#There are other muses that can dance
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soulsxng · 1 year ago
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Muses that can dance! (Top 5, in no particular order)
Pythius (Can do all kinds of dances, but tends to prefer swing/acrobatic swing dancing! He's really good at any "higher energy" dances like hip hop though)
Tarinx (Another that can do all kinds of dances, but he tends to prefer those that would fall within, or closely resemble, more Latin style dances! Can also belly dance well, which is. Nice c: )
Death (Lerato taught them to dance! Most of the time, they don't really follow any set style though, and tend to just do what feels right, and is fun for them!)
Ber (Like Seffie, Lerato taught him to dance! Not this timeline's Lerato, but shhh we're not talking about that here. Anyway, he prefers hip hop, jazz both regular and contemporary, tango, etc.)
Felesio (A lot of his training focused more on "graceful" and "classical" feeling styles A king should be able to impress people with their poise and grace, or so his parents always said, like ballroom, contemporary, etc)
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aparticularbandit · 10 months ago
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things about the dr anime intro that just hm.
1) seductively dancing monokuma. why. why is this a thing. why do we need a tile image of multiple seductively dancing monokuma.
2) when it shows the elevator to the class trial. it includes junko. junko is never on that elevator. she's dead before the first trial. which like. is a fun tidbit actually and gives a nice image of what might have been.
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thebananwithaplan · 1 year ago
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. ".....I'm not a hero. That's something you call Mario, Link, Sonic.... Heck, even Captain Underpants deserves that title a zillion times more than I do. And, like, a whole lot of other characters."
To the fans, he's supposed to be a secretly terrible fruity being. Isn't that why the world was starting to love him again? Even with slipping some nice compliments here and there to his staff and the players, he gets that most of the fans still see him as a potentially dangerous criminal from mishaps long retconned, but may potentially make a comeback in some capacity. A boss who is greedy to a sinful degree and abusive to his employees. Selfish to a fault.
Someone who may one day snap and cause wrath upon the innocent.
Even if he tried proving otherwise, it seems it's fallen on deaf ears to fans. And the fanart and fanfics are proof of that.
Not the first time he would be seen as a walking crime on humanity for merely existing for much longer than most memes could.
He only complies with using 'evil' words as to make fun of similar corporations and late-stage consumerism to entertain his audience. With plans to continue with such to regrow his popularity in this new decade. And he wonders if maybe he was in the wrong for starting to question if this was the direction he's supposed to go. If it's the one he wants to go.
Are there really a few who genuinely consider him to be 'good?' Regardless of his existence? Would they still believe so if they found out about the 'mishaps'? He's grateful whenever they reciprocate the kindness.... but they're all characters who may never be as self-aware as he is.
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. "......I'm neither 'good' nor 'heroic'. Not a single thing I've ever done are worthy of that words."
....He shouldn't be letting himself get too soft in public. Not again.
Less if he wants a repeat of certain incidents.
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unproduciblesmackdown · 1 year ago
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also more odds & ends orville info & more not Not orville/phil info as well:
"In Steinkellner’s version of Summer Stock, Jane Falbury (Danielle Wade) and “Pop,” her father (Stephen Lee Anderson), are struggling to hang on to the family farm. Their farm is one of the few in the Connecticut River Valley that hasn’t been absorbed by the Wingates, whose holdings completely surround theirs.
The widow Margaret Wingate (Veanne Cox), whom son Orville (Will Roland) aptly describes as having eyes “as cold as death itself,” plans to absorb the Falbury farm by the simple expedient of having Orville marry Jane. After all the two kids had decided they were engaged in first grade!
Enter the prodigal younger sister Gloria (Arianna Rosario) who has been seduced by the lure of the Great White Way. She returns to the farm bringing along Joe Ross (Corbin Bleu in the Gene Kelly role), the director of the show that will make her a star, its composer Phil Filmore (Gilbert L. Bailey II), and the entire company. She has generously offered the company, which can’t afford rehearsal space in New York, the use of the family farm’s barn. Sister Jane reluctantly agrees to the intrusion with the proviso that the thespians will double as farm hands.
As rehearsals progress, Phil discovers that Orville, a bit of a doormat who has been raised with the understanding that he will never have to work, is a musical wunderkind. He is enlisted to work his magic on the show’s score and begins to blossom.
Widow Wingate takes umbrage with all this and vows to shut the enterprise down. Fortunately, the cold embers in her soul are stirred to renewed life by her encounter with Montgomery Leach (J. Anthony Crane), the has-been ham enlisted to give Ross’s show some cachet, so all might not be lost.
[...]
They make this Summer Stock a veritable feast of nostalgia. I was especially taken by the amusing way Steinkellner used Jackie Gleason’s theme song “Always” to further widow Wingate’s plot to get Jane and Orville hitched.
[...]
Orville, who has found personal liberation in show biz, is accorded a moment that reminded me of a similar scene in the musical version of The Producers. In a triumphant declaration of his emergence from under his mother’s thumb he exults, “I’m in the theatre! And I love it!” The audience loved it, too.
[...]
As director, Feore has elicited some wonderful performances, especially from subsidiary characters. Veanne Cox is splendid as Margaret Wingate as is J. Anthony Crane as Montgomery Leach, the faded matinee idol. Will Roland (Orville) and Gilbert L. Bailey II (Phil) both have wonderful moments and their intense professional friendship is one of the show’s highlights."
INTENSE PROFESSIONAL FRIENDSHIP you say....and also ofc everything about orville and wanting to be a musician and being in the theatre and he loves it sounds so good. i love it
#summer stock#orville wingate#will roland#also i guess they Are ambiently together / ''engaged'' already then lol#very cute really ''decided they were engaged in first grade''...and illustrative of both just kinda having been stuck in life the whole tim#mention of how the gene kelly epic solo tap sequence that i can muse on context for but Does just kinda happen#now does have more context and like. a part in an arc lol. which also gene/joe just doesn't have much of at all in the film; so (an arc)#needless bit at the end as the reviewer is skeptical this show could be on broadway basically b/c it's not ''edgy'' enough#which is then bafflingly & exhaustingly explained w/juxtaposing ''disclaimers'' abt the content in Other shows on broadway#which is bad; irrelevant; bigoted; and also unfair not just to those shows but summer stock lol. and like everything. and everyone.#get tf outta here....talking about like well gee i guess an ontario reviewer like me might enjoy it but in New York....#like it's an nyt critics pick okay cool it. have Only read glowing reviews save the one critic who Didn't like the warm feelgood deal.#which is sure a thing that's possible to experience (though i don't think it makes for a Well Executed; Useful Review to hinge it on that)#but (a) warm feelgood material isn't like. riskier than what you deem Not ''unfashionably'' ''old-fashioned'' there#& (b) like many reviews point out that the feelgoodness Could've fallen flat or short or been too much but it was balanced / well executed#like don't come in here insulting the show with your supposed compliments lmao....Bizarre brushstroke of [ugh you know bway] shows....#which it then gestures broadly at as shows with a ''message''....just tiresome & useless little tangent at the end smhhh#anyways really do love this for orville. was already wondering if he plays that piano we see them dancing with...their adorable meetcute?#i would like to see it....makes it seem even more likely. or who knows if it's orville just reading some music left At that piano#and singing but also composing? arranging? in doing so....harmonizing....etc#i bet it's a delight. he Does get to work on the show....he's truly getting I Don't Dance'd brought into the show/theatre ft. bisexuality#taking votes for whether he's chad or ryan in that situation. the one not already in theatre but also the one attached to the antagonist
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godzexperiment · 1 year ago
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the desire to actually collect the songs that fit nix into an playlist vs the knowledge i've already got 100+ that vibe
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roseguided · 1 year ago
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@virtuousley ASKED, 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒃, 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈. 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒂𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒅
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𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 the baratheon’s in the wake of a potential match to one of the four storms to a taegaryen prince. then, they showed even more good will by holding festivities to which they are currently taking part. the whole court moved to the kingswood for such festivities & would spend nearly three days among the woods & the nature having feasts & tourneys. in truth, it was much more intimidating than floris had realized. all at once she felt this weight on her, this expectant responsibility should she be chosen by the prince. then, she was keenly away of many eyes upon her . . namely the queen’s. having dismissed herself for some much needed quiet time away from the eyes & the noise, floris had allowed one of her other sisters to take up some of the prince’s time. ; dressed in her riding cloths, hands gathering her gloves, floris is surprised when she hears the flap of her tent being opened & to see the silver hair of aemond peaking in. going stiff, out of nervousness, floris is swift in doing a bow of her head: ❛ forgive me, my prince, i believed you were spending time with my sister this afternoon. cassandra’s tent is beside mine. ❜ she fights off a colouring of her cheeks. eyes steady in lingering on his features before she goes to move past him, believe he must have gotten confused on who’s tent he was visiting. but then, much to her surprise, a hand grasps her wrist & she freezes. her head turns slowly, eyes widened, cheeks turning dusty. it feels like breath has been taken from her lungs. ❛ is it me you wished to . . speak with, prince aemond ? ❜
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reignpage · 11 days ago
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College student!Sukuna
6:05pm: locked folder
warnings: 18+ mdni, dubcon, yandere, up-skirting, masturbation, voyeurism, recording, overstimulation
college student!sukuna has a locked folder in his photo gallery. toji had seen it when he borrowed his phone and did not hesitate to blabber to the rest of the group — everyone had placed bets on what was in that mysterious folder. geto and shoko chalked it up to simple self-nudes, gojo thinks its pictures of some disgusting mole on his body, and toji hopes its nudes from girls his best friend had ‘fucked silly’. 
of course, he has no plans of ever letting them know, much less see, the contents of the folder. because, unbeknownst to everyone, including especially you, college student!sukuna considers himself somewhat of an artist. 
oh yes, college student!sukuna has the vision of a renaissance painter, an appreciator of the finer things in life, a real connoisseur for the shapes and curves of the female body and his favourite, and only, muse? why, none other than yourself, of course.
pervy college student!sukuna has hundreds of pictures of you, his precious friend. a variety of images ranging from blurry, hastily taken up-skirts to carefully angled, romantic shots of your sleeping form. there are videos, too. some innocent: you giggling at your friends’ antics, playfully glaring at the camera, or dancing in the rain when the group had taken an impromptu camping trip. 
others, not so. 
over the past couple months, college student!sukuna had gotten bolder, feeling empowered by your shy blushes and prolonged eye-contact. he knows you like him, anyone with eyes could see. he also knows he makes you horny, can see it in the way you press your thighs together when he manspreads in front of you, or the way your nipples poke through even the thickest hoodies if he breathes a little too closely by your ear. 
whenever he was over at your place, on the nights he tutored you, he would wait for the unmistakeable sound of the shower running and the dull thud of the shower stall closing before sneaking in. he let the steam disguise the crack in the bathroom door where his camera would be focused straight on your supple form. 
he hated that he couldn’t see the finer details of your body, couldn’t tell if you were clean-shaven or natural, not even the colour of your nipples. but still, the videos of you humming as you shampooed never fails to get his dick hard.
college student!sukuna has a favourite video. it’s of you in the shower, but instead of getting cleaner, you were intent on being a dirty girl. the shower head in your hand, the powerful jet pummelling your poor clit, the other hand was clutching at a tit like you needed to hold something to steady yourself. it isn’t just the act that makes sukuna harder than he ever has been every time he watches it, nor is it the way your face was scrunched up in focus and eventually in fleeting ecstasy. 
no, what makes college student!sukuna cum to the point of overstimulation was what you were moaning as you pinched your nipple and rode the stream, head falling against the tile as you gasped for air. 
“‘kuna, just like that, fuck.”
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crownshattered · 7 months ago
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|| Funny story, I'd be willing to ship Neth with pretty much any of the origin companions, but I wanted to ship her with Wyll in my first playthrough....but there was such little content for him that i almost bailed and went with whoever approached her first bc i was getting bored waiting...
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rcsadimare · 1 year ago
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i need to make a list of characters from other fandoms that i think would work well with navia ngl
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darkdemeter · 4 months ago
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THE THREAT OF INTIMACY
⚤ Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Angst — insecure reader and depictions of negative thoughts and fear of sexual intimacy — profanity — SMUT 18+ mdni — virgin!reader/loss of virginity — unprotected sex — hurt/comfort — oral (female receiving) — le dasha of body worship —cream pie — mafia bucky being a huge softy for his wife — I think that's it ✎ 7.4k A beautiful bride marrying the man of your dreams. But when faced with what comes after the vows and first dance as Mr. and Mrs Barnes, you suggest that a particular arrangement be made.
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↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────
It’s not so much of a grand show once the curtain falls. There hangs a greed of mischief and ominous silence. He looks at you, blue eyes piercing the exposed skin of your back, the white gown hangs an elegant silhouette on you. Its embroidered sculpts become melded into the fabricated folds as you stop midst the gate of your saunter forwards, each step a reminder drawing nearer as you do to the bed. 
Did you really have to do this? 
It was an era of change after all. But his seniors were old school, and so you expected him to be as well in the matters of the marriage bed. It is expected of you — the both of you. Your hands fish through the elaborate style of your hair, musing it loose and gaining a comforted scalp as you turn away from the bed and walk over to the large windows that extend from top to bottom, overlooking the twinkling space of stars fallen to earth. 
Being far away from it means you are torn from it. Once you step foot back in that place, you are no longer the girl you once were.
You are now Mrs. Barnes. A wolf among sheep. The queen of the Bratva. A cooperation of mobsters who have bought police eyes and silenced officials of the government. But was this status and power worth what is intended to follow? 
You didn’t have a real choice in the matter. Well, maybe you did. You fell for him, you won’t deny it, and you fell hard for him. Other pickings were not as savoury, nor did they explode with the chemistry you shared with him. But this wasn’t the only factor. 
It’d been clear that your hearts were set on one another. With the subtle whispers into the other’s ear, hugging and kissing, fingers entwined, or the more assuring hand on the low of your back. This intimacy had been a flavour sweet – loving – and you came to embrace these softer textures of your life at his side. His proposal was impossibly expected but even then, you couldn’t contain your surprise and eagerly said yes.
You never gave the thought of what came next exactly. The very intimate aftermath. Until his mother pulled you aside, a smile on her painted ruby lips as she guided you to walk with her through the hedged gardens. That conversation is one you will never forget. Her love is shocking, her devotion to her husband and family, you can hardly stand the thought of not loving her in return. 
But that talk shocked you. 
Half of it because of the gory details she regaled, but the other half because of your own mind. Your poisoned mind that festers with anxious insecurities. 
Of course it’s expected. Your virginity doesn’t exactly wave you as an expert, no matter what talks of womanhood you are subjected to. But by the standard of Mr. Bucky Barnes, his former bachelor days had given him what you lack: experience. 
What if I’m so bad that he’s repulsed by me? 
He’ll only need to take one look at me and that’ll be enough.
What if I can’t make him cum? 
What exactly am I supposed to do— I don’t think I’m ready. 
You continue on in your panicked, internal reverie, hand raised to rest your lips against your knuckles, the shine of diamonds catching in the dark reflection, a momentary blindness befalls you that then causes your stomach to writhe with unease.
“Hey,” your husband whispers, breath warm over the shell of your ear and his lips tease the curve of your exposed neck with light kisses. Your body flinches at the suddenness of his appearance right behind you, his chest to your back; you feel tears deep into the corner of your eyes, hot and wet and annoying. The stronghold of air chokes you in the back of your throat.
“Mm, hi…” 
Your forced smile is quick to fade, just barely passing back a glance at him before looking away. He catches this falter. His expression is shadowed by a troubled frown. He noticed the way you flinched before him. And that glistening of tears is hard to miss when it comes to you.  
“Talk to me,” he presses gently, “you okay?” 
His hands are strong and sure as he holds you, turns you to face him directly now, putting the window to your back. Your ring bound hand massages over your face with a breath hollowing out in a deep sigh. 
“Yeah. I’m good, I think we should get some rest. It’s been a big day.” 
Before you can step around him, his hand circles the entirety around your forearm, holding you in place.
“You don’t want to…” At the trailing end of his words with his blue eyes alluding to his meaning, the sting of tears prick your vision again and a flush paints your cheeks and neck red. He lets you walk away with the train of your dress flowing behind you like a silken shadow. 
“I don’t think tonight.”
Or any other night… 
Bucky’s throat bobs with a thick swallow, nodding as he watches you. Always a man who knows what to do, how to maintain composure — his power — he feels that confidence wane like the fading moon. Powerless.
The words brewing on your tongue are tart, poisonous and unpleasant. Not the sort you would ever want to say to your husband, no less on your wedding night. 
You’d ventured over to the vanity by now, you say beneath a shaken exhale, “I’ll look to hire a mistress.”
“Excuse me?” He gasps sharply. 
Your reply, voice short of anything joking or playful. You sit before the vanity and bend forward, unfastening the golden clasps on your heels before you set them aside. “I’ll have a mistress contracted for you. We’ll do everything else together but she will… provide the sexual affairs.”
“And you?” His question makes you pause midway of turning fully towards the mirror, only barely do you see him trail the outskirts of the room, just only in focus of your view. With a sigh, you pluck your earrings out, saying more so to your own reflection than him, “I’ve gone this long without sex, Bucky. I’m sure I can go on the rest of my life without it.” 
“No, no, we’re not doing things like that. I married you — I want you.” Why is that just too hard to believe? You can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes in the mirror, so you look away, anywhere that doesn’t meet his gaze. “Honey, where the fuck did this come from?”
You don’t answer. The man is practically brought to his knees before you like a servant ready to obey you like a goddess. Treatment he committed to you, though you don’t feel deserving of. He spins you slowly on your stool until you face him, knelt before you, he tries to find the stunning awe of your eyes only to find you hiding away from him. “Did somebody say something to you? Who was it?” 
Quick to spare someone needless bloodshed, you stand abruptly, almost knocking him back and storm away from him by some feet, putting distance between you both, your voice carries over your shoulder, “Nobody said anything. I just think this arrangement will be better for us.”
You’re blinking back a curtain of tears that threaten to unleash. A wave rises high like a tsunami in your soul with these stupid, incessant thoughts. 
You’re imperfect. 
You’re ugly. 
Let another woman – a beautiful woman – please him. 
He’ll regret marrying you once he sees you.
Fingers ringing the course of massaging your temples, you are slowly being drowned by many, many thoughts like these. They're endless. They’re relentless and they are loveless. Not once do you give yourself the internal piece of mind that maybe, just maybe, there is hope in this relationship. That they are wrong. That he won’t judge or run from you. But who can say for sure?
It’s best to play it safe and keep what dignity you have left. Despite the spitefulness of seeing him become satisfied by another woman, it would be better than depriving him for the rest of his life. And you care more for his own happiness. It’s all you want for him. 
He speaks up again, his voice going stern in his verbal study. “So, let me get this straight: I marry the love of my life, the very essence I love and breath for, only to… fuck another woman. After I swore a vow to you.” 
“Bucky, you’re making it sound—”
“I’ll go without sex for the rest of my life than have some whore in our bed.” 
You spin on your heel, mouth agape. Finally you look at him long enough as he works to slowly approach you and he sees just how badly you’re hurting on the inside. “Bucky—” 
How quick he is to cut you off before you can even utter another heinous thing, now reaching you. “I wouldn’t stand at the altar for just anyone. I gave up that bachelor life to have you. I chose you. I want to have all of you.”
You mutter, mumble off-centred excuses that come out as broken noises on a record, and then you let out a shaken breath, chest feeling like it's being cleaved and ripped apart to the point your body trembles. You try your hardest to suppress your quiet sniffles as the flow of tears begin, fingers hastefully dapping away as to not smear your makeup; your only means of perfection that you’ve felt in a while.
When you saw yourself in the white dress every little girl dreams of for the first time in a bridal shop far too expensive for the average, then again in the dressing room with hair and makeup done to the nines, it all almost made you forget about the gut-wrenching aftermath once the reception concluded. That you were walking down that aisle with a purpose you would never come to regret. 
Was it all a foolish fairytale to idolise this facade of beauty?
The hand bearing his ring uses a force so gentle you think it’s the end, that when you look up, he will be gone. That your wedding dress will fade into your everyday jeans and grandmother’s patchy sweater you treasure too much to throw away, her scent still lingering there to inhale on a bad day. 
He drives your focus upwards until your eyes meet, your vision hindered behind a blur that wets your lashes as you blink. A vibrant colour of blue that once intimidated you now attends to assure you, to quiet your riled fears, but there is a reluctance to let your guard down this time. 
His hands cradle your jaw in his hold with a promise to never let you go. To never let you know this fear again.
“I won’t judge. I won’t run in disgust or whatever you think I’m gonna do. I think my vows can be credited to that, yeah?” 
Your bottom lip sinks inward slightly, teeth biting down hard on the plump of flesh, muttering a softly broken, “I-I guess.” 
“You’re scared.”
It is shame that brings your eyes to falter, chin wobbling until it crinkles. “Yes…”
It’s like he could read you, knowing that your next move is to shove him off – push him away – he leans down and presses his lips to your own. Warm, a little roughened yet still retaining a softened plush of texture, he breathes some sort of cooling flame that soothes you if not for a short while. A rattled, sharpened gasp teeters on the edge of your voice and he parts from the kiss with a low and silky drawl. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, love. We can take our time with this.” 
You’re hoisted into his arms, strength unyielding as he carries you over to the bed and sets you atop the mattress like porcelain. For him, he’s scared how easily it is to break you, no matter how hard you hide this fragility. You use the outside of your hand to wipe at your nose and exhale loudly, mind prattling on with your swirling thoughts. 
Pathetic. 
He’ll definitely need a mistress after that display. 
And all you’re better off getting is a toy. 
His family will ridicule you. He’s going to tell everyone that his little wife refused to have sex with him on his wedding night.
Poisonous thoughts. They aren’t going away. With a sniffle, you watch Bucky begin to strip himself down, leaving himself to his boxers. However much you admire the act in itself, it’s far too intimate than anything else. The idea of you doing that for him sickens you. You become repulsed by yourself. 
Your mind is a hideous beast. 
Like you.
Shut up!
You make this wedding dress look ugly.
“Come on, doll,” Bucky’s voice breaks through the hazardous cloud like a lighthouse awaiting for you ashore, guiding you to safety. He offers you a smile you try to match only to feel your lips twitch, muscles cringing as you keep the well of tears and cries inside. He invites you to join him and you move up the bed. You can’t bear to shed the second skin of your dress to reveal the lavish, risque lace and frilly lingerie you’d picked out at the encouragement of your bridesmaids.
You never really gave it much thought before until it was too late. This culture of intimacy you perceive as a threat. 
Your husband doesn’t question you. Instead he lays beside you, arms stretched out to invite you into his embrace. An invite you half-heartedly indulge in, inching yourself awkwardly to his side but remaining to keep some inches from him.
Head laid on the tucked shelf of your arms, hair mused to fall over your features, you intend to wallow in silence until exhaustion overtakes you into sleep. 
You’ve ruined his day.
“What are you thinking in that pretty head of yours?” The question is directed to you, you’re sure. But it also sounds like he’s asking himself for the answer to a riddle he cannot begin to understand. 
“I’m sorry I ruined your day…”
The contortion of his features almost has your body locking up into a tightly wound position, the form of his dark brows bevelling in the middle, eyes widening until the blackened pupils shrink into tiny dots. 
“What?” he sputters, “No– no, honey. This is our day.”
Our day?
There is a storm of emotion battling in his own eyes, however, he is just as quick to hide it from you. He trails again to caress the line of your jaw, his thumb strokes along your bottom lip. “Love, I will never force you into anything. Not your first time, not your hundredth. You hear me, yeah?”
Your eyes only look to stare at him with a stillness, before you absently nod. Then you turn, putting your back to him. You cannot bring yourself to look at him out of sheer guilt that no matter what, he cannot silence the honest and cruel torment of voices in your head. Not forever. They will find something to pick out and gnaw at to send you into this spiral. 
If you could do so without the judgement of your husband, you would cry and howl into your pillow for hours until the perfect mirage of your makeup fell apart, you’d spare the dress from being a ridiculed taint by being on you any longer. You’d be on the phone to your sister pleading for her to keep you company and distract you from this pain, you’d cry into her chest as she held you with all the strength she possessed. You’d ask your parents to call you beautiful, even though it’s a lie. 
But you keep it all in. And it breaks you so harshly on the inside that it cuts you like thousands of shards shredding you apart. 
You’re not sure exactly how much time has passed between the void of silence. You can’t sleep. The tyrannical storm of emotion swarming inside you makes it impossible to even try lest you break and let it all out, letting it show. 
“B-Bucky?” you squeak, clearing your throat and you hear him hum immediately in response, the weight of him rolling over until his body is a ghost along your back. “Can I… uhm, can I ask you something?” 
Aside from the odd hiccup and sniffle here and there, you hold firm to sounding as you were before, the bubbly and playful girl Bucky couldn’t help but tease until you were a flustering mess, the girl who attempted to flirt back only to fumble over your words and proceed conversation with a shy smile. The girl he fell in love with. The one he gladly stood at the altar for. Before the voices.
“Of course, doll. Anything.”
 Nervously your fingers flex and wind together, thumbing the fabric over your breasts, the enclosed circlet of cleavage pressed closely together. You wish you could giggle at the way you caught Bucky gawking numerous times in supposed awe of you throughout the day. He often is like that every time he sees you though, now that you come to think about it. 
Supposedly.
Not likely real…
I’m going to regret asking this, aren’t I?
With a heavy swallow coated heavily in your hesitance, you take a breath in hope that proves to fail to settle your nerves. “You’ve been with plenty of girls before me… you know how to please them, what did…” you pause upon a whimper, “were they all the same?”
The amount of strain behind your vocal cords makes you cringe in disgust. You sound like—
“No, they were all different. Unique to each girl.” You can almost sense the way his head props up to look at you. His eyes staring a cool layer of heat into your back. “Just like you.”
“How can you say that?” Your voice betrays the toxins of a heart and mind poisoned together over far too long. Bucky hears the loathe of self in your words, dry and cynical, unbelieving in his words and your own image. “You’ve never even seen what I look like… you don’t know how I’ll be, I’ve never—” 
Your hands press over your eyes in hope to suppress the tears glassing over your vision. 
“Hey,” Bucky admonishes with a low drawl, tutting you, “hey. I’m not expecting the fucking grandios of perfect sex. I’m expecting you and only you. I want what makes you and your body unique.”
You turn your head to see him, chin wobbling slightly. How he’d crawl through hot coals and glass for you, seeing the beauty of what you see are flaws. He then grins and for a moment, it disturbs you how he could smile when you’re like this. 
“I wasn’t the best for my first time. In fact, I’m telling you–”
“Bucky, no, you don’t have to,” you interject with a stifled cough. You shoot to sit up and your husband follows, chuckling. 
“No, I will tell you I was shit at sex. Horrible. My first time—”
Your hands paw and pat at his mouth to silence him to no avail, your chorus of hiccups and sniffles turn into shy giggles. 
“I–couldn’t–”
You giggle a little louder this time. “Shush, Bucky! No-ho!” 
“Couldn’t even– find the cl—”
Your fingers are a heavenly pillar even as they hold his lips prisoner from speaking aloud. He smirks behind them and plants delicate kisses to them, enamoured by the faint smile on your face and the softness of your eyes. Seeing you cry and be tied to these human emotions makes a fire burn in his chest. Like for the longest time, he’s finally found someone who can make him feel whole. If only he could help you feel the same. In the make of those blue, puppy dog eyes, you crack and scoff out a snort. “New York’s infamous Mob Lord…” 
He beams from ear to ear at the unfinished implication, taking the time to fall so hard in love with you all over again. He leans his forehead against yours with a rumbled, “Mhm.”
Mascara smudged under the barrage of wet lashes and tears, your lips part with a shaky breath. “Bucky?”
He hums again, so you press on, throat suddenly tight. “Do you think you could make me feel that way?”
His response is instant, deep voice trailing along the bridge of your neck, much like it had done earlier as his arms circle the lower curve of your arse and hoist you until you balance atop his thighs, keeping his weight on his haunches. “Moya zvezda, that and more.” 
Your arms drape over the burly muscle of his shoulders, breath mingling with his in hot gusts laboured with anticipation, you hear him groan as you ever so slightly lower your hips against his and he pushes you that little higher on the pedestal he holds you on, it’s height greater than any earthly accomplishments men can dream of. 
It’s why you’re his star. 
I love this man.
With all my heart. 
His front presses fully into you, he works to weave one hand beneath the shower of your gown and feeling along the sheer stocking attached to your garter; he groans again, more feral sounding in his sensational marvel of how perfect you are. How blessed he is to be the one to touch you like this. To hold and have you so intimately. 
At his touch, your body erupts with a shudder, momentarily staggered by the electric push and pull and thriving buzz between your legs; though the stir of arousal isn’t foreign to you, it certainly is a stark contrast with his attentive action. 
His lips smother the embers of your trembling gasps with a kiss, passion tasting as a fine wine on his tongue. The kiss is paced slowly to attend to your cautious nature, an utter surety that he won’t make any move against you. You take no part in stopping him as he pushes aside the obstructive barrier of your panties. 
The way his fingers are gentle to stroke your core has you keening, teetering on a choked whine, his work deliberate in focusing on the pearl of your sensitive clit and the slickened beginnings of your folds. His hands that have sinned many times now amend themselves with the purity of worshipping every inch, exploring you with the intent to please. His thumb rolls in drawn circles, eliciting from you mewls and heated pants of air too heavy to stay in your lungs, cooing at your slow induction. 
“Atta girl.”
I’m alright. 
“You’re doing amazing.”
I’m safe. 
His two fingers run along your entrance, causing your spine to arch slightly and he smirks, pulling from the kiss. 
“You like that, doll? Yeah?” he asks smoothly, seeing you nod shakily with eyes half lidded. 
Your hands entangle themselves to the bedded roots of his hair, tender as you can to pull with each spark that has your stomach tying knots and your muscles tensing, his thumb begins to roll a little harder and faster. At hearing the apparition of a moan escape you, he applauds you with his encouragement despite the way your hand covers over your mouth to silence these noises.
“Fuck, please again, zvezda. Please.”
“I want to hear you.”
“Please… fuck you sound so beautiful…”
In your stun over his pleas, your hand lowers away and you continue to let your moans lull him, hips moving at a slow crawl against his fingers that press to your core and with a single look you let him know you’re willing. He fights the tantalising grip of your fingers to reach your lips as he pushes two fingers past your folds. Your gasp is a sharp sound to his ears, one of alert that he seeks to comfort you through the kiss.
The trajectory to pull your hips away stabilises and you begin to find that rhythm with each grind and thrust onto his fingers, the waves of pleasure coming from your clit has your stomach tightening. 
“B-Bucky…” you whisper and he swallows your words with a deep moan. Your walls clench around the intrusion of his fingers, moreso when he adds a third, curling them as if to beckon your body furthermore to his touch, to yield your fears and let him set alight that bloom inside your core and unto your bliss. 
You pant harder, “B–ngh… Bucky… th-there.”
“Right there?” He asks with a sultry grin. Your voice comes out in a strangled response. “M—mhm.”
The voice of your whine is his commandment. He installs a level of dedication at gently fucking you with his fingers right where you needed him – wanted him. That swell inside you grows and grows, furthering into a maelstrom that leaves your body shivering, unexpected of where this sudden burst will implode. 
“Good girl, you’re doing so well, doll,” he praises with a low timbre, groaning with a prided grin when you tug a little harder at his hair, your softer nature betraying to act out this darker side of yourself; this almost forbidden wanton. 
I feel…
Your hips move to become greedy and much to Bucky’s approval, feeling the swollen bulge of his cock straining against his boxers has you weak and some instinct to move against it drives you, a louder moan slipping past your lips. Bucky’s mouth leaves a heated trail of passionate nips and teasing flutters of kisses against your neck, spoiling you. 
You gasp and your hands fly to his shoulders to hold you at bay, the sudden shockwave a prelude to ride as your orgasm ascends upon you, he hears the feverish whimpers you make and he purrs, pumping his fingers, “That’s it, love, let go. C’mon, let me feel you cum for me. I’ve got you.”
The suppression of a scream hides in your chest, leaving only a choked sob to rack through you as you thrust and claim your first release, a hot flush of white behind your eyes blinds you, your muscles convulse in tensing and relaxing as you ride out your high. 
Your arms that wound around his shoulders squeeze a little tighter in your recovery, your breath timed to slow down after a few minutes but your body remains to quiver against him. The form of his aroused cock clear and unhidden has your core weeping for more.
“There you go, that’s it,” he coaxes softly with a smile while he eases a kiss to the corner of your lips, “how’re you feeling?” 
“G-good… really like… wow.” The words come out jumbled to you, as if you were still influenced by the strong wine at the reception, having made you reserve your consumption to a very limited amount. 
Bucky hums and withdraws his fingers, leaving you to mewl at the loss. The sight before you has you in some chokehold, a crimson heat flushes into your cheeks and down your neck, rendering your blood into fiery rivers beneath your skin, a sudden jerk picking up in your heartbeat as Bucky cleans the slick of your release from his fingers, the crystalised shade of blue dimming with a certain darkness as the taste of you rolls over his taste buds. 
He’s tasting me…
He moans with a thunderous growl. “Fuck… you taste amazing,” he grins, teeth gleaming with that cute, charming esteem. 
I do?
The warmth in your cheeks glows ten fold, bringing a sight for Bucky to admire. That cute girl who’s face becomes rosy with embarrassment. It’s like he could read your mind and the way he says your name has you at a loss of breath, drawing your attention back to the shine of his eyes. 
“You are exquisite…” 
Following in action as the continuation of his proclamation, his hand finds the spine of your dress and upon reaching the apex between your shoulders. He seeks to pause and his eyes seek out your permission, brows slight to bevel. “May I, Mrs. Barnes?”
The crescents of your palms brush the exterior of his stubble, every inch of your hands covered by the sensational prickling that leaves you like putty. How he stares at you with this amass of love and fondness that feels overwhelming at times. 
He’s just so… perfect.
The return of tears glasses over your eyes and you smile, brightly and toothy and nod, cupping his jaw in your hands before you press a softened kiss to his lips. You feel it in unison with him; it steals the breath from you both. 
“You may, Mr. Barnes.”
With your approval, he draws the zip undone. Anticipation lines your nerves like a trail of gunpowder ready to be set ablaze. He’s testing the waters, ensuring that this is what you want and when you give no indication of refusal, he glides the dress from your shoulders, revelling in the delicate sculpt of your body; the warm, ambient light hitting the surface creates a heavenly glow upon your skin. With the overhanging light above, it frames a golden halo around you as his sights steer upwards. 
Your gown drapes a sultry form over you, accentuating the mounds of your breasts pushed close together and the nakedness of your shoulders and neck. Bucky growls under a vice of hunger. But something lays in the glassy waver of his stare. 
“Please be real?”
His voice barely rises above a near shattered whisper. A man who fears losing you just much as you fear losing him. His voice pleads with you. Your lips part, jaw coming to drop slightly as your eyes widen.
Please be real for me?
“I-I am, Bucky. I’m real…”
The man before you exhales loudly, gasping for breath to keep himself drowning. “Good. Because I want this to be real.”
He doesn’t waste another moment. His mouth clashes against yours, hunger succumbing as he ravishes you with the heated intensity of his kiss, tongue running a pleaful line along your bottom lip. You part them and he awakens the stir of arousal flooding through your veins, tongues dancing in an artistic battle for dominance he undeniably wins. You moan a muffled song and he drinks every lyric of it, intoxicated by it. 
His hands are wild in their exploration, peeling your dress lower to reveal the laces and frills of your lingerie, not permitting you to shy away and hide from him this time, his hands feel every inch of it, mesmerised by the way it fits to you so beautifully that even the most talented of sculptures would struggle to capture your raw and enticing beauty to its complete and apex design. 
Your hands scour to claim the roots of his hair again. This time, you hold no restraint and he loves it. He loves the radiance of confidence you find in every following second. You are claiming what is rightfully yours as his wife. As his one love that he will kill and die for without question. Though time and mortal breath dares to intrude and part you, you find ways around the schemes, momentarily gasping for air within the clash of your lips, too far entranced to pull away. 
His hands glide up your sides until his thumbs are able to tease your stiffened nipples through the thin fabric, groaning at the noises you create from it, his touch sending those blissful tingles throughout your body. When time comes to see you both departed from your kiss, you each still remain to linger, tasting one another in the inch spared between you, chests heaving madly and brushing together. Dress pooled to a rolled belt over your waist, Bucky drinks in every detail of your body. 
Why does he look at me like that? 
His nose buries into you, nestling into the warmth and softness of your body as he utters phrases of praise to your skin, a trail of his devotion painted upon your skin with the invisible ink of his love and adoration for you. 
“You feel what you do to me?” he asks, strong hands guiding your hips down to roll in unison with his, the swollen mound of his erect cock still suffering in confinement has you hiccuping in your stun.
Though your voice is light, you nod as you answer. “Yes.”
“That’s how fucking hot you are,” he says with a deep, velvety drawl, his words slightly muffled by the way his mouth caresses you. “You have me so hard right now, fuck, the things I wanna do to you, doll.”
His confession has you blushing. 
He can’t possibly mean that…
He can’t help himself. He’s a man enslaved at your whim. Though you try to bring this madman to his senses with an embarrassed huff of his name, he only leans in to claim your lips with his, the melding of hunger brings you both into that feverish haze again. Tongues entangled with one another, Bucky’s hands paw and pluck the garments of your lingerie from your form, peeling away the details of floral patterns and lacy sheer to feel the heat of skin below, the way your muscles twitched under his touch. 
You moan between the kiss and allow your hands to feel the soft tresses of his hair between your fingers, carefully weaving through the darkened locks and nails scratching at the roots against his scalp, a rumbling purr escaping him. 
The rock of your hips move together, a desiring fire burning in your core to the point it borders on a painful ache between your legs. Your dress is discarded, left aside with your undressed garments to be reclaimed at a later time. He lays you on your back, your head nested atop the plush cushion of the pillows, bodies flush together without leaving so much as a morsel of space apart. 
Entrapped by his lustful kiss, you thrust and grind your heated sex against him with shocking eager, a whine is tugged from your throat, unsure.
Bucky is quick to assure you of your arousal, that its intoxication is a vice wanted. He uses one arm to support his weight above, caging you, as his other takes hold of your thigh and gropes at it fervently while somewhere in the mixture haze his boxers are tossed aside. His swollen tip oozes with glistening, droplet streams, his size heavy and long that has a gasp escaping you. 
W–will he fit?
Such worrisome thoughts are snuffed out like speckled embers as he deepens the kiss, tongues gliding together and moans and limbs entangle. His tip brushes over the sensitive spot of your clit and your hips take languid actions against his practised thrusts. 
“It’s going to hurt at first,” he mutters across the skin of your jaw, “but it won’t for long. I’m right here, moya zvezda, I promise.”
A crystalline glint appears on the waterline of your eyes, a tender smile on your lips as your lips connect with a chaste kiss. 
“I’m ready, Bucky…”
His blue eyes take the time to carefully read your expression. For a man so immersed in being so gentle and caring with you, you have come to know that with the very same hands he caresses you with – he has broken jaws, bloodied and bruised noses and strangled the very life of more than one person. He can tell when a man is lying just by looking into his eyes. 
He sees you’re telling the truth. That you want this with him. You want him. Cock nudging at your folds, you push your legs a little wider to better accommodate his size after hearing him chuckle at the crimson blush creeping into your face, flustered at the thought of his entire cock sheathing inside you. 
“Gonna fit all of me, my sexy little wife?” he’d teased with a wink. 
His eyes retain their focus with yours as he pushes the head of his cock into your cunt, meeting the slight of resistance and surged forward, a sigh heavily laced on his breath that has his head bowing to press his forehead to yours, eyes scrunched tightly. 
A hitched note on your throat is silenced, cut out with a high pitched whine as he sinks deeper and deeper, breaching past the wall of your hymen. Your nails mark their bite into his shoulders and down his back with angry red scars, tracing over the blackened inks already imprinted there. 
Your walls constrict around the intrusion of him with a searing pierce that brings your tears to streak down your temples, chin slightly trembling, you feel Bucky’s lips hover over yours. 
“O-ow,” you mewl, “It hurts…”
“I’ve got you, zvezda, I’m here.”
Your chest feels tight, suffocated, but his words comfort you. You cling to him tighter, thighs trembling at his sides and you feel his hand resume its place there, gentle to knead and rub soothing circles as he coaxes you through the blight of your pain. 
“Fuck baby, you feel so good,” he whispers to your lips, the crinkle of a smile forming on his features. Just as quickly as it had come, the pain subsides and you feel so full at the point where your bodies meet, you finally nod for him to continue. 
He goes slowly. 
He sets a rhythm paced to ease you into the forcing motion of his cock gliding through your hot, velvety walls that clamp and shudder with each movement he makes. Your gasps turn to softly sung moans as you begin to grind your hips to meet his and he smiles down at you. “There you go, love. That’s it, you’re taking me so well.” 
“This body… so perfect, so beautiful… I love it, I love you.”
Another moan escapes you. He heaves a deep breath with every thrust, still focusing hard to keep this steadiness, until you moan for him, 
“Bucky… please, I-I need…”
“What do you need, love? Tell me.”
“I– need more– please.”
He groans, the thought of ruthlessly fucking you with abandon crosses his mind in flashes, the way you’d look spread out while being pummeled by his cock that ruts into your pretty pussy until you’re stuffed full of his cum that it overspills as a creamy ring around his girthy base. 
To fuck you the way of a mafia lord. 
“You want that, sugar?” he asks, his voice sudden to drop lower into a silken, deepened purr with a darkened smirk. “You want to be fucked the way a mafia queen should be? H–hmph, you want it harder? Faster?”
You choke on the release of your words, sounding breathless, “Y-yes!”
Your walls clench tight around him, a series of moans spilling from your parted lips as he then picks up his pace, the incentive of your permission driving him to thrust harder, his hand fists and squeezes the flesh of your thigh within his grasp, holding you fast to him as he strikes deeply into your pussy. His muscles bend, curve and tense and your hands greedily explore every single portion of him, granting you this chance to be upheld by the prison of your thoughts that may hold you back later.
You howl, whine and cry – all for more, for him to keep going, to not stop. His body arches over yours, hands now ahold of you at the hips he uses the advantage of his strength and position to forcefully piston himself back and forth, back and forth until you’re writhing beneath him  Your hands attach themselves to the veiny reins of his wrists, your hips arched up until your lower half is lifted for his leisure to fuck into that spot that has you seeing an galaxy of stars.
“Bucky– Bucky, oh Bucky!” you cry out. 
“Fuck— yeah baby, fuck you sound beautiful, shit— baby, keep screaming my name, I want to hear you.” Each word is intensely laced with an exerted breath or guttural groan. “Fucking hell, zvezda, you look fucking amazing like that—” 
“You’re taking my cock so well.”
“I’m never getting over the sight of this.”
His eyes burn with lust at the sight of your breasts bouncing without restraint, the shudder of your body with each clash of your thrusts, how your face contorts so beautifully with pleasure and the holstered grip of your legs hooking around his waist repeatedly only to falter each time after several pumps, only kept upright by his hold. A knot coils inside you, a tidal wave of pleasure coursing through your veins that sets your nerves aflame and your vocal cords to strain with every sound you make. The more and more he slams his cock into you, your neck is forced to arch back against the pillows with a pleasured shriek. 
You call out to him, “Bucky, I— I’m gonna… ah!” 
“Cum for me, doll, I wanna feel how tight your pretty pussy is around me.” Your back arches further as his tip continues to hit that spot and the sensational toying of his thumb rolls on your clit, eliciting a flourish of sparks to ignite until you’re suddenly overcome with a flush of white, that euphoric hit crashing over you while heat pours into every inch of your skin with your eyes rolling back.
You chant his name like a sacred prayer, the meaning of your vows imbued within your slurred, intoxicated mantra. He pants, hot and heavy in your ear,
“Shit, shit— fuuuck, baby— ‘mgonna cum, gonna cum for you. I want my seed in you, I want it in you so bad.”
His thrusts increase, the sound of skin slapping skin is erotically loud. You don’t want it to stop. You don’t want him to stop and so you beg him to keep going. 
You continue to whine, low and cooing, walls stretching and clenching around him, milking him of his release that sweeps over him with a long, baritone and throaty moan. His head presses into the crook of your neck to suck at the skin of your collarbone, marking you with dark bruises of his love and possession as he paints your pussy with his seed. The air is faintly filled by the sound of oozing slick of your combined orgasms that leak and drip around his still thrusting cock.
The erratic pace in which his rhythm held eventually wanes, instead he moves to a slow-crawling grind to ease you off your combined highs. His chest rises and falls and you allow your eyes to admire his form above you, A balance of skin and ink layered in a thin coating of sweat, as is your own, the muscles of his body rippling with each motion he makes. 
His hands release from your hips after he’s lowered you back down to the bed, allowing your body to succumb to the exhaustion undoubtedly taking hold of you. Your gaze meets his own, the colour of them haloed by the shine of tears and his heart yearns for you. 
He fears he’s done something wrong and his hands quickly raise to caress your face, thumbs stroke over your cheeks. 
“Moya zvezda, are you—”
“I’m…” you trail off, blinking rapidly to see him through the watery veil and you grin up at him and nod. He’s relieved to see that smile, coming to mirror it himself. 
She’s okay. My girl’s okay.
You reach your hand up, the warmth of your palm contrasted by the cool adornment of your ring. Bucky leans his face into your touch. “You stayed… you didn’t—” Though your words fail you, Bucky sees what you mean to say in your eyes. 
“Of course. You’re everything I ever wanted…” Your brows furrow, touched by the sincerity in his words. Before you is a man whose heart is held in your very hands. And his heart is one you wish to cherish, hold dear and never break. To think you almost bargained him off to another woman— 
“Have me again tonight, zvezda. Have me any other night. I promise, I will be there every time, every moment.”
He doesn’t want a mistress. He wants me. 
Those voices are gone, replaced by newer, kinder ones.
You’re perfect. 
You’re beautiful. 
I’m not scared anymore. Not with him. 
You now realise that intimacy was never the threat. The voices in your head were. 
THANKS FOR READING!
✎ a note from the author, Did you want some tissues?
on this issue's taglist, we've got: @mostlymarvelgirl @hollyseb @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @identity2212 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @boobsbeesbongos @mrsnikstan @floralwsloki @mcira @schneeflocky @greatenthusiasttidalwave
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getoslamb · 1 month ago
Text
Kinktober Day 4 - Brat Taming with Ryomen Sukuna
contains: nsfw content:(mdni), fempov, pnv (unprotected), creampie, spanking, orgasm denial, oral (reader giving), v brief breath play, no aftercare, this is consensual but it might seem dubcon at times so i'll say that just in case
˚₊‧ for more kinktober here - wc:- 7.3k (sorry!)
an: if you saw this yesterday, tumblr ate most of it, so this is the proper version with the full 7k
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The air was tight in the luxurious chambers, thick with the underlying current of power and danger that came with being near Sukuna. You knew it all too well, and still, today you chose to push the boundaries.
Maybe it was the way his attention had moved onto others, or maybe you just wanted to feel his power focused on you. Either way, your defiance had earned you more than a few sharp looks throughout the day.
He had been so patient at first, watching as you deliberately disobeyed his orders, meeting his gaze with a silent challenge in your eyes. It was a dangerous game, one which you knew would only end one way, but a small part of you relished it, even craved the inevitable punishment that would follow.
Piqued annoyance now danced in his expression as you stood before him in the dark-lit room. The light of the candles danced across his tattooed skin as he leaned back into the cushion, arms over his chest, eyes intent on him-like some sort of predator sizing his prey.
"You have been bold today, haven't you?" Sukuna said, his voice low and almost a purr, but beneath the smoothness lay a warning. Crimson eyes shone with something dark and predatory as he watched you with unsettling intensity.
You didn't move, not as your heart raced in your chest; your eyes still flashed defiance, though it wavered a little under his gaze. Sukuna noticed, of course-he noticed everything.
He laughed darkly, the sound rumbling through the room like distant thunder. "What's the matter? The little concubine thinks she can disobey her king?" His voice was thick with mockery, but beneath it lay an unmistakable edge of menace.
You still wouldn't back down, even as the chill ran down your spine. "I'm not scared of you," you said-the defiance in your voice, a lot stronger than the quiver in your chest.
His smirk only widened, eyes glinting in the low light. "Is that so?" He pushed off from the cushions, standing to his full height in a fluid-almost graceful-movement. Sukuna towered over you, the suffocating presence of his power that made the air around you thick and heavy.
He took a slow, deliberate step toward you, each step echoing in the chamber as he never so much as broke gaze with yours. “You forget your place, little one. And I think it’s about time I remind you exactly who you answer to.”
You swallowed hard but stood your ground, your heart pounding while he drew nearer. He was testing you now, pushing the limits of your defiance, testing how far you would go. But you couldn't halt the quickening of your pulse in anticipation, the thrill coursing through you despite the danger.
Sukuna stopped only a few millimetres away from you, his giant physique casting a shadow over your small frame. He cocked his head as he reached out, crimson eyes shining with dark humour, and brushed one of his hands against your cheek, the touch feather light, deceptive.
"You've been a brat all day," he mused, the soft low tone of his voice a direct contrast to the danger swimming inside him. "And I'm not fond of brats. You know that."
And before he could receive a reaction from you, the other hand shot out, clutching at your chin in a firm grip, making you look up at him. His touch wasn't gentle anymore; it was commanding, dominant, a silent reminder of who was in charge here.
"You really think you can challenge me?" His voice now a dark growl, his eyes narrowing as he watched you struggle to hold his gaze. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, teasing, almost mocking, as he leaned down closer. "You forget who I am, don't you?"
You shivered, but the stubborn fire in your eyes remained, even as his grip tightened slightly, his thumb pressing against your lip until you parted them with a soft gasp; he smirked, clearly amused despite himself.
“I could break you,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous as his lips hovered just above yours. “Make you beg for me. But I can also make you wait… draw it out until you remember who’s in control.”
The heat between your bodies flared and he held you there, so close yet still out of reach. The tension was palpable, a heady mix of desire and fear as the resolve within you started to crumble under the fierce stare that bound you against your will to him.
When he finally moved, it was with brutal precision. Sukuna spun you around, pressing your front to the cool wall of the chamber with ease, one hand tangled in your hair as he pulled your head back slightly. "You wanted my attention, didn't you?" he said, his voice a dangerous whisper in your ear as his hot breath danced across your skin, his hand trailing down your back. “Well, now you have it.”
You gasped, your body arching instinctively into his touch as his hand slid lower, gripping your hips possessively. “Don’t think for a second that you can get away with this behaviour” he growled, his voice a dangerous promise as his fingers dug into your flesh.
Sukuna yanked your hips back against him, his body pressing firmly against yours as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re going to regret testing me,” he whispered darkly, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. His hand slid around to your front, teasing you just enough "Now," he growled huskily, the scent of dominance emanating s he leaned in closer, his lips grazing your neck and nipping the sensitive skin there to set fireworks, something he could so easily do with a mere touch. "Beg me to put you back in your place."
You knew he was playing with you, waiting for you to submit again, but you couldn't help how your body betrayed you-the pooling of heat so low in your stomach as his words fired up something deep inside. Caged in his grip, cornered against the wall, you still couldn’t refrain from pushing once more.
“No.”
“No? Okay.” he chuckled darkly, his tone shifting from playful to deadly serious. “Strip.”
You briefly turned your head and looked at him, unsure and as you hesitated, he added with a wicked smirk, “Do it or I’ll do it for you.”
The thought of him tearing the delicate fabric from your body sent a thrill through you. The weight of his gaze bore down on you, and you felt the pull of his dominance wrapping around you like a shroud. Your heart raced with the thrill of the challenge, but a deeper part of you—a primal instinct—began to ache for his approval.
With a deep breath, you decided to relent, knowing that fighting him any longer would only provoke him further. You turned your back to him and slowly began to slide the silk off your shoulders, letting the fabric slip down your arms. The dress pooled at your feet, baring your skin to him. The cool air brushed against you, sending goosebumps cascading across your body as you stood looking vulnerable before him.
Yet despite that, his eyes never wavered to admire your body, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you naked before but right now he didn’t seem the least bit interested.
You faced him, expecting praise or the usual good girl, but he said nothing. The silence stretched between you, heavy and charged, making your heart race with both anticipation and confusion. Sukuna’s gaze was piercing, roaming over your exposed form, and you could feel the intensity of his scrutiny igniting something deep within you—a desperate yearning for his approval.
You swallowed hard, the heat pooling in your stomach igniting a mixture of shame and desire. Sukuna was playing with you, aware of your need for his validation, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of submission and rebellion.
“Please,” you whispered, desperate to shift the balance back in your favour, to spark that glimmer of approval in his eyes. “I just wanted—”
“What?” he interrupted, tilting his head slightly, that smirk still firmly in place. “Attention? Affection? Or perhaps you wanted to remind me how unruly you can be?”
The words were both exhilarating and terrifying, as you recognized the game he was playing. Sukuna knew exactly what you craved and was determined to toy with it, twisting your desires into something that left you vulnerable.
“You should know by now,” he continued, leaning closer until you could feel the warmth radiating off him. “My favourite concubine doesn’t act like this.” he whispers as his hand cups your face. “She knows her place—knows how to please me.”
Your heart clenched at his words, the subtle reminder of your position stoking the embers of your longing. You craved his approval, his affection, and each taunt felt like a jagged edge against your pride. But the harder he pushed, the greater the need for his acknowledgment became.
"Look at you, practically begging for it," he teased, his voice low as his fingers brushed over the uncovered skin of you. "But you'll learn, in time, that defiance only leads to disappointment."
With a predatory grace, Sukuna shifted, his gaze never leaving yours as he sat down on the edge of his royal bed, the dark fabric of the covers contrasting sharply against his skin. The way he was sitting-relaxed, yet commanding-sent a shiver of anticipation running down your spine.
"Come here," he ordered; it was an order reverberating with a sternness that was impossible to disregard. Your heart racing, you moved closer until the space between you two was charged with tension. "Get over my knee," he said, the corners of his mouth raising into a sly grin. The words were spoken as though this was a test, a test of how well you'd do.
The heat in your cheeks flared as you hesitated, caught between pride and the undeniable desire to submit. But the need for his approval was overwhelming, and as you moved closer, the thrill of obedience battled against your rebellious spirit.
Sukuna’s gaze held you captive, eyes glimmering with amusement as he patted his knee, the gesture both inviting and authoritative. “I won't ask twice," he warned, his voice low and full of promise.
You swallowed hard as you took a deep breath and realised it was your call. You leaned over reluctantly, laying across his lap and positioning yourself, your hands resting on the coolness of the sheets-a sharp contrast to the heat emitting from your body.
“There we go” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he rested a hand on your back, keeping you in place.
As you settled over him, a rush of vulnerability coursed through you, yet beneath it lay a profound sense of longing for his approval, making it impossible to feel anything but exhilarated. In that moment, you knew there would be no escaping the power he held over you/
His hand travelled further up your thigh, fingers teasingly close to your ass but never quite crossing that line. It was an intentionally deliberate choice, placing you on edge, and you could feel that anticipation, coiling in your belly like a spring, ready to burst.
"Remember," he warned, his voice dropping to that low growl again, "Just because I'm kinder to you than the rest does not mean I won't punish disobedience." You swallowed hard as your heart began to pound with what was to come. You could feel the power dynamic shifting, the game the two of you were playing getting heavier with every passing second.
Sukuna's hand came down sharp against your ass, the loud smack reverberating through the room and slapping you back into reality. A gasp escaped your lips, half in surprise, half in delight at the sting that suddenly fired into your skin. It was a delicious concoction of pain and pleasure, which left you short of breath as you adjusted to the sensations that swirled around you.
"Count," he instructed, his voice firm, yet laced with underlying humour. "Loudly. I want to hear you."
"One," you exhaled the word as it tumbled from your lips, your heart racing wildly as you fought to steady it. The thrill of it all, mixed with your need for his approval, had you wanting each strike more than the last.
Sukuna's hand lingered on the curve of your ass for a moment before falling again in a sharp slap, the sound echoing off stone walls. You gasped again, a mixture of shock and thrill racing through you as the sting blossomed into a warm ache.
“Two,” you gasped, as you fought against the swell of emotions within you.
He lifted his hand, but this time he held back just before the strike, making you tense in anticipation. The sudden hesitation had you bracing for impact, but then he only gently smoothed his palm flat against your skin, teasing you with his warmth.
But before you could even acknowledge it, a sudden one came down on your other ass cheek.
“Three,” you managed to say, voice trembling slightly, the sensation catching you off guard as he switched up the rhythm.
“Good,” he replied, and the next strike came almost immediately after, catching you off guard. “Four!” you exclaimed, the sound of his hand meeting your skin sending shockwaves through your body.
He continued this pattern, alternating between sharp slaps and moments of tension where he would simply tease you, leaving you breathless and on edge. Sometimes, he would deliver a strike that felt harder than the last, and other times he’d pull back, letting you feel only the ghost of his hand as your body quivered in anticipation.
You felt yourself teetering on the brink of overwhelming sensations as you counted up to ten, each strike igniting a fiery mixture of pleasure and pain that coursed through your body. Each impact left you breathless, the rhythm of his hand striking you creating a melody of desire that echoed in your mind.
“Eleven” you finally gasped, the word escaping your lips as you savoured the ache that lingered in your skin.
Sukuna paused, letting the silence stretch between you, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on your back, assessing and possessive. The air was thick with tension, and you could sense the power dynamics shifting once more.
“Are you sorry?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, sending a thrill down your spine.
You bit your lip, a mix of defiance and longing swirling within you as you processed his question. The sharp sting of his earlier strikes still pulsed against your skin. The heat emanating from your skin, a reminder of your rebelliousness, yet the way he held you—firm, possessive—made your heart race with exhilaration.
“Sorry?” you repeated, tilting your head slightly to look at him over your shoulder. You could see the smirk playing on his lips, the amusement dancing in his eyes. The challenge was palpable; he wanted you to say it, to acknowledge your submission in a way that would give him satisfaction. Yet all that came out of your mouth was…
“I don’t know yet-”
“Do you even know what you want?” he pressed, his voice smooth and taunting. “Because I can give you everything, but you seem intent on making this harder for yourself.”
“Do you want my approval?” he asked, his voice a sultry caress that made your heart race. The question hung between you, laden with implications that sent a shiver down your spine. “You know I could give it to you if you just admit what you truly want.”
As if sensing the conflict within you, he slowly guided you off his lap, the absence of his warmth leaving you yearning for more. You hesitated for a moment, caught in the limbo of desire and pride, before he leaned back slightly, a glimmer of challenge in his gaze. “Get on your knees,” he commanded, the authority in his voice making it impossible to resist.
The command was a double-edged sword, igniting a rush of eagerness and vulnerability in your chest. There was something intoxicating about being at his mercy, and even as the thought of submission sent pangs of uncertainty through you, the need for his love and approval surged stronger than your pride.
You swallowed hard, the weight of his gaze heavy on you as you knelt before him, the coolness of the floor contrasting sharply with the warmth that enveloped your body. Sukuna watched you, a predator sizing up his prey, and you could feel the intensity of his scrutiny as you knelt there, heart racing and breath shallow.
“Good girl” he praised, the words wrapping around you like silk, soothing yet igniting a fire in your core. “This is where you belong—submissive, yearning for my affection.” His voice was low and sultry, and you could hear the satisfaction lacing his tone as he took in your posture, his eyes gleaming with approval. “But you have to earn it. Tell me what you want.”
You hesitated, the vulnerability of your position mingling with your desire to please him. “I want… I want your approval,” you murmured, the admission spilling from your lips almost involuntarily. “Your love”
His smirk widened, revealing a hint of satisfaction that made your heart flutter. “And how do you plan to earn it?” he asked, his voice smooth and seductive, coaxing you into deeper submission. “Show me how desperate you really are for my love.”
With deliberate slowness, he shrugged off his robe, letting the luxurious fabric cascade down his broad shoulders and pool around his waist. The movement revealed the powerful contours of his body, muscles coiling under his skin, each movement exuding confidence and dominance. You couldn’t help but feel your breath hitch in your throat as you drank in the sight of him—strikingly captivating and impossibly alluring. His cock sprung free, dauntingly big, thick and girthy with a prominent vein running along the underside of it.
As you positioned yourself at his feet, your heart raced with anticipation. You looked up at him, and in that moment, you could see the mixture of dominance and desire reflected in his gaze. You knew exactly what he wanted you to do, and the thought of it sent a shiver of excitement coursing through you.
“Go on,” he urged, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “show me just how much you crave my approval.” The challenge ignited something deep within you, urging you to submit fully to his will.
You reached forward, taking his cock in your hand at first, feeling the heat radiate from it as your fingers wrapped around his length. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, awakening every nerve ending and amplifying the intensity of your need. You could feel his gaze boring into you, an intoxicating mix of desire and power, and the weight of it only fueled your eagerness.
Sukuna watched you intently, his expression a mixture of approval and amusement as you began to stroke him slowly.
You leaned in closer, your breath hitching as you pressed soft kisses along his shaft, savouring the taste of his skin and the intoxicating musk that enveloped you. With each kiss, you felt a thrill of exhilaration at your submission, and the thought of earning his approval made you more eager to please.
“Keep going,” he encouraged, his voice low and demanding.
You could hear the satisfaction in his tone, and it spurred you on as you took him deeper into your mouth, your tongue swirling around him with fervent devotion. Every now and then you’d pull back and focus on the tip, only to resume taking his cock in as deep as you could, using your hand for what you couldn’t fit. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you—his dominance and your willingness to submit completely to him.
As you continued, you could feel his hand find its way to your hair, fingers tangling in it as he guided your movements, controlling the pace with a delicious authority. The mix of his control and your surrender sent waves of heat pooling in your core, and you could feel the ache of longing building within you.
The warmth of his body radiated against your skin, intensifying the sensations coursing through you as you leaned in further, taking him deeper. Each careful stroke of your tongue was met with a soft, approving grunt from Sukuna, his fingers tightening in your hair, guiding you with just the right amount of pressure. You revelled in the way he took charge, the way he made you feel both desired and utterly submissive.
“Such a good little pet,” he praised, his voice smooth yet commanding, sending tremors of excitement through you. “You’re desperate for my touch, aren’t you?”
You couldn’t deny it, the words igniting something primal within you, and you nodded as best you could with him filling your mouth. The mixture of your eagerness and his control heightened the stakes, pushing you to give him everything you had.
His hips shifted slightly, guiding your rhythm as he pressed deeper, the sensation making your head spin. You could feel the tension building within you, a mix of longing and excitement as you became more attuned to his desires. The slick warmth of your mouth enveloped him, and each movement you made was deliberate, an offering of your devotion.
“More,” he demanded, his voice thick with pleasure as he tilted his head back slightly. “I want to hear you.”
You moaned softly around him, the sound vibrating against his skin, eliciting another low growl from deep within him. The noise made your core throb with need, the desperate ache for him only growing stronger as you lost yourself in the rhythm of your actions.
He couldn’t help but want to set the pace himself, the next time you went to pull back, he guided your head further, forcing you to take him deeper until your nose was pressed up against his pubes. You sputtered, unable to stop yourself from gagging as he held you there for a moment before pulling back and letting you pull off and catch your breath. You coughed a little, a string of saliva connecting from his cock to your lips.
His hand tightened in your hair, gently pulling your head up for a moment so he could meet your gaze. “Look at me,” he commanded, his eyes darkened with lust and satisfaction. “I want to see your pretty eyes.”
As you surrendered fully to him, the heat pooling in your core became unbearable, a delicious reminder of just how much you craved his approval. The world outside faded further, leaving only the intoxicating connection between you—his power and your submission—and you knew that you would do anything to keep that connection alive.
You gazed up at him, his commanding presence making your heart race. As you took him deeper, this time by your own choice, a rush of exhilaration surged through you, and with a playful impulse, you let your teeth graze lightly against his length. The sensation was meant to tease, to elicit a reaction, but the moment you did, a sharp intake of breath escaped him, followed by a sudden yank of your hair that pulled you away.
Sukuna’s eyes flashed with a mixture of surprise and warning, the intensity of his gaze locking onto yours like a steel trap. “What did I say about behaving?” His voice was low, tinged with authority, but there was an unmistakable edge of desire laced within it. You felt a thrill race through you, the tension in the air thickening.
You looked up at him, trying to read the storm brewing in his eyes. His grip on your hair was firm yet controlled, a reminder of the power he wielded over you. The sharpness of his warning sent a jolt through you, igniting a mix of fear and excitement.
“I... I’m sorry,” you stammered, your breath shaky as you tried to regain your composure. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Do that once more and I won’t touch you again, I’ll give you to one of my men. Do you want that?”
The weight of his words settled heavily in the air, a reminder of the stakes involved. You could feel the heat of embarrassment flooding your cheeks, but it was quickly replaced by a deep-seated need for his approval. The thought of disappointing him was far more terrifying than the idea of punishment.
“Now,” he said, releasing his hold on your hair but still leaning forward, his presence overwhelming, “Show me that you can be the good girl I know you can be.” There was an edge to his tone that made your stomach flip, a challenge wrapped in a promise.
Nodding slightly, you took a deep breath, reminding yourself of the delicate balance you had to maintain. You could do this. You could earn his affection and approval. You leaned in closer once more, eyes locked onto his, feeling the pulse of desire thrumming between you.
With renewed determination, you took him back into your mouth, moving slowly at first, allowing your tongue to swirl around him in languid strokes. You could feel the tension in the air, the silent understanding that every movement you made was a testament to your willingness to submit completely to him. You focused on doing it right, savouring the way his body reacted, the way his breath hitched as you worked your mouth around him.
You couldn’t help but grin slightly as you ran your tongue along his shaft.
“You think this is funny?” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lips with a possessive touch. “You think you’re in control here?” The amusement in his voice was gone, replaced with a low, simmering intensity that made your pulse quicken.
Before you could respond, Sukuna yanked you up, pulling you to your feet with a force that left your heart racing. He spun you around again, pressing your back against the wall, his chest flush against your front as his hands roamed over your body. The roughness of his touch sent shivers down your spine, your skin tingling with the mix of pleasure and dominance that radiated from him.
“Let’s see how long you can hold on to that defiance,” he whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. His hand slid down to your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel the full weight of his cock pressing against your stomach. “You’ll break eventually. You always do.”
Your body responded instinctively to his dominance as you clenched your thighs together. Sukuna was testing your limits, pushing you to the brink of submission, and you knew that the game you had started was far from over. The tension between you crackled like electricity, the air thick with the promise of what was to come.
He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand as his other hand travelled down your body, his touch rough and demanding. His smirk widening as he saw the way your chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths, your defiance crumbling under the weight of his dominance.
"Is this what you wanted?" he growled, his voice thick with lust and dominance. "To be at my mercy? To feel my power over you?"
You could only whimper in response, your body trembling with desire as Sukuna’s fingers danced over across your breasts, playfully rolling your nipples between his fingers, tugging them slightly, teasing you but never giving you the satisfaction you craved. He smirked, clearly enjoying the way you squirmed beneath him, the control he held over you absolute.
"You don’t get to decide when I reward you," he grumbled, "I do."
Sukuna’s hand tightened around your wrists, his grip firm but not painful as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me who you belong to," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, filled with an authority that made your heart race.
You swallowed hard, your defiance wavering under the weight of his dominance. "You," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desire. "I belong to you."
Sukuna’s lips crashed down on yours, the kiss rough and demanding, filled with the intensity of his dominance. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, pulling a moan from your throat as he claimed your mouth with brutal precision. His hands explored your curves, gripping your hips, your thighs, your ass that was still sore, as if he was staking his claim on every inch of you.
With each deliberate breath, you steadied yourself, your heart racing as you mentally prepared for the brutal onslaught of his strength. You knew what was coming—the way he would thrust into you with a force that left you gasping, the raw power behind every movement. The pleasure and pain that would mingle into a heady mixture, overwhelming your senses until there was nothing left but him.
The anticipation was almost too much to bear, your body aching for the release you knew only Sukuna could give. His fingers trailed down your back, a possessive touch that claimed you inch by inch, as if reminding you that you were his to do with as he pleased.
And then, without warning or any preparation he thrust into you with a brutal force that knocked the air from your lungs. Your hands clung to his shoulders, struggling to maintain your balance as Sukuna’s body slammed into yours, the sound of flesh against flesh echoing in the chamber.
You were thankful that seeing him like this had you already soaked, else that stretch would’ve been a lot more painful with his size.
He didn’t hold back. Each thrust was powerful, relentless, his hips driving into yours with a ferocity that left you gasping. The intensity of it was overwhelming, his movements claiming you completely, pushing you past the point of pleasure and into a realm where pain and ecstasy became one.
Your body rocked against the wall, your breath coming in ragged, desperate pants as Sukuna’s pace only quickened. The sheer force of his movements left you clinging to the stone for support, your legs trembling with the effort of keeping yourself upright. He hooked a hand under your leg as he lifted you up slightly to get a better angle, your walls clenching around his cock every time he drove it in.
"Look at you," he growled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Already falling apart."
His hand tightened on your hips as he leaned down, his lips brushing against the side of your neck. "You’re my favourite," he hissed, his breath hot against your skin. "So don’t give me reason to neglect you."
Every punishing thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, building higher and higher until it was almost too much to bear. The heat between you intensified, your bodies moving in perfect, brutal sync, the rhythm of your connection raw and primal.
"You feel that?" Sukuna’s voice was a low, dangerous growl in your ear as he brought his other hand to your belly, his hand over the bulge he was causing. "You will never feel this anywhere else.”
He drove into you with even greater force, his body demanding your submission with every movement. And as the pleasure built to a fever pitch inside you, your mind blanked, consumed by the sheer intensity of what he was doing to you.
Sukuna’s thrusts became more brutal, more relentless with each passing second. The intensity of his movements left you breathless, your body barely able to keep up with the raw, savage force of him. The cold stone of the wall pressed against your back, and his hand on your leg, the only thing holding you upright as Sukuna claimed you with an aggression that sent shivers through your entire being.
His hands gripped your hips with a bruising force, pulling you into him with every movement, demanding your full surrender. The overwhelming pleasure mingled with a burning ache that left you trembling, each sensation more intense than the one before.
"Is this what you wanted?" Sukuna growled, his voice thick with both anger and lust. "You wanted to test me? Thought you could defy me, hmm?"
His tone was sharp, laced with danger, and each word only made your pulse race faster. You could feel the fury in his movements, the way he drove into you with a punishing rhythm that left you gasping for air. Your mind spun, the pleasure so overwhelming it was hard to think straight, but through the haze of sensation, you realised the truth: you’d pushed him too far.
"I'm sorry," you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sounds of his body slamming into yours. "I'm sorry, Sukuna… I didn’t mean—"
Before you could finish, he thrust into you harder, his hand yanking your hair back so that your head snapped up, forcing you to meet his eyes as he leaned over you. His gaze burned with fury and satisfaction, and the sight of it made your stomach flip.
"Oh, you’re sorry now, are you?" he hissed, his breath hot against your ear. "Begging for forgiveness already? Pathetic."
His hips slammed into yours again, the brutal pace leaving you reeling, the sheer force of his movements pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You cried out, your fingers digging into the stone wall as you tried to brace yourself against the onslaught of pleasure and pain.
"Please," you gasped, your voice trembling as his relentless thrusts made it hard to speak. "I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean to—"
But Sukuna wasn’t interested in your apologies. If anything, your desperate pleas only seemed to drive him further, his pace quickening, the heat between you growing unbearable. His hand snaked around your throat, gripping it just tightly enough to make you aware of his control, his dominance over you absolute.
"You think I care about your sorry little words?" Sukuna growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You think an apology is going to stop me now?"
His grip on your neck tightened just enough to make your breath hitch, and you could feel your body responding, the ache between your legs growing more intense with every punishing thrust. His pace was faster now, the rhythm of his hips brutal, leaving you no time to catch your breath as he took you harder, faster.
Your body was on fire, each thrust pushing you further into a dizzying spiral of pleasure that made it impossible to think of anything but him. Every time you tried to form words, they were swallowed by gasps and cries of pleasure, your mind barely able to keep up with the sheer intensity of what Sukuna was doing to you.
"I’m sorry," you whimpered again, your voice breaking as he pounded into you, the force of his movements overwhelming every sense. "I… I won’t disobey again… I promise…"
Sukuna’s hand moved from your throat to your waist, pulling you back into him with a bruising grip as he sped up even more, the wet sound of your bodies crashing together filling the air. His breathing was ragged now, and you could feel the heat of his skin against yours, the way his body enveloped you, completely dominating you.
"Is that so?" he snarled, his voice thick with satisfaction as he drove into you harder. "You’re sorry now… but it’s too late for that."
His hips slammed into yours with a ferocity that made your legs shake, your entire body trembling as he took you mercilessly. You could barely keep yourself upright, every muscle in your body tensing with the effort of staying grounded under the relentless onslaught of his thrusts, your pussy welcoming him in with every movement of his cock, it was embarrassing how much your body betrayed you.
"I’ll make sure you remember this," he growled, his breath hot against your skin as his pace became almost punishing. "Next time you think about disobeying me, you’ll remember exactly what happens."
Sukuna's grip tightened as he drove into you with merciless abandon, his pace unrelenting as your body quaked beneath him. The overwhelming sensation was pushing you closer and closer to the edge, your muscles tensing in anticipation of release. But just as you felt that familiar surge of pleasure coil tighter, ready to snap, Sukuna suddenly pulled back, leaving you teetering on the brink, your pussy clenching around nothing at the loss.
Your breath hitched, a desperate whimper escaping your lips as the pleasure was ripped away from you. He slowed his movements, rolling his hips with an agonisingly deliberate pace, teasing you with just enough sensation to keep you trembling but never enough to send you over.
"S-Sukuna," you gasped, your voice trembling with need, your body aching for the release that had been so cruelly denied. "Please... please, I—"
He cut you off with a low, mocking laugh, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you still, his chest pressed against your back. The heat of his body was suffocating, his presence overwhelming as he leaned down to speak directly into your ear.
"You really think you deserve to come after all that?" he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. "After the way you acted? You don’t get to have what you want."
You whimpered again, your body trembling with frustration as Sukuna slowed his thrusts to a maddening crawl, each movement deliberate, calculated to keep you on edge without ever granting you the release you so desperately craved.
His hands moved from your hips to your thighs, spreading you wider as he pushed his cock deeper inside, filling you completely with slow, torturous strokes. Your breath came in shallow gasps, every nerve in your body strung tight with anticipation, but no matter how hard you tried to chase that elusive climax, Sukuna remained in control.
"I’m the one who decides when you get to come," he growled, his voice dark and commanding. "And you haven’t earned it today."
He increased the pace only slightly, enough to send another wave of pleasure through you, but still holding you just at the edge of satisfaction. You could feel him nearing his own release, his breathing becoming heavier, his thrusts more forceful, but even as his body tensed with his impending climax, he refused to let you finish.
"Look at you," he mocked, his voice filled with dark amusement. "Begging for something you’re not even worthy of."
Sukuna’s rhythm grew faster, his hips snapping into you with an intensity that sent you reeling. The heat between your bodies built to a fever pitch, his ragged breaths mingling with your gasps as you clung to the edge of control. You could feel yourself spiralling toward the brink of release, your entire body tensing, desperate to fall over that edge. But just as the pleasure began to crest, Sukuna let out a low, guttural growl, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his peak.
With one last deep thrust, he groaned, his body stilling as he spilled into you, his grip on your hips tightening with possessive force. His cum shot out, thick streams of white painting your walls, a neverending load it felt like with how prolonged it was. His breath came in hot, uneven pants against your skin, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he rode out his climax. You could feel the heat of him inside you, the weight of his release, but the moment your own release seemed within reach, Sukuna stopped moving completely.
You whimpered, the need still burning fiercely in your core, your body quaking with the intensity of being left teetering on the edge. You tried to grind against him, desperate for that final push, but his hands clamped down on your hips, holding you in place. The realisation hit you hard — he really wasn’t going to let you finish.
"Sukuna... please," you gasped, your voice strained, body trembling with unfulfilled need. "I-I need to—"
He chuckled darkly, pulling back just enough to look down at you, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, you thought I’d change my mind?" His voice was thick with amusement, utterly unapologetic. "Not this time."
You moaned in frustration, your body still pulsing with the aftershocks of his rough pace, the pleasure so close yet just out of reach. Sukuna’s grip on your hips remained firm as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.
"You're lucky I let you have this much," he growled, the tone of his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Maybe next time you’ll think twice before misbehaving."
He pulled out slowly, his absence leaving you feeling unbearably empty, your body still throbbing with unsatisfied need. He watched you squirm beneath him, clearly revelling in your frustration, a twisted smile playing on his lips.
Sukuna’s dark chuckle echoed in the room as he loomed over you, watching the frustration play across your features. You could feel your body trembling with the intensity of everything left unresolved, a quiet whine escaping your throat as you tried, one last time, to reach for him. But before you could make any move, he shifted, his hand coming to rest atop your head.
The touch was shockingly gentle, a contrast to the roughness you’d just endured, as he stroked your hair almost… fondly. You glanced up at him, confusion flickering across your face, but Sukuna’s expression was one of twisted amusement.
"Don’t pout," he murmured, still smirking as he patted your head in that condescending way. "I’m not so heartless as to leave you completely unsatisfied." His voice dripped with mockery, but there was an underlying promise there—something dark and teasing.
You bit your lip, your heart still racing, unsure what he meant. Did he intend to give you an orgasm after all? Yet instead of returning his hands to your body, he let them slide away, leaving you even more bewildered.
With a casual shrug, Sukuna stood, towering over you, clearly savouring the sight of your needy, trembling form sprawled before him. As he moved toward the door, you caught his last remark.
"I’ll let you sleep in my chambers tonight," he tossed over his shoulder, his tone almost dismissive. "Consider that a kindness."
His words hung in the air, thick with his typical arrogance. Sleeping in his chambers meant you’d be close, within reach of him, and perhaps he’d allow more later. But it also meant the control still belonged to him, and you would have to wait, to endure.
He looked back at you once more, that cruel, satisfied grin still etched on his face. "See? I’m not entirely heartless," he teased, the sarcasm in his voice unmistakable.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving you to gather yourself, the heat of your desire still thrumming in your veins. His presence lingered even after he was gone, the promise of what might come next hanging over you like a heavy, tantalising shadow.
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plutonianeris · 19 days ago
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Venus in Synastry Vibes 💋
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how they look 💋
VENUS IN THE 1ST HOUSE (Synastry): Instant attraction, irresistible charm, heart eyes from the first moment, can’t stop staring, magnetic pull, finding you beautiful in every way, wanting to be close, admiring your style, feeling like you’re perfect just as you are, complimenting everything about you, getting dressed up for each other, chemistry you can feel across the room, drawn to your looks and presence, falling in love with your face, sweetness overload, romantic gestures, you’re their muse, always noticing your beauty first, can’t keep their eyes off you, wanting to be seen together, walking hand-in-hand like a power couple.
VENUS IN THE 2ND HOUSE (Synastry): Luxury dates, showering you with gifts, spoiling each other, touching velvet, soft skin, sensual touch, wining and dining, cooking together, indulging in life’s pleasures, feeling valued, wanting to show off their wealth or style for you, designer bags and perfume, deep appreciation for each other’s values, romantic comfort, cuddling in silk sheets, music that sets the mood, sweet gestures, both wanting security and stability in love, building something valuable together, sharing love languages that speak through physical pleasure and comfort, being each other’s prized possession.
VENUS IN THE 3RD HOUSE (Synastry): Flirty texts, long conversations, love letters, sending memes that make you laugh, intellectual connection, cute nicknames, endless DMs, talking for hours about anything and everything, teasing each other, finishing each other’s sentences, playful banter, deep talks over coffee, loving the way they speak, sharing ideas and inside jokes, your mind is so attractive, learning together, bonding over shared interests, meaningful small talk, being each other’s best friend, planning cute weekend getaways, feeling understood and seen on a mental level, compliments that feel personal and thoughtful.
VENUS IN THE 4TH HOUSE (Synastry): Cozy nights in, homebody vibes, soul-deep connection, feeling like family, creating a space of love together, nesting, intimate dinners at home, nurturing each other, emotional security, feeling safe in their arms, designing a beautiful home together, getting sentimental, meeting the parents, longing for forever, heartfelt conversations by the fire, staying in bed all day, decorating your space together, love that feels like home, looking at each other like you’re the missing piece, sharing memories, understanding each other’s deepest needs, love that’s quiet and soft but deeply fulfilling.
VENUS IN THE 5TH HOUSE (Synastry): Playful love, let’s fall in love every day, romantic dates, fireworks, spontaneous fun, dancing like no one’s watching, lots of flirting, love that feels exciting, grand romantic gestures, creative passion projects, a movie-worthy love story, constantly making each other laugh, wanting to make every moment a party, laughing until your stomach hurts, passion for life together, artsy dates, endless fun, chasing thrills, stealing kisses in the rain, romantic drama, making love like it’s your first time, over-the-top dates, Instagram couple vibes, inspiring each other’s creativity, loving big and bold, you’re my muse energy.
VENUS IN THE 6TH HOUSE (Synastry): Acts of service, love through the little things, cooking dinner together, making each other’s life easier, “I’ll help you with that,” running errands as a love language, planning your day around each other, taking care of each other’s health, love that’s practical but sweet, finding beauty in daily routines, loving their work ethic, everyday love, sweet habits that show you care, building a healthy, balanced life together, gym dates, quiet and supportive love, showing love through reliability, organizing things for each other, a forever teammate, “I’ll take care of you when you’re sick” energy.
VENUS IN THE 7TH HOUSE (Synastry): Marriage material, ideal partner energy, deeply romantic and balanced, seeing each other as the one, perfect harmony, naturally knowing how to please each other, love feels destined, instant commitment vibes, long-term relationship potential, mutual adoration, being the couple everyone envies, feeling like equals, a relationship that’s all about partnership and compromise, power couple goals, loving with grace, wanting to be together all the time, love that feels like a true partnership, “we’re in this together,” ride or die vibes, mutual respect, planning a future together, love that feels like a forever promise.
VENUS IN THE 8TH HOUSE (Synastry): Intense attraction, soul-deep passion, emotional depth, merging into one, can’t stop thinking about each other, obsession-level connection, transformative love, secrets and intimacy, power dynamics, intense sexual chemistry, desire that consumes, dark romance, deep emotional healing through love, love that’s magnetic, addictive, raw vulnerability, feeling like no one else exists, soul-bonding, love that strips away all pretense, passion so intense it hurts, a pull that’s impossible to resist, craving each other’s presence, profound transformation, making love with soul-stirring intensity, death-and-rebirth vibes.
VENUS IN THE 9TH HOUSE (Synastry): Wanderlust love, travel adventures, road trips, learning from each other, philosophical discussions, bonding over shared beliefs, passport stamps and late-night talks, love that feels like freedom, exploring the world together, expanding each other’s horizons, chasing sunsets, spontaneous trips to new places, gypsy love, falling for their open-mindedness, being each other’s greatest teachers, a shared sense of adventure, falling in love with new cultures, soul-searching together, planning a future filled with travel and learning, love that breaks boundaries, passion for life and all its mysteries.
VENUS IN THE 10TH HOUSE (Synastry): Power couple vibes, love that’s public, being seen together, sharing your successes, admiring each other’s work ethic, your success is my success, building an empire together, boss couple, supportive in each other’s careers, being proud of your achievements, love that’s respected by others, social status, ambition as a love language, public displays of affection, feeling like you’re each other’s biggest fan, love that boosts your confidence and reputation, building something meaningful together, being each other’s support system, admiration for your professional life, legacy-building romance.
VENUS IN THE 11TH HOUSE (Synastry): Best friends in love, social butterflies together, bonding over shared dreams, adventurous love, supporting each other’s goals, going to parties and events as a couple, you’re my best friend, making the world better together, socializing and networking as a duo, inspiring each other’s individuality, love that’s unconventional and free, planning future dreams together, being part of each other’s social circles, powerful friendship turned to love, long talks about changing the world, group dates, planning big ideas for the future, love that feels like a collaboration of souls.
VENUS IN THE 12TH HOUSE (Synastry): Secret love, hidden feelings, soul connection, spiritual romance, love that’s felt more than shown, quiet but intense attraction, you complete me, love that exists on a different plane, seeing into each other’s souls, unspoken understanding, a karmic bond, past life vibes, dreamy love, meeting in your dreams, deep, mystical connection, a love that’s hard to define, healing each other’s wounds, love that transcends the physical world, feeling like you’ve known each other forever, secret glances, unspoken chemistry, connection that’s private and profound, love that feels otherworldly.
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what they sound like ❤️‍🔥
VENUS IN THE 1ST HOUSE (Synastry): The House Person feels immediately noticed, like they’re glowing in Venus’ presence. They feel more beautiful, more confident, like they’ve stepped into the spotlight without even trying. The Venus person makes them feel seen and adored for who they are, just by existing. The Venus Person will say, “You’re so magnetic, I can’t take my eyes off you. Everything about you is perfect.” Venus is in awe of the House person’s appearance and the way they carry themselves, admiring their beauty on every level.
VENUS IN THE 2ND HOUSE (Synastry):The House Person feels cherished and valued, like Venus sees their worth beyond just the surface. They might feel more secure or comfortable, sensing Venus’ desire to create stability and pleasure together. “I feel safe around you,” they think. The Venus Person will say, “You deserve to be spoiled, you’re worth everything.” Venus wants to shower the House person with gifts, compliments, and affection, making them feel treasured and adored.
VENUS IN THE 3RD HOUSE (Synastry): The House Person feels understood on a mental level, like Venus just gets them. Conversations flow easily, with Venus always knowing the right thing to say to make the House person feel seen. They think, “Talking to you feels so natural.”The Venus Person will say, “You’re so interesting, I could listen to you talk forever.” Venus is endlessly intrigued by the House person’s mind, finding beauty in the way they communicate and share their ideas.
VENUS IN THE 4TH HOUSE (Synastry):The House Person feels emotionally safe, like Venus sees the real, raw parts of them and loves them even more for it. They think, “I feel like I could build a life with you.” Venus brings a nurturing, homey vibe, creating a cozy emotional space. The Venus Person will say, “You feel like home to me.” Venus feels deeply connected to the House person’s emotional world, finding beauty in their vulnerability and wanting to protect and care for them.
VENUS IN THE 5TH HOUSE (Synastry):The House Person feels like they’re starring in a romantic movie, with Venus constantly lighting up their world with joy and passion. They think, “You make life feel so fun and exciting.” Venus awakens their creativity and sense of romance. The Venus Person will say, “You bring out my playful, romantic side.” Venus sees the House person as someone who inspires endless fun, joy, and creative expression, wanting to shower them with affection and spontaneous romantic gestures.
VENUS IN THE 6TH HOUSE (Synastry):The House Person feels cared for in the small, everyday ways, like Venus is always there to lend a helping hand. They think, “You make my life easier without even trying.” Venus makes them feel seen through acts of service.The Venus Person will say, “Let me take care of you.” Venus is drawn to making the House person’s daily life smoother, whether through practical help or by creating a sense of order and comfort in their routines.
VENUS IN THE 7TH HOUSE (Synastry): The House Person feels like they’ve found their perfect match, someone who understands their need for balance and partnership. They think, “You’re everything I’ve been looking for.” Venus feels like a true counterpart, an equal partner. The Venus Person will say, “You’re my ideal partner.” Venus sees the House person as the embodiment of everything they’ve ever wanted in a relationship, wanting to commit and build a life together.
VENUS IN THE 8TH HOUSE (Synastry): The House Person feels drawn into the depths, experiencing an intense emotional and physical connection with Venus. They think, “You stir something in me that no one else can.” Venus touches their soul, creating an almost magnetic pull. The Venus Person will say, “I can’t get enough of you.” Venus is deeply fascinated by the House person’s intensity and depth, wanting to explore every layer of them, emotionally and physically, over and over again.
VENUS IN THE 9TH HOUSE (Synastry): The House Person feels like Venus expands their world, opening them up to new ideas, experiences, and adventures. They think, “You make me feel free and alive.” Venus encourages them to dream bigger and explore more. The Venus Person will say, “You inspire me to see the world differently.” Venus feels uplifted by the House person’s openness and curiosity, wanting to explore life’s deeper meanings together and travel the world hand in hand.
VENUS IN THE 10TH HOUSE (Synastry):The House Person feels admired and respected by Venus, like their goals and ambitions are truly seen. They think, “You make me feel like I’m capable of achieving anything.” Venus supports their aspirations and boosts their confidence.The Venus Person will say, “I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.” Venus is drawn to the House person’s ambition and sense of responsibility, wanting to be their biggest supporter and help them shine in the public eye.
VENUS IN THE 11TH HOUSE (Synastry):The House Person feels like they’ve found a best friend in Venus, someone who shares their dreams and ideals for the future. They think, “You make me feel like I’m not alone in my visions.” Venus inspires their sense of community and friendship.The Venus Person will say, “You’re not just my lover, you’re my best friend.” Venus sees the House person as someone they can dream with, someone who shares their vision for a future that’s unique and different from the rest.
VENUS IN THE 12TH HOUSE (Synastry): The House Person feels an almost mystical connection to Venus, like there’s something deeper and unspoken between them. They think, “You understand me in ways I don’t even understand myself.” Venus touches their subconscious in profound ways. The Venus Person will say, “I feel like we’re connected on a soul level.” Venus feels drawn to the House person’s hidden depths, sensing that there’s more beneath the surface and wanting to explore the spiritual, unseen aspects of their connection.
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worldsfinestknights · 2 years ago
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Barbara Gordon Tag Drop
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kurooh · 4 months ago
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HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY 🔥🥰
I truly love your work I was wondering if you can do more MHA men and how they would be like if fem reader was famous (model, actress , artist etc) have a great rest of your day❤️❤️❤️
BEGGIN’ ON HER KNEES TO BE POPULAR ! — BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA
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⊹₊˚. you’re his celebrity crush. (still, even after you started officially dating)
⟡ feat. aged up! midoriya izuku, todoroki shōto, kirishima eijirou, kaminari denki, takami keigo.
⟡ warnings: 18+ content (mdni), f! reader, some fluff, all characters & reader are 25+, quirkless/modern au, different au’s for each character, brainrot post.
⟡ xoxo, juno: omg nonnie this req is absolutely brilliant. thank you for the birthday wishes!! 💓
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being a dancer/performer means your limbs are always a little achy or tight, and that’s where izuku comes in to help you stretch out. in other words, he fucks you in every position possible until you’re melting beneath him. he’ll attend all your performances and cheer, the loudest in the audience.. he’s almost gotten kicked out a few times. izuku’s always observing you, especially when you dance, and so he sweeps you into his arms after dinner, then slow dances with you.
shōto poses nude for you and sits pretty as you paint him onto your canvas, meticulously capturing the slopes and curves of his body. you’re the artist, and he’s your muse — even after years of painting him clothed or nude, he still gets hard from just your eyes on him. after a painstakingly long time spent correcting and coloring, you finally stand and give his drooling cock the attention it deserves.
denki’s a renowned singer, and you’re his groupie. despite the rumors of all the women he’s been with, you’ve come to learn that they were untrue. the second he saw you in the audience cheering, he decided to invite you backstage. then he started giving you free concert tickets to every show; it only progressed from there. so many of his fans are jealous, but he doesn’t care. if he could, he’d fuck your brains out right in front of them. denki helped make you famous by recording your voice and your moans in the studio, then he added them into his songs.
eijirou’s friends are tired of hearing about you all the time— all he does is rave about his beautiful model girlfriend and show pictures of her. he loves to participate in your social media posts and monitor the comment sections, etc. sometimes eijirou leaves one too many marks along your body (your boss hates him), or fucks you until you can barely walk just because. occasionally your instagram posts and sfw rating amps up when eijirou takes your phone and posts something a little suggestive about you two.
your most popular movie received worldwide attention, and even more when the truth about you and your costar, keigo, got out. you couldn’t escape the relationship questions all over social media or in interviews once everyone learned you’d hated each other behind the scenes, yet had unmistakable chemistry on screen. unbeknownst to the audience, you’d only maintained the chemistry with him because of some quick fucks before and after shooting. of course, it’s not like the sex stopped after filming and production— you’re still secretly seeing each other, practically dating now. your fans often ignore or wonder about the blank instagram account that likes to call you theirs in comments below your posts in response to others.
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jezebelblues · 22 days ago
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slowpoke | h.s
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summary: harry passes the lime torch to his son. or in which you teach your son how to ride a bike.
cw: fem!reader, literally sickeningly sweet dadrry. (also unedited)
word count: approx 3.1k
| dadrry never fails to cheer me up fr. i hope everyone’s doing alright in light of today, please take it easy.
— as a dv victim myself, i understand how the news of liam’s passing can be a really conflicting feeling to struggle with if you’ve experienced dv. please know i can be an outlet, and ur not alone. <3 ash
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october, 2023 | london
The air was crisp, tinged with the scent of damp leaves and earth, as the soft sounds of autumn filled the neighborhood streets. Fallen leaves crunched beneath shoes, and the occasional gust of wind sent orange and gold spiraling through the air. In the distance, the hum of city life could be heard faintly, but here, in the quiet of their neighborhood, it felt like a peaceful little bubble in the midst of the bustling world.
YN stepped outside, adjusting her scarf that Anne knitted herself for her birthday last year. Harry followed close behind, his eyes shining with excitement, a grin lighting up his face. His curls tussled in the wind, his hand held tight on his son’s hand. His fifth birthday had just passed in May, and Atlas, their boy, was finally ready to take off the training wheels. Harry, ever the doting father, was already emotional prior to this evening—realizing his baby was ready for a big-boy bike already. His dimples crater his cheeks, the other hand gripping the handle of the small lime green bike, just the right size for Atlas’ small frame.
“This is going to be fun, bub.” He grinned, bending down to look into his son’s wide eyes. “Jus’ like Daddy’s bike, yeah?”
Atlas looked up at Harry, a glimmer of excitement mixed with nerves evident in his expression. “It’s the same color!” He mused, his voice tinged with wonder as he examined the bike again. His little fingers ran along the frame, tracing the lime green paint.
YN smiled at the two of them, her heart swelling. Harry had always loved his bike, the one he had ridden around Italy so many times, and now, here he was, passing that same joy to their son. “Do you remember how much daddy rides his bike around?” She asked, squatting down to his level and gently brushing a stray curl away from his face.
The boy nodded, his eyes lighting up. “He goes really fast! Will I go fast too?”
“We’ll take it slow first, mate.” Harry chuckled, a pang in his chest from the boy’s eagerness to grow up so fast. First was the bike, next was his eighteenth birthday. “You’ll be zooming around in no time.” He tossed his wife a wink, and she couldn’t help but grin back at him.
She looked down the street, a perfect place to practice—quiet and lined with trees, the leaves creating a soft, colorful carpet on either side. It was the kind of autumn day that felt timeless, like something out of a painting. The sunlight filtered through the branches, casting golden streaks onto the pavement.
Harry gave the bike a little jostle in his hands and then looked back at Atlas. “Alright, bubba. Let’s get you started—y’ready?”
He hesitated for a moment, chewing on his lip. He glanced up at his mom, seeking reassurance, to which she knelt beside him, her hand on his small shoulder. “You’ve got it, love. One pedal at a time, hm?”
“I don’t want to fall.” he whispered, his little hands gripping the handlebars of the bike as though they were his lifeline.
Harry crouched down beside him, his hand resting over his on the handlebar. “S’alright if you do. I’ve fallen loads of times, but guess what? Every time, I got back up. That’s what makes it fun. Falling down, getting back up, ‘nd trying again.”
She nodded, running small circles into her son’s back. “Daddy won’t let you fall, okay?”
Their boy looked between them, a flicker of courage dancing in his eyes, and nodded. “Okay, m’ready mama.”
Harry helped him position the bike in the middle of the street. He held it straight up for him, looking at him expectantly, but he hesitated.
His dark curls, so much like Harry’s, peeked out from underneath the spider-man helmet that seemed slightly too big for him. The helmet had been Harry’s doing, of course—safety was always the first priority. He tried to talk YN into letting him scour ebay for an old one direction helmet, but she shook her head with a laugh, insisting on either spider-man or luigi, his all time favorite characters.
Eyes that resembled his mother’s stared at Harry wide, his lips parted.
His eyebrows furrowed, lips pulling into a slight frown. “S’wrong Attie?”
He shrugged, casting a nervous glance toward YN who only smiled and sent him a thumbs up. With a deep breath, his fingers traced the handlebars, gazing up at his father. “Will y’show me again, dad?”
Harry grinned, a breathy chuckle falling from his lips as he nodded. He threw his leg over the bike that sat far too low beneath him. Atlas smiled widely as his dad unstrapped the helmet from his mess of curls, placing it on his own. He couldn’t get it to buckle, and it sat loosely upon him, if he were to tip his head it would surely fall off.
The boy giggled, running off to stand against his mother’s legs as she combed her fingers through his locks. Harry lowered into the seat, his knees nearly scraping the ground as he pedaled. He kicked off into a circle, wobbling purposely. “See, even y’old man has to practice a bit!” He smiled, making a loop around the ones he loved most in this world. He mocked a clumsiness that he had hoped would ease his son, and it did, as he fell into a fit of giggles. As Harry pedaled back to the start point, YN brushed some of Atlas’s curls from his ear, whispering, “You’re gonna go so much faster than him.”
He nodded enthusiastically, giddily running toward the bike his dad now sat off of. “Such a slowpoke, dad.” He grinned as Harry placed the helmet back onto his head, feigning offense as he buckled it under his chin. “Cheeky boy.” He murmured, gently pinching his cheek and wiggling his hand lightly, which cause his son to smile wider. Harry tugged on the helmet, making sure it was tight before he sat onto the bike. He held it steady as he climbed on, the boy’s legs wobbling as he tried to find balance.
Harry leaned down slightly, peering out toward the empty road in front of them. “Okay, high speed, m’gonna hold on while y’start pedaling. Don’t worry about steering jus yet, okay? I’ve got you.”
He made sure his feet were firmly on the pedals, his small frame looking both tiny and determined on the lime green bike as he nodded. Harry’s hands held the back of the seat steady while Atlas gripped the handlebars, his face scrunched up in concentration.
Atlas took a deep breath and began to push on the pedals, slowly at first, wobbly as he adjusted to the motion. Harry jogged alongside him, his large hands keeping the bike steady as he moved forward.
“Good job, Attie!” YN called from behind, watching as her son started to pick up the rhythm.
The boy smiled, and she could see the edges of his uncertainty melting away, replaced by the sheer joy of it. “M’doing it!” he squealed, the surprise in his voice making Harry chuckle.
“You are, baby!” His mother called back, walking quickly to keep up, her scarf fluttering in the breeze. “Look at you go!”
Harry let out an encouraging laugh as he continued running beside his boy, keeping the bike upright. “That’s it, Atlas! Keep going!”
He was pedaling faster now, but his hands were still shaky on the handlebars. His little body swayed as he tried to balance, but Harry was always right there, keeping him steady, making sure he felt safe.
After a few more feet, Harry spoke again, his tone calm and reassuring. “Alright, bub. M’gonna let go now, just for a second. I’ll be right here if y’need me.”
Atlas’s eyes widened, but he nodded. “Okay, daddy.”
Harry’s hands hovered over the seat for a moment, his steps slowing just slightly as he prepared to release his grip. Then, in a brief but powerful moment, Harry let go.
For a few glorious seconds, Atlas rode on his own. The bike wobbled a bit, but he was moving forward, his little feet pushing the pedals, his body balanced, and his face was lit up with pure delight.
“Faster than you, dad!” He yelled, his voice full of joy, and he could see the pride shining in his eyes.
But before YN could take another step, the inevitable happened. The bike tilted too far to one side, and despite Harry’s quick reflexes to grab it, Atlas tumbled to the ground in a flurry of leaves and laughter.
He was on him in an instant, kneeling beside him and lifting the bike off his small legs. “Y’alright, mate?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.
Atlas sat up, his cheeks flushed from the excitement and the fall, and for a split second, YN thought he might cry. But instead, he let out a breathless laugh, shaking the leaves from his jacket. “That was fun!”
She breathed out a sigh of relief and walked over to him, kneeling beside Harry. “You did amazing, sweetheart. That was so good!”
Atlas beamed up at his parents, his face full of pride despite the tiny scrape on his knee. “Can I do it again, mama?”
Harry grinned, ruffling his hair. “Of course, you can, buddy. Let’s get you back up.”
With Harry’s help, Atlas was back on the bike in no time, this time with even more determination in his eyes. His little body seemed more confident as he positioned himself, ready to try again. Harry stood beside him, keeping a steady hand on the seat for a few moments before slowly letting go, and this time, Atlas stayed up longer before wobbling.
His mom cheered him on from the side, her heart swelling with pride as she watched their son push past his initial nerves and embrace the thrill of riding. His laughter filled the street, echoing off the nearby houses, blending with the rustling of leaves overhead. It was the kind of sound they wanted to bottle up and keep forever.
Time passed in a blur of laughter, gentle falls, and moments of success. Harry’s patience never wavered, and YN couldn’t help but smile as she watched him guide their son with such care, the two of them bonding over each small victory.
At one point, Harry ran a few steps beside Atlas again, his eyes locked on his baby, a look of pure love and pride on his face. “You’re flying now, Atlas! Look at you!”
His grin stretched from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Just like you, Daddy! Look, m’fast like you!”
YN laughed, catching Harry’s gaze as he beamed back at you, his heart clearly bursting with pride. “He’s got your speed.”She teased. “Maybe more.”
“He’s got more than that,” Harry replied softly, his eyes lingering on Atlas before he fell to a brief stop, waiting on his wife to meet up with his strides. “Maybe a little of you too. I guess.”
And so, they continued—struggles of balance, wobbly starts, and triumphant rides that grew longer with each try. YN watched as Harry guided their son, his patience unwavering, their laughter filling the air, blending with the soft rustling of autumn leaves.
As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, Atlas rode one last lap, his helmet askew, his grin wide, leaves swirling in the air behind him. YN stood beside Harry, her heart swelling with love for the life they'd built, for the man beside her and the boy in front of her.
"Givin’ his old man a run for his money," Harry mused, slipping his arm around her waist as Atlas played in a pile of leaves, tossing them into the air with a squeal.
YN smiled, leaning into him, her fingers curling around his. "Got a kink in my back already."
Harry's arms tightened around her as his wife smiles, pulling her closer as they watched Atlas giggle, his small hands sending a flurry of golden leaves into the air. The sound of his laughter danced through the air, mixing with the rustle of the trees and the soft evening breeze.
"Y'know," Harry whispered, his lips brushing her ear, voice low and filled with warmth, "I've been thinking–.." He paused, glancing down at her with a soft, adoring smile before his gaze drifted back to their son. "It's hard to believe our little boy's getting so big."
YN's heart swelled at the tenderness in his voice.
"He's growing up too fast," she murmured, resting her head on his chest as they watched Atlas dart through the leaves, his laughter filling the air.
Harry's hand moved gently to rest on her stomach, a subtle but meaningful gesture. "Maybe it's time we gave him a sibling. What d'ya think?"
Her breath hitched slightly, her heart skipping a beat as she turned her head to look up at him. His green eyes were soft, filled with love and hope, the idea of another little one filling the space between them.
"You want another?" She asked gently, her own smile starting to bloom.
Harry's arms wrapped tighter around her, pulling her against him. "I do. I'd love nothing more than to see him running around with a little brother or sister. Just imagine–..”He trailed off for a moment, his voice taking on that playful tone she loved so much. “‘Nother little Styles running amuck.”
YN let out a soft laugh, butterflies in her belly at the thought. She imagined it—another tiny hand holding onto theirs, another set of wide eyes learning to ride a bike, another burst of giggles filling their home.
Atlas, still playing in the leaves, looked up at them, his cheeks flushed, his energy endless. Harry pressed a kiss to her temple as her lips parted. “Dunno if the world could handle three of you.”
He laughed, nibbling her earlobe as she shook in his grasp from a small giggle. YN felt her heart flutter as she leaned back into him, the thought of growing their little family filling her with joy. She turned in his arms, catching his lips in a soft, lingering kiss, before they both turned their gazes back to Atlas, who was still gleefully tossing leaves into the air. "I think you might be right," she whispered against his lips, feeling the warmth of his embrace as they both imagined the beautiful future ahead-one filled with more laughter, more love, and the promise of another little soul to share it all with.
Harry only drew a sharp inhale as he wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, wiggling her into a hug with her feet a few inches off the ground.
Just as they shared a soft, lingering kiss, lost in the tenderness of the moment, they heard the unmistakable sound of their son’s giggles. Harry eased her back onto the ground, as they both turned their heads in the direction of their son, just in time to see Atlas bounding toward them, his small arms full of crisp orange and reddened leaves. His cheeks were flushed pink from the chilly air and his recent excitement, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
His curls bounced with every run forward, his laughter bubbling up as he raced over, his tiny legs moving as fast as they could.
Before they could react, Atlas flung the pile of leaves up into the air with an exaggerated grunt, his tongue between his lips in focus, wanting to toss the leaves up high enough to reach them. A flurry of vibrant colors cascaded down over their heads, the leaves scattered across their shoulders, tangling in Harry’s curls and catching on YN’s scarf, all while Atlas’s laughter rang out loud and clear.
Harry feigned a gasp of shock, dramatically shaking his head to get the leaves out of his hair. “Oi! What’s this then, Attie? Attackin’ us with leaves, are ya?”
YN couldn’t help but laugh, her heart full as she shook off the leaves, her fingers brushing through Harry’s hair to remove a few stubborn ones. “Oh no! We’ve been caught in a leaf storm!” she teased, looking down at Atlas, who was now doubled over with giggles, clearly proud of his ambush.
With a playful growl, Harry lunged toward Atlas, scooping him up into his arms and spinning him around. “Y’think you can get away with that, huh?” he said, his voice filled with laughter as he squealed in delight, wriggling in his arms.
Atlas flailed with laughter, tiny hands grabbing at more leaves as Harry twirled him around. “M’leaves! More!”
YN grinned, quickly gathering a pile of leaves at her feet, and as soon as Harry set Atlas back down, she tossed them gently over both of them. “Got you both this time!”
Harry let out an exaggerated “Oof!” as the leaves fluttered around him and Atlas, catching in their hair and sticking to their coats. The boy’s eyes were wide with delight, and he scrambled to scoop up more leaves in his little hands, tossing them right back at YN. “Mama! Catch!”
Before long, all three of them were knee-deep in leaves, tossing them high into the air and letting them fall down like confetti. Harry knelt down beside Atlas, grabbing fistfuls of leaves and tossing them toward YN with a mischievous grin. “We’ll get her, bub!”
He followed his father’s lead, giggling as they both launched leaves toward YN, who pretended to shield herself, laughing as she stumbled backward, covered in the golden debris.
“Alright, alright! I surrender!” she cried, holding up her hands in mock defeat, but her laughter betrayed her as Harry came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her down into the soft pile of leaves they had created together.
With YN now nestled in Harry’s arms, Atlas climbed onto her lap, still giggling, his cheeks rosy from the crisp autumn air. His small hands grabbed at more leaves, sprinkling them over both his parents as they laughed together, completely lost in the moment.
The three of them lay there in the leaves for a few quiet seconds, the sound of their breathing soft, the laughter having died down into contented smiles. The rustle of the trees above, mixed with the occasional burst of wind, made the world around them feel distant and peaceful. Harry’s arm was wrapped securely around YN, while Atlas sprawled across them both, eyes twinkling with joy.
Atlas suddenly sat up after a beat, throwing a final handful of leaves into the air. “More leaves tomorrow, Mama?”
YN laughed softly, brushing a stray leaf from his curls. “Definitely more leaves tomorrow, Attie.”
Harry grinned, ruffling his son’s hair as Atlas wiggled between them. “But now we gotta help y’mum make dinner, yeah?”
And as the last bit of sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a golden glow over them, they shook themselves of the grass and leaves, trotting into their home with rumbling stomachs and full hearts.
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trappolia · 6 months ago
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SUNDAY IS FOR REST ── sunday x halovian!reader, 918
"do be careful, my dove," he murmurs as you straighten out the light feathers behind his ear.
"you haven't preened yourself in a while, have you?" your voice is soft, a hint of chiding to it that makes his heart flutter — there's a groggy rasp to your tone as well, having just stirred from your own dreams. sunday dares not look back at you, for there is a sweet domesticity to be found in the impression of rumpled bedsheets against your cheek and the heavy-lidded eyelids that make it known that you would love nothing more than to go back to sleep — proper sleep.
a hum resonates in sunday's chest as he allows himself to be fully immersed in the moment; early morning, messy hair and feathers, the sleepy press of lip against lip. his head tilts to the side, allowing greater access for you to tidy the feathers in question.
"you are correct. there's no need for me to do such preening in the dreamscape, though i prefer it when you offer your generous help," he replies, a mix of contentment and fondness pervading his voice.
"i'll help you only if you stay still," you grumble. your hands, which were straightening out his feathers, are now hovering just above them as sunday tries very hard not to shift in place again.
he cannot help it, truly. it is not just the factor that sunday is unused to, well, anyone touching something as intimate as his halovian wings, but also the fact that the slightest brush of your skin against his is a sensation like no other.
not that he would ever tell you, of course.
sunday nods, a silent affirmation that he will try his best to remain still, although a trace of a smile dances upon his lips. as you resume tending to his wings, each brush of your fingers brings a newfound appreciation for the sensation of your touch. he can feel the slight tingle, akin to electricity, every time your skin makes contact with his wings.
"my apologies," he murmurs, a chuckle slipping past his lips — as if he is not willing his chest to rise and fall rhythmically, having to manually breathe under your intimate ministrations. "i shall endeavour my utmost to be an inanimate statue. your wish is my command."
"haha," you say dryly.
in spite of your tone, sunday cannot help but chuckle at your jest. a cruel man he is, to find amusement in your grumpiness in the early morn. your nimble fingers gently untangle his feathers, and the sensation is a mix of tingles and warmth that spread across his wings. the act of having someone, especially someone he holds in such high esteem, tend to these parts of him that are reserved for only the most intimate moments is endearing, to say the least.
as you work, your movements deliberate and precise, your lover muses softly, "only you could make tending to feathers feel like a luxury."
"it is a luxury when you are not the one doing it yourself," you huff, hands moving around with practiced ease: smoothing a feather here, tugging a broken one out there.
sunday's chest rumbles with barely suppressed laughter at your huff of annoyance, but he remains true to his word and does all he can to keep still. his skin feels electrified with each brush of your touch, even more potent than before, and he wonders idly if it's because he's aware of how much effort you're taking in taking care of him. he is always the one caring and fussing, rather than being cared for and fussed over. it is strange, for the tables to be turnt. strange, had it been anyone else but you.
"perhaps," he manages to say between bouts of laughter, reaching back to catch one of your wrists and presses a chaste kiss upon it. "we could make a habit of this."
"is it truly proper of the head of the oak family to make a habit of keeping himself less than pristine?" you murmur.
how embarrassing; the passing thought occurs to sunday at your words. indeed, it is unbecoming for him, who stands at a position of such power and authority, to be so unkempt, so careless around you. it feels… freeing.
and so his response is a gentle tug upon your wrist, guiding your arms to wrap around his shoulders and link with his fingers. with a smile full of affection and a touch of teasing, he gently brushes his thumb over the tender flesh between your thumb and forefinger.
"i am simply indulging in the pleasure of being cared for," he answers in that same gentle rumble. "and if that means i am a tad bit less than pristine as a result, so be it."
"i suppose so," you hum, and from where sunday sits in between your legs, he feels you lean forward, hooking your chin over his shoulder. your own wings tickle his cheek, like a lover's kiss in the early morning. "preen me next?"
a low rumble resonates somewhere deep in his chest at the feeling of your breath against his neck. the closeness you've allowed between you is not something sunday takes lightly, and he relishes in it with every beat of his heart.
"with pleasure," he answers, unable to help the upwards tug of his lips as he squeezes your palms.
"let me take care of you, my dove — as you do to me."
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