud? He should have name dropped some villains instead but nearly all of them were adults. He knew his mom would have frowned if he had only adult friends and no one around his age.

He was pacing his room in their castle. He need a plan, a good one at that. He knows he name dropped Robin, now Red Robin, Superboy and Impulse on a whim once. Superboy more so cause his mom had been interested in the Alien Heros of the Earth of the dimension he was partially living on now. He had mentioned Robin for the joke of knowing that there is a Dinner in an other Dimension with the same name. And because his Grandfather didn't like the Flash-clan which meant his mom didn't like them too much because of their messing with timelines either, he had mentioned being friends with Impulse on pure spite because of a punishment one day and to see their reactions. So he had to get these three on board anyway, and because for the heck of it he would get Wonder Girl involved too. It was never bad to have a girl in a friends group.

Klarion stopped his pacing. Turning towards his demonic ghost cat companion, kind of what Cujo was to his mom now. "Teekl, I think I have a plan. I will convince these Idiots, that shouldn't be a huge problem. Most of them are normale little flesh sacks." Teekl and him stared for some time at each other and after a moment Klarion huffed turning away with crossed arms. "It's a good plan don't be so sceptical, they are heroes right? They will not refuse my request!"

Well maybe Klarion should have planned this a bit better.

The next day Red Robin blinked at the witch boy up from the ground in the living room of what looked like to be an normal apartment. He had just been in Gotham, working on a case and now he was here? Looking to the left he also noticed that Superboy (the older), Impulse and Wonder Girl were also with him. They all looked stunned he observed and partially disoriented. Additionally they hadn't heard from Klarion since the last time they had foiled his plans on raging chaos upon the earth, that had been weeks ago.

"Kla-"

"I have summoned you heroes here. For the moment it is fruitless to try to leave because of the magic barrier." Okay rude to be cut of but that explained why he suddenly wasn't where he remembered to be last anymore. It was now Superboy who opened his mouth first but before he could even make a sound Klarion decided to speak over them again. "I have presents."

Four young heroes collectively blinked, confused, stunned and weirded out. As the which boy before them waved over to wards a table filled with boxes and packages. "I come in peace today, to proof that I brought these are presents, filled with various goods from different dimensions that should be to the liking of you all. Technologie, accessories, snacks, weapons, as well as clothing styles."

Red Robin shared a glance with his friends, a silent communication but before he once again could say anything Impulse was already by the table going through the stuff. They could here his 'oh's and 'ah's, which inevitably made them curious and they wandered over too. Klarion was not acting hostile at all yet but Red Robin did not trust that so he kept the which boy in clear view the entire time.

"Rob! You gotta see this! That actual futuristic Tech!"

"Look at these snacks."

"These accessories don't look to bad..."

His eye twitched when he noticed Klarion was sporting a smug look. Red Robin had to ask now, because this was not normal for the other. "Okay usually you would have started some big shot chaos plan by now. I don't buy this peace offering act and your way to formal talking. So what is going on?"

The other three, thankfully in Red Robins opinion, finally looked away from the tempting gifts and also turned their attention fully on Klarion. Who's smug smile falter as he let out a sigh and stared at them with what they could only describe as a frustrated look.

"My mom is planning to visit me."

"And?" Impulse asked between munching on three different bags of chips that where on the table.

"And he believes I am friends with you idiots."

They stared slack jawed. Impulse was pinching himself like he couldn't believe what they had just heard. Did one of their Villains, just informed them that their mom believes they were friends? Red Robin was starting to think he might be in a sleep deprived Hallucination.

"Why would she?" Wonder Girl questioned next to which Klarion glared at her with fire in his eyes.

"First of, my mom uses the pronouns he/Him. Be rude to my mom and I will find a way to make your life a permanent hell on earth." Wonder Girl blinked lifting her hands as in a sign of peace. "Second, my mom is under the believe that i work with heroes not against them. I do not have the heart to disappoint him after everything that happened in the past. So I embellished the truth a little."

"A little?" Superboy retorted sarcastically, to which they caught a light blush dusting the which boy's cheeks.

"Look my sister threw me under the bus and my mom wants to meet my friends now! So I need you idiots to play nice with me for when he visits!"

"And we will do that because?" Red Robin crossed his arms, watching their villain sceptically still not really buying this entire act. This was to strange of an behaviour change. Something was up, and he was going to get behind it.

Klarion on the other hand was starting to panic internally. His plan was not as he had hoped. The presents he had specifically gotten from other dimensions with what he believed was their interests did not work to make them simply accept his request. This was the last time he would listen to old man Vlad on how to bribe humans, he wasted his entire week on getting all that stuff. His mom was going to show up soon enough he need to have them act as his friends by then so he could remove the magic barrier. Or else his mom would notices he faked everything.

They left him no choice. He would have to throw his pride away for the sole reason to not disappoint his mom.

All four Young Justice Heroes blinked as Klarion suddenly threw himself on the ground before them into a pleading position.

"Please! I beg you, just for the time my mom is here. Please act like my friends!"

"I didn't think Klarion was a mama's boy...." Impulse whispered to the rest of them in pure disbelief as they stared stunned at the kneeling witch boy.

Cut to the heroes that noticed their teens were missing.....

"Where is he?" Batman growled at the Constantine who was sighing tiredly.

"Look mate, the way you and the other Spandex wearing friends explained it, made it sound like they got summoned by a being of the Infinit Realms." The blond man sighed lighting another cigarette eying the four heroes, Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman and Flash. Zatanna was behind him pouring over a book about the realms and trying to find a tracking spell to trace it back and to where they could have been summoned.

"Don't you have something like a tracker on your boy?" Batman only growled something under his breath to which the Brite couldn't help to arch and eyebrow. Constantine was going to say something sarcasting as Deadman suddenly appeared a panicked look on him. "The Ghost King has chosen to come to our dimension."

"Say bloody what now?" All attention that had been on the heroes and their problem of missing teenage heroes turned now to Deadman and the news he brought with him. "The ghost, shades and spirits talked, for the king has decided to visit our Dimension. They are in an uproar, no one knows of why our King is on his way."

"Bloody fucking hell!" Constantine cursed. "We are fucking screwed! Isn't that guy a fucking tyrannical eldrich war maniac?!"

Deadman nodded solemnly and Constantine uttered another hearty and colourful 'fuck'. While the heroes present exchanged worried glances, not only were their kids missing but now a, by the sounds of it, highly dangerous being decided to appear in their dimension? Batman couldn't help but think that there had to be a connection to the missing teens and this.

Meanwhile in the Infinite Realms the Ghost King Castle...

Danny smoothed out his fur trimmed cape and adjusted his crown so it was floating nicely and evenly on his head. Today was the day he would get to meet his sons friends. He needed to make a good first impression. That was why he had chosen to take on his Ghost King form for this. With the wave of his hand he made an ice mirror appear before him, checking how he was looking once again. Once satisfied he nodded to himself looking over towards Fright Knight who was holding the plate of cookies he had baked himself. It was the fifth batch, and the only one that didn't turn out burned. He had needed Jazz help for this one to turn out well. It was only proper if he brought some cookies for the kids. Also he would have loved to bring his families fudge but... the last time he had tried making them had turned into a disaster.

"Thanks Frighty. Do you think Klarion's friends will like these? Wait don't answer! If they don't like them I will just get something else to thank them for taking care of my boy." Danny rambled on as he glanced at the plate of cookies in his hands. Why was he so nervous? He was just going to get to meet his little boy's friends. Sure his boy had dropped some stories about them and his adventures with them here and there. But hearing stories and meeting the kids were two different things.

Shaking his head Danny put on his best smile as he summoned a portal to Klarions apartment in the 43th Dimension of Earth. It was time to visit his boy in the place he had made his second home and thank the people that looked after his kid.

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todomochi-uwu · 14 days ago

Text

About last night | R. Z

Pairing(s): Roronoa Zoro x reader Genre: Angst, fluff Warnings: This content is for a mature audience Synopsis: What are we? Author's notes: It seems all I can write are self-indulgences, enjoy. Masterlist If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕

Once again, the crew was celebrating a victory.

Nami and Robin were dancing together; Luffy was chomping down every single bite left of the buffet; Usopp and Chopper were goofing around the island; Sanji was surrounded by a bunch of beautiful ladies; Franky was in the middle of arm wrestling some poor loser; and Zoro was, as usual, downing bottle after bottle of sake. You were content seeing each of your crewmates have fun and relax after the rough days you’d gone through, but there was an empty feeling in your chest.

You looked at him and wondered if the same questions ran around his head. Did you ever cross his mind other than when you were in bed together? Did he ever want more? Or was it just you?

Whatever you two were seemed to be enough, in the beginning. Now, the nights you used to crave so much seemed turned insipid. Not to say Zoro wasn’t a great lover, of course not, but once the act itself was done, all his warmth died down, quick to ask if you were okay, and proceeded to snore almost right away.

Admittedly, it was no one's fault but your own for allowing yourself to fall for the swordsman.

Your heart, body, and soul ask for more, not only for his body to embrace you but also for his entire being to give you the same passion with which he fights, with which he drinks, with which he lives. ...but that would be asking too much from someone who doesn’t love you.

So now, your punishment is to wait and see if he’ll ever.

"Hello, love, is this seat taken?”

“All yours, Sanji.” You gave him a small smile. Trying to hide what’s already written all over your face.

He lit a cigarette and turned to look at you. "My god, you are gorgeous." He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. " Why don't you go dance with the girls? They are having fun. Maybe that’ll cheer you up.”

“M’okay.” You whispered, looking at your feet.

Yeah, you had gotten all dolled up. A cute, and kinda risky dress (courtesy of Nami’s closet); some small heels; shimmery makeup and a quick bun with some face-framing hair pieces. Robin said you looked gorgeous, that anyone would be a fool not to notice you. Yeah, well, apparently, he was.

"Come on, love. I can’t stand seeing you dress to the nines only to spend all night glued to a chair.” He caressed your cheek. Why couldn’t you fall for Sanji? It would be a thousand times easier, I mean yeah, he might be a perv and a whore, but at least he was honest and transparent with his feelings. Always paying compliments and showing his love through food, no puzzles, no mental games, just plain and painfully obvious love. Must be nice.

You leaned against the warmth of his skin, "You know why I’m like this, Ji.”

He scoffed, “Don’t remind me, still can’t believe you fell for that fucking marimo, he’s beneath you, princess.” He lit up another cigarette, taking a deep drag as he looked at where the source of all your troubles remained. Wasted. Dishevelled. Relaxed. "You deserve everything good in this world, and yet you settle for someone like him. I don’t get it.”

“Sanji.” You gave him a sad smile. He didn’t mean the things he said about Zoro, but he would always try to protect you.

"Dance with me." He took your hand in between his, sweetly stroking the back of it. Just as you were about to get up, wanting to end your pity party, an uproarious crash turned everyone’s heads. Boisterous laughs and the flapping sounds of sandals running down the corridor.

“Give me a second, beautiful.” He gave you a bright smile, before running off to the kitchen (you guessed), where Luffy was probably tormenting some poor cooks. “Goddamit, Luffy, why are you like this?!”

You simply laughed.

“He’s not wrong, y’know?” You flinched. Where in the fuck was he hiding? “You look drop-dead gorgeous.”

You just blushed. How does one accept compliments again?

He extended his hand, “...” The guy from the bounty poster, the one Nami had been gushing about when you first arrived at the island; wait, what was his name? “Saw you fighting back there, you have some impressive moves.”

“Thank you.” You chuckled awkwardly. Oh god, you and your incompetence against social skills.

“Care for some company?”

“Sure.”

He sat next to you, taking a sip of his drink, "Thank gods you said yes, I spent like two hours trying to grow a pair just to talk to you.”

“Really?”, you giggled, “why?”

“Why? Do you really have to ask? I don’t think you know how beautiful you are.”

"Oh." You looked down, your face hurt.

“Let’s see if I get lucky one more time.”, he extended his hand, “would you dance with me?”

“Umm...”, you looked at Zoro one more time, hoping he at least was looking your way, but no. Too busy drowning himself with sake and ale along with some of the other warriors to notice you, “yeah, why not?”

The next hour you spent beside him on the dance floor. He told you all about his crew, how they had ended up at that island and the things he’d done that earned him that bounty price. He was as much of a good dancer as he was a storyteller, making you forget about your sorrows, at least for a couple of hours.

Nami and Robin were sending looks your way, whistling and throwing kissy faces. You simply laughed and shook your head.

His movements were precise, spinning you and pulling you at the right pace of the music, his fingers ran up and down your back, grazing your waist, sending shivers down your skin, the way his mouth would whisper against your ear made your poor heart jump. If only a certain man wasn’t in the back of your head, you might have let yourself fall, just for tonight.

At some point, you had asked him to step out with you, the heat becoming too much. You sat on the balcony, looking at the scenery, the moon and the stars, the soft ocean waves, Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp being chased down by Sanji. Everything was okay — at least on the outside.

“Look at our beautiful seamstress, doing the walk of shame, heels on one hand and makeup smeared all over that pretty face." Nami said, giggling, just as you approached the Sunny, "had a good night, princess?"

"Ha, ha, ha, very funny." You flashed her the middle finger, "fuck you."

“My god, do you kiss your mother with that mouth? Or better yet, do you suck co..:”

“Shut up!” Cheeks bright red.

Hell of a night you had. No, you hadn’t gotten laid last night, much to your dismay. After declining your companion’s advances, you had gotten wasted and passed out on the grass somewhere on the island; mosquitos did have their way with you and left bites on your neck, shoulders and legs; one of your heels had snapped so you took them off, and, because you stepped on a stone, you were walking funny; you also wouldn’t stop crying so you had mascara smeared all over your face. So much for a victory celebration.

“I’m going to bed, please, please, don’t bother me. All I want is to die right now.”

Both girls looked at you with sympathy; they knew your heart was broken, and theirs broke because of that. If only the culprit weren't such an idiot.

Robin stroked your back, "We are just kidding, babe. Want me to get you some tea?"

"No, I just want to lie down. Need to rethink some life choices.”

“Of course, I’ll check on you later.”

You hummed, going straight to your cabin.

“Has Y/n come back? I didn’t see her last night.”

"Wait, she didn't sleep here?" Sanji said, alarmed.

“Don’t worry, she’s back. She went to bed; she was exhausted." Robin sipped her coffee.

“Poor thing didn’t get an ounce of sleep last night. She was... busy.” She grinned. She spied on Zoro out of the corner of her eye. He had woken up, now trying to look indifferent, but she knew he was very alert. She had seen him checking the deck every couple of minutes, waiting for a certain girl to come back; she was sure he was about to go out and look for her when she showed up.

“Oh, right! I saw her talking to some guy last night, he had white and black spiky hair, tall and buff, yeah, he seemed nice.” Usopp said, eating his lunch.

“This guy?” Robin conveniently pulled out the bounty poster.

"Yes! Oh, wow, look at his bounty, that’s a nice number.” Nami gasped, it was an overkill, but she knew the marimo head wouldn’t notice.

“It’s not that big of a deal. Mine’s bigger.” The targeted man said, jaw clenched and teeth grinding.

“I mean, it’s quite big, either way. Plus, cute and a high bounty, it’s any girl pirate’s dream.”

His face turned a deeper shade of red.

Sanji laughed loudly, “Stupid marimo", before realising what was going on, "Wait, Nami-swan, you think this guy is attractive? He looks so bland! Ugh, his face makes me want to throw up.” He continued making gagging noises.

“Well, I think he’s cute, but our dear seamstress deemed it nice enough to sit on it.” Usopp choked on his food, coughing and reprimanding the navigator on her vulgarity, while covering Chopper’s ears.

“Huh? What does that mean? Why would Y/n use his face as a chair?" Luffy said, tilting his head, "Is his face comfy? I don’t think it can be, can it be Zoro?” He pulled on the swordsman’s sleeve, wanting answers. Precious and naive Luffy.

"It's nothing, Luffy," Sanji said, cheeks bright red.

“No, but what is it?” The captain continued, “Hey, someone answer me.”

Nami simply ignored him, "Must have been one hell of a night, she could barely walk straight.”

Zoro’s right hand now wrapped around his sword; the left one was tightly gripped around his mug. Fumes coming out of his nostrils. It’s almost hilarious how easy he was.

Crack!

Franky knew exactly what she was doing, and while at first, he decided to just lean back and enjoy the show, his natural instincts barged in. “He had some great moves on him." He got up and started moving his hips suggestively, "he was so smooth, I was almost jealous... of her”

He was also tired of the tugging and pulling that the boat’s sweethearts had, and (though he would never admit it) he loved gossip.

“She looked so gorgeous yesterday, my heart almost stopped. Well... if I had one.” Brook broke into giggles, then took a sip of his tea. Whether he knew what was going on is unknown, but he always had great timing. “I wonder if he got to see her panties.”

Crack!

“Did she dance all night? Is that why her legs hurt?" Luffy continued.

Crack!

"Well, they sure did a lot of work, oh, and her hips must be killing her, all that grinding and thrusting, music sure was intense last night.” Yeah, that was enough.

Crack!

The ceramic had finally given in. White dust and bits of it now lay on the table and floor. Zoro got up, snapping the back of his chair in the process, he stomped his way down the corridor.

Robin giggled, placing her face against her palm, amused by the scene. Nami could only sigh. Finally.

“Hey, Zoro! Don’t go around breaking things!” Usopp yelled.

“What’s going on? Where’s he going?" said Luffy, not catching a single clue.

He didn’t even bother knocking, straight up slamming the door.

“Where were you last night?”

Completely disoriented. “Huh?” Your eyes could barely open.

“Where. Were. You. Last. Night?”

“What? What do you want, Zoro? I’m tired.” You turned to your side, burying your face in your pillow.

Air abandoned his lungs. Purple marks... deep purple marks covered your neck. Mascara running down your cheeks. The hoarseness in your voice. A vision he knew all too well, Nami was right.

His mouth dried up like Yuba, he felt like screaming, throwing up and running away all at the same time. His feet were cemented to the ground; millions of questions roamed around his head. Were you still his? Please, please tell him that no one had put their hands where he did most nights, that no one pulled noises out of you only meant for him to hear, that you hadn’t allowed anyone to see you in ways only he had.

Your eyebrows furrowed. What's up with him? “I was at the party; you saw me there.”

“After that, where did you go? You didn’t sleep here? Where were you?” He pushed, hating how desperate he sounded.

“Zoro...”

He glared at you.

A toxic brew formed in your chest: heartache, a hangover and lack of sleep, don’t make a good combination. “What’s it to you?! Fuck, Zoro why are you acting like this?”

“I have every fucking right to know!” Now full-on yelling.

“No, you don’t! Who the fuck do you think you are?” You sat down on the bed, glaring directly into his eyes.

“I want to know who the fuck my girlfriend spent the night with!”

...

His what?

“What?” You whispered, the pounding in your head now in sync with the one in your chest.

“Who did you fuck last night?” His fists tightened at his sides, bile spitting out of his mouth.

Your brain could barely process what was going on. His girlfriend? Fucked someone last night? Huh?

“Don’t play dumb, Y/n, the rest of the crew saw you. Getting all cozed up with that lowlife.”

His eyes didn’t waver, waiting for an answer, demanding it. Any confirmation that you hadn’t betrayed him, but he got none. So, he did what he always does best: he put his walls up. "Whatever, it doesn’t matter anymore.” He turned to leave, stomping his way out, not wanting you to see him this vulnerable. Panic flooded your chest. You couldn’t let him go now, not like this, you were quick to grab him by the arm, "Let me go, woman.”

“No, we have to talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about? I don’t tolerate disloyalty, no matter how drunk you were or who it was with.”

“I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

He turned to look at you; you knew he didn’t believe you by the look on his face.

“Zoro, I swear.” You begged.

He didn’t say anything.

“I passed out drunk on some hill, completely alone.”

He scanned your face and voice, searching for any traces of lies. "You have marks all over your body."

“I do?” You looked at your skin, noticing small red splotches all over your shoulders; your fingers touched your neck, tiny bumps covering it and itching, “Yeah, I think bugs had a great time last night.”

You could see him hurting, but you were just as confused as he was, “I’m not lying, Zoro.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. He looked at the floor, not daring to look you in the eyes.

“Yes, I’ll admit I was dancing with someone,” his frown deepened, “but I rejected him, nothing happened.” You touch his chest, moving up to his neck, making him look at you. You were sincere, he knew that now, but he was still aching.

“Now, I need you to tell me something.” Your voice got really quiet. "What are we?"

“What do you mean?" he gave you a puzzled look.

“Us. What are we doing? What’s this?” You gestured between you and him.

His eyebrows arched, "We are dating, aren't we?"

“I don’t know. Are we? You never talk to me, Zoro, I never know what’s going on in your mind.”

“I assumed we were together because we... sleep together.” He scratched the back of his head, his cheeks turning red.

“Oh...”, well shit.

“What? Do you think I just go around sleeping with anyone?”

“No, no, but you never said anything to me, never gave me a sign or a label or anything.”

“Sex isn’t enough of a sign?” He snorted.

“Well... no, Sanji always talks about...”

He groaned, shaking his head, "Don't talk about him, not right now or ever."

“Okay.” You bit your lip, not knowing where to go from there.

"Stop overthinking, you always do that." He stepped closer, pulling you into his chest, "Is that what this is about? Was yesterday's tantrum because of this?”

“It wasn’t a tantrum! I was genui..." The green haired man cut you off, tugging your chin in between his fingers.

"You are such a baby. Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

“I don’t know how to.” You looked away.

“Fair, I don’t know how to, either.”

You both fell silent, not knowing what else to say. You blamed Zoro for his lack of communication and clarity, but you were just as bad at it. Minutes went by, simply spent in the comfort of each other's arms,

“Look, we don’t have to solve everything right this second, okay? Just... okay?" He placed a small yet firm kiss on your lips.

“Okay.”

#one piece angst #one piece smut #one piece zoro #one piece #zoro angst #roronoa zoro #zoro smut #zoro x reader #todomochi writes #zoro #zoro fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader #one piece fic

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ferrstappen · 10 days ago

Text

come to bed with me? | Charles Leclerc Imagine

Authors note: is it really Monaco weekend without a little piece of Charles fluff??? Hope you enjoy itC it’s short but sweet :) ALSO pls pls there’s a Lando mention but ofc I don’t think that way, I just thought of something a girlfriend would say to try and ease the tension :)

summary: in the night previous to the Monaco GP, Charles can’t rest knowing he had pole position.

The soft hum of the television filled the quiet of your Monaco apartment, accompanied by the occasional click of the remote as Charles skipped back to a specific lap from last year’s race. You were curled up on the corner of the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, quietly staring at him more than the screen, worry filling your mind and the tip of your fingers ached to just grab the remote and turn the tv off, seeing as Charles wasn’t at ease with less than 24 hours to the Grand Prix.

Charles sat on the floor, elbows on his knees, eyes focused on the tv as if his gaze could change the footage and showing him on pole, as if understanding every micro-movement from the past could rewrite what happened just hours ago.

He had pole position and lost it. Gone. Taken from his hands.

In Monaco. He really owed Lourdes a visit, or maybe a blessing from the new Pope.

You knew what this circuit meant to him, there probably wasn’t a person in the world who didn’t, so of course you knew and understood what it would have meant to start from the front, in his home, in front of people who watched him grow from a karting prodigy into a Ferrari driver, and repeat last year’s history with the faces of his friends on the balconies and your tearful eyes, his tears mixing with yours as you kissed him at parc ferme, but today? And once again, it slipped through his fingers. The Monaco curse was back.

“Charles,” you said softly, slowly moving towards him, but not moving from the couch, and gently massaging his shoulders. “It’s late.”

“I know,” he murmured, not taking his eyes off the screen. His tone was low, tired, frustrated. “I just… I need to understand where I went wrong. If I had taken that turn half a second earlier, if I hadn’t lifted just there…” he grabbed his head on his hands, roughly running his hands though his hair and his shoulders slumped like the weight of the track had followed him home.

Finally, you slipped off the couch and padded over to him, kneeling behind him and wrapping your arms around his torso. He let out a quiet sigh, leaning into your warmth instinctively and taking a deep breath taking in your scent that felt so much like home to him, and your arms embraced him in just the right way for him to actually feel comforted.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you whispered into the space between his neck and shoulder. “Sometimes it just… happens, and I know how much you wanted this. But punishing yourself all night isn’t going to help,” you tried to reason with him, but fully aware you were just repeating the words he’d been listening the entire day. “Plus, with the mandatory two stops it’s a matter of strategy and you will be on front, I know it.”

Charles chuckled and grabbed for hand lovingly, not yet facing you. “A matter of strategy? Babe, you do know I drive for Ferrari, right?”

You couldn’t stop the cackle that left your lips, but it also made Charles laugh loudly, music for your ears considering the situation.

“Yes, I know that, baby… but, the guy in front is Lando, and you know that I have nothing against him but… either him or McLaren will mess up, I know it.”

“You’re my favorite F1 expert.” Charles said quietly, and you were able to hear the smile on his face, but it quickly went away.

“I should’ve done more,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper. “It was mine.”

You pressed your lips to the back of his neck, slow and tender. “I know.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. The footage played on the back, a shot of him through the tunnel, the roar of the engine muted through the television’s speakers.

Then, quietly, you stood and reached for the remote, turning the volume down until the room was filled with the softer, more natural sounds of the sea in the distance and the occasional bark of a dog on the quiet streets below. The good thing was that Charles didn’t protest when you turned it off.

“You’re allowed to rest, Charles,” you said gently, reaching out your hand to him. “You did everything you could. You gave it everything, and the race is tomorrow so please stop treating yourself this bad, it hurts to see you like this, you know?” tears pooled in your eyes out of nowhere, but thinking if only you could take some of the pressure off his shoulders, but you were helpless.

He looked up at you, eyes glassy with exhaustion and disappointment. Then, finally, he placed his hand in yours and got up from the carpet.

You led him to the bedroom, flicking on the small bedside lamp, warm, golden light bathing your bedroom with a hue of calmness. He sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

You knelt in front of him again, this time slowly helping him peel off the heavy red shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his back and shoulders, tension woven into every inch of him. You kissed his bare shoulder softly, before getting up, placing your legs on top of his before cupping his cheeks and kissing him deeply, trying to take all his worries away.

Charles’ eyes were closed as he murmured: “mmh, nothing a good make out session can’t fix.” You giggled and left another kiss on his plush lips, before getting up and lifting the bed sheets so that he could get in.

He slipped under them, and you followed, curling into his side as he wrapped an arm around you, finally, finally exhaling.

“I’m scared tomorrow will hurt,” he admitted, voice small against the quiet of your room.

“I know,” you replied, stroking his chest with slow, rhythmic movements. “But you’re not alone in it. I’ll be right there, and no matter what happens, you’ve already made them proud. You’ve made me proud. Everyone on these streets support you, and only want the best for you.”

His fingers laced through yours, squeezing gently.

“Thank you,” he said, eyes already fluttering closed. “I love you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, then his temple.

“Sleep now,” you whispered. “Tomorrow will come soon enough.”

And finally, with the faint lull of Monaco’s waves crashing in the distance, Charles Leclerc let himself rest, not only as a driver chasing perfection, but just as the boy from Monaco, held safely in the arms of the one who knew him best.

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc one shot #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16 x you #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic

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angelsrcute · 8 months ago

Note

You said dom reader is okay so I am LAYING MY BRAINROT ON THE TABLE—

I'd like to respectfully request Overblot Boys (sans Riddle) being dominated by the reader (preferably afab & gn, there's so much submissive fem reader stuff out there & I want rep as a dom-leaning vers).

Those poor boys all need some therapizing & to get out of their own heads so bad— so what's a better way of doing so than taking charge and making them forget how to speak by pleasuring them? Sure, they can be defiant; and they can deal with a firm hand correcting them. But good boys who admit they need help & ask for it can be rewarded with fucking until they're empty and fuzzy-headed. ^^

The only one I had a semi-specific scenario in mind for was Jamil— him being blindfolded while being sucked off. His attempt at trying to regain control leads to him getting a smack on the ass & tied up so the reader can mark his pretty torso with hickies that they press on while cooing to him & edging him until he yields.

... can you tell I've been repressed lately? Lmao-

WALK EM LIKE A DOG. 𝝑𝝔

૮𐔌ྀི ´ ཀ ྀི 𐦯ྀིა 𝐍-𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 !! ; Sub!Leona, Jamil and Azul (separate) + Dom!F!Reader ➜ cws: Brat taming, nipple play, biting, blindfold use, gag use, spanking (once), restraints (Jamil), mommy kink, crying, use of strap on, praising (Azul), leash and collar use, cunnilingus, praising, hair pulling (Leona). ᡴꪫ‎

꒰ † ੭ — Part 1; I absolutely loved writing for this idea! Though I'm still wondering about what to write for the rest, don't mind if it's late, haha! <3

❝ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋 ❞ — 🪦

This man is definitely a brat, always running his big mouth off. So to make him behave you blindfolded him and put a cloth around his mouth, good, now he will finally shut up. You leave trails of kisses down his neck, biting and sucking on his sensitive spot. You kneel down and stroke his cock a few times before taking it in your mouth.

God, it felt so good, he could feel your eyes were on him— his back arching as he gripped the sheets. His moans were muffled by the gag, he tried to pull away but you held him, landing a smack on his ass. “Behave, if you want to cum, you'd have to be a good boy.” You spat out, smiling at his state. You continued what you were doing, pressing kisses on his cock and edging him! When are you even gonna let the poor boy cum!? Atleast he's listening to you like a good boy after being tied up because of his bratty attitude. <3

❝ 𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐋 ❞ — 🪦

He'd be such a pathetic crying mess, your good little boy! Just shower him with praises and kisses while you thrust inside his hole with your strap-on and he's already fucked dumb. He can only focus on how good it feels, maybe being weak isn't so bad, if he gets to be in your arms. You'd wipe away his tears and tell him he's the best.

Worship his body, play with his sensitive little nipples, leave love bites on his skin— he loves it all, he'd show them off with no shame if he wanted to. He'd definitely be ashamed about the noises he's making so he buries his head between the pillow as you fuck him. Maybe this guy also has a mommy kink! <3

“Gonna cum for mommy, yeah? Let yourself go, my baby.”

❝ 𝐋𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐀 ❞ — 🪦

He'd never admit he likes you dominating him, people are supposed to bow down before him— He is the king, isn't he? But no, you're currently sitting on the bed while holding the leash attached to his collar. How degrading. He can't believe he enjoys it!

His tongue darted out, lapping up your sweet juices. Your fingers tangling itself in his hair as you pull his head back, “How about you beg and maybe I'll end your punishment? Fair deal, right?”

He doesn't meet your eyes but whispers something you can't hear, “What was that, sweetie? You're always so loud, what's wrong, hm?” You try not to laugh at the pathetic man in front of you, you can see his ears turning red as he speaks louder, “P-Please let me pleasure you—”

“Good kitty, go ahead.” You watch as he eagerly dives back, you grip his hair tighter as you feel your orgasm coming. You pull him closer and cum in his mouth, he licks you clean. You let go of his hair, letting him catch his breath, “Well done, now, let's reward you for being good for me, shall we?” <3

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jymwahuwu · 9 months ago

Note

anon who got beaten by covid coming through with more Capitano thoughts.. (no thirsts..yet. I need to coach myself with scenario building..Capitano talks you through every climax. There. That is the most I can write 😭)

Capitano tried to be patient, he truly tried. But he only sighs softly when communication cannot work but force must.

He is a very broad man and it's quite easy for you to spot his looming shadow over you when you had fallen onto the ground, having tried to escape the cabin with only the moonlight as your guide.

"S- Sir.." You look up, tears welled up in your eyes as you try your best to calm your racing heart. You've seen how he has dealt with..most unsavory soldiers. What will he do to you? A lone soldier who has deserted their post?

The man doesn't say anything for a moment, the darkness of his helmet staring holes into you.

"Have I done wrong with you?" He finally speaks, crouching down to speak with you. Despite him trying to match your height..it only makes it more threatening. "I don't believe.. I've mistreated you?"

He's genuinely confused, he can't..register the fact that he's feared by a soldier that he has treated so gently and nicely. "I apologize if I have harmed you.." He tried to make amends anyways.

But then you go and ruin it by trying to run..tsk, tsk, and of course, he only needs to grab your wrist and you're completely immobile. You are a deserted soldier..and unfortunately it seems like you must treat you as the soldier you are.

Even if he wishes you were more than just a soldier.

Bingo. All he has to do is make your punishment..become his bride. He doesn't like phrasing it as a punishment but..perhaps a training session would be better?

You're still training..just..training to be his wife. (Also training to take his very impressive size that he always sighs as he coaxes you into taking every inch of..)

cw: dub-con, forced marriage, yandere, size kink, female reader

Thank you for sending me a story, I really enjoyed it😽💖 You posted it in two parts, and I replied to both here!! (part 1 of the story is here)

Like gentle giant and skittish darling trope! Frightened, awkward you.

Be informed that you have been chosen as a warrior, and that you have given it your all…but, maybe you don't have the talent here. The combat movements are a bit clunky and don't flow smoothly. The vision tied around your waist shines with the light of the elements, but your skills… (such as flowing out a small amount of water, like a spring spring, or just condensing some cheap gems, or electricity like a kitten claws, etc…). Those skills are just not suitable for fighting, you know? Will you use gentleness against Heavenly Principles, against enemies?

After training, failure and frustration have overwhelmed you, and the physical pain and exhaustion cannot be ignored. Not to mention that Capitano in his cape looks down at you like an unshakable mountain. You rubbed your cheek against his palm and couldn't help biting your lip, shedding tears like a little kitten. He pats your head gently and tells you how to improve your movements and use elemental powers. Easier said than done. You nodded, but there was still no way to improve next time.

He's not biased, really. In Capitano's eyes, everyone can fight, but you… may be able to put your talents in other areas, such as cooking and knitting. Your elements are just as gentle as yours. Maybe you can keep that water and food warm. His confession to you is formal and prepared. He asks you in serious terms if you can marry him and spend the rest of your life together.

You… look terrified, hyperventilating from shock. "Me-me?" You pointed at yourself, shaking. Captain wants to marry you? That first of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers? He was just joking, right? You refused and distanced yourself from him like he was a flood.

I like drama🫣😹 so I added some wind and snow. On a moonlit night, you planned an escape, only to fall on the snow and almost be washed away and submerged by the wind and snow. Looking back, I saw that familiar huge figure walking out of the falling snow. He grabbed your wrist a little too roughly, "Sir- Sir?" As always, you looked at him with tears, but fear gnawed at your heart even more.

"You might be dead." There was ice in his voice. He knelt down on one leg and looked down at you. "What are you doing? Did I… hurt you? If you feel that way, then I apologize."

"I-I'm sorry!" You cried, even the tears froze. You know he's right. He is worried about your safety. How is he going to treat you? Will he put you in jail? Capitano carries you in his arms and takes you back to his home. It's there to restore your body temperature and keep you warm. He immerses you in the warm water and towels you off.

If you don't plan an escape, you can still enjoy your options. Since you ran away… you can't return to Fatui, but as his wife stay with him and receive training. Starting from looking directly at his mask, you panicked, but now you can't. You have to look directly into his dark blue eyes, from the depths of your soul. A huge cock stood erect in the middle of his pubic hair and was leaking pre-cum. You stammered, placing your hands on his heated belly as you looked directly at the impressive size of his cock for the first time, "W-What is this? How does this work…!? Can you- can you be a little smaller…"

That's why you need to be trained to accommodate his size. Capitano knew it was unlikely to work the first time. His cock swells against your belly and rubs against your clit, or pushes deeper into you, opening up the tight folds of flesh. The pounding of pulses sends pleasure through your limbs, into your brain as flesh slaps and pops, until the warm cream spurts and rushes into you.

There will be another training next time.

#yandere capitano x reader #capitano x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader

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asumofwords · 1 year ago

Text

Unsought Betrothal - Part 2 - Part One Here

Dark!Aemond x Reader Velaryon x Cregan Stark

Summary: After attempting to humilate your betrothed by laying with Lord Cregan Stark the night before your wedding in the hopes that Aemond would call the wedding off, you find that not only is he determined to still wed you, but also to punish you for your indiscretions. Part One Here

Pairings: Dark!Aemond x Reader, Cregan x Reader, Cregan x Aemond

Warnings: Arranged marriage, threats of violence, acts of violence, forced voyeurism, dubcon, elements of noncon, naked reader, clothed men, fingering, finger fucking, pussy slapping, p in v sex, creampie, pussy eating, cum eating, degradation, praise, voyeur.

Word Count: 13k oops... sorry

Notes: Wow, whelp, its been a while since I have posted some of my writing, and even longer since I wrote the first part of this abomination, but when you get the urge, you just gotta scratch it. Thank you all for all your beautiful messages of kindness as usual, I'm sorry I've been gone a while. I have had a bit of a rough time this year but hopes for a brighter future! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this, and I hope I can write again very soon for you, hehe ;) Enjoy! <3

The wedding came just as it was planned. Just as it was arranged. Sleep had evaded you, anger and confusion clouding your mind with memories of the night before, ache still throbbing between your thighs. Your little attempt at stopping the engagement had no affect on your betrothed. No affect on the uncle you had grown up with. On the man you would now call husband.

You had thought that if you could humiliate Aemond in court by flirting with Lord Cregan Stark that he would call off the engagement. That the embarrassment would be too much for the pious prince. That the shame would turn him away from you, making him demand to his mother that they call off the engagement.

You had thought that maybe if you lost your maidenhead to the Northerner, Aemond would be so disgusted, so filled with rage, that he would call the engagement off, what with him being a dedicated follower of the Seven.

But you were wrong.

And so you spent an evening limping back into the Keep, escorted by none other than the One-eyed Prince himself and Ser Crispin. The front of your bodice had been ripped by Aemond's hands, but thankfully your hooded cloak covered up your sullied gown, the bottom of it dirtied with mud from where Aemond had bent you over in the alleyway and taken you roughly. With each step you took, you felt his seed slide down your legs, sticking to your inner thighs tackily.

When you got to your chambers, you used the small basin at your dressing table filled with water to wipe and wash away the blood and seed from your body, pain and a lingering dull ache causing you to jerk with each swipe.

You didn’t get much sleep that evening, staring blankly up at the ceiling. The urge to run was strong, to just leave out into the night through one of the secret passages and onto your dragons back, but the urge to stay was stronger. You hated him, truly hated him, but the way he had treated you that night, the fire in his eye, it lit something inside of you. It almost made you want him.

Need him.

Yet, there was another urge to stay, to make his life hell. To humiliate him at every turn, to ensure that he knew that forcing the engagement to continue would ensure him a life long marriage of discontent and disharmony.

You were not going to bend to his will. You were not going to bend to his needs, to bow at the husband, and say ‘yes’, and ‘thank you’, and ‘please’. You were going to be who you have always been.

A Valaryian.

Your eyes stayed open, watching as the ceiling eventually became light with the sun, indicating the break of dawn, and soon enough your maids were entering your chambers to get you ready to be wed. You were thankful that none of them asked questions about the dirtied ripped gown, or the bloodied rag in the basin, though you knew they were likely already aware.

The doors to your chambers opened as they pulled your hair back, pinning it atop your head in masses of braids with gold pins, tips glowing red with circular rubies. The colour of your mothers house dripping from you. Footsteps moved through your chambers, your head lifting to find Rhaenyra coming towards you, wearing a dress of black. Her silver hair half up, half down, small braids weaving around the back of her head beautifully.

A soft smile pulled on her lips as she came towards you, causing you to turn in your seat to fully face her. She looked sad and also lovingly devoted all at once. And whilst you knew it was not her greatest wish to marry you off to her half-brother, you also both knew that it was the only way to prevent bloodshed.

“My sweet.” Rhaenyra cooed, a slender hand coming to brush against your cheek dotingly, the scar on her arm from Alicent peeking beneath the cuff of her dress.

Blood already shed.

“Muña.” You smiled back, pulling her hand down into your lap.

Your mother leant forward and placed a kiss atop your head, “You look so beautiful, my love.”

“Thank you, mother.”

“Are you ready?” Her tone was gentle, as though she didn’t wish to startle you. As though she didn’t want to break the bubble that was the safety of your chambers.

The last time in your chambers as an unwed woman.

You gave her a reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes, and she could see it, “I must be.”

The small smile she had worn slid away, “This is not what I had intended for you. I did not wish to force you as I had been. I wish-“

“-I know.” You squeezed her hand, “I understand. It is my duty as your daughter to be wed to the Hightower’s to prevent bloodshed and war. To ensure your ascension to the throne. Let me perform my duty for you.”

“You know that we love you.” Rhaenyra squeezed your hand back, “Daemon has almost gone mad with rage. He does not wish to see you be wed to him. Luc feels that it is his fault.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from either of them.” You stood, still clutching her hand.

Her violet eyes roamed down your body.

The dress you wore was similar to the one she had worn for her wedding to Laenor, white with gold and licks of red in the lining. The dress sat below your collarbones and drooped against your shoulders, pearlescent beads sewn onto the short sleeves like dragon scales with a red silk peaking underneath.

“I wish this could be different for you.” She came to your side, placing a white cloak atop your shoulders, the Velaryon House sigil embroidered on the back, readying you to leave your chambers.

You looped your arm in hers, steeling a breath before you gave her a confident smile, “I don’t.”

Your heart rattled in your chest as you tried to stop the anxiety that churned nauseatingly in your stomach. Your hand was clenched tightly against Daemons arm, who slowly walked you down the many tables filled with people towards the man who would soon be your husband.

“Breathe.” Daemon cooed softly in your ear, his hand attempting to soothe you with soft brushes against yours.

Your eyes had not once left Aemond, who watched you with a dark glare.

The second son stood before the table, Viserys slumped behind him in his chair, the barest of smiles on his rotted face, half covered by a golden mask as you came towards them all. Your mother and Alicent sat on either sides of the King, followed by your brothers, your uncles, your cousins, and your aunt.

Aemond stood stiffly as he always did, the perfect posture with his shoulders back. He was higher on the stairs so that he looked down his nose at you, which wasn’t different to any other time he did. Each step towards him was nerve-wracking, the Lords and Ladies who had travelled far and wide watching you with keen eyes.

When finally you were standing before him, Daemon let go, coming to stand between you and Aemond momentarily, breaking your eye contact for the first time since you entered the room. Your uncle Daemon’s face was a kind one, and one you had grown to love as a step-father. He did not offer you a reassuring smile like your mother did, nor did he offer a consoling one. Instead, he leant forward to press a kiss to the side of your face before standing straight, towering over the both of you in both height and size before he moved back towards the table, sitting beside your mother.

And so the ceremony began.

In the light of the chambers Aemond looked sinister, shadows cast across his sharp face as he continued to look down his nose at you, chin still raised high. The Prince’s hair was styled in the way that it always was; straight and down his back, with two plain pieces pulled away from the sides of his face, tied neatly behind his head. He wore all black, the lining and undershirt the deepest of greens that was almost onyx. A symbol of his mother and her war that she had declared on a night such like this, many years ago.

The room felt hot, the back of your neck sweating as you stared at each other, all eyes pinned on you as the Septon’s voice boomed throughout the room.

“Father, Mother, Warrior,” The old mans voice was so loud in your ear that you winced, “Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. Hear now their vows.”

You swallowed thickly, momentarily looking down at your hands before back into his sole lilac one, watching as his posture straightened further, surprised that he could even do so.

“I am yours, and you are mine.” Aemond’s voice dipped lower, “Whatever may come.”

Your throat felt dry, but your gut was filled with anticipation. You were frightened, but there was something else simmering beneath it all. A need for the danger he brought, a feeling of protection from him. Not from him and his anger, but from others.

A possessive desire.

The Septon looked at you impatiently to say your vows, and a small wave of quiet whispers spread across the room as you stood silently. The Prince shifted on his feet, muscles in his jaw clenching.

“I am yours,” You breathed softly, hands gripping each other tightly in front of your dress, “And you’re mine. Whatever may come.”

The purple of Aemond’s eye was half hidden by his lid, his gaze having softened at your short vow. You watched as the corner of his sharp lips twitched upwards lightly into a small smirk.

The Septon continued, “Here in the presence of Gods and Men, I proclaim Aemond of House Targaryen and Y/n of House Velaryon to be man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

Man and Wife.

Wed to Aemond Targaryen.

Your husband.

Now and forever.

An eruption of congratulatory joy spread throughout the room, the noise almost deafening as everyone celebrated what could be your demise. And though the noise around you was distracting, you could not look away from him, even as he shifted closer.

Aemond’s hand lifted and you flinched, the only people having noticed was your family seated behind you. His hand continued despite your shock to cup the side of your face and jaw, and as quickly as it happened, it ended. Aemond’s face grew closer as his eye slid shut, pressing his lips tenderly to yours in a brief moment before he pulled away, hand dropping back down to his side. The hand that had cupped your face grasped your hand for all to see, before he led you around to your seat at the table.

The night of celebrations became a blur, too in shock to really enjoy yourself, but wine still flowing heavily. Most of your evening you spent ignoring your new husband, opting to speak mostly to your mother and brothers, as well as Daemon and his daughters, who threw you pitying smiles, yet words of encouragement.

Aemond sat by your side, though he made no effort to join your conversations or create ones of his own. He had always been the quiet of his siblings, always sticking to the shadows and tomes of the library, never quite fitting in.

Helaena leant forward towards you, Otto eyeing her warily whilst Alicent looked as though she was about to chastise her daughter. In your aunts hand was a beetle, all black, though when the light of the candles shone on his shell, it seemed to glow. Greens and blues, and purples and pinks, danced across the beetles wings as it crawled atop her hand.

Your aunt had always loved insects, and had always been a sweet and kind person. You loved Helaena, and if there was anything that could help you endure living in the Red Keep alone without your family, it would be her.

“He appears dark,” She breathed watching as it crawled through a gap in her fingers and back towards her palm, “But if you look closely, you’ll find that he’s not.”

You shuffled in your seat, your shoulder pressed to hers as you ducked your head to look closer at the beetle, “He’s quite beautiful.”

Healaena lifted her face towards you, as she smiled at you dreamily, “He is, if you let him.”

Frowning, you looked back to the beetle, “How do I let a beetle be a beetle?”

Helaena did not answer you, instead continuing to twist and turn her hand as the bug crawled around on it.

Aegon watched from above the rim of his cup, drunk with red rimmed eyes. His hair was oily and wavy, unbrushed atop his round face. You could not help but feel a shiver crawl over you as he smiled.

“Our sweet niece and brother are finally married.” Aegon purred, Helaena barely giving him a second glance as though over the years she had attuned herself into pretending that he did not exist.

“A joyous occasion, uncle.” You smiled falsely back, picking up your own goblet of wine, ready to go back to talking with Helaena. Or the beetle.

Anything to escape Aegon.

“Do you know what happens tonight? After the celebrations of course.” Your uncles voice creeped along the surface of the table like a snake, so that only you and his siblings could hear.

You swallowed thickly.

Of course you did.

You had done it last night.

Bar a bed. Or walls.

In fact, it wasn’t even in the Keep, and instead in a dirty alley in Flea Bottom, hidden amongst the shadows.

“I’m aware.” Your voice was clipped, which seemed to goad Aegon.

“And how does our sweet little niece know of such things?”

You swallowed thickly, head turning to look at Aemond, whose eye was trained on his brother.

“My Septa.” You tuned back to face him, “And your whoring.”

Aegon chuckled, filling up his goblet with wine once more, “I suppose then you know what to expect.”

“Yes.”

“Should you ever be in want of a demonstration-"

“-Leave her be.” Came Aemond’s voice, almost a growl. His hand was clutched tightly around his own goblet as he challenged his older brother to say something more.

Aegon laughed loudly, eyes on his brothers clenched hand before looking up to watch him, “I only jest, brother! It is a night of celebrations!” He thrust his goblet towards the One-Eyed Prince, “It’s not everyday that my little brother is married off to such a beautiful princess. The daughter of the Realm’s Delight, no less. Do you think-“

Helaena shifted, turning her body towards you, “It isn’t so bad.” She spoke emotionlessly into your ear to distract you from Aegon, “It only hurts the first few times.” Your aunt paused in thought, lavender eyes still on the beetle as it moved, before looking at you, “Or when he’s angry. Or drunk.” She added as an afterthought, “But mostly when he’s drunk.”

Sorrow coursed through you for your aunt, your gaze immediately staring into Aegon’s angrily. How could he do this to her? How could he treat her like one of his whores? If not because she is his wife, but because she is his sister. Aegon seemed to sink into his chair after Helaena’s comment, soft anger simmering off of him in small waves.

But Aegon has never truly known when to stop.

“I am sure my brother here will barely draw blood.”

“I am sure your interest in your brothers cock speaks loudly.”

Elbows sloppily placed on the table he leant towards you, “I tried to take him once you know, to a whorehouse.” His voice became more hushed, “He hated it. Made me think that maybe our dear Aemond was perhaps like your father, Laenor.”

Blinding rage shot through you, “Don’t speak about my father.” You hissed, “He was more man than you shall ever be.”

A cruel smirk pulled at Aegon’s lips, “I am sure he has had more men than I ever shall.”

Your hand shot forward to grasp your goblet, ready to hurl it across the table at him, peace be damned, but Aemond was quicker and snatched your wrist before the tips of your fingers could even reach the cup.

A quiet fell over your table as all watched the interaction, your wrist in Aemond’s hand, Aegon smirking cruelly at you, and your face hot with anger.

“I pity you.” You quietly seethed, “Always so desperate to get a reaction out of the people around you, because if you didn’t you would simply cease to exist. Though you are the first son of Viserys, a peasant bastard from Flea Bottom would garner more respect.”

Aegon’s gassed darkened, his mouth readying to fire back at you.

“Aemond.” Alicent called to her son, a questioning and yet chastising tone in her voice.

Aemond looked at his mother, and then back to you, checking to see if you were going to continue on with your thought. But you had grown tired of the grip he had on you, his large hand squeezing your bones painfully as they shifted beneath the skin.

“Don’t touch me.” You sneered at him, snatching your hand away as you stood, chair scraping loudly against the flagstones.

The throne room quietened, all stilling to watch as you stood at the table, seething down at your husband. The rest of your family all watched warily, except for the Rogue Prince who smirked broadly at you. Your chest heaved with anger as you looked down at Aemond, who stared up at you with similar rage.

King Viserys sensing the tension smiled, though it looked more like a grimace, “Our young lovers wish to dance!” A distraction on his end, and a clever one at that.

The room erupted into cheers and clapping, and the musicians in the corner began playing music loudly for all. Lords and Ladies stood from their seats and moved into the centre of the room to dance together.

Glaring down at your husband, your hands clenched into fists, waiting for him. Aemond slowly stood, towering over you, a large hand stretched out towards you, palm up.

“Wife.”

“Husband.” You growled, taking his hand roughly, digging your nails into his skin as you led him down the stairs towards the people.

The court parted to the sides like a wave, creating a path for you straight to the centre as you lead Aemond down to it, almost like a dog. Each man and woman watched with excitement, either for the celebrations or the rising tension between the two of you. You’d be a fool to think that the court wouldn’t love a quarrel to arise so that they may whisper about it in corridors later to come.

It could be a way to press the wound so to speak with Aemond later.

You stopped in the centre, finally letting go of your husband as you spun to face him.

He stood as he always did, stiff, emotionless with a hint of arrogance, watching you with a cool glare. The court waited for you to begin, as the music continued to play, but even then you couldn’t push yourself to touch him. To feel his hands on you once more, alighting a fire within you that you did not know was possible, the embers still burning from the night before.

Would they be able to tell?

That he had already deflowered you in Flea Bottom?

In a dirty alley like one of Aegon’s whores?

In a way, you hoped they would. Let it bring him dishonour. Let it bring him humiliation from the court that his wife would take him in such a filthy, commoner way. You wished for his disdain, you wished for his anger, anything but the clear desire which seemed to move through him as he watched you from down his nose.

“Well?” You snipped, waiting for him to make the first move.

Aemond came forward swiftly, much like he had in the alley, and you had to bite your cheeks to stop the gasp that would have escaped your mouth.

It came to him so naturally to touch you, to hold you. One large hand immediately grasping yours by your side pulling it up, the other skating up your hip, over your collar bone, slowly down your shoulder, and down, down, down your arm.

Goosebumps rose on your skin, a shiver running down your back as his other hand connected with yours, and slowly but surely, the dance began. Even with the noise of the room, the music playing, the talking, and laughter, and joy from the guests, you could still hear the small little gasps and breaths you let free as you danced with Aemond.

It was likely one of the only times you hadn’t bickered after so long in his presence, let alone whilst touching him. The two of you stayed silent, moving this way and that, your gaze occasionally flitting to the table to your mother and Daemon, who watched with kind eyes.

“Don’t let Aegon goad you.” Aemond finally spoke.

His hand brushed against your shoulders, and round the back of your neck, a heat beginning to simmer in your gut from his touch. You turned to face him, watching as he observed you closely.

“He won’t stop if you show it bothers you.”

“He always bothers me.” You snipped, but this time with much less anger, “He is like a fly you wish to swat but can never reach."

Aemond’s lip twitched as he looked at you, turning around you slowly, “Mm.”

“Mm.” You mimicked, turning away from him.

“Behave yourself, wife.” Aemond purred, irritation flitting through you momentarily.

“What? Like how behaved yourself last night?”

“I could say much the same to you.”

“A shame then.” You sighed, moving to come chest to chest with him, your breath stilling in your lungs as you looked up at him. You would never get used to how tall he had grown over the years, “You bring much dishonour to your mother.”

“As do you. Whoring yourself to a Lord of the North-“

“-King of the North-“

“-In a dirty, whore riddled tavern.”

“A dirty, whore riddled tavern that you knew about.”

Aemond stilled, his head dipping towards you, “Did you think that I wouldn’t know of your movements in Kings Landing? Did you truly believe that I would be so foolish as to think that you would come to me willingly?”

You swallowed thickly.

“No.” He continued, sucking on his teeth, “You forget that I know you. You are much like your brothers. Getting into places where you don’t belong.”

“And what of yours?” You became defensive at the mention of your brothers, remembering how he and his would call you all bastards, “Loudly and brazenly whoring himself to any and all who would dare risk fucking him.”

“My brothers whoring does not concern me.”

“Then I suppose I am not a concern either.” You sniffed, “You needn’t worry, I am sure that he should find his way into our chambers one way or another.”

The hand on your arm tightened to the point of pain, your cheek twitching as you tried to hold in a wince, “I told you, he is not of concern.”

“I know Aegon. I have heard of what he does-“

“-And you know me. Know that he will not-“

“-He will not, what? Sully me? Taint our marital bed? It is already tainted. You made sure of that last night.” You stood closer to him, still as the others danced around you, your gaze peering up into his as your chest heaved, “But what if I want him to? What if I willingly invite him to take me? I’m sure you do not mind sharing after all, he is your brother.”

Aemond’s eye flashed with anger, before his head slowly ducked beside your ear, “If you think I am fool enough to stoop to your provocations then you must forget that we grew up together, side by side. I know your tricks.” The hand on your arm released its strong grip, coming to brush against the back of your neck, “I know that you despise him just as much as I. I know that you used to cry at the Godswood when he called you bastard.”

You bristled, purposely stepping back as you stared at him angrily. You hated that word. You hated what it meant for you and your siblings. You hated that he and his brother and his mother and the court whispered about all of your parentage. You hated that once, when you had been young, despite all of this, you had been friends.

Rage bubbled up inside of you, and before you could stop yourself you leant forward, hand coming to touch the side of Aemond’s face with his one seeing eye, the other covered by his leather patch.

You rubbed your thumb atop his cheek, “Imply that I am bastard once more, and I shall blind you with the purpose that Lucerys lacked.”

Aemond’s chest rose and fell jaggedly, inhaling breaths faster than yours, anger coursing through his veins. His sharp lips twitched as he watched you, “I wouldn’t dare. I know just how Strong you are, Princess.”

Your thumb moved fast, but Aemond was faster, anticipating your movements. His hand caught yours against his cheek, trapping your fingers between his hand so that they may not move further to pluck his remaining eye from its socket like intended.

“People are watching, ābrazȳrys.” Wife, He purred, though there was a lick of danger behind it.

A warning.

“Ivestragī zirȳ urnēbagon.” Let them watch, You sneered, “Nyke kessa laesdaor ao hae iā dīnilūks irudy.” I shall blind you as a wedding gift.

Aemond’s silver brow lifted, “Skoros iā sȳz irudy.” What a good gift, His eye turned dangerous, “Eman iā irudy syt ao, mēre nyke gōntan daor jaelagon naejot tepagon.” I have a gift for you, one I did not wish to give.

“Is it your death?” You countered cheerily, not wanting to show him that the way he spoke to you set your hair on end.

“No. I think it will be much better than that. We will both come to enjoy it.” The danger in his eye still flickered like a flame, “I was considering not giving it to you, but since you are behaving so wonderfully, I simply must insist.”

You turned away from him, moving to go back to your seat, “I want nothing from you.”

“And yet, you'll have everything.”

As the night grew long, your fears grew larger. And though he had taken you the night before in an alley, his subtle threat of what may come tonight lingered in the back of your mind. Each cup of wine was drained eagerly by your lips, hoping and wishing that you could somehow make yourself sick enough to not have the bedding ceremony.

But it came all the same, just as the wedding had.

Aegon was the one who initiated the beginning of the end.

A large clap came from in front of you, the short haired Prince leaning towards you on the tables with his hands clasped together, silver and gold rings adorning them. A sinister smile pulled at his lips as he beamed at you and his brother.

“The night is late!” He proclaimed loudly to the chambers, many Lords and Ladies turning their heads to watch, “I think we have held these two young lovers hostage for far too long!” Aegon smiled out to the room and then stood, lifting his goblet.

His shirt was untucked, his gait unsteady and he swayed on his feet as he continued, “My brother is too polite to remove himself from festivities such as these! But brother,” He thrusted his cup towards you, “I can see that you wish to take your new wife to bed! The love these two share is a tale for story books, though they are too polite to say a thing.” He chuckled, and laughter followed from the Lords behind you, “Worry not! We will continue the festivities without you!”

Cheers were heard from about the room, though none came from your own table. Aegon sipped his wine greedily, eyes watching you from above the rim of his cup. The Prince took the goblet from his lips and clicked his fingers impatiently beside him, pointing at an uncomfortable Criston Cole who came to his side like a well trained mutt.

“Ser Criston, take these newly weds to my brothers chambers. It seems it is time for the bedding ceremony.”

Ceremony.

Your blood ran cold.

Aemond stood abruptly beside you, head on with his brother.

“No need, Ser Cole.” His smooth voice icy, “I shall escort the Princess there myself.”

Aemond pushed his chair backwards as you continued to stare at Aegon, not quite ready to be alone with the Prince.

Your husband.

You blinked, turning your head towards your family, who all gave you pained smiles. But it was your duty. And you had given your mother your word. Slowly you stood, letting your eyes scan the table, softly landing on your grandsire before meeting with a pair of large brown eyes. Alicent Hightower watched on with a nervous energy, her hands shifting on her lap as you assumed she picked at the skin around her fingers. The look in her eyes almost held empathy.

Almost.

You bowed your head to the King and Queen, ignoring Aegon’s shit eating grin.

“Your Grace.”

Pushing your chair back you ignored the outstretched arm of Aemond and made your way down the stairs, Lords and Ladies watching as you made your slow exit from the room, taking false prideful steps through the court to delay the inevitable, giving all who watched smiles and nods of your head.

The shifting of armour moved loudly behind you, before soon enough, Ser Criston Cole was overtaking your step to lead you out of the chambers and soon to Aemond’s. The white cape attached to his shoulders billowed behind him as he speedily kept on.

The skin on your elbow burned, a hand gripping it tightly as you were momentarily slowed as Aemond came to your side. You refused to meet his eye, feeling his gaze upon the side of your face as you exited the chambers, the sounds of cheering and laughter loud behind you. The chamber doors shut with a thump, the sound dampened and muffled, footsteps echoing down the darkened corridors of the Red Keep.

“Does Ser Criston not wish to watch you bed me?” You sneered, eyes flickering to the lit lamps on the walls as Aemond led you down a wing of the Keep you had scarcely been down.

“I have instructed him to prepare my chambers for your arrival.” Aemond replied, his strides long and rigid as he almost hauled you with him.

“Do not pull me.” You yanked your arm back, halting your steps, “I am not your dog.”

Aemond stilled, looking down his nose at you as he towered above, “Dogs are better behaved.”

The Prince’s head snapped to the side, pain spreading through your palm as you sneered at him. The side of his cheek bloomed an angry red, yet Aemond did not react to your slap, nor did he hit you back, instead, a slow smirk pulled at his lips.

“I shall allow that, but only because I know you will regret it.”

Rising to your tiptoes you tried to make yourself come to eye level, “I regret nothing.”

“Mm.” He looked at you blankly, “I shall give you a choice.” Anger rose within your chest, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks, “Come with me to the Godswood.” Your brows furrowed, “Pray to the Gods for forgivingness for striking your husband, kneel and apologise. Swear obeisance to me-”

“-If you think-“

“-And I shall let you go to your own chambers alone. No need for a bedding ceremony after last night.”

You flushed, swallowing thickly, “I would never lower myself to apologising to a second son. And especially not to a Prince who is owed no inkling of respect.”

Aemond watched you for a beat, eye scanning your face as his held flat, “Then we continue to my chambers.” The hand that pulled you began again, and your feet struggled to keep up with his, bruises no doubt to be on the tender flesh of your arm in the morning.

Your heart raced in your chest as you felt yourself get closer to his chambers, his strides not once slowing down, though you tried to dig your heels into the flagstones to slow him.

“You care not to have a woman enthusiastic in your bed?” You tugged fruitlessly at your arm, “You wish to drag me to a night of suffering, like a savage. Like your brother, Aegon.” You sneered, fruitlessly tugging your arm to escape his grip.

“A savage would have had you atop the table before all to see when you first defied me. I gave you a chance to apologise, remember that you scorned it.”

“A chance? What chance was I given? A loveless marriage with a man who is not my equal? A burden I am forced to bear as I am forced to lay beneath him!”

Aemond’s steps halted once more, almost causing you to crash into him, his fingers tightening against your arm as he yanked you against his chest angrily, “You needlessly make this more difficult. I extended an offering to you of peace, and you burnt it.”

“Peace?” You screeched incredulously, “You have done naught but provoke me! Naught but push and prod and goad me into reaction so that you may justify your sick desires.”

“Provoke you? I seem to recall you sneaking into Flea Bottom to try and lay with a Lord to spite me.”

“I was trying to save us from a loveless and cruel union.”

“Us? Or yourself?”

You paused, mouth feeling dry. Anger and fear swirled within your gut viscously as you stared at him. The both of you panting heavily at one another. Aemond shifted, moving away from the wall beside you, revealing two large wooden doors.

You were there.

And you had not even realised.

“Wife.” Aemond purred sarcastically before pushing open the door, the smell of his room engulfing you.

It smelt of him, but far more intensely. Of leather and smoke, and spices which he dabbed his skin with, and still, behind all of this, the natural scent of him. The smell that was only his and his alone. A scent that had wrapped around you in that alleyway the night before.

The fireplace raged wildly, the room filled with dark mahogany furniture. There was a chaise, arm chairs, a table seated for six, a large bed on the other end, a reading desk with piles of books and scrolls, and candles sitting on every surface, lighting the room.

The second thing you observed as your eyes roamed the space was that you were not alone.

Your heart skipped in your chest.

There by the bed, was a man sat in a chair. Arms tied down to it as his feet were tightly bound to the legs. His long dark hair was knotted atop his head as he stared at you in shock, and beside him, Ser Criston Cole.

“Cregan?” You breathed in shock, running towards the Northerner as you dropped to your knees, hand reaching out to cup his face as he only looked at you with sorrow, “Are you hurt?”

“I did warn you,” Aemond growled from behind, “That you would regret it. I had a plan, you see. A moment of mercy to let you apologise at the Godswood, for you to go-“

“-Let him go!”

“-To your chambers untouched and unscathed. I had given you a choice, and this is the one you have chosen.”

You turned your head sharply to face Aemond, “What have you done?”

“This man was caught conspiring against the crown. He planned to take the Princess’ honour and humiliate her betrothed. A Prince.” His lilac eye held Cregan’s icy blue ones, “I have done my duty by capturing this traitor to the realm.”

Fear began to bubble inside of you, eyes looking back to Cregan. The left side of his face was bruised, small cuts littered across his cheek and brow. His soft lips were swollen and split, and dried blood had gathered in one corner.

“He is innocent.” Your knees ached as they dug into the stones below, your upper body turning to face Aemond again, “He knew naught of what I was doing. Punish me. Let him go.”

Aemond hummed and walked towards you, “Brave. Admirable if it wasn’t for nothing. No. I gave you a choice before, and you have made your choice. I gave you the option to apologise, to bend to me as your husband, to go to your chambers alone, but this is what you have chosen. This was your choice.”

“You gave me no choice!” You sneered, moving to stand, shielding Cregan’s body with your own, “All this talk of choices when all you have gave was an unknown ultimatum.”

“A choice nonetheless. Godswood or chambers. And so here we are. The consequences of your actions.” The Prince came closer, shadows cast across his face, “I told you that you would regret it.”

“You’re a savage! A foul beast.”

A smile pulled at Aemond’s lips, “Choose your words carefully, wife. I have no qualm with slitting his throat where he sits should you continue to defy me.”

Cregan pulled against his restraints, angrily sneering at Aemond, who simply hummed once more as he came to stand before you, looking down at you with false pity, “But, it is the night of our union, and the betrayal is still fresh and something I am willing to move past. I shall give you another choice. One that I feel may be far too lenient.”

Tears began to well in your eyes.

This was all your fault.

“The Lord of Winterfell shall sit where he is, and watch as I fuck you in ways that he never shall-“

“-You disgust me!”

“-Or he shall be tried and hung for treason.” Aemond came closer, his chest almost brushing against yours as he stared at you, “The choice is yours.”

You sneered upwards at your uncle, tears gathering in your eyes, “I would rather die than let you touch me again.”

“I recall you seeming to enjoy it, wetting my cock in that filthy alley as you begged for it.” He purred, hand lifting to brush hair from your face as he sighed, “I don’t mind what you choose, I could simply slit his throat myself right now? If you'd prefer it?”

A lone tear fell down your cheek as you turned and held Cregan’s gaze, his brows furrowing as he saw you come to your decision.

“Y/n, don’t-“ Cregan’s head was jerked back roughly, Ser Coles hand in his hair as he stuck a blade beneath his chin. The edge of the blade nicked the skin lightly, a small bead of blood travelling down his neck.

He would die.

He would die and it would be all your fault.

“Please, Aemond.” You begged, “Please do not do this. Let him go. Let him go and I swear to you I will obey your commands. Let him free and I am yours.”

The silver haired mans head tilted as he cooed you, “I am sorry, my love. But it is too late to beg for my mercy as I offered it to you before. What kind of man would I be if I excused such treason?”

You stepped forward swiftly, “A strong one. A merciful one. A man who can see the error of my way. That I am repentant.” You tried to cajole him, “I promise you I will be good. I will perform my duty and do what is expected of me.”

“You are sweet when you beg, but it is too late.”

“Uncle, please! I will do anything! Anything you ask of me. I swear to the Seven.”

Aemond smiled at you, “I know you will. And that is why you will do this.” Aemond swallowed, eye roaming down your wedding gown hungrily, defiantly.

Angrily.

“Strip.”

“Aemond-“

“-Strip, or he dies.”

Tears rolled down your cheek, your stomach rolling in disgust and fear.

“Please do not make me do this.” You sobbed, arms limp by your side as you looked down at the flagstones, feeling defeated.

Your husband tutted you, long slender finger brushing the tears that fell from your eyes away, “Do not waste your tears on him, my love. I can be gentle, and soon you will come to love my touch. This, I promise you.”

Pain bloomed in your jaw as you ground your teeth together, wary to not trigger Criston’s excitable hand. Short breaths puffed from your nose as fury and sorrow rose within you like a tide, little by little building in a wave. In your periphery, Aemond stepped back, a pale hand presented in front of you, palm outstretched for you to take.

Slowly, you let your gaze meet his, heated glare ignoring his offering as you refused to move. One last act of defiance. And one Aemond did not take lightly. Pain bloomed in your shoulder as you were roughly yanked forwards, and thrown backwards against the bed. Cregan shouted from behind you, the chair creaking beneath him.

“I said, strip.” Aemond growled.

Your eyes flicked to Cregan, and then up towards Ser Cole who watched with conflicted eyes.

“Please,” You begged softly again, keeping your eyes on Ser Criston, “Not him too. Not Ser Cole.”

A shifting of armour moved from behind Aemond, and a small ‘Your Grace’ fell from the knights lips.

Aemond spun, momentarily ignoring you as he turned to the knight standing awkwardly beside Cregan Stark, “You may leave, Ser Cole.” Aemond sniffed, “I am certain our guest will behave accordingly.”

Ser Criston’s eyes flickered to yours and then to the Prince as you tried to plead to him with yours for help.

To help the daughter of the woman he was once sworn to.

But no help came.

The Dornish knight bowed his head and left without another word.

“Let her go-“

“-Ah.” Aemond turned slowly towards Cregan, slow steps coming forward until he stood towering over the northerner, “Speak again and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

“Kepus,” You stood from the bed, grasping Aemond’s elbow tightly, hoping, praying that if you asked once more that he could see reason, “Please, let him go. I am yours. I will always be yours.”

Aemond stared at you, his pupil dilated as he stared at you intently.

“Strip.”

You fought the sob that threaten to rise up your throat and slowly lifted your chin.

You would not show weakness.

You would be strong.

With shaking hands, you let your fingers find the strings at the back of your dress, and slowly but surely you pulled the laces, keeping your eyes on your husband who watched with intent.

The gown sagged against your frame, the soft material falling down your chest slowly as you held it for one last moment, hoping that it was all a test, that he would change his mind and stop this madness.

But he didn’t.

Breath held in your chest, you let the gown fall to the floor below you, leaving you in your thin shift before the two men. Cregan looked away, his eyes focusing on the stones of the wall in shame, his hands tucked into tight fists against the arm of the arm of the chair, knuckles turning white.

A shiver ran down your back as the cool of the chambers stiffened your nipples into peaks, brushing against the white of your chemise. Aemond took a slow step towards you and then another, hand lifting to brush under your chin, an attempt to direct your gaze to him. You turned your head defiantly; looking to the wall where Cregan’s gaze laid.

“Y/n.” Aemond warned softly, thumb and forefinger pinching your chin as he turned your face towards him, “Look at me.”

Reluctantly you let yourself, and all you saw was the black of his pupil as he devoured you with his darkened gaze, “You’re so beautiful.” He cooed, “My wife.”

You swallowed thickly, his hand slowly skimming down your neck raising goosebumps along your skin as his fingers came to rest against the edge of your chemise. The tips of his nails scraped softly against your skin as it slipped beneath, and with an even slower movement, he tugged the chemise down off of your shoulders, the thin material floating down to the floor below leaving you completely exposed to the two men in his chambers.

“I will not harm you, though you would deserve it.” Aemond purred, his eye roaming your exposed body, your stomach and core clenching in anticipation, “I plan to make you beg for it.”

You opened your mouth to snap at him, but in the moment his long fingers came to brush under your breast, fingers teasing your nipple softly, your mouth clamped shut. You shyly glanced at Cregan, who’s eyes were scrunched tight. Aemond followed your line of sight, sighing.

“If you do not watch,” Aemond fully turned to Cregan, “I will take out your eyes.”

Even at the One-Eyed Princes threat, Cregan did not lift his gaze from the wall. The Lord of Winterfell willing to risk his sight so that you may keep your dignity.

“Fine.” Aemond grunted, pulling the blade from his belt, “Then I shall take hers.”

Fear shot through you as you stared at Aemond tearfully, watching in your periphery as Cregan’s head turned towards you and yelled.

“No!”

“Then,” Aemond sneered, “Watch.”

With eyes filled with shame, Cregan looked up at you. You didn’t know what to do, what could make it better. What could make any of this not what it was, and so you tried to offer him a reassuring nod. A small promise that it was okay to look when all you knew was how very much it wasn’t.

“Good.” The Prince hummed.

Aemond resumed his touch against you, hand coming to cup your breast fully as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. His touch sent sparks across your chest, shame washing over you in a wave.

Aemond ducked his head towards your face, beckoning you to kiss him. Would he be gentle as he was when you were married? Would it soften his actions? Or would it only make him worse?

Deciding that you didn’t want to push what little patience he had, your eyes slid shut, breath stuck deep in your chest as you felt the heat of his body come closer, the hand on your breast skating around your ribs to pull you closer to him.

When his lips pressed against yours it was light, gentle, almost cautious, your hands staying stiff by your sides. But that softness was short lived, and soon Aemond deepened the kiss, his teeth clashing against yours roughly.

You gasped softly as his other hand wound into your hair, tugging you closer as he nipped your bottom lip roughly. Your hands instinctually came up to his chest, gripping onto his jacket tightly to steady yourself. Anger poured into the kiss, and from behind you could feel the reluctant glare of Cregan.

Aemond pulled away, your eyes fluttering open to look at him. His lips were swollen, having turned a rosy pink as a blush settled across his cheeks. His chest heaved against yours, the stitching on his coat brushing roughly against your stiffened peaks.

“Have you ever bed a woman, Stark?” Aemond asked smugly, brushing the back of your neck as you turned you to face the Northerner again, your back to Aemond’s chest.

Even as exposed as you were, Cregan’s eyes did not shift to look at your body, keeping his simmering glare on Aemond.

Clicking his tongue, Aemond continued, “I’m sure you’ve fucked wildlings and mudmen alike, being a man of the North.” An arm wrapped around the front of your chest, breasts squeezed beneath the toned arm of your uncle behind you, “Tell me, are Winterfells brothels full of sheep like the Vale? Or maybe they’re full of pigs since you’re both fond of the mud.”

The chair beneath Cregan creaked, his jaw tensing in anger as Aemond taunted him. His pale eyes narrowed, lips tensed together in a sneer as his nostrils flared, breathing heavily whilst his hands gripped the arms of the chair tightly.

“No? Hm.” Aemond’s other hand slid across the skin of your back, travelling around to the front of your stomach slowly, brushing his fingertips along your hip bone as he continued, “You see, Stark, mudmen of the North have no place with the blood of Valyria. The Blood of the Dragon would never sully itself by laying with a Northerner. Nor would a Princess.” His hand continued to dip down, fingers brushing into the hair atop your mound.

Your back arched in instinct, trying to escape his hand, but it only pushed your backside into his clearly hardened member, “Targaryens don’t fuck like animals,” His voice dipped lower, “We bring pleasure to our lovers.”

Aemond’s hand continued down, parting your folds with a finger, seeking out the heat and slick that had gathered at your entrance. Once found, Aemond’s chest vibrated from behind with an appreciative hum, dragging a long slender finger from your entrance, back up to your pearl. You jerked in his hold as he pushed lightly against it, slowly and torturously swirling the digit against your bud, your arousal aiding his movements.

You watched Cregan curiously, the urge to hide yourself strong. His eyes never once left Aemond as he continued to bring you soft pleasure. The Stark’s chest rose and fell shallowly as he glared at the man behind you, who watched back with impatience.

“I won’t tell you again.” Aemond purred, fingers dipping down to your entrance as he suddenly shoved one long finger inside of you, causing you to gasp at the small sting, “Watch her, or I blind her.”

Cregan’s eyes shut as he took a shaky breath, Aemond’s finger crooking inside of you, pressing against your front wall roughly. A whine fell from your lips causing the icy blue eyes to catch yours finally. Cregan swallowed thickly as you stared at one another, your hands gripping the sleeve of Aemond’s arm across your chest, twisting the material between your fingers as you shifted your hips back, pressing against him as he sped up his fingers movement.

Cregan’s stare was hard, his eyes apologetic, watching you shift against your husband behind you as he began to fuck his finger inside of you, the sound of your slick filling the room. Your face flushed with embarrassment.

“She’s quite reactive,” Aemond purred, slipping his finger from within you to rub at your bud again, causing you to jerk in his hold, his arm tightening further around your chest, “Her body knows what it wants, even when she tries to fight it. Do you hear how she needs me?”

Aemond’s finger moved back to your entrance, but instead of one, he forced in a second, the ache from the night before settling within you again.

“Gods.” You whispered softly, pain and pleasure mixing into a confusing blend. Your head fell back against Aemond’s shoulder as he sped up his hand, fucking his fingers inside of you roughly. All you could do was lean your weight back against him, his arm the only thing that held you upright as his arousal pressed into the small of your back.

A familiar warmth began to build within you quickly, a coil rapidly tightening within your gut as Aemond switched from fucking you with his hand, to rubbing slick circles against your pearl. You scrunched your eyes shut, mouth going slack as your breath hitched. You were so close, so close, to reaching your peak, but each time you would almost get there, Aemond would slow his hand down.

You whined in his arms, shifting as you just wished it would end, wishing he would let you peak. It was torture. And with each time he did it, the frustration and desperation built, a light sheen of sweat covering your skin.

“What is the matter?” Aemond cooed into your ear, his fingers slowing to almost a halt, “Did you need something?”

You huffed a breath through your nose, eyes scrunching shut as you tried to thrust your hips into his hand, anything to alleviate the pressure that was strung to snap at any moment. You didn’t care anymore, you just needed it to end. Aemond’s fingers stopped, hovering over your pearl.

You didn’t even want to think of what you must have looked like, bare, hair likely a mess, and body aching for release.

All while Cregan Stark watched.

“If you want something,” Aemond’s lips came to the side of your ear, pressing a ghostly kiss to them, “You need only ask.”

You bit on your bottom lip, willing yourself to not give in, to not give him what he wanted, but all you could think about was reaching your peak. Logically, you told yourself it was for Cregan’s sake so that it could all end quickly, but in reality, it was so that the throbbing in your core would cease, and the sweet feeling of relief could wash over you like it had the night before.

“Come now, you’re not one to hold your tongue. Ask.”

You wet your lips timidly, keeping your eyes shut in shame, not wanting to see Cregan’s face as you begged for the man behind you to touch you again as he watched.

A sharp sting shot through your centre, your eyes springing open as you gasped, you gaze immediately meeting the cold icy glare of Cregan, who’s fists tightened around the arms of the chair.

“Speak.” Aemond commanded, voice sharper in your ear as he watched Cregan tensing to the chair he was tied to.

Your mouth felt dry, and you licked at your lips once more before you softly whispered, “Please.”

“Please what?”

Cregan’s gaze looked back to yours, his eyes softened.

“Please,” You begged softly, “Touch me.”

You heard Aemond hummed from behind you, his finger slowly pressing into your cunt as he gathered slick from your entrance to drag back up to your bud.

“Like this?” He purred, slowly making circles against you, the coil within tightening again.

All you could do was nod, but that was not the answer that Aemond demanded. His fingers left your pearl as he waited, and you huffed in frustration.

“Touch me. Please, Aemond.” You weakly begged, eyes darting to the floor in embarrassment, not wanting to see Cregan’s face.

His touched resumed once more, but the arm wrapped around your chest shifted, his hand coming to grasp your chin as he lifted your head to look squarely at Cregan, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks.

“All you needed to do was ask, sweet wife.” Aemond purred, the movement speeding up, bringing you closer and closer to your peak, “I want you to wet my hand, and watch him whilst you do it. If you do not,” His voice dipped low, fingers pressing almost painfully against you, “I will know.”

You swallowed dryly and nodded your head in his grasp, feeling your peak begin to barrel towards you. Cregan watched your face, his own a soft pink and ice blue eyes half lidded.

“Does this feel good? Am I making you nice and wet?” Aemond cooed, hand plucking pleasure from you in ways you didn’t know was possible.

You nodded weakly, “Yes.”

“You can do better than that. Tell him what it feels like.”

Your eyes widened, embarrassment flaring inside of you.

“Tell him or I’ll stop.”

“It-“ You paused, swallowing the last of your pride, “It feels good.”

“What feels good?”

“When you touch me.”

“How so?”

You exhaled shakily, shifting in his arm as his fingers softened their movements, “It feels good when you touch my cunt.”

“Sȳz riña.” Good girl, Aemond praised you, causing arousal to spark inside, “That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Does it feel good when I fuck you with my hand?”

“Yes, uncle.” You whined weakly.

“Tell Cregan that it feels good when I fuck you with my hand.”

Blinking at the man tied in the chair, you grit your teeth, “It feels good when he fucks me with his hand.”

Cregans nostrils flared as he shifted in his seat, and your head fell back against Aemond once more, “I’m close.” You panted.

You were so close, so, so close to just tipping over the edge, the smell of Aemond behind you suffocating you as heat began to rise through your body. The gaze of the man before you wavered, his eyes momentarily dipping to where Aemond’s hand was rubbing swift and slick circles. That was all it took for you to feel yourself fall undone.

You writhed against Aemond as your peak washed over you, the Northerner watching on as Aemond’s fingers became wet with your release, his gaze darting up to watch your face, jaw slack as he breathed shallowly.

“Shh, shh, shh. Good girl.” Aemond praised you, his hand finally stopping as he smoothed up and down your sides.

A warm glow settled over your body and your eyes slid shut, head lolling to Aemond’s chest behind you as you breathed deeply, the pulsing of your cunt halting any and all thoughts that you had.

But as quick as the calm had come, the quicker it left, your world tilting as you were spun and pushed back onto the bed. Your eyes shot open as you watched Aemond step towards you, Cregan observing with slight concern before you were yanked back down the bed towards the Prince by your ankles, legs splayed open.

On instinct they tried to close, too exposed to the room, but your husband wouldn’t allow it, standing between them as he held them open with his hand, his lone eye commanding you to stay still from above.

Would it be painful like the night before? Would he bring you pleasure as well? Or would it be something entirely different now that you lay down on a bed, the way that your Septa’s had told you it would happen, and certainly not inside a dirty alley in Flea Bottom?

But what your Septa’s had not informed you of was that your husband, who seemed to be more concerned with punishing you than bringing you any reward, began to kneel before the bed, his back to his prisoner.

“I need to taste how sweet you are, and then I shall fuck you.”

With a broad swipe of his tongue, Aemond parted your folds from your entrance to your bud, collecting your release on it as he went. His eye closed as he hummed, coming to lap at your folds once more, pleasure sparking up through you.

You gasped softly, the feeling foreign but not unwelcome. It was more intense than you had thought it could be, but perhaps you were over sensitive from the release you just had. You watched Aemond, his lilac eye opening to look up at you with a smirk.

He pulled away from your centre, lips wet with your slick, “You are as sweet as I thought you would be.”

Aemond stood, towering over you as he began to pull at his belt and breeches, wherein he began untying them, lace after lace ripped from its eyelet until they sagged. His shirt was pulled away, revealing the pale skin of his lower stomach, and the dusting of hair that trailed down from navel to pubis.

The Prince’s length strained against his breeches, the base of it just showing, a purple vein standing out against his starkly pale skin. You hadn’t gotten to see it properly the night before, and the sight of it made your core clench around nothing.

Before he pulled himself from the confines of his pants, Aemond grabbed you once more and shifted you to lay sideways atop his bed, the plush green sheets soft beneath your skin. Your eyes rose to the ceiling, looking at the soft canopy that lay atop before the screeching of a chair on stone caught your attention.

You snapped your head to the side, watching as Aemond effortlessly dragged Cregan by the chair closer to the bed, only an arms length away. He towered over the man from Winterfell who looked up at him with nothing but contempt.

“You’ll watch me fuck her,” Aemond began smugly, “And know that it could never be you. Know that it will never be you.” Cregan attempted to sit up higher in the seat, chest pulling at the ropes that held him back, “You’ll watch me bring peak after peak from her as she wets my cock and likes it, and you’ll remember that it was me doing it.”

“Aemond.” You tried to distract him, try to take the attention away from Cregan, who watched with burning eyes, “Please.”

The silver haired Prince turned his head towards you and smirked before looking back at Cregan, “You see? She already begs for more.” Aemond walked back towards you, only two short steps from the bed as his eye roamed your naked body, gaze settling into the crux of your thighs, “She only had me last night, and already she begs so nicely.”

With jerky movements, Aemond pulled his length from his breeches, the length and girth large and intimidating. The tip was a rosy pink, and long veins travelled up its length. A bead of arousal had begun to form on top, slowly leaking down the base as he knelt on the bed, pulling you down to meet his hips, and had you not already experienced it, you would have been filled with fear.

Aemond thrust into you quickly and sharply, pain filling you before a feeling of fullness, his tip pressing at the end of your walls. You hissed softly, hands having raised to grasp his arms, nails biting into his skin beneath his shirts.

Your husband leant down, lips brushing against your cheek as it moved to your ear, “Do you like when I spear you on my cock?” He purred, his breath tickling your neck.

With clenched teeth you nodded, willing your body to adjust to his size quickly.

“Use your words, you’re not a mute.”

“Yes.” You grit out, turning your head away from him as he loomed above you, arms on either side of your head as he lay between your parted thighs.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Aemond.”

“Close.

You swallowed, “Yes, Husband.”

“Good.” Aemond pulled out of you swiftly before he thrust back in, “Girl.”

You exhaled sharply, the angle so far different from the night before. He felt deeper, more intense, everywhere all at once.

It was overwhelming.

You scrunched your eyes shut as Aemond began to rut into you, your hands not once leaving his arms as you clutched onto him, shifting your hips to alleviate the way his tip pressed harshly against your cervix with each thrust.

His hips clapped against yours brutally, speeding up, the movement shifting you up the bed as you squeaked with each impact, a warmth beginning to pool in your gut once more. The hair at the base of his cock brushed against your pearl roughly as his pelvis slid against yours, the stimulation winding that all too familiar coil again.

A moan broke free from your lips as Aemond shook a hand free, hoisting up one of your legs atop his hip, shifting the angle entirely so that his cock brushed against the small spongey patch within you deliciously, pleasure sending sparks through your limbs. Your eyes were shut so tightly, you could see stars behind them, your bottom lip gnawed between teeth.

“Open your eyes.” Aemond breathed from above, his pace not once faltering.

Your head tipped to the side, away from where Cregan sat, eyes still scrunched shut as you whined beneath him.

“I said,” Aemond grunted, hand roughly coming to grasp your chin as he turned your head back towards Cregan, “Open.”His fingers squeezed painfully against your jaw, bruises likely to show in the morning, your eyes finally opening to find Cregan watching you already.

“Lord Stark knows how to follow orders. He’s not once taken his eyes off you.” Aemond purred, thrusting particularly sharply into you causing you to wince, “Do you think he wishes he were I?”

Your mouth felt dry again, and all you could do was watch as the blush on Cregan’s cheeks depend and his eyes momentarily flashed away form you before returning, remembering Aemond’s threat.

“I think he does, sweet wife. I think he wishes that he was in your tight, wet, cunt as I am now. Don’t you agree?”

Your breasts moved with each thrust, the sound of your slick sliding against his length loud as it was before as you huffed beneath your husband.

Aemond’s fingers tightened against your jaw, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes.”

Another squeeze.

“I do.” You breathed, your face suddenly feeling flushed.

The man on top of you pulled out suddenly, hands moving under your sides to flip you over onto your stomach.

“Do not-“ You began angrily.

“-Quiet.” Aemond snapped, grabbing your hips as he pulled you up onto your knees, your hands fisting the sheets as you looked ahead, uncertainty filling your features before you felt the head of Aemond cock slide through your folds, and push straight back inside.

“Fuck you.” You hissed as he began to fuck into you, “Gods.” The angle made you feel even fuller than before, but shallower too, his length constantly batting against your walls as his hips clapped against your ass.

You struggled to stay upright as he continued, his grip on your hips painful as he pulled you back onto him, the air being punched from your lungs each time, making you gasp out small little high pitched huffs. A hand in your hair wrenched your head back and then to the side, directing your face to meet the Stark’s who’s eyes were not on your own, but instead upon your body.

The heat of his gaze caused you to clamp down on Aemond’s length, the Lord’s roaming eyes watching as the Princes cock buried itself over and over inside of you, before slowly roaming back up your body, catching sight of your breasts below you as they moved, and then finally to your face.

Seeing that he was caught, Cregan flushed, eyes casting down briefly before looking back up at you. He shifted against the chair, hands still tightly clenched against the arm, chest heaving, his thick muscled thighs clenching against the seat, and to-

Oh.

Cregan shifted again, knowing where your gaze had fallen, his hips trying to shift back against the wooden chair, but there was nothing to hide the hardening length within his dark leathered breeches, which pressed painfully to the front of his pants.

Your core clenched again, and from behind you heard Aemond grunt.

You should have been upset, you should have been horrified, but all it did was set the heat that was already simmering in your gut ablaze, your nipples stiffening to peaks. Instinctually you arched your back, hoping to better the view, which got another grunt of appreciation from your husband, who’s pace was yet to falter, his stamina owed to years of hard work in the training yard with Ser Criston Cole.

Cregan’s lips parted as he watched you, the pink of his tongue coming out to wet his lips, and that was all it took for you to come undone. You cried out loudly, keeping your eyes on Cregan as Aemond fucked you through your release, triggering his own. He came with a growl, his hips slowing to a halt as you felt his seed pulse inside of you.

You collapsed against the bed, eyes half lidded as you watched Cregan shift again against his chair as Aemond slowly pulled out of you with a hiss. Warmth dripped from your folds and down your thighs as you felt the soft press of kiss against your shoulder blades.

Your uncle manoeuvred you on the bed again, your body pliant in his hands as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, legs spread wide for Cregan to see. The man’s pale eyes drifted down to between your thighs, watching hungrily as Aemond’s spend dripped out from within you.

“Tell me Cregan,” Aemond stood by the bed panting, tucking his length back into his breeches whilst he brushed a loose hair over your shoulder, “Did you enjoy watching me fuck my wife?”

The taunt earnt him a sneer.

“An honest question deserving of an honest answer. I thought Stark’s were known for the honesty and oaths?” Aemond pressed.

You breathed heavily as you watched Cregan’s gaze fell to you and only you in that moment as his answer was given.

“Yes.”

There was no denying the edge of arousal that roughened the edge of his answer.

“Hm.” A beat, “Would you like a taste?”

You brows furrowed as you looked up to your husband, who kept his eye on Cregan, his hand atop your shoulder brushing gently in thought.

A taste?

Did he mean to-

Your heart leapt into your throat, watching as Aemond took his blade from his side and moved towards the Stark man.

“Stop!” You yelled, watching as Cregan did not flinch when Aemond approached him.

“Worry not, I mean no harm. I am feeling generous.” Aemond purred, lifting the blade towards Cregan, “He watched dutifully as I put my seed inside of you.” His lilac eye dropped to Cregan’s hardened member, “And it seems that he has enjoyed it.” The Prince turned to face you, “I only wish to give him a parting gift. Something to remember… to agonise over for years to come.”

With a swift hand, Aemond sliced the ropes that bound Cregan's chest to the back of the chair, the Northerner staying still in his seat. The tall Targaryen bent down and cut the ropes on the mans legs loose, one by one.

“Now,” Aemond stood to his full height again, pointing his blade towards Cregan’s wrists, still tied to the chair, “Know that I have your men in a holding cell, and should you try anything, I shall have them all cut into seven pieces and strung about the gates.” Aemond paused, his gaze hardening, “And then I will stay true to my word.”

Cregan’s chest heaved with anger as he watched the prince, still not speaking a word.

“Do we understand each other?” Aemond questioned him, one silver brow lifted in challenge.

Cregan’s jaw clenched, a click audible to the chambers, “Yes.” He growled.

Aemond hummed in acknowledgement and released his hands, taking a step back as Cregan stood slowly, rubbing at his raw wrists as he looked at you on the bed. His head turned back towards your husband, uncertain of what he meant.

Impatiently Aemond thrust his arm towards you, blade still in hand, “Go to her. Taste how sweet she is, and know that you will never taste her again.”

Cregan shifted on his feet uncomfortably, looking to you for permission, for denial.

You didn’t know what to do, or what to say, so instead, you widened your legs in invitation, feeling desire begin to stir in you once more.

It was wrong.

But Gods did you need it.

“Clean her up.” Aemond commanded, and with slow and cautious steps, Cregan walked towards you.

The scent of Aemond was overpowered by that of Cregan’s. He smelt of cedar wood and fur, and the soft smell of musk beneath it all that just felt right for a Northerner.

It felt as if each stepped dragged on for days. You shifted against the bed nervously, casting your eyes to Aemond, who watched with a desire of his own.

Cregan dropped to his knees, his hands twitching by the side of your hips on the bed, cautious to even touch you, a stark difference to the way Aemond simply took. The dark haired man looked up at you breathlessly as you gave him a nod, shifting your hips towards him again, likings the way his eyes dropped down to your centre and then back up.

His large calloused hands grasped the soft meat of your hips, his eyes keeping on yours as he leant froward slowly, the heat of his breath fanning across your sensitive folds. Your mouth parted as you panted above him, watching as he wet his lips before finally pressing a chaste kiss to your core.

A soft moan escaped your mouth, head dropping back momentarily, giving him a strike of confidence before burying his tongue between your folds. You dropped back onto the bed, hands coming to grasp his hair as he licked and suckled at your folds, lapping at both your and Aemond’s release which only served to spark your desire further, that same familiar coil winding rapidly.

You tilted your head to watch him, his eyes still on you as you began to come undone on his tongue. Your name pulled you away from his stare, and you turned your head to face Aemond who watched hungrily from beside, his jaw tensed.

Already sensitive from such an intense night already, you writhed against Cregan’s mouth with a moan, his ministrations bringing you to your peak swiftly, your slick gushing into his mouth. You kept your eyes on Aemond this time, watching as he breathed deeply, his cock already beginning to swell in his breeches.

You panted and whined as the pleasure became too much, and only then did Cregan remove his face from between your thighs, roughly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The chambers became still as you all breathed deeply, warmth spreading through your limbs as you couldn’t decide who to look at for longest.

Your husband.

Or the Northerner.

All you could think about was what you had done.

What had just transpired.

Your husband had trapped a Lord of the North in his chambers and forced him to watch you be fucked by him, and not only that, commanded that he cleaned you after. But what was the most confusing part of all, was that all in the chambers seemed to have liked it.

“Cole.” Aemond’s voice broke the stillness of the room, the door to the chambers opening swiftly.

Cregan stepped in front of you to shield your body from Ser Cole at the same time Aemond did, his back turning to his knight as he grabbed the sheet of the bed to drape over your exposed body.

The knight entered, flagged by two guards.

Confusion flashed across Cregan’s face as he stiffened, body gearing itself up for a fight.

“Relax, Stark.” Aemond mused, not even bothering to look at the man as he observed the guards, eye landing on Ser Cole again, “Take Cregan and his men to the travel roads. Ensure they have food for travel and water for the ride. They are to leave Kings Landing immediately to return back to Winterfell.”

Ser Cole nodded, as did the guards who swiftly approached Cregan, grabbing each arm as they began to remove him from Aemond’s chambers. The dark haired man looked back at you in confusion as you clutched the sheet your chest, unsure of what to do.

“Stark.” Aemond called out before the dark haired mans foot could cross the threshold. The Northerner stilled, eyes suspicious, “Expect a raven.”

Without another word, the guards pulled Cregan out of the room, Criston shutting the door behind them. The silence in the chambers was nerve-racking, and you turned to look at your uncle, who was already making his way to fill two goblets of wine.

Your mouth opened, a myriad of questions ready to pour out your mouth, but as usual, Aemond seemed to be one step ahead.

“You’re my wife.” He began, the sound of wine filling goblets. He turned with them in hand, coming to stand beside the bed as he handed you one.

You kept one hand with the sheets against your breast, the other shakily grasping the goblet, fatigue weighing your body down. Aemond spun to sit in the very chair that Cregan had been tied to, the ropes still on the floor in a heap.

“Our marriage is one of a prospect of peace, not love.” His words stung you in a way you didn’t realise they could, “Though, I do hope to change that one day. I wish to make you happy,” He paused, taking a sip from his goblet as he thought carefully, “And it would be remiss of me to say that what just happened didn’t spark something within me.”

You frowned, “I do not understand.”

“You looked like a Queen having him kneel before you.”

A beat.

“My Queen."

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@mvdhvtterxx @iamavailablesstuff @apollonshootafar @honeybunnee @kckt88 @youraverageaemondsimp @themadelinehatter @saltedcaramelpretzel @thearieunhinged @aemondsbabygirl @constantlydelulusional @superclairebear96 @opheliaas-stuff @lokisdarlingpet @casualfansoul @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @dosxxy @astrocytes-axon

@kage-no-sonzai @honeybunnee @music-of-dragons @drakar-i @moteandlight-blog @bash1018 @americanprometheuss @hb8301 @ttkttt @the-jess-life @marihoneywk @iloveallmyboys @alegria1580 @heavenhatesme @msassenach @ahristata @hiraethrhapsody @drakar-i @avidreader73 @thefireblaze @marysucks-blog

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