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deliciousangelfestival · 5 months ago

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I Hate It When You're Drunk - 2

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden love between a princess and her bodyguard. They love each other deeply, but their relationship is threatened by the tyrant king's oppressive rule and their differing social statuses.

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

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"Good morning, Your Highness." One of your servants opened the heavy curtains of your bedroom.

"Morning." You groggily rubbed your eyes, slowly sitting up in bed. Your head pounded from the remnants of last night's alcohol. "What's my schedule today?" you asked, wincing as the bright light from the open curtains hit your eyes. Every movement felt like a struggle, your limbs heavy and your mind foggy from the overindulgence.

"We've made sure to clear it until noon because you're not in the best condition." Even the servants were used to your drunken state.

"Perfect." You sighed. With some effort, you got out of bed and started getting ready.

Your head still felt dizzy from last night's drinking. You shouldn't have drunk so much. What had triggered you to drink until blackout was seeing another of your friends getting married. You felt happy for her, but deep down, you were jealous because they could marry without any objections.

But your father is the king. And to make it worse, he's a tyrant king. He controls every aspect of your life, dictating whom you can and cannot love.

As you finished dressing and stepped out of your room, Bucky was waiting for you, as always. His eyes softened with concern as he saw you.

"Headache?" Bucky asked, his voice gentle.

"A little bit." You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I went overboard again last night, didn't I? I'm sorry." You leaned your head against his chest, seeking comfort.

His fingers gently brushed your hair, soothing you. "Don't drink like that anymore," he said, his voice filled with a quiet pain. He hated seeing you hurt yourself like this.

You nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. Then, you took his hands in yours. "Let's go. We can't waste more time."

Bucky followed you, his grip firm yet tender. Walking hand in hand through the hallway was the longest moment you could be together like a real couple. This short walk was your favorite part of the day, a fleeting taste of the life you both wished you could have.

As you moved through the palace, the sun streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the marble floors. The silence between you was filled with unspoken words and shared glances. Bucky's presence was a steady anchor in your tumultuous life, and these stolen moments were your refuge from the storm of royal duties and impossible expectations.

You squeezed his hand a little tighter, silently promising each other that, no matter what, you would always find a way to be together, even if only in these brief, precious moments.

But the moment ended when you entered the dining room. Bucky couldn’t join you; only royalty or invited guests were allowed. He had to stand outside. It was always difficult to let go of his hand.

"You need to eat," Bucky reminded you gently.

"Can’t we eat together?" you whined, a pout forming on your lips.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness." He chuckled lightly.

You rolled your eyes, sighing in defeat. "Fine."

Suddenly, one of the guards interrupted, causing you to release Bucky’s hand. The guard greeted you and announced, "The king has returned."

"Okay," you replied. Then you realized the gravity of the situation and looked at Bucky, "Fuck. Wasn't he supposed to come back next week?"

Bucky immediately switched into professional mode. He spoke through his earpiece, issuing commands, "Prepare for the entrance."

The king had been on a world tour for conferences and the Olympics. While he was away, you had used the opportunity to be close to Bucky. But now, that had to end since your father was back.

After two hours, the entourage and the king arrived. As the princess, you had to welcome him at the grand entrance along with the ministers. While waiting, you kept glancing at Bucky, who stood far to your left. He looked strong and imposing, like a knight straight out of a storybook, his posture radiating vigilance and strength.

The horns blew, signaling the king's arrival.

"King Leonard Damon II has arrived!"

When the announcement was made, everyone bowed. The large doors opened, and the most important figure in the country stepped into the castle.

King Leonard Damon II was a man in his 50s. He looked dignified and confident, his presence commanding respect. His eyes, however, seemed lifeless, devoid of any warmth or feeling. It was understandable; he was known as the tyrant king.

Leonard acknowledged everyone with a curt nod, but his gaze lingered on Bucky for a brief moment before returning to you. It made your heart race.

"Continue with today's agenda," the king commanded as he walked, not pausing for rest despite just arriving.

You felt a sense of foreboding. Glancing at Bucky, you saw your worry reflected in his eyes.

As the king walked past, you couldn't help but feel the tension in the air. His return meant a return to strict protocols and the end of the small freedoms you had enjoyed. Your mind raced with possibilities, wondering what his sudden return would bring.

Bucky stood tall, his eyes following the king while staying alert to potential threats. His presence was a silent reassurance, yet you couldn't shake the unease in your chest. The king's glance at Bucky had been brief, but it carried a weight that made you anxious.

You straightened your posture, preparing to follow the day's agenda, but your thoughts were still with Bucky. You managed a small, reassuring smile in his direction before turning to follow your father.

👑👑👑👑

The meeting primarily involved discussing the results of the king’s world tour. The Veridian Economic Minister, Hugo, who had accompanied the king on the journey, excitedly explained, "Many foreign investors are interested in investing in our beloved country. It will boost the economy significantly."

"They won’t be taxed?" you interjected.

"Ahem, that’s right, Your Highness." Hugo was always startled whenever you spoke up. He glanced nervously at King Leonard, but the king didn't seem to mind his daughter interrupting the presentation.

"That's great," you continued. "But I hope that as Veridian's GDP rises, we will also support the younger generation who want to start their own businesses. We should offer small loans and assistance because they are the future pillars of our country."

As you spoke, everyone listened intently.

"I agree, Your Highness. I see that you've met with young entrepreneurs during our absence," Hugo remarked.

"It's good to see you engaging with them," King Leonard added.

Everyone nodded in agreement. "She’s perfect as the next ruler," Hugo commented.

"She only needs one thing: a spouse," someone interjected. The room filled with murmurs of agreement, but you flinched at the mention.

"I already have candidates in mind," King Leonard announced.

After his declaration, the room fell silent, followed by applause. "That’s wonderful. If it's King Leonard's choice, the person must be the best," the ministers echoed their support.

You sat there, your nails digging into your thighs, looking at your father with a mixture of anger and frustration, your eyes burning with unshed tears.

👑👑👑👑

Everyone left after the meeting was over except you and the king.

You fixed your gaze on Leonard, who appeared unruffled, as he always did in moments of confrontation. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, as he lounged back in his ornate chair, fingers steepled in front of him.

His eyes, cold and calculating, never wavered from your face as if he could read every thought passing through your mind.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a knife.

You swallowed hard, feeling the pressure of his gaze bearing down on you. Slowly, deliberately, you spoke, your voice steady despite the turmoil. "I already said that I won’t get married unless it’s Bucky."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Leonard's face, gone as quickly as it appeared. His lips curled into a half-smile, devoid of warmth or amusement. "Over my dead body," he replied coolly, the threat underlying his words unmistakable.

"Should I take your life first so I can be with the man I love?" you retorted, your voice shaking with emotion.

"My child," he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual air, the leather creaking softly under his weight. He studied you with a cold, almost amused detachment, his fingers lightly drumming on the armrest.

"You’re not a killer like me," he continued, his voice smooth and unyielding.

The word 'killer' sent a shiver down your spine. Because it was true, you were different from him. The reason why King Leonard Damon II was called the tyrant king was because he was a cold-blooded killer.

Leonard had killed his own siblings to secure the throne. He felt no remorse after taking their lives. Not just relatives, but also anyone who objected to him being king. This included the family of the queen, his own wife, your mother.

"Do you hate Bucky because of what happened to my mother?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Leonard fell silent, then hurled his glass of wine across the room. "Never mention that woman."

"There’s no evidence that she ran away with her bodyguard," you insisted. This was the kingdom's biggest secret. Outside the castle walls, everyone believed the queen had died of illness. But the truth was, she was missing. You didn’t know if your mother was alive or dead.

You understood why your mother might have run away from your father. He never acted violently towards her, but his actions against her family made her hate him. She had never wanted to be a queen. One day, she vanished, and her guard also went missing a few days later.

Leonard became obsessed with finding his wife. He spared no expense, sending out the kingdom’s most skilled trackers and investigators to scour the land. Despite their efforts, every lead turned cold, and every trail went nowhere.

You rubbed your forehead, feeling the weight of your family's complex dynamics. "If I’m not married, will you still pass the throne to me?"

The lack of an immediate answer gnawed at you, amplifying the uncertainty of your future. You knew your father’s mind was a labyrinth of ambitions and schemes, where even the most straightforward question could hide layers of strategy. His silence spoke volumes, a testament to his unwillingness to relinquish control or reveal his true intentions.

"Father?" you prompted.

Finally, Leonard spoke, his voice measured and devoid of warmth. "Maybe. Perhaps after 10, 15 years," he said, his tone betraying no hint of reassurance.

You hadn’t expected this. "I should’ve known. You never planned to make me a queen," you said, feeling a surge of despair. Without becoming queen, you couldn’t marry the man you loved.

Leonard's face remained expressionless, his eyes cold and unyielding. The tension in the room was palpable, and you felt a mix of anger and hopelessness. Your dreams of a future with Bucky seemed to slip further away with each passing second.

Your father’s silence spoke volumes. He had always been calculating and ruthless, willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for his own power. The realization that he never intended for you to rule cut deep.

You clenched your fists, trying to steady your breathing. "So, my fate is to remain a pawn in your game?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leonard stood up, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the room. "You will do as you are told, for the good of the kingdom," he declared, turning to leave.

As he walked away, you felt a tear slip down your cheek. You were trapped in a gilded cage with no way out. Your love for Bucky seemed destined to remain unfulfilled, crushed under the weight of your father's tyranny.

When Leonard reached the door, he paused and looked back at Bucky, who had been waiting outside. "Remember your place," he said coldly before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts and fears.

Bucky’s grip tightened as he watched the king leave. Once Leonard was out of sight, he rushed to your side. As he entered, his eyes immediately found you already on the ground, knees pressed against the cold stone.

Shock mingled with concern in his eyes as he took in your tear-streaked face, your eyes red and puffy from crying. Seeing you in such distress tore at his soul. He wished he could shield you from the pain, protect you from the harsh realities that surrounded your life.

"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos. "I'm here." His words were simple but carried a world of comfort and unwavering support. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender and gentle.

Seeing your pain, Bucky's heart ached. What had the king said to you?

Without a word, you collapsed into his arms, your body trembling. He held you close, his strong arms enveloping you in a protective embrace. You buried your face in his shoulder, your sobs muffled against his uniform.

"Oh, Bucky, what should I do?" you cried, your voice breaking.

Bucky gently stroked your hair, his hand moving in soothing circles. "Shh, it's going to be alright," he whispered, though he knew the words felt hollow. His own heart was heavy with the knowledge of the king's cruelty.

A/N: Did you enjoy Chapter 2? What would you like to see in the next chapter?

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stareiiez · 3 months ago

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𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬

sylus x female reader.

content : adult cis female reader. love and deepspace. indie portrayal of sylus. suggestive content. luke and kieran appearance! sex references. drinking. smut in later chapter. MDNI. 4.3k words. proof read to the best of my tired eyes.

note: returning just to post this! college and homework has had me busy and focused on other things!! sorry! this is just part one of this sylus one shot! part two is where it'll really ! get! juicy :) hope y'all like drunk sex.

likes and reblogs are loved and appreciated!

Your first-ever date with the leader of the Onychinus was something you didn't ever picture.

Being kidnapped and forced to stay with your kidnapper who wanted you to resonate with him so badly for whatever reason he didn't feel inclined to reveal to you or his henchmen; was never something you pictured to happen in all of your lives of living. To put the cherry on top of it, said kidnapper had made a date for you too to partake in.

Sylus, the man who kidnapped you and now the bane of your annoyance, had invited you out to this date. The way he even ' asked you out ' had been through both Luke and Kieran bursting into your room. Luke had parted the thick blackout curtains to let glorious shades of gold and yellows of morning sunlight stream into your room, and perfectly hit the folds of your eyelids. You groaned in response, an arm falling over your eyes to save you from blinding yourself. Kieran took the liberty of yanking away plush blankets and satin sheets away from your warm body with a grumble of ' get up.' leaving his mouth.

" Boss has plans for you!" Luke chirped, sliding to his twin's side. Cool pointy fingertips prodded at the cheeks of your face in insistent pokes. Sylus decided to announce his plans to the twins at the crack of dawn and make them wake you early so you wouldn't forget. Lovely.

" Tell your ' boss ' I don't care." Your voice is muffling into your plush pillow when you roll over onto your stomach and hide your face and morning breath into its soft material. One of your hands reaches blindly behind you for the blankets that Kieran pulled off your bed.

" Can't, he won't be back till later. Come on lazy bones, let's get up and be ready for the day." Luke chirps again, his fingers pinching at the swell of your calves sharply. Your skin flushes red and stings lightly, no matter how hard you try to wriggle out from his persistent fingers, you still manage to get pinched into giving in and rising from your bare mattress.

Your eyes sag at the corners, exhaustion still present on your face. Your hair is askew in some parts and matted in other parts of your skull. First, you look like you slept and woke up like the dead. Grumpy and craving more shut-eye. '

"Yeesh." Kieran comments. His hidden eyes look at you and your rumpled sleep clothing up and down. Luke nods in silent agreement.

You yawn, and a hand runs through your knotted hair. Not sparing either twin a rebuttal to their judgement, and Luke's faux fear of the smell of morning breath when you walk past both to meander to the luxuriously large themed bathroom of your bedroom. It's not like you're a morning person. You could have sworn Sylus assumed it when he spotted you late one night, in his floor-to-ceiling library; perusing the expanse of perfectly kept novels for you to read by the fireplace. Maybe this was just his way of driving another thorn, including the hundreds he's embedded into your skin, into your side just for amusement. Mephisto would have been the first to tell him how pissed off you were this morning to be woken up at the first light.

Another yawn stretched your jaw wide as you cranked on the hottest temperature of water you could handle and peeled off the satin sleep set Sylus had gifted you to wear to bed. Your eyes threatened to shut under the steamy stream of water from the rain showerhead. You were so warm, unfortunately wet, but so warm and comfortable under the gentle stream.

Hot water dripped down in tantalizing rivulets down your shoulders and back, head bowing down to tuck your chin towards your chest. Your weight swayed back and forth ever so slightly before you would catch yourself from leaning too far to one side. You could have started to fall back asleep standing up if it wasn't for the thundering rounds of knocking from the twins once again. Four sets of strong knuckles rapping against thick black wood was the sound of gunshots to your sensitive ears. A yelp escaped your lips, feet jumping and threatening to slip out from underneath your body when you were startled awake for the second time this morning. You rapidly blinked water out of your eyes.

"Hey! Did you die? Breakfast is getting cold." Luke's muffled voice called out. "You've been in there for almost an hour, you're not a plant." Have you been in there that long? Perhaps you did end up falling asleep in the shower after all. A woman of many talents.

The rest of your shower was done rather quickly. The sweet scent of expensive soaps and shampoos followed you to breakfast. Your hair was still wet and clinging to the soft fabric of your hunter's shirt when you arrived for breakfast. The grumbling of your stomach and the constant half-baked fear that Luke and Kieran would burst into your room to bother you one more time had left you rushing through the halls of Sylus's home just to eat.

Breakfast and even lunch passed by without much trouble from the twins once you gave in to their cumbersome ways of making sure you ate plenty. Lunch was quiet, only you sat at the end of Sylus's extensive dining room table. The air about the dining room seemed lonely, way too lonely for you to shovel another bite of one of the delectable foods made specifically to your palate's tastes. No matter how much you tried to coerce the butler to sit with you, every time he came to refill the multiple glasses of water and or juices, he always denied your pleas to sit and join you with a simple smile and a shake of his head. The tails of his petticoat and the clipping of shiny shoes on the cold tile made you realize that you had nobody. You were a prisoner locked away in a remote fancy prison cell, while the guards that watched over you pretended to be your friends so that you could warm up to their big bad boss.

Your fork twirled between your fingers, her cheek propped on your other hand as you gazed out of the floor-to-ceiling window. The views of the N109 zone stared back at you with its gleaming lights and ominous red fog that seemed to settle as a skyline for the dangerous city. The warm rays of the afternoon sun didn't affect the eerie look of the cold-looking skyscrapers. Daylight didn't belong in a zone that held nothing but crime and dark things that humanity wouldn't think twice about committing.

"Why so sad, kitten? Missing me already?" A dark timber voice practically rattled your eardrums. Whoever spoke to you, was so close you could smell nothing but expensive cologne, the sharp notes of red wine, and clean leather. Sylus.

"You wish. " You mumble, brows furrowing at the ends to portray your frustration even if Sylus can see your blush-ridden cheeks. You look so cute trying to play off your embarrassment.

Sylus's brows raise, and his pretty red lips turn into a shit-eating smirk that doesn't wipe away from his features even when he takes a step back and stands to the full height of his stature. His right hand extends out towards you. "Let's go. We have lots to do today, kitten."

You eye his hand, lips puffed out into a pout for a second till you sigh. Brows relax and your shoulders drop with the air that leaves your lungs. You accept his hand wordlessly, letting him pull you to your feet. He doesn't waste any time pulling you along after him and his long-legged strides. The clip of his expensive shoes and the faster clacks of your steps trying to catch up to him tenfold fill the empty halls of the base.

"When you said we had-- "

air quotes are given sarcastically with your fingers.

" lots to do today."

end air quote.

" You didn't mention we'd be dealing with him again." Your hands gesture out, dramatically motioning to the tall and strongly built all-midnight black Alhal-Teke horse that was one of Sylus's prized possessions. His tail swished at non-existent flies that buzzed over his gorgeous sleek body. Horse poop, sweat and sawdust floated in the breeze, irritating your sinuses enough to sniffle every now and then.

The stallion regarded you with a frill of his nostrils, blowing hot hay-scented air at your face. He was so pleased to see you too. Glad the feeling was mutual.

After the last encounter with the stubborn animal made up to be called a horse, you had the pleasure of knowing firsthand what it was like to attempt to tame his master afterward. Needless to say, you couldn't quite look at Sylus in the eye for a few days after. The vivid dreams of the rich leather of both collar and whip still haunted your senses in your sleep. The sharp intake of breath and shuddery exhale Sylus let out as the only noises he ever granted you when you traced up and down the expanse of his chest and abdomen with the cropping whip. You shivered visibly in the warm air. Goosebumps raced up your arms at the echoes of Sylus's voice, promising you to ke

Your head shakes from side to side, ridding you of such dark and unclean thoughts. You shouldn't reminisce now, not in front of such curious red eyes that watch your every move with precise calculations. The ends of his lips curl upwards in a minute smirk like he can sense what you're thinking about. Annoying.

"Are you testing me again on how to tame a horse again? I thought we were over this." With subtly laced pink cheeks, you turn your gaze from eyeing the ornery horse to gazing at Sylus. Your hands plant onto your hips.

"Silly kitty." Sylus purrs down at you like you were a wide-eyed child. His tone was slightly patronizing yet the strangest inkling of unnerving comfort. His eyes flick towards the sounds of approaching hoof steps and another set of boots crunching dirt under the soles.

A stablekeeper, you guess, walks up to the two of you. In a pristinely kept white glove, leather reins gently pull a snowy white horse to follow the steps of the unknown man. Braided mane and tail swish with every step shiny black hooves take. Needless to say, the horse looks unreal; like every pretty princess pony young girls dream about owning when they're little.

"Right on time," Sylus says once the stablekeeper comes to a stop at his side. The reins of the white horse are held out to you wordlessly, a polite smile in greeting is on the man's mouth. "Take them, I'm going easy on you this time."

You glance at the snowy white horse, unlike the headstrong and stubborn demon incarnate stallion that Sylus adorns with soft pats and low coos to please the black stallion. The other horse is kind-looking, pretty long white lashes blink delicately at you. Piebald eyes of brown and blue watch you with no harmful intent, only slight curiosity about who you are and what exactly you smell like. She was the yin to the stallion's yang. Two drastic differences between light and dark.

"Her name is Lucero," Sylus says when you finally accept the reins from the stablekeeper's hands, and he departs as he comes. Quiet. "Luce for short if it's easier."

One of your hands reaches out, open palm face up so the mare could sniff you. Your lips curl upwards and a short giggle escapes at the tickling sensation of white horse whiskers sweeping over your hand. Hot hair blows over your hand in a friendly exhale, and Luce raises her dainty head. Shiny hooves take a few steps forward on her own to you, her muzzle bumps at your cheek. A friendly greeting, something you wish could have happened when you met Sylus's horse.

"Good, she likes you. Let's mount up, we have a little while to go before sunset." Sylus interrupts the bonding moment of rider and horse by placing a riding helmet onto your head so quickly you don't even get a moment to protest at being able to buckle your helmet yourself because he does it for you. The strap borderline chokes you from how tight he tugged at the helmet straps, but it's better safe than sorry for riding three-ton animals.

He wastes no time in swinging himself onto the sleek leather English saddle. His helmet crushes his hair to his head. A riding crop, perhaps the same one you dreamed of using on him, is tucked neatly into his armpit. He looks so natural atop the steed.

You follow suit. Swinging yourself effortlessly into the sun warmed riding saddle, the reins held between your hands. Your brows lift quizzically at him. "Where are we even go-- hey!" Sylus doesn't give you the chance to finish your question, both rider and mount are cantering away; not bothering to look over his shoulder to see if you're following behind because of course, you are.

With a clicking of your tongue and a squeeze of your calves to the round sides of the mare, you break into a matching stride to catch up and ride side by side with him.

There isn't much talking when it comes to the actual horseback riding. You doubt you would even have heard of the almost synchronized beating of horse hooves thudding along thigh-high grassy fields. Sylus seemed to be in his little world. You could swear your eyes saw the way his face softened and let himself exhale in contentment at the continuous rocking ups and downs of the stallion's gait. He wordlessly guided you both through the unmarked fields, the racing track already far behind you both, and through a pebble-riddled trickling brook of water then further into more grassy dips and curves of the land.

The spray of cool water droplets splashed onto your cheeks and clothes. You couldn't help but let out a gasp at the sudden cool sens

Sylus couldn't help but smile to himself at your reaction. The way your lips parted in a shocked ' O ' formation, your right hand parting from the leather reins to shield your face from another spray of cool water flying off the hooves of the stallion he rode. You looked so cute. Not cute, that wasn't the right wording to describe it in this angle and this exact moment of lighting. You looked . . ethereal? gorgeous? breathtaking?

"Beautiful." his words decided to flow from his mouth rather than stay rooted in the recesses of his brain. He spoke them into the universe and the slowly turning golden rays of sunbeams that kissed your cheeks and eyes when they flitted over to him. Your pupils are minuscule and swim in the lightened colors of your irises.

This was falling in love all over again. He felt this feeling before. In another body, in another time. In another century of dark demons and another girl that looked exactly like you with a slightly different name. But this was you, his pretty kitten.

Thankfully you couldn't hear him, the moment of his was cut short thanks to his stallion kicking out his hind legs; like he could sense Sylus' wandering thoughts and rounded eyes of warm syrupy adoration.

"Easy, boy. You're still cherished by me." A warm leather-bound hand patted the sweat-slicked neck of the horse.

The horses slowed to an easy trot when the fields of green grew even longer blades of grass that tickled at the bottoms of your boots. They'd come up to your waist, or tops of your thighs once you would slide off the horses. Finally, since it was quiet enough to talk amid the heavy snorts of winded horses. Your head turns to fully address Sylus with your previous question.

"So, where are we going? Or is this just an act to finally get rid of me since we can't resonate?" Half teasing the leader. You let a brow raise. If that was true? What a serene way to go out, not that you wouldn't die fighting. But you couldn't ask for a better place of scenery to draw in your final breath.

"Up there, don't you see it?" Sylus gestures up ahead with a gloved palm, where dips and rises of the fields finally swell to a gentle incline of a grassy hill. A large oak tree sits rooted in the rich soil.

A deep crimson-colored blanket lays strewn on the ground under the cooling shade of the tree. Adorning the blanket was an expensive bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket. An array of meats, berries, sweet chocolates, crackers, and cheeses sit on a carved board of wood. A small container containing a few slices of rich cake consisting of differing flavors and frostings sat in the middle of the large board of wood. Faux candle lights are scattered around the borders of the blanket, giving little light to set an intimate mood for the two of you. Who knew the man was into finger foods? Not you.

Your breath catches, unknowing that your eyes rounded in awe when you two rode closer to the supposed romantic scene Sylus went out of his way to prepare. Was this the plan the twins awoke you for so early? Did they help their boss pick out cute charcuterie foods to share between you two while gazing into each other's eyes? Your cheeks warm at the scene playing in your head of the three men, consulting in the large kitchen back at the Onichynus base. Discussing what foods were trending that couples were eating together, and where exactly would be a good setting to enjoy it.

"Sylus--" Your words fall out breathlessly, oblivious to how the male had reached over to grasp at the reins of your horse with one hand; and with the other, he steered his stallion around the less steep side of the hill to ride on. Your fingers blindly reach out to bat at his large hand, you can steer yourself even if you're in mild shock.

Another ploy just to gain your trust? Maybe, but you somewhat doubt the intention behind this impromptu picnic. Sylus slides out of his saddle when the two of you crest the top of the hill, his right-hand goes to reach up between his horse's ears to pull the English bridle off. The stallion snorts, shaking his long elegant mane of midnight, dark eyes blink at your mare; seemingly waiting for you to slide off and unbridle her so they can graze together in peace.

Sylus moves to your side, one hand reaching out to offer his help; the other unbridling the snowy mare with the ease of his skilled fingers. You don't turn his hand down, not that you have a choice because he takes your hand in his anyway even when you hesitate to accept such help. He's pulled you down from your saddle with enough force to have you tumbling into his arms and bumping into his strong chest. The smell of wine and rich leather only gets stronger with the proximity.

"Must I do everything for you? You make me feel like I'm your caretaker right now." His chest rumbles against yours, his voice quiet. Words whispering darkly against the shell of your ear. Even if he was taunting you, you wouldn't be able to properly comprehend it. Not when you catch his eyes lowering to the curve of your jaw and sweeping along the pout of your lips.

He takes extra long to undo the buckle of your riding helmet, his pinky and ring finger stroking along the small bump of your chin with feather-like touches that make your skin twitch pleasantly.

Sylus retracts, tucking both helmets under an arm each he strides to the picnic spread. The helmets are placed down at a spare corner of the blanket with such care, then join them by sitting down in one free spot on the blanket. His long legs are tucked languidly together, while he reaches for the bottle of champagne.

The ends of his lips quirk upwards when you take the glass from him, and bring the tart but fizzy alcohol to your lips for a long sip. The bubbles make your nose tingle, you can feel them in your sinuses. To Sylus, you look so cute he could push you down and eat you whole right here. The sweet little picnic he and the twins laid out ahead of time would be forgotten, the main course and sweet desserts would be every inch of your body.

Instead, he sweeps his arm out to you; another invitation for you to indulge yourself while he picks at the food like a bird would. He's more like Mephisto than you even know. Your legs fold underneath you, sitting across from the male. One hand still holding your half-full glass of bubbly, the other reaching for a crisp slice of bread that's smeared with salty homemade butter. It tastes like heaven on your tingling tastebuds. You chew thoroughly, eyes flicking shyly to avoid Sylus's intense gaze and watch the two horses standing side by side grazing in contentment.

What a picture-perfect view. In Sylus's eyes once again, the light illuminates your side profile in a sunkissed golden hue. The shine of golden rays on your hair makes you look like a halo is forming above your head. An angel is in the presence of a monstrous demon of a man, who watches the precious creature with a dark possessive light in his pupils.

His flute of champagne rises to his lips. The alcohol is drained in a matter of two gulps, and his glass is being refilled in no time. You're oblivious to his staring, seemingly still uncomfortable with trying to fill the caverns of silence that radiate in the air between you two. You pick at the charcuterie board, grabbing at one of the fruits that are sweetened with a thin coating of powdered sugar on top.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You quip, your voice trying not to break when you turn to meet those sharp vermillion eyes eyeing the tart strawberry you hold to your lips. His eyes are hawklike over the rim over the glass's rim.

Instead of answering the shitty excuse of small talk, Sylus quirks one brow upward. He reaches out one of his hands to grasp at your wrist and yanks you forward hard enough to send you careening forward onto your knees and into his personal space. Your hand that held the strawberry is held in a grip that screams you shouldn't pull away from him without risking your shoulder or elbow popping. His damp lips brush over the bend of your fingers, and his warm breath fans over the back of your hand in a slow exhale. You can't help but let the flush of pretty pink and rose to stain the apples of your cheeks when Sylus hums down at you.

His lips parted to reveal the glimmering white teeth that remind you of a predator's. He could lunge forward and sink those pretty teeth that smile in those unfortunate businessmen's faces before he rips them apart. Whether with his mouth or evol, he would be your undoing; and currently one of them is teasing the tips of your fingers when he sinks them into the berry for a bite. Red juice trickles down the plump bow of his bottom lip, then runs off the sharp edge of his chin. Sin incarnate is showing in the way Sylus maintains eye contact when he pulls back, chewing the sweet and semi-tart strawberry with red staining his skin. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip to catch stray berry juice and you feel chills run down your spine from the sight.

He doesn't wipe his chin, perhaps he likes it messy like that. It fits him. His eyes twinkle in knowing that he has you trying to suppress the urge to shiver weakly at something so innocent. After all, he does have the right to share this spread of food with you, this was his plan after all.

But how the hell can you last the rest of your time here, when he keeps looking at you like that?

#sylus x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lds sylus #lds sylus x reader #lds x reader #sylus x female reader #horseshoes part one #sylus #lads x reader #lads sylus #lads sylus x reader

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asdfghjklmals · 2 years ago

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MORNING ROUTINE✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. suggestive joke. WORD COUNT: 0.9k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. boyfriend!gojo, established couple.

SYNOPSIS: satoru gojo's morning routine is waking up next to oc gojo girlfriend and making her coffee before he leaves for work. AUTHOR'S NOTE: thanks for the love on my last two posts. here's the start to satoru's day with oc gojo girlfriend. 🥹 counting from 1-5 while pouring my coffee creamer is something i actually really do, so i thought it would be cute to add in. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

your boyfriend’s morning alarm started to ring. you furrowed your eyebrows as satoru sighed himself awake. he had his left arm behind his head and his right arm around your shoulders. you removed your hand that rested on his chest to rub the sleepiness from your eyes. satoru stretched his long legs and arms. although you shared a king sized bed, it sure didn’t feel like one with how tall satoru was.

“morning babe,” satoru whispered softly in your hair.

you smelled like your orange hibiscus shampoo from your freshly washed hair last night. he sat up on his side of the bed. he didn’t dare open the blackout curtains in your bedroom, he knew you hated that.

two things that weren’t allowed in the early morning routine: stealing blankets and opening the blackout curtains until you woke up for the day. luckily for you, you didn't have to go to work at jujutsu high until later in the day unlike your boyfriend.

you watched him sleepily make his way to the bathroom. the light from the bathroom crept into your bedroom as he didn't shut the door all the way. you curled up in the duvet covers, his warmth still there between the sheets as you stole the duvet completely to your side. you could see his soft smile as he turned on the bathroom faucet to brush his teeth and wash his face. you had told him many times that lukewarm water was the best way to wash your face so that your skin wouldn’t got into shock. before he met you, he was always washing his face with cold water to “wake up”. there were a lot of little things he learned to do after he met you.

you reached your arm out, feeling around the glass nightstand to grab your phone. 6:07am. you plopped your phone down on his side of the bed and closed your eyes until you heard satoru shuffle over to the closet. he was shirtless, wearing his gray sweatpants. that was his form of “pajamas”. god, you were lucky he was your man because he was beautiful. his arms were toned and his abs were well defined. it was a shame it was always hidden.

“you like what you see?” satoru teased as he grabbed a black t-shirt to shove over his head.

“shut up,” you giggled from the bed and admitted, “i watch you change every morning, babe.”

“creepy,” he teased and chuckled as he changed into his work pants and put on his way too large jacket, “but you’re my little creep.”

you always told him his jujutsu high uniform was too baggy, an opposite from when you were students. he liked to say he was hiding his body so that no one would try to steal him away from you. that always earned a playful, soft slap across his chest. he knew he would never entertain another woman’s attention. he loved you deeply. hell, you were the only one who put up with him besides principal yaga and shoko. they gave you thank you cards every year for dealing with him.

satoru made his way to the kitchen and started up the coffee maker. he had spent a hefty price tag on this coffee maker to replace your single cup coffee maker when you moved into the apartment. satoru’s morning routine looked like this: get up, get dressed, make coffee for the both of you, kiss you goodbye, and teleport to work. he wouldn’t have it any other way.

the warm embrace of coffee scent started to fill the kitchen. you could smell it from the bedroom since satoru left the door open. you knew that you could get an extra hour of sleep if you tried right now, so you closed your eyes.

in the kitchen, satoru poured himself a cup of coffee and added far too many sugar cubes and more than enough creamer in his. he sipped it slowly while he stepped outside onto the apartment balcony to check his surroundings quickly before he left for work. he shrugged after finding nothing and walked back into the kitchen to pour you a cup of coffee.

fortunately, you and satoru were the same when it came to coffee tastes. you both liked extremely sweet coffee. he took out your favorite coffee creamer and counted from 1-5 as he poured your coffee. another little thing he learned while dating you. you had told him counting to 5 would give the best amount of coffee-to-creamer ratio. he stirred your coffee while smiling at that memory and made his way back to the bedroom with your cup and his.

satoru kicked open the door gently, announcing quietly, “good morning, sweetheart. satoru’s special delivery.”

he sat down on your side of the bed, grinning as he handed you your coffee mug, “coffee for mi’lady.”

you glared at the mug he gave you. it was a gag gift from the jujutsu high employee white elephant gift exchange last year. satoru ended up getting a mug that said “best dick ever”.

“thank you, my king,” you joked back. you grabbed the dumb (but funny and correct) mug from him and sat up in bed.

he leaned down to kiss you, but you backed away from him, covering your mouth.

“nope. i have morning breath.”

“baby, we have been dating for years. i'm over that stage.”

“well, i’m not and i don’t think i ever will be.”

“if you loved me, you would let me give you a kiss before i leave for work.” satoru laughed.

you and him went through this every morning. instead of a kiss on the lips, he’ll settle with multiple kisses all over your face. he kissed both your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and lastly, your forehead.

you took a sip of your perfectly made coffee and looked him straight in the eyes, “and if you loved me, you would let me sleep in in the mornings.”

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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thecapricunt1616 · 6 months ago

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Chicory (c.b. one-shot)

Snippet (more BTC): He tugged you by your hand back to the bedroom, kissing you deeply tugging you close by your hips and his hands traveled down your back, over your ass, squeezing and you moaned a bit, cupping his jaw and rubbing your thumb gently over the stubble that had grown since he shaved in the shower yesterday morning. He hummed softly, carefully sitting on the mattress and leading you to straddle his hips, playing gently with the hem of your panties between his fingers.

♡ Chapter Inspo: Chicory is perfect for love spells, & sex magick, it is also a natural aphrodisiac - this being because it is a great source of the androgen hormone androstenedione. ♡ Summary: You wake up to find Carmy's dirty little book he's been hiding from you, and convince him you want to try some things out from it, too. ♡ W/C: 3.5K+ ♡ Posted Date: 05/28/2024 ♡ A/N: Hellooooo!!! Happy day 3/7 of the Capri 200 Follower Celebration Extravaganza!!! You can find said extravaganza ♡ Here ♡ this celebration will be going until next Sunday (06/02/24)! We're getting todays party started early because I am physically incapable of sleep today I guess!! Lol anywhore - This O/S is based on ♡ This ♡ request, from my Darling Dirty Olive Martini otherwise known as the goddess herself @carmenberzattosgf ! Give her a follow NEOWW!!! I hope you love my dear Martini baby! Your other request is still in the works xoxoxo ♡ Warnings for BTC: Smutty smut smut, embarrassed Carmy, unprotected sex, AFAB!Fem!Reader, Reader not described pic's are purely for vibes only, swearing, and typical TB trigger warnings

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ ��𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You and Carmy had been dating for about 2 months, and it was an extraordinary two months. While he wasn’t the best at communication, he tried, and he tried very hard. He was an amazing learner, and would pick up what you put down the second he realized he made a mistake - do his best to fix it, and not make the same mistake again. In regards to the bedroom, your pleasure came first, it was like that from the beginning. It wasn’t something either of you discussed, it was more that Carmy was the one who did the leading most the time, and you followed & told him what did and didn’t feel good.

Most of the time, he was dead set on solely your pleasure. You could remember the amount of times you’d had penetrative sex with him, as much as you hated that you kept track, it was just in your nature to do so. He hadn’t let you go down on him yet,saying that he was ‘all good by eating you out’. On top of your lack of experience together - he also liked to have the lights off most of the time. You were much more sex forward than he was, so you just chalked it up to being shy, and didn’t think anything of it.

That was until he was sleeping one night next to you, falling asleep after eating you out for a straight 2 hours, you couldn't even remember the exact number of times he made you cum. You also weren’t sure how his jaw didn’t lock up.

The reason you had woken up at such an hour, was because your hand brushed something hard and papery under his pillow when you stuck your hand under it in search of his to hold. You carefully pulled the foreign book out, and in the dim moonlight that peeked through his navy blue blackout curtains, you read ‘BDSM Kinktionary - The ultimate guide’ and oh - had that thing been read. The spine had been very broken in, it was clear this specific book of his was well loved.

You flick through it, to see that there were multiple pages that had been dog-eared for later use. You got up quietly as to not disturb him, padding out to the kitchen where he kept the light under his microwave on. Leaning over the counter and flicking through the pages, finding the first one that had been dogeared and reading it.

Bondage - The restraint of a person, either by physical item (cuffs, rope, etc.) or instruction (known as mental bondage). Restraint can be full-body (vacuum beds, suspension) or involve a single body part such as the eyes (blindfold), mouth (ball gag), wrists or even thumbs. Bondage may include furniture like sex swings and devices like handcuffs.

It had various photos of different things mentioned and you raised your brows. “Carmy have you been holding out on me?” you whispered to yourself, a small smile on your face as you flicked to the next page that had been marked by a fold and read ;

Cockwarming / Soaking - Where one person puts their cock into their partner’s mouth, ass, or vagina (if they have one), and leaves it there for a set amount of time to, well, ‘keep warm’. Some people use it as a punishment, some people just like the feeling of it, some use it as a more intimate & sexual form of spooning/cuddling, and some use it as a method of trying to conceive after a creampie (see pg. 32).

You see a little star next to the definition made with red ink likely from a pen, and the word ‘creampie’ was underlined as well. Your mouth dropping slightly - this is likely what he wants to try. When you and Carmy did have sex, he would usually cum on your stomach, long thick white ropes of seed painting all the way up to your ribs, dragging his fingers through it before putting it to your lips to which you gratefully accepted and licked them clean. You tightened your thighs a bit at the thought.

The bedroom door popped open quietly “Babe?” Carmy said, voice gravelly and deep with sleep. You jump in surprise, nearly hitting your head on the side of the microwave as you were bent over trying to read without your glasses in such dim light. “Wha’s up-” he asked padding over. He saw the cover on the counter behind you, eyes widening and eyes flicking back to you. His cheeks go pink “Uhh.. how- how did you - shit - fuck - m-m’sorry babe it was- I-” he ran a nervous hand through his hair taking a big nervous breath.

“Cockwarming?” you said and he rubbed over his mouth and chin nervously

“It’s - i-it’s- y’don’t have t’do any a’that babe it was just a um-”

“A fantasy?” you cut him off. He bit his bottom lip roughly, swallowing thickly. His whole face and neck were red with embarrassment, he looked honestly like he could cry. Like a teen who’s porno-mags had been discovered. “I think it sounds…really hot” you grabbed the book off the counter. “I know you don’t really like getting head so-”

“S’not that I don’t like it. I just…I haven’t done it alot an’I don’t wanna embarrass myself n’stuff.” he rubbed his arm nervously and you stepped a bit closer, gently resting your hand on his chest right over his heart. You could feel it thumping against your palm like a monarch trapped in a plastic cup.

“You can’t embarrass yourself with me Carmy, we talked about it. The way our bodies react to things- how fast they react, it’s not something we can choose. I’d never judge you, is that why you didn’t wanna tell me the stuff you want to try? Cause you thought I’d think it was embarrassing?” you asked him softly.

He looked at the floor, shutting his eyes and sighing “yes” he admitted quietly, “how much did you see?” he asked nervously

“Enough, I didn’t even know that was like a thing? But it sounds hot- can we try? I mean..we dont have to- but I could go right now, if you want to” you asked. He held his hand on yours, gently squeezing it.

“I’ve never done it-”

“So we can learn together then, right? Things are most fun that way, anyways. I love doing new things with you, Carmy. It makes me feel close to you” you admitted.

He pulled you into a hug, nuzzling his face in your neck and holding you close. “Thank you” he muttered into your skin, the tip of his nose chilly since you two had fallen asleep with the window open last night.

“F’what baby?” you asked, rubbing over his back, your finger pads gently brushing over the little moles adorning his skin like tiny constellations you traced over in early mornings just after his alarm went off and he was still rousing for the day.

“Bein’ you” he said and kissed the fleshy bit where your shoulder met your neck and a smile graced your lips, gently petting his hair “I wanna try if you wanna try…I mean really wanna try, not just ‘cause I wanna do it, cause you actually want to” he said.

You pulled away, tilting his head to look at you “I want to.” you said, your voice honeyed with honesty and desire.

He tugged you by your hand back to the bedroom, kissing you deeply tugging you close by your hips and his hands traveled down your back, over your ass, squeezing and you moaned a bit, cupping his jaw and rubbing your thumb gently over the stubble that had grown since he shaved in the shower yesterday morning. He hummed softly, carefully sitting on the mattress and leading you to straddle his hips, playing gently with the hem of your panties between his fingers.

You opened your mouth for him, gently sucking on his tongue when he slipped it in your mouth since you know how much you both liked it and he moaned softly, gripping your ass tighter and pulling at the skin. You smirked into the kiss, pulling off after a few moments with a pop

“Want y’to touch me” you said sweetly, gently kissing the corner of his slightly parted lips, his breath coming out in soft warm pants against your cheek.

“Mm” he hummed softly reaching one of his hands under you, gently rubbing at your clit “y’sore?” he asked softly “I wasn’t too rough earlier was I?” he questioned as you kissed down his jaw, and over the hickeys, you’d left a few days ago on his neck. He wasn’t too stressed about them because he would just tell anyone at work to fuck off and there wasn’t going to be another friends and family night for a few weeks.

“No love, m’okay, that was so nice earlier. Made me feel sooo good, Are you ok?” you gently stroke his jaw with your hand and he smiles a bit

“Yes babe, m’fine. Feel good?” he asked and rubbed a bit firmer, in response your hips jerked a bit in his hands and a little breathy oh escaped your throat

“Yes jus’ like that babe feels so good, I love your pretty strong hands” you lovingly kiss his temple, resting your forehead on his “I fuckin’ love it when you touch me like that, bear” you said and his cock twitches in his boxers beneath you, already hard in briefs. It never took him much, but especially when you used his name.

That name, his nickname. The name only the closest people in his life called him, the name that coming from you - made him feel confident, strong, dominant. “Can’t fuckin’ focus when y’bein so sweet baby c’mere” he pulls his lips to yours again, pushing your panties to the side, breaking the kiss of course to ask “thas’ok right?” carefully rubbing his fingers through your slick

“Mmhmm, Course sweet boy - Feel how wet I am? All f’you baby. Y’so sexy, and so brave for telling me what you want from me, hmm? My brave Bear” you gently play with his curls, combing through them with your fingers. He kissed you again, cock grinding up against your pelvis unintentionally. You knew how much praise turned him on, he yearned for it. He carefully pulled back your hood, brushing the rough pad his middle finger over the sensitive bud.

You whine into his mouth, hips jerking at the sudden, intense bolt of pleasure and in retaliation you took his bottom lip between your teeth and pull gently. Your eyes then fluttered open to see his hooded blue eyes darkened with need, long eyelashes fluttering his cheeks when he blinked.

You sucked his lip between yours, sucking gently on it as he carefully trailed his hand down your slick folds, spreading your nether lips with his fingers a sticky click being heard when that same torturous middle finger that was teasing your innocent clit a few moments prior, breached your dripping entrance. Your mouth falls open, letting his lip snap back into place and a moan tumbles from your own lips.

“Yes- fuck yes baby” you sat back a bit to take another knuckle in and he buried his finger to the palm, curling it and uncurling it around your gummy walls, a lewd wet schlick noise coming from your pussy as he did so

“Sound so pretty” he breathed arching his finger a bit deeper and brushing against that lovely spongey little spot that made your clit pulse and fire grow in the pit of your belly. “Want another princess?” He asked, and unable to speak, you nodded, jaw dropped. You grind down onto his hand once he added his ring finger, rolling your hips so you were essentially riding his hand as he continued rolling his fingers and pressing on that spot.

You were feeling that heat shooting to your core, your juices leaking down his palm, and wrist, droplets racing down his veiny forearm to nestle in the crook of his elbow. “Oh- oh-fffffuuuck” you whined out, rolling your hips quicker as you chased your high. “Mm so sweet - y’so sweet Carmy- letting me use your hand like this, thank you” you give him a hot, wet kiss, lingering for a moment.

“Lemme help you mm?” He pushed your back to lay over him fully, cheek pressed to his chest “I like takin’ care’a’my girl” he said and quickly matched your pace with his fingers, continuing to curl them into that spot with every thrust in to his palm. He groaned softly at the short high pitched little whimpers you made as you went slack over his chest, your hips twitching as your walls fluttered wildly around his fingers, sucking them back in each time he pulled out.

“Feels so good- sososo good” you rambled, nearly drooling on his chest you were so far away in your orgasm.

“Y’always do so good princess, always so good, can y’give me one more? Ye’? Then you can fall asleep on m’cock mm? You’d like that I bet, you always whine when I pull outta you” he said hotly in your ear, voice thick with lust and pure need. This was the game you two played, he would fuck you absolutely dumb, so that he got comfortable enough to talk dirty thinking you wouldn’t remember what he said or that you were too caught up in your own nearly atomic orgasms he was determined to lure out of you to be able to hear him properly.

“Need it- need it- want you-“ you choke on your words, hips arching into his touch as he continued his assault on your gspot, this time adding his forefinger. “There- there right fuckin there I’m- I’m gonna make a mess shit fuck-“ you sob out, thighs nearly shaking with pleasure. “Carmy Carmy- Carmy- oh!” His name fell from your lips like an invocation.

“Thas it pretty girl. Fuck- so fuckin hot- make a fuckin mess all over me angel.” He massaged that spot with his fingers, the heel of his palm giving delicious friction to your clit that was causing your brain and your mouth to disconnect, the string of lewd swears and filthy moans going unheard by you as you were pretty sure your vision went white behind your shut lids and your legs went fully numb for a moment.

You came back a few minutes later to him whispering praise into your hairline, littering little kisses over it and gently brushing your wet sweaty hair from your forehead. “So so good baby. Always so good f’me huh? Y’gonna let me take care’a’you now?”

You picked your cheek up from his chest, your skin sticking to his and pulling away like scotch tape, slow since you weren’t in a rush to move being so exhausted and very comfortable where you were. “Hey you, gonna lemme clean you up so we can try this thing out?” He carefully brushed your baby hairs from your face that were wild and curly with sweat from the encounter.

In response you hum softly, in agreement, throat feeling dry as you sat up to let him move. He carefully reached over you, opening his night drawer and grabbing the feminine wipes he kept in there for you, as well as grabbing your water bottle from the tabletop.

He holds the straw to your lips “big sip f’me, ye’?” He cradled the back of your head gently. You leaned in, taking the sip he requested, and as soon as the icy water he assured your cup stayed filled with passed your lips one sip turned in to a few big gulps, eyes shutting in bliss. “Goood girl.” He praised gently. Hearing the bubbles at the bottom a few moments later, meaning you’d hit ice and it was empty so you pulled away, your tongue darting out to lick your dry lips

“Thanks” you said softly and pecked his shoulder with your chilly ice water lips gently.

“You go do what you gotta do, I’m gonna fill this up mm?” He kissed your head and got up, heading to the kitchen. You went to the restroom, making sure to wash your hands which you know he did as well since you heard the kitchen sink while you were sitting on the toilet rubbing your tired face.

By the time you got back, he was already switching out the fitted sheet for a clean dry one, in clean boxers - his problem still evident, standing tall and tugging at the fitted fabric. “Carm” you said softly and he looked up at you

“Hey baby- y‘waters there got you a granola bar if you want it too. Wasn’t sure if y’just wanted to go to sleep but i'd love if you had a bite or two-

” he goes on. The only time you had a hard time getting him to stop talking was when he felt as if you needed taking care of, turning into the male version of his sister, as you’d quickly found out how she treated him the few times you’d met her.

“Carmy” you said again, stopping his rambling. “What about the book- the cockwarming thing? Did you…you don’t wanna do that with me anymore?” You slipped out of your now wet panties and flicked them into the laundry basket.

“Oh- oh-“ he watched them fly and land on your shared pile of dirty clothes from the week of you sleeping over. “Uh- no- I-I mean yes yes I wanna do it with you, I can um…let me get a condom just in case I like- accidentally-“ you stopped him once more

“If you came inside me on accident I think that would be really hot.”

He stopped digging through the drawer and looked over at you, cheeks flush. “Did you…take your thing?” He asked, like it was a secret. You laughed a bit at his boyish awkwardness regarding woman’s products.

“I don’t take a thing the thing meaning my implant is in my arm. I’m never at risk with it for pregnancy, well - shouldn’t be - but it’s like a 98% thing…I also am pretty irregular? So I dunno” you shrugged a bit “but irregular means I probably won’t be pregnant, especially on birth control, so.” You explained.

“Okay- um- yeah. Yeah.” He said, pulsepoint visible in his neck from how hard his heart was pumping in anticipation for what was to come next. “So- alright. You- you wanna be on top? I- I don’t wanna like..crush you” he said and you nod excitedly

“I love sleeping on you! I’m gonna fall asleep, is that ok?” You asked as he slipped his boxers off, cock kissing his naval in greeting as it springs up from its previous restraints. The tip was so pretty and cherry pink, glistening with precum at the tip. Every time you saw it like this you just wanted to fall to your knees and take as much of the beautiful thick length down your throat as you could - but that was a line to still not be crossed by you two.

“Ye’ s’fine baby. As long as y’re ok w’me wakin’ up hard as fuck I’m probably gonna dream about fuckin you feelin you like that all night” he admits, laying in the middle since you were sleeping together and getting comfortable for you. You crawled on the bed and took his shirt that you’d been wearing fully off so you could be chest to chest, and drape over him like earlier.

This time, he spread you out with his hands, one on each cheek and guided your hips so his tip was nestled snugly against your entrance. “I’m okay as long as you’re okay” you said truthfully and sunk back on his throbbing cock. He grunted a bit, biting his lip and shutting his eyes for a moment. You knew he did that now when he didn’t want to cum too quickly, just from being with him a few times, you picked up on stuff like that just like he did.

“Y’so fuckin tight” he breathed once he was able to relax again, wrapping his strong arms around your back and you thought he was going to push you down, seat you fully on his cock - but, no he…he’s hugging you. He’s continuing to let you sink down as slow as you want. When you finally were seated to the hilt, he places a chaste kiss to your jaw. “Thank you.” He nuzzled his nose into your neck, lashes kissing and tickling your cheek as his eyes flutter shut.

“Thank you Bear. Always treat me so nice” you continued gently playing with his curls as his hands gently rubbed over your upper back, tracing the curvature of your shoulders with his fingers.

“Oh I’d say it’s the other way around princess, you always make sure I get what I want - y’too good”

To that, you just smiled, falling asleep a tiny smirk on your face - knowing it was the other way around, you knew he’d never agree.

But you both wouldn’t have it any other way.

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longing-for-the-past-times · 1 year ago

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wisdom teeth

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 1,472

synopsis: Simon comes home from a mission only to find you in bed, sick and in pain. Your wisdom teeth are coming out and he does his best to care for you

notes: as always, i suck at writing a good synopsis; inspired by this request- not proofread, hope you enjoy :) ; and yes, when two of my wisdom teeth decided to come out in the world last spring I could barely open my mouth without being in pain- I hope no one else has to go through what I did

warnings: a little too self-indulgent? fluff

masterlist

Simon knew something was wrong when he spent nearly an hour nursing his cup of Earl Grey, and you hadn't joined him yet. While it wasn't unusual for you to sleep in sometimes, it was still the morning after he'd returned from a mission and you would usually be fussing all over him. Ghost knew he was being irrational, but with each passing second his mind couldn't help but spiral into darker and darker thoughts. What if he had done something to upset you? You didn't greet him last night either - merely cuddled against his chest when he joined you in bed - was it something he said on the phone? Or rather didn't say? Didn't he call you too often? Or perhaps you might have met someone else..?

"'m sorry, S'mon. I might spend'he day'n…"

A small curse left his lips as he shook himself out of his thoughts. The tea had long gone cold by the time he eventually got up from the table and threw the remnants down the kitchen sink. His stomach was basically growling, protesting at the prolonged hunger it had been objected to, yet Ghost did not head for the fridge or the cupboards: he may have drunk his tea by himself, but, when he was home, he would never have breakfast without you by his side.

So instead, he headed for the bedroom, quietly opening the door and half-entering the room. He had to squint as the blackout curtains were still obstructing any ray of sunlight that might have entered inside otherwise, his expression morphing into a frown upon hearing the faintest of groans coming from the bed.

Traversing the room in two steps, he laid on the carpet, by your side of the bed, gently placing a hand on your forehead. His heart dropped at the foreboding feeling of you having a fever, too focused on the situation at hand to notice the soft way you began to rub your head against the cold skin of his hand.

Ghost, on the other hand, did not realise the cause of your distress. Seeing you in pain was causing him pain too and his tired mind, still set on the military mindset he had instilled during the last mission, was looking for a culprit.

"feels so good, love", you mumbled with your cheek still squished against the pillow, your eyes involuntarily making contact with his.

You've been together with Simon for more than two years and sharing an apartment for a year now, but the sight of his handsome face, unconcealed by any mask or balaclava, still left you out of breath and at a loss for words. That morning was no different, his worried expression filling your heart with even more love and joy towards him, so much that you swore you could feel it burst at the seams. You relished in the soothing sensation of his palm being pressed against your flushed skin, but at the same time, you couldn't help but smile at him in an attempt to reassure him you were fine.

In fact, you weren't. And you forgot that, at least for the last few days, any movements that involved opening your mouth, no matter how minor, were instantly accompanied by sharp waves of pain, coursing through your entire being. So, for the hundredth time that week, your smile was quickly replaced by a pathetic whimper and a hand helplessly pressed against your cheek, as if it would make the pain go away.

"Who did this to you? Just say the word and I-"

His concern was so raw and real that it made your heart melt like it was a chocolate bar left in the sun. You had missed his overprotective attitude and the scary dog privileges it brought with it and in that moment, the realisation that all of it was back hit you hard. So hard that in fact, you started laughing- your loud chuckles quickly turning into sobs of pain as your jaw was protesting against the sudden movements.

Your eyes were closed in an attempt to dull the pain that engulfed your entire face, but you could feel Simon's distress rolling off him in waves. So you blindly reached for the phone and opened the notepad application, typing in what you were unable to say out loud at once:

"Wisdom teeth are coming out."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Simon took a moment to assess the situation. A rush of relief surged through his veins as it was all clear then- the prolonged sleeping periods, the fever, why you couldn't open your mouth without being forced to close it immediately after. A selfish part of him was relieved that it was something he could physically deal with, and his protective instincts really started to kick in.

Pulling the curtains was not a solution as the brightness of the daylight would only make you feel more overwhelmed, but the room still needed some light- and the bedside lamp was not a solution as the bulb would have also been too bright. You would also need something to calm you, but not pills because they would interfere with the painkillers he also made a mental note to get and-

"I can practically hear the wheels turning in your head, love! :)"

He had to squint to process the text when you shoved the phone into his face, his lips curling up at the sight of the smiley face you typed at the end. Urging your face to morph into something that remotely resembled a smile, you extended a hand towards his face and caressed his cheek with your thumb, in what was meant to be a silent confirmation that he was on the right track and nothing that he would or wouldn't do would upset you in any way.

"I'll be back in 30 minutes at most!", he solemnly declared as he pressed his lips against your forehead, a small tendril of hope bubbling in his chest upon the feeling of the fever starting to fade away. "Why don't you try to get some rest until I come back and then we'll see what we can do!"

You could only nod in confirmation as he pulled another blanket from a drawer and draped it over the one you already used, making a show out of tugging you in.

---

When you woke up again, the pain wasn't entirely gone, but the air in the room had somehow shifted. It took you a moment to bounce back into reality, your eyes slightly widening at the faint light that illuminated the previously dark room.

Fairy lights were hanging over your head.

And the soft notes of a piano song could be heard from outside the room.

"How are you feeling, love?", Simon's deep Manchester accent resounded somewhere in your proximity, and you almost jumped out of bed when you realised he was once again sitting on the floor, half leaning against the bed. His mask was, once again, out of sight, and his blonde strands of hair were tousled, likely from the many times he kept running his hands through his hair. Your eyes involuntarily stopped on the faint scar that split the left corner of his lip in half and, for a brief moment, all the pain and distress you found yourself in were gone, your heart filling with an overwhelming amount of love and adoration towards the man standing in front of you.

"So I brought you some painkillers, but before we try them I suggest a cup of this calming tea mix I found at the store-"

The sentence was left hanging in the air as you shook your head in disbelief and cupped his face in your hands, planting a soft kiss on his lips. If Ghost was caught unawares by your sudden display of affection, he did not let it show, but instead, he laced his hands against your neck and deepened the kiss, closing his eyes at the close contact you found yourselves in. Loudly expressing his feelings was not one of his strengths, and deep down he could not believe he had managed to find someone like you, who could understand him so well.

"Welcome home, Simon!"

"I think I'm feeling better already…", you quietly mumbled once you broke the kiss, your lips gently brushing against his cheek. Closing your eyes as well, you grazed your nose against his face, finding comfort in his scent. He may have been home for a day, perhaps he took a shower too, but the distinctive smell of gunpowder, mixed with sweat and cologne, was still there. And you did not mind it at all.

That time your jaw did not hurt as bad as your mouth curved into a smile.

#cod ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #call of duty imagine #ghost fluff #amy writes #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost x you #ghost x y/n #simon riley x you

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masteringlight · 9 months ago

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The Art of Light Control: Modern Room Darkening Curtains for a Stylish Home

At Lanting Curtains, our mission is to enhance the ambiance of your home by providing high-quality, modern room-darkening curtains that block out light and noise and add a touch of elegance and style. We are dedicated to delivering excellent consumer service and innovative products that fulfill our customers' evolving requirements, making their living spaces more comfortable, aesthetically pleasing, and restful. With a focus on sustainability and ethical practices, we strive to be a trusted brand in the home.

#modern room darkening curtains #room darkening drapes for bedroom #Best blackout curtains for bedroom

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writinground2 · 1 year ago

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Sleepy Time - Alessia Russo

Alessia takes care of her sleepy girlfriend.

just a short little fluffy bit.

Y/N cringed when the two pans crashed together while she attempted to grab the middle one, “damnit.”

She looked down the hallway, listening to make sure Alessia slept through the noise, when she heard no movement coming from the bedroom, she continued her task of making breakfast.

Spraying the pan with cooking spray, she set it on the top burner to begin warming up. Pulling out ingredients and placing them on the counter.

“What all do I want.”

She muttered, thinking out loud, so her tired brain could process what she was attempting to do.

“I want eggs.”

“Oh, some cottage cheese, gotta get the proteins in.”

“Where the fuck is the bacon?”

“I’m sure if you ask is nicer, it’ll tell you.”

“Christ Alessia!”

Y/N whipped around, slamming the fridge door shut in the process. The blonde appearing in the doorway of the kitchen, smirking.

The blonde chuckled, before pulling Y/N into her arms, “morning baby,”

Y/N melted into the hold, burrowing her face into the taller woman’s neck. Alessia started to pull away but was stopped when Y/N tightened her hold, fisting the back of her shirt in her hands. The blonde tightened her grip in return.

“Bad shift?”

All Y/N managed was a nod, nestling her face in tighter. Y/N had just returned home from a 36-hour shift at the hospital where she worked as a trauma surgeon. The doctor supposed to have been home 24 hours earlier.

Alessia let the woman soak up another moment of comfort before gently lifting her to sit on the counter.

“Stay,” she poked Y/N’s nose, giggling when it scrunched in response.

Y/N leaned against the cupboards, doing her best to keep her eyes open, watching Alessia finish making her breakfast for her.

“I was going to make you breakfast in bed,” Y/N mumbled out, losing the fight of keeping her eyes open.

“Next time, love,” Alessia rubs her hands up and down Y/N thighs, encouraging her to open her eyes, “open.”

Y/N cracks her eyes open to see the blonde holding a fork full of scrambled eggs in front of her, cupping a hand underneath to prevent anything from falling. Y/N closes her eyes again and allows the striker to feed her bites of eggs, alternating with bites of bacon.

After the last bite, she puts the fork down to wrap her arms around Y/N’s waist. Y/N drapes her arms over Alessia’s shoulders and snuggles her face back into the blondes shoulder, “you didn’t eat.”

“I’ll eat after we get you to bed,” she pulls her arms away, tapping Y/N’s thighs, then tugs the bottom of her shirt to prompt her to get off the counter.

“Noooo,” Y/N moans out, leaning forward to maintain her place in the blondes’ shoulders.

“Yeesss,” Alessia mimics, grinning at her antics “go get ready for bed while I clean up, then we can snuggle till I have to leave for practice.”

Y/N slides the rest of the way off the counter and stumbles her way to the bathroom.

By the time Alessia finishes cleaning and makes her way back to the bedroom, Y/N already appears to be asleep. Deciding to leave the woman be, she begins turning out the lights, making sure the blackout curtains are properly in place, and begins to sneak back out of the room.

“Nooo,” Y/N moans from her cocoon of blankets, “you promised me snuggles.”

Alessia turns to see Y/N’s hands jutting out, making grabby hands at her.

“I only have five minutes,” she whispers once Y/N is settled on her side, facing away from her, the blonde protectively holding her to her chest.

“Won’t last that long,” Y/N slurs out, already beginning to fall asleep. The ministrations of Alessia drawing patterns into her hips soothing her.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader

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sycamorelibrary754 · 1 year ago

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Come Home To Me

Summary: After returning home to the Avengers Compound from separate solo missions, Wanda learns the meaning behind one of your tattoos is more than what it seems.

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Avenger!Reader.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: None

A/N: Behold, my first attempt at writing a fic. I'm pleased with the end result, so I'm being brave & posting it. Shoutout to @yelenasdiary for encouraging me to give it a go. 💜

The soft glow of morning light gently filtered through the window of Wanda's bedroom, casting a warm and serene ambiance as we cozied beneath the covers. You mentally thanked Tony for his thoughtfulness in installing blackout curtains. Wanda's crimson magic gracefully wove around the fabric, embracing the room in a comforting cloak of darkness.

You had both returned from solo no-contact missions the night before. Usually, you did your best to keep in touch when both of you were on separate missions, even if it was only an emoji to let the other know that you were there. Without that contact, you both felt like ships lost at sea with nothing to anchor you.

Wanda was the first to arrive home. After her debriefing with Fury, she was determined to stay awake for your impending arrival.

As Natasha strolled by Wanda on her way to her room, she shot her a sly grin. "No training tomorrow," she announced, without breaking her stride or waiting for a response.

Wanda spun around, facing the Black Widow as she strode purposefully past her toward the compound kitchen. "Why?

Nat didn't even bother turning around as she called out in response, "You know why."

Upon returning to her room after a long day, Wanda slipped into her soft, lavender-colored pajamas. She picked up the remote and turned on her well-loved episode of the Dick Van Dyke show. It was the one where Laura gets locked in the bank vault, a scene she had watched countless times before, but it never failed to bring her comfort. The familiar jokes and the warmth of the characters made her feel like she was in the company of old friends, a feeling she cherished, especially when she was on her own.

An hour passed before the Quinjet gently descended onto the compound's grounds. With exhaustion weighing heavily on me, I navigated my way to the debriefing, then to the Med Bay, where I received a few minor stitches on my leg, and finally to my room for a quick shower. When I finally reached Wanda's room, the only sound that greeted me as I slowly pushed open the door was the familiar laugh track of her favorite show emanating from the television. The glow from the screencast a soft illumination over Wanda's sleeping form nestled under the covers. I carefully made my way to my side of the bed and quietly curled up next to her. Her eyes slowly opened as she stirred to reveal my exhausted yet affectionate smile.

"Hey there, sweetheart," you greeted warmly.

"Welcome home," Wanda whispered, her voice filled with warmth and relief.

"Right back at you," you murmured, tenderly tracing your hand along her cheek.

After such a long time without her touch, you had almost forgotten the feeling of not sleeping alone. When you finally came together for a gentle kiss, it felt like time stood still. It wasn't out of desperation but a deep contentment as you finally felt complete again.

"Come on, my love, it's time to return to dreamland. It's way past our bedtime," you whispered as you switched off the TV and snuggled under the covers together.

"We have the day off tomorrow," Wanda softly mumbled, her Sokovian accent adding a touch of warmth to her weary voice. As you found solace in her embrace, the day's weariness faded, and you drifted off to sleep, your hands and hearts intertwined.

*^~^*

As you lie in bed, Wanda traces the intricate outlines of the tattoos that adorn your right arm. They deeply fascinate her as they tell a story she's eager to unravel.

"What's the significance of the owl?" she asked, piercing the heavy silence.

"What?" Your gaze shifts to meet her captivating green eyes.

“The owl tattoo on your forearm.” Wanda reiterated.

“In Ancient Greece, the owl was considered the companion of Athena, the goddess of wisdom. It was believed to symbolize protection, and if an owl flew over Greek soldiers before a battle, they took it as a sign of impending victory,” you explained. “Fascinating, right?”

As you glance down at the tattoo on your arm, Wanda nods in understanding while you gently trace your fingers over the intricate ink design.

There's another reason," you whisper so softly that Wanda almost misses it. "When I'm on a mission without you, it reminds me that I'll always find my way back to you. No matter where I am, I'll be victorious and come home to you.

Wanda gently reaches out and takes your face in her hands, her fingers tracing a soothing path across your skin. A warm, comforting sensation follows in the wake of her touch as if her magic is trailing around your head, easing the inner turmoil of your mind. As her eyes meet yours, they exude a gentle reassurance that says, "It's okay, you can trust me." At that moment, she can hear the unspoken questions in your mind, doubting about sharing so much.

“I love you with all my heart,” Wanda declared. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

"I love you too," you respond with a smile.

After a few weeks, Wanda geared up for a crucial mission alongside Nat and Bucky. They aimed to infiltrate a clandestine Hydra facility, conducting experimental activities related to new technology. While Wanda had encountered similar technologies in the past, the prospect of facing it again was unsettling, evoking vivid memories of her time in Hydra facilities with Pietro. As the team pressed on, the only sound that penetrated Wanda's thoughts was Nat's announcement that they were nearing their target and Bucky sharing another anecdote from his 1940s escapades in Brooklyn with Steve.

Missing you, Wanda absentmindedly reaches into the front pocket of her suit and feels the creases of a folded-up note against her fingertips. Removing it slowly, she recognizes your chicken scratch handwriting that you despise but that she finds adorable.

Come home to me, Wanda.

Forever my love,

Y/N

As Wanda opened the small black box, she was met with the sight of an exquisitely ornate silver owl ring nestled inside. With a hint of edginess and an air of elegance, she discreetly slid the ring onto her right finger. It glided into place effortlessly, almost as if it had been waiting for her all along. That spot became its permanent home from that moment onward, unwavering through any mission or circumstance. While you had your owl, she had hers.

The rest of the team might see it as just a piece of jewelry, but Nat always catches Wanda stealing glances at the ring during briefings, especially when you're not around. And Yelena still can't figure out why she couldn't borrow it for a date night with Kate. To your enchanting witch, it's not just a ring. It's a constant reminder of your love—a silent vow to find your way back to each other's arms.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maxmoff x y/n #marvel #the avengers #fluff #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff x reader #avenger!reader

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grimesgirll · 8 months ago

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alexandria is the break you've been yearning for since shit hit the fan.

an independent walled and gated community is exactly the place to catch your breath. the past eighteen months had been a blur of grit and gore; you deserve to decompress in a pretty house, not that you spent all of your time in your new settlement inside. you made a point to take judith on daily walks.

you're returning from one of your new routine walks to get judith down for her afternoon nap when you find olivia - the neighbor lady who ran the armory and the pantry - on the porch, greeting your name.

“hi,” you reply with a smile, bolstering the cooing baby on your hip. “what do i owe you the pleasure, olivia?”

“i’ve been meaning to get over here ever since shane brought it up to me-,” you pause. “-i wouldn’t mind having another set of hands around the armory at all, especially with the background shane mentioned you had.”

you purse your lips. “thanks. could we talk about this another time? maybe after the weekend? i’ll stop by.” you gesture to the little girl on your hip. “it’s just that i want to get her down now so her routine isn’t all out of whack later tonight.”

olivia nods, glasses bouncing a bit. “of course. come see me whenever you’re ready.”

you’re smiling and thanking her again before crossing the threshold with a huffy chest. it takes patience on your part not to slam the door but with judith in your arms, you slowly close it.

why would shane sign you up to work in the armory? is he stupid? you ponder. he didn’t even ask if you wanted to do something like that. you dismiss the thought the best you can and just focus on getting judith to sleep.

thank god for the blackout curtains jessie had sent over. judith sleeps like the dead with those things drawn.

a little rocking and the dark room do well to help the infant fall asleep in no time. that allows you to meander down the living room and hear the door swinging open.

"babe, we're back.”

you perk your head up when you see shane and rick come through the door. “hey, guys,” you forget to ask them how their day’s been when you see their new uniforms.

you have to pick up your jaw when you see the two men dressed in matching constable’s uniforms. you and shane hadn’t been dating for long when the world went to shit. he’d met you right after work before, even picked you up in the cruiser before but you forgot how strapping he looked in a uniform. brown and form fitting, you’re thanking the constable’s office inventory for stocking such flattering apparel.

you almost forget the frustration you’re harboring - the anger that had boiled, all because of how his ass looked in those brown fucking slacks.

“good to see you,” rick says with the same tone he had back on the side of the road when he helped you step back into your underwear.

“good to see you too,” you repeat, biting your lip.

a smirk appears on shane’s lips once he realizes you’re checking out their asses as you take their coats.

"why don't you head upstairs? we'll be up in a few minutes."

you nearly drop the jackets from your arms. “for what?” you ask, playing dumb.

rick is wordless and shane just smiles at you, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. “you’ll see. we’ll see you soon enough.”

the bedroom is your next destination.

you’re tiptoeing up the stairs as not to disrupt nap time. those light treading feet are carrying you straight to the bed where you crumple into the comforter.

long was your day, longer would be your night. this is by virtue of the fact that you’ll have to ask shane about why olivia was about to onboard you to work in alexandria’s armory. and you’ll probably get split in half by an eight inch cock by the end of the night. you decide to put off your conversation with shane when your mind wanders to the newly clean shaven constable downstairs.

god, did he fit those pants wonderfully.

the man had been on your mind ever since this situationship of sorts emerged between the three of you - sans labels. awkward as it seemed, given all of your histories.

and then there’s shane.

don’t get you wrong, shane would give you the world if he could. whatever it would take to keep you nice and happy and purring “yes, shane” at his every word. he goes to greater lengths not just for your safety but for your convenience.

the man who’d circled back on a run after realizing he didn’t bring back your favorite brand of tampons. then again when the tampons be found had cardboard applicators. the one who held you at night in your shared cell back at the prison, kissed you and petted your hair, nuzzling as close as possible and telling you it would be alright. the man who trusted you to take care of his baby girl.

the one who had taken the time to give you not one but multiple masterclasses on firearms, shooting, and gun maintenance. he insisted that you know how to take care of yourself if it ever came down to and it boy, had it come down to it. more than once, you’d found yourself aiming your pistol and being forced to make a split second decision. the same man embraced you and reassured you in the aftermath of your beretta’s rounds claiming your first non-walker kill.

the man who’s about to fuck you into the mattress with his best friend.

you try to hold onto that thought as you shimmy out of the blue levi’s, deserting them on the floor thoughtlessly in search something cozier. digging through shane’s newly filled dresser drawers seems like an easy enough solution.

speak of the devil, he walks in with rick while you’re appraising a pair of gray sweatpants with a georgetown insignia on them.

“thought you had your own sweats.” shane’s behind you in an instant. just like rick, he’d noticed the way your sweatshirt falls to your thighs. “why don’t you just save those for later and let me help you take the rest off, huh?”

a telltale smirk takes over your face. a slant back into shane tells him all he needs to know.

he waits to toss you over his shoulder and situate you on the bed before he's yanking your boy briefs down your legs and brushing your clit with his fat finger. it's only natural that he's chuckling into your skin when you tense beneath him. prodding and playing with your newly awakened nerves, shane still managed to signal rick over to begin a maddening campaign, attacking your flush skin with their lips.

the lips on your that skin feel so deliciously inviting that you disregard how tender they turn you.

of course, shane is the one that can’t stand to wait.

“down you go, pretty girl.”

in an instant, he’s behind you with a finger in your pussy. you want to be upset that he's not still paying attention to the blushed out surface of your body but you’re too preoccupied with the hand in between your shoulder blades, encouraging your forearms down to the mattress. shane’s maintaining his grip on your hips and propping them up to send your ass straight towards the ceiling.

the moment that you feel a warm tongue, licking painfully slowly, and thoroughly towards your center, your hips jerk. shane is already bracing them, cooing, “easy, girl,” into your thigh before continuing the languid assault on your lips.

the lips on your face are pecked, if only briefly, by your boyfriend’s former crimefighting partner. licking your lips, you’re wishing he would circle back to connect your mouths again when a sharp sting interrupts your thoughts.

“fuck!” you cry into the comforter.

the obvious culprit is already testing the skin of your ass with his palm again. another yelp has blue eyes boring down, as if trying to memorize each moment you react - so expressively - to shane’s ministrations.

“what was that for?” you question, rotating your head to stealth a glance at him.

“fun.”

you’re about to tell shane about his idea of fun before a final slap and a sudden return to teasing your core spurs you away from the thought. pressure and heat course through you; shane just raises your internal temperature with a purposeful finger. you're whimpering at just the first stretch. past your throbbing rings of muscle, shane weaves a path with a single finger.

a heaved out moan has shane licking his lips. “gettin’ worked up off my fingers, baby?”

you nod. without a doubt.

another finger continues the mission of prying your tight cunt open for the men that would be taking turns with you until you’d come all over both their cocks. knuckle deep inside of you, the pressure is going to kill you before that third finger does.

“shane,” you’re hissing when he adopts a pace that has you clawing at his two fingers. “why are you being so aggressive with your fingers?”

“weren’t you complainin’ that it was ‘too much,’” he denotes with air quotes, “last time?”

rick seems to give you some breathing room at his friend’s taunt. he slinks back like his massive cock wasn’t the reason you’d been a sobbing mess in cowgirl on top of him the night before your group had reached noah’s old community in richmond.

you’d come so pornographically hard around him that you swear it’d been in your top five orgasms. but your cervix was still shot.

rick felt guilty. so guilty that he hasn’t fucked you since. only your mouth. of course he treated you to his mouth, his perfect tongue and his hands but you crave him inside of you. the thought of it with shane’s two pronged touch has you nearly grinding up the bed.

“fuck, shane,” you’re mumbling into the comforter, fists clenching when another finger worms into you.

“you ‘bout ready, baby?” shane asks, placing a strategic stripe down your clit as he fully buries his middle three fingers in you.

“mhmm.”

“wanna ask?”

a steady sentence isn’t going to come out of your mouth with how shane’s thrusting his fingers in and out of you. “please,” you sputter when he entrenches his fingers deeper inside of you.

“what was that?” the condescension in his voice has you squelching around his fast moving fingers.

you’re blushing at rick who has a hand on his cock and is staring straight into your teary eyes. “i want you to fuck me now, shane.” you don’t break eye contact with rick. “please.”

another smack lands on your reddening backside and suddenly those pleasure granting fingers are digging into your hip and you feel shane’s girth at your entrance.

“what do you want, baby?” shane asks. “you want me to fill you up?”

“yes, i want it so bad,” you’re begging through pouted lips.

rick doesn’t miss your doe eyes or how you moan shane’s name as he fulfills your fucked out request and fills you. even someone in the hallway can hear the wet sound from shane teasing your leaking cunt.

a few experimental strokes and shane is already balls deep. he didn’t heed the same new code of chivalry rick had adopted upon finding a hint of blood on the tip of his dick. that experience made you want to pull your hair out. stupid fucking cervix, you’d thought, ruining me getting fucked. rick didn’t usually treat you to such a pounding but the road did that to one. besides, he was freshly addicted to your cunt.

the electric feeling from how he’d taken you with shane that first time reignite as your boyfriend adjusts himself to brush against your g-spot. the fucked out look on your face can’t be missed as you let shane shovel his hips into you and closer to the only finish line you’d ever had no problem crossing. just like rick had plowed you into the mattress of the barracks you’d all stayed at in norfolk.

these thoughts of rick can’t escape you - even with shane groaning your name. the swats to your ass just go straight to your cunt and do little to rouse you from your daydreaming about the man lining himself up with your mouth.

yeah, you’re out of your mind already and he doesn’t even have his dick inside of you again.

“so good for me, baby,” shane’s gasping, his hand sliding down your ass to brace your thigh and fuck you deeper. “so good for us.”

rick nods, fingers pushing your hair out of your face and letting you take your time with him in your mouth. you hollow your cheeks and rock forward with shane when he cants into you. he’s gazing down at you as if this is the prettiest he’s ever seen you.

you could keep your eyes on him forever if it weren’t for the orgasm searing through you. it’d built up as you backed into shane and imagined how full rick would have you feeling - how connected, how close you’d feel with him inside of you.

“should’ve knocked you up back at the farm.”

god, that would’ve been inconvenient. you just focus on the pleasure you’re receiving and how you’re in alexandria with two men amazingly attractive men. it’s not the time but then again, shane doesn’t give you much of a choice with how revved up this whole coming in you business seems to be getting him. you can’t lie; it’s affecting you too.

so much that you’re nearly protesting when rick withdraws his twitching cock from between your lush lips, less than when shane pulls out of you. you won’t be protesting about what comes next though.

the first time rick had fucked your pussy you’d been whining, and you’re doing the same thing now.

“you wanna get on top?” shane questions, requiring you to repeat yourself before rick leans against the headboard.

still snickering at the whine that came out of you, your boyfriend helps to lift you and lower your hips onto rick who’s sprawled on his back, bronzed curls against the propped up pillow. rick hisses when his tip makes contact with your drowning heat again.

shane doesn’t waste any time. his hands are off you so he can situate himself on the bed to accommodate the best view of you two.

unfortunately, you’re not in shane’s lap so rick has him beat for the best seat in the house. or do you hold that seat?

your boyfriend hadn’t seemed too worried about you sliding too far down onto rick but rick was. his hands are firm on your hips - holding them in a semi-permanent place, only maneuvering for you as you rotate your hips down onto him.

“rick,” you rasp, wrapping your arms around his neck. you want to hear more from him so badly - to hear him panting your name. that’s your goal when you hurry your hips against him. you can tell that he’s hesitating, holding you back at first until you wiggle enough for him to allow you to break free.

grinding onto him, you watch a puffed out series of breaths escape his mouth. not missing a beat, you reposition your hips to sink deeper, hissing with rick and leaning into him. that’s when your clit begins to explode with pleasure from the friction.

“fuck,” you’re chanting. “fuck, that’s good. feels so good. fuck. fuck, that’s perfect.”

“dirty girl.” shane is teasing.

“just feels so fuckin’ good,” you’re twisting on top of rick, angling yourself against his pulsing member to stimulate all the perfect parts of your pelvis.

“is rick fucking you good, honey?”

you nod, having been given full license to be honest about how rick is making you gush.

“how good?” shane asks, hazel eyes on you while you ride rick.

your lip quivers. you feel rick thrum inside of you. “soooo good.” you’re saying in the lust addled way only you would. “you both make me feel so on.”

shane’s cock jumps and rick is picking up the pace. whatever motion your clit’s endured against rick is nothing once he crescents his fingertips into your sides. nice and deep, rick is threatening your cervix again but you don’t need to worry because he’s just taking the scenic route to your g-spot.

the same spot that’s making your toes curl and you chant for rick. “i’m close again,” you warn him. your head is falling onto his shoulder, blocking shane from view.

“you’ve got it, almost there, sweetheart,” rick rumbles into your ear.

his now gravelly voice against your ear has your cunt tightening. teeth pressed into your shoulder, you yelp and moan when rick brushes the flesh of your skin with his teeth. the purple marks being sown onto you will bloom later on but you don’t mind. not when your legs are shaking and you’re whimpering, “god, rick, you make me feel so fucking good.”

and suddenly you’re being fucked through your orgasm face down.

“so jessie cut your hair?”

rick nods and you’re hyper aware of how short his hair is. he’s so polished too. not that it’s terribly difficult to be after traveling on the road for so long.

“i liked your long hair. you should grow it out again.”

the new constable raises an eyebrow, leaning up on his forearms to sit up. “gotta’ shape up at some point.”

you would argue but shane’s distracting you with kisses to your shoulders and promises of morning sex already. you’re not distracted enough to miss rick’s weight absent from the pliable surface.

rick rises from the bed and you whine.

“i want rick to stay.”

shane scoffs. he extends his brawny arms across the bed. “baby, there’s barely enough room in the bed for the two of us.”

you shake your head, sitting up on your knees. “i think we can make it work. please,” you take a breath. “i just feel safer with you two in bed.”

“honey, there’s no room.”

“okay, i’ll just sleep on top of him then.”

you end up basically on top of rick - not that he minds. the night is spent with cuddled up into his chest; shane cupping the occasional hand around the curve of your ass.

weirdly, you’re falling asleep in no time. the steady thrum of his heartbeat lulls you. sleeping on top of rick might have to become a part of your bedtime routine.

shane wants you to pull a hostile takeover of the armory.

you stand with your arms crossed, giving the man one of your signature frowns. "why would i want to keep an eye on olivia in the armory?"

shane looks at you as if it's obvious. "it's good to have a hand on things," he explains, sighing your name. "it's good to have someone on the inside, in case..."

"-in case what?" you question.

shane stares at his feet.

you smolder. "you seriously can't be expecting to have to seize their guns, shane. we just got here for christ's sake."

"it's not even like that, baby," shane says, trying to walk back his conspiracy plots from you. “i just would feel better having you there. besides, it’s not like it’d be all the time and you could learn more about gun storage, whatever you want now

“that doesn’t sound like whatever i want, it sounds like you’re shoving me in the armory.”

“baby, you don’t have to do anything, i’m just sayin’-,”

“i’ll work in the armory if you stop giving me shit about going hunting.”

shane frowns af you. “now, you know that’s different.”

you cross your arms. “it’s not. i need a change of scenery, maybe some greenery to be specific.”

shane presses a flexed hand against the wainscoting he’s leaned up against. he shakes his head. “maybe once we know things are stable here, but for right now these people are far less capable than we are. i’d feel better with you in the armory.”

you want to ask him to consider what you want for a change. you honestly want to tell him to go fuck himself but then you remember.

ah, the thing that you want. the man that you want. the man you can only have with shane’s smirking approval.

so you just smile, walk over and take him by surprise, planting a kiss on cheek and telling him you’ll start tomorrow. it’ll all pay off in the long run.

the welcome party is a success.

if not for the fact that shane didn’t kill spencer just for saying hello to you, then for the fact that you got trashed.

so trashed that rick had ended up hauling your ass home when you hurled in one of deanna’s planters and shane was too embroiled in a push-up contest with abraham to even think about heading home. not that shane had ended up any better. the man drank so much johnny walker that even he came home and passed out face first in the bed bedside you.

you’re hungover the next morning, so hungover that rick moved you out of shane’s bed and into his to hang off the edge and puke your guts up.

rick even roped carol into coming over to cook and watch judith while you and shane recovered.

he even brings you soup.

“damn, look who’s still out of it.”

seems shane had recovered.

“she drinks like she’s still in kappa delta.”

rick rubs a circle or two into your back. “what’d you say? you won’t puke all over your bed, will ya’?”

when you’re well enough, you patter downstairs

“you’re looking better.”

“thanks, carol,” you return her jab with a wry smile.

“so,” the gray haired woman braces her hands on the picnic table at the base of the orchard. “are you going to help me with these apricots are what?” your gaze falls from the woman to her basket and circles back to the trees overhead. “the apricots came in early here. what do you think of apricots in march?”

you shrug. “i really don’t know much about fruits,” you admit as you take the chestnut colored basket into your hand.

it’s so odd seeing carol in her little pseudo-mr. rogers act, costume and all. the cardigan and capris paint a picture of the picture homemaker - a real martha stewart type.

and one of the most tactful, five steps ahead of you types that you’d ever met.

you wonder if this carol had laid dormant for some years.

the two of you work through the trees, plucking the precious fruit that was ready for harvest and leaving the rest.

“so, you having fun playing house?”

your mouth gapes open. you nearly drop your basket and waste quite a lot of apricots.

carol snorts at you. “i’m just kidding.” she sends you a look like you’re incredulous or something. “do what you want.” you pluck an apricot from the tree before you. gossamer head tilting when your apricot picking partner speaks again. “but just keep your priorities straight.”

you stiffen. that’s not what you were expecting. maybe some more sage or cunning advice is what you thought would be coming out of her mouth. priorities? you don’t wanna think about them. the priorities that you’ve been saddled with.

you moan someone about your hangover and muddle through the rest of your apricot picking, trying to keep your mind from defining your priorities.

the two of you part when at the sidewalk in front of your porch, with her last words to you being:

“you be careful.”

“gonna have to go out and find a king sized bed if rick’s gonna be stayin’ over this often.” shane comments and rolls onto his side to face you.

you shrug. “i’m fine with the arrangement the way it is.”

“yeah? sleeping on top of rick?”

you continue brushing your hair. “beds are hard to come by, especially great gigantic sized beds.”

“i’m sure there’s a king somewhere.”

“yeah.”

shane’s eyes don’t leave you as you set your hairbrush down on the vanity and tie it back. he’s even closer once you settle into your spot on the mattress. arms clutch you into him and lazy patterns begin to materialize on your skin, from massages into the nap of your neck to a dull squeeze of your ass. it makes you feel easy - subdued almost by shane’s unhurried touch. but you’re still wound up. you don’t know how you can be anything else nowadays.

"night, baby," shane mumbles into your ear.

"night." you reply, eyes focused on the single beam of moonlight tumbling through the window.

with rick down the hall, you won’t be sleeping tonight.

209 notes · View notes

tiredoffeelinglost-writes-shit · 2 years ago

Text

Fire in My Blood

Bane x Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Word count: 4908

Warnings: 18+, Non-con drug use, fuck or die (sort of), slight dub-con (but not really), unprotected sex, mainly PWP, unbeta'd

A/N: my first time writing smut so be gentle

You woke up in bed, slow and groggy. The pain in your head was rolling through you in waves and you thanked your drunk self for at least closing the curtains so there wasn’t too-bright sunlight burning through your eyelids. Idly, you hoped that whatever you couldn’t remember doing last night was worth a hangover this size. You shifted to cradle your head in your hands but your hands didn’t move. Panic washed over you, sudden and icy. Your hands were trapped above your head.

Forcing the panic aside, you tried to take in your surroundings. You didn’t want to open your eyes yet, in case you were being watched, so you listened hard for something, anything, to tell you where you were.

No footsteps, no shuffling, no breathing outside your own. Aside from our hands, you were lying comfortably on what you assumed was a bed, complete with a pillow under your head and a blanket that smelled freshly laundered. The room felt bigger than your bedroom and you could hear a kind of white noise outside the walls, getting louder and softer in intervals like–

Waves. Water.

You must be near the docks. Probably one of the abandoned warehouses frequented by one of Gotham’s handful of criminal enterprises.

Speaking of criminals, you thanked your lucky stars for the recent training in analyzing and understanding your environment from the man that still sent chills down the spine of most Gothamites.

You didn’t understand how you had caught Bane’s attention but you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed it. It took some time between your underground meetings and the handful of times he visited your apartment through the fire escape but you had molded a sort of companionship. He was gentler with you when you weren’t training. The glimpses you got of Bane the Man and not just Bane the Weapon had inklings of longing for something more worming their way into your heart but you squashed them to the best of your ability. You knew who Bane was and knew he could never see you as something more than what you had.

Taking a steadying breath, you slowly opened your eyes. Only a sliver of the room was visible through your eyelashes at first but you didn’t see anyone else around. You blinked your eyes open and looked toward your hands.

Plastic zip ties held you to the metal headboard, biting into your wrists. You flexed lightly, testing their strength, when a door to your left opened and a man in a long white lab coat walked in.

Jonathan Crane was an objectively handsome man. The whole evil mad scientist thing left a lot to be desired although, knowing him, he probably had a drug for that too. His attention was on a clipboard he was carrying. Talking to himself in soft murmurs, he strode confidently over toward your bed.

“Ah look who’s awake!” He finally looked up at you and smiled, full and genuine. “Perfect timing.” His gaze raked over you, cool and calculating, and it made your skin crawl, suddenly aware that you were dressed in only your bra and panties from the night before. The thought of Crane undressing you while you were unconscious had bile rising in your throat.

“What am I doing here?” you fought to keep your voice steady.

“I needed a guinea pig for something I’ve been working on lately. I was out looking for suitable candidates last night and saw you out with your friends.”

Something must have shown on your face because Crane waved his hand dismissively. “They aren’t here. They had too much alcohol in their systems and it would’ve taken too long for it to metabolize. I couldn’t risk that altering my results.”

Now your blackout made more sense. You had been out with a small group of friends at a bar just celebrating the end of the work week. Things had gotten a little fuzzy but you just assumed it was due to one too many margaritas. Crane must have slipped something into your drink.

Anger flooded you. “You kidnapped me to use me as a test subject?”

“You shouldn’t sound so ungrateful! You’re helping the cutting edge of science! Of understanding the human brain!” He sounded so earnest as if he truly believed in his work without a care in the world that he kidnapped you for it.

The panic you had been fighting down, hit you like a train. You were trapped on a bed with a madman who had plans for you and no one knew where the hell you were. You wondered how long it would be until anyone found your body. You had to get out.

“I needed you to be awake before I started the test, though,” he explained. “It will be much easier to judge how quickly the effects start if you're conscious.” He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a syringe and vial. The pale purple, syrupy liquid in the vial seemed to swirl as Crane pulled it into the syringe, his brow furrowed in concentration.

With the dose measured out, he turned back to you. You shifted as far away as your binds would allow, inadvertently pressing yourself further into the mattress.

“You’re a smart man,” you tried to reason with him, “You know who I spend my time with.”

Explicitly connecting yourself to Bane wasn’t something you wanted to do - whatever you two had felt tenuous at best - but desperate times call for desperate measures. No one would be dumb enough to touch someone with any direct connection to the man, right?

“Oh, yes, I know,” Crane’s smile was predatory, “and I’m counting on him coming to save his little pet.”

His palm pressed the side of your face into the pillow, keeping your neck extended even as you thrashed against the bed. The needle pierced the tender skin and Crane’s eyes glittered in the dim light as he released the drug into you.

“You crazy bastard!” Your wrists were bleeding freely now, slow trickles running down your forearms and dripping onto the sheets as you continued to try and pull yourself free.

Whatever he gave you didn’t hit all at once. It started in your chest, warm and slow, and radiated outward, but warm grew into too hot all too quickly, curled around your lungs and ribs, and squeezed. Your breath stuttered on the next exhale. Part of you expected to see smoke trailing out between your lips. Liquid fire pooled low in your stomach and you were suddenly, painfully, aroused.

“What the fuck?”

Your heart pounded in your ears, overpowering Crane’s monologuing no matter how hard you tried to concentrate on it. Fire raced in your veins and you pulled against your restraints, sparks licking your wrists.

Through the haze in your brain you could barely make out Crane talking about Lust and Fever and Sex and Orgasm and Death. Even firing on all cylinders, you didn’t know if you could find a good combination of those words.

Something in the distance caught his attention and he grinned like a shark, all predator and sharp teeth. Crane knew what it meant too.

“He’s gonna tear you apart,” you hissed.

“Oh, on the contrary,” he spoke slowly and looked in your eyes, making sure you understood every word, a condescending lilt in his tone, “I think he’ll send me a thank you gift after this.”

He left with a chuckle that sent a chill down your spine even with the growing furnace inside you.

With Crane out of sight, you squirmed to try and break the zip ties again but the new sensations had you gasping. Your wrists didn’t hurt so much anymore and what little pain made it through to your awareness landed just on the side of pleasurable. The blanket underneath you rubbed against you everywhere, everywhere, and your cheeks flamed when you noticed the wetness in your panties. You tried to force yourself to lay still - to stop and think about your next move - but your hips rolled anyway, searching for friction you wouldn’t find.

You squeezed your thighs together, chasing the orgasm you could feel rushing at you just beyond your reach. The coil snapped and it flowed through you like cool water down your parched throat. It broke the haze just briefly. You gasped a breath like coming up out of water.

If it was possible for you to blush further, you would’ve when you opened your eyes and were met with Bane’s. How much had he seen?

The man stood over you, stoic as ever, and gave nothing away. He watched you silently, taking in everything.

“This is not one of his usual toxins.” He finally spoke. It wasn't a question but you shook your head anyway.

“He said it was something he had been working on.” You swallowed hard, fighting a shiver. "He didn't start really talking until he had already drugged me and I couldn’t focus. Something about fever and sex and death but..." you trailed off, nervous and unwilling to really finish that sentence. Shaking your head was a mistake you learned as nausea hit you. “Needed a test subject.”

Bane nodded slowly, hard eyes glinting off the light as he looked around the room. “There’s a camera,” he mused. “He’s watching.”

“Sick fuck,” you seethed.

Bane huffed out something that could’ve been a laugh and wrapped his fingers around your wrist. You startled both of you by moaning lowly. His touch was like a soothing balm and lit match against your nerves at the same time.

His eyes were on your face but his fingers didn’t move.

“Fuck, I’m sorry- I don’t know-,” you stuttered. “Can’t think- Too fucking hot.” You clenched your teeth, cutting off the half-formed thoughts you couldn’t stop.

Calloused fingers brushed across your forehead and you bit back a whimper.

“You have a fever.”

You nodded, eyes shut tight. There was a heavy pause.

“You are…aroused.”

You turned your face away from him but nodded again, shame rocketing through you. Tears fell against your will.

“Please just get me out of here,” you whispered.

The zip ties snapped easily under his hands and you had to clamp down on your mind straying to thoughts of feeling those rough fingers on your skin again. Your core throbbed at the mental image alone. You couldn’t help rubbing your thighs together, breath hitching. Vaguely, you realized you were gasping out a string of apologies when Bane shushed you, just a hiss leaking out of his mask.

“You are not in control of your body. Do what you must.” The words came out stiff, barely contained anger tingeing them but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you.

Dark eyes met yours as you searched his face, needing to see if he was serious. His sincerity was open and unwavering. The weight of his hand settled on your stomach, the warmth of his palm bleeding into the coil inside you and snapping it just as soundly as the zip ties.

Your eyes rolled back and you groaned as that cooling wave shook through you, quieter this time.

“It will be easier if I carry you out but it may be…uncomfortable for you.”

“Do what you must,” you parroted his words with a weak smile, hoping for levity.

A silent nod was the only reply and he was wrapping you up in the blanket you had been laying on. The texture was scratchy and it insulated the heat of your skin but you bit your tongue. Strong arms lifted you effortlessly. You buried your face in the blanket and settled against his chest as he moved.

It was a position you had found yourself in before. You had a habit of falling asleep in places you shouldn’t and he often carried you to a place that wouldn’t have your back or neck screaming at you when you woke up. On one particular occasion, you had fallen asleep slumped over on the couch in your apartment and floated to awareness being lifted and carried to your bedroom. You felt like a child again, protected and cared for. Your nose pressed into his jaw, just under the line of his mask. He had laid you gently on your bed, still unmade from the morning, and brought the duvet up to your chin. You had tried to fight your way to full consciousness.

“Stay,” you breathed, afraid he wouldn’t hear. Afraid that he would hear and leave anyway. After a beat, the other side of your bed dipped with his weight, half laying, half sitting up against the pillows. You had rolled into him, soaking up his warmth. Later, you would blame pressing your face into his chest on the fact that you had still been on the wrong side of consciousness.

His hand tentatively rested on your shoulder as if he didn’t know what to do with it. You let out a light hum, hoping to reassure him. A smile almost slid over your lips when his palm slid down along your spine to settle at the center of your back.

Just before you slipped back into sleep, you swore you felt him press his mask against the crown of your head.

“Little one,” Bane’s voice brought you out of the fog in your brain, “Are you with me?”

You blinked your eyes open and lifted your head from the blanket cocoon.

“Always,” you replied. You became mildly aware that you were in your apartment but you didn’t remember how you got there. How long had you been lost in your head?

“My men are taking care of Crane,” he said. You both knew what he meant but the fewer specifics you knew, the better. “Barsad will make sure that nothing from the camera he had in that room will be seen by anyone.” His grip on you tightened. “He will never touch you again.”

He deposited you on your bed and was standing over you once again. He didn't show any outward emotion. You didn't know what to say or how.

"I'm sorry." You said anyway. It came out small and weak. Hell, you weren't even sure what you were sorry for. Getting kidnapped? Not being able to get out of the situation yourself?

Your head was too full of feelings you didn't understand. You couldn't think straight. You had never been more aware of your own body before. The lingering feeling of Bane’s arms around you, the godawful blanket. You swore you could feel your blood flowing in your veins.

Light fingertips ghosted across your forehead, pressing lightly on the creases between your eyebrows, and your eyelids fluttered closed. You bit your lip.

"Does it hurt when I do this?" He moved his hand from your forehead to your wrist. His thumb rubbing just under the wound that the zip tie left.

You shook your head, not trusting your ability to make any noise that wasn't wholly embarrassing.

"I need to hear you say it."

You swallowed hard. "No, it doesn't hurt. It’s like my body can't decide if it feels amazing or like I'm holding it next to an open flame." You rushed out.

“What do you need?” he asked after a heavy pause.

A simple question that had your head spinning. Rapid fire flashes of his large frame over you, under you, those rough hands all over you, inside you. You bit down on a moan, nearly biting through your lip.

“Just talk to me. Please.” It came out shaky and too vulnerable.

His brows furrowed. “That will not help with the effects of the toxin.”

Resolutely keeping your lips shut tight, another tear escaped down your cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb.

“I cannot just sit by and do nothing when you’re suffering.”

You shook your head, the action making your head swim. “I can’t ask that of you. I won’t.”

His hand settled on your stomach. The pressure sent waves through you. The fire in your core roaring anew.

“You don’t have to ask. You just have to let me.”

Your glassy, tired eyes met his dark, earnest ones as you searched for something, anything, that would give you reason to say no. You weighed the option of just letting the toxin do what it would instead of ruining what you and he had.

But you couldn’t deny that you wanted what he was offering.

“Okay.” You nodded lightly.

You hissed as he shifted the blanket off of you. It felt like sandpaper against your highly sensitive skin. His gaze flicked up to you but kept on his mission, lightly tracing his fingers up your thighs. It might've tickled a little if you had a better handle on your nerves.

There was only a slight pause in his movements before he was bending down to pull his boots off and then joining you on the bed, kneeling in front of you. His eyes searched your face as he spread your thighs, placing one of your legs on either side of his hips. You fought down every bit of embarrassment you could feel burning red on your cheeks and looked away.

“No,” he spoke softly but clearly. A calloused finger under your chin turned you back to meet his gaze. “Don’t look away, little one. You need to stay present and tell me if I do anything to hurt you or if you need me to stop. I want to help, not cause more harm. Understand?”

Only after you gave a small nod did he release your chin and return his hands to your inner thighs, higher than before. His thumbs rubbing small circles mere inches from where you needed him.

His eyes caught on the damp patch darkening the fabric of your panties. He made a single slow pass over your center with his thumb. You bit down on the inside of your cheek and let out a rough exhale, your fists curling into the sheets.

“Try to relax,” he rumbled, gaze flicking up to your face and back down. “I understand this must be unpleasant for you but fighting the toxin will prolong the effects and may make it worse.”

A whine escaped your clenched teeth as you forced your muscles to relax. His thumb began slow, even circles over your clit, like a reward. Pleasure rose quickly now that you had stopped pushing it down.

“Nothing said or done here will leave this room,” he assured you. “You are safe to do what you need to get through this.” He hooked a finger around damp fabric and pulled your panties to the side. The first brush of a callused fingertip sent a jolt up your spine. “Tell me that you understand.”

Your hips rocked minutely, chasing his touch. “I understand.”

“Good girl.”

His finger slid inside you in one push and your walls tightened around him, sending you over the edge again. You couldn't be embarrassed about the noise you made even if you tried.

The toxin’s haze faded marginally again. In all honesty, you had hoped that an orgasm brought on by someone else would have been all it would take but, of course, Crane’s concoctions are never that simple.

As many times as you indulged fantasies of Bane in your bed, though you would never admit it aloud, you didn't want it to happen like this. Not when it was only like an obligation for him.

The finger steadily pumping inside you became two and the stretch brought you out of your thoughts with a whine.

Bane slowed but didn’t stop. “Does it hurt?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, no, it’s just a lot,” you reassured him, moaning around the last word when picked up his pace again. “It’s like I’m feeling everything double or triple.”

“It’s good then?”

He curled his fingers slightly, searching.

“So good.” You choked on a gasp when he found the spot inside you that made your toes curl. Those rough fingertips massaged tight circles around it while his thumb copied the movement around your clit.

Moans flowed from your lips unhindered. One of your hands reached down to clutch at his wrist while the other tightened in the sheets.

You could feel the crest coming but it was just out of reach. Your head thrashed on the pillow, grinding your teeth.

"Fuck, I can't. It's not-" you stopped with a whine, tears gathering in your eyes. Your hips rolled of their own accord in search of friction.

“It’s not enough,” he finished for you.

"Crane told me that you'd send him a thank you gift for this." You blurted out. "Like this was something you wanted."

He froze.

“He’s wrong, right? Of course he is,” you rambled, squeezing your eyes shut tight. “You don’t want this. Why the hell would you? I’m just me. An annoyance even on a good day, a hindrance on any other. I’m not-”

Pressing his hand over your lips, he stopped your rambling.

"Not like this." It was quiet but you heard it, you knew you did. Your gaze met his again and you just stared at him for a heartbeat then two, willing yourself to take a chance. Telling yourself it would be worth it.

Fuck it. If it goes wrong, you can just blame it on the toxin.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling yourself further toward him. Your heat pressed against the obvious tent in the front of his pants. His hand fell from your lips as you dragged yourself up to him, close enough to share breath.

“Please.” You ran your nose along his cheek and quickly unhooked your bra. His eyes flicked down briefly once the lace was removed and laying on the floor.

“Little one,” he murmured.

"You're the only person I would trust with this." You pressed a firm kiss to the front of his mask.

A harsh breath hissed out from behind the grate. He took only a brief pause to gather himself before moving off the bed stripping quickly. Your eyes raked over every inch of newly exposed skin. Lightly tanned, criss-crossed with scars, and stretched over his wide frame and well-built muscles. You’d seen him shirtless before under much different circumstances and it was a sight you had guiltily used on nights when you were alone and you knew this was something that you would add to your shameful late night fantasies until the day you died.

His cock slapped against his stomach as his pants hit the floor. The sight alone had a whimper crawling up your throat. He was thick, flushed red and leaking, and you couldn’t tell if the need to feel him inside you was more the toxin or your own.

Your breath caught when his fingertips curled into the top hem of your panties. His gaze held yours until the lace joined his pants on the floor and he returned to his spot between your thighs.

He wrapped a hand around himself, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock.

“Are you with me?” His eyes searched yours.

“Always,” you breathed.

He filled you slowly, measured, careful, and watching your face the entire time. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you and he was acutely aware of the size difference between the two of you. His fingers flexed against your thighs, keeping you still in his grasp.

Even with the toxin’s effects on you, the stretch of Bane filling you had a twinge of discomfort filtering through the pleasure otherwise washing over you.

He finally bottomed out and you let out a low groan. You couldn’t decide where to keep your hands and they flitted from his shoulders to the bedsheets to his forearms to his abs, anything you could touch. Maybe if you found something to hold on to, you could keep yourself from floating away.

Bane grunted as you clenched around him and minutely ground his hips into you.

“Shit, move please,” your fingers dug into his forearms.

You expected him to be rough and fast. Simply chasing release with his mission as a sole focus. But this was something else entirely. He was still focused but his mission was you, not just getting off. He was curled over you, forehead pressed into your shoulder, caging you in with his forearms and rolling his hips into you. It felt amazing.

But it wasn’t enough. You could tell he was holding back, even if it was for your sake, and, if this was the only time you got to experience Bane like this, you wanted all of him.

“Bane, baby, please.” You gripped the back of his neck and pulled his face up from its hiding place. Flicking your eyes up to meet his wild ones, you planted a firm kiss onto his mask, running the tip of your tongue along the grate. “I’m not gonna break.” You dug your heels into his ass, urging him on. His eyes darkened at your words, pupils already blown wide. His hips snapped forward with a grunt, forcing a gasp from between your lips. He levered up on his knees, towering over you, as he pulled out almost entirely and wrapped your hips in a bruising grip.

A growl slid out from behind his mask as he looked down at you.

“Fuck yes,” you moaned out. Your eyes rolled back when he filled you again, impossibly deeper than before.

Long gone was the caring pace he had set before. Every one of your favorite fantasies of rough sex with Bane couldn’t compare to the real thing. Part of you was already excited to see the vibrant bruises you’d find on your hips later.

Bane’s angle was perfect, the head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot with devastating precision.

“Oh fuck, right there, please.” Your fingers curled around his wrists and your back arched up off the bed.

You bit your lip hard to try and stop the string of embarrassing whines escaping with every powerful thrust.

“No,” something akin to a snarl clawed out of Bane’s throat.

He pinned your wrists above your head, holding you fast with one hand. He ran the thumb of his other over your bottom lip, spit-slicked and bitten red, and pulled it from between your teeth.

“I want to hear every single noise of pleasure you make,” he growled.

You caught his thumb between your teeth and curled your tongue around it. His fiery gaze dropped to your lips as you sucked, drawing the calloused pad deeper into your mouth.

“I’ve heard those pretty sounds fall out of your lips countless times, I’ve heard you call my name at night, don’t you dare hide them from me now.”

He hooked his thumb behind your teeth and pulled down. A hard snap of his hips forced a loud cry from between your lips.

“Good girl.” He chuckled darkly.

He released your jaw and trailed his hand down your neck. His fingers found your nipple, spit-slick thumb circling the bud before pinching it between rough fingers. You squirmed beneath him as he twisted and pulled, the bite of pain only serving to amplify the pleasure coursing in your blood. He showed the same treatment to your other nipple and you fought weakly against the hold he had on your wrists.

“Please, fuck, please,” you moaned. At this point, you didn’t even know what you were begging for. Your head was fuzzy with the tightening of the coil in your stomach. Each drag of his cock inside you, each grind against your clit, feeling wholly and solely overwhelmed by the man above you, nothing else existed outside this moment.

“Let go, little one,” he purred. He reached down and rubbed tight circles over your clit. “Give it to me. Let me feel you come on my cock.”

You screamed his name as the knot in your core snapped hard and your vision went white. Bane snarled and buried himself to the hilt finding his own release as you lost yourself in the waves of your orgasm crashing one after another.

Floating back to yourself, you felt a firm body under your cheek and tentative fingertips tracing along your back.

The toxin had burned itself out, no longer smoldering in your core. Now, you were afraid. Was all that just because of the toxin? Had Bane just reacted to you? Of course, he had offered but what if none of it really meant anything to him? Hell, it probably didn’t. Just a means to an end.

You didn’t realize you had started shivering until Bane moved you to lay over him and wrapped his arms and the duvet around you.

You slid your hands under his shoulders and pressed your face into his neck.

“Are you with me?” you whispered, fighting to keep your voice steady.

A beat of silence and his arms tightened around you.

“Always.”

The talk that both of you knew needed to happen, could wait just a little while longer. For now, you were content to stay in the moment. You placed a slow line of kisses down his neck and pressed your nose into the juncture of his shoulder instead.

“Sleep now, little one,” he rumbled beneath you.

Just before unconsciousness took you, you felt him press his mask into the crown of your head.

#bane x reader #bane imagine #bane fanfiction #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy smut #my fic #cross posted on ao3

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