#and she said she fell into a comforting darkness into a beautiful me

[littlestpersimmon]

Metamorphosis

[darkdemeter]

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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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

[honestsycrets]

starved | [miguel o'hara x reader]

❛ pairing | new papi!miguel x new mami!reader

❛ type | oneshot: explicit content

❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.

❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.

❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.

Miguel likes to work.

Or, he thinks he likes to work.

The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.

“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”

Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”

“My daughter isn’t your doll.”

“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”

“Peter.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”

“Y’know?”

“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.

“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”

“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”

He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.

Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.

His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.

He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.

Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up. "Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.

“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”

“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.

“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.

“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.

Are you, y'know, sex-starved?

“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.

“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”

If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.

“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.

“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”

Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”

Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.

“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”

It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.

The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.

Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.

“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”

Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.

“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”

“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.

“It’s a contusion.”

The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.

“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.

“You can’t keep taking out your—“

“I am not sex-starved!”

“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.

Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.

On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.

“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”

“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.

“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”

“Nothing.”

“Miguel--"

“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”

Mireya cried. So did you.

The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.

Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.

"Are you going to apologize?"

Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.

"I snapped."

"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."

You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.

When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.

Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.

Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.

“What are you thinking about?”

Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.

“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”

"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.

“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”

Undoubtedly yes.

“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"

"You're always tired."

"But you could wake me.”

“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.

“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“

Hmpf. Debatable.

“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.” You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.

“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”

“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.

"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."

“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."

“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”

“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”

“Miggy--”

He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.

“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.

“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”

“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.

You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.

He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.

After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.

“Hm? Why are you laughing?”

“Peter said I was sex-starved."

“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."

[leftoverpages]

Loyalty’s embrace

Pairing 𓅪 Benjicot "Davos" Blackwood x betrothed!reader

Tags 𓅪 jealous and protective Benjicot, small fight scene (no gore), fluff at the end, romance, reader uses she/her but no physical description

Notes: i have been writing for a while without posting anything so this is making me nervous lmaooo

Wordcount 𓅪 1.3k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

The grand ballroom of Blackwood Manor was awash with warm candlelight and the soft hum of conversation. The air was filled with the scent of roses and the clinking of crystal glasses. Lady Y/N stood at the edge of the room, a vision in her resplendent gown. Her dress, a masterpiece of crimson silk and midnight velvet, flowed around her like a river of fire and shadow. The bodice, embroidered with intricate patterns of gold thread, clung to her form, highlighting her grace and strength. Across her chest and shoulders, the Blackwood sigil was proudly displayed, a symbol of her new allegiance and her own fierce spirit.

The fabric shimmered in the candlelight, every movement sending ripples of light and shadow cascading over her. The skirt, full and layered, swirled around her feet like a tempest, the deep red contrasting beautifully with the inky black. A delicate gold chain rested at her throat, drawing attention to the elegant curve of her neck.

She stood there as her betrothed, Benjicot Blackwood, engaged in conversation with several lords and ladies. She found herself alone for the moment, sipping a glass of champagne and watching the festivities from afar.

Despite the grandeur, there was a nervous flutter in her stomach. Being betrothed to Benjicot, the fierce and enigmatic heir of House Blackwood, was both an honor and a daunting reality. Their engagement was more strategic than romantic, a union meant to strengthen alliances and secure power. Still, she had hoped to find some genuine connection with him, something to hold onto amidst the political machinations.

"Lady Y/N, you look ravishing tonight," a voice interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see Lord Cedric, a notorious flirt and known for his less-than-honorable intentions, standing far too close for comfort.

"Thank you, Lord Cedric," she replied, forcing a polite smile and taking a small step back.

He didn’t seem to notice—or care. "It's a shame you're tied down to Blackwood. A beauty like you deserves better," he said, his eyes raking all over her in a way that made her skin crawl.

"I am perfectly content with my betrothal, Lord Cedric," she replied firmly, trying to edge away. But Cedric persisted, moving closer, his hand reaching to touch her arm.

"Come now, Y/N, you can’t tell me you’ve never wondered what it would be like to be with someone else," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

Before she could respond, a strong hand gripped Cedric's wrist, pulling him away from her. "I believe the lady has made herself clear," Benjicot’s voice was low and dangerous, his dark eyes blazing with anger.

Cedric paled but tried to maintain his bravado. "I meant no harm, Blackwood. Just a bit of fun," he stammered, taking a step back.

Benjicot stepped between Cedric and Y/N, his posture tense and protective. "Your idea of fun is clearly misguided," he said coldly. "If I ever see you bothering her again, I will not be so forgiving."

Cedric sneered, his fear giving way to indignation. "And what will you do, Blackwood, uh? Throw me out of your pretty little ball?"

A dangerous glint appeared in Benjicot’s eyes. "No, Cedric. I’ll do much worse."

Before Cedric could react, Benjicot’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him staggering backward. The ballroom fell silent, guests suddenly turning to witness the confrontation. Cedric, recovering from the initial shock, lunged at Benjicot with a roar, swinging wildly.

Benjicot dodged, his movements controlled and precise. He landed another punch to Cedric's midsection, doubling him over. "You don’t know to quit, do you?" Benjicot muttered, grabbing Cedric by the collar and lifting him to his feet.

"Enough!" Cedric spat, struggling against Benjicot’s grip. "You think you can control everything? Even her?"

Benjicot’s eyes darkened further. "I don’t need to control her, Cedric. I trust her. Something you clearly don’t understand."

With that, Benjicot shoved Cedric away, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. Cedric, breathing heavily and bruised, glared up at him. "This isn’t over, Blackwood."

"It is," Benjicot replied coldly. "And if you value your life, you’ll stay away from her."

Guards approached then, at Benjicot’s silent command, hauling Cedric to his feet and escorting him out of the ballroom. The guests slowly resumed their conversations, the tension dissipating, but whispers of the altercation lingered.

Benjicot turned to Y/N, his expression softening as he reached out to her. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, but her composure faltered, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Thank you, Ben. I didn’t know what to do..."

He stepped closer, his hand tenderly cupping her cheek. "You never have to face such things alone. Not while I'm here."

Y/N looked up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity. Instead, she found a depth of concern and protectiveness that took her by surprise. She had always seen him as distant, a warrior hardened by duty, but now she glimpsed the man beneath the armor.

"Why do you care?" she asked softly, her voice trembling.

Benjicot sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I know our betrothal was arranged, but that doesn't mean I don't care for your well-being. I've come to admire your strength and grace, Y/N. I want us to be more than just a political alliance."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. She had longed for some indication that he felt more than obligation towards her. "I want that too, Ben," she whispered.

He smiled then, a rare, genuine smile that made her heart flutter. "Then let's make it so," he said, taking her hand in his. "Together."

As they stood there, hand in hand amidst the glittering ballroom, Y/N felt a warmth spread through her.

Benjicot glanced around the room, the tension in his shoulders easing. He looked back at Y/N, his eyes filled with a tender resolve. "May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice soft and inviting.

Y/N felt her breath catch. She nodded, unable to speak, and he led her to the center of the ballroom. The musicians, sensing the moment, began to play a slow, melodic waltz.

As they took their positions, Benjicot's arm encircled her waist, his hand warm and steady. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and he guided her with a grace that belied his warrior's demeanor. They began to move, their steps perfectly in sync, the world around them fading into a blur of light and sound.

The music swirled around them, a symphony of emotions. They glided across the floor, each step a silent conversation. Y/N felt as if they were floating, the dance a magical respite from the political intrigue and uncertainty that had shadowed their engagement.

Benjicot's eyes never left hers, their dark depths reflecting a myriad of emotions. In that moment, she felt a warmth spread through her chest, a burgeoning hope that perhaps their union could be more than just a strategic alliance.

The music swelled, and Benjicot spun her gracefully, her dress flaring out like a crimson and black flower. When they came back together, he held her a little closer, his gaze softening even further.

"I meant what I said," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want us to be more than a political alliance. I want to know you, Y/N. To truly understand you."

She smiled, her heart fluttering with a mixture of nerves and excitement. "And I want to know you, Ben."

As the final notes of the waltz echoed through the ballroom, they came to a gentle stop. The guests around them erupted into applause, but Y/N and Benjicot remained in their own world, their gazes locked.

"Thank you for the dance," Y/N said softly.

Benjicot brought her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles. "The pleasure was mine," he replied.

In that moment, surrounded by the approving smiles of their peers, Y/N felt something shift. The alliance they had been forced into was beginning to transform into something real, something hopeful.

The future was uncertain, but for the first time, she felt truly seen and protected. And perhaps, just perhaps, they could find love in each other’s arms.

[i2sunric]

gynecologist sunghoon who checks up on you and makes you think that the way he touches you is part of his job and that he needs to what the problem is with you down there with touching you like that. reader is naive and nonstop apologizes for moaning and for it making her feel good. eventually she realizes because she can’t be that dumb lmao and they both just enjoy in the end

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐓 (p.sh)

a/n: let me just make this a drabble cause i don’t have the inspiration to make it long. hope you like it tho <3

“Just relax.” Sunghoon’s voice soothed when you confessed that it was your first time at the gynaecologist “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

You slowly nodded, feeling ever so small and exposed, sitting on the chair “Okay, doc.”

He gave you a sheepish smile and tugged the waistband of your panties “Let me take this off for you, mh?”

You helped him by raising your hips as he slid them off your legs and gently folded onto the table beside you “Now, put your legs here.” He told you as he pointed at the small stands on the chair.

You complied “Good girl.” He murmured and with a knob, he parted your legs until he could rest comfortably between them “Is it okay?”

You took a deep breath and nodded , “Tell me.” Sunghoon’s deep voice made you shiver “It’s okay. You can continue.”

Sunghoon nodded and started the visit, his gaze fell on your pussy and fuck— if it wasn’t the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen.

Seriously, you were so perfect, from the way you squirmed as the cold air of the room hit your sensitive skin to how you seemed so oblivious of it clenching whenever his fingers brushed against it.

“You’re healthy.” He reassured you, watching as your shoulders finally ease, tension slipping out of your body.

“Thank you—“ You were about to say but he cut you in “I need to make some more investigations, is it okay for you?”

You nodded and as you met his dark gaze, you remember you had to tell him “It’s okay.”

“Great.” Sunghoon murmured and slowly brushed his finger against your clit, making your hips jerk at the contact.

“Sorry!” You exclaimed, taken aback by the foreign feeling your body reacted “S’okay.” Sunghoon smirked.

His finger kept brushing against it and he watched as your eyes grew half lidded at the feeling. He slowly gathered your juices “I need to check if it gets wet alright.” He said a shitty excuse and brushed his finger against your sensitive bud once more.

You let out a soft hum, though you weren’t sure if it was for the strange feeling or as a reply.

“Does it feel good?” He questioned, quickening his pace just a little “I need to know.”

He also knew that if someone ever found out what he was doing, he would be fired and maybe sent to court, but how could he resist when you were literally so innocent and oblivious to his nasty acts?

You nodded, your grip on the armchair growing ever so strong when you for the itch to reach for his hair and pull his head close to your pussy “Good.”

“Bet it does.” He tsked and looked up at your beautiful face, the way your eyes struggled to keep open and your mouth fell agape. Cheeks already flushed.

“And this?” Sunghoon asked and slipped one finger inside you, cursing under his breath at how tight you were.

You let out a moan and widened your eyes. You weren’t sure why but you didn’t think that was an appropriate act from Sunghoon.

“D-doc?” You said and moaned out loud when his single digit brushed against a certain spot that had you seeing stars. “Found it.” Sunghoon murmured.

“Doc!” You exclaimed, frustrated with yourself for feeling such strong pleasure “I— I don’t think you should be doing this.”

Of course, you were naive but not stupid.

“No, I shouldn’t.” His finger brushed against your g-spot again “Do you want me to stop.”

You let out a shaky breath, debating your answers. His skilled finger moved inside of you in such a perfect way that you couldn’t even think straight, your mind clouding blissfully.

Nobody had ever touched you that way, and you had only faintly heard about how good sex was. But that was your prepping and if it felt like heaven already, you could only imagine what the afterwards felt like.

“No.” You answered, arching your back in the chair “Don’t stop.”

“Fuck.” Sunghoon cursed at the eagerness in your voice and added a second digit, struggling to even make it fit.

“You’re so tight.” He commented, having to spit on your pussy to make it wetter, so that it wouldn’t hurt to thrust his digits inside of you.

You moaned, head falling back. You felt so full, so good.

“D-doc.” You murmured “Call me Sunghoon.” He demanded and you complied “Sunghoon!”

He felt you clenching around him “Fuck, you’re almost pushing me out at how tight you are.” He bit his bottom lip, feeling his pants growing restrained by the minutes ticking.

“Mh.” You hummed in pleasure, your back arching from the chair “Sunghoon..”

“Yes, Y/N?” He asked and the way his name rolled out of his tongue, so sinful, it made you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Feels funny.” You frowned and Sunghoon chuckled, knowing very well what you meant “Does it, now?”

His fingers rubbed against your spongy walls and thrusted in and out, trying to bring you closer to the edge.

You cried out as you felt a knot tighten in your stomach “Don’t stop.” You panted as pleasure started overtaking your senses.

“I won’t stop.” He reassured “Just let it go, baby.” Your eyes rolled back at his pace quickening, the squelching sounds of your wet pussy filling the whole room.

Fortunately, you were the last patient of the day and no one was most likely to be in the waiting room.

“Cum for me.” At his words your whole body squirmed in the sit, moaning out. Your orgasm washed you in a such a delicious way, little trembles rocked through you.

Sunghoon rode you out of your orgasm, his fingers still slowly moving inside of you until you calmed down and he slipped them out, making you moan at the loss.

He looked at his cum-coated digits and almost came on spot himself. He put them in his mouth and sucked them clean, humming at your sweet feeling.

“You even taste so good, don’t you?” He chuckled and got up, handing you back your panties.

“I told you it wouldn’t hurt.” You nodded, a little sweaty from the act.

Thank you, doc.” You blushed “For everything.”

Sunghoon just smirked at you “I’m looking forward our next meeting, Y/N.”

[liz-on-leash]

Secret Comeback

[Commissioned]

BLACKPINK × Male Reader (and the gang)

Rape, Hardcore, Gangbang, Girl On Girl (kinda), Oiled Up (kinda), Lots Of Creampie, Blackmail, Strangling And Choking, Breeding

5,758 Word

"Where... where are we?" Jisoo's voice trembled as she blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room. The last thing she recalled was lying on a massage table, relaxing under the skilled hands of a therapist, but now...

The room was unfamiliar, lit by soft red lights, giving it an eerie ambiance. Jennie, Rose, and Lisa were there too, just as confused and vulnerable.

Their once comfortable robes were now open, exposing their half-naked bodies, and their wrists were bound tightly behind their backs with coarse rope.

"What the hell is going on?" Lisa's usually confident tone was laced with fear. Her eyes darted around, taking in the disturbing sight of multiple cameras mounted on tripods, red recording lights glaring back at her.

You smirked, stepping into the room, followed by a group of men, your gang, all grinning with anticipation. "Welcome, ladies. I trust you were comfortable at our spa?"

The girls exchanged horrified glances, their eyes widening as they realized this was no ordinary spa.

"You bastard!" Jennie spat, recognizing you from the massage parlor. "What have you done to us?"

You laughed, a deep, menacing sound that sent shivers down their spines. "Oh, Jennie, my dear, you'll find out soon enough."

You approached Jisoo, your eyes roaming over her exposed body. She wore only a skimpy lace bra, barely containing her pert breasts, and a pair of tiny panties that did little to hide the curve of her plump ass. Her long dark hair fell in disarray around her shoulders, framing her beautiful face.

"Such a shame to waste those pretty mouths," you murmured, reaching out to stroke Jisoo's cheek with the back of your hand. She flinched, trying to pull away, but her bound wrists prevented any escape.

"Get your hands off me!" She struggled, but it only served to emphasize the jiggle of her breasts and the sway of her hips, drawing your attention to her luscious butt.

"Oh, but I think we'll find plenty of uses for those lips," you whispered, leaning in close. "And that gorgeous ass too." With that, you delivered a sharp smack to her right cheek, leaving a stinging red mark. Jisoo cried out, her eyes welling up with tears.

Meanwhile, your gang members had surrounded the other girls, leering at their exposed bodies. Jennie, always the feisty one, glared defiantly at the man in front of her, but her eyes betrayed her fear.

Rose, with her delicate features and slender frame, trembled as a burly man ran a rough hand over her thigh, inching closer to her core. Lisa, usually so composed, was breathing heavily, her chest heaving, as a gang member pinched her nipples through the sheer fabric of her bra.

"Time to have some fun, boys," you announced, signaling your gang to begin.

Two of your men approached Jisoo, one grabbing her by the waist and lifting her effortlessly, positioning her so she was bent over, her hands still tied behind her. Her breasts swayed with the movement, and her ass was presented to you, ripe and inviting.

"No! Ugh! let me go!" Jisoo whimpered, her voice muffled as one of the men stuffed a ball gag into her mouth, silencing her protests.

You stepped closer, running your hand gently over her exposed buttocks, feeling the warmth of her skin. With an eager smile, you squeezed her cheeks, spreading them apart, revealing her tight, pink pucker.

"Such a beautiful ass," you whispered, leaning down to bite gently on one flesh, eliciting a muffled moan from Jisoo.

The other man produced a bottle of massage oil, pouring a generous amount onto his hands before reaching forward to rub it onto Jisoo's ass. He massaged the oil into her skin, his fingers working their way down to her thighs, making her squirm.

"Enjoy the attention, sweetheart," you said, watching as he spread her ass, exposing her to your gaze. You couldn't resist leaning down to deliver another bite, this time on the inside of her thigh, close to her most intimate place.

As the man continued to work the oil into her skin, you stepped back, unzipping your pants and freeing your hardening cock. You were rock-hard, eager to claim this helpless beauty.

"Now, let's see how well she can take it," you said, positioning yourself behind Jisoo. With one hand on her hip and the other guiding your length, you thrust forward, penetrating her wetness in one slick motion.

Jisoo's muffled screams vibrated through the ball gag as you began to pound into her, her soft moans and whimpers music to your ears. You reached around, pinching her nipples through the lace of her bra, twisting and pulling at the sensitive peaks.

Across the room, you caught a glimpse of your gang members forcing the other girls to pleasure each other.

Jennie, her mouth gagged, was being held down by two men while Rose, her eyes brimming with tears, was forced to rub her pussy against Jennie's, their clits rubbing together as they both moaned in protest.

Lisa, her hands tied above her head, was being pleasured by a vibrator, her legs shaking as she was brought to the brink of orgasm over and over, denied release.

The sight of their suffering only fueled your urge. You increased your pace, slamming into Jisoo's tight cunt, your balls slapping against her clit with each thrust. She was yours, completely at your mercy, and the knowledge of it made your orgasm build rapidly.

"You're going to take my cum, aren't you, slut?" you taunted, reaching down to rub her clit in circles, sending her over the edge.

Jisoo's muffled screams intensified as her body trembled, her juices flowing around your jabbing cock. You felt her inner walls clench around you as she came, and it was too much for you to hold back any longer.

With a few more powerful deep thrusts, you emptied yourself inside her, filling her with your seed as your orgasm ripped through you. Pulling out, you admired your handiwork, watching your cum leak from Jisoo's pussy, her body still quivering from the aftermath of her climax.

"Now, let's see how the others are doing," you said, moving towards the other girls, your cock still semi-hard and glistening with a mixture of your cum and Jisoo's juices.

You signaled to two of your men, both well-endowed and eager, to take Jisoo to the center of the room. The bound beauty struggled, but it only made her captors laugh as they forced her onto her back, her hands still tied behind her.

"Time to enjoy the ride, baby," one of them growled excited.

Jisoo's eyes widened as she saw their thick cock, knowing what was about to happen. She tried to squirm away, but it was futile. With a rough move, one of the men grabbed her ankles, pushing her legs up and holding them apart, exposing her pussy to the room.

She begged through the ball gag, her voice hoarse, shaking her desperately.

The first man positioned himself between her thighs, gripping his rigid cock and slamming into her in one thrust. Jisoo's eyes rolled back as she cried, her body trembling from the force of his penetration.

The second man, equally merciless, knelt beside her head, his cock dangling as he freed her gag, slapping his cock against her cheek before forcing it past her lips, using her mouth for his pleasure.

You watched for a moment, enjoying the sight of Jisoo getting raped on both ends, her body a plaything for your men. Her cries and whimpers, her tits jiggling with each harsh movement, her mouth stretched around the man's cock. But your attention was soon drawn to Jennie and Rose, their cries of protest filling the room.

The two men holding them had grown impatient, their hands now tangled in the girls' hair, yanking their heads back, forcing them to maintain eye contact. Jennie and Rose were positioned facing each other, their legs intertwined, their pussies rubbing together as their captors demanded.

"Cum for us, you sluts, or we will make you suffer!" one of the men threatened, slapping Jennie's makeup-streaked face, leaving a red mark.

Jennie's eyes were wild, her body betraying her as she began to move against Rose, their clits rubbing together, creating a wet, squelching sound as their juices mingled. Rose, her face flushed, couldn't do anything but respond, her hips moving in rhythm with Jennie's, their sobs filling the room.

Their bodies gleamed with sweat, their tits heaving with each breath, and their pussies were now soaked, lips swollen and sticky as they slid against each other. The man's hands moved from Rose’s hair to her throat, squeezing lightly, adding to her desperation.

"Come on, you filthy bitches, cum for us," the other man barked, his hand moving down to pinch Jennie's nipple, twisting it roughly.

Jennie's eyes shut tight, her mouth opening in a silent moan as her body tensed, and she cummed, her juices gushing, soaking both herself and Rose. Rose, unable to hold back any longer, followed suit, her body shaking as she climaxed, her cries muffled by the man's hand over her mouth.

Their orgasms seemed to go on forever, their bodies trembling and convulsing as they rode the waves of pleasure, their pussies continuing to rub together, prolonging the ecstasy.

Your cock, which had been hardening as you watched, was now throbbing with need. You stroked yourself, imagining what you would do to these helpless stupid bitches next.

But your attention was drawn to Lisa, who was still tied to the table, her body writhing as the vibrator continued its relentless assault on her sensitive canal. Her cries were a mix of pleasure and discomfort, her thighs rubbing together in a futile attempt to escape the stimulation.

"Fuck... stop!" she yelled, her voice cracking. "You're fucking, ngghh— crazy!"

You sauntered over to her, your eyes taking in the sight of her exquisite sweaty body, her breasts heaving, and her pussy clenching and leaking around the cylinder vibrator.

"Shut up, bitch," you snapped, slapping her pussy, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing in the room. You did it again, and again, each slap making her cry louder, her juices splattering with each impact, her pussy lips turning a bright red.

"Stop! Fuck— It hurts, argh!" Lisa begged, her eyes pleading with you.

"You want me to stop?" you asked, leaning close to her ear. "Tell me to stop, and I might consider it."

Lisa hesitated, her body trembling. You laughed, a cruel sound that sent shivers down her spine. "I didn't think so."

With that, you kicked the table, causing it to collapse, and Lisa tumbled to the floor, her body landing with a thud. She wept, her wrists still bound above her, her legs splayed in a most indecent position.

"If the vibrator can't be in your pussy," you said, your voice low, "then it will find another home."

You crouched down, picking up a bottle of massage oil and a whip as you moved behind her. Lisa's eyes widened in fear as she realized your intentions.

"No, what the fuck did you mean..." she whispered, her voice trembling.

You chuckled, "You know exactly what I mean, Lisa. Because you're a whore."

With that, you grabbed her by the hips, pulling her ass up so that she was on her head, her ass presented to you. You wasted no time, bringing the whip down on her right side, leaving a stinging line across her soft flesh. Lisa screamed, her body jerking with the pain.

You continued the whipping, each strike landing with precision, turning her skin a rosy red. Her cries filled the room, a mixture of pain and humiliation.

When you were satisfied with the marks you'd left, you put down the whip and poured the oil onto your hands, warming it before reaching for her ass.

Your fingers glided over her wounded cheeks, smearing the oil across her skin, making her shiver. You massaged the oil into her, your touch cruel and rough, ensuring every inch of her ass was covered.

"Just fuck me…" Lisa submitted, her body shaking.

You tugged the vibrator out of her pussy, wet with her juices, and positioned it at her tight, puckered hole. With a smack, you plunged it into her ass, eliciting a scream that turned into a strangled gurgle as one of your men knowingly forced his thick cock into her mouth, holding her head in place.

As Lisa's body stiffened in shock, you lined your throbbing cock up with her pussy, gripping her hips tightly and buried your cock so deep inside.

Jisoo's ordeal continued as your men showed no mercy, their appetite for her body seemingly insatiable. One of the two guys positioned himself between her legs, gripping her thighs roughly, spreading them wide.

"Look at that sweet pussy. It's gonna feel so good when I fill it with my cum."

Jisoo's eyes widened in horror as she felt him thrust into her, his cock pounding into her wetness, stretching her with each violent stroke. The other man, not to be outdone, grabbed a belt from his pants and wrapped it around her throat, choking her as he forced his length into her mouth.

"Suck it, slut," he commanded, holding her head in place, his hips moving in a relentless rhythm.

Jisoo's body was a canvas of red marks and bruises, her once pristine skin now bearing the evidence of their abuse. She struggled, but it only seemed to fuel their lust, her cries muffled by the belt around her neck and the cock in her mouth.

"Your fans are gonna love this video," the man fucking her mouth taunted. "They'll see their perfect idol getting ruined by us."

The other man laughed, his hips slamming into her sore pussy with increasing force. "Yeah, and they will see you getting bred by us too. Wonder what they will think of their precious Jisoo with a belly full of our cum."

Their words were like knives, cutting deep into Jisoo's pride and self-worth. She wanted to deny them, to scream that this wasn't her, but the belt tightened around her throat, cutting off her air, reducing her protests to desperate gurgles.

The man in her pussy grunted, his movements becoming more erratic as he neared his climax. "You're going to take my load, you hear me, cunt?”

Jisoo's eyes rolled back as she felt him swell and pulse inside her, his cum filling her, each spurt a violation of her body. He pulled out his spent cock with their combined juices, only to be replaced by his partner, who wasted no time in claiming her pussy.

"My turn to plant my seed in this cunt," he snickered.

Jisoo's body trembled, her senses overwhelmed by the assault on her senses. She felt like she was being torn apart, her pussy stretched and ached, her throat bruised from the belt and the deep fucking it had received.

The second man's pace was harsh, his hips swinging into her, his balls slapping against her with each piston. He reached down, grabbing a handful of her hair, yanking her head back, exposing her bulging throat.

"You feel that, bitch? Feel how we're ruining your holes.”

Jisoo's eyes, filled with fresh tears as he pounded into her, his cock seeming to grow harder. Her body betrayed her, responding to the stimulation, her pussy clenching around him as he continuously slammed into her spongy canal.

"That's right, you're going to take my baby,” he heaved, "Walk around with my kid inside you, a reminder of what we did to you for being a teasing whore.”

His words were like a hammer blow, shattering any remaining resistance she had. Jisoo felt her body spasm around his cock, her orgasm ripping through her, her juices flowing as she came, her scream muffled by the belt still tight around her throat.

Meanwhile, you were lost in the sensation of Lisa's body, her tight pussy gripping your cock like a vice as you pounded into her from behind. Her wrists were still bound, and you held them in one hand, using the other to grip her hip, pulling her back onto your swollen cock.

"Fuck, ohh— your pussy is so wet. Bet it's fertile as fuck.”

Lisa's body was a vision of erotic torment, her back arched, her small tits swaying, her nipples hard and erect. The massage oil glowed on her reddened ass, which you continued to smack, leaving a stinging reminder of your possession.

"Oh shit— slow down… p-please," she begged, her voice hoarse from the cock that had been down her throat.

Laughing, you did the opposite of what she asked. Your strokes became more powerful, your cock plunging in and out of her, each withdrawal leaving her pussy lips stretched and spraying, only to be filled again.

Your hand left her hip, moving to squeeze and fondle her ass, your fingers dipping into the cleft, moving the vibrator stuck in her butthole in a circular motion.

Lisa screamed, “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck— Eugh!”

Lisa's body betrayed her, her orgasm building as your fingers worked her asshole, your cock still pounding into her pussy. Her juices flowed, mixing with the massage oil, making lewd, wet sounds penetration.

As she cried out, her body shaking with release, you reached around, grabbing a handful of her hair, yanking her head back, exposing her throat. The man who had been slapping and choking her, his cock hard, took this as his cue, gripping his girth and positioning himself at her mouth.

"Open up, bitch," his voice was harsh.

Lisa, her eyes wild with submission fear, had no choice but to comply, her mouth opening to take him in, her throat working to accommodate his thickness.

You watched as your own climax built. Lisa’s eyes rolled back, her body trembling as the man stretched her mouth wide, her red lips wrapped tight around his cock, sliding his hips in long strokes, invading deep inside her esophagus.

He groaned in pure pleasure, his hands on her head, holding her in place, deepthroating her a few more times before he cummed, his cock throbbing as he filled her mouth with his semen, his cum spilling from her lips, mixing with her trickling saliva.

You pulled out of her pussy, your cock slick with her fluids, and moved to stand in front of her, your cock throbbing with the need to to release but you held back.

"Look at you, what a filthy whore," you mocked, grabbing her face and forcing her to look into the camera. "You're a mess, covered in cum and oil, and you fucking love it, right? Admit it.”

Lisa's eyes were filled with shame and humiliation, but also a glimmer of defiance. "Fuck you..." she whispered, her voice raw.

You laughed, slapping her to the floor and going back behind her, yanking her hair. "Oh, I plan to, but first, I want you to know something." You leaned in close. "You're going be bred by me, by us, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

With that, you set yourself at her entrance again, not letting her hair go, your cock head pressing against her swollen slit. "This is for being such a slutty cunt," you said and buried your cock inside her in one smooth motion.

Lisa's body stiffened, shuddering, her eyes widening as she felt you fill her, your cock stretching her, your balls slapping against her stinging clit.

"You belong to us now," you whispered, "And we will make sure everyone knows it soon enough."

You continued to thrust into Lisa, your pace slower but each stroke more deliberate, designed to maximize her discomfort. With each withdrawal, you pulled her back, your cock sliding deep into her, stretching her to accommodate your girth.

Your hand still firmly wrapped in her hair, yanking her head back, asserting your dominance. Lisa's eyes were half-lidded, her body limp as she hung onto the precipice of consciousness. The sensation of your cock sliding in and out of her was overwhelming, each movement causing her stomach to bulge slightly, a visual reminder of your possession.

Your grip on her hair tightened, and you leaned down, your lips close to her ear. "Are you ready to be my slut now? Want me to fill your womb? Huh?

Lisa nodded, her body trembling. "Yes, yes! please! Ughhh!"

You grunted, your hips pushing your cock as deep as it could go. You felt your orgasm building, an intense knot in your balls, and in a powerful stroke, you emptied yourself inside her, your cum filling her womb.

As you came, you released her hair, allowing her head to loll forward, her breath coming in ragged gasps. You withdrew, your cock sticky with her juices and your cum, and you stepped back to admire your handiwork.

Lisa's body was a mess, her hair disheveled, her makeup smeared, and her stomach slightly distended from your rough fucking. She was a picture of submission, her eyes glazed over, her lips parted as she struggled to regain her breath.

You grabbed a handful of her hair again, dragging her across the room towards Jisoo, who was in a desperate struggle for her life. The man behind her had tightened the belt around her neck, his face a mask of pleasure as he choked her, his hips thrusting into her mercilessly.

"Please... stop..." Jisoo's voice was a raspy whisper, her fingers clawing at the belt, her eyes wide with fear.

You slapped Lisa across the face, bringing her back to the present. Her eyes focused on Jisoo, and she cried out, "Jisoo! No!" Jisoo's eyes found Lisa, and she mouthed a silent plea, her face turning blue from the lack of oxygen.

You leaned down. "Want to save her?" you whispered, your breath especially hot against her skin.

Lisa nodded frantically. "Yes, please..."

"Then fuck her," you said, your voice cold and commanding. "Make her cum, or she dies."

With that, you shoved Lisa forward, and she scrambled on her hands and knees towards Jisoo. The man behind Jisoo released the belt, and she gasped for air, her body trembling as she struggled to regain her bearings.

"Jisoo!" Lisa cried, her voice filled with relief.

Jisoo, understanding what was at stake, wrapped her arms around Lisa, pulling her close. "I'm here... we'll get through this..."

"But how...?" Lisa asked, her voice trembling.

"By fucking each other," you said, your voice carrying across the room. "Make it hot, make it sensual, and make each other cum. Your lives depend on it."

The two women, their bodies bruised and covered in sweat and cum, looked at each other, their eyes filled with fear and determination. Slowly, they began to kiss, their lips meeting in a desperate embrace.

Jisoo's hands moved to Lisa's tits, squeezing and kneading, while Lisa's fingers found Jisoo's clit, rubbing and circling the hardened bud. Their kisses deepened, their tongues dancing, tasting each other.

Jisoo's body arching into Lisa's touch. Lisa responded by grinding her pussy against Jisoo's, their swollen pussy lips meeting, their juices mixing as they rubbed against each other, their movements becoming more frantic.

You leaned against a nearby table, watching the two idols pleasure each other, their bodies glistening with sweat, their moans and cries filling the air.

"A group of horny sluts, that's what you are," you spat, "Make each other cum, or one of you dies."

Their kisses became more desperate, their hands exploring each other's bodies, their clits rubbing together, their pussies gushing as they brought each other to the brink of orgasm.

"Jisoo… Shit, I'm cumming, ngghh!" Lisa whispered, her body trembling.

"Oh God— Me too..." Jisoo responded, her voice cracking.

Their bodies convulsed, their juices flowing as they came, their moans of pleasure echoing, their release captured by the cameras for all to see.

As you watched the two women, your gaze shifted to Jennie and Rose, who were enduring their own torment.

Rose was positioned on top of Jennie, her pussy grinding against Jennie's face, her hands pulling at Jennie's hair, forcing her to eat her out.

Rose's body trembled atop Jennie, her pussy clenching around Jennie's face as she rode her tongue, her juices flowing. Jennie’s face buried between Rose's thighs, lapped and sucked at Rose's sweet folds, her hands gripping Rose's hips, holding her in place as she struggled to breathe through her nose.

"Eat that pussy properly, bitch," one of the men said, his hand gripping Rose's waist, guiding her movements. "Make her cum, or you will regret it."

Jennie's tongue worked feverishly, her mouth filled with Rose's essence, her own body aching in pain.

The man's threat was not an empty one, as Jennie knew all too well. She had already felt the sting of his fist on her stomach when she'd momentarily paused to catch her breath.

"Fuck, yes..." Rose moaned, her body arching, her hands gripping Jennie's hair, pulling her closer. "Don't stop, Jennie..."

Jennie redoubled her efforts, her tongue flicking and probing, her nose nuzzling Rose's clit, her breath wheeze against her sensitive flesh. Rose's moans grew louder, her body trembling on the edge of release.

Meanwhile, Jennie's own body was being used by the other men in the room. Her legs were spread wide, her pussy exposed and vulnerable, as two men double penetrated her, their cocks stretching her painfully..

"This slut's pussy is so tight," one of the men grunted, his hands on Jennie's hips as he pounded into her. "Bet it's gonna be even tighter once we're done with her."

The other man, his cock glistening with their juices, his cock sliding along her slit, tearing her wider. "Yeah, and she's going to be loose as a rubber once we're finished."

Jennie’s pussy stretched to its limits, her senses overwhelmed by the dual assault. She could feel her orgasm coming as she began to move against the cocks inside her, her hips thrusting back to meet their strokes.

Jennie's eyes rolled back, her body trembling as she felt herself getting closer to the edge. The man in front of her reached down, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing and pinching the sensitive bud, sending her over the edge.

"Fuck, no— ohhhh!" Jennie cried out, her body convulsing, her pussy spasming around the cocks inside as she cummed, her juices flowing, soaking the men's cocks and thighs.

The men didn't let up, continuing to jackhammer into her, their pace fast.

Jennie's eyes widened in horror as she realized their intention, but her body was beyond her control, her orgasm still rippling through her, her pussy milking their cocks.

Rose, meanwhile, was nearing her climax, her body shaking as she rode Jennie's face, her moans growing louder. The man holding her reached down, his fingers joining Jennie's tongue in her pussy, rubbing her clit in circles, sending her over the edge.

"Oh, fuck!" Rose cried, her body stiffening, her juices gushing onto Jennie's face as she came, suffocating her teammate.

The man on the right quickened his pace, his cock swelling against her inner walls . Jennie felt him swell and pulse inside her, his semen filling her, his cock throbbing as he cummed into her unprotected womb. The man on the left followed suit, his cock twitching as he filled her pussy with his own load, his hands gripping her hips tightly.

Jennie's body trembled, her pussy aching, her juices mixing with their cum as they pulled out, leaving her spent and violated.

Rose's cries mixed with Jennie's muffled moans, their bodies a tangle of limbs and sweat, their orgasms went as the men continued to use them.

One of your men, his cock still hard from fucking Lisa, approached you, a can of beer in his hand. "Think you'll let these bitches go after this?" he asked.

You laughed, taking the can from him and taking a long swig. "Of course not. They're gonna be our playthings for a while yet. This is just the beginning."

You gestured to the cameras. "This video will be Blackpink's biggest comeback, but it's a secret comeback. And after this, we will keep them, make them perform for us, and record it all. A weekly show for our fans."

The man's eyes lit up with excitement. "Fuck yeah. Let's make these sluts our personal porn stars." You clinked your can against his, sealing the deal with a sinister laugh.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Howdy! Hope you're doing well!

Could you write a piece for Emperor Caracalla, in which Reader is his wife and is nearly killed when an assassin shoots an arrow at them? Like it's angst, it's Reader being unsure if they will live or not etc but maybe end with fluff?

I was thinking reader using She / Her

Totally understand if you don't want to write this tho 🤍

The lasting scar of love

Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : hurt/comfort, emotional, blood, kissing, cuddling, drinking alcohol, mention of death and torture

Summary : The imperial family consisted of the eldest Geta, his brother Caracalla and his wife, three people who formed the head of Rome. But when an assassination is carried out during a solemn festival in the Colloseum and the blood of the Sun is spilled, Caracalla's thirst for blood and fear seems to overpower all of Rome as he cares for his beloved...but how long before her life is extinguished?

info : Ahhh I'm so happy to write something like this so good and full of angst I LOVE IT. Thank you dear anon for giving me this request, I hope you are good, now everyone have fun reading ;)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The leaders of an empire had to be infamous, when you heard the name of the leaders you had to get heart-racing, feel fear and already ask the gods for mercy.

The Holy Roman Empire's reputation preceded it, the world seemed to belong to them, there was no land, no area that they had not conquered and taken.

The imperial brothers were notorious for their mercilessness, the elder the self-proclaimed god who judged without even listening to others, his opinion and power counted.

The younger, even if not politically and divinely knowledgeable, was all the more ruthless, a child in the body of a man, as some said, who would climb into the Colosseum himself if it meant seeing his enemy dead and mutilated.

For years, they had been spreading gold and blood across the land, showing no mercy and causing fear...only the sun in the imperial palace of Rome was like a goddess.

The sun that when you saw it immediately gave you hope for a better world, it was the mirror of reason when it came to the atrocious decisions of her husband Caracallas and her brother-in-law Getas.

But only one reason did not seem enough for all the inhabitants and nihct all the gladiators, if they had known what was conspiring in the lower ranks the three would never have even entered the Colosseum.

The high sun fell on the palace, illuminating mosaics and paintings, and the empress looked out, a smile playing around her lips as she saw the red gem that had been set into the golden ring on her finger.

Remembering his smile when Caracalla had given her the ring as a wedding gift His favorite color a blood red she thought and shook her head with a grin, her servant pausing as her mistress rose to follow her.

They all got ready, another fight in the coliseum, a great match and a look in the mirror that told her she was dressed appropriately for what was to come.

The servant looking down at her adjusted the fabric before nodding and pulling it back so as not to disturb her any further, a golden fabric with a deep dead and dark painted eyes, the red for Caracalla and the black for Geta whose eyes also looked like this.

Even though she belonged to Caracalla, she had a deep friendship with her brother-in-law, in those moments when she despaired with her loved one, when the madness became too much, Geta was there to help her, ,,The color is beautiful!” she heard a loud voice as seconds before her door opened and saw Caracalla whose clothes were more the color of turquoise and resembled flowing water.

She couldn't help but turn and the fabric fluttered, the golden tooth flashed as his hands wandered over the fabric and his cheeks turned pinker as she gave him a kiss, ,,You look like flowing water my king,” she replied, tracing the shiny fabric, a nice job by the closer she had to give them credit once more.

The pair held each other in their arms as footsteps echoed through the corridor again and Appollo himself appeared to stand before them, ,,Brother! Majestically divine,” the younger one said, looking fascinated at all the gold attached to Geta and the fine work on the black fabric.

They were the blood in the water who took the hand of the flowing water which was overlooked with a smile of burnt wood and a god as the three made their way to the colloseum.

Caracalla held her hand, pride in his gaze and he kissed it again and again, which she returned on the tip of his nose, the two sat side by side on the throne and Geta made the announcement

,,An overwhelming fight,” she said, pointing to the sharks in the water and seeing Caracalla nod. Sharks were his idea, at first he wanted to pick up a crossbow himself but she and Geta couldn't persuade him to go for sharks, a decision that would mean fewer deaths, at least in the ranks of the audience.

The three of them sat down excitedly, wine goblets in her and Geta's hands, while Caracalla was much too jittery as the ships rowed out, she hadn't seen him this excited for a long time and Geta was eager to see who won...it was no secret that he wanted to see the "poet" dead.

She herself was almost indifferent, the Colosseum amused her husband, quenched his thirst for blood, she herself was entertained and Geta could live out his fantasies, it was helpful and as long as everyone was happy she would be too - besides, Caracalla was sweet bobbing up and down next to her when another one died.

It relieved her to see him like this, not delirious but simply happy and that was what mattered to her.

Horns blistered, wood creaked and sharks swam faster as arrows were shot at each other and after a few moments the first landed in the water and she knew that some bets were already lost or won.

It was another fight to the death, only on a different scale.

The battle was in full swing no one wanted to give in and even though the ships had reached every part of the Coloseum by now, the battle had wedged itself right in front of the stage. Directly below the imperial family who were looking down with anticipation for an end, anxious to see who would win.

,,Shoot! Kill them!” she heard Caracalla shout again and Geta had also put his goblet aside, she stifled an eye roll sometimes they both seemed to be children.

Two adults who could forget all their worries when they were here, a nice moment because they weren't bothered by the worries of the realm.

She was about to take a sip of wine, her hand went to her husband's, his blue eyes glanced at her, a happy expression met hers as the air was filled with a whirring sound and a scream could be heard.

There was a clink as the goblet slipped from her hand, the drink mingled with her blood on the floor, Caracalla's scream followed as je jumped up and stood in front of her to protect hiw wife and Geta's screaming command as he tried to pull his family away.

The arrow from the crossbow, shot with such force, had almost nailed her to the stone throne. Caracalla tore her away from it but did not pull the arrow out, too quickly would she continue to lose blood, too quickly would he fall into madness as the sanity of a frightened loving man struggled with his madness to burn Rome to the ground.

It...is...all...right she thought, wanting to say it but not making a sound as her hand went to her neck and she felt the unnatural inside. The blood stained her hand warmly as she coughed on a breath something seemed to block her air, she didn't see the blood flowing from her lips, the same color as her tunic.

As Caracalla pulled her along trying to be careful. It seemed as if the gods were beside her, as if someone was carrying her, as if she was numb, everything around her was melting and her hand felt strange as it slipped from Caracalla's grasp.

As if she had no control anymore, not seeing the blood trail that stretched from the throne into the hallway, the guards now supporting her as her body gave way, no breath reaching her as she slowly realized that something was probably stuck in her throat.

Blue crying eyes searched hers, his voice told her something and she saw Geta tear his brother away from her, but what they were arguing about she didn't know, her eyelids too heavy and the feeling of drowning even though she wasn't in the water too strong for her to move. Would she end up like this?

But who would protect Caracalla? A fear welled up inside her, arms holding her tighter, gripping her painfully, her voice like a distant echo as she spoke Caracalla's name, not knowing if he even heard it before the world around her was shrouded in darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A never-ending darkness for her, her unconscious body carried into the palace by the imperial guards, the medics attending to her as quickly as they could.

While the doors remained closed and nothing could be heard from the room for hours, it was the cries of Rome that resounded all the louder as Geta gave orders for security and arrests, while in the Senate it was Caracalla who returned to the Colosseum with sword, crossbow and torch and a group of soldiers.

For every hour that passed, the corpses of every single gladiator piled up in the arena, for every word he cut and shot more into the body, for every lie, for every false word he burned more and more.

There was no smile on his lips, no golden tooth flashing, no giggle and no desire for more, it was the sense of revenge and justice he wanted...he would kill all of Rome if it brought back his love.

Only when he had just shot the last one in the throat with the crossbow arrow late at night did the news of her awakening reach him, at least she was no longer in immediate mortal danger.

He ignored the words of his brother who told him to wait, ignored Dundus who jumped out of the way and doors were flung open as he entered her chamber.

Torches lit the room, the smell of blood hung heavy in the room and herbs only slightly masked it, ,,My heart, my sun I am here, you are awake, the gods have shown mercy” he said hastily as he sat down at her bedside, slightly bent over her as he took her hand and looked anxiously at the bandages on her neck.

It had taken hours to close the wound, using one bandage after another until she had stopped bleeding to some extent.

Her eyes still heavy, the pain burning and she slowly took heavy breaths as she slowly saw him clearly, ,,Are...you...hurt?” she asked slowly, gasping, trying to sit up, he seemed overwhelmed, afraid of hurting her even more.

Guilt and fear met her concern that was still for him, her fingers weakly stroking his cheek and leaving kisses on it as he laughed bitterly, ,,I made them all pay, sacrificed them one by one,” he assured her, seeing her touched look.

The blood that stained him, the blood of hundreds she had brought back and he would have given so much more, ,,So kind-hearted” she whispered and he laid his forehead against hers, holding her while his warm hands held her cold ones.

With every apology he tried to make, with every death he told her, she seemed to come more to her senses hours passed as he held her body, trying to give her his warmth.

Leaving gentle kisses on her battered body, ,,I will not lose you, the king and his sun belong together” he reminded her of her own words and the smile on her face matched his.

Over the next few days, the emperor stayed with his wife, only allowing his brother and the doctors to visit, who continued to care for the empress with everything they had.

Every day he continued to sacrifice gladiators, convinced that the gods had to listen to him, a concept that prevailed when the last of the gladiator's blood was drained and the sun of Rome was declared healed.

Although still weak, she managed to stand up with the help of her husband, holding on to him he instructed her to do one step after the other, ,,Wonderful! You are stronger than all the gods!” he exclaimed as she walked towards him and he took her in his arms, gently stroking the scar on her still bruised skin.

Turning her head away, not wanting to blame him, he stopped her, ,,That's over, I'm healed Caracalla,” she reminded him, seeing the piercing look in his eyes.

He held her gently, resting his forehead against hers again she heard the soft chuckle as he left a kiss on it, one on the tip of her nose, her lips before he placed a quick but loving kiss on her scar.

,,Rituals of our love...you survived, the scar shows our strength” he held against it and as much as it hurt, the fear and memory when she looked into that hopeful face.

The look in his bright eyes and the love on her body, he loved her, loved her for everyone, she couldn't help but smile and return the kiss.

No one would be able to kill the king and his sun, the leaders of Rome would continue to be three and that would not change, because even love could not be killed, it only made everything stronger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@potatoesenpaii , @cottoncandiescupcakes , @k-yurieee , @somepallings , @abundance-of-fic-reblogs

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (6) r.cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, DUBCON, dd/lg, sugar daddy rafe, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression. little editing, barry doing barry things 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: Enjoy!

word count: 4.5k

In which your Daddy finally takes you to the country club.

masterlist

You were reading—slowly but surely. You took each sentence of the chapter book word by word, sounding out each syllable until it made sense to you. With a pink highlighter, you marked over every word you didn’t know the meaning of. You’d ask Rafe about those later or spend some time flipping through the dictionary. You flipped around in the cloud of linens you called a bed, attempting to find another comfortable position. You were reading about a girl with cat-like superpowers and the adventures she went on with her pet cats. 

Lana had told you about all the stray cats she feeds out by her house and how a lot of them will let her pet them once they’ve been around her long enough. You’ve been doing your absolute best to stay on Rafe’s good side, knowing the next thing you’d ask him was if he’d let you get a cat. You knew there were plenty out there that needed good homes, just like you did at one point. 

You didn’t ask him to take you anywhere unless he invited you. And after that lady had that outburst at the grocery store with him, his invites became less frequent. Every week, he took you to ballet practice and straight home. You reminded yourself to be grateful even for that experience since it kept your boredom at bay. When your Daddy called, you came straight away. When he told you to stay in your room, you stayed. When he held your wrist so hard that they bruised, you kept tears from escaping your eyes. When he brought you a present, you thanked him with your words and happily with your mouth. 

A knock at your door caused you to sit up straight. You didn’t ever need to respond with “come in,” as the knock was just a warning that he was coming in, not a request. Rafe eyed you, the crinkles in his eyes letting you know he needed sleep before he looked down at his expensive gold watch. “If I’m not mistaken, I was invited to a one-o’clock tea party and lunch, and my host has yet to retrieve me.”

You palmed your face, your cheeks heating up. “I lost track of time, sorry.” You closed your book, stood, and straightened out your short gingham dress, “Everything should be ready though. Bunny is dressed. I just need help carrying all the guests.”

Before you could leave your book on the bed, Rafe said, ���Bring it. I want you to read me somethin’.”

You agreed although the idea made you nervous. You grabbed Bunny, who was dressed in a matching gingham outfit, and then directed Rafe over to your mountain of stuffed animals. Impressively, he grabbed the six stuffed animals in one fell swoop, “Got ‘em, let’s go.”

Now that it was starting to get nicer outside, Lana suggested turning your tea parties into picnics on the front lawn. She’d laid out a floral linen sheet and placed a beautiful flower centerpiece in the middle, along with a wicker basket. You took your stuffed animals one by one from Rafe’s hand, placing them perfectly along the edge of the sheet, “And you sit here, Daddy,” You directed him and waited for him to get comfortable, “I’ll go get the sweet tea and finger sandwiches!” 

“Don’t run!” Rafe shouted after you as you hurried back into Tannyhill. As soon as you were out of his line of sight, you picked up your speed, looking to find Lana. 

You found Lana in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the array of desserts, “These look beautiful, Lana!” You exclaimed as she finished piping pink icing onto the cupcakes. You opened the fridge to grab the pitcher of sweet tea. “Did you make sure to add extra lemons? He really likes extra lemons-“ 

“Yes, I did, I know,” Lana responded, “Don’t be so worried, it’s just Rafe.” 

You set the pitcher on the counter, taking a deep breath, “He wants to hear me read my book, Lana.”

“So? You’ve been doing so well in our lessons! You sound great to me when you’re reading and you’re only going to get better. The long, fancy words will come later,” She lifted the tray of sandwiches and desserts and you took it into your hands, “You’re a smart girl.” 

“I am?” Lana smiled warmly, making sure you were carefully holding both the pitcher and tray. 

“Yes, you are,” She assured you, “Go enjoy your lunch. Afterward, you’ll help me with the laundry, right?”

You beamed back at her, “Okay, I’ll see you soon.” 

When you made your way back to the front lawn, Rafe was where you left him but his phone was pressed to his ear. As soon as he saw you, he said, “---Everyone has dirt. Everyone has a weakness. Find it. I gotta go, I really don’t want to hear about this shit again.”  You carefully set down the tray and pitcher, Rafe having intense conversations over the phone having become very natural to you. 

Rafe let out an annoyed breath, setting his phone down, “Doesn’t it look delicious, Daddy?” You asked, cutting through the tension. 

Rafe nodded, “It does. This is the highlight of my day,” He admitted, “You’re the highlight of my day, Bambi.” 

Your nervousness slowly turned into eagerness as Rafe looked at you. He always looked at you like you were something precious, even if you felt the opposite, and you found that you could easily be yourself around him. Although it seemed you were figuring out who you were every day that you were at Tannyhill. 

You poured Rafe’s drink into an antique-looking glass, one that Lana had entrusted you with taking care of, “Made just how you like it,” You handed it to him and promptly began to hand out the rest of the dishware, making sure Bunny and your stuffed animals had tiny replicas of them. With small tongs, you carefully placed sandwiches on your and Rafe’s plates, “I like pickles now. They aren’t so bad.”

“Oh, thank God,” Rafe responded with his mouth full, already halfway through his first sandwich, “I was really worried there for a second.”

You giggled, “You were worried?”

“I was as soon as you tried one and said you didn’t like it,” Rafe said, which made you laugh more, “This just confirms you’re perfect. And open-minded. And beautiful.”

“Me liking pickles means that I’m beautiful.” You were trying to follow his logic, your cheeks heated in embarrassment, but he interrupted you with a messy kiss.

As you finished up lunch, you found yourself entangled with Rafe, your legs over his lap and leaning against his chest as you opened up your book. You hoped starting with chapter one would make it easier, knowing you’d read it at least five times this morning. Luckily, you now had someone who could tell you the meaning of the words you had the most trouble with. Rafe used the strategy of not only defining the word but using it in an example sentence. 

“Ill-u-min-ate.”

“Every time you walk into a room, you illuminate it with your beauty.” 

“Haz-ar-dous.”

“It would be very hazardous to get between me and my Bambi.”

“Fuh-ruh-strat-ed.”

“Seeing you naked gets me extremely frustrated.”

“I thought you said it meant to angry,” You countered, and you could feel him grinning. 

“Words can mean different things,” He spoke cryptically, “Hey, you know, I’m really impressed with your reading, Bambi.”

You straightened up and turned to look at him, “You mean it?”

“I’m really proud of you,” he nodded. “I wasn’t sure if Lana could help you all on her own, but I think you’re making good progress.” 

You wrapped your arms around him, immediately needing to physically express your satisfaction, your weight effectively toppling the two of you over. Pride was a new feeling that you were getting used to. “Does this mean I could go to a real school? Like in the movies? Maybe law school? Like Elle Woods?” You straddled Rafe, his hands gently exploring the backs of your thighs.

“Are you talking about Legally Blonde?” Rafe’s eyebrows raised, his eyes undoubtedly flashing to a past memory, probably related to his sisters, “Did Lana show you that?”

“It was really good,” You nodded, “How far away is Stanford?”

“Far,” Rafe stated, and you got the feeling he wasn’t explaining as much as he could, “Let’s not  — uh, let’s focus on just reading a chapter book. Once you’re reading like Shakespeare and shit, we can talk about college.” 

“Okay,” You agreed, pressing your nose to his, “How many books do I have to read before we get a kitty cat, Daddy?”

“I see what you did there,” Rafe stared you down. You gave him a mischievous look as you pressed your lower half closer to his. “I think Daddy’s going to need a lot of convincing on that idea as well.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt Rafe’s fingers trailing over your panties, “What can I do to convince you, Rafey?”

You saw the lust in his eyes. That was one nickname he seemed to like even more than Daddy. “Slide those panties to the side and take Daddy’s cock out.”

“But the guards–” You rushed out, and Rafe’s grip tightened on your thighs. 

“You didn’t seem to mind when you climbed on top of me,” Rafe countered, “C’mon, you have to finish what you started, little girl.”

After those words, you tried to ignore the idea of one of Rafe’s men catching a glimpse of what the two of you were doing. You did as Rafe said but as timidly and covertly as possible, sliding your panties to the side and then undoing his zipper. Like Rafe had taught you before, you spit into your hand, rubbing the liquid against your hole and using the rest to lubricate his tip. 

You looked Rafe in the eyes before he could command you to, and Rafe gave you the same proud look that he had on his face when he complimented your reading skills. Rafe sat up on his hands, and as you placed him against your entrance, you made sure the skirt of your gingham dress was fully covering your ass. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you slowly enveloped every inch of him. 

You whimpered into his ear, already feeling overwhelmed. Your thighs burned as you tried to move up and down his length, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were doing it wrong. You and Rafe didn’t often have sex in this position, and if you did, Rafe would just end up pinning your hips in place and thrusting up into you. In this position, you were almost in complete control, and it made each sensation feel even more heightened. 

“Grind into me,” Rafe spoke huskily, “It’ll feel better that way.”

You started to roll your hips against him, and instantly you felt something building within you. With that motion, you could feel your clit rubbing against him. As you controlled the speed and how deep he was inside of you, you adjusted it entirely to your liking, and it surprised you how good you made yourself feel, “You gonna make yourself cum on my cock, Bambi?”

You gave him a shaky nod, “Y-Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Cum for me.”

You whimpered into his ear, suddenly burning up even though you were directly under the sun. “Thank you, thank you,” you muttered breathlessly. “Thank you, Rafey.”

“Look at you,” Rafe said, “My grateful little girl is squeezing me so good. Keep going, baby.”

Rafe squeezed you tightly in his arms like he was hugging you as you felt him fill your insides. “Fuck,” Rafe grunted in your ear, “Didn’t know you were so good at that.”

Rafe was doing something he promised himself he’d never do. 

Maybe this would’ve been an option at the beginning of their relationship when he wasn’t so attached. The idea of doing this now … every fiber of his being was telling him that this was wrong. “Everybody has a weakness. You told me that, right? I did some digging. Some super fucking deep digging,” Barry had started. 

Atlantic Crest Properties is one of Cameron Development’s biggest rivals both on the island and the mainland. Nathaniel Sterling, the CEO, was one of Ward’s closest friends, but since his death, Rafe had struggled to maintain Nathan’s favor. In fact, he disliked Rafe so much that he was purposely starting to poach Cameron Development’s construction laborers and spreading misinformation about the company’s financial status. 

Rafe had worked hard to dig the company out of debt, and Sterling was preventing future investors from giving the company a chance, “There’s this high-end bar on the mainland that he always visits, placed called the Platinum Parlor. This guy is there every weekend, at least. One of my boys tells me that the place is basically a front for a swingers club. They won’t let you in unless you’re a member, and there’s like secret codes you use to, you know, get access to what you’re looking for.”

“Get to the point, please.”

“Basically, he’s a freak. He always asks for a girl named Venus. My boy was telling me this, and I realized I knew that girl; she used to buy from me. I rode over there looking for her before her shift started, and I offered her some powder for some information. She couldn’t tell me everything, but he’s shown her videos of him doing some stuff, and he always asks that she wear pigtails, a plaid skirt, glasses, the whole school-girl look …” Rafe listened as Barry delved further into all the debauchery he’d heard. 

“...what are you implying, Barry?”

“I’m trying to say you have the perfect tool to solve yo’ problem. This is the only thing the dude gets off on, and I know his wife ain’t home dressing up for him. You have the most innocent girl in the world, and she actually likes wearing her hair in pigtails.”

“I know you’re not telling me I should let him fuck her–”

“No, no, Rafe! I’m saying that you can let him think that he can for as long as you need him to. That’s your in.”

“Fuck, I don’t wanna do that.”

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing you’ve ever done, country club.”

Barry was right about that. 

You liked the way the Kooks dressed, and they all seemed to exude happiness. They matched and coordinated every piece of their outfits, and even the ones playing sports had at least one piece of expensive-looking jewelry on. 

Rafe’s black polo and khaki shorts were nicely pressed, and he looked every bit like a seasoned golfer. He also gripped the golf cart’s wheel in one hand, carefully and quickly navigating the expansive green course. 

After you made your first stop, Rafe started by showing you the basics of acting as his caddy. He pointed at the clubs he would most likely be using and made you practice grabbing them. He also placed you in charge of keeping up the scorecard, slowly explaining all the numbers you were meant to help keep track of. You quickly learned this was a more complicated game than you imagined, and you weren’t sure how much fun it would actually be to play it.

Still, you were overjoyed that Rafe had even invited you out of the house to the country club, of all places. You spent a total of two hours deciding what to wear that morning until Rafe ultimately made the decision for you, choosing a short-sleeve, collared white dress. He also helped you tame your hair into two high ponytails wrapped in pink bows. As soon as you saw how cute you looked, you made sure to ask Rafe if they made golf dresses in Bunny’s size. 

You watched intently as Rafe stepped up to the first tee, positioning his feet and adjusting his grip on the club with practiced ease. With a smooth swing, he sent the ball soaring through the air, landing neatly on the fairway with a satisfying thud.

“Wow,” Your mouth hung open as you watched, “That was amazing, Rafey!”

“You wanna try it?” 

Hands behind your back, you nervously stepped closer, “Relax,” Rafe said, “I’m gonna help you.”

The actual golf club was much heavier than you were expecting and probably too tall for you, but Rafe adjusted your position accordingly. You felt him pressed against your back, his strong arms enveloping your frame and his hands wrapped around yours. “You’re always going to start with a tight grip, and then it’s all about your stance.” Rafe placed his leg between yours, kicking your feet apart until they were about shoulder-lengths apart, “Bend your knees for me, sweet girl.” 

“This feels … hazardous,” You tried and you felt Rafe’s chest vibrate as he chuckled. 

He stepped back from you, “Try bizarre,” You nodded, mouthing the word quietly, but kept your stance, “But you look great. Now, for the backswing. When you swing, you’re going to keep your arms straight and shoulders relaxed, and I want you to turn your upper half until the club is all the way back.”

You tried to follow his list of instructions, but Rafe ended up grabbing ahold of you again to demonstrate the motion, “You’re going to let the club flow naturally through the ball,” He guided you until you were ready to entirely give it a go, “You got this, Bambi.”

You obeyed Rafe’s final instruction and were surprised that you actually hit the ball, although it landed about five feet in front of you. “Look!” you jumped from excitement. 

“You did it,” Rafe grinned, “Wanna try again?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your voice trailed off as another golf cart approached. Instinctively, you closed the gap between you and Rafe. 

“Mr. Cameron!” An older gray-haired man, maybe in his 50s, approached, grin hidden partially by a thick mustache, “So lovely of you to grace this fine club with your presence after so many years.”

His deep and commanding voice soon matched his stature as he climbed out of the cart. A shorter, younger man was riding in the passenger side. A gold name tag was pinned to the left side of his chest. “Mr. Sterling,” Rafe greeted back, and you looked up to see a tight, slightly painful grin on his lips. “From what I’ve heard, you frequent this place a little too much. Do they have a reserved parking spot for you yet?”

Mr. Sterling let out a pinched laugh.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” 

It was then that the tall man made deep, soul-searching eye contact with you, “Bambi, this is Nathaniel Sterling. He owns Atlantic Crest Properties, which operates here on the island. Nathaniel, this is my girlfriend, Bambi.”

Nathaniel reached out a hand, and you officially felt you’d been thrown into the spotlight. You hadn’t interacted with anyone outside of Tannyhill or your ballet class. Rafe nodded slightly, signaling that it was okay to accept his hand. The man’s grip was strong and calloused.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bambi,” He greeted you. 

“Hi,” You spoke softly, “You do work like Rafe does?”

“Oh, yes, and much better, sweetheart,” You smiled, believing he was trying to make a joke, “I saw your swing on the way up. With some more practice, I can see you becoming a pretty good player.”

“Really?” Your eyes widened. 

“Rafe’s gonna have to get you your own set of clubs,” Nathaniel smirked. “Or maybe you can have my daughter’s since she only uses them sparingly anymore.”

“That would be–” The words came out faster than you could stop them, “That’s a really kind offer, Mr. Sterling.” 

You looked up at Rafe, excited by the offer, “I’m sure I can afford a new set,” Rafe stated. 

“Anyways,” Mr. Sterling coughed to clear the tension, “If the two of you aren’t too exhausted after your game, you should join me at the Steakhouse for an early dinner. Why waste the opportunity for us to catch up.”

You got a similar feeling to when you were around Barry and Rafe, like the two of them were having a conversation with their eyes. Mr. Sterling seemed intimidating, but you couldn’t deny that you wanted to see more of this place. 

“Sound good,” Rafe agreed, which you were grateful for, “We’ll see you there.”

After playing a few more holes and Rafe finishing your crash course on golf, he started showing you around. There were two Olympic-sized pools, a spa, daycare, and gym, and they even offered horse rides along the beach on special occasions. The two of you explored a women’s boutique—well, you explored it while Rafe had a conversation over the phone with Barry. You noticed Mr. Sterling’s name come up a few times but became distracted when you saw the perfect dress. 

Although you thought Rafe might say it was too fancy for dinner, Rafe immediately called the attendant over so you could try it on. It was princess style, with short sleeves tied with cream-colored ribbons and a skirt flowing out in three tiers. The attendant helped you into the corset, and you were practically locked in by the time you showed Rafe. 

He was already leaning against the payment counter, black card in hand. “We’ll take it; she’s going to wear it out,” he said as you twirled around. “You want anything else?”

“No,” You spoke breathlessly. “This is perfect. Thank you, Rafe!”

Rafe entwined his fingers with yours and held your hand throughout the entire walk to the restaurant. You found Mr. Sterling waiting for you at a table in the corner of the restaurant, with large windows on either side of him that looked out onto the beach. As he waved you over, Rafe leaned down to whisper to you, “You don’t have to say anything or answer any question you don't want to.” 

“Okay,” You said softly, knowing he was just looking out for you. 

“Rafe, Bambi,” He said as the two of you approached. You took the seat closest to the window after Rafe pulled it open for you, “How was the rest of your game?”

Despite the words he just told you, Rafe looked at you first as if he wanted you to answer, “It was really good,” You replied, trying to maintain a certain level of confidence, “I learned a lot and, uhm, the weather was just really perfect today.”

“I agree, it’s a beautiful day, and let me also say how beautiful you look in your dress, Bambi,” You had to glance away, a reflexive gesture to hide the embarrassed gesture that reached your face. You smiled despite the fact that your face was trembling, “It’s new?”

“Y-Yes, thank you. That’s—" You remembered the menu sitting on the table in front of you, and then you realized you were far too nervous at that moment to try to read it. “Do they have ice cream here?” you blurted out. 

Rafe’s lips parted, but Nathaniel interrupted, “I think you’ll be quite happy with the dessert selection. Order whatever you like,” You felt Rafe’s hands suddenly on your thigh. He was trying to hide how tense was, but it wasn’t working. 

When the waiter approached, Rafe ordered for you, which you were grateful for: chicken fingers, mac and cheese, and apple juice. He then went ahead and ordered you a dessert called strawberry crunch ice cream cake. 

Rafe and Nathaniel bantered for a while about business and things related to Kildare that you didn’t fully understand. For the most part, you focused on enjoying your food and addressing Nathaniel whenever he addressed you. Some of your nervousness washed away because the man seemed to smile and laugh in reaction to every word that you said as if you were the most amusing thing in the world. 

Halfway through the dinner, you leaned over to whisper in Rafe’s ear. 

“I need to go potty.”

Rafe nodded before pointing across the restaurant where he knew the bathroom was, “It’s over there. Go straight there and come back, please,” Rafe felt you squeeze his hand before you got up from your seat. 

Usually, he’d love to watch you walk away, but his eyes were entirely fixed on Nathaniel, who was watching you intently. 

“She’s quite … cute,” the man said sincerely, as if he were thinking deeply. “She’s so pure … hard to believe she was a whore when you found her.”

Rafe squinted, nodding his head, “She was never a whore, Nathaniel.”

“She knows how to fuck, doesn’t she?” 

“She comes from unfortunate circumstances, yes, but I’d appreciate it – greatly – if you didn’t call her that,” Rafe tone was sharp as he leaned closer, elbows on the table, “I really want to work something out with you, Nathaniel, but you’re not going to treat me like I’m just Ward’s son. I want something from you, and you want something from me. I’ll respect you if you treat me the same.”

“You’ve grown attached,” Nathaniel seemed to brush off Rafe’s intensity, “I apologize. Really, I’ve spent a short time with her, and I’m already quite enamored. I admire you, Rafe. You’ve trained her quite nicely.”

“She’s a good girl,” Rafe tried to set his emotions aside, and the feelings he had about you that seemed to make him go crazy. He needed to be cold. He needed to be the Rafe who’s able to pull a trigger and not feel any remorse, “She’s under tight lock and key. She’s under my watch, and I know exactly where she is 24/7.”

“Cameras?” Nathaniel’s interest peaked. 

“In her playroom,” Rafe shrugged.

“Huh,” The man’s jaw clicked, “I want pictures and videos, at the very least.”

This is what Rafe wanted but he couldn’t help but feel pause. The man in front of him was desperate. He could own Nathaniel with the knowledge he was giving up and the secrets that you could probably draw from in. It was dangerous involving you, but what Barry said was true, you were going to open doors for him. 

“At the very least?”

“Yeah, everything after that we can negotiate.”

Rafe could only think for a minute because you were happily skipping back towards the table. Your hands were cradled together, open towards him and holding peppermints, “Look, Rafe, they had a whole bowl of free mints in the bathroom,” You chirped, “I’m going to save some of these for Lana if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s fine.” Rafe smiled at you. “I was just telling Nathaniel about the amazing tea parties you like to throw.”

As you plopped down in your seat, your princess-style dress puffing up and then deflating like a balloon, your eyes widened. “It’s really fun!” you added. “Next time, I want to paint tea-cup handles. You should come, Mr. Sterling. Is that okay?”

The two men exchanged glances before Nathaniel narrowed his eyes back on you, running a hand over his face to smooth down his mustache, “That sounds delightful, sweetheart.”

reblog with a comment letting me know what you think to be added to my tag list!

[mirohlayo]

NOT SO JEALOUS

( Max is desperate to win your heart, but what can he do when other suitors are looking for you too? - Or in other words, the 2 times when Max denied his jealousy. )

warning : cute jealousy, sexual harassment, fluff fluff fluff

note : I think this one is cute

word count : 1.6k

You were incredibly perfect in Max's eyes. You were kind, funny, very very beautiful and adorable to everyone. You had your principles and your values and you were the most modest person in this world. To summarize, Max was destined to conquer you and your heart, because there was only you as the perfect woman.

But Max knew he wasn't the only one who saw your qualities. Other men saw in you the beautiful personality that you possessed, so naturally they also sought to seduce you, because that was all they dreamed of.

"Max, you've been staring at her for 3 minutes." Charles' eyes were mocking at the sight of his friend who seemed to melt on the spot admiring you. "How could I not? She's so... breathtaking." The Ferrari driver rolled his eyes as he went to retort.

However, looking back at Max's face, he could tell that something had changed. His jaw was clenched, his facial features more pronounced and his gaze - much darker and frightening. Charles frowned, examining his expression, as he decided to turn his head towards where Max seemed to be glaring at someone.

And a few meters further on, there was still you, in the paddock, and surprisingly, a man with a confident appearance and a dazzling smile. The dark-haired man seemed to make you laugh until you were close to tears, and Charles had also noticed the subtle touches this man was trying to do. Him too, because obviously Max had noticed that from the moment the man appeared in his vision.

"Jealous ?". Charles asked simply, curiously. Perhaps with a playful tone, which seemed to annoy the dutch. “No, not jealous.” “Not so jealous?” Charles continued again, friendly titillating the pilot next to him. Max was giving him a look that certainly screamed 'keep going and I'll kill you', so Charles didn't bother to tease him further.

But sure, his ears did not miss the curses that Max grumbled in a low voice, like a slight "anyway, he is not as beautiful and perfect as me. I am much better for her", before finally leaving with his head bowed and a pout on his face.

-

Clubbing. That word was pretty clear – dance, have fun and of course, flirt. So Max knew very well what he was going to get into when he took you to this famous little club in Monaco, your pretty navy blue dress that he adored on your body. He knew he couldn't really save you from any suitors.

You stayed by his side all evening. He absolutely didn't want to move his arm wrapped around your waist, a sign that showed others that you were potentially his. But when you kindly asked him to slip away to get some refreshments, apologizing, that's when he started to display his famous jealous expression.

“I can accompany you if you want.” Max said those words, and they sounded more like an order than a question. “Don’t worry Max, I'll be there in two minutes.” It seemed like the driver was looking for every possible excuse for you not to leave him, and you were starting to find that strange. “Max, we’re going to join Lando’s group, are you coming?” One of his close friends was yelling at him loud enough for him to hear.

His face fell as he already felt himself being dragged by the arm, seeing you disappear among the crowd. It was only a few seconds later, sitting like a sulking child who didn't get what he wanted, that he saw you sitting at the bar, impatiently waiting for your drink. You couldn't wait to join Max, because after all you'd be lying if you said you felt safe in this club.

Where Max gave you a feeling of peace and security. And this feeling of insecurity took shape when you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders and the alcoholic breath of a man older than you. His smile was scary, you tried to be as comfortable as possible but it wasn't working. “Don’t be afraid, pretty girl, I won’t do anything to you.”

Those words sounded like a lie and you inwardly begged the bartender to switch to lightning speed. The man felt more and more comfortable, his hands roaming over the bare skin of your arm. That's when you started to panic. "Sorry but I already have a boyfr-" "She already has a boyfriend, so no need to come touch her like a dirty pervert. Get out of there, otherwise I'll take you out myself."

Before your eyes, was there, Max. A look filled with disgust and fury, an expression almost similar to when he didn't achieve his goals in F1. An expression of rage and anger. You had never seen him so angry, at least just for you. The man was decomposing on the spot, and without a word he didn't bother to stay any longer.

"Are you okay, princess? Did he hurt you? Did he insult you? Do you want to go home and rest?" The way he worried about you made your heart melt, as he looked at you like you were the most beautiful and fragile thing in the world. You nodded slowly, taking the time to calm down. "I'm fine Max, don't worry. And I'd like to go home and rest, if you don't mind."

"It doesn't bother me at all, princess. Your wishes are orders." While he wrapped his jacket around your shoulders to keep you warm, you waited patiently for your Uber on the sidewalk of the club. The scene replayed in your mind, and a question tickled your tongue. "Jealous ?" The word came out naturally, and you watched as Max's cheeks flushed as he looked at you surprised. Completely in shock.

He looked away, his eyes glued to something nonexistent. “No, I just wanted to protect you.” “Not so jealous then?” You couldn't help but respond promptly, amused by his reactions. He cleared his throat embarrassed, before gently squeezing your hand that was in his. “Maybe a little, then.” That response alone was enough to make you giggle as he enjoyed the sweet melody. Maybe a little too much much after all.

-

It was your birthday. You had invited a few people, but enough so that you could organize a nice little evening. You had invited your closest friends, including two or three boys, and of course Max was one of them. Except he just wanted to be the only boy invited to your birthday.

It was perhaps immature and childish of him to think like that, but after all he had made the decision to confess his feelings to you at the end of that evening. He wanted to be the only one of the male gender who could tell you this tonight.

However, he didn't want to risk keeping you to himself all evening. It was your birthday, you were enjoying it to the fullest with your loved ones and that alone made him happy. Only, he would have liked not to have to endure your interactions with your other guy friend, who seemed to steal all your attention. He was once again displaying that terrible, tense and marked facade.

But he couldn't blame you. After all, who wouldn't want a woman as pretty as you? Except he couldn't take it anymore. To wait and endure all these hours. As you were about to blow out your candles, you slipped away to cool off in the kitchen. The guests finished lighting the last candles, and you found yourself alone with yourself and... Max.

Surprised to see him appear at first, you slowly turned to face him fully, an angelic smile on your face. Your smile that he could admire all day. “I saw you staring at me all night Max.” This sentence had the effect of a bomb on him, as his eyes widened. He thought he was at least being discreet, but it turns out he wasn't.

He scratched the back of his head nervously, feeling uneasy. “Don’t worry, I don’t feel anything for him.” He knew that you were referring to your friend because otherwise he would never have planted his gaze on yours as quickly as in this present moment. A faint giggle left your lips, amused. "Jealous ?". Max rolled his eyes playfully as he tried to hide his smirk.

“No, I don’t think I’m jealous.” You raised your eyebrows, surprised by his response. "Not so jealous, huh? Then I can go back to chat and laugh with my friend-" "NO- I... no, please. No, don't go back." He seemed completely panicked at the idea of seeing you laughing with this man he hoped to suffocate under his pillow tonight.

Suddenly, his strong muscular arms wrapped around your waist as he approached your bodies slowly. His gaze burned your skin, your eyes, but it was gentle. "I'm jealous, of course. You have no idea how much. Seeing you laughing, even just standing next to another man. I almost lost my mind. So I hope that a kiss could fix it, if you're okay with that ?" He asked in a cheerful voice.

A big smile took place on your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I'm perfectly okay with that, Mr. Jealous.” Your lips against his were perhaps the most beautiful thing he had ever tasted. It was sweet and innocent, but full of love and emotion. "Birthday kiss, birthday gift". He laughed softly.

“Oh yeah, I saw that you didn’t make an effort to actually gift me something.” You giggled back, kissing him again. “Maybe I should have given you some pepper spray to blind the men who admire your sublime beauty.” Another laugh escaped your body as he fully savored this happy moment.

“We shouldn’t keep them waiting.” You were referring to your guests. “Absolutely not, I really need to yell at them and tell them that I have the most perfect girlfriend in the world.” And in new laughter, you joined the others, who absolutely did not expect to see you kissing each other passionately behind the smoke of your blown out candles.

[sinstear]

ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ❝ 𝐢𝐟 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧’ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞, 𝐨𝐡 𝐧𝐨 ❞

eye contact with abby is something she loves a little too much. at first, she didn’t know what to do when she found you always looking at her when she would talk, or listen to a conversation. if it was her speaking, and you looked so into what she was saying, abby would get caught off guard few a couple seconds as her baby blues found yours already concentrating on her, and only her. you’d be nodding to her words, and your lips would curve up into a smile when she said something that made her laugh, a happy memory that would trigger her to smile and sometimes giggle. you watched it all. never once missing anything to do with her.

you’re the same with abby, but you don’t notice like she does sometimes, if you’re talking about something that happened to you that day, her intense stare catches you off guard. half the time, she isn’t even aware she’s staring at you that much or often until you splutter out a little “you’re just looking at me like that, can’t focus.” and she thinks it’s the cutest thing possible. how you get all shy and stammer on your words. at certain times, and points of any conversation, abby can’t help but smirk more at all of your reactions to her staring. the roles reversing just slightly that now has you the one looking away shyly, trying to regain your composure.

or the nights inside, in the warmth with a warm cup of hot chocolate in your hands, and she’s too focused on the movie you’ve both decided to watch and when she turns her head to ask you if you’re enjoying it, she already catches you looking at her with a soft expression on your face and a smile resting on your lips. abby’s face flushes a crimson red, but you can barely see it under the dark lights, but it’s there and she welcomes it so easily that she just gives you a lazy grin that had you reaching over and tucking a strand of her loose hair behind her ear. “you’re so cute,” you can’t help but mumble and press your lips to her temple. the softness of your words and actions had her melting more into your touch by the second, the movie long abandoned.

“you’re cuter,” abby smiled softly up at you, brushing her knuckles over your cheek slowly. “much much cuter than me.” a giggle fell from between her lips when you leaned down just to kiss her forehead, your lips resting against her skin and had her sighing contently against you. “cutest girl i’ve ever seen” came her truthful whisper.

“i don’t believe you,” you smiled, lightly brushing strands of her hair away from her face. “you are undeniably the most handsome yet beautiful person i’ve ever met. i get lost in your eyes for hours, i love the color and i love how you look at me.”

“like what?”

“like nothing around us matters. not when you look at me like that,” you pointed out, those baby blues peering into yours like you both were truly the only two people in the world. “when you look at me like that, nothing but us matter. if i have you, i don’t need anything else.”

“maybe it’s true,” abby smiles, reaching her hand up to cup your cheek. “maybe it’s true that when i’m with you, nothing else is important” the pad of her thumb brushes against your cheekbone, and her heart melts in her chest when you’re leaning into her touch. “because nothing but you matters. you’re the only person that matters to me.”

leaning more into her hand, you kiss her palm tenderly and smile down at her. her thumb quickly catches the tear that rolls down your cheek without hesitation, and wipes it away softly with another gentle smile. “i didn’t know true love, not until i met you.” you mumbled, more or so speaking into her palm.

“i’ll show you every day how much i love you,” the blonde promised, removing her hand from your face to wrap both her arms around you, tugging you carefully into her chest. your head rests comfortably on her shoulder as her fingers run up and down your back. “i’ve never had a love like yours. didn’t think i deserved it, but it’s different with you. with you, i have a purpose to get out of bed every day, with you i don’t feel scared, with you i feel at home. i love you more than the sky needs stars and i’ll never stop showing you how much i love you.”

[shelbgrey]

Kiss me in the dark(Derek Shepherd)

Paring: Derek Shepherd x Kepner!Reader

Summary: April Kepner's older sister is still a virgin and unlike her sister no one really knows. She shares the same morles as her sister but really she'll only sleep with someone she loves. She loves her boyfriend Derek but hasn't really gotten the chance to do anything until recently.

Warnings: SMUT, no plot just smut, fingering, Praise, gentle sex, loss of virginity, Derek being an absolute sweetheart.

MasterList ML2

As soon as we got into his trailer his lips were on mine, holding my face gently. as the kiss got more heated I felt his hands start to roam my body.

My eyes widened for a second feeling my stomach do flips I placed my hands on his chest and slowly pulled away. he noticed this, and placed a small kiss to my nose.

“we don't have to. only if-”

“shut it” I softly joked, cutting him off as ran my fingers through his perfect hair. My hands slightly shook as they fell to his belt. I kissed his lips trying to cover the fact I was struggling to unbuckel it. He softly pulled away and placed his hands on mine stope me.

He chuckled slightly. “hey, hey, slow down” I looked up at him with puppy eyes. He smiled lovingly and caressed my cheek. “we'll take things slow” he whispered kissing my cheek.

He smiled softly and took my hand and lead me to his bed. I felt so innocent and shy compared to his confident poster.

I stood still for a bit and looked around his tiny trailer. As I looked around a felt him come up behind me and brush my hair to the side. He started leaving soft kisses up and down my neck as his arms wrapped around my waist.

I felt him stop as he noticed my nervous poster. He turned me around softly and held my face in his hands making our eyes lock.

“what's wrong, Sweetheart?” he asked kindly, looking down at me.

“mm' nothing” and it was the truth. I didn't feel uncomfortable, nor felt paranoid or scared, I trusted him completely. I just simply felt shy at that moment, he smiled at and stroked my cheek softly with his thumb.

“your so beautiful...” he whispered as his hands fell to my ass. I stuttered feeling more shy under my boyfriends gaze.

A soft wine left my lips as I felt him pick me up caring me to his bed. he crawled on top of me, laying me down on the bed as he did so. he rubbed small, comforting circles into my hips, letting me know he was there and I could trust him.

I felt his hands settle on my thighs, slightly letting them wander up my shorts, “do you trust me?” he asked softly.

I felt body trembled, but seemingly in the best way possible. My body was practically in flames from his small, teasing touches. I nodded needing more of his touch.

“use your words, or I can't do anything” he said as I got lost in his blue eyes.

“yes..” I whispered and gently played with the dark hairs at the neap of his neck. He thumb stroked my cheek and his head titled to the side rasing and eye brow. “Yes, what Honey?”

I swallowed nervously not knowing how to say nor did I know what he want to here. “I trust you... please touch me Derek”

that was all Derek needed before he snapped, and his lips once again collided with mine. My hands went to his chest and I gasped into the kiss, noticing how much harder than it was than the first. but nonetheless, I was enjoying the hell out of it. especially when I felt his tongue slip past my lips and began to explore every part of my mouth.

He broke the kiss for a swift moment, “if you want me to stop... tell me and i'll do it, okay? i don't want you to be uncomfortable.”

I quickly nodded, not even really processing his words, I just wanted more of him.

He pulled away slightly giving me a serious look “I'm serious y/n” he said softly.

I nodded softly playing with the dark hair at the neep of his neck. “I will...”

My hand fell to his and our fingers laced together. I felt my chest heat up as he leaned down and pressed a delicate kiss on my lips as he placed our laced finger on the bed next to my head.

he started to press light kisses on my neck. I sighed, I had never felt a sensation like this. He bit down lightly and I let out a small whimper at the feeling. he moaned quietly at the sounds that were leaving my lips. He didn't sound disappointed.

“you like that, Baby?” he cooed teasingly in my ear, nibbling a bit on it, causing a shiver to go down my spine. that was all he needed before he continued to work on my neck, leaving small love marks on the smooth flesh.

“Der.. more.. Please” I pleaded, still not really knowing what I needed more of, but I just I needed more of him. he chuckled in my ear, and placed one last kiss on my jaw before gently lifting me up and laying my head on his pillow.

“what do you want more of?” he asked, hovering over me. His blue eyes stared into mine with a smirk.

“I-i don't know... just-more”

It was kinda funny, because I was begging and I truly didn't even know what I wanted. I knew it would make Derek's thoughts go wild, and I could feel his cock harden at the look on his face as he leaned in closer.

“you want me to touch you more?” he asked trailing his hand down to my outer thigh, “want me to make you feel good with my fingers?”

I felt my heart almost exploded from his words, and I felt my panties suddenly dampen.

“please Derek” I shuddered, wrapping my arms around his neck. he smirked and placed a small, but reassuring kiss on my lips.

I felt his fingers gently trailed over my thighs, going down my shorts, the feeling made me whimper. he pinched at the delicate skin, and I sighed out of content as his fingers inched closer and closer to where I needed him the most.

“are you okay?” he asked and placed a delicate kiss on my lips.

“I-it feels good...” I whimpered to him.

“don't worry, baby. gonna make you feel amazing,” he said kissed my neck once more, and his fingers finally found my clothes bundle of nerves, and he pressed down gently.

I let out a gasped at the sensation, my hips instinctively bucking up as I tried for more friction. he began with small circles on my panties, and he had already made me a sounding mess by the time he was attempting to push them aside, and run a finger up my slit.

“I've barely even touched you and you're soaked... what's got my beautiful girl so worked up?”

I blushed at the question making me hide my face in his chest from embarrassment, and he chuckled lightly.

“hey, don't be embarrassed. I think it's adorable.” he smiled lovingly.

he kissed my lips again, his tongue finding its way back into my mouth as my chest heaved from the overwhelming pleasure.

without warning, he slipped one finger in. it made me gasp into the kiss, partly from pain, the other from pleasure. He moaned at the sounds he was pulling from me.

soon enough, he was fucking me relentlessly with his just one finger, and I rocked my hips back and forth, just chasing a build up that I had never even experienced before.

“your being so good Honey, fucking my fingers like this.” he whispered, making a small whimper escaped my lips once again.

he kept going, even at one point, slipping another finger in to stretch me out a bit. I practically screamed at the feeling, the overwhelming sensation almost becoming too much to handle.

“can I take this off?” he asked tugging at his shirt that covered my body.

I nodded and he swiftly pulled the shirt off my body, and beginning to suck on my nipple lightly. He chuckled at the sudden halt in speech, and kissed my breasts soothingly as he felt my pussy clench around his fingers.

“I can feel you clenching around me baby... are you gonna cum for me?" he asked, coming closer to my face. I quickly nodded, the coil in my stomach progressively becoming looser.

“Derek, I'm gonna cum.” I warned him, and he simply hummed at my obliviousness. “Der..” I gasped, a wave of pure pleasure washing over me, sending what felt like electricity through my veins as he fingers went even faster.

“There you go, Baby.” he said softly.

My thighs trembled violently as I came on his fingers, and I had to hide my face in Derek's shoulder to muffle the scream that elicited from my lips.

As I saw stars, Derek kept going, this time focusing on my clit more than anything. those same noises leaving my mouth hadn't stopped, and before I knew it, that same feeling over came me again. I started to rock against his hand as I came, clinching the sheets on his bed.

I felt my whole body shake as Derek took his hand away, and he licked the rest of my release off of his fingers. he hummed as he stared into my eyes.

“you tast so good” I could feel his cock now painfully hard on my thigh, practically pleading to be released.

I smiled quietly as tried to regulate my breathing. I had never had an experience like this before, and I couldn’t believe that I had just lied there and actually enjoyed it

“you alright?” he asked brushing a few pieces of hair out of my face.

I smiled kissing his lips softly. he placed his hands on my cheeks deeping the kiss as he rubbed his hand up and down my hips, I sighed calming down as his touch soothed me. “do you want more? or... are you done for the night?”

Of course I wanted more of his touch, I wanted so much more. I wanted everything I just had, and even more than that if even possible.

I looked up at Derek with puppy eye “more... Please.”

he raised an eyebrow at with a comforting smike, “are you sure?"

I nodded my head threading my fingers through his hair bring him closer, “please Derek."

And with that, he started kissing my shoulders and neck every now and then to calm me down. He could tell that I was nervous about him seeing me in such a vulnerable moment. he slowly slipped my shorts and panties down gently, throwing them off to the side of the bed.

I laid back down, watching as he began to take his own clothes off. when he was finished, he hovered over me again, his hands gently traved my naked skin, drawing small circles into it. I felt his blue eyes scan my whole body and I started blush as I instincly covered my body with his sheets.

“hey, please don't cover up. you’re so beautiful.” I let out a quiet whimper still keeping my body covered up by his dark sheets. Derek looked up giving me a look of permission, slowly peeling the sheet away.

“so beautiful” he said kissing my chest. I trusted and loved Derek. He always made sure I was safe and comfortable. He handled me with care like he had always done.

He smirked, and gently kissed my lips. he began to kiss all over me, sucking and nibbling at certain parts, leaving me to whimper and tremble some more. his hands traveled everywhere, especially when it came to my breasts. he played with them between his fingers, showing extra attention to me nipples as he whispered sweet nothings. I sighed from pleasure and carded my fingers through his dark hair when he kissed them, and began to play with them with his tongue.

suddenly, he leaned up, and took us in for another heated kiss, “I can’t wait to ruin you, baby"

maybe if any other scenario or if he wasn't my loving boyfriend, I would’ve panicked and ran for the hills. but, this time, his words simply made me clench my thighs together. he felt it, and looked over. he let out a low chuckle, and shook his head.

“is that what you want? want me to fuck you?” he asked rubbing my cheek as a smirk was plastered on his face.

I felt nervous for this part, but I couldn’t even be bothered to think on the fact that I was still a virgin. Derek knew it as well and we had the conversation before. And he said wait until I was ready. That's always been the plan and he simply wasn't going to let me freak out, or feel shy or embarrassed.

I nodded my head frantically, and he teasingly rubbed his cock on your swollen clit. I leaned up to kiss him this time, forcing my tongue in his mouth, which baffled him as he continued to rock his hips into mine.

“look at you making demands...” he moved some hair from my face, “damn... you’re so beautiful.”

There was a beat of silence, only the sounds of your heart beating in sinc. “der..”

He hummed in response, locking his blue eyes with mine as I started to stutter under his gaze. “W-will you...um...”

He gave me a comforting look “will I what, sweetheart? say it.”

I blushed and glanced over for a moment, I felt my face burn again, but he grabbed my chin, and forcing our eyes to lock. “say it.”

Ihuffed, growing more needier and needier by the second, “Derek please.... Fuck me”

that’s when he kissed me again, but this time, it felt... different. it didn’t feel as if he was just trying to fuck me. It was like his normal loving kisses. Like the first kiss we ever shared. he simply just wanted a kiss. A kiss that says he loves me.

he aligned himself with me and looked up at me with reassurance in his eyes. “are you sure?”

I quickly nodded, “yes, please.” I shot him a loving smile, despite the very thing that was about to happen. but, I felt my smile suddenly faltered when a small thought popped into my head.

He must have noticed the shift on my face, and stopped automatically with a concerned look. “what's wrong Honey?” he asked stroking my cheek.

“does-will it hurt?” I asked softly. he softly smile,as my voice was just so fragile and curious. but, he leaned down and softy kissed my forehead,

“just for a few moments, but if it’s too much... you can let me know and i’ll stop, alright?”

I couldn’t help but to smile back at him lovingly, as his voice was so gentle and hypnotic. “okay...”

And with that, he aligned himself one more time, and his hand moved to my hip down as he slowly slid his tip inside. that burning sensation started, the one that ginny had described. and for a moment, I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it. a small hiss feel from my lips at the intrusion, and Derek caressed your cheek as held on to his arms.

“s-slow at first... please?” he looked at me with a reassuring smile.

Derek chuckled, “that was my plan.” he kissed my forehead softly. “I'll be as gentle as possible”

He began to dig his hips deeper, his cock making its way slowly more into me. I whimpered with every movement, but Derek was there whispering soft praises and reassurances in my ear.

“tell me how good it feels, darling.”

“so good... Fuck, Derek...”

And at one point, a string of curses even left my mouth, leaving Derek a groaning mess, as my shyness and innocence was slowly dying out underneath him.

“never knew such a innocent girl like you could say such nasty things...” he whispered, kissing my neck, sucking on it a bit.

Finally, that now familiar burning in my stomach took over, and I started squirming underneath him as I  unraveled in his arms. a loud scream left my lips, and Derek started planting open mouthed kiss to muffle the noises.

“God you look so gorgeous when you cum...” he groaned.

with just a few more thrust, Derek pulled out, cumming all over my stomach.

he rested his head on my chest few moments catching his breath as I mindlessly played with the damp strands of his hair. he placed a few kisses around my Breasts then up to my face, and slowly got up. he picked up my panties off of the floor, and leaned me up to put them back on.

“Let's get you cleaned up sweetheart” he said slipping his boxers back on.

I obliged by getting up. but, I underestimated everything for a moment, as you my aches, as well as my whole entire lower body. I tumbled and Derek caught me before I hit the ground. “I got you” he whispered.

He quickly scooped me into his arms, and carried me into the bathroom. He ran a hot bath and got one of his t-shirts to sleep. He gently lowered me into the bathtub then situated his body behind mine. “you did so good for me, Baby” he said softly, kissing my neck.

I leaned my back into his chest, as I tried to keep my eyes open. Derek gently kissed my cheek and continued to clean me up. “just relax, I got you” he whispered.

After he massaged the aches away and got me changed he gently picked me up in his arms once again caring me to his bed that now had fresh sheets.

“I wasn't too rough was I, Honey?” he asked as I cuddles to his chest. I looked up and smiled dispute my burning cheeks. “it was amazing” I whispered right before falling asleep in his arms.

[mrsfancyferrari]

NY Kisses

Summary: LH44 + New Year Kisses

Song: Starboy · The Weekend

Author’s note: Happy New Years! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 2.7k

MASTERLIST - F1

The bass vibrated through the floor, a steady pulse that mirrored the nervous flutter in your chest. Stepping into the expansive living room, you were immediately engulfed in a cacophony of laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses.

Fairy lights twinkled from every available surface, casting a warm, golden glow over the crowd gathered. You recognized a few faces – some of Lewis’s cousins, a couple of his friends – but mostly, the room was a sea of unfamiliar faces.

You clutched your glass of sparkling cider a little tighter, scanning the room.

And then you saw him.

Lewis.

He stood near the fireplace, leaning against the mantle, his posture relaxed yet somehow commanding. He was talking animatedly to a group of people, his head thrown back in laughter, and the sight of him, in that deceptively casual black tank top that highlighted the lean muscles of his arms and shoulders, stole your breath a little.

It was a simple piece of clothing, but on him, it was devastating. Your cheeks warmed, a flush spreading up your neck.

You'd been harboring this crush on Lewis for what felt like forever. He was everything you found attractive: intelligent, funny, kind, and undeniably gorgeous.

And tonight, in this setting, with the promise of a new year hanging in the air, your feelings felt even more heightened, more precarious.

Taking a deep breath, you navigated through the crowd, your eyes drawn back to Lewis every few seconds. A small smile played on his lips as he caught your gaze, and he excused himself from his conversation, making his way towards you.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate somewhere deep within you. “You made it.”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice sounding a little breathless even to your own ears. "Thanks for inviting me.”

He grinned, a flash of white teeth that made your stomach do a little flip. “Wouldn't have been a party without you,” he said, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than you expected. “How are you doing? Need a refill?”

“I’m good,” you managed, hoping your voice didn't betray the nervous flutter in your chest. “And this is fine, thanks.”

“Come on,” he said, gesturing towards the quieter corner by the windows. “Let’s get you away from the chaos.”

You followed him, feeling ridiculously pleased that he’d singled you out. The corner offered a view of the snowy landscape outside, the streetlights casting long shadows on the pristine white blanket of snow.

“So, how’s your evening been so far?” he asked, leaning back against the window frame, his dark eyes fixed on you.

“It’s great,” you said, honestly. “It’s a really beautiful house. Your family has done a wonderful job decorating.”

He laughed lightly. “My mom is the one responsible for all of this. She gets a little dramatic when it comes to holiday parties.”

“Well, she’s got excellent taste,” you said, feeling more comfortable now, the initial nervousness starting to fade.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice softening. There was a beat of silence, and you found yourself staring at the way the light played on his jawline, the way his dark braids fell across his forehead.

You’d known him for a while, but in this setting, under the soft lights and the buzz of the party, he seemed even more… captivating.

“So,” he started, breaking the silence. “Any big new year’s resolutions?”

You chuckled. "The usual I guess. Trying to exercise a bit more, maybe read a book each month, be a kinder person."

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “All admirable. Me? I’m just hoping this year is a little less chaotic than the last.”

“I hear that,” you replied.

You talked for what felt like a few minutes, conversation flowing easily between you like it always did. It was one of the things you loved about being around Lewis – even when your heart was a tangled mess of nerves, he always had a way of making you feel comfortable.

He asked about your job, your friends, your plans for the coming year, and he listened with genuine interest, his eyes never leaving yours.

As the night progressed, you found yourselves gravitating back to the corner by the windows. The party around you became a warm hum, background noise to the quiet space you had carved out together.

You laughed at his jokes, told him about a funny incident that happened to you earlier in the week, and watched as the minutes ticked by, bringing you closer to the midnight countdown.

The energy in the room began to build, a tangible excitement thrumming through the crowd. People started gathering in front of the television, where a live feed of the ball dropping in Times Square was being projected.

Lewis moved closer to you, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the faint scent of his cologne and something else—something inherently him.

Your stomach tightened.

“Almost there,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

He was close enough that you could feel his breath on your cheek, and you could feel every nerve ending in your body prickle to attention.

The countdown began, the television screen flashing numbers in bright, bold font. “Ten… nine… eight…” the crowd chanted along. Your heart beat in your throat, a deafening drum against your ribs.

You risked a glance at Lewis, and found him already looking at you, his eyes dark with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Seven… six… five…” The world seemed to narrow, focusing just on his face, the curve of his lips, the way the light made his eyes sparkle.

“Four… three… two…” Your gaze dropped to his lips, and you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to feel his mouth on yours.

The thought sent a thrill of anticipation through you, a yearning so intense it was almost painful.

“One!” The room erupted in cheers, champagne corks popped, and a chorus of "Happy New Year" filled the air. The television screen went dark, replaced by the kaleidoscope of fireworks exploding across the New York skyline.

You turned to Lewis, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it. The room was still buzzing, but in that moment, it was like the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you.

He leaned in, his gaze locking with yours. For a moment, time seemed to stop, and all you could hear was the frantic beat of your own heart.

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing your skin.

“Happy New Year,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath.

And then, he kissed you.

It was a soft kiss, tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But then he deepened it, his lips pressing against yours with a warmth and a tenderness that made your knees go weak. You closed your eyes, your hands instinctively reaching up to cup his face.

It was everything you’d imagined, and so much more. The kiss was a promise, a connection, a silent language spoken between two hearts.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, your forehead touched his. You felt dizzy, like you'd just woken from a dream. You struggled to find the words in a moment so surreal and beautiful.

"That was..." you began, your voice still a little shaky.

He smiled, that gorgeous, heart-stopping smile that always made your breath catch. "It was," he finished for you, his eyes still holding yours, "perfect."

A shy smile stretched across your lips. "Yeah," you whispered. "It really was.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers still lingering on your cheek, and the sound sent a delightful shiver down your spine.

The party raged around you, confetti raining down like colorful snow, but your world was focused on him, on that kiss, and the silent promise of something new, something wonderful, beginning in the first moments of the new year.

"So," you finally said, regaining some of your composure, "does this mean I get a New Year’s kiss every year now?"

His eyes gleamed with mischief and something else that made your heart flutter. “Only if you want one,” he said, his voice husky.

And in that moment, surrounded by the echoes of the party and the promise of a new beginning, you knew exactly what you wanted. You smiled. “I think I do.”

A year later...

The living room was filled with a comfortable hum of chatter and clinking glasses. Fairy lights strung along the mantelpiece cast a warm glow on the faces of your friends huddled on the sofas and armchairs.

The scent of spiced apple cider hung in the air, mingling with the subtle aroma of the pine tree standing proudly in the corner. It was New Year’s Eve, and the anticipation of the countdown felt almost palpable.

Lewis, his arm casually draped over your shoulder, leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Hang on, babe, I need to get something real quick,” he muttered, his voice slightly muffled against your ear.

His eyes, warm with that familiar mischievous glint, met yours for a brief second before he pulled away and headed towards the hallway.

You watched him go, a small smile playing on your lips. He was always doing that – disappearing for a minute only to reappear with some little surprise, some silly thing he thought you’d like.

It was one of the many things you loved about him. Maybe he was grabbing the ridiculous party hat he’d bought that afternoon, the one with plastic champagne bottles bobbing precariously on springs.

The conversation around you ebbed and flowed. You caught snippets of laughter and friendly banter, but your attention kept drifting towards the hallway, waiting for Lewis’s return.

Your friends, noticing your distracted gaze, started teasing you gently.

“Someone’s pining,” Sarah chuckled, nudging you with her elbow. Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Leave her alone, she’s just excited for her New Year’s kiss again,” Mark added, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You blushed, feeling a bit silly. “I am not! I just… I’m wondering what Lewis is getting.” You tried to sound nonchalant, but your voice betrayed your true feelings. You were excited for your New Year’s kiss, especially if it was from Lewis.

"He’s probably just getting more beer," David quipped, causing everyone to laugh. You playfully rolled your eyes.

A wave of a low hum filled the air, the TV flashing a countdown timer. It was getting closer. 11:50. You unconsciously started tapping your foot, a nervous energy building within you.

Where was he? You began to feel a tiny pang of disappointment. You wanted to be with him.

“You alright?” It was Emily, her voice soft and concerned. She had seen the brief shift in your expression.

“Yeah, just…wondering when he’ll be back,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone light.

“He’ll be back soon, don’t worry. He’s probably trying to find the perfect champagne,” she replied with a reassuring smile.

11:55. Your heart was starting to beat a little faster. You could practically feel the collective anticipation in the room. People were adjusting their positions, getting ready to raise their glasses. Where was he?

And then, it happened.

A door slammed somewhere in the house, and suddenly, you heard the unmistakable sound of rapid footsteps. A frantic “Shit!” echoed from the hallway. Then, you saw him.

Lewis burst into the living room, his face a mixture of panic and determination. His braids were slightly disheveled, and he was breathing heavily. He looked as though he had run a marathon. He stopped abruptly just in front of you, his eyes wide.

“I… I lost track of time,” he gasped, his chest heaving. “I was sorting through… through that old box of photos and then I heard the countdown! I didn't realize it was almost midnight.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. He’d been looking at old photos? That was completely unexpected.

“You’ve been gone ages,” you said, your tone a mix of relief and amusement.

He ignored your comment, focusing all his attention on you. His eyes were fixed on yours, the same warm, mischievous glint now replaced with something akin to urgency. It was a look you didn’t often see, and it made your stomach flutter.

"It's not.. it's not midnight yet, is it?" he asked, almost panting.

You glanced at the television screen. 11:59:50. The seconds were ticking down rapidly.

"Almost," you answered, your voice a soft whisper.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your face. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to miss it.”

You could hear the muffled sounds of the countdown, the excited murmurings around you. Your heart was practically thudding against your ribs. You looked up at him, your gaze locking with his.

The room around you seemed to fade away, leaving only him, his breath warm on your skin.

11:59:55… 11:59:56… 11:59:57…

“You okay?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips.

He laughed softly, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Never better," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours.

11:59:58… 11:59:59…

He leaned in, his gaze intense, and you closed the small gap between you two, your hands coming up to rest on his chest.

“Happy New Year,” he breathed against your lips, just as the room erupted in cheers and clinking glasses.

00:00

His lips met yours in a sweet, tender kiss that sent a wave of warmth through your entire body. It was nothing like the stolen pecks you two often shared, or the lingering kisses filled with playful teasing. This felt…different.

It was a kiss that held the weight of our feelings, a silent promise of the year to come. You felt yourself melt into him, completely lost in that shared moment.

The kiss lasted a moment longer than it should have, a moment where it felt as if the rest of the world had faded away. When you finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, the room was filled with the sound of happy chatter and the pop of champagne corks.

“Happy New Year,” you repeated, your voice soft. Your eyes still hadn't left his.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with happiness. He ran a hand through his already disheveled braids. "I'm sorry, I got caught up... I didn't mean to leave you hanging."

You chuckled, playfully nudging him with your elbow. “It’s alright. It was worth the wait.” you glanced at the TV, which was now displaying a celebratory message.

"What were you doing, anyway? Looking at old photos?"

He nodded, his cheeks gaining a light pink hue. “Yeah, I found this old box in the attic. There were a bunch of photos from us last year, and I… I just got a bit lost in them, I guess.”

A warmth spread through your chest. He’d been looking at old pictures of you two? Your feelings for him felt even more profound than they had before.

“That’s… that’s lovely,” you said, your voice a soft whisper.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah. I realized that… I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend New Year’s with.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. The room around you faded once again, leaving only you and him in this small bubble of intimacy. You felt a surge of happiness so strongly that it almost took your breath away.

"I feel the same way," you admitted, your smile widening.

He leaned in and kissed you again, a quick, playful peck this time. “So, what do you say we ditch this crowd and find a quiet spot to, uh... look at some old photos?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You laughed, a genuine, joyful sound. “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all night.”

He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. As you two walked out of the living room, leaving the celebrating crowd behind, you felt a sense of peace and contentment wash over you.

The New Year had just begun, and you knew that, with Lewis by your side, it was going to be an extraordinary one. The chaos of the near-miss midnight kiss had faded, replaced by a quiet understanding, a shared moment of connection that felt more significant than any grand gesture. It was a perfect start to the year, and it was all you could ever have asked for.

He was all you could ever have asked for. . . .

[x-reader-things]

Hello!I just stumbled upon your recent post about opening up commissions again. And it makes me happy you do Arcane!😅. Anyway I was maybe hoping for my request/suggestion.

Vi x female reader(She/her). It's just romantic of course!idk of you're comfortable with a single mother fem y/n?like reader already has the child it's ok to not do this!!

I just more so want some Vi x female reader where Vi gets out of Still water and going to find her onve teen girlfriend again baisvally a chess reunion between them

It's been a while since I've written a request, and anything for Arcane in that matter so I hope this isn't too ooc-

Anyways I love Vi <33333

"I trust her."

Vi x f!reader [could be easily read as gn!reader though too, no phsyical specifics about reader were described]

Summary ; In which Vi discovers you're looking after a kid.

Requested? ; Yes.

Warnings ; None, outside of a small description of an injury and some mentions of enforcers being awful.

Word count ; 1.3 k words.

——————————————————————

"You... have a kid?"

The small hellion behind you hid by your legs. He barely reached past your knees. A bit small for a five year old, but given the circumstances of Zaun... it was the norm.

You turned towards the kid, and placed a comforting hand on the top of his head. He visibly relaxed at the gesture, and tentatively peaked out to look at the strong woman in front of you both.

"Not my kid by blood, Vi", you told her with a forced chuckle. "You know me, I don't think I'd get with any of the guys down here in Zaun. Even here in the Firelights."

Vi took her gaze off of the kid, and settled her eyes on you.

"Well...", she started, her tone a bit tense. "It has been, what, seven years? Things change."

Except you, she hoped. Kind hearted, beautiful you. A light in the dark of Zaun and Piltover alike. At least, that's how she described you as when it was just her and Vander, talking about everything and nothing during one of the calmer nights before shit hit the fan.

"Not always", you replied. You kept your voice calm, and careful. A habit you've made for yourself whenever the Firelights let in someone new. It kept the children the group took care of calm, and kept the adults from lashing out. You did that because you had no idea what the newcomers had been through. Be it their addiction to Shimmer, loss of a loved one, or the brutality of an enforcer.

You had to make sure there was a level of trust. And stars know how you needed to keep that up with Vi, with everything she's been through at Stillwater. Keep a level head. Don't let all your old emotions and memories resurface to the cracks you painstakingly had to fill.

Especially with the little guy near your legs, who had begun to stare tiny daggers at Vi.

"This little guy--", you began, voice straining with a bit of effort while you hauled him up to your hip. "--is still new here. Kind of. Won't leave my side, not that I mind. Scar said it was like I was... reverse adopted or something like that."

You smiled wryly at the thought. "I figured why not take him under my wing? Help him acclimate and get used to it here. I had extra space in my room too, so it all worked out."

A small smile pulled at the corners of Vi's mouth. You were still just as kindhearted as when you both were teenagers. Still lovely.

Good, she thinks. That's good.

"So... not your kid then, bird?"

The nickname fell so seamlessly off her tongue. A nickname she gave you because during your little exploits up to Piltover, whenever it was just you and her, you practically flew around the buildings. You had told her it was because you had a good teacher to help you. If Vi remembered correctly, that was around the time of her first kiss with you.

She said you were amazing, you said you had a good teacher and gave her the softest eyes she could ever imagine and then...

Well, your glance away from her said it all. You remembered it too.

She missed you so much.

Clearing your throat, you continued. "No, no, he's still my kid. Best kid all around - and I will be biased, 'cause he's a great helper, isn't that right, Clay?"

Clay, the boy in your arms, nodded. He still glowered at the woman in front of you.

"Doesn't seem like he likes me all that much", Vi said. She shoved her hands back into the pockets of her jacket, and took a small step forward. Clay leaned back into you defensively, and a small arm wrapped around the front of your shoulders. Vi raised a brow at that. A curious one, rather than the usual judgemental one.

You adjusted your hold on the five year old, one hand raised to his back to keep him stable on your hip. Your other hand moved to his arm, and gently pried his hand off of your shoulder. You let him keep a hold on your hand to mess with it, an action you were used to doing by then. Over time you had found out the kid was tactile, and hated being left alone for too long.

"He doesn't trust people he doesn't know too well. Gets quiet, too. Plus you were hauled in here with a bag over your head and got tied up before Ekko found out it was you, and not some other piltie, so...", you shrugged. Vi huffed out a wry laugh.

"Figures. I wouldn't trust me either, kid", she said to Clay. Clay blinked at her, the sharpness in his eyes reducing the slightest bit.

"Vi, here, isn't like those pilties though", you said to him. "She's not like those enforcers from what happened, kiddo. Can't say much for that friend of hers, but Vi's trustworthy. You alright if I show you?"

You held out the hand he was playing with, and opened it with your palm facing up, as if you were offering your hand over to Vi. Clay glanced in between you both, and regarded Vi with a careful scrutiny. When he saw the care in your eyes, and the calmness in both of you, he quietly spoke.

" 'Think so."

"You sure?", you asked. Vi swears your voice got ten times more gentle, ten times more sweet. Although, that could be the nostalgia talking. Nonetheless, it was still there. "I don't wanna do something you're uncomfortable with, bud."

" 'M sure."

"Alright." You nodded at him, and your eyes went back to Vi. Your hand still remained outstretched towards her, a quiet beckon for her to take it into her own. Just like you've done dozens of times before this, when you were just teenagers. Just kids.

Your eyes traced over her. Took in every new scar, every new tattoo and muscle. Her hands were infinitely roughed up, even with the bandages over them. However, it was still her. Still Vi.

Your Vi.

Changes or no changes, she was still the person you grew to love years ago. And hopefully, she still understood that silent plea in your eyes to hold her hand.

Vi's eyes, the softest of powder blue, went gentle. The bags under them still sagged, but the weight of them lightened. Almost tentatively, she raised her hand to yours.

The briefest of touches, her fingertips to yours, sparked with static. Vi flinched her hand away at first, and shared a laugh with you at how sudden it was. But after that, her hand slipped right onto yours.

You squeezed her wrist, and she did the same. You turned her hand over, so that her own hand was laid out, palm up, and raised it just a bit so that Clay could see it better.

"See? She's not so bad", you mumbled. "Rough around the edges, sure, but everyone is. Vi won't hurt you, and she won't hurt me."

Clay stared at Vi's hand, and listened carefully to your words. He reached down, and placed his small hand onto the bandages covering Vi's palm.

The sleeve on his jacket rose up, showing the bandages wrapped around his own wrist. An injury from a harsh scrape he got from running away from an enforcer. By the time you and a few firelights found him, it was already infected. Luckily, back there at the Firelight's tree, there were enough antibiotics there to help. And luckily, he was healing.

Vi and Clay looked up at each other. The tension pulling at Clay's shoulders dropped some, and Vi just gave him a small nod.

"See what I mean, Clay?" Your thumb brushed against her wrist, moving slowly in a crescent shape against her skin. A habit you used to have, years ago. "She won't hurt us."

You gazed back into her eyes. Longing and love and hurt swirled behind them. Tapered down, but still there.

"I trust her."

I missed you.

[miriamladyvoid]

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Always an Angel, Never a God

"Sometimes, she felt as if her heart were a dying star, flickering weakly in the vast darkness of the sky. Always present, but barely noticeable among so many other, brighter lights, beautiful in its light, but always seeming to be just a heartbeat away from going out".

✧I will no longer write something so ambitious again; it was so complicated to cohere all of this because I didn't want to discard any character from each dorm. So I hope the pace of the reading doesn't feel weird. The tone was supposed to be more hopeful, but I started to feel a little sad at the end.

✧Fem Prefect, the reader is the Ramshackle prefect.

The nights in Twisted Wonderland had always been a refuge; from the window of the Ramshackle Dorm, the prefect watched the firmament with a mixture of longing and melancholy. It was in those moments of stillness, under the immense night sky, that she could allow herself to breathe. The stars always seemed to offer her a companionship her friends could never fully provide. Not because they didn't love her, but because, at the end of the day, she was different. Twisted Wonderland, with all its magic and twisted wonders, was a fascinating place, but it was not her home. Her days passed in silent repetition.

First there was Ace, always quick with a joke, but his words sometimes hurt her more than he knew. "Prefect, what would we do without you?" he said half-jokingly and half-seriously. But those words, they hurt. What would they do without me? But what am I beyond solving their problems? Riddle, with his severe look and devotion to order, came to her when Heartslabyul fell apart under the weight of his own rules. "You're reasonable; I'd rather trust you," he said, like it was a compliment. However, in his eyes, she was only another piece in his perfect order, a resource to use when the rules were not enough to maintain the order.

Trey, always kind and calm, offered her small comforts in the form of candy and kind words. “Don’t worry so much,” he would say as he handed her a freshly baked cookie, as if sugar could sweeten the bitterness she felt. It was as if Trey treated her with the same kindness one gives to a stranger, someone you want to please but not let get too close to. Cater, always smiling and with the phone ready, seemed to see her in a brighter light, at least on the surface. “This is going straight to Magicam, but make sure you give your best smile, okay?” he exclaimed while making sure she was well framed in his selfies. But once the photo is taken, she becomes a memory that faded away among filters and irrelevant comments.

Deuce was different, and maybe that's why it hurt her more. "Prefect, I'll do better next time," he'd say after some disaster, his eyes filled with determination and guilt. In his clumsy way, he always wanted to prove to her that he could be better, that he could be up to it. But in those desperate attempts to prove himself, she couldn't help but feel responsible for the insecurity he carried. It was as if, instead of supporting each other, he was running after a difficult goal, looking for validation in a place where she herself couldn't find it.

The moments with Leona were like shooting stars: brief flashes of connection that illuminated the darkness, only to quickly fade away. He was a dying star, exhausted and unwilling to shine for anyone else. Sometimes, it seemed she managed to truly see him, glimpsing something beyond his usual indifference. His distant gaze made her feel like a powerless spectator, unable to stop his inevitable collapse. "Don't try so hard," he would tell her, yawning with squinted eyes. "You don't belong here anyway." His carefree words always cut deeper than intended. Jack, despite his loyal and protective nature, saw her as someone he always had to take care of. "You're strong, but sometimes you get into too dangerous situations," he would say, his tone full of concern. His protection was comforting, but also a chain that kept her anchored to a dependency she didn't want. By his side, she felt like a star whose shine depended on the protection of others, trapped in an orbit that eclipsed her independence.

Ruggie, on the other hand, viewed her through a more pragmatic lens. "If you ever need anything, you know, just ask," he would tell her with a mischievous grin. But there was always a transaction behind his words, as if she was just one more on his list of favors, something he could cash in when it was convenient. To him, she was like a distant star, useful insofar as she could offer something, but always interchangeable. "Don't take things so personally, Prefect. We're all looking out for ourselves here." That raw truth, stripped of sentimentality, was a brutal reminder that, in this world, no one shone without a price to pay.

Azul saw her as an opportunity. He always had a deal or contract at hand, waiting for her to fall. “You can always count on me for a fair price,” he would say, with that calculating smile that never revealed his true interest. Like the ocean that reflects the stars but never touches them, she never felt like more than a surface he turned to when he needed something. She was not an equal. And though she knew his words were double-edged, there was a strange comfort in being valued, even if it was for her usefulness. Floyd was a fickle tide; he was unpredictable, and his light always seemed to flicker between whim and disdain. “Shrimpy, you’re fun! You don’t bore me as easily as the others!” he would say with a smile that failed to disguise his capricious nature. Sometimes he would smother her with his attention, with brusque hugs and laughter that lashed like a violent tide, but his effervescence had an edge; when he grew bored of her company, he would abandon her without hesitation.

Jade, always his brother’s elegant shadow, would approach with his serpentine calm and eyes that seemed to unravel secrets. “It’s always a pleasure having you around, Prefect,” he would comment with that polite smile that never reached his eyes. His tone was always wrapped in impeccable politeness; she felt like his words were more of an assessment than a compliment. At his side, she felt like a star trapped in a jar, admired only as long as it served to feed his curiosity.

Kalim, with his bright optimism, was perhaps the one who treated her with overflowing kindness, but even warmth could be blinding. "You're a great friend," he would say sincerely, but something in those words made her hesitate. He would seek her out when he wanted to share her joy, but he could never quite grasp her sadness. Sometimes, being by his side was like floating in a sky lit by fireworks, dazzling and joyful but a light that fades when the sun makes its appearance. With Jamil, the connection was more complicated, a precarious balance like that of a star orbiting dangerously close to a black hole. Always trapped in Kalim's shadow, his own struggles overshadowed any support she might need. “It is better that you do not get too involved,” he warned her with his cold tone, his gaze fixed on a point beyond her, as if she weren't even there. Despite that, she sometimes lent him a hand in his duties with Kalim. But she knew that, for him, it was nothing more than a satellite, a secondary star without its own brightness, destined to revolve around something bigger and more important than itself.

Vil was a supernova, bright and blinding, consuming himself in his quest for perfection. “Beauty takes effort, Prefect,” he told her with brutal frankness, his critical eyes seeing each of her imperfections as something that needed to be corrected. His words, wrapped in the confidence of someone who had always been admired, only reminded her how imperfect she felt around him; his words, though well-intentioned, left her feeling more dulled than enlightened. Rook, the hunter whose love for beauty was as great as life itself, saw the prefect as a masterpiece. “You are so fascinating, my dear Trickster,” he exclaimed, his poetry as intoxicating as it was confusing. His words were a hymn to her uniqueness, but behind his admiration was a disturbing curiosity, as if he wanted to decipher her and reduce her to a simple piece of his endless collection of discoveries and beauties.

Epel, determined to prove his strength, kept her at a distance. “I don’t need you to babysit me like a child,” he insisted. She admired his determination, but she couldn’t ignore the pain his words left behind. His distance was a reminder that even among the lost, vulnerability was a burden few were willing to share.

Idia kept to himself, always hidden behind the screen of his tablet. “I like having you around,” he had once told her. They shared the strangeness of not fitting in, but even in that shared solitude, she felt a distance. “We’re like NPCs, you know? The ones on the outside, the ones who don’t count,” he had once joked. Despite his isolation, Idia shone, albeit in a dim, reserved way. He took refuge in his solitude; she desperately sought to be seen, to be understood. Ortho, on the other hand, was always an unwavering warmth. His innocence and curiosity radiated a light reminiscent of a young star: bright, pure, and free of the shadows of a life that never came to be. “You’re my brother’s friend, so you’re my friend too!” he would say enthusiastically, in that tone that made his every word seem like a gift. She knew that, in Ortho’s eyes, she was someone special. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder if her worth depended solely on the connection she shared with Idia. Would he still view her with the same affection if her bond with his brother disappeared? Would she still matter if that thread unraveled?

Lilia was like a dying star, its light still shining brightly, but hiding the imminence of its extinction. "Ah, Prefect, you still have much to learn," he would say with a soft smile, as if he knew something she could not understand. To him, she was a curious flicker in time, something to cherish while it lasted, but without the depth to leave a real mark on his long-lived existence. Like a reminder of what is fleeting, an echo of the lights he had seen go out countless times. Sebek, with his fiery passion, treated her as if she were a star that had strayed from its course, something that needed to be guided back into place. “Though you are a human without magic, you have some worth!” Though his words often carried reproach, beneath was a misplaced devotion that she could not ignore. To Sebek, she was a lesser star, one that existed only to reflect the greatness of her lord. Even his attempts to protect her felt like an extension of his own obsession, leaving her trapped in his shadow.

Silver was the stillness of a dawn before the sun rose, a soft glow that always seemed on the verge of fully awakening. “Prefect, your presence always brings peace,” he said in a sleepy tone, as if he saw her more as a whisper in the background of his reality than as a clear voice. Yet his perpetual drowsiness created a barrier between them, as if he were trapped in a dream from which he could not wake. To him, she was a star that illuminated his path, but whose light barely managed to penetrate his own lethargy.

Finally, on one of her darkest nights, when the weight of her isolation was almost unbearable, she found Malleus on the outskirts of Ramshackle. He was there, like a majestic shadow under the starry sky, the king of the firmament, an imposing force that always seemed on the verge of consuming everything.

“Why do you think the stars stay there, so distant, instead of falling and disappearing?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the infinite. His voice was quiet, with an echo of melancholy that resonated in the cold night air.

She hesitated before answering. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because… they have nowhere else to go.”

For an instant, he wanted to say something, anything, to fill the void her words had left. But he didn’t. Because, although Malleus would never say it directly, there was something in his voice that seemed like an invitation. As if, in the midst of that immensity that always separated them, he was telling her that her light was enough, too, even if she didn’t see it yet. But there was always a chasm between them, a constant reminder that her light would never be as eternal as his.

The weight of all those glances, of all those words, was building up in her chest as if an invisible hand was squeezing her heart. It had been a long journey, one filled with unforgettable moments, but also marked by a loneliness that no one seemed to notice. Memories of each interaction passed through her mind like a cruel parade. She forced herself to breathe deeply, her trembling hands touching the window glass as her eyes sought solace in the stars again. Yet her mind, treacherous, found one last wound to open. One sentence, cold and implacable, echoed in her memory like a definitive sentence:

“There is no place in this world where this soul belongs. NONE.”

The words of the Mirror echoed in her mind, an irrevocable sentence that pierced her heart with the precision of a dagger. She had wanted to prove him wrong. She had tried to fit in, tried to find a place among the people she had come to love and admire, even as each interaction reinforced the truth she so feared. The thought cut through her like a knife, and with it came a single certainty: her presence here had never been wanted. She was no heroine, no savior. She was just a nobody who had fallen into this world at the whim of a mirror.

The sentence continued to echo in her head, stealing the air from her lungs. Her chest tightened, her throat closed, and before she could stop herself, tears began to flow from her eyes. The crying began as a silent tremor, a muffled gasp as she buried her face in her hands. She covered her mouth, desperate not to wake Grim, her little companion, who slept peacefully in the bed. Cruel irony that he, her faithful friend, was not there to notice the sadness of his henchman. The same sadness that she had always hidden behind a smile and an ill-timed joke. Her breathing was irregular, ragged by the effort to contain the sobs that threatened to break the silence of the night. The world seemed to have shrunk to that small corner of her bedroom, where only the stars were witnesses to her vulnerability.

Sometimes, she felt as if her heart were a dying star, flickering weakly in the vast darkness of the sky. Always present, but barely noticeable among so many other, brighter lights, beautiful in its light, but always seeming to be just a heartbeat away from going out.

The crying continued, each tear falling in a desperate, muffled silence. For once, she couldn't even find solace in the stars. Only curses. She cursed her weakness, her loneliness, but most of all, she cursed the day that damn mirror had made her fall into Twisted Wonderland.

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Banners created by miriamladyvoid© Feel free to use; please, reblog, and credit banners.

©Miriamladyvoid 2025. do not steal my work plz…☕︎

Language of the flowers of each Banner:

First Banner: Cyclamen: Resignation. Second Banner: Bramble, Rose: Envy. Third Banner: Lobelia: Splendid Misery.

[goldfades]

★ FUCKING YOU SENSELESS THEN WASHING YOUR HAIR ─── PB⁵

❪ wife inspired me to write shower sex w/ baby paige and yk i had to deliver ❫

─ warnings | NSFW under the cut, read at your own discretion! fingering, um... horny/dirty minded paige????? uhhh some aftercare kinda, not too filthy

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THE WARM WATER ran down your body, the tension from week slowly slowly melting away. The shower was like a sanctuary, the steam enveloping you in a comforting embrace.

You let out a sigh, tilting your head back and closing your eyes, savoring the moment of peace. The bathroom door creaked open, and you heard the soft patter of footsteps on the tile floor. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know it was Paige. The air seemed to buzz with her presence, a gentle hum of energy that always made you feel at ease.

You turned around to meet her gaze, but she was anywhere but your eyes, your face turning a red flush. Paige then slipped off the towel and stepped into the shower, her eyes meeting yours with a warmth that made your heart flutter. She moved closer, the water cascading over both of you as she wrapped her arms around your waist.

"Rough day?" she asked, her voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

You nodded, resting your forehead against hers. "Yeah, just a lot going on. But being here with you makes it all better."

Paige smiled, her hands running up and down your back in a slow, comforting rhythm. "Maybe I can... help you, baby?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, turning around as a laugh escaped your lips. "Oh really? How?"

Her hands found your hips, pulling you closer as the water cascaded over both of you. Paige leaned in, her breath warm against your ear. "Want me to show you, baby?"

You shivered, not from the coolness of the water but from the anticipation that her words sparked. Paige's hands slid up your sides, her thumbs brushing the undersides of your boobs, making your breath hitch.

"Turn around," she whispered, and you complied, your pulse quickening. As you faced her again, Paige's eyes roamed over your body, the intensity of her gaze sending waves of heat through you.

"You're so beautiful," she said softly, her hands continuing their exploration. One hand moved up to cup your cheek, her thumb gently stroking your skin, while the other trailed down your back, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together.

You let out a soft sigh, closing your eyes and leaning into her touch. Paige's lips found your neck, placing slow, wet kisses along your jawline, down to your collarbone. Her touch was both soothing and electrifying, each kiss sending jolts of pleasure through you.

Her hand moved lower, caressing your thigh before slipping between your legs. You gasped, your eyes flying open to meet her gaze. Paige's eyes were dark with desire, her lips curved into a knowing smirk.

"So fucking wet," she whispered, her fingers teasing your puffy entrance, sending ripples of pleasure through your body. "All for me, barely even touched you yet, baby."

You nodded, unable to form words as the sensations overwhelmed you. Paige's fingers then entered your cunt, earning a moan from your lips. You leaned into her, your hands gripping her shoulders for support as your knees grew weak.

"Oh fuck, Paige," you cried, your voice trembling.

Her fingers delved deeper into your cunt as she added another finger, the sloppy noise echoing throughout the bathroom. You hung onto her shoulders as she gazed down at you, her forehead against yours as your breathing became uneven.

"That's it, baby," she encouraged, her voice husky with desire. "Gonna cum for me, like a good girl? Huh?"

"Yes, fuck," your voice came out broken as your head fell back, the water dripping down your back. "Gonna cum, oh fuck,"

"Such a slut for me, hm?" Paige's filthy words were drawing you closer to the edge, the coil in your stomach growing tighter. "Fuck yeah, that's my good girl, so wet for me,"

You felt the tension in your body building, coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable. Paige's fingers worked faster until you felt your legs begin to shake, her mouth returning to your neck, biting and sucking gently, adding to the onslaught of sensations. You knew she was gonna leave marks but you didn't even care at this point, you just wanted to cum.

"Fucking cum for me, baby," her words were breathless as she began to toy with your clit, causing you to let out a sob of utter ecstasy.

Finally, the knot snapped, and you cried out, your body shuddering as waves of pleasure washed over you. Paige held you close, her touch gentle as she guided you through the intense orgasm, her lips never leaving your skin.

As the pleasure ebbed, you slumped against her, your body spent. Paige wrapped her arms around you, holding you close as the water continued to flow over both of you.

"Fuck baby," she laughed as she helped you stand straight. "Am I really him?"

"Oh shut up," you rolled your eyes as her laughter echoed through the bathroom. You turned to face her, your cheeks flushed from more than just the hot water.

She leaned in to press a quick kiss against your lips before she grabbed the shampoo from behind you. "Turn around," she spoke lowly as she wiggled her eyebrows.

You gave her a skeptical look before she put up her hands in defense. "What, I wanna wash your hair, baby."

Relenting, you turned around, feeling a smile tug at your lips. Paige squeezed some shampoo into her hands and then began to gently work it into your hair, her fingers massaging your scalp in slow, soothing circles.

"Mmm, that feels nice," you murmured, closing your eyes and leaning back slightly into her touch.

"I thought it might," Paige replied with a soft chuckle, continuing to lather your hair. "You deserve to be pampered."

You couldn't help but smile at her words, feeling the stress of the day melting away under her tender care. As she rinsed out the shampoo, you felt a sense of contentment settling over you, the intimacy of the moment deepening your connection.

"Does it feel better than... how I made you feel a few minutes ago?" Paige added with a smirk before you let out a scoff.

"Oh god, Paige."

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[scarletemeterio]

Jinx x fem reader first kiss leads to make out pleasee

Coming clean (Jinx x reader)

Warnings: suggestive.

Genre: slight hurt/comfort, suggestive

Word count: 1.1k

Reader has no set pronouns!

You and Jinx had been yearning for each other for a while now, it was evident to anyone who saw you two interact. 

You’d met in Zaun, when you were trying to catch up with a little girl that was being chased by some men. You lost track of the girl for a bit, and when you finally found her you saw her with someone else, both sat on the ground. 

You knew who she was -everyone did- but you’d never actually seen her before, and you honestly didn’t think you ever would. But there you were, and there she was. Jinx; right in front of you. She was prettier than you’d imagined, beautiful even, despite her tired and sad eyes.

“She a friend of yours?” You heard her. You made eye contact with the kid and she smiled at you.

“Actually, no,” you began saying. “I just saw her being chased and wanted to help her.”

You noticed that the little girl kept looking back and forth between the posters hanging on the wall and the blue-haired girl in front of her.

“Yep, that’s me. You ever need to curse a sibling or a family or a society… my card.” After that, she left, leaving you and the young thing alone, who insisted you on following Jinx.

And with that, your life changed forever. You’d found a family of your own, they were a light amongst all the darkness that invaded the world.

From the very beginning you were attracted to Jinx, how couldn’t you, really? With every passing day, it seemed like she was being brought back to life, and soon that anguished girl you first met was pretty much gone. Your relationship became stronger in time, and in you she found someone she could rely on; so she started opening up, letting you in when things troubled her and she needed a clear mind.

It wasn’t long until she fell for you, pretty evident to anyone, especially Sevika. She never said a thing, but would always give suggestive looks to both of you, which you disregarded and interpreted as her just messing around. 

However, when you laid alone at night, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander, and it always ended up fixed on someone, a certain girl who always wore her hair in two long braids. At first, you tried to ignore those feelings growing inside of you, but it was beginning to be more difficult every day, especially when all you wanted to do was kiss her every time you saw her.

She’d noticed you were acting strange all of a sudden. You’d get jumpy when she was around or you’d trip over your words whenever you spoke to her. Had she done something wrong? Were you offended by something? Soon, doubts filled her head. Instead of letting them cloud her judgement, she decided to vocalize what was worrying her. She just wanted things to be good between you two.

It was a quiet day; Isha had gone outside to wander around, and Jinx found you in her hideout. She knew it was now or never, she needed answers and most importantly, she needed you close to her.

“Hey, there you are. I’ve been meaning to speak with you.” Your heart sank just a little bit, already beginning to feel anxious about what she could possibly say. “Are we…okay?” 

Her question caught you by surprise, not imagining that those words would be the ones to come out of her mouth. You’d assumed the worst, her kicking you out for acting weird around her, for having feelings for her and not knowing how to handle them. “I- Of course, why wouldn’t we be?”

“You’ve been acting strange,” she responded. “Did I do something to upset you?” She asked in a sad tone, and you couldn’t help but look at her, and realised that tears were forming in her eyes. You quickly ran to her and cupped her face in your hands.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you reassured her.

“You’ve been so distant lately, keeping me at arm's length and I just have no idea why,” she adverted your gaze, ashamed even of the tears that were now running down her cheeks. “I just- I don't want us to change, tell me what I can do to fix things.”

“It’s not you, Jinx, I swear.” You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before finally voicing what was troubling you. “I like you, as more than just a friend and I really tried to make those feelings go away so things wouldn’t be awkward between us, and in doing that things did end up being awkward. I didn’t know what to do because I don’t want you to feel weird around me and-.”

You were cut off by her lips against yours, catching you by surprise. She quickly pulled apart to get some air and looked at you with a playful look. “You talk too much.” And with that, her lips were back on yours, and her hands were on your body, as yours were on hers.

The kiss was desperate and passionate. Your hands were on her waist and hers were on your neck, pulling you so close to her that you could practically merge together. She was taller than you, not by much, but right now she seemed to tower over you and you could practically hear your heart beating in your chest.

Things escalated quickly, she pushed you to her desk and you sat down on top of it, with the girl standing between your legs. Soon her lips were on your jaw, going down your neck and back again to your mouth; her hands exploring your legs, your chest, your back, everywhere. She rested her hands on your thighs, squeezing them at times, paying attention to your neck once more. You couldn’t help but let out a little moan at her actions, pulling her closer.

Adrenaline and excitement were taking over you, feeling your body on fire every time she touched you and wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. But soon, you were interrupted. 

You practically jumped when you heard Sevika come in, not giving you any time to even think about pretending to do something else. She looked at the state of the two of you, cheeks flushed, parted lips, and messy clothes. She smirked before speaking, “Just came here to look for something but I guess I’ll just come back later.”

You and Jinx looked at each other and smiled nervously, looking at the woman just a few meters away from you. “I’ll leave you both to it,” she said before walking away, leaving you both alone once again.

“I guess it goes without saying that I like you too,” Jinx said.

i really liked this request, i love writing for jinx ☺️

You simply smiled and pulled her close once again.

thank u anon for the request, hope you liked it!