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targaryenrealnessdarling · 4 months ago

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Unabashed

Summary: Aemond wonders whether his pretty new wife is as shy in her sleep as she is awake, and intends to find out | Word Count: 1.6~k | Warnings: somnophilia, dubcon, oral (f receiving), feelings of shame

Thank you to @targaryen-dynasty for organising the event! <3 Make sure to check out the others!

The early dawn light filtered through the gossamer curtains, casting a soft glow across the spacious chamber. Aemond Targaryen, with his stern demeanour and battle-hardened visage, stood at the edge of their grand bed. His gaze softened as it fell upon his wife, a gentle and shy creature, who seemed out of place amidst the grandeur of a Targaryen prince's bedchamber.

They had been married but a few weeks, and her timidity was still evident in her every movement. She lay there, her breaths even and soft, her face relaxed in sleep. Aemond's heart swelled with a mixture of affection and protectiveness. He knew she struggled with the expectations placed upon her as his wife, especially when it came to intimacy.

He thought back to their wedding night. She had blushed deeply, her cheeks a rosy hue as she avoided meeting his gaze. Her hands had trembled slightly as she undressed, her shyness palpable. Aemond had taken her hands in his, his touch gentle, hoping to reassure her, but with a deep desire to claim her as his. Her skin had been warm, and he could feel the rapid beat of her pulse under his fingers. He had moved slowly, each touch deliberate, wanting to make her feel safe and cherished. Despite his efforts, she had remained tentative, her actions hesitant and reserved.

Many at court whispered that she was ill-suited for the intensity that came with being bound to a man like Aemond. They said she lacked the fire needed to stand beside him. Aemond had often wondered if there was another side to her, one hidden beneath layers of gentleness and timidity. A side that perhaps only he could reach, given time and patience.

This morning, he found himself wondering again. As she lay there, serene in sleep, he considered the possibility that in her dreams, she might be free from the constraints of her waking shyness. Perhaps, he thought, he could gently coax that hidden side of her into the light.

The sheets framed her form in his plush bed, her hair in somewhat disarray, a few pieces having escaped her careful and perfect braiding the night before. It had been hot in King’s Landing since their wedding night, and so as his eye drifted over her, he could see the gentle rise of her chest, and her perk nipples forming peaks against the near-translucent cotton bedding. A shy thing she was, but most certainly not without allure.

Aemond's breath caught at the sight, a primal part of him stirred by her unintentional seduction. The stark contrast between her modesty and the sensual image she presented tugged at some place usually kept hidden. She was a puzzle he was determined to solve, a delicate flower he was eager to nurture.

Before he knew it, his fingers bunched the sheets in his grasp, watching with deep satisfaction at the way her body was slowly revealed to him, inch by perfect inch. A map of unmarked territory he was determined to explore. The fabric slid against her skin with such ease, as if she were made of water and they were simply a ripple in her perfection, until eventually, once she was bared to him and she gave a quick breath-like shudder, he was able to take his time in forming his plan.

Aemond leaned closer, his breath hot against her skin. His lips pressed gentle, reverent kisses along the smooth expanse of her stomach, moving lower with each caress. Her body trembled slightly beneath his touch, her breath hitching in her sleep, as if her dreams were becoming more vivid and enticing.

When he finally reached the apex of her thighs, he paused, glancing up at her face. Her eyes were still closed, her lips parted slightly, a soft sigh escaping her. Taking a deep breath, Aemond pressed a tender kiss against her inner thigh, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his lips.

His tongue flicked out, tasting her, a heady mix of sweetness and desire. She stirred, a soft moan escaping her lips as her body responded to his touch. Encouraged, Aemond continued his ministrations, his tongue moving with careful thought, exploring every inch of her glistening slit with the precision he afforded everything else in his life.

Her hips shifted slightly, a subconscious response to the pleasure building within her. Aemond's hands gently gripped her thighs, holding her in place as he deepened his efforts, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes. Each moan, each soft gasp she made was a testament to the pleasure he was giving her.

There was a deep, primal part that glimmered in his eye at the way she responded, her subconscious sounds and movements a stark contrast to her demeanour when she was awake. Her slumber seemed to lower her carefully built walls, imprisoning her sexuality inside. Her hands gripped the sheets the same way he gripped her thighs, the warm muscle of his tongue dragging over her sex up towards her bud, enclosing his lips around it, the smirk he wore hidden in his actions.

The sounds were so sweet to his ears he could stay between her plush thighs all day. A part of him was surprised she hadn’t woken yet with the way her hips were chasing his lips and tongue, and her fingers carding through his loose hair and pulling lightly at the roots to ground herself. Her movements were by no means erratic, enough for him to know without looking that she was still in whatever sleep-addled bliss she imagined, but it appeared his little wife was more and more an exciting enigma with every passing day.

Her breathing grew a fraction more erratic, her stomach clenching and unclenching with the warm, numbing climax that was steadily rising. She would blush and apologise profusely if she could see the way she was acting right at this moment, moaning and writhing with her cunt on his mouth. Aemond worked in rhythmic, intoxicating strokes, taking everything she was giving to him, the tartness of her arousal was addictive in a way he had never imagined.

His little wife’s body arched only slightly off the bed, her grip tightening and thighs trembling, her release washing over her in powerful waves. The only sound she gave was a breathy, elongated moan, too sweet for the carnal, forbidden act he was performing on her sleeping form. Aemond watched with satisfaction as she slowly relaxed, her breathing returning to a more even pace. He placed a final, tender kiss against her sensitive skin before drawing back, his eyes lingering on her peaceful, contented expression.

He found it almost comical that his wife hadn’t woken to her husband devouring her sweet cunt, but that she had woken to the feeling of the mattress dipping as Aemond righted himself, looking down at her bare form, her chest shimmering with a dew of sweat.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she blinked up at him, her gaze initially hazy with sleep. As her awareness sharpened, she noticed her state of undress and the lingering warmth between her thighs. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, a mix of surprise and realisation dawning on her features.

"Aemond," she whispered, her voice trembling with both shyness and residual pleasure.

He wiped his face, a victorious, cat-like smirk on his features, as if to emphasise her embarrassment. “Good morning, my love.”

She averted her gaze, her hands moving to cover herself instinctively, but Aemond's firm yet gentle touch stopped her.

"There is no need for that," he said softly, his smirk fading into a more tender expression.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of emotions, embarrassment, curiosity, and a budding sense of trust. "Did I... did I embarrass myself?" she asked hesitantly.

Aemond chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound that made her cheeks flush even more. "Not at all," he replied, his voice filled with genuine amusement and pleasure. "You were perfect, and it was a delight to see you respond so…unabashedly"

Her blush deepened, but she managed to meet his gaze, her curiosity overcoming her shyness. "I did not wake up," she murmured, almost to herself. “I thought it was a dream.”

"A dream, perhaps," he said, brushing his fingers gently along her jawline. "But one that I was more than happy to make real."

Feeling her cheeks burn at his brazen behaviour, she tugged the sheets to her chest to cover herself, her expression pleasured but shy. “Such actions will not result in a child.”

"No, it will not," he agreed. "But there are many ways to show my desire. Not all of them are about creating heirs."

“Well I know that.”

His expression took on a predatory gleam, moving swiftly to hold her wrists down to the bed with ease. “You might know,” he murmured, “but you will feel it, every day and every night.”

Her breath hitched, a mixture of fear and excitement. The hardness in his gaze tempered by the affection she saw there. Something shifted in her eyes, a spark of defiance and curiosity he hadn't seen before. She reached up, slipping from his hold, her fingers trailing lightly over his chest, her touch both hesitant and bold. Her lips curved into a small, sweet smile that almost dared him to do more.

His innocent little wife had a hidden fire, one that both intrigued and excited him. He felt his desire flare even stronger, spurred on by the need to explore this new side of her, to see just how far she would go.

“And I intend to make certain you never forget.”

General Taglist: @1lluminaticonfirmed @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04

@buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @eddieslut69 @emmaisafictionwhore @eponaartemisa

@hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust @minholy223 @mochi-rose

@natty2017 @nenelysian @nixiefics @primonizzutto @qyburnsghost

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pathologicalreid · 3 months ago

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for the fear of falling apart | part two

returning to Everett Lynch's case, you try to redefine normalcy with Spencer and JJ, but Grace Lynch has other plans for you

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst, hurt/comfort content warnings: gun violence, spoilers/references to: 9x6 "in the blood", 9x14 "200", 9x23 "angels", 9x24 "demons", 13x22 "believer", 14x1 "300", 14x15 "truth or dare". rewrite of 15x1 "under the skin", 15x2 "awakenings". a lot of dialogue is pulled directly from the show. hospitals/medical information. diana's alzheimers. marriage talk. roslyn's suicide. the parentification of jennifer jareau. mommy AND daddy issues. fear of drowning. word count: 7.48k a/n: it's two days late, but it's three times longer than part one. welcome to the abyss of my brain. it's scary in here.

Your name was being called. First, it felt far away, slowly coming closer and closer, lifting you to the surface as if you were being pulled. The sound was muffled until you broke through the barrier, a female voice clearly called your name, prompting your eyes to fly open, and there you were, sitting up on Penelope’s velvet couch, cocooned in a crocheted blanket with what was sure to be a remarkable bedhead.

Lifting your hand and placing it over your racing heart, you looked up at Penelope, the blue streak that you had redone for her last night prominent against her blonde hair. “Hey,” you said, widening your eyes and letting the blanket fall from your shoulders.

She crooked a brow at you suspiciously. For someone who wasn’t a profiler, she did have a knack for reading people, but you supposed it came with the territory. “My darling girl, you are always more than welcome to sleep on my couch, it’s a wonderful couch, I have spent my fair share of nights sleeping on it,” she rambled, sitting down next to you and taking your hands in hers. “You’re hiding,” she told you softly, “What are you hiding from?”

Penelope reached out to you, sweeping a messy strand of hair behind your ear as her big, brown eyes looked at you sympathetically. The gesture and the way she was speaking to you nearly approached being sisterly. At the idea of developing a supplemental sororal relationship with the technical analyst, you pulled away from her. You shook your head, “I’m not hiding,” you told her simply, leaving her with a half-truth as you stood up and began folding the blanket that had kept you warm overnight.

Nodding incredulously, she looked up at you, “If your Luddite boyfriend is blowing up my phone, then something has to be going on.” Her tone was urgent, but she stayed seated, giving you an advantage.

“Nothing’s wrong, Pen,” you reassured her, shaking your head and shrugging simultaneously.

Her face filled with doubt, glancing over at your cellphone as it buzzed on the coffee table, Spencer’s contact flashing on the touchscreen as you ignored the call. “Why didn’t you tell him you were staying with me last night?”

Pressing your lips in a thin white line, you briefly considered coming clean. You envisioned the truth coming out of you in puddles, everything you had been holding close to your chest for the last month pouring out like alphabet soup, but Penelope didn’t deserve that burden. “I just forgot,” you told her, watching the screen go dark.

Spencer was a worrier by the influence of his environment. Adamantly against getting a new phone, he couldn’t see your location at any given moment. His first course of action was usually calling your sister before resorting to Penelope, who not only has your location on her phone but also has access to your location in the bureau database. It wasn’t a fault of his, members of the BAU did have a tendency to disappear in the dead of the night.

She urged you to call him back as her phone started going off, her shoulders slumping forward, a tell-tale sign that the BAU was being pulled in on a case. If you were lucky, you would be able to slip through the cracks, claiming to put all of your focus into the case so that you didn’t need to have an in-depth conversation with your boyfriend. Or your sister, for that matter.

“Where are we headed?” You asked, rolling up your sleeves and crossing your arms in front of your stomach.

Penelope frowned at the tiny screen in front of her, “Baltimore,” she said hesitantly, “Uh, we gotta go. I’ll drive? You can call Spencer on the way,” she suggested before bolting into the bathroom.

You ended up avoiding the call to Spencer yet again, claiming you’d see him at the office anyway, and instead opening yourself up to a barrage of questions.

Was there cheating? Are you pregnant? Were you pregnant? Did he propose? Did you say no? Did you say yes?

The two of you parted as she went to prepare files and you waltzed into the bullpen, clocking the vase of flowers on your desk immediately. They, of course, weren’t just flowers, but a carefully calculated decision made to try and get into your good graces. This was the fifth vase that had been delivered in the last month.

First, there were honeysuckles, a symbol of devoted affection. Red carnations told you that his heart ached for you. A bouquet of daisies because he truly loved you. Last week, white lilies were left on your desk, a symbol of pure love.

Now, a bunch of apple blossoms sat on your desk, telling you that he preferred you before anyone else. How poignant.

Your eyes burned as you looked around the bullpen, hoping he was around so you could return the flowers to him, but the only people you saw were Emily and Rossi, sequestered in her office in the middle of what seemed to be a tense discussion. Choosing to ignore the flowers, you walked over to your desk, tucking your go-bag underneath and starting to power up your computer.

“Hey, Y/N?” Emily called from her office, “Can you head to the file room and pull everything from the Lynch case?” She didn’t even wait for an answer before closing the door again.

Concerned, you turned around and started making your way to the file room. If Everett Lynch was back, that would explain the worried look on Penelope’s face when the case came in. Even more, that would explain why Emily and Rossi were hidden in her office. Every member of the team wanted to see Lynch locked up for what he’s done, but for Dave it was personal.

Opening the file room, you pulled open the drawer of active cases from the past three months, starting to strip the drawer of anything even remotely related to Everett Lynch. The revelation that Grace was his daughter took everyone by surprise, but Spencer still felt responsible for Luke getting knifed. You should talk to him about it, you thought to yourself, if he didn’t talk about it, he’d just continue to internalize it.

“I need to talk to you,” a voice said suddenly from behind you, jolting you away from your train of thought. Spinning on your heel, you looked at Spencer.

Alarmed, you huffed, “You scared me,” you informed him, clutching the files close to your chest as you studied his stature. He looked fine, his hair was a bit of a mess, but he was wearing the red cardigan that you had gotten him for Christmas last year. You didn’t even want to begin to consider the implications of his outfit choice.

He furrowed his brows at you, “I scared you? You disappeared last night without a word, and I scared you?” There wasn’t even a hint of anger in his voice, instead, his words dripped in sweet melancholy, and you couldn’t look away from him.

You thought about your sister, snatched from the nation’s capital in the middle of the night as vengeance for her work with the CIA. Spencer and Penelope, both taken from what should have been a secure FBI building by a cult that bore a decade-long grudge against the BAU. You had frightened him, probably tripping his overactive mind into believing you were destined to meet a similar fate – dying in a warehouse somewhere. Blinking absently, you shook your head at him, “I’m sorry,” you told him, and you meant it.

“You’re punishing me,” he accused, crossing his arms in front of his chest before quickly dropping them, being hypervigilant about his body language.

Skimming your tongue over the backs of your teeth nervously, you hesitantly met his gaze. He seemed to be convinced that you were punishing him for the events that had taken place last month, but you were inclined to believe that you were punishing yourself, he was caught in your crossfire. “It’s not a punishment, Spence,” you whispered, watching how his brown eyes shone under the fluorescent lights.

His shoulders dropped, disappointment plain on his face, “I missed you at the baby shower,” he confessed.

“Sprinkle,” you corrected.

“Semantics,” he retorted, and it almost brought a smile to your face.

You looked down at the files in your arms, not even realizing that you had been white-knuckling the classified information, “I was there,” you disputed. “I saw you. I brought the gift and put both of our names on it. What more could I have done?”

Rolling his eyes, he gave you a tilted look, “Standing together in the group photo would’ve been nice.”

In response, you straightened up your back, “Ah, you were too busy standing with my sister,” you quipped, bringing the conversation back to the root of the conflict.

“Will you come home tonight? Stay with me?” Your heart clenched at his question.

Hesitantly, you nodded, “I’ll be there,” you assured him, securing the last of the files before sneaking around him, skillfully avoiding the remainder of your team as you made your way to the roundtable room.

“I’m worried about Dave,” you whispered, looking at the other end of the couch at your boyfriend, the two of you dressed in pajamas, your old Georgetown sweatshirt frayed at the cuffs, but it remained your favorite.

The orange print of his Caltech t-shirt was peeling up on the edges, sometimes, at night, you’d pick at the emblem – it drove Spencer crazy, especially when he woke up in a pile of picked vinyl. His mug was carefully resting in his hands as the two of you had a nighttime cup of tea, something you used to do when you had just started dating, and that you decided to try to bring back – chamomile for you, lavender for him. “I talked to him tonight,” he told you, turning to face you, “He’s.. he’ll be fine. He has Krystall.”

And I have you, you thought to yourself, lifting your mug to your lips and taking a sip. Sometimes you felt special for getting this side of Spencer, the ratty college t-shirt and flannel pajama pants that he wore while lounging on the worn leather couch.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” He asked when you didn’t respond, leaning forward and setting his mug on the coffee table.

Shaking your head, you followed suit, setting your mug on a coaster next to his before crawling closer to him on the couch, taking him by surprise. “Not yet,” you whispered, sitting down next to him, relieved when he responded by putting an arm around you. “I’m not mad at you,” you told him, “I just needed time.”

His arm was warm and familiar over your shoulders, having the same effect as a weighted blanket, calming you down with a simple touch. “To think,” he said, “you keep saying that. Are you… do you need more time?”

You closed your eyes, leaning into him, “I don’t think so, but I’m,” you faltered, frowning, “I’m having a hard time talking to my sister.” It wasn’t a secret that there had been some sort of falling out between the Jareau sisters, but the reasoning behind the rift remained a mystery to most people.

“I am too,” he admitted, skimming his fingertips up and down your arm. “I keep recalling everything that happened, and I don’t fully understand how everything got so messed up.

Raising your eyebrows, you remained in the crook of his arm, “People say a lot of things with a gun to their head.”

What you hadn’t considered was that following her admission, your sister would avoid Spencer. When you decided to avoid both of them, you had no idea what you were taking from him. “What would your truth have been?”

“I’m afraid that everything surrounding me is destined to fall apart,” you admitted. “I was brought into my family in an attempt to rescue my parents’ marriage, but it didn’t work.” Your sister slit her wrists open when you were only four years old, but somehow your father had put her death on your shoulders. JJ left home as soon as she could, leaving you at twelve years old with your grief-stricken mother, who had spent the last several decades waiting for the day her daughters would all be reunited.

Spencer was quiet for a while before responding to you, “We should go to bed.”

He was probably right, the team was expected to be in early tomorrow morning. After leaving well past dark, the last thing you wanted to think about was going back in before the sun had a chance to rise. “Wait,” you said, “What’s your truth?”

Briefly, his eyes flickered, looking down the length of your body, “My truth is that I’m tired, we should go to sleep,” he told you, herding you toward your shared bedroom.

“Same time tomorrow?” You asked, walking through the bedroom and into the ensuite, grabbing your toothbrush off the counter.

Nodding, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “I’ll be there.”

Maybe you should’ve taken it as a sign that you were unphased by the revelation of a crazy doctor with a fetish for skinning people. The world had strange ways of telling you that you needed to take a step back, for every sign you had been given, you took a step forward. That was how you ended up in the backseat of an SUV with your sister at the wheel and Spencer in the passenger seat.

Everett Lynch had invaded the BAU’s territory, coming in like an infestation in the district, and he was trying to break his daughter Grace out of jail. You heard through the phone that they were scrambling tactics, using the walkie-talkies in the U.S. Attorney building to prevent their own capture.

The car came to a screeching halt, and the three of you piled out, “There’s no time,” your sister said, looking around, “We’ll cover this one,” she informed Spencer, looking back at you as you adjusted the strap of your Kevlar.

“I’ll take the garage on Piedmont and 10th,” Spencer responded dutifully, nodding at the both of you before turning around and running to the parking garage two blocks over.

You and your sister started to make your way into the larger of the two parking garages, both of you pulling your firearms and pointing them down, keeping yourselves aware of your surroundings. There was movement in front of you, two bodies moving toward a white van with federal plates – the Lynch’s. “Everett Lynch,” you called out, “Drop your weapon and put your hands up, now!”

The man in front of you – the so-called Chameleon – scoffed in disbelief, “Take it easy. There’s no reason to gun down a daddy in front of his little girl, right?” You kept your Glock aimed at him, watching intently as he carefully set his gun on the ground. Sirens started going off in your head, a premonition of things to come.

“Alright,” JJ shouted, “Kick it over. Grace, you too. Drop your backpack and let me see your hands. Come on, now!”

Putting her hands up, Grace let her backpack fall to the ground in a heap of fabric, you kept your gun trained on them as JJ lunged to the side, reaching over to pick up Everett’s gun from the ground. “Grace!” You shouted, watching the girl bring her hands down as she reached for something, “Put your hands back up!”

It was a split-second decision, but you watched as Grace lifted that gun in her hands, and you jumped. You knocked your sister over as three shots rang through the air, the first one grazed her arm. The next two lodged themselves in your side as the two of you fell to the ground, your body rolling along the ground as the father-daughter duo loaded themselves in the van before driving off.

JJ grabbed her weapon and shot after them, hoping to blow out one of their tires or at the very least slow them down, but with only one good arm, her aim was off. She scrambled to her feet, “Come on, Y/N,” she huffed, not checking behind her before running out of the parking garage.

You wanted nothing more than to follow her. Being angry wasn’t worth it anymore, you couldn’t freeze out your older sister anymore. You tried to breathe, you tried to call after her, but when you opened your mouth, the only thing that came out was blood.

For your entire life, you had followed her. When asked what you wanted to be when you grew up, you’d tell them you wanted to be like your big sister. You wanted to follow her, but you couldn’t move.

You followed her from East Allegheny to Washington D.C. You had followed her into this very parking garage. Now, all you could think about was following Roslyn, bleeding out on the cold hard floor, alone.

“Y/N, what’s your location?” Spencer’s voice rang through your radio.

You had never been shot before. You had always thought it would be cold to be shot, but instead, your whole body felt like it had been set on fire.

“Y/N, do you copy?”

The wetness of the blood should have made it cold.

“Y/N?”

Your fire was slowly fading, the blaze that had gone up so quickly began to ebb as you stopped feeling anything at all. The tapping of shoes echoed through the parking garage as you lay on the cement.

“No,” that all too familiar voice said, “Y/N is down, she’s been hit. We need an ambulance now,” Spencer called into the radio, he was out of breath as he looked down at you.

He studied your appearance, clocking the entry wounds on your side and moving his fingers in an attempt to staunch the bleeding. An odd, choked noise escaped your throat as the pressure on your side stoked the fire.

Spencer’s fingers trembled even as he maintained pressure on your side, “I know, I’m sorry, I know it hurts.” He took a deep breath, “here, turn- turn your head,” he instructed gently, using his free hand to coax your face to the side. You choked and came to the horrifying realization that he was trying to stop you from aspirating on your own blood. “Get it all out, baby,” he cajoled as blood spurted from your mouth, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

That would have to be enough. It wasn’t enough for you to hope anymore. You had spent so long with the Anger and Resentment from your Pandora’s Box that you completely failed to notice how Hope had slipped through the cracks, lost in a sea of emotions.

“Do you hear that? That’s the ambulance,” he told you, an unspoken plea in his voice.

But you couldn’t hear the sirens, pretty soon, you couldn’t hear anything at all.

The EMTs had all kinds of things to say, none of them were even remotely comforting. The bullets had entered through the thin opening of your Kevlar, a sort of Achilles heel where you couldn’t be protected. He should have double-checked, he should have paused to adjust the straps before running to the other parking garage.

He watched the doctors shock you in the emergency room, looking on in horror as your heart stopped beating. “Are you her husband?” One of the nurses had asked.

Spencer’s mouth had gone completely dry, “I’m- almost,” he answered, earning a sympathetic look from the nurse as she proceeded to ask him questions about next of kin and extraordinary measures. One of the bullets had pierced your lungs, causing catastrophic bleeding.

The nurse guided him to a surgical waiting room, but no one came out to him with updates, leaving him to sit. Someone brought his go-bag by, letting him change into clothes that weren’t blood-soaked.

He sat in a pile of limbs on the hospital’s couch, picking at the crusted blood that he hadn’t quite managed to wash off, and he wondered if he could ask one of the nurses for a surgical scrub brush, wondering if that would get the last flecks of blood from the ridges of his fingernails.

“Spencer,” JJ called out, rushing through the hallway, Will trailing close behind her.

Her arm was wrapped with gauze, probably stitched up before someone told her what had happened to her little sister. “Hey,” Spencer said, standing up as they approached, wiping his clammy hands on his slacks.

JJ held her hands out, “What have you heard? Anything?”

“It’s gonna be a while,” he said, repeating the only words that he had been told. They had taken you to the OR an hour ago, and all they had to do was wait it out.

The clinical white walls of the hospital were enough to make Spencer stir crazy, when Will offered to get him a cup of coffee, he was almost aggressive in his rejection. The sunlight reflected off the drywall as your surgery continued to test his patience.

Eventually, your mother called JJ back, and your sister walked away in order to explain the situation under the guise of privacy, leaving Spencer alone. “Dr. Reid?” Someone said, maintaining the reverent tones of the hospital that were beginning to make him want to pull his hair out.

“Yes,” he said, standing up in front of the nurse.

The nurse gave him a gentle smile, and he braced himself for the worst. “Ms. Jareau is out of surgery,” she informed him.

You had been in there for nearly six hours. “She…” he faltered, “Can I see her?” He asked, looking past the nurse as if he could see all the way into your recovery room from where he stood.

Nodding, the nurse continued to smile at him, “I can take you to her now if you’d like. She’s still under sedation,” she advised, gesturing for Spencer to follow her through the winding hallways of the hospital.

“Is she going to be okay?” He asked, checking to make sure he had his phone in his pocket so he could text JJ if he needed to.

The nurse’s smile tightened, “We won’t be able to know if she’s sustained any neurological damage until she wakes up.”

He frowned slightly, bracing himself for an answer that he wouldn’t like, “Could she hear me if I talk to her?” He asked, stopping in his tracks as the nurse stopped outside of a room – your room.

“It’s unlikely,” the nurse answered.

That made sense to him, there weren’t any studies that could prove that people could hear external stimuli while comatose. At least, there wasn’t enough for the medical community to reach a consensus. “Thank you,” Spencer said, nodding at the nurse as she turned away, letting him know that the doctor would be by to talk to him soon.

Your skin was pallid, a sickly sheen covering your skin as tubes and wires worked together to monitor you and keep your body going. Spencer set your patient bag in the corner of the room before dragging a chair over to your bedside, cringing at the sound the chair made against the linoleum before taking a seat next to you.

The steady beeping of your heart monitor quickly became the only thing preventing him from falling apart entirely. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, keeping his voice down so that no one else would hear him. “I keep going over it in my head and I don’t know how I didn’t realize you were missing sooner,” he spoke to your silent body, chest rising and falling with even breaths. “I’m so sorry,” he echoed, “You should’ve… you should’ve been my priority. Before Grace. Before Lynch. Before any of it.”

He inhaled shakily, glancing over at your vital monitor, taking comfort in the consistency of the numbers, “I should’ve put you first and now I- I can’t take it back,” he said, eyes burning with emotion. “I know things between the two of us have been kind of weird lately… ever since the pawn shop, I mean. I just,” he paused for a moment, giving himself grace, “I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know if she meant it and if she did, what does that mean? When you didn’t bring it up after the wedding I didn’t either because I just didn’t know how to talk to you about it.”

Somewhere along the way, the two of you had gotten lost. In the midst of not talking about the pawn shop, you had stopped talking altogether. “Now, all of a sudden, none of it even matters. All that matters is that I need you to wake up because I need to have more time with you,” he sniffled, the first hot tears rolling down his cheeks. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it,” he whispered.

“Please don’t leave me,” he begged, thinking of all of those nights the two of you had stayed up talking about the future. Your dream wedding. Your children’s names. He needed it. More of it. More of you.

Mindful of you, he laid his arms on the armrest of your hospital bed, lowering his head and watching the consistent rise and fall of your chest, listening to the whistling of your nostrils as he waited for the doctor to come.

The doctor seemed confident that you would wake up, it was just a question of when. He sent JJ, who had gone home to change into fresh clothing, an update once the doctor left.

Every once in a while, your nose would twitch or your finger would tap on the hospital bedding, and he would allow himself to get his hopes up. It never lasted long, once the fluke ended, he went back to thinking about the situation realistically. You were still having blood transfused, there was a tube in your chest depositing fluids into a bag at your bedside, and even if you did wake up, there was a long road to recovery with an injury like this.

He was terrified that you’d wake up alone and in excruciating pain, so he refused to move, having any paperwork brought directly to him in your room. Nearly every fifteen minutes, he smoothed out the blanket that rested on top of you, careful when putting his hands near your body, even though you couldn’t tell whether or not your blanket was wrinkled. Spencer thought of it as tucking you in, keeping you safe, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was too little too late.

You didn’t make it to the beach as often as you’d like. Spencer hated the beach, and you weren’t interested in swimming in the ocean so much as you wanted to go and people-watch. Families on vacation. Marriage proposals.

The first time you had ever gone to the ocean, you were three years old. JJ and Roslyn hadn’t been in years, but it was all new to you. JJ wanted to bring you to the water, and Roslyn hadn’t even wanted to go on the trip. The water hadn’t scared you then, the endless abyss of blue had seemed more inviting than anything you had ever seen before.

Now, you lay on the sand, all of it cold beneath your skin, the rest of the beach seemingly abandoned. Try as you might, you couldn’t move anything. You wanted to lift your arm to brush hair out of your face. You wanted to sit up. You wanted to go home.

You couldn’t even see the water from where you lay, you opened your mouth, hoping to call for help, but were surprised when the only thing that came out of your mouth was a dark, black sludge. It spurted from your mouth as it ran down your cheeks, staining the white sand of the beach beneath you. You were drowning on dry land, and there was nothing you could do.

Nothing but open your eyes.

The ominous white sky of the beach turned into white walls, as you fluttered your eyes open, the ocean made way for you, parting so that you could return to yourself. Laid in a hospital bed, trying to remember how to breathe, and meeting Spencer’s stare.

“Hi love,” he whispered, gently placing one hand on top of yours, drawing circles on the back of your hand with the pad of his thumb, careful not to knock your pulse oximeter off.

Your brows pinched together as you looked over at him, he looked tired, waiting for you to say something. Your chest felt tight as you looked at him, hundreds of thoughts bubbling to the surface, but only one bubble popped, “I had a nightmare.”

Spencer nodded slowly, messy curls falling over his forehead, “It’s okay, angel. You’re awake now. It can’t hurt you.”

It can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you.

You watched as Spencer reached over and pushed the call button on your bed. Each moment you spent awake became increasingly painful, signified by the slow rise of your heart rate, the pain only exacerbated when your breathing quickened. Alarm grew, “Shh, hey,” Spencer consoled you, reaching his hand out and smoothing your hair back, looking to the door and hoping someone would come in and help you.

They did, pushing pain medications through your IV and watching your heart rate stabilize before giving you something to help you calm down. Spencer probably knew what they all were, making mental notes to keep track of everything as he kept his hand in yours. Your pain level dwindled from a nine to a six, leveling out in the middle ground.

You settled back into the pillows, cringing as a nurse moved your bed so that you were sitting up slightly, nodding softly at the things that she told you about rest. She checked your vitals, before leaving the two of you alone, silence swirling around the two of you as you constructed a bubble to keep yourselves warm.

“I should’ve found you sooner,” he whispered, looking over at you, a distressed look in his eyes.

Moving at a turtle’s pace, you shook your head, “You saved my life.”

It’s okay. I’ve got you, he had told you in the parking garage, and he did. He still had you, even now. If they had let him, Spencer might’ve waited for you outside the operating room, just to be in the vicinity of you.

“Don’t go anywhere,” you murmured, eyes opening and closing slowly. Your eyelids felt sticky like there was still tape residue on them from your operation, but you didn’t dare move. You didn’t dare agitate any wound on your body. “Is JJ okay?” You asked, your voice tight. Checking in on your sister took all of your strength.

Spencer kept his hand in yours, moving his free hand to wipe at tears that had spilled over your lower lashline. “She’s fine, just a graze,” he reassured you, “I’ll call her when you go back to sleep.”

You swallowed thickly, wondering if you were allowed to have any water, “I missed you,” you breathed, fighting to keep your eyes open. “I wanna talk to you,” you sniffled.

“You should sleep, my sweet girl,” he answered, not wanting you to get into a hefty conversation in your condition. “We have all the time in the world to talk when you wake up.”

Except you didn’t. You had thought there was time for you to be angry, but then you had been shot. As much as you hated the idea of being someone who had a near-death experience and suddenly let bygones be bygones, alienating those close to you seemed exhausting. You took a deep breath, thankful for the nasal cannula on your face, “I’ve been so distant,” you admitted.

Spencer hesitated, not sure if you needed to get into this while so vulnerable, “I don’t know if she meant it,” he breathed.

“I don’t need to know,” you told him, surprising yourself as much as him with your admission. “JJ is… She’s one of the most important people in my life, but so are you. Maybe even more so.”

He frowned, “You can’t possibly mean that.”

You closed your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, “JJ’s my sister, we share the same family, but I chose you, Spence. I will continue to do so,” you told him, deciding against adding until the day that I die. Watching him as he looked at you with tear-filled eyes, “Oh,” you sighed, “please don’t cry. I never meant to hurt you.”

Waving off your concern, he wiped at his eyes before taking one of your hands in both of his, “I love you so much, but I don’t want you to forget your anger.”

“Huh?” You hummed groggily.

“You’ve been mad for months,” he whispered, the strokes of his thumb on the back of your hand putting you to sleep. “It doesn’t need to fade away in the blink of an eye.”

You let your eyes slip shut once again, “I’ll still give you a hard time.”

He laughed slightly at that, “Good.”

“Spence?” You breathed.

“Yeah, baby?”

Humming, you settled back into the bed, “I don’t think I’ll be able to make our tea date tonight.”

When you woke up again, a familiar blonde was sitting at the foot of your bed, hunched in a plastic hospital chair while Spencer remained at your bedside, hands still intertwined, but sweaty now. “Jennifer,” he said, getting the attention of your sister.

She jumped up from the chair and sat on the edge of your bed, in your periphery, you saw Spencer retreat, ambling into the hallway to talk to Emily. Letting him go, you turned your attention to your sister, “Hey, Jayg,” you greeted, words coming easier now than they did before, the swelling of your throat had gone down.

Her finely chiseled eyebrows pinched together on her face, “I thought you were right behind me,” she admitted miserably, looking at your torso.

“It’s alright now, though,” you tried to reassure her. You had lost half of your blood volume, much of it on the parking garage floor, but you were here now, that had to mean something.

She shook her head in abject self-disappointment, “I should have protected you,” she insisted, scrunching up her nose as she fought back tears.

You were too tired to fight emotions, water falling from your tear ducts as the two of you tried to mend what had previously been torn apart. “You don’t need to protect me,” you insisted. The decision to take the hit had been entirely your own, driven by a need to protect her.

“I always have though,” she reminded you, “When Roz died, dad left, and mom checked out, I took care of you.”

When you were a child, you thought that having your pre-teen sister do everything for you was the way things worked. It didn’t last long, things unraveled from there, but you always had JJ. “I’m all grown up now,” you reminded her. You didn’t need her protection in your early thirties in the same way you needed them as a child.

JJ took a shaky breath, cupping your cheek with her hand affectionately, the way a mother would to their child, “You’re always going to be my little sister.”

You looked at her, seven years your senior, and you sighed, “Do you know why I did it?” You asked her, studying the sad look in her eyes.

She smoothed your hair back, grabbed a cup of water from your bedside, and brought the straw to your lips, “Why, Ducky?”

The childhood nickname chimed in your ears, one of the only things that you retained from your eldest sister. You smiled at her, “Your boys.” The answer came easily to you, “You have Will and your tiny people, and I just thought… I couldn’t let you leave them.”

“But I almost lost you,” she countered, it wasn’t aggressive, it was almost like she was trying to make you see the value in your own life. The people in your life didn’t make you valuable, you had value as an individual.

Shrugging, you looked at her sympathetically, “Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’, “You’re stuck with me.”

She gave you a sisterly, knowing look, “Your heart stopped. Twice.”

You concurred, “Yeah, because you’re just that stuck with me.” You insisted, watching as Spencer answered a phone call in the hallway. “Did you call them?” You asked her, giving her a quick glance as you craned your neck to keep an eye on your boyfriend.

“Mom’s on a flight in tomorrow morning, but dad hasn’t responded to my voicemail,” she informed you, she didn’t look surprised, and you didn’t feel it.

Where your father was concerned, some things were better left unsaid, but you wouldn’t necessarily mind if he never responded to your sister’s calls. There was no reason to drag him and his new wife from their cushy life in Florida. Spencer reentered the room as JJ’s phone started ringing – Will – and the two of them traded off, amicably splitting time with you.

Greeting him with a content smile on your face, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your hairline, “I have to go,” he told you reluctantly.

You tried not to let any disappointment show on your face, “Why? What’s wrong?” You asked, studying his face for any sign of what his phone call had been about.

“That was Brookfield on the phone,” Spencer said, checking all of the monitors that surrounded you.

The grim look on his face made sense to you. Moving his mother into Brookfield had been the right choice for everyone, but her condition was never going to get better. Last time he had gone to visit, Diana hadn’t even recognized him, and you spent the rest of the day holding him, letting him know it was alright. “You have to go,” you echoed his earlier sentiment, nodding reassuringly.

He hesitated to leave you, sitting on the edge of your bed that had been previously occupied by your sister, “But you- you’re…”

You shook your head in dismissal, “Sometimes everything happens all at once, but you have to go.” If Brookfield was telling him to get down there, then he needed to go.

The next several hours passed slowly, Emily gave you an update on the case – the reader’s digest version, avoiding any gnarly details in an attempt to protect you. Will brought you and JJ dinner, eating the meal with them and your nephews, you were grateful to not have to eat the hospital cafeteria food. Slowly, the day came to an end, you sent JJ home when visiting hours ended, letting her know that you didn’t need to be protected while you were in a hospital.

You fell asleep not long after one of your nurses lowered the volume on your vital monitor, the dark peace of the hospital lulling you into a sense of safety. There hadn’t been word from Spencer, and you worried about him and his mother.

A tapping sound dragged you from what was thankfully a dreamless sleep, you recognized the sound of the footsteps, those shoes made a similar sound on the hardwood floor of your apartment, “You’re noisy when you wear your fancy shoes,” you mumbled drowsily, opening your tired eyes and tilting your head in the direction of the sound.

“Hey,” Spencer whispered, “Go back to sleep,” he told you gently, slowly making his way around your hospital bed and to the fold-out chair next to your bed.

You hummed, following him with your eyes as they adjusted in the dark, “No, you woke me up. Now you have to talk to me,” you told him, reaching over to switch on a lamp, cringing at the way the light burned your eyes.

Unprompted, he inspected your vital monitor before reaching out to adjust your nasal cannula, “Where’s JJ?” He asked, cupping your cheek affectionately before taking his seat.

Reaching out for your cup of water, you smiled to yourself when Spencer moved it closer to you, “I made her go home. Our mom will be here in the morning, and she’ll need all the rest she can get.” There was also the fact that Michael had been freaked out by seeing you in a hospital, so he needed some extra love from his parents tonight. “Wait,” you said, “How did you get in here? Visiting hours are over.”

“I might have told a small lie about you needing security,” he admitted sheepishly, but beneath it, he was smug. You didn’t fault him on it, you probably wanted him here just as much as he wanted to be here, if not more.

Smiling in the dim lamplight, you inclined your head toward him, “Did you misrepresent the bureau?”

He rolled his eyes, “I’d do it again if it meant I get to spend the night with you.” Helping you put your water cup back on your tray, Spencer took your hand in his, “How are you doing?”

You were exhausted, not in the sense that you wanted to sleep, although that probably couldn’t hurt, but in the sense that your entire body ached. There was a pinch in your side that wouldn’t ease up, and you didn’t feel comfortable with asking for more pain medication. Part of you was afraid that in the process of being shot, you developed a fear of drowning. You almost died today. Huge strides had been made in an attempt to repair your relationship with Spencer and with your sister. None of these thoughts escaped your lips, you just looked at him sympathetically, “How’s your mom?”

All he gave you was a tight smile, squeezing your hand tightly, “She’s ah… she’s alright,” he told you, your chest tightening at the emotion in his voice. “They’re calling it an awakening,” he continued, sounding unsure of himself.

“Terminal lucidity,” you breathed, a term you had only read about briefly when Diana was first diagnosed. The two of you had made many cross-country calls, trading information while Spencer stayed with her in Las Vegas.

He nodded, “Yeah… they don’t know how long it…”

How long she had left. How long she would remain lucid. “Are you okay?”

“No,” he answered quickly, too quickly for your liking.

You wiggled your fingers in his hand, getting his attention, “I want you to go back tomorrow,” you ordered him. It wasn’t something you were willing to budge on, insisting that he go back to Brookfield tomorrow to spend more time with his mother.

“She asked about you,” he admitted, leaning back in the chair, keeping your hands intertwined, “She wondered why we never got married. I told her it was never the right time. Do you know what she said to that?”

Watching intently as he shared the story with you, you shook your head, “What did she say?”

He chuckled lightly, “She said that might’ve been the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard me say.”

You smiled as he recounted the story for you, mimicking the hand gestures that you were sure his mother had used. “Obviously she’s never seen your Dirty Harry impression,” you reminded him, trying not to giggle at the memory.

“The right time will never come if we keep waiting around for it,” he told you, reciting the words of wisdom that his mother had imparted upon him.

Your breathing hitched in the dark of the night, “Spence?”

He nodded, “Yeah, baby?”

“Are you going to ask me to marry you?” You asked him hesitantly, wondering if that was what he was getting at.

Spencer shook his head, “Not tonight, angel.” He looked around the hospital room, cards and balloons and flowers had made their way in through the afternoon and evening. Penelope had even brought your apple blossoms from your desk. His flower language seemed so inconsequential now. “Go to sleep,” he whispered, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Will you tell me a story?” You whispered, settling yourself back into the flat hospital pillows, resigning yourself to the end of the marriage conversation.

He hummed, dimming the lamplight, “Which one?” There were a few stories that he had memorized specifically for you. When work or life or nightmares got to be too much, he would recall them for you.

“Can we do Portrait of a Lady again?” You raised your eyebrows, smiling impishly.

He rolled his eyes sardonically, “Your love for Henry James should be studied in a lab.”

You waved him off, “Okay, and? It’s story time.”

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drgnflyteabox · 4 months ago

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MDNI!!!!!!!!! tw dubcon

thinking about the fall of rome >>> roman general price on a campaign to win back roman territory

you're conveniently living in a village they commandeer as a military base/outpost. the villagers can stay, as theyre roman citizens/farmers.. but even though you're used to hard work you're still so soft compared to prices soldiers who've all seen battle :(( who are so mean and rough with you, you have to sneak around to avoid being teased and pushed around </3

price comforts you one night outside of his generals tent, so massive and warm, wiping your tears with his rough thumb. he invites you in for wine and supper - really, it's the least he can do for how his men have been behaving

so what if it ends with your crossed legs pushed into your chest, bent like a pretzel, prices thick cock kissing your cervix :') he's so rough even though you're a virgin :(( so mean with his actions, but crooning at you so nice with his words. encouraging you to take it, holding your ankles with one massive hand and your wrists with another :<

he barely needs to touch you for you to come - you were a virgin before this, so so sensitive. he comes inside you and apologizes for it with honey-sweetened dates and little cheesecakes fed to you by hand, sitting naked and boneless on his thigh

(definitely didn't come inside on purpose to see you swell up with his baby after... his little war trophy)

sigh

#cod x reader #cod mw2 #task force 141 #141 x reader #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #price x reader #i luv u price #mdni #18+ mdni #minors dni #dubc0n #price cod #captain price #price x you #price smut #john price x you #drgnfly writes

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stealingyourbones · 5 months ago

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time to post the prompt I tormented @bloggerspam with on discord >:) Danny and Jason died at the same time and parts of their core jumped into each others cores, making them literal soulmates. They feel a burning tug deep in their chest ever since they got brought back to life, a desperate yearning, there’s some part of themselves that is missing. They feel hollow. After a bad coming out (as Phantom, not out of the closet) with his parents, Danny decides to follow that tugging sensation... all the way to Gotham City, where a certain crime lord also is yearning for something he can’t quite place. During the time Danny arrives in Gotham, the sense of yearning and hollowness strengthens in Jason. He doesn't know what's going on. His family is worried for him. Jason's new bedtime routine is gently rubbing a spot just to the right of his heart, silent tears running down his cheeks as he yearns for the touch of a person he's never met. It's confusing and frightening. All he knows is that the pain in his chest is now even stronger. The hollowness he's felt ever since he crawled his way out of his grave spreading past a sense of yearning and progressing to an agonizing longing. Jason tested himself for every type of Ivy's pollen and it came back negative. He doesn't know what's going on and he's scared. For Danny it's similar. The tug of his core is even stronger in Crime Alley. Every night he weeps holding his hands around his core feeling it softly cry for its other half. He knows they're nearby but he doesn't know how to pinpoint their location. All he can do is wait and hope that they stumble across each other. Danny decides to take action. He steals some of Vlad’s money and opens a coffee shop in the Narrows. Danny can feel the tugging so much stronger here. He hopes he can find what his core is looking for. Danny first meets this one extremely tired looking teen in a nice suit who always looks dead on his feet and asks for an ungodly amount of caffeine. Danny happily gives him the borderline toxic order. The man keeps on coming to his shop and they start to get to know each other. Unknowingly, Danny has become fast friends with a billionaire CEO. After multiple agonizing weeks, Tim brings his brother to the new shop that opened in his territory that sells incredibly good coffee for a concerningly low price... Danny is just working at his cafe on another average day when the door opens and in walks Tim and Him. A tall and built man with a white streak in his hair who's staring at Danny like he hung the stars in the sky.

The second their eyes locked,,, they felt whole. For the first time in years the yearning pain is no longer.

After meeting they realized a problem. It's genuinely agonizing being apart for more than a half an hour as their cores are finally healing from tearing themselves apart in their desperation to find their other half. This streamlines getting to know each other with the forced closeness. Tim helps Jason and takes over his patrols in Crime Alley as their cores mend. They found out that physical touch helps speed up the process greatly which meant the optimal way to speed up their cores healing was to sleep in the same bed.

During this time, both Danny and Jason's ghostly instincts are in overdrive. Danny and Jason both unknowingly are courting each other in a ghostly fashion and are unknowingly accepting the courting from each other, leading to an unintentional ghostly marriage (They aren't too freaked out about it when they figure out they're technically married according to Infinite Realms customs. It completes the mending of their cores after all.)

#dpxdc #danny phantom #dp x dc #bones prompts #its a long one. behold my thoughts.#it was a blast writing this #I changed some stuff to make it more coherent

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sh1-n0bu · 3 days ago

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i have noticed a small pattern of elves being on my latest fictional character obsessions and HEAR ME OUT!!

elf who has lived for hundreds upon thousands of years, who had experienced many of the things the world has to offer. sadness of bidding hundreds of farewells to the beauty of life and alliance of different races

elf who even after all his years of living still yet to find a love for himself. regal and seemingly detached to the concepts of relationships elves may be, even they get lonely. some nights feeling a little bit too long, a little bit too cold as they add another layer of blanket over themselves or reaching over to hug one of his puffy pillows like how he would hug his future lover. the coldness of being immortal seeping into his bones and making him shiver despite elves being above the concept of getting sick or feeling the cold temperatures

elf who runs into you by some chance meeting. maybe you were walking in the territory of elves without knowing it, maybe he purposely goes to human residences and towns, seeking adventure, excitement and change of pace. who immediately is enamored by you just by your smile that you flash his way, a kind one, a gentle one, to a nearby passenger. who falls in love with the callouses of your hand, the freckles, the small scars, the little bits of imperfection that marked you as clearly human, very much mortal, very much brittle but still with your own strength that he hasn’t felt before

elf bf who starts to court you the moment he realizes that you weren’t seeing anyone, bringing small gifts, exchanging knowledge, singing you soft ancient lullabies that no other mortal has ever heard before. maybe he finds himself writing a poem about you one day, describing your looks, your feelings, your everyday actions that you may see as mundane but ones he sees as just as courageous and beautiful in their own ways

elf bf who has never seen human flesh or bare skin before, finding the rippling biceps and toned legs of yours to be… curious. a tentative finger touching the muscles here and there, stopping you mid work as he inquires about them in a soft tone. elves of course were magical beings, blessed with magic and eternity and had no need to develop visible physical muscles till the point they become buff or beefy to some extent all due to their magic and ancient powers. the tips of his pointy ear twitching softly, eyes wide in wonder as you explain that contrary to his kin, your own develop muscles if they are put to work in physically demanding job for enough time

elf bf who over time, finds himself obsessively scribbling down any sort of new information about human anatomy on a journal, always asking you new things as he finds himself able to learn more despite having been alive for hundreds upon thousands of years. tracing the old faded scars on your body with the tip of his finger, counting the freckles, kissing the stretch marks as they were all you. regardless of how you see it, to him it was all you, together and healthy. you were alive even if you may have battle scars and he always makes sure to thank the stars as it was thanks to the tribulations you have conquered that you two were here now. staring eye to eye, touching your foreheads together as you whisper about mundane things

elf bf who one day sees you cut down a tree, cut a log off or prepare firewood and finds that he was imagining the bulge of your muscles against himself. big arms caging him in a bear hug, legs to support him and strong back that he could sink his nails into as he moans under you— hold. since when has his thoughts of you turned… impure? since when has he become turned on? sitting there on one of the logs with a painful strain against his pants as he swallowed the saliva that gathered in his jaw down, tearing his gaze away. no no, he really shouldn’t think of you as such, you were still in courting phase after all and elves were a race that took their romances and courting extremely important

yet regardless of his kin’s customs and traditions, your pretty elf bf couldn’t help but continue to stare. his gaze constantly seeking your figure out, seeing you just go through the motions of every life peacefully while he gets pathetically turned on by your actions as if he was still but a fledgling who learned of a kiss. chopping down trees for firewood, maybe you would work in front of a fire or heat for too long and get sweaty, removing one of the overtunics. maybe you’re just simply dragging a bucket full of water from the well, cranking the pulley as the muscles on your arms and back strained

elf bf who finds himself extremely aroused as his mind wanders to the gutters as he just shamelessly stares at your working form. oh, to feel those calloused hands touch his colder skin, palms smoothening over his creamy skin, and down his chest, his stomach and over his bulge. maybe you would tease the poor thing, tease him of how quick he is to get aroused, the pre of his half-hard cock weeping through his underwear and pants like he was some sore pathetic loser. a little virgin. bully him about being unable to use his cock, make him whine at your mean words as his hips weakly buckle under your exploratory hands

elf bf who couldn’t help but imagine the usual sweetness of your attitude gone, replaced by one that was just a tad bit meaner as you pushes his face down into the pillows of your bed, force his hands to stretch open his puckering hole for you to fuck senselessly. imagining you whispering all sorts of filth into his twitching ears, promising to breed him full, to use him to your heart’s content all night long as he whines and squeals like a little lamb caught in the nest of a hungry wolf. who couldn’t swallow down the quiet whimper coming from his throat as he imagined your hand grasping at his long locks, fisting it tightly as you yank him back, forcing him to arch his back and push the tip of your cock to bruise his guts even more

elf bf who waves off your worry when you had managed to hear the embarrassing noise that slipped past his lips, saying that he was having a bit of a sore throat. gods, he would love to actually whimper from having a sore throat of getting his mouth plowed all day by your fat cock head forcing his jaws wiiideee open

elf bf who couldn’t help but get a little needy in his kisses since then. hands that touched your muscles with curiosity now running over your skin as if trying to feebly seduce you. dropping things to the ground a bit too many times, following you close behind even as you told him that some of the work you needed to do required space and for him to be away for his own safety. who straddles your lap all snug, pushing his chest flush against your own as your simply daily evening kisses after dinner becomes a bit too heated. he definitely had little to no experience with the way his tongue kept licking at your lips meagerly, long fingers curling over your shoulders tightly while his bucking hips on your lap as he starts to get hard again

elf bf who has finally had enough of just his meager imaginations, tugging on the strings of your white tunic with shaky hands as he rambles about touching you, you touching him, feeling him, using him — anything dammit! use those hands of yours on him!

elf bf who soon realizes that he had perhaps bitten off more than he could chew when your hands grip at his hips, dragging his clothed cock against your thigh that had him whining like a cat in heat. meagerly, he tries to replicate what you just made him do, dragging his hips back and forth on your thigh but he all but just looks like an inexperienced bunny. which he probably was judging by the things he spoke to you about himself

elf bf who finds so much pleasure in simply grinding against your thigh for now, the precum of his now hard cock weeping through his pants, staining it into a darker color. all cute and red in the face that spread to his pointy ears, cute high pitched whines falling from his chewed up pink lips. a cute, surprised “a-aahn♡︎??” echoing in the room as you pull his eager body against your own. your chest to his back, hands loosely draped over the hip bone of his

elf bf who lets out the most embarrassing high pitched squeals when your hands travel up his body under his clothes, traveling more and more until teasing at his nipples. rolling your fingertips against the soft areola, squeezing and fondling his pecks as if they were breasts. who jolts in place when you pinch at the hardened buds, tugging at them to test the waters as he arches his back off of your chest, a filthy mewl falling as if he was being fucked stupid already

elf bf who blubbers out uncharacteristic words of “s-shensiitiivgh♡︎ n-no, don’t pinch the-eeengk♡︎♡︎!“ his pleads of your rough hands not torturing his sensitive nipples being replaced with an open mouthed wail when you place a kiss to the pointy tip of his ear. his ears were so sensitive! you knew that and now you were just being downright mean to him as you whisper filth into his ears of acting like a cooped up virgin for merely getting his chest played with. he wasn’t! he was way older than you! slurring out “how c-could you be sooh m-meanngk…♡︎?” as you lick a slow stripe up the pointy helix

elf bf who bucks his hips on your thigh, trying to bounce, trying to move away but ending up whining as his clothed cock grazes against your hardened muscles again. his cute nipples being tortured and groped by your hands, the delicate helix of his ears being assaulted by your wet kisses and licks. any time your hot breath spoke into his ears of how he was such a precious little thing, just like a bunny in heat, he would try to wiggle away. shaking his head with a weak sniffle, his mind churning into a mush as all he could do was to pathetically fuck his cock into your thigh, letting out a soft mewl everytime you buck your leg up to meet his shy excuse of thrusts, jumping in place

elf bf whose minds and body starts to feel weird. the room feeling stifling and your touch making his own skin heat up too much. who tries to tell you that he was feeling ‘odd’ and concerned, yet only to harshly thrust his hips back into your own arousal. eyes widening, a shudder running down his spine at the feeling. still clothed and hidden like his own but good grief, it just felt… so huge since he was sure your human dick couldn’t possibly be much bigger than his own. but no, it got him gulping down the saliva in his mouth

elf bf who bounces himself experimentally onto your own hardened, covered dick, feeling his balls brush against where he guesses is the tip of your strap. his earlier cute whines growing in volume as your torture of his sensitive spots grow worse, groping, squeezing, calling him too eager to get fucked, making him dumb and airheaded. the constant tugs to his chest, the words you spat into his mind so lovingly and the small actions of your hips thrusting up to meet his own weaker excuse of grinding

elf bf who’s voice grow more and more breathier, who finally loses it as he throws himself back against your chest, his head on your shoulder as he let out a wail of “h-hoowt!! t-too ahgg♡︎ haah anhg t-too hoounwt...♥︎!” as he cums into his pants, dirtying the material as a single glob or two of his sweet transparent arousal oozes out through the linen. the dark patch growing into a considerable size, his body racked with twitches and jolts as he cums untouched on your lap. precious little thing getting drunk on the feeling of sex and physical pleasure so much till the point he disregards all of his traditions, bending himself over onto the bed, his hand reaching back to tug you forward by the belt with a desperate whine and a cute blown wide pupils and twitching ears♡︎

⇨ meludir, lindir, legolas, maglor, mairon + whoever you like

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bet-on-me-13 · 9 months ago

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Ghost Zone Breakout Au

So! Danny is missing. Maybe it's a Vivisection AU and he ran away, maybe he got trapped by one of his Rogues, either way, Danny is gone and his Rogues are free to spread across the planet.

Walker in particular has an interesting adventure.

After Danny trashed his Prison and broke Wulf out, people realized that it wasn't as impenetrable as he made it out to be. And what's an army of Immortal Criminals to do when given all the time in the world? They test each and every method they can to break in or to escape.

Danny's actions caused a Domino Effect that lead to Walkers Prison being torn apart from both the inside and the outside. He lost his Territory, his Power, and most of his Guards. So he decided to start again in the Mortal Realm.

And he found the perfect New Haunt.

Arkham.

He's never seen such a sorry Prison in his AfterLife (It's an asylum). Criminals breaking in and out every other week, no prisoner staying for longer than a month at most, and nobody is doing anything to fix it.

He needs to remedy this.

So one night, he and his Army of Ghostly Guards attack the Prison. They Overshadow whatever guards are on Duty, take control of the Prison Systems, and Initiate a Total Lockdown.

Walker then sends out a Message.

"People of the Mortal Realm. I an Warden Walker, the new Head of this here little Prison. We have seen how terrible this sorry excuse for a prison is, and decided to take it upon ourselves to fix it. From now on, we will be the Guards of this Arkham. Send your prisoners here, and they will stay here. Try to break in, and you will never leave. Try to force us out, and you will join our undead Ranks. This is not a Negotiation, this is not a Request, this is an Announcement. If you have a problem with this, then I will be happy for personally meet you. I am in need of new employees after all."

After this message, many tried to stop him, but none were successful. He didn't seem to understand that a Prison is meant to hold Prisoners for a determined amount of Time, not forever. Or that it wasn't a Prison in the first place, it was an Asylum to treat the mentally ill.

The Bats could do anything either. Any time they tried to take back the prison, they were beaten back by the Possessed Guards and Ghostly Guards patrolling the grounds. And they didn't want to hurt the Hostages.

They needed a solution, so they got to digging.

Apparently they weren't the only ones who were dealing with Ghost Related Issues. All across the world, powerful Ghosts were claiming large areas of land as their new Haunts, weaker Ghosts were running Rampant in the spaces in between, and JLD was being run ragged as they tried to help wherever they could.

It was a worldwide issue, and they needed to find the Cause.

After a lengthy investigation, they found that all the Ghosts originally came from one Place. A small town in Illinois where they had been trying to break into the Mortal Realm for years, but they had been stopped by another. A Ghost who protected the Mortal Realm from the powerful Spirits of the Dead.

If they had any hope of containing this threat, they needed his help. They needed to find Phantom.

#Dpxdc #Dp x dc #Dcxdp #Dc x dp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Ghost Zone Breakout AU #Danny is missing #Idk where he is yet #Walker took over Arkham #After Danny proved that his prison was fallible they Ghosts of the Zone ripped it apart like piranhas #He lost his Haunt and needed a replacement #Walker isn't the only one #I'm hoping to make more of these later with the other Rogues #Ideas?

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kittykatinabag · 2 years ago

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ick being vulnerable is fucking awful

#prof is finally calling me out for not doing work #late night ramblings #probably needed this but im also painfully aware of my (lack of) actions #people here are too nice for my traumatized american ass #i find myself expecting everyone to at least say 'tough shit' or that 'mental health doesn't excuse unproductivity'#and other capitalistic nonsense #theres literally no reason to expect this because its not reality here #but every time this happens im figuring out that i am in 'holy shit how have you lived this long' mental health territory #but at this exact moment in time i cant unlearn it instantly so all i can do is let it build until it bursts out #and leaves numbness behind so i can actually do work without the usual block #lets not go into how im not continuing therapy with the latest therapist right now #that full explanaion will come in the future probably but for now lets just say im getting tired of my confidence being questioned

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fanaticsnail · 9 months ago

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You Deserve Better

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist here

Word Count: 5,835

Synopsis: Zoro has inhaled pollen while lost and away from his crew. His crew return from a day of celebration and tease him for is senseless navigational skills. But you notice something's wrong with him. He's hot. So, so hot. And he needs your help to combat his illness. You want to help him so badly, why won't he let you get Chopper? And why was he holding you like that?

Warnings: Pollen!Zoro x afab!reader, smut, mdni, p in v, mutual pining, apprehension, longing, giving in, pollen, NSFW.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314

Notes: This was the brain child between me and sordid from waaay back when. Needed to be finished, and here it is!

Zoro had gotten lost, his own confident footing carrying him in a rhythmic trudge towards where he assumed the meeting place for the crew was occurring. It was only when he apprehensively knocked on a door of a strange hut, asking the resident for directions, that he was made painfully aware of truly how far away he was from the coordinates. He missed lunch, he missed the meeting and introductions of the town; his absence truly being noticed due to his status as first-mate to the Straw-Hat Pirate crew.

Turning back around, he began the long trek to the docks. His shoulders crushed with unfamiliar twigs, branches, bushels and foreign leaves he was yet to learn the proper names for. Losing his footing, his right foot fell within a small catchment; a deep puddle of water causing him to stumble in his footing, and fall face-first into a bushel of white flowers. He coughed, the pollen entering his lungs through his nostrils and parted lips.

“What the fuck,” he growled, swiping at his face and blowing puffs of air from his nose and gasping for breath. The floral scent stung at his eyes, a rasp catching in his throat and forcing his Adams apple to bob painfully as he gulped his collected saliva in to rid the tang from his tongue.

Sneezing, coughing and sputtering all the way back to the ship, he felt strange. His skin felt hot, his clothes were scratching his skin and overwhelming him beneath the fibers of mixed cotton and twine. He was too hot, he was too sweaty and he was– –what was this feeling? No stranger to rage, anger and frustration; he simply pegged it to be one of the three as he continued to stumble-trip his way back to the ship; his dampened boot leaving a trail of mud behind him.

After his boots finding residency back in familiar territory, he slowly made his way below deck to the kitchen. If he could just avoid everybody, take a drink of water and a shower, he was sure that would quench this rising feeling in his chest. Everything was burning; his face, his esophagus, his chest, his thighs, his calves, his cock —- why was everything so hot?

Of course the cook was in the kitchen, where else would the waiter be at a time like this. Sanji’s lips were moving, his tone lengthy, low and likely taunting him. Zoro paid him no heed, focussing on slowly breathing as his body propelled itself forward to follow through the motions. Just get to the cupboard, get a cup, take the cup to the sink, fill the cup with cool water, drink the cool water, place the cup in the sink, go to his bunk for the night, strip himself naked, furiously pull his cock until his cum painted the inside of one of his old socks, and finally rest. That is what would fix his ailment, he’s certain of it.

Instead, his small calculated routine was halted before he placed the cup back into the sink; his thirst quenched. Following his meticulously thought out actions were stopped by the burning initiated by Sanji’s hand placement on his shoulder, gripping him to gain his attention.

“-there were so many beers and ales, and you didn’t get to sample any of them,” Sanji dryly laughed his taunt back into Zoro’s shoulder. Sanji was expecting Zoro to taunt him back, their comradery being one built on mutual taunts and jabs. Instead, Zoro clenched his jaw harder, his hand almost shattering the cup he was placing in the sink beneath his firm grip.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sanji asked him firmly, pushing the swordsman’s shoulder to turn him to face his grey-blue hues. Zoro kept his eyes shut, his jaw almost breaking with how tightly his teeth were wrenched together. Feeling another rise of the scratchy tickle within his throat, he had no time to bring his palm up to stifle the cough - a small amount of the foreign pollen extending from Zoro’s lips into Sanji’s breathable oxygen.

“Fuck, man, cover your mouth next ti-,” Sanji’s pupils immediately dilating, his waterline swelling with glossy water, “-why doI-I-...” Sanji felt the effects immediately. Eyes widening with panic, a warm blush rising to Sanji’s cheeks, he fled his grip against the swordsman’s shoulder and hastily sprinted out of the kitchen to barricade himself in his crew quarters.

Zoro grinds his teeth, clenches the bench to steady himself against it - nearly breaking with how hard he's clutching it in his white-knuckled grip. Breathing exclusively through his nose, hissing as the elevation of his lungs propels further torture and the flushed heat downwards to sit in his abdomen. Every part of himself was now tense, hard and fighting this rise of emotion.

Alerting Nami you were going to the kitchen to see if everything was okay with the swordsman, his absence missed by the Straw-Hat crew as you all ate foreign foods, drank foreign drinks and learnt the customs of this unfamiliar land. You saw Sanji rush past you, his irises wild, on your way to the area Zoro sat. You became even more unsettled seeing Zoro red-faced and seemingly in excruciating pain as he gripped the sink and benchtop to steady himself against it.

You closed the door of the kitchen behind you, slowly approaching the green-haired first-mate and presenting your palms out to indicate you were not a threat.

“Zoro?” you asked him, keeping your voice quiet but firm, “Are you okay? Is something the matter?”

“I’m fine,” he spat in a winced growl, his eyes clamped shut, “Just get out and leave me alone.”

You furrowed your brows at his harsh tone, unsure of what exactly is coming over him. Both the tone and words catch you by surprise. You almost always kept each other company; finding one another at the end of a grueling battle, sitting side by side at meal times, and often repairing damage to each other’s bodies that were ill-achieved by yourselves. Beyond that, he’s never sent you away. While you’ve seen him snap at others, you’ve yet to be on the receiving end - especially for simply asking him how he is.

Instead of listening to his verbal words of warning, you approached him. While his eyes were shut, you knew he didn't need them open to keep track of your approach. You knew this was a fact for sure when you see his lips curl into a grimace as you get closer, prompting you to wonder if you really should just leave.

Truthfully, the reason for the grimace was coming from the fact he can hear every shuffle of your clothing dragging itself against your body. Your soft breathing rang melodically in his ears, the scent of your warm, spiced perfume dancing with the comforting smell of your skin held his every follicle rising on edge. He was having to pull his mind to reign it in, tethering it on a tight leash to keep it from gnawing on the idea of what it’d smell like if he pressed his nose into your hair or neck or chest. How you’d taste as he gnawed on the flesh of your stomach, how burying his face between your thighs and dancing his tongue against your tender flesh would feel-.

“-You’re making me worry, Zoro,” your soft voice called to him, the small pat of your footsteps indicating to the broody swordsman that your approach was now uncomfortably close. The back of your hand lands on his forehead to check his temperature and he pulls back like you’ve burned him.

“What’s wrong-,” he’s struggling to form the words through the images of your thighs spreading beneath his firm grip. “What’s wrong,” his deep inhale through his nose did little to settle his elevated heartbeat, “Is that you’re touching me when I told you to go away.”

He finally opened his eyes and you were struck with the intensity of them. His snarling mouth, furrowed brow, and scrunching eyelids certainly looked furious, but his eyes were glossy and shaky and darkened by blown pupils.

“Zoro, did you take something? Should I get Chopper?” Sighing out a small breath through your lips, looking between the hazelnut hues of Zoro’s eyes and forming your own deductions. He wanted to close his eyes again because you looked so, so pretty. Too pretty not to touch.

Your eyes widened in confusion as he began to sway forward towards you. He was moving in a way you’ve only seen a handful of times, those times when he’d manage to find enough alcohol to actually become inebriated under the influence of its fermentation.

“Zoro, I’m-,” he lunged in a deep stoop, falling forward to let his face fall into your stomach below your breasts. Allowing a deep inhale, he exhaled a low, shuddered groan into your skin. His body shivered and you feared this may be the worst fever you’ve ever seen of him. No injury, inebriation nor affliction had ever found purchase enough against the first-mate to cause you to worry - until now.

“I’m gonna get you some help, okay?” You informed him, stepping back to get Chopper, only halting your exit as two hands stopped you. One fisted tight enough into your shirt for the seams to pop in protest, while the other sank into your hip.

“Don’t,” he panted. This whole interaction has left you at a loss but you were truly astonished when Zoro nuzzled his face into you and massaged his hand into your hip. “You’re not going anywhere,” he grumbled, letting his voice vibrate against you through your clothes.

“Yes I am. You’re not okay, and I have to take care of you,” you hardened your resolve, reaching down and banding your hands around his wrists.

If it were any other time, his heart would be aching at the worry in your tone. He adored how you cared for him, feeling all of your concern for his well being. However, at this current moment; he can only think of how your voice is so pretty and your body is so warm. And your scent, the intoxicating aroma your glistening skin was whispering and beckoning him to fall trap to your body. How could anyone smell so, so sweet?

You managed to actually get a step back, breaking the brace against his body and placing his hands away from you. Zoro is strong in his grip, but your concern had you force more strength than you thought you could muster. You heard a small rumbled sound, high in pitch and lengthy in elevation.

Zoro whined.

He had the gall to whine at you, making your hair stand on end to be thrown so far from your norm. With you at a distance, Zoro’s strength really did leave him. Your absence drained him, his body deprived of a necessity while writhing. He was a man starving with not a single scrap of sustenance, parched without a single drop of liquid to quench him.

His resolve hardened, his unanswered questions being answered with that single thought. You were a necessity. You would fix whatever this was; he just had to sink himself into by claw, tooth and nail you until no person could possibly tear him off of you.

You watched the towering form of the first-mate sink hopelessly onto his knees, his arms first reaching and clutching for you as soon as you shied away from his embrace, before stuttering them away in retreat. He was trembling, his hands resting on his large thighs with his head hanging low to shield his eyes from your gaze.

"Zoro," you softly called to him, bringing yourself low and resting your weight on your shins. Inching your way forward, you witnessed him suck in a breath and hold it in his chest with his eyes scrunched tightly shut.

"Zoro," you said, reaching your hands down and claiming his wrists in your circular grip, "if you don't want me to get Chopper," you released one of his wrists to collect his chin, "you have to tell me how to help you. What do you want? What can I do?"

Zoro fought harder against himself, every fiber of his being forcing him to continue to hold his breath to halt his urgency to claim you within his arms and never let you go. All of his thoughts were consumed with you: your scent, your softness, your voice, the way you tainted the air with your sweet flavor he desired to taste. He slowly, apprehensively, hissed out a breath, his shoulders quivering and shaking under the influence of the pale pollen propelling his unholy desires and sinful thoughts forward.

"I w-want," he began, halting his words and wincing under your fingertips. Although your touch burned him, he could not bring himself to shy away from your hand. The way you felt, the way you so desperately craved for him to speak his desires and birth them within the air. He stifled once more, every second passing led to more of his control over himself lessening.

"Zoro, let me help you. Whatever you need, know that I'm-," your words were claimed from you, Zoro's towering form caging your body beneath his strong arms. He hovered above you, eyes black with lust and lips parted with longing. He was an animal, the temperature falling off of him elevating your own beneath it.

Wasting not one more second, he collapsed on-top of you, bringing his lips down and pressing rough and desperate kisses along your neck and jaw. All passion: tongue, teeth, lips and caresses - Zoro was consuming you as if he was a man starved and desperate for sustenance only you were able to give him.

The whining, the whimpering, the groaning as his hips begin to roll against your thigh we're spurring your confusion to swirl within the recesses of your mind. While unable to fully process the actions, Zoro began pleading with you; his hot breath against the shell of your ear sending a shiver up your spine.

"I can't-... I-I can't stop," he growled, continuing to rut himself against you. The rough smack of his clothed hips did nothing to hide his impressive length and girth from you. His grinding down into you, the way your body writhed beneath him, propelled him enough to staple you to the ground beneath his hips.

A strong arm had snuck its way beneath you, a splayed hand could keeping your chests pressed flush while his other guided your thigh over his hip. You eagerly wrapped both legs around him to pull him impossibly closer, feeling his taut muscles move and shift under your hold.

He forced both of his hands to your hips, intending to hold them still and pull away, but you rolled them in his grip. His eyes followed suit, rolling back and leaving him to blindly bury his face deeper into your shoulder. “Please let me, I’m s-so so sorry, I cant-...hnng-... I c-can't stop. I n-need you-uu.”

"It's okay, it's okay Zoro," you gasped, your cheeks pressing firmly against his as you heard him stagger his breath and hold onto every word. You raked your fingers through his moss-coloured locks, reassuring him and soothing him by whispering your silencing shushes. Although some dark part of you wanted to continue listening to him beg for you, you instead offered only support and continual reassurance.

You turned your cheek inwards, breaking contact flush against his cheek to press a small brush of your own lips against his smooth skin. This apprehensive and timid gesture prompted him to groan beneath your lips as his skin ignited further.

“More,” he mumbled fervently after the kiss, the affection doing much more to ease his stress than your words were, “Give me more.” The gentle peck was too achingly sweet to only placate him, instantly holding him hostage to his need to feel more of you.

The squeeze of your legs on his waist, and the heat he could feel pressed against his cock even through your clothes, strung him tighter and pulled him further from sanity. The hand in his hair and the brush of your lips, made the haze on his mind feel welcome; The boiling in his veins feel more natural.

You gave him more fluttered kisses on his cheek, then floated your lips up his temple before tilting your head back to cradle him beneath your chin. You raked your arms over his shoulders, your fingertips leaving trails of flamed temptation beneath each pad and digit. Each motion was done to the tune of “more”, “so good”, and “please”.

You were heavily tempted to let him keep you trapped against the floor and caged beneath his weight, being used for his needy grinding; but a moment of clarity hit you. You were in the galley, and your crew members could swing the door wide and see you both like this; writhing and grinding pelvises together in a cruel dance of lewd gyrations.

While you had your own qualms with this, you were sure Zoro would rather die than have him looking in his current state getting back to the ship’s chef. Casting all inhibitions aside at one particularly harsh grind against your clit from his painfully hard cock, you verbalized your concerns for him.

"Zoro, you're behaving like an animal- a beast: wild and rampant with lust,” your whisper carried itself up to his awaiting ears. You didn’t know what came over you, but you retreated away from holding him and pushed him up to view his expression.

“You’re frightening me," you whispered into his face, claiming his cheeks beneath your palms. Both of you were whimpering, panting; eyes wide and lips parted. You leant up to his face, your lips almost meeting for the first time since he caged you beneath him. Holding back the meeting of your lips, you spurred him on with a single three-worded command.

"Do it again."

Zoro growled as he broke away his hand clutching your thigh, fumbling at his hips to unsheathe one of his three blades attached to his belt. As soon as he grasped the hilt of the blade, he tore his torso away from its place against your chest and threw the object to imbed itself within the doorframe: barring the entrance to the kitchen under its sharpened steel.

Looking up at his body, his entire being was overwhelmed with sweat, pooling from his green hair to trickle down his temples to his neck and jaw. The silvery trail of desperation and lust dripped down his chest beneath his shirt and drenching him further beneath the pull of the powerful pollen.

He was not himself, fighting every urge to hold control over his body. He wanted this - he wanted you. Just not like this. He wanted to do things right by you; courting you properly, enjoying his time learning everything there was to know about you. He adored spending his time silently by your side - often shielding you from harm's way and protecting you within the thralls of battle, not that you truly ever needed it.

But the way his cock was straining behind the shield of his pants had his mind cloudy, eyes stinging while attempting to hold the final remnants of control over himself.

“Y-You don’t know what you’ve asked for, Princess,” Zoro growled, his eyes slowly tilting down from contact against the door to slowly fall to meet your widened gaze beneath him. Your breath hitched as you were met with something completely feral overcoming him. His expression depicted his title flawlessly. You were now completely helpless, pinned beneath the towering intense muscle known as Roronoa Zoro: the former demon bounty hunter, pirate, and king of hell.

His eyes held the vibrant lustful intensity of raging flames burning flesh, his predatory grin snapping his face with his grimace. His brow was furrowed in a deep frown, the final band of his control straining against the stretch; thin, pale and ready to snap.

As Zoro gazed into your eyes, holding all that he was from tearing off your garments and sheathing his cock deep within your walls and chasing his release of tension, he continued to clasp onto his final band of control to ensure you were truly okay with your body being used in such a way.

Sensing his apprehension, you swiftfully and gracefully bucked your hips up to meet his, rolling him off of your body and pinning him beneath you. Your hands grasped his wrists and placed them above his head. His teeth grit against themselves, grinding them down painfully to continue holding himself back from ravishing you. He was a swordsman. He was disciplined under the way of the blade.

“Zoro,” you began, sighing down with your eyes upturned in concern, “I know you are not well, and this may be the only solution to your problem.” You reassured him, claiming both of his wrists between your left hand, you placed your right hand over his heart and pressed gently on his chest.

“Let me help you like this, okay?” You offered him a half-smile, “We can work out what it means once you’re through the worst of it. I just want my swordsman back,” you placed your lips against his forehead, feeling the scorch of his flesh burn your lips as he whimpered into your touch. “My knight, my protector,” you whispered against him, pulling back from his face and uttering affectionately, “Just let go. I can take it.”

If you’d held any fondness for your pants and shirt, or your undergarments, there was no ribbon left salvageable as Zoro all but clawed them from your body. His own shirt and pants were not fairing in any better condition lying beside them. The throbbing of his veiny cock curving painfully hard upwards towards his stomach had you wincing in empathy at how hard he was holding back.

The slit was slickened, pearled beads of precum glistening against the shine of his reddened mushroom tip. You could almost see the harsh thundered beat of his heart depicted in the rush of blood swelling his shaft, the veins protruding and pulsating in the air. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, nor halt the fluttered hitch in your breath at the girth of it.

“I-I wanted this to be different,” he breathily confessed, his body moving against his will to cage you beneath him once more. His cock twitched at the opening of your walls, a shuddered groan igniting tingles over his back as his tip prodded you, “I wanted to warm you up, stretch you wide with my hands some so you could take me easier. Y-You deserve better.”

A small shocked scream fell from your parted lips as his body lunged forwards, his hips snapping to fully sheath himself within your walls in one fell strike. You were thankful you allowed yourself to give into the lewd grinds and circled thrusts from earlier to allow some slickness to coat your walls with your arousal. He filled you completely, your body contracting and adjusting to him with each passing flutter.

He bit his lip painfully hard, his eyes scrunched shut as he felt each quiver of your walls soothing over his burning flesh. This was the remedy his body was searching for. He needed you. All of you. Every fibre of you. The taste of you, the smell of your flesh, your sweet cries falling from your parted lips as you adjusted around him. He wanted so badly for this to be as good for you as it was for him, holding his concentration to allow you a moment to catch your breath.

“I can still take you like this, Zoro,” you taunted him with a gentle hum of encouragement. He snapped his eyes to yours, his pupils completely dilated and the corners of his eyes still stinging with concentration to not rail you completely into the harsh floor. You noticed his panicked expression, knowing exactly what his mind was plagued with.

The words left unspoken holding heavy in the air, his eyes begging you to understand his meaning instead of attempting to articulate his words. The throb of his cock within your warmth propelled your heartfelt encouragement onto him.

“D-Don’t you worry about me, okay?” you reaffirmed him, your eyes depicting nothing other than adoration and affection for the first mate, “Use me,” you drew your palm up to his cheek, holding your gaze intimately with his, “Just let go.”

At that final command, he drew his hands over your thighs and hooked them over his hips once more; starting a heavy laden rhythm with the smack of his hips. He withdrew himself almost to his slit before pistoning his cock within your walls fast and harsh. You clapped your hand over your lips to stifle your cries of pleasure as his velvety cock continued its bullying of your cervix.

Every fiber of your being was alight and adjusting to quench the fire of Zoro’s insatiable lust, adoring the chase of his release being pushed brutally into your quivering walls. His cries for you, reciting your name like a prayer as he quested for his salvation buried within your body.

He was an animal, a wild beast possessed his body and propelled him onwards to seek out his pleasure within you. His eyes never left yours; the man you knew before the beast lurking beneath his glazed gaze. Zoro was expressing gratitude and almost sorrow behind his lustful alterego.

“I-I’m so-....nmff-... I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, his pace accelerating harshly. The grip of his hands on your thighs bruised their way up to find purchase on your hips, You squeezed your eyes tightly shut, shaking your head and hooking your arms over his shoulders to draw his head into your neck.

“It’s-... hhah-... okay, Zoro. It’s o-okay, truly,” you reassured him, your voice hitching on each syllable as the snap of his hips accelerated in their bruising thrusts, “I’m okay, y-you’re okay.” Your reassurances held his voice sighing out his relief while he continued to chase his high within you.

His words became jumbled, the mixture of his precum and your arousal squelching sinfully with each harsh slab and thrust of his cock sheathing itself within your walls. If anyone were to walk past the kitchen, they would know exactly what was going on against the floor. Breathy chants of your name fell from Zoro’s lips as the coil within you began to tighten and spark the wick of your approaching orgasm.

Unknown to you at present, as soon as Zoro initially sheathed himself within you; he was holding himself back more to ensure this was an experience as enjoyable for you as it was for him. He was biting his lip so painfully to ensure he didn’t cum as soon as his pelvis met with your own. He wanted to watch you cum, he didn’t want to be a selfish lover and use your body to chase his own high. No matter how torturous it was to hold himself back, he was accustomed to pain and this was no different.

But you noticed. The way his brow was intensely furrowed as his forehead hid itself against the skin of your shoulder. The quiver of his own shoulders and his whimpered cries against you gave you cause to draw such a heinous conclusion. Zoro was in pain, and he was still not seeking the treatment your body was giving him. He was still putting you first.

You sighed as you felt his cock continue to quiver within you with each harsh snap, the pleasure he was bringing to you was overwhelming with the bruising pace he still held. Hardening your resolve, you reached your hands down and dug your nails into his ass cheeks and propelled him to grind himself against you further and deeper. You refused to have this pain elongate further for him, and felt the urge to remind him as such.

“Zoro, cum,” you ordered him, his breath hitching at your command, “I know what you’re doing, idiot. Cum in me. I want you to shoot your cum deep in me. I want to feel you ride out your orgasm with each pulse and throb of your cock. I want your cum so bad, Zoro. Cum in me-.”

“-Fuck! F-Fuck,” He barked, biting down on your shoulder harshly as his cock began to release his built up load immediately into your plush walls. Ribbons of his white translucent paint splashed against your walls, the muffled screams of Zoro’s voice crying praises while latched against your skin. He continued the harsh stuttered pace as he rode out his release.

He was so built up with his relentless pleasure that the pressure of his cum brushed against the underside of your clit, his pubic hair grinding on the topside at the same time and prompting you to ride the waves of your own orgasm alongside his. Lights danced behind your eyes as the spark drew into a vibrant flame.

Your fingernails continued to dig in the muscle of his ass as you both cried in bliss, your mouth agape while his teeth continued to clamp over your shoulder. His tongue lapped behind his teeth as his groans and whimpers began to die down as his hips came to a staggered halt. His cock remained fully sheathed within you, the final twitches and trembles relinquishing his body of the final spill of his load emptied within you.

Panting of dual breaths within the four walls of the kitchen, the fuzziness of Zoro’s mind became once again his own, his eyes losing their glaze and his cock twitched its last within you. You whimpered as you came down from your high, the pain of Zoro’s teeth remaining latched on your neck had the realization dawn on both of you at once.

“I-I…” he stuttered once he released your shoulder from his teeth, “I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He stuttered, pulling out of you with his cum spilling from your opening and pooling on the floor beneath you. His eyes were wide, his lips swollen and bruised. Your own eyes widened at his panic, immediately rising to your elbows and looking up at him.

“You’re sorry we-,” you began, only to halt as he spoke over you.

“-No,” he barked his confession over you, stooping his body over yours once more, “I’m sorry it happened like that.” He wanted so desperately to relay all of his affection onto you, all of his adoration, all of his love - but was now lost for words as your eyes met his.

You darted your eyes between focussing on each of his hazelnut orbs, shifting your focus as you witnessed his afterglow. His body was lighter, his mind no longer plagued by lust. He was once again-.

“-Roronoa Zoro,” you uttered, collecting his hand beneath your palm and allowing a warm smile to spread over your lips, “I don’t regret helping you like this.” You drag your hand over his cheek, pinching his chin between your thumb and index finger and hold his focus with the intensity of your eyes. “I’m glad you’re back to yourself again. If this is where we leave our tryst-.”

“-Absolutely not,” Zoro growled. The rumbled tone of his voice had your breath hitching and mind halting its springing to conclusions, “I want you more than you could ever know.” He leant forward, his eyes shutting as he met your forehead against his own; your cheek still claiming his cheek beneath your palm. His temperature was more bearable, the warmth you were more accustomed to bringing you comfort.

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch and allowing him to shepherd your body to the ground once more. He combed his fingers down the crown of your head, his fingertips gently raking their pads over your jaw as he finally claimed your lips beneath his in a slow and intimate kiss.

He parted his lips, dragging his tongue to meet against your own with a small groan of bliss. You felt him smile against your lips as you drew your arms around his neck once more. Toying with the small hairs at the back of his neck, you angled your jaw upwards to claim more of him against yourself.

The rattle of a door handle broke you away from this moment of private intimacy, the wobble of the door shuddering beneath a strong grip immediately caused you panic. You were naked. Naked on the floor in the kitchen. Your clothes lay beside you in ribbons, nothing aside from a dish towel could be used to shield you from prying eyes.

“Oi, Zoro! What’re you guys doing in there?” The voice of your captain called to you, “You better not be getting all the meat from the fridge! I took that from the celebration, it was your own fault you didn’t get there in time to try any-.”

“-We’re not eating your meat, Luffy!” Zoro roared, breaking his lips away from yours to answer him, “Bring us my yukata and some of my pants, would you?”

“Your Yukata and pants? What happened?” Luffy asked, puzzled momentarily before slyly asking into the door, “And what do I get outta it?” Zoro growled a woeful sigh, lips curling up to a snarl. Your warm smile and giggle broke him away from his anger, his eyes softening as they met yours once more.

“Just bring them, will you? Then we’ll let you get your meat, Captain,” Zoro chuckled while leaning down to press his lips against yours once more. Although the air was lighter, your body began to succumb to the feeling of warmth falling from Zoro in waves. He hoisted you from the floor to sit atop his lap as his back sat flush against the kitchen counter. Seeking out the small bite he’d left on your shoulder, he began pressing fluttered kisses in apologies against your flesh.

“I’m sorry,” he confessed once more between kisses, “I want to do this properly - be with you properly. You deserve better.” You sighed at his words, exposing your neck more to him in a gesture for him to continue pressing kisses into more of your available skin.

“I can take it,” you gasped, feeling his teeth rake slowly against your flesh as he moulded the skin of your back beneath his splayed fingertips. He gasped into your skin, still dizzy from coming down from the risen high between you both but mind truly clear of all prior affliction.

“I know you can,” Zoro grinned into your skin, pulling away to gaze into your eyes. All affection was mirrored between you; eyes half lidded and smiles dopey and tired, “But you still deserve better. Let me treat you better.”

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #pollen zoro #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro smut #op pollen #op x reader #one piece live action #op smut #roronoa zoro x reader smut

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mcrdvcks · 2 months ago

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had this idea about a possessive!reader and logan because i feel it's not done nearly enough

warnings/tags: mentions of lipstick and hickeys, gn!reader

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It started out simply. You realized you couldn’t give Logan a hickey like he could you. You would sit in his lap, sucking various spots on his neck, only for the bruise to fade within seconds.

So, you came up with another way to show others that he was yours, kissing his neck with your lipstick on in the mornings. The first time you did it, he didn’t even know. The flannel he wore didn’t cover up the pink lip mark on the side of his neck, and it was only until Scott hid back a chuckle that he went to check himself in the mirror.

But he didn’t stop you. In fact, sometimes you left more than one colored kiss, on both sides of his neck, the front of his throat, on his chest above his beater where his fuzzy hair peaked out.

Then you upped the ante. You gave him a string bracelet with your initials on it. He kept it on his wrist, and whenever another woman—or man—gave him a second look when you were out, you didn’t even have to say anything. You’d casually grab his arm, tug his sleeve up, and flash them the bracelet. Logan would just smirk, not saying a word, but the message was clear: he was yours.

At first, Logan thought it was funny. You, marking your territory in these subtle ways. He'd smirk every time you'd tug his arm up, making a point to show the bracelet to anyone who dared give him a second glance.

But then, he started to enjoy it more than he’d care to admit. The little things—your lipstick marks on his skin, the bracelet on his wrist—felt grounding. They were soft, easy reminders of the fact that he was yours, and you were his.

It wasn’t just about possession, though. It was about the warmth it gave him, the way you claimed him without making a big deal about it. It became part of the routine. He’d wake up, stretch, and by the time he was pulling on his shirt, you were already in front of him, lips painted a fresh shade of red or pink. He’d tilt his head, giving you full access to leave your mark on his neck, and sometimes, if you were feeling playful, you’d press one right over his heart.

“Damn, you really wanna broadcast it today, huh?” he’d joke, but the truth was, he loved it.

You’d grin and shrug, saying something like, “Just making sure they know.”

He didn’t mind. Hell, he found himself looking forward to those moments. It wasn’t just the way you made it clear to everyone else, but the way it felt. Having you leave those small touches on him, like some secret code only the two of you understood.

Logan wasn’t a man of words. He’d always been more action than talk, but with you, it was easy to show affection in a way that didn’t feel foreign to him. The way you’d hold onto his arm, showing off the bracelet like it was the most natural thing in the world, sent a surge of warmth through him. You didn’t need to shout your claim from the rooftops, but it was there, clear as day.

And honestly? He liked that. Liked knowing that he was the one you were holding onto, that he was yours.

One night, after you’d left another set of lipstick marks on him before a mission, Logan caught himself staring in the mirror a little longer than usual. There they were, bright and bold, like a damn signature. He couldn’t help but smirk.

You wandered into the room, already pulling on your jacket. “Ready?”

He turned to face you, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I think you missed a spot.”

Your eyes narrowed playfully. “Oh yeah? Where?”

He stepped closer, tapping a finger against his throat. “Right here. Could use another one for good luck.”

You laughed, shaking your head, but you didn’t hesitate. Stepping up, you pressed your lips to his skin again, leaving a fresh print. He hummed, low and satisfied, before pulling you into a kiss that was a little too heated for a mission.

“Guess I’ll have to mark you next,” he muttered against your lips, voice rough, a hint of promise in his tone.

“Maybe,” you teased, pulling away, “but for now, this’ll do.”

As the two of you walked out the door, his hand on the small of your back, Logan couldn’t help but feel content. He wasn’t a man who needed much, but with you, these little moments were everything.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett fic

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foggyfrogss · 7 months ago

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「 OXIDIZE 」 ˎˊ

tf! Sukuna x f! Reader | Warnings: MDNI, sexual content

Discord 21+

Summary: You and Sukuna indulge in each other for the night.

He was not a gentleman, but you could say he was a gentle man.

With the way his large hands softly move over your body, it resonates throughout you intensely. As if he’d left bruises. His touch lights your skin ablaze, leaving you hot. Yet, he touches you like a freshly bloomed wildflower, gently picking it to avoid bruising.

Perhaps he understands just how big the difference is in your sizes; a fear of hurting you. No matter how many times you explain to him he can’t hurt you, the same tenderness remains.

Pink hair tickles at your exposed skin, dancing softly as he kisses the valley between your breasts. His nose drags into your skin while his silkened lips demonstrate his hunger. You can feel the way his heavy breaths puff into your skin, it’s warm and feeds the eager butterflies inside of you.

They swarm excitedly around your core.

Four arms seem a bit excessive, but the thought slips when you feel them hold you as they do. The top pair hold your wrists in place beside your head while the bottom find places on your body that crave attention. In the curve or your waist one hand rests as the other holds himself up. Again, he doesn’t want to put too much pressure into your wrists; scared of hurting you.

From above, you see the concentrated look of his face, twisted into his famous resting scowl. His eyes are closed, but they open to gaze up at you. He probably sensed your attention.

Red; it’s deep and rousing. They’re discernibly hungry.

Hungry for you.

All four gaze up, his left side hooded by the blanket of pink, full eyelashes. Eyelashes you grew to be jealous of. A faint, but evident crimson blush decorates his cheeks. Not because he is embarrassed, but because he is on fire. Inflamed, he is pressing into your core. His hardened cock is making itself known. You return his amorous gestures as you buck up into him.

Yet, as he presses into you, he’s moved his head up further. Hot kisses trail from your chest to your collar bone, spreading slowly to the curve of your neck. You’re tilting your head to the side, giving him more access; more control.

His sharp teeth lightly graze across your skin. Though it’s already littered with love marks, he plants more, claiming his territory.

Tongue following, it runs a stripe up to the start of your jawline below your ear. His breathing is still heavy next to your ear. It’s hot. A heavy grunt, from deep within his chest, could be heard as you continue to press up into him. Any distance between the two of you needed to be closed.

He’s kissing down your jawline, worshipping your skin like it was the finest meal brought to him. Ironically enough, his favorite meal was women.

He just would rather devour you in this way. It allowed him to have you as many times as he pleased.

“You are the most intoxicating and dangerous woman I have ever met,” he tells you. His lips press a light kiss to the corner of your mouth, causing your lips to burn with anticipation.

Ryomen Sukuna had called you dangerous. You wondered how to take that… Though stunned, you realize just how shocking it was for this man to even admit that… It was a compliment, a kind you were sure he’d never admit. He was a proud man, sure of himself and his abilities.

“I think of ripping your flesh from your body constantly, just to see how you taste…” He’s looking down at you with his heavy eyes. Your chest raises as you take in a deep breath, breathless from his words. “I bet you’re sweet, like a forbidden fruit.”

“Yet, the very fact that I couldn’t have you again after that irks me,” he’s muttering out huskily. “I would go mad.”

For someone who touches you so gently, he speaks with strong vehement. His brutish, aggressive vocabulary and behavior completely unparalleled to the actions in which he presents to you.

The man is a killer, eating humans for pure enjoyment and pleasure. A selfish man who is exceptionally sadistic. Cold-hearted but not for you. His heart warms you in ways no other being could. Nothing could compare.

You allow him to devour you in the way he does now, even knowing he’d never let you go.

A prisoner to Ryomen Sukuna.

From below, you admire the darkness of his tattoos that embellish his striking face. His fair skin glows from the lanterns in the room, but the pink of his cheeks remains prominent. Your eyes flicker around, following the lines on his jaw to his chin then back to his eyes.

Pink eyebrows furrow together while he studies you from above. It was as if he casted a curtain of pure lust by the way he gazed down.

His jaw clenches.

“I am yours,” you finally say in your hushed voice. The words pass easily through your lips, only because you were certain you meant it.

Eager to say it.

He seems to enjoy your words. Lips raise into a proud smirk as a deep, but quiet chuckle erupts from him. His blush seems to have grown darker, which causes your lips to turn up a bit. It thrills you to see such a beast crested in a rosy hue that you’d caused.

It makes you proud.

“I am yours,” you repeat again, reaching a hand towards his face. His skin is on fire, lighting your fingertips ablaze as you’re caressing his cheek. It’s soft, forming into the palm of your hand as you cup his face. Your fingertips just barely reach the edge of his hairline past his ear.

“So have me.”

Your words push him over the edge, causing a low growl to erupt from his throat. He’s moving his hips up a bit, positioning himself to fit you.

With an airy gasp, you’re feeling the bottom side of his shaft slide up against your clit, gathering your wetness. His size could be felt even from the minuscule movements. Though you’ve had him many times before, it always felt new. The pure excitement and intimidation never left.

You watch as he leans his hips back, only to bring them forward, placing his tip against your needy entrance. You’re taking in a shaking breath, eager to feel him… He’s sliding in without issue, thanks to your wetness.

Instantly you are taking hold of his arms, releasing his face. Your fingers latching into his tattoos biceps that cage you in.

His cock stretches you, pushing deep into you and kissing your cervix with his large tip. “God,” you whimper out, clenching your teeth as he slides his hips further into you, bottoming out completely. Even now, you’re amazed you’re able to take all of him.

Sukuna’s body is fully pressed into you, stomach against yours. His elbows dig into the fabric of the futon as he supports himself. His other pair of arms do the same, unable to do anything else as he presses into you. It’s just enough, you realize. He would not crush you.

When he begins to slowly drag out a bit, you feel a puff of warm air spread over your face. You realize how close his face is to yours, feeling the softness of his lips just barely touching your cheek.

“You are so tight,” he’s murmuring into your cheek as he presses a kiss. He’s bucking into you once more, grunting into your skin.

Your clit is suddenly stimulated, feeling a warmness as if he’d placed a hand down there… You’re moaning, biting your lip.

It’s his second cock, probably the one closer to his stomach. The top one. It’s sliding against your swollen cunt as he drags himself in and out of you.

His top right hand moves to cup your face, angling your head to your left so he can access your neck. Lips finding your sensitive skin, you’re panting as he quickens his pace, pressing his body into you a bit harder. You realize he’s attempting to stimulate his other cock this way.

It lights you on fire, feeling him use you this way.

You’re moving your left hand between the gap between his two arms, placing a hand on his back. He nips at the skin of your neck, grunting in rhythm with his thrusts. You take your other hand and find the hair on the back of his head, holding onto it.

With a light tug, he’s growling again, directly into your ear now.

His thrusts are a good pace, not slow but not fast, they’re just right. It’s hitting the sweet spot within you each time. His top cock helping you reach your climax with each slide.

You can feel every inch of him pump in and out of you.

Yet, you feel a devious idea come to mind, which makes you remove your hand from his back.

Between your bodies your hand moves, traveling low enough to find what you are looking for. His tip thrusts up, peeking between your stomachs and you wrap your eager hand around it, finding his shaft further down. It makes him halt his movements. Curiously, he’s looking at you now. “Keep going,” you plead, sighing. “I am close.”

He continues with no issue, thrusting into the cage of your fingers. The added tightness is good, you note. Only due to the fact that you could feel the way his hands tighten in the fabric of the futon below you. You were scared he may rip it.

In one thrust, you’re crying out, feeling the sudden harshness of it. It wasn’t painful, but you weren’t prepared for it. “Ryo…” you’re mumbling out in a whimper, dragging your nails through his hair as he fucks into you. His cock inside of you throbs, just like the one in your hand. You could only imagine how good it felt for him in this moment.

Your hand is placed just above your clit, so his dick is still sliding against your folds. Each thrust brings you closer. Vision growing hazy and bright as it builds up in your core.

At this point you’re closing your eyes, whimpering uncontrollably. “I-I’m…” you’re stuttering, clenching your hand tighter around his cock as you feel the orgasm begin to blossom. “You’re so good,” you hear him praise you.

A silent gasp comes from your lips as you throw your head back. Body exploding from the intensity of your orgasm. It has your clenching your cunt around his cock, which makes him hiss in return.

As the waves of pleasure cascade around you, he’s still relentlessly thrusting into you. In your ears you can feel and hear your heartbeat; it’s erratic. You keep hold of him in your hand, wanting to help as much as you can.

Soon enough, you feel him press his lips to yours, taking in your parted lips. His tongue finds yours instantly. Thrusts become uneven, bucking into you in a broken pattern. You know he’s close, which makes you moan.

He groan into your mouth and you feel an added wet heat between your bodies. Inside, you feel him release, filling you completely. Sukuna always came a lot… So you’d have to bathe again you were sure.

“Shit,” you hear him curse after he pulls his lips from yours. You’re looking up at him in a dazed trance, completely exhausted. Though the two of you had done much more in a session, this time wore you out anyways.

He’s slowly pulling out of you, leaning back and sitting on his knees. You’re sighing as you take in the sight before you, watching him do the same to you.

“What a lovely sight,” you hear Sukuna chuckle out.

You’re covered in his cum. It’s pooled up on your stomach and running down the sides of your body. You were sure it was running out of your cunt as well.

“I can bathe again,” you tell him, knowing he won’t sleep soiled. Yet, he’s reaching a hand between your legs, sticking two digits into your pussy. “Ah!” You jolt, feeling the overstimulation from it. His two large fingers pump in and out of you a couple times before pulling back out.

“I had to make sure it all stayed in there,” he says, leaning back down to hover over you. Sukuna presses a soft kiss to your lips before bringing his fingers to them. “Clean them,” he orders. Your stomach does a flip, but you follow his orders, feeling his fingers slide between your swollen lips.

You taste yourself and him, mixed together into one salty and sweet taste. It just about riles you back up.

One of your hands holds his wrist as you lick his fingers clean, pulling them out once you’re done.

“I’ll wash you,” Sukuna is finally saying, crawling off of you to stand. As he stands you take in all that he is, four arms and everything. A beast.

You ignore the fact that he’s about to walk around his shrine fully nude, but you realize he doesn’t care. It’s his shrine. It’s also yours, you note, as he picking you up from the futon. His bottom pair of arms holds you bridal style against him, top pair hiding your nude body the best they can.

“Toys last longer if you take care of them,” is all Sukuna mumbles to you while he exits the room towards the bathing area.

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 months ago

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The Eye of the Hurricane [37] - Crown

A.N: Last two chapters! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Live by the sword, die by the sword.

Word Count: 2700

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, violence, I'M SERIOUS THERE IS VIOLENCE IN THIS ONE, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

If anything, it started out as a normal day.

“You are so pretty!” you told Alpine as you fixed the ribbon around her neck, then held up the feathery pen so that she could jump at it while you sat on the floor. “Yes you are! The prettiest princess in the entire world!”

“Charm?”

“Over here!” you called out and heard Bucky come downstairs, then he filled himself a cup of coffee before looking over his shoulder.

“You want some babe?”

“Nope,” you said, stroking Alpine’s fur. “Bucky, what are the chances that we got the prettiest and nicest cat in the entire world?”

“Zero, she’s an asshole.”

You gasped. “Hey!”

“I love her, but it doesn’t mean she’s not an asshole,” Bucky said. “She never comes when I call.”

“Because she’s a cat, not a dog,” you said. “If we have a child one day, we’re so calling them Alpine Two.”

“We’re not going to do that.”

“Alpine Two and Alpine Three.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t listen to him, they’ll be Alpine Two and Three,” you told Alpine as Bucky sipped his coffee.

“Do you wanna grab lunch today?”

“I can’t,” you said. “I promised Ethan.”

He blinked a couple of times. “You cannot be serious.”

“I am not having this argument with you again when we’re in love and fucking each other’s brains out every night,” you pointed out, making him grin. “Relax with the jealousy dumbass, you already know I’m in love with you.”

He heaved a sigh, then held up his hands.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Go meet the puppy.”

“Bucky.”

“Is he not a puppy around you?”

“He’s my friend,” you said. “My friend whom I haven’t met in a while.”

“Yeah yeah…”

You scratched at Alpine’s head when she head bumped your knee while Bucky tilted his head.

“Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been weird since we had dinner at your father’s place.”

“Sure,” you said after a beat and he raised his brows.

“Charm.”

“No I’m fine,” you said. “I’m fine, I’ve just been thinking.”

“About?”

“Business,” you said. “My father’s business, to be specific.”

He sipped his coffee. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“God no,” you said. “Of course not. I’m thinking about the consequences of it, that’s all. What it will mean for me.”

“It means the crown for you.”

You pursed your lips together. “And for Ian?”

He scoffed. “Who cares? You hate Ian.”

“Obviously I hate him,” you said. “But I’ll have to kill him, you do know that.”

“He signed his own death warrant the moment he accepted that heir position at the expense of you,” Bucky said. “I’ll kill him for you if you want.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “How fucked up is it that I find this romantic?”

“That’s because I am romantic,” he said with a smirk. “Seriously. If you want me to—”

“I’ll just cross that bridge when I come to it,” you pointed out. “I appreciate the offer though.”

Bucky checked his wristwatch, then came closer to you to kiss you on the top of your head, and scratched at Alpine’s head.

“Gotta go,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Sure!” you said and watched him walk out of the apartment, then heaved a sigh and looked down at Alpine.

“Alright,” you said. “Come on, let’s get you some treats.”

The café Ethan had suggested was in your father’s territory, so it was a short car drive. Seeing that the weather was slowly getting cold nowadays, it didn’t surprise you to see Ethan already inside the nearly empty café as you walked in, and waved at him before making your way to him.

“Hey!” you said and he stood up to hug you.

“Hey stranger,” he said. “It’s been a while.”

“It really has,” you said, motioning for a cup of coffee at the waitress who forced a smile, then disappeared into the kitchen. You frowned slightly, but then turned to look at Ethan when he cleared his throat.

“So what’s been up with you lately?”

“Absolute chaos,” you pointed out, making him smile. “No seriously, things are just now starting to calm down.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah there was this business thing,” you muttered. “Never mind. How about you? What have you been doing lately?”

“I’m actually…” he paused for a moment. “I’m actually moving back to my hometown.”

Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping.

“What?” you asked. “Why?”

“I don’t think New York is for me,” he said as you heard the wind bells chime by the door. “Or any big city for that matter.”

You opened your mouth to ask why, but a strange shiver went down your spine, the hair at the back of your neck rising up as his eyes went over your shoulder. You didn’t even have the time to think, your body seemed to have responded on instinct as the result of many years of training, so you kicked the table in his direction and jumped to your feet, but before you could turn around, two men had already grabbed you by the arms. You managed to kick one of them, turning around to punch the other, but another man caught your fist and turned you around, his friend punching you right on the nose so hard that you knew from the crack that he broke it before the blinding pain shot through your face. You stumbled back as two of them held you by the arms again and another one grabbed his gun, flipped it and slammed it on your head.

Then everything went black.

You couldn’t tell which one woke you up, the cold or the burning pain starting from your nose and spreading through your whole head. Your vision was blurry when you forced yourself to open your eyes, now realizing your hands were bound and a groan left your lips as you blinked as fast as you could to see better.

Ah.

Two of Ian’s men were waiting by the door along while Ethan sat across from you, his eyes fixed on the floor. You could feel your heart dropping to your stomach but you forced yourself to focus, there had to be a way out of this—

You just needed to find it.

The room you were in appeared to be a butcher’s freezer, which made you think you were at the edge of your father’s territory. The pain in your head was so heavy that you could barely just hold your head up, let alone moving your body so you gritted your teeth, taking a deep breath through your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you heard Ethan’s voice and you turned your head to see him looking down at the gun in his lap, your hands shooting up to wipe the blood on your face before touching your forehead.

Okay, that needed stitches.

“You’re sorry?” you repeated with a dry laugh. “How long have you been working for him?”

He shook his head fervently, rubbing his thumb over the gun.

“I don’t—I didn’t—” he stammered. “He contacted me couple of months ago.”

You raised your brows. “Let me guess, he’s paying you a shit load of money?”

He shook his head again.

“He said…he said he’d kill me if I didn’t...” he muttered. “For God’s sake I never wanted this whole bullshit, I don’t even know how to use—” he pushed at the tiny button beside the gun, the magazine dropping to the floor and a couple of bullets scattering around as one of Ian’s men came closer.

“What the fuck?” he asked him, snatching the gun out of his hand and picking up the magazine before walking to the other side of the room to continue his conversation with the other man. You gritted his teeth, anger pulsing through you.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan repeated and you shook your head.

“You know you’re going to die right?” you asked him. “You’ve just signed your own death warrant by pulling this shit.”

“Civilians aren’t harmed, that’s what the truce—”

“Civilians aren’t harmed as long as they remain civilians,” you corrected him, pulling at the rope around your wrists to loosen it a little. “You’ve just thrown your hat in the ring, buddy. And trust me; if Ian doesn’t kill me, I’ll kill you and if he does manage to kill me, Bucky will hunt you down, and kill you. Torture you first probably too. So regardless of if I die or not, you definitely will Ethan.”

“I’ll move out of the city.”

“There’s no city we can’t reach.”

“That’s not true,” he argued with you. “Everyone is saying Chicago is its own city.”

A small smile curled your lips despite fear churning your stomach, a small spark of satisfaction rushing through you.

“Right,” you said. “Sure. Move to Chicago.”

He swallowed thickly, then turned his head when the door opened and Ian walked in with Ryan. Ryan stopped dead in his tracks as soon as his eyes fell on your face, but then he gritted his teeth, snapping something at the men by the door under his breath. It was impossible to hear what he had said, but judging by the way it made them step back, it couldn’t be anything nice.

“Hi there cousin,” Ian had the audacity to smile at you as Ethan stood up from his chair.

“I can go right?” he said. “You promised.”

“Sure, some of our boys will accompany you to the border of the city, then you’re on your own,” Ian said. “Thank you for this. New York will owe you.”

You clenched your jaw, glaring up at Ian as Ethan walked out of the room and Ian tut tutted.

“You just couldn’t help it, could you?” he asked you. “All you had to do was just marry Barnes and give him an heir, and then you could spend money and do nothing for the rest of your life, but you just couldn’t do it.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“Those are some big words for someone who’s about to die.”

No.

You couldn’t let panic take over your mind, you just couldn’t.

The safest option was to cling to anger.

“You don’t get to kill me and stay alive, Ian.”

“Oh I won’t be the one who killed you,” he said. “Your ex-boyfriend did. Everyone saw him meet you at that café after all.”

“And you think my dad will buy that bullshit?”

“I’ll make him buy it.”

“You think Bucky will buy that?” you spat and he shrugged his shoulders.

“No, he will come after me,” Ian said. “And that’ll start a war. Too bad.”

You gritted your teeth. “You don’t have the means to survive a war, dickhead.”

“You have no reason to worry about that,” Ian said. “You’re not walking out of here alive after all.”

You licked your lips, the metallic taste of blood reaching your throat as Ian nodded at his men.

“Untie her.”

One of his men came to cut the rope around your wrist and helped you up while the other one pointed his gun at you just in case. The whole room was spinning around you, your heart beating in your throat but you tried to fix your breathing.

It was fine.

It was going to be fine.

“Ryan, my gun,” Ian ordered and Ryan stared at you, then pulled out the gun from his waistband, quickly taking out the magazine to check the bullets before sliding it in again.

“Leave us,” Ian said and Ryan licked his lips, stealing a look at you before he walked outside with the rest of Ian’s men following him. He slammed the heavy door behind them and you clenched your fists, still glaring at Ian.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you,” Ian said, pointing the gun at your face. “I did, numerous times. Get on your knees.”

“No,” you said. “If you’re going to kill me, you’re going to kill me standing.”

Ian took a deep breath, then swallowed thickly.

“As you wish,” he said and raised the gun a little to aim for your forehead, the fear making your eyes burn but you quickly blinked the tears back, forcing yourself to focus on—

Bucky.

It was strange, how it worked. Everyone talked about how this business was dangerous, but no one talked about what one would think when there was a gun about to blow their head off.

There was fear yes, but the memory of happiness shed a small ray of sunlight on it. Knowing Bucky would stop at nothing to take your revenge almost soothed the pain of knowing you would never see him again, at least—

At least in this life.

But you knew you loved him. He knew you loved him.

That was enough, somehow. Even with a gun pointing at your head.

“Live by the sword, die by the sword,” Ian recited. “Goodbye, cousin.”

You closed your eyes, holding your breath and bracing yourself for the deafening gunshot but the only thing that echoed through the room was the empty click, making your eyes snap open while Ian gawked at the gun in his hand, fear flashing over his face as he froze.

…Ryan.

Ryan had taken out the bullets.

The adrenaline that roared through you was powerful enough to overcome the fog in your brain or the pain on your face as you lunged at him to knock the gun out of his hand, slamming him back to the heavy door, the unmistakable sound of gunshots echoing outside. Ian shoved you back as hard as he could and tried to swing a punch at you but you quickly dodged it, elbowing him on the nose.

“Welcome to your cage fight, Ian,” you spat as he wiped at his nose.

“You dumb bitch…” he muttered, then swung at you again but you quickly stepped back, grabbed his wrist and turned it with all your strength until you heard the pop, and his yell of pain. He kicked you on the knee hard, making you scream out of pain as you stumbled back, and he tried to grab at you with his other hand but you had already punch him right in the neck, making him gasp and fall on his knees, clutching at his neck.

“You know,” you said, breathing hard as you grabbed the gun off the floor and picked up one of the bullets Ethan had dropped earlier. “I should thank you for this. I was having second thoughts earlier, but now…”

He was still gasping for air as you slid the magazine out, put the bullet inside and slid it back again, making him drag himself back on his palms until his back hit the wall.

“Exile me,” he managed to say, and you tilted your head. “Exile me somewhere else.”

You shook your head, adrenaline making your head spin.

“You know how this shit goes,” you said through clenched teeth. “You tried to kill me. Exiling you isn’t enough.”

“I’ll forfeit the title!” he said, still breathless and you shook your head again, then pointed the gun at him with a sigh.

“I'm sorry Ian,” you said. “Live by the sword, die by the sword.”

With that, you pulled the trigger and heard the loud bang before the blood splattered over your face, making you grimace as his body slipped on the floor. You wiped at your face, then slammed open the door to point the gun at whoever was outside, but the only thing you could see was Ian’s men bleeding on the ground while Ryan stood by the door, his back straight as if he was waiting for your order.

“Ma’am,” he said with his hands clasped behind him, and he bowed his head a little as you smiled at him.

“Thank you,” you rasped out, raising your head to stare up at the dark sky before turning to him. “Ryan, is there any chance you’re looking for a new job?”

The corners of his mouth twitched and he nodded.

“Working for your father’s heir would be an honor, ma’am,” he said softly and you let out a small laugh.

“Good,” you said as you limped to the car parked right outside the back alley with Ryan following you. “You’re hired.”

Chapter 38

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