#blooming panic smut

[mightykell]

Put Your Arms Around Me (and kiss me again)

Otherwise known as, I’m obsessed with blooming panic, Nightowl especially and so I wrote 4.6K of just shameless smut. I hope you enjoy the Story!!

The Story takes place after Nightowl’s good end! So it starts once MC made it to his apartment!

Not Beta read at all, we die like men. If you would prefer it’s cross posted on Ao3!

You slowly made your way down the hallway of the unfamiliar apartment building, your phone in your free hand while the other one was holding on tight to your rolling suitcase handle. You took your time and looked over the different apartment numbers until you finally came to a stop in front of room 202. The numbers stared back at you, reminding you even further that this was real, that you two had somehow gotten around the censors that BloomBot put into place and that this was indeed real, that you were finally getting to meet Nightowl in person. You brought a hand up to the door and swiftly knocked five times in a sort of jingle before taking a step back, listening to the loud crash of noises from within the apartment and a high pitched male voice let out a whine. 

“One second!” The voice called out, muffled slightly due to the front door as a smile formed on your face. You quickly put your phone in your small purse and you nervously tried to straighten out your skirt and blouse, knowing no doubt that they had wrinkled slightly due to the long flight. You took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down as you could finally hear footsteps getting louder. 

The front door finally opened and there he was, Nightowl. He wasn’t wearing much, a red loose tank top and a pair of black boxer briefs. He was flustered, seeming almost like he was unprepared for your appearance at his apartment, even though it was something the two of you planned for the last month. You raised your hands, shaking them slightly as you saw the look of pure joy slowly form on his face. “Tada~!” You said softly. “You’re here.” He breathed out, body relaxing as he took in your physical form. After months of yearning, of getting closer and late at night server calls, of falling asleep and waking up together just to go about your usual morning routines through the company of a webcam, finally you two were staring at each other with nothing in between. He took a step out of his apartment, and it was then you noticed he was wearing a pair of long black socks but no shoes. “You’re really here.” You smiled widely, nodding your head as you followed suit taking a step closer to the blonde. “I’m here.” You could feel your eyes prickling with unshed tears, and in a part of your mind you couldn’t help but make fun of yourself for always being such a crybaby, and yet you couldn’t help feeling so overcome with emotions. 

Within that next moment Nightowl sped up his pace, arms surrounded you and suddenly you were plush against his broad chest, the scent of sandalwood prickling at your nose. You were almost overcome with all the different sensations all at once, the feeling of his touch was hot against your skin and yet your body instantly knew that this, this is what it has been waiting for, searching for, yearning for. 

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t pick you up from the airport.” Nightowl spoke softly, holding you so gently. “I really wanted to but as I was getting ready my mom called, and I couldn’t–” You cut him off, nuzzling more into his chest. 

“Stop apologizing, I already understand.” You said, trying to melt into his own skin. He laughed and you felt the vibrations echoing through your body. You had thought you were already addicted to his laugh over the internet, but nothing prepared you for how intoxicating the sound would be in person. 

“You’re so adorable, cutie.” He muttered, fondness dripping off of his tone. “Come inside?” He pulled back from the hug slightly, just enough to look down at you. You couldn’t help the pout that made your way onto your lips. “Can we cuddle inside?” You asked, not yet ready to stop the physical affection that you were currently being given, even if you were standing in the corridor of his apartment building and that any of his neighbors could walk outside and see your very public display of affection. 

“You don’t even need to ask that. Once I get you in my bed you aren’t getting out.” Nightowl responded, taking a step away from you in order to grab your suitcase. 

“Owl!” You felt your cheeks alight in a blush at the innuendo within his words, head snapping up to look at him. He instantly started laughing at your reaction. “Wait, why aren’t you wearing actual clothes?” You had finally decided to actually acknowledge his clothes….or lack of them actually. 

Nightowl looked down at himself before looking back to you, stepping around you to wheel your suitcase into his apartment. “I was cleaning!” He responded happily, walking into the home while you followed behind him. 

“You didn’t have to clean up for me.” You told him, stopping by the entrance way in order to take off your shoes. 

“Yeah I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” Nightowl responded, moving straight towards his room. You followed behind him idly taking in the sights of the apartment that you had previously only seen through his camera. “I was thinking that since you had a long flight, maybe we could just order in some take out for dinner and just take it easy? We can go out if you’re feeling up for it though!” Nightowl said, stopping once he had gotten into his room and placing your suitcase against the wall. 

You stepped into his room, eyes taking it in fully. You took in the soft fairy lights, the plushie sitting on his bed surrounded by his pillows, all of the pictures and posters up on the wall. You hadn’t realized that a soft smile had formed on your face and you couldn’t help but move towards his bed, sitting down on the plush mattress. 

“Making yourself at home Cutie?” Nightowl asked in amusement, leaning against his door frame with his arms crossed simply watching you. 

You nodded your head, letting yourself fall back and laying on his bed while you turned your head to look over at him. Your skirt had rode up slightly, showing more of your thighs and your blouse had risen showing a strip of your stomach. “You’re trapped with me now.” You teased shooting Nightowl a wide smile. 

It had seemed like Nightowl had moved instantly going from leaning against the door frame to suddenly hovering over you. You jumped slightly, bodies bumping into each other. You looked at his face, his dark brown eyes alight with a deep warmth as a lazy smirk was stretched across his lips. “Maybe you should think about who is really trapped here.” Nightowl teased you right back, practically purring the words. 

You could feel your face instantly heat up, a slight twinge coming from your crotch at the tone of his voice and the way he was basically eating you alive with just his eyes. You brought your right hand up and cupped his cheek and Nightowl responded in turn by instantly leaning into your touch. “Don’t tempt me with such sweet words baby.”

You used your left arm to prop yourself up, moving your faces closer together. The tension in the air was thick as Nightowl slowly let his eyes move down your face to look at your lips, unconsciously licking his own in the process before looking into your eyes once again. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, voice almost a whisper. 

“You don’t even have to ask.” You responded, though honestly the asking for consent had only turned you on more. You had been expecting that Nightowl would be a more bossy lover, simply kissing you as he liked. 

Before you could even continue to think Nightowl leant forward even more, arms caging you in on his bed as he now fully hovered above you and he connected your lips together. The kiss started off softly, the two of you using your lips in order to finally put to rest the yearning that had been building over the months that they had been together. The kiss quickly turned more heated as Nightowl lowered his body, pushing you back down into fully laying while he put his body fully against yours. The kiss was turning wet, tongues lapping at each other. You moved your hands upwards, pushing them through Nightowl’s blonde hair before you pulled on the locks slightly. You took pleasure in the small noise that left his mouth, and you were quickly wanting even more of the sinful sound. 

“You look so sexy all dressed up for me.” Nightowl purred against your lips before slowly kissing your cheek, your chin, moving down to your neck and lapping against the sensitive skin. You couldn’t help the breathy moan that left your lips as your grip tightened on his hair which in turn made him bite down on your flesh, moaning around it. 

“Fuck Nightowl,” You whimpered, tilting your head to the side in order to give him even more access. 

Nightowl opened the eyes he hadn’t even realized he had closed, and looked up at you through his eyelashes. “I wanna listen to your voice.” He then licked a long stipe against your neck. “Wanna feel your moans.” He bit down once again, marking the skin that was sure to bruise. 

“What happened to o-ordering dinner?” You asked in an attempt to regain some control over your own voice. 

Nightowl chuckled against your skin, pulling away to kiss your lips once more softly. “I always liked having my dessert first.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.” You told him, a slight pout on your lips. Your expression only made him laugh more as he pulled away and instead of leaning over you he was now laying next to you. You looked over at him, taking in his ruffled appearance and just soaking in the sight of him. You reached out and touched his long earring, the usual cross replaced with a pink heart. 

“Like what you see?” Nightowl asked you, a small smirk on his lips. 

“Very much so.” You replied easily. “It’s cute.” You said, though if you were talking about him or the earring that was left unsaid. You both sat in silence for a minute, simply enjoying the presence of the other before you squirmed slightly. “So about that dessert…” You said, trailing off your words.

Nightowl looked at you, raising an eyebrow. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I would never pressure into having sex with me, and we have the entire time you’re here.” 

You pouted slightly, though you were also aware that there was no way he could know what you were thinking if you didn’t come out and say it yourself. “Can I suck your dick?” You flinched slightly at your own words. You had been planning on being a lot more well….smooth about asking and instead you ended up just blurting them words out. 

You peeked back at Nightowl to see a deep red blush covering his face, his cheeks were alight with it as he looked at you with a shocked expression, though his eyes were darkened with lust. “I, uh, of course you can.” He eventually was able to say, nodding his head. 

You wasted no time once you got his permission, easily standing up and gesturing for him to properly lay down on his bed. Looking back on it, you were actually quite grateful for his current state of undress, otherwise you would have had to struggle against his jeans. You thought about trying to do more buildup, slowly kissing your way down his chest until you had him putty in your hands but honestly, you were just as frustrated sexually as he was and there was plenty of time to take things slowly. 

You first palmed his dick through the black fabric of his underwear, feeling the warmth of the skin emanating from the material. Nightowl himself made a choked back noise and you felt him shift. You looked up at his direction to see him resting his weight on his elbows, looking down at where your hand was currently making contact. You smiled at him, pressing down on the material once against and then slowly rubbing, letting his underwear catch on his sensitive skin and drag. 

“Touch me, please.” Nightowl spoke, and you nodded your head, aiming to please. You fully crawled onto the bed, making yourself comfortable in between his legs. You lowered your body, tilting your head slightly to place a kiss against his clothed erection before you finally lifted a hand up to pull down the top of his underwear, his dick springing free. 

“It’s so pretty.” You cooed, looking at the flushed tip that was just beginning to drip with precum. You then paused, “Am I good to not use a condom?” You asked, and Nightowl understood what you meant. 

“You’re fine, I’m clean.” He nodded and that was all of the okay you needed. 

You slowly licked a long stripe up the base of his dick to the very top, and you took much enjoyment in hearing his voice hitch. You continued on with your movements, licking the head of his tip slowly, more kitten licks if anything. After a few moments you finally put your mouth around the tip and swirled your tongue. You could taste the bitterness of Nightowl’s precum, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, you actually rather enjoyed the taste of your lover. 

“Holy fuck.” Nightowl groaned and you looked up at him from your eyelashes, which only made him moan louder at your appearance. You were amused with his reaction, but you decided to focus more on drawing out even more moans from him. You slowly began to push yourself down even more onto his dick, feeling his girth stretch your lips. Your mouth watered, wanting even more of the flavor and sensation as you began to slowly bob your head. You flattened your tongue, letting it drag around his shaft as you let your spit be the lubricant needed to make the process be easier. 

You push your head down, trying to take as much of his dick as possible and the loud moan that followed only made you feel even more bold. Suddenly you could feel a weight on your head as Nightowl wrapped his hands in your hair, yet he made no effort to try and force your head down more, instead simply just letting his hand rest there. You forced yourself to take even more, hoping that your gag reflex wouldn’t suddenly get triggered as you took him into your throat before swallowing around his dick. 

“Fuck, cutie please.” Nightowl gasped, his hand on your head tightening as he pulled your hair. You felt pleased with his reaction, starting to speed up your pace before you were suddenly pulled away from his dick. You let out a whine, looking towards Nightowl. He removed the hand from your head and sat up fully, hands cupping your face and pulling you close to him and onto his lap. “I’m not about to cum before you do.” He told you, pulling you in for a wet kiss. 

“I want to make you feel good.” You whined, though that didn’t stop you from gladly kissing him back. 

“Trust me, you will but first let me have some of my own fun.” He told you, continuing to kiss you deeply. You flinched slightly when you felt a sudden warmth on your stomach, but you soon realized it was simply his hand. He continued on, slowly sliding his hand up your blouse before cupping one of your breasts over your bra. Your skin felt impatient with him only teasing you slightly over the material and you pulled away from the kiss, moving back to take off your blouse, even though by doing so you could feel his erection drag oh so sinfully over your own heat. 

With your blouse out of the way and now thrown onto the floor, you were now sitting on his lap in just your bra and the lower portion of your outfit. Nightowl let his hands trace around the lacey cups of your bra, slowly teasing you and making you squirm while he took his time admiring you. He then leant forward, one hand pulling your bra down instead of unclasping it and allowing your boobs to bounce free over the top. Nightowl wasted no time, leaning down to lap against your exposed nipple while his other hand went to the breast he wasn’t focusing on, squeezing and pinching at the nub.

Moans left your lips as you looked down at him, throwing your head down when he bit down and sucked. He continued to torture you in this way, lapping against your nipples, leaving bite marks all over your exposed breasts, and covering the skin with a plethora of hickies. You couldn’t help but grind down onto his lap, searching for more stimulation, you let out a long moan when you felt his dick rub against the entrance of your pussy through your soaked panties. 

With his free hand Nightowl slowly followed along your curves and lifted your skirt slightly. He let his long fingers trail down to your own heat before rubbing you teasingly through your underwear. He pulled away from your breast, a ‘pop’ followed as he released the skin before smirking up at you. 

“Look at you cutie, you’re all soaked for me.” He teased, leaning closer to suck a hickey onto your neck while he continued to simply brush his fingers against your wetness, teasing you, trying to get you to come apart. You tried to get more friction, grinding down on his fingers which caused them to push slightly into you. You were frustrated though that you couldn’t feel his actual touch due to your underwear getting in the way. 

“Nightowl please.” You moaned, grinding down her again. He chucked against your skin and finally pushed your panties to the side, letting his fingers soak themselves in your wetness before finally pushing into your heat, slowly fingering you. You let out a gasp, pulling him closer to you. “They’re s-so long.” You moaned, feeling his fingers press against your walls in a way that simply had you gushing even more. All the while while he continued to fuck you with his fingers Nightowl continued to cover your bodie in marks and you could already tell it would take a minute for some of those to fade away. 

He pumped his fingers confidently, pulling away slightly just to add yet another finger, taking the amount that we’re currently pleasing you up to three while he went back to work to continue abusing your chest. Your nipples were hard and erect, the cold air in the moments he pulled away not helping them to soften anytime soon. After a moment you began to practically ride his fingers, searching for more relief. You were bouncing up and down, your boobs moving in his face while you had your eyes closed, focused on the sensations. It was a new experience for you, who normally could only truly feel sexual pleasure through your clit to be feeling so good from penetration, but it simply wasn’t enough. 

“Please please please,” The words had been leaving your lips like a mantra.

“Go ahead and ask me Cutie, use your words.” Nightowl told you, stretching his fingers out more inside of you which in turn simply made you moan louder. 

“Fuck me already please, I need your dick, I need you inside me.” You begged him, hands tightening on his tank top. 

“Well if you ask me so sweetly beautiful, how can I resist?” He said, fingers pulling out of you. “Do you want to sit on my lap and ride me, or can we adjust our position?” He asked you, tilting his head slightly to the side. You let go of his shirt and thought for a moment before moving to get off of him. Nightowl took that chance to quickly throw off his tank top and to stand up, pulling off his underwear and getting completely naked. He then walked over to his bedside table, reaching in to grab out a condom for the two of you. 

You on the other hand had stood up yourself, sliding off your skirt and panties in a fluid motion before also taking off your socks. You then moved your hands behind your back to finally unclasp your bra, tossing it towards the rest of your clothes. You glanced over at Nightowl to see him opening a drawer, and so you decided you would go ahead and get into the position you wanted. 

You crawled back onto his bed, laying down on your back and watching him move about while waiting. Your face was flushed as you stared at him with want one your eyes. He finally turned and when he saw you all spread out he paused, bringing a hand up to rub though his hair. “You look so perfect all laid out just for me.” 

You nodded your head, reaching a hand out for him. “All of me is just for you.” You told him, a soft expression on your face. He walked closer to you, bringing his hand holding the condom up to his mouth and ripping open the packaging with his teeth. He took his time crawling onto the bed and in between your legs before pausing. 

“Hand me a pillow real quick.” Nightowl said. You nodded your head and did as he asked, reaching behind you to grab one of his pillows before handing it back. In return he leaned down and placed a kiss against your thigh. “Thanks baby.” He said to you before having you lift your hips. You did so and he placed the pillow under your hips, moving it so that you were propped up some. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked you, waiting for your answer before continuing on. 

You smiled at him, nodding your head. “Yeah I’m sure.” You told him. He looked at you fondly before finally putting the condom onto his dick. Once it was on fully he moved closer, lining up before slowly putting his dick into your pussy. You let out a choked moan at the feeling of the sketch, your hands gripping the sheets as you tried to keep your body relaxed. 

“How are you still so tight?” Nightowl asked, his voice deepened with want as he continued to be slow, trying to hold back in order to let you adjust. After a moment he was fully in and you felt entirely full, small gasps and moans leaving your lips. Nightowl stayed still, only slightly pumping his hips in minuscule motions in order to try and get you used to the stretch. 

After a few minutes of waiting you began to feel impatient. You rocked your body slightly, trying to get Nightowl to take the hint that you were ready without having to use your actual words. You looked up at him and made a pleading face, rolling your hips. Nightowl hissed slightly under his breath at the feeling of you clenching down on him. 

“It feels like you’re trying to pull me in.” He groaned, beginning to properly thrust into you. Your mouth opened yet no sound came out as he adjusted his position. He went from gently thrusting into you to speeding up, moving his hips while searching for the right area that will make you see stars. The feeling of his length dragging against your walls was driving you crazy. 

The pleasure was easily building, especially as you were continuously listening to Nightowl’s own moans. You knew that the sound of the bed moving coupled with the sounds of your flesh meeting each other and the moans that were leaving both of your lips was probably going to get Nightowl in trouble with his neighbors later, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to care too much. Your skin felt like it was humming with a current of electricity, and every touch from Nightowl’s hands against your skin was only making your skin thrum. It was when Nightowl brought a hand down to rub at your clit that you knew you were gone for. A loud moan his name was the only warning sound that he had before you clenched down on him, feeling your body shake with pleasure. 

“Oh fuck.” You heard Nightowl moan as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. As you finally came down from your high you were feeling over sensitive but you could feel Nightowl getting close, especially with how he had sped up his thrusts. He threw his head back, before looking down at you. 

“S-So close.” He moaned, grabbing and moving your legs to adjust your position before he snapped his hips into yours even faster. Mumbled words were leaving his lips before he finally hit the limit of his own pleasure. He buried himself deeply into you before quickly pulling out, cumming as he fell down on top of you. After a moment he looked at you, bringing a hand up to push back your sweaty hair. “What’s got you all pouting, Cutie?” He asked, rolling off of you in order to pull off the condom, tie it up, and throw it into the trash can in his room. 

“You pulled out.” You told him, reaching out your hands to wrap around his waist. “I wanted to feel it.”

A laugh left his body as he turned suddenly latched onto you, peppering your face in kisses as you let out a series of giggles. “Sorry baby, maybe next time. I just wanted to be safe and not do anything you’d be uncomfortable with.” He said, looking at you with puppy dog eyes. “Forgive me?”

“Of course!” You replied easily, placing a kiss on his forehead. You then stretched slightly before wincing. “I feel like I got treated like a chew toy.” “You liked it.” Nightowl teased, a smug expression on his face, 

“I can neither confirm or deny that statement.” You responded before your stomach gave a rumble. You paused, an embarrassed expression on your face. “So, you want to order some takeout while I go to the bathroom?” 

“Leave it to me, cutie.” Nightowl said, grabbing for his laptop to pull up the website of his chosen food place. You smiled at him softly before standing up and walking into the bathroom, a  shocked expression at just how many bite marks and hickies actually did cover your skin. 

After doing your business and walking back into his room, you looked at Nightowl. “Can I wear one of your shirts?” You asked while opening up your suitcase, grabbing out a new pair of underwear. 

“Oh yeah, any preferences?” He asked you, you paused thinking before nodding your head. 

“Can I wear the pink one you always wear, the one with the balloon?” Nightowl immediately went and grabbed it, handing it to you. You thanked him and put it on, enjoying that it was baggy while you also slid on the underwear. 

You walked back over to the bed, seeing that Nightowl had put on a new pair of underwear himself. You curled up into his side, sighing in content at the feeling of him against you. 

“So, let’s get dinner.”

[doodlenoodleboi]

Hello, heard you were taking reqs! Could you possibly write beach day hcs for all of the love interests of Bloomic?

Quest

- I could see him awfully insecure about his body in the way of thinking that he scares people whether it be the tattoos or simply how beefy he is.

- Please comfort the poor man he’ll feel a lot better afterwards

- He’s the dad of the group that has the sunscreen and a cooler full of water.

Naked Toster

- Nope, good luck getting him out of the house let alone in a swimsuit.

- He can be professional and or social when he needs to but in his personal time , he prefers not interacting with people and even more so going outside and being perceived by other people.

Xyx

- Probably the most confident of the group, flexing his muscles, swimming, and simply enjoying himself

- He definitely makes fun of the rest of the group if they happen to burn in the sun.

- Definitely a “Gotta keep the tan up…. It's not a skin color it's a lifestyle but you wouldn't know that because you’re as pale as a ghost.” type of guy. Don't let him get a hold of TikTok or social media for that matter.

Nightowl (I don’t like him)

- Most stylish swimsuit ever

- He makes the biggest deal over the fact that is so, enjoying the temporary glory of being the prettiest boy on the beach. (Probably took pictures for instagram.)

- he forgot sunscreen and luckily he doesn’t burn but he’s still upset cuz this man definitely uses skincare.

(this was in my drafts for sooo long)

[shyvien]

Hooooly fuck I wanna fuuckkkk the Blooming Panic boys

Like not even just one of them

All of them (just main characters)

So horny for them

I need more BP content I’m so hungry for it ugh

[mochi0moon]

[stxrryskys]

HIII!! MY NAME IS SKY AND I'M TAKING REQUESTS!!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ THIS IF YOU'RE GOING TO REQUEST.

Fandoms I will write for!

Mouthwashing

Resident evil

Silent hill

Arcane

One piece

Mha

Bloomic

Kny

Haikyuu

Jjk

Dandadan

N/A: IF YOU WANT TO REQUEST SOMETHING DIFFERENT TELL ME THE FULL NAME OF THE CHARACTER.

Things I will write! (I'm mostly a smut blog..

Smut 🤭

Fluff

Angst

Twitter links

And uhh idk what else 😣

THING I WON'T WRITE👿 and reasons

Rape- must I explain?

Incest-again..

Scat-...

But again request anything and I'll see 👿

Anyways! Rants will be tagged #StxrryRants

But uhh I think this is all.. Should totally request, writing is my life Bru🤭

[h-ruchiyo]

Your dainty hands began to type down the last page of revision for your boss, carefully looking at the corner of the monitor as a small '20:38' was trying its best to remind you of the due; hoping you can submit your work last minute before the deadline in less than half an hour.

As if your body received another injection of adrenaline and caffeine from a sip of this god-awful coffee, cursing at anyone who gave you this before submitting your finished paper and clocking out right away; cursing at your boss inside your head before realised how free you were now since tomorrow would be your last week as their (underpaid and overworked) intern.

"Lola, Lola, hmm,"

You hummed along the way back to the apartment, holding your bag tightly in your hand as you could see how crowded it was; numerous people flocking around to hold each other close while you had decided that spending another night of reading Bloomic's latest chapter might be a best go-to.

After a refreshing shower and a can of cold drink in your hand, no one could stop you from reading your only coping mechanism to postpone the upcoming dread of existential crisis you shall face one day; well, 'or so' you thought.

As you decided to take a break and looked around for cute ships on Twitter, a post caught you surprised since it was your first time reading it ever.

"Huh? A discord server for Bloomic?"

As if you were in trance, your finger began to hover around to click the link and there you were, inside the server as Bloombot barged you around with a few questions then let you go to the wild '#general' with some unread messages related and directed to you.

"Oh, wow, what is this,"

You muttered under your breath, standing up from your position to turn your PC on and drinking down the rest of your drink; fingers hovering over the keyboard as your eyes were trained to reach each message carefully by greeting each one of them personally, thinking it'd be the best instead of being vague and whisk around nowhere.

Your eyes lit up at a comment this one account made, claiming you could call him Xyx as each one of them began to introduce themselves including the mod aka Quest; a sweetman who reminded you of warm cinnamon roll and spiced latte in the late autumn.

"'wanna call?' man, this mod is friendly for sure."

You agreed to his invitation since some members were busy with their own stuff on other channels or going idle for a moment to sort life out in real life.

Clicking on the voice channel, you tried to find your headphones for a bit before going back to connect it with your PC; not realising that your camera was on this whole time and Quest's cheeks were in fire when he got a good look of your appearance.

Sitting inside a modern chic room with few decorations, he could see a young woman wearing a flimsy sleeping dress as her hair was draped over her shoulders; looking around for something nearby her desk before going back to the call and made contact with his eyes.

"Oh, hi!"

He smiled, reaching his ears while his arm was seen resting on top of the table; giving you a view of a tattoo covering his limb before you returned the smile, giving him a slight wave before disconnecting your headphones and taking it off from your head, feeling pissed as the lack of sound it provided.

Quest began to introduce himself, looking away once in a while as he explained how the server worked and expected how everyone would act from now on, stating the Bloombot could get confusing for him sometimes to control around.

"Thank you for looking after all of us, Quest. I feel so happy that you're here with me."

A small and appreciative sentence that rolled over your tongue smoothly, almost giving Quest a small heart attack if it wasn't for his hand gripping on his desk; trying his best to calm his heart beat and dizzy head, almost getting drunk from all those praise you threw at.

"God, angel. If it's for you, I'd for sure throw everything away and run straight to you."

You listened to him carefully as your cheeks were heated up, almost gaping at his words; hoping that he'd stop striking you away with these comments before you could actually start to combust due to him.

As he looked at your face through the screen, he made a hope for once after a while. A hope to see you in real life, gazing into his eyes and threading his fingers between yours — away from his boss, coworkers and Bloombot, that always goes hard with its censorship.

"Well then, angel. I suppose I should call it a night now, you look tired. Can't have you sleeping on me, yes?"

A deep chuckle escaped from his lips, making you break the eye contact and look away to suppress your embarrassment; wondering if the call was supposed to be like this or you were overthinking over such a small nickname.

The night finally had its grasp around you and lulled you to a state Quest finding you look cutest for tonight.

Your head was resting against your arm on the desk, looking up to see him with your half-lidded eyes and pursed lips; trying to fight the spell moon had cast over you.

"Sleep well, angel. Have a good one for me, yes?"

"Hey, intern, we need you here! Come fast!"

Your black pumps stumped against the concrete floor almost hurriedly, giving you a cramp since today had been quite hectic and a worker had asked you to cover her shift for today since she had an emergency issues at home.

You went forward and back, running around the office with fresh prints every minute and placing it on everyone's cubicle; double take each of them to make sure none was left out and let out a sigh as it was finally lunch hour, a time for you to take a deep breath and give your poor calves a massage.

Sitting at the cafeteria, you watched a long line of workers and decided to take some time to sip on iced milk tea with boba and cream on the top; understanding how good it was and perfect for Lola's exhausting life, running around and facing life-changing moments on almost every chapter.

"Angel?"

You looked up and met a pair of brilliant blue eyes staring back at your eyes, not expecting to find him out of everyone to meet you at the cafeteria here. As if he was asking for permission to sit down with you with those eyes, you gave him a nod before holding out your hands to take the tray from his hand, placing it on the table as he sat down in front of you.

"Um, hi."

You flashed him a small smile, eyes' corners slightly crinkled with some sweat beads went past over it. He looked down for a minute, not returning your smile right away like last night and instead taking out a handkerchief, dabbing it over your forehead.

"Sorry, you look tired and I— I can't, y'know,"

He stuttered over his words, eliciting a warm laugh from you as you wrapped your hands around his wrist and putting it down gently before sending him another shockwave in his lane with a small 'thank you'.

Apparently, Quest had been working here for a while (preferably almost five to six years) at the marketing section as a salesman and almost rarely leaving his cubicle, enjoying most of his time inside including during lunch time due to endless works.

You could see he tried to muster it up and play it off as a small joke, but the darkening circles under his eyes and fine lines around them couldn't fool you. Quest was for sure tired and never got enough rest after he started to work here, barely hanging on the thread.

"Can you work on them home, Quest?"

"Yeah, but, I'd rather not, you know?"

"How about going to my place tonight? I'll help you out."

Quest might have started to call you 'angel' because your eyes always glowed in his eyes and whenever he listened to your voice, it felt as if, everything was worth it and he's willing to stay up late at night and finish all his works before eight so he could have you all for himself until time for him to clock out.

But, this?

It took him aback and he was basically a stranger, one that you could always walk past and forget in a week; but, why would you offer him such a suggestion? Working here was already tired enough and he would feel bad for taking up so much of your free time at home.

Alas, here both of you were, spending time with you after finishing his total workload until next week in less than eight hours; pushing each other's capabilities until it reached its limit before Quest slumped down in his seat while you were half-asleep against the bed, letting out a small giggle when you got caught red-handed staring at him.

"You look tired, angel. C'mere,"

He spread his legs open and put a hand on his right thigh before realising what he was doing, straightening his back with panic written all over his face. As you walked in his direction, you put your hand over his chest, trying to calm him down before sitting on his lap — resting your cheek against his left chest as your legs were over his right leg, smiling slightly when his hands began to massage them gently.

While it wasn't supposed to be a shock for you, having Quest to be in your real life was still a surprise. He was tall and bulky with broad shoulders, yet the way he talked and brought himself reminded you of a small raccoon after getting a food.

"Ah, yes, Quest, right there"

You moaned close to his ear, noticing your feet were feeling better than before since you took off those pumps; cursing at the company's requirements to have you wear black pumps with heels above five centimetre and below fifteen.

Quest started to feel embarrassed again just like before at the cafeteria, touching his warmed up cheek with the back of his hand before looking down to see you in the eyes; lips hovering and lightly brush each other when you could feel his breath started to get heavier.

"May I?"

He cupped your cheek, cradling you closer to his side before he pressed his lips against yours; humming at the combination of sweet taste of your drink and chapstick, placing his other hand around your waist to pull you closer and sit down on top of him, knees hitting again the seat in the process.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and then went down to his chest, using it as a leverage to deepen the kiss; humming slightly as you could feel him starting to get hard under you.

You broke the kiss and looked into his eyes, asking for silent permission before taking off his tie and shirt; after giving you a small nod, you took off your shorts and his belt, slightly fumbling before he blew out his signature laugh, giving you a small comfort and reassurance before shifting your eyes back to his face.

"Fuck, angel,"

His hands were both on your waist, tightly gripping on the soft skin as you began to grind your hips against his; sucking on a sharp breath when he began to lower you down, making a direct contact with his clad one.

"Take your panties off, sweetie. Let daddy do the rest for you, hmm?"

He brushed his thumb against your cheek, sensing a slight nervousness as you put your panties away and Quest began to do something similar; hand not leaving your side when you went back to align yourself with him, giving you some time adjusting to his size as the tip had slipped inside.

Your hands were still on his chest, depending on it as a leverage while his other hand was right behind your back; keeping you steady and close to him, making the older man feel in cloud nine when you looked at him with those eyes — begging for him to take control and let you watch how everything unfolded.

It didn't take long for him to lose control of himself, slamming your hips down even though his thick, fat head was already hitting the deepest part inside you minutes ago; not giving you any space to breathe and making your hips bouncing on his, covering his whole length with your slick before slamming it down again.

"Never knew you'd be so tight, angel. Scared?"

You whimpered, digging your nails into his shoulders while he treated you like a fleshlight; ignoring your pleas to go easy, as if he knew that if he stopped right now, you'd probably beg to go like this — all messy, sticky and drunk on his cock; boosting his confidence on rewarding you for tonight.

You might have hoped he would ignore your clit for tonight, but, it was Quest; he would never forgive himself for not paying any attention to every inch of your body, leaving one of them ignored. And thus, he began to draw a small circle around your clit, eliciting a ripped scream from your throat as you made a mess over his lower stomach and length; a white ring forming on the base as he kept thrusting his hips against yours, overstimulating you in the process.

"Angel, do you want me to cum inside?"

"Yes, don't worry about it."

He watched your eyes rolling to the back, sweaty skin slapping against each other and then spreading your ass with his hands, giving him a chance to angle himself better before a thick rope of his cum filled you up to the brim; forming a small bump on your stomach as Quest rested his hand and put some pressure on it, letting his cum oozing out your folds.

"This is one way to end the day after our first meeting this morning, eh?"

[squidsawayfromhome]

tae oh from superstitious nine (18+) i love him. i want him. i need him.

[fushitoru]

the season of thorned roses ⸺ a bridgerton!au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

genre/warnings ⸺ enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, suggestive, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly, all they do is bicker 💀, some historical inaccuracies, mentions of sex work

notes from the author: im aashi, and this is my first series on this app :p for anyone who would like to know, this does end with a happy ending. ty for reading!

masterlist | drabble | fanart

chapter index

01 ⸺ the debutante

you begin to get ready for your presentation for your debut this season, and satoru steels himself to find a wife. you don't get the reception you'd wanted from some, and satoru will soon curse himself for letting his tongue loose (6.3k)

02 ⸺ the aftermath

after an eventful first ball after your debut, you continue the season with thinly veiled vexation towards gojo. but fate is not on your side; you and gojo keep encountering each other, matching fire with fire (7.8k)

03 ⸺ the manor

you and gojo have just uncovered your mothers' matchmaking scheme: a plan that sends you both to his extravagant countryside manor in kent, arriving a week earlier than the rest of the ton. the question remains—can you endure gojo's insufferable nature during this secluded stay? (8.3k)

04 ⸺ the game

satoru has some revelations about you. both you and satoru share some quite...happening days at the manor, including an eventful game of pall mall. (4.9k)

05 ⸺ the fall

gojo comes up with a strange yet tempting arrangement, but the accident that follows it may cause epiphanies for the both of you. (11.8k)

06 ⸺ the house party

you are bedridden, recovering from your wound, when gojo delivers season-changing news. the house party that follows buzzes with tension, and an unexpected arrival that sends ripples through the ton. (7.4k)

07 ⸺ the rebound

after the arrival of your dearest brother, you pursue a new angle to the season, one to prove that you, the diamond, will not be scorned. new opportunities with duke nanami arise and with it jealousy and bitterness fester in the ballroom. (6.8k)

08 ⸺ the lake

both you and gojo discover contradictory feelings lodged deep in your heart, and a confrontation (with an unexpected ally) leads to a rather....wet conclusion. (4.6k)

09 ⸺ the embers

sukuna takes you on an excurion into town at night, where you both meet a stranger that gives you illustrative insight into gojo. on the other hand, satoru has to suffer his best friend's most terrible plan as of date (10k)

10 ⸺ the art gallery

duke nanami suprises you with an inquiry, and the panic caused by it leads to an encounter with a very unexpected person (4.7k)

11 ⸺ the geto manor (soon!)

drabbles/headcanons

01 ⸺ gojo unable to wake up on time after a wild night (suggestive)

02 ⸺ gojo walking in on geto at a brothel (nsfw, not canon)

03 ⸺ gojo when you're pregnant

[vunblr]

Heartwood

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Smut. Unprotected sex.

Summary: After Sam’s party, Bucky begins to navigate uncharted territory as he works to balance his growing feelings and lingering insecurities in his blooming relationship.

Word Count: 11k

notes: Follow-up of Roots and Branches.

Bucky stirred first, blinking against the pale light filtering through the curtains. It was a strange sensation, waking without the shadow of a dream, or worse, the weight of a memory. Instead, there was only the quiet of the room, the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the warmth of her body tucked into his side.

He shifted carefully, with slow and deliberate movements, unsure if he’d disturbed her. She murmured something unintelligible, with her face half-hidden against the crook of his arm, but she didn’t wake.

For a moment, he allowed himself to simply look at her. Something was soothing about seeing her this way, soft, peaceful, and completely at ease. Her fingers brushed faintly against his chest, the contact so light it felt almost subconscious, like even asleep, she couldn’t quite let go of him. He leaned his head back against the pillow, releasing a slow breath of contentment.

She stirred then, brushing her nose against his collarbone, and let out the smallest sigh. Her lashes fluttered, and her sleepy gaze lifted to meet his.

“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep, and a soft smile tugging at her lips as she tucked herself closer.

“Morning,” he rumbled softly, and before he could second-guess, he bent to kiss her forehead. He hesitated just enough to wonder if he should’ve rinsed his mouth first, but her sleepy smile disarmed him completely.

Her hand reached up lazily, brushing the curve of his jaw. “You’re up early.”

“Didn’t want to miss this,” he said quietly, as if speaking too loudly might break the moment.

She hummed, nuzzling closer into his chest. “I could stay here forever.”

He wrapped his arms around her instinctively, tightening the space between them. “Nobody’s stopping us.”

And that was when the doorbell rang, three sharp chimes that shattered the peace.

Her body tensed briefly before she tilted her head back to look at him. He met her gaze with a scowl that was equal parts annoyance and resolve. “Ignore it.”

“But-”

He hugged her tighter, the words almost a growl in her ear. “Nobody’s home.”

The doorbell rang again, sharper this time, cutting through the morning like an unwelcome guest.

She froze, as the realization dawned upon her. “Oh no,” she murmured, sitting up abruptly.

“What?” Bucky’s voice was a gruff rumble, and his arms tightened briefly as if to pull her back before she escaped entirely.

Her face flushed with mild panic. “Sam! He’s supposed to fix the cabinets this morning.”

Bucky groaned, rolling onto his back, and shot her an exasperated look. “Really?” His hand raked through his hair, the messy strands falling into his eyes as he scowled at the ceiling.

She scrambled for her sweatpants, hopping slightly as she pulled them on. Despite the rush, she bit her lip to stifle a laugh when she glanced at him again. He looked like a picture of grumpiness, his brow furrowed and a tight jaw, the image of a man who wanted nothing more than to barricade the door and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“So, uh...” she ventured awkwardly, slipping a loose shirt over her head. “What do you want to do? Stay here in secrecy? I can sneak you some breakfast if you want.”

His gaze slid toward her, unamused.

“Or, I don’t know... sneak out the back door like some kind of criminal?” She half-grinned, watching for his reaction as she tugged the hem of her shirt into place.

Bucky grunted, leaning up on one elbow. “What are the other options?”

The doorbell rang a third time, louder and more insistent.

“None!” she hissed, darting toward the door, her bare feet padding against the floor. She paused briefly, shooting him an apologetic glance over her shoulder.

“I’ll be quiet,” he muttered with a resigned sigh, lying back and draping his arm over his face.

Suppressing a laugh, she opened the door with the best attempt at nonchalance. “Sorry, overslept,” she said, offering Sam a sheepish smile.

Sam raised an eyebrow, looking past her toward the faint creak of floorboards inside. “You sure about that?”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she kept her face composed, stepping slightly to the side to block his view. “Positive.”

As they entered the house, Sam glanced around and didn’t say anything, but his brow lifted ever so slightly before he turned back to her. “Didn’t see you stick around long at the grill last night,” he commented casually, taking a seat at the small kitchen table.

“Oh,” she began, busying herself with tidying up the counter. “I had a headache, so I didn’t want to overstay. Besides, you looked pretty engaged with those guys, and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Sam leaned back in his chair, muttering, “Uh-huh...”

They made small talk, mostly about the cabinets and how long the repairs would take. He occasionally shot her a curious glance, but she managed to deflect most of his subtle prodding.

Bucky, meanwhile, slipped out of the bedroom and padded to the bathroom, his bare feet making the wooden floors creak faintly. Sam’s ears perked up slightly at the sound, but he didn’t let on, instead continuing the conversation about varnish options and hardware.

The bathroom door creaked open again, and Bucky’s steps echoed softly as he made his way back toward the room. Sam’s lips twitched with a smirk he barely managed to suppress.

“You know,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “it’s a shame you left early. There was someone I wanted to introduce you to last night.”

She quirked a brow, her curiosity piqued. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Sam continued, tapping his fingers on the table. “Since you’re still alone and, y’know, apparently still with no prospects.” His grin widened, barely containing the mischief lighting up his expression.

She rolled her eyes, though the corners of her mouth twitched with amusement. “And who, exactly, were you going to introduce me to?”

“John Walker,” Sam said, drawing the name out like it was some grand revelation. “Another wood supplier of mine. He bought blueberry pie in your booth at the festival and chatted with you for a bit. Tall, blonde, lopsided grin?”

She tilted her head, vaguely recalling the man in question. “Oh, yes. I think I remember him.”

“Well,” he said, dripping his tone with exaggerated lament, “he asked me to introduce you, but you’d already left. Such a shame.”

The sound of Bucky’s steps abruptly halted somewhere across the hallway. John Fucking Walker? That asshole?

Sam, pretending to be oblivious, leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “But hey, no worries. This weekend, I’ll be grilling again. Maybe then-”

Before he could finish, heavy steps thudded purposefully down the hall. Bucky appeared in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space, wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. The look he gave Sam was pointed, sharp, and entirely unamused.

Sam, the traitorous weasel, had the decency to feign surprise, though the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth betrayed him. “Well, well,” he drawled, crossing his arms with exaggerated ease. “Seems like someone else caught that contagious headache last night.”

Her head whipped around to find Bucky, standing in all his glory. Heat rushed to her cheeks as her gaze flickered instinctively downward, then back up. The situation felt like a slow-motion car crash she couldn’t look away from.

There was a beat of awkward silence, her flustered reaction contrasting with Sam’s calm, almost unimpressed observation.

He arched a brow and leaned forward slightly, his tone casual but laced with mischief. “You know,” he said, “you two might’ve thought you slipped out unnoticed last night, but let me tell you, your absence didn’t exactly go under the radar.”

Bucky’s gaze narrowed, and his irritation mingled with the dawning realization that Sam wasn’t just here to fix cabinets. He’d fallen right into his childish trap. He’d exposed himself confirming exactly what he had been baiting him for.

She scrambled for words. “Well, you see...”

Sam, entirely unperturbed, waved her off. “The most exciting thing happening at that grill was the talk about the town festival, the weather messing up gardens, and the rock slide on the north road.” He leaned forward, his grin widening. “You didn’t think people would notice when the newest addition to the town and the hard-to-get collection figure of social events both disappeared at the same time?” Bucky’s eyes narrowed further, his annoyance deepening at Sam’s playful but undeniably pointed observation. “Oh, come on,” Sam added, gesturing broadly. “Small town, Buck. We’re starved for drama. Of course people noticed.”

She felt heat creep up her neck and settle in her cheeks. Meanwhile, Bucky grunted, his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. The thought of being a topic of conversation for the town sent a fresh wave of unease rolling through his body.

“It’s not that bad,” Sam said breezily, clearly enjoying himself. “I give your story a week before it gets old and a new topic arrives.” His gaze appraised Bucky, broadening his grin. “Speaking of which, aren’t you cold?” He gestured pointedly to his state of undress.

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, his scarred arm brushing against his side as he gave Sam a deadpan stare. “Aren’t you supposed to be fixing those cabinets?”

Sam snorted, shaking his head. “Look at you,” he teased. “Already the man of the house, bossing people around. Real domestic.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, just a hint of a smirk threatening to break through his otherwise stoic expression. “Keep talking, Wilson, and you’re gonna find yourself out on the porch with your toolbox.”

“Relax, big guy,” Sam shot back, grabbing his toolbox with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll leave you to play house in peace.”

“We’ll let you do your thing,” she called after him, with a light tone.

She placed a gentle hand on Bucky’s chest and gave him a little push out of the kitchen doorway. He went without resistance, though his brow remained furrowed. Without a word, she took his hand and led him down the hallway to the bedroom, closing the door softly behind them. When she turned, his expression hadn’t shifted. His jaw was tight, and his gaze lingered somewhere on the floor.

“Are you okay?” she asked, softly but tinged with concern.

“Yeah,” he replied, but the lack of conviction in his tone was unmistakable.

She stepped closer, brushing lightly his forearm with her hand. “Bucky,” she pressed gently, “you don’t sound okay. What’s on your mind?”

He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t like the idea of feeling... watched,” he admitted after a pause. “This whole thing with Sam stirring the pot... people noticing stuff, making it their business.”

Her heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. She reached for his hand, lifting it to her lips and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I get that. But I don’t think the people here would give you trouble. They’re probably just curious. It’ll pass.”

He glanced at her, hesitant. Then, with a slight shift of his shoulders, he added, “It’s not just that.”

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated again, looking anywhere but at her, with a palpable unease. “I just... I don’t know what you want people to know. About... us.” He cleared his throat, awkwardly running a hand through his hair. “Or if there even is an ‘us.’”

Her stomach flipped. “Bucky-”

“I mean, people say stuff in the heat of the moment,” he continued quickly, tumbling his words over each other. “Things feel... different in the light of day. And if you- if this-” He stopped, swallowing hard, still avoiding her gaze. “I don’t know if that’s what you want.”

His shyness was endearing and heartbreaking all at once, and it took her a moment to gather her thoughts.

“Wait,” she said, “You’re not saying you’re the one who wants a situationship, are you?”

His head snapped up, alarm flashing in his blue eyes. “No,” he said firmly, “That’s not- God, no.”

“Good,” she said softly, stepping closer until there was almost no space between them. “We’re on the same page then.”

He relaxed marginally, dropping his shoulders as he met her gaze. The corner of his mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers with a tentative softness that quickly gave way as his uncertainty melted. The kiss deepened, and his hands slid to her waist, pressing her against him as hers wove into his hair. The heat between them grew, his grip got firmer as a soft sigh escaped her lips, drawn into the intensity of the moment… until the sharp, rhythmic crack of hammering shattered the haze like a stone tossed into still water.

Bucky groaned, pulling back just enough to press the back of his head against the bedroom door. He closed his eyes and tightened his jaw, as he opened them again to stare at the ceiling in frustration. “I hate him,” he muttered, growling the words.

She stifled a laugh, brushing her fingers lightly over his chest. “He’s just doing his job,” she replied softly.

Reluctantly, he let her go, running a hand through his hair. “I gotta go anyway,” he admitted with a resigned sigh. “Got a quota to fill. Need to deliver it by closing time.”

Her lips curved into a small pout. “You didn’t even have breakfast,” she pointed out, crossing her arms.

He shrugged, grabbing his jeans from the floor. “I’ll sort it out,” he said dismissively, but the way he avoided her gaze told her he didn’t have a plan.

She clicked her tongue in mild exasperation. “Yeah, no.” Before he could argue, she slipped out of the room, leaving him to dress while she headed to the kitchen.

In one swift motion, she grabbed a big tupperware from the cabinet and set it on the counter. Without hesitation, she got to work, spreading jam on slices of bread, stacking three sandwiches neatly inside. On the side, she crammed in four cookies and a few slices of freshly cut apple, tucking the lid into place with satisfaction.

Sam, hammer still in hand, peeked over from the corner of his eye and grinned. “Oh, you’re gonna spoil him rotten, aren’t ya?”

She quirked a brow, unbothered. “I intend to, yes.”

Sam laughed, leaning against the counter briefly. “Good,” he said with an approving nod. “Someone has to, baking queen. He deserves it.”

Her expression softened slightly, and she gave a small, conspiratorial smile before putting the tupperware in a cloth bag and heading back toward the hallway.

Bucky was buttoning his flannel shirt when she returned, with the bag in her hands. He glanced up at the sound of her footsteps, “What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the flowery sack as he reached for his boots.

“Breakfast,” she said simply, holding it out to him.

He stared at it for a moment, then back at her, knitting his brows together. “I told you I’d figure it out.”

“And I decided I’d save you the trouble,” she countered, unfazed, stepping closer and pressing the container into his hands. “It’s just some jam sandwiches, cookies, and an apple. Nothing fancy.”

His fingers wrapped around the handles reluctantly, flicking his gaze down to it. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and she wondered if she’d overstepped.

Then, with a small, almost imperceptible sigh, he muttered, “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know,” she said softly. “That’s why I did it.”

Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line, but his grip on the bag tightened slightly. “Thanks,” he said finally, low and a little rough.

Her smile widened, and she reached out to adjust the collar of his flannel. “Just eat it, okay? And no excuses about being too busy.”

He huffed a soft laugh, relaxing his shoulders as he shook his head. “Yes ma'am." he conceded. "You’re something else, you know that?”

“Good to know,” she replied with a playful smirk, giving his chest a gentle pat before stepping back.

As he turned to leave, he paused hesitantly in the doorway, furrowing his brow slightly as if caught in a thought. Then, without a word, he turned back and crossed the distance between them.

Before she could react, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. It was brief but gentle. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Really.” He straightened and, without making eye contact, turned and exited the bedroom. The door clicked softly behind him, leaving her standing there with a flutter in her chest and a faint smile on her lips.

After Bucky left, she busied herself tidying up the kitchen and glanced at Sam, who was still diligently hammering away at the cabinets. “Want something to drink?” she offered casually.

Sam paused mid-swing and turned to her with a grateful smile. “Sure, whatever you’ve got.” She poured him a glass of orange juice, setting it on the counter where he could grab it easily before retreating to the living room.

-----

The morning light filtered through the curtains as she settled on the couch, with her laptop balancing on her knees. With a sigh, she opened the highlander’s document which made her roll her eyes every other sentence. She got through four chapters when Sam’s voice broke the quiet.

���All done for today,” he called from the kitchen doorway.

She glanced up, giving him a surprised smile. “That was quick.”

He grinned, wiping his hands on a rag as he stepped into the living room. “So, what’re you working on over here?”

Her stomach sank slightly. Oh no. Not this conversation again.

“Uh, just a manuscript,” she said vaguely, hoping he’d let it go.

But Sam, ever curious, tilted his head and leaned against the doorframe. “What kind of manuscript?”

“A romance novel,” she admitted reluctantly.

Sam’s grin widened. “Romance, huh? What kind? Cowboys? Pirates?”

She sighed, knowing resistance was futile. “It’s a Highlander one.”

That seemed to delight him even more. “Oh, like with the kilts and the swords and all that ‘My bonnie lass’ stuff?”

“Something like that,” she muttered.

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “My mom had a ton of those books, and my sister Sarah used to sneak them off the shelf when we were teenagers.” His grin turned devilish. “Boy, mom whipped her pervy ass when she found out. Thought she was scandalizing herself reading all those heaving bosom scenes.”

Despite herself, she let out a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. “Poor Sarah.”

“Poor Sarah, my ass,” Sam said with a chuckle. “She’s still a sucker for those books. Says it’s the ‘only time she has to herself.’” He made air quotes, clearly still amused by the memory.

She shook her head, laughing softly as she accompanied him to the door. “Well, let’s hope she never gets her hands on this one.”

------

By the time lunch rolled around, she had advanced a lot on her scheduled work for the day and couldn’t stop herself from glancing at her phone. She typed out a quick message to Bucky.

Hey, what are you up to?

Minutes passed with no response. Then, about an hour later, her phone buzzed in her hand, his name flashing across the screen. She picked up immediately.

“Hey,” she greeted warmly, leaning back on the couch.

“Hey,” he replied, with a gruffy tone. She could hear the faint hum of machinery in the background. “Sorry for not answering. Still working.”

“Yeah? How’s it going?”

A long sigh crackled through the line. “The chainsaw broke. Had to switch to one of the old ones. Slower, heavier, and louder. Pretty much the worst.”

Her brow furrowed at his tired voice.. “Sounds like a pain. Did you eat anything?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, though it didn’t sound convincing.

She hesitated, then offered, “I can bring you something. A sandwich or-”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said quickly, though his voice softened just enough to take the edge off the refusal. “Appreciate it, but I’ll figure it out.”

She frowned but didn’t push. “Okay... What time do you think you’ll be done?”

There was a brief pause as he considered. “About seven. Maybe a little after.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile as she decided to push just a little. “Mind if I come by your place when you’re done?”

The line went quiet, the faint buzz of the machinery and distant thudding the only sounds between them. She held her breath, wondering if she’d gone too far.

Finally, his voice came through, quieter and tinged with something shy. “Yeah, sure. If you want. Can’t promise I’ll be much of a host, though.”

Her smile widened, and warmth bloomed in her chest. “That’s okay. I’m not expecting a five-star experience. Just... you.”

His exhale was soft but audible as if her words had taken some weight off his shoulders. “All right,” he said simply. “See you then.”

“See you,” she replied, “and take care.” she added before the line clicked off.

She stared at the phone for a moment, with a lingering smile. No matter how grumpy or tired he sounded, he was still Bucky, the guy who cared enough to try.

He looked briefly at the old phone in his hand, before tucking it back into his pocket and exhaling sharply.

Rolling his shoulder for what felt like the hundredth time that day, he muttered a curse under his breath. The heavier chainsaw and the damp air weren’t doing his arm joints any favors. He flexed his fingers, trying to shake off the stiffness, but it did little to help. As he set the chainsaw down for a moment’s reprieve, his mind wandered back to her words. Mind if I come by your place?

He snorted softly, half-amused, half-bewildered. She wanted to come over after a day like this, to his place of all places. His gaze flicked toward the cabin in the distance, and the thought of her seeing it exactly as it was sent a twinge of discomfort through his system.

He started to mentally tick through the list of things he’d have to deal with before she arrived.

The plates in the sink. Take out the trash. Definitely need to dismantle the makeshift bed on the living room floor. His brow furrowed. Putting a few empty bottles of scotch out of sight wouldn’t hurt either.

The thought of her stepping into his world, even for a little while, made him pause. He couldn’t help to let the doubt creep in, the same gnawing thought that had been with him for as long as he could remember.

How someone like her could bother with someone like me?

He shook his head sharply, as if to dispel the thought, and grabbed the chainsaw again. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, not with the sun dipping lower and more work to finish.

----

The sound of her pen clicking filled the quiet room as she glanced at the clock and mentally sketched out her plan. Bucky was clearly having a rough day, and if he wasn’t going to let her help during the daytime, she’d make sure his evening was better.

Her eyes scanned the kitchen counter before settling on the tenderloin she’d defrosted earlier. Perfect. A baked tenderloin, creamed potatoes, and maybe a good wine, it was simple but comforting, exactly what he’d need after a day like this.

She pulled out her apron and got to work, trimming the meat, seasoning it with rosemary and garlic, and sliding it into the oven. While that baked, she started on the potatoes, peeling and boiling them before whipping them with cream and butter until they were perfectly smooth.

As she worked, her gaze drifted to the wine sitting on the counter, a thoughtful gift from a friend she hadn’t yet opened. Tonight’s the perfect occasion, she thought, setting it aside with a smile.

By the time everything was ready, the kitchen smelled warm and inviting, and she felt a sense of satisfaction at having put the plan together. With the tenderloin resting on a cutting board and the potatoes cooling in their pot, she finished her workload for the day and headed to shower.

Steam filled the bathroom as she rinsed away the day, her thoughts lingering on Bucky, on how tired he must be, on how much he tried to shoulder everything himself. She couldn’t erase the day’s frustrations, but she could lighten the load, even if only for a few hours.

After her shower, she picked through her closet, brushing her fingers over fabrics until they landed on a paneled skirt. It was soft and simple, and it paired well with a blouse she liked. Totally practical, she told herself. Absolutely no ulterior motives.

By the time the food was packed into containers and loaded into the trunk, the sun was beginning to set, painting the horizon in soft hues of pink and orange. She double-checked the tupperwares, the wine, and even threw in a small bag of cookies for good measure.

Satisfied, she slid into the driver’s seat with determination. Tonight, she was going to make sure Bucky felt better, even if he didn’t realize how much he needed it.

By the time she reached the cabin, the evening light was fading, casting long shadows through the trees that lined the narrow road. Her car bumped along the uneven path, the crunch of gravel under her tires breaking the quiet stillness of the woods.

As she pulled up, her headlights swept across the clearing in front of his cabin, illuminating a lone figure by the side of the house. There he was, hauling a bag of trash toward a bin, moving slower than usual.

Caught in the beam of her headlights, he froze momentarily, squinting against the brightness like a deer on the road. His workwear was rumpled, his shirt clinging to his broad frame from a long day’s labor. Dirt streaked his forearms and smudged his face, his hair slightly damp and pushed back haphazardly.

She turned off the engine and got out. His eyes flicked immediately to the bags in her arms, and he moved toward her with purposeful strides, leaving the trash bag forgotten by the bin.

Before she could say anything, he reached for the bags. “Here,” he muttered, brushing her fingers as he took them.

She tilted her head with a playful pout on her lips. “No kiss?”

He paused, slightly furrowing his brow, as though he were genuinely considering it. The truth was, he felt grimy and sweaty, dirt likely smudged across his face, while she looked effortlessly put together. The soft fabric of her skirt swayed gently in the evening breeze, and her fresh, clean scent drifted toward his nose, a stark contrast to his own disheveled state.

“I didn’t have time to… I don’t wanna stain you,” he admitted, as his gaze flicked down to the bags in his hands.

Her expression softened, and a warm smile curved her lips as she stepped closer. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his waist, ignoring the startled grunt he made at the contact. Rising onto her toes, she pressed a quick, tender kiss to his lips. She pulled back before he could fully react, with her eyes bright and affectionate.

“What kind of person would I be if I didn’t greet my man after a rough day at work?” she teased.

His grip on the bags tightened slightly as he registered the words, and a faint blush crept over his cheeks, visible even through the dirt smudged on his face. Her man. The thought settled warm in his chest, a sensation he didn’t know how to process.

He cleared his throat, darting his gaze away as he mumbled, “I guess you’re right.” Turning toward the cabin, he gestured for her to follow. “Come on in.”

As she stepped into the cabin, she paused to take it all in. The space was clean and warm, but undeniably spartan: bare walls, minimal furniture, and everything in its place. It was practical and functional, yet there was something distinctly Bucky about it.

Her gaze lingered on the small stack of books on the coffee table, a worn flannel jacket draped over the back of a chair, and a neatly folded blanket on the couch. Despite the lack of frills, it felt lived-in, quiet, and steady, just like him.

Bucky set the bags down on the small kitchen counter and turned to her, slightly furrowing his brows. “What’s all this?” he asked, gesturing at the containers with a slight tilt of his head.

“Dinner,” she replied, smiling as she stepped closer.

His eyebrows shot up, and he opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out, she cut him off.

“What,” she interjected, playful but firm, “did you think I’d come all the way out here after the day you’ve had just for you to take care of me? Maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” She stepped closer, softening her voice as her gaze met his. “I came to take care of you.”

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Instead, he blinked at her, furrowing his brow again as though he wasn’t quite sure how to process what she’d said.

“Come on,” she coaxed gently, placing a hand lightly on his arm. “You’ve been working your ass off all day, and I thought you could use a little help. That’s okay, right?”

He looked down at her hand on his arm, tensing his muscles slightly under her touch before relaxing. After a moment, he exhaled, and the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice quiet and a little rough. “Yeah, that’s... okay.”

Bucky stared at the bags on the counter. Of course she’d bring food. He slapped himself mentally for not anticipating it, given her nurturing nature. It wasn’t just something she did, it was who she was.

Still, a pang of guilt settled in his chest. He hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t even hinted at it, and yet here she was, going out of her way after what had probably been a long day for her, too. He felt, in some small way, like he was taking advantage of her kindness, even if unintentionally. Lost in thought, he barely registered her stepping closer until she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. His first instinct was to tense, the feel of her against his sweaty shirt making him self-conscious. But her warmth broke through the unease, and he found himself relaxing and reciprocating the embrace. Inhaling the faint, sweet scent of her hair, he felt something in him soften.

“A penny for your thoughts?” she asked gently, her voice muffled against his chest.

He hesitated for a moment, then bit his lip before murmuring, “Just... not used to being cared for like this.”

Her hold on him tightened slightly, and she leaned back just enough to look up at him with a soft smile. “Well, it’s better for you if you start getting used to it.”

He let out a soft, almost reluctant chuckle, as the tension eased further from his shoulders.

“Go wash your hands,” she ordered, stepping back and gesturing toward the small bathroom. “I’ll set the table if that’s okay with you.”

“Maybe I should take a shower first,” he muttered, glancing down at himself, but she waved him off.

“You look starved,” she replied matter-of-factly. “You can shower after. Go on, wash up.”

Bucky arched a brow at her. “What’s in the containers, anyway?”

“Baked tenderloin, creamed potatoes, and a little wine,” she said as she started unpacking the food.

After her words, his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Tenderloin?”

She nodded, and her smile widened at his reaction.

“I’ll be right back,” he said quickly with unexpected excitement as he disappeared into the bathroom.

A little while later, Bucky reappeared, with his hands clean and his face freshly washed. His long damp locks were pushed back, though a few stubborn strands refused to stay in place, giving him a slightly tousled look. He’d clearly made an effort, even if it wasn’t much, and she smiled at the sight.

The table was already set, the food neatly arranged in the middle, with mismatched enamel plates waiting. As he stepped closer, his eyes widened slightly at the spread before him. The tenderloin, perfectly sliced, the creamy potatoes beside it, it all looked like something out of a dream after the rough day he’d had. The smell hit him next, warm and comforting, and his stomach growled loudly, reminding him of just how little he’d eaten that day.

“It’s still hot,” she said, breaking his awed silence with a smile. “I used insulating containers.”

He nodded, still a bit dazed, and took his seat as she filled his plate. The first bite hit like a revelation, the flavors melting in his mouth. For a moment, he just sat there, savoring it, before digging in with gusto.

She watched with amusement the way he seemed to focus entirely on his plate. When he finished the first serving, he hesitated, glancing at the platter but not quite making a move. “Go on, you know you want more,” she said with a playful shake of her head, adding another helping to his plate before he could protest.

Bucky grumbled something under his breath, though the small, grateful smile tugging at his lips gave him away. He didn’t hesitate with that second helping, and by the time that plate was empty, he finally gave in and asked for the third himself.

“All right,” she teased as she served him again, “better than dino mac and cheese?”

His fork paused mid-air, and a gruff and warm laugh escaped him. “By a mile,” he admitted, shaking his head. “No contest.” The meal continued with more appreciative noises from him, low hums of approval and muttered compliments that only grew as he polished off every bite.

When his plate was finally clean, he leaned back slightly in his chair, resting his hand on his stomach. “I could get used to this,” he said softly, almost to himself, before his eyes widened slightly, and his ears turned faintly pink. “I mean... if you, uh, want to do this again. Another day. No pressure.”

She bit back a laugh, leaning her chin on her hand as she looked at him. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied warmly.

Bucky glanced down, and his blush deepened, but the small smile lingering on his face betrayed how much her answer meant to him.

“So... how’s your arm?” she asked gently as she began clearing the plates, glancing at him with a mix of curiosity and concern. “You rotated your shoulder earlier, and you seemed a little stiff.”

Bucky froze, and his eyes snapped to hers. He hadn’t realized she’d been paying that much attention. His first instinct was to brush it off, to tell her he was fine, no big deal. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue… but he’d promised himself not to shut her out. With a sigh, he leaned on the table, running a hand through his hair. “Using the old chainsaw today didn’t help. Heavy as hell, and the weather’s been a pain. Humidity makes it worse. Arm’s been bitching all day.”

She nodded thoughtfully, setting the plates aside before returning to her seat. “How about a massage?”

The question caught him off guard, and he just stared at her. He didn’t quite know how to respond, so he fell silent, mulling it over. It wasn’t like he’d ever been the type to ask for -or accept- things like that. But the idea of her hands working out the knots in his shoulder and biceps sounded almost too good to pass up after the day he’d had. “That’d be... really good,” he finally admitted, “but I should take a bath first.”

She tilted her head, and her expression turned stubborn. “Nonsense.” His brow furrowed as he started to protest, but she cut him off with a shy smile. “I like how you smell, okay?”

He blinked at her, taken aback by her words. His gaze softened, and the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly. He didn’t know what to say to that, how could he argue when she looked at him like that?

“Okay,” he said finally, the corner of his mouth twitching into the faintest of smiles. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” she replied, with a warm tone. “Now, take off your shirt and go sit on that stool over there,” she instructed, nodding toward the wooden stool tucked near the fireplace in the living room.

Bucky arched a brow but complied, standing slowly and pulling his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. As the fabric cleared his torso, she couldn’t help but stare. His muscled frame was on full display, and the scars etched across his skin like unfinished stories. He hadn’t spoken of them yet, and she was determined to wait until he was ready to share those chapters himself. Her gaze lingered on the sharp cut of his shoulders, the way his muscles flexed with each subtle movement. Her hands twitched slightly at her sides, eager to touch him, to ease the tension she could see in every line of his body.

He turned and caught her staring, his lips quirked into a knowing smirk. “Did you plot this to take advantage of a tired and wounded man?” he teased dryly. “You stuff me full of food so I can’t move, and then you attack?”

She blinked and felt her cheeks warming up, but a mischievous grin spread across her face. “Maybe,” she admitted with a playful shrug, reaching into her purse and pulling out a small bottle of lotion.

His eyes narrowed slightly, though there was a glint of humor in his gaze. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Perhaps it was a little premeditated,” she conceded, shaking the bottle as she stepped toward him. “Now sit.”

Bucky chuckled softly, shaking his head as he lowered himself onto the stool. “Remind me never to underestimate you.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she quipped, uncapping the bottle and squeezing a small amount into her hands, flickering her gaze briefly to his bare skin.

As she stepped behind him, her heart beat a little faster. She placed her hands on his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers, and began to work the lotion into the tight muscles.

The moment her hands touched his shoulders, Bucky tensed, his first thought was the sweat still clinging to his skin. As her fingers pressed firmly into the tight muscles at the top of his shoulders, the tension in his neck began to ease almost immediately, but his mind stubbornly clung to his unease. He shifted slightly, the thought of her hands on his clammy skin making him self-conscious.

She seemed to sense his hesitation, leaning closer until her lips brushed against his pulse point. The kiss was soft but deliberate, and he stilled completely at the unexpected touch. Her fingers pressed deeper into his shoulders as she murmured “I’m not feeling any relaxation, Buck.” Then, her lips trailed a warm, wet line to his earlobe, and he groaned, a deep, gravelly sound that rumbled in his chest. The tension in his body began to dissolve, his shoulders sagging as he exhaled a long breath.

“There we go,” she said softly, with a satisfied smile as her hands resumed their soothing rhythm.

She worked her thumbs firmly along the base of his neck, coaxing the tight knots free, before moving down to his shoulders. Her fingers dug into the thick muscles with just the right amount of pressure, and he let out a low hiss that melted into a sigh. His scarred arm caught her attention next, the touch becoming gentler as she kneaded the firm swell of his bicep. Her fingers traced over the ridges of the scars, not hesitating but mindfully.

Bucky didn’t say a word, but his body told the story, how his shoulders slumped further under her touch, how his breathing slowed, and how the stiffness in his arm seemed to melt away. With each stroke, he let go just a little more, slightly dipping his head forward, parting his lips as another sound escaped from them, a softer, more relieved groan this time, like unburdening himself of a long-held weight.

By the time she finished, moving her hands back up to smooth over his shoulders one last time, Bucky’s body was practically putty under her touch. The knots in his muscles had vanished, leaving him loose and blissfully relaxed. Yet, beneath the calm she’d so carefully drawn out, simmered a different tension. Her warm breath against his neck, the soft brush of her chest against his back, and the intimacy of her touch stirred something deeper, and despite his best efforts to stay still, a very interested part of him was paying close attention to her ministrations.

She stepped back slightly, wiping her palms on a towel she’d grabbed from her bag. “All done,” she announced lightly, “How are you feeling?”

Bucky straightened slightly, forcing himself to keep his breathing even as he glanced back at her. “So good,” he said honestly, in a low and husky tone. “Thank you.”

Before she could respond, he moved with intent, and his hands found her waist pulling her gently into his lap.

Her eyes widened as she settled sideways on his thighs, his hands holding her tightly in place as though she belonged there.

“What kind of host would I be,” he murmured, in a thick and velvety tone, sending a delicious shiver down her spine, “if I didn’t thank you properly?”

Then his lips were on hers, warm and insistent, and she let out a soft moan as she shifted in his lap, the movement drawing her attention to the unmistakable hardness pressing against her rear. Her breath hitched, and her heart pounded as the heat rushed through her body.

When they finally parted, her gaze met his, taking in the tired lines around his eyes. She quirked a brow, with a playful smile. “Weren’t you exhausted?”

Bucky leaned in, brushing his lips against her pulse point before nipping at it lightly. “Never for you,” he murmured.

“You know,” he continued, softly but teasing as his hand traveled under the hem of her skirt, brushing his rough fingers against her bare thigh, “last night I told you why I liked you in dresses and skirts.”

Her breath caught as his hand moved higher. “Oh, I took note,” she answered playfully, kissing his cheek as her fingers traced idle patterns over his chest. She held his gaze with a spark of anticipation. “What are you going to do about it?”

Bucky’s eyes darkened, and the corners of his mouth twitched as his hand slid higher, in a firm and coaxing grip. “Guess you’ll find out,” his voice was barely more than a growl as he kissed her again, deeper and more insistent this time. She gasped softly against his mouth, threading her fingers into his hair and pulling him closer.

His touch became more insistent, sliding one hand up her side, bunching the fabric of her blouse under his fingers. Without breaking the kiss, he unbuttoned it promptly and removed it in two smooth motions. He leaned back just enough to take her in, trailing his eyes over the curves of her body with open appreciation. His lips parted slightly, and a low, almost reverent hum rumbled from his chest. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he muttered, his voice rough with need as his hands moved to unhook her bra.

The straps fell away, and he cupped her breasts, brushing his thumbs over her sensitive nipples. She let out a soft whimper, slightly arching her body into his touch. “Perfect,” he murmured, leaning down to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the swell of her breast. His lips trailed down, and when his mouth closed around her nipple, sucking gently, a sharp moan escaped from her lips. Her hand flew to his nape, tangling her fingers in his hair as she arched again, pressing him harder against her chest. The pressure of his mouth and the flick of his tongue were enough to send her mind spinning.

He growled softly against her skin, and his other hand slid down from her waist, hooking his arm under her knee, spreading her leg with ease, and angling her body to fit perfectly against his, with her back against his chest. His free hand trailed down, teasing the edge of her panties before pressing against the damp fabric. Her hips bucked instinctively at the contact, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips as he traced slow, deliberate circles over her clothed pussy.

“Today was a shitty day,” he said huskily as his fingers pressed a little harder, drawing another moan from her lips. He leaned forward, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. “I appreciate it a lot what you did here, sweetheart.”

His hand slipped under the waistband of her panties, his rough fingers finding her slick folds with ease. A strangled sound escaped her mouth, as her hand flew to the back of his neck.

“I’m not very good with words,” he murmured. As he spoke, he pushed two fingers inside her, slow and deliberate, the stretch sending a wave of pleasure through her entire body. “But I’m happy. Really.” His confession was soft, almost vulnerable, as his thumb began circling her clit.

Her head fell back, and a moan spilled from her lips as her body arched against him. “Well, I can’t argue,” she panted, words broken by pleasure, “this is a... a nice way of appreciation.”

His lips curved into a small smile against her neck as his fingers moved inside her with a slow, steady rhythm. Each motion drew soft gasps and moans from her lips. “Such a good girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing her skin. “You take care of me, and this is how I take care of you.” His voice was husky, laced with affection, and something darker, rougher.

Her breath hitched as he adjusted his angle slightly, curling his fingers inside her, hitting a spot that made her cry out. He chuckled softly, a low and rough sound in her ear. “There it is,” he growled, his pace quickening just enough to keep her teetering on the edge.

Her hands clutched at his thigh and neck, digging her nails slightly as her hips moved instinctively against his hand. “B-Bucky,” she panted, with a shaky voice, tipping back her head as she lost herself in the sensation.

When he shifted his arm slightly, he chuckled dryly. “Fuck, I smell,” he muttered, half to himself, his self-consciousness creeping back into his mind despite the situation

She turned her head sharply, meeting his gaze. “My God, James,” she said firmly, and her voice was a mix of exasperation and arousal. “I told you, I’m okay with it.”

His brow quirked, and his lips twitched into a faint smirk. “So I’m James when you scold me?” he teased, pushing his fingers deeper, harder, making her gasp and stutter.

“T-That’s right,” she managed, as his pace picked up. “I don’t mind you sweaty after a day of work... I think it’s hot, okay?” she confessed.

His hand stilled for just a second, his gaze lifting to hers in surprise before a wide, wicked grin spread across his face. “You think it’s hot,” he repeated, in a low, teasing drawl. “Well, sweetheart, I think you’re hot when you’re like this.”

Without another word, his fingers moved faster, curling and pressing in ways that made her moan loudly, her head fell back as the pressure built to an unbearable peak. He trailed open-mouthed kisses along her throat, his stubble scraping lightly against her skin as his pace became relentless.

“Maybe,” he murmured between kisses, his voice a husky whisper. “I could be Jamie when you cum. What do you say, darlin’?”

Her moans turned into breathless cries, her body trembling as his words pushed her closer to the edge. His thumb pressed harder against her clit, and with one final, precise movement, she shattered, the orgasm crashing over her in a wave of heat and pleasure.

She called out his name, and her body arched as her walls clenched around his fingers. He didn’t stop, coaxing her through every aftershock, brushing his lips on her ear as he whispered, “That’s it, good girl. Let go for me.”

When she finally slumped back against him with ragged breathing, he pulled his hand back, cradling her against his chest with a satisfied smirk. “So,” he said softly, but with playful arrogance, “Jamie it is, huh?”

She swatted his shoulder weakly, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

“And now,” he murmured between kisses at the back of her neck, “I’m going to show you exactly what I’m going to do about this skirt of yours,” he stated, his voice dark and laced with promise.

Before she could respond, his hands gripped her hips firmly as he shifted them both to the floor in one fluid motion. Her knees hit the soft rug beneath them, and he pressed himself against her back, slowly grinding his erection against her rear. One of his hands slid up to her waist, holding her firmly in place as his other hand moved to the nape of her neck, pressing her down gently but firmly against the coffee table.

The rough wood met her forearms as her body bent at just the right angle to have her completely at his mercy. Her breath hitched as she felt his hand leave her nape briefly, and the sound of his belt unbuckling and the zipper of his jeans being drawn down made her pulse race.

With one hand still firm on her hip, Bucky gathered the fabric of her skirt and lifted it, baring her ass to him. His large, rough palm cupped one cheek, squeezing it firmly. “Seems to me,” he said, his voice dripping with lust, “you came here intending to be taken advantage of.”

A low chuckle escaped her lips as she arched her back and parted her thighs slightly, lifting her hips toward him. “Can you blame me?” she teased, with a breathy voice, the words laced with anticipation.

His lips curled into a grin as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and tugged them down in one swift motion, leaving them tangled around her knees. “Who am I,” he murmured, in a dark and teasing tone, “to deny you what you want, especially after you pampered me, hm?” His pupils were blown as he stared at her pussy, slick and glistening with arousal. A low groan rumbled from his chest as he wrapped a hand around his cock, thick and heavy, precum already beading at the tip. He ran the swollen head through her folds, spreading her wetness over his length. The sensation made her gasp, and press her hips back against him instinctively.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, savoring how wet and ready she was for him. Gripping her hip tightly, he lined himself up and began to press into her slowly, stretching her open inch by inch with the blunt head of his cock.

She mewled as he split her inner walls, the fullness of his cock making her fingers clutch the edge of the coffee table for support. As he slid deeper, a low moan spilled from her lips, as her body adjusted to take him to the hilt. He paused there, pressing his chest against her back as he leaned forward. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he murmured roughly but tinged with genuine care, though he already knew the answer. The feel of her walls clenching around him, pulling him in even tighter, made it clear she was more than alright.

Her breath hitched again, and her body shuddered under him. She nodded quickly.

Satisfied, he let out a low, satisfied hum, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck before rolling his hips experimentally, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips.

Bucky pulled back almost completely before thrusting forward again, setting a slow but deliberate pace, letting her feel every inch of his cock stretching and filling her. The low, guttural groan that escaped his lips was unrestrained, a sound that vibrated deep in his chest as he rolled his hips again, savoring the way her pussy clenched around him.

It was like something unlocked inside him, the tension he carried in every interaction, every moment of his day, dissolving as he lost himself in her heat. Here, he didn’t have to hold back or second-guess. There was no space for hesitation, no room for what ifs, just her body arching beneath him and her soft moans urging him on.

“You feel so fucking good,” he muttered with a rough voice, the words falling from his lips without filter or pretense. He pulled back to watch the way his cock disappeared into her, tightening his grip as he snapped his hips harder, a sharp slap of skin meeting skin filling the air. “Made for me, aren’t you?”

Her whimper in response only spurred him on, and his hand slid up her back to press between her shoulder blades, bending her further over the coffee table as his thrusts picked up a relentless rhythm.

Her cries grew louder and her fingers clutched at the table for stability as she pushed back against him, meeting his movements with desperation. “Bucky!” she cried out, her voice breaking as his relentless thrusts sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

“That’s it,” he growled, brushing his lips against her shoulder as he drove into her harder, deeper. “Say it again, sweetheart.”

“Bucky,” she gasped, as his fingers worked her clit with precision with her body trembling beneath him.

A grin spread across his lips as he leaned closer, his voice rough and teasing. “What about… Jamie? Hmm? Can I be your Jamie when you fall apart for me?”

Her head tipped back, and a flush crept up her neck as the name fell from her lips, breathless and needy. “J-Jamie...”

His groan was low and guttural, and his hips stuttered for a moment before he caught his rhythm again. The way her voice carried his name sent a thrill through his body.

“Fuck,” he muttered, quickening his pace as his free hand slid up her back, holding her steady. “Say it again, darling. Let me hear it.”

“Jamie!” she cried with a trembling voice as the pressure in her pussy built to a breaking point.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of her neck. “You’re so good for me. Taking all I give you.”

Her walls clenched around him, and she shuddered beneath his body, her voice breaking as she gasped his name.

That was his undoing. His thrusts became harder, more erratic as he chased his release, her pleasure pulling him closer to the edge. “That’s it,” he growled, strained but commanding. “Come for me, sweetheart. Come on my cock.”

She shattered, and her cries echoed through the room as her climax ripped through her body, arching and trembling under his hands.

Hearing her call his diminutive over and over as her body convulsed around him was enough to send him spiraling. With a guttural groan, he followed her over the edge, driving his hips into her one last time as he spilled inside her.

As the intensity ebbed, she slumped forward, over the coffee table, with ragging and shallow breathing. Bucky followed her, pressing his chest against her back as they both came down from the high with their bodies still connected.

For a moment, neither of them moved, and the only sound in the room was their uneven breaths. Then, with a soft grunt, Bucky wrapped his arms around her waist, firmly but gently as he pulled her upright. “C’mere,” he murmured. He shifted, sitting back on the thick rug, and dragged her with him, settling her in his lap. Her back rested against his broad chest, and his arms enveloped her in a warm, protective hug.

She melted into his embrace, tipping back her head to rest on his shoulder as his chin came to rest at her crown. One of his arms enveloped her below her breasts holding her securely against him, while the other traced slow, idle patterns on her thigh.

“You’re amazing,” she said softly, as she reached back with her hand and caressed his stubbed cheek.

Bucky stilled for a moment, her words catching him off guard. He swallowed hard, tightening his arms around her slightly. “I think that’s my line,” he muttered, brushing his lips against her hair. “You’re the one who...” He trailed off, shaking his head with a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “You’re just amazing.”

She turned her head slightly to look up at him, curving her lips into a tender smile. “I like this,” she said, full of affection.

“Hmm?” he tilted his head slightly to glance down at her.

“This,” she repeated, gesturing to the way his arms were wrapped around her. “You. Holding me like this. Feels like home.”

His breath hitched, and he kissed the top of her head gently, tightening his embrace even further. “You… feel like home too.” he admitted, with a softer voice.

After a few minutes of quiet, she broke the silence, “So,” she said, glancing up at him with a teasing smile, “Will I get this treatment every time I cook you a hearty meal?”

Bucky froze for a moment, as her question pulled him from the comfortable haze of their embrace. His body tensed slightly, and his usual awkwardness crept back in as his brain finally caught up with what she was saying.

“... maybe,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible as his fingers fidgeted against her waist.

She blinked, and her smile widened as she tried, and failed, not to laugh. “What was that?” she teased, twisting in his lap just enough to catch the faint pink creeping up his neck. “I didn’t hear you, Jamie.”

At the sound of the name, his eyes widened briefly, and a groan rumbled from his chest as he pressed his face into the crook of her neck, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Don’t...” he started, but she cut him off with a laugh, brushing her fingers through his hair.

“You are so cute, you know that?”

He let out a dry chuckle, tinged with disbelief as he leaned back slightly to meet her gaze. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life,” he muttered with a  wry tone, “but it’s a first time for cute.”

She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Well, you are,” she said firmly, her eyes bright with affection. “And I dare anyone to say otherwise.”

His lips twitched, the faintest smile breaking through his usual reserve. “You’re something else,” he murmured, tightening his arms around her as he buried his face in her hair again.

He held her close for a moment longer, as her warmth made it harder to let go. Finally, he cleared his throat, breaking the comfortable silence. “You... wanna stay the night?” he asked, casually, but laced with a hint of hesitation.

Her lips curved into a soft smile as she leaned back just enough to meet his gaze. “I’d love to.”

“Good,” he said gruffly but filled with satisfaction. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “And no one’s gonna be ringing the doorbell early in the morning here,” he grumped.

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Well, that is definitely a bonus.”

Her laughter eased some of the tension in his chest, but it crept back just as quickly. For a moment he froze, a flicker of doubt crossed his features as his mind wandered to his unused bed. Do I even have sheets on that thing? The memory hit him almost instantly: yes, he did. A week ago, he’d tossed a spare set on there after doing laundry, figuring it was better than leaving the mattress bare. He sighed with relief, and his lips curved into a small grin.

Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her effortlessly, standing with her in his arms as if she weighed nothing, getting out of his pants with a little work of his legs.

“Bucky!” she squealed, laughing as she grabbed onto his shoulders for balance.

“You said yes,” he replied with a smirk, adjusting his hold as he headed toward the bathroom. “Now, come on. We both need a good scrubbing.”

Her laughter bubbled out as her hands slid up to cup his face. “You’re full of surprises tonight, Jamie” she teased with a playful tone.

Bucky’s brow quirked, a smirk tugging at his lips even as a faint flush crept up his cheeks. Tightening his hold on her, he leaned in. “Oh, Jamie’s gonna teach you a lesson about poking bears,” he muttered, teasing.

Before she could fire back, his hand shifted, delivering a swift smack to her ass.

She gasped in surprise, jerking slightly, then bit her lip with a playful grin. “Is the big bad bear planning to plunder a honeypot tonight?” she asked with mock innocence.

Bucky’s eyes went wide for a moment, and his steps faltered. His ears turned bright red as he stammered, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “What do you read in those novels?” he muttered, avoiding her gaze as his grip on her tightened slightly.

She grinned wickedly, undeterred. “It’s not like you haven’t already-”

Before she could finish, his hand came down with another sharp slap to her ass, making her squeal. “Enough outta you,” he growled, though the pink on his ears deepened.

“Oh, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it?” she teased, still grinning as she tightened her arms around his shoulders.

He let out a low groan, shaking his head as he adjusted his grip, carrying her effortlessly into the bathroom. “You’re a menace,” he muttered.

“And you like it,” she countered, leaning in to kiss his cheek, brushing her lips against his flushed skin.

His stride slowed as he turned his head to look at her, his tired blue eyes with a softer glint now. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly, his voice low and raw. “I do.”

As they crossed into the bathroom, he leaned his forehead against hers. “You make it easy to forget everything else,” he murmured, his voice was barely audible but was weighed with a truth he rarely allowed himself to share.

Her arms tightened around him, as she pressed a kiss in the corner of his mouth. She could feel the unspoken weight behind his words, the burdens he carried in silence. But she didn’t push. She knew he would tell her when he was ready, about his struggles, his past, and the shadows that still lingered in his mind. “I’m glad Bucky, you deserve that.”

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, tightening his arms around her as he held her close. For a moment, the world outside the bathroom, outside this cabin, ceased to exist. He dipped his head slightly, brushing her lips in a tender, unhurried kiss, filled with gratitude and unspoken promises, a glimpse of the feelings he couldn’t yet bring himself to express.

[dollfacefantasy]

dig your claws right into me ♡

logan howlett x fem!reader

logan hurts you when he has a nightmare. now you both have to deal with the fallout.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, descriptions of nightmare, injury, and blood

a/n: reader is a mutant but i didn't specify her powers so you can imagine what you want. just some sickly sweet intimacy cause that's what i was feeling tonight <3

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The words come out whispered as Logan's lips press against the three tiny bumps of developing scar tissue on your abdomen.

"I already told you that you don't have to be sorry," you say. Your voice drifts into the space between the two of you as soft as the movements of your fingers running through his hair.

"Well I am, bub. You should want me to be."

Each one of his hands rests upon either side of your waist. His fingers squish against your flesh while his eyes stare at the scars on your belly. He gazes at them like the small marks, all equidistant from one another, could be willed away by his harsh look. He hated the fact that they were there at all. Even worse, that he was the one who gave them to you.

"But it was an accident," you respond, giving one of the tufts of his hair a gentle tug.

His dark pupils flit up to look at your face. "Doesn't matter. It being an accident doesn't change the fact that you're gonna have these marks forever. I wouldn't care that it was accidental if I'd killed you."

He remembers the night it happened that seemed like a real possibility.

His light sleep had been interrupted by a nightmare. Over the time that had passed between then and now, it'd become indistinct from all the others he experiences regularly. The only difference between that one and the ones he'd had since he'd started sleeping next to you each night was the intensity. That night had been rough. Normally when he slept in your room, he seemed to be able to tone it down. Almost as if his brain knew to not act up while your relationship was still starting to blossom.

But two weeks ago, his mind didn't care. It flash-banged him with the usual images of himself in that tank. The searing, splitting pain of the adamantium attaching itself to his bones.

Usually, if he had a nightmare beside you, he'd grunt and twitch, maybe shift around a little. That night though, you got to see the whole performance. The tossing and turning, sweating and moaning, tense limbs and scrunched up face.

Poor, sweet, innocent you thought that you could just wake him up. Your hands nudged at his bicep and shoulder as you gently cooed "Logan. It's just a dream."

In the end, your tenderness didn't matter. When he actually came to, your anguished cry was all that registered. And then he felt the sharp heat between his knuckles that meant the claws were out. His heart dropped and his vision nearly blacked out. He couldn't have.

He retracted them as quickly as they'd appeared and pulled back to look at you. Crimson flooded the gray t-shirt you'd worn to bed. The three little spots spread into large blooms of scarlet. Your hands flew to the spot to clutch at it, but they did nothing to stop the warm liquid from spilling out.

"No, no, no, fuck," he'd whispered frantically as his mind raced for a solution.

Your cries morphed into whimpers. Soft and vulnerable. Like a prey animal that'd been fatally wounded but not put out of its misery. Blood seeped out onto your bedding, and it was then that he rocketed off the mattress and scooped you up into his arms.

Fortunately, Scott, Jean, and Storm were already outside the door in the hall, having heard the scream. A gathering of students lingered behind them as well. Shame coursed through his veins, albeit dulled by the panic. He remembered thinking it was stupid, but after the adrenaline left his system, it was the dominant emotion he was left with. Ashamed was the only word that could describe holding the knowledge that everyone here now saw he was capable of hurting the woman he loves. Maybe he was no better than an animal.

In truth, shame was all he felt now. So much relief settled over him since you'd made it out alive. Thanks to the enhanced physical capabilities from your mutation and Jean's adequate medical skills, these scars would be the only lasting effect of the wounds.

He'd rushed you down to the infirmary faster than he'd ever moved in a non-combat situation. His feet thundered down the stairs, a part of him withering to ash with each little whimper you let out as the motion jostled your body around.

"I'm sorry, bub. Almost there. We're almost there. You're gonna be ok," he'd mumbled out thoughtlessly, saying anything he could that would bring you even a shred of comfort.

He kept your hand in his the entire time you were down there on the cold examination table. His grip stayed firm. He wouldn't let the anxiety over your well being consume him. This was his fault, and now you needed him. He didn't get to be worried or upset or anything that wasn't in support of you.

When you howled in pain, he winced as if he was the one being treated. You cried for him, choking out "Logan" through tears over and over. It tore him apart inside. All he could do to soothe you was stroke your cheek and murmur reassurances in your ear.

"Shh, shh, shh. You're doing so good, baby. My strong girl. Being so brave."

He usually reserved affection for private moments, but in those painful seconds, it felt like you two were the only ones in the room.

These thoughts running through his head display across his face. The way his cheek squishes against your tummy and his eyes vacantly stare at the wall opposite his bed. You told him the next day that everything transformed into a blur in your mind. You remembered the feeling of being stabbed and the sight of him panicking, but beyond that nothing specific stayed. You knew he held you and talked to you even though you couldn't recall an individual thing he said or did.

That was fine with him. He listened to you tell the story from your perspective. You spoke with your normal cadence, the usual happy glow in your eyes, and the same animated gestures coming from your hands. His eyes lingered on your torso though. The bandages peeking out from underneath your clean camisole he'd changed you into.

Every last detail of the incident was etched into the deepest part of his psyche. Most likely stored away as material for future nightmares. As much as he hated it, he figured that's the way it should be. He didn't deserve the peace that comes with forgetting.

For the first week after it'd happened, he wouldn't sleep with you. He'd stay with you, cuddled against your body, until you drifted off. Then he'd get up and skulk back to his own room, leaving you cold and alone on your bed.

Eventually after a few more days, you got him to try it out again, but he'd only do it in his own room. It was hard for him to be in yours. New sheets covered your foamy mattress now since the blood wouldn't wash out of the old set. Each brush of the novel material against his skin was just a rose-printed reminder of what he'd done to you.

He's snapped out of his recollection when your voice returns to the original conversation.

"None of that stuff happened though. You didn't kill me, and you're not going to. I'll be more careful next time," you break the silence with a gentle reassurance.

Next time. That's what hurts the worst. You knew this would happen again. You'd promised that when it did you wouldn't try to wake him. Wouldn't touch him or do anything that could set him off. Just give him his space and let him work through it.

"I don't even want you worrying about being careful when you're trying to sleep," he grumbles.

Your nails scrape over his scalp, making his eyes flutter. A deep sigh leaves him. As much as he hated himself for all of this, he could never help easing up under your touch.

"You're worth it."

Three words you said so often. He never believed them, but that didn't stop you from repeating them like a slogan. Instead of arguing with you over the validity of the statement, he stays silent. Replaces any verbal response with a physical one by nuzzling into the warmth of your stomach and laying kisses around your navel.

You watch the affectionate gesture and trail your fingers down to the nape of his neck, massaging the tender skin there.

"You are," you whisper, "One mistake doesn't define you. Doesn't change how I see you."

"It's not just a simple mistake-" he starts.

"Yes it is," you interject, trying to nip his self doubt in the bud.

"It's not. It's not like I forgot your birthday or left my wallet behind when taking you out."

"It's still an accident. The severity doesn't change the intention. Would you hate me if my powers acted up and hurt you?"

God, you could be just as stubborn as him. It grated on his already frayed nerves. He shifts to look up at you fully. And some of that building tension dissolves upon seeing the earnest look on your face.

"It's not the same. Anything you did to me, I would heal," he says.

"I'm healing too. I'm just not as fast as you," you respond. You actually smile as if this is some lighthearted matter. Of course you knew it wasn't the same. You presented no danger to him whereas if he'd nicked you an inch to the left, he might be talking to your headstone right now instead of you. That wasn't the point though.

He shakes his head. "It's different, bub. But I'm not even saying you should hate me..." 

In truth, he didn't know what he was saying. If he wanted you to hate him or stay away from him, he could be the one to break things off. But he was still right here, arms wrapped around you and head hovering inches away from your body.

"I just think you should be more cautious than you're being," he finishes, "I don't want you to think you have to put up with this."

You frown and pet his hair. "I don't think that."

"I'm not trying to lecture you, baby," he sighs, "I just don't want to hurt you again."

He could certainly flaunt a pair of puppy eyes when he wanted to. The way he was looking up at you now made him seem so sad and wounded. Like a dog who can't control when he bites but gets kicked aside for it all the same.

"You're not going to. We'll be careful. It was an accident," you say, tone almost pleading, "You're still my Logan."

To go along with your words, you pull on one of his arms, beckoning him closer. He complies with your request and scales your body so that the two of you are aligned. You stare up into his eyes and the whirlpools of emotion within them. Your hand lands on his cheek, your thumb stroking back and forth in small swipes.

"I'm not gonna let you pull away cause of this," you whisper, "It wasn't your fault. You don't choose to have those dreams."

You can tell he wants to argue, but he struggles to find the words. Indirectly cutting him off, you guide his head closer to yours. His face slots against the crook of your neck, and yours does the same in his. You nuzzle him there, breathing in the rich, musky scent of him.

"You're not wrong for wanting to be happy. You don't deserve to be alone," you say and kiss below his ear.

The words make him ache from within. His metal bones vibrate with the weight of possibility of that being true while his heartbeat feels as though it stutters between his ribs. He wants to huff and say that he knows, that he doesn't need you psychoanalyzing him, thank you very much. But none of that will come out. So instead he chuckles. He tries to make it sound smooth; although, the awkwardness is apparent in each bit.

He pulls back a little and smirks down at you. "So you think I'm cut out for being gentle? Is that it?"

You know what he's doing. As closed off as he tries to be, you don't need telepathy to sense what he's feeling. You let him play it off with a joke though. If he's joking, he's not drowning in self-pity, which is all you want.

"Mhm, I know you are," you say and nose at his cheek, kissing the spot on it without facial hair, "You may have claws, but you purr like a kitten when I have my hands on you."

His eyes roll when you say that. He leans down and begins to return some of your loving gestures.

"Don't go telling people that. It's only for you," he murmurs.

"Of course, of course," you say with the same subtle playfulness.

Words die out in favor of using your mouths for better things. The kisses are lazy, built more off of love and adoration rather than lust and passion. One of your arms loops over his shoulders to keep him close while your other rubs at his side. The tip of his nose brushes your earlobe as he lowers to kiss down your throat.

His lips meet your pulse point and the divots in your neck that make you shudder when touched. He's familiar with all your secret spots by now. He plays you better than any instrument. His breath fans over your skin as his teeth scrape against the same flesh. His hands work below, squeezing your waist, fingertips leaving little bumps in their wake.

The hand of yours that had been on his side drifts further down and wiggles its way between your two bodies. Your digits stroke his pelvis above the area his cock would soon begin to harden.

A groan reverberates through his chest as his shaft rises to attention. From this angle, the pads of your fingers can reach the tip. You rub on it with light pressure, up and down. That gets him to repeat the groan, only this time the undertone of need is more prominent.

His lips latch onto your neck to work a little mark onto your skin while he pushes the waistband of his sweatpants down his thighs. You were only wearing a cropped t-shirt and panties, already easily accessible.

He nudges your thighs apart further and grinds his bulge over your mound. The heat from both your aching centers grows hotter with the friction. Arching your back off the bed, you whimper softly for further satisfaction. He presses you back down using his larger stature.

"Patience, sweetheart. Being gentle, remember?"

He only teases you with a few more grinds of his hips before his boxers vanish too and his heavy cock rests against the soft fabric of your panties. You feel the familiar thickness at first. Then his fingers swoop down and pull your panties to the side so he can slot the drippy tip against your folds. Precum smears against your slick, velvety skin.

Seconds later he splits you open. He bites his lip while you whine, his fat cock pushing further into your wanting hole. You squeeze around him. Your walls clamp and contract on his length. It doesn't push him out, merely sucks him further in. He chokes out a low moan from how tight you get.

So tight and so wet. Arousal oozes from you in no short supply. It didn't take much to get you going for Logan. A few touches alone had you leaking like a broken faucet. You whimper as he bottoms out, hips jerking as the head taps your cervix. He always gets so deep it's nearly unbearable. Even when he's going slow like he is now, he's all you can think of. He fills you up down there and occupies all the space in your head.

"Feel good, baby?" he asks.

You nod, unable to respond verbally as you adjust to the intrusion. 

He doesn't give you a prolonged period of time to adapt right now. Normally he would, but most other times, he'd be going much faster than he plans to at this moment. Typically, he'd let you get comfy with the stretch before drawing his hips back and then pumping them forward again. He'd slam in and out of you. It'd be loud with the sound of skin clapping combined with your moans and his growls. It'd be rough and quick. The bed would shake and bobble around with the force of him.

But tonight, none of that happens. He barely even pulls out to thrust. He stays nice and deep, grinding his hips rather than fucking himself in and out of you. You whine in sweet stretches of sound. He sighs and grunts against your neck. Neither of you sound like feral animals going into heat.

You loved when you fucked like that, but right now, both of you needed this. Each roll of his hips felt like a stroke of heaven brushing your insides. Your limbs curl around him tighter to keep him close. Your arms guard his neck while your legs dig into his hips. He's so lost in the feeling of you, he can't even tell where he ends and you begin.

"Tell me how it feels. Need to hear you. Wanna know I'm doing it how you need," he mumbles.

"Feels perfect," you whimper in return, "So fuckin' deep."

"Good. I only ever wanna make you feel good."

You nod, knowing it's the truth. "Anyone can hurt me, but only you know how to make me feel like this."

His eyes scrunch up at your words. He just feels lucky he has his face buried against your skin so you can't see. It had been just what he needed to hear. Boosting himself onto his knees a bit more to gain some leverage, he grips your hips and ruts against you with the slightest bit more force.

You whine at the soothing rhythm in which your bodies rock. The sense of satisfaction brought on from this took root in the deepest pit of your belly. You weren't gonna explode like you often did. Probably wouldn't scream or scratch up his back. But you could tell you were gonna cum hard.

Without saying it, he communicates he feels the same. His lack of usual dirty talk tells you everything you need to know. His cock stays nestled deep inside your pussy as he works you both to the edge. His face remains flush against your neck.

You cum first, and he follows right behind. You tighten up, toes curling and a high mewl echoing out of your throat. Your body shivers. He spills his release inside of you, his energy leaving with the sticky ropes of cum that fire.

He goes boneless on top of you, still cherishing the feeling of your skin on his. His breaths feel cool against your sweating skin.

"My baby," he sighs. His eyes flutter shut. He knows he has to pull out before he knocks out for a while, but he can do that in a second. He just needs a few more minutes of this.

You press a few kisses to the side of his head and rub his back. His hand slides between both your abdomen to touch the scars, reminding himself what he's capable of despite his current tenderness.

After a few moments, he pulls out and slumps to the side of you. You peck his lips and take the acquisition of space as a way to cool off. His eyes are drooping already. It feels good seeing him so relaxed. You kiss the space between his brows, then the bridge of his knows, and end on his lips.

"Sweet dreams," you whisper, wishing that would be enough to keep the nightmares at bay. At least for tonight.

[willyoubemycherryy]

Intimacy Cues (C. Kent)

Summary: Who better to teach you how to talk body when you never learned the language?

Contains: smut AND plot so it’s long,depressing past, the college au you all secretly needed, struggles with physical touch, struggles with any form of intimacy, one mild panic attack, Clark is understanding but hot, dumb ideas, hugging, bonding, kissing, making out, it starts off shaky then soft but quickly snowballs into horn-e central, size kink, slight dumbification, strength kink, first kisses, virginity kept but not for long just give me till the second part, Clark is a little infatuated, they’re so nasty about each other my word, grinding, kissing (no forreal), prayer bc we all need it

A/N- my stomach is fine, it wasn’t a tumor but a blockage because of something I ate that never digested, causing my tummy to bloat and swell but they fixed me up so I’m back😈

. .* ੈ✩‧₊•

“Nononono- no, stop!!”

This might be the worst decision of your entire life.

Clark pulls away again, looking down at you with his eyebrows drawn together in concern but also exasperation because-

“Hey! It’s okay- you’re okay. Remember…you were the one who asked for my help.” He didn’t say the obvious “but we’re not getting any farther” part out loud but it echoes through your head all the same and you breathe out a deep sigh; regretting it with the depths of your very being but, yes. You did ask him for his help.

Help with what? The answer would’ve ended your social life if anyone who wasn’t Clark had found out.

You needed his help with…closeness- intimacy.

Growing up you were always awkward. Not in a charming way or even unconventional, you just simply didn’t make the cut based by society’s standards. You were always too gangly, too weird, too timid; so imagine the surprise come middle of highschool to now college where you’ve finally grown into yourself.

You know how you like to dress and which clothes look hottest on you, you know what hairstyle suits best for your face shape, you’re still weird but you’re also sarcastic which somehow equals charm to people and you’ve also managed to come out of your shell a bit. Becoming more confident from people naturally gravitating towards you after your blooming stage and even more after letting your friends convince you to join your college’s cheerleading team. You’d become everything you wanted to always try.

Pretty, popular, and fun. The problem?

Thanks to how much of a late bloomer you were, you never got the chance to get comfortable with others intimately during your formative years. Nobody liked you in that way and you were terrified of embarrassing yourself so there was nothing. No first kiss, no first dance with a boy, hell- even now you still get uneasy when others stare at you too long. Hiding behind your image as a college sweetheart made everything you were still to unsettled to try easier. Don’t misunderstand; it wasn’t that you never wanted those things, it’s that you’re not used to others suddenly picking you for those kinds of things after being invisible and missing out on them for almost all your life to the point where you don’t know how to deal with it when those moments do happen.

Still, you acted like everything was fine.

Playing the role of pretty cheerleader- the flirty tease that was favored by many even though that favor was shallow as a tear on a hot day. You pretended. And it was working, nobody knew…or so you believed.

Cue to one of the football teams parties where you’d been flirting with a guy, coy smile painted on your face as you giggled softly whenever he spoke, batting your pretty eyes at him in your little mini skirt. It had been going well until he suddenly leaned closer, focusing solely on you and when you felt the heat of his skin from how close he was- it felt as if the color had drained from your face, leaving you frozen as you became so uncomfortable it was visible; nerves screaming at you to flee until you listened. Spinning on your heels and bolting, trying to calm your breathing enough to will the cotton out of your ears.

You didn’t realize it then but a certain pair of blue eyes had been watching the whole thing. He’s always seen you. Which is funny because you almost always actively avoid him. In fact, he’s seen you enough to know that this isn’t the first time you’ve had that reaction and one day after a particularly rough week of endless pondering over you; he decides to just ask you after practice is over. Clark waits until his and your friends leave, it being only you and him on the field when he starts to walk over to you. The sound of incoming footsteps make you look up and when you see him, he can hear the very second your heart stops; skipping a beat before it quickly begins to thrum out of rhythm.

Honestly, there genuinely are not enough words to describe how attractive Clark Kent was. He was so incomprehensibly beautiful that you avoided Clark altogether just to avoid getting a headache from staring at him for too long especially since the real suffering started when he’d smile. Seemingly perfect pearly white straight teeth but when his grin broadened, his sharp canines would show, leaving you breathless every time. The type of good looking that was flat out overwhelming. Besides being apart of adjacent stereotypes, you two didn’t go together but there was no animosity.

Clark stops and you have to look up at him because of his hulking size. At almost 6’4 he nearly dwarfed you and his proportions matched. Thick, beefy everything- everywhere and you swallow before forcing a smile on your face. While you preferred to avoid him for the sake of keeping yourself out of the psych ward from how crazy he could drive you; you were still curious as to why he came to talk to you. He takes a moment to just look at you, cerulean eyes almost glowing but he doesn’t realize how intense his stare is until you start to shuffle on your feet- dainty hands twitching nervously at your side and that’s when he speaks.

“Hey…I know we don’t usually talk or anything but are you okay?” Even his voice is dreamy but confusion draws on your face because you felt fine; nervous, like you were around any guy you thought was cute, but fine. Clark elaborates at your expression,

“Y’know because of what happened at the party last-”, that seems to jog your memory enough to snap you out of it, eyebrows shooting up as dread overtakes over your face. You whip your head around, making sure there’s no witnesses when you grab him by his sweaty shirt, dragging him all the way behind the bleachers as you slam him against the metal. Clark is caught so off guard that he just lets it happen; lets the pretty thing half his size drag him as you pleased. Your eyes shift as you glare up at him.

You’re positive he’s talking about your little freak out with close proximity guy, the one that made you leave the party completely; walking so fast you nearly burned a trail in the carpet. Heart pounding, you start to spiral.

He wasn’t supposed to see that. He- like everyone else- was supposed to be too drunk to notice anything.

Your nose scrunches, full lips curling in a snarl. “I swear if you say anything to anyone-!” You’re threatening him so fast, Clark falters, raising his hands in defense, debilitating blue eyes widening as he starts to plead his case.

“No no-! I didn’t! I-“, He stutters at your harsh gaze, the feel of your hands soaking through his shirt, warming his chest. He needs to hurry up and explain himself before you start disliking him. “I was just worried! Whenever I see you and a guy, even if you act interested-“, he rushes out, panting as he talks even faster, “the second they get too close you look like you’ll vomit!” Your hostility melts into shock and even more confusion and you let go of his shirt, stepping back as you study him, his words stuck in your mind.

“How..? Are you- you’ve been paying that close attention to me? When do you even see me?” You’re at such a loss for words that it’s hard to string them together to properly question him.

“…I”, he swallows harshly, “I always see you.” It’s pure adrenaline that motors his mouth- he thought he was over the time when lovely faced girls made him nervous but you were unexpectedly feisty. It lit something tingly in him. Your eyes search his face and he spills. “I see how you flirt but you’re sarcastic too. Everyone is so taken by your pretty that they don’t even notice, they just call it ‘wit”, he manages to catch his breath enough to sound less panicked now that you look like you won’t kill him, “I see how even though you’re a flyer, you hate heights-”

“H-how-?”

“Your right leg shakes when they lift you, no matter how stable your base is.” Your mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out, heart racing when his voice goes soft,

“But what I’m saying is- so what that you’re not really what you give off? It’s nothing to be ashamed of. ‘Jus curious why you think it is…”, he blinks those long lashes at you and you find yourself explaining the tale of your sordid social past.

By the end of it he’s stunned speechless.

You? Just how bad was your awkward phase for nobody to be interested in you? Wait so that also probably meant that-

“You’re a virgin?!”

You slap your hands over his mouth with a speed equal to his own, face flushed as you shush him, hissing in a low whisper.

“Jesus Chri- shut up! Are you trying to tell the entire campus?!!” You let out another heavy sigh.

“…yes, I am”. You let your hands fall to the side, refusing to look at him while he’s trying to process; silence filling the space between you. You’ve accepted that your ego will never recover from the most gorgeous being on the planet knowing about all your…truths. That you looked and acted the part of a vixen just to hide that you secretly weren’t.

“…so you’ve never done anyt-”,

“No.”

Well then.

You can’t take another long drag of awkward silence, turning to face the boy who knew you probably more than anyone else did.

“Look- I would’ve loved to remedy this but I-”

“Can’t stomach whenever a guy gets too close due to previous deep rooted societal wrought insecurities…” Bingo.

“Well for what it’s worth,” he gives you one of his disarming grins and a flush creeps up your neck; warming your ears, “I think you’re doing fine now.” You snap your head down to see that you two are standing fairly close or at least closer than you normally allow and you don’t have that itch to get him as far away from you as possible. That’s when you get the idea that- “Oh my god! You can help me get over my thing! This is perfect!”! You’re practically vibrating with glee, excited to finally have all your firsts without that looming of touch related dread haunting you. Clark however is swarmed with various images of him “helping” you and can’t keep his ears from reddening at all the different scenarios where he’d be required to be close to you and begins to stutter.

“W-well, I wa- not that I-! I don’t think that’s a good idea, I mean w-we-”, you cut him off before he can weasel out of it, eyebrows creasing in frustration. You unconsciously step closer, your sweet smell bathes his senses as he stares you down, trying not to gulp too hard. “Please, Clark?”, you start and he swallows harshly at how his name sounds in that whiny tone from your lips.

“It can’t be anyone else because you’re the only one who knows! We’re not close now but we could be-“, and the double meaning makes him tune out completely as he only watches your plump lips move; not even registering the sound coming from them. He was thankful you didn’t ask him why he watched you so closely because the answer was one he wasn’t ready to even admit to himself.

Your lips stop moving after a while and them paired with your begging doe eyes make him cave, Clark nodding in hopeless defeat. He was supposed to be over the influence of pretty girls.

“S’okay, I’ll help you out. Your secret’s safe with me.” The corner of his mouth tilts up in a lopsided smile that was somehow both attractive but made you feel safe and you smile shyly back. You were nervous but you know Clark is a good guy- reckless as hell with his charms- but a good guy. What could go wrong?

•

•

•

Standing in the middle of your dorm room with your arms wound tight around yourself is when you find out that alot can go wrong.

Clark came over and you two came up with a starting plan that seemed the easiest: talk and slowly close the distance between you two until he was touching and looking at you without you getting uncomfortable or pushing him away. It sounded simple enough at first only…. you severely underestimated how you’d react to Clark. The way his deep mellow voice sounded in your ears, how he always held such steady eye contact as he moved towards you, that heavenly jawline tilting when he’d think too long. Already, Clark was big from afar but up close he was even bigger. Strong arms and broad shoulders; chest so thick it was noticeable through his shirt. You were used to others falling at your feet but Clark stood fine and it affected you in ways you didn’t prepare to deal with, so you tried to do what you always did- ignore it.

Matching Clark’s light conversation as you two eventually get more comfortable, gradually gravitating towards each other with slow short steps. The air shifts when you exhale and the breath tickles his chest. This is when you normally get squeamish but you merely hesitate for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and pushing yourself by letting him keep his distance.

His hand twitch and he shuffles a bit closer, biceps flexing as he reaches out, resting his hands on your shoulders; your conversation quiets as he stares at you with perfectly blue lidded eyes and then you feel the stirrings of restlessness under your skin. That impeding urge to get away. Despite the way you feel, the slow atmosphere helps you tremendously to not pull away but your pulse spikes all the same. His hands felt nice. You take another deep breath as you try to come to terms with what you were feeling.

Clark was a guy.

A guy who was standing in your bubble, touching you- looking at you.

A million emotions fly across your face at record speed and Clark doesn’t move any more for the next couple minutes. No, he waits for you; large rough palms warm on your bare shoulders while his pinky idly messes with the thin strap of your top. Your skin was soft. The heavy rise and fall of your chest has him focusing on you more intensely, trying to get a read on how you felt until you break the silence with a shaky exhale.

“We can keep going- you can keep touching me.” He knows you don’t mean it that way but his ears burn anyways as he nods. Taking a second to think before taking his hands off you to take yours, ignoring your big eyes look as he places your hands around his waist- inevitably moving closer and his voice softens like he’ll frighten you away if he were to speak any louder.

“You can touch me too. Promise I don’t mind…this is for you after all.” You suppress a whine because being so close was already hard with you fighting every instinct yelling at you to get gone and go somewhere where nobody could comprehend you but now with Clark staring at you like that, it was even harder. Your eyes flick about the room as you flatten your palms more against his back, mentally rolling your eyes back at how his muscles feel. You don’t even realize you’re biting your lip but Clark does, instantly alert the second he felt your small hands nervously press against him, his eyes zeroed in on the swollen skin dipping under the pressure of your teeth. He feels bad because while he was supposed to be helping you, he couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy you were being so shy but hardheaded enough to build up the grit to go for what scared you because you wanted it.

Without taking his eyes off your face, he rubs his hands up to your neck, making you squeak before smoothing them back down your shoulders; repeating the motions with a gentle hum.

The room feels hot- you felt hot and jittery but it’s too much. Unable to keep the waves at bay, goosebumps trickle over your skin and your eyes scrunch in panic as your breathing picks up. He was close. Close and touching you. You can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes because you know when you do, you’ll be naked for all to see and you scream.

“Stop!”

Nobody can see you-nobody’s supposed to be seeing you, the girl who was never even chose last as you were overlooked entirely no matter how badly you wanted to reach out. Maybe that’s what started your fear. Maybe you were scared of losing experiences because of rejection.

Clark doesn’t move away but he isn’t touching you anymore and you aren’t touching him as your hands fly to the sides of your head, trying to calm yourself down and guilt pours over him. He wants to hug you; comfort you but he knows that pulling you against him in a hug will only worsen things right now so he waits. Closing his eyes to help you feel at ease, listening closely to the beat of your heart until your breaths quiet and he hears it fluctuate back to normal. He keeps his eyes closed until he feels your small trembling hands slide back around him and instead of putting his hands on your shoulders, he moves his arms around them; resting them against your back but not pulling you in yet. It’s quiet besides the hushed sounds of him cooing at you and your breathing. The air now has an underlying current and you shift in his heavy arms, inhaling deeply as you finally look up at his face. Shyly, you cut the silence; voice soft as how you feel.

“…you can open your eyes now..” Clark feels his own heart speed up before he responds, low tone matching yours and electricity hits you when it clicks. This is intimate.

“Are you okay? We can stop and try again some other time; I don’t wanna upset-,”

“I want you to look at me.”

His eyes pop open at your command, peering down at you in such a way that your breath catches; anxiousness rising up you again but you stay right where you are. Willing yourself to embrace the exposed way he makes you feel.

Under the heat of his stare it’s like he’s seeing everything you’ve ever hid or been but his hold is steady enough to let you know he’s there with you and he’s not going anywhere. You still feel naked but more than that, you feel safe. Comfortable enough to not shy away from his warmth, you take another breath; looking up at him through your lashes- it makes his head fuzzy.

His eyes shift from their usual blue to the shade of the sea after a storm and you’re swept away, logic going with you as you slowly glide your hands up his sides to his where his arms hold you. Feeling every dip and curve of his strong build until you reach his hands, repositioning them around your lower back. You move closer but because you two were already standing so close- your chests touch and Clark stops breathing. The soft swell of your breasts move against his body with your every inhale and he finds his senses filled with you.

Your gaze is torn away when you turn your head, looking down as you drop against his chest. Arms looping around him making his own instinctively curl around you, holding you tight to the firm but soft muscle of his chest. You both pause for a few minutes- waiting for the urgent panic but it never comes. Instead, you melt into him with a relieved sigh, warm breath bleeding into his shirt. You two were officially hugging.

And you were in heaven.

You never knew close contact with the opposite gender could be so delightful. Clark was just so big and warm and smelled so good, you bury your face into the meat of his pec almost deliriously, sighing happily. Fuck, you really had been missing out. His arms are firm and heavy against your back, effectively locking you against him. The endorphin rush hitting you has you practically purring; the sounds of your bliss vibrating Clark’s chest and he smiles, letting you get your fix as he enjoys the way you fit into his arms.

Unsurprisingly, you two stay like that for a while. Fitted against each other in the silence of your cozy bedroom. He sees the top of your head move and he’s suddenly looking into your eyes, pupils blown so wide that your eyes are black. Clark has to bite his lip to keep from smiling at how cute you look. Your eyes flit down to his mouth to see the peek of his fangs that always show, letting out a small breathy ‘oh’ when you do. You’re still reeling in all the best ways as you rest your chin against his chest, unabashedly looking at his handsome face.

Clark raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at the phantom hearts in your eyes and the way your small feet are standing on top of his larger ones while you make no attempt to separate your bodies, completely content with his proximity. He likes you so he likes your closeness and he’s even more elated that you seem to like him being so close too. Speaking lowly so he doesn’t disturb you, he checks if you’re still on the planet with him.

“This okay, sweetheart? Y’enjoying yourself?” The petname slips out but you don’t move or rush to correct him as your blood simmers, a numbingly pleasant heat washing over you so strong it’s hard to think. Running your hands in a slow caress up his back, you feel the muscles flex as his arm twitches and a smile grows on your face as you blink dumbly- brain currently taking a break, you mumble sweetly,

“Mmhm, yeah. Never better.”

And it’s true. You’ve never felt this safe, this free with anyone that wasn’t immediate family or your best girl friends. He was touching you and seeing you but you didn’t care because you knew whatever he was seeing and touching, was safe as it would ever be with him.

Clark huffs out a laugh at your belated response, moving one of his hands in a warm caress up your back, feeling you shiver and he bites his lip again. You were so alluring without even having to try and he breathes to reign himself in since he was currently the first and only to have you melting like this from a hug alone. If a hug got you like this he could only imagine how beautifully you’d respond to-

“Um, C-Clark?” Your soft voice brings him back as he hums, flicking his eyes down lazily at you.

“Yeah, baby?” Your sweet little gasp makes him realize that he just called you another nickname but you don’t seem to mind, flustering prettily in his arms. He leans down closer to your face, only to hear you better, eyes patient as he stares at you.

“I know this is supposed to be about me but how do you feel? You’ve been so good with me..I just wanna make sure you’re okay too.” Clark smiles, moved that you’re worrying about him even with all his experience.

“Yeah I feel good but how about you? Want me to let go or we can try something different?” He would’ve asked if you wanted to stop but he was going off your body language and it was telling him distance was the last thing you wanted and he was right as you shook your head before resting your chin back into his chest, looking up at him with those pupil eclipsed doe eyes.

“I feel great but…”, your voice gets smaller as it takes on an almost needy tone before stopping altogether. You snap your face back into his chest and he’s even more curious to get it out of you but you just can’t say it.

“You really don’t need to be embarrassed. Clothed or naked, we all start somewhere”, he whispers against the top of your head, stroking your back soothingly as you try to talk yourself into asking him before you chicken out, “with me you can start wherever you want and you know I’ll never tell. Or make fun of you..”,

His voice is tender with warmness and it turns your reservations to raindrops as you look back into his eyes. Steeling your nerve, you ground yourself with the way you feel in another persons arms for the first time in your life- his arms and decide to go for it.

“You said- we can try something different?” Your heart begins to race again as Clark’s starts to pound. He can’t keep the heat out of eyes as he returns your stare, nodding.

“Yeah. We can do whatever you want.” His breath wafts across your face, forehead resting against yours and the rate at which you find yourself needing him- scares you. You’ve been depraved of this kind of contact to the point of fear since forever but now…

“Then…can we-“, you blink rapidly, not wanting to verbalize it but not wanting to go without even more.

“Can we kiss please?”

Clark has to shut his eyes. You looked so sweet, felt so soft and even though you couldn’t keep the neediness from seeping into your words, you still asked so politely. Blood rushes through his ears as he feels a familiar stirring in his groin, taking a deep breath because it wouldn’t do for him to lose control now, his voice is heady with pure want when he answers,

“F’course. I’d love to kiss, baby.”

Large hands settle around your waist as you get pulled completely flush to him, legs almost intertwining while your pelvises touch; bodies glued together. The languid heat of arousal thrums through you, making your head spin.

Your lips part when Clark presses his forehead more firmly against yours, lighting you from the inside out when he dips his neck to slot his open mouth over yours.

Immediately your chest burns, heart feeling like each pump is gasoline, fueling the fire hes started in you. Clark’s full lips slide against yours, alternating between suckling at your top lip then bottom lip slowly, coaxing you to follow his lead, groaning his approval and the sound turns you up as you press yourself harder against his body. You feel so good you’re thrumming- heat steadily pulsing through you.

Your heads move from how hard you’re kissing, slick sounds coming from your mouths intensifying as you get rougher, delicious shivers all up your spine. Clark presses his lips fully against yours, moving them open wider with his own, hot breaths mingling as he licks hotly against the opening of your mouth. A bolt of pleasure hits you so hard that you gasp, wrenching your mouth off his as you moan- the needy little thing so whiny it makes his cock fatten in his pants as you pant against each others lips. Fuck. He can smell how wet you are. The sweet, heady smell makes his mouth water with him tossing shame clean out the window.

“Can I put my tongue in your mouth? Please, pretty girl?” You move your arms around his neck to get as close as possible, nodding desperately.

“God, yes-” His mouth is back to consuming yours before you can finish. Opening your lips with the force of his swollen ones, he sucks your bottom lip before lapping his tongue into your mouth. You twitch in his hold, even more turned on when he doesn’t have to move to keep your squirming in place, casual show of strength making you lightheaded as he swallows your moans. Wet smacks fill the air, your grip on him tightening when he sucks your tongue into his mouth. You get wetter and he can tell, growling in pleasure as he suddenly lifts you; your legs locking around his waist as he uses his hold on yours to grind you against him. The result is instantaneous. You melt like cotton candy, chest shaking against his from your pleasured moans as your shared spit wets your lips. Still aware of the fact that you need to breathe, Clark pulls away with a suck of your lips- staring at you hungrily with dark eyes.

He can’t even remember when he picked you up but the tiny undulations of your hips let him know it was a welcome decision. You looked so good. Lips puffy n slick, doe eyes teary and blown out, wet as fuck with your hard nipples poking through your top…you could ask him for every one of Saturns rings and he’d get them for you.

Clark takes a deep lungful of your tantalizing scent before he checks on you again.

“How was that, sweetheart? Y’first kiss right?” You nod, cupping his face. You can’t help the way you smooch more pecks onto his pink lips, aching as you answer.

“It was so good”, you drag your nose down his jaw; kissing his ear as you whisper into it, “you feel so good, Clark..”. You have him completely hard at this point, thick and fat as his tip oozes pre when you start to whine. He almost feels bad that you’ve waited so long, being so pent up wasn’t healthy and you deserved to feel good everyday.

“What’s wrong baby?” The low timbre of his voice makes your pulse skyrocket, causing you to absolutely dissolve against him, hips twitching as he helped you rub yourself on him.

“I-I need..-“, you let out a soft cry and he quickly soothes you. Kissing you deeply before pulling away, licking his lips of your taste as he verbalizes exactly what you need.

“Need to cum?”

The heat in your chest blooms up to your face as you nod, suddenly growing shy but still comfortable. You purr as Clark presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, looking at you with pretty lidded eyes.

“Would it be okay if I made you cum princess?”

The utterly wrecked moan that comes out of your mouth has goosebumps scattering up his arms, holding you tighter as you nod vigorously.

“I need words baby”, he whispers. Giving you another kiss to tempt you and it works. He was too irresistible and he knew it.

“Yeah, you can make me cum Clark.” And with that he carries you over to your bed, laying you on the plushness as he takes over your mouth again with a hungry groan, your hands touching everywhere until he pulls away- fangs on display as he smiles making fire sweep through your veins.

Massaging your legs, he rises on his knees- taking off his shirt as your mind checks out from how hot he is, shifting restlessly as the ache in your pussy throbs with the best pain. Whining his name, Clark cooes at you; big hands moving to pull your clothes off. Your nerves are going haywire but you need this- need him to make you feel things, lifting your hips to help him slide your shorts and underwear off, spreading your legs as you let him get a good look at your messy wet hole twitching in need.

Clark swears, hooking his hands under your knees and bending them towards your chest. Exposing you more as he licks his lips, keeping his eyes glued to your cunt.

“Atta girl, jus’ lay there nice n pretty and I’ll give you what you need..”

Part ✌🏽…

[doodlenoodleboi]

If you haven’t played Cryptid Coffeehouse by nyewks then I would 100% recommend!!! It’s super cute and Artemis is such a sweetheart. They have my whole heart fr <3

P.S. love to see toasty the appreciation !!

Aw thanks! ☺️

AND A TOAST TO YOU! 🥂🍞

YOU PLAY TOUCHSTARVED!!!!!????

Edit: I looked up Cryptid coffeehouse I don’t think the art style is my cuppa tea, but I’ll definitely get into it if the story is good. 

DO YOU PLAY OBSCURA?!

[bernardsbendystraws]

𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐨 — 𝐌.𝐒.

Synopsis: Matt helps you with your trauma.

Warnings: Smut, angst, fluff, soft dom Matt, SA mentions, crying, panic attacks

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He didn’t need much detail to know whatever happened affected you on a daily basis. Matt just knew. It happened more than a year before you two started dating. So much time had passed, yet it still made your life look so…different. 

You didn’t sleep with a comforter. When you did, all you could hear was the ruffle of the sheets, an alert that made you think someone was about to violate you. Because that’s what your ex had done. You wished it was a stranger. You wished it wasn’t somebody that you would've sacrificed everything for. But it was him—a ghost from your past that lingered in every corner of your mind. 

“Sweetheart, I…I know it’s not something you ever talk about. I never wanna make you feel like you have to, but…but can you let me know the things that trigger you, maybe? So I don’t…so I don’t accidentally hurt you—I…I really just wanna make you feel safe, baby. That’s all I want.”

Those affirming words led to a new confrontation of emotion. You talked. For the first time ever, you said your ‘ex’ instead of ‘him.’ The assailant's identity being confirmed into reality just made it so nauseating, yet relieving. You had finally said it—it was finally real. 

“You—your ex?”

It broke Matt’s heart. He could tell by the glossy haze over your eyes that you trusted that poor excuse of a man with your heart fully. Someone broke you—someone broke you enough that you still couldn’t feel safe every night in your own bed. 

Matt listened with full intent. He heard a vibration of rage in his ears, making sure to remain as calm as possible and holding your hand secure with a gentle grip. 

Changes were made instantly. Matt was so genuine, so observant. He switched everything in his bed. Cotton sheets were exchanged for satin and silk. A small night light was purchased—one that looked like a silly penguin. He claimed it was just because he thought it was cute, but it didn’t take you long to realize it only got plugged into the wall when you spent the night. 

It was all for you. 

Even though he wanted to be as close to you as possible, he spent the first couple sleepovers on the opposite side of the bed. The first time, he felt a little sick. You were curled into a ball, nearly falling off from how far your body was on the mattress. 

It took months, but eventually you started gradually shifting to Matt in your sleep. Your body cooperated before your mind did. The first time you woke up with your head resting on his chest and his arm looped around your shoulders…it was horrid. Matt felt awful. The panicked gasps of air still made his chest tighten with guilt, even though he didn’t even really do anything. 

But, it was okay—it was okay because it was Matt, not him. Not the man who had ripped away a love language from you and turned it into a screaming siren of anxiety. It still hurt, but it hurt a little less. You didn’t feel deprived anymore, you just felt heavy. 

A bit more time gave your mind enough reasons to start following your body’s reactions. Matt had learned to move slowly to detach himself from you. He didn’t want you to wake up with that scared look on your face—he couldn’t let that happen to you over and over again. 

“No,” you mumble, pulling Matt closer. Your features are still softened with sleep, a slight furrow between your brows showing a subtle amount of distress. 

Matt pets over your head, trying to soothe you awake gently. “Sweetheart, I…gotta move, I don’t want you to panic—”

“Please.” 

Your gentle whisper is enough to make him relax again. He’s a bit confused, but it’s not enough to make him move. Instead, he lays there, staring at the ceiling and appreciating your warmth—your trust. 

The trust only bloomed with time and patience. Eventually, kisses had gotten more passionate.

His hesitant hands suddenly got grasped by yours as you guided them to your hips. You were sitting on his lap. You had every chance to stand up and leave if you wanted to. But you didn’t want anything else but him.

“Touch me, Matt.” 

Your directions make him swallow with a loud gulp. His eyes widen as he looks into yours with a search for confirmation. “Are you…are you sure, sweetheart. We don’t—”

“I trust you.” 

Light touches got more affirmative as you started to roll your hips onto him.

It felt good…up until it didn’t. 

“I–I don’t know what happened,” you ramble, curled in a ball as he rocks you like a baby from side to side. It’s humiliating, but you can’t find it in yourself to have any dignity in such a raw state. 

You tried. You really fucking tried.

And you failed. 

“I’m sorry for leading you on, I–”

“No. Don’t apologize. We’re gonna take it slow, okay? Don’t…don’t look at this as something to be ashamed about. You…you feel safe enough to try with me and that—that means everything to me, I…”

He pulls you upward into a tight hug as you cry. Part of him just wants to hold you closer, but another part of him just doesn’t want you to see him cry. He wants to focus on you—he wants you to focus on yourself too, not him. Slow, gentle rocks soothe you to doze off as he silently lets hot tears drift down his cheeks. 

You don’t deserve this. Whatever happened to you—he doesn’t care how it affects him, he doesn’t care that his girlfriend of nearly five months hasn’t had sex with him. He cares how it affects you. Sleepless nights, avoiding the mirror, shying away from men—even his brothers. It’s so unfair. It’s so fucking unfair. 

Figuring it out was hard—harder than you would’ve imagined. Failed attempt after failed attempt that left you in tears or distress. It felt so pathetic. You felt weak. Matt was incessant on affirming the opposite.

Weak meant you wouldn’t try—weak meant giving up and the tears meant you were still fighting. 

It wasn’t how you expected it to happen, but it happened. You felt so safe, so comfortable. You didn’t need control like you thought, you just needed to trust him and let him guide you. Being on top of him left more room for overthinking—more room for air to lather your skin with heavy reluctance. 

You both had spent the day together. It wasn’t anything special, no fancy date or big present, but it was relaxing. Matt had gotten you matching pajama pants. He even begged you to wear his favorite shirt that he knew you loved. Blankets piled on top of your bodies as you cuddled together, movie after movie playing on the TV in his room as you sank further into the bed. 

A soft, romantic kiss had led to this—Matt hovering over your naked body while grinding his hard length into your core with his briefs still covering him. The noises, the sensations…it was all so good, but Matt was analyzing every flutter of your eyes, every slight motion from your hands as you gripped onto the sheets. 

“Matt, I—” 

Wordlessly, you tug on the hem of his briefs. Matt freezes for a second. Looking into your eyes, he cups your cheek. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I…I’ll stop if you say the word—but are you sure? Fuck, I just—” Matt bites hard on his lower lip as he feels your hips chase upward and against him. “---just don’t wanna hurt you,” he rasps. 

“I want this, I…I want you, I trust you. I…I just…I—please,” you whimper, tugging a little harder on the fabric. 

Peeling off the remaining barrier between your bodies, Matt glides his tip along your folds and fuck…it feels like heaven. Not just the sensation, but the emotion—the trust—-the bare vulnerability. 

Circling your clit delicately, he lets himself kiss into your neck. “Do you want my fingers first, sweetheart? I—” 

“No, please—” you grind into his touch. “--just want you—all of you.” 

Even though he’s on top, he follows your directions. You’re in control. He’s doing whatever you want, doing what makes you feel good—pleasure and security. 

The initial stretch of his tip is a lot. It feels a bit unfamiliar. You’ve never had sex like this—so raw and bare. It’s more than just skin and bodies, it’s your trust and your peace. 

"Oh--Matt,” you whine. His thick cock is gliding into your walls viciously slow. You feel everything and it all feels like bliss. You’re safe. You can trust him. There’s nothing blocking you from devoting yourself to the present—letting you bathe in the intimacy of truly letting go. 

“I…oh my—are—are you okay? Do you, um,” His mind isn’t connecting words as well. The feeling of your warm walls squeezing his dick is distracting, but he’s intent on taking care of you—making sure you know this is only about you. “--do you need me to stop?” 

“No—keep going, please—” you both let out explicit, lewd moans as your legs swarm around his waist, nuzzling him deep inside of you. 

And god…it’s so consuming. You can’t think of anything. Not when he slowly starts to grind his cock inside of you, a wet squelch making your walls clench around him. 

“I…”

The wordless trail off of your words makes Matt hesitate again. But, he hisses as he feels you start to match his rhythm, your hips rutting upward to meet each motion of his pelvis. 

“Is…is this—ah fuck, is this okay, sweetheart? Is it, is it s–still—”

“More than—-more than okay, I—more, Matt. Please.” 

Your legs loosen as he starts to lazily drive his cock and and out of your slick entrance. He angles his hips upward, digging into you with passion as he sees your mouth fall into an ‘O.’ Your nails dig into his biceps. The pain is encouraging. He’s making you feel so good—so good that your body reacts involuntarily as he plunges himself against the same spot that makes your chest arch into him more and more. 

“My girl, shiiiit,” he seethes. Erratic motions become urgent as he watches your eyes roll back. Your lips smack open to spare him a warning, but fail as he keeps sliding in and out of you with passion and intent. “---gonna cum?” You nod. “Yeah, that—-that’s okay, sweetheart. Just—let—go,” he soothes, trying desperately to hold back his own release as you start muttering his name as a mantra with your walls convulsing deliberately around him. 

“I—Matt, I—”

“That’s it, c’mon. I…I—fuck, feels s’good, baby. Can’t—I can’t hold back much longer. I—” 

The heels of your feet dig into his back, forcing him as deep as possible as you climb down from your high. 

“Sweetheart, please, I need—-need to—-gonna cum, where—”

Tightening your lock around his hips even further, you massage your hands through his hair, pulling him into the side of your neck. Matt’s hips thrust forward with urgency and exhaustion. “Inside. Please, I—-”

“Are you—-are—-you s-sure? Can’t hold back…..can’t---baby,” 

His mindless rambles are cut short as you whisper a soft plea into the air. The deep moan that falls from his lips is mesmerizing. A warm feeling of his cum spilling inside of you makes everything so much more real. 

“Fuck….” Matt breathes heavily, his hot breath fanning onto your neck as he slowly hovers himself above you again. His eyes meet yours with a new found connection, a silence that speaks volumes as you both bathe in the after effects of the intimate acts. “You,” 

You can’t help but swallow thickly as warmth clouds your face. His eyes water looking down at you, his hand cupping your cheek as a soft, sympathetic smile covers his face. 

“I’m so proud of you, I….”

An overwhelming amount of peace consumes you. Your cheek falls further into his hand as his thumb swivels against your skin. The pale blue eyes gleam into you with so much emotion. 

“I’m proud, sweetheart. I just—I hope you’re proud too,” 

[aurorawritestoescape]

MOVIE NIGHT

Stepdad Joel Miller x f!reader || 650 words

Summary: a movie night ends with a bang.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, step-cest, big legal age gap, perv!Joel and his usual antics, depravity so be warned, light drugging, public but you’re not caught, infidelity, fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, degradation, daddy kink, swearing

A/n: this moodboard and the drabble are made for @evolnoomym ‘s First Birthday Party. My prompt was Movie Night. Happy blog anniversary, baby! Ily!❤️ Big thank you to 🎯 anon for the mom thot😵‍💫 Kisses to my love @milla-frenchy for looking this over😘 Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Series masterlist || MASTERLIST

“Joel, are you crazy?” you whisper in panic as your stepdad manhandles you on his lap and throws your legs apart with his strong hands, making you straddle him on the couch.

“Crazy about these girls,” Joel gruffs, pulling your top up and exposing your naked breasts. He hungrily starts kneading your soft flesh, grunting and growling like a wild animal finally sinking its teeth into a prey. His pupils are two lustful black holes, his plush lips are wet, his forehead glistening with sweat in the blueish light of the tv. He’s probably been hiding his boner under a blanket all night and now his musky scent hits your nose and makes you gush into your shorts.

“Fuckin finally,” Joel mumbles and pushes his face against your tits. You clap your hand to your mouth when a mewl threatens to escape your lips, your eyes darting between your mom, sleeping on the other side of the couch and your stepdad’s face between your breasts. Your heart is beating so loudly you’re afraid the booming is going to wake your mother up. That or the smacking sounds of Joel sucking on your pebbled nipples.

You grab him by the hair and tug lightly, trying not to hurt him.

“Joel, stop. Let’s go up to my room. She’ll wake up..,” you beg quietly, your voice strained with fear.

“She won’t.” You barely understand his muffled grumbling, his mouth full of your tit .

“What do you mean she— ahhh..”

You struggle to finish your question when Joel shoves his paw into your shorts, nearly ripping them in half, and pushes two thick fingers into your wet hole. Now it’s impossible to deny that you’ve been hardly watching the movie tonight and instead have been dreaming of riding your stepdad on that very couch. Dreams do come true!

“Dropped a couple of her candies in the tea. She’s gonna be out till the morning.”

“Ohhh,” you moan, keeping your voice down, yet failing to hide the bliss, coursing through your body, when Joel begins fingering you. His giant hand is gripping your hip, setting the rhythm of your movements, when you start meeting his fingers half-way.

As always when you’re with Joel, soon lust engulfs you like a wave, and a few minutes later you’re happily bouncing on your stepdad’s cock without a care in the world, your naked tits jiggling in front of his flushed face. The couch is squeaking like crazy but you two are going at it harder, faster, hotter with every thrust and every moan.

“Nasty slut. Jumpin on my schlong when mommy’s right here. Daddy’s cock too addictive, huh?”

A hazy smile blooms on your face, and when Joel latches onto your neck and half kisses - half bites your delicate skin, your pussy squeezes around his throbbing cock and then chokes it again and again, massaging his shaft, creaming around his stiffness and his sweatpants.

The next moment the pillow of Joel’s balls under your ass starts emptying, and you feel his cum being pumped into your core with mighty squirts, as he’s growling against your neck,

“Hnggggughhhh.”

“Daddy-daddy-daddy-,” you chant, begging him not to stop, to continue fucking up into your needy pussy, to give you more pleasure, more cum, more love.

You’re still trembling with aftershocks when Joel’s nose slides up from your neck to your cheek and he pecks the corner of your lips. You sit up swaying and look into his hazy bloodshot eyes.

“You’re disgusting,” you pant and he smirks before pulling you roughly into a passionate kiss, licking into your mouth and sucking on your tongue.

Joel softens inside you while you’re making out next to your snoozing mother, and when your eyes get droopy, he takes you in his arms and carries you to your bedroom.

“Did you enjoy the movie night, little slut?” he coos mockingly while tucking you in. You give him a tired but satisfied smile and purr,

“Yes, daddy.”

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!

Series masterlist || MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40 @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name

[chrissssssmut]

PROFESSOR, YOU'RE MINE.

An Yujin x Male Reader feat. Gaeul

(Yandere w/ Smut)

(Note: MY FIRST EVER YANDERE FIC WITH SMUT! Hope y'all enjoy this one! I literally grinded writing this😆)

The halls of Daehwa Girls’ Academy buzzed with hushed whispers and stolen glances whenever Professor (Y/N) passed by. He was an anomaly—young, intelligent, and devastatingly handsome. Unlike the older faculty, he carried himself with effortless confidence, drawing admiration from students who saw him as something more than just a teacher.

And An Yujin hated that.

From the moment she stepped into his class, she knew she had to be the best—the only one worthy of his praise. But there was one obstacle in her way: Gaeul. No matter how much Yujin tried, no matter how much she studied, Professor (Y/N) always seemed to favor Gaeul’s work. A quiet nod, a subtle smile—recognition that belonged to Yujin and Yujin alone.

She clenched her fists. If he wouldn’t acknowledge her through talent, she would make sure she was the only one left to notice.

A Week Later – Empty Classroom 4-B

Gaeul stepped inside cautiously, her phone buzzing with the last message she received from Yujin.

"Meet me in 4-B. I need your help with something."

She barely had time to react before a sharp, searing pain bloomed in her stomach. Her breath hitched, a choked gasp escaping her lips as she staggered back. Yujin stood before her, gripping the handle of a small knife, eyes gleaming with something twisted.

Gaeul tried to scream, but her strength faded fast.

“Shh,” Yujin cooed, catching her before she could collapse. “You’re not dying. I was careful.”

Careful.

Yujin’s touch was deceptively gentle as she dragged Gaeul’s limp body to a chair, tying her up securely. By the time she was done, Gaeul could barely lift her head. Blood soaked her uniform, the pain sharp but numbed by weakness.

Yujin hummed, grabbing Gaeul’s phone.

"Professor, can you meet me in 4-B? I need help with a lesson."

Send.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

Professor (Y/N)’s Perspective:

He entered Classroom 4-B expecting to see Gaeul waiting with a notebook in hand. Instead, he was met with a horrifying sight.

Gaeul sat in the middle of the room, tied to a chair, blood staining her uniform. A note was pinned to her chest.

"This is what happens if other students try to be better than me."

His blood ran cold. He recognized that handwriting instantly.

“Yujin…”

Before he could move, a sharp pain exploded in the back of his head. His vision blurred, the world tilting before everything went black.

Unknown Room

(Y/N) groaned, his head throbbing as he came to. The air was thick, suffocating. He was seated against a chair, his wrists bound. In front of him, Gaeul remained tied up, barely conscious.

He struggled, looking around.

“Gaeul! Can you hear me?”

She barely stirred.

Panic set in. He had to get them out. He had to—

Click.

The door creaked open, and there she was.

An Yujin.

A knife glinted in her hand as she walked toward them, a smile stretching across her face.

“Professor,” she sighed, eyes shining with adoration. “I was worried you’d sleep forever.”

(Y/N) gritted his teeth. “Let Gaeul go.”

Yujin pouted. “I can’t do that. She’s the problem, isn’t she? Always stealing your attention. Always taking what's supposed to be mine.”

She trailed the knife along Gaeul’s collarbone, pressing just hard enough to break skin. A thin line of crimson dripped down her chest.

Gaeul whimpered weakly.

“Stop it!” (Y/N) shouted, struggling against his restraints.

Yujin ignored him, her eyes soft yet chilling. “Tell me, Professor. Who’s your favorite student?”

(Y/N) froze.

“This is insane—”

Yujin slashed Gaeul’s chest again, the cut shallow but cruel. A strangled cry left Gaeul’s lips before Yujin struck her across the face, silencing her.

“Try again,” Yujin said, her voice eerily sweet. “Who do you love more?”

(Y/N) swallowed hard.

If he didn’t answer, Gaeul wouldn’t survive.

"...You."

Yujin’s breath hitched. She stilled, as if replaying his words in her mind.

“Say it again.”

(Y/N) clenched his jaw, feeling sick.

“You’re my favorite student.”

Silence. Then—Yujin exhaled shakily, her grip on the knife loosening.

“I knew it,” she whispered, a giggle slipping past her lips. “I knew you felt the same way.”

She turned to Gaeul, patting her cheek mockingly. “You heard him, didn’t you? He chose me.”

(Y/N) looked away, unable to bear the way Gaeul’s body trembled.

Yujin stepped forward, pressing a hand against his cheek.

"Now, Professor," she murmured, brushing his hair back tenderly. "Let’s take you somewhere special."

She tugged him up, leading him away from Gaeul’s barely conscious form.

“Yujin—please—”

“Hush,” she whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. “We’ll be so happy together.”

The last thing he saw before the door shut was Gaeul slumped in the chair, her eyes dull and unfocused.

Then, darkness swallowed him whole.

And An Yujin had him all to herself.

(Y/N) stirred, his body aching as he slowly regained consciousness. The air was different—warmer, suffocatingly intimate. He wasn’t in the cold, empty classroom anymore. This place felt… personal.

His wrists were no longer bound to a chair, but to something softer. A bed.

His heart pounded.

The dim glow of a lamp bathed the room in soft light. The walls were decorated with photographs—him, taken in secret. Candid shots from class, stolen moments in the library, even a picture from when he first joined **Daehwa Girls’ Academy.**

Everywhere he looked, he saw himself.

And sitting beside him, watching with unsettling devotion, was **An Yujin.**

She was no longer in her school uniform. Instead, she wore a loose white blouse, slightly unbuttoned, revealing the curve of her collarbone. Her legs were bare, crossed elegantly as she twirled a knife between her fingers.

"You’re awake," she murmured, setting the knife aside. "I was starting to think I hit you too hard."

(Y/N) tensed, pulling at his restraints. His wrists were tied to the headboard, his ankles bound just enough to restrict movement.

"Yujin," he said, forcing his voice to remain calm. "Let me go."

She tilted her head, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

"But why would I do that?" She leaned closer, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. "You finally belong to me, Professor."

(Y/N) flinched at her touch, and Yujin giggled. "Still resisting? You’re so stubborn…"

Her hands drifted lower, ghosting over his shirt, which was now unbuttoned halfway. He didn’t even remember when she had done that.

His breathing grew uneven. "Yujin—"

She hushed him, pressing a finger to his lips. "I know you’re confused, maybe even scared. But I promise, I’ll take care of you."

Her fingers danced down his chest, her nails raking lightly against his skin. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine—whether from fear or something else, he didn’t know.

"You don’t need to think about anything else," she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his ear. "Just focus on me."

(Y/N) clenched his fists, trying to steady himself.

This wasn’t just obsession.

This was possession.

And there was no escaping it.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, his pulse hammering as Yujin’s fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns against his skin.

"You’re trembling," she whispered, her breath warm against his neck. "Are you scared, Professor?"

(Y/N) turned his head away, trying to suppress the shiver running down his spine. "Yujin… this isn’t right."

She only smiled, sliding onto his lap, her weight pressing down just enough to remind him how powerless he was. "No," she murmured, tilting his chin back to meet her gaze. "This is perfect."

The soft fabric of her blouse brushed against his exposed skin, her fingers teasing the buttons of his already loosened shirt. Yujin moved with a slow, dangerous confidence, her touch hovering just above where he was most vulnerable.

"You’ve always belonged to me," she continued, her voice sweet yet laced with something darker. "You just didn’t realize it."

(Y/N) gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the way his body reacted to her warmth, her scent—something intoxicating and inescapable.

Yujin noticed.

She giggled, pressing closer, her lips brushing against his ear. "You can lie with your words, but your body tells the truth."

Her fingers trailed lower, dangerously close, testing his restraint.

(Y/N) exhaled sharply, his wrists tugging against the restraints. "Yujin—"

She silenced him with a kiss.

It wasn’t soft or hesitant—it was possessive, demanding, her lips molding against his with desperate hunger. She bit down lightly on his lower lip, drawing a gasp from him before pulling back, her eyes dark with satisfaction.

"You taste even better than I imagined," she purred, running her thumb over his lips.

(Y/N) breathed heavily, his mind clouded with frustration, shame, and something he refused to name.

Yujin leaned in again, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down his jaw, his neck, savoring every reaction.

"You’re mine now, Professor," she whispered against his skin. "And I’ll make sure you never forget it."

Yujin traces her fingers down on his body, eventually reaching his cock. Yujin pulls it out of his boxers and lubricates it with her own spit, covering the entire cock with nothing but her own saliva and (Y/N)’s pre-cum.

“God, I never knew you were this big, Professor..” she whispered.

“So eager for me…” she added.

(Y/N) tries to pull away from her but his own body betrays him.

Yujin, without hesitation, strips off her own clothes, revealing her gorgeous body and her wet, glistening entrance.

Yujin lowers herself on to (Y/N), taking him inch by inch, stretching out her aching pussy. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, a teasing glint in her eyes as she let it slip free, swollen and tempting.

“Fuck… you're so big Professor… I can't believe I almost let Gaeul have this all for herself.” she mouthed.

Yujin, with an all-consuming need, she moved in a rhythm both possessive and unrelenting.

“Yujin… this is wro-.... Ah fuck…” (Y/N) groaned.

“No professor, this is perfect. This is how we are supposed to be. I want every fucking drop of your cum Professor.” She muttered, her words sending (Y/N) closer to climax.

“Breed me Professor… I want all of your fucking cum in me!” she exclaimed, her eyes filled with determination and malicious intent.

She took charge, her touch both commanding and intoxicating, leaving no room for hesitation.

(Y/N) own body betrayed him. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to be fucking the person who almost tried to end his life, let alone his own dear student.

Each movement of Yujin’s child bearing hips made him closer to the edge.

“Yujin, I'm close.” (Y/N) mouthed, slowly trying to pull out of Yujin's entrance.

“NO! FUCKING CUM INSIDE!” Yujin exclaimed, her grip tight on (Y/N) and her weight pressing down on him. She dominated the moment, each fast, deliberate movement a reminder of who was in control.

She silenced (Y/N) with a kiss. A kiss that wasn't filled with love and care, but of lust and possessiveness.

And with a final thrust in Yujin, (Y/N) pumped his warm cum inside of Yujin’s needing pussy, both of them groaning.

(Y/N) lay still, his body exhausted, his wrists sore from where the restraints had dug into his skin. The air was thick, heavy with the aftermath of what had just happened. His mind raced, trying to process everything, but the warmth beside him was inescapable.

Yujin curled against his side, her bare skin pressed intimately against his. Her fingers lazily traced patterns over his chest, a satisfied hum escaping her lips as she nestled closer.

“You’re quiet, Professor,” she murmured, her voice dripping with amusement. “Are you still trying to convince yourself this didn’t happen?”

(Y/N) turned his head away, his jaw clenched.

Yujin giggled, pressing a lingering kiss to his shoulder. “You can try to deny it, but your body already belongs to me.”

(Y/N) remained silent. Fighting her felt pointless now. She had taken everything—his control, his resistance, his dignity. And worst of all… part of him had given in.

Yujin propped herself up on one elbow, studying his face with a look of pure satisfaction. “You look so defeated,” she cooed, brushing his damp hair back. “But don’t worry… this is just the beginning.”

His stomach twisted.

She smiled sweetly, but there was something sinister beneath it—something final. “I won’t let you go, Professor. Ever.”

(Y/N) exhaled shakily, realizing the truth.

He wasn’t leaving this place.

Not today.

Not ever.

And Yujin? She would make sure of that.

Forever.

[dolicekiss]

Silver Sobs

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen X Sister!reader

CONTENT WARNING: incestous relationships (obviously) noncon, dubious con (?), somnophilia, smut (18+, mdni), dark aemond, unprotected sex, breeding, nipple play, forced kissing, threats, coercion, praise, obsessed and sick aemond, display of possessiveness, hair pulling, biting.

SYNOPSIS: After the terrifying battle which took place at Rook’s Rest, Aemond’s lust for power had still not subsided despite burning his own brother, the king of Westeros. He arrives at King’s Landing with one thing in mind; to claim everything that belongs to his brother which included — you, his sweet dear sister. The Queen.

Restless and relentless, you paced around the floor of your chambers. Finger nails scratching the skin around them, drawing blood from beneath the stripped flesh.

War was blooming, like a dangerous grey cloud above your heads with the prominent promise of a storm. Panic was everywhere, as well as despair. Multiple soldiers had died, leaving behind their families to fend for themselves, the King had fallen.

And amongst all that, you could only possibly worry for the well being of your only child, Jaehaera. After what had befallen your innocent babe, you had completely disconnected from everything.

Under the name of war, you suffered. You witnessed the atrocities committed by Rhaenyra’s men and your mind had become a void — as you found yourself sinking deeper and deeper into it. Images and reality merging together. Both a foreign concept.

There was no one there for you.

Everyone enamoured with the idea of winning the war, playing their parts, desperate to stay alive. You were all but a pawn, a machine to produce heirs. You knew they didn't even consider you a proper Queen.

The smallfolk and even your own mother, Dowager Queen as well as your brother, Aemond.

Yet you did not care.

You wished to be left alone, pay no mind to such things. Break free from the uneasy restraints of danger and war. Form peace, relish in it. Is all you wanted.

You were not blessed with the courage to go pay your badly injured husband a visit, choosing to nip and scratch at your own skin was a much better and comforting option.

Losing your babe made you realize none of this was worth it. Not a single person in Westeros could end the brewing war and you'd left everyone to fend for themselves — just as they had abandoned you.

Darkness fell over Westeros and meanwhile your maidens were preparing you for bed, Aemond on the other hand battled obscene thoughts and needs at such a dark hour.

Aemond drowned himself in wine yet it had no affect on him. Instead he found himself wondering about staking a claim over everything that belonged to his brother. He got the throne, when he didn't even wish for it and he got you — the sister that Aemond himself wanted.

From when you both were only children, little kids, Aemond had thought of marrying his older sister. Only a year younger, he was. Hoping he'd be the one who's children you'd carry, watching your stomach swell up with his babes and be his wife but even that was snatched right away from him in the name of serving the realm.

His childhood snatched — face left deformed and disabled, a laughing stock that he'd become for his older brother. The drunken fool who had no right to even linger around such a prestigious throne, made only for strong willed men and warriors to take a seat on.

Aegon was no warrior.

He was foolish, an embarrassment and an utter disappointment.

Incapable of pronouncing a word properly in high valyrian.

And he surely did not deserve to have such a sweet little bird such as yourself by his side.

He finished his wine in one gulp and slammed the glass down, aggressively against the wooden table. Criston Cole was nowhere to be seen and Aemond made up his mind to ravage you, to claim you like he had already desired to from the beginning of time.

His steps were stable and strong, booming through the halls of the red keep. Each step only brought him closer to your chambers, driving himself quickly up the stairs which lead to your chambers.

He was relieved to find no guards guardian you and scoffed, realizing how little and less important you were to the Hightowers.

Aemond’s hands moved to push past the doors and there you were, sound asleep in your bed. Your daughter asleep in a cradle a little far away from your bed. He closed the heavy doors and sauntered towards the bed, standing at its foot.

He had consumed wine but he was not drunk at all. Matter of fact, Aemond was as sober as the day he was born.

Your silk robe concealed the plush of your creamy breasts as they rose up and down in soft little attempts to inhale air, one arm laid leisurely over your stomach while the other somewhere concealed within your silver, sparkling hair.

Aemond felt his cock harden in his leather slacks, his sword still attached to his hip. Reaching for it, he undid it and placed it over a table across and then moved his body to continue admiring your body, the vulnerability you showcased had him frozen on the spot.

The lecherous act he was heading to engage in would surely leave you in disarray too but Aemond was too far gone to even care anymore.

He'd arrived to claim what was rightfully his.

He walked to the side of the bed, hands reaching out to remove the blanket from your frail figure. Then his hands pried open the robe, revealing your kirtle. It scarcely did anything to veil your dignity and Aemond shuddered.

His hands, his war causing hands, sinful hands, moved covetously over your body. Fingers digging into your neckline to pull it down, watching with his one good eye as your breasts spilled out. The cold air forced your pebbles into peaks and Aemond nearly lost all restraint.

Large hand cupping your left breast, a callous thumb flicked your nipple and your already parted lips released a short lived gasp. He was pleased with the soft sound, as subtle as it was.

Aemond sat next to you on the empty space, slithering his tongue over his plump lips. Your breaths were soft, the only sound echoing in the expanse of your room, cutting through the silence like butter. His own breath hitched in his throat, upon witnessing the disarray you were in.

Hair like rippled waves of the narrow sea, body loose and comfortable. Aemond leaned in, shrinking the space between the two of you, to analyze your features. He'd never gotten the chance to do, you'd never allow him. You were anything but an immoral woman who'd give herself to him on a silver platter.

You were the Queen.

Aemond knew he'd be reprimanded for even being in your room, staring at you up close like this. He had unraveled you like some gift, like a present and he wished to do so much more.

Your beautifully long lashes coated the apples of your cheeks and Aemond, with a gloved hand, reached to swipe the thick strand of hair away from your cheek. Just by touching you, despite having leather separate his skin from becoming one with yours, he was already thanking the Gods for blessing him with you.

Aemond slowly slipped his gloves off, resting them on the table next to the bed. He fully slipped into bed next to you, face buried in the crook of your neck and bare hands slithering to fondle with your beautiful, plump breasts.

Soft flesh with hardened nipples.

A soft breath from his lips ghosted over your nape, his hips pushing into your hip in dire need for physical affection. Aemond had slept with whores, he'd fucked them but for the first time in his life he wanted to lay with a woman to satiate his hopelessness for affection.

Something he never received from his mother, Alicent and Rhaenyra always managed to overshadow him.

He let out a guttural moan, pushing his hips more into you and when you shifted in your sleep — back turned to him, Aemond fucking lost it. You had exposed your perfect curves to him, how your ass was shaped and how your side dipped in, giving you the shape of a goddess.

In your state of unconsciousness, you had presented yourself to him like a feast.

Aemond’s actions grew haste. Hands reaching from behind to grope your tits much more roughly, hips stuttering into you from behind and his cock leaked from the amount of pleasure the depravity of this endeavor brought him.

His breath grew quicker, heavier and your sleep was soon disturbed. As you fluttered your eyes opened, revealing the purple hues, your sleepy brain finally acknowledged your surroundings and the cold, callous hands fondling you from behind.

You gasped, giving away hint of your consciousness and before you could even scream, Aemond had already wrapped a palm over your mouth.

“Sh, sh. It's me, Aemond.” As if that would make things much better for you, but this revelation only worked to make things harder for you.

Your eyes widening in horror and when you tried to shift, a feeble attempt to slip out of his tight grasp, you realized the severity of the situation. Aemond’s hard manhood was pressed up right between your ass. Your brother's and it left you completely astonished. Your flight or fight response being triggered.

You tried to say something but only muffled words paired with broken sobs tore managed to make through the little space between Aemond’s slim fingers clasped tightly over your lips. Your vision blurred as you tried to focus on the cradle in which your daughter laid, asleep and in peace.

Aemond had glued himself to you. “I've missed you, dear sister. I miss our childhood, I miss what we had. Remnants of our childhood always haunts me.”

You almost felt bad. Guilt ridden because somewhere, deep down, you were aware of the feelings your brother harbored for you. The two of you would even go as far as behaving as you were already betrothed to each other when younglings.

You moved past it, accepted your loveless marriage with the care less drunken brother of yours. You succumbed to your targaryen traditions, roles and duties bestowed upon you by the Gods but it appeared that Aemond decided to fight that Gods.

He chose to go against destiny and the traditions.

“I will remove my hand and you shall keep your honor and dignity intact, Dear sister.” You nodded in desperation and Aemond with great reluctance peeled his hand off your face, causing you to inhale a sharp breath.

You registered the situation you were in. Breasts spilled out, hair pushed aside with Aemond buried in your nape. Seeking solace that he never found in his mother's embrace and you swallowed. Tears streamed down, soaking into the cushions.

“This is wrong.” You whispered, hoping that you don't awaken the dragon in him. “Immoral, Aemond. I am your sister, the Queen. I carried His Grace’s heirs. You cannot do this.”

Your tone was fearsome and Aemond’s irritation grew when you faced him with the facts. He knew about this already and he did not care, not in the slightest. His arm which had wrapped around your waist, tightened, a warning to tread carefully.

“His Grace is also your brother, our brother, so what is so immoral about us engaging in such..” Aemond couldn't call it debauchery, because he didn't see it exactly as that. He saw it as something more, something pure beyond anyone's understanding. “acts.”

You tried to shift, to face him and when you did, Aemond was already staring back at you, his patch still over his disabled eye.

Surely with more persuasion he would leave your chambers and you could pretend that none of this happened but unfortunately for you, there was no God, no sept or no traditions that could change his mind.

“Aemond, I'm his lady wife. I'm merely your sister. Please try to understan—”

Aemond nearly growled. “Do not remind me over and over again that he – a drunkard, an idiot – managed to put his heirs in you when you were supposed to carry mine! You were mine, do you hear me? It is about time I get what is rightfully mine, what was taken from me.”

Before you could say more, Aemond closed the space between you two and captured your lips in a rough kiss. One with which you could not keep up — small fists banging at his chest, in tethered hope that he might have a change of heart and dissipate from your presence.

Your husband was fighting for his life, meanwhile you were laying nearly bare in front of your brother.

You felt bile rise up in your throat but you had no other option than to swallow it back down as Aemond’s passionate lip lock grew more restless and haste. Using up all your strength in an endeavor to push him, yet there was no retribution. He carried on with his sick intentions.

His hands moved down to grab a handful of both your tits, his lips swallowing your little whines and pleas. His rutting which had stalled, continued again as he pushed his hardened cock into your mound.

“A-Aemond.. ” You tried to reason, still.

His hands worked their way around your breasts, flicking your hardened peaks repeatedly and your body twitched. You did not wish to accept it but this was the most pleasure you'd felt in your whole life.

Warming your husband’s bed was only to fulfill his desires, his needs and wants. You were solely a doll, a lifeless being who only existed for Aegon to have his pleasures with. You always wondered how your own mother could subject you to such cruelty, such monstrosity.

To lay awake at night and welcome your husband, whom you do not wish to even breath the same air as, with open arms.

Aemond’s potent tongue pried your lips open and you let it happen, not possessing any more of courage. His tongue danced with yours, a reminiscent of the dragons that danced above Rooks’s Rest. He panted like a wild beast, and you followed.

Dire need to consume you warred with his ache for you and Aemond soon tore away from you but continued flicking your swollen buds. He stared at you, eye dark and rapacious.

Your cheeks were flushed and the rays of moonlight illuminated the beads of sweat on your forehead. Aemond was lost in you, drunk off a single kiss and he simply could not wait to have more of you.

“You have grown into such a beautiful woman, Sister.” Aemond praised, pinching both your hardened pebbles simultaneously and you cried out a wail. “But before me I still see my older sister, nuha byka hunte.”

You flinched at the name.

He addressed you as his little bird in high valyrian when you were kids and then he stopped, after witnessing your wedding to his brother. In all honesty, you longed to be called that and Aemond had finally responded to that longing of yours, unknowingly.

Aemond’s hands fell, fingers tucking underneath the edge of your silk robe as he tugged at it. You didn't allow it — still fighting back as you stayed still. He didn't like that one bit. The Targaryen man pressed his forehead against yours, warm breath lingering like a looming threat.

“You will let it happen.” He commanded, rendering you speechless. Chills dancing across your frail frame at the sheer dominance in his voice. Just when did your little Aemond grow up into a masculine and domineering man?

You shook your head, staring at him with a plea. “Stop ‘tis for I am the Queen, I am your Queen and I demand you to stop.”

Aemond tugged at the dress, bunching it up past your thighs. “I wish you were my Queen but instead those fucking cunts had you warming up my brother’s bed like some common whore.”

The overwhelming urge to cry took over and you sobbed, banging your fists against Aemond’s chest. It didn't seem to affect him much but it did rile him up how you fought to accept him but most probably allowed his brother in — gave yourself up to him in the name of duty and sacrifice.

“I'm not a whore!” You wailed, punching him over and over again. To flee from the upcoming acceptance of your situation but Aemond reprimanded you. He forbade you and greeted you in the form of your queasy truth.

Aemond grabbed both your wrists, glaring at you. “Yet he treats you as one. You're even below that for him. I have seen him show kindness he's never shown you, to a fucking whore. Not the mother of his children, not his queen, but a whore for some coin.”

The reality Aemond was making you face was slowly poisoning you from the inside. You couldn't even hit him anymore as your wrists had been restrained. Your demeanor fell and Aemond took notice, his fingers unclasping from around your small wrists.

He saw how you cried.

Softly, each tear falling as your pale pillow awaited to absorb your pain.

“But I would treat you differently. If it had been me, I would have cherished you like the only woman in the seven kingdoms and beyond that.” He whispered to you with yearning obvious in his voice.

Aemond managed to slip the petticoat off your body and revealed you to him — in all your glory. Skin bare and glistening from sweat. Each curve delicious and crafted by the seven Gods themselves. You were the embodiment of pure targaryen beauty, some even going as far as claiming you to be the most beautiful targaryen woman.

You tried to reach for the blanket, to cover the shredded pieces of your dignity but Aemond hurried to refrain you from doing so.

He grabbed both your wrists, slamming your back down on the bed and pinning you against the mattress. His body hovering over yours, knee bent and settled between your thighs. Your chest heaved, and tits bounced from the force of harsh pants.

Aemond’s knee pried open your thighs rather forcefully, pressing his knee against your cunt. His vile action had earned a whimper of discomfort and embarrassment out of you, your whole being resenting the throbbing sensation spreading in your core as it flourished.

“Tonight I shall have you and cherish you like you deserve, like I should have.” Aemond whispered, tone grave. “If you choose to stay adamant and resilient, I cannot promise you humility, nuha byka hunte.”

Your lips formed into a pout, tear ducts sore from all the droplets you'd shed. “A-Aemond please, don't. If you do this, everything will change.”

Aemond scoffed at your naivety. “Everything has changed, Sister. Brother is injured, I'm prince regent and you're going to carry my children.”

You shook your head, pushing at his slim frame but that only resulted in Aemond’s hand drowning in your silver, pale locks. A malicious grip tugging at the roots, a fiery sensation blooming.

“They will be bastards.” A lone tear slid down.

Aemond’s lips broke in a sadistic smirk. “And? The pretender can have bastards, not even remotely close to her late husband’s features but I can't have bastards with you?”

He licked his lips, his pointy, sharp nose caressing against your own. “Our children will look like true born Targaryens. They will have our purple eyes and silver hair.”

There was no point.

You were defeated.

Aemond saw you accept defeat and he smiled in victory, his other letting go off your hair and moving to grab yours. He pulled it to the strings of his leather slacks and encouraged you to undo them.

You shook your head and that angered Aemond.

How adamant could you be?

“I will shove my cock into your cunt one way or another and I will make sure my seed takes root inside you.” The vulgarity of his words made you sob, your hands trembling as you began to undo his strings. Pulling each one from the knots and finally loosening the leather enough for him to slide out of it.

Aemond was pleased and soon, he was naked too.

Leather pieces thrown over to the side along with his eye patch too.

When your gaze captured the sparkling sapphire in the void of his left eye, you were left appalled.

He had never ever shown you what was behind that eye patch. Even after you begged him to, he grew cold and pushed you away but now you had begun to realize it was probably because of the announcement of your betrothal to Aegon.

His silky strands were in a tedious contrast to your wavy, thick ones.

Lingering eyes caught the awakened cock between his legs and horror flashed in your widened eyes. He was blessed by the Gods, that was for sure and no wonder your brother was this famous amongst the ladies. He had the equipment to satisfy them.

You gulped, nervousness donning your face.

“I slept with other woman so I could become better for you. Incompetence and lack of experience would surely ruin this time, don't you think so, sweet Sister?” Aemond spoke, as his hand dropped from your knee to your center.

You flinched every time he caressed your skin and your abdomen twitched with absolute need. You failed to fathom where all this rush and need was birthing from — how the disgust lingered but along it roamed a feeling of desire which had erupted in the form of essence from your hole.

Aemond ran his slim, tenacious fingers over the stripe of your cunt, gathering the arousal you produced. “Your little cunt is very wet, Sister. Disobedience, wails and pounding at my chest. Is this all merely an act, to veil your sickly desires beneath?”

Your breath broke and humiliation draped itself around you like an invisible blanket. Your small hand reached over to deliver a tight slap to your brother's face, but it barely caused an impact. All you left was a red hand print on his face.

Aemond looked at you, head tilted and fire born in his eye.

You had awakened the dragon.

“Your actions tell me you have no desire to be treated with respect. So be it then.”

Your low chances of rebuttal were revoked as he slid two fingers at once into your opening, going to the point until he was knuckles deep inside your squelching cunt. You sobbed hopelessly, hands trying to push at him but none of it worked.

Your resistance only boosted his ego, his god complex. He had all the power over you, despite you being the Queen. How fucking pathetic and cruel life had been to you but Aemond was here. He was here to save you, and in order to do that, he had to claim you first.

You pushed inside you, caressing your cervix and your gummy walls clasped around his fingers. Your nails dug into his shoulder to cause him pain but that was a failed attempt as Aemond’s cock hardened even more — if that were possible — when he felt the prickling feeling on his shoulder.

The pain inflicted only heightened his arousal.

“A-Aemond, please.” Your cries were the least bit of his concerns, as he curved his fingers up and managed to hit that sweet concealed spot of yours.

Your back arched, lifting up from the mattress, hands bunching up the sheets in them. Writhing your hips, Aemond used his other hand to strike you down — a stinging sensation blossoming on your thigh. You suckled on your lower lip, to stifle your sounds. Jaehaera waking up could possibly ruin everything.

“The Queen’s cunt is truly worth becoming a kingslayer for. Look at how tightly you squeeze around my fingers, Sister.” He whispered, staring at you. You caught the shimmering of the sapphire and sniffled, your cheeks and nose a crimson color.

Death was much better than this humiliation at the hands of your own brother — one you used to see as your protector when you were a little girl.

“H-Have shame. Your sister.” You managed to whimper out and Aemond groaned in annoyance, retrieving his fingers from your cunt.

Your hole gaped as you whined at the loss of contact. He laid next to you, flipping you so your back was facing him. Aemond kicked your thighs open with his shins and pressed his red leaking cock head over your clit, moving it in soft little circles. The burial of your face in your pillows made you realize just how unbearable all this was.

“Do not turn away from me.” Aemond’s voice had a plea in it. “You allowed Aegon in, why is it so difficult to allow me in? I promise you, nuha byka hunte. You will never feel shame again, you will never be embarrassed by your husband again.”

His promises almost worked.

You found yourself wondering whether this was so bad. You'd slept with Aegon, in a much more brutal way, worse than Aemond. Usually he'd ignore you and your pleasure in his drunken state, only chasing after his own. Aemond made you feel good.

He actually cared enough to bring you pleasure.

You nodded your head with a soft sob. You wished things were better, that your betrothed was Aemond, not the other brother but things never turned out the way you wanted them to.

Aemond aligned his cock with your hole and sunk into you, face hidden in your nape as his naked body sought comfort in your presence, basking in it. His chin resting on the small cup of your shoulder, breath caressing the skin of your neck.

He was almost like a babe.

“Aemond.” You called out, feeling bad for what he was put through as a child. For what he had turned out to be.

Having your own children made you realize how easy it was to provide them with affection, so it was difficult for you to fathom why your own mother failed to show you and your brothers affection.

Aemond melted at the way you softly called out his name and his cock had fully sheathed inside your cunt, thighs pressed up against your ass. You'd become one and he was going to have you for himself now.

“Yes, my sweet sister?”

“It feels weird.” You spoke truthfully as you had never ever lay with a man in such a close and intimate position. Aemond figured what you were hinting at and he smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to your nape.

He moved his hips, stuttering inside you, grinding into your ass. Your sounds nearly woke up your daughter if it wasn't for Aemond’s hands slithering from behind, one groping your tits while the other silencing you.

“Quiet now. You don't wish to wake up your daughter, do you now?” You shook your head as he slowly rutted his cock inside you, pushing it deeper into that weak spot of yours and muffled sounds escaped your sealed lips.

Tears fell, and so did your dignity as your brother fucked himself into you with newfound vigor meant to swallow you whole.

Aemond lost his demeanor, his usually calm and nonchalant demeanor. Transforming into the sadistic monster that he was. He pulled his hand back from your swollen breasts and brought it to your hair, pulling it up rather harshly to expose more of your sweet skin.

A perfect spot. A clean canvas for him to paint his bloody streaks across.

He parted his lips open, baring his teeth and sinking the sharp canines into your skin. Being punctured with such severity, even his hand could not prevent the piercing scream that tore through your throat.

Your eyes squeezed shut as Aemond sunk his teeth. The searing pain of prickling bones a deadly contrast with the soft, sensual thrusts of his cock. A mess he had made you into and there was no escape from the lecherous bounds of your brother.

“I-It hurts. Aemond, it hurts!” You cried out, writhing against his body but his arm had locked you in place. Right against him.

The more you struggled, the more his long arm like a snake tightened around your stomach. He did not budge, not at all. Focused fully on the task at hand which was to leave a gut wrenching mark, as a testament to his claim over you.

When he was done suckling and drawing blood, he pulled back and hummed in satisfaction at the mark. A mix of reds, blues and purples. Such hues looked absolutely breathtaking on you. He pressed a soft kiss over the bruise, the two punctured hole and you shuddered.

Helplessness washed over you.

Your husband was hurt, in pain meanwhile you engaged in such debauchery with your brother.

Aemond snapped his hips, now ramming his cock into you. Pounding with potency and your body surged forward. He reached for your leg and pulled it up, holding it in air as he fucked you.

“P-Please. You're my broth–”

“Shut your damn hole.” Aemond snapped, patience wearing thin. “Keep saying I'm your brother but it only arouses me more.”

You gasped when you felt his cock head hit into that spongy bubble of sensitivity and Aemond scrunched his brows in over whelming pleasure. He had taken many maidens and whores but you were different – of course you were. A targaryen princess turned Queen, his own blood and flesh.

You ought to be different.

Aemond reveled in the feeling of your tight cunt pressing down on his cock, caressing every vein, soaking it in your juices. The sounds of his flesh colliding against yours enticed him in a way that he could not fathom. Like milk of the poppy, he wished to continue absorbing you.

His fingers rubbed your clit, the swollen bud twitching. All this pleasure, that you were so foreign to, it overwhelmed you. Thighs convulsing and abdomen building up knots, a warning of your upcoming orgasm.

“Brother, something’s happening. Aemond, please!” You wailed and he stared at your sweaty, flustered face.

Gods, had Aegon never once made you unravel?

How fucking pitiful.

Aemond grinned. “Yeah? You're going to make a mess, dear sister.”

Your stomach tightened and this unfamiliar feeling took over. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and your hands shifted hastily to find something, anything to grab a hold of as your body transcended to another realm. One visible to those who indulged themselves im such debauchery.

Aemond hissed. The sheer tightness of your cunt made him feel like he'll snap in half, his own groans and moans loud enough to reverberate through your chambers. He still continued to thrust, earning your climax out of you.

When you were done, Aemond raised himself and pulled his cock out of you. Relief washed over you but how naive were you, to assume he'd get dressed and leave without chasing after his own pleasure. Your eyes fluttered open and you found him right between your legs, kneeled.

“Are you not done?” Your voice was weary, soft and tired. Aemond chuckled at your innocence, both hands pulling your thighs apart.

His one good eye stared at your cunt, pink flesh glistening from your creamy arousal. He felt the urge to lean in and lick along the swollen stripe of your pussy but the throbbing of his cock made him cave in. He slipped inside you again, pulling both your legs up and balancing them on his shoulders.

Your lips released a gasp.

Aemond’s bestial and rapacious thrusts made you cry, muffled wails breaking apart. He stared at you as the sapphire glinted, his cock driving itself with fervor into your cunt, enjoying your sweet vice like grip.

Your shaky hands reached for his face, to cup it and Aemond leaned in your touch. Affectionate it was, his lips parted as he let out a broken breath, similar to how he felt on the inside. A broken boy and you felt horrible, like it was all your fault to begin with.

He had turned into a monster and it was all your fault.

“Your eye,” you whispered, his snaps coming to a halt. “its beautiful. You look so beautiful, Aemond.”

He admired you before snapping out of the trance and pounding into you. Aemond’s cock found comfort in your tight cunt and his release had grown closer to. You cried out, vision completely blurry and lips swollen, covered in drool.

“My beautiful sister.” He growled, pressing his pelvis against yours. “I shall fill you up, give you a child of mine. Your stomach will swell with our child. Your beautiful breasts will once again pump milk, this time for our babe.”

His palm laid flat on your stomach and you shook your head. You didn't want him to give you a child, as it would end badly for the both of you yet Aemond did not bother himself with traditions. He nuzzled his cock into you and with a loud groan, shot ropes after ropes into your walls.

Tainting your gummy flesh white. You sobbed as you felt the warm fluid fill up your stomach, your whole body suffering from prominent convulsions. Aemond’s cock bulged against your taut stomach, a fine print visible to you both.

When Aemond was done with his release, he pulled out and dropped on the bed right besides you. Body numb and throat parched from all the sounds you'd made, your gaze lingered across the room to find your daughter sound asleep.

Thank the Gods.

You turned to Aemond and found him already staring at you. His arm wrapped around you, refraining you from moving away from him as he nuzzled his neck into your neck. Aemond sniffed your scent, closing his eyes and relishing the sweetness of it. God, you were a dream come true for him.

“I will get rid of him soon.” Aemond whispered, hair mixing in with yours. “And then I will have you as my wife. Our child shall be conceived within the bounds of our marriage.”