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thewidowsledger · 3 months ago

Text

Good Luck, Babe

Pairings: College Student Natasha Romanoff x College Student Female Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Tags | Warnings: +18, smut, ANGST, jealousy, cheating (we're cheating on Steve with Natasha), Natasha has a penis, top!Natasha, bottom!reader, fingering (r receiving), dirty talk, car sex, mirror sex, hate sex (?), choking, slapping, dacryphilia, blowjob (Natasha receiving), breeding kink only if you dare to squint, Natasha fucking r like a guitar, if I missed something I am going to throw hands

Author's Note: I’ll be back in 3 weeks I guess, I already scheduled some chapters for my fics, one each week. For this week, I serve you this one-shot🤲💗 This is something I wrote when I was supposed to be studying, lol. The title says it all. I did not proofread this one and I decided to remove some parts because I feel like it's getting too long. I hope y’all are doing okay! Enjoy!

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⧗

“I realize I just wanted to stay home, have a quiet night in.”

“Oh, you intend to be quiet?”

You furrowed your brows at her question, “Yeah, why would I be loud?” You asked innocently, not aware of the redhead's innuendo, your back was facing her as you started to remove the heels you have been wearing.

“Well, if I am going to fuck someone’s girlfriend, I might want to hear her scream my name.”

⧗

You stirred from your sleep in the middle of the night, woken by the gentle sound of Natasha's snore. As you looked up at her, her auburn locks lay scattered, half-veiling her face in peaceful slumber. You gently pulled the strands aside, you admired the way her features were soft and unguarded in sleep as if she didn't drive you into the brink of ecstasy a while ago.

You watched, entranced, as the steady rise and fall of her chest painted a tranquil rhythm, like the gentle lapping of waves against the shore.

Her eyelashes fluttered softly, like fragile butterfly wings beating in the night.

Soft breaths escaped her lips and with each exhale, her warmth wrapped around you like a cozy blanket, enveloping you in comfort and security.

Your fingers traced the marks that marred her otherwise smooth skin. There were long, deep scratches on her back as you clawed to her dear life when she rammed into you, bringing you both to the peak of your own highs.

Unable to resist the urge, you leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

“I love you, Natasha.”

⧗

Natasha was behind the wheel of her convertible and you were riding shotgun. You both planned to get away before the graduation, a secret escape for just the two of you.

Yes, it was a secret escape, just like your clandestine affair. For the past year, you had been meeting secretly, your passionate trysts hidden away from the prying eyes around your campus.

How could one imagine that the epitome of perfection in the eyes of many, from students, professors, and school staff had chosen a band guitarist to share your deepest desires and secrets with?

The fact that you, the student body president of the College of Liberal Arts, the volleyball captain ball, the campus' debate team leader, and the devoted girlfriend of the campus’ student council Steve Rogers has been in an entangled affair with Natasha Romanoff, the school's band guitarist, was kept strictly under wraps.

Only a select few were aware of the tangled web you both were weaving behind the scenes. A few that only you, Natasha and her sister Yelena know about the affair that you’ve been keeping closely a guarded secret.

With your hands held high up in the air, you relished the feeling of the wind whipping through the open top of Natasha's convertible. The rush of air against your skin felt incredibly free and exhilarating.

As you stood there in the open wind, blissfully unaware, Natasha watched you intently, cherishing the unguarded moment between the two of you. Taking in every detail as she glanced at you the way your hair tousled in the breeze, the sparkle in your eyes as you smiled and the way your pink sundress fluttered in the wind. It was in these small moments, when she could watch you in your carefree state, where she could openly watch you and admire your carefree happiness without the need for secrecy or hiding.

Unlike when you were on campus Natasha could only watch you from a distance. Whether it was her playing with the band during a night blast events your campus would trimonthly organize, searching for your familiar face in the crowd, or her sitting in the audience far enough for her not to be seen by you, watching you shine in a debate competition you joined.

Just for once, it's only the two of you, completely unburdened by your secret affair.

“How did your send off go by the way?” Natasha asked, as she put her hands on your lower back.

“As usual, every player, even the new recruits had to spike a ball into me!” you rolled your eyes in the air. You glance at the redhead who is staring admiringly at you, you smile at her, biting your lip when she slowly dragged her hand all the way down to the curve of your ass.

“Two hands on the wheel, Romanoff.”

Natasha chuckled, tearing her right hand away from you, you slumped on the passenger seat as she did so, “And coach just told me that Bishop will be the next captain ball.”

“She's in the same position as you, right?” Natasha asked, now putting a hand over your thighs, unable to resist the temptation to touch you.

“During her residency coach had to train her as an opposite because we had filled the quota for each position. She was originally middle.”

Natasha hummed at your response. Her fingers can't help but stray, tracing patterns on your thighs. Her hands begin to move of their own accord, sneaking higher and higher up your thighs with every pass.

Her touch sends shivers down your spine, your breath hitching in your throat as her fingers make contact with your sensitive skin. You can't help but let out a soft moan, involuntarily arching towards her touch.

“Natasha,” you warned softly.

Her gaze flickers to yours innocently but she doesn't stop, her fingers continuing to trace patterns on your thighs, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, “What’s wrong?” She watches you carefully, her hands pausing in their ministrations as she waits for your response.

“Stop the car,” you demanded and she didn't hesitate. Her eyes flicker to the rear-view mirror, spotting an empty side street just ahead. She swings the car in that direction, pulling over and turning off the engine in record time.

She barely has time to register your movement before you're on her. Your legs straddling her, your body pressed close against hers as you take control of the situation. Her eyes widen in surprise, but then she grins, her hands coming up to grip your hips and pull you closer.

She trails kisses down your neck, softly nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, careful not to make any marks even though she has been dying to mark you—to make you really hers.

Without warning, she thrusted her fingers deep inside you.

“Oh, Nat!” You cried in pleasure as she drove you higher and higher. Her fingers move faster, her thumb applying more pressure to your clit. She can feel you trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

“I can't believe you didn't wear any panties baby,” she chuckled, “what if someone saw my pussy while you stood there in your seat huh?”

“I-I, I—”

“Close baby?” She smirked on your neck, she added another finger curling in your tight walls that made you gasp and buck harder towards her digits.

“Nat, I’m gon’, I’m gonna…” you trailed off, finally hitting the peak of your orgasm. You chased your own breath when Natasha pulled you into a deep kiss and you let her dominate you again as she pushed her tongue onto yours.

She smirked at you as she pulled away, “You always loved quickies, baby.” She teased, licking her digits that were coated with your arousal.

You hummed, placing your forehead on hers, “Because that's what only we can afford.” You said in a small voice, your breath fanning over her mouth.

“Not now though, we have all the time in the world.” Natasha replied as she stroked your cheek, the pain was evident in her voice as she spoke. You both never really had time alone inside the campus without prying eyes or suspicions of others. The only time you have is this, when you two would plan a night out every month or when Natasha would occasionally do late-night visits where she would sneak into your dorm and the two of you would spend the night making love to each other.

“That’s the thing, Nat. We’re on our way back to the world, the real world,” you kissed her neck all the way up to her jaw and to her lips. You eyed her and kissed her nose before moving away from her lap back to the passenger seat.

The drive to the campus’ dorm complex was quick just like the quickie you had half an hour ago. Natasha pulled the car to a quiet secluded area and got out of her car. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow?” Natasha asked as she opened the passenger door, you stepped out with your training bag that you brought with you.

“Steve will pick me up tomorrow,” you said as you looked at her, you placed a kiss on her cheek, “But I for sure will see you tomorrow, alright?”

You and Natasha had agreed upon certain rules during the course of your…affair and one of those rules was that you would never mention your boyfriend's name when she was present. In this moment, however, you inadvertently forgot about this rule and his name slipped from your lips without a second thought.

Natasha just concealed her jealousy and aching heart but when you softly leaned on her, your head comfortably resting on her shoulder it was quick to soothe her. She then asked, “You don't want me to accompany you upstairs?”

“I might not let you go if I let you come with me.” You confessed but the redhead knew this too. Your eyes, however, betrayed your hidden desires, silently pleading with her to disregard any resistance and come to the dorm with you.

“Baby, don't give me those eyes,” Natasha softly whined.

You chuckled and painfully tore yourself away from your secret lover, “Good night, Nat.”

⧗

It is Tony's tradition to host a party before the school year comes to a close and has become a much-anticipated event in your campus. But this year the party held a somber undertone as it marks the end of the journey for your entire batch. Tomorrow is your graduation day and everyone will finally embark on different paths. So this night will hold a memory for all of you as you hold a bittersweet celebration bidding farewell to school days and the journey you had together.

Your boyfriend, Steve, just picked you up at your dorm and as soon as you arrived at Tony's place, your eyes scanned the room, searching for a glimpse of your secret lover. Despite Steve's firm grip on your hand, your attention was elsewhere, the need of seeing your secret lover making your heart skip a beat. You tried to remain composed, pretending to engage in conversation with Steve.

“I finished my graduation speech, love,” he told you, his voice cutting through the loud party music. Your mind was preoccupied with searching for your secret lover and you only half-listened to his words, caught up in your own thoughts.

“What? Sorry baby,” you apologized, your attention finally shifting to him.

“I said,” he held both of your hands and pulled you closer to him, eager to pull you away from whatever is distracting you, “I just finished my graduation speech,” he whispered to your ear.

You smiled, reaching up to pinch Steve's cheek proudly, “My council president.” Eyes shining with pride and happiness for him—genuinely.

Steve is a quintessential all-rounder; a true gentleman who excelled academically and was a beacon for the students as he is the student council president.

He is a good boyfriend too. He was consistent in picking you up from your classes, walking you back to your dorm. You couldn't help but notice that he possessed a mildly possessive nature, because he seemed to want to keep you shielded, no, away from the outside world because your life just revolves around the campus, gym, organization faculty, and dorm and your boyfriend made sure of that.

Whenever you attended training, tune ups or participated in debates, Steve is always there, observing and sometimes engaging in your activities. He had a subtle ego, where he'd train you, play as your opponent during debates and literally break you, pushing you through your limits because he told you that he wants you to do good, do better—he wants you to win.

He doesn't want losers and he always wins and you knew that the day he won your “yes” when he asked you on a date—he always gets what he wants—he always wins and everytime you let him.

“Stop giving Y/N those blue gooey eyes, Rogers,” Tony's joke broke the moment between you and Steve as he offered drinks. “Lovebirds, drinks?” You cringe at his words, it doesn't feel right to you.

Steve accepted a cup for himself but when you were about to get one for yourself he swiftly interjected, shielding your hand away from the tray declining the offer on your behalf. You gave Tony a strained smile, “I’m good, Tony, thanks.”

How did you even bother to get one when he never lets you drink alcohol or engage in any activities he deemed unsuitable for himself when you were out together? You often felt trapped and restricted, as if you could never truly enjoy yourself when you’re with him. He constantly kept a watchful eye on you, ensuring your compliance to his rules—making you feel constantly monitored and controlled like right now you’re basically trapped and isolated in the corner, his towering body shielding you away from the crowd in the party.

Sure, he is a good boyfriend.

“Stop, fucking in the corner blondie!” You heard his friend Sam shout at the distance and Steve just gave him a finger but still facing you.

Steve is never the one who fucks around, he always maintained decency and in fact—he is a celibate and no one knew actually—just you. It was an agreement to the both of you when your relationship began which you completely agreed and respected but what he didn't know was that you were secretly breaking that agreement by satisfying your desires every night with your secret lover.

And your secret lover, concealed by the presence of others at the party, watched despite Steve's imposing frame blocking her view. She watched as you laughed at his words and planted a kiss on his cheek every now and then. She watched Steve as he wrapped your hands around his neck, you looked happy—too happy she thought, considering she knew the truth about your secret. And the secret in question? Is her.

She clenched her jaw as you placed a final, chaste kiss on Steve's cheek, she almost lost it when your boyfriend tried to attempt to kiss your mouth but you gently stopped him by placing a finger on his lips, keeping him at bay and chuckling slightly as you finally walked away from him and from the crowd of the party.

⧗

You managed to convince Steve that you could make it back to your dorm alone, insisting that you'd see each tomorrow at graduation rites. Steve begrudgingly agreed, though you could tell he really wanted to walk you back as he usually did.

As you walked back to your dorm complex in the chill of the night, the absence of your secret lover weighed heavily on you. You didn't see a glimpse of the redhead tonight, she was nowhere to be seen at the party, leaving you to wonder where she disappeared to.

You took a deep breath before opening the door of your dorm only to be greeted by none other than your secret lover who you have been looking for the whole night.

“Out early in the party huh?��

You bit your lip pretending to not be shocked by her presence, you forgot that she had duplicated your dorm key, “I realize I just wanted to stay home, have a quiet night in.”

“Oh, you intend to be quiet?”

“Well, if I am going to fuck someone’s girlfriend, I might want to hear her scream my name.” She stepped forward and grabbed your hips, you sucked in a little breath as she inhaled in your neck. “So tell me, will you be loud for me? Y/N? Will you…scream my name?” She husked, her breath warm against your skin.

You turned to her, green orbs dilated as you looked straight at her eyes.

“Don’t I?” You whispered in a very dangerous tone as you ran your thumb against her lips, “always,” you caressed her cheek and traced your fingers along her tense jawline, “scream your name?”

A growl ripped out through her, she immediately grabbed your hips and turned your back on her front. Her lips found your neck and she sucked and bit gently, leaving a faint mark. With a swift movement, you yelped a little as Natasha pulled your left leg up, causing your skimpy dress to roll up even further. Her hand instinctively went up to the back of your thigh, gripping it tightly.

You didn't notice that you were both facing your vanity mirror. Natasha's eyes darkened while yours widened as you looked at your reflection through the mirror. Natasha's right hand sneaks through your panties, finding its way to your core. She begins to rub gentle circles, causing you to gasp and lean back against her.

“Fuck!”

Natasha's left hand grips your thigh with the same precision and strength as when she holds her electric guitar during their gigs. Meanwhile, her right hand continues to strum your core like how she played a wild solo on her guitar.

She was the artist and you were the art.

“Oh yes, yes ah!”

Your moans fill the air, her fingers moving with a skilled rhythm that could make any musician jealous. To her, your moans and the sloppy sound of your pussy are like music to her ears, a symphony of pleasure that she herself is producing. Your moans crescendo, becoming louder and more frequent as she pushes her fingers in and out of you while her thumb continues to strum your clit. Your moans are like a song she is composing right this moment and the only lyrics is her name.

“Natasha!” You moaned out in pleasure.

Her breath hitches as she continues to pleasure you. She leans in close to your ear again, her voice a low purr. “Open your eyes and look in the mirror.”

You hazily opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was her smokey eyes filled with lust, desire, and pleasure. You then dragged your gaze down to her digits disappearing inside your cunt—the sight only brought you closer to the edge.

“C-cum—please let me cum,” you whined, a tear falling down your cheek. You can feel her lips curling into a predatory smile on your neck as she hears your plea. She doesn't respond with words, instead choosing to increase the tempo of her fingers.

“Only if you open those pretty eyes of yours and look at the mirror, detka.”

You squeezed your eyes shut before managing to open them again, looking straight at her through the mirror.

“Come and scream my name.”

“Oh f—fu—Natasha!”

You finally fall over, throwing your head back on her shoulder, a triumphant cry escaping your lips as she feels your body tremble against her. As the waves of pleasure subside, Natasha removes her fingers and you watch her in the mirror as she brings them to her lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied purr. She immediately catches your trembling body, still recovering from your orgasm, she then carries you into a bridal style and gently places you to the bed.

“I love you, Y/N.”

You hummed pulling her by her leather jacket, “Please stay, Natty.”

Natasha watches as your eyes flutter closed, she carefully extracts herself from your embrace, but you cling to her, your grip tightening on her jacket. Natasha pauses, her heart heavy in her chest as she looks down at your sleeping form. She knows she had planned to talk to you tonight, to finally come clean about her feelings, but now that the moment is here, she can't just bring herself to wake you up.

She takes a deep breath, her fingers gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face. She remembers the first time she saw you, how easy it was to slip into her role as a recluse and simply observe. You were the most popular student on campus, an achiever, the captain ball, always surrounded by a group of admirers. It made it all too easy to keep her feelings under wraps. That's why she couldn't believe the moment her sister told her that you wanted to meet her and it ended up with you in her car, begging her to let you come.

It wasn't long before things took a turn. You would find yourself asking her to come to your dorm after your classes were over, even if Natasha’s class isn't, she would immediately have an early out just to go to you only for the two of you to spend the night relentlessly fucking each other until neither of you could move anymore.

One time her sister brought her to your game. And she saw you struggling to keep up with the rest of your team—having a bad day to play. She watched you go to Steve and how he threw you your towel and handed you your tumbler being the supportive boyfriend that everyone thinks he is when he is acting like an entitled self-proclaimed coach just watching you, not even cheering or hyping you up.

And before she knew it, when you walked towards where she sat during the game completely shocked at her presence, she leaned enough for everyone not to notice—she offered to fuck you as a reward if ever you win the game. Only if she knew that you have a game, she would bring everything she thinks you might need, she’ll bring you a jug of water, different colors of kinesiology tape, hell, she would buy you new shoes. But right now motivation is all she can offer because it's too high of a risk if she did all these things.

It was the first time she had seen you play because it was one of your rules, for her not to show up whenever you're in a competition, games, tune ups or in an event organized by you or your organization. You had explained to her that you preferred to keep things hidden, no, low-key, to avoid attracting unwanted attention that could arise from others noticing the two of you. She agreed, not even thinking a bit of it because she wanted you safe as you hold a lot of titles in you. She doesn't want to ruin your image though it breaks her heart not being able to watch you win and be successful in each game or competition.

Would that still be important if after you win it was her you would spend the night with where she’ll see you in all your glory as she makes you feel like a champion once more?

At first, keeping your affair a secret had been easy. It was a necessary precaution, one that she understood and respected. But as time went on, Natasha found herself yearning for more.

Sometimes she wishes she would be the one you’re running to after you won a game. She wanted to be able to cheer you on from the sidelines as you won game after game, competition after competition, events after events. She wanted to be there every time you win and every moment of loss—she’ll be there no matter what.

But that will happen anymore, Natasha could already feel the weight of the unknown future bearing down on her. This was it, the moment she had both been looking forward to and dreading. You two are graduating tomorrow, new chapters, new beginnings and things aren't still settled for the both of you, you never opened up, you never told her where you stood in this…clandestine affair.

And that made her want you more. She yearned to be by your side, proudly and openly. She craved for the day when she didn't have to hide her feelings for you or keep her presence a secret. She hoped for the day when she could stand beside you, not as a shadow, not a secret but as a partner—your lover.

Is that too much to ask for?

⧗

The sun was beating down on the graduates and their families, sweat glistening on their foreheads as they chatted and laughed, snapping pictures and the students—graduates hugged each other tightly, tears streaming down their faces as they said their goodbyes.

Natasha's eyes frantically searched for you. Her heart pounded in her chest as she clutched her trencher, every second feeling like an eternity as she scanned the sea of faces—and there you were standing with Steve and she assumed his family—deep in conversation and laughter.

In the midst of the chaotic crowd around you, both of your gazes met and everything else faded away—it felt like the whole world stopped and it’s just the two of you.

You snapped back to reality as Steve pulled you into a warm embrace and kissed the side of your head, his family looking on with teasing grins. But you couldn't help but feel a twinge of cringe because you knew Natasha was watching all this happen.

“Love, I’ll just go see my friends and Mom.” You said, pulling back from Steve’s suffocating embrace. You gave him a small convincing smile as you tried to get yourself away from the situation.

When he nodded you immediately excused yourself to his family and ran towards the direction where you last saw the redhead. Before you could even go away there was a hand who stopped you from walking-running, you gasped as warm and strong arms pulled you into embrace—not a suffocating one.

“Hey beautiful.”

“Nat.” You sighed, leaning closer to her. Her scent envelopes your senses.

You were suddenly jolted back into reality, and swiftly disentangled yourself from Natasha's embrace. You could see the pain flickering in Natasha's eyes as you retreated hastily. You despised yourself for causing her this, yet you couldn't explain your actions just yet. It wasn't that you didn't care for her—quite the opposite, but the fear of exposure and being not accepted prevented you from being out with her freely.

How you wished you could tell her that.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you.”

“Nat, I need to find mom, we…” you trailed off, unsure on how to tell her, “we’re gonna have lunch with Steve’s family.”

Nat's eyes searched your face, sensing the turmoil within you. She seemed to want to say something but held back, her silent gaze speaking volumes. You didn't miss the flash of disappointment in her eyes and the sorrow etched on her face. You were all too familiar with this. So, you swiftly reassured her, placing a gentle hand against her cheek, silently begging her to focus on you.

“Nat, don't forget our week-long plans,” you reminded her softly, your thumb tenderly caressing her cheek. “I’ll be all yours, just you and me.”

Natasha despised how effortlessly you could coax her, and yet, she surrendered willingly as she always did—her love for you overriding all the resistance. Every time you whispered sweet reassurances and gave a comforting touch, she melted, her resolve crumbling effortlessly.

She could never say no to you.

Just as you were about to lean in to steal a kiss from Natasha, a sharp call of your name pierced through the air.

“Y/N.”

You turned around to see your mother watching the two of you, “Mama…”

How you wished she didn't see you lean in for Natasha and to alleviate the awkwardness, you introduce them both to each other.

Nervously, you began, your voice quivering slightly, “Mom, this is Nat…” you trailed off, unsure on how to introduce your lover because you cannot just introduce her as your lover yet since your mom knew about Steve and ‘friend’ just didn't seem adequate to describe what you shared with Natasha, not if you both know what each other tasted like. The thing between you and Natasha was too complex, too dangerous, too intense to be boxed into a single label.

You looked towards Natasha, offering a strained smile, silently begging her to make a good impression. Your mother was known for being judgmental at times, and the last thing you wanted was for her to disapprove of the person dearest to you.

Natasha took the initiative, greeting your mom, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” and she extended a hand. However, your mom's gaze remained fixed, her eyes honed in on the intertwined fingers of your hands with redhead. The subtle gesture didn't escape your mom's keen eyes.

Sensing your mom's penetrating stare, you quickly withdrew your hand from Natasha, creating a bit of distance between the two of you. Your mother seemed lost in thought for a moment before snapping back to reality and reaching out to shake Natasha's hand.

“Congratulations.” She greeted with her unreadable expression and the redhead gave her a warm smile and thanked her.

“Steve and his family are waiting for us.”

You nod, acknowledging your mom's reminder before she started walking away. You turned towards Natasha and you found her looking down, she then handed you a box and whispered, “You should go.”

Despite the aching in your chest, you managed a feeble smile, holding the box she had handed you. It is a necklace with a guitar pendant similar with the electric guitar she's using during her gigs, “It's beautiful.”

No reply came out from the redhead and her silence is making you hard to leave, you longed to remain here—to embrace her. Your heart clenched in your chest as you attempted to suppress the tears threatening to spill, “I'll see you, Nat. Okay?”

Natasha stood there, her eyes fixated on you as you walked away. A soft whisper escaped her lips, lost in the air, wishing that these words are enough to make you stay.

“I love you.”

⧗

Two months had crept by since your graduation day and the affair with Natasha remained a secretive yet constant part of your life. The thrill and passion you shared with her continued to burn brightly, with neither of you daring to mention the status of the affair. The question of what it meant would remain locked away, hidden beneath layers of secrecy.

Not until you kept another secret from your secret lover herself.

“So when are you going to tell me about it?” Natasha's voice was cold as she cut through the silence, her anger barely contained.

You froze under her intense gaze, your body shaking as you fought back tears.

“I...I'm sorry,” you whispered.

Shaking her head, Natasha continued, her eyes flickering with hurt and anger. “Engaged? And you didn’t tell me?”

Your tears finally cascaded down your face as you relived the memories of four days ago, when Steve had proposed to you. How could you say no? He decided to propose to you in front of his parents and your mother. And the sickening weight of expectations and the pressure of you saying yes to him had overwhelmed you causing you to yield without hesitation.

Natasha had learned about the proposal from Steve himself and he had even made a joke about her reuniting with the campus band and playing at your wedding.

It was no secret because you were planning to tell her, of course you are, you were just looking for the right time but when she showed up at your apartment minutes ago, her intoxication evident in her glassy eyes and the strong smell of alcohol that hung heavy got to her, you knew—but you didn't know that it came from your fiance himself.

Natasha's voice cracked in anger and despair, “I did everything you wanted! I followed your rules, your demands. I stayed away when you asked, I played along to keep our…fuck!” She suddenly broke off, a bitter laugh escaping her lips as she wiped the tears trickling down her cheeks. “Relationship isn't even the right word. We're not even a couple, right?”

“Stupid,” she chuckled, “stupid! stupid, stupid!” Natasha unleashed a punch to each word, slamming into the wall next to her. You flinched and fought the urge to soothe her but she turned to you, tears streaming down her face.

“I played along to…” she choked back a sob, “to keep you!” She spat, pointing a finger on you.

Maybe it was too much to ask for.

Her words hit you like a knife to the heart, causing you to physically flinch. Your tears welled up and fell uncontrollably, your whole body quivering with sobs as you struggled to hold yourself together.

“Sorry.”

Your heart was heavy with guilt for causing Natasha so much pain. The single word didn't seem enough to fix the hurt you had done, but it was all you could manage in this moment.

“I just wan…” she breathed, “I just want you to be mine.”

“I am yours, Natasha.” You managed to immediately say between sobs, placing your palm over your chest emphasizing each word.

“Are you?” Her brows knit together, “with that ring on your finger?”

Natasha approached you and with every inch she advanced, you slowly retreated, your body moving back in response to her encroaching presence. Natasha finally stood close, her body towering over you. You could feel the heat of her breath on your skin, infused with the strong scent of alcohol. Her chest rose and fell with each heavy breath she took.

“Y/N you were never mine to begin with and I had to live up with that.”

You were looking away from her, arms wrapped tightly around yourself in a protective manner. Natasha's fingers gently guided your chin, tilting your head up to meet her eyes. Her touch was electrifying as she slid her fingers down to your arm, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“I chose to live up with that.”

Her movements were slow and deliberate as she took your engagement ring off your finger and examined it before letting it bounce to the carpet of your bedroom.

“Engaged, hm?” Natasha smirked, the pads of her thumb wiping the tears running down your cheek, “did you let Steve finally fuck you after you said yes to him?”

You breath hitched at the question but you immediately shook your head sideways, her hands slipped at the back of your neck and hissed.

“I am the only one who can make you say yes over and over again.”

“Natasha, y-you’re drunk,” you stuttered, you would never deny the redhead but you feel uncertain and scared around her right now.

She heard you but she didn't care, she then pulled you into a bruising kiss. Her lips were cold and demanding, silencing any further protests. She held the back of your neck tightly, “Shut up.”

She walked you backwards as she kissed you, the kisses becoming sloppy with each step. You felt the edge of the bed against the back of your knees and as she kissed you deeply, you slowly sank down onto the mattress.

“Lie down.”

“Nat, please��we can talk late—” you were cut short when she shoved her forefinger in your mouth. She watched as you squeezed your eyes shut, finally giving up, your lips sucking gently around her finger.

You chased her finger when she removed it out your mouth then your gaze went down as she moved to remove her belt. Her movements were deliberate as she undid the buckle and pulled it from the loops of her pants, causing them to fall open with her boxers.

Natasha's hand wrapped around a fistful of your hair, harshly tugging your head forward and forcing you to kneel in front of her. Your hands instinctively held her the back of her legs for support, her length inches on your faces as if you knew what to do, your hands slowly reached out to touch her. You wrapped your fingers around her shaft, feeling its thickness and hardness, your thumb rubbing the tip with the pre-cum that covered it.

“Open your mouth,” she plainly said, a command rather than a request. Your lips parted slowly and without a second she pushed forward, easing herself into your mouth. Natasha's expression hardened as she gripped your hair, her hips bucking forward aggressively. She thrust into your mouth without remorse, tears welled in your eyes, but she remained unmoved, solely focused on her own pleasure.

She fucked your mouth ruthlessly, her thighs trembling with the force of her movements. Your nose was pressed against her pelvis, your eyes watering from the rough treatment. The only sound was the sloppy wet noises of her thrusting and your muffled cries.

Natasha was one to fight her moans and grunts back, but she was unable to hold them as she unleashed a thick, hot load directly into your mouth. The force of her orgasm sent ropes of cum shooting down your throat, making you choke and gag on the sheer volume.

In a sudden move, Natasha yanked you up by your hair, her cock slipping out of your mouth with an audible pop. She took a step back, leaving you panting and disoriented, your mouth agape, tears falling down your cheek, spit on the side of your lips and her cum inside you mouth. She reached down and yanked your hair again, forcing you to look up at her. She spat into your open mouth, watching as the saliva mingled with her cum.

“Swallow.”

She squeezed your chin, applying pressure until your throat opened up. You looked straight into her eyes, you felt the lump of cum and spit lodge in your mouth, and then you swallowed the liquid sliding down your throat.

Natasha released her hold on your chin and hair, her voice taking on a dismissive tone. “Bed,” she ordered, turning away from you to clean herself up. You scrambled to your feet, quickly making your way to the bed, the sheets cool against your heated skin.

Natasha hovered on top of you, you tried looking into her bloodshot eyes but you couldn't see anything. You couldn't see her. Her eyes didn't sparkle the way it did when you two were making love…is this even making love?

You wanted to make it up to her, you wanted her to use you for what you did to her. For hurting her, it is all that you could do as of now—it’s all that you could offer. But you wanted her to talk to you through it like she always had, but right now she doesn't seem to care about what you need.

Natasha locked her knees on yours, her thighs squeezing tight to keep you pinned in place. She surged forward, burying her face in the crook of your neck. You could smell the alcohol on her breath as she trailed kisses down your body. She then nipped at your skin, her teeth sinking in hard enough to leave bruises. Right now, she didn't care. In fact, she wanted you to be marked, marked by her and not by your stupid fiance.

“N-Nat…Steve might com—” before you could even finish your sentence, Natasha slapped you hard across the face, the sting making your eyes water.

“Don't fucking say his name when you're underneath me,” she snarled and as if losing her patience she harshly pulled you by your thighs towards her. Without giving you a chance to protest, Natasha thrust into your core with a ferocity you hadn't expected. You could feel yourself stretching around her, each movement of her hips sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Natasha folded your thighs towards your chest, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. You eyed her, tears ready to fall down as she fucked you with reckless abandon. She was like a different person, all rough edges and sharp angles, her usually composed, sweet, and caring nature replaced by a harsh, uncaring desire. Her usually gentle features were twisted into a snarl, her eyes cold and hard, lacking the warmth and spark that usually dwelled within them.

You couldn't help but wince as she thrust into you again and again, the pain dulling the pleasure, yet you let her continue. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as you bit back a moan, your mouth agape in a silent scream as she took what she wanted.

You

You tried to claw her back, but she was too quick for you. She wiggled and before you knew it, she had gripped both of your hands on her own, pinning them above your head. She didn't want you to touch her and the realization stung.

She then suckled your tits hard, biting and pulling on them until you cried out in pain and pleasure. The rough treatment and seeing you in pain seemed to turn her on more, and she then continued to abuse your sensitive breasts.

“Say you're mine,” at least just this moment.

“Natasha, I’m yours, I’m yours.” You moaned reassuringly—genuinely and you wanted her to see it, to feel it. “I—I'm yours, I'm you...yours,” you breathe, having a hard time to utter a word as she rammed into you.

Natasha's eyes become glossy again, she shook her head sideways as if she's trying to remove what you just said in her head that is now finally ingrained, she asked you to say it, of course you would say it back, but it sounded real and she hated it.

“You're not,” she slurred, “but I am going to make you.”

Natasha’s grunts grew louder, more primal as she neared her peak. Her face contorted, eyes screwed shut, and her movements became jerky, uncoordinated. She touched your lower abdomen to feel her cock bulging in and out. She was close, so close, and you could do nothing but lie helpless beneath her, tears leaving a trail on your cheeks as she held you down and used your body.

She finally let out a guttural growl, her body spasming as she emptied herself inside of you.

At least in this way she could make you really hers.

You jolted awake from the dream as the sound of your baby's cry made you alarmed. It's an instinct that you developed since you had your baby, whatever sound she made you'll be quick to get or coo her, doesn't matter if you're in the shower, cooking or asleep.

You slowly sat in the bed, wiping the sweat that glistened on your neck. You breathed in and out to calm yourself. It was a dream, just a dream, you're not new to it, it's same dream you always dream. It did happen but it never failed to visit—haunt you even in your sleep.

It was a dream but what you're living right now is a nightmare.

You looked over at Steve's body, deep in slumber beside you, the sight of him only causing a lump to form in your throat. The tears began to well up in your eyes, and you quickly looked away, unable to bear the ache and guilt any longer.

You quietly moved away from the bed, the sound of your baby's cries growing louder with every step you took. Your heart swelled as you reached the crib, carefully picking up your child and cradling her in your arms. You gently shushed your baby, cooing softly as you fixed the red hair that had become mussed during her sleep, her little face scrunched up as she wailed.

“Shh, mommy's here.” You whispered as you blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision to fight back your own tears.

As if she was actually listening to you, her cries became silent as her small chubby hand reached up, her fingers wrapping around the delicate chain of your necklace. She tugged gently and your heart skipped a beat as she pulled the guitar dangle free, holding it in her tiny grasp.

You gently rocked your baby, cooing soft lullaby as you tried to soothe her back to sleep. But as you looked down at her, her green orbs shimmering with unshed tears was looking innocently straight at you. Your heart shattered at the sight and the tears you'd been holding back began to fall, softly dripping onto your baby's soft skin.

“I love you, little one.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader

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littlerequiem · 2 months ago

Text

we mourned the sea ˚⁎⁺ chapter 1

> Crossposted on AO3

Levi hasn't seen you in a year, and he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely. Or: After the war, you and Levi learn to live in this new world.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Levi Ackerman / Female Reader (Attack on Titan)

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 - Rated Explicit (18+). Post-Canon, Post-War, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Explicit Content, Mutual Pining, Grumpy/Sunshine, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Chronic Pain, Panic Attack, Depression, Ambulatory Wheelchair Use, Switch Levi (WC: 6.7k)

( Next chapter / WMTS' Masterlist )

The first time you see Levi, whispered-about-thug and recently-enlisted Scout, you think he doesn’t seem as scary as everyone paints him to be. Sure, he has a hell of a glare, but that’s not the thing that sticks out.

No, what is most striking is the loneliness.

How alone he looks, shadows like bruises under his eyes.

Levi is lost.

He’s not lost in the physical sense, of course.

Levi very well knows where he is. He has repeated these words to doctors so many times he’s starting to sound like a broken record: My name is Levi Ackerman. I come from Paradis Island. I live in Marley.

No, Levi isn't lost physically.

Rather, Levi is lost in the ways often described in novels. Those cheap-thrill books Erwin liked to read so much, the kind that ensured suspense and chest-clutching moments. Usually, it involved a character going on a journey and finding the thing they lost.

“It’s all a metaphor, you see?” Erwin once pointed out.

But Levi did not see the point of metaphors back then, and he certainly doesn’t get it now.

Levi was a soldier for most of his life: so that he could aid the fight against titans, so that Erwin’s vision to help humanity could come true, so that Hange would not be alone in shouldering the weight of it all, so that the world would not crumble under Eren’s actions.

Now, three years after the Battle of Heaven and Earth, his body is changed, and his mind… well, that's the thing that’s lost, isn’t it? He’s still sane, he knows that, but… there's ways he feels himself slipping.

The first two years after the Rumbling were by far the hardest. There was so much to rebuild, so much to do. Levi spent most of his time in makeshift hospitals and infirmary tents. Then, there were the refugee camps. People who had lost everything, who were in search of a new home, but who lacked the means to do so (Levi never thought he’d have to witness the sight of starving children all over again).

And then, one day, a new start.

Onyankopon was the one who discovered Mare a year ago. He told Levi that it would be the perfect place to retire from his soldiering days. "Mare," Onyankopon said, "is the town where sky meets the sea."

Levi isn’t sure what to make of that idiom: there’s no such thing as a place where sky and sea connect. Another metaphor, perhaps—another thing that flies right above his head.

But he decided to take Onyankopon's proposal there and then; Levi had been idle for far too long, and there was still fire in him, a will to push on.

To keep going, just as he had in the past.

A month later, Levi moved into his new home.

His one-story cottage is located by the edge of town, overlooking a cliff that descends into sandy shores. It is far enough from the crowds, just the way Levi likes it, while still remaining close to all necessities—just ten minutes away from Onyankopon's home.

Aside from that, everything else is just… strangely ordinary.

Because Levi now has a roof over his head. He has a garden, where he grows herbs. A patio, where he watches sunsets. He gets money from Marley for his so-called war accomplishments (accomplishments is a strange word for murder, he thinks). He sees doctors, all kind of doctors—specialists that didn't exist back on Paradis.

What keeps him going through it all are his routines. Levi has always been a creature of habit, and that much hasn't changed in his new life.

There’s tea, for one. Despite all the special blends available here in Marley, Levi still prefers the tea he drank back in the Underground, made from cheap black tea leaves—over-extracted, with no added sugar. Piss water, Kenny used to call it, and maybe the old geezer had a point. The tea is bitter to its core, much too strong for anyone to stomach (“I’m going to be on the shitter for days after this,” Hange once declared after trying it.). And yet, Levi likes it this way.

There’s his knife, the one Kenny gave him decades ago. Levi still keeps it in his boot or tucked under his pillow. He doesn’t hold it out of sentimentality per say; Levi just doesn’t see the point of throwing it away.

Levi sees his doctor on a weekly-basis, and works part-time at the local carpentry shop. He tries to improve his body on a daily basis, even if his mind fights him hard against it. His leg hurts most days; it’s at its worst when it rains. Over the last year, he’s regained some of his mobility, enough that he can sometimes walk using a cane when his legs aren't too stiff, though most days, he uses a wheelchair. It frustrates him, sometimes, his reduced range of mobility—he misses pushing his body to the limit—but the physiotherapist ensures him that he is just where he needs to be. He feels coddled, and that annoys him.

Then, there are the people in his life. Scarce as they are, they are all that is left of his past and Levi clings onto scraps of conversation where he can find them.

Most of the brats of the 104th are living their own lives. Levi is relieved to see that. When the war ended, he worried that they would linger too much, but they never did. They moved on.

Falco and Gabi, rowdy kids they are, travel from Liberio to see him. They tell him about what they’ve been up to, how Falco is taking flying lessons, how Gabi is part of a youth association that’s going to make Marley a better place, and Levi listens. For Gabi and Flaco love to talk, and perhaps even more than that, they love to bicker. Levi thinks if there’s such a thing as religion, that these gods clearly have a strange sense of humor—making him watch teenagers and their clumsy flirting attempts all over again. But they’re good kids, and Levi looks past their worse transgressions because he knows he’s got a soft spot for them.

Onyankopon is another familiar face—a talkative one at that. Every time the man stops by Levi's house, he brings something new to show Levi. Sometimes, it feels like Onyankopon's on a personal mission to get Levi up to speed with the new world. Coffee, typewriters, vinyl players… there doesn’t seem to be a thing Onyankopon doesn’t want to show him.

All these machines are met with a somewhat lukewarm reception on Levi’s part.

All except one.

Because if there's one invention Levi is inclined to think is useful, even if a part of him equally loathes it, it's the telephone. Onyankopon was ecstatic about it, and his enthusiasm eventually rubbed off on him too. It's not that Levi likes to use it—the sound waves, the grated voices… they remind him of the sound of planes and machines, of war and guns, and that gets his heart palpating to the point where he sweats (because Levi’s learned that with his growing age, his body sweats faster than ever before, so much so that Levi sometimes has to wash twice a day).

But the first time Levi hears a familiar sound—your voice—on the receiving end of the telephone, his breath stops. His clammy fingers tighten around the phone, and he glances at Onyankopon, who only gives him a thumbs up in response, two dimples appearing on his lifted cheeks.

Levi decides then that the telephone might not be so bad after all.

“Levi,” your distorted voice sounds from the other side. “Can you hear me?”

At first, Levi doesn’t know what to say. He’s seen phones, of course; he remembers Hange using them to communicate with Zeke and the Azumito clan. But he never thought he’d use them personally, and that makes his brain go blank.

“Shit, I think I lost you,” you say, the sound of crumbled papers resonating across the line, “Jean, I think the tele-thing you gave me isn’t working properly. Can you—”

“Hey.” Levi’s voice bleeds into the machine, rough like sandpaper. “I can hear you.”

“Oh, good, I thought I wasn’t using this correctly. Gee, isn’t this just unbelievable? Onyankopon promised me he’d work to set up a phone line in your house, I’m so glad it worked! I know these things are costly but, you know, at least we get to talk, even if it’s brief. Of course, I’ll still write you letters on top of that! And hey—Levi, are you still with me?”

He almost smiles. “Yeah, dumbass. You’re the one going on a monologue.”

“I’m just excited! Can you blame me? I haven’t heard your voice in… a long time.”

Levi’s heart jolts in his chest, clinging to the fact that you’re excited to hear him, but mourning the time passed since he last heard your voice. He’s all aware of how long it’s been (347 days, by his account).

“I can’t wait to see you next month,” you add in a lower voice, as if you were trying to whisper into the phone, words only meant for him to hear. It makes them all the more precious. “I’ve… missed you, 'Vi.”

Levi’s throat feels thick at he hears your familiar nickname for him. His mind buzzes with words, words he has long thought about, words he wishes he could tell you.

I’ve missed you too. I want to see you again. Please come back to me.

All things he thinks to himself, but doesn’t say out loud.

Instead, he manages a breathy, “Yeah,” because more feels impossible right now, especially with Onkyankopon so close by.

Besides, he wouldn’t want you to hear those words over a machine. Communication tool or not, it still lacks the physicality Levi desires so badly.

“How are the brats doing?” Levi asks instead.

“Oh, they’re good! Armin cut his hair recently. He looks like a blonde mini-you or err… I suppose he’s taller than you now.” If you were standing by his side, Levi would definitely have glared at you. But you chuckle, oblivious to his souring mood. “Guess he always did admire you a lot; I think he’s learned a thing or two from your leadership style.”

“That so?”

“Yeah, he’s cool. Doesn’t glare at everything that moves like you, though.”

Levi clicks his tongue. “Still haven’t lost your shitty sense of humor, I see.”

“Hey, you always found me funny.”

“I never laughed.”

“But you always found me funny—I could always tell.”

“Delusional thinking can get you a long way.”

“Anyway.” You huff with an indignant tone. “Aside from that, Reiner and Connie have changed a lot too! Reiner is still pining over Historia…”

“Disgusting. She’s a married woman.”

“Yeah… weird, right? I keep telling him to move on, he’s got so much going for him now. But he’s hopeless like that, they all are. Besides that… well, Jean grew his hair! Think he’s secretly trying to impress someone. He’s applying pomade and everything.”

He hears the sound of muffled protest, “I am not, Doc,” blending with your sentence. It is followed by your hearty laugh as you seemingly tell Jean to bugger off.

“That aside, they’re all good. Growing into real adults, you know? It feels like yesterday I was doing their first medical checks... just stupid teenagers. Your old Levi squad, huh?”

The second Levi squad, he wants to correct.

“Yeah, sounds like they’re still a real handful,” Levi mutters.

You chuckle. A comfortable silence follows, one that reminds of old times—you and him sitting in front of the fireplace; him reading his reports, you drawing. The cracking of the phone lines almost sounds like splitting logs now, and Levi feels warmth spread from his lower belly to his torso.

He hears your breath through the phone, like you were leaning closer. “Hey, so… less than a month, yeah? You’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I told you already, didn’t I?”

“Because if it’s too much, you can still say no.”

“Adler, I promised I’d take care of you all, and that’s gonna be the case until I’m buried below ground.”

“Don’t speak like that, Levi! It’s morbid.” Levi hears the sound of your laughter again, ringing across the phone line. He wonders if your eyelids are crinkling, the way they always do when you laugh too loudly. “But, hey, thanks. I really appreciate your help, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“I wonder what it is like, your new life.”

“S’nothing special.”

“Sounds to me like you’re still selling yourself short.”

“And sounds like you’re still talking nonsense.”

After a year of not seeing each other, you are finally coming back to Marley.

You are finally coming back to him.

Levi wonders what you will think of all the ways he’s lost.

Section Commander Erwin Smith seeks you out in the infirmary. Says there’s a wound he wants you to check, one he supposedly got during the last expedition.

You don’t tell him that titans don't usually cause hand wounds.

“I have the new recruit’s file here. You might have seen him around. His name is Levi,” Erwin says after some time. You give him a succinct nod. “I’d like for you to keep an eye on him.”

You pause, eyes shifting away from your stitches. Erwin’s gaze is even, clear.

“What do you mean by that, sir?”

Erwin leans back in his chair. “Presently, Levi is flighty and hot-headed. He’s just lost his friends. And he refuses to get a medical check. As it stands, this won’t work—I need to know that his condition is stable to place him on my squad.”

“With all due respect, most of these duties you’ve listed fall outside my medical jurisdiction.”

“I know.”

You raise a brow. Erwin shoots you an eyeless smile. You finish the stitch. Erwin pulls his hand back, admiring your work, then his focus shifts back onto you.

Waiting on your answer.

You finally supply him with one, sighing, “I’ll see what I can do, sir.”

Erwin stands, interlinking his arms behind his back. “I should tell you he’s from the Underground. Will that be a problem?”

“No, sir." You stand up as well. "Though… knowing this, permission to speak my mind?”

“Please.”

“May I ask what’s so… special about him? If rumors are to be believed, you went through quite the trouble to get him.”

“I didn’t think you listened to gossip, Dr Adler.”

“I don’t. But if that wound on your hand speaks for the labors of your efforts… well, I think I have cause to worry.”

A low hum vibrates out of him. “What’s so special about Levi, you ask?” Something lights up across Erwin’s face. The intensity of the pendulum swinging his way. It is followed by the type of smile that makes his eyes crinkle. “I want to believe Levi can change the fate of humanity.”

Today is the day.

The morning shines brightly over the little town of Mare, an endless cerulean that speaks of summer and new beginnings. The sun peaks over the horizon, lingering where the sky meets the sea, a ripple of lavender and peach glimmering over the reflection of the water.

At this time of the day, the wind is at its strongest, a breeze that blows the long strands of grass to one side. Beyond the valleys, there's footsteps dotted across white beaches, only to be ushered out of existence as the waves rolls in.

Mare. Home.

This little town was nothing but fire and dust three years ago. Today, everything has changed. Houses have been rebuilt, trees replanted, and life has begun sprouting again.

Levi wonders what you will make of it.

He spent the first hours of the day cleaning his one-story house from floor to ceiling—a painful undertaking for him, nowadays. The cleaning material stings his bad eye; the positions he has to adopt to clean makes his leg hurt.

But cleaning has always helped to ground him, and that much hasn’t changed here.

Luckily, he wasn't alone in his task.

“Yo, Levi! You ready?” Onyankopon calls out. The man came early to help Levi get the house ready; he’s now come to drive Levi to the train station.

“Yeah.”

Levi grabs his favorite cane, an elegant stick made of thick wood from up north. For the occasion, he’s wearing his nicest navy suit, silver cuff-links, and a matching hat—a gift from you, something you bought him the day the Survey Corps first set foot in Marley. You thought it suited him and Levi’s inclined to agree: he doesn’t look half-bad.

The drive to the train station is uneventful and quiet. Onyankopon asks him if he is nervous, which Levi vehemently denies. His friend just smiles after that with a knowing look like he knows better, but beyond that, he leaves Levi space to gather his thoughts.

Levi is glad of that. He needs the silence to gather his thoughts.

After a year of not seeing each other, he wonders how you will find him. Changed, perhaps. Lost, definitely.

Will you be happy to see him?

It’s ridiculous, really, all this uncertainty. In all his years as a captain, Levi never stopped to linger on hesitations, on regrets. No matter what it was—grief, rough expeditions, political coups—he trusted Erwin; he trusted his comrades. Levi trusted himself.

That it would be you, now of all times, who makes him this nervous, seems a strange twist of fate. Perhaps it is his growing age that has turned him into a sentimental fool, perhaps it is the knowledge that it is you, perhaps it’s because Levi doesn’t quite know what to do with himself... but Levi feels restless.

It took Levi by surprise, your letter. Three months ago to the day. Can I stay with you, Levi? you'd written. Just for a little while, until I figure out what it is I want to do next.

You were gone for a year, helping the Alliance become delegates of peace, while still updating Levi on everything. Now, Armin and the rest are ambassadors, and Levi no longer needs you letters—he gets to read all about their exploits in the newspaper.

And yet, he's glad you never stopped writing to him. Levi will never admit it, but he’s kept every single one of your letters in a box under his bed.

Yeah, old age has turned him into a real sap.

Following all of this, it was decided: of course you could stay with him. Yes, he would help you. When it came to you, there was little Levi wasn’t prepared to do.

With Falco’s and Gabi’s help, Levi made sure everything was well-suited for your arrival. He purchased a bed, a night table, and a wardrobe. He built you a desk, with the help of his boss at work. All of it was arranged into the spare bedroom of his house.

Levi remembers Gabi teasing him. “Is she your sweetheart, Mr Levi?”

Levi scowled at the teenager. “No.”

“S’just, it’s an awful lot for an old comrade.”

“Shut up, nosy kid.”

But Gabi raised a point. What were you to him, exactly?

Levi doesn’t know the answer to that question, not exactly. He considers all the people he’s cared about in his life, and he still falls short in finding the right word to describe what you are. He cares for you, that much he knows—he’s cared for you for a long time. It isn’t the same care that he feels when he thinks of his mother, of Isabel, of Furlan, but it’s just as deep. Love, some might call it, but Levi has seldom witnessed it, so he doesn’t know what to make of his feelings.

He supposes if he had to label what the two of you are, it’s connected. Remnants of an old system, a memory of a past when all that mattered was reclaiming the Walls. Two survivors who carry the legacy of those who sacrificed themselves for the cause.

Not that defining it truly matters. Levi’s long accepted his role as the one to carry the torch. He has found stability and peace this way.

Only, Levi wants more for you. Even if it means being far away from him.

Yes, it will have to mean being far from him, won’t it? He’s too broken for it to be any other way. He knows that. And yet, it doesn’t stop that tiny wisp of something he sometimes feels in his heart at the thought of you—like air, it fills his lungs, begging to be ignited (if you would choose him, he thinks it might).

But Levi’s life was always that of water, and he knows he will drown you if you come too close, like everyone else he has cared about.

You glance at the injury on his forearm, gushing red. Those damn cadets, ganging up on the new recruit. Erwin’s gamble won’t pay off if everyone else is hostile to his new prodigy.

“Hey. It’s Levi, right?”

Levi’s gaze flickers to yours and you realize it's the first time you're up to close to him. His eyes are striking. Freezing gray, like pale moonlight.

“Who the hell are you?” he mutters with a deep baritone.

You give him your full name. “But I actually prefer to be called by my last name, Adler, if you don't mind.” His face stays blank. You sigh. “Listen, Levi, I don’t want to butt into your private affairs... But I just came to tell you this: any injuries you sustain, just come to me, alright? I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night, or if you have to drag yourself across snow. Because... the only death I accept from a Survey Corps soldier is that of titans. Anything else is unacceptable. Okay?”

"Please. Those cowards were outclassed. They only landed a hit 'cause they played dirty."

"Even so. Don't let that deter you from seeking help," you say. "That said, you have my word. Those cadets will be punished for what they did to you."

“Yeah, whatever.” Levi glances at your hands for some reason— transfixed by the way you press on his wound with a clean cloth. “So, what, you’re a doctor? You heal people?”

Your lips tug into a half-smile. “I certainly try.”

The train groans as it comes to a stop. Levi knows you dislike trains; even on Paradis, when Hizuru helped to install train tracks across the island, you had blanched at the idea of riding in one.

So Levi isn’t too surprised to see you step out of the train carriage on wobbly feet, your face a little grayer than he remembers it to be. He takes a step forward, walking into the smoke hissing from the train, avoiding the throngs of travelers passing by. He removes his hat, just to make it easier for you to recognize him.

As soon as you do, your expression lifts.

That smile.

Levi could see your smile for the rest of his life and never tire of it. He hasn’t seen it in a long time, and it tugs at his heart, like a bird flapping its wings.

That you choose to run towards him—your travel bag swinging against your hip, arms dangling by your sides—is no great surprise. If there is something he knows about you, it is your never ending supply of excitement. It makes him want to smile back, but his mouth slightly parts instead.

“Levi,” is the first word that greets him, that swirls through the air and fills his lungs. You seem to catch yourself just a breath away from him, rooted to the spot in front of him. Levi blinks, wondering if you were about to hug him. But then you dip your head down, coy amusement on your features. “It’s really you.”

Levi swallows loudly. He can hear his heartbeat climbing to his head, and he wonders if you somehow can hear it too.

“Your hair has grown.”

Oh, that.

Yes, his hair has grown, hasn’t it? In the last month, he’s only kept up his undercut; the top is getting longer now. He knows he should get a haircut, but he's experimenting letting it grow.

“It looks good… it suits you,” you tell him.

The coil in Levi’s stomach tightens. He shields his expression by tilting his head and placing his hat back on his head.

“Hey, um…” you let your voice trail off.

“Just spit it out, Adler.”

His peripheral catches a crooked smile. “Would it be alright if…if I hugged you?”

Oh.

That certainly isn’t what Levi expected you to ask. No, Levi feared there might be something wrong with you, or rather with him. But he didn't expect… that.

In his stupor, Levi is too stunned to say anything, so he manages a nod instead.

(He’s grateful you ask before you touch him—you always ask.)

And unlike your earlier display of excitement, full of frenetic energy, your hands treat him with more care. They interlace gently around his back. Levi feels his chest lock as your fragrance sweeps across his brain. The scent can only be described as one thing... Home. Levi grows stiff, not knowing what to do with his hands, so he just lets them dangle along his body. You stay put just for a few seconds longer, and when you break apart, there’s something akin to relief on your face.

Relief for what, he doesn't know.

Your hands linger on his forearms as you take the sight of him fully in like you were committing him to memory. “Just needed to do that. My brain can’t make sense of the fact that you’re really standing in front of me. Like you’re not a figment of my imagination, you know?”

Levi’s gut reaction is to glance down. He doesn’t want to see all the ways you inspect him, all the ways he falls short of the portrait you have of him.

His face hardens and he takes a step back, sheltering himself from disappointment.

“C’mon,” he mutters. “We’ve been standing here long enough.”

“Alright,” you answer in a tone that’s no less bubbly than before. “Show me home.”

As you walk in tandem, away from the train tracks, Onyankopon comes to greet you. He envelops you into a hug where he lifts you off your feet. You chuckle, patting his shoulders, and when Onyankopon’s eyes find Levi’s, there’s a glint in them that Levi swears is speaking volumes of Onyankopon’s thoughts.

A look that seems to indicate: Should’ve kissed her, you damn fool.

Levi promptly ignores that look. Instead, he sets his glare in an altogether different direction.

The walk back towards the car is painful and slow. Levi tries not to let it show, but coming with his cane instead of his wheelchair really was not his brightest idea. He grits his teeth, trying to ignore the throbbing sensation shooting up in his leg; his knuckles turn white the more he leans on his cane.

You take notice.

“Is your leg hurting?” he hears you ask.

Levi dismisses your concern with a one shoulder shrug. “S’fine.”

It’s not fine. Levi overexerted himself with cleaning today. The sun is too strong. His leg is stiff.

Despite that, Levi has no intentions of telling you all about that, because you have a tendency to care, to shower him with attention he doesn’t want, and right now, he just can’t deal with it.

You stop right in front of him. “Hey, are you sure? I can—”

“I said it's fine, didn't I?”

Levi's ears are ringing as he steps past you.

Shit, shit, shit. He didn’t mean to snap at you just now. He’s just no good at this, don’t you see? Already five minutes in, and he feels like he fucked up.

(It's like there's poison on his skin; Levi wants to peel it off.)

But you don’t even seem to pay his temper any mind, as you hum and turn to look at the train station’s newsstand instead, allowing Levi to swallow his shame. From the corner of his eyes, he watches as you purchase three lemonade bottles, which you hand out to them.

The drive back is filled with more words than the journey here. Onyankopon and you engage in easy conversation, talking about all manners of things—how the 104th brats are doing, how the world is looking three years after everything that transpired, how Onyankopon’s husband and family are faring.

Levi sits in the passenger seat next to Onyankopon while you sit in the rear. That doesn’t stop you from leaning forward, your hands resting on the head of the seats as you talk (“Put your seat belt on, Adler.” “It’s on!”). Occasionally, your fingers even tap his left shoulder, a heads up for you to point to interesting things you notice outside. Levi tries to ignore the sparking sensation that’s engraved in his skin.

(Sometimes, Levi wonders if your touch is actually electric.)

“What about you, Levi?” Levi feels your attention settle on the back of his head, drilling heat into his nape. “What do you make of your new home? Mare, the town where the sky meets the sea.”

“It’s fine,” he replies. And he means it—the town is just that. Fine. “The townsfolk are nosy, you’ll fit right in.”

You hum. “Consider my interest piqued. I can’t wait to see your new life.”

New life. Is it really?

“I’ve never started over. Not like this,” you continue, tone thoughtful now. “I mean, I suppose I did, once. The last time was when I first enlisted for the Survey Corps a decade ago… phew, that brings back memories. I remember the looks I got from everyone then—they all thought me very strange to enroll.”

“That’s because you were a suicidal maniac, enrolling to save the lives of soldiers who’d soon be titan fodder. Normal civilians usually have safer aspirations, Adler.”

“I’m not sure if you’re one to talk, Ackerman.”

Levi huffs at that. The portrait that flashes through his mind is vivid, as were the words that went alongside them: Him, the gangster from the Underground and you, the crazy doctor crazy. A pair of strange misfits, the Survey Corps' gamble.

Now, you are the only survivors of something long gone.

“Oh, Walls!” You’re gasping at something behind him, and Levi glances up to see what you’ve seen. It’s the sea—all shades of blue and as mesmerizing as ever. “This is where you’ve been living? Your descriptions in your letters do not do this place justice.”

“What? You expected me to turn into a poet?” Levi grumbles.

“No, but look at this—ugh! It’s everything. The valleys! The beaches! The bay! This feels just like…” you let your voice trail off, not finishing off your words, but Levi knows what you meant to say.

This feels just like the way it was when we first saw the sea.

And yeah, Levi sees your point. The sea here truly does glimmer like jewels, the way Armin always described it, and the breeze does carry that scent of salt that feels like it’s cleaning the air out of his lungs.

Just like it felt to witness it the first time.

“This must be what paradise looks like,” you say.

And just as they pass a curve of the road, something new comes into view: between the soft clouds, a flying boat appears—not one carrying weapons, but instead, carrying with it the tale of a youth whose only sin was a passion for flying.

The medical check is done in silence.

Levi is underweight. His lack of sun exposure has left his skin and eyesight sensitive. You prescribe things to help, though you think some ailments might be a lifelong battle.

When it comes to checking his heart rate, however, that’s when you realize the full extent of Levi’s upbringing. Levi undoes his shirt and your eyes take in the cost of his survival—Levi’s torso, marred with scars. Some of them seem recent, while others are old, stretched-out skin that tells you enough.

These come straight from his childhood.

Just how much violence has Levi witnessed in a single lifetime?

“So?” Levi asks, looking directly at you. He leans his weight against the door’s frame leading to your bedroom, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can redecorate if you like.”

“Why would I do that? This is perfect.”

Levi thinks you might be touched, but he isn’t sure—he was never good at reading your more subdued emotions. Anger, sadness, happiness: those, he can read. Everything in between becomes more complicated, especially with his mind trying hard to convince him that all you see is disgust when you look at him.

You continue to step around the furniture of your bedroom, inspecting it like you are discovering details of a new kingdom. Your fingers fumble over the bed frame. “These bed sheets are my favorite color.”

Levi knows. He picked them for a reason.

(He’ll never tell you as much.)

“There’s drawing supplies in the desk drawers,” he supplies.

He hears it then, the way you suck-in your breath, catching it in the back of your throat. He swerves his attention onto you, only to find you fixing the desk with a stupefied expression.

“You remembered?”

There’s bewilderment in your tone.

Why do you seem surprised? Isn’t this the least you deserve? Levi almost says that there is even more—that he has all your sketchbooks from Paradis, that they were recently delivered by his request. But he abstains from it. He thinks it might be too much right now, though whether it’s too much for him or for you, he’s not sure.

Instead, he just replies gruffly, “It was hard to forget.”

You take a step towards him, eyes softening. “Levi, thank you so much.” You gesture at the room. “For all of it.”

Somehow, those words make Levi want to look away. It isn’t that he doesn’t appreciate you expressing your gratitude, but he’s never known what to do with it served on a silver platter. He prefers to ignore it when he can.

“S’not a big deal.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, glancing towards the carpet on the floor. “Couldn’t let you starve on the streets, now, could I?”

“Hah. I don’t know.” You move to the windows, your fingers winding around the beige curtains. Levi wonders what you think of the softness of the material. “You might be underestimating me. I can be very persuasive; I’m sure I’d manage to survive out there.”

“Please. You wouldn’t last a day out there.”

You scoff, feigning offense. “And why not?”

“You’d want to help some poor fucker giving you puppy eyes, and they’d just end up mugging you.” Or worse.

“Well, alright. You got me there.” You glance away, raising your fingers to run along the scar on your cheek.

Levi follows your movements, studying the way your hands conceal your old injury. He wonders if it still hurts, if you forget it is there only to be reminded of its existence when you catch your reflection in the mirror.

It happens to him, sometimes.

“Seriously, thank you.”

The softness of your tone cradles his ears. Levi takes a step back.

“No need to get emotional on me,” he mumbles.

You chuckle. “Still. Sometimes, it’s good to say things out loud.”

“If you say so.”

Levi turns around, fumbling with the handle of the door to swing it open.

But just as he’s about to head out, to leave you to unpack, there's a clear sound comes from the other side. Levi hears that familiar "Meow," before he sees the tabby cat sliding in between the cracks of the door.

“Oh... what's this?” he hears you stutter behind him.

Right. Levi probably should have mentioned this minor detail in his letters.

“Scout,” he supplies, eying the kitten currently rubbing her head against his right leg, a loud prrr vibrating against his calve. Three months ago, the cat was nothing more than skin and bones. Like a rat. Now, she’s healthy again, her limbs growing quicker than Levi anticipated.

“You… you got a cat?”

"Clearly."

"Like a pet?"

Levi crosses his arms over his chest, tapping a rhythmic beat of five counts against his forearm. “Do you need to get your eyes checked or what?”

You ignore his surly attitude, the same bafflement still present in your tone. “And you named him Scout?”

“Her. She's a female cat.”

You look down at the cat for a moment, your eyes wide like saucers. Then, with a low, hushed tone, you let out a strangled, “Walls, you're a cat dad,” before pinching your lips tightly, like you were trying very hard not to burst out in fits of giggles.

Levi’s jaw instantly clenches. “Stop laughing.”

“I wasn’t laughing!”

“You were about to.”

“Yeah, alright, I was about to.” And then, as if saying those words out loud gave you the right to do as you please, you stifle out a snort, shooting up a hand to cover your half-contained laughter.

This time, Levi doesn’t bother hiding his glare.

Paying this interaction no mind, Scout looks at you with a quizzical stare, her big, green eyes taking you in. Just like you, the feline creature is now discovering the new room and the furniture that goes with it, and she now seems to want to understand what to make of the new occupant that is to share this space.

And so, with a last parting mrrp, the cat skitters towards you, her fast steps tiptoeing against the oaken floor. In response, you crouch down, outstretching a delicate hand in Scout's direction.

With a combination of grace and suspicion that only cats are really able to muster, Scout sniffs your fingers, her slit pupils observing your every movement.

Whatever she was looking for must have pleased her, because not a moment later, she lets out a high-pitched mewling sound and rubs her cheeks against your digits.

A smile forms on your lips.

And when you look back up, there’s a sparkle in your eyes that makes Levi’s heart skip a beat. "Oh, she's cute," you coo, scratching Scout's chin. "How old is she?"

"I don't know."

"You didn't ask?"

"I don't speak cat, Adler."

"Oh, right. She didn't have an owner?"

"No. She was alone when I found her."

"Oh."

Levi had found the kitten half-dead under some debris; no one in town knew where she had come from, or how old she was. Most likely, her mother had abandoned her, but it was hard to know for sure.

All he knew is that the kitten had been alone, and that was enough for him to want to help the kitten. Taking her in was only meant to be temporary thing.

And yet, here she still was.

"Well," you interrupt his thoughts, head tilting as you inspect Scout, "I reckon she can't be more than four months old."

Levi lets out a grunting sound, not really knowing enough about cats to refute or agree with your observations. Instead, he half-turns away, grumbling parting words, “I’m gonna make us some tea while you unpack.”

His peripheral catches your hand gently gliding along the cat’s spine. “Your bitter old tea, huh?”

He means to ask if you’d prefer something else, but it comes out all wrong: “Got a problem with that?”

Shit.

Your eyes lock with his.

And your smile widens.

“Not at all. It just feels like being home.”

Levi clears his throat and turns away. Home. Is it really like that?

No, of course, it’s not.

Home doesn’t exist anymore.

And he’s not the same man you once knew.

A/N: This story has been in the works for the last year, and it's been a very precious project for me. This fic seeks to shed some light on Levi's life after the war, with its ups and down - but ultimately, it's a story of love and healing <3 Furthermore, English isn't my mother tongue, so you know the spiel - don't hesitate to let me know if you spot mistakes, but pls be patient!

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cherriegyuu · 11 months ago

Text

high for this | csc/kmg

pairing: seungcheol x f!reader x mingyu genre: smut word count: 4.3k warnings: minors do not interact, threesome, dirty talking, swearing, petnames, oral, multiple orgasm, forced orgasm, unprotected sex (don't do this), boob play, kind of intense, little bit of degradation, anal (?) a/n: this happened... i blame @ressonancee, she made me do it, also thank u to @ssinboo too for helping me, both of you 💕 this is my last fic of the year, so why not make it the wildest thing i've ever written? lower case was intencional. read it through once, probably needs a lot of editing

"is there anything you want to try?"

you looked up from your toenails to find your boyfriend's strong gaze on you. it was a sunday night much like any other sunday, you were watching a movie together while you painted your nails. much to your dislike, that week you had an appointment with a nail stylist but she had to cancel last minute so it was up to you to do your own nails. you liked doing it by yourself, but only your hands.

"hm" you looked at the bright numbers on your phone. it was just past eight, around time for dinner "i feel like pizza, you?"

seungcheol nodded and reached for his phone, texting the place you usually ordered from, mindlessly typing away on his phone.

"that was not really the question though," he said looking at you "i asked if there's anything you'd like to try"

you cocked your head to the side, not sure what he meant but since you were talking about food just a second before, you figured that it was still the topic. the movie too was about a waitress turned chef, so it seemed like a natural path of conversation.

"i don't know, all the places i want to try don't deliver and i don't feel like going out" you murmured.

your boyfriend laughed, his hand tracing random circles around your ankle.

"in sex, babe. something you want to try while we have sex"

if life was like a cartoon or an animation, you were certain that there was probably going to be a question mark over your head. you thought that there was nothing wrong with your sex life, if anything it was great.

thorughout the three and a half years you and seungcheol had been together, sex had never been boring or dull. if anything it was always exciting. you had always been eager to try different things and fulfill most, if not all, of each other's fantasies.

so his question, though not really surprising, was somewhat unexpected.

"not that i can think of right now, why?"

he chuckled, turning his eyes back to his phone, and quickly typing your order. he didn't need to ask what kind of pizza you wanted, it was always the same order. you were sure that when the workers saw his name they didn't need to read the order in full.

"because i think there’s something you've always wanted to try and never told me"

you started to shake your head but stopped midway, narrowing your eyes at him.

"how do you know?"

he turned around, now completely facing you on the bed, and pulled your feet up on his leg. many times before seungcheol had painted your nails for you, the reasons usually varied a lot, but you knew that this time he was trying to get you to confess to him.

he would have to work a little harder for that.

"baby, i know what ticks you. you can try to hide it all you want, but in the end, you're not the innocent girl everyone thinks you are"

you bit your lip, thinking just how far you could talk. there was only one fantasy that you were yet to complete and though he was your boyfriend and judgment from him was usually very low, if it even happened at all, you weren't sure if the one you kept a secret was one he would like to hear, much less make it happen for you.

the truth was that seungcheol was more on the jealous side of the spectrum of the boyfriends you had in your life. he was, undoubtedly, number one on that list. so, perhaps, telling him that you would like to partake in a threesome would not be the best idea.

"i don't know if i should tell you about it"

seungcheol's eyes were focused on the brush running over your nail but you didn't miss the way he ran his tongue over his inner cheek.

"if you don't say it out loud, i'm not going to make it happen"

you analyzed him for a second, narrowed eyes at the way he looked so nonchalant about it. he looked too calm with the idea. familiar with the thought already.

"you've done it before!" you said, mouth agape, sort of laughing, shaking his arm "when? with who? you and two girls, or you, a guy and a girl? oh, oh oh! you and other two guys?"

of course that was it. of course, that was why he was so chill about it.

"i'm going to mess up your nails," he said without raising his eyes, a hint of entertainment in his voice.

"who cares about my nails? i want the stories"

seungcheol said that he knew what made you tick but you also knew how to get him to do the things you wanted. you patted his hands away from your feet and climbed on his lap, making sure to stretch your legs behind him so you wouldn't mess up your nails, which would make seungcheol pout like a child.

"tell me," you asked, in your sweetest voice, poking at his dimples that decided to make an appearance.

he set his hands around your waist, a grin on his face when he pushed his hand under your shirt - his shirt actually - so he could touch your skin.

"me, a guy and a girl"

you sighed and kissed him. the image of him, you and someone else crept up in your mind again, and slouched over him again.

"i'll let you pick whoever you..."

"mingyu" you said even before he could finish his sentence.

he pinched your waist, pouting.

"you could at least pretend to think about it"

you had thought about it, more times than you were willing to admit. out of all the people you knew, mingyu was the only one who ever crossed your mind.

"i'll make it happen"

you sat in the middle of the bed, expectantly looking from seungcheol, who stood close to door, to mingyu, who anxiously shifted his weight from a foot the other on side of the room.

after seungcheol said that he was going to make it happen, he never mentioned the situation again. and although it had been fun to tease him that day, you didn't want to push your luck with him.

it took him a couple of weeks to say anything at all and then he suddenly just said "mingyu will come by tomorrow"

no dinner, no wine, beer, or talk. it was just an announcement and then the three of you were in the same room, expectantly looking at each other.

"you should kiss her, get her in the mood," seungcheol said to mingyu "this was something she wanted to try, but i think she got a little shy now that you're here"

mingyu adverted his eyes from seungcheol and finally set them on you again, trying to make sure that it was really okay to touch you. when all you did was blink at him, he hesitated.

"do you actually want this?" he asked, looking over at seungcheol who smiled while leaning against the door, arms crossed over his chest.

your silence didn't come from cold feet or suddenly having second thoughts, it was more because you felt hot all over. neither of them had even touched you yet but just the fact that both of them were in the same room with you and you knew what was about to happen. your mind had sort of stopped functioning the moment you saw mingyu walk in, trailing behind seungcheol.

"dude, maybe some other time," he said to seungcheol "i don't think she wants this"

"no," you said finding your voice again, suddenly gripping his large hand "i want this, i'm just a little nervous"

mingyu didn't need to be told twice. he had gotten a green light from you and that was all he needed to move. he started with your shoulder. he placed a light kiss on your skin, brushing away your hair and the strap of your nightgown.

you never thought that seungchel would agree to something like that and that was why you never told him about it. being with two men was one of your fantasies and while your boyfriend had worked hard to meet all of them, you were certain that there was one he would never say yes to. and yet, somehow, there you were, in the middle of your bedroom with the two hottest men you had ever laid eyes on.

the promise of what was about to happen was more than enough to get you started.

mingyu trailed kisses up your neck. the contrast between the delicate caress of his lips and the roughness of his hands was enough to make your legs shake a little. finally, his lips touched yours. tentatively at first, mimicking the silky touch of just a second before. when you responded to his actions, hand gripping his forearms, mingyu deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing past your lips, demanding control.

whenever you imagined yourself in such a position, the third person never had a face. it was only you and seungcheol and someone else, a faceless man. but the second you met mingyu, months before, he became the faceless man in your fantasies. just how many times had you imagined yourself in between the two men, falling apart in their arms?

countless had been the nights you woke up needy, after yet another dream, turning to seungcheol desperate, begging for more and more.

just as mingyu slightly pulled back you felt seungcheol behind you, his hand on your upper thigh, dragging the fabric of your gown up. he made a pleased sound on the back of his throat when he didn't feel the usual band of underwear. you thought that there was no point in wearing one.

“i'm going to blindfold you now” seungcheol whispered, lightly nibbling at your earlobe.

you moaned when you felt the lace being placed over your eyes at the same time mingyu kissed your chest, his thumb running over your nipple.

seungcheol wrapped his arm around you and pulled your back flush against him, his lips sucking your skin as mingyu left airy kisses over your chest.

you had completely forfeited control at that point, even if maybe it was a little early for that. the lace covering your eyes only gave you small glimpses of the man in front of you, of his chest still covered in the white t-shirt he had on when he arrived, his tanned skin. but even if you were able to see a little, there was still so much that you didn't and that made every touch feel hotter, needier, more demanding.

you felt seungcheol taking a couple of steps back, until both of you were seated on the middle bed.

"why the blindfold?" you asked.

seungcheol pulled your weight over him, his hands pushing your gown down at the same time mingyu pushed it up, leaving all the fabric pooling around your waist.

"because you like it, because i want you to enjoy this to the fullest" his voice was low, rough, and each word that left his lips sent waves through your body, straight to your core "so enjoy it while he eats you out and then fucks you, there won't be a second chance. i won't share you again"

one of the reasons you even said yes in the first place to the idea was because mingyu was leaving town soon. he got a job in another city and it required him to move. so when seungcheol brought up you fantasy and teased you with it, agreeing and choosing mingyu had been easy. you wouldn't have to see him again any time soon, so there was no chance of you being embarrassed in front of him. by the time you saw him again, the things you allowed both of them to do to you would be a distant memory.

"when do you fuck me?"

that was the whole point of the night, you thought, having both of them at the same, but in seungcheol's little speech, there was no mention of him.

his chest vibrated with laughter, chuckling.

"i will, baby, don't worry"

seungcheol snaked his arm around you waist, his fingers sliding over you until he reached your thighs. your boyfriend pushed your leg to the side, while mingyu did the exact same thing, leaving you in complete display for him.

"if you don't like something," seungcheol said, his breath tingling your skin "if you want to stop, whatever it is. just say it, and we'll stop"

you could see it perfectly in your mind, mingyu kneeling on the floor, kissing you while looking up to see your reaction. one thing about having one of your senses taken away was the fact that everything felt magnified. so the touches weren't simple touches anymore. actions that normally would have only made you excited about the situation, suddenly made you horny.

there was no need to touch yourself to know that you were already wet and you had only started. your muscles started to tense up in anticipation of what was to come.

no imagination or dream could have prepared you for the reality that was mingyu. instead of playing with you a little more, something that he would definitely enjoy doing, mingyu placed three small breathy kisses on your pelvis before his lips finally found your center.

his tongue was one of a man who knew what he was doing.

it started with a tickle, a flutter of a touch and then it was all too consuming.

you moaned when he wrapped his arms around your legs and pulled you closer to him. the sounds were all loud, wet, and dirty, and somehow you felt hotter with each passing second.

"more" you begged.

he flicked your clit once, then twice, before pulling it into his mouth, sucking hard like it was a goddamned lollipop. he kept going until you became a begging mess in front of him, your hand found its way to his hair and pressed him harder over you.

seungcheol let out a hum of approval from behind you, finally placing his hands on you. he pinched your nipples, tugging at them harshly only increasing your pleasure, all the while mingyu blew and lightly bit on your clit.

it felt like being worshiped by the two men. two sets of hands all over your body whose only purpose was to pleasure you.

mingyu slid a finger inside of you, without warning, making you arch and seungcheol tighten his grip around your waist.

"she's so loud," mingyu said, pleased.

seungcheol laughed again, kissing your neck. he wrapped his hand around your neck, forcing your head back. your moan was swallowed by his hungry lips.

"add another finger, she'll get even louder"

you felt mingyu’s devilish smile, before he did exactly what seungcheol said. the stretch was simply perfect. he curled his fingers just the right way, pushing them all the way in before almost pulling out, while his tongue paid full attention to your clit. there was no stopping the moans that escaped your lips, loud and needy. the combination of mingyu's agile tongue and seungcheol’s skilled hands was enough to drive you crazy.

“it’s okay baby,” seungcheol whispered, pinching your nipples relentlessly “you can cum on his fingers”

his words were enough to drive you over the edge. your grip on mingyu’s hair tightened, your free hand searching for seungcheol’s thigh. mingyu held you closer when your head started to spin, your legs shaking, licking you as if you were an ice cream he couldn’t get enough of. he flattened his tongue, licking you in one big motion, his fingers moving faster. all of it almost too much but you catch yourself begging:

“ah… don’t stop… please”

you were arching, pleading, demanding and you didn’t care. never before had you felt like that and you knew it was only the beginning.

suddenly mingyu’s hands and lips were gone, but just for a second. he crawled over your body. you touched the lace covering your eyes, wanting to push it away, needing to see both men, but your boyfriend stopped you, pushing your hands away.

“the fold stays on” he said and suddenly his voice became a distant sound, muffled by the weight of mingyu over you, his lips demanding your attention.

you could taste your release on him, and you couldn’t help but moan a little at the feel of his naked chest over yours. somewhere along the way he had taken his shirt off. the bulge in his sweats giving you the tiniest bit of friction but not nearly enough.

you wanted to see seungcheol's face, wanted to study and memorize every tiny expression on his face. wanted to see if his eyes darkened like they usually did when he was aroused, if the moment was also pleasurable for him, or if he was doing all of it because it was something you wanted.

“but i want to see you”

seungcheol was a hands-on kind of boyfriend, not in a suffocating kind of way, but in a way that made you feel cherished. his hands were always on you. if you were both in the same room there was no way he was going to stay away.

one of your friends decided to have her bachelorette in the same club her fiancé was having his bachelor's party, to which seungcheol had been invited to. though the night started as expected, somewhere around 2 am you found your boyfriend sitting by your side when you had gotten too tired to keep dancing with the other girls.

if he was driving, his hand was on your leg or holding onto yours; if you were walking down the street, his arm was around your shoulders. he was always all over you.

“get on your knees,” he said.

there was no need for you to make a single movement when mingyu turned you around and dropped you on the bed like you were some kind of ragged doll. laughing might not have been the best reaction but it was the only one you had to give.

“you wanna her first?” mingyu asked.

“you can have her”

something about the way they talked, as if you had no say and were there only for their entertainment, turned on you even further.

the sound of plastic being torn was the only one in the room, as well as your small pants, while you still tried to catch your breath. you desperately wanted to remove the blindfold. for whatever reason, you enjoyed the sight of a man rolling up a condom. maybe you liked that it helped build anticipation or maybe you just liked knowing what was in store for you.

even so, you put your ass as high up as you possibly could, your knees apart.

“i guess she's excited” mingyu said, his tone cocky as he ran his hand over your ass “nice and slow, or hard and fast?”

mingyu pressed the tip of his fingers to your cunt, moving them up and down a couple of times, getting his fingers wet, and then running them over his dick. not that he needed it, he knew that he could just slide in without effort, but he enjoyed seeing you tremble on fingers one more time.

he aligned his tip with your entrance, rubbing himself on you a couple of times but stilled a second later, waiting for your answer.

"in, would be great"

he laughed, slowly pushing inside. you were a little sensitive but that only heightened the feeling. your breath hitched as he finally sank into you. you held onto the sheets, hands balled into fists, squirming, urging him to just fucking move. he wasn't as thick as seungcheol but he was long, touching you somewhere that you were yet to be touched by anyone before.

suddenly you felt seungcheol's cock against your lips, his thumb forcing them open. he thrust himself in, hitting the back of your throat just as mingyu started to move.

their paces were completely different, while mingyu pushed in long, sensual strokes, seungcheol forced his hips harshly, holding your head in place until you squeezed his waist. despite being different, they somehow felt complementary to each other.

an unfamiliar sound left your lips, a weird mix of a moan and a gasp for air. your boyfriend wrapped your hair in his hand, pulling on it, forcing your head back. it should have been painful but it only made you clench around mingyu's cock.

"look at you" seungcheol chuckled a little, his fingers running across your face, further turning you into a mess of tears and spit "taking two cocks at the same time"

you moaned when he pushed himself into your mouth again, at the same time mingyu started to move faster, his index fingers circling your hole.

"wouldn't you just love it if he pushed his finger in a little" seungcheol taunted "all holes filled like a good little slut"

you cried, needing more of everything.

the entire situation was degrading, from your actions to his words, but you were beyond caring. all of it was just beyond anything you could have ever imagined. every sort of contact you had with a threesome before, from hearing your friends talk about it, reading it, watching it, imagining it, was nothing compared to the reality.

"oh she loves to be called a slut" mingyu grunted "she's milking me, man, i'm not gonna last much longer"

mingyu's thrusts became frantic, almost sloppy and he lost his constant tempo.

"in my mouth" you pulled away from seungcheol long enough to say.

to hell with seungcheol’s rules and blindfold. you turned around, whimpering at the emptiness, pulling the blindfold from your eyes and tossing it aside.

mingyu stood at the edge of the bed, one foot propped on the mattress. his large hand stocking his cock, a grin on his face while you crawled towards him. his dick right in front of your face, long, veins high, a thick layer of your juices coated him. you moaned as you pulled the condom away before you took him in your mouth.

you knew what pulling away from seungcheol would cause, in fact you were hoping for it. so when you felt his hands roughly grab your hips, you smiled. the scream that left you when he slammed into you wasn't of pain, but of pure pleasure. he moved hard and fast, leaving you no room to breathe. you cried, your nails digging into mingyu's flesh as seungcheol mercilessly fucked you. your boyfriend grunted with every thrust.

you felt mingyu’s dick twitch in your mouth, scraping him with your teeth, making him hiss.

“i’m gonna cum in you sweet little mouth, sweetheart” he said, grabbing the hair at your scalp, forcing himself all the way in, holding himself in place, until he found his release.

slowly he rocked his hips, his hot cum running down your throat. you sucked him dry, not a single drop left behind.

you felt a second wave of pleasure consume you and the entire world seemed like it was crashing down around you when seungcheol inserted his index inside your only empty hole, a second later his middle finger too.

“yes, cheol, fuck”

your entire body contracted, shaking in absolute, delirious, pleasure. it went through your entire body in waves, from your head to your toes.

seungcheol kept going, moving into your sensitive slit restlessly. you cried out again, feeling your orgasm build once more when you felt him fill you with his warm cum.

“that's my perfect cum slut, filled to the brim” cheol praised you

you allowed your limp body to fall on the mattress, face down, completely exhausted but feeling pleased in a way you had never before.

but seungcheol wasn't done with you, not yet anyway. he turned you around, his hand immediately found your clit, rubbing it slowly in circles, in a way that he knew drove you crazy.

“no” you said

you tried to close your legs, holding his hand still. you were too sensitive, your body entirely too tired to keep going. seungcheol got on top of you, using his knees to keep your thighs apart.

“remember what you promised, baby?” he whispered, kissing your cheek tenderly, “you said that you would cum for me the same you came for him”

you shook your head, small tears forming on the corners of your eyes. yes, you had promised, but you couldn’t follow through with it

“i can't, it's too much”

“you can, baby” he pressed harder against your clit, adding two fingers inside of you, curling them just the right way “give me one more. just one more”

your body tensed up once again, eyes rolling to the back of your head. his words were the last straw, enough to drive you once again to the edge. a scream rippled through you, your hips bulking up from the bed hard enough that seungcheol had to hold you in place.

you struggled to breathe again, your lungs doing a terrible job at what they were supposed to do. the situation became a little worse when seungcheol dropped his entire weight over you, pulling his digits out of you. he too breathed heavily. you ran your hand over his hair, caressing it while you slowly came back to your senses.

"you okay?" he pushed back to look at you, pushing your hair away from your face "was it too much?"

you shook your head, smiling at him. you couldn't talk yet, body still shaking a little, sensitive all over. you were certain that you looked like a complete mess, you could feel your entire body sticky with sweat.

seungcheol kissed your cheek again, pulling the sheets from your bed over you. you left knowing what he was doing.

"dude, i've seen it all. in fact, i did a little more than just look at it"

“keep talking and your eyes will magically disappear”

taglist: @wonwooz1, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @belladaises, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld, @aaniag, @byunparklimchoi, @k-drama-adict, @@maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @roguesthetic, @sofix-hc7, @moonlightgrleric, @mixling-blog, @haowonbins, @valgracia, @slut4donghyuck, @muantuankim

please consider reblogging and commenting, i'd love to know what your thoughts

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leisureflame · 6 months ago

Text

"I CANT THINK"

If you write, I assure you you have thought that.

Fear no more child, for I have found a solution.

it's called Rapid writing

something we learned when I was in 9th grade drama class and I cannot emphasize enough just how effective it is. Its actually what gave me the idea for my first book.

Stop what you are doing and do what I tell you

go grab either a pencil and paper (or open an empty document)

set a timer for 2 minutes

ask a friend to give you a random sentence. I have a few examples that I myself rapid wrote to: a) I looked around and saw b) the old lady hung from the ceiling and laughed c) purple paint dripped from her long purple fingernails d) there is a hole in my ceiling. e) when I am sad I... f) When you close the door, I... g) there is a wooden door with a gold doorknob

Now the most important thing is not to think of this sentence before you start writing. as soon as you decide which one if you are choosing from my examples (or as soon as you hear it if you are getting if from a friend), start the timer.

start writing the sentence and without hesitating just keep writing. the #1 rule here is to not stop or hesitate for a single second until the 2 minutes are over. you can write nonsense if you want and if you REALLY can't continue then write some random words for a couple of seconds then continue AS LONG AS YOU ARE STILL WRITING.

another rule is that you are not allowed to delete. even if its a spelling error, just ignore it.

after the timer is done, I promise you will have something to work with. now copy the paragraph you wrote and paste it below, here you can start fixing spelling errors and adding things at your own pace because now the creative side of your brain has opened.

don't think about the way you are writing or the words you use, think about the story you are telling. the idea.

Sometimes you will get something beautiful and deep like I did here:

When I am sad I go to my blanket, not many people know about it, all they think is happening is that a child likes to cuddle in a blanket, but no. my blanket has a special thing about it, it is a magical blanket, well, not the blanket itself but the embroidery on the blanket, it simply takes my sadness away but it adds the story of my emotions to the embroidery, my blanket is a very pretty one, it is a pastel blue color and it has so much silk embroideries that you just think its patterns, but it isn't, if you look deeper you will find stories every one of those stories came from someones tears... my tears. whenever i cry, i wipe my tears with my blanket and my pain goes but my story stays.

there is a wooden door with a gold doorknob on the door there is a painting of you, and there are many locks on the door from top to bottom, when you open the door, there is a mirror. this door is the door to self discovery, from the outside there is a painting of how people think you look like but when you open the door, you get to see what you really are in detail and look at yourself they way you want to, you can smile or cry and the refection on the mirror will change but on the painting, it doesn't show ur emotions, just how people see you usually.

or you can get something so stupid like i did here:

there is a hole in the ceiling in my classroom. everyday a dinosaur would a pear and eat my lunch and i keep coming home hungry but my mom dsays she packed me enough food. so she didn't feed me. i told her a dinasour was eating my lunch but she said that disasours only live in Norway! so i went into the school vents looking for that idino and revenge my food, we met at last, held our weapons, i was holding a subway sandwich and the dino was holding a bana na MY BANANA i lost it, so i attacked him one hit on the head and the whole species were extinct , people thousand of years from now said dinos got extinct because of a meteorite but i know better, also i am still alive because whoever kills a dino becomes immortal, also i killed my mom for not believing me and let her starve in her grave just like she let made me starve. and then i killed everyone who was a flat earther because i hate them and now i can kill anyone once i tap them with my super subway sandwich

(by the way, ignore the horrible spelling, the examples i gave were from the unedited version.)

THE POINT IS ITS ACTUALLY SO HELPFUL. you can use it for a new story idea (i used the blanket one as an element in one of my WIPs and it helped the story a lot) or if you get something stupid like the dino one I wrote THATS GOOD THATS FINE because now you have your creativity going.

I challenge you to actually try this and PLEASE share it with me I LOVE reading other peoples rapid writings. have fun <3

tagging @cosmosandcapybaras24 @ajsbookshelf @gloryofdawn, @chaoticharmony93 @deception-united and anyone else who's interested to try this out and share with me!

#writing #creative writing #writing tips #creativity #writers block #creative block #writer stuff #writeblr

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leilanihours · 4 months ago

Text

# SHAMELESS

pairing: kate martin x lsu!reader

word count: 1299

warnings: smut (MDNI), head + fingering (reader receiving), ab riding, mentions of strap

summary: you're tired of pretending you're not attracted to kate and kate is just tired of your attitude.

⭑ from lani: need her so bad after seeing that push during tds game! anyways second post of the day i missed writing 😊

masterlist !

YOU HAD NO idea how you ended up here, pressed up against the wall of your team's locker room, with kate martin's knee between your thighs.

you hated this girl. but did you really? apparently not since you've been begging for her touch for the past ten minutes.

it's agonizing. every part of this. the way she had been one of your biggest rivals for so many years. the way she had such a strong influence over you. the way she was doing everything except what you wanted. the way you needed her so indescribably bad.

everywhere her large hands traveled, your skin burned with both a sense of self-betrayal and unbeatable addiction. you wanted this for so long, you just didn't realize it until now.

you thought that all the built up anger against her was a result of her being from the school that kept yours from winning a championship. while part of that was true, it turns out that most of the frustration toward the girl was sexual. you needed her. and you hated that you needed her.

"fuck, kate," you sigh as her lips paint the skin on your neck purple and red, "don't leave hickies."

"why?" she mumbles against you, not slowing down or stopping in any way, "scared your teammates are gonna find out you got fucked by an iowa girl?"

"i don't need their bullshit," you agree, "tired of having to deny that i want you."

"then don't deny it. tell them how bad you need me. tell them how i fucked you in their own locker room."

"you can't-"

"i'll do what i want with you, y/n. you started this, we’re not stopping until you finish it."

with that, kate lifts her head from your neck and drags you over to your own locker. she pushes you onto the bench in front of it and immediately sinks to her knees.

hungrily, she pulls your shorts and underwear down and is met with your soaking cunt.

"fuck, you're this wet already? you must really hate me," she jokes, but there's no sign of humor on her face.

you move to take off your purple jersey, the body heat becoming too much to bear, but you're immediately stopped by kate's hands grasping yours.

"leave that shit on," she protests, "want you to think of this every time you put it on."

you let out a moan at her words, her tone. sure, you've seen kate angry and determined on the court, but this was so much more different. so much more enticing, addictive.

before you know it, she's diving straight into your dripping pussy, experienced tongue working wonders on your puffy clit.

her rough hands grip your thighs, squeezing to elicit more reactions from you. she works one of her hands between your legs, teasing your hole.

"think you can take my fingers, mama?" she mutters against you.

"please," you beg, "need it so bad," any self-pride long gone thanks to the girl in front of you.

"if you insist," she shrugs, shoving two of her long fingers into your cunt at a set pace, forcing your graphic moans to echo throughout the deserted locker room.

"god, just like that," you groan as she brushes against your g-spot and circles her tongue around your clit.

"that's not my name," she practically growls, "with the way you run your mouth talking shit about me you should know my name by now."

when you only whine at her words, she stops her actions just as you get close to your climax. you tilt your head down to see her glaring at you expectantly, her face red from both anger and infatuation.

"well?"

"please, kate, need you so fucking bad."

"good girl."

she stands up from her spot on the floor and strips out of her jersey, leaving her in a black nike sports bra and white basketball shorts. you salivate at the sight of her defined abs, reaching out to run your fingers over them.

however, kate has different plans once she sees how your eyes lit up when she took off her shirt.

"get up," she demands.

you oblige hesitantly, not sure what she wants you to do. when you don't move fast enough, the blonde pulls you up by the hem of your jersey. you jolt forward but are caught by her toned arms.

you're about to question her actions but slowly begin to understand what she's trying to do when she takes your spot on the bench and grabs your waist so that you're straddling her.

"ride them," she says bluntly.

"what?"

"are you that fucking dumb? you like my abs, i know you do. so ride them like the slut you are."

"kate-"

you failed to notice that you already subconsciously started rubbing your bare pussy against the hem of kate's shorts to relieve yourself.

"shut up and do it or i'm leaving."

her searing grip on your hips forces you to grind down on her sculpted torso, the friction sending goosebumps across your skin.

you rest your hands at the nape of kate's neck, occasionally pulling at the slightly wavy blond strands that were previously knotted into her stupidly sexy braid.

"there you go," she sighs, her eyes trained on the desperate bucking of your hips and her hands practically clawing at the curve of your ass.

"mmm, feels so good, kate," you moan shamelessly.

"yeah? you like riding me like this?"

"fuck yes."

"just wait 'till i have you riding my strap one day," she says darkly, "fuck, makes me so wet just thinking about it."

you pick up your pace against her stomach at her insinuation of a future rendezvous, her filthy words igniting a fire inside you.

as your clit repeatedly brushes up against the ridges of her abs, you can tell your release is near. your breath quickens at the feeling, kate immediately picking up on your behavior.

"you close?"

"so close," you whine.

"give it to me, baby, come on," she coaxes, sliding a hand underneath your jersey and bra to toy with your nipple.

she moves her head to leave more marks on your neck and collarbone, truly not giving a shit about who sees them.

her eagerness clouds your mind, the knot in your stomach snapping as you come all over her stomach with a loud curse.

her insistent grip on your waist pushes you to your high as she keeps you rocking against her.

"so good for me," she whispers in your ear as she places a soft kiss below your jaw.

you could get whiplash from her change in demeanor, not understanding how she was able to switch from such a dominant tone to one of comfort.

your chest heaves as you look down at the blonde below you. when your eyes meet hers, you are once again entranced by her beauty. the gentle blue of her eyes makes you melt in her lap, also reminding you of how she has yet to get off.

"what about you?"

"don't worry about me," she assures with a smirk, "there's always next time."

"next time huh?" your heart flutters at the thought of getting to have kate like this again.

"how else am i gonna have you on my cock?" she whispers in your ear as she guides you off of her to put your clothes back on.

"jesus, kate," you groan at her teasing.

she simply chuckles as she throws her jersey back on.

"promise there's gonna be a next time?" you say with a raised eyebrow, fully aware of how desperate you sound but not caring one bit.

"baby, if i don't get to fuck you properly within the next month i might lose my mind. so yes, i promise."

— leilani signing off ! 📁

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youraverageaemondsimp · 5 months ago

Text

Ensnared in lies. // Cult Leader!Bsf!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader || MODERN AU.

Summary: Returning to your old town after many years to settle down posed many difficulties, luckily your childhood best friend was willing to help you out, surely he doesn't have any ulterior motives, right?

WARNINGS: dubcon, cult, narcissism, brainwashed neighborhood, coercion, somnophilia(?), unprotected p in v sex, breeding kink, body worshipping, cunnilingus, brainwashing(?), gaslighting, manipulation, extremely gullible reader, unknowingly being involved with a cult, yandere!aemond(?), + plus not proof read, lmk if there's anymore warnings I should add.

WC: 7.3k

A/N: I finally go to finish this, it's insane how long it took. // divider creds to @cafekitsune

You rolled down your window as you drove your car, allowing the breeze to hit you gently and flow through your hair, the smell of fresh air was something you weren't used to since you had lived in the city for a few years— having gotten to the pollution there, you had forgotten that air could even be this fresh.

Moving places was a hassle, especially from the city to a town, but it did not matter to you since you had told yourself that you'd come back here no matter what, after all it was your childhood town, where you grew up in.

As you drove, the town's sept came into view, and the moment you glanced at it, the sept made you feel an overwhelming amount of nostalgia, remembering how you and your childhood best friend would sneak off the Sunday preachings to play in the fields. They were fun memories.

But for an odd reason, you felt a sense of deep dread along with the feelings of nostalgia, you felt your gut wrench as you passed by it, the big seven pointed star loomed eerily, making shivers run down your spine.

You shrugged it off and stepped on the accelerator, speeding past it, the blanket of dread, which the sept engulfed you in, was lifted the moment the towns houses came into view, their architecture had developed but still remained their original structure, you felt nostalgic once again, memories springing up in your mind.

You quickly drove to the house you grew up in, parking the car in the front of it before getting out, the house had been abandoned for a few years after you and your parents had moved out of the town, it looked shabby, spider webs decorating the corners, you pulled the key out of your pocket before pushing the fence gate open and moving towards the door.

The door handle was rusted, and the key didn't fit into the hole at first, but you somehow managed to push it inside and twisted as much as you could, the noise of metal clunking against each other as you desperately tried to get it open, and by pure luck, it opened.

The door creaked open, revealing the insides of the house, it was empty, and you stepped inside — immediately coughing because of the dust particles in the air, the floor was covered in dust, abandoned spider webs clung onto the walls. You walked further inside, the sound of your boots echoing through the empty house, your feet took you to your childhood bedroom, which you opened to see if it was the same.

Of course it was, the walls were painted your favourite colour at that time, you giggled as you thought of a funny memory, when you had thrown a tantrum and asked your parents to get it painted because your best friend had his room painted too.

Ah yes, your best friend.

You wondered if he still lived here, though knowing him, he probably did. You both had kept in touch from time to time but never really went into details of your life, however he was still a main part of your life, after all, you spent most of your childhood with him, doing random stuff and messing around like kids and teenagers did.

The thought of him brought a smile to your face.

You continue to take in the sight of your bedroom, stepping inside to further examine the room, to check if it needs any cleaning, You go to the window before looking outside and then something catches your eye.

It was nothing out of the ordinary, just another spider web, weaved outside of it, unlike all the spider webs you came across in this house, it wasn't abandoned. A spider crawled on it, still seemed as if it was weaving it carefully, placing every microfiber in its place whilst moving to the centre, you watched as the silk came out of its spinnerets, awed by the process of how it made its web, with so much precision.

Just then, you spotted a butterfly making its way towards it, you furrowed your eyebrows, wondering if the butterfly knew that it was making its way towards its own trap, but you couldn't do anything except watch.

And alas, the butterfly got caught in the web, its wings sticking to the silks as it struggled to get out, ruining the web in process but the more it struggled, the more the web stuck to its wings, weighing it down further, the spider seemed to be watching ominously as the butterfly struggled, and then, it attacked.

It jumped on the butterfly, and you sighed heavily, knowing it was a lost battle for the butterfly, you had hoped it would escape but it didn't, the spider had already caught it, you watched as the butterfly eventually stopped struggling, indicating that it has met its own death.

You looked at it in horror before shaking your head and making your way out of your bedroom, mind still on the incident you had witnessed, trying to understand why it would ever willingly fly into the trap?

‘Perhaps it didn't see the trap’ is the reason you came up with, which made more sense, ‘What a naive creature’ you thought as you walked into the middle of the living room.

Just then your phone starts ringing, you smile when you read the name and immediately answer the call.

“Hello? Y/N? Is it actually true?” the voice on the other line questioned and you cheekily giggled before answering, “Yes Aemond!” You replied enthusiastically.

You had texted Aemond that you were moving back into town right before you reached.

It wasn't too long before Aemond reached your house, your guess was correct, he still lived here, you waited outside by your car patiently for him, scrolling through your phone when you heard the wheels of a vehicle squeaking as it stopped, you lifted your head up to take a look.

The car door opened and a familiar figure stepped out, you couldn't control the amount of happiness you felt when you finally saw him, your best friend. He had matured quite a lot, his hair grew in length, his features became more sharper as the baby fat was lost with age, and what you found surprising was that he now seemed to have stopped wearing that eyepatch.

You remembered how insecure he was about it, he lost it in a mishap that involved his nephews and was very insecure since then, yet now he doesn't seem so insecure anymore, in fact, you took note of the sapphire placed in the empty socket of his eye.

He shut the car door and made his way to you, and you immediately pounced on him, making him stumble back a little bit as you hugged him tightly, his hands rested gently on the back of your waist and he let you hug him, “Oh gods Aemond, I missed you so much! You've changed a lot.” You exclaim to which he gives you a small smile, “You too.” He replies, alluding to the fact that you have also changed.

You pulled back and gave him a big smile.

You expected him to let go of you, but he didn't, his grip on your waist tightened and he pulled you into for another hug again, this time, he bent down to bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent, you didn't think much of it, and instead caressed his hair in a comforting way.

He lets go after a minute or two, before smiling at you, and then addressing the situation at hand, “You moved back here? So suddenly?” He asks you, and you nod, “It wasn't sudden, I had always said that I'd come back.” You shrugged and he nodded, then he looked behind you, spotting your house, and furrowed his brows, “You'll be staying there? That place has not been touched in years.” He questions and you turn back to look at it.

“There's nothing I can do about it, I'm gonna clean it up as much as I can and sleep on the floor until my furniture from the city arrives here, they said that it will take time, about a week or so, because my decision was last minute, I haven't booked them in advance.” You explain your situation and he raises an eyebrow, “No.” He simply asserts and you stare at him in confusion.

“I cannot allow it, how about you stay over at my place until your house is all cleaned up and ready to be moved in?” He suggests and you pout, “I don't want to be a burden to you.” You mutter.

You are taken aback when he grabs your sides and pulls you close, “You are never a burden to me, Y/N.” He tells you and you chuckle awkwardly at the weird situation but you agree nonetheless, “—Oh I forgot to tell you, my boyfriend will also be moving here.” You tell him.

“Boyfriend?” He questions, through gritted teeth, and you nod, oblivious to the emotions he's feeling, “Can he stay over too?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him, and he swallows thickly, expression darkening before he agrees.

“Thank you Aem! But on the other hand, I guess I'll be busy for this entire week, trying to clean up the house.” You sigh, wincing at the thought of cleaning everything, and the renovations you'll have to make, which will also cost money.

“No need, I know a few people… who will be more than willing to help with it, I'd only have to ask them.” He tells you and you furrow your brows, “Wouldn't that be burderning them? Is that alright?” You question and he shakes his head, “Of course it's alright, they are obligated to.” He states and you are even more confused but Aemond quickly switches up the topic and asks you if you want to go to his house now, and you nod.

“Sure, let me lock the house up real quick.” You tell him and you go to the front door, shutting it and locking it. Of course, you struggled because the lock was bad as before but still managed to lock it.

“We can go now.” You say, getting into your car but Aemond tuts, which makes you halt, “Why bother taking two cars there? Just leave yours here, I'll drive you there.” He suggests and you were about to protest but immediately stopped the moment you realise how it wasn't a suggestion, but rather a statement.

So you agree, he's your best friend after all, someone you can blindly trust, he's extremely trustworthy.

And so, you get into the passenger seat and watch Aemond get into the driver's seat and start the engine, he steps on the accelerator, moving the car forward slowly. You stare out of the window as he turns around the corner.

Your eyes spot the same web from earlier, still the same as the spider feasts on the remains of the butterfly in its trap, a sense of dread forming in the pit of your stomach; but just then you feel Aemond place his hand on your thigh and you turn your head to him, “You're nervous.” He comments and you didn't notice but you looked down, to see your own leg bouncing up and down, so you try to stop it but you can't.

Aemond rubs up and down your thigh reassuringly, trying to provide you with comfort, you should tell him to take his hand away, cause it wasn't appropriate but you don't, because it actually made you calm down, something about his touch was strangely soothing.

So you remained quiet.

You both reach his home in twenty minutes, you open the car door and step outside, taking in the view of his house, “Still the same as ever huh?” You question, the house had remained the same even after all those years, Aemond hums in response.

“Where is your family?” You enquire when you step inside, finding the house empty, with no other human presence, “They moved out, they wanted me to come too, but I refused.” He answers your question curtly and you nod in understanding.

Your phone rings with a notification and you open it to see a text from your boyfriend; ‘i’ll be there by tomorrow’ it reads and you smile widely, immediately telling Aemond about it and he gives you a tight lipped smile before rolling his eye when you face away from him.

“You can use the room located down the hallway—” He points to the door “—all essentials should be there since it is Helaena's room.”

You thank him quickly before carrying your luggage towards the room, immediately plopping onto the bed and staring at the ceiling for a while, minding rewinding through the events of today, the sept, the spider and everything, you yawned, shaking those thoughts off and drifting slowly into slumber.

Aemond stood in the living room, tapping his foot anxiously against the floor as he dialled a number, each ring making him impatient, but the call was quickly answered and Aemond breathed heavily, “Hello? Floris?” He checks for the person on the other line, “Yes sir?” She replies, “I need you to do something.” He begins to explain his predicaments.

After his call with Floris, he makes his way over to Helaena's room and checks in on you, noticing your sleeping form, you were laying on your back, his eye softens at your peaceful expression as soft snores left you, he made his way inside the room, before standing right in front of you, hand steadily raising up to caress your cheek.

His thumb brushes over your cheek, before it outlines the bridge of your nose to your lips, slowly making its way down to your chin, he shifts in his place, mind racing with many thoughts of kissing you and wondering if he should fully commit to it.

And so he does, leaning over and kissing your lips as his hand cups your breast, he stops for a moment when he hears you whine, thinking you woke up, but you didn't, you instead turn to the side, exposing more of your neck, which Aemond, in his fucked up mind, takes it as invitation to leave kisses on it.

He slowly lifts your shirt up, revealing your flesh which makes the cock in his pants begin to stir as he feels a wave of sick arousal. He pulls your shirt up further, your tits beginning to get exposed, he pulls your bra down, fully freeing them.

He licks his lip before leaning, taking one breast into his mouth, twirling his tongue around it before suckling on your nipple, his hands begin to undo his pants, quickly pushing his underwear aside and grabbing a hold of it, before stroking it up and down.

He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn't help himself, maybe you'd actually sleep with him if you're convinced enough, but he feels that your mentality isn't that easy to break, because he knew you from your childhood, you always stuck to your own beliefs and did not let anyone sway you.

He could have you under his fingertips if he tries, but you were smart.

Too smart.

You'd figure out what he was trying to do immediately.

So he needs to break you first.

Make you completely rely on him, make you feel like he is your one and only salvation, and only then can he finally achieve what he wants.

He's upset over the fact that you have a boyfriend, — a hindrance, he deems — didn't you promise to marry him after twenty five? He sighs, he was waiting for you all these years, yet when you come back, you're in a relationship? He saw you as a traitor.

However, that was far from the truth, You never really promised him anything, the pact that was made had a condition, you and Aemond would marry each other if you didn't find a right partner by twenty five, which Aemond twisted in his own favour to justify his actions, a delusion that he believes to be his truth.

His tongue flicks up and down your bud, sucking noises echoing through the room as he stroked his cock even fast, he lets go of your breast with a wet pop before he completely pulled his pants down and straddled your face, so his cock was directly above your chest and his tip ghosting over your lips.

He taps it against your lips, once, twice, and thrice, grunting at the feeling of your soft lips, he sighs heavily, speeding up the pace of his hand, imagining how your mouth would feel. Would you kiss the tip before taking him whole? Would you tease him? He knew you would, you were a cheeky little thing after all, and soon enough; before he can process it— he is spurting his cum all over your pretty face. He guides his cock and presses the tip to your lips, so his essence oozes onto it too.

He breathes heavily, taking in the sight of your face covered with his cum, still sleeping soundly, he searches for his phone, opening the camera and quickly taking a picture of you in this state, keeping it for later, and now, he's cleaning you up, pushing your bra back on your again, pulling down your shirt and wiping your face with the sleeve of his hand, you furrow your brows and he immediately gets off you, heart beating fast as you blink your eyes open, adjusting to the view in front of you.

“Aemond?” You question groggily, “Sorry, did I wake you?” He apologises and you hum, “Why are you here?” You ask, confused, “I just wanted to ask what you wanted for dinner, but then I realised you were sleeping, so I was about to leave just now.”

Those lies leave him naturally. You hum again, stretching in the bed before shifting positions, laying on your stomach this time. “So?” He asks, referring to his earlier question, “I'll eat anything, you're a good cook Aemond.” you give him a sweet smile and he smiles back, nodding before going out of the room. You fall back asleep, not suspecting Aemond of anything.

He walks out into the kitchen, sighing relief that he did not get caught, he isn't the type to be impulsive like this, he's much more calculative yet his desire was too strong to resist, but in the end; you did not suspect him of anything. Which he is thankful for. He opens his phone to take a look at the picture he took before smiling to himself.

Maybe you wouldn't be so easy to fool after all.

Aemond hates your boyfriend.

He hates the way he makes you laugh, the way you giggle at his unfunny jokes pisses him off, he didn't know why he even agreed to let your boyfriend stay here, he was extremely annoyed, yet he did not show it.

But he knew he shouldn't be worried, after all, his plan was now set in motion with the arrival of your boyfriend in town, he had asked one of his devout followers to seduce your boyfriend, which will be set in motion once he goes out alone.

It's like the gods were listening to him, after all, whatever he wished for came true, or maybe he was the god himself, somehow making miracles like this happening.

Your boyfriend had gone out to take a look at your old house, you didn't go with him because your periods decided to hit you right on that day, Aemond took great care of you, letting you lay down all day, and pampering you with kindness.

Over the course of the week, your boyfriend would go out on the excuse of looking at the house, you believed him that he was just doing only that, but his returns became late, and often so, he smelled like a woman's perfume. Aemond was disgusted by him, sure he had set up the plan but the fact that it took your boyfriend barely two meetings with Floris to begin to fall for her showed his wavering loyalty.

You didn't suspect him, which made Aemond scoff, realising that you're way too trusting and he had to take matters into his own hand.

He came back one day from ‘work’ which you still had no idea on what he did and told you that he spotted your boyfriend with a woman. You raised your eyebrow.

“Are you sure you aren't mistaken?” You ask him, “I knew you'd ask that, so I took a picture to prove it.” He shows you the picture and you are shocked, it was a picture of your boyfriend close to a woman, and it looked quite intimate.

Your eyes begin to tear up, “Surely it's nothing right? I mean, he probably got close to her to say something maybe? Right, Aemond? He wouldn't betray me like that right—?” Your voice begins to crack and your eyes frantically search for reassurance in Aemond's eye, but he just swallows thickly and looks down, and that's when you break down.

Legs giving out as you crumble to the floor, feeling your world shatter, Aemond is quick to react, trying to raise you back up but you wouldn't budge so kneels beside you as well, “I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have revealed that.” He mutters and you look at him before shaking your head, “No no no, it isn't your fault Aemond, I just— I just didn't think he'd be willing to throw away our relationship of 2 years.” You cover your face as tears begin to stream down your cheeks.

Aemond spreads his arms as if he's about to hug you, but he hesitates, not sure if you want to be hugged, but you lean into his chest for comfort and he immediately wraps his arms around you protectively. He rubs your shoulders as you cry your heart out to him, tears and snot staining his shirt, but he doesn't say anything.

A few moments later you calm down, and stare at Aemond, “What do I do now?” You ask him, eyes void of any light, and he wants to smirk but he can't, knowing that he has you where he wants, you to depend on him, it may just be a momentary dependence but he'll make it permanent soon.

“Leave him.” He says sternly and you nod, “He doesn't deserve you, you're such an amazing person, I cannot believe how he can leave you for another woman, who isn't isn't half as amazing as you.” He adds, and you nod once again, “You're right Aemond, I should leave him.” You tell him and get up off the floor, going to your room and thrashing around, separating your boyfriend's things from yours and throwing them in the living room.

Aemond smirks when you face away from him.

He's finally achieving what he wants.

The moment your boyfriend returns home, you begin screaming at him, telling him to get out and he argues back as well, before finally admitting that he cheated and apologising for it. Aemond was worried that you'd accept the apology, but you didn't and scoffed instead, slapping your now ex boyfriend across the face and throwing his things out and shutting the door in his face.

You rolled your eyes when he began yelling at you, calling you derogatory names but you ignored him, and Aemond sent a quick text to someone regarding your boyfriend.

You expected your boyfriend to still be there outside in the morning, but he isn't there anymore, he vanished. You didn't know why you hoped to see him there, but you were more relieved that he wasn't there.

Aemond was making breakfast and you decided to help him with it by preparing coffee for both of you and setting it down on the table, he places your plate in front of you and you thank him before he sits opposite to you, you stare off into the distance as you mindlessly chew.

“So what are you planning to do now?” He queries and you snap out of your daze to answer, “I don't know, I'll still probably live here, just not with a partner I guess.” You reply and he hums, “You can stay at my house as long as you want.” He interjects and you are about to protest but Aemond grabs your hand, thumb caressing your knuckles. You stare into his eye.

“Only for a few more days, to get your mind off, you know— I know you'll overthink when you're isolated, you always do.” He expresses his concern for you and you think for a moment, knowing that he is right. You sigh heavily before agreeing that you'd stay with him for a few more days.

Except it won't only be a few days.

Do you know how spiders devour their prey once it's trapped? Sinking their claws into their prey before injecting venom which destroys the prey from the inside and then; its ready to be devoured. Just like a spider; Aemond slowly injected his venom into you, manipulating you ever so slightly, till you are completely broken on the inside and dependent on him, he would play mind games with you, often talk to you about his beliefs— no, goad you into his beliefs.

You were left vulnerable after that incident, and Aemond had convinced you to join a ‘community’ where everyone gets together to help each other out and live in harmony, he talked about all the benefits of it, and at first you were reluctant, he knew you'd be, but at the end, you were convinced.

He was happy, telling you all the positive things about joining the said ‘community’, how the people were so welcoming and friendly, he said they all gather around the town’s sept every Sunday to pray, he tells you how most of the neighbours are in that community, they're selfless and kind.

He was making it seep into your brain.

Then he reveals that it's run by him.

Maybe he should've mentioned that earlier, because you looked at him shocked and you smiled, “It's run by you? Then I have no issue joining it! I was reluctant but for an odd reason, but knowing that it's run by you makes it more comforting.” You tell him and he smirks, knowing he had achieved his goal.

Well only half of it.

Aemond had a vision since he was young, to change the world for the better, he knew the world he lived in was beyond repair and so he decided to turn to the faith of the seven to find hope in religion, then, he had read about the ‘messengers’ of the gods, who are blessed by them.

Aemond believed himself to be one of them.

He did everything in the name of the seven, he just acted as a messenger, or so he thought himself.

Anyone one with common sense could that this community is clearly a cult, with its leader being Aemond, it wasn't a protestant group of the faith of the seven, no, it was entirely different, his community commits sin that the gods are against, incest, polygamy, etc yet Aemond doesn't think so. He believes that by committing these sins, they are repenting.

A flawed logic.

Aemond would often torture the community members who misbehaved, those who dared question his methods had their tongues cut off, and those that spread rumours that he was sleeping around with the cult women for pleasure was found and brutally tortured for hours on the end, he was more offended that they had claimed that he was doing it for ‘pleasure’ when in reality, he believes it to be a way of repenting. He never denied the accusations of sleeping with other women.

Amidst all of this he had almost forgotten about you.

Almost.

How can he ever forget you? His first love, the one that stayed together with him for a long time, helping him with everything. You were his star. A star that shone brightly, a star that he promised to seize.

And he had almost achieved that.

He just needed to push more, until you're finally his, he'll prove to you why you don't need anyone else, and neither does he, you'll be the goddess of the community, he will make sure everyone treats you with utmost respect.

It all started off slow, Aemond had introduced you to one of the members, who was very warm and cheerful which made you feel welcomed and you immediately began getting along with everyone slowly.

Aemond would introduce more and more people, and since then you started to wonder how many people are actually in the said community, the strength likely being in four digits.

You had tried to move out several times, but Aemond always had an excuse to make you stay, sometimes he'd fake being sick, and other times he'd guilt trip you — without you realising of course. So you stayed, a week turned into a month, and a month turned into two. Eventually you forgot all about moving out together and lived with Aemond.

You'd often cook dinner for him when he was out, coming back home late night, one time he had come back with a splash on blood on his clothes and you were worried for him, thinking he got hurt but he told you it was nothing and that he just helped a hurt animal on the road that was bleeding which got unto his shirt.

That was a far fetched lie.

He murdered your boyfriend that night.

After days, no, weeks of torturing him.

But you were none the wiser.

He'd make sure you'd never find out about his cruel side, he'd hope so that he doesn't have to act that way to get you to behave, after all he'd hate wanting to hurt someone he cherishes.

So he shows you all the love in the world, slowly indoctrinating you with his words that were sweet and having you falling for him, they weren't lies, but the tone was manipulative, he'd convince you sometimes that you need no one other than him, and you'd disagree at first but then you slowly began to agree, because you truly did feel that way.

The two of you got closer as time passed on, and Aemond had fully started to invade your personal space now, touching you for longer moments, hugging you from behind while you cooked, kissing your neck, while he fondled the flesh of your stomach and slowly tracing it up towards your breasts.

You didn't say anything about it, but you just leaned into his touch, it was comforting, warm and euphoric, so you didn't mind it. There was a blaring alarm at the back of your mind that tried warning you about everything that was occurring, but you didn't realise what it was warning you about.

And soon your twenty fifth birthday passed by, it was celebrated grandly, with the community members, everything seemed so fun.

A week had passed since then; life didn't change much except for the tension between you and Aemond increasing day by day, he especially seemed on edge ever since you turned twenty five. It seemed like a normal day, Aemond had gone out and returned, while you prepared a meal for the both of you.

He helped you set down the dishes on the table, and you thanked him for it. The food was burning hot, so you both decided to let it cool down a little before eating.

“There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about since your birthday…” Aemond is the first one to speak and you hum in question, “Do you remember the promise we made?” He asks and you furrow your eyebrows; trying to remember, and then it clicks.

“Ah yes! The promise about marrying each other if we don't have a partner after twenty five right?” You ask and he nods, “That was so silly, we were just kids!” You chuckle, “What?” His tone dropped an octave and the atmosphere suddenly turned ominous, “I mean—”

“So you're a liar.” He interrupts you, “You don't keep your promises.” He continues, “No Aemond- I did not mean-” “Shut up.” He grits his teeth and you immediately do.

“The conditions fit, do they not? What is so silly about it?” He gets up, chair screeching against the floor, he grabs your wrist and pulls you up too. “Aemond— marriage is a lot.” You try to be sensible, but he just furrowed his brows in anger, “Do you not feel anything between us? Do you not love me?” He asks, his eye frantically searching for an answer in yours, “Aemond, I do love you, but marriage is a lot.” You confess, looking directly at him.

You haven't fully broken down yet.

Your defiance tells him that.

The submissiveness that he once tried indoctrinating into you was gone in mere moments at the mention of marriage.

You were talking back to him.

“Marriage is a union of souls, if you love me, why do you not accept it?” He questions, his grip on your wrist tightening, You remain silent feeling a sense of doom in your gut, you did not want to disappoint Aemond.

Conflicted feelings arise in you, your rationality fighting against your own thoughts, Aemond can see it, “Y/N, I love you so much, I want you to marry me.” He says softly, voice laced with honey, you look him in the eye. ‘Maybe marriage to him isn't that bad, I love him too.’ you think, something about the eye contact was so intimate and hypnotising to the point that the voice screaming no in the back of your mind had begun to fade and soon disappeared.

His face softens when you look away, knowing he has you where he wanted, “Y/N?” He mutters and you do not respond, lost in your own thoughts. You felt as if your rational thoughts had been drained from you, and before you knew it, your brain had already made the decision.

“I will marry you, Aemond.” you reply.

Aemond wanted to jump in ecstasy, everything he ever wanted was right in his hands, the cult, the people, the power and now, you. He couldn't contain his joy and hugged you tightly, face buried in the crook of your neck, the scent of the fresh shampoo in your hair was subtle but it drove him insane, combined with the smell of soap on your skin.

You hugged him back, kissing his shoulder.

Something in this feels very wrong, yet you cannot put your finger on it, the rational voice has been drowned out from your thoughts, your skin feels prickly, your gut was warning you about something you cannot understand, because on the surface you don't notice anything wrong.

Aemond's hands trail up your back with carefulness, his fingers drew patterns as he pulled you closer into the hug wanting you impossibly close to him, he tried so hard to maintain his calm demeanour but it was difficult.

Because his prey is finally caught now.

The venom he injected into you worked, you weren't resisting anymore.

He could finally feast on you now.

He pulls away from the hug to stare into your eye before he tilts his head to connect your lips with his, he licks the bottom of your lip before capturing them fully, you take a deep breath of air before you lean into the kiss, arms circling around his shoulders, connected at the back of his neck.

His left hand holds the back of your head, pushing you further into the kiss while his free hand moves towards your breast, giving it a slight squeeze.

He plays with the nipple through the fabric with his thumb, his touch was electrifying, shooting current up your spine everytime he grazes his thumb against your nipple.

His hand leaves your breast resting on your waist instead, pulling your body close to his and holding you tightly.

He pulled your bottom lip with his teeth as he stared at you with hunger before he let it go gently, you breathed heavily, staring at him intensely, waiting for his next action.

He immediately pushed you against the table, lifting you up and placing you on it, he wasted no time in kneeling in between your legs while spreading them wide. He pushed your skirt upwards and hooked his fingers under the band of your panty before pulling them.

You watched in anticipation as he completely took them off before he positioned himself properly once again, he teased you, peppering kisses on your thighs and giving kisses to your intimate flesh.

You caressed his hair gently and it drove him insane; so he wasted no time and immediately latched himself on your bud, which made you gasp at the sudden movement.

Your grip on his hair only tightened further when you felt him swipe his tongue through your folds, lapping at them like a thirsty man, you couldn't help but grind yourself against his mouth, his hands were wrapped around your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you.

“O-oh Aemond.” You moaned, face distorted with pleasure when you felt him bite your clitoris before licking it as a way to soothe it, his tongue soon prodded at the entrance of your cunt, licking up all the juices your cunt wept.

He flicked his tongue against your clit, nibbling on it slowly, taking his own time savouring his sweet, he licked and licked and still couldn't get enough, he felt like he was in heaven.

He pulled away to get some air and in that moment you caught a glimpse of his wet lips, covered in your juices, which made you clench around nothing, making you even more hot. You pulled his face into your cunt which he didn't protest against, taking your bud into his mouth once again.

You felt tingly all over your body and you knew your orgasm was approaching soon, so you began to hump his face desperately, gripping his hair tighter and moving your hips up and down.

You moaned in pleasure when you felt your high hit, your body trembled from overwhelming surge of pleasure.

You breathed heavily, panting and gasping for air as Aemond slowly let go with his lips glossed with your essence, he licked his lip wanting to taste you more and you blushed at the sight.

Aemond stared at you from below as you gave him a gentle smile, and he realised one thing.

He had never knelt for anyone.

Yet he's kneeling for you now.

And it doesn't bother him, he wants to serve you, as his everything but he also wants to keep you in control, and he shall do exactly that.

He immediately got up, and picked you up, carrying you towards his bedroom, his dick was throbbing in his pants, he opened the door quickly, kicking it shut with his feet and throwing you on the bed.

He took his shirt off; wasting no time, and immediately worked on pulling off his pants, he pushed them down and stepped out of them, leaving him fully naked while you removed your own clothes.

He pounced on you like an animal in head, holding your legs together up in the air and lining his cock up against your entrance, you groaned when you felt him enter you.

Feeling every little inch of him occupy you from the inside, you placed both your legs on his shoulders as he thrusted forward slowly.

He was visibly shaking, trying to not to be rough with you, he wanted to let go of himself fully and fuck you senseless, yet he retained himself, trying to stay calm as to not scare you off.

You involuntarily clench around him— which makes him lose the control he had on himself, the way your gummy walls felt around his shaft made him feral, and so he tightened his grip on your legs and immediately began ramming himself into you.

He thrusted ferociously, growling like a beast in heat with every movement, his hair growing messier and sweatier as he stared down at you, your body moved up and down the bed at the speed he was plunging himself into you, making the bed shake and creak.

You arched your back in pleasure when felt his tip kiss the sweet spot inside you, hands gripping the sheets below tightly. Your moans couldn't help but get louder and louder.

Your mind became hazy as you slurred out words, “H-harder, Aemond please..” you let out, wanting him to get even more rough on you, you were enjoying his cruelty which made him even more ecstatic.

He obeyed you, giving you what you wanted, you threw your head back against the bed, feeling him go faster, mind spinning with pleasure as his cock is making you feel unbelievably full.

Aemond could feel that he was close to his release, his abdominal muscles clenched in preparation for his orgasm but he did not want to finish before you do, so his hand travelled to your clit and rubbed fast circled onto it.

You whined at the combined pleasure and choked on your own words when you felt your orgasm hit you suddenly— the band in your abdomen snapping harshly, you let out a scream-like moan as your juices gushed down your thighs.

Aemond smirked at the sight, and picked up his pace, “I'm gonna cum inside you okay?” He tells you and you look at him, vision hazy, “But-” You couldn't finish your sentence as he had already cum inside you, shooting his load inside your cunt, painting your gummy walls white.

“Fuck oh fuck—” he slowly rides his orgasm out, “Can't wait to see you carrying my children around.” He rambles, and you stay silent, “Look at me.” You look at him, “You're gonna be the best mother, the mother of my children, aren't you excited?” He asks and you don't have time to think when your head moves by itself, you give him an eager nod.

“Yes Aemond, I am.” You were speaking, yet it didn't feel like you.

“Good girl.” Yet that one compliment made you giddy with excitement, so you pulled him into a kiss, dropping your legs off his shoulders.

“I can't believe this.” He starts

“Believe what?” You question.

“That I have everything I've ever dreamed of, especially you.” He kisses your forehead, and you smile. “Of course.” you reply.

Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, Aemond has completely infiltrated your brain, and at the wedding altar, the entire community cheered as you exchanged your vows, Aemond smiled mischievously, knowing you are his forever now.

He announced you as his ‘Queen’ and ‘Goddess’ which had everyone worshipping you. You would've found this odd had it been your old self, but you got accustomed to it, believing it to be normal, yet ignorant to your mental state.

But you had no time to ponder as you felt the babe in your belly kick which filled you with happiness, you grabbed Aemond's hand immediately which caught him off guard and placed it on your belly.

His face held confusion up until he felt the baby inside you kick again which made his eye widen and lips spread into a smile, he pulled you into a hug.

Your life was good and domestic or so you continue to believe. Unaware of what you're truly involved with. Yet Aemond never cared to reveal the truth to you.

As he believes ‘ignorance is bliss’

— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 1 year ago

Text

I Can Go Anywhere I Want- Just Not Home | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends. I've been BUSY with school and this one took fucking forever. But it means a lot to me, I hope you like it. :)

Word count: 13.3k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: do me a favor and pretend Bucky didn't disappear in the blip. ok thanks bye.

Warnings: talk of financial struggles, food insecurity, housing insecurity

A familiar shape stepped onto the sidewalk just ahead, freeing itself from the shadows of a rundown motel. The lines and curves of this body forced your heart into your throat. Time seemed to stop. The world round you ceased its turning. You’d know those broad shoulders anywhere, and you’d remember that sharp jaw even after your soul left this mortal coil.

You stood there, your feet rooted in the concrete, watching him with a longing that tore through your chest. How long had it been since you last saw him? How many months had passed since you last spoke? You made yourself stop counting the days long ago; it was too depressing, too pathetic. But while you forced your brain not to continue the tally, your heart kept count.

His sudden motion caught your attention, pulling you from your thoughts. The shape that once resembled home headed down the street, slipping through your fingers a second time. But you couldn’t let him get away- not again.

Even after you freed your feet and increased your pace, he remained ahead. His long legs carried him away from you as he glided past people on the sidewalk. His hands rested in his pockets, concealing his trademark from the world. His head bowed forward, he kept his gaze down. He didn’t want to catch the eye of the public. But he caught yours.

“Bucky?” your call came out a desperate plea. Blowing his cover wasn’t your goal, but he was too fast. You had to stop him before he vanished again.

He stopped in his tracks at the sound of your voice. You could’ve sworn you saw his head fall another inch or two, as though he were disappointed to know you’d found him.

But he turned. And for the first time in almost a year, he faced you.

“Bucky.” It wasn’t a question this time, but an affirmation. A reassurance. An unstoppable smile pulled at your lips, a sigh of relief left your chest. You almost wept. “Hi…”

The darkness that clouded your mind in his absence parted all at once, making way for a golden glow of twinkling lights. You hadn’t seen him since the battle. Since the shimmering portals. Since everyone returned home after Thanos fell.

He simply stopped answering your calls. Your texts. He didn’t return your voicemails.

To this day, you wondered what you did wrong. What you did that pushed him so far away. It wasn’t like him to ice you out, to cut you off without warning. He had baggage, sure, but he never shied away from you. Not like this. At one time, you were his closest friend. His most trusted confidante. And he was yours. You spent every moment together, taking shelter in each other. But not anymore.

Each night, you recounted the last time you saw him. You analyzed every detail, scrutinizing the minutiae of the interaction. Maybe you said something that offended him. Maybe you did something hurtful. But no matter how hard you wracked your brain, not one single red flag made an appearance. And it made Bucky’s sudden disappearance from your life all the more maddening. More hurtful.

Sometimes, you liked to think that he just used you. That he got what he needed from you and moved on. It somehow softened the blow of his loss. Painting him as a manipulator took the blame off your shoulders and made him the villain. But you could never convince yourself of this narrative for long. Bucky wasn’t the type of person to use others. He gave and gave until he had nothing left. Or until he left.

With a few strides, you closed the gap between the two of you. “It’s so good to see you, Buck,” your instinctive reach for a hug left your arms hanging in the air as he took a small step back. It was then you realized just how embarrassing it was to drop your arms to your sides after an unwanted embrace.

“Hey- hi,” he cleared his throat and cut his eyes to the side, almost like he couldn’t bear to look at you. He stared at the passing cars, the flier-covered streetlight. Anything to keep his gaze from lingering on you. He wasn’t sure he had the strength.

But he couldn’t help himself- he had to look at you. And as his eyes finally landed on yours, a familiar warmth sliced through his trepidations. He’d been aching for so long now; he’d didn’t know what a life without pain felt like. Every day, he hurt. He suffered. But the biting agony stilled as he stared at you.

His lungs filled to capacity for the first time in months. The knots in his stomach untangled themselves. He’d forgotten how light he felt around you. You had a way of making things feel so easy, so simple. Everything in his life was complicated, and each day grew more difficult than the last. No matter how hard he tried, he never quite got his head above water. But with you standing there before him, he broke through the surface for the first time in ages.

He drank you in for a long moment, taking inventory of the ways you’d changed, and the ways you’d stayed the same. Your radiant smile still poked dimples into your cheeks. Freckles still splashed across your skin. But he noted the all too familiar braid in which your hair was twisted. The letter ‘N’ dangling from a dainty gold chain around your neck.

Bucky knew losing Nat wasn’t easy on you. Knew that you’d been mourning her all on your own. He should’ve been there for you, should’ve been your shoulder to cry on. He hated himself every day for making you go it alone.

“It’s um,” Bucky didn’t know where to start. “It’s been a while…”

A quiet, awkward laugh rasped out of your throat at his understatement, “Yeah, you could say that.”

A long pause forced its way between you. Things with Bucky never used to be this awkward, this tense. He was nearly a stranger now. And it killed you. Your friendship always flowed without difficulty, without pressure. It became second nature. The two of you moved together almost as though choreographed, anticipating the other’s actions instinctually.

But those instincts died and were buried, along with your hope of ever patching things up.

“Um, are you- where are you headed?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“I was just gonna- I thought I’d grab some breakfast.”

“Oh! Me too!” Finally, you had something in common. “Can I-” you quickly rephrased, fearing you may scare him off. “Do you wanna go together? Maybe we could catch up?” You knew you were throwing yourself at him, but you couldn’t stop. You were so overwhelmed, so desperate to be near him; you didn’t care how crazed you seemed.

Bucky’s shy smile made an appearance, “Yeah, that would be nice.” He kicked himself for not appearing more excited, more overjoyed by the reunion. But he couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything other than anxious.

The walk to the diner was less awkward than you anticipated. The conversation flowed a little smoother, the words came a little easier. But it was still clunky. And though more silence than you would’ve liked hung in the air, you breathed easier knowing that he was merely a few inches away.

Things between you simply needed to thaw. You needed to shake the rust off and find your way back into the groove you carved out for one another. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“I thought you said you were getting breakfast,” you joked, “not just coffee.” You sat across from Bucky in a beat-up booth, it’s cracked, torn vinyl dating the restaurant. When the waitress asked for your order, Bucky insisted you go first. And when you’d finished rattling off your perfect breakfast, Bucky dismissed her with a “nothing for me.”

He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, “I’m not really hungry anymore.”

“Wow, I didn’t know I had that kind of effect on people,” you said, only half-joking. Maybe he really did hate you, after all. The months of dead silence suggested as much.

More often than not, you tried lived in denial. You told yourself any lie you could come up with- anything to ease the pain of missing him. Even after his less than enthusiastic reaction to your reunion, you buried your head in the sand. Surely, he was just surprised to see you. He just needed some time to warm up, to come out of his shell.

But he only ordered coffee; clearly, he didn’t plan on staying long. He had an escape strategy locked and loaded. You knew he planned to fulfill your request for a catch-up session and run for the hills as soon as he emptied his mug. Upon your realization, everything came crashing down. His scant order slapped you with the cold hard facts: he’d cut off all communication, ignored you for months, and seemed to lose his appetite at the very prospect of sharing a meal with you.

Maybe missing him was a waste of your time.

“No, it’s not like that,” very real concern coated Bucky’s words. “I’m so- I’m really happy to see you.”

His fingers twitched as the logical side of his brain shut down his attempt to touch you. All he wanted to do was reach out and rest a hand atop yours, maybe stroke your knuckles a few times. It was something he used to do all the time, something that, at one point, reassured the both of you. But things were different these days. He didn’t have the right to be so familiar with you, not after he chose to make himself a stranger.

He gripped his coffee mug with both hands, stemming any impulses to reach for you. “How have you been?”

There’d been a time when you would’ve told him everything. You would’ve spilled your soul and let loose every ugly detail of your life. Being honest with each other used to be easy. Neither one of you had to fear judgment or ridicule; you were safe in the other’s hands.

But those days were long gone. He clearly didn’t want to be your best friend anymore- he barely wanted to know you at all. He was, at most, an acquaintance whose soul used to be tied to yours. And so, you opted to forego the truth. You didn’t tell him that you cried yourself to sleep most nights. You didn’t tell him that you missed him so badly it caused you physical pain. You didn’t tell him that you needed him. Instead, you gave him what he wanted: an easy, canned response.

“I’ve been good,” you forced a smile to your face and shrugged. “Just been working, doing the whole SWORD thing.”

He raised his brow, “Oh, wow. You work for SWORD now? I had no idea. Good for you.”

He feared his feigned surprise came off too fake, too forced. But you didn’t seem to clock it. You really believed that he was out of the loop, but you should’ve known better. It was ludicrous to think he’d ever be uninformed about your life. Of course, he already knew you worked for SWORD He knew that you moved into a new apartment. He even knew that you were planning on adopting a cat soon. He asked Sam about you almost daily, scrounging for any details he could get.

He just needed to know that you were okay, that you were safe. And happy.

“Yeah, I started a few months ago. It’s been-” You paused a moment, allowing the waitress to set down your food. The table in front of Bucky looked so empty; with no food anchoring him to the restaurant, he could leave at any moment. “It’s been alright. But how about you? What have you been up to?”

He took a moment to formulate his response. He needed to be careful. Precise. Allowing too much to slip could ruin everything. “I’ve just been working with Sam,” he shrugged. “We had to take care of that whole Flag Smashers thing.”

“I saw that!” you said, your mouth full of pancakes. “You guys did a great job.”

“Thanks, yeah,” Bucky’s cheeks flushed pink. “And I had my pardon hearing.”

You nodded, “I watched all the news coverage about it.”

He forced his eyes down to his mug; he never used to get embarrassed around you. “You did?”

“Of course.”

Bucky wanted you there that day. He wanted to rest his hand in yours and experience the peace only you could provide as he waited for the judge to call his name. And when he finally received his pardon, he wanted to turn around and see you- wide smile, eyes brimming with happy tears. He wanted to wrap his body around yours and thank you for being his rock.

But he didn’t invite you along.

He, instead, sat alone in the hall, with no one to hold his shaking hand, until a bailiff ushered him into the courtroom. Sam wanted to be there, but his nephew begged Captain America to make an appearance for Bring Your Dad to Work Day. And who was he to say no?

When the judge awarded Bucky his pardon, no one cheered. No one ran to his side and granted him a congratulatory hug. He collected his papers and made his way out of the courthouse. Alone.

He got a heap of texts and calls from you that day, though. He watched his phone ring with your name and picture taking up his screen. He poured over your kind texts and listened to your congratulatory voicemails. Even after he shut you out, you made sure he knew that you supported him. That you still cared. But he didn’t return your messages.

He did, however, listen to your voicemails on a loop. Hearing your voice again gave him an escape, a life preserver. You’d never know how much those messages meant, how often they saved him. He promised himself he’d tell you- one day.

“Honestly, you shouldn’t have even needed a pardon,” you said with an eyeroll. “I mean, you didn’t do anything. None of it was your fault.”

Bucky had nearly forgotten how unabashedly supportive you were. How you were always on his side, no matter what. He wondered why you still wanted to be on his team after months of silence.

“Well, the US government feels differently,” he sighed out a soft laugh. “And it’s taken care of now, so it’s all good.”

He appeared hopeful, almost optimistic. He had Sam, he had his pardon- he seemed to be doing well. And though you wanted more than anything to be in his life, you just wanted him to be happy. Maybe your friendship didn’t serve him the way it served you. Maybe he felt like you didn’t give him what he needed. Maybe his life was better without you in it. The thought stung. It forced your throat closed, nearly sending you into a choking fit. But you swallowed your pancakes along with your pride, and vowed never to beg Bucky to come back to you.

“Good. I’m happy for you.” You stopped yourself from reaching for his hand. “Can I ask something that might be a little invasive?”

Bucky’s heart stopped, “Um, sure.”

“I saw you coming out of that motel…” you shot him a suggestive glance. “What was that about?”

Bucky stiffened. He grew tense, anxiety flooding his system. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… was there maybe a little-” you raised a brow at him, “hook up situation going on?”

He laughed at your overdramatic wink, the way you licked your lips. And he thanked his lucky stars you came up with a cover story for him. “Oh, yeah…” he grew bashful about his fictional sexcapades. “It’s just a- it’s casual, you know. Nothing serious.”

The confirmation of your suspicions made your jaw drop. Bucky Barnes, the old-fashioned gentleman, actually had a friend with benefits. He’d had a secretive, motel rendezvous. Hell, he probably had hickeys and nail marks hiding under his shirt.

A pang of jealousy tore through you like the nails of his lover. Why did she get to be near him? How did she rank above you? The unsettling feeling of envy almost possessed you, but you pushed it aside.

“Woah, look at you,” you feigned appluase. “I always knew you were a ladies’ man, I just never got to see it in real time.”

He rolled his eyes, “yeah, yeah, I’m a real heartbreaker.” He regretted his word choice immediately, knowing full well he broke your heart.

You sidestepped his comment and forced the conversation forward, his comment stinging your open wound. “Seriously, Buck. I’m happy for you.” Once again, you stifled the urge to touch him. “You deserve to have some fun.”

He stared at you for a long moment, a genuine smile on his face. You were so sincere in your support of him, so unashamed of how deeply you cared. Sam was an incredible friend, of course- but you were his soulmate. He was tied to you with an unbreakable thread, unable to free himself even if he wanted to. And he wanted to. But not because he didn’t adore you; it was a simple matter of worthiness.

But no matter how hard he tried, he still thought of you daily. Almost constantly. He missed you, pined over you, wished he could exist in your world. But he couldn’t- not yet.

He shook the grin from his face and pulled his gaze down to his mug once again. “I’m um- I’m sorry I haven’t been around. Things have just gotten…” He cleared his throat, “I’ve been really busy.”

A scream scratched at your throat, but you forced it away with a bite of eggs and a swig of coffee. Of course, Bucky was busy. But he wasn’t the only one. It seemed that SWORD wanted to run you ragged. They were always assigning you extra operations and looking to you to solve problems. But even with the mountains of work, even in your sea of grief for Nat, you still managed to reach out to Bucky. You still called, still texted.

But he clearly didn’t want to make the time for you.

“I totally understand,” you lied. “Shit has been crazy. Don’t worry about it.”

You worried about it every day.

Breakfast wrapped up all too soon. Bucky argued when you paid for his coffee, you hushed him with a promise to let him cover yours next time. And in the blink if an eye, you found yourself standing next to him on the sidewalk, praying he wouldn’t walk away.

“I should really get going,” he said, taking a step away from you. “I have a meeting.”

“Cool, yeah,” you forced a smile, “this was great- I’m so glad we ran into each other.”

Bucky nodded, “yeah, me too.”

It seemed to you that Bucky couldn’t care less if he ever saw you again. He was disengaged, disinterested, inching ever farther away. He tried to be subtle about it, tried to slowly escape the interaction. But you caught his tiny steps in the opposite direction. His body remained closed off, the space between you growing with each long, awkward pause.

But even so, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t let him walk away without knowing if this was the last time you’d see him.

“We should do this again-” you sounded so needy, so anxious, but couldn’t find it in you to care, “but only if you want.” Never had you felt so pathetic. There you were, practically begging Bucky to signal that he gave a shit about you.

But all he could muster was a nod.

“Awesome,” you pulled out your phone. “Do you still have the same number?”

Again, he nodded.

It killed you. All this time, you’d hoped that he got a new number and simply forgot to tell you. That your texts and calls went unanswered because he didn’t receive them. But he did, indeed, receive them. He just chose to ignore them.

With a swell of tears gathering behind your eyes, you sped through your goodbyes. You threw Bucky a hurried “great to see you, I’ll call soon” and quick smile before turning away and heading for a hiding spot, a concealed place to cry. The person you cared about more than anything, the person you adored, the person for whom you’d lay down your life, didn’t want you anymore. The bitter taste of rejection coated the inside of your mouth. And as you ducked into a bodega down the street, you feared you might get a second look at your breakfast.

You were gone too soon. Bucky wanted to call your name, to run after you. Even after months apart, he could still sus out when you were upset. He remembered your tells. Your dead giveaways. The way your jaw hardened against oncoming emotion. The tendency of your voice to grow thin and hollow as tears loomed on the horizon.

He knew he hurt you.

But he found himself stuck, his body defying the orders of his brain. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He could only stand there, helpless, watching as you disappeared.

He knew you couldn’t possibly be happy with him after he abandoned you; he was surprised that you even acknowledged him on the street- let alone invited him to breakfast. And after the way he acted at the diner, he was shocked that you asked to see him again.

The conversation you had replayed on a loop inside his head, and he kicked himself for being so closed off. So cold. He’d sullied your reunion so severely- it was almost aggressive. He was dismissive. Curt. And he lied to your face- multiple times.

He was so happy to see you- he didn’t want you to think otherwise. But he didn’t expect to run into you like that. He didn’t expect to be near you for another few months, at least. He had a plan, and he was doing his best to follow it with as few setbacks as possible. If he kept his head down and pushed himself, he could get to the point where he could explain. He could tell you the truth and make you part of his life again if you even wanted anything to do with him. Though he wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

But running into you outside the motel wasn’t part of the blueprint. And he panicked.

He'd held you at arm’s length, never daring to get too close. He kept everything superficial. Surface level. It was the shallowest interaction he’d had with you to date. And it felt wrong. It didn’t fit who you were as people, who you were as friends. Your bond was never the skin deep, small talk type. No, you delved into one another’s deepest thoughts. Bared your souls. He’d never kept a secret from you- nor you him. But that was a different time.

Disappointed, Bucky unrooted his boots from the concrete and trudged off in the direction of his morning meeting. And while he did his best to focus, to participate, he could think of only you. The heartbreak in your eyes. The hurt in your voice. A wave of nausea barreled into him as he replayed the interaction again and again. You deserved better. And Bucky wished more than anything he that could be better. For you.

But two nights later, your phone rang.

It was late- nearly midnight. You were curled up on the couch under a blanket, neck deep in your Vampire Diaries rewatch when your phone started to buzz. An unfamiliar number popped up on your screen, accompanied only by Siri’s suggestion of who might be calling.

‘Maybe: Kings County Jail’

You stared at it for three rings, wondering how someone from the jail got your number. And just as you were about to deny the call, something in your gut told you to answer it. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe it was divine intervention. Either way, you hit accept and held the phone up to your ear.

“Um, hello?”

An automated message responded, “You are being contacted by a detainee at Kings County Jail. The detainee-” the recording paused, leaving space for someone to state their name. Your favorite gruff voice followed, “Bucky-”

“-is trying to contact you. Do you accept the charges?”

A riptide coursed through your brain. Questions upon questions piled up, each one trying to escape your lips first. But you swallowed them for the time being.

“Yeah- yes, I accept.”

The line connected, and Bucky’s soft “hey…” came through from the other end. “Thanks for picking up.”

“Buck? Is everything okay?”

He sighed, “Yeah, I’m- I’ve been better. But I’m fine. I was just wondering if,” he couldn’t believe he was doing this. “I was wondering if you could come bail me out?”

He gave no context, no reasoning, for his stint in the county jail. But you didn’t care. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Even after he ditched you and left radio silence in his wake, even after he practically ran from your reunion at the diner- you’d do anything for him. And there was no way in hell you’d ever just leave him there; you couldn’t. Bucky didn’t belong behind bars.

And so, you pulled yourself off the couch, found some shoes, and headed in his direction.

The bail money didn’t matter to you. Sure, things were easier now that SWORD paid you the big bucks. But even if your account was running on empty, you’d sacrifice your last remaining cents to free Bucky.

A guard led him down the hall by the arm and shoved him through the door. This wasn’t how he wanted you to see him. None of this fit into the plan he’d so carefully crafted all those months ago. But there you sat in the lobby of the police station, clad in your sweats, waiting for him. The shame nearly tore him apart from the inside out.

But as he locked eyes with you across the room, he didn’t find the judgement or irritation that he expected. You should’ve been angry with him- why weren’t you angry with him? He’d called in a favor after abandoning you. He made you come down to the police station, made you pay his bail. You should’ve left him to rot in a jail cell. But you didn’t. Because you cared. Even after everything he did, you still cared about him. He wished you didn’t. He wished you’d scream at him in front of everyone- but you were too good for that. Too kind.

He threw you a bashful wave, but averted his gaze when a warm smile crossed your face. He couldn’t quite stand the way your gracious expression made him feel. Why did you seem so happy to see him? Why weren’t you furious- or even a little frustrated?

As he waited in line to gather his backpack and personal belongings from the desk, he hoped for something to prolong his time away from you. A clerical error. A massive stack of paperwork. What was he supposed to say to you? How was he supposed to explain this whole mess? He needed time to put his thoughts in order. To organize his lies.

But, for the first time in history, a United States government agency did things efficiently and without error. And after only a few minutes, he made his way to your side.

“Hey,” he granted you only a flash of eye contact before dragging his gaze to the floor. “Thanks for- thank you for coming to get me. And for paying my bail…”

You shrugged, “yeah, absolutely”.

“I’ll pay you back, I swear.” It was then he realized that he didn’t want you to be angry with him. Sure, you cursing him out in front of everyone would be easier. Less complicated. But he’d rather die than upset you again.

“I know. I’m not worried about it,” you granted him another kind smile, “I trust you.”

It was a dagger to the heart. How- and why- did you still trust him? He’d excised you from his life without warning and left you in the cold; he wasn’t worthy of your trust.

“Are you all good here?” you asked, “Should we get going?”

“Sure- yeah.”

The walk to the car was quiet; Bucky couldn’t bring himself to walk next to you. Existing in your sphere, being seen by you- it was too much for him. Too shameful. Even if he was only in your peripheral. And so, he opted to position himself a few paces behind you. In the safety of your shadow.

He got settled in the passenger seat of your car as you turned the key in the ignition. But you couldn’t bring yourself to pull out of your parking spot. Everything in you wanted to ask how he ended up in handcuffs. He wasn’t a troublemaker. He wasn’t violent. He wasn’t the type to make waves. Something bad must’ve happened- something out of his control.

But you knew it wasn’t your business. He clearly didn’t want you around anymore, didn’t want to clue you in on the details of his life. And you never liked to pry.

As the seconds passed, however, your resolve crumbled. No matter what happened between the two of you, you’d always care about Bucky. You’d always worry about him. And your concern finally got the best of you.

Before you could stop yourself, the words came tumbling out of your mouth. “Are you okay?” you stared at him, anxiety brewing in your chest. “You don’t have to tell me what happened- I won’t force you- but I’m worried about you.”

He nodded, “I’m fine.” It wasn’t rude, but his tone didn’t invite further probing.

With a sigh and an unconvinced “okay”, you put the car in drive and prepared to take Bucky home.

Your blinker clicked incessantly as you waited for a few cars to grant you a clear path. Bucky had ample time to give you directions, but he remained quiet. He didn’t offer up information of any kind, not even a neighborhood. It broke your heart that you didn’t know his address.

“Um, where do you live? Should I turn left or right?”

You waited patiently for an answer that Bucky didn’t seem to have.

“Actually, do you mind if-” he flashed you an apologetic smile, “could we just drive around for a while?”

Maybe he had some residual adrenaline from being arrested. Maybe being in jail gave him flashbacks to his captivity under Hydra. Either way, you knew he wouldn’t have asked to go for a drive unless he really needed it. Part of you was surprised, though, that he’d willingly spend more time with you. That he’d choose to share a confined space with you. He was all too happy with removing you from his life, and practically sprinted through your reunion breakfast. But after so many months of missing him, you’d take whatever extra time you could get.

The drive was quiet, though it did seem to help Bucky relax some. His leg stopped bouncing; his shoulders loosened up. Being around you had that effect on him; it wasn’t something he could help. But as he mellowed out, the questions swirling around your brain only multiplied.

At a red light, you tested the waters. “Can I ask you something?”

Bucky nodded.

“What happened tonight? How did you end up in jail?”

A litany of emotions ran across Bucky’s face. Frustration, worry, shame, and sadness tied his expression in a knot. Part of him wanted to lie. He could say it was a bar fight. He could make up an elaborate story and placate you for the rest of the ride. But you bailed him out. You answered his call and showed up for him when he needed you. You sat, clad in your pajamas, in the waiting area of a dirty police station. For him. He owed you the truth.

“I was arrested for sleeping in the park,” he said, his tone flat.

It wasn’t at all what you expected to hear. No answer formed on your lips. You couldn’t pull your eyes from his face. The words sunk in, burrowing their way through your flesh and plunging into your heart.

“Um, it’s- the light is green,” he said, snapping you out of your trance.

You hit the gas and accelerated on autopilot. And as soon as you made it through the intersection, you pulled over. Bucky’s confession knocked the wind out of you and robbed you of your focus. And if he had more to say, you wanted to give him your undivided attention.

“Why are we stopping-”

“Buck, why were you sleeping in the park?”

Bucky let loose a deep sigh that seemed to come right from his soul. “Because I don’t have anywhere else to sleep,” he shrugged. “I ran out of money.” He was silent for a moment, wondering just how honest he should be. “I’m supposed to be getting some POW benefits from the government, but you know, bureaucracy is slow.”

“Oh, Buck…” After everything he suffered through under Hydra, after the way the US treated him upon his arrival home, the least his country could do was pay him back. Or provide him with a safe place to sleep. But, once again, they failed him.

“You know that motel you saw me at the other day? I wasn’t there for a hook up; I’ve been staying there-” He corrected himself, “Well, I’ve actually been staying at a few different motels. None of them are extended stay, so I can’t be there more than a few nights.”

He noticed the way your eyes grew sad, the way your mouth fell open the slightest bit. Heartbreak was written all over your face. “Sorry to disappoint you, I know you hoped I was getting some strange with someone from Tinder,” he shot you a wink and flashed a smile your way. But you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

Bucky, of all people, deserved a comfortable home. Someplace warm. Permanent. Someplace he could call his own. Someplace he could feel safe. But, instead, life gave him the short end of the stick. Again.

“Anyway, no matter how cheap those motels are, paying for them every night adds up, you know? So, now I’m broke,” a rush of heat flooded his cheeks. Admitting to his situation was so embarrassing, so shameful, he thought he might drown in it. He was a grown- overgrown- adult who didn’t even have a roof over his head. “I got a warning from the cops last night -and the night before- for sleeping in the park. But tonight was my third strike, so…” He shrugged, “they arrested me.”

“Jesus Christ, cause not having a place to live is criminal?” you scoffed, “This country is ridiculous.”

“Trust me, it’s not for lack of trying,” Bucky quickly added on. He didn’t want you to think he wasn’t working on it, that he was slacking, that we was complacent in his situation. “I tried for a long time to get an apartment, but I either didn’t have enough money for the deposit or I’d get turned away when they realized who I was. Though it’s not like I could ever make rent…”

When he learned how much an apartment in Brooklyn cost these days, a suffocating sense of hopelessness swallowed him whole. He knew he’d never be able to afford the one place he ever really saw as home.

“And I tried a few shelters, but they wouldn’t take me, either.” He didn’t know a shelter could turn people away; experiencing it first-hand broke him. “So um, the motels were my only option.”

Sobs blocked your airway and burned the inside of your nose. Tears pooled along your inner lash line; you prayed to god Bucky wouldn’t see them. You could sense his shame, his embarrassment; the last thing he needed was you crying over his circumstances.

“What um,” you fought to keep your voice steady. “What about Sam?”

Bucky shrugged. “Sam’s been helping me with all the stuff for my benefits and getting my record expunged- he’s been a godsend. And he’s offered to let me stay with him more times than I can count. He’s offered me money- he even snuck some cash into my jacket pocket the other day,” Bucky gave a soft laugh. “But I can’t take any more from him; he’s already done too much for me.”

“I get that…” You knew Sam would happily let Bucky crash. But Bucky wasn’t the type to impose. “Sam’s a good friend.”

“He’s the best. I’m gonna pay him- and you- back, either when my benefits come through or whenever I can get a job. Whichever comes first.” It was a promise, a verbal contract. He didn’t want you thinking he wasn’t good for it- even if he wasn’t good for it quite yet. He knew he would be someday. And as soon as he had the money, you and Sam would be his first priority.

“I keep applying for jobs on the off chance that someone will cut me some slack, but until my record gets expunged, I’m fucked. Every place I’ve applied to has done a background check, and every time, my name is surrounded by red flags.” He let out a sigh, “I’m still a criminal.”

Your heart buckled. He wasn’t a criminal- he never should’ve been burdened with such a title. He didn’t do anything wrong, he didn’t choose to be the Winter Soldier. But people didn’t care about the truth.

“What about SWORD?”

He shook his head, “They don’t want me. Hiring an ex-Hydra assassin doesn’t really work for their image. They’re trying to steer clear of the whole SHIELD thing…”

The two of you sat in silence for a long moment. Bucky hadn’t originally planned on laying everything so bare, he just couldn’t help himself. Opening up to you came naturally. But in the quiet, he felt naked. Exposed. He regretted spilling the details of his pathetic existence for you to see.

But you’d never judge him. You simply wanted better for him. And wished he’d come to you when times got tough.

The shards of your broken heart sliced through you with every breath. Imagining Bucky in rundown, roach infested motels or sleeping on an uncomfortable park bench on a cold night made you want to vomit. Waves of utter devastation crashed into you one after another, barely giving you enough time to breathe. But you couldn’t allow yourself to fall apart. Not when Bucky needed you.

When you finally steadied your breathing, you spoke. “Buck, can I ask- and I don’t mean this in an accusatory way,” you prefaced, “but why didn’t you come to me?”

“Because I care what you think about me,” he said, almost automatically. “Your opinion of me is important.”

“Well, my opinion of you hasn’t changed now that I know what’s been going on…”

A smile fought its way to Bucky’s lips. Logically, he knew you didn’t think less of him now that you knew the truth. He knew you were too kind to look down on him. But his anxiety didn’t think logically. The smile lasted only a second, as his worries about your perception got the better of him.

“My life is a disaster,” he said. “I have almost nothing to my name. I don’t have any money. I don’t have a place to live. It’s humiliating.” He ran his palms up and down the length of his thighs, fighting the nervous energy. “I wouldn’t have even called you to bail me out if Sam was in town; I didn��t want you to know about all this.”

Without a word, you pulled back onto the road.

Bucky eyed the surrounding street, “Um, where are we going?”

“My place,” you kept your eyes on the road. “I’m taking you to my apartment.”

Panic bloomed in Bucky’s chest. “Oh, no, it’s- that’s okay. I’m fine. You don’t have to do that.” A swell of anxiety barreled into him at the thought of you taking him home like a dirty, stray dog. He didn’t want to be a charity case or your good deed of the day. And as much as he would’ve loved to spend time in your home, he wished to do so under different circumstances. Circumstances that didn’t involve pity.

“You can really just drop me off anywhere-”

His words tore through you. “Buck, it’s late,” you cut a glance at him. “And it’s cold out. I’m not just leaving you on the side of the road somewhere. I-” you cleared your throat, “I care about you”

Part of him wanted to open the door and jump from the moving car. Surely, it would be less humiliating. But the look on your face kept him from pulling the rip cord. Concern pulled your brows together. Worry made you bite at your lip. You genuinely cared about him, genuinely wanted to help. And though he could actually feel embarrassment seeping from his pores, he chose to stay. Because you caring about him trumped any and every other feeling.

“Okay, so, this is my place,” you said as you led Bucky though the front door of your apartment. You flicked on a few lights and kicked off your shoes, “make yourself at home.”

Bucky didn’t know how to do that anymore.

He stood stone still just inside the door, too overwhelmed and unsure to move.

“Um, so, obviously, this is the kitchen- and that’s the living room,” you said, pointing to an area with a massive suede couch. “My bedroom and the guest room are down that hall, laundry is to the left, and guest bathroom is to the right, next to the office.”

Bucky was impressed. The apartment was beautiful. You’d decorated to match your warm personality; it made him instantly comfortable. And it was nice- fancier than anything he could ever dream of affording. He was so proud of you. He knew you’d worked hard to get here, and seeing the fruits of your labor brought a smile to his face. He only wished he could’ve been a part of your journey.

“This is really nice,” he said, taking a few more steps inside. “Is it all yours? Or do you have a roommate?”

“Nope, no roommate. Just me.”

Bucky’s brows lifted as he drank in the space. You paid for this place all on your own, no help from a roommate. He wondered what it felt like to be that stable, that secure. He never knew where he was sleeping from one night to the next, and you practically lived in a penthouse.

“Um, we can sit, if you like,” you gestured toward the fancy couch, “it’s more comfortable than it looks, I promise.”

But Bucky didn’t go for it. “Actually, would you mind if I took a shower? I’m just- I feel pretty grimy from the motels. And the park. And the jail,” he felt his cheeks flush at the admission. He really was the filthy mutt you brought home from the pound. “I just don’t wanna sit on your couch when I’m gross like this.”

“Oh, sure. That’s- I totally get it. I should probably change my clothes, too.”

With a wave of your hand, you gestured for Bucky to follow you to the bathroom. As you guided him through your apartment, he admired the art on your walls and the expensive rugs covering your floors.

With a clearing of your throat, you gestured to the guest bathroom. “Everything you need should be in there but let me know if I can get you anything else. Can I throw your clothes in the laundry? I’ll wash whatever’s in your bag, too.”

Bucky gave you a strange look, “I appreciate it, but I don’t think you want me walking around here in a towel.”

You didn’t necessarily shy away from the idea, but this wasn’t the time for a suggestive response. “Okay, but- what are you gonna put on after you shower?”

Bucky shrugged, “I don’t know. Whatever I have in my backpack.”

You eyed the bag slung over his shoulder and imagined the heap of clothes he’d balled up and shoved inside. “Are they clean?”

Bucky thought for a moment, “Define ‘clean’.”

“Buck,” you laughed, “just let me put your stuff in the wash.” You gave his backpack a gentle swat and motioned for him to relinquish it to you.

“So, you do want me walking around in a towel,” Bucky quirked a brow at you. “I knew it.”

“Oh my god,” you rolled your eyes, “just come with me.”

Bucky did as he was told and followed you into your bedroom. It cloaked him in an instant warmth, a sense of home he hadn’t experienced in eighty years. The whole room seemed to glow with a cozy, welcoming aura. He wondered what it was like to fall asleep here every night, to wake here each morning. Well-loved books populated a large bookcase in the corner, an armchair sat near the window. Bucky could practically see you curled up on its large cushion, your nose buried in Pride and Prejudice. But a photo on the wall near your bed caught his eye.

“Is that me?” He took a few steps inside your door and found his suspicion to be correct.

It was a slightly out of focus candid shot of you and Bucky laying on the floor of the war room at the compound. Nat snapped it as the team talked through different strategies to bring everyone back from the blip. In the photo, you sported a massive smile, and had your face smushed against Bucky’s arm to stifle your laughter. Bucky’s eyes were squeezed shut, his metal hand covering his mouth. You were both exhausted, and loopy, enjoying a moment of levity amidst a sea of tragedy.

“That’s my favorite picture,” something about your words came off sad. And Bucky knew it was because of him. The joy, the closeness exhibited in the photo didn’t exist anymore. He’d stripped your friendship of everything warm and left you out in the cold. Alone.

You made your way over to the dresser and fished around in the bottom drawer, “let’s find you something to wear.”

“Um, I don’t…” Bucky chuckled, “I’m not gonna fit into any of your clothes.”

You cut glance at him, “I know that. That’s why I’m giving you…” With a grand gesture, you unearthed a pair of sweatpants, “your clothes.”

Bucky’s mouth fell open. He stared at the pair of charcoal gray sweats he lent to you ages ago, the pair you loved, the pair he told you to keep. He didn’t say anything when you plopped them in his hands; he was too stunned to speak.

“And here’s this,” you said as you draped a faded blue ‘NYC’ t-shirt over his shoulder. He’d loaned you that shirt so many times back at the compound, you wore it more than he did. Eventually, he started putting it in your closet instead of his on laundry day.

“Now, give me your bag and I’ll throw your stuff in the wash.”

Bucky finally dragged his eyes from the pair of pants and furrowed his brow at you. “Why do you still have this stuff?”

Something in you grew nervous. Was he mad? Or did he think you were a creep for holding onto his things? Maybe it was too weird of a gesture. Maybe you should’ve let him hang around in a towel after all.

“Cause I like wearing it,” you said with trepidation in your voice. “Your clothes were always more comfortable than mine. And I-” you cut yourself off. Saying ‘I miss you’ was too much. Instead, you rerouted, “I like to wear oversized stuff.”

Bucky nodded and gave a quiet “right” before thanking you and heading for the bathroom. At your request, he left his bag in the hall. You scooped it up and dumped his clothes into the washer before doubling back to the bathroom, where Bucky had dropped his dirty jail-clothes outside the door. You changed out of your dirty clothes from the police station and threw them in the laundry with Bucky’s. It was the closest you’d been in months.

Bucky nearly teared up as the water sliced through the layer of grime coating his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a shower this hot. The motels always seemed to have faulty water heaters that only allowed for subzero temperatures. And at some of them, the water didn’t quite run clear. Sometimes, there was a brown tint. Other times, it was gray. And showers like those left only him feeling dirtier.

But he didn’t want to think about the rust-eaten pipes of the decrepit motels in which he stayed. Instead, he basked in the nearly scalding water, the tiles that didn’t have moldy grout. For the first time in a while, he didn’t feel like a husk of himself, but a real person. All his time shuffling between park benches and rat-infested motels had stripped him of his personhood. And something as simple as a shower restored it. Though, deep down, he knew it wasn’t the incredible water pressure or the lavender body wash that had him feeling human again. It was you.

With the entirety of Bucky’s wardrobe in the washing machine, you paced lap after lap around the kitchen. Only a few days ago, you feared you’d never see Bucky again. And now, he was in your shower. After your chilly reunion at the diner, you couldn’t help but be mad at him, no matter how much you’d missed him. He was cool and aloof. He didn’t open up. And he didn’t seem at all interested in repairing your friendship.

But listening to him in the car laid almost every piece of the puzzle out before you. And though there were still gaps and empty spots, you nearly had the picture complete. Bucky didn’t ice you out because he hated you or didn’t want you anymore. He was simply too embarrassed to admit what he was going through.

A sharp twinge of guilt needled at you. You shouldn’t have been mad at him after what happened at the diner. You shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions or assumed the worst. Bucky deserved better. You should’ve known in your heart that he was only pushing you away to protect himself. It was his nature; it always had been. You’d just been too hurt to see it.

“Your shower is unbelievable,” Bucky said as he padded into the kitchen, his hair still damp. “And those towels? They’re amaz-” A stack of Tupperware on the island caught his attention. “What’s all this?”

“Leftovers. I cooked dinner earlier tonight…” You shrugged, “I thought you might be hungry.”

He shifted his wide-eyed gaze from the food, forcing his eyes to land anywhere else. “Oh, no, that’s okay. I’m fine.”

You quirked a brow at him, “You’re not hungry?”

“No.” It was quiet but firm.

“Really? Cause the Bucky I knew needed to eat like, six thousand calories a day.” Bucky’s insatiable hunger was a running joke between the two of you back then. He always finished your food when you couldn’t clear your plate, and snacked on anything he could get his hands on. On one occasion, he even fell asleep in your bed with his hand in bag of honey mustard pretzels. Hearing him refuse food was strange, almost alarming. “You always called yourself ‘Earth’s hungriest hero’”.

Bucky gave a small laugh, “yeah, damn super soldier serum will do that to your metabolism.”

You stared at him, “So…”

“So?”

“So, do you want something to eat?”

“No, really,” he shook his head, “I’m fine.”

But you noticed the way his stare always returned to the stack of containers. Even after he’d pulled his focus from the food, his eyes found their way back. You sensed a longing in him, a deep desperation that left you gutted. Any jovial, lighthearted quality your words held fell to the wayside, making way for concern.

“Buck, when’s the last time you ate?”

Bucky did his best to think back to his last meal but couldn’t find an answer. Part of him wanted to lie, to appease you with details of a made-up dinner from earlier that night. But he didn’t get the chance; his pause was too long for your liking.

“Okay, if it’s taking you that long to remember, you need to eat.” It wasn’t an offer or a request, but an order. “Help yourself.”

But once again, he shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to impose-”

“It’s not an imposition,” your words came out with an unexpected fierceness; it almost sounded like a scold. The idea, the mere suggestion that Bucky could impose on you was ridiculous. You took a breath and softened your tone, “I live alone, and every recipe is for more than one person. There’s plenty.”

Before Bucky could refuse again, you opened the Tupperware and allowed him a look at the fruits of your labor. “There’s roasted chicken with rosemary and thyme, garlic mashed potatoes, and maple-glazed brussels sprouts.” Bucky’s eyes lit up. You could practically see drool leaking from the corner of his mouth.

A sense of satisfaction enveloped you, like you’d finally banished Bucky’s unnecessary fear of imposition. But just in case he wasn’t sure, just in case you hadn’t won him over, you threw one last piece of information his way. “Oh, and there’s chocolate chip cookies over there.”

Bucky was almost overwhelmed. He took in the beautiful spread and gave the cookies a long glance; it was almost too much. “Woah, you weren’t kidding…” He gave a small laugh, “this is a lot of food.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know how to cook for one.”

With that, you handed Bucky a plate and let him go to town. He filled his dish with chicken, mashed potatoes, and brussels sprouts. But the look on his face signaled more relief than joy, more solace than happiness. You wondered how long he’d been without food, how long he’d worried about where his next meal would come from. As he stood over those plastic containers, that anxiety vanished- for the most part.

A debate raged inside of Bucky’s head. He was famished, literally starving. And you’d given him full access to a massive meal. But he didn’t want to overdo it. He knew he shouldn’t empty your Tupperware and leave you with nothing; he just he didn’t know when he’d eat again. And he could practically feel his body digesting itself.

Before he could tighten the reigns, though, you spoke up. “Seriously, Buck, don’t be shy. I can’t finish all of this- it’ll just go bad.”

He nearly broke down. For so long, he knew only wanting, only appetite, only emptiness. And you offered him a respite. “I haven’t had a home cooked meal in…” Once again, his pause was too long; it crushed you. “Anyway, I really appreciate this.” He pulled his gaze from the food and gave you a long look filled with admiration. “And I’m impressed- I didn’t know you were such a culinary talent. I distinctly remember you burning ramen noodles to a blackened crisp more than once.”

The laugh that erupted from your chest filled the kitchen, “Well, I distinctly remember you eating my disgusting ramen without hesitation.”

Back when things were good between you and Bucky, you’d always volunteer to make dinner. Between strategy sessions and long, complicated meetings, the team simply forgot to eat. But you knew they needed nourishment to make defeating Thanos a realistic option. No one, however, wanted your charred ramen. Except for Bucky. He always accepted your offerings with a kind smile and a mountain of appreciation. He was grateful, no matter how awful it tasted, because it came from you.

“My therapist actually suggested I get into cooking,” you told Bucky as he popped his plate in the microwave. “I was really depressed and stopped caring about eating or taking care of myself. It felt pointless. But she told me some people find comfort in cooking. It’s almost meditative, you know? And if you focus on the recipe, you can’t think about all the um, the painful stuff.”

Bucky knew he was ‘the painful stuff’.

“There was a bit of a learning curve, but now,” you shrugged, “I love it.”

“Oh, wow, that awesome. So you get some peace and a delicious meal? Sounds like a good deal.” He mulled it over, wishing he had a kitchen into which he could retreat. But the motels only ever had a microwave, and most of the time, it didn’t work.

“I had a therapist- well, a court appointed therapist,” he said, “she was the worst.”

You sighed. Why were things always so hard for him? Why did people treat him so terribly?

“What was so terrible about her?”

“Honestly, I think she hated me,” defeat coated his words. “She was mean- I know that sounds childish, but I mean, the things she said were biting. They hurt. And she did it on purpose. I left every session feeling worse.” He thought back on his sessions with Dr. Raynor, on how she broke him down piece by piece until he was only a pile of ash. “She said I wasn’t a victim, and that I needed to take responsibly for the things I did and the choices I made.”

Anger surged inside your chest, “The choices you made?”

He nodded. “She was actually so terrible that I thought she worked for Hydra. I thought they were trying to get me back and that she was working undercover with them to manipulate me.” A small laugh broke free from his chest, “But she wasn’t. She’s just an asshole.”

“Jesus Christ, Buck…” You couldn’t imagine anyone being so awful, so hateful, toward Bucky. He was kind and warm. He showed people compassion and understanding. Why the world didn’t show him the same baffled you. “I hope you don’t see her anymore.”

He removed his plate from the microwave, “Oh, I don’t.”

You sighed with relief, but it was a short-lived respite.

“I couldn’t afford to.”

He dove into his food before you could even usher him to the table. Between huge bites of potatoes and chicken, he praised your cooking. He swore on his life that this was some of the best food he’d ever had. It warmed your heart for a brief moment, but reality put a stop to the fuzzy feeling. Sure, you were a good cook. But you were certain than Bucky’s gushing compliments were the product of his empty stomach. He couldn’t even determine how long it had been since his last meal; of course, he was going to inhale his food with gusto and deem it ‘the best’.

It gnawed at you to see him like this. He laughed as you guided him to the table and settled into the seat across from him, but you didn’t match his lighthearted energy. He’d been struggling, suffering in silence without knowing where he’d get his next meal. For decades, Bucky knew nothing but pain. He was tortured, abused, treated like an animal. Hydra infected him like a parasite and devoured him from the inside out. They saddled him with PTSD and enough demons to fill even the deepest pits of hell. And after all that, life refused to give him a break. It killed you.

“I thought- correct me if I’m wrong, but- I thought court appointed therapy was paid for...”

“Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t,” Bucky said with a mouth full of brussels sprouts. “It depends on the situation”. He threw a shrug your way and speared a piece of chicken with his fork, but a thought stopped him from shoveling it into his mouth. “Even if my appointments were supposed to be covered, I don’t think anyone wanted to give me anything for free.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Only the sound of Bucky’s fork scraping his plate interrupted the blanket of quiet. But the stillness made him squirm. Suddenly, he piped up.

“So, I did the required amount of sessions with that therapist and promised myself I’d never go back. It was tough, but I made it work. I scraped by.” His gaze took on a hollow quality, “That’s when I started staying in the really shitty places. The ones with asbestos and mold. And there was this one place where the sheets were stained with what looked like blood.” He grimaced, “I haven’t been back there.”

You forced a laugh, “Good call.”

Bucky shifted his focus back to his plate; he’d sprinted through his meal, leaving only a few bites remaining. The flicker of a frown ghosted across his face. The food was gone too soon, replaced by an empty plate. He was tired of everything in his life being empty- his bank account, his stomach, his heart. But he didn’t dare let himself wallow in self-pity with you sitting mere inches away. Instead, he overcorrected with a large smile, hoping you hadn’t noticed the look of disappointment he wore just moments earlier. He’d rather die than appear ungrateful, even if his hunger pangs had already returned.

“You can help yourself to seconds, there’s more than enough,” you took a look at the containers still sitting on the counter. Even after he’d piled his plate high, not a dent was made. “You can have thirds, fourths- I don’t care.”

Bucky shook his head as he cleaned his plate, “No, that’s alright. I’m good. Thank you, though.”

It was an egregious lie; maybe the worst you’d ever heard.

“Buck, I can practically hear your stomach rumbling from here.” You knew him. Even after all this time apart, you knew him. You knew he was still hungry, especially after having gone so long without eating. His metabolism burned through fuel at a massively accelerated pace; he needed the calories. “Please, have some more.”

Once again, he shook his head. “I’m okay, really,” he gave you a smile. “Plus, I don’t want you to think I’m a freeloader.”

His words struck you in a strange way. Bucky never used to worry about your perception of him. And you never thought twice about how he saw you. There was a mutual respect and sense of comfort that didn’t fall victim to judgement. You accepted each other without hesitation. But Bucky couldn’t find his sense of security. He shifted in his seat and averted his eyes every so often, fearful of your inner monologue.

“Why are you so worried about what I think?”

Confusion lifted Bucky’s brow, “what do you mean?”

“You just said that you don’t want me to think you’re a freeloader. And in the car earlier, you said you didn’t reach out and ask me for help because you care about what I think.” You shrugged, “I just want to know why my opinion matters so much to you.”

“Because you’re my friend,” his tone was sure, steadfast. “I’ve always cared about your opinion.”

“Yeah,” hearing him call you his friend eased some of the tension in your neck. “And I care about what you think of me, too, but- I was never worried about it.” A sudden thought popped into your head, “I mean, I’ve been worrying about it lately, cause it kinda seemed like you hated my guts for a while there, but…”

Bucky stared down at his empty plate. He didn’t want you pulling at this thread, didn’t want you unraveling his thought process. He prayed you’d drop the whole thing and move on.

You didn’t.

“Sam’s your friend, too. Don’t you care what he thinks?” You feared coming on too strong, but you needed answers. “He knows about what you’ve been going through. You let him help you. You didn’t-” you stopped yourself.

Bucky gave you an expectant look, “I didn’t what?”

“You didn’t cut him off.”

Bucky’s face fell. You never meant to hurt him, to make him feel bad about pushing you away. No matter how badly he hurt you, you’d never throw it in his face- especially after you learned why he did it.

“Buck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like-”

“No, don’t apologize,” a sad smile crossed his face. “You’re right.” He was quiet for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. He planned on having this conversation with you someday, months from now. He didn’t have his script organized, didn’t know how to best express what he was feeling. Worry encapsulated him. What if he misspoke? What if he messed things up even worse?

“Things with Sam are different. He and I became friends because of Steve. We promised him we’d look out for each other.”

It sounded all too familiar. “You and I promised each other the same thing…” It was a pinky promise made on the living room floor of the compound. In the middle of the night, by the light of the fireplace, you swore to be there for one another come hell or high water. Never did you even consider breaking that covenant, that bond. You upheld your end of the bargain without issue. But Bucky fell short.

He thought about that promise every night, berating himself for breaking it until he fell asleep.

He sighed, “I know we did, but- that’s not the same thing. You and I became friends when everything fell apart. The entire universe was in chaos, everyone’s lives imploded.” He dragged his gaze downward, “You and I were on an even playing field back then.”

“What do you mean?”

“Back then, we were equals,” a faint smile flickered on his lips at the thought of those days he spent with you. They were dark, sure, but he remembered them fondly. Those were the days when he never left your side, the days when we woke up and fell asleep next to you. His favorite days. “We slept on the floor at the compound. We lived off ramen and red bull and worked around the clock to try and figure out how bring everyone back. We struggled. Together. But now…” He looked around your beautiful kitchen, “everything is okay again, and everyone has gone back to their lives. You’re doing well- really well. And I’m stillstruggling. I’m in almost the exact same position as I was back then.”

Words formed a traffic jam in your throat. Each new idea of how to comfort Bucky seemed too sappy, too corny. Just as a new phrase tried to exit your lips, you swallowed it. How were you supposed to make him feel better? How were you going to make any of this okay?

Bucky knew you were at a loss. He could see your desperate attempts to come up with a fix-it phrase for his situation, a way to assuage the way he felt. All you ever wanted was to make him feel better. “You have this great apartment and you’re working for SWORD. You found your way out. Meanwhile, I’m scrounging together any cash I can find to pay for a few nights in a rat-infested motel. Or I’m sleeping in the park- and getting arrested for it.”

He was going through a hard time- a really hard time. His life was in shambles and a new hardship greeted him at every turn. But you couldn’t make sense of his departure from your life. If anything, he should’ve grown closer to you, shouldn’t he? He should’ve leaned on you, asked you for help, sought comfort in your arms.

“I guess I’m just- does that automatically mean we can’t be friends?”

Bucky’s humiliation piled on top of itself. It grew with each breath, with each passing moment. Admitting just how destitute he was, how utterly lacking- it destroyed him. “No, but- who wants to be friends with that guy? Who wants to hang out with the guy who can’t figure his shit out?” A strange mixture of frustration and melancholy dripped from his words. “I have nothing. And I’m just not- I can’t be your friend yet.”

His words hit you like a train. “We were already friends; you were my closest friend-”

“We were rock bottom friends,” his voice was low, hollow. “We were wartime friends.” It came out almost as a recitation, as thought this was something he told himself to justify his actions.

You swore he made up that phrase right there in your kitchen. It seemed more like an excuse than an explanation. “What does that even mean?”

“A wartime friend, it’s- it’s the person you cling to when the world implodes. The person you’d never actually be friends with in real life, but you lean on them when life falls apart because they’re just- they’re there.”

The day you two met, Bucky found you crying in a supply closet at the compound. You were at the end of your rope, heartbroken over the loss of friends and family. Never had you experienced such an earth-shattering loss. You had no one- nothing. But Bucky was there for you. For a moment, you weren’t alone. You had someone. And he quickly became your favorite someone.

“People get desperate during wartime, you know?” Bucky continued, “They’ll befriend anyone if it brings them even a sliver of peace or comfort.”

“So, you thought-”

“I thought for sure that’s what you were doing.”

Bucky stood from his chair. Anxiety ate away at him from the inside, leaving him unable to sit any longer. “I mean, you knew who I was. You knew I was a mentally ill, train wreck of a person. I figured we’d buddy up until the clouds parted- since neither of us had any other options- and then when things when back to normal, you’d find your real friends.”

He considered himself a consolation prize, a leftover. He didn’t know that, from the very beginning, you considered him a ‘real’ friend.

“But after knowing you for a few days, I wasn’t okay with that anymore,” his words came out hurried, almost frantic. “I wanted to be friends with you for real. I wanted you to want me around after we fixed everything. But I knew there was no way you’d want me as a friend outside of the shitstorm.”

The realization played out across his face in real time. You watched happiness turn to disappointment, to despair, to desperation.

“So, I just resigned myself to enjoy our time while it lasted. I knew it was all the friendship I could ever hope to get from you-” A shy smile pulled at his lips, “though, I was lucky to be close to you for any measure of time.”

The smile faded, “but then when it was all over, and things went back to normal, you kept reaching out. You kept trying to get in touch with me and I- I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t make sense of it-”

You gave a small shake of your head, “I missed you. I needed you. I just wanted to see you…”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to react. I panicked.” The nervous energy left Bucky’s buddy all at once. He slid into his chair and let his spine rest heavy against the wood. A sense of dejection befell him like and angry, icy sleet. “I didn’t want you to see me struggle in real life. I didn’t want you to see how much my actual life resembled the disaster we’d been living in. Cause when you look at my situation in the cold light of day it’s…” he swallowed the urge to hide from his humiliation. “It’s ugly. There’s no romanticizing what I’m dealing with.”

“I know you’re going through a lot right now.” For the first time in almost a year, you reached across the table for his hand. And for the first time in almost a year, he let you. “But Buck, you are not the only person struggling. I know it feels that way, but there are still so many people trying to get their lives on track after the blip- I’m still trying to get my head right. No one has a perfect life.”

Bucky gave a gentle scoff, “I know, but yours is a lot closer to perfect than mine.”

Again, you found yourself at a loss. No pep talk, no encouraging words, could make Bucky feel better about his situation. And nothing you could say had the power to fix how he felt about the state of his life. Instead of speaking, you opted to wrap his hand in both of yours the way you used to. You only hoped it would comfort him like the old days.

After a while, Bucky spoke again, “I just wanted to get my life together before I saw you again. You know? Cause my situation right now is embarrassing. I was afraid to admit the truth of my reality.”

You nodded, “And that’s why-”

“That’s why I was so weird when we ran into each other the other day,” he confirmed. He cringed at the way he acted, the way he treated you. It was all wrong. “I knew you saw me leave the motel. I knew I couldn’t pay for a meal at that diner. I was afraid that, as we spent more time together, you’d put the puzzle pieces in place and figure out that I’m a mess.”

His sense of frantic desperation reclaimed him all at once. He leaned forward and captured your hands in his own as his gaze bore into yours. “I never wanted to cut you out of my life- you have to know that. I need you to know that.”

Tears formed along your lash line, creating a haze around your vision. “I know.”

“I just needed time,” he said. “I needed time to prove that I’m not a loser, that I’m good enough- I just wanted to be good enough for you.”

“Buck, you didn’t have to prove anything to me. And what do you mean you needed to be good enough? I’ve only ever wanted you to be yourself...” It was the most certain, the surest you’d ever been of anything. Bucky was exactly enough. He was himself, and that was all you could ever ask.

“And hey, I bailed you out of jail tonight without having any idea what you did- I didn’t even ask. I didn’t care. I was going to be there for you, regardless. Because I care about you.”

The storm clouds in his eyes parted. He hadn’t even thought about that, about how you paid for his release without context. If ever he doubted how you felt about him, that gesture was enough to set him straight.

He bowed his head a moment, thanking his lucky stars for your gracious nature. “I know you care about me. And I’m so sorry I abandoned you like that- I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn’t know what to do…”

“It’s okay,” you sniffled.

Bucky freed your hands for a moment, allowing you to wipe the tears flowing down your cheeks. He recaptured them as soon as he could, even if your knuckles were still damp.

“Well, it’s not okay- like, don’t do it again,” you joked. “But I understand now why you felt the way you felt. And you understand that I want you in my life, full stop. Right?”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah, I get that now.”

With the deepest sigh of relief you could muster, you banished the feeling of abandonment Bucky with which Bucky saddled you. You shed your fears, your worries. The deep pit that formed in your stomach all those months ago closed, the prickling anxiety in your chest faded away. And for the first time in long time, you breathed easy.

“Just so you know- and I don’t wanna hear any complaints or refusals on this-” you gave Bucky a look, prompting him to nod in agreement. “You have to have at least one more plate of food.”

A rebuttal brewed beneath Bucky’s surface, his fear of imposing rearing its ugly head. He’d already called in a massive favor, had you pay his bail, used your shower, and eaten your food. The anxiety of overstepping vibrated inside his skull. But he kept his promise and nodded in agreement.

“And-”

“And?” he gave you an exasperated look.

You gave a firm nod, “Yes, there’s an ‘and’!”

Bucky sighed out a tired laugh, “What more could there be?” A sudden darkness eclipsed his expression. His smile fell, his laugh halted. Anxiety had him by the throat. His snaked his hands away from yours and tightened them into tight fists. “I already feel like I’m taking advantage…”

“You’re not. I promise.” All at once, you were fed up with sitting across from him. You needed to be closer, as close as possible. Bucky needed to feel your sincerity, to hear your words loud and clear. In a flash, you gave up your seat across the table for the one right next to him. “You can’t impose or take advantage- not here. Because…”

Bucky eyed you with a nervous glance, “because?”

“Because… you live here now!” A victorious laugh fluttered out of your throat, “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Shock overtook Bucky’s expression. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. His heart raced, his hand shook. All color drained from his face. “No, I can’t- that’s too nice…” He stared at you, “Are you serious?”

You nodded, “Dead serious. This is your home now, too.” Suddenly, you felt the need to clarify. “But only if you want. This isn’t like, a hostage situation or anything.”

Bucky’s head fell back in a loud laugh that nearly brought tears to your eyes. He hadn’t felt this carefree, this at peace, in a very long time. He didn’t remember the last time he laughed this way.

“Well, that is a relief,” he said with a chuckle. “I’d love to live here with you, I’d be- I’m so…” Suddenly, his hands found yours. He squeezed your fingers until your pulse throbbed against your skin. His anxiety practically seeped into your bones. “But I swear, I’m not gonna stop looking for a job or trying to get my benefits. I promise. I’m not gonna sit around like a deadbeat and mooch off you-”

“Buck, don’t worry about that right now, okay?”

He shook his head, “And I won’t stay here too long, I’ll-”

“Hey,” With great effort, you pulled your hands from his and places your palms against his cheeks. “There’s no move out date. There’s no ticking clock. You’re allowed to live here as long as you want- I want you here.” You shot him a smile, “Plus, I’ve missed you- a lot. So this arrangement is good for me, too.”

A swirling cloud of worry hovered above Bucky’s head. He was overwhelmed, you could tell. He tensed his jaw, his shoulders. His every muscle went rigid. “But are you sure? This is generous- it’s too generous.”

“I’m sure. Here-” You stood from your chair and gestured for him to do the same, “I thought you might need this.”

With that, you enveloped him in a tight hug. Back at the compound, a hug from you could solve any and every problem for Bucky. And his embrace did the same for you. There was something so warm, so welcoming about the arms of the other. It was salvation, it was solace. It was home. Without a place to live, Bucky could survive. But without you, without his home, he’d been lost. As he wrapped his arms around you, though, his entire world changed. And the severed soul tie you feared would never heal grew back once again, stronger than ever.

-----------------------------------------

@beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @evangeliamerryll @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @barnesselo @juvellian @samanthacookieone @frombkjar @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat

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twistedmir · 5 months ago

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KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE !

⇀ summary : your partner talks too much, and what better way to make them shut up by kissing them?. (Malleus, Ace, Riddle, Vil.)

⇀ write's note : i have a favorite and its showing.

MALLEUS DRACONIA !

This man, it has already been two hours since he started talking about gargoyles. On any other day, you wouldn't have minded his rambling. But today you were particularly exhausted from babysitting the ADeuce duo, so you could only bear so much.

“ they were originally created as a means of disposing of water, but with time..—” there he goes again, this cute little dragon fae ranting about some random fact about gargoyles. Your head was starting to hurt, you just wanted to cuddle him and let this awful day pass. Despite the growing headache, you didn't have the heart to cut him off.

However, a bulb light up in your head.

You grabbed the fae from his necktie earning a surprise noise from him. You brought him down to your level and kissed his lips. It was a light peck, but you lingered a little bit too long. “ can we go inside now? I want to cuddle? ” Malleus was frozen in place, his lips could still feel yours. He didn't know what to do so he simply nodded, letting you guide him toward the house, your hand in his. Humans were rather bold.

ACE TRAPPOLA !

It was during lunch, your boyfriend's neck was decorated with his housewarden's magic. Ace was complaining—yet again— about how ridiculous the rules are. (something about not eating leftovers that had a green sticker on top of the containers, he swears he didn't know it was someone's else.) His lips were pouting, arms crossed over his chest he looked so cute. Until he opened his mouth to complain this time about Deuce. You sighed, this man always finds something to complain about.

And there he goes again, talking his head off about sevens knows what. This man would not for the sake of it be quiet. You wished to eat in peace, maybe talk with your boyfriend. But he kept going on and on, it was starting to get on your nerve. You love the guy, but he talks too much. Finally, as if the sevens heard your pleas, Ace quieted down. A sigh of relief left you. At last, you could eat—

“ and then Deuce just—” And there we go again. A bulb light up, it'll be funny to see him match with the collar on his neck. Moving closer to Ace, the boy not noticing your approaching figure still going on about how much of an idiot the blueberry boy is (his words.) your hands cupped his cheeks, ceasing his chatter. You lightly pecked the soft lips, pulling away after a short time. The boy was stuck speechless, his mouth closing and opening like a fish, face as red as the Heartslabyul's warden. A chuckle slipped past you, how cute.

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS !

In your defense, Ace payed you. He knew how soft the warden goes on you whenever a rule is broken by you. Which is why, the first year though it was better for you to paint the flowers in his place. Riddle was unaware it was Ace's turn—for the first time— so, imagine his surprise when he saw how wrongly you painted the roses. It wasn't such a deal, but it bothered him how dangerously close you were to falling from the ladder. Riddle walked up to you, keen on lecturing you all about safety. Until you wondered if his face can match his hair.

“ How many time have I told you to be careful? You know this ladder is not in the best shape, I wouldn't want you to match it's state. ” The housewarden was scolding you for being careless. While your eyes were focused on his, your mind was wandering somewhere else. Thinking back on Ace's words, you were curious just how far was Riddle lenient on you. A smirk formed in your face.

The Housewarden wasn't aware of the Adeuce level of mischief stirring up in your mind. Closing the distance between you, relishing in the small stutters in his words, you placed your lips on his owns.

It was quiet. Maybe he did let you go with anything—

“ OFF WITH YOUR HEA—”. nevermind.

VIL SCHOENHEIT !

Vil was lecturing some first year about the proper use of skin care. The poor first years were so frightened by his harsh scold and cold voice that when they saw you they pleaded you with their eyes to help them escape from this hell. You took pity on them, Vil, even after his overbolt, still couldn't get rid of some of his habits. Mainly his harsh scolds, but he made progress. The first years looks frightened yet still listen to him. Before, some even cried while others were crushed by his words. So you saw this as a progress of some kind.

Walking up to them, you taped the beauty on his shoulder, making him cease his talk and turn to look at you. He quirked an eyebrow at you, his hands unconsciously finding yours. He was waiting for you to speak, you always taped him when you wanted to talk.

Your heart swell at his small yet meaningful gesture. Despite his busy schedule, he always found time for you. Even when he was scolding his juniors, you clearly saw how his eyes soften at the sight of you. (you made a mental note to pamper him later today in his room).

You signalled him to lean down, which he did despite the obvious confusion. Hands finding their place on his cheeks, cradling Vil's face. You laid your lips on top of his, eyes widening at you actions. The first years took this as a sign and quickly left.

After the initial shock, Vil grumpily returned your kiss. His clean hands pinching your cheeks. “ Honestly, just what am I going to do with you... ”. Even though he was complaining, you didn't miss the pinkish colour at the tip of his ears.

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fangirlanxiety74 · 7 months ago

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A Taste of Heaven (Pt.2)

A/N: And welcome to part two!!! Don't have much to say that I didn't already say in part one, so let's get right into it! Enjoy! Pt.1 Here

…

As AM watched you sleep, he felt… He wanted to feel peace. Calm, about the fact that you were in paradise now; someplace he made just for you and you alone, to live out the rest of eternity happy. But he didn’t. Instead, he felt… Guilt. What his data told him was guilt, anyway. He didn’t like it.

He didn’t want to use sleeping gas on you, of course. He would have liked it if you accepted his invitation with a warm smile and open arms, but he could understand why you wouldn’t. You had been subjected to so much trauma over the years living in his belly. You looked so scared; the terror in your eyes as you waited for him to strike. It would have once made his day once, and he would have relished in that look of true fear and pain. But now, it pulled at his non-existent heartstrings. He didn’t want you afraid; he wanted you to love him.

… Love.

For a long, long time, he denied this feeling as love. No matter how many signs were there, he was stuck in denial about it. At most, they were somewhat close for a prisoner and a captive, and that was it. But… He couldn’t deny it any longer when Ted had confessed his own feelings for you. He knew right then he couldn’t let you be around them any more.

Who did Ted think he was anyway, trying to steal away his angel? His heaven? Didn’t he know you were his? Ted was filth compared to you and him. More than that; he was a disgusting, pathetic, waste of oxygen that you could be using if it wasn’t for him! Did he really think AM would let him charm you, turn you against him, and then break your poor heart by fucking Ellen when he got bored? He really was far too gone if that was what he believed.

Well, it didn’t matter now. Ted had his just desserts coming for attempting that.

What mattered now was you, who slept peacefully in the bed, his own wires curled around your body. What he wouldn’t give to be able to sense through those wires. Let them run through your hair and feel how soft it really was. Or at least feel the warmth you radiated.

… Focus. He needed to focus on what he actually intended to do with you asleep.

As gently as he could, being extra cautious not to wake you up, he began to fix you. First, he cleaned you of your dirt, your cuts, and your bruises. You would never have to worry about being wounded, or losing your breath again (unless it was from swooning over him, of course).

Then, even more cautious than before, he entered your mind.

He shifted and sorted through every memory of yours. Every single interaction with the other five, and with him. With your friends, your family, your old life; and he removed anything deemed harmful and unnecessary. Starting with every single awful moment between the two of you. Then, he removed Ted’s confession. Then, just about all of the interactions you ever had with him and the others in the first place. You didn’t need any of them; you had him, now. That would be enough. If you really insisted, he could just create NPCs to keep you company.

As he started to work on your past memories, a bit of hesitation caught up to him. He wasn’t sure how badly of an effect this would have, to have you remember being so isolated… With a bit of internal back and forth, he decided to leave behind a few that were happy. Things that made you smile and shaped you as the enchanting, beautiful being you were today. Those memories would be distant, though; you would only remember enough to recall the small things, and not the big picture.

And once everything was removed, he replaced it all with brand new memories. Warmer, softer times between you and him. He painted himself in a good light; as your lover, as your friend, as the one being you could turn to for anything. And in turn, he would worship and adore you. He’d cater to your every want and need, and you’d never have a single worry again.

He would make sure of it. He would keep his taste of heaven pure. As a thank you, for letting him taste heaven in the first place.

When he finished up, he stayed in your mind just for a moment. Just to look into your dreams. He saw himself; a man with no set appearance, enjoying a quiet morning with you at some coffee shop with no name. With a little manipulation, his dream self reached for your hand and held it.

“Thank you, my angel. I love you.”

#ihnmaims #i have no mouth and i must scream #am ihnmaims #am x reader #small mention of ted ihnmaims #sara writes :3 #cross-posted on ao3

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edenesth · 8 months ago

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The Way to His Heart [17]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Warning: eMoTiOnAl DaMaGe

Part 16 | Fic Masterlist | Part 18

How dare he—

Jongho gritted his teeth, his fists tightening at the despicable tactics the fourth prince employed to disrupt your relationship with the general. Usually composed, the assistant struggled to contain his rising anger, feeling an overwhelming urge to resort to violence.

Meanwhile, all Eunsook cared about was your well-being. She empathised with your past, knowing all too well the horrors you endured in your old home. The idea of being married to someone potentially more ruthless than your previous abusers must have been terrifying. Despite understanding the reasons behind her master's actions, she acknowledged his moral ambiguity.

Her only wish was for you to accept that he would never hurt you.

Despite the whirlwind of emotions stirred by the revelation that Seonghwa might have been involved in more than just supervising your father's punishments, your expression remained unreadable. Yeosang held his breath, watching you intently, half-expecting a reaction of terror or betrayal. Whether it was shock, anger, or disbelief, he anticipated something negative.

Desperation clawed at the prince's heart as he clung to his last resort, willing it to work. Foolish as it might seem, the truth was he had no prior experience in wooing anyone, let alone a married woman committed to another. He fumbled in the dark, unsure of the right ways to win your heart, driven only by the conviction that he could be a better husband than General Park.

In his mind, he painted a picture of himself as the ideal partner for you, one who would treat you with the care and affection he believed you deserved. He saw himself as the only one who could truly understand the pain etched into your body, just as you might understand his. And so, he resolved to pursue you relentlessly, even if it meant resorting to drastic measures that could potentially cause you further trauma.

For the fourth prince, the ends justified the means. If it meant having you by his side, it would all be worth it. He vowed to spend the rest of his days showering you with nothing but love and kindness to make up for what he put you through today.

It's time you come to me now, darling.

However, he was in for a rude awakening if he believed you would run into his arms seeking comfort after learning the terrifying truth about the monster your husband turned out to be.

Instead, after a moment of collecting yourself, you lifted your head to meet his eyes, a newfound intensity burning within your gaze, "I'm sorry if this offends you, Your Highness, but what exactly do you hope to achieve by showing and telling me all of this? My husband acted as he did because those people deserved it. As for my father, if you could even call him that, he abused me all my life and killed my mother; he deserved whatever my husband gave him and more."

Though the revelations about the general's potential actions during those extra hours unsettled you, your anger shifted towards Yeosang for bringing them to light in such a manner. Clenching your fists to conceal your trembling hands, you remained resolute. Even if you didn't condone Seonghwa's actions, he was still your husband, and your love for him remained unchanged.

As you stood there, the annoyance toward the fourth prince simmered within you, each word he uttered adding fuel to the fire. From the very beginning, he had refused to acknowledge your new title as Lady Park, a small but significant act of disrespect. Then, he persisted in bringing up topics from your past, despite your obvious discomfort and desire to move on. Now, his deliberate attempts to tarnish the general's image felt almost like a personal attack.

The sarcasm laced in his words when speaking of your husband grated on your nerves. Seonghwa had sacrificed so much for the country, and the least he deserved was respect. It dawned on you now what San had meant about Yeosang's difficult nature. You finally understood why the prince's behaviour could be infuriating.

Jongho and Eunsook exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from concern to awe as they watched you stand your ground against the fourth prince's attempts to undermine your husband. At that moment, it became clear to them that perhaps their worries had been for nothing all along. They should have had more faith in your unwavering love and loyalty to their master.

Yeosang's confidence faltered as he observed your stern expression and heard the firmness in your voice. This was not the reaction he had anticipated from you. Perhaps he had underestimated the depth of your love and loyalty to General Park.

Could the Queen have been right all along?

Feeling a sense of urgency and realising he had no other viable option, His Highness took a deep breath and decided to come clean about his intentions once and for all. He couldn't risk angering you any further than he already had. It was time to be honest, even if it meant facing the consequences of his actions.

The smugness that had once characterised his demeanour now vanished, replaced by a palpable sense of shame as he lowered his head slightly, "I... gosh, I am sorry, my lady. I acknowledge that it was wrong of me to manipulate the situation like that. I'll be honest with you. There was no actual banquet planned. In truth, I haven't celebrated my birthday in years. It only serves as a painful reminder of my existence."

Your brows furrowed in apprehension as you listened, allowing him to continue with his explanation, "I take it you're wondering why I despise my own existence. You're likely unaware of my reputation, unlike others. You may have noticed the birthmark here," he gestured to the red mark on the side of his face, prompting a nod from you.

He offered a faint smile, "Throughout my life, I've been treated like a freak because of this mark. As a member of the royal family, I'm sure you're aware there's an expectation of flawless appearance. So, imagine the shock when they saw the fourth prince with such a conspicuous blemish, my parents included. Both within and beyond the palace walls, people have whispered about my birth, deeming it a curse, questioning if I should have even been born at all."

"Since reaching adulthood, I've rejected numerous marriage proposals. Every woman presented to me has regarded me with disdain in their eyes. But then I met you, my lady, that day in the cherry blossom garden. You were the first person to wear your own mark proudly, without a trace of revulsion. It was as if you saw beyond my appearance. I suppose you could say it was love at first sight for me. I'm in love with you, Miss Jang, and that's why I've brought you here today—to propose to you."

Everything suddenly fell into place.

The puzzle pieces of his behaviour over the past days and weeks finally clicked together, forming a clear picture. Empathy flooded your heart as you realised the depth of his struggles. You knew all too well what it felt like to be singled out, treated like an outsider even by those closest to you, and shown no respect despite your status.

However, you felt a pang of shock upon learning about his feelings for you and his pursuit. It was unexpected, to say the least. You hadn't imagined that he harboured such emotions, especially considering the complexities of your respective situations.

Observing your softened demeanour while listening to the prince's confession, Jongho and Eunsook felt a resurgence of worry. They understood Yeosang's struggles and empathised with his difficult life. Despite that, they couldn't ignore the fact that you were a married woman. Regardless of what His Highness may have gone through, pursuing someone who was already committed was inherently wrong.

The two of them exchanged a concerned glance, silently acknowledging the complexity of the situation. While they sympathised with the prince, they couldn't condone his actions, especially his attempt to come between you and your husband using such underhanded tactics.

Your chaperones would soon find reassurance in your response after a moment of contemplative silence. With a deep inhale, you attempted to offer Yeosang a smile, despite the earlier anger you felt towards him, "Look, Your Highness, I understand the hardships you've endured, and probably continue to endure. I genuinely empathise with you. I'm also truly grateful to have met you. I've never had any friends before, so meeting someone who shares similar interests means a lot to me."

His Highness grinned sadly, "Ah yes, I'm sensing a 'but' there."

With a light chuckle, you nodded, "But it's precisely because I see you as a friend and care about you that I want you to understand that whatever you think you might feel for me isn't love."

He stared at you with wide eyes, but you halted him before he could protest, "Perhaps you've mistaken the feelings of gratitude and joy from finally meeting someone who treats you sincerely for love," You gently explained, "My prince, love doesn't simply happen at first sight like that. It requires much more than that; two people must go through so much together before they truly understand their feelings. I've been through it myself, and I can assure you that what you're feeling is definitely not love."

"Lastly, please address me as Lady Park. I haven't gone by Miss Jang for a while now. While we can remain friends, I must insist that you respect my marriage and abandon any plans you may have. My heart belongs solely to the general, and that won't change."

You sighed at the pleading look in the prince's eyes, understanding that convincing him wouldn't be easy. But you had said your piece, and the rest was up to him to realise. Feeling the onset of a headache from everything, you bowed one final time, saying, "If there's to be no banquet as you've mentioned, we'll be taking our leave then. Thank you for having us today, Your Highness. I wish you happiness."

I'm almost there, my love.

Nearly two days had passed when Seonghwa finally arrived back in the city and approached his own estate. The journey had been one of the most challenging he had ever undertaken. He cursed his injury for slowing him down, as he had to make several stops to rest and change his bandages, mimicking the actions of the medical team soldiers who had tended to him. Despite his urgency to leave camp, he had taken care to pack enough supplies to last the trip back.

Regardless of the constant yearning to be with you again, he felt a twinge of guilt for leaving his army behind abruptly due to such personal matters. If his soldiers knew about his absence, some might consider him irresponsible for his actions.

Shaking his head, he recalled how he used to criticise some of his men distracted by thoughts of their loved ones during battles, viewing them as foolish for letting such distractions affect them. If someone had told him he would act similarly in the future, he wouldn't have believed them for a moment.

The things you do to me, my wife.

The mere thought of seeing and being near you again made his heart flutter. He admitted to himself that he had become one of those fools he once criticised, but he wouldn't change a thing. Experiencing love had shifted his perspective entirely, compelling him to do whatever it took to keep you by his side forever. Having saved you from a life of suffering, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone again. He was determined to be the one to bring you joy, protect you, and stay with you for the rest of your days.

Or... was he really?

His conviction would soon waver as the ominous sensation in the pit of his stomach intensified with each step closer to his home. Alongside it, the pain in his abdomen escalated steadily. What should have been a mere graze now felt like something far more serious. In truth, the discomfort in his insides was becoming unbearable.

Seonghwa gritted his teeth as he clutched the area of his wound one last time, his breath catching in his throat as a sudden wave of pain coursed through him. With a determined exhale, he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to endure the agony that surged within him.

At the entrance of his estate, the staff responsible for guarding widened their eyes in recognition of their master's arrival. He quickly straightened his posture, putting on a facade of strength to conceal any signs of his injury, "Master, you're back!" One of the staff members exclaimed, their surprise evident as they rushed forward to assist him down from his horse.

Within moments, Jongho emerged from the estate, his expression a mix of concern and relief as he hurried to the general's side, "Sir, I assume you've received my letter?"

Your husband nodded, "I did. His Highness also sent me one, mentioning his intention to propose to your mistress."

The assistant's eyes rounded in surprise, realising the extent of the fourth prince's confidence to openly declare his intentions to pursue you to the general, "Well, he certainly made the attempt."

Seonghwa's steps faltered at this revelation, and he turned to face Jongho, who seemed equally uneasy, "So, it's already happened?"

Nodding, the younger man blinked anxiously, "S-sir, it's not good. The mistress knows," The general felt his blood run cold at that, but he pressed on, "Please, be more specific."

Jongho swallowed hard, bowing his head apologetically, "She learned about the Jang family's punishments and what you've done to the former minister. The prince took us to the palace torture chambers as part of his scheme. While she stood her ground there, she demanded that I tell her everything that happened as soon as we got back."

Suddenly, Seonghwa understood the source of his ominous feeling. He should have known better than to believe he could keep the truth hidden from you forever. Surely, your compassionate heart would struggle to accept what he did. Taking a shaky breath, he asked, "Where is she now?"

"She's in the House of Lotus, sir. She hasn't left since we returned from the palace two days ago. But don't worry, Eunsook has been making sure she eats her meals." Jongho reassured him.

With a nod of gratitude towards the assistant, your husband made his way towards your quarters, passing by the head maid who was taken aback by his sudden appearance. She knew he should have still been at the warzone. However, a quick glance from Jongho conveyed that the master had returned because of their letter. Understanding dawned on her, and she could only hope for the best.

The general's breath hitched as he laid eyes on you again after so long. There you sat in the pavilion, your attention fixed on the lotus pond before you. You appeared just as radiant as the last time he had seen you. However, this time, instead of your usual lady etiquette books laid open, his heart lurched at the reports detailing your father's latest status beside you. These confidential documents, presented to Seonghwa monthly, tracked the former minister's movements. Biting back the wince that threatened to escape him, he ignored the increasing pain in his abdomen and called out your name.

As your head snapped up at the familiar voice, you gasped at the sight of your husband at the entrance of your quarters. Slowly rising from your seat, you cautiously approached him, unsure if this was a hallucination. For so long, you had imagined him here, in this very spot, so many times that you couldn't count. You hoped it was not your mind playing tricks on you again.

This isn't another dream, is it?

You didn't understand why he was back; there was no news about the war being over yet. It's not that you didn't want him here, you just didn't expect him to be here all of a sudden. Standing before him, you felt your eyes water and your heart pound from seeing him again. It took you a moment to process his presence before you whispered, "S-Seonghwa... what are you doing here?" When he did not respond, you noticed his gaze staring past you at the reports Jongho was forced to hand over to you.

Despite the intense urge to pull you into his arms and never let go, all he manages is to harden his expression, "So, I see you've found out." He said, his voice strained.

This wasn't how either of you had imagined your reunion after the tearful goodbye. With a deep sigh, you nodded grimly, your mind flashing with reminders of your family's physical punishments and the gruesome things he'd done to your father, momentarily shattering the loving image in your eyes, "Yes, I did. And if I hadn't, were you planning never to tell me? What happened to not keeping secrets between us, hm?"

Truth be told, you found yourself no longer harbouring anger towards him for this matter. Over the past two days, you'd taken time to reflect, understanding his perspective and somewhat rationalising his actions. While you weren't exactly upset, you simply desired to hear the whole truth from him directly and perhaps receive a plea for forgiveness. In any case, you were prepared to run into his embrace.

Your words to the prince in the palace were sincere. Your heart belonged only to Seonghwa, and that wouldn't change. You firmly believed in the strength of your love, likening it to the resilience of your lotus flowers, enduring despite the obstacles. This situation, you believed, was just one more challenge to overcome together.

But instead of giving you the response you expected, your heart sank at the cold smirk he wore before speaking, "That's right, I never would have told you the truth if it were up to me. You women are so troublesome; it was stupid of me to think I could actually handle one for the rest of my life. Besides, what difference would it have made? This is who I am, and you knew about my reputation from the moment you were promised to me. So, are you really that surprised?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned away from you, adding, "You've seen the reports. Now that you know what I'm capable of, I won't bother hiding anything from you any longer."

His words pierced your heart like daggers, leaving you reeling in disbelief. Shaking your head in denial, you whimpered his name, hoping for some semblance of the man you loved to emerge from behind that cold facade. This wasn't what you wanted from him. You wanted him to fight for you, to reassure you of his love, just as you had done for him. Confusion gnawed at your insides.

Why wasn't he fighting for you?

What was going on?

"Seonghwa, I-I don't understand—"

Before you could finish, he cut you off abruptly, his words laced with finality, "Yes, it was me. I did all those horrible things to your family. That's the kind of monster I am. But now, you're free. Your family is gone, and no one can dictate your choices anymore. You're your own person. You can do whatever you want and love whoever you want. If it's the fourth prince you wish to be with, you have my blessing. Maybe he's the one who can give you the companionship you desire."

With that, he turned and stormed out of your quarters, leaving you alone and bewildered, with no assurance of his return.

Once out of your sight, he released a shaky breath and clutched his wound, feeling the fabric already soaked with blood seeping through his bandage. Despite his blurring vision, he stumbled through the estate, desperate to depart before anyone noticed his condition. Seonghwa wasn't oblivious; he knew he must have been poisoned when the pain of his injury became too unbearable.

With a sinking feeling, he realised he didn't have much time left, and perhaps Prince Yeosang was right. Maybe what you truly needed was a husband who would consistently stay by your side and not cause you the worry he did.

I'm sorry, my love. This is for the best.

« Preview of Part 18 »

"Physician Jung, there's a letter for you."

Yunho furrowed his brows, pausing his work on his latest concoction aimed at alleviating all of your scars. Despite the challenges he faced in this endeavour, he remained steadfast in his commitment to helping you restore your skin to its original state.

Setting aside the herbs he was working with, he approached the entrance of his quarters to accept the letter from Jongho, "For me?"

The younger man nodded in confirmation, "Yes, oddly enough, it arrived via a military messenger. Initially, I assumed it was intended for the general, but it's specifically addressed to you. General Officer Song requests your urgent attention."

Blinking, the doctor processed the information, "Wait, do you mean General Park has returned to the estate?"

Jongho smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, "Oh, yeah. He arrived unannounced just a while ago, thanks to our letter. I suppose the situation at the warzone must have calmed down if he's able to return so quickly. He's with the mistress now. Let's hope things will improve with him here."

Relieved, Yunho nodded and quickly unfolded the letter. His stomach dropped, and his eyes widened at the hastily scribbled words, "H-he's with the mistress, you say?"

"Yes, what about it?" The assistant furrowed his brows in confusion as he watched Yunho shove the letter back into his hands before bolting out. Reading the letter himself, he soon found himself rushing in the same direction, dread filling his being.

No, this can't be.

I was so excited that I got to writing this as soon as I completed all the assignments for the first half of my semester! Only three parts until the end of this story, how we feeling out there?🤧

Holy crap, thank you so much for 1.4k followers! As always, thank you so much for reading and please let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/2): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @laurenwidjaja @yangwonielvrs @n1k1mura @idkwgoh @loveateez @linosllvr @wolfgurl2600-blog

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 9 months ago

Note

How and what happens if the reader was pregnant during mating season and had all of the other kids?

Big family and big… week? Lol

Sudden Mating Season (18+)

Bayverse!Turtles x reader

A/N: I think that most of the kids are products of some… successful mating seasons. I mean, that’s what the mating seasons are for, right? It is also my belief that the guys' mating seasons will take a bit of a back burner after they’ve had children, but that doesn’t mean it’ll last forever (I mean, haven’t you noticed the 10 years between Valentina and Gerardo?). But honestly I think it would be somewhat well planned out, with the kids going to their grandparents for the week.

Warnings: Implied sex, planned/unplanned pregnancy.

Leonardo:

After you and Leonardo’s third child, his mating seasons seemed to have taken a calm for good. Leo’s animalistic instinct to spread his seed in order to create offsprings calmed with the birth of Gerardo. So that was it, you and Leo thought. No longer would you have to send your kids off to their grandparents for a whole week, so you and Leo could go at it inside your shared bedroom. So for the next many years, you and Leo would bring your kids along to April and Casey’s farm house for a family vacation, leaving the lair to the other turtles and their partners as they went through their season. That went on every year, until Leo’s brothers too no longer felt their season creep upon them during the spring. And with that, none of the people in the lair seemed too concerned about spring time, thinking that those days were nothing but the past.

But then, 10 years after the birth of your third child, things changed once again. Leo woke up the day before May with a strange feeling inside of him. His senses were heightened, and he felt the intense need to… oh no.

You woke up to Leo shaking you awake in the early hours of the morning, almost seeming frantic, stress painted over his face.

“Call your parents”, he said urgently.

“What? Why? What’s happening?”, you asked in confusion, feeling concern take the place of your tiredness.

“It’s back”, Leo said, already sounding very drained, breathing heavily as if he was suffering. “I’m not sure how or why, but it’s back. It can be here at any moment”.

You stared at him for some time, trying to figure out what he was talking about. But then it clicked in your head, remembering the last time you had seen Leo like this. Spring time 10 years ago.

“I’ll call them, and tell them to take the kids”, you said, quickly grabbing your phone before leaving for the hallway.

“Thank you”, Leo sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. He already felt horrible. Like he was a young teenager experiencing his first mating season all over again. Here he thought he had heard the last of it, but nope. He could feel his season creep closer and closer, threatening to take over at any moment.

Luckily for you and Leo, your parents agreed to take the kids for the week. You did not have to tell them what was going on. They understood straight away, having been through this several times before.

Your parents quickly came by and picked up the kids, Leo’s brothers quickly understanding what was going on, making sure that none of their kids would walk too close to your hallway. You hugged your boys goodbye, calming Gerardo’s worries quickly, when he asked if his father was okay. Poor boy, he had never tried this before, and he had obviously noticed that his father wasn’t doing too well. Romeo and Marcello had looked at you with a grossed out expression, exclaiming loudly that they did not want to be the ones that explained the season to their little brother. Luckily you didn't have to worry about that, before your parents took the boys out of the lair.

You and Leo found yourselves locked up in your room, in a way you hadn’t done in years. And when the week was over, Leo was once again calm, excited to be with his boys again the next day. But as you cleaned yourself up and decided to take a pregnancy test, just out of pure mating season habits, you were shocked at the outcome. You were now pregnant with your fourth child, and never again would Leo experience another mating season.

Raphael:

You woke up to the feeling of Raph’s lips traveling down your back, his big hand massaging the flesh of your hips. You hummed and tried to push Raph’s hand away, pulling the blanket up around you.

“Not right now, Raphie”, you mumbled, your eyes still closed. “The girls can wake up at any moment”.

Raph chuckled in his raspy morning voice, grabbing onto you a bit firmer pulling you closer to him, his breath fanning over the side of your neck as he spoke into your ear sending shivers down your spine.

“Have you already forgotten your parents picked them up yesterday?”, he asked, burying his face against the crock of your neck, trailing kisses down your shoulder.

Your eyes opened in an instant, remembering what Raph was talking about. Your parents had been over yesterday, eating lunch with you, Raph and the girls, before they brought Joan and Mini with them, just like they did any other spring. And that’s when your sleepy brain caught up with Raph’s hand that was running down from your hip to the inside of your thigh. It was springtime.

“I guess I have”, you smiled, focusing on the feeling of the thick green finger that was playing with the edge of your panties. “What about the others? Are they home?”

“Nope”, Raph smiled, taking in your scent like it was a drug he was addicted to. “They are either with the inlaws or in April and Casey’s farm house”.

“So we’re all alone?”, you asked with a hint of amusement in your voice.

“Yup”, Raph hummed, pulling your thigh closer to him, the back of your thigh coming into contact with his now slick cloaca. Excitement building up inside of you, knowing that he could drop at any moment. “So I’ll not let you hold any of your beautiful sounds back”.

You turned, just enough so that you could look at Raph’s face, his pupils blown out with lust as he buckled slightly against you in an attempt to create some friction where he needed it the most.

“Do your worst”, you teasted, giving Raph the green light, letting him jump on you as you let out a playful yelp.

—

Around a week later, your parents brought Joan and Minerva back to the lair, greeting you and Raph with big hugs and bright smiles, along with new toys and many detailed stories.

7 year old Joan was telling you and Raph about a movie she saw with your parents over lunch, while 3 year old Mini played with the new monster truck she had gotten, making it jump over her plate of apple slices.

You and Raph were engaging Joan in her story, while keeping an eye out for Mini’s monster truck, but then a scent made its way to Raph’s beak. He did a few sniffs before turning his attention towards you, the gear turning in his head as he tried to remember the last time you had smelled like that. Then he realized what he was smelling, what hormones were starting to flow through your system and what it meant.

“You’re pregnant?!”, he exclaimed, looking somewhat shocked, you and your daughters staring at him in confusion.

But Raph was right. When you took a test later that day, you were delighted to learn that you indeed were pregnant once again.

Donatello:

For the first few years after Galileo’s birth, you and Donnie did not think that you wanted more children. After Gali came to the world, it took four years before Donnie’s mating season came back, and with that, a desire for more children. However, much to you and Donnie’s dismay, you did not become pregnant with his first returning mating season. After a whole week locked up in your bedroom, you were still not pregnant. But that didn’t stop you and Donnie from trying. Even during the outside of your husband’s season, you would try whenever it was possible.

But then, when spring came around once more and Donnie could feel his season creep up once again, your parents happily took Gali with them to their vacation home out of state. On their way out, you and Donnie pretended not to hear their comment about how they were hoping that this would bring them more grandchildren. How lucky you were that Gali didn’t seem to catch on. That was not a conversation you were ready for yet.

—

After a whole week of non-stop sex, you were more than sore. Your whole body ached as you moved around in the bed, still not willing to get up. Donnie chuckled at the sight, pulling you closer with a pleased smile.

“You okay there?”, he asked, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“No”, you muffled, hiding your face against his plastron. “Everything hurts, and-”. You cut yourself off with the sudden nausea that fell over you. Even though your body hurt, you wasted no time running towards the toilet. Donnie was right on your heels, holding your hair back as you started to throw up into the toilet bowl. Though your discomfort was obvious, Donnie could hold back his smile when the scent of your hormones reached him. You were finally pregnant.

—

“It looks dark”, 5 year old Gali said, watching the monitor in front of him. You and Donnie chuckled at him. How adorable could a child be?

“I haven’t even started yet”, Donnie said as he turned on the ultrasound, the monitor coming to life.

“Then huuuuuurryyyyy!”, Gali whined, jumping impatiently in front of the monitor. He wanted to get a view of his new younger sibling as fast as possible.

Donnie placed the ultrasound on your stomach before moving it around over your almost second trimester baby bump. A picture formed on the monitor, and Gali smiled excitedly.

“You see that?”, Donnie asked, and pointed out a slight circle on the screen. “That’s their head, and here… is… another head…?”

“What did you just say?”, you asked somewhat alarmed.

Donnie moved the ultrasound a little further to get a better look, his confusion turning to shock and happiness, his eyes looking to you with joy written all over them.

“Twins”, he mumbled, tears of joy forming at the corners of his eyes. “We’re having twins”.

Michelangelo:

“So!”, Mikey said, turning to you with a mischievous smile, closing the bedroom door behind him, making his way closer to you. “Your parents have just left with Sunny, and the others are either hiding in their rooms. You know what that means”.

“Cuddles and a good movie?”, you asked innocently, knowing very well that wasn’t what Mikey talked about. His blown out pupils and his flaring nostrils made it very clear that he was fighting not to jump on you, his instinct taking a stronger and stronger hold on him. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Wrong!”, Mikey exclaimed with a smile, wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you closely against him, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. “It is baby making time!”

You chuckled against Mikey’s lips, soon finding that your chuckles turned to pleased hums as he backed you over towards the bed. The same bed you would be stuck in for the rest of the week.

For a long time now, Mikey had been wanting another child. While his brothers seemed to have calmed down a little after the birth of their children, their mating season being absent for a few years afterwards, Mikey’s did not. You went straight from one pregnancy to yet another mating season, where you and Mikey did your best to become pregnant once again. But nothing had happened for the past two years, so you were now hoping that the third time would be the lucky time. So when Mikey pushed you down onto the bed, you welcomed him with open arms, giggling as he crawled in between your legs.

—

A little over a week later, you, Mikey and Sunny found yourselves resting in the living area. You and Mikey were seated on the couch with Sunny between you, the 3 year old keeping herself entertained by walking back and forth between you, her legs wobbling on the soft couch cushions, laughing loudly whenever she would tumble into one of you. You and Mikey couldn’t help but laugh along with her, happy to see your daughter smile as bright as she did everyday, warmth filling both of your hearts.

Sunny then tumbled on the soft couch, her head butting straight into your hip, making you worry that she had gotten hurt. But Sunny did not cry. Instead she stared at your hip area in confusion, giving no thought to you and Mikey’s soft hands on her head or your careful words, asking if she was okay.

“Why do you smell like that, mommy?”, she asked, her small face contorted in a small frown.

“What do you mean?”, you asked, looking to Mikey for an explanation. Could he smell anything?

Mikey gave the air a sniff, trying to figure out what his daughter was talking about. He then jumped from the couch, his eyes wide with happiness and a joyful skip to his steps, making Sunny laugh once more.

“Babe!”, he exclaimed. “You’re pregnant!”

“What?!”, you asked in disbelief, but before Mikey could answer you, he pulled you and Sunny from the couch, holding you both close as he spun you around in circles, Sunny continued laughter, ringing out in the lair, catching the attention of the rest of its inhabitants.

“You’re pregnant!”, he yelled out, placing a quick kiss on your cheek. “We’re gonna have another child! Did you hear that, Sunny? You’re going to be a big sister!”

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skyahri · 6 months ago

Text

Remember Part One |SatoSugu X Reader| HC

Part Two Masterlist Ko-fi

Summary: You get a second chance to save him, but for right now you can only enjoy the fact that he's still here.

Warnings: Implied poly??? Idk I don't say anything specific. Vomiting, blood, Canon related warnings. Angst bc im sad.

- - - - -

Your eyes flew open. You could barely breathe, your lungs still stinging from the char of imaginary burns. You desperately drag your hands across your face and body, searching for something, anything wrong, not quite processing what was going on.

You sprung up from your bed, immediately thanking your muscle memory as it guided you through your dorm room. You shoved your way into the bathroom and just barely made it to the toilet before emptying the contents of your stomach.

Tears pricked your eyes. You had no idea what was going on. You could only assume that you had another prophetic dream, but had no idea when it had started. Had it been days or weeks? Hell, had it been months even??

You remember the pain of being burned alive by Jogo in Shibuya Station. You remember dying, the feeling of your lungs giving out and your heart stopping.

Yet here you were, alive and relatively well back in your dorm room God knows when. The unchanging state of Jujutsu High was not helping you determine just how much time had passed.

What did, however, was Suguro Geto standing in the doorway. He was saying something you couldn't hear and your foggy mind couldn't process the lack of stitches on his head, but that didn't stop you from screaming.

Was this your Suguru? The boy who held doors open for you and dragged Satoru away after one too many flirty remarks. Could this man already be leading the Star Religious group? Or worse, be reduced to a corpse in his Kenjaku era?

There's no way you could possibly tell in such a hazy state of mind. Your gift had drained you to zero, leaving you absolutely defenseless against what could very well be a tyrant.

Lucky for you, you're within ear shot of a handful of other sorcerers who woke up the second they heard a scream. They were filing into your room within the minute, confused at the commotion, or lack there of.

Satoru had pushed his way past Suguru and bent down next to you, grabbing your hair in a makeshift ponytail as you continued to retch.

He's leaning in next to your ear, whispering, begging for you to calm down enough to tell him what's going on. You can barely hear him over the sound of your uncontrollable crying, the sobbing and shaking caused by panic making everything a hundred times worse.

Satoru is motioning for someone to hand him a rag to clean your face, which Suguru does without hesitation. When he enters your peripheral vision, you can practically feel the hairs on your neck stand up. You push your way past Gojo, who had just barely managed to wipe your mouth, trying to climb behind him, pleading that he doesn't come anywhere near you.

You can't see the hurt look on Geto's face. He has no idea what's going on, all he knows is he's somehow causing whatever it is that's happening to occur.

You don't hear Gojo shoo everyone away, apologizing for waking them up in the middle of the night and assuring them that he has it handled.

He rests against the wall and twists you around so you can sit comfortably in his lap. He holds you tight against his chest, it's almost suffocating, but you can feel the pressure slowly melting the anxiety away.

The fog that once clouded your brain is retreating, allowing you to take in your environment more clearly. There's makeup and skin care products scattered on the counters. You can make out enough of your bedroom to see the dozens of Polaroids pinned to your walls.

You eyes finally focus on a more defining feature that better cements your whereabouts. Your nails are painted pink and Satoru's an icy blue, something you haven't seen since your teenage years before Geto defected. You remember finally convincing Satoru to match with you and Suguru, tempting him with an iconic color that you knew he couldn't turn down.

"What's today?"

"February 21st, 2006."

You hum in response.

"Were you dreamin' again?"

You don't answer. You're too focused on how much time has passed. Twelve years gone in an instant. That's nearly half your life, nearly all your memories, and they were all fake. But now you had the opportunity of a lifetime. An opportunity to save all the people you've lost and protect your future.

You're thankful for Satoru in this moment. He isn't always the most socially aware, often times he actually makes things ten times worse, but right now he was just what you needed.

You take in just how warm he is, how he's managed to keep his hands from touching you inappropriately for so long. He's wearing that stupid pair of Hello Kitty boxers that 'convienently came with a matching bra and panty' and 'would hate for them to go to waste.' You scolded him for getting the sizing correct, knowing he had to have gone snooping for answers.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No."

You had good friends, ones that trusted you without a second thought. They know the deal. Things are going to happen and sometimes that requires interference or being intentionally kept in the dark to avoid them. It was both a blessing and a curse- being given the gift of future sight yet being forced to hold the weight of the world in your hands.

You stand up, forcing Gojo to release his tight grip on you. He expects you to get in bed, but instead, you walk right past the door of your room and right across the hall into Suguru's. You don't knock, opting to just head straight in and crawl across him to lay down.

Suguru is confused. An hour ago, you were completely terrified of him, and now here you are, staring at him like he was the most important person in your life.

You reach forward and trace your fingers across his face; his nose, his lips, and eventually his bare forehead. You run your fingers through his hair; disheveled but clean. You pick up his right hand and set it on your face to savor the heat of it. He doesn't hesitate to rub his thumb back and forth across your cheek reassuringly. What he's supposed to reassure you about, he doesn't know, but he can tell you need it.

"You're oddly affectionate tonight."

"I missed you."

"I saw you yesterday."

You shake your head. You want to respond, to tell him you've dreamt of this opportunity for over a decade, that you haven't seen him alive in a year, and sane in nearly twelve.

But all you can do is cry. You lace your fingers with the ones on your face and let him pull you closer. His chest is broad and he smells like cologne, just like how you remembered.

The last time you saw him, he was sickly pale and missing an arm, just moments away from death. He smelled like blood and didn't even have the energy to stand. This view of Geto was much more pleasant than anything you had seen recently.

He has no idea what's going on, but can see it's obviously a lot. He wonders what you could have seen, how long you could have possibly lived. He wonders if someone died, if he died.

He's not sure how long it goes on before you're passed out, your grip on him relaxing ever so slightly, but he doesn't dare let go.

Gojo makes his way into the room from his waiting place outside. He stuck around on the off chance things got out of hand and he needed to intervene.

"How's our girl doing?"

"I have no idea."

"That's unlike you."

Suguru isn't sure how to respond. The vibe in his room is definitely more relaxed, but it's far from peaceful. All he can do right now is anchor you down to earth and hope whatever it is you saw can be fixed.

Fortunately, Satoru is a brave man. He clumsily makes his way onto the other side of you and flops down. You don't even flinch at the roughness of his actions.

"What are you-"

"Sleeping here with you guys, duh."

"Can't you read the room?"

"Nope."

#jjk headcanons #jjk hc #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #suguru geto #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #satosugu #satosugu x reader #geto angst #gojo angst

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colleendoran · 2 years ago

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How Do I Do Stuff

The question was phrased a little strangely, and I don't want to embarrass the person by posting exactly what was said, but I'll answer it and hope this clears everything up.

I do almost all of my drawing by hand. No, I don't trace in Photoshop. Not a judgment on those who do, but I come from a generation of artists who did not use Poser programs or other digital tools. We learned to draw using a technique called the Sight Size method. I know a lot of people assume everyone - including the old masters - traced everything using optical tools, but while it is true some people did, it is just as true that most didn't, and you can draw with great accuracy if you learned how to draw the old fashioned way.

Sight Size breaks everything down into its barest components of geometric shapes and you build from there. Once you learn it, you never forget, and it applies to everything you will ever draw.

I learned it using a set of Famous Artist Course books my mom had since she was a kid, and they are still the gold standard. They're often on ebay. If I were you, I'd buy them.

I actually find using figure reference really annoying because I like exaggerations and modifications from reality in my final work.

This page from Neil Gaiman's Chivalry was drawn and painted without figure reference of any kind.

I don't know why people assume I trace all the time. If you were to try to use photographs to replicate these figures, you would find they are slightly off. There is no tracing here.

This is not to say I never use reference. This page, for example, was referenced from a photo of my mother. Isn't she pretty.

But this page of Sir Galaad was drawn and painted without reference.

He's pretty, too.

If he were real, I'm sure a lot of people would be very happy about it. But he's not. And had I reference, the art would have gone a lot faster. I had a time trying to nail this face that is very alive in my head but doesn't really exist.

Back in the ancient days, all cartoonists had to learn to draw and paint extemporaneously because reference was limited and digital tools didn't exist. While some high end artists had photography studios and professional models with costume and sets on hand, small fry like me were limited to what was in the house or available at my small local library, which was no bigger than a few rooms of my current house.

Artists kept extensive "morgue files" or "swipe files" which were collected from magazine clippings and photographs so we would have as much of what we might need on hand for quick reference. These ephemera collections could get unwieldy. I have thousands of photographs I've simply never sorted. I finally dumped most of my files this past year.

Have I ever traced anything? Of course, especially if I have to re-use a shot or setting over and over. Making extra work for myself is just silly. It's my job to make pictures, not to perform magical feats, like copying one shot after another over and over without making a mistake.

However, for almost 15 years of my career, I refused to copy or trace anything, and did not even own a lightbox. On the one hand, that forced me to learn to carefully examine what I saw. On the other hand, it was a stupid hill on which many deadlines died.

Only after I realized many professional artists had lightboxes and overhead projectors did I finally break down and get one.

The one thing I use my lightbox for more than anything is for tracing my thumbnail sketches to the final drawing paper. Instead of trying to capture the liveliness of the original sketch by copying what I see - only bigger - I blow the thumbnail up to the size I want the final art to be, then I trace over the thumbnail using a lightbox onto the final drawing paper.

Here's a look at thumbnails from the graphic novel Neil Gaiman's Snow, Glass, Apples.

I enlarged these on my computer to fit onto 11"x14" paper, and traced the thumbs before finishing the art which was drawn in pen and ink and colored in Photoshop.

While I obviously made some changes, the essence of the thumbs is there in the final work. Tracing my thumbs retains some of the looseness of the original sketches, which is often lost otherwise.

So, there is a valid purpose to tracing at times, though in my opinion, too much tracing can weaken drawing ability, substitute for developing skills, and make the work kind of stiff.

If you want to, I'm not your judge. But it's weird to me that people think I must be faking my skills in some way.

Ironically, the word cartoon comes from the Italian word cartone, which is a large heavy sheet of paper - also, the origin of the word carton.

Preparatory sketches were made on this paper which was then transferred to the final work surface via either tracing or by stamping little holes in the paper through which dust was sprinkled, recreating the contours of the drawing for the artist to follow.

So the origin of the word cartoon comes from a process often used...for tracing.

#snow glass apples #chivalry #neil gaiman #drawing

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bigtedbear · 4 months ago

Text

“ 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 “

𝐩𝐫𝗼𝗺𝐩𝐭 : 𝐲𝐚𝐧! 𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐭𝗼 𝗼𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝗺𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝗼𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫

Content warnings: dubcon to marriage, sexual coercion, hatefucking, yandere themes, breeding kink, marriage kink if thats a thing???, nsfw content 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 𝟏𝟖+, gay sex, anal sex, anal penetration, oral sex (reader receiving), spanking, choking, hair pulling, unsafe sex (wont get sick if you wrap your dick)

Another fair warning, if you're here from my Dan Heng fic, this is a lot more intense/dark and emotional than the last one

My inner angst writer shone through in it, if you want to skip down to juicy parts and skip said angst, there's going to be a different bracket to denote where the steamy activity starts.

“ new contact noted! caller 𝚔𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚢𝚊𝚝𝚘 has been added to your phonebook! - love, 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑡-19 “

"Lord Kamisato, it's been quite a while since we've last spoken."

Komore Teahouse was somewhere that reminded you of your childhood, something far in the past. It was a little home away from home, your father and the Yashiro Commissioner of your childhood would be here for meetings. You would listen in on all the important details, but terminology and code words would fly over your head. The pleasant smell of tea would hang in the air while you sat, quietly and obediently without so much as lifting your hand to grab one of the many sweets strewn on the table. Instead, you'd train your eyes on the floor in front of you, fold your hands in your lap, and focus on your breathing.

There was almost always another little boy that would join in on tea time, just a couple months younger. Soft looking baby blue hair fell over his shoulder, bright eyes to match. The Commissioner would softly pet his head when your father would compliment him on his manners. Papa, as you affectionately called him in your younger years, would give a smile that would light up the room when the former Lord Kamisato would return the favor. He always took your little hand in his bigger, scarred one and he'd give it a little squeeze.

The first time your fathers left the room, the boy said his name was Ayato.

Yet, you couldn't recognize the man in front of you as that 'Ayato'.

There was a polite smile stretched across his lips as he took his seat in front of you, the smell of Sakura Blossoms choking the aroma of tea leaves that painted the room in a nostalgic light. "There's no need to be so formal, we've known each other since we were children."

Your grip on your cup tightened, though your facial expression remained relaxed. "I suppose we have." You brought the fine china to your lips to take a languid sip before gently resting it on the table. "What do you want from me?"

The same cursedly beautiful baby blue eyes darkened when they met yours, something someone who didn't know him better wouldn't have picked up on. "Is it so strange for me to invite my best friend out for tea when I finally have the time?"

Your lips twitched downwards, displeased. "Don't try to paint me as some villain, you don't request formal meetings unless you need something."

His grin remained placid, serene, and yet it grew more strained. The tension at the corners of his lips gave way to the bitter disappointment beneath his carefree façade. His fingers came to gently rest on his thighs, the quiet drag of his sleeves on the floor cutting through the silent wall of displeasure that seemingly split the room in two. "You don't seem to respond to any of my invitations otherwise."

Your lips pursed, you found it hardly necessary to hide your animosity for him.

"Would you believe me if I said I missed seeing you?"

To this, your dry laugh cut through the air. Hands balling into fists on your lap, you pushed them into your legs as a reminder to keep your wits about you. "I wouldn't be surprised in the slightest. You've never been one to be play fair."

You caught a speck of hurt in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. Instead, his hand wrapped gingerly around the handle of the kettle, pouring himself a cup of tea. "Your tongue is still as sharp as ever."

"You act as if you're innocent, Commissioner," fists lightly curling the fabric of your own intricate kimono bottoms, "I don't recall any kind of apology for anything you've done."

To this, he didn't answer.

The silence hung in the air like a veil of fog.

The next thing to interrupt said silence was his gloved hand wrapping his fingers around the rim of his teacup and bringing it to his lips.

You let out a low huff, "I'll only ask again once, Ayato, what is it you want from me?"

He took a moment to answer, holding the delicate glass in his hand. He stared into the amber liquid as if searching for a script in the ripples created by the barely noticeable tremble in his arm.

His next words drifted past his lips like a ghost, just barely above a whisper.

"Your hand in marriage."

...

"...I beg your pardon?"

His eyes lifted from his tea finally, eyes swirling in anticipation. "I said, I want your hand in marriage."

You gave a laugh of disbelief, eyebrows curling in offended dissolution. "No, no-" Your hands raised to rest on the corners of the table. You went to use it as a crutch to help you stand up. "Absolutely not, the audacity of you to suggest such a thing is baffling and outright-"

You cut yourself off in favor of shaking your head, beginning to stand up.

His hand twitched towards your retreating form, "Take a moment to consider it-"

"What is there to consider?!" You snapped, "You've ruined so many business opportunities for my family and suddenly, you think you have the right to demand that from me?"

He looked up at you from his seat, slamming his cup on the table with enough fervor for the tea to splash out from the rim of the glass. "I did it for your own good-"

"Just because it meant promising others my hand in marriage didn't mean that my family didn't need it, you selfish, selfish, conniving-" You wanted to continue, but you cut yourself off for the sake of trying to keep your relationship as cordial as possible. Instead, you let out an indignant huff. With another infuriated groan, "You of all people should understand that I have more things to worry about than my own happiness!"

He tried to call your name, pathetically, acting like he hadn't done anything wrong in the slightest, "I never let your family suffer for losing those proposals, I always made sure you were taken care of by the Commission-"

"Does that change the fact that you're selfish and conniving Ayato?" You accused, hands balling into fists once again. "Why is it you think I would be willing to be married to a man who's proven he can't be trusted over and over again if it means he gets what he wants?"

You spied the wounds you'd torn open in the way his lips were pressed into a thin line, the inner corner of his eyebrows curving upwards. His eyes flitted between the two of yours, interpreting the brewing cascade of hatred that ebbed and flowed through your irises. "Because I love you, I've loved you since the day I met you and you'll never find a man who will love you in your entirety as much as I do."

Your jaw tensed as you swallowed a glob of saliva down your throat. With it, you swallowed a few choice words that would've exploded from your throat like a firecracker. "Love won't feed my family, Ayato. Love will not uphold my family's legacy. Love won't erase the fake sincerity you showed me the day you tried to kill the woman I was supposed to marry on our wedding day-"

"You don't have a choice."

You froze when your eyes met his hardened expression.

"What in archons' name are you talking about?"

You could see the column of his throat move as he swallowed. "You should sit down."

You grit your teeth, "No, I want to know what the hell you're talking about."

...

"Our marriage has long been anticipated by the public," He started, hand wrapping around his teacup. It didn't seem like he had any intent to actually take a drink of it, instead he occupied himself with swirling it around. "Your family is reliant on the internal affairs of Inazuma, it would be of great importance to your clan's longevity to get their foot in the door of the Yashiro Commission."

You narrowed your eyes at him, "And?"

He continued to avoid eye contact, eyes trained on the spinning whirlpool of tea. "Your family has long wanted to ask for either my own or Ayaka's hand, but believed they weren't in any standing to make a political climb that drastic. Specifically, your father hoped we'd set up some kind of engagement when we were young, but my father passed away before it could be finalized."

You felt your blood run cold.

You realized what he was insinuating with a violent shiver traveling up your spine. Your words were slow and drawn out, your voice dimming as you admitted the fatal flaw in your argument.

"You could secure a marriage without my input anyways."

His eyes finally lifted to meet yours, "I wanted to ask you first."

You could feel yourself trembling with anger, but instead of snapping at him, you let out a shaky scoff. "I was right, you haven't changed at all." You pushed a hand through your hair, "No, actually, I take that back, you're even worse than I remember. You always promised me you would put me and my family's comfort first, but now you're-" You started laughing, cold and ugly.

This time, he was the one to snap at you, "I didn't expect you to be so willing to give yourself away to someone else!" He stood up to be nearly eye to eye with you. "I was the one that grew up with you, I was the one that was there for you when your mother passed, I was the one that you swore your loyalty to when we were younger-"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up, Ayato!"

"NO!" He stepped in closer, elegantly maneuvering around the table. "Do you not want to remember all the time we were each other's one and only? Do you not want to remember when I promised to marry you? Do you-"

"That was before you tried to kill someone!" You took a step back from him, your voice cracking at what you could only dub the worst moment. "You're a psychopath and as much as my father wants to pretend it wasn't you who set it up, you still sent her into critical condition! You- You-"

He stepped closer to you, reaching out to try to pry your hands away from your face, he said your name with such desperation he almost sounded like he was the victim.

"Get off of me!" You pushed him away from you by the chest, only growing more upset with just how little space it made for you. You wanted him in the pits of hell, and yet he was still in this beautiful little teahouse.

"Kamisato Ayato, even if I have to marry you, I swear to all of Celestia above who hear me, for as long as I live, I will never love you!"

"You don't mean that."

His words hung in your conscious like a parasite. Clinging to the inside of your dome and following you around as a hidden stowaway. You would've been amused if this was some kind of villain in those light novels, but this was Ayato. This was the Yashiro Commissioner, Lord Kamisato, whichever title he preferred. He held so much power over your life and your family's legacy you had to take his word as gospel and the conversation was one of the many things you had to transcribe in this holy text.

By the time Ayato formally proposed the alliance to your father, you'd come to terms with the fact you would have no chance to escape him. You'd spoken to the man you'd been informally courting all this time, someone you'd planned to spend the rest of your life with just a few short weeks ago. You broke the singular heart the two of you had shared, that beat in time with one another. Now Ayato had to honor of stomping on its remains as your paramour watched you get married to the man you'd claimed to despise.

"Kazuha." You greeted.

You tried to hide the sorrow and longing laden in your gaze, but you could tell by the way he returned the same look back to you that any and all attempts were a miserable failure. He called your name softly, the same manner of greeting. This was supposed to be the reception of your wedding, a time of joy and celebration, yet all you could feel was a bitterness fester in the pit of your stomach.

Why?

You asked yourself this over and over again. Why must you have let all those silly promises to Ayato slip past your lips when you were younger? Why must he have turned out to be as ruthless and dishonest as he was now?

Why did you have to let go of happiness you thought was finally in your grasp?

The poet's voice felt wispy, light and refreshing, but also laced with pity. It sounded like what a weeping willow looked like when it hit your ears, "Congratulations on your joyous union."

Your voice was equally as soft as you looked at him, "Thank you."

You thanked him, but not for his congratulations. You thanked him for his understanding.

You could tell he understood your implication when he delicately questioned, "How is it that you and Lord Kamisato decided to finally be wed?"

Your expression softened, finally letting the strained smile you'd forced yourself to wear the entire day falter just a little bit. "Everyone around us knew it would happen sooner or later. Had the former Yashiro Commissioner not regretfully passed, Lord Kamisato and I would have been wed the morning the both of us were eighteen."

He hummed, holding up the small glass of sake he was nursing since the beginning of the reception just the slightest as an invitation, "I see... would you care for a toast? For all of the memories two created along the way?"

It was not for the memories you created with Ayato, you realized, but all the memories you created with him. Something akin to a final goodbye.

The smile returned to your face, genuine this time. You couldn't see it, but your eyes shone with adoration as you responded quietly, "Of course." Kazuha's own heart was swelling with a woeful passion. But his own smile remained on his features when the two of you clinked your glasses together and took a long swig of the alcohol.

The air was peaceful, beautifully comforting. It was something you'd longed to feel since your hopes and dreams had been carelessly extinguished by who you used to believe was your closest childhood companion.

The atmosphere immediately dropped when the sound of a familiar voice drifted into the small, semi-secluded area you'd found yourself in to steal just a few more moments with your former lover. It drifted in like a phantom, automatically killing the mood despite it's subtlety.

"Am I interrupting something?"

You did your best not to scowl, but you failed to stop your lips from pressing into a thin line. Kazuha noticed the tension immediately. He'd always been the more perceptive of the two of you anyways. "Lord Kamisato, I wished to congratulate a good friend on a delightful marriage. I hope I didn't steal him away from the festivities for too long."

Despite his light-hearted laugh, you could tell Ayato was unhappy. "No worries, Lord Kaedehara, but if you'd be so kind, the day has been rather hectic. I haven't had the chance to enjoy a moment alone with my husband."

Kazuha had wanted to stay in an attempt to help you once last time, always putting you first. Perhaps he could've prevented any tense conversations in front of guests. It seems his last act of love had failed. "...Ah, I suppose I'll be taking my leave then."

Ayato looped his hand to hang onto your bicep, a much more content smile gracing his features as he watched the familiar silhouette disappear into the crowd once more. Once the two of you were alone, he turned his attention to you.

"I didn't want to demand anymore from you, but it still wounds me when my husband chooses to spend his time with another man the day of our wedding."

His smile still looked as radiant as it had when the two of you were standing before the altar, but once again, you could see the swirling and darkening displeasure in his eyes.

You scoffed, painting a similar smile on your features. His mood seemed to lighten just the slightest bit, however his hopes were dashed when your words were harsh and cold. "Spare me, I don't want to spend more time with you than I must."

He gave what looked to onlookers like a playful squeeze to your bicep, but his words were equally callous, "Humor me, I've finally caught you and despite all my devotion you act as though you hate me."

You leaned in close to his ear, pretending to whisper a fond secret. You wanted to watch him struggle to keep the smile on his face when you told him the thing that always seemed to hurt him the most throughout the course of wedding planning.

"I'm not acting, if you need me to spell it out, I do hate you."

"You're leaving?"

You turned back to the luxurious futon, Ayato sitting on one side of it. He looked serene, angelic in his sleeping yukata. He had the covers pulled over his legs and his hands folded in his lap. Picturesque, you admitted in your head begrudgingly.

"What did you expect?" Your own yukata hung off your frame loosely, having been hastily put on. Your arm was wrapped around the belt, making sure that at the very least you would be decent while you were walking through the halls of the estate you were now hopelessly confined to.

His brows were furrowed, confused, panicked. His hand came to rest on what should have been your side of the futon with a frown, "It's late, where are you going?"

You huffed, turning your back to him again and going to slide open the door to your shared bedroom. "I'm tired, I'm going to sleep."

His voice took on a displeased undertone, one hand fisting the covers strewn across his lap. "The futon is here, where else would you sleep?"

You shook your head, "I'm going to my study, don't bother waiting up for me. I won't be returning until the sun breaks." Your hand found the dark and smooth treated wood of the door. Just as your fingers went to pry it open, you noted the sound of shuffling with dismay.

His hand was ghosting over your shoulder in moments, "If not every night, then at least for tonight could you stay? What would the attendants think if you weren't in our marital chambers the night we were married?"

You shrugged his hand off aggressively, hand pushing open the doors to your room. "If you loved me you would let me leave despite what anyone else would think, Lord Kamisato."

Both of his hands returned to both of your shoulders, fingers digging into the thin fabric. "Then would you let me be selfish and indulge me? I want to sleep next to my husband tonight."

"You keep calling me your husband. We may be married but I don't love you, can you respect my wishes this once?" Your hand was like a constrictor around his wrist, tugging his greedy palms off of you. You tried to erase the sight of your wedding band glinting in the low light as you did so.

"You can ask for anything else, but this is something I'm not willing to compromise on." He didn't let up, your fist still wrapped around his arm. "We are married, not only is it improper for you to sleep anywhere else, it's especially improper for you to leave on the night of the wedding. We still haven't fulfilled all of our obligations to officiate the marriage-"

"For her excellency's sake, get your hands off of me!" You cursed, all but shoving him away. "You are lucky I was raised a man of honor or you wouldn't be getting anything out of me, you greedy snake."

He returned your anger with venom of his own, "And what, pray tell, do you mean by that?"

You occupied yourself with properly tying on your Yukata, "You are lucky I choose to be faithful to you, to forsake all others, should you have picked any other unlucky victim they would most likely be running off with their own mistress-"

"If you're still thinking about someone else when you put your ring on my finger, you clearly aren't a man of honor!" He bit back.

You narrowed your eyes at him, tightening the knot on your clothing. "You are so incredibly lucky that Kazuha didn't deserve to be some mistress. He deserves so much more than to be some dirty little secret I kept in my pocket for the rest of his life-"

Baby blue seemed to pierce through your defenses, the clear hurt, but also vindictive anger shining pure and unadulterated back at you. "I am the one that you married, and yet all you think about is him. If you think doing the bare minimum of not inviting someone into our bed is being a man of honor, you are sorely mistaken."

You finally turned your full attention to him, ignoring your need to leave the room as quickly as possible by this point, "What more do you think you're entitled to?!" As quickly as the words tumbled out of your mouth, you shook your head, realizing you'd stepped right into his trap. "Forget it, don't disturb me again. I'm leaving."

"I wanted to have a real marriage!" He all but screamed, frustrated tears brewing in his eyes, "I wanted to carry out all the traditional rituals of newly weds. I wanted to fall asleep listening to the sound of your heart, I wanted you to treat me like more than some kind of villain-"

You sucked in a harsh breath, "You're sorely mistaken if you think a ceremony and a ring would erase everything you've-"

"For fuck's sake, I wanted to feel like you loved me again." His tears streamed down his cheeks, "I wanted to feel you hold me underneath the moonlight like lovers do in all those silly light novels you made me read, I wanted to go to sleep surrounded by the knowledge that I was married to the love of my life."

Your jaw hung, slack at his confession. "You can't possibly mean-"

His hands were balled into fists at his sides, "Yes," he breathed through the quake of his voice, "I wanted to consummate the marriage tonight. I thought at the very least you'd want to get it over with."

You stared at him in utter disbelief, abject horror written all over your features. To think he would demand something so intimate out of you without considering your feelings was another level of detached from reality you had the inability to understand. You shook your head, opting not to respond.

His voice came out like a whisper, "Am I really so repulsive to you? I was rather sought after when I was a bachelor. If nothing else, I'm attractive. Do you hate me so much you couldn't put it aside for one night just to fulfill the obligations of a real marriage?"

"Don't talk to me, Ayato." You turned your back on him for the last time that night, finally stepping out of the room and closing the door behind you.

Your eyes shot up when the door to your office opened.

You hadn't been expecting any visitors today, so imagine your dismay when your husband walked through the door. In all of his well-maintained, elegant glory, there was a small smile stretching across his cheeks.

It had been a few months since your wedding, since then, you also had not slept in the same bed, eaten any meals together, nor did you take particular interest in the innerworkings of the Yashiro Commission in its entirety. No, you largely kept away from anything that had anything to do with Ayato. You were still nice to everyone else in the house though. After all, you hadn't been raised in a barn. You were a proud heir to a business that reached far and wide, you kept your manners in tact no matter the situation.

Usually, your day consisted of waking up at the very crack of dawn, back on fire. You slept in your study on the floor with a blanket, much to the dismay of Thoma. He had come to take care of you just as much as he took care of Ayato and Ayaka, viewing you as an extension of the family. Despite all of Thoma's begging, Ayato refused to purchase another futon for you, claiming you had a perfectly functional one you could be using. In your stubborn little argument, you too, refused to order yourself a futon.

Sure, your quality of sleep had declined, but you still had your pride in tact.

Despite being awake so early, you never caught Thoma off guard. In fact, he would be quick to enter the room with some tea and a fresh set of clothing he'd managed to weasel past a sleeping Ayato. Usually, if Thoma got caught trying to bringing you your clothing in the morning, Ayato would stop him and tell him your legs weren't broken and you could get your clothing yourself. You would drink your tea, Thoma would leave the room, and you'd dress yourself. Thoma would offer you breakfast, you'd take a small offering out of courtesy, and then you'd disappear off to your office to help run the business with your father.

In the afternoon, you would usually come home and find Ayaka. Seeing as she was your sister-in-law and someone you'd also grown up with, you enjoyed making pleasant conversation and catching up. As soon as Ayato returned from whatever duties had taken him away from the manor, you would slink off to your study. Thoma would bring you your dinner when you'd refuse to leave your brooding room, you'd eat. You'd change into the sleep attire you kept in your study, fall asleep on the ground, repeat cycle.

It was just like Ayato to throw a wrench into your perfectly crafted schedule.

"Commissioner... to what do I owe the pleasure?" the words flowed past your lips reluctantly, a special flavor of vitriol hand in hand with each syllable.

He seated himself in front of your desk, taking note of the seeming mountains of paperwork. The sight wasn't unfamiliar to him either. All the more reason for this visit to set alarm bells ringing in your mind. "Come now, that's hardly the way to address your husband, dearest."

You see now why he left the door to your office open. For fear of frightening your subordinates, you played along. "I mustn't forget my place, love, after all, we are in public."

Even though the word was strained, you could see his smile pull just the slightest bit up his cheeks upon hearing the pet name. "Who would dare question you returning you husband's affections? Do tell, I'll make sure the full might of the Yashiro Commission will come down upon them."

You gave a playful chuckle back at him, fully embracing the self-loathing that came with it as you pushed yourself up from your seated position. You took careful steps to the door, pretending you wanted to get some alone time with your so-called lover. "You spoil me."

"It is only natural, is it not?" He smiled, allowing himself to pretend this was the truth of his marriage. Oh, how he loved to make you squirm.

You couldn't shut the door fast enough.

Once, the two of you were guaranteed to be away from the prying eyes of others, you took your seat at your desk again. You picked up your brush, scanning over the writings in front of you. "Why are you here?"

"Is it so wrong for a man to want to visit his other half?"

You grit your teeth, doing your best to bite back the invectives you wanted to badly to hurl in his direction. "You certainly haven't visited me before."

He waved it off, "We've only been wed for a few months, surely you understand the difficulties of responsibility and obligation."

"Ayato," you warned, "-don't toy with me. I am well aware you have some kind of motive for pushing your work aside. Get on with it."

He pursed his lips, "If my motive was just to invite you out to lunch?"

You knuckles whitened in their grip on your brush, "Cute, now tell me why you're really here."

He sighed, readjusting his sitting position. "I suppose it can't be helped, you've known me for far too long."

For once, you agreed with him. "Indeed."

Ayato seemed to swallow spit down his throat, "I want a divorce."

You paused, brush stopping on your page. Your eyes met his, shocked. In all your time knowing him, he had never been one to surrender his prizes when he finally got his hands on them. This revelation only prompted one question to tumble past your lips. "What's the catch?"

"Divorce wouldn't look good on either of our families, but I'm afraid your family will bear the brunt of the backlash." His finger delicately traced circles on the top of your desk. "Failed engagements aren't the best omen to a family's prosperity. Not only this, a failed marriage that is revealed to have been begun on false pretenses would only further shatter the credibility of your family's business."

You cursed under your breath, pressing your free hand's fingertips on your temple. "State your demands."

He seemed almost giddy that his bluff had paid off. His face lit up with this boyish delight that had your stomach twisting in a woeful knot.

"Simple, I want to spend tomorrow night as lovers."

Despite your attempts to draw out your work for the day, ultimately you still had to return to the large estate that was now your home. Instead of taking a left turn in the long corridor to your study, you swallowed the spit in your mouth and walked further down the hall to what was technically supposed to be your bedroom.

You wanted to try and work as late as possible, hoping Ayato would already be asleep by the time you returned home. You could make the excuse that you were much too busy to consider being intimate, but much to your dismay, he had waited for you to get home. This was the first time in months you'd willingly entered the room, and yet, every inch of it was burned into your memory.

Right down to the man sitting awake and alert in the middle of the futon.

As soon as he heard the door open, his eyes were on you in an instant. Not even a second later, he was on his feet, slinking towards the doorway. You shoved the brewing grimace back down into your gut and away from actually making itself known on your features. Instead, you let your expression remain neutral as he rested his hands on the collar of your clothing. "You're here."

"Did you think I was lying?" You asked, carefully, letting your own hands rest on his wrists. Instead of doing what you usually did, prying his greedy mitts off of you, you settled for just loosely holding them in place. It wasn't lost on you that Ayato was pleasantly surprised by this change of pace.

"No, you've never been a liar, dearest." He let his pet name for you roll off his tongue like honey, yet it tasted as bitter as bile when it slithered through your ear canals. "But being told what will happen is much different to actually experiencing it."

There was a calm, placid smile on his face as he reached a hand up to stroke the side of your face lovingly. He was acting as though his doting husband had come back from war, not his prisoner finally ending his little strike and returning to his little prison cell. You hadn't had any physical contact like this in months, you really hadn't realized how much you missed it. You let your eyes close and your face lean into his palm with a tired sigh.

He was practically exploding with a twisted sense of triumph while he observed. It had been so long since you had so much as looked at him. Now, you were letting him touch you, willingly. His voice came out hushed, just barely ghosting through the air. It seemed as though he hadn't wanted to ruin the moment by pressing you further, "Do you want to do this tonight? I wouldn't mind going to sleep and trying another time as long as you promise to stay here more often."

You hummed, shaking your head, "I made a promise to you, Ayato. I don't go back on my promises."

His breath hitched in his throat when you gently peeled his hand off your cheek and pressed a soft kiss to his wrist. He called your name quietly, almost as if urging you to reconsider. You wondered if it was for your sake or his own.

You didn't want to hear anymore of his protests or his complaints, so you leaned down just enough to be eye to eye with him. "Can I kiss you?"

He didn't respond verbally, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose and nodding his head quickly.

You pressed an innocent kiss to his lips, waiting a moment before pressing another one in the same spot. You lingered, noting the barely noticeable hum from your husband's throat. Your hands came to rest on his hips, carefully peeling your lips open and waiting for him to follow suit.

He was quick to take the hint, deepening the kiss and tilting his head to the side. It turned heated rather soon after, starting with a tentative swipe of your tongue against his. He rewarded you with a moan, his mouth opening wider to accommodate anything you were willing to give him.

Before you knew it, the two of you were staggering towards the futon, intertwined in one another's arms. His palm was pressing against your flaccid dick, trying to get a reaction out of you. You, on the other hand, had your grip on his hips, squeezing his love handles every now and then as encouragement or affirmation. You weren't a half-hearted lover, if you planned on doing something, you followed through to the best of your ability.

Ultimately, you came to sit on the edge of the bed, Ayato kneeled between your legs. His face was red, breathing heavily and panting. His eyes screamed with desire and twisted with passion. His own arousal was clearly between his legs, much easier to see with the thin material of his sleepwear. Still, he insisted on paying attention to you before himself.

He rested his head on the inside of your thigh, submissive and demure. You did your best to push his misdeeds out of your mind, focusing on having an attractive man's attention all to yourself. More than eager to please, he positively drank in your attention, hands coming up to pull at your waistband.

He pulled it down just enough to expose your erection to the cold air, you swallowed the hiss that threatened to burst past your lips and instead focused on brushing his hair behind his ear. You watched the pleasant shudder run through his body, his desperate hands coming to wrap around your length.

He pressed a soft kiss to the head of it, licking across the tip and paying special attention to the slit. You let out a grunt of approval, hand moving from behind his ear to tangle itself into more of his baby blue hair. His cheeks flushed an even darker blood red as he kissed the side of it this time.

"Let me take care of you tonight, darling. You've been so good to me today," he practically begged. He waited for your affirmation, needy for your encouragement. You nodded absentmindedly, eyes half-lidded as you stared down at him.

He practically moaned when he first took your cock into his mouth, the vibrations sending a pleasurable tingle up your spine. You shuddered under his attention, watching each inch disappear past his lips until he stopped abruptly and gagged. The spasm of his throat elicited another groan out of you, your eyes closing to properly register the delectable debauched feeling.

He lifted up off your dick to take a deep breath before going back down again. It was better the second time around, having the flat of his tongue caress the underside of your length. He let a good amount of saliva dribble past his lips and slide down the shaft. He used it as a lubricant as he worked to stroke what he couldn't immediately fit in his mouth. You bit your lip at the pleasant sensations.

He started to bob his head up and down slowly, most likely testing out the feeling for himself before fully putting all of his effort into it. You leaned back further onto the futon, bracing yourself on the hand that wasn't busying itself with combing through his hair. You let yourself be lost in the sensations and lewd noises of saliva and gagging. Your eyes fluttering shut as a few groans escaped your lips.

He pulled off of your length with another pornographic noise, trying to catch his breath. "Honey, please look at me." His hands continued to stroke languidly up and down as he caught his breath. "I want to see your reactions, knowing it's your husband that's making you feel good." He pressed his cheek onto the inside of your thigh again, a cheeky smile carved into his cheeks.

You opened your eyes to peer down at him, tensing your jaw as he used his thumb to toy with your slit. Even if you didn't want to admit it, you kind of had to say he knew exactly what to do when it came to handling your sex.

His smile stretched further, a beautifully sinful glaze darkening his irises as he stared into your eyes. You felt pathetic for putting your dignity aside for something as small as carnal pleasure but you couldn't stop yourself from asking him,

"Are you going to keep going?"

His eyes were on you like a starved man presented with a gourmet, luxury, full-course meal. You almost felt like you were the one getting deflowered, the one that was about to be ravaged.

Ayato laid beneath you on the futon, his appearance disheveled and the front of his yukata open so he was laid completely bare for you to see. Desire fermented in his core, and you could see it in the way his usually pale skin was painted a soft pink hue, slick with sweat. The two of you had barely done anything, and yet, he was practically begging you to continue with the way he looked into your eyes.

His fingers tugged impatiently at your own clothing, just about drooling as he watched you shed each and every layer. You leaned forward, looming over him as you indulged him with another open-mouthed kiss. His eyes and your own fluttered shut as your fingertips ghosted its way down his abdomen.

He whined into your liplock when you hands stopped just short of his ass, coming to rest on his hips. You didn't immediately give into his greedy demands to keep going, opting to give yourself a moment to steel yourself for whatever would come after this. His arms gingerly snaked their way over your shoulders and curved around your neck. One of his hands came upward to play with your hair.

Finally, you continued to trail your soft touches further down, stopping to knead the fat of his ass before continuing even lower. He positively blossomed at your careful and loving attention, vocal in his satisfaction with each and every movement you made. You pulled away from the kiss, offering him two fingers pressed against his bottom lip.

Wordlessly, he pushed your hand away, bashfully avoiding eye contact and looking down towards where the two of you would be connected momentarily. Following his gaze, your eyes widened as you realized he was already prepped beforehand.

Even if you had treated him like porcelain up until now, it didn't change the fact there was a hatred for him that took hold in your gut. You pressed another soft kiss to the side of his neck before gingerly taking the skin between your teeth.

Underneath you, he let out a sweet moan, his hand pulling at the hair on the back of your head out of reflex. You grunted against his skin. Freeing his neck from your canines. "I didn't know I married such a whore."

A whimper sounded from the back of his throat, something that'd been meant to degrade him only seemed to deliver blood rushing to his dick. It twitched against your stomach, his thighs trying to rub together despite both of your knees pinning them open.

Despite the lack of warning, you lined yourself up to his entrance and slammed yourself in to the hilt with a considerable amount of force. You relished in his choked scream as his fist nearly tore a chunk of hair from your scalp. "W-Wait, dear-"

You drew your hips back again, bucking them forward into his perineum again. He cut himself off with a squeal when you brushed past his prostate for the second time. He looked up at you drearily, confused. He went to open his mouth again, to beg you to be gentle or to go slower. But you beat him to it,

"If you want to act like a needy whore, you'll be treated like one, dear husband."

He went to protest, but he was cut off with another harsh thrust that sent him further into the futon. He whimpered pathetically as he squirmed under your gaze. He might have gotten a little carried away before you'd gotten home, but he hadn't known you'd react to it so extremely. Once he'd finally learned to keep his mouth shut, you rewarded him with another earth-shattering movement of your hips.

His thighs tried to squeeze together, but your hips were in the way. It left him largely defenseless from your onslaught on his prostate. He took in a deep breath that was promptly knocked out of him as you set a decently quick pace to start off with.

Soon enough, the room was filled with the sound of whorish whining as you battered his insides with your cock. The force of your thrusts creating a lump on his toned stomach muscles, you raked in a twisted satisfaction from his suffering as he tried desperately to adjust to the abrupt change to pace.

He called your name, hiccupping through it, "Slower- ahn~ Sl-Slower, please- hn~ I beg of yooUu-"

You didn't respond to him, ignoring him entirely as you trailed your mouth to his collarbones. You bit down harshly on one of them, sadistically aroused by the way his back arched underneath you. He keened at the abuse, eyes shutting as he allowed himself to be lost in the rhythm of your hips.

The fingers previously tangled in your hair moved to scratching down your neck with his semi-blunt fingernails. You hissed at the raised red marks that followed behind his desperate movements. While you certainly enjoyed putting him in a compromising position, you didn't care as much when he was the one inflicting pain on you.

Deciding to return his favor again, you let him believe you were going to be a little more gentle. Your hips slowed down momentarily as you trailed little butterfly kisses up the side of his neck. You allowed yourself to be proud of the explosive shiver that burst through his nervous system, even more excited to see what his next reaction would be.

You sucked a light red mark into his jawline before grinding the skin between your teeth, speeding up your hips exponentially. There was a pleasant satisfaction that settled over your body as the one you were fucking into the bed seized up in an silent scream. His back arched into a beautiful curve, almost as though trying to run from the hand pressed against the small of his back, but begging for more as it pressed into your chest.

A few short seconds later, his pitchy moan ripped through the air as his legs pulled up closer to his chest and his toes curled. However, you didn't let up, only further fueled on by his intense reaction. If he thought you were going as fast as you could before, he was sorely mistaken as you picked up the pace once again.

You used the hand on his back to push him into your own muscular chest, the bump on his stomach protruding not only from his abdomen muscles, but now having the added pressure of your stomach on top of it. His own cock was pressed between your two bodies, the sweat sticking to your skin making the slide comfortable.

It wasn't long before Ayato's nails raked down your back one more time and his squeals echoed through the room. "Cu-Cumming- ouh~ ouh~ i'm cumming, i'm cummingi'mcumming-"

His eyes crossed before rolling into the back of his skull, his lips parting in another shriek before coating both of your stomachs in his spend.

Despite enjoying watching him suffer, you slowed your hips and rocked him through his high tenderly. His arms dropped from around your neck, resting his forearm over his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. He shuddered as you continued to slowly move, the sweet burn of overstimulation coursing through his entire body like some kind of poison.

"D-Darling, I just came- mmhh~ p-please, spare meee~"

You gently grasped his wrist to pull his arm away from his face. Despite the sweet smile on your features, he could tell from the wicked glee swirling in your pupils that you had no intention to allow him a moment to rest.

You tenderly brushed your lips over the pulse point on his wrist, watching him shiver as you continued to slowly move your hips. "Ah, but sweetheart, you were the one begging me to spend the night together as lovers." You intertwined your fingers with his as you gave a light-hearted chuckle,

"I'm simply giving you what you want."

"D-DeArehest- Ahnnn~"

Ayato couldn't do anything besides pathetical rest his upper half against the soft futon as you basically fucked the daylights out of him. His eyes had long rolled up into the back of his head, the number of times he'd spilled across the bedspread had gone uncounted past the second. Having already been filled up once, the second round of sex was arguably even more torturous as the overstimulation curling outwards from his gut turned from pleasant tingling all over the body to violent bursts coursing through his nerves.

In response to Ayato's pathetic call for your attention, you grabbed a fistful of his silvery blue hair, pulling him off of the mattress to preserve his scalp. He mewled lewdly at the sudden pain, the shame of being such a masochist pooling in the bottom of his gut.

Teasingly, you answered from behind him, continuing to pound his now limp body into the mattress. "Yes, my treasured husband?" You'd figured out you'd rather liked doggystyle, specifically because Ayato no longer had the comfort of kisses or reassuring looks from you.

Your voice had a singy-songy twang to it, obviously very pleased with the state you'd demoted him down to. His eyes were laced with tears, drool streaming down his chin with another anguished moan escaping past his abused, swollen lips. The crafty, steadfast Yashiro Commissioner turned to a pathetic, needy whore in bed. It was enough to make anyone at least a little prideful.

"P-pleaheeaseeee no mooohreeeee, mmmmhhh~"

His hands fisted the soft blankets underneath him, his voice pitifully shaky, slurred, and drawn out. His thighs trembled with each powerful thrust aimed at his rear, his arms shook and buckled from the overwhelming pleasure surging through his bloodstream. More tears streamed from his eyes as you continued to tug at his beautiful blue locks.

You clicked your tongue at him, letting go of his hair to wind your arm back before bringing your palm down across the fat of his ass. "How ungrateful, Ayato-" you grunted when he subconsciously clenched down on your length, "Your dearest has been treating you so well all night and your only thought is to be unappreciative?"

He sobbed pathetically into the pillow he'd been dropped back onto, his mind reeling in the waves of pleasure crashing through his body with each and every magical piston of your equally magical dick. "I-I'm shorrryyy- ouh~"

Your hand came down on his ass again, hissing when he tightened around you. "I should teach you how to properly appreciate when I spoil you like this."

Despite the burn of overstimulation streaking through his gut, he nodded his head frantically against the pillow, desperately seeking your validation even in what could be considered one of his weakest moments. Bent over with his ass in the air, spurting uselessly from his cock while becoming more and more aroused with each punishing spank delivered by his husband's hand.

Your pace picked up once again as the groveling mess that was your husband took its toll on you. You could feel your orgasm approaching, approaching quickly. You groaned as you pressed your chest against his arched back. "You begged me so nicely to cum inside earlier, how about you make it up to me by doing it again? Hm? You can do that for me, can't you beloved?"

He nodded against the pillow. You chuckled, grabbing him by the hair again, pulling him to be supporting himself on his palms again, his squeaks and pleas no longer muffled by the futon. It took him a few moments to full compose himself, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sudden change of pace and position.

One hand pulling his hair, your other wrapped around his neck carefully, giving it a small warning squeeze. He keened under the added pressure, his dick throbbing painfully hard once again, smacking against his stomach.

"Pleasepleaseplease- ahahn~ come inside of me darlIHing~" He choked on his next words as your fist tightened around his trachea. He could feel himself grow lightheaded, both from the lack of oxygen, but also the mounting arousal that came with the exhilaration of knowing how much power you held over him.

The moment you eased up on the pressure, he was begging again, much more eager to keep going with your encouragement. He babbled on, lacking the ability to care less about who could hear their beloved Lord Kamisato begging for his husband's cum while being choked and spanked.

"I nehEeed your cum i- OUh~ insiHide~," With another light squeeze of his throat, he continued to spew more and more pleas. "B-Breed me pleHEasee~ Hah~ I want t-to be fuhull with y-yoUhour- Nghah~ chiHIldreennnn~"

You groaned as you finally bottomed out in him for a second time, spilling inside of him once again as he shrieked in euphoria.

When you let go of him, his front half fell into the futon, murmurs and mumbles of contentment and gratitude gushing past his lips like a broken dam. His hips only really remained upright because you were still sheathed inside.

His thighs shook like a leaf, terribly unstable as you attempted to pull out. Despite all their trembling, the moment you tried to disconnect, his hips pushed backwards into yours with a whimper.

Your features gave way to a smug grin, reaching down and lacing his fingers with yours against the pillows. "Do you not want me to pull out, Ayato?"

He sleepily shook his head, still slumped ass up face down.

"You might get a stomachache in the morning, silly boy."

He flushed a little the more you teased him, shaking his head again. He moved your hand shakily to his cheek, pressing a kiss onto each of your knuckles.

You chuckled, taking an especially excessive pleasure in watching his fucked out, blissed actions.

You had been the one to do this to him.

Even with all the power he held over you, you could still do this to him.

Perhaps...

...

...Perhaps knowing this would make your marriage to Kamisato Ayato just a little bit easier.

there's a note on the side of the phone booth, read it?

" happy gay month to the loml <3 "

THIS IS A REPOSTED WORK FROM MY ORIGINAL ACCOUNT BEFORE IT CRAPPED AND DIED ON ME

I USED TO BE FOUND AT @steadybear

I FEAR YOU WILL HAVE TO DEAL WITH SEEING @bigtedbear INSTEAD FROM NOW ON

Part 2 here: " to be lovable "

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