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sttoru · 4 months ago

Note

Omg could we see reader getting jealous of Sukuna having sec with his other concubines? And maybe liek the other concubine rubs it in readers face?

𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (no comfort), suggestive \\ smut aspects. size difference. one tiny mention of reader being a crybaby. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’ \\ kuna’s an asshole! not proofread, excuse the grammar. no part 2. wc: 3.3k

you’ve been away from the estate for three days; three days too long for the king of curses. so much had happened while you were away to take some well deserved rest—a small vacation that sukuna had granted you because you needed it.

perhaps that was his first mistake. giving you permission to leave his side ended up being a bad decision. he hates that faint feeling in his chest, the feeling of missing something.

missing someone.

it couldn’t be. sukuna doesn’t have any weaknesses, and yet he can feel his body reacting to that unfamiliar emotion again. all because of you— that one human who always succeeds to occupy his mind.

he couldn’t let himself succumb to it—he’s not going to. sukuna is not going to let a mere human like you deter him from his superior identity that he’s had for decennia. he’s not going to let you have that power over him and his body.

and thus, when you return to the estate, you find yourself being laughed at. you were unpacking your luggage when two concubines stand at your doorway, hiding their evil smiles behind their handheld fans.

they don’t waste a single second and immediately rush to ruin your carefree mood.

“you know, you shouldn’t have returned at all,” the brunette giggles, her laugh sounding like nails scraping against a chalkboard. she looks to the other woman next to her before glancing back at you, “i mean—heh—lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence.”

you figure it’s just another way to get you riled up, so you do your best to ignore them. you put your packed kimonos in your wardrobe as your back faces the two.

yumi, the second concubine, nods along. she knows what she’s about to reveal will get on your nerves. and deserved, if you ask her. they had successfully caught the attention of their king while you were away. for the first time in a good while since your arrival in the estate.

the fact that they managed to spend quality time with sukuna again, is a wonderful first step to your downfall. one that will surely crumble your confidence as his so-called ‘favorite’.

“mhm,” yumi grins as she recalls the memories of her time with sukuna. time spent together that you were unaware of, “lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence when he had me in his bed last night.”

you freeze.

your brows furrow and the corners of your lips twitch. you don’t know if you should believe them—they could’ve lied about it for all you know. although, the voice in the back of your head had already rang the alarms.

guessing by the way they were dying to talk to you the second you came back - which never happens - you realise that they’re probably telling the truth. they’re only telling the truth to agitate you. it’s so painfully obvious, and yet so. . . hurtful.

“what?”

you don’t recall when you’ve choked up. you feel a lump in your throat. it shouldn’t even be there. you promised yourself to not get attached to a monster like sukuna.

so what if he went to bed with his other concubines?

but of course he’ll get pleasure from his other women when you aren’t around. he doesn’t feel any love, he sees it as worthless, so why did you expect him to not indulge himself? he still has his other concubines around for a reason.

you really shouldn’t be surprised by this revelation.

“what do you mean ‘what?’ - you heard me,” yumi shrugs, that cocky smirk still on her face. she’s clearly enjoying your reaction to everything she’s revealing. all the two concubines wanted to get out of this encounter with you, is to break that delusion of yours.

the delusional thought that you’re special to the king of curses—the delusion that sukuna considers you as something more than a toy to emotionally manipulate and play with until he’s tired of you.

“my lord spent all night with me in his chambers until the sun rose,” yumi continues without an ounce of shame. she bites her lip as she remembers the way sukuna had her body positioned on his large bed. for her, it was a dream come true.

though for you, it’s a living nightmare. even if you try to deny the fact that it physically and mentally hurts. there’s a painful twist at your heart—reminding you of the truth.

the truth being that you had truly thought that sukuna wasn’t really a monster of a man. you thought he was a different, more softer person around you.

you should’ve listened to the servants when they told you to not get tricked by sukuna’s special treatment, that he could easily manipulate you and make you do and act as he pleases.

“do you want me to explain it in detail?” yumi crosses her arms over her chest as she looks down at you with a menacing glare. both of the concubines are loving that face you’re making. that face of defeat that you’re attempting to hide from them, “how he held me and pleasured me until i—”

“enough,” you cut them off with your hands clenched into fists. you don’t want to hear another word. you’re already feeling awful; already, not even an hour into your return. you can never catch a break.

you have an urge to throw things around. you already feel stupid, and if you decide to throw a fit, you bet that you’d feel even dumber. you truly do not know why you’re getting this worked up about it.

maybe it’s because of the special treatment. the delusional thoughts you have about your relationship with sukuna. you really thought that you two had something special. an unofficial romantic relationship, perhaps, or something that resembles it.

a secret, unspoken deal where you’re promised his loyalty in exchange for your body and soul.

although, those dreams have been shattered this very instance. you’re once again reminded of the animalistic nature of the being called ryomen sukuna.

he told you clearly that he’d never tie himself to someone, a human no less. devotion to one person? why would he.

“out of the way.”

you push the brunette and her sidekick the other way. you’re going to confront the man yourself. or at least, you’ll try to. you can hear their sick laughs and chuckles fade into the background as you stomp your way towards sukuna’s chambers.

the other concubines seem to have gotten the gist. some peek their heads out of their rooms, grinning at you in victory. seeing your confidence slowly crumble and the realisation kick in - the realisation that your dear lord’s special treatment means absolutely nothing - is a sight for sore eyes to them.

you enter sukuna’s room and close the heavy doors behind you. you swallow the lump down your throat and try your best to look presentable.

no tears, you promise yourself. you’re not going to waste them on something like this.

“oh, it’s you, little one,” the familiar voice calls out. sukuna’s low and husky voice rings from his bed. he’s laid back against the many silky pillows, blowing smoke from his kiseru. he lays there like he doesn’t care about your reappearance at all.

he eyes you up and down, “how was your vacation, hm?”

sukuna asks like it’s the most normal thing to do. it seems like he’s trying to catch up with you, to ask you how you’ve been enjoying your time alone, though it also seems like he couldn’t care less at the same time.

“just absolutely fine, my lord,” you reply with gritted teeth and an obvious hint of sarcasm. there’s also a bitterness to your tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by the pink-haired man. he frowns—this cold greeting is not what he expected nor what he wanted to hear from your mouth. he expected you to at least smile at him like you usually do, but you didn’t.

on top of that, you seemed to be annoyed with him. that unexpected attitude of yours made something inside of him snap. it irritated him somehow; the fact that you’re so comfortable talking to him like that . . . it reminded him of the recent inner conflict he had which you were the cause of.

one of his hands tightens into a fist at his side. his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow into slits. you’re physically in front of him, which means that he’s also about to experience those complicated feelings again. the same ones he tried fleeing from by letting you go on a break, and by physically taking his mind off you.

he did the latter by taking his frustrations out on his other women. the stress that came with the thought of him possibly liking a human, relieved by pure animalistic sex.

that’s exactly what you’re upset about.

there’s an urge inside of sukuna to act normal. to ignore those difficult emotions and just treat you like he usually does. yet, another part of him is trying to protect his sense of superiority by trying to push you away.

there’s a war going on in his mind as he tries to calm himself down. you’ve always had this effect on him and it’s becoming unbearable. he has to show you, no - remind you, that you’re nothing to him. you mean nothing—nothing at all.

he’s the king of curses, you’re but a human. he’ll need to remind himself of that obvious statement as well. he’s got all the power in this situation. not you.

you cannot rule over him or his mind.

“you dare come back with an attitude? tch,” sukuna scoffs, nearly breaking the kiseru with his fingers as they squeeze around the solid material. he’s turning off whatever emotion present in his body. that doesn’t belong there anyway. he won’t care if you cry—he won’t care at all.

you notice the sudden change in sukuna’s tone as well. you’re sure you’re the reason for it. perhaps you crossed a boundary with how sassily you replied to him when he was simply asking you how your vacation went.

“my apologies,” you murmur with a sigh. you try to avoid getting on sukuna’s nerves any further, yet when you remember the words from the concubine, how she implied that sukuna had given her the best night of her life when you were away, you get mad again.

your eyes have a fiery look in them. you don’t want to get worked up. you don’t have the right to. you were warned from the very beginning to not get attached to an asshole like ryomen sukuna.

you’re to blame for feeling like this. it could’ve been prevented if you just weren’t so weak. if you just stayed away from him.

“did you have fun while i was away, my lord?” you continue, your voice shaking a little. you need the confirmation. you’re sure sukuna knows what you’re referring to by now, especially because of the way you’re acting out of character.

the king of curses raises a brow at your question. you sound even angrier, even more pissed off. he tilts his head after taking a deep inhale of the tobacco from his kiseru. he tries to figure out what you’re hinting at, “what are you—”

and that’s when everything fell into place. the dots connect.

sukuna’s jaw clenches. he realises that you’ve found out about him receiving services from his other concubines while you were away. there could be no other explanation behind your sudden attitude. besides, he knows how his other concubines could be. they must have told you the moment you came back.

normally, he’d say that it’s none of your business. what he does is up to him—he does not care about the consequences of his actions. though, seeing the slight hurt in your eyes, mixed with sadness and disappointment stirred something inside of him. he brushes that feeling away and stares at you intently, awaiting another comment. perhaps you’d cuss him out or bawl your eyes out in front of him.

either way, he promises himself that he won’t care.

sukuna is the king of curses. feeling bad for a human like you would only further tarnish his image, that image of superiority and power he has.

he’s a man of many needs. you should’ve kept that in mind when you left him. he wanted to keep you with him—to hold you down and refuse to let you leave—but that would be another sign of weakness. one sukuna could not manage to show.

when you departed, he was irritated by the fact that he had no one to turn to with his needs. from simple needs like wanting your company to sexual needs like craving your body.

keeping you by his side or letting you go; both decisions seem to clash. either way, there’s one thing he’s sure of, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it: he missed you.

sukuna can’t believe that he can feel an emotion like that. he can’t accept that fact. that’s why his irrational mind took over—his dark urges that strived to prove himself to still be the same old ryomen sukuna. the monster that did not need a single soul. the ruthless man that did not depend on anyone else, especially not a human. a woman like you.

he thought he’d forget all about you if he’s surrounded himself with other women. but, he was quick to be proven wrong, and that only caused to enrage him more and more.

every time sukuna fucked a concubine, his thoughts still manage to drift away to you. to how he wished that it was you he was holding.

nothing hit the same with the other women and that frustrated him. he’d keep them around in his room after he fucked their brains out, something he never allowed a woman to do except for you, yet kicked them out again after a few minutes.

it doesn’t hit the same.

you’re just different. your presence is soothing and calming to the chaotic soul of the pink-haired man. no one else could compare. that realisation made him feel inferior; a feeling he loathes.

sukuna’s red eyes glow. he hates seeing you look so defeated, but he cannot give in. if he tells you the truth, he’ll admit his weakness. he’ll admit that a human like you has completely taken over his brain. that’s no good.

if he doesn’t tell you the truth, he’ll save face. he’ll feel like himself again. his old self—the cold ruthless monster that he was before he met you. one without a soft spot for a human.

it’s an active dilemma that’s running through his mind as he slowly blows out another cloud of smoke. you cannot guess what’s going on behind those intimidating eyes staring you down.

sukuna tilts his head back and scratches his neck, smacking his lips as he makes his decision.

“yeah, i did. i had lots of fun.”

the words sting. they hurt you and make your heart ache in a way that makes you physically weak. you should’ve expected that answer. your shoulders tense up and your fingers curl around the material of your kimono—feeling a sense of anger and betrayal.

you can see a ghost of a smirk on sukuna’s lips, which only reminds you of his nature. his nature as an independent, aloof and cold man who likes to play with his prey. a natural disaster that knows no emotion, that shows no mercy to anyone.

you’re naive for thinking that you could be the exception. all of those times with sukuna were confirmed to be but a lie in that moment. as your gazes meet, you can now easily interpret what that look in those red eyes meant.

‘know your place,’

that’s what it means. you’re foolish, dumb. you take a deep breath to compose yourself after you’ve been made out to be a total fool. you should’ve listened to those warnings, you should’ve known that you were getting played.

this is exactly what sukuna desired to achieve. to build up your trust, to make you comfortable enough with him, to think you’re special and that he won’t need any other woman other than you — just to shatter your pathetic delusions when the time comes.

“tsk tsk. no need to look at me like that,” sukuna scoffs, a mocking laugh leaving his lips. he can hear a small voice in the back of his head telling him to shut up and let you go, to not make it worse, but who is he to listen to that irrelevant thought? he can decide for himself.

“y’ weren’t around, so the other concubines simply did their job by serving me,” he stares the other way, seemingly not interested by your presence anymore. his face is as expressionless as ever, “what do y’ think i keep them ‘round for, brat? for decoration purposes? hah, nah.”

another loud mocking laugh makes you nearly burst out in tears. you don’t know if it’s in anger or sadness. you take a deep, shaky breath for the last time. you unclench your fists and nod, accepting the reality check you’d just gotten.

it’s a slap to the face, but it helped you get out of your delusions. the delusions that sukuna is a man capable of loving someone, even if it is just for a tiny bit. this visit confirmed that there’s not an ounce of love or appreciation in that man’s body.

“i’m glad you had fun, my lord,” you answer after a bit of silence. you bow at sukuna in an attempt to stay polite while struggling with that inner turmoil. you don’t even glance up at him anymore. you need another break already.

sukuna isn’t dumb. you may think that you’re good at hiding your emotions, but you’re not. at least not around the king of curses. he’s spent enough time around you to realise that you’re going through a lot right now.

he’s the reason for it, yet he cannot bring himself to feel an ounce of empathy. he just looks at you with a blank stare, thinking that this is for the best.

“good night then,” you add and turn around to walk out of sukuna’s room. your steps are slow as you secretly hope to be called back, like sukuna would do every time you’d leave his room after an intimate night. you just want him to tell you that this was a test of some sort—a cruel joke.

you want to feel like his favorite again. you don’t want to be thrown away like this. you don’t want to be on the same level as all the other concubines. you want to stand out to him.

unfortunately, you don’t hear sukuna’s voice anymore. he lets you walk away without a care in the world. the heavy doors of his chambers close behind you and you feel your knees buckle. “fuck,” you cuss to yourself and clench your chest.

you lean back against the closed doors and try to regain your composure. crying can be done when you’re in your room—not in the hallway where anyone could catch you. you don’t want to give the other concubines more reason to bully you.

you drag your feet across the wooden flooring. all those times with sukuna, all those slight glimpses of his soft side that only you’re allowed to see— all of that is thrown into the trash.

you really shouldn’t have gotten so attached to him on an emotional level.

meanwhile, sukuna is silently sitting on his bed, thinking back to what just happened. he usually never doubts his decisions, but this is an exception. why couldn’t he just tell you the truth?

his mouth had moved before he could let his mind process all that he was feeling. a small part of him regrets it, though strangely, he couldn’t feel any real sympathy for your situation.

sukuna drapes an arm over his eyes, clicking his tongue at himself. he just wants to let the situation go, though his brain isn’t letting him to. the image of you standing at the edge of his bed, clearly hurt by his actions, flashes through his mind again.

he sighs. he’s sure that he’s going to forget about you soon enough. he needed an excuse to get rid of you for the sake of regaining control over his own being and he took the chance. he should be glad that he did—it meant that he’d be his usual self—with no weaknesses to look out for.

sukuna blows out another cloud of smoke through his mouth. as much as he’s proud of himself for not giving in to you, he can’t help but let his thoughts wander again. you’re probably crying in your room. he knows you’re sensitive. you would always cry about the smallest of things and he’d hold you (feigning reluctance) until you’ve calmed down.

he can’t do that now.

well, he can, but he won’t. sukuna has made his decision today: it’s power and status over you. that’s what it’s always been. you were but a toy he used to get a stronger grip on himself.

perhaps he simply is what people make him out to be; a monster. nothing more, nothing less.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk angst #sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna angst

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winterarmyy · 4 months ago

Text

Against All Odds | Part I

An arranged marriage with the duke's illegitimate son!bucky.

Summary: In a medieval kingdom where magic and political intrigue are woven into the fabric of society, Y/N, the youngest daughter of a noble Earl family, finds herself in an arranged marriage to James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke. Known as the Winter Soldier, Bucky's reputation as a monster in war had instilled anxiety into Y/N's heart. But that fear quickly begins to crumble when she discovers that her husband is not the brutal figure society depicts him to be.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 8.1k++

Pairing: duke's illegitimate son!bucky x noble!female!reader

Warnings: fantasy/medieval au, i did not write this with much knowledge of fantasy nor medieval lore. I write it solely for plot and the couple dynamic lmao. if you're expecting full blown fantasy novel; this ain't it, man. anyways, 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, loss of virginity, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint), marking kink (i think), soft fluffy smut, a wee bit of dirty talk. soft!reader and even softer!bucky. (idk what else, so tell me if there's something i miss.)

P/S: This is the fic for an idea I had earlier this year. The first chapter will only cover the original post but what happens next is something you will need to look forward on the upcoming chapters. Enjoy your read!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N stood in front of the grand mirror in her chamber, her reflection staring back at her with wide, fearful eyes. The delicate lace of her wedding dress was the opposite of the twisting anxiety in her stomach. Today, she was to marry James Buchanan Barnes, the illegitimate son of the Duke of the kingdom, a man labelled to be more beast than human.

He was known as the Winter Soldier, a title whispered with both fear and awe. Tales of his gruesome feats in battle, his merciless brutality, and his cold, metal arm was deemed as a horror story for the children in the kingdom. People spoke of him as a monstrous weapon, a beast moulded by the Emperor to do his bidding without question or hesitation.

Y/N had heard the stories many times before; and it has always been a hushed conversation that floats around whether a ballroom of a gala, or at the tables of the garden parties, sometimes even in between the racks of books in the library.

They always painted a picture of a man who lived only for war, devoid of humanity.

She couldn't help but let these tales feed her imagination. What kind of man was he truly? Did he revel in the violence, or was he a prisoner to his fate? Y/N shuddered at the thought, her heart heavy with fear and uncertainty.

Her father, the Earl, had made it clear why she needed to marry him. It was a political manoeuvre, a strategic alliance to strengthen their family's position. The duke, Bucky's father, wielded considerable power, and their union would bring the Earl closer to the heart of the kingdom's influence.

And when he heard that the duke was looking for a wife for his bastard son, he knew that she would be perfect. That was when Y/N, the youngest daughter, became the pawn in this game. Her father's ambitions certainly outweighed any consideration for her feelings or desires.

Y/N had always longed for a marriage of love, a dream she clung to despite her circumstances. She was a hopeless romantic through and through; much like her late mother. She remembered the nights when her mother would read to her and her siblings, spinning tales of prince charming and valiant heroes.

The fire crackled warmly in the hearth as her mother’s soothing voice filled the room. Y/N and her siblings, her older brother Eric and sister Clara, lay tucked under blankets, their eyes wide with wonder.

"And then the prince, with a heart full of love, swept the princess into his arms, vowing to protect her forever," her mother read, her voice a melodic whisper.

Y/N, her eyes sparkling with innocence, declared, "When I grow up, I want to marry a prince charming too!"

Clara, ever the practical one, nodded in agreement. "Me too! He has to be brave and kind."

Eric, being a little boy, scrunched his nose in distaste. "I don’t want to get married. I want to be a knight!"

Their mother chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N’s forehead. "It does not matter if he is a prince charming or a humble knight. As long as you marry the one you love, that is what truly matters."

Y/N's heart ached at the memory. How she wished her mother were still here to guide her through this terrifying day. The gentle knock on the door brought her back to the present.

"Lady Y/N, it’s time," one of the maids said softly.

Y/N took a long and deep breath, smoothing down the fabric of her dress. She followed the maid down the corridor, her mind a swirl of emotions. Reaching the grand doors of the church, her father waited for her.

"Remember, Y/N," he said, his voice stern. "Do not mess this up. Just endure it. And you'll be fine. This is the most useful you can be to our family."

Her heart sank further; yet she nodded obediently.

Compared to Y/N, her elder brother, a celebrated swordsman, and her sister, a master in the art of business, had always outshone her in their father's eyes. Y/N's talent with languages; ancient and modern – was seen as a useless skill, something that brought no tangible benefit to the family.

Her father had never been cruel when she was younger but everything changed when her mother died. In fact, everyone in the family had lost a piece of their soul when she left. Now, his lack of affection only increases the number of scars on her heart.

The doors opened, revealing the crowds of high-ranking nobles; who were mostly strangers – staring at her. Some were judging her; some pitied her. She reminded herself that she was doing this for her family, for the greater good. But the little girl inside her who dreamed of prince charming certainly felt a pang of sorrow.

As she walked down the aisle, her legs trembled, and her hands shook so violently that she had to clasp them together to steady herself. From afar, she saw the silhouette of the man she was destined to marry. His tall and huge figure stood out compared to anyone in the hall. As she got closer, she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, too afraid to look up at her husband-to-be.

When she finally reached the altar, the priest began the ceremony. His speech was long and dragging, giving Y/N too much time to entertain her growing curiosity that she dared to glance up at the man next to her. Even from behind the veil, she could see his towering and broad-shouldered build, his presence commanding the room. His long hair was slightly untamed, and a scruffy beard framed his face. His metal hand, glinting in the sun that leaked through the church’s windows, was a jarring reminder of the rumors that surrounded him.

There were no heartfelt vows to recite to each other; only their promise of "I do" was exchanged. And that was the first time Y/N heard his voice. It was deep and resonant, sending a shiver down her spine; but there was a certain warmth in it that contrasted sharply with his fearsome reputation.

When the priest announced their union and Bucky lifted her veil, Y/N was struck by the unexpected gentleness in his eyes. They were a brilliant, mesmerizing blue, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe. Bucky's eyes softened as he looked at her, his gaze tender and almost reverent. Slowly, he placed one hand gently around her waist, pulling her slightly closer. His other hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle against her skin.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as he leaned in, her breath catching in her throat. When his lips met hers, they were soft, warm, and so unexpected. She could smell his cologne; an earthy, woodsy scent mixed with a hint of something fruity; like peaches or tangerines. It made her head spin and her heart jumped all at the same time.

The kiss was gentle and unhurried, very much differs to the forceful gesture she had feared. As he pulled away, Y/N found herself blinking slowly, her cheeks flushed and her fear momentarily replaced by confusion and a surprising awe. She was caught off guard by the tenderness of his touch, the way his lips had brushed against hers so gently.

Could the rumors about him be wrong?

"I’m sorry if I startled you," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I hope I didn’t scare you, my dear."

Y/N blinked slowly, trying to process the sudden shift in her emotions. The fear that had gripped her so tightly seemed to dissipate, replaced by a confusing mix of relief and intrigue. Her hands, which had been trembling, now rested at her sides, feeling strangely steady. Her eyes met his, and she could see softness in his gaze that contradicted the harsh rumors she had heard.

“I—no, you didn’t scare me,” she managed to say; her voice barely more than a whisper. She took a deep breath, her cheeks getting warmer as she processed the endearment he just called her. On the other hand, her mind was racing as she tried to reconcile the man in front of her with the fearsome figure of the Winter Soldier.

Bucky’s eyes mellowed even further, his gaze glazed with a tenderness that seemed to pierce through the weight of the room. A warm smile spread across his face, and he held her gaze with a comforting assurance.

“Good,” he said, his voice carrying a gentle affection. “I’m glad to hear that.”

The reception that followed was a blur of faces and polite conversation. Y/N moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations and well-wishes, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bucky than the rumors suggested. Every time she caught his eye, he gave her a small, reassuring smile that made the butterflies inside of her go wild.

As the evening drew to a close, they were escorted to one of the Emperor’s palaces, a grand and opulent residence that was to serve as their temporary home before they traveled north to Bucky’s territory. The palace, with its lavish furnishings and golden accents, seemed to mock the uncertainty Y/N felt. She had been assigned a chamber to prepare for the night, and the palace maids were bustling around her, helping her into a set of elaborate, far-from-modest lingerie.

The palace’s maids’ whispers and side glances did nothing to ease her growing anxiety. Their condescending tones and occasional snickers were laced with cruel speculation about how roughly Bucky would treat her. The more Y/N overheard, the more her apprehension grew. Despite the gentleness Bucky had shown her earlier, she found herself doubting its sincerity.

Could he really be the caring husband he appeared to be, or was it all just an elaborate show?

The maids finally left, their laughter fading down the hallway, leaving Y/N alone in the grand chamber. Her heart raced, and cold sweat formed at her brow as she sat quietly on the edge of the ornate bed. She kept her gaze firmly on the floor, her hands fidgeting in her lap. The room felt enormous, its sheer size heightening her sense of isolation and dread.

The door creaked open, and Bucky entered the room. Y/N’s heart nearly stopped as she heard the heavy, measured footsteps approaching. She couldn’t bring herself to look up, her body tense and her mind a swirl of panic and unease. She almost held her breath entire when she felt the slight indentation of the mattress beside her.

“Y/N,” Bucky’s voice was soft and coaxing, a distinct difference to the coldness she was expecting. “Look at me.” He continued. She hesitated momentarily; torn between obeying and disobeying but ultimately decided to raise her eyes to meet his.

The sight of him; his upper body bare, revealing a tapestry of scars and the stark metal of his prosthetic arm; made her breath hitch. Her eyes traced the lines of his faded wound, particularly the jagged marks where his shoulder met his metal arm. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow and concern. Her fingers, almost of their own accord, reached out to trace the contours of his chest and shoulder.

Bucky let the innocence of her touch to trace the most tainted parts of him; however noting her trembling eyes, he misunderstood her apprehension. “I want you to know, Y/N,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle, “that I will never hurt you. You are safe with me.”

Y/N shook her head, her heart aching. She felt an unexplainable pain growing in her chest as she gazed at him. Her fingers still lightly touching his scars; her eyes, full of unshed tears, silently asked a question she was too afraid to voice. “Does it still hurt?” she wanted to ask, her expression betraying her concern.

Bucky’s eyes sparkled with affection, and he took her hand in his, holding it tenderly against his chest. “Don't worry. It does not hurt anymore,” he said with a reassuring smile.

The connection between them was electric, charged with a deep, unspoken understanding. Bucky’s gaze was steady and filled with a depth of unspoken emotion that took Y/N’s breath away. “I know this is difficult for you, Y/N,” he said, his voice laden with sincerity. “But I promise, I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

His words and the way he looked at her left Y/N feeling both comforted and overwhelmed. For the first time since their wedding, she felt a genuine, flickering hope that maybe, just maybe, their marriage could become something more than a mere political arrangement. Bucky’s assurances, his gentleness, and the tenderness in his eyes began to dissolve the fears she had harboured since the beginning of their union.

As they sat there, the weight of the night’s expectations seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile but growing trust. Y/N had entered this marriage with a sense of duty, convinced that she would have to endure the consummation of their union as a matter of obligation. But Bucky’s tenderness, his understanding, and the sincere reassurance he had given her began to change her perspective.

The idea of fulfilling her marital duty had initially felt like a burden she had to bear. She had steeled herself to face it with resignation, convinced that it was merely another part of her role in this arranged marriage. But now, she found herself reconsidering. The idea of being with him no longer felt like an obligation but a possibility of something more profound and intimate.

Y/N hands softly toyed with the delicate strings of her sheer lingerie, pulling it softly as her doe eyes signalled her husband of her intention. Bucky, sensing the shift in her demeanor, looked into her eyes with a mixture of concern and affection. “Are you sure, my dear?” he asked softly. “I want you to feel safe with me and not afraid of me.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered as she met his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the depth of her emotions. “I am,” she said with quiet conviction. “I feel safe with you, James”

Bucky's hand naturally went to brush her hair behind her ear, “It’s Bucky, my dear,” he corrected softly.

“Hmm?” she asked, slightly puzzled.

He chuckled warmly. “You can call me Bucky from now on. It’s a nickname only a selected few who I trust and love knows.” Her eyes sparkled at his choice words; trust and love.

“Bucky…” she tested the name on her tongue, the syllables feeling strangely intimate. Upon hearing his name from her lips, Bucky’s heart swelled, almost bursting from his ribcage. He hummed in approval, “That's right, my dear. I’m your Bucky.”

His reassuring smile grew wider, his calloused thumb gently stroke her cheek causing a shiver to strum all over her nerves; sending an emerging desire. One she had not fully acknowledged until now. The way he looked at her, the pure and raw endearment in his eyes, and the softness of his touch stirred something deep within her.

As the moments passed, Y/N realised she wanted this. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, to explore the warmth of his hands, to connect with him on a level she had longed for. The yearning for his touch, which had been dormant under layers of fear and uncertainty, now surged forward with undeniable intensity.

Without fully understanding why, Y/N found herself leaning closer to him, her breath coming in soft, eager gasps. She whispered, her voice barely audible but full of longing, “Bucky, please.”

Bucky’s expression softened, and a tender light filled his blue eyes, “May I?” he asked, his voice low and gentle as he held out his hand. There a shy hesitation before she finally placed her hand in his.

With a gentle but firm pull, Bucky lifted her onto his lap, his careful hands beginning the process of undressing her. Each movement was full of care, yet almost deliberate, as he slowly removed her dress, leaving her in nothing but the flimsy lace piece covering the sacred area between her thighs.

Bucky's eyes roamed over her bare skin, admiration clear in his gaze. Y/N could feel the heat of his gaze, the way his eyes traced every curve and contour of her body. The intensity of it made her feel both vulnerable and cherished, a potent combination that sent pleasurable shivers all over her body.

Seeing the hunger in his blue eyes, she felt the warmth of his body and caught the scent of him; the same once she noticed at the church; warm and comforting. Her breath quickened, and she found herself unsure of what to do or where to place her hands, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

Noticing the subtle panic, Bucky reached for her hands and guided them through the thick strands of his long hair. “You can touch me as you please, my dear,” he whispered, his voice soothing as he reassured her. He leaned in to kiss her bare shoulder, then moved up to her neck, along her jaw, leaving a trail of warmth on her skin.

Y/N’s fingers tangled in his hair, the softness surprising her. The intimacy of the moment, combined with his gentle kisses, began to dissolve the last remnants of her anxiety. The feel of his lips on her skin was electrifying, each kiss sending waves of sensation she never felt before.

Bucky’s hands, still careful and tender, caressed her back, drawing her closer to him. Her breath hitched as he kissed the valley of her breasts; soft gasps escaping her lips as Bucky begins to lick and sucked on her delicate skin; likely trying to mark his claim on her.

Every touch and little kisses he left sent shivers straight to her already dripping core. And by the time his lips grazed her nipple, her body jerked forward; in response, unintentionally dragging her aching pussy against his thick thigh.

His lips latched around her right nipples as he licks and sucks the hardening skin; lapping at it as if he was feeding from her. The sensation was overwhelming, yet she found herself leaning into his touch, her body responding to his gentle ministrations. The grip on his hair grew tighter as the strings of moans poured out her lips.

Bucky’s large hands find their place on her hips, guiding her to gently rut on his thigh. Trusting him, she followed his lead as he continue to grind her clit through the thin fabric she was wearing; introducing the sweet friction in on her core. Bucky pulled back slightly to look into her eyes, his expression filled with a mixture of subtle affection and desire. “You’re doing wonderfully, my dear. Can feel your pussy leaking on me. Do you feel good?” he murmured as he dipped back to kiss her neck.

Oh, he was filthy with his choice of words but surprisingly she was not mad about it. In fact she didn’t even notice the whimpers purring in her throat upon hearing those sinful words.

It was as if Bucky recognized that needy sound she made; it caused a smile to spread on his lips. She can feel it grow against the skin in between her breasts, “My my, is my sweet wife feeling needy right now?” he teased playfully as he effortlessly lifted her up and laid her down on their bed.

Placing himself in between her soft thighs, his lustful gaze trained on her naked body; he admired the marks he has left on her breasts, the wet patch on the flimsy fabric covering her cunt, and the way her breath shuddered when he teasingly grind his harden cock against her.

Y/N can feel the contrast of his hands on her thigh, one warm, one cold. Her eyes drew her attention from his hands to his gorgeous face. Oh, the pure unfiltered lust in his eyes was pulling her in so effortlessly; seducing her to submit her body and soul to him completely. Shying away from his stare, she dragged her view down to his chiselled jaw, his broad chest then slowly to his beautiful abs.

She admired his body as much as he did of hers.

But what was more prominent out of all, was the way she could feel his erection throbbing against her heat. Blood went rushing towards her face when Bucky guided her hips against the confinement of his cock, which in response; causing her hands naturally found their way to cover her face in embarrassment.

A deep chuckle bubbled from Bucky’s throat; he found her reaction to be absolutely endearing. He leaned down towards her, one hand holding himself up and another tenderly pulling her hands away, then drawing it close to his chest, right against his beating heart.

Having nowhere to run, Y/N’s teary eyes drowned in his ocean blues, “Don’t hide from me, dearest.” He peppered a delicate kiss on her forehead, then on her nose, then on her cheek. She could feel the prickly sensation of his beard grazing on her skin. It was ticklish and a little bit painful and yet weirdly enough, it felt good that it naturally made her want to nuzzle it more.

But before she could, Bucky’s lips were already making their way down to her stomach. Her body responds to how soft his lips trailing down; and further down until she could feel them on her clothed core. A surprised yelp fell from her lips as he tore the last piece of clothing from her.

“Now, hands away from your face, my dear. I want to see that beautiful eyes of yours when I eat your sweet pussy.” his voice was honeyed when he made himself comfortable in between her thighs. His hands reached upwards to intertwine both of her hands with his own; acting as a restraint to restrict her from covering her face.

Y/N almost sat up upon hearing his words, “Eat what now?”, the question she had in mind was unable to be vocalised; due to her confusion. Prior to marriage, she had learned about sex and its purpose in her marital studies. Unbeknownst to her, the knowledge she had was few and limited for academic purposes only. Which means there were only the few illustrations of penetration depicted in books and the process of how children are bred as a result of it.

So what does he mean when he said those words? While she was still lost and confused, Bucky on the other hand was in his own world; completely and utterly transfixed on the glistening need of her cunt. She was dripping wet; the juices covering her slits perfectly; her scent was intoxicating and if it weren’t for the fact that this is her first time, Bucky would’ve ate her like a man starved of touch. But, he can’t do that. Not tonight. He wanted to be gentle; to cherish her, to love on her.

Seeing the darkened clouds in his eyes as he stared at her private, Y/N braved herself to ask, “What are you– ohh hmmm” her sentence ended up transforming into a toe curling moan as she felt Bucky’s wet tongue flattened across her weeping core. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as he dragged her clit into his mouth and sucked. He strummed her clit with his tongue, causing her to arch her back and he took the opportunity to push his face further into her cunt; licking and sucking quite the literal soul out her.

It felt amazing but her self-consciousness won the battle in her head, she let out a whimpering plea, “Buc--bucky st-stop. That’s dirty.” as she gripped on his hands, trying to escape from his grip. Bucky growled against her in response to her futile protest. The sweet vibration only caused her pleasure all over her fluttering core.

When Bucky pulled away for a moment; it caused her to feel a sense of loss. “It’s not dirty, my dear. In fact, it’s so sweet.” His lips moved to kiss on her inner thigh, murmuring against her skin as he left yet more of his marks on her, “So fucking sweet.” He releases his right hand from hers, just to rub his thumb on her clit, slowly dragging it in between her slit; smearing her wetness all around her throbbing bundle of nerves. Her thighs trembled to the sensation of his rough movement of his thumb and a string of shaky mewls fell out of her.

“But..” she tried to protest but immediately stopped when Bucky brought his soaked thumb to her mouth. Her lips were wet from how he gently smeared the juices on her, “Taste yourself.” He lured her softly. Hesitation glints in her eyes as her cheeks redden. Bucky’s eyes grew tender at her watery ones, he whispered lowly, “Sweetheart, do you trust me?”

She does; but she does not trust her own voice to not come out sounding like a needy moan, so she simply nodded. Bucky’s pink lips spread into a smile, “Good girl. Now, open up.” he coaxed lovingly.

Y/N opened her mouth as she was told and let Bucky slip his thumb inside; he was not shy to smother her juices across her tongue, coaxing her to suck on it. To get a taste of what he was having. “It’s sweet”, she thought to herself. A muffled moan purred in her throat at the thought of her husband enjoying the taste of her.

Bucky smirk grew at her reaction, “Tastes good huh, sweetheart?” he pulled his thumb away, leaving her nodding to his question. “Now are you going to let me enjoy your pussy?” his brow quirked when he tilted his head to the side. How can she deny him now? Her eyes glazed with need as she replied, “Yes, please”.

Her mouth falls open in anticipation as a low moan creeps up her throat. Bucky’s tongue slips past her folds, she watched him between her legs, savouring her pussy with his unfiltered groans vibrating against her sensitive spot. Breathless moans and incoherent pleads fall from her mouth as the soft and firm tip of his tongue circled her swollen pearl and flicked it. Bucky’s hands went to her hips, guiding it in time with her own movements, giving her partial control to set the pace.

“Buckyyyy.” She gasped as she alternated between wanting to push his head away or keep him in place. Meanwhile, the man in between her thighs had lost himself; consumed by pure desire the more he drank from her cunt. His tongue moved faster against her clit when he noticed the beat of her throbbing cunt increased. She was going to come. He was sure of it.

The way that she was practically creaming on his tongue drove him near feral. He kept lapping at her juices as if it was the sweetest honey he ever tasted; fuck he even sucked her clit in hopes to force out more of her nectar to leak; then he’d lap on it again.

The sweet cycle had pushed Y/N over the edge, her eyes rolling back as pleasure and her hips slightly lifted as pleasure surges through her veins.“Oh oh Bucky please please.” She didn’t what she was begging for as she chanted his name. “I’m gonna, ‘m gonna–“ her words died as she squealed; her body trembling in pleasure.

His tongue moved faster against her clit; her cum was dripping out of her; coating his beard but his frantic licks didn’t stop even when she continue to gush on his tongue.

“Bucky please, sensitive..” It was too much; her orgasm, her swollen clit, his tongue. Everything.

Unfortunately for her, Bucky was far gone to stop now. He had the taste of her cum, now he wants nothing more than to have it again. Despite her protest, Bucky held her hip down, interlocking his hands across her stomach to keep her in place and continue to lick and suck on her overstimulated cunt.

Her whiny pleas didn’t come across as a sign for him to stop; instead it kept him going causing him to bury his face further in between her legs. His cock continued to throb in his pants, probably leaking with so much pre-cum and in need of some sort of relief but he ignored it. He wants nothing more than for Y/N to cum on his tongue again.

And that is exactly what happened next.

The moment she fell over the edge, Bucky pushed her even harder against him as her whole body spasmed. He maintained his pace on lapping up at her all throughout her high as her hands went from his hair to the headboard, trying to hold her limp body upright. Y/N took a moment to gather herself together, panting heavily as she regained their senses; while Bucky was swift to pull his pants off and throw it to the side.

He grabbed on her hips, holding her firmly in place as his heavy leaking cock nestled between her aching pussy. “Are you sure about this, my dear?” his hot breath fanning against her neck as he gently ruts into her heat. Even though Bucky can see the darken lust in her eyes, he still wanted to make sure that she was sure of her decision.

Y/N’s heart swelled at his concern, and she found herself smiling, a genuine smile that reflected the warmth she felt inside. She pulled him closer and kissed him, pouring all her newfound trust and affection into the kiss. “Yes, Bucky. I am very sure. ”

Bucky quickly responded with equal passion, his tongue slipped in between her lips; exploring the warmness of her mouth, the softness of her tongue. Their muffled moans filled the silenced room, his hands moved to caress her sides, drawing her even closer before breaking away from the heated kiss.

Resting his forehead on hers, his eyes trained on her beautiful face; not wanting to miss his chance to witness the pleasure contorting on her expression. He nudges her clit first, rubbing it slow and sensual before trailing down to her entrance. Gradually, he inches closer, he pushes in and through the tightness of her sacred channel.

Delving impossibly deep, her tightness wrapped around his thick cock until the tip of him reached the deepest parts of her. The sudden feeling of fullness on her untainted pussy caused her to experience both pain and the delightful sensation inside her. The ecstasy of being so knitly connected to each other caused both of them to simultaneously let out moans and groans of raw pleasure.

Bucky waited for her to adjust to his size; leaning down to pamper her with the softest kisses and praises that tears started to swell in her eyes. It was as if Bucky knew exactly what she wanted to hear, how she wanted to be treated and what makes her feel good.

“You’re doing so good, my dear.”

“Look at how perfect your pussy’s taking my cock. So perfect.”

“Made for me aren’t you, sweetheart?. Made to be loved by me, made to be stuffed full of my cock.”

“I promise you’ll be safe with me, Y/N. Always.”

When Y/N finally gave him the permission to move, Bucky kissed her pouty lips and murmured sweetly, “Thank you, my dear.” His hands travelled to find her ankle; which he then gently prop her calf over his broad shoulder. He started pumping in and out slowly, letting her get used to the friction.

Bucky couldn’t help but to groan out to the feeling of her wet hole gripping his cock ever-so-tightly. It was slippery and dripping, that he almost completely slid out of her. Gripping her closer he continue ramming himself back in, deeper, harder; sliding in and out of her at an even pace. Each force of his cock causing her body to jerk in ecstasy; hitting that good spot in her so perfectly.

“S-shit, sweetheart,” he moans deep and heavy as he felt her pussy tightening around him. His metal hand slid in between them and his thumb hones in on her clit. The coldness of his finger made her jolt at first but when he proceeded to rub and pinch on it, everything suddenly started to feel too intense; so incredibly good.

With his fingers assaulting her clit, each thrust of his cock and every deep guttural moan and groan coming from Bucky, she felt her release was growing closer. Bucky also started thrusting faster and harder; he knew he was about to come. Especially when he can feel how much pre-cum has been leaking inside her.

He leaned and rested his forehead on hers, his needy ruts became more and more irregular when her pretty doe eyes looked up at him, “Cum for me, my dear.” his lips brushed against Y/N’s as he coaxed her to her sweet release. His thrusts got harsher and deeper and the friction of his metal finger working on her clit got her cunt to frantically tremble around him, “I wanna feel you milk my cock, sweetheart. Then, I’m gonna my pump cum inside you until you’re leaking.”

Although his words were debauched to no end, however Y/N could sense his genuine affection for her. She felt his sincerity in the way he looked at her, in the way he held her, in the silenced gaze they shared. Overwhelmed with pleasure, her nails dragged across Bucky’s back as she moaned and screamed out his name; letting the high took over her body.

“Fuck,, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum!” groaned as he took in the sound of her pleasured mewls. He ruthlessly grinds into her, savouring the feeling of her cunt tightened around him. With one last rut, he thrust his cock, balls deep inside and let his warm white strings filling her up to the brim. His cock twitches in her fluttering cunt, his legs tensing with every small grind he makes, groaning lowly at her as he bites down on her shoulder, almost drooling on her as he emptied himself completely into her.

Y/N continued to let out strings of soft moans as he pulled out from her leaking cunt; all swollen and sensitive. While she thought she could finally catch some breaths, she didn’t notice the way Bucky was biting on his lip at the sight of his cum dripping out of her, or how his hands lazily tugging on his now hardened cock.

“Dearest?” Bucky hovered above her as he cradled her by her flushed cheeks. She smiled sweetly as she leaned to his touch, “Yes, Bucky?”, she was anticipating him to utter more of those soft words and praises to her; but instead his lips curled into a devilish grin when he slid his cock back into her, immediately pulling a long sinful mewl of his name from her. Bucky hummed approvingly in response; he gently brushed his lips against hers, “May I fill you up again?”

As the morning sun streamed through the windows, Y/N slowly stirred awake. She reached out, instinctively searching for the warmth of her husband beside her, but found the space empty. A pang of loneliness touched her heart, but it was quickly replaced by curiosity when she saw a bouquet of bluebells, her favourite flower, placed delicately on the bedside table.

Next to the bouquet was a note. With a small smile, she picked it up and began to read.

"My Dearest Y/N,

I hate to leave you alone this morning, but I must ensure our journey home is smooth and safe. I trust you slept well, and I promise to return to your side as soon as I can.

Yours always,

Bucky"

The words written on the note were filled with sincerity and reassurance that made her heart flutter. She smiled, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she wondered how he knew bluebells were her favourite.

Just as she was lost in thought, the door opened, and the palace’s maids entered the room. Their faces were a mixture of curiosity and impatience, clearly expecting to see a frightened and bruised young bride.

However, when they saw Y/N's skin, they temporarily froze in their spots. Her skin was indeed bruised, but each one of them recognized the marks for what they were: love marks, not signs of harsh abuse that they were expecting. The traces of Bucky's possessive love were prominent all over her neck, chest, and inner thighs, leaving Y/N blushing as the maids, too, found themselves flushed with embarrassment.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise,” one of the older maids muttered under her breath, her tone laced with irritation. Another maid, with a more condescending sneer, huffed. “Looks like we lost the bet, ladies. Who would have thought the beast could be so... tender?”

Y/N’s cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and pride. She could feel their resentful glances and knew they were not pleased with the outcome. The marks on her body were a testament to the affection and desire Bucky had shown her, and despite the initial fear, she now wore them as symbols of the unexpected bond they had begun to forge.

The head maid, who had been the most vocal the night before, now seemed to handle her with an edge of bitterness. The other maids, who had been so quick to judge, were now silent, their eyes wide with resentment.One of the younger maids, braver than the rest, couldn’t hide her frustration. “Well, my lady, I suppose you’re alright, then?” she asked, her voice barely masking her disappointment.

Y/N looked at her, considering the appropriate response. If it was up to her, she ought to punish every single one of them for not knowing their place. Unfortunately, they were not her maids to begin with, but the palace's staff. Otherwise, she would likely fire each one of them.

The memory of Bucky’s affection and care filled her heart, leaving no room for anger or resentment. The warmth of his embrace and the gentle way he had treated her made the maids' behaviour seem petty and insignificant.

She could still feel the lingering touch of his lips on her skin, the way his hands had caressed her so delicately, and the sound of his reassuring voice. Her body was still tingling with the remnants of the previous night's intimacy. Her skin bore the marks of his love, not of brutality, and each bruise was a testament to the passion they had shared. It was completely different to the vile expectations of the maids.

A small smile playing on her lips despite the blush that still coloured her cheeks. "Yes," she said softly, "I am quite alright."

The maids exchanged annoyed glances, their expressions a mix of frustration and disbelief. Their muttered disappointments were tuned out as Y/N focused on the lingering warmth from the night before.

She couldn't hear a single thing except her heart beating to the thought of her husband. She missed him already. Who would’ve thought she’d be swooning for him so soon?

She found herself yearning for his presence, the comfort of his touch, and the sound of his reassuring voice. The memory of his gentle kiss and tender words lingered in her mind yet again, making her heart flutter.

As the maids continued their work, Y/N hoped they would at least perform their duties well enough to cover up for their childish behaviour. She wanted to be ready to see Bucky, to greet him with the same warmth and affection he had shown her. Despite their rudeness, she resolved to focus on the positive, cherishing the newfound bond with her husband.

Bucky stood at the head of the table, his stern expression and commanding presence filling the room. He was reviewing the logistics of their journey home, his voice cold and decisive as he issued instructions to his knights. His trusted knight, Sam, was detailing the possible hotspots for bandits they might encounter along the way.

"We'll likely face trouble here," Sam said, pointing to a spot on the map. "We should send some of our best men ahead to clear the path."

"Agreed," Bucky responded, his tone unyielding. "Deploy the knights in advance. Ensure the path is secure before we proceed."

Sam nodded and continued outlining the plan. He paused, expecting Bucky to reconfirm, but noticed a change in his leader's face. The harsh lines softened, his eyes filled with a tender warmth, as he stared intently at something across the room. Before Sam could look or utter a word, Bucky turned and walked away with determination.

Sam followed Bucky's gaze and understood immediately. "Ah, that's why," he muttered to himself as he watched Bucky approach Y/N. The change in Bucky’s demeanour was striking. He moved with a grace and warmth that was at odds with his usual stern and imposing presence.

Bucky’s eyes softened as he took in the sight of Y/N. He admired her beauty with a gaze filled with awe and adoration. The way he looked at her was as if he was seeing a vision he had longed for, a rare and precious gem that had finally come into his life.

As he extended his hand toward her, a gesture usually seen as etiquette but now entirely with different meaning, especially with the hearts bursting our of his blue eyes. Y/N’s face lighting up with a shy smile, took his hand; almost too eagerly. Bucky's fingers closed gently around hers, his touch tender and reassuring. The contrast between his usual, fearsome reputation and the gentle way he interacted with her was profound, making it clear that his feelings for Y/N were deeply genuine.

Bucky kissed the back of her hand, his lips softly caressing her knuckles. "My dear," he greeted her, using the endearment he had chosen when they first met at the altar.

The scene seemed like it was pulled raw from a romance novel that the surrounding staff and knights simply watched in shock and awe. "Did he just..." one knight whispered, eyes wide. "Called her 'my dear'?" another finished, equally stunned.

Sam, who had witnessed firsthand the monstrous side of Bucky in war, found himself in a state of utter disbelief, jaw dropped loose. He had seen Bucky’s sword painted blood-red, his face splattered with the gore of countless enemies. The Winter Soldier was a force of nature on the battlefield, his brutal efficiency leaving a trail of carnage in his wake. Sam recalled the sight of Bucky’s cold, unyielding eyes as he cut through foes without hesitation, his armor and weaponry gleaming with the blood of those who dared oppose him.

And yet, here he was, the same man who had struck terror into the hearts of many, now standing before Y/N with a tenderness that seemed unimaginable. Sam could hardly believe his eyes. The disparity was pronounced and bewildering. Bucky’s expression was soft, his movements gentle as he held Y/N’s hand in his.

“I’ve missed you,” Y/N said softly, her eyes shining with affection. She truly did, it would be a lie that she didn’t felt the ache in her heart when she woke up alone that morning. The emptiness beside her had felt profound. The bed still carried his scent, a lingering warmth that whispered of his recent presence. Even though the separation had been brief, as evidenced by the thoughtful note and the bouquet of her favourite flowers he had left behind, the loneliness she felt was palpable. His absence, however fleeting, had created a void that left her feeling incomplete.

Bucky’s heart seemed to burst with emotion. He couldn't care less about the gawking staff surrounding them as he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. She initially froze, caught off guard and embarrassed, but soon melted into his kiss with a blossoming confidence.

As their lips met, memories of their tender and passionate night together surged through Bucky's mind. The way she moan his name, the taste of her cum, the tightness of her pussy gripping on his cock, the way his cum leaked out of her, every single sinful scene replayed in head; infinitely. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and he found himself nearly losing control. Reluctantly, he pulled back from the kiss, his breath uneven and his gaze filled with an unspoken hunger.

"God, what should I do with you, hmm, sweetheart?" Bucky whispered, his voice laced with seduction as he continued to place gentle kisses along her cheeks and jaw. His lips brushed softly against her skin, whispering how much he had missed her and expressing a wistful desire to stay wrapped in the warmth of their shared bed just a little longer.

Y/N’s soft giggle rang out as she felt the roughness of his stubble against her delicate skin. The sound was like music to Bucky's ears, brightening his mood and filling him with a profound sense of joy. Despite the joyful exchange, he reluctantly ended the sweet torment, his kisses lingering just a moment longer before he pulled away.

“We should be ready to begin our journey shortly,” Bucky said, his tone shifting to a more practical note when e turned to Sam, who had approached during their moment of intimacy.

“Y/N, this is Sam Wilson, he is one of my trusted knights.” Bucky introduced, his gaze shifting to his wife. Sam gave a respectful nod to Y/N, a hint of surprise still evident in his expression from witnessing Bucky's affectionate display. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Y/N.”

Y/N smiled warmly at Sam, appreciating the introduction. “The pleasure is mine, Sir Wilson.”

Sam, sensing that the formality was unnecessary given their imminent interactions, decided to ease the situation. “Just Sam, my lady,” he said with a friendly tone. Y/N repeated his name with a touch of amusement. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Sam.”

Bucky, observing the growing camaraderie between his wife and his trusted knight, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of protectiveness. The easy familiarity between them seemed a bit too casual for his liking. His eyes narrowed slightly as he gave Sam a warning look. “Watch it, Wilson.”

Sam, not missing a beat, chuckled at Bucky’s protective demeanour. “What’s the matter, my lord? Can’t handle a bit of friendly conversation?”

Y/N, noticing the playful tension and Bucky’s slight irritation, couldn’t help but laugh. The contrast between Bucky’s usually soft demeanour that Y/N had witnessed and his current protective stance were both endearing and amusing. Her laughter lightened the mood, making Sam’s teasing even more enjoyable.

Bucky's stern gaze softened as he watched Y/N’s laughter, though his protective instinct remained palpable. Steering the conversion back to the preparations, he allowed a faint smile to tug at the corners of his mouth despite his earlier warning.

“I trust you can escort my wife to the carriage,” Bucky said, his voice serious but tinged with a hint of a smile. “However, I expect you to maintain proper distance and adhere to these additional guidelines.” He paused, ensuring his words were clear. “No unnecessary physical contact or overly familiar behaviour. And if you could, avoid any casual conversations that might be misinterpreted.”

Sam looked at Bucky in disbelief, shaking his head with a bemused expression. “Seriously, Barnes? You’re laying down rules for me to keep my distance from your wife now?”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Consider it a precaution. I’d rather not have any misunderstandings.” Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes as he complied. “Understood. I’ll make sure to follow your... guidelines.”

Y/N watched the exchange with amusement, her earlier shyness melting away into a warm appreciation for Bucky’s protectiveness. The scene, tinged with a touch of comedy, only deepened the connection between them.

Bucky, intent on making a point to Sam while expressing his affection, pulled Y/N close and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. The gesture was both intimate and deliberate, a subtle yet clear indication to Sam that she belongs to Bucky. “I’ll join you shortly, my dear,” Bucky said softly, his voice filled with warmth as he gazed into her eyes.

Sam, unimpressed by Bucky’s display, rolled his eyes at the seemingly childish antics. “This way, my lady,” he said with a hint of impatience. Y/N nodded in agreement but paused before turning her back on Bucky. With a loving smile, she whispered, “I’ll see you later,” before following Sam.

Bucky watched as Sam guided Y/N away, his gaze lingered with a mix of affection and something much deeper; an unspoken sadness. As their silhouettes walked further and further away from his sight, a sombre glaze settled over his eyes.

Beneath the surface of his composed exterior, his heart ached; the was a silent reflection of a pain he had hidden deep within his heart. It was a lingering sorrow that had shadowed him ever since he stood at the altar, the weight of unvoiced grief clinging to him as he gazed at his future bride.

Part II >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Wondering why he was in the feels at the end? We’ll know it soon enough. I’ll see you in the next parts! Thank you for reading!

#bucky barnes au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #bucky smut #bucky angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier!bucky #medieval!bucky #duke!bucky #grumpy!bucky #soft!bucky

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madelynraemunson · 5 months ago

Text

18+

you were pretty bold for dropping the kids off at eddie’s, dressed in a sundress so tight that it hugged all the blissful curvatures of your fruitful body.

it’s only fair that your ex husband struck a nerve in return.

“eds,” you grunt underneath him, biting your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. “eds i — fuck — i g-gotta go.”

eddie chuckles as he motions you silent, digging himself into you, and palming your hair between his knuckles. you’re done for and you know it. eddie watches smugly as you come to this realization, crumbling at his mercy as he pummels your guts to a filthy mush.

your new man can wait.

with every thrust, you tell yourself it’s the last time before you gotta hop off, but the pleasurable shockwaves to your overstimulated pussy reel you in for more.

eddie leans back and grins downwards at the view, down towards you fucking yourself back onto him, crashing your ass desperately up and down his rock hard cock where your sopping cunt meets his balls.

“thought you were leaving,” he huffs against your temple now.

no one’s got you like eddie. no one knows their way around your body like eddie. and eddie’s gonna make sure you make it to that little meet-cute still; but he’s determined to do so with his hot cum oozing out of you.

pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you, eddie revels in his own release, painting your insides with the warm white ropes.

when all is said and done and your dress is lowered back down, the pulsing ache that indicates eddie had been there has your legs hobbling side to side. he bites his lips proudly at this while you bid him bye with a playful, bratty scowl.

and as eddie smacks your ass on your way out, cocky about his little sendoff he had given you for the weekend, he can’t help but smartly say,

“have fun on your little date.”

#blurb #im back #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie x reader smut #eddie munson x reader smut #divorced!eddie x divorced!reader

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targaryen-dynasty · 4 months ago

Text

VIOLENT DELIGHTS.

Aemond Targaryen x twin sister!Reader

"Being summoned to your brother's most recent council meeting as a means to intervene should the rising tensions between your brothers turn into a serious problem, you find another way to de-escalate the situation."

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; dubios content, canon typical incest/targcest (twins), p in v, fingering, table sex, semi public sex, high valyrian, female reader (described with valyrian attributes)

WORDS: 2.3 K

NOTES: First day of PTO and your girl is spending it wise! 💅 Watch me being utterly distressed by episode four but giving you all some delicious smut to make up for it. This is not beta read!

You should have grown suspicious when you’ve been called as cupbearer for Aegon’s most recent small council by your mother, attending it in the background while she can not. It’s clear you’ve been summoned by her to be a means to de-escalate should it be necessary, for even a fool could notice that the tension between your brothers is high, teetering on the edge to turn into a serious problem.

And it’s almost your turn to intervene when your twin brother decides to best your older brother, humiliating him in a language none of the other members of the Small Council understand.

A clearly struck Aegon strides out of the chambers in the following, his councilmen quickly filing out as well, leaving just you and your twin. He leans forward, running his nail across the stone in what appears to be deep contemplation.

You step out of the shadows, the chalice filled with Arbor Red placed on the table. “Ziry gōntan daor hae bona, ao gīmigon,” you speak first, breaking the thick silence. He did not like that, you know.

He lets out a sigh, his sharp gaze flickering from his hand up to you. “Well, he never does. He’s weak. Incapable,” he replies, purposely speaking in the Common Tongue. “A coward, really. Bisa iksis vīlībāzma, daor iā tymptir. Emi naejot act adere lo jaeli naejot ērinagon.” This is war, not a game. We have to act quickly if we want to win.

“Kessa, bisa iksis vīlībāzma,” you say, approaching him with your arms crossed and a roll of your eyes before leaning against the table. The tip of your tongue presses against the inside of your cheek as you contemplate your next words. “But Aegon is still the King, and you will need to tread more carefully. It does put neither of you in a good light.“ Yes, this is war.

The way he studies you so carefully would make any other person crumble, but not you, you‘ve shared a womb, and his cruelty and snideness is not reserved for you. Usually.

“What would a woman such as yourself know of war and politics? You speak with the naivety of a child. You might have claimed the Bronze Fury, but that does not make up for your lack of true war experience.“

An eyebrow raises in response to his condescending tone. You look back at him confidently, challenging, and don‘t hesitate to speak your mind. “Oh? I could say the exact same thing about you, brother. Vhagar has helped conquer Westeros, but that does not make you Visenya come again. And just because I do not revel in war and politics does not mean I do not understand them.”

The way he sets his jaw is subtle, barely noticeable, but makes you well aware that you‘re playing with fire, and when there doesn‘t come an answer, you can‘t help but stoke the flame.

Running your fingers along the stoney surface, you allow your eyes to follow them, not daring to meet his gaze as you poke his soft spot. “You have been awfully insufferable lately, brother. Ever since you… killed the little Lord Strong that is.“

With his smirk beginning to falter, Aemond rises from his seat, towering over you. Both his hands grip the edges of the table, capturing you between it and his firm body. “Watch your tongue, idaña,“ he snarls through gritted teeth. “You speak of things you don’t understand.“ Twin.

You don’t back down. Letting out a scoff, you hold your chin high as you lock your gazes, looking at him defiantly. “No? Then, by all means, enlighten me, oh mighty war scholar. Teach me the tales you have learned while I stayed cooped up in the castle. Tell me all about your brilliant plans for war you have hatched with Ser Criston Cole behind our King‘s back.“

Aemond reaches to brush your hair from your shoulder, fingers ghosting along the warm skin of your neck, making a shiver run down your spine. Where annoyance has danced in his eye before, there‘s now something else simmering right beneath the surface.

“Insolent, spoiled, naïve and ignorant,“ he hums, breath fanning over your skin as his eye roams over your face. “Do you know how badly I wish to shut that mouth of yours?“

Not the least bit impressed, a scoff leaves your lips. Your heartbeat, however, betrays your stern facade, all but hammering inside your chest. “You could try,” you challenge, voice smooth as silk but eyes filled with a dangerous spark. “What, with that silver tongue of yours?”

In one quick, unexpected movement, Aemond has his hands on your waist and hoists you up, not-so-gently splaying your body out over the table. With his body looming over yours, one hand pins you to the table at your hip, while the other grabs your jaw, forcing you to withstand his burning gaze. “I have something far, far more effective in mind.”

You’re suddenly unable to bite back the sharp intake of breath that escapes your throat as everything changes in a split second. Heat rushes through your body, and without thinking, your legs part, welcoming his body in between them. Your mouth is dry, but you try to keep a level head. “Do you truly think yourself capable of shutting me up?”

“Yes, I do… but perhaps I prefer you this way. My sweet, defiant sister who always needs to run her lovely, impudent mouth.”

Wetting your lips, you stare up at him with half-lidded eyes. The grip on your jaw is firm yet gentle, his fingers digging into your flesh. A faint tremor runs through your thighs at the feeling of his body pressed so tightly against yours, the hardness of his cock not hidden by the sturdy fabric of his breeches.

Despite being pinned to the table by him, you scramble to reach some of his coat, fisting it tightly to pull him onto your body and capture his lips in a heated kiss. Albeit grunting, Aemond’s body responds instinctively at the action, putting his weight onto yours, his hips grinding leisurely against yours.

He lets out a low groan, and the hand that has rested on your hip greedily tugs on the skirt of your dress, pulling it up enough to grant him access to what lays between your thighs. Swallowing every sound that may spill past your lips, his tongue delves deeper into your mouth in a demanding, possessive kiss.

You wrap your arms around his neck, keeping him close as his one hand makes quick work of your smallclothes, the seams too easily giving in with the sheer force he uses to yank them off of your body.

Gasping for air as you pull away from him, you lick your kiss swollen lips. “What if anyone sees us?”

Aemond grins, his lips trailing a hot path down your throat. “Ivestragī zirȳ,” he breathes. His hand slips between your legs, dragging through your soaked folds before he eases two digits inside, chuckling when you clench around him. Entangling his other hand in your silver curls, he pulls on it slightly to tug your head back, exposing your neck to his hungry kisses. “Ivestragī zirȳ ūndegon skorkydoso jorrāelagon iksā syt nyke.” Let them. Let them see how desperate you are for me.

That’s all the conviction you need, not that you’d do anything for him anyways at this point, being putty in his hands already.

Responding to his touch, your body shudders and arches against him, your eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss as his fingers push in and out of you, brushing your sweet spot. But he’s not having any of it. Aemond’s hand leaves your hair and captures your jaw again, fingers digging into your cheeks. “Jurnegon rȳ nyke. Jaelan naejot ūndegon aōha laehurlion skori nyke renigon ao.” Look at me. I want to see your face when I touch you.

You stare up at him with wide, dark-blown eyes, gripping his shoulders tightly to keep yourself grounded. “Iksā iā mittys,” you gasp, yet there is no ill intent behind these words. You are a fool.

The heat emanating from him is maddening, causing your whole body to tense and your peak approach you so abruptly. But Aemond would not be your twin, if he didn’t know you better than anyone else, and just moments before you’re toppling over the edge, he withdraws his fingers from you, tsking.

“You weren’t just peaking, were you?” he teases, taking his hand off of your jaw.

You pout at the sudden loss and the pleasure slowly but surely fading away again, leaving you aground and full of conviction he’s just riled you up for his own sake of enjoyment.

You’re positively surprised when you follow his hand down between your bodies, joining his other to swiftly undo the laces in front of his breeches and the last buckle of his coat.

“I shall not waste the first time you peak for me with my fingers,” he grunts, placing one hand on the stoney surface of the table, propping himself up, as the other aligns his hard cock with your cunt, forcing himself inside in one, swift thrust. It’s an instinctive mechanism as you wrap your legs around his waist, desperate to keep him close.

The intrusion has you both groaning; you, because of the delicious sting that comes with accommodating his size, and he, because he has barely filled you up and you’re already squeezing the life out of him.

“Gods, no,” Aemond pants, taking a moment once he’s fully sheathed inside of you. “You will wet my cock when you peak, is that understood?”

It’s almost pathetic how eagerly you nod your head at that, causing your twin to scoff.

Despite this being the first time you lay with him, neither of you lacks experience. The pace he sets up is merciless, and reasonable for the both of you, bringing you quick to something you’ve craved for so long.

Aemond’s cock hits the spot inside of you that makes your jaw slacken over and over again, bringing you closer to completion. He bows forwards, capturing your lips again. The kiss is passionate, all teeth and all tongue, and full of unsaid words and hidden actions.

Where previously the voices of the councilmen advising the king on their plans for war have bounced off the walls, there now are the sounds of skin slapping skin and wanton moans and groans, filling the otherwise quiet and empty chamber. Neither of you cares if your little act can be heard outside of these thick doors – with the realm being in a state of uproar anyways, there surely are more important matters that keep the keep’s residents occupied.

With the hem of his tunic rubbing so perfectly against your sensitive pearl each time his hips meet yours, you can feel the pressure inside of you returning, making you even more desperate for relief.

Your hips start to rut against his in a haze, chasing the hope of completion. You swallow each other’s sounds of pleasure, greedily drinking down everything the other has to offer without daring to tear away from each other. So much for him wanting to watch you fall apart.

As the pleasure soars through your body, your thighs lock around his hips, making it impossible for him to keep up his reckless pace. But there is no need for that anyways, for you can feel your peak’s contractions practically forcing the seed out of his cock. Your convulsing walls milk him for every drop of his spill, coating your insides.

It’s when the liquid fire inside of your veins subsides that you pull away from each other, allowing you to fill your lungs with air again. He leans his forehead against yours, still looming over your frame. Gathering his own bearings, he’s closed his good eye, trying to steady his labored breathing.

Lust still lingers thick in the air, hence he’s not pulling out of you even after his cock has grown flaccid again. Instead, he enjoys the proximity, the feigned moment of calmness, as if there isn’t a war raging right outside of this very keep.

While he presses gentle kisses to the faint marks he’s left on your cheeks and jaw, “Nevertheless, my opinion has not changed, brother,” you mumble in between heavy breaths, a tinge of teasing in your tone.

Aemond chuckles, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, of course not,” he says, voice thick from your previous activities. He moves with slow, languid movements, rolling his hips against yours. It’s enough for some sense of overstimulation kicking in, yet you can’t squirm away from him. He bows his head down, bringing his lips on a level with your ear. “But there still is some time for me to change your mind before I have to sit on dragon back.”

Bringing your hands to his shoulders again, you arch against him. “Gaomagon daor pendagon sīr eglie hen aōla, lēkia,” you tease. Do not think so highly of yourself, brother.

“Nyke pendagon hen nykēla vok.” I think of myself quite appropriately.

It’s a back and forth between you for as long as it takes, and even then, your twin’s diligence has not been able to surpass your stubbornness. But perhaps that is not what you both want anyways?

Only when it’s time for him to set off to the Riverlands, mounting his dragon to support your brother’s forces, do you two part – but not without the promise of him living up to his words once he returns, determined to make himself at home between your legs once more.

Aemond Taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel @thekinslayed @baizzhu

@legitalicat @eponaartemisa @peachysunrize @blackswxnn @odairtrqsh

@mfedits @luvdella @jays-bullshit @justarandomgal

@decaffeinatedparadisepost @gelacat0413 @dracaryxzs

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suhkusa · 5 months ago

Text

TO THE TOP.

PAIRING. Sakusa Kiyoomi x f!Reader

SUMMARY. Sakusa Kiyoomi was ranked #1 in his class. Was, at least until you came along. After this revelation, he makes it a (personal) challenge to overtake you. Sakusa Kiyoomi is a genius at everything he does, but for once he finds it a challenge when it comes to you.

CW. hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, rivals to lovers except kiyoomi is the only one competing, idiots in love (but theyre actually geniuses), high school setting, ~3k words

A/N. Got inspired from a tiktok and came up with this word vom hope u enjoy

Everything came easy for Kiyoomi. Academically, at least.

While all his classmates found themselves struggling to take tests or study, it was as natural as breathing for Kiyoomi. There were some cons to being as incredibly intelligent as him, but he found himself drowning in the gratification of being #1.

At least until the 2nd semester of his third year. At least until you.

———

Class Rank: 2

Sakusa finds himself staring at the transcript in his hand, as if his ogling would have an effect in changing the number presented before him.

His eyes scan through his class history, looking for any clues as to how he might’ve dropped in ranking. But there was nothing. All A’s, and as many extra classes stuffed into each year as possible.

Kiyoomi’s home room was rowdy as students caught up with one another, as winter break had just ended. While in his own little world, his ears catch onto a couple of words his classmates threw around.

“I heard Sakusa isn’t the top in our class anymore, is that true?”

“Woah, hasn’t he been the top of our class since the 1st year? I wonder who was able to catch up,”

His eye twitched a bit at that one.

“It was that new girl, Y/N,”

The paper crumbled slightly under his grasp. Y/N?

The ring of the bell, signifying the start of class, caused him to slightly jump in his seat. Kiyoomi crumbles his transcript before tossing it in his bag, it’s going to change soon anyways.

He would just have to step up his game.

———

It was ironic really. The world really loved to test Sakusa Kiyoomi, and not only at his school subjects. Of course, you were his desk partner in his math class. Only he had the amazing luck of being seated next to his new self-declared rival.

Kiyoomi knows it’s rude to stare, but he can’t himself because you’re the number one student? You?!

Honestly, you don’t seem like the academic type. You seem too pretty to be caring about stuff like that. At first, he considers the fact that you could be using your looks to get people to do the dirty work for you. But he witnesses first-hand as you write down every math equation, answer every question correctly, and even check your work not once, but twice.

His hyperfixation on you is bad. So bad, he missed the whole introduction lesson and is trying to rapidly copy down what’s on the whiteboard as the teacher is erasing it. Fuck-

“Would you like to see my notes?”

Kiyoomi’s pencil comes to a halt as he looks back at you, your papers are being pushed towards him on the desk. He watches as your eyes widen, as if you suddenly became self conscious.

“I-Is there something on my face? You were staring at me so I wasn’t sure…”

Shit.

“No,” he tries to make up something, but what comes out of his mouth is stupid, “I was just looking past you,” it appears it’s sufficient though, as you nod in response.

“I see, well, did you want to see them?” you gestured to the notes between the two of you.

Kiyoomi tells himself that if you hadn’t offered, he wouldn’t have asked. But since you oh so kindly offered them up, who was he to say no? He doesn’t need them. He could always ask his cousin, though his handwriting resembles chicken scratch more than human writing.

“Sure,” he takes the papers and positions them in a way where he could just look between them and his own.

In his head, Kiyoomi is scolding himself over and over again for not paying attention. This cannot be a regular thing. If he was going to take back his rank, he needed to be on his A-Game.

His pencil slaps against his desk as he finishes, quickly sliding your papers back towards you.

“Thanks,” Kiyoomi offers.

He watches from his peripheral vision as you smile and give back an “Anytime,” before gathering your things and getting up to go to your next class.

Kiyoomi doesn’t know what it was about you, but he could tell he was going to need to up his game. This was war.

———

By the second week of sitting by you, he decides you’re annoying. More annoying than the people who talk while the teacher is talking. Which, in his book, is hard to beat.

Maybe you weren’t as smart as he pinned you to be, since you kept helping Kiyoomi with his work when he did not need it.

Though, you were only able to backseat his work because you somehow finished before him. He’s used to being the only one who sits back and relaxes as the rest of his class struggles to complete the practice problems.

It’s weird though. Because as much as Sakusa hates your yapping, he doesn’t find himself putting an end to it. Instead your voice plays in the background as he completes his work.

He hates it, or at least that’s what he tells himself, the way you praise him like a little kid when he finally completes the work sheet.

“Nice job!” you smile at him, “but, how come you don’t check your work to make sure you’re right?”

“Because I’m always right,” he replies with a slight roll of his eyes.

You laugh at that, I’m not joking, he thinks.

“You’re funny, you know that?” you tell him.

Kiyoomi gives you a shrug, “Whatever,”

———

A month in, he begins to indulge in your shenanigans. But only because he had felt bad.

During the third week of sitting by each other, you had taken his short and dry responses personally. You halted your chatter and no longer offered to help like you usually did. The way the classroom felt quiet without your talking was eerie, so Sakusa reluctantly decided that he’d rather hear your voice instead of nothing at all.

So a month in is when your friendship, or whatever you called it, began with him.

“Why do you use erasable pens? Just use a pencil,” he questions you, eyes peering down at your pen.

You look taken aback as you respond, “I don’t know, is there something wrong with it?” you examine your pen, “I just found it on the floor and stuck with it,”

First of all, gross, remind him not to touch you or your belongings ever. “It’s just a hassle, sometimes it doesn’t erase,”

“Well, it hasn’t given me any problems, so!” you exclaim as you get back to write on your practice quiz. “This is kind of challenging, huh?”

“Nah,” he lies, “You’re just stupid,”

You laugh in his face, “Rude,” Kiyoomi watches as you glimpse at his paper before going back to yours, “That’s why you got the first problem wrong and I didn’t say anything,”

Sakusa can feel his eyebrows scrunch up, he’s quick as he glances at it and then yours. Fuck. He’s mumbling something under his breath and he begrudgingly erases the circle around his answer.

“Told ya,” you smile before moving onto the last problem, “you know, we should hangout or something,”

“No,” he’s quick to cut you off, catching you by surprise.

“Whaaat, it doesn’t have to be like that, weirdo,” it seems like you’re going back on what you meant, “Like to study,”

“Still, no,”

“C’mon, don’t knock it till you try it,” you nudge at him, and to be honest, if you were anyone else he might’ve punched you, “please, just once,”

You’re annoying and pushy. But he supposes that if saying yes to you would get you to leave him alone, he’d say, “Fine, whatever, it has to be my house, though. Your house is probably messy,”

Kiyoomi watches as your face slowly brightens before silently celebrating to yourself as you get your way with him once again.

———

“Wow,” you’re amazed as you walk through Sakusa’s house, “your house is so nice, do you have a maid to keep it clean or something?”

“No, just me,” he says before leading you into his room, “please don’t make a mess,”

“I won’t, I won’t,” you say before settling down on his rug, playing with the soft threads, “Okay, I was hoping to review the practice quiz, I know the teacher said I got it right but I feel like there were some parts that had me second guessing myself,”

You’re quick to open up your textbook and blab about whatever problem you were having trouble with. You actually came over to study. Kiyoomi was under the impression that once you got over to his house you’d make him do whatever silly shit you usually have in mind. But no, you actually respected his wishes. Which in turn, earned you some respect from him as well.

“So you’re number one, huh?” He asks, looking up from his textbook to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s surprising that all my credits from my old school carried over,” you mindlessly say as you continue to write on your sheet of paper.

The sound of the pencils scribbling on paper fills the room before you interrupt it, “You were rank one before I came, right?”

His pencil stills, “Mhm,” It was a touchy subject, though he never thought he’d hear it from you.

“I’m sorry,” you surprised him, “When I found out I took your ranking spot, I was nervous because people are serious about that stuff. And then, when I got seated by you and you stared me down, I thought you hated my guts,”

Well, you had it down to the T, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s out of your control,” you smile at his words.

“Thank you,”

It’s then, in his room, when he realizes he’s losing sight of his goal. To overtake your position. As he watched you look back down at your textbook, he found himself locking in as well.

He needed to get serious, now.

———

These hangouts, or study dates, or study hangouts, whatever, became basically practice. Always at his house, though. Since he couldn’t fathom the idea of how dirty your room might be.

“I don’t know how you balance volleyball and school, Omi,” you say from your position lying on his floor.

“Don’t call me that,”

You laugh before continuing, “All I do is school and I’m always exhausted. I had to quit my shifts at the cafe down the road because I would fall asleep before making it to my room,”

“Dangerous, Y/N,” he says, frantically writing down practice problem after practice problem.

Picking yourself off the ground, “Wow, you’re serious about this final, huh, Omi,”

He glares at you, causing you to laugh again, “Sorry, sorry,” your eyes meet his for a brief second before he looks back at his paper, “but you know it’s okay to take a break, right, that’s all you’ve been doing. We haven’t even gotten to try to compete for today’s Wordle yet,”

“Mhm,” is all he offers you.

You sigh in response to that, “Boring, so boring,” you say as you lay back down

“You can go home if you’re bored,”

“Ugh, rude,” you roll around to make yourself comfortable, “I would but sadly I like being in your presence,”

“Whatever you say,”

“Do you like being in mine?” you question, causing Sakusa to hesitate on the problem he was on.

“You’re tolerable,”

You find yourself cheesing, “That’s a yes in my book,”

———

Finals are coming up. There’s so much on your mind, that you finally decide to let one of the thoughts that have been driving you crazy go. The fact that you like Sakusa Kiyoomi.

It’s nerve wracking. Not only because you’re basically confessing your feelings, but also because he’s your only friend you’ve made since being here. A lot of people think he’s rude and condescending, but to you he’s different.

He lets you talk your head off about whatever your brain decides fits best. And while he gives you short responses, they show you that he’s listening and observant. He’s on your level regarding academics and can keep up to your train of thought. He just cares.

And while you hope he might feel the same despite only knowing you for the past couple of months, you chalk it up to fate as to whether or not your intuition is correct.

As you approach the gymnasium, you slow and quiet your steps as you hear familiar voices by the entrance.

“You’ve been hanging out with Y/N quite a bit, huh, cous’? Your mom told mines,” you assume is Komori based on his words.

“Yes. It’s not like that, though,” you recognize as Sakusa.

You assume he might be fronting since it is his cousin, and feelings are embarrassing at times.

“C’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t like her, she’s like one of the prettiest girls in class and she’s smart. So like, your type,” Komori pushes. And while part of you likes that he said that, you soon take it back after Kiyoomi’s words.

“I don’t like her. I only put up with her because she’s so pushy and always hovers over me while I try to do my work. Plus, she took my ranking spot,”

The world feels silent for a second, the only sound audible to you is the sound of your heart slowly breaking.

“She’s just a nuance, honestly,”

Your feet are moving before you realize. Slowly backing away before running the opposite direction.

He doesn’t like you? You were right that he hates you because you’re number one? He let you into his house but only because you pushed him? Your thoughts are running faster than your own legs, you don’t even realize the drips of water slowly running down your cheeks.

If number one was what he wanted, then you were going to give it to him.

———

Kiyoomi finds it weird. Finds you weird. Well, he’s always found you weird, but particularly as of recent. But only because you’re quiet. And have been for the past couple of days.

At first, he assumes it’s because the finals had finally arrived and you wanted to focus on your work. Which, respect, because it also allowed him to focus on his own.

But even after the finals had passed, you were still quiet. You opted for doodling in your notebook instead of talking to him about a new video game you’ve hyper fixated on or this new show you started to watch.

It’s even weirder when the teacher is going around passing out the graded math finals, that he stops by your desk, letting out a whispered, “I’m disappointed in you, Y/N,”

Kiyoomi hears, and it calls his attention towards your paper before even his own. His eyes widened.

A big, fat, red 0 marked at the top of your quiz.

“Y/N-”

“Are you happy now, Number 1?” you ask, still looking down at your paper.

He’s about to ask you what the hell you’re talking about before the bells conveniently cut him off, allowing you to take off without a second glance back at him.

His mind is caught up on your words, Number 1. Kiyoomi has never brought up his disdain regarding the rankings to you, ever. Yes, it bothered him at first. But eventually he didn’t mind it, since the only person he’d ever allow to be above him is you.

Kiyoomi thinks back on any time he’s ever mentioned it before he remembers the one time he had ever verbally brought it up to anyone. But there was no way… unless.

Fuck, Sakusa thinks as the bright red 100 on his paper stares back at him. It mocked him, poking at his head uncomfortably. Without a second thought, he crumbles the paper before stuffing it into his bag. Kiyoomi had finally gotten back what he’s been working for this whole time, so why does he feel empty?

Kiyoomi realizes then that while you may have lost your Rank 1 position, he was the true loser. Because he didn’t have you.

———

He finds himself at your door before he even knows it. He’s giving an excuse of “she left her notebook,” to your parents as they direct him to where your room is.

When he finally walks in, he’s shocked. Your room is clean.

Even as you lay in your bed so peacefully, the space around you is clean, and he feels like it’s safe to walk in.

“Y/N,” is his first attempt at waking you up, before he’s walking closer to your bed, crouching down a bit to pat your back, “Y/N,” again.

It’s by the fourth or fifth time that he calls your name that you finally look up at him, and you look heavenly.

He’s always known you were pretty, but even more so now you were gorgeous, hair messy, eyes droopy with sleepiness. You were perfect.

Your eyes blink a couple times before you look like you’ve processed who is standing before you. Quickly sitting up, hands moving every which way to fix your appearance, “Omi- I mean Sakusa what are- what do you want?”

Ouch.

“You need to leave, I-I don’t want to see you,” your voice is beginning to tremble and it hurts him, “You finally got what you wanted, I don’t know what more you want,”

“You, I want you,”

Your face drops in disbelief, “No, you don’t. I heard you, what you said,”

“Y/N-”

“No, you hurt me, Kiyoomi. I like you,” you cry, “You can’t just say all of that and then show up out of nowhere claiming otherwise,”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he’s kneeling now, allowing him to be the same height as you as you sit in your bed, weeping, “I-I’m sorry,”

His rough thumb smoothes away your tears as they fall, “I didn’t mean it, I was frustrated- and that’s no excuse for what I said, I fucked up really bad,” with every word another sob breaks loose from you, “And I’m sorry,”

“At first, all I ever wanted was to be rank #1, but then you came along and changed everything… Then I realized that it wasn’t being #1 I wanted, it was you,” he continues, “and that’s scary, because my ranking was all I’ve known all these years,”

“But even so, you made it okay. I was okay with being #2, I was so caught up in you that I forgot I ever wanted to be #1 in the first place,” your eyes finally meet behind the thick tears in your lashes, “I like you, Y/N,”

He can tell you’re at a loss for words. And for once he can finally say he has out-talked you.

Until finally, you decide words aren’t sufficient in this situation. Before he knows it, you’re leaning forward, and your lips are on his. The kiss is short, but definitely more than a peck. But it felt infinite to Kiyoomi. He never wanted the moment to end, and found himself sad as you finally pulled away.

You stared him down for a brief second before tackling him down to the ground in a big hug, “I hate you, Omi,” you laugh angrily.

“Sure,” he smugly replies, watching as you smile into his shirt.

“My number one,” you sarcastically mutter as you fake pout at him.

He cringes, “Ugh, don’t. I feel guilty, why would you even do that? You’re crazy,”

“Because I don’t care about the ranking. I never did. Plus it somehow only dropped me to #2 since the rest of our class failed and I’ve taken too many extra classes,” you say, “I only cared about you,”

Kiyoomi smiles at you before crushing you in his hug.

Everything came easy for Kiyoomi. Especially now, his feelings for you.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #sakusa x reader #hq angst #sakusa angst #haikyuu x reader angst #sakusa fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #raeworks #sakusa x reader angst

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beloveds-embrace · 19 days ago

Text

Quotation marks around worshippers because they’ve lived long, brutal lives, constantly in war and fights and skirmishes and tearing others apart in a bid to simply survive and keep a malicious god content enough it doesn’t kill them and destroy what little they’ve fought hard to win.

John is the oldest. He’s lived long enough to know hope is just a word made by those already deafeated. It doesn’t exist. He has fought bloody and dirty to have his own spot. It’s all his, his only source of safety and isolation from the rest of the god’s violent domain. It should be just his, because trust should also not exist.

Yet he still took in Ghost. His old name burnt away in the ashes of the crumbling arena, more scars than clear skin, face hidden with a mask and all his opponents dead, John still took him in.

He also takes in Johnny. Bright Johnny, with blood coating his teeth and who laughs in the face of death, as if the chaos only strengthens him. Johnny, with his wild grin and reckless spirit, has survived every fight, every slaughter, not by brute force alone but by sheer audacity. He revels in the violence, thriving in the blood-soaked madness that their war god delights in. Despite John’s reluctance, Johnny becomes part of his world- part of the strange, brutal family they’ve formed under the watchful eye of a cruel god.

But John doesn’t stop there. He takes in Kyle, too. Kyle, quick and resourceful, with sharp eyes and sharper instincts. He’s newer to this war, but no less hardened. He knows how to fight, how to survive. He has to, in order to endure the hellish existence demanded by their god. Like the others, he’s marked by the battles he’s fought, by the lives he’s taken, the blood that stains his hands. There’s no room for softness here, no room for weakness.

Together, the four of them are bound by the violence they’ve endured and the desperate struggle to appease a god who feeds on their suffering. They don’t question it. They don’t dare. It’s all they’ve ever known. It’s all they’ll ever know.

Then, you arrive.

But you’re not just some strange outsider, not just another fragile soul lost in the wasteland of their god’s domain. You are another god- a goddess. The goddess of fertility, of harvest, of life itself. The opposite of everything they know. Where they come from a world of blood and fire, you bring growth, peace, and something they can’t name- something they’ve long forgotten.

John is the first to notice the change. It’s subtle at first. The small patch of ground he’s claimed for himself, once barren and dead, begins to show signs of life beyond the very little moss that has made itself home on the rocks and cracks of his area. Tiny sprigs of green push up through the cracked earth, the soil somehow softer, richer. He doesn’t understand it, but he feels it- something shifting, something outside of his control. It leaves him with his hackles raised, eyes narrowed and shoulders often tense.

(He doesn’t shove you out. Doesn’t fight, or attack, or kill you. He doesn’t know why he lets you stay, like that moss that lingers.)

Ghost remains quiet, watchful as always. He doesn’t speak of it, but he, too, notices the strange calm that seems to settle around them when you’re near. The land seems less hostile, the sky a less oppressive red and more of a deep orange. It’s unsettling in a way that makes him wary, but he’s drawn to you nonetheless. There’s something about you that soothes the storm inside him, something that makes the endless violence seem… far away.

Johnny, in contrast, is the first to approach you openly, grinning through bloodstained teeth. “Yer naw like the rest of us, bonnie.” he says with a laugh, almost in awe. He doesn’t know why he feels at ease around you, why the chaos in his mind quiets when you’re near, but he doesn’t question it. You smile at him, your touch soft as you brush dirt from your hands, tending to the small garden you’ve coaxed from the dead soil.

Kyle watches from a distance, suspicious at first. He’s seen enough in this brutal world to know nothing good comes without a cost. But as the days pass, he, too, begins to feel the shift. There’s a strange sense of peace when you’re around, a warmth that feels foreign but not unwelcome.

They don’t realize it at first, but you’re pulling them out of the war god’s grasp, slowly, gently, without them even knowing. With every seed you plant, with every gentle touch, you weave them further into your domain the same way your hands weave flower crowns for each of them. They don’t know that the violent god they served is weakening, that his power is crumbling as you pull the earth itself away from him, reclaiming it for yourself.

The land around them begins to change. The once-scorched earth softens beneath their feet. Where the air was once thick with ash and smoke, it now carries the scent of growing things, of rain, of life. They don’t understand how it’s happening, why the violence that once defined their world seems to be fading, but they can feel it.

And you, always quiet, always gentle, never tell them the truth.

They don’t know that you’ve been dismantling the war god’s domain piece by piece, tearing down the walls of blood and fire that have kept them trapped for so long. They don’t know that with every moment they spend in your presence, they’re moving further from the god they once served, deeper into your realm of peace and growth.

Their trust for you starts small.

You offer them food, but not the scavenged scraps they’re used to- fresh bread, warm and soft, made from the grain you’ve grown in the earth that once seemed too dead to nourish anything. “Eat,” you tell them with a soft smile, your voice a balm against the harshness of their world. “You’ve fought enough for now.”

John eyes you warily at first, his mistrust of softness deeply ingrained. He hesitates, but the hunger gnaws at him, and he finds himself taking a piece. It’s better than anything he’s tasted in years. The others follow suit, their suspicion momentarily forgotten in the simple act of sharing a meal.

When Ghost returns from another brutal skirmish, bloodied and bruised, you’re there. Quietly, without a word, you kneel beside him and start tending to his wounds. His body tenses at first and he is almost read to push you away- he’s used to pain, used to enduring it alone. But your touch is gentle, your hands soft and careful as you clean his cuts and wrap his injuries. He doesn’t speak. When this simple act becomes a routine, something begins to flicker in his eyes, something he hasn’t felt in a long time: relief. Safety.

“You don’t have to fight alone, not anymore.” you murmur, and though Ghost doesn’t reply, he doesn’t pull away either. The next time he’s hurt, he seeks you out before anyone else.

Johnny, always bold, is the first to embrace your presence without hesitation. He grins when you touch his arm, your fingers brushing away dirt from his skin. “You’re soft,” he says quietly, as if he can’t quite believe someone like you exists in their world. You only laugh gently and tousle his messy mohawk, unfazed by his wildness. “Maybe,” you reply, “You deserve it. All of you.”

Johnny’s grin widens, and soon, he’s lingering around you more often, like a star drawn to the sun’s orbit. He chatters about nothing and everything- battles he’s won, places he’s seen, jokes that make no sense. And you listen, never once judging the darkness behind his stories, always meeting his reckless energy with calm kindness.

And Kyle… Kyle is the last to trust. He watches you from a distance, wary and skeptical. He’s been burned too many times, lost too much to believe in something as simple as kindness. But even he can’t deny the peace that settles over him when you’re near. One evening, after a particularly grueling fight, you sit beside him, your presence quiet and soothing. You don’t push, don’t ask him to open up. You just sit there, offering him a slice of bread and a cup of fresh water.

“Why are you helping us?” Kyle asks, his voice low, guarded.

You smile, your eyes warm. Your face is always so open, so welcoming. Kyle does not know how you do it. “Because you’ve fought enough. You deserve rest. Peace.”

He doesn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders eases just a little. He still watches you from the corner of his eye, but slowly, he begins to let down his guard.

As the days pass, you continue to tend to them- feeding them, healing them, offering warmth in a world where warmth is rare. They don’t understand it at first, but they begin to feel the shift. The land around them is changing, softening. The earth that was once barren begins to bloom with life. Where there was only death and destruction, now there are signs of growth- flowers, crops, greenery creeping up through the cracks in the wasteland.

John, who has spent his entire life guarding himself, feels it most of all. He watches you with something like confusion, like a man seeing the sun for the first time after years of darkness. He doesn’t understand why he feels calmer, why the constant tension in his body is easing. But despite his better judgment, he finds himself drawn to you- drawn to the softness he’s fought so hard to keep out.

You smile at him, always gentle, always kind, even when he’s rough around the edges. “You don’t have to fight anymore, John,” you tell him one evening as you hand him a fresh scone, drizzled with sweet honey and cream. “There’s more to life than just surviving. Let me show it to you.”

Ghost remains distant, but even he starts to let his guard down around you. The mask he wears, both literal and figurative, feels less necessary when you’re near. The weight of the violence he’s carried for so long feels lighter, though he doesn’t know why. It helps that he comes to you for every injury, your hands gentle and tender on his scarred skin.

Johnny is the most at ease with you, laughing more, fighting less, as though the fire that once consumed him is finally starting to burn out. And Kyle, ever watchful, finds himself relaxing for the first time in a long while, though he’s still unsure why he feels so drawn to you, so at peace in your presence.

Little by little, without them even realizing it, you’re pulling them away from the war god who has held them captive for so long. You’re bringing them into your world, a world of life and peace, where they can be more than just warriors, more than just tools of violence.

And the war god, once so powerful, is fading. His domain is crumbling, and soon, he will be nothing more than a memory.

But they don’t know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

There is no need to drag them into what happens between gods, you reason to yourself, humming a sweet melody. Catching John’s gaze- they are working on your ever-expanding garden, tending to the soil- you smile and wave at him, delighted by the way his shoulders untense.

Yes. There is no need to ruin this little haven you’ve created.

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uzurakis · 6 months ago

Note

what about sfw or nsfw if you wanna take it that way of the jjk boys with clingy reader. they secretly love how much she loves/adores them.

BEING CLINGY WITH THEM?

featuring: fushiguro megumi. itadori yuuji. geto suguru. nanami kento.

n. hi lovely, thank you for requesting! i decided to go with sfw and kept it simple n easy to read. enjoy :D

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. you've noticed that he's not accustomed to physical touches. every time you go in for a hug, he tenses up, his body stiffening momentarily before he relaxes into the embrace. but you can feel the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way his breath catches for a split second before he surrenders to the warmth of your touch.

you know in your heart that megumi likes it even though he doesn't express it. even though his restrained demeanor often gives the impression that he is far away, the way he leans in closer to you during your embraces says plenty. and you'll know that your affection is felt when you see him glance at you and blush softly after one of your embraces.

you feel the familiar tension in his body as you pull megumi into a gentle hug. "hey, 'gumi," you say softly, "i'm here for you." he stiffens for a moment before relaxing slightly into your embrace. "i know," he replies quietly. you can feel the steady beat of his heart on yours as you hold him close, and you know that one hug at a time, your love is slowly but surely dissolving the barriers he's put up around himself.

ITADORI YUUJI. your boyfriend thrives on physical closeness, and you love how he eagerly wraps his arms around you at every opportunity. whether you're cuddled up on the couch watching movies or simply walking down the street, itadori's hand is always intertwined with yours. his touch is comforting and reassuring, and you find yourself craving it constantly.

what's even better is that itadori adores your clinginess just as much as you love his. he lights up whenever you initiate physical contact, whether it's stealing kisses or wrapping your arms around him from behind. both of you articulate the language of love in your relationship with ease; physical affection is the language. every embrace, every caress, every moment spent curled up in each other's arms deepens your relationship.

as you cuddle up to itadori on the couch, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. "i love it when you're this close to me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your crown. you smile up at him, feeling content in his embrace. "i just can't help it. being close to you feels so right," you confess. itadori chuckles softly, his steady breath warm against your body. "well, i'm not complaining. i could stay like this forever."

GETO SUGURU. there's an unspoken understanding that he's open to anything, especially your clinginess. he adores it so much that it's become a cherished part of your dynamic. you love how he welcomes your affection with open arms, never hesitating to pull you close or return your tight embraces. there's a comfort in his touch that you can't quite explain, a sense of belonging that washes over you whenever you're in his arms.

and geto? he revels in your clinginess, finding joy in every moment spent wrapped up with you. he loves the way you fit perfectly against him, as if you were made to be intertwined with each other.

he's busy making supper when you put your arms around him from behind, and he falls back into your embrace with a satisfied smile on his lips. "you know, i could get used to this," he says in a warm, gentle voice. savoring the closeness of the moment, you plant a kiss on the nape of his neck. you whisper, "me too," your heart fluttering with romance.

NANAMI KENTO. his reserved nature is evident in everything he does. he's composed, controlled, and rarely shows his emotions openly. however, there's one thing that always catches him off guard—your touch. each time you give him a hug or plant a peck on his cheek, nanami's stoic facade crumbles just a little. his breath catches, and for a fleeting moment, you see a hint of predisposition in his eyes.

it's in those moments that you feel closest to him, when his defenses are down, and he lets you in just a little bit more. and despite his reserved nature, nanami never fails to reciprocate your affection, albeit in his own subtle way.

you extend your hand to embrace nanami, and he tenses up a little at being touched by you. "i wasn't expecting that," he admits, with a trace of shock in his voice. you squeeze him tenderly and say, "i just wanted to show you how much i care." with a softening face, nanami eases into your embrace and wraps his arms around you in response, "thank you, i appreciate it."

@uzurakis

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woozivrsefactry · 3 days ago

Text

Mingyu is the typa boyfriend who’s all about size kink and strength play. He loves using his strength to his advantage, pinning you down and showing off just how much bigger he is, letting you know exactly what he can do. The feeling of his big cock in your little pussy turns him on incredibly. But as confident as he is, he completely folds when you take control, his tough demeanor crumbling as soon as you show your dom side. Mingyu’s need to please takes over, and he melts under your touch, reveling in the way you handle him. He loves being in control, but he loves it just as much when you turn the tables and make him yours.

#svt #svt smut #seventeen #svt x reader #svt imagines #seventeen smut #svt headcanons #mingyu #mingyu smut #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader

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fear-is-truth · 29 days ago

Text

𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 — charlie mayhew

CHARLIE MAYHEW isn’t always the way he is now—weaponising his sexuality, toeing the line between sacred and outright blasphemy with reckless confidence. he had once been a man of simple faith, entering the priesthood with a pure heart and a determination to serve god. he is ambitious, sure, but there had been no arrogance in his calling.

you are his fall from grace.

in the beginning, he tries—really tries to resist. he prays harder, longer, throws himself into his duties with even greater fervor. but no amount of scripture, no recitation of prayer, can dispel the debauched thoughts that cloud his mind whenever you smile at him.

he simply can’t stay away.

the first time it happens, the kiss is barely more than a chaste brush of lips. he pulls away immediately, guilt and horror flooding his conscience. that night, charlie flees to his private chamber, and the self-flagellation comes soon after. with each lash of the braided leather whip against his skin, he whispers scripture through gritted teeth: “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of god.” but no amount of blood, no pain, can undo what has been done.

he convinces himself it will end there. one kiss, one slip, and he will be stronger for it. but that is a lie.

every time you come back, charlie’s resolve crumbles. the guilt is still present, yes—but it is soon buried under desire. he wants you. needs you. more than he has ever craved anything. more than he craves salvation.

lingering glances turn into fleeting touches, and eventually, stolen kisses become something more. with each illicit interaction, he strays further from the garden of eden, but he can’t stop. at first, he justifies it—priests are human too, temptation is part of the journey. he will confess, seek forgiveness, and return to his calling, a better man.

but that never happens.

intimate moments with you are both a sin and a revelation. afterward, he retires to his chamber, desperate to cleanse himself through pain. the lashes leave his back raw and bleeding, but it isn’t enough.

over time, the guilt begins to fade.

the young priest no longer seeks penance. instead, he begins to twist the words of the bible to suit his desires. he tells himself that love—in any form—is divine. didn’t jesus himself walk among sinners? wasn’t the act of love sacred? “where sin increased, grace abounded all the more” — romans 5:20

and in his heart of hearts, he knows he is lost.

“god is love,” he tells himself, “and if love is holy, how can this be wrong?” he begins to see his desires as a reflection of the modern world, telling himself that the church needs to evolve with the times. the world is changing, and so, too, should the church. how could they expect people to follow a path so rigid and outdated? by indulging in these passions, he is becoming more human, more relatable. perhaps this is his purpose—to bridge the gap between the divine and the human experience, to show that priests are not infallible, that they too struggle with temptation, that they too love.

how could it be wrong to love, charlie thinks, even as he kisses you again, fingers unbuttoning your blouse, lips tracing the curve of your neck.

you have become the centre of his downfall, and he welcomes it.

m.list  fear-is-truth

#𝐅.𝐈.𝐓 #grotesquerie #charlie mayhew #father charlie mayhew #charlie mayhew x reader #charlie mayhew x y/n #Charlie mayhew angst #Charlie mayhew fanfic #nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez imagine #Nicholas Chavez fanfic #Charlie mayhew x you

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harmonysanreads · 6 months ago

Note

Yan Sunday’s darling looking him straight in the eye and biting into the halovian burger.

It is a threat.

“Sunday, look here for a second.” the Oak Family Head nearly failed to win the wrestle against the maelstrom of noises clamoring around the Golden Hour and distinguish your call from them. It was not his honed senses that provided the sole aid this time, rather, it was the syrupy lilt that dripped from your words and rendered him momentarily off-guard.

That is a weakness he'd like to believe he no longer surrenders to, while it is true he unquestionably would have if one was to focus on an earlier point of his life, Sunday would prefer to believe his tastes have since matured and his restraint has hardened. Indeed, Sunday is no more defeated by sugary pastries and cream-filled buns — where he crumbles to incorrigible pieces inside are moments like this, before a different species of sweetness. That, is another discovery altogether.

While he's left to collect and fix the bits back into rational human behavior, you revel in his predicament, as you do every time he lets slip an extra scrap of leniency. You don't hesitate to praise him for his cruelty, but he's always suspected you to be the sadist. A devil, a siren, an apparition that'll curse him to smithereens — there's no end to your list of virtues. It's not that he complains, that would be hypocritical as he's both the causation and correlation to your spirited schemes.

It's one of those burgers, but Sunday has always cherished a belief of it being the failed offspring between a donut and a burger instead. He's seen them his whole life (not that he's ever indulged in one of them) which is why the apparent normalcy of its appearance didn't ring any alarm bells in his head initially. One look into your pointed stare tells him that you have a purpose, but his attention is instead riveted to the movements of your lips.

You start by taking a bite out of the bread coated in cream, smearing your lips with the delicacy in the process before clumsily licking the cream with a swipe of your tongue ; Sunday stands frozen, thoroughly perplexed. Then, you lean towards the middle section occupied by two wing-like shapes, checking once to confirm that he was still watching before sinking your teeth into one of them.

... Oh.

It takes every atom of his body and every bit of his soul to continue playing statue, to not let anything more than a strangled breath escape and allow your face to be painted in the colors of smug satisfaction for months to come. Knowing you, he doubts you're ignorant to the fact that this time you've really hit a spot. So he stands there like a sculpture of disbelief, watching you finish the cursed burger for five whole minutes as vehicles fly past and by-standers cast questioning looks at the mute spectacle. By the time you're sated, he feels as though he's aged ten years.

“Mr. Sunday will pay for it, thank you!” you chirp at the confused shop keeper.

Just when he thinks his misery is over, you pull your ace ; licking clean the residual taste of the burger from your fingers, knowing painstakingly well how much he dislikes it. This level of audacity short-circuits Sunday's brain and he's unable to do anything but replay the image of a stray sprinkle still clinging to one corner of your lips as you skip away in search of more ways to torture him senseless.

#if i had enough artistic talent i would've drawn this scenario because it's just that hilarious in my head #thank you anon for this vision #sunday #sunday brainrot #sunday x reader #yandere sunday #yandere sunday x reader #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #sunday x you #honkai star rail

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andy-15-07 · 8 months ago

Text

Soft Spot

masterlist ! pairing Feyd-Rautha x reader

SUMMARY : you're going to marry Feyd-Rautha, but you didn't know he has a soft spot for you

GENRE: fluff, loveeee

The grand halls of the Harkonnen fortress echoed with the clinking of armor and the whispers of political intrigue as you, unaware of Feyd-Rautha's hidden feelings, prepared for the arranged marriage. The alliance between your house and House Harkonnen was to be solidified through this union, a union that held more secrets than you could fathom.

As you adorned yourself in the intricate wedding attire, your mind buzzed with the weight of responsibility. The marriage was a strategic move, a chess piece in the game of power. Little did you know, Feyd-Rautha harbored a soft spot for you that went beyond the calculated alliance.

As you walked down the aisle towards the ceremonial chamber, Feyd-Rautha stood at the altar, a stoic figure in his Harkonnen regalia. His piercing blue eyes, however, betrayed a subtle warmth when they met yours.

The ceremony commenced, the officiant reciting the traditional vows that bound you to Feyd-Rautha. Yet, amidst the formality, a flicker of genuine emotion appeared in Feyd-Rautha's eyes as he spoke, "I pledge my loyalty to this union, and to you, Y/N, my chosen partner in this intricate dance of politics and power."

His words carried a sincerity that resonated within you, and a realization started to dawn. Perhaps there was more to this marriage than just political maneuvering. The enigmatic Feyd-Rautha seemed to be unveiling a side of himself that few had witnessed.

As the ceremony continued, you exchanged vows, committing to the union with a sense of duty. Unbeknownst to you, Feyd-Rautha's words held a depth that transcended the political façade. "I promise to stand by you, Y/N, not just as a husband but as someone who sees beyond the political tapestry. You are more than a strategic alliance; you are the missing piece in my life."

The celebration that followed was lavish, a feast befitting the union of two powerful houses. Amidst the revelry, Feyd-Rautha found a moment to steal you away to a quieter chamber. The tension in the air was palpable as he looked into your eyes, his usually composed demeanor revealing vulnerability.

"Y/N," he began, his voice softer than usual, "there's something I need you to know. This marriage, yes, it's a political move, but for me, it's more than that. I've developed a deep admiration for you, one that goes beyond the expectations of our houses."

You were taken aback by the sincerity in his confession. Feyd-Rautha, the formidable figure known for his ruthlessness, was baring his soul to you. "I never expected to find solace in this arrangement, but in you, I see more than just an alliance. I see a partner, someone I want to stand beside in the battles that lie ahead."

His vulnerability resonated with you, and a spark of understanding kindled. "Feyd-Rautha, I may have entered into this marriage out of duty, but your sincerity has not gone unnoticed. Perhaps there is a chance for us to find common ground beyond the political landscape."

The revelation marked a turning point in your relationship. The walls that had separated you from Feyd-Rautha started to crumble, revealing a shared vulnerability that formed the basis of a connection neither of you had anticipated.

As the night unfolded, you found yourselves navigating the intricacies of this newfound understanding. Feyd-Rautha, known for his calculated moves, was now making room for emotions he hadn't explored before. The marriage, initially a pact sealed by duty, started to evolve into something more complex, a tapestry woven with threads of unexpected emotions and genuine connection.

And so, in the grand halls of House Harkonnen, a marriage born out of political strategy took an unforeseen turn, guided by the unspoken soft spot that Feyd-Rautha harbored for you. The game of power, it seemed, had made room for the unpredictable dance of the heart.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd oneshot #feyd x you #feyd x reader #dune x you #dune x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha harkonnen x you #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha imagines #austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler imagines #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n

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emeritusemeritus · 3 months ago

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Charming Witches [Fred Weasley]

Title: Charming Witches [Fred Weasley]

Pairing: PregnantWife!Reader x Fred Weasley, background Hermione X Ron.

Timeline: Set after canon (Fred lives!)

Summary: Ron has an embarrassing issue and unluckily for him, Fred is the only one that can help.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, babies, established relationships. Sexual references throughout. Fred has a bit of a breeding kink- shock. Just a silly little drabble I couldn’t get out of my mind. Fred is a bit mean and sarcastic to Ron.

Word count: 1.6k

"You're, you know... well, sort of, um."

"You'll get there eventually Ronald," Fred jokes with a straight face, half listening to his brother's whispered fumbles whilst he pours himself and his wife a drink, not bothering to offer his youngest brother one. If Fred had even bothered to look at Ron's face, he'd have seen he was as pink in the cheeks as a bottle of love potion, his blush so vivid that he looked ready to erupt with a face full of dragon pox any moment.

Ron clears his throat, trying again, as he casts a nervous glance around the Burrow's kitchen, checking no one was hearing this. He didn't know why he'd chosen Fred of all people to have this conversation with, in theory George would have been a much better choice but he didn't have the same 'qualifications' as his twin, seeing that you and Fred had been together for absolutely years.

"Well, umm," he freezes under Fred's quick but glance, silently telling him to spit it out. "Well you and y/n, you're in sync aren't you... Sexually?"

Whatever Fred was expecting to hear eventually tumble out of his brother's mouth was not even close to the reality and he can't stop his eyebrows from shooting halfway up his forehead instinctively in disbelief.

"Did my very pregnant wife give it away?" He snarks, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of the beer he'd poured, openly enjoying the discomfort his brother was radiating. "That might have been your first clue."

Ron somehow looks paler underneath all the blushing and Fred is revelling in his ability to make his brother squirm.

"Well, yeah I suppose," Ron mumbles, beginning to get defensive and deeply regretting opening up to the trickier twin.

"Calm down Ronald," Fred says, "you and Granger having bedroom troubles?"

"No!" Ron bites back a little too quickly but his resolve breaks under a few seconds of Fred's probing gaze, arms folded in an unconscious power stance. "Maybe."

He's quiet again for a few moments and Fred is uncharacteristically patient whilst he waits for Ron to collect his thoughts.

"How many times would you say is normal, like in a week?"

"Don't know if there's a 'normal' Ronniekins," Fred says with a shrug. "Most days and twice on a Sunday?"

Though he hides it this time, Fred revels in the look of utter horror Ron's eyes convey and it's like he can see the cogs in his brain working on overdrive, emitting smoke as they crumble and break. Evidently, his answer was light years away from what Ron had hoped for. He knows that his wife being ready to pop at any second only helps Ron believe his words and he mentally thanks Godric Gryffindor himself for the overly fortunate timing.

"Don't think it matters mate really; as long as you're both expecting about the same." This time, Fred actually thinks he's being reassuring.

"She just wants to read all the bloody time, even in bed! It's like I'm a bloody afterthought."

"Have you even met your girlfriend?"

This time it's Fred who pauses when he meets the icy glare of his younger brother. He sighs and a slightly awkward silence falls between the pair as they both try to think of how to fix whatever was going on in Ron's mind, hoping that two head were better than one.

"You two alright?"

Ron jumps out of his skin when he hears your slightly concerned greeting upon seeing the two brothers, Fred especially, in near silence.

"Don't tell me you forgot I was here," you joke to Ron, walking over to Fred as he holds out your waiting drink. "Been your sister in law for five years! Plus the bump makes me pretty memorable," you add with a smile.

"I'll say," Fred says with a wink, the cheeky glint in his eyes ever more sparkling as he looks at your bulging tummy, unashamedly ogling your pregnant form. You gently nudged him, silently telling him to be quiet but as you do so, you catch a slightly glare aimed at your husband from Ron.

"Am I interrupting? " You ask outright, sensing tension.

"No," says Fred almost immediately.

"A bit," Ron admits, cringing slightly before he lets out a loud yelp, having been smacked upside the back of the head by his older brother for his disrespect. He grumbles slightly under his breath, absently rubbing the back of his head where Fred's hand had connected to him and let's put a deep sigh.

"You're a girl," he says, averting his eyes anywhere except directly on your own.

Fred snickers at Ron's feeble and clumsy attempt at starting the conversation but opts to take a long swig of his beverage to avoid anymore laughter spilling out, though his delight still shines through his eyes.

"Only when it's not a full moon," you jest, trying to slice through the awkwardness Ron is emitting.

"Forget it, you're as bad as he is."

"Firstly I'm offended," you say, reaching out for his arm gently as you feel his begin to pull away, ignoring your husband's opposition. "Secondly, yes I'm a girl... go on."

"Well," he pauses, gathering courage, long ginger lashes covering his shy eyes that still raise no further than your ankles, "say Fred suddenly didn't want sex."

"Wouldn't happen."

"Fred shush."

"Well... say suddenly he wanted to read at nighttime over having sex."

"Again, wouldn't happen."

"Fred!" You hush him again, this time more firmly.

"How would you go about trying to, you know, fix it."

You were certain you'd never seen Ron this vividly pink in the cheeks before, he looked like he'd been decorated up to display in Umbridge's office.

"That's the problem? Hermione wants to read instead of sex?" You ask, not really seeing the big issue, but trying to say it gently so that you didn't spook him.

He nods, "but it's all the time," he adds, justifying his gripe.

"Well," you say, lowering yourself into Arthur's seat at the head of the kitchen table only a few feet away, unable to stand much longer. "Play her at her own game."

"Eh?" The brothers ask in sync, their faces scrunched into an almost identical confused expression. You simply shrug.

"Make yourself less available to her, pull back a bit," you say, taking a sip of your drink to wet your lips. "Start reading in bed just like she does, act like you're not interested in just sex."

"So I act like I'm not bothered even though I am?" He asks, still not following what you're saying.

"Sort of," you say, trying to find a better way of wording it.

"Reading's always been her favourite thing to do hasn't it? Join in on it. I'd bet on my life that she has a fantasy of you in bed shirtless reading beside her. Stop making advances, let her come to you."

"That's actually quite clever," he says after a few moments of consideration.

"It's been known."

"Shirtless?" He asks with a frown, seemingly fixating on that point.

You chuckle nodding, "well you have to still appeal to her, you don't want it to just be a study session do you?"

"Right, right," he says with a nod, a slight smile returning to his face before it dramatically falls away in an almost comedic move.

"I don't have a book."

"What do you mean you don't have a book?" Fred says in a flabbergasted manner, earning a slight but unconscious raise of your eyebrow. Though you didn't comment on the irony of his words considering you couldn't remember the last time you'd seen him so much as skim the daily prophet.

"I don't really have one," Ron mumbles quietly, "unless my quidditch annual counts."

"It doesn't," you say firmly.

"So I need a book," Ron says firmly, as if he was cementing the plan in his mind, nodding along with his thoughts until he finally makes eye contact. "Thanks y/n," he says with a smile and a nod of his head before he walks away, a bounce in his step.

"Think it's actually gonna work?" Fred asks as you pry yourself out of the chair and walk to stand next to him as you place your empty cup in the sink.

You let out a little chortle and shrug, "well if it doesn't, at least Hermione can read in peace."

Laughter bursts out of Fred and he pulls you close, bump nestled between you as he delights in your words, realising you had absolutely no idea if the plan would work.

Later that evening when everyone was preparing to leave the Burrow after another wonderful family dinner, Ron pulls you and Fred to one side before he left, away from the eyes and ears of everyone else.

"Thanks again for earlier," he says, clearly feeling more at ease about his issue. You smile warmly in reply, happy to help.

"No problem little brother," Fred beams, as if it was him that had offered any advice.

"Oi Ron," you call out quietly to get his attention as he turns to leave. With a smile, you reach down into the bag on your shoulder and pull out an item you'd gleefully searched for in Fred and George's old bedroom after the conversation. "Just incase my advice doesn't work."

Ron frowns reaching for the item you were handing him, a frown that only deepens as he reads the title of the book he was now holding. Fred's laughter is sudden and booming as his eyes land on the once familiar item that had him cracking up laughing, realising instantly what it was.

Twelve fail-safe ways to charm witches.

"Oh piss off."

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#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist

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thewolvesofthenorth · 2 months ago

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Chapter One

Chapter One of Man of Honor

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ House Of The Dragon Masterlist

Rating: 18+ Word Count: 3k+ Summary: Things change, but not necessarily for the better. Warnings: Angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

Four years after Cregan had sworn his oath to you by the heart tree, she entered your lives.

Arra Norrey.

A noblewoman of House Norrey. She was everything you wanted to be. Brown hair that flowed down her back, honey brown eyes, and a beautiful smile that could capture any man’s attention. And catch their attention it did. Particularly the attention of one man.

Cregan.

That was when everything changed and life as you knew it was turned upside down.

At first it started out small. Cregan and Arra would go out on horseback and upon returning, Cregan would talk endlessly about how great of a rider she was and how he had not expected such skill from someone like her. He’d speak of her love for poetry and songs, mentioning that you should ask for her to sing sometime because her voice was so beautiful. He would bring up miniscule things like how she wasn’t the fondest of the cold, even though she lived in the North. How her needlework was impeccable. The list went on and on.

But then the comparisons started to happen. Cregan would say things about her and then mention how it reminded him of things you would do and how similar the two of you were. Other times, he would make comments stating how different you were from each other. He would offhandedly say things like “Arra sings all the time, why don’t you ever sing?” or “Arra said she learned how to make this delicious duck soup and offered to make it sometime. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to teach it to you.” You were sure that Cregan did not mean them in a malicious way, but those comments had begun to slowly chip away at your self-esteem.

You never sang around him because you hated the way your voice sounded and were always too nervous to sing for others. You knew how to cook, but you also knew how to hunt and survive in the desolate lands of the North. You knew how to skin a rabbit and take down a boar with one shot through its eye. You even knew how to wield a sword and do it while on horseback. You didn’t need some noblewoman from some noble house within the North to teach you anything. But even knowing all those things that you could do that Arra couldn’t, you still felt insignificant when compared to her. She had become the apple of Cregan’s eye, and nothing you did or could do, would be enough.

Over time the distance between the two of you grew and eventually you hardly spent any time at all, his time and energy spent towards Arra and their budding relationship. And then came the news that shattered your heart and solidified the future between the two of you. Cregan and Arra were betrothed. A meager year after she’d entered your lives, and they were now to be married in six moons.

You remembered that day as clearly as a crystal on a rare sunny day. Cregan had approached you with a wide grin on his face and said that he and Arra’s parents had spoken and decided to betroth the two and bring two great houses in the North closer together. He had sounded so elated at the news and told you that he was anxious and hoped he would make a good husband. You had reassuringly smiled at him and told him that he would make a fine husband and that Arra was lucky for such a match. On the outside you presented a cool and collected close friend, but inside your heart was crumbling.

Forgotten was the oath you’d both spoken to each other beneath the weirwood tree all those years ago.

Forgotten was the promise of a future together.

Forgotten was the childhood pledge he’d made to you about becoming the Lady of Winterfell and holding Cregan’s heart, that privilege was now Arra’s.

It was now a mere dream that would no longer come to fruition and your heart grew heavy at the revelation that you had lost your chance at happiness with him. That night was the first time you had cried yourself to sleep since the death of your parents, and Cregan was not there to comfort you like he had been so many times before.

As time went on, you began to distance yourself from Cregan more and more, your heart not being able to take seeing him and Arra constantly interacting. Every time Cregan approached you to go hunting or spend time in the godswood, you’d declined, saying you had other duties to tend to or had promised to spend time with Sara, and you both knew how Sara was.

At first, Cregan had thought nothing of it, believing your excuses, but as time went on, he noticed how you would avoid making eye contact with him, and how you’d somehow slip away when he would enter a room. He’d had enough of your avoidance and wanted to confront you, but you had a talent of becoming invisible and made it impossible find for him to find you. So, he resolved to do the next best thing: speak to Sara about your behavior. The two of you were always close, though not as close as you and Cregan had once been. That had changed since Arra had arrived.

Sara had become your confidante, listening to you talk about Cregan when he and Arra grew close, and had even been there to hear your confession of your feelings towards Cregan. She was the only person who’d known about your and Cregan’s words in the godswood that day and had kept silent when you spoke of your heartache over the broken promise. She listened intently, and as much as she wanted to give Cregan an earful for his obviousness for your feelings, not once had she betrayed your trust. However, after weeks of your avoidance, Cregan had gone to her, she did not hold back on chastising him.

That afternoon, Cregan had watched you abruptly end your conversation with his sister and stealthily disappear as he approached, something that had begun to irritate him. He had quickened his pace, hoping to somehow stop you, but it was no use, you’d once again slipped through his fingers.

He let out a small huff and Sara turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised at his demeanor.

“Care to tell me what you’re so worked up about, Cregan?” Sara asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

“I just - ugh - that damn woman,” he began, his voice laced with irritation. “She’s been avoiding me, and I have no idea why! But YOU clearly do.”

Sara hummed in thought before responding in a teasing tone.

“So, what if I do?”

“Tell me why. What have I done to illicit such treatment?” Cregan grumbled.

“You really don’t know?” She quipped back as she folded her arms across her chest.

“No! I wouldn’t be standing here asking for you to tell me if I knew, now, would I?” He retorted in annoyance, his patience beginning to wane.

“Wow,” Sara said as she shook her head. “You really are as thick as the hide on a cow, aren’t you?”

“I don’t have time for your petty insults,” Cregan snapped. “Tell me.”

“Well, I’m sorry your lordship,” she sarcastically replied, finding amusement from his rising temper. “It’s not my fault you’re my idiot of a brother who can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

“Enough with your riddles, please,” Cregan spoke, his tone changing from annoyance to a small plea.

“If you must know, it’s because of YOU.”

“Me? What have I done?” He questioned, confused as to what he did to cause such treatment from you.

“It’s more what you HAVEN’T done, dear brother,” Sara stated, pondering her next words carefully. “Do you not remember?”

“Remember what? What have I not done that I was apparently supposed to do or be doing?!” Cregan exasperatedly exclaimed.

“You’d think that something as big as this would be something you wouldn’t easily forget,” she began. “After all, Starks do not forget their oaths.”

Cregan let her words sink in, unsure of what she meant.

What could she possibly be talking about?

An oath?

What oath?

I never made - oh.

“Oh.”

“Oh. Is that all you can say?!” Sara asked, the dumbfounded look on Cregan’s face enough to ignite her anger.

“I - we - we - we were children!” Cregan answered. “It was nothing but a game the two of us played! Just like any other game.”

Sara scoffed at his words.

“Maybe for you, but for her it was never a game,” she shot back. “Do you often make a habit of swearing oaths beneath the heart tree? Oaths of a false future?”

“Sara - I - again, we were children.”

“All of the North knows how serious oaths made in the Godswood are to be taken. Even children know not to do such things. Especially beneath the heart tree! Not oaths of marriage! And ESPECIALLY not oaths of marriage that are sworn to the old gods. You were both far from children when you’d spoken those words to her, and you know it.”

Cregan recoiled at her harsh tone, surprised that they had not attracted any prying eyes from how tense things were.

“But - but - I don’t understand,” he softly said. “What does that have to do with any of this?”

“You fucking imbecile!” Sara seethed. “It has EVERYTHING to do with this. You’re betrothed to another, with no thought to how it would make her feel. Not only that, but ever since Arra arrived, you’ve done nothing but ignore her. And even worse, compare her and Arra! Are you really that blind? Do you not see the hurt you’ve caused the poor girl? The pain she has had to constantly endure everyday seeing you with another woman? THAT is why she avoids you. THAT is why she wants nothing to do with you. Her heart breaks every time she sees you, Cregan. She sees the way you look at Arra and wishes you’d look at her like that. She has spent the last year suffering in silence because of YOU. YOU made an oath to her that you would take her as your wife and make her the Lady of Winterfell, but now that oath has been forgotten. I am just a Snow, and for that I am glad, because I would be ashamed to be a Stark who forgot an oath. Even one made as a so called child.”

“I - I did not know of her fondness towards me,” he whispered, his heart clenching at the Sara’s words.

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Sara spat out. “She has stood by you through everything. Your brother’s passing. Your father’s passing. Getting Winterfell back from your uncle and cousins. Every moment since childhood, she has been there, and you doubt her feelings for you?”

“I did not know she felt that way,” Cregan answered, looking down at his feet. “Felt more than just kinship.”

“Anyone could see that she felt more than kinship towards you. All the damn North could see it! Can you really say that you did not feel the same way?”

Cregan hesitated to meet his sister’s eyes. He could feel them burning a hole into his skull, and he was sure that had he not been the Lord of Winterfell, she would have struck him by now. Although he doubted that would prevent Sara from raining her wrath down upon him, consequences of hitting a lord be damned.

“I - I do not know,” he softly spoke as he finally looked at his sister. ��What do I do?”

“That, I cannot answer for you. You must decide that for yourself, dear brother. If you really don’t feel anything for her, then go through with the marriage to Arra. But if you do feel more than you care to admit, then that is something that you must figure out on your own,” Sara said as she patted his shoulder and walked away.

Cregan watched as Sara walked into the snow-covered courtyard and a lump formed in his throat when he spotted you in the shadows on the other side. He let out a sigh as you met his eye and then unsurprisingly slipped into the darkness to hide away. At that moment Cregan realized that that was the first time you had met his gaze in a long time. For exactly how long it had been, he wasn’t sure, but it had been long enough that he felt an emptiness sweep over him when you tore yourself away from his vision and faded into the darkness.

Cregan spent the next several days mulling over everything Sara had told him. Apart from speaking to his council regarding preparations for the upcoming winter and updates regarding the Wall, Cregan spent most of those days alone, often opting to go riding or sit in his study in quiet contemplation. Much of that was him going through every memory you two shared, trying to figure out where things had changed for you. However, during the evenings, in the solace of his chambers, he found himself just thinking about you.

Who you were as a person and how you had grown so close over the years. Arra had of course taken note of his sudden change in demeanor, and he had made up excuses like having important business to attend to with the maesters due to the coming winter being predicted as a longer and colder one. Arra had not pushed the matter, knowing that he had a lot on his shoulders as the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, especially when he was still quite young.

Some nights sleep would elude him, his thoughts weighing too heavily on his mind to allow him rest. On those nights he found himself wishing he could speak to you about everything. To confide in you as he once had. To talk about what he had done wrong and how to fix it. One such night, as he laid in his bed blankly staring at the ceiling, his thoughts drifted to a memory where you had been exceptionally happy.

- FLASHBACK -

It was the afternoon before your fifteenth name day, and Cregan had been teaching you how to shoot. You had always been an avid learner and that morning you’d begged him to teach you the ways of the bow, and he had finally relented when you told him it could be his gift to you. He had rolled his eyes at your antics but nonetheless grabbed a bow and told you to meet him in the practice yard.

You had been so carefree back then and Cregan smiled as he remembered the way your eyes had lit up when he appeared with a bow and quiver of arrows. He had started by teaching you the basics, how to hold the bow and draw the arrow back to the proper position, and how to aim. At first, you had struggled, unable to draw the arrow far enough and maintain the hold to aim, so Cregan had come up you to fix your form.

“Your feet should be shoulder width apart with your shoulder pointed to the target,” he instructed, moving your feet into the proper position and your shoulder to line up with the target. “Good, now keep your back straight and push your hips forward. You should be comfortable enough to hold this position for a while. Your inner elbow should be parallel to the ground and when you draw the arrow make sure to pull your shoulders back and lift your elbow. Now bring the arrow back toward your face until the bow feels tight, but keep your arms relaxed. Don’t tense.”

You followed his instructions as best as you could, but he noticed that your stance was still a little off, so he went to stand behind you and pulled your shoulders back, before placing his hands on your hips, shifting you ever so slightly to bring your pelvis forward. At the time he had taken note of how you had sucked in a breath at the action but thought nothing of it as he held your waist and told you to release the arrow. You’d both watched with bated breath as the arrow soared through the air and landed dead center of the target. You jumped with glee and turned to face him; a giant grin plastered on your face.

“I did it!” You proudly exclaimed.

“That you did, my lady,” Cregan replied, your infectious smile drawing one of his own to his face. You continued to jump for joy and expectedly planted a kiss on his cheek, his face growing hot at your act of affection. You then turned back to the target and nocked another arrow, unaware of the blush that graced his face and continued spread across his cheeks and down his necks. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as he watched you shoot arrow after arrow into the target, his smile staying on his face the entire time.

- END FLASHBACK -

Cregan abruptly sat up in bed at the memory. He’d remembered the way his body had reacted at being so close to yours. How he’d felt a tingle in his fingertips when he placed his hands on your hips. He recalled the way your body easily shifted into position as he moved you into place. He remembered how you moved with such grace as you kept shooting, your skill improving with each arrow.

As Cregan continued to think of the events of that day, and the more he recalled, the clearer things became. Not just for that day, but for every day before and after that.

The way the sun illuminated your eyes, showing a hint of mischief behind them, had always captured his attention. The way the cold bite of the North would reddened your nose and cheeks had always made him chuckle in amusement.

The sweet melody of your voice, especially when saying his name, had always made him feel warm inside.

The way you smiled so much brighter - a special smile reserved just for him - when seeing him had always made his heart thump loudly in his chest.

And the way your small hand always seemed to sit so snuggly in his large ones had always made his breath hitch.

It had always been there.

The way your cheery and sweet temperament balanced his more serious and brooding nature.

The way the two of you always worked so well together when it came to hunting or matters of running Winterfell.

The way you each knew when the other was having a bad day and needed extra comfort.

The way you could both communicate with just one look.

The two of you had always fit so perfectly together, like pieces of a puzzle, or two sides to a coin.

It had always been there.

And it had always been seen by those around the two of you.

Except for him.

Until now.

Cregan’s eyes widened in realization. Your feelings were not one sided. Far from it. He felt the same way for you as you did for him.

You loved him.

And he loved you.

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

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